Bob and Penny’s Message – “I had a dream”

August 18, 2009

Family, we know the Lord speaks to us in many ways.  Throughout the history of our Church and the Lives of the Saints we’ve studied and written about, the Lord has used many forms to talk to us.  We recall in particular reading about the Dreams and Visions of St. Don Bosco.  Most of the important events in his life were prefaced by a dream or vision.  We want to share a dream that I had more than ten years ago.  So then, let us begin.

I had a dream!

This powerful dream I had a long time ago, came back to me, today!  As I pondered on it, trying to figure out why after all this time, it flared up in my mind right now, at this time in our life, and in our church and country, I came to believe it is more apropos and timely today than ten years ago, when I first had the dream.  As I glance through books we wrote as long ago as ten years past, I have the same feeling!  It’s as if time has stood still, and all we are writing about has just come to pass.

Our dreams have to do with God, the soldiers of God, and the enemies of God.  When I first had this dream, I did not know who the enemy was or what he wanted.  All I knew and know now and for all time is God is in charge and although we, His children, are not worthy, our God is listening to our pleas for mercy.  It’s like He loves us because He loves us.  It has nothing, in particular, to do with us.  So Our Lord says just get on with it.  And so, with that on our mind, we want to share our dream with you. I rarely remember a dream; but this one has never left me.  When I first had this dream, I felt a wave of joy and hope!  Now I know the outcome is up to you, God’s children.  We cannot sit back and sink into our easy chairs.

My dream went like this:  First off, let me explain I know very little about sports, football or baseball, but here goes!  My dream opens with a big field, the size of a stadium, with just one thick white line running down the middle of it.  There was a coach on either side of the white line, choosing players.  The players were anxious to get started, straining at the bit.  They were hand-picked by each coach, and instructed to stand on one side of the white line or the other.  But wait, a really curious thing began to happen.  At first, the young players were following instructions, one going to the right and one going to the left, simultaneously.  But then, those players already on the left were acting strangely.  First, they had anxiously run to the side where the coach had called them.  They seemed anxious and excited.  But after a few minutes, they started to leave the left side of the field, walking around the back of the left field, and were joining the players on the right.  This seemed strange.  I looked up at the captain of the team on the left to see if he knew what was happening.  He didn’t seem to realize he was losing his men to the team on the right side.  As I looked closer at the two captains choosing men for their team, I saw the one on the left.  The captain appeared extremely handsome, with blond, curly locks of hair but as I looked closer, I noticed he no longer smiled; he looked angry, ominous!  Then I quickly looked to the captain on the right side of the field.  He looked like St. Michael the Archangel, with the standard of Mother Mary waving beside him.

The sky turned dark.  Ominous black clouds appeared.  Now the field was no longer a playing field, it was a battle field.  And the players were no longer players; they were warriors.  On the right they were carrying crosses and rosaries.  The Lord was preparing His people for a great battle.  On the left they were dressed in battle gear with swords and shields.  Those soldiers who stayed on the left side had decided to become soldiers of the world and its false promises.  Those who had left the fallen one and his side of the field had chosen to become soldiers of God. I wondered why those who had decided to remain on the left did not switch over to St. Michael.  Was it because the captain on the left was so handsome?  And the pep talks he gave them were so great; they sounded so reassuring.  It didn’t matter that they were lies.  He just seemed like such a regular guy.  Recall, family, an article we wrote for the last Good Newsletter, which was entitled, “Beware of Nice Guys” (Good Newsletter Summer 2009 – Page 9)

This dream and the evils that are going on in the world today, have been going on these last ten years, but today, they are being accelerated at an enormous speed.  This confirms that the great battle for our souls and the Church and the world is getting stronger and stronger, and shows no sign of letting up.  Power and position have taken precedence over plain decency and Christian behavior.  We hear things like “Science must take preference over morals.” And “the good of the individual must be sacrificed for the good of the many.”  And then we hear St. Teresa of Avila saying,

“To accomplish the greatest good, the slightest evil must not be done.”

You know what side of the field you must be on.  Listen to the whisper in your ear.  Look for St. Michael the Archangel, or any of the Heavenly Army of Angels.  You will be able to recognize them.  Join them.  Get on their line, and prepare for battle.  Join the gentle revolution.

The end of the song we have adopted, which we play and sing at the end of all of our talks goes like this:

We have seen and we believe

We will share our faith with everyone

You’ll know them by their fruits

You’ll know them by their fruits…We love you!!

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Posted by Brother Joseph Freyaldenhoven

Saint Rose of Lima – Feast day – August 23

August 7, 2009

Saint Rose of Lima

Saint Rose of Lima – her spiritual roots

Down through the centuries a strain of Catholicism ran all through the Indian religious beliefs. For example, the Incas believed in Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. They had what they called Huacas, Holy Things. They believed in the Resurrection; they fasted; there was a sense of sin; they believed in confession and penance. But after the great evangelist left, they lost the values of the teachings. The Cross on the hill remained, but nobody knew why it was there or what the Cross meant. They lost the sense of what suffering and adversity meant. They believed, much like the Biblical Job, that suffering and adversity, misfortune of any kind, were punishments from the good God for sins committed.

This was the spiritual society into which Rose Flores was born on her mother’s side. Her father was a Spanish soldier. Gaspar Flores was born in 1531, (the year that Our Lady came to Tepeyac Hill in Mexico) while his parents were en-route to Puerto Rico from Spain. It is believed Gaspar was possibly born on a ship, or right after the family arrived in Puerto Rico. From his earliest days, his life was filled with stories of conquistadors and battles between the Spaniards and the Incas. He grew up with a thirst for combat. At fifteen, he left Puerto Rico and went to Panama to take part in the battle on the side of the Spanish conquistadors. He had been very involved in most of the wars in Central and South America for Spain, either against the natives, or the British, or the French. From as far back as he could remember, there was always a war or the intrigue of a war, or the spoils of a war going on somewhere in his world. Gaspar spent his life in the military until there were no more battles to be fought, or until he was judged too old to take part in them.

He finally settled in Peru after having traveled and lived in most of the New World of the time. He met a beautiful girl, Oliva, who was sixteen when he was forty five. She was completely feminine, with none of what we would consider the special spiritual qualities necessary to be the mother of a Saint, much less a mystic like St. Rose of Lima. She was completely wrapped up in the social life of Lima of the Sixteenth century. She also possessed the exact qualities Gaspar Flores wanted. He fell in love with her and asked for her hand in marriage. He was considered a great catch to Oliva’s family, despite the age difference.
Planning their married life became Oliva’s entire life. She fantasized how it would be. While Gaspar, her betrothed, was not rich, he held a noble position. Oliva envisioned them as becoming a part of the social gentility of Lima. That called for a special house in a great neighborhood with all the trappings of middle-class Lima. One day, while they were house-hunting, they came across a little parcel of land owned by the Church of St. Dominic. Oliva fell in love with some rose bushes in the back of the property. Gaspar told her that if they bought this land for their home, the rose bushes would be part of their property. She became ecstatic. He further told her that the roses were from the first seeds planted in Peru. She went out of control, as any sixteen year old girl would. The decision was made on the spot; they had to have that property for their house.
But Whose decision was it really? We don’t believe in coincidence, unless it’s Holy Coincidence. Who chose Dominican property, with roses playing a dominant part in the landscape, which would be the home of a powerful Third Order Dominican whose name would be Rose? The Lord had a plan for Rose of Lima from before she was born. He knew what part she would play in the lives of the people of Lima, but especially the poor slaves who came to Lima from Africa. Everything was planned in advance. We’re reminded of the inspired words of St. Paul the Apostle as he wrote in his letter to the Romans,
“We know that in everything God works for good, with those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose.
For those whom He foreknew He also predestined
to be conformed to the image of His Son, in order
that he might be the first-born among many brethren.
And those whom He predestined, He also called;
and those whom He called, He also justified,
and those whom He justified, He also glorified.”
Romans 8:28-30

Reference:  “Visionaries, Mystics and Stigmatists.”

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Posted by Brother Joseph Freyaldenhoven

Saint Clare of Assisi Feast day Aug 11

August 6, 2009

Saint Clare of Assisi

Saint Clare of Assisi

Possibly the only thing the nobility and merchants in Assisi agreed on was the anger that rose up in them when they heard the name of Francis di Bernardone. To their way of thinking, he had disgraced his family, and stolen from his father to give to beggars and lepers. He must surely be crazy. To add to their indignation, many of the sons of the nobility of Assisi kept flocking to Francis, joining him in his insanity. They were spellbound by him. They had left their homes, given their possessions away, and donned the heavy, coarse sack cloth tunic that Francis wore. There were families in Assisi who would have liked to wring Francis’ neck.

Clare knew the reaction she would get from her relatives every time she mentioned Francis’ name, but she couldn’t help it. She found him so fascinating! What he had done, and what he was preaching was so contrary to anything she had ever heard before. She had known him over the years. She most likely bumped into him from time to time, lowering her eyes as he passed by. She may have witnessed the public trial Francis’ father had subjected him to, when Francis took off all his clothes, gave them to his father, and proclaimed from that time, God was his father.

Clare had never spoken to Francis. She had to meet him! One day, she chose to go out walking on the very road she knew he would be taking. They met. Francis had known of her since she was a child. Hers was one of the few noble families living in Assisi. Francis could see in Clare that very special quality that Jesus would use some day. When their eyes met, the heavens opened up and the Holy Spirit entered into them. They could not break the fixed look. They gazed into each other’s souls. Finally, Francis spoke to Clare. “You will have to know how to die.”

Clare looked at him questioningly, and perhaps a little apprehensively. Never taking her eyes off Francis, she pleaded, “What do you mean?”

Francis replied, tenderly, “On the cross with Christ.” She still did not understand what he meant, but felt an unexplainable excitement surge through her. His words remained with her. She could not get them out of her mind. She met with him frequently over the next few months, listening in awe as Francis shared the overpowering love he had for Jesus and the Gospel life. He impressed on Clare the dignity and beauty of a girl like her, giving herself over to Jesus as a spotless virgin, to be His bride. His words were like arrows of love from the Lord penetrating her heart, burning her with an insatiable desire for more.

She went to the Church of San Giorgio1 for a Lenten service. Francis spoke that evening. She was inspired by his powerful witnessing of the Gospel life; lifted up by the joy he transmitted in his poverty; and drawn to the Living Jesus so visible through him and his words. There was such a light in his eyes, a fire in his voice. She went to him after the service. She knew she, too, was being called to live the life of the Gospel. She asked him to help her achieve that goal. They planned for her to enter the Community on Palm Sunday.

The next Sunday was Palm Sunday. Clare went with all the young ladies of Assisi to the Palm Sunday services at the Cathedral in Assisi. The Bishop conducted the liturgy. As part of the Mass, after the readings and homily, the Bishop blessed and distributed palms to the faithful. The entire congregation filed up to the altar to receive them. The young unmarried girls of Assisi, of which Clare was a part, were to be last in the procession. They rose from their seats, resplendently outfitted in the latest Spring fashions, and glided up to the altar to receive the palms; all, that is, except Clare. She remained in her seat with her head down. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, or why she was doing it. Her thoughts must have been running amuck; Was she being holy, or shy? She honestly did not know. She just knew that was what she was supposed to do. The Bishop noticed her absence at the altar, as did the whole town. After presenting all the young girls with blessed palms, the Bishop rose, and walked over to where Clare was seated. He blessed her and placed a palm in her hands. Then he returned to the altar to continue the Mass. Clare just sat there looking down, her palm branch clutched to her heart. What had happened to her? She had been touched, and would never be the same.

That same Palm Sunday evening, Clare left her home for the last time, exiting through the Door of the Dead1, which signified a complete break with her family. Waiting for her at the door of her house was her faithful friend, Pacifica Guelfuccio. They walked together through the woods, to Santa Maria degli Angeli, where the Portiuncola2 was located. At that time, it was almost a forest, with the Chapel in the middle. Francis had built little huts around the modest little church. Two of the friars were waiting for Clare and Pacifica. They led the girls through the brush, the thorns on the bushes ripping away at their good Palm Sunday clothes. Finally, they arrived at the Portiuncola. Before presenting Clare to Francis, Pacifica removed all Clare’s jewelry. She replaced Clare’s delicately embroidered Palm Sunday dress with a coarse habit, tied at the waist with a cord. Clare stepped over the gown that had fallen to the ground and out of her shoes, to a new walk and a new life.

Clare was brought before Francis. He was versed in the proper procedure for receiving a woman into a Religious Order. We have to believe the Bishop was aware of what was about to happen because one of the friars, Fr. Sylvester, stood in as his delegate. Francis asked Clare, “What do you want, my daughter?” She knelt before him while he sheared her magnificent blonde hair from her head. He then placed a coarse piece of woolen cloth over her head. Being very proper, Francis brought her to stay with the Benedictine Sisters of St. Paul in Bastia, until he could set up a convent for her. Meanwhile, Pacifica left and went home. We believe she told the family what had happened to Clare.

Reference: “Saints and Other Powerful Women in the Church”

For more information about Saint Clare of Assisi Click here

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Posted by Brother Joseph Freyaldenhoven

Saint Maxmilian Kolbe – Martyr of Auschwitz

August 4, 2009

Saint Maxmilian Kolbe

Auschwitz – Roll Call of Hell

On May the 28th, 1941, Father Maxmilian, although suffering seriously from tuberculosis, was transported along with 320 other prisoners, to Auschwitz.  He was treated no better because he was a Religious.  Rather, they were harsher on the Religious, taking some kind of delight, determining how much torture they could take before cracking.

Father Maxmilian was given a number, 16670; he was assigned to block 17.  The guards pushed, kicked and beat Father when he was too ill to walk.  He struggled, as he tried to haul the wheel barrels full of gravel, they needed to build the crematorium walls.  Oh, they were not past using prisoners to build their own means of torture or death.

No matter how they brutalized him, how they tried to humiliate him, the could not force Father into hating them.  He had so much love in his eyes, they made him lower his eyes so they wouldn’t have to look into them.

Auschwitz or the Death Camp, as it was more commonly called, was originally to be for the extermination of Jews.  Then, the Third Reich added to their Martyred number: the Danish, French, Greek, Spanish, Flemish, Yugoslavian, German, Norwegian, Russian, Rumanian, Hungarian, Italian  and Polish undesirables, whose only crime was they were leaders or intellectuals.

Although its horror was not singularly its own, it had the reputation of being the most efficient of all the concentration camps, building up to a record of exterminating 3500 enemies of the state in 24 hours.  They became so good at their job, the sign above the entrance gate reading “Work makes one free,” they were capable of killing prisoners on arrival.  Many they did; others they saved for slave labor; others they had fun with; their action: to degrade, to see how low they could make a human stoop with enough torture.

I think, the saddest testimony I ever heard was from a survivor of the concentration camps.  He told how parents would have their children go before them, into the showers (the Nazis jokingly called the gas chambers), so they would not be frightened, the parents reassuring them, it was all right, they would be following.

A fellow prisoner testified that nothing they did to Father Maxmilian could break his spirit.  He would lift up the other victims, repeating:

“No, No, these Nazis will not kill our souls, since we prisoners distinguish ourselves quite definitely from our tormentors;  they will not be able to deprive us of the dignity of our Catholic belief.  We will not give up.  And when we die, then we die pure and peaceful, resigned to God in our hearts.”

He infuriated the Nazis as he worked to keep the Poles and the European Jews from being reduced into groveling animals, turning on each other.  To punish him, the guards would save the most demeaning work for him.  At one time, they even set their vicious dogs on him.

They used Father to carry corpses to the crematorium.  A former prisoner testified: one time, when he (the prisoner) was asked to carry a young man’s horribly ravaged body, his ripped open stomach, evidence of just part of the torture he’d suffered before dying, he was so repulsed by the sight, he did not have the strength or the stomach to lift him.  Then he heard a gentle voice, hardly above a whisper: “Let us take him.” As they carried the young man to the crematorium, he could hear the prisoner helping him, “Holy Mary, pray for us.” Father Maxmilian was calling to his Mother, and as She did with Her Son Jesus as He carried His Cross, Her eyes sustained him.

One day, Father fell under the weight of the wood he was carrying.  Face down, in the mud, unable to get up, the picture I see before me is, again, the one of Jesus on the way of the Cross, when He fell the third time.  Was that the picture before Father Maxmilian?  Was that how he was able to get up?  With his last ounce of strength, each day, he carried his sufferings, taking on the sins of his jailers upon his wounded body, as his Jesus before him.  He said over and over again:

“For Jesus Christ, I am prepared to suffer still more.”

But soon, they beat his weary, broken body to such a point of breaking, he landed, more dead than alive, in a hospital.  His tuberculosis got so bad, he was, again, like Jesus before him, dying of asphyxiation, unable to breath.  They determined he had pneumonia.

His face had begun to show the scars of his mistreatment, and his voice, betrayed by the dryness from too much heat and too little water, was robbing him of his speech.  But yet, a fellow Priest testified, he was an inspiration to everyone.  He was never too weary, too tired, too broken, too sick to hear confessions.

He was happy to be in the hospital because so many there needed a Priest.  One of the prisoners had somehow gained the trust of the guards and they would let him out.  He would return, hiding food under his clothes, which he shared with the other prisoners.

One day, he sneaked in some hosts.  Now, it was immediate execution, if a Priest was caught celebrating Holy Mass.  Even those men, who had become monsters, knew the Power of Jesus.  Father took the hosts, said the words of consecration and he brought Jesus in the Holy Eucharist, the Bread of Life, to his fellow patients.  He celebrated Holy Mass not once but twice.  At times, he took what little bread he had and consecrated it, distributing the Lord to all.  But, he never would accept any of the other prisoners rations, saying “You need them.  You must live.” Father Maxmilian, Priest!  When he left the hospital, he was assigned to Cell Block 14.

A prisoner escaped!  The shrill sound of the alarm pierced the still, dark night.  The prisoners lay frozen, praying they would not be part of those chosen to be executed.  According to the barbaric law of the camp, when one inmate escaped, ten men from his cell were chosen to starve to death, in the underground bunker.  They rounded up all the prisoners and had them stand at attention, for three hours, in the prison yard.  Then, they marched them in to have their meager supper, all that is but the men of block 14!  Instead, they were forced to helplessly look by, as their rations were dumped into the canal.

The next day, they were lined up in the scorching sun, as the rest of the prisoners went off to work.  They were given nothing to drink or eat.  Their condition became so unbearable, many of them collapsed and not even the guards’ brutal beatings could arouse them.  They just dumped them, one on top of another, in a heap.

As night approached, the rest of the prisoners came back.  They were lined up, facing those of block 14, so they

could witness what happens when someone escapes.  They stood there, helpless to ease the fear they saw in their fellow inmates eyes, as they stared across at them.  And then, the dreaded announcement: “Since the fugitive has not been found, ten of you are condemned to death.”  Commander Fritsch took delight as he passed back and forth, before the prisoners of block 14.

He could see the fear in their eyes; he could read their minds, Oh God, don’t let it be me.

“Good-by, friends; we will meet again where there is justice,” was joined by another sobbing, “Long live Poland!”  “Good-by! Good-by, my dear wife; good-by, my dear children, already orphans of your father,” cried out Sergeant Francis Gajowniczek.

A prisoner from block 14 stepped out of the lineup.  It was Father Maxmilian!  He had been assigned to block 14, had endured all the torture and was still standing.  He walked slowly and calmly toward the commandant.  He stopped in front of Fritsch.  The sight was blinding!  There was a hush that went through the men lined up.  No one, in the history of the camp, had ever done anything like this before.

They stared; they tried to take their eyes away, but they couldn’t or wouldn’t.  Suddenly they were not afraid of this man who reduced men to animals; he no longer posed a threat.  The man before him, chest caved in, little more than hanging flesh on thin bones, had the upper hand.  The commander was stunned, frozen.  Was he afraid at what or Who it was, he saw?  Did he remember from a thousand lifetimes ago, his mother telling him about the Savior who gave His life for him?

Here was a man who had traded his God in for a lie and he looked frightened.  Facing him, was one who death could have no victory over, one who dared to love Him with all his heart, mind and soul, totally abandoning himself to Him.  He had loved others through Him, in Him, with Him, even this monster in front of him.  This one who so exemplified the Sacrificial Lamb who died, forgiving them, saying “They know not what they do”, frightened him!

The commander found his voice; regaining his composure, he barked, “What does this Polish pig want?”

Father Maxmilian, pointing toward Sergeant Francis Gajowniczek, answered:

“I am a Polish Catholic Priest; I am old; I want to take his place because he has a wife and children…”

Father Maxmilian was 47 years old!

The underground bunker, block 11, was a chamber of horror.  It was closed in by a wall twenty-one feet high; prisoners were to have no communication from the outside.  Upon entering, inmates knew they would only leave as corpses, on their way to the crematorium.  Only a few Poles came in any kind of contact with the bunker, those who the Nazis needed, to carry out bodies and etc.  This is how we have any idea of what went on.

They led Father and the other nine to bunker 11.  They stripped them of all their clothing and left them, sneering,  “We will dry you up like tulips!”  A Pole later testified: when they went down to the bunkers, it sounded as if the Angels were accompanying the prisoners singing hymns to Jesus and  Mary; instead of curses, the Rosary and Litanies of prayers resounded through the dungeons, petitioning God for mercy in what He would give them and thanking Him for what He had given them.  The other bunkers, having joined the little Priest in bunker 11 were heard echoing his love song to Mary and Her Son Jesus.  They were so immersed in their praise and worship, they often did not hear the guards until they shouted at them to be quiet!

When the door opened, the prisoners pitifully begged for some water and bread.  Those who were strong enough to make it over to the door were kicked in the stomach, and when they fell, if they did not die, they were shot right there.  Conditions got so bad, the prisoners drank their own urine (as was evidenced by the empty and dry pails that had been left for them to relieve themselves).

Father encouraged the other innocent prisoners not to give up hope, to pray that the escaped prisoner would be found and they would be freed.  For himself, he asked nothing.  He even got to the guards, who came in each day to check up on the prisoners.  They had never experienced such love and compassion.  For some, it was more than they could handle; was he showing them what man could be like, according to God’s plan?  They called him a real gentleman.

Father Maxmilian lived longer than the rest, consoling them and praying with them until they mercifully gave up their last breath.  Two weeks passed; prisoners died one after the other.  At the end of the third week, there were four left; Father Maxmilian was one of them!  So, needing the bunker for more prisoners, they called in the director of the hall of the sick, the infamous and wicked Boch.  He lifted the arms of the prisoners left.  As they looked up at him, helplessly, he injected them with poisonous acid.

One of the Poles testified he had been with the Nazi officers in the block.  He saw Father Maxmilian, a prayer on his lips, love and forgiveness in his eyes, hold out his left arm to the killers.  He said he couldn’t stand it anymore and he (the Pole) left, with the pretense he had work to do.  When he returned, he found Father Maxmilian sitting, his body leaning against the wall, his beautiful eyes open, and his head bent to the left side.  He did not look as if he had died a horrible death.  He was radiant, he looked serene as if he had fallen asleep or was just dreaming with his eyes open.  He was beautiful!  When You died, Jesus, You died that all men could live, once and for all.  Now, another son was called to give up his life that a man could live and that son, Your brother Father Maxmilian Mary Kolbe said “yes!”

Father Maxmilian died on the vigil of the Feast of the Assumption of our and his Lady into Heaven.  What the world, with the world’s eyes, saw was an emaciated body brutally tortured, wasted away, desecrated by his forced nakedness – more bones than flesh.  But witnesses testified when they saw him, he was shrouded in a flood of light, almost transfigured.  He looked as if he were in ecstasy. Had Jesus and Mary come to accompany him home?

It was Friday, August the 15th; men came for his body and placed it in a box.  It was taken to the ovens.

“Martyrs – They Died for Christ

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Posted by Brother Joseph Freyaldenhoven

Saint Dominic – Watchdog for God

July 29, 2009
Saint Dominic

Saint Dominic

Feast day August 8

At 25 years old, Dominic realized his walk was not as a secular priest but as a religious. At that time, Dominic’s bishop Martin Bazan voiced a desire to bring about reform; he wanted the canons of his cathedral to live a shared life as religious, as part of a community. He and the new prior of the canons, Don Diego de Asevedo, had heard of Dominic’s piety and wisdom, and his desire to be a religious. Their hope was that he could convince these self-absorbed, strong-willed clerics into coming together and join the Canons Regular; they summoned Dominic! So after he was ordained a priest, Dominic was vested in the habit of the Canons Regular of Osma, made his profession to that Order, and for the next nine years faithfully followed the Rule of St. Augustine. One of his companions said of him, at this time,

“Now it was that he began to appear among his brethren like a bright burning torch, the first in holiness, the last in humility, spreading about him an odor of life which gave life, and a perfume like the sweetness of summer days. Day and night he was in the church praying without ceasing. God gave him the Grace to weep for sinners and for the afflicted; he bore their sorrows in an inner sanctuary of compassion which pressed on his heart, flowed out and escaped in tears. It was his custom to spend his nights in prayer and to speak to God behind closed doors.” Dominic consecrated himself, dedicating his life to the salvation of souls for Christ. He was happy! He thought this was where God had placed him, but that was to come to an end, when Don Diego, now Bishop of Osma, chose him to accompany him on a mission to Denmark, which would be the first leg of a long journey of suffering, pain and torment.

As they traveled through southern France, Dominic’s heart felt like it would bleed to death, as he encountered the enormous suffering brought about by a new threat against the Church and her children – the Albigensian Heresy. The churches were empty; the bells no longer tolled; Sunday you could see people working in the fields. There was a funereal spirit over the villages, as if God Himself was moaning over the death of His children’s souls. They were like men, women and children walking in their sleep through a dark cloud shutting out all sun.

Tired and downcast, Dominic and the bishop stopped at an inn in Toulouse, only to discover that the innkeeper was a heretic. Dominic could not go peacefully to sleep, while there was the danger that a soul could be lost. He talked to the man throughout the night, showing him the error of this heresy and the long-range effects disobedience has first on one soul and then on those he encounters. Dominic, clarifying the errors put forth by the heretics, and bringing him the true teachings of the Faith, when dawn came peeking into the dark of night, the innkeeper’s heart and soul were filled with the same light which flooded the room; he renounced the heresy and pledged to follow the true teachings of Mother Church.

Was it here that the seed to start a religious Order, dedicated to defending the Church, correcting errors and bringing the Truth to the faithful, was planted in Dominic’s heart?

For more information on Saint Dominic Click here

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Posted by Brother Joseph Freyaldenhoven

Saint Edith Stein – Teresa Blessed by the Cross

July 24, 2009
Saint Edith Stein

Saint Edith Stein

Edith Stein was born in Poland on October 12, 1891.  Her parent were Jewish.  She was a brilliant student.  When she turned seventeen, she entered a Girl’s High School in Breslau.  At the same time, in another part of Germany, another teenager – Adolph Hitler was failing an entrance exam to the Academy of Arts and already blaming it all on the Jews.  Two teenagers – one a Saint and the other damned to Hell for all eternity.

God placed her (Edith) among Jewish intellectuals who had become Christians.  Although she considered herself an atheist, she found herself seeking truth, and she later wrote that anyone seeking truth is in reality longing to find God, whether he knows it or not.

Meanwhile, Hitler in 1919 was writing, in his first manifesto: Because of the crimes the Jews had committed, they were to be removed from their midst.  [On January 20, 1942, in Berlin there was a conference attended by high ranking officials of the Third Reich.  It was decided 11,000,000 Jews were to be exterminated.]

Most of her friends had converted to the Lutheran Faith, and it is believed what held her up from converting was, she really did not know which Church she should join.  When she read St. Teresa of Avila’s autobiography, she said that she knew this was the truth, that the Catholic Church contained the Truth, our Lord Jesus Christ, Himself.  Edith walked the difficult path between her loyalty to her mother and Judaism, and her growing awareness of this God Who was growing inside her.  January 1, 1922, Edith Stein was baptized.

January 30, 1933, Adolf Hitler became Reich Chancellor of Germany.  Edith Stein could have fled from Germany, as many German Jews had.  Instead, she chose to go to the Cross for her people.  She had spoken to her Savior and told Him that she recognized it was His Cross that the Jewish people were being made to carry.  She wrote:”Those who understand must accept it with all their heart, for those who do not understand.”

On the Feast Day of St. Teresa of Avila, October 14, 1933, Edith Stein entered the Carmel in Cologne.  She took the Religious name “Teresa Benedicta a Cruce”, Teresa Blessed by the Cross. She shared with her Spiritual Director that she chose the name because it represented the one who had led her into the Church and the Carmel, St. Teresa, and the role that she chose: to her Lord through the Cross.  She offered up her life for not only the persecuted (the Jews) but the persecutors (the Nazis).  She felt that if she did not pray and offer her life for the immortal souls of the Nazis, and for the remission of their sins, as the Savior had done for all mankind, who would?

Edith Stein took her first vows in 1935.  When asked how she felt, she replied “Like the Bride of the Lamb”. The Nazis marched into the Rhineland, and with them Hell!

1936 was to be a year of pain and joy.  When her mother died of cancer, and Edith could not be with her, she thought surely she too would die.  Not even the joy of celebrating the Feast Day of the Exaltation of the Cross and her renewing her vows, could stop the ache in  her heart.  Her sister Rosa was baptized that Christmas.

As Hitler and his forces of destruction spread to Austria in March of 1938 and on to the Sudetenland in September, Edith Stein was taking her final vows.  In April of 1938, when she stood before the altar of God and her whole community, she abandoned herself totally to our Lord through His Mother.

Often she was spotted praying before the picture of Our Lady of Sorrows.  It was not that she was praying for suffering.  We believe that she knew that one day she was to walk that Way of the Cross with Mother Mary and her Son.  She believed that only by standing with Mother Mary at the foot of the Cross, your eyes on the Crucified, can you win souls for Jesus.

She wrote that, like Queen Esther, she was ready to give her life for her people.  It was the beginning of the end; synagogues were torched, the Jews’ homes and businesses demolished.  They didn’t know what to do!  It was mass havoc and desolation. Parents tried to keep their fear from their children.   They were like people sleep-walking.  They never, for one moment, thought this could happen!  Thirty to forty thousand Jews were sent to concentration camps on that infamous day when God held His Face in His Hands and cried.

Edith Stein feared for the lives of the Nuns at the Carmel where she was, so on December, 1933 she left for the Carmel in Echt, Holland.

June of 1939, Edith Stein wrote her last will and testament.  She joyfully and peacefully offered herself as a sacrifice: “for the Glory of God, for the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary, for the intentions of Mother Church, for peace in the world and the salvation of the German nation, and for her family both living and dead.”

September 1, 1939, Hitler invaded Poland.  The rest of Europe turned its face away, as Hitler took country after country; they made excuses for the evacuation of Jews, and the enslavement of Czechoslovakia, Austria, and the Sudetenland.

Edith Stein’s sister Rosa came to the Carmel in Echt, in 1940.  She desired, like her sister, to become a Religious.  But before she could become a Carmelite Nun, Hitler invaded Holland in May of 1940.  Therefore, she became a Third Order Carmelite.  September 1st of 1941, both sisters were ordered by the Gestapo to wear a yellow star of David, inscribed “Jew”.  It didn’t matter that they were converts to Catholicism.

When Hitler started his persecution of the Jews, all the Christian churches protested.  They were warned that if they continued speaking out against the treatment of the Jews, Jewish converts would be rounded up and placed in Concentration Camps.  All the Christian denominations ceased, at once.  All the Churches that is but the Roman Catholic Church.  And so, the persecution spread to Priests, Bishops, and Religious, those who had converted and those who dared defend them.  Edith and her sister were required to report to the Gestapo periodically.

The prioress of the Carmel wrote to Le Pequier Carmel in Switzerland, requesting they admit Edith and Rosa.  The Carmel only had room for Edith and she would not leave her sister behind.  Eventually the Carmel found a place for Rosa, a home for Third Order Carmelites near Le Pequier.  They had only to await permission from the Dutch authorities.

July 1, 1942, the Nazis decreed that Jewish Catholic children were no longer permitted to go to Catholic schools. The Bishops in Holland wrote a pastoral letter to be read at all Masses, protesting this treatment of innocent children.  They also came out strongly against the deportation of Jews from their native land.  It was read at all Masses on July 26th.  On August the 2nd, the Nazis ordered all Dutch Jews, converted to Catholicism, be arrested!   Edith Stein and her sister were picked up that evening.  Edith was heard saying to her sister Rosa:

“Come let us go for our people.”

Feast Day August 9

Reference: “Martyrs – They Died for Christ”

Continued click here

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Posted by Brother Joseph Freyaldenhoven

Saint Rose of Viterbo

July 23, 2009

Saint and Sinner – St. Rose of Viterbo

Saint Rose of Viterbo

Saint Rose of Viterbo

We are in the days of the greatest Saints and the most deadly of Sinners.  As at no other time in our lives, we need to look at the Saints and Sinners who have come before us.  St Rose of Viterbo is one of those Saints God has left us to inspire us, to guide us, to speak to us at this time of our lives.  People are asking us, Why?  Why are we learning now about the Saints, some of which we have never heard about before?

This is the story of a Saint and a Sinner.  This story, another part of our 2000 year journey as a Church and a people of God, is about Rose who was raised to Sainthood and Frederick the sinner who God would use to raise her to that height of piety and virtue which forms a Saint.

What brought us to Saint Rose of Viterbo, initially?  She was a Saint whose body the Lord left incorrupt on earth, as one of the signs of her sanctity.  A body which has not decomposed, and is miraculously preserved, is one, only one of the signs which the Lord gives us to recognize someone’s holiness; it is not what makes one a Saint.  This particular sign is strictly a gift to the Saint verifying the Lord’s miraculous intervention, and a gift to us of God’s power and love; what will He not do to bring us closer to Him, through faith!  Consequently, he leaves us signs, or gifts to help us in our journey toward Him and Heaven.

Once again, the world is in turmoil and the Church is under attack.  Without Compromise! Our Lord Jesus would not compromise and they crucified Him.  His loyal Vicars would not compromise, and they along with Mother Church, over our 2000 year history, have been nailed to the Cross!  Knowing this, our Popes, His Vicars, chosen as they are by and through the intervention of the Holy Spirit, live and die for their spotless spouse, the Church.

A Sinner, a Saint, and a Pope without compromise

We are in the days of conquests and greed.  Greed desiring more, requiring more; and then requiring more, conquering more.  Out of necessity, to feed this voracious appetite, conquests begot conquests; and so the freedom St. Paul spoke of, we no longer slaves, was once again set aside, the sacrifice of the many for the power of the few.

To set the stage, we will begin with the sinner, Frederick II, his grandfather Frederick I Barbarossa (a Holy Roman Emperor dating back to the Twelfth Century), and his father Emperor Henry VI.  As with all monsters, Hitler in the Twentieth Century and Frederick I, the Red Beard[1] in the Twelfth, we the foolish, believe we can coexist with them.  So did the papacy in the Twelfth Century with Frederick I!  We will show you how the Holy See again and again attempts to coexist with one after the other, first Frederick I, then Frederick I’s son, Henry VI and his heir apparent Frederick II, who would follow in his grandfather’s footsteps.

What began as cooperation between the Papacy and his grandfather Frederick I would turn into Frederick I’s greed overcoming his good judgment, as he went about trying to reestablish the Carolingian rule of the Ninth Century and the Ottonian rule of the Tenth Century in Italy, which gave the Emperors the royal right to take over the Church and all the papal states, not only choosing prelates and making the bishopric a part of the Empire, but requiring all bishops be friends of the Emperor, taking all their orders from him.

Upon his father Frederick’s death, Henry VI was crowned King of Germany in 1169, King of Italy in 1189, and then King of Sicily in 1191; he was also crowned Emperor that year.  Unlike his father, Henry was not very charismatic; he lacked his father’s warmth, the charm that won so many over to his father.  But what Henry lacked in personality, he surpassed his father in knowledge and love of the Catholic Faith, that which he probably received from his strong Catholic mother, Queen Beatrice.  During his brief rule, he had three aims:

one to gain the approval of the German princes, as he came to the throne through hereditary succession, his father being from the Hohenstaufen family;

two to arrange an agreeable territorial agreement with the Papacy;

and three to lead a Crusade to the Holy Land, completing what his father had started – the deliverance of Jerusalem and all the Shrines of the Holy Land from the hands of the Saracens.

Poor Henry VI’s first aim was to fail in that the German princes, while they did not hesitate to elect Henry’s infant son King, they did reject the doctrine of automatic succession to the throne by virtue of royal birthright, in this case, the Hohenstaufen family.  The second aim failed, as the new Pope Clement III was wary of dealing with Henry, who had too much power and was a decided threat to the Papacy, not only as King of Germany but through marriage,[2] as King of Sicily.  His third aim to lead a Crusade to the Holy Land was blessed by the Pope; it received great acclaim by the German citizens, but alas it too was to fail; Henry died the night he was to leave for the Holy Land, resulting in his troops returning and abandoning the Crusades.

The Empire was divided between Henry’s brother Philip of Swabia and his infant son Frederick II.

We have heard the age-old adage, “Like father, like son,” well maybe because of Henry VI’s sudden death and  division of the empire, great catastrophes were averted and he was not able to fulfill his father’s dream, like conquerors before and after him, of world domination.  But the adage would become a prophecy, only, “Like grandfather, like grandson;” for a second Frederick would rise from the ashes of his grandfather’s failure and become a pawn for the greedy seeking that which is not theirs.

Before she died, His mother, the Empress entrusted Frederick II to Pope Innocent III.  When Emperor Otto I (who had feigned loyalty to the Pope) turned against the Papacy, the Pope supported his loyal ward, Frederick II, to rule over Italy.      Through this, Innocent III prevented Otto I from gaining supremacy over Italy and the confiscation of not only Italian principalities but papal lands, as well.  Frederick II, was victorious blocking  the takeover of Italy by Otto I.

When Frederick II took over principality after principality in Italy, it was without incident.  He was welcomed not only by the Italians but Pope Honorius[3] who placed the Imperial crown on his head.  At that time, Frederick II pledged his loyalty to the Cross and the Papacy.  But things got strained between the Pope and Frederick II, as his ambitious appetites for more and more power, grew more and more ravenous.  The renewed threats to the Papacy and the northern states resulted in doubt, disbelief, distrust, fear and ultimately bitterness.  Frederick II, thirst for power never fully quenched, went about not only unifying Italy under himself (of course), but waging a campaign for her reentry into the Roman Empire, with him as Emperor.

His borders of influence dangerously kept expanding.  The papal states, seeing the danger in the progressively unrestrained inordinate power Frederick was amassing, in the world, feared the Church would be next.  Sure enough, in 1231 Frederick made unbridled demands on the northern part of Italy, including the confiscation of lands belonging to the Papacy.  The new Pope Gregory IX condemned Frederick, accusing him of desecrating, looting and pillaging Church property and charged him with heresy!  Frederick’s ambition to found an Empire, on the strength of his takeover of all Italy, was forestalled by the Pope’s action.

A rose will bloom in the desert

For the second time Frederick II was excommunicated; he retaliated by attacking the papal states, and this is where Rose of Viterbo came in.  In 1240, Frederick II decided to occupy Viterbo!  The Lord always with us, in time of need, sent into this world of hopelessness and helplessness, a baby!  A few years before the frightening entry of Frederick II into the sweet, serene village of Viterbo, there was an entry that would inflame the populace with new courage and hope, a child was born!  Little Rose, who was named when she was baptized, would let out a cry that would grow and grow until it awakened the people to a new consciousness that they could make a difference.

Her parents were not of noble birth, but had instead the gifts needed by a future Saint, holiness, virtue, piety, humility and charity.  From her earliest years, Rose showed an alive, unending, overflowing love for the Church, for Jesus, the Blessed Mother, the Angels and the Saints.  When she was just eight years old, she had a vision of the Blessed Mother in which Mother Mary told Rose she would be clothed in the habit of St. Francis.[4] She was not to become a cloistered Nun, but a tertiary, part of the third order, remaining at home, giving witness to her family and neighbors by word and action of Jesus in her life.

She later became ill.  But the Lord having too much for her to do, she soon recovered and donned the habit of the lay penitents of St. Francis.  When she began, to contemplate Jesus’ suffering, and how wounded He was by the ingratitude of His children, Rose went to the people of Viterbo, preaching in the streets, knocking on doors, going from house to house, berating her neighbors for their complacency and apathy toward the freedom they had lost at the hands of Frederick II.

She told them they could be free; all they had to do was overthrow the Ghibelline[5] garrison.  She was all of age twelve! But her age did not deter the populace from listening, their hearts on fire!  It had been so long since anyone had spoken of the beauty of Italy, of the promise the Lord made to His children not to leave them orphans.  She told them they were not born to be slaves, but free!  They listened!  And miracles came about!  Everywhere she went, she was greeted warmly; citizens having heard of her and the marvels surrounding her speechmaking, gathered to hear the Good News!  Men who no longer had the will to get up in the morning were plowing their land, once more; after all, it was their land, little Rose had said so.  And so, new life came into the ancient village of Viterbo.

Crowds began to gather; her father became nervous; soon, the authorities would hear of her and they would all be punished.  What was wrong with her; after all, they had food on their table!  He scolded; he pleaded; he berated her; he cajoled her; finally, she leaving him no recourse, he threatened to beat her if she did not stay home and cease her preaching.  Rose replied, “If Jesus could be beaten for me, I can be beaten for Him.  I do what He has told me to do, and I must not disobey Him.”

Father and daughter seemed at loggerheads, when the local parish priest intervened; he urged her father to cease restraining Rose from doing her Divinely appointed duty.  He withdrew his objections and Rose was free to preach; and preach she did, tirelessly rising early in the morning, retiring late at night, as if one driven, knowing time was short.  This sounds like the urgency Jesus had with three short years to reach the children of God.  This sounds like the time of Jesus; it sounds like today, with the few speaking out, the John Baptists of our day crying out in the desert, Repent and be saved! And the many…..?

She was free to preach for two years!  Standing on the street corners of the town, crowds gathering, clamoring for more, her voice crying out, theirs joining in, they were a people to be reckoned with, she was uniting them, rallying support for the Pope and the Church.  They took up the cry, Defend the Pontiff’s cause!  Then, some villagers who had sold their souls to the Emperor for land and position became alarmed and began clamoring for her execution as an enemy of the Empire.

The mayor of the town would hear nothing of it, protesting the girl was innocent.  He had a few reasons for his defense of Rose; he was a fair and just man, but also a prudent and wise man.  He feared for his life, for by this time, Rose had become a little Joan of Arc.  The townspeople had been resigned to the carnage of their existence; Rose brought them reason for hope and rejoicing.  There was a light at the end of the dark tunnel they had been journeying through, and the mayor pitied anyone trying to put out that light.

What was the wisest course?  Banish Rose and her parents from the village.  And so he ordered them escorted out of town!  The little family settled in Soriano; and it was there that Rose prophesied, announcing to all, the forthcoming death of Frederick II looming in the near future.  He died in Apulia, on the thirteenth of that month.  The papal party was reinstated in Viterbo; the citizens of Viterbo were slaves no more; free, at last.

Their little heroine was also now free, to return to her beloved village; but not before she was to go through a test by fire, truly fire!  A citizen of Soriano, loyal to the Emperor and the royal Hohenstaufen family, threatened Rose with burning to death at the stake, if she did not renounce the Pope; Rose responded by asking her to be quick about it, thanking her for the privilege of dying a martyr’s death for the Faith.  Having completely confounded her adversary, she not only disarmed her, she won her over for Christ and His vicar, the Pope.

Rose returned to Viterbo with her parents.  It was time to go to the Convent of St. Mary of the Roses in Viterbo and ask for entrance as a postulant.  As her parents were not able to supply the necessary dowry, the abbess refused her entry.  Rose prophetically responded, “You will not have me now, but perhaps you will be more willing when I am dead.”

Seeing the piety in the little missionary who had brought so much light into everyone’s life, the parish priest had a chapel built with an adjoining house, near the convent of St. Mary of the Roses.  There Rose and a small company  of young women could follow a life of the religious.  But the company of Nuns received an order from the Holy See to close down the convent as it was too close to the other convent.[6]

Rose returned to her parents’ home.  There she died on March 6th, 1252.  She was seventeen years old.  They buried her in the Church of Santa Maria in Podio.  But six years later, her body was transferred to the Church of the Convent of Saint Mary of the Roses, just as she had prophesied!  Although this church was burned down in 1357, her body was intact and is preserved miraculously till this day, incorrupt.  Each year her body is carried in solemn procession through the streets of Viterbo.  Upon her death, Pope Innocent IV, the same Pope who had refused to allow her to have a  convent near the other convent in Viterbo, ordered an investigation to commence into the virtues and sanctity of Rose of Viterbo.  However it was not to happen in his pontificate; but one hundred years later, in 1457.

As with many Saints of the past, the faithful proclaimed Rose Saint before the official canonization, because of the virtuous life she shared with them when she was alive and because of the miracles, the Lord gave them, through her intercession, before and after she died.

Pope John Paul II told the Youth of the world at a Youth Conference in Denver, Colorado, they are the Church of Today!  Rose began defending her Pope and her Church when she was twelve.  What is the Lord asking of you?  Why are you reading this account?  Pray!  The Lord has such an exciting plan for those who say Yes!

For more information about Saint Rose of Viterbo click here

[1]Barbarossa in Italian means Red Beard

[2]His wife’s father was Roger II, King of Sicily

[3]who succeeded Innocent III

[4]Now it was just about fifteen years since St. Francis had died.

[5]or Hohenstaufen barracks, soldiers under the command of Frederick II

[6]This is difficult for us to understand, possibly, because we are not living in those times.  Cloistered Nuns, as they all were, subsisted solely on begging and the generosity of the villagers.  To have two convents, close by in the same village, could be a burden to the townspeople, they reasoned, or worse could cause the two convents to suffer.

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Posted by Brother Joseph Freyaldenhoven

Blessed Margaret of Castello

July 22, 2009

Blessed Margaret of Castello

Patron of the unwanted

A baby is born

There is a hush in the town and on the mountain top, in anticipation of the new little lord, as if time is standing still waiting for the signal to rejoice!  Lady Emilia went into labor.  The candle bearers were ready to brighten the castle, symbolizing the light that had come into their lives.  The serfs stood ready to ring the bells!  The baby was born, but no lights, no bells tolled, only deadly silence.  A baby girl was born; that was one blow.  The infant was rejected immediately by her parents; she was not only a girl, she was deformed!  She was not a pretty baby; if her parents were to believed, she was ugly.  She would never reach full height, they determined as she already showed signs of being (as her parents later told her) a midget!  Her right leg was shorter than the other, and so they knew she would be lame, as well.  Believing God had punished them, one week later, they discovered they had not seen the total chastisement; the child was blind!  What a disgrace, they thought!

The word went out that the baby was very sick and was not expected to live!  As it was impossible to keep them from becoming aware what had transpired, the serfs and soldiers in the fortress were told that this was not something to be broadcast.  As Parisio was known for the merciless cruelties inflicted on those who disobeyed him or got in his way, it was fairly fait-accompli that no one would know of the little girl who had come into this cruel world, and cruel it would turn out to be, making this reaction and subsequent action a kind one in comparison.

The local parish priest, Father Cappellano insisted the baby be baptized!  And as was the custom of that time was that the baby be baptized in the cathedral, he faced very stubborn opposition; Parisio flatly refused.  But when his wife reasoned with him, he reluctantly agreed – on one condition, Lady Emilia’s maid would bring the baby girl and have her baptized.  The heartless twosome (parents) even refused to name the child; they left it up to the maid, with only one admonition, she was not to bear the name Emilia!

The maid took the baby to the cathedral in Mercatello  When the priest asked the name of the infant, the maid cried out, Margaret, meaning pearl.  Although her outer visage was not what the world would call beautiful and extraordinary, her soul would prove precious and priceless, truly a pearl.  The maid returned.  All the serfs hoped the parents’ hearts would soften, after all she was their child!  But that was not to be the case.  Not even when the priest who was teaching the child told them how extraordinarily bright she was, his best student, did that melt their hearts of stone.

She was a friendly, loving child, in spite of her parents’ obvious disdain of her, knowing all the citizens of Metola by name, whether child, man or woman; and this considering she was blind was quite a feat!  Everyone in Metola began to love her and looked forward to her visiting them, which she did by herself.  She knew how to get to everyone’s home; there was only one place she was forbidden to visit and that was the rooms of the palace which her parents occupied.

She was the little pixie of the fort.  But at age six that was to come to an end.  Visitors came to the palace to visit her parents.  It seems the nurse absentmindedly forgot to tell little Margaret to stay in her room; to compound the situation, she carelessly left the door opened.  As was her custom, Margaret went to pray in the palace chapel.  She met up with one of the visitors, who, seeing her condition, asked her compassionately if she was blind, to which the child responded she was.  When little Margaret addressed her respectfully as Your Ladyship, the woman asked if she was blind how did she know she was a Lady.  Margaret responded, “You speak just like my mother.” Just as Margaret was about to divulge who her mother was, Margaret’s nurse retrieved her just in time to avoid a disaster!  But not without her parents finding out how close they had come to being exposed as Margaret’s parents.

Parisio came up with an idea, as Margaret loved to spend hours praying in the chapel, he would build a cell next to the church and place Margaret in the cell where she could  pray as a recluse.  His wife, to give her some credit, could not believe he would place his own child in a prison, because that’s what it amounted to, especially as she was only six years old!  When she protested the Church would never allow a child to become a recluse, he retorted angrily, it was not their affair, but his!  He used every lame excuse for his inhumane treatment of his daughter; she will be happy to have the privilege to pray all day long, so close to church; in this way she will be safe, after all it was not prudent for her to walk around the fort, she could get hurt.  Finally, his mind already made up, he told his wife he was commissioning a mason to begin constructing the cell tomorrow.  Read more Continued

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Posted by Brother Joseph Freyaldenhoven

Saints Anne and Joaquim

July 21, 2009

Grandparents of Jesus – Feast Day August 26

Saints Anne and JoaquimWhen the Angel Gabriel appeared to Mary, she was praying.  Anne had kept her word to the Lord; she never forgot the promise she had made.  She had consecrated this child to the Temple because of His generous miraculous gift to her; she had filled this child of her golden age with the traditions and hopes of  her people, the coming of the Messiah.  So although it was Mary who said yes to the Angel, it was her Mother Anne’s teaching and grooming which prepared Mary to receive this messenger from God and say yes!Grandparents are the story tellers!  As Grandma Anne related to her grandchild Jesus the stories of their people, the Jews, did her heart tremble as she realized that this young shoot of Jesse’s tree would someday die for the salvation of the world?  Did Simeon’s words: He will be responsible for the rise and fall of many, trouble her as she saw Him growing into manhood?  Could she foresee His climb up the infamous steps that became holy because He walked upon them?  Or had God in His infinite mercy spared her from this piercing wound, the crucifixion of her most precious grandchild?

How did Anne feel when Mary unfolded the happenings in Bethlehem, the shepherds who had followed the star to where the Angels told them the King of the world was to be born?  What were Anne’s thoughts as Mary excitedly told her of the Magi and their reverence, and what were Anne’s misgivings when she saw Myrrh, the ointment of death, as one of the gifts?  Or was she enjoying the gift  of being grandparents too much, and chose to shut all fear out of her heart, at least for this priceless moment?

Jesus performed His first miracle through the intercession of His Mother Mary, at Cana.  She had intervened on behalf of a newly married couple; to some a small matter, but to Mary it was important to them and so it was important to her and her Son.  When Jesus spoke to Mary, telling her it was not His time, Mary cared so very much for her children she encouraged him to perform this miracle which pivoted Him to the Cross.

When Jesus said yes, He showed His love and deep regard for His Mother; when His Mother said yes, over and over again, she showed her love for the children He would give her, in the biggest and the smallest moments of their lives.

Jesus loved His Mother; it only stands to reason that Jesus, perfect Son, was also perfect Grandson and being Love itself loved His Grandmother.  As Love never dies, that Love did not die, and you can see it in the faith of these 100s of thousands of pilgrims who come to seek the intercession of St. Anne, Grandma, knowing He listens and cares.

A little background on Joachim and Anne.  We know that he was privileged to offer sacrifice in the Temple, and that he was a generous giver to the Temple and to the poor.  We also know that Joachim and Anne are related to Elizabeth and Zechariah, and it is believed that their son John the Baptist and his parents were Essenes, a tribe that left Jerusalem to settle out in the desert, away from the distractions of that bustling city.  The Essenes were responsible for the scrolls containing the book of Isaiah that were found in Qumran, in the Holy Land.  So, it is obvious that when God has a plan, He puts all his knights in place and great Chess Player that He is sets out to win, in His case – souls!  Joachim and Anne knew their Faith, loved their God and looked forward to the fulfillment of His Promise of a Savior.  As Jesus was sent to a spotless virgin, conceived immaculately; so it stands to reason, His Mother would be sent to extraordinary parents who would care for her, protect and guide her.

Humble and gentle Saints, so like St. Joseph – Jesus’ foster father, Joachim and Anne Jesus’ grandparents are in the background, as they would desire.  But we all know, especially as we begin to mature, that we are a sum of all our ancestors who came before us.

For more information about Saints Anne and Joaquim click here

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Posted by Brother Joseph Freyaldenhoven

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