Saint Nicholas Tavelic and Companions’ Story (1340 – November 14, 1391)
Nicholas and his three companions are among the 158 Franciscans who have been martyred in the Holy Land since the friars became custodians of the shrines in 1335.
Nicholas was born in 1340 to a wealthy and noble family in Croatia. He joined the Franciscans, and was sent with Deodat of Rodez to preach in Bosnia. In 1384, they volunteered for the Holy Land missions and were sent there. They looked after the holy places, cared for the Christian pilgrims, and studied Arabic.
In 1391, Nicholas, Deodat, Peter of Narbonne, and Stephen of Cuneo decided to take a direct approach to converting the Muslims. On November 11, they went to the huge Mosque of Omar in Jerusalem and asked to see the Qadix—Muslim official. Reading from a prepared statement, they said that all people must accept the gospel of Jesus. When they were ordered to retract their statement, they refused. After beatings and imprisonment, they were beheaded before a large crowd.
Nicholas and his companions were canonized in 1970. They are the only Franciscans martyred in the Holy Land to be canonized. Their liturgical feast is celebrated on November 14.
Reflection
Francis presented two missionary approaches for his friars. Nicholas and his companions followed the first approach—live quietly and give witness to Christ—for several years. Then they felt called to take the second approach of preaching openly. Their Franciscan confrères in the Holy Land are still working by example to make Jesus better known.
A man who vigorously pursues a goal may produce results far beyond his expectations and his intentions. Thus it was with Peter “of the Golden Words,” as he was called, who as a young man became bishop of Ravenna, the capital of the empire in the West.
At the time there were abuses and vestiges of paganism evident in his diocese, and these Peter was determined to battle and overcome. His principal weapon was the short sermon, and many of them have come down to us. They do not contain great originality of thought. They are, however, full of moral applications, sound in doctrine, and historically significant in that they reveal Christian life in fifth-century Ravenna. So authentic were the contents of his sermons that some 13 centuries later, he was declared a doctor of the Church by Pope Benedict XIII. He who had earnestly sought to teach and motivate his own flock was recognized as a teacher of the universal Church.
In addition to his zeal in the exercise of his office, Peter Chrysologus was distinguished by a fierce loyalty to the Church, not only in its teaching, but in its authority as well. He looked upon learning not as a mere opportunity but as an obligation for all, both as a development of God-given faculties and as a solid support for the worship of God.
Some time before his death around A.D. 450, Peter returned to his birthplace of Imola, in northern Italy. His liturgical feast is celebrated on July 30.
Reflection
Quite likely, it was Saint Peter Chrysologus’ attitude toward learning that gave substance to his exhortations. Next to virtue, learning, in his view, was the greatest improvement to the human mind and the support of true religion. Ignorance is not a virtue, nor is anti-intellectualism. Knowledge is neither more nor less a source of pride than physical, administrative, or financial prowess. To be fully human is to expand our knowledge—whether sacred or secular—according to our talent and opportunity.
Saint Charles Borromeo’s Story (October 2, 1538 – November 3, 1584)
The name of Charles Borromeo is associated with reform. He lived during the time of the Protestant Reformation, and had a hand in the reform of the whole Church during the final years of the Council of Trent.
Although he belonged to the Milanese nobility and was related to the powerful Medici family, Charles desired to devote himself to the Church. In 1559, when his uncle, Cardinal de Medici was elected Pope Pius IV, he made Charles cardinal-deacon and administrator of the Archdiocese of Milan. At the time Charles was still a layman and a young student. Because of his intellectual qualities Charles was entrusted with several important offices connected with the Vatican, and later appointed secretary of state with responsibility for the papal states. The untimely death of his elder brother brought Charles to a definite decision to be ordained a priest, despite his relatives’ insistence that he marry. Soon after being ordained a priest at age 25, Borromeo was consecrated bishop of Milan.
Working behind the scenes, Saint Charles deserves the credit for keeping the Council of Trent in session when at several points it was on the verge of breaking up. Borromeo encouraged the pope to renew the Council in 1562, after it had been suspended for 10 years. He took upon himself the task of the entire correspondence during the final phase. Because of his work at the Council, Borromeo was unable to take up residence in Milan until the Council concluded.
Eventually, Borromeo was allowed to devote his time to the Archdiocese of Milan, where the religious and moral picture was far from bright. The reform needed in every phase of Catholic life among both clergy and laity was initiated at a provincial council of all the bishops under him. Specific regulations were drawn up for bishops and other clergy: If the people were to be converted to a better life, Borromeo had to be the first to give a good example and renew their apostolic spirit.
Charles took the initiative in giving a good example. He allotted most of his income to charity, forbade himself all luxury, and imposed severe penances upon himself. He sacrificed wealth, high honors, esteem, and influence to become poor. During the plague and famine of 1576, Borromeo tried to feed 60,000 to 70,000 people daily. To do this he borrowed large sums of money that required years to repay. Whereas the civil authorities fled at the height of the plague, he stayed in the city, where he ministered to the sick and the dying, helping those in want.
Work and the heavy burdens of his high office began to affect Archbishop Borromeo’s health, leading to his death at the age of 46.
Reflection
Saint Charles Borromeo made his own the words of Christ: “…I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me” (Matthew 25:35-36). Borromeo saw Christ in his neighbor, and knew that charity done for the least of his flock was charity done for Christ.
Saint Martin de Porres’ Story (December 9, 1579 – November 3, 1639)
“Father unknown” is the cold legal phrase sometimes used on baptismal records. “Half-breed” or “war souvenir” is the cruel name inflicted by those of “pure” blood. Like many others, Martin might have grown to be a bitter man, but he did not. It was said that even as a child he gave his heart and his goods to the poor and despised.
He was the son of a freed woman of Panama, probably black but also possibly of indigenous stock, and a Spanish grandee of Lima, Peru. His parents never married each other. Martin inherited the features and dark complexion of his mother. That irked his father, who finally acknowledged his son after eight years. After the birth of a sister, the father abandoned the family. Martin was reared in poverty, locked into a low level of Lima’s society.
When he was 12, his mother apprenticed him to a barber-surgeon. Martin learned how to cut hair and also how to draw blood—a standard medical treatment then—care for wounds, and prepare and administer medicines.
After a few years in this medical apostolate, Martin applied to the Dominicans to be a “lay helper,” not feeling himself worthy to be a religious brother. After nine years, the example of his prayer and penance, charity and humility, led the community to request him to make full religious profession. Many of his nights were spent in prayer and penitential practices; his days were filled with nursing the sick and caring for the poor. It was particularly impressive that he treated all people regardless of their color, race, or status. He was instrumental in founding an orphanage, took care of slaves brought from Africa, and managed the daily alms of the priory with practicality, as well as generosity. He became the procurator for both priory and city, whether it was a matter of “blankets, shirts, candles, candy, miracles or prayers!” When his priory was in debt, he said, “I am only a poor mulatto. Sell me. I am the property of the order. Sell me.”
Side by side with his daily work in the kitchen, laundry, and infirmary, Martin’s life reflected God’s extraordinary gifts: ecstasies that lifted him into the air, light filling the room where he prayed, bi-location, miraculous knowledge, instantaneous cures, and a remarkable rapport with animals. His charity extended to beasts of the field and even to the vermin of the kitchen. He would excuse the raids of mice and rats on the grounds that they were underfed; he kept stray cats and dogs at his sister’s house.
Martin became a formidable fundraiser, obtaining thousands of dollars for dowries for poor girls so that they could marry or enter a convent.
Many of his fellow religious took Martin as their spiritual director, but he continued to call himself a “poor slave.” He was a good friend of another Dominican saint of Peru, Rose of Lima.
Reflection
Racism is a sin almost nobody confesses. Like pollution, it is a “sin of the world” that is everybody’s responsibility but apparently nobody’s fault. One could hardly imagine a more fitting patron of Christian forgiveness–on the part of those discriminated against—and Christian justice–on the part of reformed racists—than Martin de Porres.
Saint Martin de Porres is the Patron Saint of:
African Americans Barbers Hairdressers Race Relations Radio Social Justice
The Story of the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed
The Church has encouraged prayer for the dead from the earliest times as an act of Christian charity. “If we had no care for the dead,” Augustine noted, “we would not be in the habit of praying for them.” Yet pre-Christian rites for the deceased retained such a strong hold on the superstitious imagination that a liturgical commemoration was not observed until the early Middle Ages, when monastic communities began to mark an annual day of prayer for the departed members.
In the middle of the 11th century, Saint Odilo, abbot of Cluny, France, decreed that all Cluniac monasteries offer special prayers and sing the Office for the Dead on November 2, the day after the feast of All Saints. The custom spread from Cluny and was finally adopted throughout the Roman Church.
The theological underpinning of the feast is the acknowledgment of human frailty. Since few people achieve perfection in this life but, rather, go to the grave still scarred with traces of sinfulness, some period of purification seems necessary before a soul comes face-to-face with God. The Council of Trent affirmed this purgatory state and insisted that the prayers of the living can speed the process of purification.
Superstition easily clung to the observance. Medieval popular belief held that the souls in purgatory could appear on this day in the form of witches, toads or will-o’-the-wisps. Graveside food offerings supposedly eased the rest of the dead.
Observances of a more religious nature have survived. These include public processions or private visits to cemeteries and decorating graves with flowers and lights. This feast is observed with great fervor in Mexico.
Reflection
Whether or not one should pray for the dead is one of the great arguments which divide Christians. Appalled by the abuse of indulgences in the Church of his day, Martin Luther rejected the concept of purgatory. Yet prayer for a loved one is, for the believer, a way of erasing any distance, even death. In prayer we stand in God’s presence in the company of someone we love, even if that person has gone before us into death.
The earliest certain observance of a feast in honor of all the saints is an early fourth-century commemoration of “all the martyrs.” In the early seventh century, after successive waves of invaders plundered the catacombs, Pope Boniface IV gathered up some 28 wagon-loads of bones and reinterred them beneath the Pantheon, a Roman temple dedicated to all the gods. The pope rededicated the shrine as a Christian church. According to Venerable Bede, the pope intended “that the memory of all the saints might in the future be honored in the place which had formerly been dedicated to the worship not of gods but of demons” (On the Calculation of Time).
But the rededication of the Pantheon, like the earlier commemoration of all the martyrs, occurred in May. Many Eastern Churches still honor all the saints in the spring, either during the Easter season or immediately after Pentecost.
How the Western Church came to celebrate this feast, now recognized as a solemnity, in November is a puzzle to historians. The Anglo-Saxon theologian Alcuin observed the feast on November 1 in 800, as did his friend Arno, Bishop of Salzburg. Rome finally adopted that date in the ninth century.
Reflection
This feast first honored martyrs. Later, when Christians were free to worship according to their consciences, the Church acknowledged other paths to sanctity. In the early centuries the only criterion was popular acclaim, even when the bishop’s approval became the final step in placing a commemoration on the calendar. The first papal canonization occurred in 993; the lengthy process now required to prove extraordinary sanctity took form in the last 500 years. Today’s feast honors the obscure as well as the famous—the saints each of us have known.
Saint Wolfgang of Regensburg’s Story (c. 924 – August 31, 994)
Wolfgang was born in Swabia, Germany, and was educated at a school located at the abbey of Reichenau. There he encountered Henry, a young noble who went on to become Archbishop of Trier. Meanwhile, Wolfgang remained in close contact with the archbishop, teaching in his cathedral school and supporting his efforts to reform the clergy.
At the death of the archbishop, Wolfgang chose to become a Benedictine monk and moved to an abbey in Einsiedeln, now part of Switzerland. Ordained a priest, he was appointed director of the monastery school there. Later he was sent to Hungary as a missionary, though his zeal and good will yielded limited results.
Emperor Otto II appointed him Bishop of Regensburg, near Munich. Wolfgang immediately initiated reform of the clergy and of religious life, preaching with vigor and effectiveness and always demonstrating special concern for the poor. He wore the habit of a monk and lived an austere life.
The draw to monastic life never left him, including the desire for a life of solitude. At one point he left his diocese so that he could devote himself to prayer, but his responsibilities as bishop called him back. In 994, Wolfgang became ill while on a journey; he died in Puppingen near Linz, Austria. He was canonized in 1052. His feast day is celebrated widely in much of central Europe.
Reflection
Wolfgang could be depicted as a man with rolled-up sleeves. He even tried retiring to solitary prayer, but taking his responsibilities seriously led him back into the service of his diocese. Doing what had to be done was his path to holiness—and ours.
In the Gospel last Sunday, the Pharisees asked our Lord, “What is the greatest Commandment?” Jesus answered, “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart” (Mark 12:30). The second greatest Commandment is, “You must love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:34-40). Our Lord knows that most people, when left to their own imaginations, will screw it up. So, in the Gospel, He tells us exactly what love is and how to manifest it. “If you love Me, take up your cross every day and follow Me” (Luke 9:23). “If you love Me keep My commandments” (John 14:15). By the way, there are many others.
Love is an action and not an emotion. It is an act of the will and not a feeling. Sometimes acts of love are very easy to do and enjoyable like giving your spouse a gift or making your children and grandchildren smile and laugh. Those are great gifts of love. But loving God can be difficult because He is not us. Often, I think I love myself more than God does. Some gifts of love are a little harder like taking up our daily crosses. Most people do not like their crosses. Do you think I enjoy walking around like a question mark? No. Do you think I enjoy eating fish twice a week? Heck no! Thank God for French dressing! Sometimes I do not like getting up in the morning. I’ve put a lot of mileage on this body, and getting up can be a very painful experience. But these are minor ways to love. Look at the Good Samaritan. He was on a trip when he came upon a man who had been beaten and robbed. The man was not lying on his side of the road so, legally, it was not his business, and he was not morally bound to help the man. But love is outside of oneself. So, even though it delayed his trip and traveling at night was very dangerous, the Good Samaritan went outside of himself to care for the man who had been beaten and robbed.
Sometimes we don’t like what God asks us to do. When someone is hurt or sick and needs our help, we think, “Nope. I’m not cut out for this.” That doesn’t matter. It’s not about you; it’s about that person. Acts of love may be very inconvenient. But we are called to not only show our love but also to grow in love. An act of love can be as small and mindless as eating fish. Some crosses are pretty easy like mine and others are much more difficult. Taking up our cross is not always pleasant to the senses. Changing diapers is not bad until the smell reaches you. That’s when you rise to a whole different occasion to love. This is what God calls us to do if we love Him. What do all these acts of love do? They take us away from ourselves.
When you work in medicine, you encounter things that are not pleasant, and the gag reflex kicks in. Sometimes acts of love can be rather repulsive. When a helicopter crashed, I showed Bubba, my staff assistant, how to bring patients in on gurneys just like on Mash. Bubba, who was on the verge of being sick, said, “Sir, [Bleurgh] what do you want me to do, Sir [Bleurgh]?” I said, “First, turn your head. Step outside, get some fresh air, and come back.” Bubba was doing acts of love while his organs were trying to leave his body in no particular order. The sounds and smells were traumatizing. Bubba was 19 years old and had never been exposed to anything like that. But he did what needed to be done, and that was an act of love. Bearing our crosses and those of other people including our family and friends is difficult, but they are crosses of love. People say, “I don’t feel comfortable doing that.” Ahh . . . I don’t care. I don’t like going to prisons even though they allow me to leave. As long as they don’t make me eat fish, I’m good. “I don’t feel comfortable with that.” Good! Our Lord never said anything about being comfortable. “I don’t get anything out of it.” Great! I’m not the world’s greatest spiritual director. I’m like to the right of Genghis Khan.“I don’t get anything out of it.” Don’t care. You aren’t supposed to. Spiritual direction is not about you. I don’t care how you feel. Not one bit. We are given the grace of comfort more often than we think, but not as much as we would like. It is not about us. Love is a gift to the other. When Jesus gives us these directions about how to love, it trains us to love like Him.
When you give gifts of love, you are dying to self so that you can feel what our good Lord felt. You are imitating what happened to our Lord on the Cross. People say, “But no one says thank you.” Many people in my priestly ministry don’t say thank you, and I’ve been doing this for a long time. Believe it or not, I have been cursed out, and not just by my family. In the Book of Acts, the apostles rejoiced because “they had been found worthy to suffer dishonor for the sake of the Name” (Acts 5:41). We get the strength to do that by prayer and through the Sacraments. When we fail in our acts of love, as we all do, we have the Sacrament of Penance to not only heal the wounds of our failures but also to heal the wounds that other people have inflicted upon us. This strengthens our resolve to pick up our cross and follow Him.
In the spiritual life, love is not an emotion; it’s an action. We have to love. In the various stages of life, love takes on different forms. Sometimes when people will soon meet their Maker, and I’m preparing them for their passing, I’ll say, “On this bed is your cross imitating Christ. You are at the right hand of Christ like the Good Thief.” So, offer your sufferings up. You have much to offer through all the suffering you endure although we suffer much less than our grandparents because we have much better medicine now. Still, when you are going through it, it seems like a lot. I had a man who just passed away from idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. He couldn’t breathe. When you can’t breathe, you tend to panic, so he was on a lot of antianxiety medicines. In that patient’s bed, you could see the suffering of Christ. By your suffering, you are imitating Christ’s sacrifice.
When I was a seminarian, I learned an important lesson. I was assigned to Saint John’s Hospital in Boston, Massachusetts. As I was making rounds with a good Jesuit priest, all of a sudden, the door to a patient’s room opened. The smell was so, so bad. I went out into the stairwell retching while I tried to hold my stomach down where it should be. I did not go to medical school, but I knew my stomach should not be up in my throat. I told my father about it, and he said, “That’s good, son.” So basically, he didn’t care either. He was an Army medic before he became an officer. My father said, “You know, it’s not about you. You leave that room, get sick, and then go back in. It’s not about you.” That was one of the best spiritual directions I ever received. Just remember that there will be occasions when our gifts of love will make us feel bad. But there are two things we are learning: 1) It is not about us; and 2) When it’s really hard, when people are repulsive, abusive, and ungrateful, that’s when we grow in love. It is then that you have some conception, in a very minor way, of what Christ endured. His greatest act of love was on the Cross. What did His own chosen people do at the foot of the Cross? They jeered Him.
How will you apply this message to your life? _______________________________________
You can read all of Father Fitzgibbons’ sermons by going to annunciationcatholicalbemarle.com and clicking on “Blog” then “Categories” then “Sermon Notes.” On a cell phone: click on “Blog” and then “Menu.” Scroll to the bottom and click on “Categories.” Sermon Notes are also available on the Church’s Facebook page at ola.catholic.church. Click on “Groups” and then “Sermon Notes.”
I don’t know if today’s sermon will be as good as last week’s, but I’m going to give it a shot. What is the key element needed to grow in the spiritual life? It begins with a “C.” Change. We have to change. We are always changing. I can no longer bend steel with my bare hands, leap tall buildings, or run faster than a locomotive. Those days are over if they ever were. I can no longer do those things. My mind says, “Sure! You can keep up with that 18-year-old.” Yeah, like that’s going to happen. I made that mistake once while I was in the military. One of the officers said, “Father, let them do it. You are the senior officer present.” I said, “I am not going to let those twerps, those young soldiers, outwork me.” It’s a guy thing. When I went back to the hooch at the end of the day, I was in a world of hurt even after a hot shower and taking Motrin. But I wasn’t about to let someone outwork me – that wasn’t going to happen.
The key word is “change.” But the trouble with change is that we always try to change the wrong things. I’ve been a priest for over 30 years, and I have people come to me with addiction problems. Nobody gets to choose their crosses. “So, what can I do about it?” Well, you’ve got to change. “Well, I think if I move to Florida, Alaska, Rhode Island, or Oakboro, I would be better. Or maybe if I had a different spouse or a better job, things would be okay.” That’s plausible. But, in all that, there is one glaring fault. “What’s that?” Well, in all those scenarios, you are bringing you. You aren’t changing. You’re just taking the mess somewhere else.
We have to change. This is what our Lord said: “Leave all things behind and come follow Me.” He doesn’t mean physical things. He is referring to our attachment to self . . . our whole will. Unless you become like little children, you cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven (Matthew 18:3). A child is dependent on their parents who are the source of life. We are called to change, but we always seek to change the wrong things even in the Church. People say to me, “Father, I sit in the back of the church, and I cannot hear you.” Well, move up to the front row. There’s plenty of room there. “Father, I do not like Latin or Latin hymns.” Well, I don’t hear you singing the English hymns either. “If we had reconciliation rooms where you could go in and talk to the priest like in a therapy session, it would be better.” So, thousands of dollars was spent on reconciliation rooms, and confessions continued to take a nosedive like a Kamikaze pilot. Then the Roman Rota, the highest court in the Church, said, “You know, that’s illegal because the priest and penitent must be separated by an immovable barrier.” Oops!
I was in a brand new church, a beautiful church, and I was talking to the pastor. I asked him if he had thought about installing an altar rail. He said, “Yes, I really wanted one, but I ran out of money.” Okay, I understand that. One of his parishioners, a staff member, said, “Oh I hate altar rails. It’s so old-school.” So, you are offended by an inanimate object? It’s not like you have to have one in your house. We change all the wrong things. During your lifetime, we have had Mass in every conceivable language. If you want to hear every language spoken on the planet, come to the 12:15 Mass. I speak Spanish with a French accent, and sometimes I break into Latin just for grips and grins. “We should have Mass in all these languages so that people will come.” They still don’t come! “Well, if we have the Vigil Mass at 5:00 on Saturday and Mass on Sunday night, people will come.” Mass attendance is still down.
My grandfather was a police officer for 38 years in the city of Taunton, MA. Family history has it that he never drew his side-arm. I also have it from someone who had a close encounter with my grandfather that he did use his foot. Those are the old days when you could provide guidance without the cameras rolling. This guy said, “You know something? I deserved it.” He never did that again. My grandfather never missed a Mass. “Oh, we can’t have the dreaded Latin Mass.” Oh, my goodness! It would make it so easy for me. I would only need to have one Mass for the entire United Nations in this church.
I have a book in my office entitled “Chaplains of WWII.” In the book, there are stories about two priests one of which was an Army chaplain. He followed the same Mass during the Battle of the Bulge, in the snow, with the soldiers kneeling. “That was in the war?” Yes, a big one. The Germans and Americans were negotiating real estate. It was pretty brutal, but they held Mass, and the soldiers were all on their knees. Another story from the book that I thought was moving happened in Iwo Jima. A Navy priest was saying Mass with the Marines, and the Marines held up ponchos so that the wind wouldn’t blow everything over. You know what? They were all kneeling during the Mass. The average age of a Marine there was 19 years old. We don’t send old men to fight wars. Jim Dawson was 19 years old and disarmed bombs in Vietnam which is a zero-defect kind of job.
We need to change ourselves. That’s what Jesus said, “Leave everything behind you, and come follow Me.” Come to Him like a little child. Change is not always pleasant. The day I had to stop eating bacon and start eating Moby Dick was very traumatic. I still whine and moan about it. That’s alright because it extends my warranty a little. We must change if we want peace in our souls and all the joy possible in this life. Do not try to rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic. Do not work on the peripheral stuff; instead, work on the hole in the soul.
How will you apply this message to your life? _______________________________________
You can read all of Father Fitzgibbons’ sermons by going to annunciationcatholicalbemarle.com and clicking on “Blog” then “Categories” then “Sermon Notes.” On a cell phone: click on “Blog” and then “Menu.” Scroll to the bottom and click on “Categories.” Sermon Notes are also available on the Church’s Facebook page at ola.catholic.church. Click on “Groups” and then “Sermon Notes.”
