03 August 2020

Homily - 2 August 2020 - The Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time - On Father Damien

The Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)

On Saint Joseph Damien de Vuester

Dear brothers and sisters,

“What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or the sword” (Romans 8:35)? Even as he asks these questions, Saint Paul gives the answer: “No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us” (Romans 8:37).

Photo: Architect of the Capitol
As you wander through the Capitol complex in Washington, D.C., you will see various statues sent from each of the fifty States to honor important people in those States’ histories. On Friday, a member of the House of Representatives singled out one of these statues which she had the gall to call to claim symbolizes “patriarchy and white supremacist culture.” That statue was sent by the people of Hawaii and represents Saint Damien of Molokai; the other statue from Hawaii is of King Kamehameha I the Great, who united the islands into one kingdom. 

To defame a man of the stature and quality of Father Damien by inferring him to have harbored racist motivations in his heart is simply inexcusable. Even a cursory reading of his life, of the history of the Hawaiian islands, or even a brief conversation with a Hawaiian, leaves one with a very clear understanding of Father Damien’s one and only motivation that laid at the foundation of his missionary endeavors: “the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:39). 

My affection for Father Damien, and my devotion to him, are no secret; in fact, he is my favorite Saint and one I consider a dear friend. He was born Joseph DeVeuster in Tremelo, Belgium on 3 January, 1840 and entered the Congregation of the Sacred Hearts at the age of 19; he took the name Damien, after an early physician and martyr. 

His brother, Pamphile, also a member of the Congregation of the Sacred Hearts, was to leave for the Hawaiian missions in 1863, but he fell seriously ill and was not strong enough for the journey. Damien – always a bit headstrong - promptly wrote to his superiors asking to take his brother’s place. His offer was accepted and he landed in Honolulu in 1864 and died on Molokai 1889 at the age of 49, having spent himself in the service of God and his people. 

Before he left Belgium, Damien wrote to his parents reflecting on the voyage on which he was about to embark: “The sacrifice is great indeed for one who tenderly loves his parents, his family, his brethren, and the land of his birth. But the voice that has called upon us to make a generous sacrifice of all, is the voice of God himself.” He heard the call of the Lord and he knew he had to answer it; he knew, as he said, that “we must choose the state [in life] God has predestined for us, so as to be happy in our next life.” 

For nine years he ministered on the Big Island, building churches with his own hands and meeting the spiritual needs of his people. In one letter, he wrote: “Our poor Islanders are always very happy when they see Kamiano coming, and I, for my part, love them very dearly; I would gladly give my life for them.” Do these words sound like those of racist or a bigot, or of someone mired in a white supremacist culture? Of course not! He went on to say, “All things considered, I am very happy, for, along with all the privations and hardships, God often gives me consolations beyond expectations.” 

In another letter, Damien wrote these words: “It is [Jesus] Who in the midst of trials, contradictions, and sufferings, will cause us to enjoy a happiness of which he who has never experienced it can form no idea.” His chief aim in life was to lead everyone to such an experience of the love of God, to lead them to the happiness that can only be found in God. 

With time, Bishop Maigret became increasingly concerned about the spiritual needs of those who lived in the leper colony on the Kalaupapa Peninsula of the island of Molokai; they were sent there to keep society safe, to be forgotten, and to die. Bishop Maigret, unwillingly to command a priest to go to the settlement – because he knew it would effectively be a death sentence – asked if any of his priests were willing to go; he found four. He decided to have them rotate on a three-month basis, hoping that would keep from contracting the disease. Father Damien agreed to go first and arrived at the colony on 10 May 1873, accompanied by the Bishop. Though the Bishop intended to leave him for there for just three months, Damien would not allow his turn to end, and there he remained, willingly and gladly, where others hesitated to go. 

Upon arriving at Molokai, Bishop Maigret gathered the people together and said to them: 

So far, my children, you have been left alone and uncared for. But you shall be so no longer. Behold, I have brought you one who will be a father to you, and who loves you so much that for your welfare and for the state of your immortal souls, he does not hesitate to become one of you, to live and die with you! 

He had no idea how true his words would prove. 

When he first arrived at the leper colony, Damien was not trusted by the Hawaiian people because they; many others had come for a few weeks or a couple of months; what would this new one do? Damien slowly won them over by eating from their same poi bowls, sharing a pipe with them, and learning and speaking their language. When he was sent to the lepers, he was told to stay several feet away from them, not to touch them, or even to eat food prepared by them, lest he, too, contract the dread disease. (The similarities with our own day are clear.) Those who had gone before him followed this advice, but he ignored it from the very beginning; instead, he bent down to touch and embrace the lepers. He would not dismiss the people so heartlessly. 

Father Damien once said, “I make myself a leper with the lepers to gain all to Jesus Christ.” In these words, he echoes the words of Saint Paul who said that he became “all things to all to save at least some” (I Corinthians 9:22). In doing so Father Damien imitated the love of Christ who gave himself for our salvation. This he did by bringing in a water supply, building their churches and chapels, forming a band, digging their graves and building their coffins, mending their homes and huts, expressing their physical needs to the Board of Health and never taking ‘no’ for an answer, and bandaging their wounds and sores with his own hands. In addition to this, he offered the Mass for them, heard their confessions, witnessed their marriages, assisted them in their last moments in this life, and commended their souls to God. 

After sixteen years, he contracted leprosy himself because of his close work with the lepers, and accepted this Cross as a true disciple. He said, “Having no doubts about the true nature of the disease, I am calm, resigned, and very happy in the midst of my people. God certainly knows what is best for my sanctification and I gladly repeat, ‘Thy will be done.’” He knew that his sufferings would lead him to grow in holiness if he offered them for his people with the sufferings of Christ. 

He found that his “greatest pleasure is to serve the Lord in his poor children rejected by other people.” He devoted all of his efforts to the lepers of Molokai, often ignoring his own needs against the advice of others; he spent himself in their service. He was no racist, no bigot, no white supremacist, as everyone in his own day knew very well. After the Princess Liliuokalani, then Regent of the Kingdom of Hawaii, visit the leper colony to experience the sufferings of her people and to witness and support Father Damien’s ministry, she made him a Knight Commander of the Royal Order of Kalakaua, the highest honor of the Hawaiian Kingdom. She would never bestow such an honor on one who did not love her people; rather, she gave him the highest he could because of his devotion to her people. 

At an altar built by Saint Damien

Father Damien’s example shines brightly before me, and, by God’s grace and his intercession, I pray that I will be able to imitate his zeal for souls, his tireless dedication, and his acceptance of suffering with both joy and gratitude for the salvation of others. 

We might wonder how he was able to serve so faithfully those who were rejected and reviled. 

I find my consolation in the one and only companion who will never leave me, that is, our Divine Savior in the Holy Eucharist. . . .It is at the foot of the altar that we find the strength necessary in this isolation of ours. Without the Blessed Sacrament a position like mine would be unbearable. But, having Our Lord at my side, I continue always to be happy and content….


Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament is the most tender of friends… Be not afraid then in your solitary conversations, to tell Him of your miseries, your fears, your worries, of those who are dear to you, of your projects, and of your hopes. Do so with confidence and with an open heart. 

It is in the Eucharist that the love of God in Christ Jesus is given to us every time we attend the Holy Mass; it is through the Eucharist that “the hand of the Lord feeds us” and through which “he answers all our needs” (cf. Psalm 145:16). Damien knew that, through the Eucharist, he would conquer overwhelmingly; we need to realize this anew in our day.

The Representative’s comments about Father Damien are a stark reminder to us of the importance of voting with our consciences, of the morality of entering into the ballot box. It is not enough to cast a vote for someone who agrees with me on this or that issue; rather, we must elect men and women of proven quality, or proven character, of proven virtue, men and women who understand actual history and the true motivations of the human heart, men and women who make calm decisions and not rash judgments. There is no need to defame those who are most honorable; rather, what we need to do is to imitate such men and women. Simply imagine for a moment how much different our society would be if all imitated even a fraction of the selflessness of Father Damien! 

In his own day, Father Damien was frequently insulted by members of the government of Hawaii and of the Board of Health, but he never let their slurs stop or hinder his loving care for those exiled from society. May Saint Damien pray for us, teach us how to be the hands of the Lord answering the needs of others, and remind us that no one can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Amen.

27 June 2020

Homily - 28 June 2020 - The Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)

Dear brothers and sisters,

As we watch society drift further and further into chaos, people of good will on both sides of the political aisle frequently ask how we have come to this moment in our shared history. The answer to such a question is both simple and obvious. Indeed, it is so obviously simple that it is often overlooked and even dismissed. The answer, of course, is sin. Our society has reached such moral lows because of sin, both personal and communal. If we seek any remedy to what ails our society that does not take into account the undeniable reality of human sin, such attempts at healing will necessarily fail.

When Saint Paul spoke of sin, he used an analogy from archery. To sin, he said, is hamartia, to miss the mark. The mark at which we aim, the target whose center we hope to hit, is Christ Jesus; he is the mark, the target, the aim of our lives. To miss this mark is both unpleasant and yields unfortunate results, but we can always repent and aim again; to not even aim at the mark is utterly disastrous, as is abundantly evident today.

A moment ago, the Apostle reminded us that “we were indeed buried with [Christ] through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life” (Romans 6:4). This, however, is not quite what Saint Paul wrote. Where we have the word “live,” he used the word peripateo, which “literally means ‘walk,’ since walking is a Hebrew idiom for ‘conducting oneself’ in relation to God.”[1] This means that while the baptized have been joined to Christ by sharing in his Death and Resurrection, each of the baptized remains free to conduct him or herself well or poorly in relation to God. Today, we have to acknowledge with great sorrow that many of the baptized are not walking in newness of life.

The Christian, of course, is called by virtue of Baptism to lose his or her life in Christ, and in so doing to find life Himself (cf. Matthew 10:39). Saint Augustine said, “To be baptized into the death of Christ is nothing else but to die to sin, just as he died in the flesh.”[2] This, we might say, is what it means to aim at Christ.

Every Christian who aims at the mark of Christ - and who hits the mark - can be said to have died to sin. Ambrosiaster put it this way:

It is clear that those who have crucified the body, i.e., the world with its vices and lusts, die to the world and die together with Christ, and that they are also conformed to his eternal and saving life so that they might deserve to be made like Christ in his glory.[3]

Too many Christians today do not strive to hit the mark of Christ; they do not strive to grow in conformity with the Lord Jesus and be made like him in his glory; they do not lose their lives in him.

Failing to hit the mark of Christ, failing to love with his own love, has wide-ranging consequences which extend far beyond myself.

We are a community of those who line up on Black Friday to grab every last deal, even if we must commit violence upon our neighbor in the process. We engage in a politics that views our fellow member of the polis solely through the lens of suspicion and condemnation, a vision that erases his or her humanity. We profess faith in an economy of scarcity, of endless consumption that falsely promises to make us whole.[4]

The less whole we feel, the more we fall into various forms of the capital sins of pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, anger, and sloth. The greater these sins, the more we miss the mark, the more the divide between God and humanity grows. We see this especially today in the breakdown of the family, in the failure to understand human sexuality, in growing forms of racism and bigotry, and in a failure to see and protect the dignity of every human life. Each of these sins, whether personal or communal, has had a grave effect on our society and we must strive to overcome them, both personally and communally.

We recognize the symptoms easily enough, but, as a society, we have not recognized the cause of these symptoms and have denied the reality of the sickness of sin. We continually strive to make ourselves whole through everything that cannot make us whole. The only way we can become whole, personally and communally, is through union with the Crucified and Risen Lord, through reconciliation with him who offers continual worship to the Father. Only the Divine Physician can heal us and make us whole, for

Wherever communion with God … is destroyed, the root and source of our communion with one another is destroyed. And wherever we do not live communion among ourselves, communion with the Triune God is not alive and true either.”[5]

This is why we must strive to participate ever more consciously and intentionally in the Holy Mass, not as “strangers or silent spectators,” but as those “conscious of what they are doing, with devotion and full collaboration.”[6]

The fundamental purpose of the Holy Mass is to join in Christ’s eternal worship of the Father. This is why the Second Vatican Council said, “Christ indeed always associates the Church with Himself in this great work wherein God is perfectly glorified and men are sanctified. The Church is His beloved Bride who calls to her Lord, and through Him offers worship to the Eternal Father.”[7]

This is why we begin the Holy Mass saying to the Father, “We praise you, we bless you, we adore you, we glorify you, we give you thanks for your great glory…” Because his glory is so great we have nothing worthy which we can offer him; nothing this side of heaven comes close to approximating the Father’s glory and honor. The only worthy sacrifice we can rightly offer is that of his only Begotten Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. This is why in the Holy Mass the Death and Resurrection of his Son is re-presented to the Father and we are, by his grace, allowed to share in it through the Eucharist, which is all symbolized in some way in the offertory.

This humble and simple gesture is actually very significant: in the bread and wine that we bring to the altar, all creation is taken up by Christ the Redeemer to be transformed and presented to the Father. In this way we also bring to the altar all the pain and suffering of the world, in the certainty that everything has value in God's eyes. The authentic meaning of this gesture can be clearly expressed without the need for undue emphasis or complexity. It enables us to appreciate how God invites man to participate in bringing to fulfilment his handiwork, and in so doing, gives human labour its authentic meaning, since, through the celebration of the Eucharist, it is united to the redemptive sacrifice of Christ.[8]

We praise, bless, adore, glorify, and thank the Father for allowing us to offer the totality of our lives to him through Christ his Son in the Holy Spirit; this is why, at the end of the Eucharistic Prayer, the priest offers praise to the Father, saying, “Through him, with him, and in him, O God, almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours forever and ever.” “While the priest announces the doxology, he lifts the chalice and paten – not to show them to the people, but to present the sacrifice to the Father. This gesture says with the body what the words themselves proclaim: that through, with, and in Christ our voices – and ourselves – are lifted up to the Father.”[9]

At this great moment when the priest is united to the worship Christ Jesus offers the Father, you, too, are united to his worship. Your “Amen not only confirms [your] engagement in this final act of praise, but also [your] engagement in the whole of this prayer.”[10] Jesus

is not standing before His Father as a lone petitioner, as He had been during His earthly pilgrimage when He spent quiet nights on the mountain praying alone; now His redeemed are around Him. They have learnt how they can, with Him, praise the Father who is in heaven. In truth they are in Him, taken up into the living union of His Body and therefore drawn into the fervent glow of His prayer, so that are really in a position to worship the Father “in spirit and in truth” (John 4:24).[11]

If we have truly offered ourselves to the Father, if we have conformed our hearts to the love of Christ and died to sin, then “our actual participation in the Sacrifice of the Word [made Flesh] resounds, not only in the nave and sanctuary of our churches, but also in the temples of our hearts.”[12]

Let us, then, strive to worship the Father by offering ourselves with his Son so that we, like the bread and wine, may be transformed so that we might hit the mark by living lives that give glory to the Father in all things. By walking in this newness of life, by conducting ourselves well in relation to God, may his love transform us and, through us, our society. Amen.

[1] Scott W. Hahn, Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture: Romans (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2017), 96.
[2] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Against Julian, 1.7.33.
[3] Ambrosiaster, Commentary on Paul’s Epistles.
[4] Timothy P. O’Malley, Liturgy and the New Evangelization: Practicing the Art of Self-Giving Love (Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2014), 79-80.
[5] Pope Benedict XVI, General Audience Address, 29 March 2006.
[6] Sacrosanctum Concilium, 48.
[7] Ibid., 7.
[8] Pope Benedict XVI, Sacramentum caritatis, 47.
[9] Christopher Carstens and Douglas Martis, Mystical Body, Mystical Voice: Encountering Christ in the Words of the Mass (Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 2011), 204.
[10] Edward Foley, “The Structure of the Mass, Its Elements and Parts,” in A Commentary on the General Instruction of the Roman Missal, Edward Foley, Nathan D. Mitchell, Joanne M. Pierce, eds. (Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2007), 180.
[11] Joseph A. Jungmann, The Mass of the Roman Rite: Its Origin and Development, Vol II, Francis A. Brunner, trans. (Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 2012), 265-266.
[12] Christopher Carstens and Douglas Martis, Mystical Body, Mystical Voice, 204.

31 May 2020

Homily: What's wrong with the world?

The Solemnity of Pentecost

Dear brothers and sisters,

On this great Solemnity of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit descended upon the Apostles and strengthened them for the proclamation of the Gospel (cf. Acts 2:3-4). In our own day, when we set out to proclaim the Gospel, we generally only speak to those who are like us. The Apostles, on the other hand, spoke of the merciful love of Jesus to anyone who would listen; indeed, they preached to

Parthians, Medes, and Elamites, inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the districts of Libya and Cyrene, as well as travelers from Rome, both Jews and converts to Judaism, Cretans and Arabs (Acts 2:9-11).

They were not so much interested in differences, but in bringing every person into unity in Christ Jesus by Baptism into his Body, the Church (cf. I Corinthians 12:13). This unity of faith superseded any differences that might otherwise remain.

Those great pillars of the faith knew well that, different as we all may be, we all share in one fundamental aspect of humanity, namely, that “If you [O Lord] take away their breath, they perish and return to the dust. When you send forth your spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the earth” (Psalm 104:24). For this reason, the Church has always taught that

the equality of men rests essentially on their dignity as persons and the rights that flow from it: Every form of social or cultural discrimination in fundamental personal rights based on the grounds of sex, race, color, social conditions, language, or religion must be curbed and eradicated as incompatible with God’s design.[1]

Racism – in any form – has no place in the Christian heart. The protests and riots happening now in thirty or more cities across this land demonstrate that we, as a nation, have a very long way to go in recognizing the fundamental dignity of every person; we have a long way to go in allowing the message of the Gospel to purify our hearts through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

We do not often ponder the role of the Holy Spirit in the process of our salvation. We should frequently call upon the Holy Spirit, using the words of the Pentecost Sequence:

Where you are not, we have naught, nothing good in deed or thought nothing free from taint of ill. Heal our wounds, our strength renew; on our dryness pour your dew; wash the stains of guilt away: Bend the stubborn heart and will; melt the frozen, warm the chill; Guide the steps that go astray.

Our nation, which still claims to be mostly composed of Christians, is in great need of a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit, a new Pentecost, a new season of hearts set afire with the love of God. As we witness so great an absence of genuine Christian love in the hearts of so many people, we may feel powerless to bring about any change, but such a feeling is incompatible with the Gospel.

In 1910, the editors of the British newspaper The Guardian asked various authors for an essay answering the question, “What’s wrong with the world.” G.K. Chesterton, the prolific Catholic, wrote to the editors saying simply, “Dear Sirs, I am.” How many of us are willing to say, “I am what’s wrong with the world?” If we are not willing to acknowledge this, we must implore the Holy Spirit to enlighten the darkness of our hearts in order to be more fully converted to Christ.

Only if we first recognize our own sinfulness, only if we confess our sinfulness to the Lord, only if we receive the grace of his forgiveness can we become bearers of his merciful love to every person we meet. As more and more hearts are converted to the Lord, the darkness of sin is brought into the light and flees away. It starts with you. It starts with me. Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful, and kindle in them the fire of your love. Amen!

[1] Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1935; Gaudium et spes, 29 § 2.

03 May 2020

Homily - The Fourth Sunday of Easter - 3 May 2020

The Fourth Sunday of Easter (A)
The 57th World Day of Prayer for Vocations

Dear brothers and sisters,

The Lord Jesus calls himself “the gate for the sheep” through which the sheep “will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture” (John 10:7, 9). It is easy enough to understand what he means by the sheep: he means those who hear his voice, who know his voice, and who follow his voice; he means those who are his disciples, those who strive to learn from him and to imitate him (cf. John 10:14, 3). To recognize Christ Jesus to be the gate for us requires us first to take to his words to heart, to allow them to pierce our hearts, so as to be led to “repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins” (Acts 2:38).

It is likewise simple enough to understand what he means by calling himself the gate: he is the door, the entrance, the way (cf. John 14:6). He makes no mention of any other gate, of any other door, of any other way. He alone is the way to his pasture, but what is this pasture which he opens up to his sheep?

To understand something of his pasture, we can turn to the twenty-third Psalm, one of the most beloved passages of the Sacred Scriptures. In this ancient hymn, King David - himself a shepherd - sang, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. In verdant pastures he gives me repose; he refreshes my soul” (Psalm 23:3). Reflecting on his own time spent with his father’s flocks, during which David sought to lead the sheep to peaceful pastures, he realized that the Lord did the same for him. The young king of Israel understood that “he who has God as his shepherd is always granted this abundance, the image of all good gifts.”[1]

The Fathers of the Church saw in this image of the pasture the image of the Church herself. This is why Saint Ignatius of Antioch could say that Christ “is the door of the Father through which Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets, the apostles and the church all enter. All these enter into the unity of God.”[2] The Fathers therefore saw a connection with Christ the gate for the sheep with the waters of Baptism, which is why Saint Augustine said, “he nurtured me beside the water of baptism, where those who have lost their soundness and strength are made new.”[3]

When Jesus says that the sheep enter through him, he says the sheep enter into the Church, the Body of Christ, through him. We do this through our participation in his Sacraments, principally through Baptism. But what does he mean when he speaks of those going out through him who find pasture? He surely does not mean that we can abandon the Church – which he established – through him.

When he considered these words of the Savior, Saint Augustine said:

I might say, indeed, that we enter when we engage in some inward exercise of thought; and go out, when we take to some active work without: and since, as the apostle says, Christ dwells in our hearts by faith, to enter by Christ is to give ourselves to thought in accordance with that faith; but to go out by Christ is, in accordance also with that same faith, to take to outside works, that is to say, in the presence of others (cf. Ephesians 3:17).[4]

These outside works, of course, are the works of the disciples of Jesus; they are the works of evangelization by which we help others to hear and recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd, to repent, and to enter into the Church through him.

We can only go out in this way if we conform our lives to Christ, if we ourselves become doors. We cannot forget that

In the tabernacle, the altar is, so to speak, always alive, always remains Eucharist, always the entrance and ascent of Jesus Christ. Through him the church is always Church and never a lifeless house in which nothing is happening at the moment. He is there always. Over the centuries, it was always the great and beautiful thing about our churches that they stood open, that the door was really a door. It can stand open only if we ourselves stand open and our life constantly leads to him, when we, too, in our everyday routine have time for the mystery of living closeness.[5]

Once we have entered through Christ into his quiet pastures of overflowing serenity, how can we not desire to help others also find his pasture? How can we leave them outside the gate, stumbling about in the wild, outside of his abundant and merciful love?

For this reason, on this fifty-seventh World Day of Prayer for Vocations, the Holy Father Pope Francis urges all of the faithful “to overcome all weariness through faith in Christ, and to make of their lives a song of praise for God, for their brothers and sisters, and for the whole world.”[6] As anxiety sets hold of some of us and as others of us are growing restless, these are words we should all take to heart.

We cannot allow ourselves to be overcome by weariness, but must instead remember the counsel of Saint Peter: “If you are patient when you suffer for doing what is good, this is a grace before God. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example that you should follow in his footsteps” (I Peter 2:20). Rather than allowing ourselves to become despondent and agitated, we should always strive to see the “goodness and kindness” of the Lord and so to enter into his pasture (Psalm 23:6). With Saint Augustine, let us say to Jesus, “I shall not be afraid of evil happenings, because you live in my heart through faith; you are with me now, to ensure that when this shadow of death has passed away, I may be with you.”[7] Amen.

[1] Romano Guardini, The Wisdom of the Psalms, Stella Lange, trans. (Chicago: Henry Regner Company, 1968), 94
[2] Saint Ignatius of Antioch, Epistle to the Philadelphians, 9. In Thomas C. Oden, et al, eds., Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, New Testament Vol. IVa: John 1-10 (Downers Grove, Illinois: Inter Varsity Press, 2006), 343.
[3] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Exposition of Psalm 22 (23), 2. In Saint Augustine: Expositions of the Psalms, Vol I, John E. Rotelle, ed., Maria Boulding, trans. (Hyde Park, New York: New City Press, 2000), 244.
[4] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Tractates on the Gospel of John, 45.15.
[5] Joseph Ratzinger, Signs of New Life: Homilies on the Church’s Sacraments, Michael J. Miller, trans. (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2020), 24.
[6] Pope Francis, Message for the 57th World Day of Prayer for Vocations.
[7] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Exposition of Psalm 22 (23), 4. In Saint Augustine: Expositions of the Psalms, 244.

30 April 2020

Islamic State Ongoing Updates - April 2020

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25 April 2020

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