For Your Lenten Friday Night at The Movies III

Today is a Feast Day (and all that this implies)! What better way to celebrate than with burgers and hotdogs on the grill followed by a movie about the greatest game ever invented? Is this heaven?

If it’s still too cold to think of grilling where you live, than live vicariously through me and my family. We’ve been playing baseball since March 14th (my sons team is 5-1 so far) and enjoying every minute of it. Except it was a bit chilly yesterday (shiver me timbers!).

But no matter. Did you guys see my friend Pat McNamara’s post on Catholics making better athletes? Who cares if it’s true or not. But it was dripping with baseball and I’m a sucker for that game ever since my oldest got interested.

So here is the movie for this week: The Rookie, starring Dennis Quaid. Based on the true story of a high school baseball coach, who against all odds tried out for his dream job and actually makes it to the Show. Oh, and he’s a husband, daddy, estranged son, and a teacher too.

It ain’t easy street, by any stretch of the imagination. But that is part of the appeal! Everything matters, and like a famous saying about baseball coined by Yogi Berra, it ain’t over till it’s over. This is the best “G” rated movie, that isn’t animated, that I have ever seen. Check out the trailer,

YouTube Preview Image

98 miles an hour?! He should see Blaise Pascal’s cut-fastball. You all know where to go to pick up your videos. Go forth and enjoy.

Next week? Sidney Poitier in Lillies of the Field.

Because Mary Said “May It Be Done to Me”

Today is the Solemnity of the Annunciation of Our Lord. Before I was a Catholic, I wouldn’t have even known what that all means. Just another one of those big ol’ words linked to Jesus’s mom that everyone knew Catholics worshiped.

Mary, schmerry, I thought, God can do anything. If Mary would have said no, big damn deal.

Sort of like asking a girl to dance at a party and you get rejected.”Sorry God, looks like she said No. Let me buy you a beer to help you put the flames out.” Next candidate please. There’s a lot of fish in the sea. [Read more...]

For the Daily Readings

If it’s Thursday, then I’ll be lectoring at daily Mass at the parish near my office. I went to the USSCB website to see the readings for today and again was amazed, for like the millionth time, at how prescient the order of the readings are.

I have no idea when the readings for the Lenten season were chosen, or put in this particular order. I know it wasn’t last week though. Most likely it was 30,40,50, or 350 years ago. But the thing is, they always seem to hit home with whatever the crisis du jour is.

Universal truths ring loud and clear, and they are timeless. This is why I love the Bible and the Church.

Jeremiah 15: 5-10

Thus says the LORD:
Cursed is the man who trusts in human beings,
who seeks his strength in flesh,
whose heart turns away from the LORD.
He is like a barren bush in the desert
that enjoys no change of season,
But stands in a lava waste,
a salt and empty earth.
Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
whose hope is the LORD.
He is like a tree planted beside the waters
that stretches out its roots to the stream:
It fears not the heat when it comes,
its leaves stay green;
In the year of drought it shows no distress,
but still bears fruit.
More tortuous than all else is the human heart,
beyond remedy; who can understand it?
I, the LORD, alone probe the mind
and test the heart,
To reward everyone according to his ways,
according to the merit of his deeds.

And the Responsorial Psalm (from Psalm 1) complements beautifully,

R. (40:5a) Blessed are they who hope in the Lord.

Blessed the man who follows not
the counsel of the wicked
Nor walks in the way of sinners,
nor sits in the company of the insolent,
But delights in the law of the LORD
and meditates on his law day and night.

R. Blessed are they who hope in the Lord.

He is like a tree
planted near running water,
That yields its fruit in due season,
and whose leaves never fade.
Whatever he does, prospers.

R. Blessed are they who hope in the Lord.

Not so, the wicked, not so;
they are like chaff which the wind drives away.
For the LORD watches over the way of the just,
but the way of the wicked vanishes.

R. Blessed are they who hope in the Lord.

Amen.

For 10 Things To Do While Fr. Corapi is on Leave

Joe Six-Pack, USMC here, also known as “the Worst Consumer of Catholic Media on the Planet.

You’ve heard the news about Fr. John Corapi? Let’s say that you are a devotee of his. You aren’t alone, because last time I checked, there are 45,800+ “fans” on his Facebook page alone.

He has been placed on Administrative Leave, which to a Marine (like me) means he has been given a “time-out” from line-duty until an investigation can be completed. Nothing to get all wound up about.

But the question now is, how are you going to fill that hour or two (or four?!) that he helped you fill during your week?

 Whaat?! The company commander is wounded and has been medevaced and you lugs just sit down? What is this, the Soviet Army?!

I’ve got news for you lubbers. That’s not how we run things here in the Church Militant. There is plenty for you to do, especially when you consider Commander’s Intent and orders from the Holy Spirit via the pen of St. Paul,

So then, my beloved, obedient as you have always been, not only when I am present but all the more now when I am absent, work out your salvation with fear and trembling. For God is the one who, for his good purpose, works in you both to desire and to work.

You heard the Old Man…WORK! And lest you start bellyachin’ about the opportunity for advancement you have been presented, heed these words too:

Do everything without grumbling or questioning, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine like lights in the world, as you hold on to the word of life, so that my boast for the day of Christ may be that I did not run in vain or labor in vain. -(Philippians 2:12-15)

So, let’s assume the Skipper (Marine slang for Captains/Company Commanders) won’t be back, OK? But we’re still at war. So here is a little list of things to do to fill your time while Fr. John is on hiatus.

1. Read Your Bible for an Hour a Week. What, you don’t have a Bible? What kind of soldier are you? Besides, the battlefield is littered with them. I may not be a heavy user of Catholic Media (and TV…no time!), but the USSCB website has the Bible available 24/7. No excuses for not heading to the rifle range. I bet your parish has a bible study class available too. Sign up for it ASAP.

2. Pray the Liturgy of the Hours. This is like #1 above, but with spiritual direction provided by the Church. The readings and psalms are all laid out for you. It is a great way to spend your time, any time of the day. Available 24/7 at Universalis.

3. Meet the Doctors of the Church Where do you think Fr. John learned to shoot like he does? He’s standing on the shoulders of giants, and so can you. Head to the library and read some of the sermons of St. Athansius, St. Augustine, St. John Chrysostom, and others. You’ll be amazed at the stuff they wrote, and the skills you’ll pick up.

4. Read The Spiritual Combat by Dom. Lorenzo Scupoli. Want action? Want a riveting read on tactics and strategies for living through this fight called Christian life? You’ve come to the right place with this book. This will get you started on Chapter One.

5. Pray for our priests and for vocations. We have deaths, retirements, and casualties. And the troops always need leaders. Pray for us soldiers for Christ and pray for our officer corps. If Adoration is available at your parish, that is a great place to pray. But anywhere will do, if you just make the time.

6. Go to Confession. A great way to kill an hour, at least for this week. Only you and God know the state of your own soul, so go take care of business.

7. Go to Daily Mass. This is a great way to spend a half-hour everyday, if you can swing it. You will be surprised at how easy it is to form this habit.

8. Get to know your own parish priest(s) better. This sort of takes care of itself as a result of #6 and #7 above. You know their names, but do they know yours? Why not?!

9. Get Involved in Your Parish. Here is an idea: become a lector, or an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion. Or join the choir, a committee, or help out at the next parish function. Don’t hide your light under a bushel. Help pull some of the load in your parish.

10. Pray the Rosary with your family. Pope John Paul II said, “How beautiful is the family that recites the Rosary every evening.” Hard to do in my family, I’ll admit, but it’s not impossible to do at least once a week. You can even pray along with Mother Angelica and the gang over at EWTN (9:30 PM Eastern).

I’m sure there are many, many other ways to increase your knowledge and devotion during Fr. Corapi’s hiatus. So, Ask, and it shall be given you: seek, and you shall find: knock, and it shall be opened to you. For, as the Apostle says When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But, when I became a man, I put away the things of a child.

So don’t take your packs off. Saddle-up and move out for King and Country!

Because Napoleon Died a Catholic Death

A few weeks back, my family and I hit the used book sale that is held annually to benefit our local public library. Going to this sale has been an annual event for us, ever since we moved to Tennessee six years ago. It is at that sale where I first picked up the collection of Harvard Classics, where I met Blaise Pascal and Thomas à Kempis.

Now that I’m a Catholic, I go to this sale on the lookout for books about the Faith, and works written by great Catholic authors. 

I hit the jackpot this year, with a treasure trove of titles. Four Faultless Felons by G.K. Chesterton, for example. A paperback from 1956 called The Papal Encyclicals, with writings from St. Peter all the way up to Pope Pius XII. More Chesterton with Father Brown of the Church of Rome, edited by John Peterson. I picked up 17 titles in all, including The Waters of Siloe by Thomas Merton and The Peasant of Garonne by Jacques Maritain.

And the selection I am sharing with you today is from Hilaire Belloc’s biography of a famous French general and Emperor you may have heard of named Napoleon Bonaparte. Published in 1932, and weighing in at 379 pages, in a large hardback sporting “16 Illustrations and 22 Maps,” I’m looking forward to getting to know Napoleon better, through Hilaire Belloc’s pen.

A cursory glance of the volume landed me near the end of the book where the death of the exiled leader is imminent. Much as he did in The Great Heresies, Belloc doesn’t bother with footnotes here. But from what he writes about how Napoleon died, I hope to meet him in heaven.

Here is how Belloc tells the tale,

The Death of Napoleon

In exile on St. Helena

It was nightfall on Sunday, April 29, 1821. Napoleon lay dying. The little iron camp-bed with the silver eagles on its four corners and its green curtains was placed in the middle of the low petty room, its head to the light between two windows, its foot towards the simple fireplace, on the mantlepiece of which, in front of a large square looking-glass, stood the bust of his little son.

Wretched as the room was, it was the best in the shanty of a house—a place that was soon to be turned into common stables and was most suitable perhaps for that. It had been worse, when first the Emperor and the few who followed him came into that exile. They had found shreds of the wall-paper turned moldy and rotten with moisture and the ragged carpet on the floor gnawed into holes by rats. So much had been set right; muslin had been stretched over the walls and fluted round, the ceiling white-washed, and the place reasonably clean.

Napoleon’s Lodgings

It stood not far from the summit of a sort of very wide shallow cup sloping down easterly towards the sea from on of the ridges of that volcanic island (St. Helena in the South Atlantic), the floors of the long low place being somewhat less than 2000 feet above the sea, the noise of which could be heard coming up the funnel from the mouth of the depression below. And up that broad cup of the valley, and from the ocean below too, frequently blew the south-east gales—which the failing Emperor dreaded, finding that they suited him ill.

To the right end of the bed as he lay in such extremity he looked through an open door at the chapel which had been set up as best might be in the next room of the suite, the dining room. He gazed through to the wooden altar which the Chinese workmen (serfs of the East India Company) had set up; and his eyes could rest there on one of the last monuments of his name; the four golden letters “N” embroidered on either corner of the green velvet cloth which covered the two steps.

Through this door that morning he had heard the Sunday Mass which Bertrand’s young son had served. There also was the Tabernacle, rough, amateur, cardboard covered, but ornamented as best might be with gilt paper and the white of it gleaming against the red satin behind, while above stood a great Crucifix in ebony, too large it seemed for the altarpiece. Its great silver figure of Christ dominated the scene. He had given orders that when his last agony should be upon him, the Blessed Sacrament should be exposed and the Prayers of the Dead recited; also, said he, he desired to fulfill all the duties of the Catholic Faith.

Now as he had said these words, Antommarchi—the surgeon attendant upon him, who was an atheist in the spirit of his time,as also from the boast of science that he had, could not restrain a smile; whereat Napoleon, with some remnant of strength, flamed up at him and cried, “Be off! Stupidity fatigues me, but I can forgive shallow wits or even bad manners. I cannot forgive dullness of heart.”

It being not long after dark, Montholon had already taken up his watch at nine o’clock, which he changes alternately with the valet Marchand, and it ran till two o’clock in the morning. But on that day he had occasion to leave the Emperor alone, for this reason, that the priest Vignali was to attend. For Napoleon had said long before, when first he discovered what awaited him in his exile, “I must have a priest about me: I would not die like a dog.”

The Emperor had not feared death. He had seen it coming for now long past, ever since the beginning of the year. For when, on New Year’s Day, Marchand had pulled the curtains in the morning, Napoleon—who loved a joking converse with a familiar, and was devoted to those about him—had said, “Well, and what present have you for me this New Years?”

Marchand had answered, “Sire, the hope of seeing Your Majesty soon set to rights and leaving this air which does you only ill.”

But to such words Napoleon, no longer smiling, had gravely replied, “It will not last long, my son. My end is on me; I cannot carry on much more.”

Said Marchand, “As I see things it is not so.”

And then Napoleon had ended all this by the few words, “It shall be as God wills.”

As his illness had increased upon him he had known more and more that certainly it was death.

There came a time when he could no longer walk or ride out of doors, and when he attempted to do so turned faint. In March his blood had chilled and they needed to put warm clothes about his feet, and by the middle of the month he said to a doctor who begged him to take remedies prescribed, “Well, sir! I am at your orders! But do you not see that death will be to me a gift from Heaven? I do not dread it. I will do nothing to hasten it, but I would try no sortilege to make my life the longer.” And at another time he said, “Death has now been for some weeks beside me upon my pillow,” meaning that he had become familiar with that Visitor.

He had told them also, with more instinctive knowledge than their science possessed, that he was dying of what his father had died of; and so he was—with a cancer in the stomach which was certain soon to make an end; so that he could also say, when his English doctor asked him how he felt upon a certain day, “I shall soon give back to the earth the remnant of that life which it is of such import to the Kings to seize.”

He had asked, while still he could attend to reading, that they should read him Homer for a while; and that same day, Sunday the 29th, he had dictated, as he had dictated upon the day before, what he termed “A Reverie”—would that we possessed it! But now, when the night had come, greater things were at hand. The priest was with him alone.

Napoloeon Bonaparte confessed, and was absolved; his peace with the Faith was made; the Last Sacraments were administered—save for this, that he might not receive the Viaticum since he could retain no food. They therefore dared not give him the Eucharist. But he was at peace, while yet his reason remained to him.

It remained to him still for a brief four days. Upon the next day, the last of April, the Monday, his thoughts being still clear but his weakness very great and the sickness upon him very grievous, he kept his eyes still fixed upon the bust of his little son showing there against the glass at the foot of the bed upon the mantel. His sleep had left him, but he lingered on through May 2 and until the 3rd. Upon the 3rd, the last flicker of his great will being, as he thought, still at his service, he attempted to rise for a moment, but fell back. They gave him wine, and as he tasted it he murmured, “How good is wine!”

With that night of the 3rd, however, all around know that the end was upon him, and all watched. With the morning, before noon, his delirium began, in the frenzy of which at one moment he attempted to seize on Montholon at his side; and in that fever he muttered continually words the whispered confusion of which suggested now this, now that. It is said that the last of them which any mortal could distinguish were, “Army…army…” and “Head of the Army….” But there can be no certain record of such things.

All that day long, all the afternoon, right on through the night till four in the morning of the Saturday, the 5th, that final unconscious communion with the last flicker of this life continued. Drowning the slight murmurs of it, came violent rain for hours against the window panes at either side of the beds head, and mixed with that noise the saying of the Prayers before the Altar. Out of the sea a great wind arose and blew furiously up the valley, shaking the frail and miserable tenement with its gusts and rattling the casements and driving more furiously still the waters of the tempest against the glass.

But as the afternoon grew louder in the heavens without, the Emperor at last lay still, and even the faint whisperings from his lips were no longer heard; but they still moved imperceptibly in breathing. The household were assembled. It was near six in the evening. At nine minutes to the hour, the sunset gun was heard far off down the wind; and the rush of the tropical twilight fell under the hurrying clouds and that now lessening gale all those silent about him saw the change: the mouth half fell, the eyes opened; but they saw nothing of this world any more: Napoleon was dead.

They covered him with the cloak he had worn at Marengo, a Crucifix upon it, and by his side laid his sword.

You better believe that if I can say a prayer for the soul of Dracula, then I can certainly say one for Napoleon’s soul as well. And in the spirit of Lenten almsgiving, I’ll throw another one in for Hilaire Belloc’s soul for good measure too.

Update: Napoleon answers the question “Who is Jesus Christ?”

Because Jesus is the Unjust Steward

This first ran back in September, 2010 during the Feast of Our Lady of La Salette. I think it deserves another look…

—Feast of Our Lady of La Salette

Today I heard the best explanation of the parable of the “Unjust Steward” that I have ever heard. Or maybe it is the parable of the “Shrewd Manager.” Either way, thanks to the homily of my pastor today,  I think I may finally understand this parable. [Read more...]

Déjà Vu (Music for Mondays)

Singing, dancing, joy. A break from the mundane, or the monstrous. That is what music offers us. Performance art that often times touches on truth. Poetry, set to music, that gets closer to what we think and feel as a united humanity than almost anything else.

That’s one of the reasons I share music with you here, almost every Monday morning. And after the week just past, we need some music to put some spring in our steps.

Or maybe only I do. An earthquake, tsunami, nuclear meltdown threats, priest scandal mania. Oh, and did I mention we are engaged in Shock & Awe again? Sigh…

Note the title to this post, because with all that is happening in the world, Qoheleth (the inspired writer of Ecclesiastes) is giving us a lesson on how the more things change, the more they stay the same.

There are lots of cover songs in this weeks collection of videos. And lot’s of work from a band who produced an album with the same title as this post. I had a lot of help from friends making these selections too. Because frankly, self-reliance is over-rated. Like in this first tune,

Matt Maher, MercyMe, Jars of Clay, Lecrae, and Thousand Foot Crutch, and more, cover Obla-di, Obla-da. The bands are on tour and having a little fun. They get by with a little help from their friends, come together, and do a great job on this rendition of a Beatles classic. I was tipped off to this by the folks at Life Teen International.

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young: Woodstock. For the rest of this post, I’ll be referring to these guys as CSNY. You can blame this one on Deacon Greg Kandra. He referenced a few of the lines from this Joni Mitchell song in a reflection from last week. You guys know what I think of Neil Young, right? I’m not a baby-boomer and I’ve cast off the shackles of history so I’m not burdened by images of dope-smoking flower children when I listen to this. Give it a try and just listen to the words. I think you’ll find a clear signal amidst the noise.

Seal, Fly Like An Eagle. Remember this cover of the Steve Miller Band classic? It was used in the movie Space Jam, and it works well, seeing how March Madness is upon us. My team was eliminated already (by Florida) so, one less thing to occupy my time until next year. And I’m sure you remember my affinity for Seal.

Crosby, Stills, and Nash: Our House. Invoking the title of this post again, there is threat of scandal in the house again. Do I like it? Am I happy about it? No. Should scandal result in internecine warfare amongst family members? The boys of CSN (sans Y) unwittingly help me stay focused on what’s important here.

CSNY, Carry On. And to remember to keep marching forward along the Way.

CSNY, Teach Your Children. I wish I could say I am an unqualified success at doing this, but alas, I really don’t know. I’ll just keep slogging though. Teaching right from wrong, and teaching them to watch the world make the same mistakes over and over again. And that salvation isn’t of the world but,

From his fullness we have all received, grace in place of grace, because while the law was given through Moses, grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.

Roll credits and I’ll see you next week.

Because of the Way This Desert Father Handled a Calumny

—Feast of St. Joseph  

There are scandals, and rumors of scandals and there always will be. To be tainted by scandal, whether you are wrongly accused or guilty, is really a no-win situation. How does one take on the burden of this situation?

Christ was wrongly accused and He barely said a word to defend himself. But others have been wrongly accused and have borne their accusations in a similar manner.

One of my favorite examples of this is from an episode in the life of my patron, St. Macarius the Great. I can’t even begin to fathom the depth of this Desert Father’s humility, renunciation, and faith. Accused of sexual misconduct, Sister Benedicta Ward translates this episode in the saints life in her book Selections From the Sayings of the Desert Fathers.

Abba Macarius said this about himself:

‘When I was young and was living in a cell in Egypt, they took me as a cleric in the village. Because I did not wish to receive this dignity, I fled to another place. Then a devout layman joined me; he sold my manual work for me and served me.

Now it happened that a virgin in the village, under weight of temptation, committed sin. When she became pregnant, they asked her who was to blame. She said, “the anchorite.”

Then they came to seize me, led me to the village and hung pots black with soot and various other things around my neck and led me through the village in all directions, beating me and saying, “This monk has defiled our virgin, catch him, catch him” and they beat me almost to death.

Then one of the old men came and said: “What are you doing, how long will you go on beating this strange monk?” The man who served me was walking behind me, full of shame, for they covered him with insults too, saying, “Look at this anchorite, for whom you stood surety; what has he done?”

The girl’s parents said, “Do not let him go till he has given pledge that he will keep her.” I spoke to my servant and he vouched for me. Going to my cell, I gave him all the baskets I had, saying, “Sell them, and give my wife something to eat.”

Then I said to myself, “Macarius, you have found yourself a wife; you must work a little more in order to keep her.” So I worked night and day and sent my work to her. But when the time came for the wretch to give birth, she remained in labor many days without bringing forth, and they said to her, “What is the matter?”

She said, “I know what it is, it is because I slandered the anchorite, and accused him unjustly; it is not he who is to blame, but such and such young man.” Then the man who served me was full of joy saying, “The virgin could not give birth until she said ‘The anchorite had nothing to do with it, but I have lied about him.’ The whole village wants to come here solemnly and do penance before you.”

But when I heard this, for fear people would disturb me, I got up and fled here to Scetis. That is the original reason why I came here.’

See what I mean? Is that not the most amazing, most Christ-like lowering of oneself that you have read, short of the trial of Our Lord? Short of the prophet’s words in Psalm 22?

But I am a worm, hardly human,
scorned by everyone, despised by the people.
All who see me mock me; they curl their lips and jeer;
they shake their heads at me

Sun Tzu

Who accepts blame like this when wrongly accused nowadays? With humility? With quiet reserve and with faith that the truth will come to light and set them free? This reminds me of something that Sun Tzu, in his Art of War wrote, five centuries before Christ was crucified, and eight centuries before Abba Macarius endured this calumny,

The general who advances without coveting fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do good service for his sovereign, is the jewel of the kingdom.

That is the truth. May it ever be so. And as for the example of Abba Macarius, Sister Benedicta shares this anecdote in Paradise of the Desert Fathers,

They said of Abba Macarius the Great that he became, as it is written, a god upon earth, because, just as God protects the world, so Abba Macarius would cover the faults which he saw, as though he did not see them; and those which he heard, as though he did not hear them.

Another very Christ-like character trait. Abba Macarius, Pray for us.

You will find Sister Benedicta Ward’s book on the YIMCatholic Bookshelf.

Update: For Stuff My Abba Macarius Says

To Get By With A Little Help From My Friends

This is another example of why I didn’t give up Facebook for Lent. I’d miss a lot of great things that friends are posting during this season of conversion and reflection.

Like this great little video Fr. James Martin narrates about today’s saint whom we celebrate. St. Joseph, Patron Saint of the whole Church. Have a look. You’ll be glad you did.

For Stories Like This On St. Patrick’s Day

This is a strange St. Patrick’s Day for me. That’s because my children are on Spring break, and as such, they are out of school. I don’t ever remember being not “in school” on St. Patrick’s Day.

My mother’s father was born in Ireland (and he was a Catholic too)so there is definitely Irish blood coursing through my veins. But he died when I was very young, and I never got to hear him tell stories of his home country.

I wasn’t raised Catholic, so instead of learning about the actual bishop named Patrick, I learned about leprechauns, four-leaf clovers, and the luck of the Irish. As a result, much of St. Patrick’s story has been lost to me.

Remember my list of resources I shared on Catholic Media Promotion Day? Running by New Advent, I saw they had posted the Catholic Encyclopedia citation for St. Patrick. And that is where I found the following charming story.

St. Patrick Converts Ethne and Fedelm, Daughters of the King of Connaught

On the occasion of his first visit to Rathcrogan, the royal seat of the kings of Connaught, situated near Tulsk, in the County of Roscommon, a remarkable incident occurred, recorded in many of the authentic narratives of the saint’s life. Close by the clear fountain of Clebach, not far from the royal abode, Patrick and his venerable companions had pitched their tents and at early dawn were chanting the praises of the Most High, when the two daughters of the Irish monarch — Ethne, the fair, and Fedelm, the ruddy — came thither, as was their wont, to bathe. Astonished at the vision that presented itself to them, the royal maidens cried out:

“Who are ye, and whence do ye come? Are ye phantoms, or fairies, or friendly mortals?”

St. Patrick said to them: “It were better you would adore and worship the one true God, whom we announce to you, than that you would satisfy your curiosity by such vain questions.”

And then Ethne broke forth into the questions:

“Who is God?”
“And where is God?”
“Where is His dwelling?”
“Has He sons and daughters?”
“Is He rich in silver and gold?”
“Is He everlasting? is He beautiful?”
“Are His daughters dear and lovely to the men of this world?”
“Is He on the heavens or on earth?”
“In the sea, in rivers, in mountains, in valleys?”
“Make Him known to us. How is He to be seen?”
“How is He to be loved? How is He to be found?”
“Is it in youth or is it in old age that He may be found?”

But St. Patrick, filled with the Holy Ghost, made answer:

“God, whom we announce to you, is the Ruler of all things.”
“The God of heaven and earth, of the sea and the rivers.”
“The God of the sun, and the moon, and all the stars.”
“The God of the high mountains and of the low-lying valleys.”
“The God who is above heaven, and in heaven, and under heaven.”
“His dwelling is in heaven and earth, and the sea, and all therein.”
“He gives breath to all.”
“He gives life to all.”
“He is over all.”
“He upholds all.”
“He gives light to the sun.”
“He imparts splendour to the moon.”
“He has made wells in the dry land, and islands in the ocean.”
“He has appointed the stars to serve the greater lights.”
“His Son is co-eternal and co-equal with Himself.”
“The Son is not younger than the Father.”
“And the Father is not older than the Son.”
“And the Holy Ghost proceeds from them.”
“The Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost are undivided.”
“But I desire by Faith to unite you to the Heavenly King, as you are daughters of an earthly king.”

The maidens, as if with one voice and one heart, said: “Teach us most carefully how we may believe in the Heavenly King; show us how we may behold Him face to face, and we will do whatsoever you shall say to us.”

And when he had instructed them he said to them: “Do you believe that by baptism you put off the sin inherited from the first parents.”

They answered: “We believe.”

“Do you believe in penance after sin?”

“We believe.”

“Do you believe in life after death?” Do you believe in resurrection on the Day of Judgement?”

“We believe.”

“Do you believe in the unity of the Church?”

“We believe.”

Then they were baptized, and were clothed in white garments. And they besought that they might behold the face of Christ. And the saint said to them: “You cannot see the face of Christ unless you taste death, and unless you receive the Sacrifice.” They answered: “Give us the Sacrifice, so that we may be able to behold our Spouse.” And the ancient narrative adds: “when they received the Eucharist of God, they slept in death, and they were placed upon a couch, arrayed in their white baptismal robes.”

Read more about the actual St. Patrick. Visit the cathedral’s website too. Come on, there is a virtual tour, at no additional charge.

St. Patrick’s Cathedral
Armagh, Ulster


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