Our Lady of the Rosary

Our Lady of the Rosary

Yesterday we celebrated the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. Its inception goes back to the historic Battle of Lepanto. How is the Mother of God involved? Read further from Father Steve Grunow, the Assistant Director, of Word on Fire Catholic Ministries

Today the Church commemorates the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary, a celebration that has its origin not, as it would seem, in simply a prayer, but in a battle.

On October 7th, 1571 a fleet of ships assembled by the combined forces of Naples, Sardinia, Venice, the Papacy, Genoa, Savoy and the Knights Hospitallers fought an intense battle with the fleet of the Ottoman Empire. The battle took place in the Gulf of Patras located in western Greece. Though outnumbered by the Ottoman forces, the so-called "Holy League" possessed of superior firepower would win the day. This victory would severely curtail attempts by the Ottoman Empire to control the Mediterranean, causing a seismic shift in international relations from East to West. In some respects, and I do not want this claim to be overstated, the world that we know came into being with this victory. This event is known to history as the "Battle of Lepanto."

Pope Pius V, whose treasury bankrolled part of this military endeavor, ordered the churches of Rome opened for prayer day and night, encouraging the faithful to petition the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary through the recitation of the Rosary. When word reached the Pope Pius of the victory of the Holy League, he added a new feast day to the Roman Liturgical Calendar- October 7th would henceforth be the feast of Our Lady of Victory. Pope Pius' successor, Gregory XIII would change the name of this day to the feast of the Holy Rosary.

Our contemporary sensibilities might make us stir uncomfortably at the association of the Mother of the Prince of Peace with the memory of warfare, strife and the troubled history that preceded and followed the Battle of Lepanto. But the fact of the matter is that this feast was first understood as a celebration akin to what we commemorate on the Fourth of July or D Day. Pope Pius V (later Saint Pius V) interpreted the event as the movement of Providence in favor of the Church and European civilization. He had no qualms in the assertion that the triumph properly belonged to the Mother of God and that in the midst of the rancor of battle, her intercession had moved the "Holy League" to victory. Such warlike associations with Christian Faith and culture likely cannot be sustained today. Some find all this to be offensive to genuine Christian sensibilities.

Thus, the true history of this day has receded into the obscuring mists of the past. In our present circumstances we celebrate the prayer of the Rosary, not the battle of Our Lady of Victory. We recall its efficacy as a source for meditation and contemplation and encourage its practice. If there is reference to a battle at all, it is made to the conflicts of our interior lives, particularly in our desire to pray without the burden of distractions.

And yet I find my thoughts turned towards Our Lady of Victory, of the Mother of the Messiah, who proclaimed God mighty and victorious in her Magnificat, and in these words spoke of the strength of His arm to cast down the mighty and exault the lowly. I think of all those precursors of the Mother of God- Miriam, the prophetess, who took a timbrel in hand and on the shores of the Red Sea, singing songs in praise of the God of Israel's triumph over the army of Pharoh; of Judith and Deborah and the fire that burned within their hearts for justice and the sword that they raised against the enemies of God's people; of Rahab and the spies and the fall of Jericho; of Esther the Queen, who risked her own life so that her people might be saved. The Bible is a book of battles. There is properly a peace making quality to our Biblical Faith, a hope for a restoration of the concord that the Creator intended between himself and humanity. But there is also a properly oppositional quality to our Faith, the recognition that in knowing what we stand for, we also know what we stand against. We can no more excise conflict from the Bible than we can deny its reality in our own history. We have been placed in the midst of a fallen world, not merely to surrender to its failure to love, but to live in defiance to that which opposes God. Resist we must, but to do so, we attempt to imitate, not the fallen powers of this world, but Christ the Lord, who wrested power away from the powerful, not by force of arms, but in the strength of his will to love us unto death. He is triumphant, but there still are battles left for him to fight in all the Lepanto's that rage within our own troubled souls. In the midst of these battles I know that Christ the Lord fights for us still, and that the Lady of Victory is at his side.

Tuesday Tunes

Before he was killed by the Nazis over 60 years ago, Dietrich Bonhoeffer struggled with a question that still challenges us today.

“This is the end — for me the beginning of life.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer said these words to a fellow prisoner on April 9, 1945, before Gestapo guards took him away. Then this Lutheran pastor, theologian and leader of the Confessing Church was executed in a Nazi concentration camp at Flossenberg, Germany — paying the ultimate price for his role in the Abwehr plot against Hitler. He was only 39 years old. Over sixty years later, we remember this kind and courageous Christian because his witness for Jesus Christ remains a brilliant light for all who seek to be faithful disciples.

From the beginning, Christians have studied the lives of those who have died for their faith, whose example provides courage and hope for faithful living, especially in times of duress.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer lives in that great company of Christian martyrs; by recalling his life, we gain fresh strength in our efforts to be faithful witnesses for Jesus Christ.

Marianist Monday

Eucharistic Adoration is celebrated every Monday after school in each of our Marianist high schools. I truly look forward to Adoration; I realize I cannot do without it. This is my time to dedicate myself to personal prayer and reflection in the Presence of Jesus Christ silently, in prayer or through song. During Adoration, Jesus calls me to listen, he is inviting me to pray, and to listen is to pray. "Praying is listening" (Mark 4:1-20).

In order to be aware of what the Lord is trying to convey to me, I must maintain an attitude of attentive receptivity. Listening does not merely mean using my sense of hearing; it involves being wholly attuned to the Lord. It means being available to God.

During Adoration, Jesus is inviting me to listen carefully to what he is communicating. He wants me to listen not only with my ears, but to listen with my heart. As I listen to what Jesus is saying to me, I begin to experience a transformation-taking place within me. Prayer is my relationship to our loving Father.

During Eucharistic Adoration, I reflect on God's creative, caring, forgiving, healing, and enduring love. As Jesus says, "when you look for me, you will find me."

Many of us are searching for something to make us feel better; many are searching for a meaning in a world that is confused, chaotic, mixed up and sometimes hard to comprehend. When we are feeling disconsolate or discouraged, peace is a nebulous position, I recommend going to Adoration, if just for a short time. I am sure you will find that Adoration will be very inspirational and inspiring.

During Adoration, I pray and I talk to God, and sometimes I meditate on a verse I feel is very soulful and rousing, "Never would have made it - I never would have made it without you Lord. I am stronger, and I am wiser, yes, I know I never would have made it without you." (Marvin Snap) 

Adoration is my time and it could be your time to develop a stronger relationship with our loving Father and put your trust in Him.

The Sunday Word

Deep in the Gospel of Matthew today, Jesus offers a parable about what else, but a rough relationship between owner and tenant. However, in Jesus' story it's not the landlord who abuses his power and fails to care for those living on his land. No, it's the tenants who takes advantage of the landowner's trust and generosity.

Jesus had entered the final week of his life. It was time for any doubts about his mission and message -- among both his disciples and enemies alike -- to be cleared away. It was time to increase the intensity. So Jesus laid out this accusatory parable. In doing so, he opened the oven, cranked it to 450 degrees and filled the air around him with blistering heat, thus bringing his ministry in Jerusalem to a rolling boil.
The message was clear.

God is like a landlord who has leased his vineyard -- his kingdom -- to Israel as laborers. The time has come for God to demand fruit from his workers. He wants to see faith in his promises, repentance of sins and trust in his messengers. He wants his vineyard producing a wine that leaves the boundaries of the kingdom walls and fills the entire world with the goodness of what he grows. But rather than produce a measurable crop for the owner, the vineyard's residents have sat on their hands and have nothing to show him. As if that weren't bad enough, they've ignored his warnings of eviction and murdered every prophet he'd sent to represent his interests.

"Enough is enough," Jesus proclaimed. A time was at hand when "the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people producing its fruits." God is no nasty slumlord. Israel, however, was an unfaithful, unfruitful tenant. The time of eviction had come. The time for new tenants -- faith-filled, Messiah-following, cross-focused tenants -- had arrived.

Soon after saying all of this, Jesus would be arrested. Go figure.

Here's the thing. It's tempting for Christians today, you know, the new tenants manning the vineyard, to read these words as simply a rebuke of the old guard. But that would be terribly shortsighted. No, if your landlord feels the need to recount stories of previous renters who failed to pay on time, threw parties that garnered visits from the police, and who dared to paint walls without permission, he's not simply reminiscing about the past. It's instruction for you right now!

To be sure, God isn't about to kick the Church out of the kingdom and start from scratch. That's not in the plan. This parable is not a threat to us. But it is highly instructive for us. From it we can discern what God's expectations are for those who've been given the task of living in his kingdom, producing fruit and sending wine into the world.

This is a parable about stewardship. You know, managing God's stuff on God's behalf. There are two central aspects of stewardship. The first is what we've been entrusted with and the second is what in the world we're supposed to do with it.

St. Francis

Turning to the disciples in private Jesus said, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I say to you, many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.”

Saint Luke’s Gospel easily leads us to ask ourselves, “What do we see and what do we hear?” As we walk to work and encounter a homeless person on the street do we see someone who is broken and needs our help or do we see someone who should just “stop drinking and get a job.” When we listen to the homily on Sunday and hear the call for action does it resonate with us; or do we say, “Let someone else take up that cross, I have way too much to do.”

On this the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi it is only appropriate to recall one of the many great stories about what St. Francis learned to see when he looked at the world around him. Francis was the son of a wealthy merchant in Rome and was in the marketplace selling his father’s wares when his eyes saw a beggar sitting with his hand outstretched but no one was willing to help him. Saint Francis was overcome by the sight, pulled the beggar to the side, gave him money and more importantly they exchanged their clothes. Francis then spent the rest of the day in the beggar’s tattered cloak begging in front of St. Peter’s Church. From this vantage point, Francis' view was completely changed and he realized that all people and creatures of the world were worthy of his love and kindness.

We too are open to finding and seeing God in all things that are around us. So, we can slow down and take the time to “to see without looking and hear without listening” the world around us and then reflect on how we can share the love we have in our hearts with those less fortunate and to live a more Christ centered life.

I'm not in charge of the world today...

Image source

To the best of my knowledge,
I'm not in charge of the world today...
I'm only responsible for: 

living this day in God's presence,
loving my neighbor as much as myself
and respecting creation's beauty...

I figure that's more than enough, Lord,
to keep me busy
for the next 24 hours...

So, make me faithful, Lord,
to just the work that's mine,
no more, no less
than just the work that's mine...

And that will be quite enough
- thank you -
that will be quite enough...

Amen.



H/T - A Concord Pastor Comments

A Saint who "lifted the world"

What is it about this little saint of the 19th century that can still capture our imagination even today? Why is it that in many churches in our Diocese you will find a statute to this young woman, dressed in her familiar brown and cream habit, whose life was hidden away in an obscure Carmelite Monastery in Normandy? And why was it that even to some members of her own community there seemed nothing extraordinary or strikingly obvious of a profound holiness? The answer is simple, one word - love.

Today on her feast day, I would like to forgo a look into the scriptures and suggest four aspects of that love that we might learn from in our own journey.

Desire

When you read her story of a soul, it is seasoned with a variety of desires: the childish desires of curiosity concerning the things of God and religion; the earnest desire of a self-willed young girl to enter a Carmelite monastery; and ultimately the desire to follow the path of holiness.

A young woman, born in 1873 and died in the Carmel, Lisieux at the age of 24, who would in the end discover the secret that her desires would not prevail, were they not the loving desire of God. Her Story of a Soul has given us the testimony of an extraordinary life of loving holiness. A holiness that transcends boundaries, of time, of convent walls. But there are no boundaries to holiness!

The world of today invites us to desire many things, mainly material, in the confident hope that they will bring fulfillment and happiness, Thérèse discovered something very important and very different - that we have to live beyond our personal desires, for these can never totally satisfy.

These are too narrow and restrictive and indeed passing. And, living beyond these personal selfish desires is the true path to holiness.

Her story is filled with desires: the very longing to be all, to do and be everything, brought her to a new reality about herself. God desires not great deeds but our availability. Her desire to be heroic would bring her to find her way - “I will be love in the heart of the Church.”

This young woman did no great deeds hidden away as she was behind her convent walls. She was enclosed not just in restricted physical space, but within the very narrow and rigid society of her day. And she transcends that narrowness to become the Doctor of Love. Jesus is my only love, she scratched into the wood in her small room in Lisieux. Her heart opened to receive the love God would pour into it. In one of those powerful moments recorded in her story, she describes how she felt the love of God enter her heart.

Struggle

Her life highlights the interior struggle that takes place in each of us - the struggle with God who wants to lead us in the dance of life. She teaches us that weakness and holiness co-exist. Thérèse shows us the soul of one who struggles deeply to believe even in the darkest night, of suffering and pain, which she describes as “a dark tunnel.” Her early life brought its own struggles, the death of her mother when she was only four years of age, the gradual departure of her beloved sisters into Carmel, a period of spiritual trial for eight years, the mental illness of our dear father and the physical pain endured in her body at the end of her life. And above all, when in the final days of her short life she had to struggle to believe when all was dry and without consolation.

I believe this is what makes Thérèse so relevant and universal in the 21st century. Her struggles, despite the short and very different circumstances she faced, are ours also. In the 1940’s and 50’s her story touched a champion of the New York poor, Dorothy Day by means of a little medal given to her in hospital that would lead Dorothy to a life-long relationship with the saint.

What is it about this little saint that thunders greatness? Faced with the emptiness of all her struggling, she teaches us to sing a song of life. God triumphs within her because Thérèse had grown into a loving relationship with God. Even in God’s seeming absence and her inability to pray, she continued without words, she said “I just love him.”

Confronted with the walls of division and intolerance, the Christian of today must stand as a witness to mercy and love. This type of holiness the Vatican Council of the 60’s tells “is conducive to a more human way of living even in society here on earth. Throughout her suffering she learnt the power of suffering to bring about transformation and purification. She is not the sweet little saint of plaster statutes, but a doctor of love - amidst her suffering.

Surrender

Ultimately, her only desire was to go beyond the struggle and fear and to trust in God’s love and mercy, to surrender, feeling like a child safely playing within the protection of a loving parent.

One contemporary writer put it this way, it was a “problem of reconciling the great desire she had to love God and her experience of imperfection and powerlessness. Her little way to holiness is a ‘daring surrender’ and abandonment to his mercy.” (Donna Orsuto, Holiness) This secret to holiness, is accessible to all. It is not easy, especially if we feel on our own. But we are not alone.

Life calls for a truthfulness in the face of our own reality and limitation. Only God can lead us loving beyond all the limits of this world. In this moment we must surrender and let the Lord lead us - let God’s will be done. Literally, she had to throw herself on the mercy of God. To use the phrase of the mystic Adrienne von Speyr “littleness absorbed into holiness”.

Peace

A while ago the relics of St. Thérèse took a tour of the world. It was not about bones in a box - it was/or is about the call to each one of us to holiness - to be other saints.

Saints are models, teachers, witnesses…. Thérèse herself describes them as levers that have “lifted the world”

This little saint enables us to perceive a little way to holiness that is accessible. It is obvious that Thérèse still speaks to our world. Unlike a pilgrimage to a holy place, she comes to visit us today. What mysterious rose might be handed to us today? Thérèse was aware of her weaknesses. St. Paul reminds us “when I am weak then I am strong.” Our saints are those who surrender to God’s merciful love. Love is the way to peace and harmony - there is no other way.