Feast of Thomas Aquinas, Priest, Teacher of the Faith, 1274 The end of all my labors has come. read more

Feast of Thomas Aquinas, Priest, Teacher of the Faith, 1274 The end of all my labors has come. All that I have written appears to me as much straw after the things that have been revealed to me.

The Gospels contain what the Apostles preached -- the Epistles, what they wrote after the preaching. And until we understand read more

The Gospels contain what the Apostles preached -- the Epistles, what they wrote after the preaching. And until we understand the Gospel, the good news about our brother-king -- until we understand Him, until we have His Spirit, promised so freely to them that ask it -- all the Epistles, the words of men who were full of Him, and wrote out of that fullness, who loved Him so utterly that by that very love they were lifted into the air of pure reason and right, and would die for Him, without two thoughts about it, in the very simplicity of no choice -- the Letters, I say, of such men are to us a sealed book. Until we love the Lord so as to do what He tells us, we have no right to an opinion about what one of those men meant; for all they wrote is about things beyond us. The simplest woman who tries not to judge her neighbor, or not to be anxious for the morrow, will better know what is best to know, than the best-read bishop without that one simple outgoing of his highest nature in the effort to do the will of Him who thus spoke.

Feast of Simon & Jude, Apostles Some natures will endure an immense amount of misery before they feel read more

Feast of Simon & Jude, Apostles Some natures will endure an immense amount of misery before they feel compelled to look there for help whence all help and healing come. They cannot believe that there is verily an unseen, mysterious power, till the world and all that is in it has vanished in the smoke of despair; till cause and effect are nothing to the intellect, and possible glories have faded from the imagination. Then, deprived of all that made life pleasant or hopeful, the immortal essence, lonely and wretched and unable to cease, looks up with its now unfettered and wakened instinct to the source of its own life -- to the possible God who, notwithstanding all the improbabilities of His existence, may yet perhaps be, and may yet perhaps hear His wretched creature that calls. In this loneliness of despair, life must find The Life: for joy is gone, and life is all that is left; it is compelled to seek its source, its root, its eternal life. This alone remains a possible thing. Strange condition of despair into which the Spirit of God drives a man -- a condition in which the Best alone is the Possible!

Continuing a Lenten series on prayer: Every true prayer has its background and its foreground. The foreground of prayer read more

Continuing a Lenten series on prayer: Every true prayer has its background and its foreground. The foreground of prayer is the intense, immediate desire for a certain blessing which seems to be absolutely necessary for the soul to have; the background of prayer is the quiet, earnest desire that the will of God, whatever it may be, should be done. What a picture is the perfect prayer of Jesus in Gethsemane! In front burns the strong desire to escape death and to live; but behind there stands, calm and strong, the craving of the whole life for the doing of the will of God... Leave out the foreground, let there be no expression of the will of him who prays, and there is left a pure submission which is almost fatalism. Leave out the background, let there be no acceptance of the will of God, and the prayer is only an expression of self-will, a petulant claiming of the uncorrected choice of him who prays. Only when the two are there together, the special desire resting on the universal submission, the universal submission opening into the special desire, is the picture perfect and the prayer complete.

Take care that all your offerings be free, and of your own, that has cost you something; so that ye read more

Take care that all your offerings be free, and of your own, that has cost you something; so that ye may not offer of that which is another man's, or that which ye are entrusted withal, and not your own.

Joy was characteristic of the Christian community so long as it was growing, expanding, and creating healthfully. The time came read more

Joy was characteristic of the Christian community so long as it was growing, expanding, and creating healthfully. The time came when the Church had ceased to grow, except externally in wealth, power, and prestige; and these are mere outward adornments, or hampering burdens, very likely. They do not imply growth or creativeness. The time came when dogmatism, tyranny, and ignorance strangled the free intellectual activity of the Church, and worldliness destroyed its moral fruitfulness. Then joy spread her wings and flew away. The Christian graces care nothing for names and labels; where the Spirit of the Lord is, there they abide, but not in great Churches that have forgotten Him. How little of joy there is in the character of the religious bigot or fanatic, or in the prudent ecclesiastical statesman! A show of cheerfulness they may cultivate, as they often do; but it is like the crackling of thorns under a pot: we cannot mistake it for the joy of the Lord which is the strength of the true Christian.

Maundy Thursday Jesus invites His saints To meet around His board; Here pardon'd rebels sit and read more

Maundy Thursday Jesus invites His saints To meet around His board; Here pardon'd rebels sit and hold Communion with their Lord. For food He give His flesh, He bids us drink His blood; Amazing favor! matchless grace Of our descending God! This holy bread and wine Maintains our fainting breath, By union with our living Lord And interest in His death. Let all our powers be join'd His glorious name to raise; Pleasure and love fill every mind, And every voice be praise.

[At the Garden of Olives Monastery] "Why are you all so quiet all the time?" I say, still whispering read more

[At the Garden of Olives Monastery] "Why are you all so quiet all the time?" I say, still whispering at him in this hoarse voice. "We are teachers and workers," he says, "not talkers." "Workers, O.K.," I say, "but how can a teacher be quiet all the time and teach anybody anything?" "Christ was the best," he says, thinking of something. "He lived thirty-three years. Thirty years he kept quiet; three years he talked. Ten to one for keeping quiet.".

What use is it to us to hear it said of a man that he has thrown off the yoke, read more

What use is it to us to hear it said of a man that he has thrown off the yoke, that he does not believe there is a God to watch over his actions, that he reckons himself the sole master of his behavior, and that he does not intend to give an account of it to anyone but himself? Does he think that in that way he will have straightway persuaded us to have complete confidence in him, to look to him for consolation, for advice, and for help, in the vicissitudes of life? Do such men think that they have delighted us by telling us that they hold our souls to be nothing but a little wind and smoke -- and by saying it in conceited and complacent tones? Is that a thing to say blithely? Is it not rather a thing to say sadly -- as if it were the saddest thing in the world?