In February 2006, I stepped foot into a seminary for the first time.  I was attending a priesthood discernment retreat at Kenrick-Glennon Seminary in St. Louis with nearly 40 other young men.  There were many graces from that retreat, but one in particular comes to mind as I think back on that memorable weekend.  It happened on Friday night, the first night of the retreat.  After dinner, we went to the main chapel of the seminary for a time of Eucharistic Adoration.  What I did not realize at the time was that we were gathering to mark the beginning of a special devotion known as the 40 Hours Devotion.

The 40 Hours Devotion involves adoration of the Blessed Sacrament for 40 continuous hours, breaking only for the celebration of daily Mass.  We know that 40 is a significant number when it comes to our faith, so it is a fitting number of hours for this devotion.  During those hours, the men in the seminary would sign up in groups of two to spend an hour in front of the Blessed Sacrament, meaning that prayer was being offered that entire time.  The thought of that really struck me, and it was such a blessing to be able to stop in the chapel during the retreat to see Jesus present on the altar with two young men kneeling in front of Him in adoration.

Once I entered the seminary, this tradition continued.  My first year, one of my friends mentioned that he was going to sign up for a time in the middle of the night.  I thought that sounded a little difficult, but I decided to do likewise.  I went to bed early and rose with my alarm ten or so minutes before I needed to be in the chapel.  Myself and the other seminarian signed up for the 2 AM slot entered in and took our places.  I looked up at Jesus who was right in front of me and entered into the silence.  Before I knew it, I heard the footsteps of the next pair, coming to replace us!  The time flew by in a way that I had never experienced before.  From that point on, I tried to be one of the first in line to sign up for a slot so that I could claim one of those hours in the middle of the night.

From my experience of the 40 Hours Devotion while in seminary, I had always hoped this would be something that I could bring to a parish to which I would be assigned in the future.  I am happy to say that we hosted a 40 Hours Devotion two years ago in the days leading up to Pentecost.  After taking last year off, we are planning to bring 40 Hours back for the days leading up to the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, better known as Corpus Christi from June 9-11.  During that time, we will be inviting you to consider signing up for an hour with the Lord.  We will begin on Friday, June 9 with an Opening Mass at 5:15 PM and conclude with the celebration of the 10 AM Mass on Sunday, June 21, which will include a Eucharistic Procession in the nearby streets.  If you are trying to do the math, with breaks for Mass, that will leave us just short of 40 hours technically, but with daily masses being just 30 minutes, and the Sunday 7 AM usually not taking more than 45 minutes, we will be pretty close to 40 hours.

I plan to write more about 40 Hours in the next couple of weeks as we prepare for this beautiful devotion, but in the meantime, please mark your calendars for those days.  Beginning next weekend, we will have volunteers available after the masses so you can sign up.  We will also be sending out an email with information about how to sign up.

One final thing – do you remember how I asked the parish to add a 4^th Hail Mary during this Eucharistic Year?  Perhaps you can particularize that intention in these days, asking Mary’s intercessions that many will come to encounter her Son in this beautiful devotion.

Feast Day: May 17^th | Lay Franciscan Brother | Imagery: Robed as a Franciscan, Carrying or Worshipping the Eucharist, Surrounded by Sheep,

Poverty doesn’t guarantee you will become a saint, but Jesus was poor, and a whole lot of saints have learned sanctity in the school of scarcity. St. Paschal was one of them. He was born on the feast of Pentecost in 1540 to peasant parents in the Kingdom of Aragon in Spain. At that time, children were often given names based on the feast day on which they were born, and so, being born on the culmination of the season after Easter, the Baylón baby was named “Paschal”.

He would be a shepherd for most of his early life, spending much of his life out in the hills guiding and protecting his family’s flock. During those hours, having been given the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary (a collection of psalms, prayers, and hymns similar to the Divine Office that all priests and religious promise to pray), whenever he came across someone who could read, he would ask them to teach him another word or phrase, slowly learning how to pray the prayers that he carried with him everywhere. Already, he was noted to have a supernatural generosity, giving away part of his food to feed those poorer than himself, and an integrity and humility beyond that of his fellow shepherds.

Gradually these virtues allowed him to hear the gentle call of Christ to religious life. He was directed towards a number of well-endowed monasteries but having come to know Christ in his early poverty, Paschal knew to reject the attraction/temptation of a more comfortable road, not wanting to neglect where Christ had already been working in his heart. At the age of 25 he entered the Reformed Franciscans, discerning during his novitiate that the Lord was not calling him to priesthood but to the simple life of a Franciscan Lay Brother. He would spend a number of his years humbly manning the door, waiting for people to come by and attending to their needs. (Several saints held this same role in their communities!: Andre Bessette, John Masias, Charles of Sezze, Didacus of Alcala, Alphonsus Rodriguez, Benito Solana Ruiz, Bonaventure of Barcelona, and Bl. Solanus Casey. Don’t think that holding the door for someone or picking up the phone is not a path to sainthood!)

However, he was also entrusted with quite arduous labors, including a mission to the Calvinist and Huguenot heretics, attempting to renew in them their belief in Christ’s presence in the Blessed Sacrament. One could questions whether he was successful at this – given the mob that formed and almost killed him – but it seems that his measure of success was not that of this world, but perhaps that of God, because his own generosity, humility, and devotion to prayer before the Tabernacle, were undaunted by the rejection. He died of an illness in 1592, only 52 years old, and without many accomplishments that the world would count important – caring for sheep, praying for hours, kindness to all?? – but he was immediately acclaimed a saint, miracles were rampant at his tomb, and he is a patron saint of Eucharistic Congresses and Eucharistic Devotion. May he pray for us as we seek renewal in our own Eucharistic love! It seems that we probably should start with some kind of poverty…

– Fr. Dominic often looks for consolation in food. Example at hand: a piece of dark chocolate and a few tablespoons of peanut butter went into the composition of this article… But holiness is not going to be found there! St. Paschal points us towards the importance of feeling hungry at times – whether physically or in other ways – and then directing our hunger, our poverty, towards the Bread of Life. If we aren’t ever hungry, we won’t adequately appreciate Christ’s gift, and if we don’t fill our hunger with Heavenly Food, we’re apt to be stuck with chocolate and peanut butter for all eternity. (Which, I promise, will not satisfy us for very long.)

At a recent Family of Faith gathering, some of our families shared some reflections on how their families pray together.  One family had mentioned how the children asked the parents about why they did not pray the Thanksgiving after Meals Prayer, as they had observed with their grandparents.  The parents humbly received the challenge from their children and have added it to the end of their meals.

I think this example highlights something many of us experience.  We can be pretty good about praying before our meals, but how often do we conclude our meal with a prayer of thanksgiving?  Perhaps some of us are not even aware that there is a standard prayer for after meals!  For reference, here is one I usually use:

We give you thanks, Almighty God, for these and all of thy benefits, which we have received from your bounty, through Christ, our Lord.  May the divine assistance remain always with us, and may the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.  Amen.

Now, this also applies to the meal of the Eucharist.  Many of us take time to show up a little early to pray as we prepare for Mass.  But it is not so common to see people remain after the final blessing to spend some time in thanksgiving for the gifts received in the Eucharist.  There are a variety of ways to offer thanksgiving, typically usually your own words, thanking God for the gift of His life shared in the Eucharist, praying that the graces received will bear fruit in your life,  guarding you from all of the threats that can throw you off from following Him.

There are some very beautiful prayers that have been composed over the years that can be used as well.  There is a Prayer after Communion written by St. Thomas Aquinas that can be found on the back of the white Pray Together booklets in our pews.  One of my favorite prayers is called the Universal Prayer, which has been attributed to Pope Clement XI.  It is rather long, but beautiful, and I share it here in case you would like to give it a shot.  Whatever prayer you offer, I encourage you to do something, as it will only strengthen your love for this sublime gift of His Body and Blood that He offers to us at each Mass:

Lord, I believe in You: increase my faith. I trust in You: strengthen my trust. I love You: let me love You more and more. I am sorry for my sins: deepen my sorrow. I worship You as my first beginning, I long for You as my last end, I praise You as my constant helper, and call on You as my loving protector. Guide me by Your wisdom, correct me with Your justice, comfort me with Your mercy,

protect me with Your power. I offer You, Lord, my thoughts; to be fixed on You;

my words: to have You for their theme; my actions: to reflect my love for You;

my sufferings: to be endured for Your greater glory. I want to do what You ask of me: in the way You ask, because You ask. Lord, enlighten my understanding,

strengthen my will, purify my heart, and make me holy. Let me love You, my Lord and my God, and see myself as I really am: a pilgrim in this world, a Christian called to respect and love all whose lives I touch, those in authority over me or those under my authority, my friends and my enemies. Help me to repent of my past sins and to resist temptation in the future. Help me to rise above my human weakness and to grow stronger as a Christian. Help me to conquer anger with gentleness, greed by generosity, apathy by fervor. Help me to forget myself and reach out toward others. Make me prudent in planning,

courageous in taking risks. Make me patient in suffering, unassuming in prosperity.  Keep me, Lord, attentive at prayer, temperate in food and drink,

diligent in my work, firm in my good intentions. Let my conscience be clear,

my conduct without fault, my speech blameless, my life well-ordered. Put me on guard against my human weaknesses.  Let me cherish Your love for me, keep Your law, and come at last to Your salvation. Teach me to realize that this world is passing, that my true future is happiness of heaven, that life on earth is short,

and the life to come eternal. Help me to prepare for death with a proper fear of judgment, but a greater trust in Your goodness. Lead me safely through death to the endless joy of heaven.  Grant this though Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Feast Day: May 14^th | Apostle and Martyr| Imagery: Bearded and Robed as an Apostle, Holding Scroll or Book of the Gospels, and/or an Ax, the instrument of his martyrdom.

On the feast of St. Matthias each year the church offers for our reflection in the Office of Readings, a homily by St. John Chrysostom on the call of St. Matthias. I place it before you today, (having no better words to say myself about this great addition to the Apostles) and wanting to focus our attention on what happens whenever the Church chooses, ordains, a man as a priest (or bishop, a full member of the apostles)! Chrysostom is reflecting on the scene given to us in Acts 1:12-27, right after the Ascension, when St. Peter calls upon the early Church to replace Judas who had lost hope in Christ and hung himself, and his emphasis cannot be underestimated: this is God’s choice, and made by the Church! All of us are called by God, within the Church, to some way of faithfully following the Lord, some way of witnessing to what we have seen of Christ’s power. Have you and I let the Church call that out from us?! Here is how the great golden-tongued-preacher told the story:

“In those days, Peter, stood up in the midst of the disciples and said…” As the fiery spirit to whom the flock was entrusted by Christ and as the leader in the band of the apostles, Peter always took the initiative in speaking: “My brothers, we must choose from among our number.” He left the decision to the whole body, at once augmenting the honor of those elected and avoiding any suspicion of partiality. For such great occasions can easily lead to trouble.

Did not Peter then have the right to make the choice himself? Certainly he had the right, but he did not want to give the appearance of showing special favor to anyone. Besides he was not yet endowed with the Spirit. And they nominated two, we read, “Joseph, who was called Barsabbas and surnamed Justus, and Matthias.” He himself did not nominate them; all present did. But it was he who brought the issue forward, pointing out that it was not his own idea but had been suggested to him by a scriptural prophecy. So he was speaking not as a teacher but as an interpreter.

So, he goes on, “we must choose from those men who lived in our company.” Notice how insistent he is that they should be eyewitnesses. Even though the Spirit would come to ratify the choice, Peter regards this prior qualification as most important. Those who lived in our company, he continued, “all through the time when the Lord Jesus came and went among us.” He refers to those who had dwelt with Jesus, not just those who had been his disciples. For of course from the very beginning many had followed him. Notice how it is written that Peter himself was one of the two who had listened to John, and followed Jesus.

“All through the time when the Lord Jesus came and went among us, beginning with the baptism of John” – rightly so, because no one knew what had happened before that time, although they were to know of it later through the Spirit. “Up to the day”, Peter added, “on which he was taken up from us – one of these must be made a witness along with us of his resurrection.” He did not say “a witness of the rest of his actions” but only a witness of the resurrection. That witness would be more believable who could declare that he who ate and drank and was crucified also rose from the dead. He needed to be a witness not of the times before or after that event, and not of the signs and wonders, but only of the resurrection itself. For the rest happened by general admission, openly; but the resurrection took place secretly, and was known to these men only.

“And they all prayed together, saying: You, Lord, know the hearts of men; make your choice known to us.” “You”, not “we”. Appropriately they said that He knew the hearts of men, because the choice was to be made by Him, not by others. They spoke with such confidence, because someone had to be appointed. They did not say “choose” but make known to us the chosen one; the one you choose, they said, fully aware that everything was pre-ordained by God. They then drew lots. For they did not think themselves worthy to make the choice of their own accord, and therefore they wanted some sign for their instruction. [From a homily on the Acts of the Apostles by Saint John Chrysostom (Hom 3, 1.2.3: PG 60, 33-36, 38).]

– Fr. Dominic sometimes considers what he would be pictured with if he were ever canonized a saint. Would it be a book or scroll, for carrying the Gospel to all places? Would it be the instrument of my death, or my death to self? It gives me pause to consider the things I often carry around, and how they seem to not bear much importance in light of eternal life…