In the next paragraph of Spe Salvi, which concludes this section on “[t]he concept of faith-based hope in the New Testament and the early Church”, Pope Benedict continues to reflect on the “substance” of faith which helps us to have hope in the future.  He looks at the Greek word hypomone which is used in Hebrews 10:36: “You need endurance (hypomone) to do the will of God and receive what he has promised.”  Here is what the Holy Father has to say about that word and its relation to the concept of hope:

Hypo- mone is normally translated as “patience”—perseverance, constancy. Knowing how to wait, while patiently enduring trials, is necessary for the believer to be able to “receive what is promised” (Heb 10:36). (SS 9)

With the coming of Christ, God has “communicated to us the ‘substance’ of things to come, and thus the expectation of God acquires a new certainty.” (ibid) This certainty is based on the fact that what is to come for us in fulness has already come, and we have already begun to share in it through the gift of grace, as I discussed a few weeks ago in the article titled Already but Not Yet.

As I read these words, they strike me as offering a helpful perspective as we begin the Lenten season.  It is customary for us as Catholics to select something additional to do for Lent.  For many, that means giving something up, such as earthly goods like certain foods, drinks, or other pleasurable activities.  Many will also be more intentional about taking up some sort of charitable activity, such as giving alms more frequently or in a larger amount, or volunteering to do some sort of service to others.  Focusing more on our prayer life is also something many Catholics will pursue during this season.  For the purpose of this article, I want to say a few words about fasting (giving something up).

When chosen well, we will generally choose something to give up that will be difficult.  If what we give up is not something that will be hard, why even do it?  Giving something up that will be difficult helps to train our spiritual muscle of restraint, so that when faced with other temptations, we will have greater strength, aided by God’s grace, to remain faithful to the Lord.  But there is another reason why I think it is good to choose a sacrifice that is difficult.  Being deprived of something good can increase our hope of that good being restored in the future.  When we undertake our Lenten sacrifices well, hard though they may be, we look forward to Easter Sunday with greater eagerness.  Though we may have to, for a time, experience the pain of denying ourselves something, we know that when Easter comes, and we can resume our partaking of what we have given up, it is something we enjoy all the more!  This is why I think when we choose what to give up, it can be advisable to choose something that is not in itself bad.  For example, we might really like adding creamer and sugar to our coffee, but having that (in moderation) is not necessarily bad for us.  Therefore giving up something like this can be a good choice.  On the other hand, some people will decide to give up gossiping for Lent.  This is a good thing, but gossiping is not good to begin with, so although it is commendable to give that up, and giving it up might be hard, we would hope that this is something we can root out altogether, not just give up for a time.  I hope that difference makes sense.  By all means, we want to be more attentive to avoiding sinful habits, but that should be an all-year effort, not just restricted to Lent.

Our experience of giving up something good for a period of time, knowing it will be restored on Easter is a small experience of what the Holy Father is talking about, I believe.  If we can build that muscle of knowing how to wait for something in the future, something which will certainly be given to us, we will be able to endure other trails that we face, those we do not choose, and to be at peace knowing that beyond those trials is the promise of eternal peace and joy in the Kingdom of Heaven.

In light of Our Holy Father Pope Francis’ serious sickness (as I write this article), I wanted to bring something of his words to you this week and next. On April 7, 2021, while doing an ongoing catechesis on prayer, he spoke on how our prayer brings us into union with the saints. They are prescient words as we embark on deeper and more consistent prayer during this season of Lent. Perhaps one of the ways we can do this is simply to unite and pray with those saints that are especially close to us. They have learned the work, and received the gift, of prayer perfectly; they can be a great help to us!

I was also moved especially by his reflection on prayer in time of suffering, especially as he himself has been carrying a heavy burden on that front these past weeks. Again and again, he has thanked the world for holding him in prayer, AND while hospitalized has given his signature for the further steps towards canonization of multiple saints! (Naming as venerable Fr. Emil Kapaun, military chaplain from Kansas; Italian layman Salvo D’Acquisto; Michele Maura Montaner, a 19th-century Spanish priest; Italian priest Didaco Bessi; and Kunegunda Siwiec, a Polish laywoman who died in 1955.) He is living out the teaching he gave those 4 years ago!

Dear Brothers and Sisters, good morning!

Today, I would like to reflect on the connection between prayer and the communion of saints. In fact, when we pray, we never do so alone: even if we do not think about it, we are immersed in a majestic river of invocations that precedes us and proceeds after us.

Contained in the prayers we find in the Bible, that often resound in the liturgy, are the traces of ancient stories, of prodigious liberations, of deportations and sad exiles, of emotional returns, of praise ringing out before the wonders of creation… And thus, these voices are passed on from generation to generation, in a continual intertwining between personal experience and that of the people and the humanity to which we belong. No one can separate themselves from their own history, the history of their own people. We always carry this inheritance in our attitudes, and also in prayer. In the prayers of praise, especially those that blossom from the hearts of the little ones and the humble, echo parts of the Magnificat that Mary lifted up to God in front of her relative Elizabeth; or of the exclamation of the elderly Simeon who, taking Baby Jesus in his arms, said: “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word” (Lk 2:29). 

Prayers — those that are good — are “expansive”, they propagate themselves continuously, with or without being posted on social media: from hospital wards, from moments of festive gatherings to those in which we suffer silently… The suffering of each is the suffering of all, and one’s happiness is transmitted to someone else’s soul. Suffering and happiness are part of a single history: they are stories that create history in one’s own life. This history is relived in one’s own words, but the experience is the same. 

Prayer is always born again: each time we join our hands and open our hearts to God, we find ourselves in the company of anonymous saints and recognized saints who pray with us and who intercede for us as older brothers and sisters who have preceded us on this same human adventure. In the Church there is no grief that is borne in solitude, there are no tears shed in oblivion, because everyone breathes and participates in one common grace. It is no coincidence that in the ancient church people were buried in gardens surrounding a sacred building, as if to say that, in some way, the multitude who preceded us participate in every Eucharist. Our parents and grandparents are there, our godfathers and godmothers are there, our catechists and other teachers are there… That faith that was passed on, transmitted, that we received. Along with faith, the way of praying and prayer were also transmitted.

– Fr. Dominic 

In the next paragraph, the Holy Father returns to the word which he spent time unpacking in the previous paragraph.  I noted that the popular English translations for hypostasis from Hebrews 11:1 are ‘realization’, ‘assurance’, or ‘guarantee.’  But Pope Benedict prefers the more technical and philosophical translation of ‘substance’.  The pope connects his treatment of this passage with one from the previous chapter in the Letter to the Hebrews, which reads: “You even joined in the sufferings of those in prison and joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property, knowing that you had a better and lasting possession.” (Heb. 10:34) The Greek word for possession here has the same root as substance from Heb. 11:1, thus offering even more insights into its usage in this letter, especially as it relates to the topic of hope.

When considering the word ‘possession’, the Holy Father notes that this property “constitutes the means of support, indeed the basis, the ‘substance’ for life, what we depend upon.” (SS 8) As the pope points out, however, “[t]his ‘substance’, life’s normal source of security, has been taken away from Christians in the course of persecution.” (ibid) But being deprived of this earthly support, they stood firm because they realized that they had something far more valuable and long lasting than material support.  Through their faith, “they had found a better ‘basis’ for their existence—a basis that abides, that no one can take away.” (ibid) Commenting on this new basis for life that faith offers us, the pope writes:

Faith gives life a new basis, a new foundation on which we can stand, one which relativizes the habitual foundation, the reliability of material income. A new freedom is created with regard to this habitual foundation of life, which only appears to be capable of providing support, although this is obviously not to deny its normal meaning. (ibid)

As a way of demonstrating the “proof” for this statement, the Holy Father points out the example of how this has been lived out in a compelling way throughout the life of the Church:

Above all, it is seen in the great acts of renunciation, from the monks of ancient times to Saint Francis of Assisi and those of our contemporaries who enter modern religious Institutes and movements and leave everything for love of Christ, so as to bring to men and women the faith and love of Christ, and to help those who are suffering in body and spirit. In their case, the new “substance” has proved to be a genuine “substance”; (ibid)

The pope explains how “from the hope of these people who have been touched by Christ, hope has arisen for others who were living in darkness and without hope.” (ibid) In other words, their example that one can be at peace and joyful despite a lack of worldly possession shows us that the same is possible for us as well.

Most of us are not called to this more radical form of earthly poverty, but all of us are called to the poverty of spirit as seen in the First Beatitude: “blessed are the poor in spirit.” (Mt. 5:3) Another word for ‘blessed’ in the Beatitudes is ‘happy’, or ‘fortunate’.  This state of blessedness is something which we already possess through that poverty of spirit, and Jesus adds the promise of how that blessedness is directed toward the fulfillment of hope that that experience brings: “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (ibid)

Feast Day: February 16^th

(We finally get to the saint behind the miraculous healing of Sorino Yanomami.) Giuseppe Ottavio Allamano was born in Asti, Italy, in 1851. His uncle was actually the wonderful “saint of the gallows”, Fr. Joseph Cafasso, and in his youth Giuseppe attended the oratory under St. John Bosco in Valdocco. These were influences towards his own entry into seminary in 1866, though at that time he was not at all certain that the Lord was calling him to be a priest, “The Lord is calling me today … I don’t know if he will call me again in two or three years.” So began his lifelong growth in learning to discern God’s will, happily including his ordination as a priest in 1873 for the Diocese of Turin. His first years of priesthood were as a spiritual director in the seminary, and completing his doctorate in theology. In 1876, he was made the rector of the seminary and a few years later (at the age of 29!) the rector of the Sanctuary della Maria della Consolazione (commonly simply called “La Consolata”). It was an ancient site of worship, and the spiritual heart of Turin, and Fr. Allamano was determined to be part of its renewal. He constructed additional chapels, restored the ceiling, and also worked on spiritual initiatives to build up the faith of the city including starting a monthly Catholic newspaper, La Consolata in 1899.

But it was his own brush with death in 1891 that brought him to discern that God was asking him even further off the standard path of a diocesan priest: to found a religious order dedicated to the missions. He had never been on mission, and would never even travel outside of Italy because of his poor health, but he found it “unnatural that in his Church, fertile with so many  charity institutions, one solely dedicated to the missions was lacking”. And so, on January 29^th, 1901, the Istituto Missioni Consolata was established. “Not having been able to be a missionary myself, I want those souls who wish to follow that path not to be hindered”. Yet, thinking again it seems, he also said ”the vocation to the missions is essentially the vocation of every holy Priest. All it takes is a greater love for our Lord Jesus Christ, which urges one to make him known and loved by those who do not yet know him and love him.”

It had taken 10 years to get the order off the ground – as he would also say, dioceses were willing to give money, but not men, for the missions. It was another decade later, with his brothers and fathers on mission all over the world, that he realized something deeply lacking in their efforts without women also carrying the Gospel to all those places. He needed not just spiritual fathers, but also mothers, to care for the poor and unevangelized around the world. He met, and received the approval of Pope Pius X to found a female branch of the Institute of the Consolata Missionaries in 1910 … and was not done yet. In 1912 he met the pope again, this time begging him to establish an annual day to proclaim the importance of mission to the whole church. Yes, to encourage those called to be missionaries, but also anticipating by decades the Second Vatican Council’s proclamation of the universal missionary vocation of the whole church.

Then war broke out in the Balkans, and Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated in 1914, and World War I engulfed Europe. Pope Pius X was consumed by the horrors of war, and Fr. Allamano spent his time caring for his order abroad, and the many refugees and draftees from the war in the area around Turin. He died in February 1926. BUT, the great missionary zeal which had marked his life was not to be snuffed out! In 1927, Pope Pius XI instituted World Mission Sunday, which continues to our day to be celebrated every year in October. We happily already have Pope Francis’ words for this upcoming one of October 19, 2025 where he speaks to missionaries, like the Consolata fathers and sisters, and then to all of us:

I thank you most heartily! Your lives are a clear response to the command of the risen Christ, who sent his disciples to evangelize all peoples (cf. Mt 28:18-20). In this way, you are signs of the universal vocation of the baptized to become, by the power of the Spirit and daily effort, missionaries among all peoples and witnesses to the great hope given us by the Lord Jesus.

– Fr. Dominic is amazed at how impactful one diocesan priest can be all over the world a century after his death. Not only the many conversions, but now also the miraculous cure of Sorino Yanomami and the radical openness in the local tribes that was only possible after such a divine intervention.

When Pope Benedict was elected to the papacy in 2005, there was some fear that as he assumed a more prominent role in the Church, his writing might be difficult for some to grasp.  Prior to his becoming pope, Joseph Ratzinger (his name before becoming pope) had written extensively.  He had served as a professor of theology for many years and also spent almost 25 years as the Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.  Both of these positions often required him to write on difficult topics of the faith, and trying to read those writings was sometimes a little difficult, despite the clarity and order with which he wrote.

Just a few months after his election, Pope Benedict issued his first encyclical, Deus caritas est (God is love).  Many were surprised to see how easy it was to read this document.  Though still packed with profound theological insights, he was able to express his ideas in ways that were generally easily understood and greatly appreciated.  I say all of that as a way of preparing us for the next paragraph in Spe Salvi, in which the pope delves into some more technical language about the relationship between faith and hope, specifically as it is expressed in the first verse of the eleventh chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews.  As I read through this paragraph again, I found myself struggling a little more than with other paragraphs as the Holy Father offers a short exegesis on this passage which offers the classic definition of faith in the New Testament.  He quotes the passage, leaving the word in question untranslated: “Faith is the hypostasis of things hoped for; the proof of things not seen.”(Heb. 11:1) (FYI – the English word used for hypostasis is ‘realization’, ‘assurance’, or ‘guarantee’) The rest of the paragraph unpacks that word hypostasis, considering it’s meaning in Greek, in Latin, and how Martin Luther and biblical scholars (both Catholic and Protestant) have understood it, and how he resolves those various views to express the Catholic interpretation of this important passage.

Feel free to read the paragraph for yourself, but the conclusion that the Holy Father arrives at is insightful and much easier to understand in comparison to the steps leading to that conclusion.  He concludes with the following:

Faith is not merely a personal reaching out towards things to come that are still totally absent: it gives us something. It gives us even now something of the reality we are waiting for, and this present reality constitutes for us a “proof” of the things that are still unseen. Faith draws the future into the present, so that it is no longer simply a “not yet”. The fact that this future exists changes the present; the present is touched by the future reality, and thus the things of the future spill over into those of the present and those of the present into those of the future. (SS 7)

My somewhat feeble attempt to distill this paragraph is that through faith, which is a gift of God’s grace, a seed is planted within our souls, such that what we hope for in eternal life, is already present in us.  It is not something we make up, something we hope to see in the future, but it is an objective reality of life with God, for the beginning of the fullness of that life is already in us through grace, which is a sharing in very Christ’s life.  This is an “already” that is present within us, not just a wishful longing for what is “not yet.”  It is not either/or, but rather both/and. 

Feast Day: February 16^th 

Last week we met Sister Felicita Nyaga, a Consolata Missionary from Kenya, confronted with the impossible situation of Sorino Yanomami’s losing chunks of his brain and skull to a jaguar attack. With little hope, she sent him by plane to the nearest hospital over 200 miles away only to be confronted by the pagan shamans of the local tribe who threatened to kill her if he did not return alive.

I had not thought much, I had acted. Now, when I entered the house, I went directly to the chapel and looked at the picture of Allamano [the founder of their order]. At that moment I thought, ‘I have a father, he is here.’ I was angry, I was so afraid and I was shaking. I thought, “Allamano tell me one thing, when you founded this congregation, did you want it specifically for the unbaptized? Did you know that we would experience all these difficulties? And right now where are you? Are you there?” When I asked this question I felt like a blanket enveloping me, a different warmth. 

So I said, “Listen Jesus, through the intercession of Giuseppe Allamano I want to ask you just one thing. Sorino has gone to Boa Vista, he is very serious. If they can cure him there, I ask that he heal completely and come back as before. If he comes back with impairments, like a paralysis, he could not live in the forest as a hunter and fisherman. If he does not heal, it is better for him to die. And if he has to die, I also ask for grace to bear this arrow that will hit me”. Also, I wondered, “Is this really our mission place? Our charism? Only a complete healing of Sorino can give us an answer.

She lit a candle and prayed those same words each day waiting for news. At the hospital on Boa Vista, the team was horrified by what they found. Sorino was breathing with difficulty, his brain was infected, chunks of soil, blood, and bone fragments were mixed among the missing parts of his fronto-temporo-parietal lobe. They put him in a medically induced coma and attempted to clean the wound. The days of the novena crawled by. The sisters in Boa Vista joined in the novena to Allamano, praying for the healing of Sorino, and placing a relic of their founder under his pillow.

By the 16^th, the awaited feast-day, Sorino was close to death. St. Lisadele, at his bedside, went for their local superior, Sr. Maria Costa, to see if there was a way to get Sr. Felicita out of Catrimani so she would not be killed by the locals when he passed. They spoke about this throughout the morning of the 17^th, not knowing what to do. Around noon, Sr. Maria felt an impulse to look over at Sorino. He turned his head towards her and spoke “Maria, why are you crying?” He said he was hungry, and he began to improve. 

Three months later, a plane landed again at Catrimani. The locals had gathered, and the men with their weapons, some saying “only the bones are coming.” The door opened, and Sorino stepped down and walked immediately to Sr. Felicta, “I want to show you the path I made from the incident to the maloca.” All this should have been impossible. His skull was still open so the wound could be cleaned (Sr. Lisadele loaned him her hat to protect it from the sun), but it allowed all to see what the operating doctor testified: the damaged part of Sorino’s brain was what allowed for motor coordination, he should have been neither able to walk or talk. 

Sr. Felicita’s prayer was answered (and her life and that of the other missionaries!), against impossible odds, Sorino had been healed, and returned in full health to live and work in the forest with his people. Dr. Roberta Barbaro would add her own testimony to the account of this miracle sent to Pope Francis for the canonization of Giuseppe Allamano.

On 4 March 2019 (therefore, 23 years after the attack of the jaguar), I went to the Catrimani mission, I met Sorino Yanomami, and had the opportunity to observe him in his daily life. Sorino provided a detailed account of the accident which occurred in 1996. He reported leading a normal life, continuing to carry out his hunting and fishing activities, without problems. … The patient now presents complete functional recovery and without any after-effects, lasting over time, which in light of the extensive brain lesions reported following the trauma with loss of substance, is scientifically inexplicable.

Such was the miracle worked through the intercession of a diocesan priest from Turin, Italy who had never been on mission but whose missionaries had carried the Gospel to every corner of the world!

– Fr. Dominic will finally get to St. Giuseppe next week!

As he continues to reflect on the concept of hope in the early Church, Pope Benedict now turns to the interesting image of artwork found on early sarcophagi, the often-decorative stone coffins in which the dead were placed.  We often associate these with the ancient Egyptians, but they were also prominent among the Romans, both before and after the introduction of Christianity in the Empire.  The artwork on the outside of the coffin offered an expression about their belief in what happens after death.

The Holy Father notes the following about prominent imagery often chosen for these sarcophagi: “The figure of Christ is interpreted on ancient sarcophagi principally by two images: the philosopher and the shepherd.” (SS 6) Regarding the image of the philosopher, the pope writes: “Philosophy at that time was not generally seen as a difficult academic discipline, as it is today. Rather, the philosopher was someone who knew how to teach the essential art: the art of being authentically human—the art of living and dying.” (ibid.)  Though there were many philosophers and philosophies that proposed to be worthy of following, only Christ and His Gospel offer the truth that will enable us to live a good and truly human life, but His life and His Gospel can direct us beyond death into the life everlasting of Heaven.

Times are not so different now than they were then!  There is a plethora of voices in our culture that promise a philosophy that has all the answers, that promises peace and prosperity in this life.  These philosophies often criticize the Gospel and the Church as being out of touch with reality and shackles on our freedom.  At long last, our eyes have been open to the truth and what so many people followed in the past is no longer necessary, so they claim.  There is a certain level of pride to be found in these philosophies, suggesting that our modern times are more knowledge than the past.  And yet, the Gospel and the Church has been around for 2000 years.  Christ continues to inform the lives of people, people who often make the most significant contributions to society and who live lives of great freedom and joy despite “limiting themselves” to the so-called narrow way of the Gospel.  Another flaw of current philosophies is a lack of a solution to death.  If all we have is this world, then our hope is woefully limited.  In Christ, we are given a hope that is not limited just to this part of our journey, but one that opens to eternity, and that hope, as we keep coming back to, “does not disappoint.” (Rom 5:5)

The other image is that of the shepherd.  This one is more familiar to us, for Jesus speaks of Himself as the Good Shepherd in the Gospel (John 10).  Pope Benedict notes how in Roman art of the time, “the shepherd was generally an expression of the dream of a tranquil and simple life, for which the people, amid the confusion of the big cities, felt a certain longing.” (ibid.)  The Holy Father understandably then connects this to the image of the Lord as a shepherd as articulated so beautifully in Psalm 23.  This psalm, writing during the time of the Old Testament, was certainly a source of comfort to the Chosen People, but with the coming of Christ, the Good Shepherd, those words take on an even greater significance, for we have great confidence that through His indwelling in our souls through grace, we fear no evil for He is at our side, which fills us with hope as we look to the uncertainties of the future events of our lives.  Even more consoling, though, is the promise that, at the end of our journey we have hope of eternal rest, for we “shall dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.”(Ps 23:6) 

Feast Day: February 16^th 

It was 9 a.m. on February 7^th, 1996, and Sister Felicita Muthonia Nyaga was going about her morning routine in the mission dispensary near the Catrimani river in the Northwestern part of the Amazon rainforest in Brazil. She was a Consolata Missionary Sister, herself originally from Kenya, and that day was working the dispensary alone because the other sisters were 350 kilometers away in the City of Boa Vista. Suddenly a man ran in asking for a rifle or pistol, to which Sister Felicita responded that she was a missionary and did not have one. The man ran off, sister following not knowing what was happening. She made her way to the front of their little mission, at the end of the small airstrip that connected them to the outside world. There, surrounded by a handful of other members of the Yanomami tribe, was Sorino Yanomami, lying in a rapidly spreading pool of blood, his skull horribly torn open. 

He, a simple, joyful man with a young wife, a hard worker and good woodsman, had been hunting birds when he was attacked from behind by a jaguar. The animal had mauled Sorino, ripping open his skull, and though he managed to hold off the beast until others could arrive and drive it away, now he was prone on the ground, breathing, barely. Sister recounted later:

I saw Sorino on the ground, in a bloodbath, I remained petrified, frozen and trembling, not knowing what to do. I called his mother and asked for water; then I realized that the scalp was protruding and that Sorino was also bleeding a lot; there was a lot of sand, dirt and part of the brain had spilled out. I pushed the brain in and then took the scalp and put it back, but it kept bleeding; he was alive, but did not speak. Since I hadn’t brought anything with me, I took the only thing I had, the t-shirt I was wearing: I took it off and wrapped it around Sorino’s head, to compress and somewhat stop the bleeding. 

She nursed him with what they had on hand: an iv into his foot because the veins in his hands had disappeared, and then radioed to Boa Vista to request a plane to carry him to the hospital. Sister Rosa Aurea Longo answered the call but said all the planes were already out for other emergencies and they would have to wait. The hours crept by, Sorino barely hanging on, and now the locals, led by over a dozen shamans, decided that there was no way he would survive his injuries, and were pressing on sister to allow them to perform the rituals that would carry him into the afterlife. She begged them to let him be taken to the hospital but they were adamant: “‘No, he can’t go to the city. It is very serious, we saw his brain out of his head, and the jaguar ate part of it. But a person without a piece of brain cannot live”. … ‘the spirits are coming for him, he has to say his yes to leave his body and go with them. This cannot happen outside the forest’”. 

The men grew angry, pointing their bows and arrows at Sister Felicita who only partially understand what they were shouting about and began to cry. Into the din some of the women of the village stepped between their husbands and the distraught sister, protecting her and explaining the shamanic beliefs of the tribe and their anger at the jaguar. Sorino whispered to sister: “Felicita, you are my mom now. They say I have to go with the spirits, but I don’t want to, do some things because I want to live.” And so she stood her ground, trying to hold off the locals from ushering Sorino into the next life while waiting an agonizing additional two hours for the plane to arrive. When it did, she recounts what she did next: “I was a young sister and so, I carried Sorino on my shoulder and took him to the plane which took off to a hospital in Boa Vista.” 

The Yonamami dispersed. Sister occupied herself with radioing what she knew to the team waiting at the hospital and comforting the wife and relatives of Sorino. She returned, finally, to the mission, only to find there the shamans and dozens of warriors with them. They remonstrated with her, explaining that if Sorino died outside of their forest he would be left wandering the afterlife forever. Several of the men planted their arrows in front of her house. “Go into your house. We cannot kill you now because Sorino is not dead, but these arrows we leave here … and if he dies, we will kill you with these.”

Such were the words she carried into their empty chapel, beginning a harrowing vigil of prayer for Sorino. It was the first day of the novena to their founder, the Blessed Giuseppe Allamano.

– Fr. Dominic will return to the Amazon rainforest next week (and eventually to Turin, Italy)!

As he continues to reflect on how Christ brought a new understanding of hope to the early Church, Pope Benedict notes how this new religion of Christianity was not just for those who “belonged to the lower social strata, and precisely for this reason were open to the experience of new hope, as we saw in the example of Bakhita.” (SS 5) There were also many who were more cultured and well-off who began to find a new hope in Christ.  Many had been following the Roman way of life, centered on a view of things being governed by various gods and the cosmic forces of nature and the universe.

The Holy Father quotes the following from St. Gregory Nazianzen, who lived in the latter part of the 4^th century, in the early days of the spread of Christianity in the Roman Empire.  St. Gregory wrote “that at the very moment when the Magi, guided by the star, adored Christ the new king, astrology came to an end, because the stars were now moving in the orbit determined by Christ.” (SS 5)

On this quote, the Holy Father offers the following reflection, noting its importance not just in those early days of Christianity, but now as well:

This scene, in fact, overturns the world-view of that time, which in a different way has become fashionable once again today. It is not the elemental spirits of the universe, the laws of matter, which ultimately govern the world and mankind, but a personal God governs the stars, that is, the universe; it is not the laws of matter and of evolution that have the final say, but reason, will, love—a Person. And if we know this Person and he knows us, then truly the inexorable power of material elements no longer has the last word; we are not slaves of the universe and of its laws, we are free.

The Pope’s notes that a worldview of things being governed primarily by the “elemental spirits of the universe” (Col 2:8) “has become fashionable once again today.”  This takes various forms, including reading horoscopes, using tarot cards, and going to fortune-tellers.  Against these practices, the Church has spoken strongly in the Catechism of the Catholic Church:

God can reveal the future to his prophets or to other saints. Still, a sound Christian attitude consists in putting oneself confidently into the hands of Providence for whatever concerns the future, and giving up all unhealthy curiosity about it. Improvidence, however, can constitute a lack of responsibility. All forms of divination are to be rejected: recourse to Satan or demons, conjuring up the dead or other practices falsely supposed to “unveil” the future. Consulting horoscopes, astrology, palm reading, interpretation of omens and lots, the phenomena of clairvoyance, and recourse to mediums all conceal a desire for power over time, history, and, in the last analysis, other human beings, as well as a wish to conciliate hidden powers. They contradict the honor, respect, and loving fear that we owe to God alone.  (CCC 2115-2116)

Some might object that such warnings are unwarranted, but the Church offers them in order to guard us from things that can harm us.  As one author I read on this topic concluded: “By consulting a horoscope to show ourselves our path in life, we usurp the place of God in whose hands we should place our concerns allowing Him to lead us down the path of holiness in discerning his will for us.”  (Angelo Stagnaro, National Catholic Register, Blog entry of June 9, 2020) As we entrust ourselves in faith to Christ alone to lead us down that path, we have the assurance that whatever that path may be, we are sustained by hope, a “hope that does not disappoint.” (Rom 5:5)

Feast Day: January 26^th 

We have been slowly making our way up to St. Paula who’s feast was now two weeks ago. She was born into a wealthy and noble family in Rome, in 347 A.D. (so, one decade after the death of Constantine and in the middle of all the civil wars that followed). Jerome was born around the same time (as was St. John Chrysostom actually), and this is all just before Liberius becomes Pope (in 352, his showdown with Constantius II coming up in 355). Jerome, not only a painstaking translator of the Scriptures, wrote dozens and dozens of letters to different supporters, other clergy and theologians, Pope Damasus, friends, monks, and on all sorts of theological topics. And one of the longest letters is written to Eustochium, Paula’s daughter, on the story and character of her mother. 

Noble in family, she was nobler still in holiness; rich formerly in this world’s goods, she is now more distinguished by the poverty that she has embraced for Christ. Of the stock of the Gracchi and descended from the Scipios, the heir and representative of that Paulus whose name she bore, the true and legitimate daughter of that Martia Papyria who was mother to Africanus, she yet preferred Bethlehem to Rome, and left her palace glittering with gold to dwell in a mud cabin. – Jerome, Letter to Eustochium, Letter 108.1., 404 A.D.

The great scholar cites passage after passage of scripture describing the disciple of Christ, how Paula embodied them all. When her husband died in 379, her deepening Christian faith led her to give away all the wealth she had to care for the poor.

How can I describe the great consideration she showed to all and her far reaching kindness even to those whom she had never seen? What poor man, as he lay dying, was not wrapped in blankets given by her? What bedridden person was not supported with money from her purse? She would seek out such with the greatest diligence throughout the city, and would think it a misfortune were any hungry or sick person to be supported by another’s food. – Jerome, Letter 108.5.

So it was that this generous, Christian woman, as Pope Damasus tapped Jerome to begin the extraordinary effort of collecting all the different necessary scriptural texts, comparing, translating, composing, and revising, here was a woman with the means, and heart, to support the work. She left her home, and much of her family, and begins the arduous journey to the Holy Land: sailing south she passed between Sicily and Italy, then through the Adriatic towards Greece, then Rhodes and Lycia and Cyprus – places where Paul preached – Antioch, Phoenicia, Sidon, Zarephath, Tyre – she was tracing Christian history back to its source. Caesarea, Lydda, Joppa, Jerusalem – showing immense reverence for these sacred sites, with Jerome adding citations from all throughout the Old and New Testament to show how she was literally making her way through the entire Bible – and then to Bethlehem. The passage is a tour-de-force of Jerome’s knowledge of the Bible, but also of Paula’s, as she was reflecting on all these different stories as she stopped and prayed in each place. 

Finally, in Bethlehem, she took up her dwelling behind the cave of the nativity, helping to establish monasteries there for men and women and then joining in the work of translating, proofreading, and offering spiritual insight, and practical encouragement, to the more scholarly, forbidding, even irascible, Jerome. She did not just support him, she was an assistant in the work. Her own splendid education made her an invaluable linguistic resource, but her humility, love for the scriptures, passion for Christ, and just the way her heart was moved by the characters, places, truths, and revelations given in the Bible … all of these would have been missed by Jerome working on his own. He did not forget it!:

“You, Paula and Eustochium, who made me undertake this labor… You are my readers, my critics, and my correctors.” – Jerome, Preface to the Pentateuch

“Paula, who was ever intent on learning the Scriptures, left no difficult passage unexplored.” – Jerome, Preface to the Books of Samuel and Kings

“She was my companion in study, correcting me when I erred and encouraging me when I grew weary.” — Jerome, Letter 108.31

If she had not made the difficult choice for Christ amid the grief of losing her husband, to go all in for the Church, to help a crazy scholar on an immense mission, it is hard to see how Jerome would have finished his project. And if he had not, Europe would have been fragmented, disconnected, un-rooted in God’s revelation as it plunged into the difficult centuries to come. But with a unified bible, Christians scattered throughout all that would become Christendom, would pray the same prayers, hear the same passages, learn the same stories and songs and sacraments and truths of the faith. Theology, philosophy, scholarship which would grow into the scientific revolution was made possible. Even our constitution, and all the freedoms we have, those depended on a common belief in human dignity, freedom, responsibility, and rights. And that depended on a common scripture. And that depended on an extraordinary woman.

– Fr. Dominic knows well the bustle and blessings of Rome. It is hard to imagine leaving all that for the entirely unknown, but God has bigger plans for our lives than just for us!