Last March 17, we celebrated the very famous Saint Patrick’s Day. This feast is traditionally Catholic and still is. But it has become more of a secular and cultural fiesta for many Americans of Irish descent and lovers of everything Irish. Today, wholly Irish Americans may be less than ten percent of the entire United States population. But this feast of St. Patrick has remained one of the most celebrated fiestas in the United States mainly because many people in the United States are Irish in various ways. Some are Irish by ancestral lineage. Others are Irish by marriage or identifications with institutions and organizations that are Irish by foundation and tradition.

Recently, I encountered a gentleman who claimed he is one hundred percent Irish. He not only argued to be fully Irish, but he was also very proud of it. This gentleman, a devout Catholic and a great fan of the Notre Dame football team, the fighting Irish, told me incredible stories about Irish immigrants. Particularly dear to him was how they survived and thrived in the United States amidst the many prejudices they endured as poor immigrants. That was during a protracted period of waves of Irish immigration. I tried to understand what he believed was why the Irish immigrants survived and flourished in their new country and would become a critical part of the making of America.

His answer was simple and clear. “They were Catholic and proud of it.” What got my attention was not the Irish immigrants being Catholics. But that they were proud of it. When ethnic churches existed, Irish immigrants had the highest number and most vibrant churches. Many of their young men and women pursued religious and priestly vocations. They would have enough to make up a more significant percentage of the clergy and religious men and women in the country for a long time. One of her young priests in the early 1880s’ would establish an organization that would help take care of helpless Irish immigrant widows and children. That organization would grow to become the most prominent Catholic lay men’s organization in the world today. It is the Knights of Columbus.

These giant strides were possible because the Irish immigrants and their children were proud of their catholic faith. This was even as anti-Catholic sentiments and ethnic chauvinisms were the order of the day.

Today, many of us are concerned about our children and grandchildren not practicing the faith. We worry about the fast disappearance of those social, spiritual, and moral values that we hold dear as Catholics. Some of us are even doubting the possibility of Catholicism in our world by the next fifty years. Well, all these are legitimate concerns. But what are we doing to remedy the situation?

Are we still Catholics? If we are, are we proud of it? The faith of our fathers, this holy faith, let us be proud of it. Only in being proud of it are we able to live it out, fight for it, and hand it down like our ancestors in the faith.

Feast Day: March 23^rd 

I wonder if resentment is one of the things that most strongly holds us back from greater, and more Christ-like, charity? Isn’t it easier to chalk our lack of charity up to fears or a lack of courage; or perhaps our busy-ness and a lack of prudence in scheduling things; or the direct attack of the Evil One???  Looking in myself, I find that sometimes this lack is the less-glamorous, less-acceptable, vice of resentment. To respond to someone’s request, or need, or to anticipate how I should love them – to share myself with them – requires me to put their need above my own, to put their life ahead of mine, to put their schedule on my calendar before my own preferences go on there. And I resent it when my needs go second!

As I write this in a coffeeshop, a gentleman just asked if I’d buy him a sandwich.  I procrastinated in my charity towards him, why?  Not because I don’t have money, not because it will cost me time I don’t have, not because he’s going to mis-use a sandwich, not because Satan shook his pitchfork at me …  but because I resented Kenny’s reliance on me, his expectation that I would help, his asking that I would love Him like Jesus loves him.  Whew, that hurts to say that! I want to love, I desire to be more generous, I hope to see in myself Jesus’ kindness and mercy and care … but the ugly tendency to resent holds me back. 

I realized this as I meditated today on the life of St. Turibius of Mogrovejo.  He was a canon lawyer in Spain, in fact the Grand Inquisitor of that country (growing up in his namesake town of Mogrovejo) a studious and intelligent young man, who had been asked by King Philip II to hold that estimable position. The same monarch in 1578 would nominate the pious and productive Turibio as a candidate for the Episcopacy, to fill the See of Lima, Peru, though he was not yet even ordained!  Of course, he protested that he was not ready or desirous of that vocation, but, in the end at the age of 41 or 42, he accepted the King’s request, and Pope’s confirmation, was ordained a deacon, priest, and then bishop, and set sail for the New World.

If I had to slog through mosquito infested, ferociously humid jungles and mountains, I would have resented King Philip … If I had to sleep in the open because nobody had thought to prepare a place for me to stay, I would probably have resented the Pope’s go ahead…  If I was called to prepare, baptize, and confirm 500,000 individuals, I would have certainly resented the lazy and corrupt priests that were already there and not doing diddlysquat… (Remarkable fact: he confirmed three future canonized saints among those: St. Rose of Lima, St. Martin de Porres, and St. Juan Masías). As I caught fever after fever in the horrendous conditions, and knew that it would be the death of me (Turibius was given the knowledge, and grace, of knowing precisely when he would die), especially that last march, dragging myself 50 miles from Pacasmayo to Zaña to receive Extreme Unction and Viaticum, I would have resented even/especially God Who had demanded from me such efforts and such a dismal death.

But Turibius, evidently, did not let resentment corrupt those requests for charity  He endured the hardships of his unexpected vocation, and preached again and again that “Time is not our own and we must give a strict account of it.”  He did not consider his time, energy, love, or life to be his, and so he did not resent when he was asked to share it. His final words, after receiving those final sacraments, on Holy Thursday of 1606, were those of Jesus: “Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.” May his intercession help us to be similarly generous with our own lives, and defend us against the clutch of resentment!

– Fr. Dominic Rankin, as the Master of Ceremonies for Bishop Paprocki, is assisting currently with our own bishop’s pastoral visits around the diocese, as well as his giving the sacraments of Confirmation and 1^st Communion, here at the Cathedral. With the help and example of St. Turibius, he prays that all these occasions where duty asks him to help in various ways may also be occasions of authentic charity and self-gift.

x

Feast Day: March 23^rd 

I wonder if resentment is one of the things that most strongly holds us back from greater, and more Christ-like, charity? Isn’t it easier to chalk our lack of charity up to fears or a lack of courage; or perhaps our busy-ness and a lack of prudence in scheduling things; or the direct attack of the Evil One???  Looking in myself, I find that sometimes this lack is the less-glamorous, less-acceptable, vice of resentment. To respond to someone’s request, or need, or to anticipate how I should love them – to share myself with them – requires me to put their need above my own, to put their life ahead of mine, to put their schedule on my calendar before my own preferences go on there. And I resent it when my needs go second!

As I write this in a coffeeshop, a gentleman just asked if I’d buy him a sandwich.  I procrastinated in my charity towards him, why?  Not because I don’t have money, not because it will cost me time I don’t have, not because he’s going to mis-use a sandwich, not because Satan shook his pitchfork at me …  but because I resented Kenny’s reliance on me, his expectation that I would help, his asking that I would love Him like Jesus loves him.  Whew, that hurts to say that! I want to love, I desire to be more generous, I hope to see in myself Jesus’ kindness and mercy and care … but the ugly tendency to resent holds me back. 

I realized this as I meditated today on the life of St. Turibius of Mogrovejo.  He was a canon lawyer in Spain, in fact the Grand Inquisitor of that country (growing up in his namesake town of Mogrovejo) a studious and intelligent young man, who had been asked by King Philip II to hold that estimable position. The same monarch in 1578 would nominate the pious and productive Turibio as a candidate for the Episcopacy, to fill the See of Lima, Peru, though he was not yet even ordained!  Of course, he protested that he was not ready or desirous of that vocation, but, in the end at the age of 41 or 42, he accepted the King’s request, and Pope’s confirmation, was ordained a deacon, priest, and then bishop, and set sail for the New World.

If I had to slog through mosquito infested, ferociously humid jungles and mountains, I would have resented King Philip … If I had to sleep in the open because nobody had thought to prepare a place for me to stay, I would probably have resented the Pope’s go ahead…  If I was called to prepare, baptize, and confirm 500,000 individuals, I would have certainly resented the lazy and corrupt priests that were already there and not doing diddlysquat… (Remarkable fact: he confirmed three future canonized saints among those: St. Rose of Lima, St. Martin de Porres, and St. Juan Masías). As I caught fever after fever in the horrendous conditions, and knew that it would be the death of me (Turibius was given the knowledge, and grace, of knowing precisely when he would die), especially that last march, dragging myself 50 miles from Pacasmayo to Zaña to receive Extreme Unction and Viaticum, I would have resented even/especially God Who had demanded from me such efforts and such a dismal death.

But Turibius, evidently, did not let resentment corrupt those requests for charity  He endured the hardships of his unexpected vocation, and preached again and again that “Time is not our own and we must give a strict account of it.”  He did not consider his time, energy, love, or life to be his, and so he did not resent when he was asked to share it. His final words, after receiving those final sacraments, on Holy Thursday of 1606, were those of Jesus: “Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.” May his intercession help us to be similarly generous with our own lives, and defend us against the clutch of resentment!

– Fr. Dominic Rankin, as the Master of Ceremonies for Bishop Paprocki, is assisting currently with our own bishop’s pastoral visits around the diocese, as well as his giving the sacraments of Confirmation and 1^st Communion, here at the Cathedral. With the help and example of St. Turibius, he prays that all these occasions where duty asks him to help in various ways may also be occasions of authentic charity and self-gift.

I realize last week’s challenge of not hitting your Snooze button on your alarm might have been a challenge, but I commend you if you were willing to accept the challenge.  I often use the analogy of weight training when considering our growing in virtue.  If you want to build muscle, you need to have resistance.  So to with virtue – we need to encounter resistance in our lives which gives us the opportunity to practice virtue and so be strengthened.

For this week’s challenge, I would like to turn to our March Family of Faith topic:  The New Commandment, the Works of Mercy, and the First through Fourth Beatitudes.  This is a broad topic, so let’s just focus on the Works of Mercy.  The Church offers us two categories when it comes to the Works of Mercy – corporal and spiritual.  I came across a quote the other day which sums up these works well: “Mercy is the form love takes when it encounters misery.”  Lent calls this reality to mind as we consider the mercy of God who sent His Son to die for our sins – the greatest act of mercy to alleviate the misery of our fallen condition due to sin.  The challenge for this week is a combination of a couple of the spiritual works of mercy – bearing wrongs patiently and praying for the living and the dead:

Challenge:  Pray for your enemies
Fruit:  Growing more merciful

We heard in the Gospel a few Sundays ago where Jesus said: “love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” (Lk 6:27-28)  I want you to think of a person that you really find it hard to love.  That could be somebody close to you or just somebody you know about.  Once you have thought of that person, instead of listing off all of the reasons why you do not like / love them, say a prayer for them.  Say something like this: “Lord, you love this person.  You want them to become a saint.  I find it hard to see the good you see in them, but I want, more than anything, for your will to be done.  So I pray for them, that you will bless them, and give them what they need in order to become a saint.”

Say a prayer like that every day.  I realize it might be hard, but it is not impossible, because Jesus does not command the impossible.  There is a big difference between can’t and won’t.  And if we are unwilling to do this, well, then we will have a very hard time trying to make the case that we are a true follower of Jesus Christ.

As an added challenge (I read this from a reflection from Bishop Barron), at the end of the week, list off all of the negative things you can think about that person, then go before the Lord and ask forgiveness for when you yourself have been guilty of those same things.  That gives new weight to the words of Jesus from another recent Gospel: “Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.” (Lk 6:42)

Speaking of mercy, I would like to also take this opportunity to invite you to another very important spiritual practice that is key to growing in holiness – going to confession to encounter God’s mercy toward us.  If you have not been in a while, Lent is a great time to go.  Nothing (apart from the Eucharist) is more conducive to our growing in holiness than having the misery of our sins lifted.  Let me be so bold to say that if it has been more than a month since your last confession, it would be a good idea to go this Lent.  Let me be even more bold in saying that if this is the only extra thing you do this Lent, it will have been a fruitful Lent.  As a reminder, one of the priests of the Cathedral is waiting to welcome you to the sacrament of God’s mercy every day (note our normal confession times in the bulletin) and we will have extended hours for confession this coming Friday and Saturday.  Confessions on Friday are from 12:30 pm until 7:00 pm, then on Saturday from 9:00 am until 4:00 pm.  As an extra credit bonus challenge – invite a family member of friend to join you when you come to confession!

Father Alford    

Earlier this week, I was out of town giving a parish retreat somewhere in the eastern part of our diocese. During this time, I had the opportunity to visit several homebound parishioners during the day when I had some free time. These visits, like in Springfield, are among the most fulfilling parts of pastoral ministry for me. Because, beyond administering the sacraments to people who truly desire them, those visits are beautiful opportunities to listen to stories and histories that one may never hear elsewhere. Also, such visits provide amazing prospects for encounters with folks who have lived multiple decades of their lives growing with and in the Church they love and serve.

One of my visits was to a lady in her late nineties. For privacy reasons, I will call her Bema here. Bema was sharp and strong mentally and spiritually. Her physical strength is failing and limits her abilities to stand and walk. So she is homebound. But her limited mobility has not stopped Bema from keeping up with political and Church news, with her prayer life and daily Mass attendance online.

When I asked Bema what her secret was for being so sharp even with her vision and hearing, she laughed and said she loves her whiskey. She strongly believes that her glass of whisky every morning for way more than half a century is responsible for her good health. She went ahead to convince me that it works and that I should try it. We both laughed as I asked her what she was doing for Lent.

The question of what Bema is doing for Lent brought an answer that provoked a deeper understanding of the word “sacrifice” in me. First, she told me she gives up her daily glass of whisky every Lent. According to Bema, giving up her daily glass of whisky is the most significant sacrifice for her. That nothing else can cause her enough anguish than giving up something she treasures the most, which she can still do without.

Also, Bema said something else that I have been talking about in my homilies since the beginning of Lent. She explained that she donates the cost of a bottle of her choicest whisky to her favorite charity at the end of Lent every year. Again, I asked why she thinks it is important to do such. Bema told me that if she only gives up her daily glass of whiskey every Lent without making that donation, she would just be saving her whiskey. THAT IS TRUE!

Two lessons from my visit with Bema

1. If we must journey with Christ in the wilderness this Lent by fasting from something, it must be something we truly cherish. We must fast from something that doing without it is capable of causing us some real distress.
2. We must allow our fasting to benefit someone else. For example, suppose I must fast from meat this lent. In that case, I have to check the average cost of my monthly meat consumption and donate it to a person or organization that needs it.

May our Lenten sacrifices bring us closer to Jesus Christ. Amen.

Many years ago, I heard some advice about Lent that has always stuck with me.  The advice was that the best sacrifices to offer up are those we do not choose for ourselves.  If we are honest with ourselves, don’t we sometimes choose things to do or give up for Lent that we are pretty confident we can be successful at?  I am not saying that is necessarily bad, but a true sign of our willingness to make sacrifices is to accept something we have not chosen.

With that though in mind, I tried something with the parish where I served as Pastor before coming to the Cathedral.  Each week during Lent, I would offer a challenge for the parish to consider undertaking.  I was very encouraged with the response from the parish as they appreciated the challenge.  I think there was something else that made the practice successful – we were all trying to undertake the challenge together.  With that in mind, I would like to introduce these weekly Lenten challenges as a way for all of us to be in union with one another this Lent.  This will also give us a chance to offer something up which we have not specifically chosen, providing variety to our spiritual lives as well as an opportunity to practice different virtues which will help us to grow in holiness.  Each week, I’ll provide the challenge, list one of the fruits of undertaking that challenge, and some commentary on the challenge.  So, are you up for the challenge(s)?  Here we go, then…

Challenge:  Give up hitting the snooze button
Fruit:  Conquering your will

For full transparency here – this is a repeat challenge that I offered to my previous parish.  A lot of people spoke about how hard it was, so I thought it would be a good place to start!  One of the great promoters of this practice is a fairly modern saint, Saint Josemaría Escrivá.  He calls this practice “the Heroic Minute” and describes it with these words:

Conquer yourself each day from the very first moment, getting up on the dot, at a fixed time, without yielding a single minute to laziness. If, with God’s help, you conquer yourself, you will be well ahead for the rest of the day. (The Way, 191) … The heroic minute. It is the time fixed for getting up. Without hesitation: a supernatural reflection and… up! The heroic minute: here you have a mortification that strengthens your will and does no harm to your body. (The Way, 206)

Give it a shot, and feel free to share your experience with me next Sunday as you walk out of Mass.  And don’t worry, see these challenges as opportunities, not obligations.  I’m not requiring anybody to do anything, just inviting.  And if you stumble in the challenge, don’t beat yourself up.  Get back up, ask for God’s help, and try again!

Also, this could be a good opportunity to recommit (or begin) the challenge we offered at the beginning of the year to pray Three Hail Mary’s each day for our parish – one for the clergy of the parish, one for yourself, and one for the entire parish.

Finally, if you have an ideas for a challenge that I can invite the parish to consider for a week, I am open to suggestions!

Father Alford     

This years’ Lenten season has just begun. A 40-days special period in the Church’s calendar when Christians, who seek a more intimate relationship with Jesus Christ, choose to journey with him in the wilderness. Christ suffered hunger, thirstiness, loneliness, slander, and persecution in this wilderness. Above all, he reflected continuously on his upcoming passion and death on the cross during this time. He prayed relentlessly that God’s will be done. In all these, Christ did not complain or curse. Instead, he gave up everything and embraced his sufferings for the greater glory of God and the redemption of sinful humanity.

By giving up everything, Jesus received everything from the Father. These include the salvation of the broken human race whom he condescended to their likeness, suffered for, and died to redeem.

During his ministry on earth with his disciples, Jesus constantly emphasized the need to live a detached life. He preached this in both words and actions. Attachment to the things of this world, he believes, is an obstacle to the salvation that he (Christ) suffered and died on the Cross to gain for humanity. There is no mention of Jesus owning houses, vehicles, electronics, gadgets, or similar things throughout the gospels. No one ever told of Jesus going on vacation with his parents or friends. And he commanded large followership, but Jesus never abused his power or used it for his selfish interests.

While he does not condemn material things, Jesus strongly urges us to live our lives detached from them. Because when we are detached from our earthly possessions, skills, and powers, we are better able to use them for the glory of God and the good of humanity. We read in the gospels about Jesus feeding groups of people on various occasions, hanging out with strangers, the poor, and sick people. Jesus preached love and repentance to his friends and enemies, the rich and the poor, the powerful and the commoners alike.

Jesus, on one occasion, while with his disciples, received a rich man who came to him and explained how he had lived an upright life since his youth. Jesus commended the rich man and asked him to do one more thing. The one more thing was to detach himself from his earthly possessions and ratify his relationship with God. Unfortunately, that was too much for the rich man.

Moved by the incident, Peter reminded Jesus of how they (the disciples) have given up everything to follow him (Jesus). Jesus assured Peter that they, who have left everything to follow him, will not regret it.

As Christians, this Lent is another privileged opportunity to enter the wilderness with Christ! Peter and his fellow disciples entered the wilderness by giving up family and material possessions to closely follow Christ. While we may not give up family and possessions the same way they did, there are too many ways to accomplish this goal. We can give up or take up things as sacrificial ways of following Christ more closely. When we give or take something up this Lent, let us remember to do those with sincere intentions to detach ourselves from our excessive attachments to the things of this world. May this Lenten season bring us closer to Jesus Christ in word and action. Amen.

As we come to our conclusion of the month of February, we consider the last of the Ten Commandments: “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or his manservant, or his maidservant, or his ox, or his donkey, or anything that is your neighbor’s.” (Exodus 20:17) We do not often use the language of covetousness in our confessions, but we often use words like envy or jealousy.  Even that can be a bit of a gray area, so what does this commandment really mean?

The Modern Catholic Dictionary by Father John Hardon, S.J. defines covetousness in this way: “A strong desire for possessions, especially material possessions. It implies that the desire is inordinate, with allusion to the prohibition in the Ten Commandments not to covet what belongs to someone else.”  I draw your attention to the word “inordinate” in this definition.  It is not bad for us to desire things, such as money, reputation, health, etc.  In fact, it can be very good to desire these things, but to always desire them in an ordered way.  Ordered toward what?  Since Jesus reminds us that all the commandments can be summed up as expressions of love of God and love of neighbor, this is where our desire for things must be ordered.  For example, we can desire financial stability as long as those resources do not prevent us from being generous in our support for the Church and our love of others through charity.  A disordered desire for money would be to accumulate more things and experiences just for ourselves, to the exclusion of helping others.  We should desire health so that we can be of good service to our families and those around us.  A disordered desire would be for people to be attracted to us so that we can get more attention or recognition.

This commandment calls us to be especially careful not to fall into envy.  We often notice the things others have and something stirs in our hearts.  On the one hand, we might rightly desire to also have what they have, which is not always bad.  But when we feel sadness about what someone else has been blessed with, if we wish we could take what they have, or harbor a grudge against them for what they have, we are falling into envy, and envy is sinful because it lacks charity toward another.  Here is what the Catechism has to say about envy:

2539 Envy is a capital sin. It refers to the sadness at the sight of another’s goods and the immoderate desire to acquire them for oneself, even unjustly. When it wishes grave harm to a neighbor it is a mortal sin: (1866)

St. Augustine saw envy as “the diabolical sin.” “From envy are born hatred, detraction, calumny, joy caused by the misfortune of a neighbor, and displeasure caused by his prosperity.”

2540 Envy represents a form of sadness and therefore a refusal of charity; the baptized person should struggle against it by exercising good will. Envy often comes from pride; the baptized person should train himself to live in humility: (1829)

Would you like to see God glorified by you? Then rejoice in your brother’s progress and you will immediately give glory to God. Because his servant could conquer envy by rejoicing in the merits of others, God will be praised. (St. John Chrysostom)

To proactively guard against falling into envy, the best thing is to foster an “attitude of gratitude”, taking time each day to thank God for the blessings you have been given, those seen and unseen, always aware that they are signs of His unique and particular love for you.  Then, having given thanks for your blessings, thank Him for the blessings He has given to somebody else.  To do so is an expression of love of God and neighbor.

Father Alford     

It is no longer a surprise that we live in a time when asking for help is a sign of weakness. And nobody wants to be weak because we live in a world battered by pride and ego. We all want to be perfect in all ramifications, self-sufficient and need no one’s help for any reason at any time. This is the mentality that many of us have today. It is a self-destructive mentality and one that has done more harm than good to our societies.

As a priest, I see this attitude of “I can do it all by myself” every day in my ministries and encounters with people. This mindset contradicts common-sense experience. Too often, we face the reality of not doing certain things for ourselves sometimes because we are emotionally, spiritually, or physically weak. Other times, we are sick or advanced in years or lack particular skills. The “I can do it all by myself” mentality contradicts everything we know about Jesus Christ and the teachings that we follow as Christians. At the heart of his ministry and teachings is “help one another” (Matthew 25:44-45; Mark 10:21; Luke 3:10-11; 6:28; 12:33-34).

Recently, one of our wonderful parishioners invited me to snow-sledding with her children after heavy snow. We went to the centennial park, where we met almost a hundred other people enjoying the snow. Anyone familiar with sledding may agree with me that the most challenging part of it is climbing up the hilltop after sledding down. It can be very slippery and exhausting.

Sometime during the sledding, I was walking up the slimy mound with a little boy of about eight years old a couple of meters ahead of me. At a point, he was falling and scrabbling for something to hold on to. As he was falling, he saw me and screamed, “please help me.” Immediately I reached out and grabbed his hands and helped him up. We continued up the hill and went our separate ways.

Later that evening, as I was thinking about the day’s sledding, I remembered the little boy and how he screamed, “please help me.” Then I wondered to myself – as an adult, could I have quickly asked for help as the young man did? In other words, am I able to ask for help when I need it, or does pride overcome me so much that I would instead fall and maybe get injured than ask for help?

The “please help me” that the young man screamed is a sign that he is human. As human beings, we are social by nature. That means we are dependent on others at various times and in different situations every day of our lives. But unfortunately, very often, especially as adults, we think of it as a weakness to ask for help. In other words, we consider it a weakness to be human. When this happens, we become less humans. God bless that little boy for reminding me that it is okay to ask for help.

Feast Day: March 4^th 

Just about exactly 6 years ago, in March of 2016, I was on a short trip to Lithuania with some fellow seminarians and one beautiful day we met up with a seminarian I knew there from the diocese of Vilnius, who began to show us around the city.  Linas, said young man who is still in seminary, showed us around to the various churches and shrines of the city – including the original painting of Divine Mercy! – and happily passed onto us an invitation from the bishop to join him for dinner.

Among many memories, one that comes back to me now is our visit to the Cathedral in the center of the main square of Vilnius.  Inside the massive white church, off to the right-hand side of the nave is a large chapel where statues of kings from Lithuanian history surround an altar.  Red and black marble hangs from the walls, glorious white arches hold the roof high above your head, and above the altar and tabernacle is a fascinating painting of St. Casimir, depicting the young prince with three arms.  Above said depiction, a relief carving of Our Lady holding the infant Jesus, looks down upon the scene.  St. Casimir is buried beneath the altar, having been reinterred there in 1634, 150 years after his death.

I certainly want to make mention that his three-handedness was not a physical attribute of the young, pious, prince of Lithuania, but a depiction of his generosity – “when you give to someone in need, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing” (Matthew 6:3) – and purity – for he holds a lily in both right hands.  Certainly his life matches both virtues: he was generous with the poor, electing to wear simple and humble apparel against the wishes of his father, King (of Poland, Grand Duke of Lithuania) Casimir IV.  Similarly, the younger Casimir also held off the designs that would have placed him in an arranged marriage with Kunigunde of Austria (daughter of Emperor Frederick III, the last Holy Roman Emperor to be crowned by the Pope in Rome).  He was the grandson of Wladislaus II Jagiello, the King of Poland who introduced Christianity to Lithuania, and his uncle was Wladislaus III, the King of Poland and Hungary who died at the battle of Varna in 1444 defending Christendom against the Turks.  Of course, these and other royal ancestors indicated that Casimir was destined for the throne, and glory.  Yet he dodged the arranged marriage, evaded various military takeovers that would have expanded his kingdom, and seemed to have a general disposition against such political maneuvering.  

Some say this was from a premonition of his approaching death at only 25, but many others propose another possibility.  We see in him a final stand-out virtue: devotion to God, and it is from this, and all the above indicators, that some think Casimir was considering religious life. He never did join an order, and his being the heir apparent to the throne of both Poland and Lithuania certainly put pressure against such a vocation, yet his simplicity, humility, evident prayerfulness, and avoidance of marriage, all point to the stirrings or at least contemplation of a celibate life devoted to God.  Years after his death, in his coffin was discovered a hymn to Our Lady, Omni die dic Mariae. Some say it was sung at his funeral; some say he was its author, though a more likely candidate was St. Bernard of Cluny a few hundred years before.  In any case, it was a hymn that resounded, and I suppose still does, through the heart of the youthful leader.

– Fr. Dominic Rankin only got a few minutes to visit the tomb of this tremendous, saintly, young man, but has the happy occasion to re-encounter him this week, and to be reminded of the intensity with which the Lord asks us to follow Him.  All our lives cover different ground, but the destination is the same: union with God.  If I’m not taking that seriously in all my choices now, will I when eternity approaches?

Omni die dic Mariae
Mea laudes anima:
Ejus festa, ejus gesta
Cole devotissima.

Contemplare et mirare
Ejus celsitudinem:
Dic felicem genitricem,
Dic beatam Virginem.

Ipsam cole, ut de mole
Criminum te liberet,
Hanc appella, ne procella
Vitiorum superet.

Haec persona nobis dona
Contulit coelestia;
Haec regina nos divina
Illustravit gratia.

Daily, daily sing to Mary,
Sing, my soul, her praises due:
All her feasts, her actions honor
With the heart’s devotion true.

Lost in wond’ring contemplation,
Be her majesty confessed:
Call her Mother, call her Virgin,
Happy Mother, Virgin blest.

She is mighty in her pleading,
Tender in her loving care;
Ever watchful, understanding,
All our sorrows she will share.

Advocate and loving mother,
Mediatrix of all grace:
Heaven’s blessings she dispenses
On our sinful human race.

Many years ago, I heard somebody speaking in general about the Gospels and the impact they are meant to have on our lives and he said the following clever line: “The Gospels were given by Jesus to comfort the afflicted, while at the same time afflicting the comforted.”  In other words, the message of the Gospel is both a source of peace and an invitation to ongoing conversion.  Most of us are all for being comforted by the Gospel, but we are not so excited about being challenged by the Gospel, preferring to skip over those words or somehow concluding that they apply to somebody else.

I find Matthew 25 to be one of those sections of the Gospels that proves this anecdote to be true, especially verses 31-46 titled “The Judgement of the Nations.”  Jesus begins by commending those who practice the works of mercy toward those in need, pointing to the following comforting conclusion: “whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.” (Mt 25:40) We can see Jesus in every person to whom we reach out in charity to serve, and the Lord makes it clear that this will be to our benefit, especially at the judgment we all must face at the end of our lives.  Jesus then goes on to offer a very challenging teaching, as He concludes the following when we fail to serve those around us: “what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.” (Mt 25:45)  

I cannot read these words without feeling extremely uncomfortable, for I know there have been times when I have been guilty of not serving Jesus by turning away from those in need.  And there are so many needs in the world around us.  Here at the Cathedral, we see people regularly who are at a difficult point in their lives.  It can be easy to just keep our head down and pass by.  At the end of our lives, we will have to account for those intentional acts of dismissal, as we see in the case of the rich man who ignored Lazarus at his doorstep each day.  So how should we respond?

I do not have the time or space to really address the material needs of those we encounter.  We have an obligation, to be sure, but that does not necessarily mean directly giving money to everybody who asks, especially since there are several organizations in Springfield that exist to assist with meeting their various needs.  One of the things that we can keep in mind is a fundamental principle that underlies all of the commandments that have to do with loving our neighbor – every human being has worth and is to be treated with dignity.  One of the simplest ways to respect a person’s dignity is to acknowledge their existence.  Looking somebody in the eye and smiling at them, perhaps even giving them a greeting, sends the simple but profound message: “I see you, and you are good.”  We should not underestimate how this seemingly minor gesture can make a difference in somebody’s day, especially when their existence is virtually ignored by those who pass uncomfortably by.  This is a practice that does not just have to be for those who are poor.  We can do it with those we encounter at the grocery store, while going for a walk, or as we come in and out of church – anywhere!  To be sure, the commandments invite us to many other forms of charity and service, but this simple practice can be a good way to cultivate an awareness of the goodness of those around us, seeing them through the eyes of Christ as a brother or sister in the Lord, and seeing the Lord Himself who is hiding, waiting to be served by us.

Father Alford