Feast Day: January 21^st | Virgin and Martyr| Patronage: all Girls, Virgins, those seeking Purity and Chastity, Betrothed Couples, Gardeners, Victims of Sexual Abuse, City of Rome | Attributes: girl with long hair, pictured with a Lamb, holding the martyrs palm, sometimes with a sword at her feet.

I begin today about a century before Agnes was born. It is the year 200 A.D., and we are watching a Roman orator and philosopher speak to a rapt crowd in the city of Carthage (being almost 500 years after Rome defeated Carthage in the Punic wars, they were happy to listen to Tertullian give his speech in Latin. He also may have been born there to a Roman centurion.) He stood before them, though, shockingly appareled not in the regal and authoritative Roman toga, but simply wrapped in a pallium, a cloak or mantle worn by the goofy philosophers of Greece, and the shoddy and scorned sect of Christians. 

This, one of his shortest speeches, begins hilariously “Men of Carthage, ever princes of Africa, ennobled by ancient memories, blest with modern felicities, I rejoice that times are so prosperous with you that you have leisure to spend and pleasure to find in criticizing dress… you too of old time wore your garments–your tunics–of another shape; and indeed they were in repute for the skill of the weft, and the harmony of the hue, and the due proportion of the size, in that they were neither prodigally long across the shins, nor immodestly scanty between the knees, nor niggardly to the arms, nor tight to the hands, but, without being shadowed by even a girdle arranged to divide the folds, they stood on men’s backs with quadrate symmetry…” [Tertullian, “De Pallio”, “On the Mantle”, Chapter 1, Paragraph 1.1]

He was veiling in humorous, elegant (if desperately difficult to translate) prose, a serious announcement: I am a Christian. To wear the Christian pallium placed him squarely under the ire of the governors who would only two years later send Ss. Perpetua and Felicity to the arena in that same city of Carthage. Those eminent martyrs we all recognize from their leading the procession of female saints in the Roman Canon. Felicity and Perpetua from Carthage (in Northern Africa); Agatha and Lucy from Sicily; Agnes and Cecilia from Rome, and Anastasia from Sirmium (now in Serbia). It is Agnes we befriend this week. 

After discovering her to be a Christian, this 12-year-old girl endured the abuse of her persecutors, eventually being killed by sword-stroke to her neck. Fellow Christians lovingly collected her body, even soaking up the blood of one who had so faithfully poured it out in faith. Her own foster-sister, Emerentiana, would herself be martyred for the reverence she persevered in showing to the body of her foster-sister. Others were cured by their own veneration of the relics of the little saint. 

Perhaps the best testimony to how beloved she was to the early Church comes a further century forward in Church history, when another orator steps before a crowd, now with a scene opposite that we saw in Carthage. Now, it is St. Ambrose who begins his speech, and it is about a Christian practice far more startling than a pallium: the life of consecrated virginity. Where would you begin if asked to describe and defend the Christian belief that some are called by Jesus to virginity for the sake of the Kingdom of God? St. Ambrose began with little St. Agnes: 

Today is the birthday of a virgin; let us imitate her purity. It is the birthday of a martyr; let us offer ourselves in sacrifice. It is the birthday of Saint Agnes, who is said to have suffered martyrdom at the age of twelve. The cruelty that did not spare her youth shows all the more clearly the power of faith in finding one so young to bear it witness.

There was little or no room in that small body for a wound. Though she could scarcely receive the blow, she could rise superior to it. Girls of her age cannot bear even their parents’ frowns and, pricked by a needle, weep as for a serious wound. Yet she shows no fear of the blood-stained hands of her executioners. She stands undaunted by heavy, clanking chains. She offers her whole body to be put to the sword by fierce soldiers. She is too young to know of death, yet is ready to face it. Dragged against her will to the altars, she stretches out her hands to the Lord in the midst of the flames, making the triumphant sign of Christ the victor on the altars of sacrilege. She puts her neck and hands in iron chains, but no chain can hold fast her tiny limbs. [St. Ambrose, “Concerning Virginity”, Book 1, Chapter 2, Paragraphs 5 and 7]

– Fr. Dominic Rankin will return to St. Agnes, and St. Ambrose, and never-canonized Tertullian next week. Until then, perhaps St. Agnes can stand with St. Therésè of Lisieux as another “little” saint, reminding us that lowliness does not disqualify us from discipleship but rather is a prerequisite for membership in Christ’s Kingdom.

On New Year’s Eve, the Church lost a truly great shepherd as Pope Benedict XVI completed his earthly journey.  Even though I had heard that his health was declining and that he was in his final days, when I read the headline that he had died, I was surprised and saddened to receive the news.  At the same time, it provided me an opportunity to recall with gratitude the impact this humble and faithful shepherd has had on my life as a priest. 

My first encounter with Pope Benedict was in Rome in 2006.  I was there for a sort of personal pilgrimage as I was in the process of applying to the seminary.  Somebody had shared with me that there was to be a candlelight prayer vigil in St. Peter’s Square on April 2 to commemorate the one-year anniversary of the passing of Pope John Paul II.  I decided to go, especially since I knew that Pope Benedict was going to be there.  As he addressed the crowd that night, although I did not understand what he was saying, there was an overwhelming sense of awe that I was looking upon the leader of the Universal Church.  I had followed him pretty closely during his first year as Pontiff, but seeing him in person for the first time was something I will always remember fondly.

Fast forward two years to April 2008 and Pope Benedict was making a visit to the United States.  A generous benefactor of the seminary I was attending made it possible for the entire seminary community to travel by bus from St. Louis to New York to see the Pope.  There was a special gathering that the Holy Father was to have with seminarians on the grounds of St. Joseph Seminary in Yonkers, NY.  We waited in the sun for a few hours, eagerly anticipating his arrival.  When he finally did arrive, he came out on the stage and joyfully greeted the large crowd as we cheered our chief shepherd.  I was probably about 20 yards from the stage, and seeing Pope Benedict so close was very powerful.  I still do not know how to describe it, but what I felt as he looked at us was that he was a very holy and fatherly figure and his joy at seeing these sons of his was evident and authentic.

In 2011, as a newly ordained priest, I had the joy of travelling with a group of high school students to World Youth Day in Madrid, Spain.  At the prayer vigil before the conclusion of the event, more than a million young people gathered in a former airfield waiting for the Holy Father to lead us in prayer.  I remember it being extremely HOT that day, with the sun blazing and no shade in sight.  As the afternoon drew on, clouds started to form and bad weather was threatening.  Most of the group I was with decided to head back to the hotel, as we had a flight the next morning.  I expressed my desire to stay, and another chaperone and a couple hearty souls decided to stay with me.  A heavy storm rolled through just before the Holy Father was about to lead us in Eucharistic Adoration.  I found out later that his advisors encouraged the Holy Father to just cancel the prayer service due to the bad weather, but he was insistent that they continue, though in an abbreviated form.  He came out and exposed the Blessed Sacrament.  Everybody knelt in adoration, and the silence among the crowd brought me chills.  What love this spiritual father showed to his children, not giving up on them and leading them to contemplate the love of God truly present in the Eucharist.

I could say more about how Pope Benedict’s writings before and after becoming Pope has influenced me, but space does not permit me to say all that this spiritual father has meant to me.  I thank God profoundly for the gift of his life and ministry, and I pray that the Lord, in His mercy, will grant him what he long desired, to see the Lord face to face. 

Eternal rest, grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.  May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace!

Father Alford

Feast Day: January 1^st| Mother of God, Theotokus | Patronage: Pregnant Mothers, Natural and Spiritual Mothers,  | Attributes: Pregnant, Holding Child, Pointing to Christ Child, Angels above.

During the octave of Christmas, priests when using the first Eucharistic Prayer, add an additional line when invoking the saints to join in our prayer/offering to the Heavenly Father. After the opening lines when he prays for the Church (especially our Holy Father and local Bishop) and then the prayer called the Memento (when the priest prays for the living members of the Church), he begins the prayer called the Communicantes. It means what it sounds like: this is the first prayer that references the communion we have with all the saints.

You probably recognize the usual opening line: “In communion with those whose memory we venerate …”, but during the Octave (8 days) following the celebration of Christmas, there is an addition to the Communicantes with an extra opening line: “Celebrating the most sacred night [day] on which blessed Mary the immaculate Virgin brought forth the Savior for this world, and in communion with those whose memory we venerate, especially the glorious ever-Virgin Mary, Mother of our God and Lord, Jesus Christ, and blessed Joseph, her Spouse…” It is a splendid addition to our prayer, and if you noticed that the priests used the first Eucharistic Prayer more often during this week, this is probably why! (There are similar additions for Epiphany, during the Octave of Easter, for Ascension, and also Pentecost, so look for your priest to use EP1 [Eucharistic Prayer 1] then too!)

Spend a moment reflecting on that simple line “celebrating the most sacred night on which blessed Mary the immaculate Virgin brought forth the Savior for this world…” and let your heart be overwhelmed again by this truth we believe, and Mary held! During these days of Christmas we recall that our divine communion … our life in the community of the Trinity … our fellowship with the saints, is specifically connected to the moment when Our Lady brought forth her child, Jesus, Our Savior, into this world. We don’t just recognize those saints that are such lights and models and intercessors for us. We don’t just reverence Mary, Queen of All Saints. We approach Mary, with Jesus on her lap, and discover in the manger the source of all the saints. Jesus, as a newborn, has already accomplished what truly transforms anyone into a saint: holding God close.

No one can teach us better how to hold Jesus than the woman He chose to be His mother. This week I give Pope Benedict the last word on how we can learn from her how to do that. This was his homily in 2008, during vespers opening the Solemnity of Mary the Mother of God: “Although many clouds are gathering on the horizon of our future, we must not be afraid. Our great hope as believers is eternal life in communion with Christ and the whole family of God. This great hope gives us the strength to face and to overcome the difficulties of life in this world. This evening the motherly presence of Mary assures us that God never abandons us if we entrust ourselves to him and follow his teachings. Therefore, while we take our leave of 2008 and prepare to welcome 2009, let us present to Mary our expectations and hopes, as well as our fears and the difficulties that dwell in our hearts, with filial affection and trust. She, the Virgin Mother, offers us the Child who lies in the manger as our sure hope. Full of trust, we shall then be able to sing at the end of the Te Deum: “In te, Domine, speravi: non confundar in aeternum—In you, Lord, is our hope: and we shall never hope in vain”. Yes, Lord, in you we hope, today and for ever; you are our hope. Amen!“

– Fr. Dominic Rankin gets to hold Jesus, in the Holy Eucharist, every single day, but sometimes wonders why he hasn’t been utterly transformed yet by this encounter?! It seems, reflecting on these words (and the example) of Pope Benedict, that the saintly-transformation we all seek is not waiting for a greater-gift of God’s self, but a greater-gift of my self in return. And, that is a gift that will take my whole life to give. All the different “expectations … hopes … fears and … difficulties that dwell in our hearts” can only be given as we live through them!

Some of you may be aware that last year, I purchased an older fishing boat.  This acquisition turned into quite a project, one with many lessons learned!  Shortly after bringing the boat home, the priests of the house asked if I had given the boat a name, which to that point I had not even though about doing.  At our annual Fishing with Father event at the Villa Maria, some of our youngsters offered recommendations.  But the name that I finally decided on stems from my love for the Blessed Virgin Mary.  The name I chose was Stella Maris, which is Latin for Star of the Sea.

Just a few weeks ago, I did some winterizing of the boat so that it will (hopefully) be ready for action next Spring when the weather warms up.  It got me thinking a little bit about the title of Mary as Star of the Sea.  Perhaps that title does not immediately evoke thoughts of Christmas, the Octave Day of which we celebrate today, but there is a connection to this title that is very much in the spirit of this season.  The connection is to be found in the hymn to Mary under this title, Ave Maris Stella (Hail, Star of the Sea).  One of the verses goes like this:

Show yourself a Mother,
may the Word divine
born for us thine Infant
hear our prayers through thine.

This verse draws our attention to Mary in her role of giving birth to the “Word divine”, this claiming the rightful title as Mother of God.  In her closeness to her child, we turn to her in confidence asking that she would pray to Him with us and on our behalf.

What strikes me about this verse is the first line: “Show yourself a Mother.”  This is a phrase that I use from time to time when I turn to Mary, asking for her prayers for some particular situation or need.  It could be something that I am struggling with, such as a difficult situation, or the discouragement at not advancing more quickly in the spiritual life.  I ask Mary to show herself to be a Mother to me, helping me with her encouragement and prayers.  As I encounter the sufferings and struggles of the people whom I serve, I sense their need for consolation and peace.  And just as children we turn to our mothers to find that, I ask Mary to show herself a Mother to those individuals in their needs.

On this day when we celebrate Mary’s greatest title, that of being the Mother of God, we also take consolation in the fact that she is also our Mother.  As Jesus was dying on the Cross, He entrusted Mary to us through the Apostle St. John when He said to him: “Behold, your mother.” (John 19:27)

As we look to the year ahead, we have no doubt that there will be joys, but what will prevent us from fully experiencing those joys are the disappointments and setbacks that we will face due to our weaknesses, or due to factors outside of our control.  As we make our way through the potentially rough waters of the sea of life, may our eyes turn to Mary, Star of the Sea, asking her with faith: “Show yourself a Mother.”  Through her prayers, she will help to keep us safe with her Son in the Church and continue to guide us to the safe harbors of eternal life where she awaits us.

Father Alford