Servant of the Gospel – St. Didacus Feast Day

 

The first lay brother of the order to canonized, the city of San Diego named after him, miracles accredited to him, today the church remembers St. Didacus of Alcala. We remember him not because of these things but because he was a witness to the gospel and lived his life with a constant desire to serve Christ in all he met.

It is not easy to give witness to the gospel. It is not easy to serve Christ in everyone we meet. We can all share stories about this in our life. We fall short, we let our will take over, we boast about the work done and great feats accomplished, we, like the disciples at the last supper, debate who is the greatest. How easily we lose sight of Jesus among us and the call of the kingdom. 

St. Didacus reminds to reorder our perspective. When we begin to count the works, we have done, he reminds us to serve with a humble heart. When we fail to love well, he reminds us to not become trapped by false hopes. As a simple brother he does this because his heart was always focused on Christ. He went about his living with Christ before him. He served the people of God with a heart fixed on Christ. Do we? 

I know I struggle to keep my life centered on this core value and essential foundation to being a Franciscan brother. And yet in each Eucharist Christ meets me, meets us and strengthens us. He gives us his heart, his very self and reorientates our vision. May we be brave enough to allow our hearts to be reorientated. May we be brave enough to be humble in all we do. May we be brave enough to know we can begin again each day to give witness to the gospel and serve Christ in all we meet, knowing we have St. Didacus as a brother and Christ with us. 

St. Didacus, pray for us. 

                                                                    Art by Francisco de Zurbarán - Own work, Public Domain

Gratitude Is Uniting - Thanksgiving 2025

 

            A day set aside to give thanks on purpose. On this Thanksgiving I wonder if we have considered how our heart is? Is it full of gratitude? Is it aware of blessings? Is it just considering it to be just another day with the bonus of a bigger meal?

    Philemon of Gaza, a monk from the sixth century wrote: “Ingratitude is a serious spiritual malady that affects the heart and soul. Ingratitude is a kind of interior leprosy” (Meditations on Luke’s Gospel). To be truly thankful, means we know all we have comes from God. Taking note of what we are thankful moves us from ingratitude to gratefulness. Gratitude heals the leprosy of our hearts and interior scars and aligns us again with God; being clothed in God’s goodness (Colossians 3.12-17).

        As St. John Chrysostom reminds us, “Our acts of thanksgiving add nothing to God’s happiness, but they unite us more closely to God” (Homilies on Saint Matthew). This being closely united to God is at the heart of letter to the Colossians. To take note of being God’s chosen ones, of our holiness, our belovedness and the call to action declares we are rooted in thankfulness. Not as means of pleasing God, rather united with God and God’s actions of love, mercy and goodness. 

        On this Thanksgiving Day, as we celebrate the harvest and our many blessings may we carry gratitude into the places we are called to carry the gospel. May we have a heart filled with gratitude, not perfection, rather gratitude returning all praise and glory to God. May we live as God’s chosen ones, not boastful and prideful, rather with open hands to receive Christ who poured himself out for us. Let us give thanks to God from the rising of the sun to its setting (Psalm 113) for all our blessings, now and forever. Amen.  

Photo Credit: Priscilla Du Preez

Feast Day of St. Francis - St. Clare: Faithful Companion At Each Hour

Many of us probably don’t think about our death on a regular basis. In fact, many of us probably avoid the conversation. However, it is good for us to consider “Sister Death” as Francis would say and ponder what would truly be a blessing “at the hour of death.”  To consider our sister death, means we open our heart to trust in God and the mercy, compassion and new life only God can offer. To ponder the blessings of the hour when we take our final breath more than likely means we think of certain people.

When Francis lay dying on the eve of October 3, 1226, he desired his brothers who had been with him from the beginning to be closest to him. He also desired the companionship of Lady Jacoba and his sister Clare. He would request his brothers sing to him the Canticle of Creatures. He would request Lady Jacoba to bring cookies. From Clare he would desire prayer, closeness, vision and continued friendship. Clare offered all of these to Francis. She was present to him in his living and dying. She didn’t forget him as he was placed in the grave, rather she became an anchor for the Franciscan family. 

I think of St. Clare as we St. Francis on his transitus. I think of her courage earlier in their story to leave everything behind and set a new pattern for living. I think of how she trusted, yes, in God but also in Francis and his vision for gospel living. I think of her compassion toward Francis. I believe she kept him grounded when he was lost in emotions and uncertainty reminding him of his vision in Christ. I think of how after his death she persevered in her leadership seeing through her rule of life being approved just before her meeting of sister death. I think of her friendship with Francis, how “instead of looking at each other, Clare and Francis looked in the same direction… Jesus, poor, humbled and crucified” (Raniero Cantalamessa, O.F.M. Cap.). To look at the poor, humbled, crucified Crist is look at love and the depth of relationship. 

Thinking of St. Clare on the Feast of St. Francis, I consider those in my life who continue to show up. Those companions who don’t look to me but look with me toward our final home with hope. Those companions who are not afraid to have the hard conversations and still offer compassion. Those companions who like Clare for Francis, know my heart; it’s brokenness and its hope. Each year as we mark the passing of Francis from this world into the next, I am reminded one day this too will be my moment. I trust like Francis I will have someone like Clare by my side, who will whisper into my ears, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15.55).

Held in Common – Feast of St. Michael and the Archangels

 

    St. Francis, Pope Leo XIII and my Grandfather all hold something in common. It fascinates me to consider this, and I see it as invitation for not only me but all of us. What do they hold in common? The love of this Feast of St. Michael and the Archangels (September 29). We know St. Francis honored this feast by leading into it with a fast, Pope Leo wrote the commonly used Prayer to St. Michael and my Grandfather whose birthday is today always marked this day and carried with him St. Michael as a protector.

All three of these wise men remind us of something important about this feast of St. Michael and the Archangels. They remind us of how the angels are our companions and how they always, always point us to God. This feast isn’t about the angles and their glory, it is about how they point to God, praise God and lead us into the love of God.

Like St. Francis, Pope Leo XIII and my Grandfather, the disciple Nathanael we encounter in the gospel for today (John 1.47-51) was amazed by God’s awesomeness manifested in Jesus, the Son of God. It is from this place of awe, that they and each of us can declare, “In the sight of the angels I will sing your praises, Lord” (Psalm 138). We never know where we encounter God’s messengers and how they protect us and guide us, but we are invited to trust they do so. Another glimpse of the grace of God. 

The Archangels know the power of our Triune God and how the love of God conquers evil. This feast day is an opportunity for us to rejoice in the greatness of God, the dwelling of Christ among us and the working of the Holy Spirit. Like St. Francis, Pope Leo XIII and my Grandfather may we be renewed in each Eucharist for the work which is ours to do in the kingdom of our God here and now.

Photo Credit: Manuel Sandoval 

St. Francis Our Standard-Bearer of Christ - Feast of The Stigmata

In an ancient text for the Feast of the Stigmata (September 17) there is a liturgical antiphon which in part prays: “Francis, standard-bearer of Christ by merciful handiwork” (Liturgical Texts for the Feast of the Stigmata of St. Francis 1337-1340). This one little line from a vast amount of text for this feast points us to the heart of St. Francis, his deepest desire and the scriptures for this feast. 

If we spend any time considering the letter to the Galatians (6.14-18) we soon discover it is the pattern which the antiphon has tried to capture. We can put the words of St. Paul into the voice of St. Francis, “May I never boast of anything but the cross of Christ” because it is life and hope and my vision, for we are “created anew.” This being created anew is not just for Francis being branded with the wounds of Christ, it is for each of us. It is how we are claimed in baptism, and it is how we carry forth the gospel. We do so in the name of Christ through whose wounds we are healed and brought into eternal life, for “life means Christ” (Philippians 1.20). Even in our weaknesses and shortcomings, even in the limitations of our bodies we glorify Christ because we believe he is at work in us. We put Christ on! We may not be branded with his wounds, but we do put Christ on. For me as a Friar in my daily living, each time I put on my habit I am reminded I walk with Christ and with Francis. What is it for you, what reminds you that you put on Christ and walk with him and Francis?

Each day we are invited to pick up our cross and follow Christ. This was a conscious choice Francis made; he invites us to do the same. Francis the standard-bearer of Christ reminds us in his Letter to the Entire Order, “Hold back nothing of yourselves for yourselves, that He who gives Himself totally to you may receive you totally." The stigmata was Francis in complete poverty giving himself completely to Christ, holding back nothing and receiving the depth of the love of Christ. He knew Christ was his source and his strength. May we be attentive to this, for Christ our source and strength gives himself to us in every Eucharist as food for the journey to carry our cross. Let us do so with “true faith, certain hope, and perfect charity.” 

Image: Saint Francis Receiving the Stigmata (c. 1420) by Lorenzo Monaco – Public Domain

A Prayer for September

Stepping out into new beginnings

Encountering life along the way

Placing my trust in God for

Together we journey with hope.

Embracing opportunities and insights,

Moments which draw me into the

Beautiful light of Christ where

Experiencing transformation and growth

Requires me to take the next step.

 

Lord Jesus,

you infuse me with your Holy Spirit

in each step of the journey.

There are many new beginnings

in each season of the year and in life.

May the movement of your Spirit in me

open my eyes to the gifts and graces of this time,

so, when September ends, I may be filled with awe

and know I am able to begin again and again

for you are ever with me.

Amen.

 

 

Photo Credit: Kelly Sikkema

Being Transformed Daily

The Feast of the Transfiguration is celebrated in the peak of summer, every year on August 6. I think it is timely as many people are in summer mode – taking in creation. Through hikes, mountain visits, sitting by a lake, spending time in the garden, enjoying fresh fruits and vegetables and beautiful flowers or traveling for special events we are invited to behold the glory of God; like on Mount Tabor. In this Jubilee Year of Hope, this feast of the Transfiguration invites us to consider pilgrimage and how it transforms us. We need not go far and yet can be transformed. A walk spent with an intention becomes a pilgrimage. But do we take note? Are we aware of the simple moments of invitation and transformation in our daily living?

Each day offers us an invitation to transformation and awareness of God’s glory. By being intentional in our outlook, we become like the disciples on Mount Tabor filled with awe and delight. Eager to want to spend time secured in the holiness of the moment but also facing the reality we are called forth into the pilgrimage of life. We are called to live out what it means to be a chosen and beloved child of God.

We all have moments of transfiguration. This past weekend my nephew married his beautiful bride. Those of us who attended this wedding were invited into moments of transformation and glory. From the beauty of creation inviting us into a splendid day, to deeply touching vows exchanged through teary eyes, to stories and laughter shared, and people traveling from near and far to be present we were transformed because of their love for each other, our love for them and the love of God so very present.

The belovedness of the couple was apparent. It was in the simple moments not the extraordinary ones which reminded us of the closeness of God. Like the disciples on Mount Tabor, we desired to stay in the gift of a wedding day, but the reality is we need to carry the joy, the beauty, the glory and our transformed hearts into our daily living. One author reminds us, “from Mount Tabor’s splendor, the Savior tells us: “Become what you behold.”” The question is then what do we behold? Nothing other than God present to us. 

This peak summertime feast with its invitation to pilgrimage through the Mount Tabour experience invites us to pay attention to God’s glory revealed in creation, in relationships, in wedding moments, in ordinary Wednesday mornings and in pilgrimage. It calls us to embody our Savior and be transformed by him, to be filled with awe and to carry it forward.

The Eucharist is this very invitation to become what we behold. We behold Christ present before our very eyes. We receive him who transforms us by his very body and blood. We then in turn are invited to be a witness of his glory in our lives and in all creation around us. The pilgrimage of hope during the rest of this summer is an invitation to pay attention, to be filled with awe, and as St. Peter says in his second letter to be “as a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” Yes, it is good for us to be here and in turn it is good for us to return to our lives transformed by the simple gift of bread broken and shared with us. Let us be attentive for God’s glory is everywhere and right here.