Praying the Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph - The Tenth Station

Praying the Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph

The Tenth Station - Jesus is Stripped of His Garments

Crucifixion ... the ultimate assault ... the gradual stripping off, layer by layer, of what makes one who he is, leading to the stripping away of the very breath of life.

Jesus has been stripped of so much in a mere twelve hours – His friends ... His popularity ... His reputation ... His health and well-being ... and now His very clothes, the last physical possession He has. But this last indignation is even more than it seems, for the stripping off of His clothing is nothing less than an assault on His purity, His moral dignity, and His manhood, as the veil of modesty and privacy are forcibly ripped from Him. Jesus is stripped of His clothes - but robed in glory.

"The glory of God is Man fully alive,” wrote the Second Century Father of the Church, St. Irenaeus. But he was wrong. The glory of God is in a man barely alive, a man who stands naked on the hill called Golgotha ... a man who stands naked before the world so that His glory might be revealed ... stripped so that we might be clothed with the righteousness of God. He was laid bare before the world so that we might be covered, inside and out, with the glory of God.

Let us pray ... St Joseph, oh the tunnel vision some people seem to have, and at times, even me! We think that stripping another only involves the forcible removal of another’s clothing. But on Golgotha, so much more was stripped from Jesus than tunic and loin cloth. He was stripped of everything that the world seems to value. But the one thing they could not strip from him was that He is the Son of God - beloved, one with the Father. I, too, am a Child of God, loved beyond measure, and have infinite worth in His eyes. Help me always to remember that, and to respect my body as a temple of the Holy Spirit ... a place where the holy, infinite, almighty, all-knowing, ever-present God of love and mercy dwells.

St. Joseph, Most Chaste, pray for us.

 

Praying The Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph - The Eleventh Station

Praying the Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph

 

The Eleventh Station - Jesus is Nailed to the Cross

His hands are held down so that five-inch iron spikes can be driven into them.

• Yet are these not the hands of the Incarnate One, God in human flesh?
• Are these not the hands that touched, women, children and outcasts with welcome and acceptance?
• Are these not the hands that rubbed mud on the eyes of the blind to open them and give them sight?
• Are these not the hands that touched the ears of the deaf that allowed them to hear and to listen?
• Are these not the hands that touched the stretchers of the lame and brought healing to crippled, mangled limbs?
• Are these not the hands that dared to touch the diseased skin of lepers and made them clean?
• Are these not the hands that held the stiffened hands of the dead and restored them back to life?
• Are these not the hands, outstretched over sinners, conferring absolution to them?
• Are these not the hands that blessed and broke the bread and lifted the cup just the night before, transforming them into his Body and Blood?
• Are these not the hands that reach out for all eternity to embrace us?

And His legs are held down so that nails may pierce through the skin, sinew and muscle of Jesus’ feet.

• Yet are these not the same feet that ran, skipped and jumped through the adventures of His childhood?
• Are these not the feet that walked into the Jordan River to receive John’s baptism?
• Are these not the feet, blistered by hot desert sands for forty days of fast, prayer and temptation?
• Are these not the feet that walked the shoreline of the Sea of Galilee and invited twelve to come follow Him?
• Are these not the feet that strode the dusty roads in Galilee and Judea carrying the Good News of Salvation?
• Are these not the feet that entered the homes of the sick, the rich, the sinners, the tax collectors, the faith-filled and the faith-less?
• Are these not the feet that walked on water?
• Are these not the feet that straddled a donkey amidst “hosannas” and waving palm branches?
• Are these not the feet that still walk our earth, accompanying us on whatever roads life takes us?

Let us pray ... They saw Him give sight to the blind, cleanse the lepers, free the possessed, cure every disease and every infirmity, raise the dead. They had heard Him preach a sublime doctrine, silence his adversaries, speak as man never did. He had read their thoughts, fulfilled their prophecies, proved Himself their long-expected Messiah. But they shut their eyes to His miracles and their ears to His invitations and His warnings. And they rejected Him, tortured Him, crucified Him. St. Joseph, I too have heard His word. I too have seen miracles done in His name. Are their sins any greater than mine? My sins - the evil things I have thought, the hurtful things I have said, the unloving things I have done, the good that I left undone - are these not a crown of thorns I cram on his head, a cross I lay upon His back, the nails I pound into His hands and feet? What I have done to one of his least ones, I have done to Him.

St. Joseph, Most Just, St. Joseph, Most Obedient, pray for us.

Praying The Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph - The Twelfth Station

Praying the Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph

 

The Twelfth Station - Jesus Dies on the Cross

Jesus’ body is hoisted up upon the cross. The cross ... not just instrument of His death, but a pulpit lifted high for all to see and hear His final lessons:

“Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.” A lesson in mercy - not just taught but demonstrated in the most extreme way possible.

“Today you will be with me in paradise.” A promise given to the thief to His right who begs that Jesus remember him when He enters His kingdom ... and the blessed assurance given to us that, if we die with Him, we will also rise with Him.

“Woman, behold, thy son! Son, behold, thy mother.” Obedient to Third Commandment, Jesus honors His mother. And faithful to the moral obligations of the Talmud, He personally ensures the care and support He will no longer be able to provide her by entrusting her to His beloved disciple. But John represents us at the foot of the cross. And Jesus entrusts her to us to be our mother.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Far from a cry of despair, what is recorded in both Matthew and Mark’s Gospels is a prayer. In the darkest moment of His life, in the face of death, Jesus prays. He recites Psalm 22 which, rather than expressing despair at God’s absence in the time of His greatest need, it is a hymn of confidence in God’s abiding presence, His pervasive care.

“I thirst.” A reminder that when we give drink to one of His least ones, we quench Jesus’ thirst as well.

“It is finished.” Not just the cry of a dying man that His life is about to expired, but the exuberant proclamation that His earthly mission is finished. All he was born to do has been accomplished.

“Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” As he had done at each moment of His life, so too at death, Jesus entrusts Himself into the all-powerful hands of His Father, who, in the beginning, fashioned all things and saw that it was good.

Ecce Homo ... Behold the man ... Behold that man . . .

That Man – See Him broken there – See Him bleeding there – See Him hurting there.

That Man – See Him suffering there – See Him helpless there – See Him selfless there.

That Man – See Him hanging there – See Him crying there – See Him dying there.

FOR US! FOR ME! FOR YOU!

Let us pray ... St. Joseph, one of the things that most hurts me is when I am not appreciated. It’s not that I look for the adulation of others, I don’t need public recognition and applause. But often it seems, that the good I do goes unnoticed. And sometimes that makes me feel like the good that I tried to do, I didn’t do. - It didn’t have the effect that I hoped it would. I wonder if Jesus ever feels that way. All he did for us, we who are so undeserving, and, often times, He is forgotten or taken for granted. Jesus gave everything to me ... GIVES everything to me ... His very life, His body and blood then on the cross, and His body and blood now, in the Eucharist. And sometimes I act as if that is nothing, rather than the supreme gift that it is. St. Joseph, inspire me to appreciate, more and more, all that Jesus did and does for me, and let that appreciation bring me to a greater love for Him. Jesus, if I failed said it before, I say it now. Thank you. I love you.

St. Joseph, Patron of the Dying, pray for us.

Praying The Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph - The Thirteenth Station

Praying the Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph

 

The Thirteenth Station - Jesus is Taken Down from the Cross

Forty days after His birth, his father and mother travelled to this city, to Jerusalem, to fulfill the prescriptions of the Law and present Jesus in the Temple. There they encountered an old man named Simeon, to whom God had revealed that he would not know death until his eyes beheld the Messiah. And somehow, there, in the cry of this child, he recognized the voice God’s anointed one. Joseph and Mary looked at each other with a mixture of wonder, joy and pride as the old prophet spoke of the child held in Mary’s arms. But then, his voice trembled, as if choking back tears, “This child will be a sign that will be contradicted.” And turning to Mary, he said, “And your heart a sword will pierce.” Today, that sword has pierced her through. Jesus’ limp, lifeless body is taken down from the cross and laid in the arms of His grieving, distraught mother.

PIETA. Oh, the pity!

She cradles Him in her arms as she cradled Him in the moments after His birth. What was she thinking as an ocean of her tears fell and mixed with the blood upon His face that now expressed the peace of death? Did she think of the day of His birth? Did she recall so many memories of the boy Jesus - smiling, laughing, singing, running, playing, hugging? Did a memory surface of her confusion when, unknown to her and Joseph, he stayed behind in Jerusalem after the caravan back to Nazareth had departed, and they found Him three days later among the scribes in the Temple. Or did she recall her pride when, as an adult, after the reports of His teaching and miracles reached them, all of Nazareth squeeze into their small synagogue to hear him preach? Did she remember her confidence in him at Cana in Galilee as she turned to Him and said, “Son, they have no more wine?” Or was the present moment too great, too grief-filled, to recall anything but the horrors just ravaged upon Him.

“Come, all who pass by the way, pay attention and see: Is there any pain like my pain, which has been ruthlessly inflicted upon me?” (Lamentations 1:12)

PIETA. Oh, the pity!

Let us pray ... Holy St Joseph, you were a man of great hope and faith. You faced many difficult times in your life. Fleeing into Egypt, fearing for the safety of Mary and Jesus, you lived – like us today – in uncertain times. Your strength came from knowing that the power and faithfulness of God would always be constant.

Fill us with the confidence that you had in the Lord, our God. Help us to know that God is close to us - that He will deliver us from the trials and troubles we are now encountering.

May the light of the Lord give us hope. May it guide us every day of our lives. And, uniting our prayers with yours, may we be assured that He will strengthen us in all our difficulties. Amen.

St. Joseph, Solace of the wretched, pray for us.

 

 

Praying The Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph - The Fourteenth Station

Praying the Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph

 

The Fourteenth Station - Jesus is Laid in the Tomb

The crowd is gone. The streets are empty. The shouts of, “Crucify him!” have faded. The laughing, the jeering, the finger pointing, have ended. The soldiers are back in their quarters, well satisfied that they have kept the Peace of Rome. Lash and spear, hammer and nails, are in their usual places, awaiting their next victim. A good day’s work of inhumane cruelty is now celebrated with laughter, a pat on the back and some cheap wine. The Jews rest in their homes for the Sabbath, celebrating the day Yahweh rested from the work of creation, as your body lies in the tomb resting from the work of salvation. 

Sleep in heavenly peace, my Lord. Sleep in heavenly peace.

Right now, Pilate is in his palace, enjoying a meal, already having forgotten the events of the day. Caiaphas celebrates the Sabbath, well satisfied that he has protected the faith of Israel from being corrupted by yet another false prophet. Veronica stares at the cloth which bares your image, unable to take her eyes off the bloodied yet somehow beautiful image. Simon of Cyrene consoles Alexander and Rufus, whose nightmares recall the horror of all they saw today. And Simon, himself, cannot stop thinking about the pitiful man whose cross he carried. Strangely, he somehow realizes his life, in a way he does not understand, has been irreversibly changed by the encounter. 

Sleep in heavenly peace, my Lord. Sleep in heavenly peace.

Your Apostles hide themselves in the upper room where, in what seems like an eternity ago, they celebrated the Passover with you. The room hides them from the Temple Guard who search for them, but it cannot hide their feelings of grief and guilt. Peter sits alone in a corner weeping uncontrollably over his cowardice in abandoning you, and worse, his denial that he even knew you. Elsewhere in the city your beloved disciple holds the hand of your mother, unable to find words to console inconsolable grief. 

Sleep in heavenly peace, my Lord. Sleep in heavenly peace.

Your pain is gone. Your passion has ended. Your body lies in the coolness of a borrowed stone sepulcher, wrapped front and back in the linen shroud purchased by Joseph of Arimathea. The aroma of burial spices perfumes the heaviness and staleness of the air. A stone boulder blocks the sun’s light from intruding on death’s darkness. 

Sleep in heavenly peace, my Lord. Sleep in heavenly peace.

Yes, my Lord, sleep in heavenly peace - for in three days, the sun will rise to a new day - and so will you.

Let us pray ... St. Joseph, we all have within us some areas, some parts of our heart, that are not alive, that are a little dead. We find ourselves in tombs, places that are dark and cold, places that have a boulder that has closed us off from love, and hope, and joy. We want to get out, to rise from whatever is dead in our lives, but we don’t know how. Only Jesus has the power to shatter the darkness in our lives and restore us to light and life. St. Joseph, intercede for us, that Jesus, your Son and our Lord, will give us the grace to rise from what is dead in our lives, to hear His voice call our name to come out of our tombs, and to come to Him, the Resurrection and the Life.

St. Joseph, Renowned Offspring of David, Light of Patriarchs, pray for us.

Praying the Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph - Concluding Prayer

Praying the Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph

Concluding Prayer

To you, O blessed Joseph,
do we come in our tribulation,
and having implored the help of your most holy Spouse,
we confidently invoke your patronage also.

Through that charity which bound you
to the Immaculate Virgin Mother of God
and through the paternal love
with which you embraced the Child Jesus,
we humbly beg you graciously to regard the inheritance
which Jesus Christ has purchased by his Blood,
and with your power and strength to aid us in our necessities.

O most watchful guardian of the Holy Family,
defend the chosen children of Jesus Christ.

O most loving father, ward off from us
every contagion of error and corrupting influence.

O our most mighty protector, be kind to us
and from heaven assist us in our struggle
with the power of darkness.

As once you rescued the Child Jesus from deadly peril,
so now protect God's Holy Church
from the snares of the enemy and from all adversity.

Shield, too, each one of us by your constant protection,
so that, supported by your example and your aid,
we may be able to live piously, to die in holiness,
and to obtain eternal happiness in heaven.

Amen.

 

 

 

Prayer to a Not-So-Hidden God

 

Prayer to a Not-So-Hidden God

A Prayer in Adoration

O God of the Masquerade,

I see you, although masked in a wafer of bread.

I hear you, although in silent stillness.

I feel you, although no mortal being dares to touch my leprous skin.

Oh, how wonderful it would be

to see,

to hear,

to feel

you in your wonderous, unspeakable power!

And I pray, someday I will.

But for now, I am content with

the masquerade, the silence,

for I am not fooled by its ordinariness.

For you have rubbed spit-moistened mud onto my eyes, and now I see.

You have touched my ears and whispered, "Ephphatha! Be open!" and now I hear.

You have touched my leprous soul with gentle, loving, 

caring, merciful, healing hands,

and I feel you . . .

Here.

With me.

Now.

In this moment.

When I call out to You.

When I need to see,

When I need to hear,

When I need to feel.

O Divine Mystery,

I desire my eyes never again to be blinded by the ungodly,

my ears never to be deafened by the blaring din of the world,

my senses never to be numbed by pleasures that can never satisfy.

May I be content, for the rest of my days, with the Holy Masquerade,

O Not-So-Hidden God,

till that day when the veil is removed,

the silence is replaced by the song of angels,

and I feel loving, powerful, yet gentle arms

hold me in embrace.

Christmas - 2024

 

WITH US . . . ALWAYS WITH US

A Christmas Reflection

As we prepare to celebrate Jesus' coming once again at Christmas, it occurred to me, He comes to me - every day.

He comes in the warmth of a smile;

in the unexpected, but much needed kind word;

in the voice that offers encouragement, support or advice;

in the hug that embraces a broken heart or crushed spirit;

in the eyes that are beacons of love and compassion and mercy;

in the phone call or text message sent just because;

in the ear that listens and the shoulder that carries;

in the joke that gladdens the heart and the song that lifts the soul;

in the Word proclaimed and the Bread broken.

Jesus comes in all these guises because

He is peace,

He is joy,

He is love,

He is kindness,

He is compassion,

He is mercy,

He is selfless,

He is wisdom,

He is Savior,

He is Emmanuel, God with us . . . always with us.

Although many over the years have thanked me for being the voice that brought His Good News to them in a homily or composition, or the hand that placed His Body into theirs at Communion, this Christmas I recognize Him in you and I thank you for all the many ways you have blessed me and brought Him to me every day.

Merry Christmas! Blessed Christmas!

Stigmata - A Lenten Reflection

STIGMATA

A Lenten Reflection

 

Stigmata – Wounds…Bleeding wounds…Painful wounds…Wounds on the hands…Wounds on the feet…A wound on the side of the chest. Miraculously appearing wounds. Christ’s wounds, which have become the wounds of those who have chosen, in a radical way, to take up the cross and follow Him. To suffer as He suffered. To be a visible reminder to the world of sacrificial wounds, of love-endured pain, in the name of mercy…in the name of redemption. And so, the stigmatist bleeds, he suffers, he offers his pain, he offers his disfigurement, to unite his own blood and his own suffering to the blood shed and the agony endured, to the ultimate sin atonement, to the unconditional, underserved, unwarranted love-embrace of a Man, of a God, two thousand years ago on a hill called Golgotha. For you…For me. Stigmata.

Twelfth century mystic, St. Bernard of Clairvoix, had the spiritual gift of locution – he could converse with Jesus on a deeper level than we do when we pray. Whereas, in prayer, we are able to hear the whispers of Jesus deep within us, St. Bernard could hear the actual audible voice of Christ speaking to him. One day, in conversation with our Lord, he asked Him which of the wounds He suffered in His Passion caused Him the greatest pain. Was it the wounds from the nails that were driven into His hands and feet? Was it the wounds from the crown of thorns that punctured the flesh on His head? Or was it, perhaps, the gaping wound left by the lance thrust into His side? Our Lord responded to him, “I had on My shoulder as I bore My cross on the Way of Sorrows, a grievous wound that was more painful than the others, which is not recorded by men.”

If the truth of Jesus’ words to St Bernard needed to be verified, in April 1948, Fr. Karol Wojtyla visited Padre Pio, who bore the wounds of Christ on his body for fifty years. The future St. Pope John Paul II asked the stigmatist which of his wounds caused the most pain, expecting that Padre Pio would say it was the chest wound. But instead, Padre Pio replied, “It is my shoulder wound, which no one knows about and has never been cured or treated.”

In the history of the Church, there have been about three hundred cases of individuals who bore stigmata on their bodies. Most, if any, of us will ever bear the wounds and know the pain of Christ on our hands and feet, forehead and side the way the stigmatists have. But, in a sense, all those who have accepted Jesus’ command to pick up our crosses daily and follow Him are stigmatists.

The prophet Isaiah, wrote, “It was our weaknesses that he carried, our sufferings that he endured…He was pierced for our offences, crushed for our sins.” (Isaiah 53: 4-5). And in the First Letter of Peter, we read, “He himself bore our sins in his body upon the cross…By his wounds you have been healed. (1 Peter 2:24). And so, there is a great reciprocity in picking up our crosses daily, for, in uniting our sufferings to His, we bear the wounds Christ bore for us.

The stigmata that many of us bear is the shoulder wound, for we have felt, live with, that jutting, intense, raw, unrelenting, merciless, down to the bone pain that has cut deep into us from the crosses that have been thrust upon our shoulders. That wound takes on different shapes: It might be the intense pain of illness…or the still bleeding, oozing wound of a failed marriage or relationship…Maybe it’s the prolonged and nagging hurt from the death of someone we love…It could be the relentless, torturous pain of addiction…or the unbearable pang of depression and hopelessness…the stinging pain of unemployment…or the chronic wound of guilt, self-hatred, horrific memories that we can’t let go of, or the sins of our past that we can’t forgive ourselves of. Stigmata.

Our cross, valiantly born, united to Jesus, becomes the cross He bore. And so, the pain we bear is truly His. Our pains, our wounds, often well hid from others, but always felt by ourselves, is the deep, cutting, bloody, infected, torturous, unrelenting wound on Jesus’ shoulder. But like Him, when Jesus commands us to take up our cross and follow Him, our journey doesn’t end on a Friday, at Golgotha, in pain, death and defeat. It ends at an empty tomb, on a Sunday, in resurrection, in healing, in new life. And although the scar may remain, it has been transformed into a badge of victory!

Wounds…Jesus’ wounds…Wounds on His hands…Wounds on His feet…Wounds which surrounded His head…A wound in His side…A wound on His shoulder. But there is another wound from which Jesus suffered. It is the wound He endured the longest, from Thursday night to Friday afternoon. From Gethsemane to Golgotha. From a blood-sweat prayer of “Not my will but Your will be done,” to a prayer of victorious surrender, “Father, into Your hands I commend my Spirit.”

It is a wound not visible to the human eye. One not evident to those who witnessed His Passion; one few, even to this day, recognize. Yet it was a wound as gruesome and as agonizing as any inflicted upon His Body. It is the interior wound of loneliness, abandonment, and rejection. Unseen by others, but oh so excruciatingly felt by Him.

It is the pain He felt in the Garden of Gethsemane, when the Apostles, those closest in His heart, those who were with Him day in and day out for three years, lie but yards away from Him, yet are so totally unaware and insensitive to the sheer terror that He feels that they even fall asleep.

It is the pain of having someone, called by Jesus to intimacy, betray Him through the charade of a kiss.

It is the pain of His closest friends running away, abandoning Him when He needed them most.

It is the pain of someone loved, trusted, favored, not only distancing himself from Him, but denying he even knows Him.

It is the pain of courts of judgement, the Sanhedrin and the Roman Procurator, those for whom it is easier to condemn than to understand, scrutinizing, twisting, and misinterpreting everything He said, everything He did.

It is the pain, as He carried the cross, of seeing familiar faces, those He taught and touched and healed – those who shouted “Hosanna to the Son of David” the previous Sunday, who now cry out, “Crucify Him;” those that were once sightless, who now are blind to who He really is, and see, instead, only one who is guilty, one who deserves a wretched fate; those that were once mute, whose mouths now form words of taunt, and mockery and scorn; those whose hearing He restored, whose ears are now deaf to His cries of anguish and pain; those who were once lame, whose hearts are now paralyzed by insensitivity for the very one who lifted them from their stretchers; those who He brought back to life, whose hearts have become stone and no longer beat with love for the One who loved them first, with a love greater than they had ever known.

It is the pain of, after being followed by thousands throughout Galilee and Judea, dying all alone in the world, save four who faithfully keep vigil at His cross.

It is the pain of the fear, the wondering, if even God, His Father, has now abandoned Him.

It is a pain, not of a lance-punctured heart, but of a broken heart.

A wound, hidden to those who see things only on the surface. A wound visible only to those who possess eyes of love, of sensitivity, of compassion which probe deeper, beyond flesh and bones, muscle and sinew, to see the heart.

The wound of loneliness, abandonment, rejection. This is Jesus’ wound I have been asked to bear. Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to share in Your Passion. Thank you, Lord, for sharing in mine. Stigmata.

Christmas

 What Child is This?

A Meditation at the Manger

“What Child is this, who, laid to rest,

On Mary's lap is sleeping?”

Who are you, little one,

wrapped in rags,

whose birth was heralded by angels,

and visited by the lowly and the mighty,

by shepherds and by kings?

Who are you, little one?

It is a question that will be asked again and again down through the centuries . . .

A question posed by a voice crying out in the wilderness . . . 

By kinsmen and neighbors in a Nazareth synagogue . . .

By those who will choose to follow you . . .

By those who will reject you . . .

By pharisee and scribe . . .

By royal governor . . .

And by me.

Who are you, little one?

It is the most profound question that will ever be asked in the history of the world;

for it is a question whose answer will not only define you,

but us,

but me.

You are innocence, purity and promise,

and your face radiates all that is beautiful, holy and good

to the sinful world you came to save.

You, who now are dependent, will become

the one on whom the whole world depends.

You, powerless babe, threat to Herod,

will forever be a threat to kings and rulers,

to all those who grasp for the power of the world.

You, who now rests in a bed of hay,

will someday have nowhere to lay his head.

You are the one whose infant coos mask, for now,

the words of eternal life,

and whose tearful cry pierces the silent night

and already sobs God's compassion for those who hurt . . .

all those whose prayers you already hear,

echoing to you from past, present and future.

You are the one whose tiny hand, wrapped around your mother's finger,

is the one whose hand created the world,

the hand that will reach out and touch and heal and feed and bless;

the hand that will one day be pierced by nails . . .

by the sins of humanity.

You are the one whose feet kick the straw in the manger in which you lay,

the same feet that will kick up the dust from the dirt-covered roads

of Galilee and Judea;

feet that will walk up a hill called Calvary and out of a sepulcher;

feet that still walk our earth today.

Who are you, newborn child

to whom shepherds stare in awe and Kings kneel to adore?

You are the Son of the Living God.

You are the Savior of the World.

You are Mighty God and Prince of Peace.

You are Resurrection and Life, Light and Way,

Shepherd of Souls, Gate to the Father,

True Vine who feeds us by your fruit of word and sacrament.

Come, then, Lord,

this hour, this day, this year, this lifetime.

Come, Lord, with your presence, with your love, with your compassion,

with your graciousness, with your mercy, with your peace.

Come, Lord Jesus, fill me with light, with life, with truth, with grace.

Come, Lord Jesus, and bless me with the right hand of your righteousness

and grant me the holiness, virtue and purity I seek.

Who are you?

You are the Word Made Flesh,

flesh that becomes the Bread of Life.

You are Emmanuel,

God With Us,

the God who stays,

born that we might never be alone.

“So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh

Come peasant, king to own Him

The King of Kings salvation brings

Let loving hearts enthrone Him”

Deacon Bruce Olsen: 2023

My Prayer of Contrition & Resolve

My Prayer of Contrition and Resolve 

by Deacon Bruce Olsen

O my God,

I kneel before You in humility, seeking Your abundant, abiding,

and absolute love, mercy, goodness and strength,

acknowledging that I am powerless without Your help.

You know all things, and You do not just see my actions

and hear my words, but You listen to the sincerity of a contrite heart.

Sinner though I am, I desire to be holy, righteous,

virtuous, pure, and chaste.

Although I have sinned so miserably,

and offended all that is loving, good, true, holy, noble,

and beautiful in your Divine Self,

I seek Your strength to avoid sin

and all the deceit, false promises, and allure of Satan,

to become the man, the deacon, You created me to be -

perfect as you are perfect -

a reflection of Your divine image.

Do not just hear my words, O Lord,

but recognize the sincerity and resolve of my heart and soul

to always hunger and thirst for

righteousness, until, by your grace,

I, indeed, become righteous.

I pledge to you to live a life of virtue.

Through the intercession of

the Most Chaste Heart of St. Joseph,

may my thoughts, my desires,

my words and every movement of my body and soul,

reflect his purity, his goodness, his love for You,

and his total dedication to Your holy will.

Through his protection, may I avoid all sins

and especially those that would violate chastity.

May my imitation of him be so complete,

that I reflect holy Joseph to the extent

that I, like your Son, Jesus, may be known as

the Carpenter’s Son.

May this prayer of contrition and resolve rise up to you, O Lord,

like burning incense. May its sweet aroma please you.

May I be forgiven of my past sins

and receive the grace and strength I seek to be sinless

for the rest of my days in this earthly life,

so that I may enjoy all the days of eternal life with you in heaven.

Amen.

There Are Some Dreams You Just Never Forget

There Are Some Dreams You Just Never Forget

A Memory

by Deacon Bruce Olsen

Doctors who specialize in such things tell us that the average person has over 1,460 dreams a year, which is about four dreams every night. Most dreams are immediately or quickly forgotten. But there are some dreams that you just never forget. Maybe the dream was so outrageous or funny that you actually wake up laughing, and thinking about it years later still makes you chuckle. Some dreams frighten us, and even after we wake from them, these nightmares still terrorize us. And even, years later, when they're recalled, they still have the power to give us the chills. But some dreams are memorable because of their beauty and because of the significance and meaning they've brought to our lives. The dream holds a very special place in our memory and can be recalled in vivid detail. 

I had such a dream in May of 1985. The dream began fancifully, perhaps even ridiculously comical. I was on a street corner in the Bronx, and a man near me kept assaulting everyone who passed by with a taser. I shouted at the man to stop being so annoying, but I guess, even in my dreams, I’m not a very intimidating person, because my command did nothing to stop him. Soon afterward, giant pods began to descend from the sky, and once reaching the ground, they transformed into earthly shapes. So astonished I was at this, that I immediately, for some reason, decided that I needed to seek out the bishop to inform him of this remarkable occurrence.

The dream continued for a considerable time and involved my quest to reach the bishop. Individuals, gangs and armies violently thwarted my every move, and ultimately, I gave up my attempts and decided to return to the Bronx street corner where my adventure first began.

But when I got there, no longer was it the bustling urban setting of crowds and cars, of tasers and pods; it had been transformed into the most beautiful garden imaginable. Every tree, bush and flower was in full bloom. I turned to my left and saw a wall, high and long, made up entirely of flowers. As I surveyed this breathtaking sight, I was amazed to discover a tabernacle in the middle of the flower-wall. After pausing to take in this wonderful and wonder-filled scene, something moving caught my eye to my right. And when I turned, I saw a vast exquisite green meadow. And there, floating above the meadow, was Mary, the Blessed Mother. She appeared as she did in Fatima, in a dazzling white mantle and veil, but with one exception. The veil she wore, which cascaded from her head to her feet, had golden roses decorating its edge. These roses were not imprinted on the fabric, nor were they embroidered or appliqués, but were actual, real, live gold roses.

Mary floated for some time above the meadow, and gradually came nearer and nearer to me. Her beauty cannot be described, and I stood speechless at the apparition I was beholding. Then, slowly, she began to move away. I thought to myself, "Bruce! This is the Mother of the Son of God!! Say SOMETHING!!!" And I shouted out to her, "Don't forget to send the children to me!" And she chuckled and said, “Oh, don't worry, I won't forget." She then faded into the mist of the meadow.

I stood mesmerized for some time, still staring into the meadow in utter amazement of what I had just witnessed. Then, something caught my eye. It was a man kneeling on the ground to my right. At first glance, I thought it was a gardener, until he looked up at me. "You're St. Joseph!" I shouted in excitement. And, once the recognition was made, he, too, disappeared and my dream ended.

"Don't forget to send the children to me!" What did that mean? I was just finishing three months as a long-term substitute teacher in one school and then six months in another. And as the school year was ending, I didn’t have a position lined up for the next year. So my request to Mary was a plea to be able to work with children, and, hopefully, to have a positive impact on them.

"Oh, don’t worry. I won’t forget!" And she didn’t. For thirty-seven years I had the privilege of ministering to the children she sent me as a teacher and deacon - students, altar servers, Confirmation candidates, Knights of Columbus Squires, and those who participated in Youth Ministry. I only hope I did Mary proud, and those she sent me, I sent back to her, more faith filled, more dedicated to, and more in love with her and her Son.

And although I'm no longer teaching, and currently away from my diaconate ministry, Mary is ever faithful to her promise; she is still sending the children to me. She has sent me Blessed Carlo Acutis, Blessed Rolando Rivi, and Venerable Matteo Farina to be present to me, to inspire me, to comfort me, to pray for me. Three teenagers, all from Italy. One 14, another 15, the other 18. One died of leukemia, one of brain cancer, the other was martyred - shot in the head and heart. How did these boys get it right at such an early age? These were teenagers with normal teenage interests - friends and soccer and music, and computers and travel, yet they made God paramount in their lives; and the Mass, the Eucharist, the Rosary, Confession, prayer, and virtues such as compassion, charity, chastity, and service to others, became their passion. Each one knew suffering, yet each one united their pain to the Cross, and transformed their suffering into redemptive suffering, offering it as gift to God and gift for others. It is these three that Mary has sent to me. Think of it, an adult (ever young at heart but technically a senior citizen) admiring to the point of desiring to emulate the life, the faith, the example of three teenage boys. What a reversal! In the past, Mary sent children to me for me to be their teacher; she has sent Carlo, Rolando and Matteo to me for me to be their student! What lessons they have taught me! But more than just my teachers, they have become my friends. We have a reciprocal relationship - I pray for their canonization and they intercede to God for me. And in the acute solitude that has become my life in the past year and a half, together with Jesus, Mary and Joseph, St. Therese, Padre Pio, St. Jude and my Guardian Angel, they have become great company for me. Sometimes my living room is so crowded that it's hard to find a place to sit down!

Yes, there are some dreams you just never forget, and I thank God to have been so blessed to have had this one. There are some dreams you just never forget - the memory is kept alive because a Mother, thirty-eight years later, is still faithful to her promise.

A Prayer of Praise & Thanksgiving to St. Joseph

 

I Sing of Joseph

A Prayer of Praise and Thanksgiving to St. Joseph 

by Bruce Olsen

Hail, O holy St. Joseph,

my spiritual father, my model, my inspiration, my guide, my teacher.

Protector on earth. Advocate in heaven. My friend!

You, spouse of the sinless Mother of the Word Made Flesh,

and Virgin Father of the Son of God, have loved me with a father’s heart.

You have listened to my sighs; you have heard my pleas;

and have taken me into your heart.

I come to offer you my sincere praise and thanksgiving.

Thank you, St. Joseph, for simply being who you are:

Man of grace, man of virtue, faithful servant of God.

Man hand-chosen by the Father from the foundation of the world

to be the loving father, wise mentor, of the Son of God.

Loving and faithful spouse, ever respectful protector of the virginity of Mary.

Diligent provider and valiant defender

of those who the Father entrusted to your safekeeping.

Man of prayer, ever attentive to the promptings of God, even in your dreams.

Joseph, meek and humble. Joseph, brave and courageous.

Joseph, strong and powerful against the forces of evil, natural and supernatural.

Joseph, who spoke by action and example rather than by words.

Joseph, whose fatherly love is a reflection of God's love for His Only Begotten Son

and for all His children.

And who am I that the eyes that beheld the Son of God and the Queen

of both heaven and earth, have also been cast upon me?

How is it that the ears which heard their sweet conversations, their laughter, their singing, have also been attentive to my cries, my prayers, my pleading?

And how is it that the arms that once held Godly perfection

now embraces a sinner such as me?

You, who loved the son of your heart, love me!

You, who received the One who was not flesh of your flesh as your son,

now accepts me as your child!

You, who protected the Word Made Flesh and His Holy and Immaculate Mother,

has thrown the cloak of your protection over me!

You who provided for the needs of those closest to your heart

have heard and answered my prayers!

You who taught the one who is the Way, the Truth and the Life,

teaches me by example to listen, to hear, to discern, to obey the Will of the Father!

You teach me the value of silence, to be still;

and in the stillness, to discover Emmanuel, the God who is with us.

You have done for me what you did for shepherds and kings at the stable in Bethlehem; 

you, in humility, point me to Jesus and Mary,

and take me to them.

You see past my faults to the person God created me to be,

and see good in me even when the world cannot.

You love me even when I find it difficult to love myself.

You have heard my desperate cries and have not abandoned me.

You have dried my tears and restored my hope.

You have used the mighty power given to you by the Eternal Father

to slay the demons that have threatened my soul.

You have responded to my needs with a Father's love and compassion, 

and have taken my prayer to your son, as my advocate, 

pleading for His mercy, 

interceding for the graces and blessings 

of which I so desperately need.

Thank you, O St. Joseph, for being my father, my spiritual guide.

Thank you for taking into your most chaste heart my prayers, my hopes, my hurts.

Thank you for blessing me with your presence, with your patience,

with your goodness, and with your love.

Thank you for knowing all that I am, all that I’ve done, and for loving me anyway.

Thank you for understanding my weaknesses, yet still seeing all that I can be.

Thank you for drawing me close within the intimacy of your holy cloak when so many others have abandoned me.

Thank you for prayers answered and miracles rendered.

Thank you for your example and virtues that inspire me.

I desire to be just like you and make you proud.

I pray that someday when people see me,

they can say, as they did about Jesus,

"Is he not the carpenter's son?"

Sometimes human language is limiting.

Sometimes things like “I love you” and “thank you” aren’t expressed with the sincerity

and eloquence that we hope to convey.

But Joseph, do not just hear the feeble syllables that I utter,

but listen, instead, to the song in my heart.

Forever I will sing of you, St. Joseph.

I sing a song of praise, a song of thanks, a song of love.

Forever I will shout to the world of your kind benevolence,

of your grace, of your power, and of your love.

Forever I will tell of your glories and of all your blessings to me.

Mine, is but one voice among the choir of angels and saints,

and the great chorus of humanity,

that sings a love song to you, Joseph.

It is not the loudest, the strongest, nor the most beautiful.

Sometimes off-key, often not melodic.

And although the song I sing isn’t the anthem you deserve,

nor the hymn I hoped it would be,

since you, yourself, have left us none of your own words in Scripture,

perhaps you will understand and accept the inadequacy

and imperfection of my words,

but look, instead, at the love of the singer

and the passion with which he chants his simple tune.

May the name of Joseph be praised and loved by me and by the world,

both now and forever!

Amen.

Litany of Resignation to the Will of God

Litany of Resignation to the Will of God

℣. Lord, have mercy on me,

℟. Christ, have mercy on me.

℣. Lord, have mercy on me. Jesus, hear me.

℟. Jesus, graciously hear me.

℣. God the Father, Who has created me,

℟. Hallowed be Your Will.

℣. God the Son, Who has redeemed me,

℟. Not my will but Your Will be done.

℣. God the Holy Spirit, Who offers me sanctification,

℟. Make the Holy Will of God be holy to me. 

℣. You alone O Lord, are all-knowing of what has been, of what is now and of what will yet be,

℟. Have mercy on me and keep my past, my present and my future in Your perfect will.

℣. You alone, O Lord, govern and guide all things,

℟. Have mercy on me and guide me by the governance of Your Holy Will.

℣. God, You who, according to Your inscrutable designs, does effect all things in a wonderful manner,

℟. Have mercy on me.

℣. You alone, O Lord, allow evil only in order to serve and strengthen the salvation of those who believe and those yet to believe.

℟. Have mercy on us and save us all by Your holy will.

℣. In all things and through all things,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. In all situations and circumstances,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. In all graces and disgraces,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. In my state in life and in my ministry,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. In all my thoughts, attitudes, desires and actions, 

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. In health and in strength,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. In sickness and in weakness,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. In my body and in my soul,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. In my life, in my living  and in my death,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. In all men and all angels,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. In all creatures,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. In all parts of the earth,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. At all times,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. For all eternity, 

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. Though my weak nature complains,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. Though my sinful nature shall be tempted,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. Though the world shall by its pleasures and promises entice me,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. Though it may require the loss of myself and earthly satisfaction,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. Solely and only through Your love for me and by my love for You,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℟. Because You alone are God - Father Son and Holy Spirit,

℟. I ask You, I pray You, I implore You, Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℟. Because You alone are eternal, all-knowing, unchanging and omnipresent,

℟. I ask You, I pray You, I implore You, Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℟. Because Your Will is always holy, loving, good, just, merciful, gracious, noble and true,

℟. I ask You, I pray You, I implore You, Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. Because You are Infinite Perfection, I proclaim with all the saints in Heaven, and with the Blessed Virgin Mary,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. I pray as Jesus did in the Garden of Gethsemane,

℟. Your Holy Will be done, O Lord, my God.

℣. Let Us Pray.

Grant me Your grace, O Father, that perfect resignation to Your Holy Will may be with me, and labor with me, and continue with me to the end. Grant me always to desire and to will that which is most acceptable to You and which pleases You best. Let Your Will be mine, and let my will always follow Yours and agree perfectly with it.

℟. Amen.

℣. Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.

℟. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.

℣. May the most amiable will of God be done in all things.

May it be praised and magnified forever!

℟.  Amen.

Take Up Your Cross & Follow Me

 

Take Up Your Cross & Follow Me

A Holy Week Reflection

O my God,

I thank You for this cross You’ve allowed me to carry.

Please give me the strength and faith to persevere so that I may bring glory to Your Name,

all the while withstanding the burden of its weight.

Thank You for offering me a share in Your suffering.

I know You have always been,

are now,

and ever will be

at my side every step of the way.

Thank You also for every “Simon” You have sent to help me bear this cross.

I’ve prayed so often that this thorn in my flesh would be removed,

but I trust that Your grace is sufficient.

Change my heart’s troubled cry of:

“How long Lord?”

into words of trust:

“However long, O Lord.”

May I seek only to do Your will, and to unite my sufferings with Your passion.

Help me to not get lost in my own self-concerns,

but that I may find in these trials

a way to greater virtue,

a call to prayer,

and a path to trust in You alone.

Permit me not to waste my pain,

but to make of all these struggles a sacrificial offering for others, Lord.

When I am weary and I fall,

exhausted under the weight of this cross,

please give me the courage to press on as You did.

Lord Jesus, I embrace with love my cross, as a share in Your own.

By Your grace, may I carry it all the way to the vision of Your glory.

I abandon myself totally to Your will.

Christ Jesus, I trust in You.

Amen.