Maybe like Falstaff you were a “practical” man,
It’s even possible that from danger you ran;
Perhaps you were very timid and shy,
Then Jesus called you to life on high;
Did you fear the Holy Spirit’s fire?
If so, even introverts God can inspire!
In Bethsaida born and in Phrygia killed,
Even the meek God’s kingdom can build.
You were the first bishop of Jerusalem,
And were known as James the Just,
As Jesus’ cousin and St. Jude’s brother,
People knew that you they could trust;
Your knees thickened like a camel’s,
From all your time kneeling in prayer,
You had a long beard and lots of hair,
And you always treated people fair.
The Jewish leaders failed with St. Paul,
So they turned their ire towards you,
Their raging revenge was out of control,
And their delirious desire grew;
They wanted to crush the New Way,
So they pursued you like angry apes,
Christians were sprouting up everywhere,
Like vineyards full of plenteous grapes.
You bravely refused to reject the Christ,
So they threw you from the temple’s pinnacle,
Their grotesque expressions were ghastly,
As they chose to be stubbornly cynical;
Then they hurled jagged stones at you,
And with a mallet broke your bones,
But you uttered prayers for your attackers,
In between your painful groans.
You are a man in love,
oh so deeply in love
with Our Lady,
so with strength
and with courage
as a knight of Christ,
you cavalierly show us
the short way,
the easy way,
to the Queen of All Hearts;
as we follow the illustrious example
of John Paul the Great
and mild Mother Teresa,
you very confidently lead us
to the Blessed Virgin
so that she might
graciously guide us to
the Babe of Bethlehem;
the jealous Jansenists,
irked by your missionary success,
perniciously plot against you,
and you are banished --
but the flames of divine love,
like tongues of fire,
sweetly sweep throughout France
in the strong driving wind
of the serene Spirit;
even now in the new millenium
our lives continue to be
refreshed and renewed
by this burning blaze
as we make our consecration
to Jesus through Mary:
totus tuus.
When I wave the white flag
in the serene surrender of prayer,
I allow the water of my soul
to be poured freely into
His chalice of gold;
there I am baptized by Love
and born again,
transformed by the Transfigured,
changed forever by the sweet
new wine of the Spirit.
As I gradually look up,
I see luminous rose petals
Fall gently and delicately
From the sky like snow,
Eucharistic-white
In the deep dark night.
My mission is prayer
In the dark night of the unseen,
My mission is surrender
In the dark night of unknowing,
My mission is love
In the dark night of the cross.
The path before me is
Strewn with radiant roses that
Glow like glorious lamps,
So I faithfully travel it and find
The Eucharistic Light
That transfigures the dark night.
It is a bright beautiful morning in the
crisp clean air of the Canadian Rockies,
We ascend as I drive up a wonderfully
windy road past babbling brooks;
I am driving the “Tin Can” (the affectionate
name that we have given our car),
After reaching the sunny summit,
we gently roll into the Valley of the Ten Peaks;
We finally arrive at the large lake and
look up at the regal ring of mountains,
Yet I feel slightly saddened because
somehow it’s less than I expected;
A lodge that looks like a big log cabin
stands silently like a sentinel near the water,
We decide to dine there and enjoy a
delightful bit of roast beef for lunch;
The savory flavor of my sandwich lingers
in my mouth, as I think about my morning,
I try to cunningly convince myself that
I’m not disappointed, but I know that I am.
Departing for our next destination,
I wistfully walk towards our little car,
But as I look to the right, I see a
tar-black hill with a winding trail upon it;
The people look like pilgrims as they
make their way up the mysterious mound,
Curiosity gradually grows within me as I
ponder, puzzled, where the path leads;
So I investigate and struggle up the steep
trail, tripping occasionally on rock and rubble,
But when I get to the top, I am frozen
with fascination as I behold the view;
Above me is a diadem of snow-tipped peaks,
gleaming with the glory of God,
Below me is the pristine lake, and it is
shimmering and sparkling like a gemstone;
It appears as if millions of sapphires
and emeralds have melted into liquid,
And the blue-green color of the
lovely lake is luminous in the sunshine.
My senses are suddenly soaked in Your
Holy Spirit’s lasting love, and I feel Your beauty,
At this moment, nothing else matters,
and I only long to be close to You;
At this moment, I am oblivious to my past,
and I am oblivious to my future,
I am living in the eternal and
mystical present of the great I AM;
You are Holy Humility, You are
Magnificent Mercy, You are Limitless Love,
And with Your divine sense of humor,
You really are the God of surprises.
It’s early morning and
the crafty enemy
crouches and waits,
like a hungry lion ready
to devour my world,
with worthless worries;
in the neutral zone,
transitioning out of sleep,
I lie in bed with my eyes closed,
and my mind gradually
awakens into the
nebulous fog
of fear.
My day begins
in the dark night of unknowing.
The enemy tries to strangle me
with multitudinous doubts:
about time,
about interruptions,
about irate people,
about conflicts,
about coertion,
about expectations,
about performance,
about success,
about reputation,
about ability,
about sales,
about money,
about choices,
about decisions,
about relationships,
about rejection,
about knowledge,
about honesty,
about truth.
The fog of failure threatens
in the dark night of unknowing.
With my eyes still closed,
still in the neutral zone,
I am in the darkness;
but the Light is there,
though my mind’s eye
cannot yet see it,
so I reach out in faith and
place myself in the presence
of the good God,
then I invoke the Holy Spirit,
and in my mind
I sing a hymn of praise;
suddenly, through the cloudy mist
like a distant diamond
I see the sparkling of the
Morning Star.
The Light twinkles
in the dark night of unknowing.
Our Lady sweetly
and gently
draws near to me,
in a tunnel of dazzling
Son-shine;
she warmly smiles at me
with her angelic aquamarine eyes,
and her soft hair
and her majestic mantle
blow in the balmy breeze
of the Spirit;
and she lovingly clasps
her own warm hands
around mine,
and then tenderly
embraces me,
with the limitless love
of the Lord.
The Light shines
In the dark night of unknowing.
Next she places a radiant
little candle
in my right hand,
and points to her only Sun,
Christ the Courageous;
she sweetly whispers to me,
and then, together,
we humbly kneel down
and offer prayers
of complete surrender
to Our Lord and King --
the flame of my little candle
dances with delight.
The Light bursts forth with
merciful rays of red and white
in the dark night of unknowing.
Then the fog of fear evaporates
and my heart leaps
with confident joy.
The dark night of unknowing
has been triumphantly
transformed into
the bright light where
God’s love is flowing:
Jesus, I trust in You!
I am wilfully wandering
in the woeful desert,
my blistering mind scorched
by the sizzling sun of sin;
I am oh so very lost,
eerily encircled by the
towering black sand dunes
of temptation — but then,
as the dark night falls fast,
I finally find Him, a Star,
sparkling like a diamond,
like a brilliant beacon,
and the Light of Divine Mercy
streams into the hollow center
of my humbled heart.
My heart is ready, O God:
Jezu, ufam Tobie!
I take batting practice,
and the crisp crackle of
my maple-wood bat echoes
throughout the stadium.
Later, I hear a soft sweet voice say,
“Do whatever He tells you”;
therefore, when I see the Spirit signal,
I gently lay down a regal bunt that
humbly dies to itself in the grass as I run
to first base like a strong driving wind.
As I stand on first base, with a
smile on my face from ear to ear,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for in my surrender I start to love;
however, The Beast, seething in hot
anger, already plans his revenge.
When I return to home plate,
The Beast strikes me out
over and over and over again
with the flaming fastballs of fear,
and I fall, carrying a heavy cross,
dizzy with discouragement.
My Manager benches me in the chapel,
but lovingly teaches me to fast from fear
and leave my worries in His loving hands,
so for three days I return to the chapel,
for ten minutes daily, to ask for His guidance,
and to receive the Spirit's gift of wisdom.
When I'm back in the lineup, The Beast
scornfully glares at me from the mound
with his mean menacing black eyes;
But I hear a voice encourage me:
“Non abbiate paura,” and again,
louder, “Non abbiate paura!”
By God's grace, I stand again in the
batter’s box, and I hit a shooting star
whose sparkling trail is red and white,
quickly shattering the dark night,
and the line drive swiftly sizzles over
the shortstop and into left field.
Then, in my next at-bat, filled with
the peace and joy of the Holy Spirit,
I swing and barrel a flaming missile,
that brightly lights up the dark night,
and as the ball soars high over the wall,
the angels playfully dance around it.
For years and years
I stubbornly bought
my own baseball bats,
because I always
wanted to be in control,
but like my
big-shot dreams,
they all shattered,
splintering and
bloodying my hands;
at last, I listened
to You,
and I let You
choose one for me,
a powerful bat
of strong
Virgin wood,
perfectly formed,
and as regal
as a princess;
she isn’t a
heavy bat
but a light one --
and she doesn’t
weigh me down
with worry,
for she is filled
with Light;
her lovely name is
“La Madonnina”
and as I surrender
to the Spirit,
she sweetly
guides my swing
and thunder crackles
upon impact with
adversity, as I hit
lightning line drives,
exasperating the enemy.
I quietly and invisibly
live my faith,
and accept life’s
incessant curveballs;
I am obedient to my
Manager’s wish for
bunt singles
instead of home runs.
The people of the world
are sitting in the box seats,
busied with food
and entertainment;
living in another world,
they have no idea
what I’m doing
in the batter’s box.
But Our Lord, Our Lady,
and the heavenly court
happily cheer me on
from the upper deck;
I live my life behind
the cross,
living in the dark night
of the unseen.
To escape -- like a coward --
The stranglehold of stress,
I try my best to sidestep
Inconvenient interruptions
Whose menacing thunder
Frightens me — yet why?
They lead me on a journey
To the God of surprises,
To Heaven’s horizon,
Where the sun’s streaming rays
Of radiant red and white are
Colored by Love’s divine mercy.
My intellect puffs with pride,
but as I kneel before Jesus
hanging on the cross,
I am cut by contrition
as if by a crown of thorns;
then, the blood of Divine Mercy
cleanses my corrupt soul,
and I am born again.
My hot veins boil with anger,
but as I kneel before Jesus
hanging on the cross,
I am punctured by penitence
as if by knife-like nails;
then, the water of Divine Mercy
purifies my putrid soul,
and I am born again.
My heart throbs with envy,
but as I kneel before Jesus
hanging on the cross,
I am stabbed by sorrow
as if by the soldier’s lance;
then, the light of Divine Mercy
floods my foul soul,
and I am born again.
My sweet Little Flower,
your humble acts of charity
are like tiny grains of sand,
yet when they’re poured out
upon the fruitful fields of Heaven
by the Father’s faithful fingers,
they form a mountain of love
that would gracefully tower
over the mighty Everest;
you stand in great strength,
as the missionary of missionaries,
in the gentle presence of
the Virgin of virgins,
the Mystical Rose
of incomparable beauty,
and your precious seeds of prayer
are cultivated with care by the
ever patient Divine Gardener,
nourished by His living water,
producing a bountiful harvest of
salvation in our suffering world;
above the clouds of worry,
your cheerful sky is always blue --
help me to follow your example
so that my soul too may sing
those heartfelt words of wisdom:
“My vocation is love!”
Don’t fight fire with
fire,
And don’t fight fear with
fear;
Rather, fight fire with
forgiveness,
And fight fear with
faith.
My intellect puffs with pride,
but as I kneel before Jesus
hanging on the cross,
I am cut by contrition
as if by a crown of thorns;
then, the blood of Divine Mercy
cleanses my corrupt soul,
and I am born again.
My hot veins boil with anger,
but as I kneel before Jesus
hanging on the cross,
I am punctured by penitence
as if by knife-like nails;
then, the water of Divine Mercy
purifies my putrid soul,
and I am born again.
My heart throbs with envy,
but as I kneel before Jesus
hanging on the cross,
I am stabbed by sorrow
as if by the soldier’s lance;
then, the light of Divine Mercy
floods my foul soul,
and I am born again.
To escape -- like a coward --
the stranglehold of stress,
I try my best to sidestep
inconvenient interruptions
whose menacing thunder
frightens me;
yet they lead me on a journey
to the God of surprises,
to Heaven’s horizon,
where the sun’s streaming rays
of radiant red and white are
colored by Love’s divine mercy.
My heart is ready, O God,
my heart is ready;
I take batting practice,
and the crisp crackle of
my maple-wood bat echoes
throughout the stadium.
Later, I hear a soft sweet voice say,
“Do whatever He tells you”;
therefore, when I see the Spirit signal,
I gently lay down a regal bunt that
humbly dies to itself in the grass as I run
to first base like a strong driving wind.
As I stand on first base, with a
smile on my face from ear to ear,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for in my surrender I start to love;
however, The Beast, seething in hot
anger, already plans his revenge.
When I return to home plate,
The Beast strikes me out
over and over and over again
with the flaming fastballs of fear,
and I fall, carrying a heavy cross,
dizzy with discouragement.
My Manager benches me in the chapel,
but lovingly teaches me to fast from fear
and leave my worries in His loving hands,
so for three days I return to the chapel,
for ten minutes daily, to ask for His guidance,
and to receive the Spirit's gift of wisdom.
When I'm back in the lineup, The Beast
scornfully glares at me from the mound
with his mean menacing black eyes;
But I hear a voice encourage me:
“Non abbiate paura,” and again,
louder, “Non abbiate paura!”
By God's grace, I stand again in the
batter’s box, and I hit a shooting star
whose sparkling trail is red and white,
quickly shattering the dark night,
and the line drive swiftly sizzles over
the shortstop and into left field.
Then, in my next at-bat, filled with
the peace and joy of the Holy Spirit,
I swing and barrel a flaming missile,
that brightly lights up the dark night,
and as the ball soars high over the wall,
the angels playfully dance around it.
I turn around and before me you stand,
one whose robe is dazzlingly white,
As you speak my name and say “Mary,”
you forever shatter my deep dark night;
With great love, you bestow your peace upon me,
through your wonderfully warm brown eyes,
Your merciful smile cheers my heart,
so that my soul can most sweetly arise;
In the joyful breeze of the Holy Spirit,
your flowing hair very gently swirls,
In my heart I totally surrender to you,
and for you this is a treasure of pearls.
In a shadow of deep darkness, the Light
of the world hangs crooked on the cross,
A jagged crown of razor-thin thorns is
thrust maliciously into His throbbing head;
Bright-red blood and the fickle crowd’s
sour spittle trickle into His stinging eyes,
He licks His cracked lips, and He tastes
the bold bitter flavor of blood.
The Roman soldiers’ wild whips tore
and radically ripped Jesus’ holy flesh,
And now the sticky crusted wounds cling
to the weatherbeaten wood and ooze;
Knife-like nails puncture His hands and feet,
and make them look like cored apples,
His shoulders slump down, crushed under
the weight of every sin in human history.
The soldiers hellishly hammered the nails
into Jesus’ flesh, as if He were an animal,
Indescribable pain blasted through the
bones of His body like dynamite;
He now surrenders His body, mind, soul,
and spirit to the will of His Father,
He lovingly practices what He preached,
and He prays for His persecutors.
Jesus is high up, as if atop an isolated
island, surrounded by a sea of hate,
A cacophonous chorus of insults assails
His ears, and the smell of sin is in the air;
His mother, living in the dark night of
unknowing, silently waits and watches,
She kneels in total surrender, while a
sword of sorrow slashes her heavy heart.
In the afternoon, Golgotha is enveloped
in a mysterious murky darkness,
Then, when Jesus dies, the earth quakes
in violent anger at the murder of its Creator;
Rumbling and roaring, buildings catastrophically
crash and crumble to the ground,
The terrifying temblor forces the sanctuary’s
curtain to explosively burst apart.
That mysterious murky darkness remains
in the hearts of Jesus’ faithful followers,
Their entire worlds are seriously shaken,
and they are stunned and stupefied;
But on the third day, the nebulous fog
of uncertainty will finally dissolve,
On the third day, a heavenly ray of Light
will come, far brighter than the sun.