As a strong spiritual mother,
You reliably and respectably
Reform the Carmelite order,
And your holy friendship
With St. John of the Cross
Helps your soul spiral upwards
Towards the Heavenly Kingdom;
Then, you close your eyes and
Your spirit penetrates into the heart
Of the Interior Castle of prayer,
And there, during the dark night,
You discover the true Light.
You’re the scapegoat saint,
Blamed for the evil of others;
Why do people seek to erase
You from history’s chalkboard?
Why do they desire to smash
Your honorable reputation?
Why do they wish to cancel out
Your love for Native Americans?
In this precarious culture war,
The Franciscan Way must lead:
Love must conquer all hatred,
Pardon must heal all injuries,
Faith must replace all doubt,
Hope must cast out all despair,
When Light scatters the darkness,
It is then that freedom rings.
Your happy heart desired to go abroad,
On a mission to the exotic Far East;
Where you might convert lots of souls,
And become a holy Jesuit priest.
But as a merry man with natural goodness,
You were drawn by God to Rome;
You had no money and you had no plan,
Yet the Eternal City became your home.
With Socratic discussions on street corners,
You most pleasantly evangelized;
Yet you did it in such a fun-loving way,
That the people never felt chastised.
One Pentecost something special happened --
You felt the peace of The Dove;
When a globe of fire entered your mouth,
You almost died of ecstatic love.
You inspired many in the confessional,
So that the truth they understood,
And the people always heard you saying,
“When shall we begin to do good?”
You agreed to marry Patricius the pagan,
Humbly submitting to your parents’ will,
You were very kind and generous to him,
Though he responded by treating you ill;
But about a year before leaving this world,
He finally accepted the Nicene Creed,
Through your example of faith and love,
His stubborn soul was finally freed.
However, you still had much work to do,
For your son Augustine broke your heart,
He was a teacher who was very arrogant,
And he strutted because he was smart;
But you vigorously persisted in prayer,
Fasting with tears over his empty life,
When he met the great Bishop Ambrose,
The Spirit pierced your son like a knife.
It was on Easter that the saintly Ambrose
Joyfully baptised your prodigal son
Who went on to become a Church Father,
And many victories over heretics won;
The end of your life was so very sweet
As Augustine treated you like gold,
You’re the patroness of motherhood,
And of your story many have been told.
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.
With smug sarcasm you doubted Philip:
The Christ from Nazareth could not come;
To you it sounded like your friend’s
Naivete was in reality pretty dumb.
But this Jesus said, smiling softly:
That he had seen you under the fig tree;
Your spiritual eyes suddenly opened, and
The true Messiah did you finally see.
You saw Lazarus lazily lurch forward,
As he stepped out of his rocky grave;
This was one of many amazing miracles
That in the end your soul did save.
Decades later, you screeched and screamed in pain
As your sordid killers skinned you alive;
But now your bright eyes see Heavenly glory
Where for eternity you very happily thrive.
As a soldier you were really quite inept,
And as a student you weren’t much,
Although the seminary gave you a chance,
It seemed holy orders you’d never touch;
But when the good God takes charge,
There’s nothing that He cannot do,
So through the intercession of Philomena,
Grace most bountifully fell on you.
Sent to a corrupt village named Ars,
You woke it up with fiery preaching,
People were flabbergasted by your words
And threatened by your priestly teaching;
Yet in the little box of the confessional,
You won a victory over selfish hearts,
Though the devil anxiously pursued you,
God extinguished all his flaming darts.
So many made pilgrimages to see you,
And confession lines were terribly long,
But through God’s grace you read their souls,
Bringing hope to many in the throng;
Thus the devil grew angrier and angrier,
That’s why the beast ranted and raved,
Still you won over many many souls,
In God’s mercy they were finally saved.
Good St. Joseph, you were sent
To be my wise knightly master,
So that through your assistance
I could reach Heaven faster.
Sweet and holy Queen, you are
So kindly patient and so humble,
The dark one terribly hates you,
For you make him trip and stumble.
Babe of the Incarnation, above you
Swirls the immaculate white Dove,
For now God enters His creation
To show the true depth of His Love.
Good St. Bernard, you love
Our Lord and Our Lady so much:
You were a sincere confessor,
But in the confessional,
You were too severe,
Far far too severe,
And so the Spirit taught you
Gentleness, sweet gentleness;
Maybe it was from you that
St. Francis de Sales learned,
For he so famously said that
We will catch more flies
With a spoonful of honey
Than with a barrel full of vinegar.
Your magnificent story I will tell:
The wondrous Miracle of Massabielle;
Our Lady came in breathtaking beauty,
And she knew that you would do your duty;
You came before her as God’s little child,
And looking down on you, she warmly smiled;
She gently asked you to dig in the ground,
And there spring waters were suddenly found;
Cripples bathed in the stream with salty tears,
And walked away whole without any fears;
Then hardened hearts started to melt,
And before the good God they humbly knelt.
Eugenio Pacelli is consecrated a bishop,
In Italy’s historic city of Rome,
But he is flung like a javelin into Germany,
And Munich is now his home;
Egelhofer sends Commander Seiler
On a mission filled with human hate,
The truth is Mr. E. thirsts for blood,
And Pacelli he wishes to assassinate;
Commander Seiler and his gang selfishly strut
To the bishop’s place of residence,
They’re planning a brash bold attack,
Plotting his murder with confidence;
They threaten the servant with weapons,
So she reluctantly lets them in,
Now they await the bishop’s return,
Thinking victory they will win.
Seiler stands ready at the door,
With his thugs in a semicircle around,
Armed with loaded guns and grenades,
Their faces are rather frowned;
When the bishop opens the door,
Seiler points a pistol at his pectoral cross,
Yet Pacelli fearlessly stands his ground,
And shows him who is boss;
The holy bishop speaks as soft as an abbot,
Or even a most prayerful friar,
But his courageous words rip into them,
Like relentless machine gun fire;
The bishop’s eyes are two spear tips,
That pierce right through their souls,
And in a daze they gape back at him,
As motionless as telephone poles.
With empty hands the would-be assassins
Return to Egelhofer the Extreme,
To his surprise, Pacelli still lives,
And in the Munich diocese reigns supreme;
The bishop bravely swatted their plans,
As if they were harmless flies,
Never before had they looked at a priest
With such powerful paralyzing eyes;
During the Second World War,
He saved countless lives from Nazi extermination,
And many Jewish people commended him,
For his covert operation;
This lean, stately figure ran the Church,
Though he never sought out fame,
He is better known as Pope Pius,
The Twelfth who has held that name.
As you bashfully smile,
you extend both arms
and wiggle your fingers:
your welcoming wave
is a gentle greeting to
the pilgrims at St. Peter’s.
A prudent theologian,
you write the most
eloquent of encyclicals;
as a classical pianist,
you wisely speak about
true beauty and true art.
In your own quiet way
you shepherd the flock,
for you’re a very holy man;
you’re an obedient son,
a simple man of Love,
a humble genius.
Guardian Angel, please pray for us,
Because the devil tempts us to obsess,
We must evade the evil of worldly idols,
And not dream of what to possess;
Thirsting for things can thicken anxiety,
Which can seem to never cease,
We struggle and tuggle with all our might,
And banished is all our peace.
The diabolical dragon swoops down,
Determined all good to destroy,
With the flaming fire of enslaving greed,
He seeks to kill all devotion and joy;
But as our trustworthy guide from Heaven,
With love you sing a sweet prayer,
And your words rise like a happy dove
Higher and higher up into the air.
Your shining shield of protection
Guards us from the devil’s snare,
You deflect the dragon’s temptation,
And it evaporates into the air;
Gratitude is like a stream of living water,
Delightfully refreshing us during the day,
It brings joy to the heart and revives us,
While washing temptation away.
But when the evil one’s persuasive poison
Threatens to seep deep into our heart,
Teach us to think of the Lord Jesus crucified,
So that it pierces our soul like a dart;
When we dance with delight with temptation,
Help us the crucifix recall,
For the cross crushes the devil’s teeth,
And into hellish Styx he will fall.
Meditating on the gore of Golgotha,
Our hearts like tearful candles melt,
Knife-like nails puncture his palms,
And blood trickles to where Our Lady knelt;
Then our foolish obsessions are obliterated,
By the power of His holy love,
And we are magnificently made new,
By His grace flowing from above.
Trying to lure us into obsession,
The devil deceptively dangles his bait,
But seeing you push us out of harm’s way
Only fuels his mad fury and hate;
We escape the avalanche of avarice,
That crushes the soul like snow,
You lead us on a path filled with Light,
And our life in the Spirit does grow.
In humility you
wear camel’s hair,
And your faith in God
is extremely rare;
True repentance is
your counsel for all,
Helping poor sinners
to avoid a fall;
You detest the cruel
world’s horrible lies,
For verily you are
both strong and wise;
Then one day you see
the holy white Dove,
And know that you
have finally found Love.
Worldly
anxiety
chokes
all joy,
and
strangles
all peace.
Philovanitas didn’t want a spiritual life
Where she had to follow lots of rules,
For her the Church was run by men
Who were really a bunch of old fools;
A free life where she could decide
Was her idea of sensible fun,
So she steered her ship into enticing seas
While soaking up some sun;
But the evil one launched a surprise attack
And thunder she started to hear,
A tempest rushed in with frantic fingers
And tried to strangle her with fear;
Like demonic fireworks, lightning exploded
Fanatically all across the sky,
And murderous rain came down like daggers,
So it was impossible for her to stay dry.
Philovanitas was trapped like a captive
At sea in a savage Storm of Deception,
She spun her ship around in the wild, wicked
Wind and lost all sense of direction;
She was engulfed by the tangled, twisted
Waves of venomous and violent temptation,
And so she paid the ultimate price
For her silly pursuit of sensation;
She stood aghast in terror as the breakers
Blasted against her vessel,
And her formidable foe was far too strong
For her to ever even attempt to wrestle;
She said, “Oh, dear Lord Jesus, please please
Rescue me from this frightfully horrid place,
I’m sincerely sorry for my sins and want
Nothing more but to see your sweet face!”
She turned around and before her stood
One whose robe was most dazzlingly white,
On His head was a glistening gold crown,
Set with gemstones radiant and bright;
With love He compassionately caressed her
With his wonderfully warm brown eyes,
And his mild, merciful smile rescued
Her heart and made her spirits arise;
Then He looked up, thrust His arms into the air
And commanded the storm to be still,
The tempest immediately retreated
And was obedient to His holy will;
Back fled the thunderclouds, back fled
The lightning bolts, to the dark abyss of hell,
The sun now shone cheerfully, the sea now
Splashed gleefully, and all was well.
At this the evil one foamed at the mouth
Like the monstrous madman Othello,
He wanted revenge and he wanted it now
So he vehemently started to bellow;
In a gruesomely gravelly voice he raged,
“All hands on deck! Attack! Attack!”
And as the pirate demons sped by,
He gave each one a menacing whack;
The pirate demons loaded up their weapons,
For the spiritual blitzkrieg was on,
Time was of the essence, otherwise
Their opportunity might be all gone;
They boarded their ghastly ghost ships
Like a swarming plague of flies,
They fanatically followed their emperor,
And he be the Father of Lies.
Soon the ghost galleons’ powerful armada
Half-surrounded Philovanitas’ ship,
The evil one stood up like a hunchback
And was ready to crackle his whip;
Impatiently pacing, back and forth,
He was like a lion that was ready to devour,
But when he saw the handsome Holy One,
His attitude really turned sour;
With a slobbering spit of hot yellow sulphur,
The evil one gave his sign,
And the pirate demons loaded their weapons
While drinking some stale wart-hog wine;
The great Battle for Philovanitas’ Soul
Was almost ready to commence,
And for the angelic crowd in the clouds,
There was certainly growing suspense.
The Father most kind and gentle humbly
Sent down the sweet Spirit of love,
Carrying a sword from the celestial heights,
The Spirit was shaped like a dove;
He shot down from Heaven like a sunbeam
Through a sky that was stunningly blue,
And He delivered the sword to Jesus,
The Lord who makes all things new;
With a hilt of gold and a blade of steel
The sword was razor-sharp,
And when Christ the Courageous swung it round,
It sounded like a melodious harp;
Swinging the Sword of the Spirit was
Something for which Jesus had a knack,
So He turned around, got in the ready position,
And waited for the enemy to attack.
With that the devil’s hateful, hellish heart
Burned like Halley’s Comet,
So he gave the signal to attack
And sulphurous lava he began to vomit;
The demon archers with cryptic crossbows
Shot electric arrows into the air,
The arrows buzzed like a swarm of sparkling
Bees as they targeted Philovanitas’ hair;
But Jesus exhibited tremendous athleticism
And certainly He frustrated His foe,
With His sword He deflected the electroarrows
And they fizzed into the sea below;
The devil saw that the arrows were useless
And it was time to turn to flaming missiles,
These are the kind that blaze through the air
With terrifying and eerie whistles.
Jesus then changed His grip on the holy sword
As if He would stab Death in the heart,
Then He flung the sword like a spiraling spear
And it gave the devil a start;
When the sword struck the sea, there was a
Blinding flash and a deafening sonic boom,
For the evil one and his pirate demons
This could certainly only spell doom;
A supersonic shock wave swiftly fanned out
Like Saturn’s colorful rings,
It explosively ripped through the devil’s galleons
By the power of the King of kings;
The devil and his pirate demons were blown right back
Into their dark, infernal pit,
And because of where they were painfully injured,
They found it very hard to sit.
Jesus saw that the splintered wood from the
Galleons was strewn all over the sea,
Troublesome temptation had been driven out
And Philovanitas was finally free;
Jesus turned around and saw her trembling
Because she had such a terrible fright,
So He took His bride into His arms
And then embraced her very, very tight;
Jesus said, “Henceforth you shall be ‘Philothea’
For now you love God above all,
I shall always love you as a treasure
And be with you whenever you call”;
Then He tenderly kissed her cheek
And she felt the softness of His bearded curls,
Never had Philothea felt so special,
Even more precious than the rarest of pearls.
He pierced her soul with truest love,
And her heart brimmed with Heavenly light,
Thanks to Christ the Courageous,
Philothea’s spiritual eyes regained their sight;
With a peaceful smile on His face,
The Lord wiped away her happy tears,
Her heart was so full of contentment
And banished were all her fears;
She learned that freedom’s not freedom
Without love and responsibility,
And avoiding the near occasion of sin
Involves a lot of spiritual agility;
In the brisk balmy breeze, Jesus’
Flowing hair so very gently swirled,
He said, “Behold I am with you always,
Even unto the end of the world.”
Your exquisite bright blue eyes
are soft and serene,
Beholding the remarkable
richness of God’s creation;
Your honey hair cascades
over your shoulders like a
Wonderful waterfall of God’s
ineffable, indelible love;
Yet you choose to be a
princess of holy poverty,
And your only wish is to
sweetly serve in simplicity;
You are a faithful friend to
the good Saint Francis,
As you both sacrificially surrender
to Jesus the Just;
You are a merciful mother
to the nuns of San Damiano,
As you guide them in purity
and prudence and peace;
You are a beauteous bride
to Christ the Courageous,
And your soul is bedecked with
the precious pearls of virtue;
As you fervently follow in the
footsteps of Our Loving Lord,
May we too live on in
the laudable light of Christ.
Everyone runs here and there calling for Merri,
They all need her help for their work at the dairy,
With so many interruptions, she has no time to tarry.
But Merri’s sincere surrender is gentle and sweet,
She turns her life over to Jesus and doesn’t miss a beat,
Living in the present moment, she washes the Lord’s feet.
Charlie’s childhood dream
was about to come true
As he bravely awaited
his blast-off into space,
But at T minus 31 seconds,
things started to turn tense
When the countdown
suddenly stopped;
Fortunately, after many anxious
hours, all systems were go,
And the rocket boosters
powerfully ignited,
The stately spacecraft
lethargically lifted off,
As if it had been awakened
from a somber slumber.
The spacecraft thunderously
roared and rumbled upwards,
With red fiery flames
dancing behind,
And black billows of
smoke quickly clouded the
Launching pad like a dark,
gaseous galactic nebula;
Charlie shook in his seat
as if he were riding on a
Rough road in a rickety,
rollicking stagecoach,
And in two minutes of breathtaking
acceleration, he was
Traveling over three
thousand miles per hour.
He was now thirty miles up
and halfway to space,
When the rocket boosters
abruptly disengaged,
The two of them toppled
and fell downward towards
The bright blue ocean like
giant worn-out pencils;
Still accelerating, the
orbiter speared upwards
At the scintillating speed
of one mile per second,
Charlie’s orbiter now flew
like lightning, and in a
Mere thirty seconds
he was soaring in space.
Charlie was then surrounded
by stars in the black sea
Of space, and he felt
wondrously weightless,
Now gently gliding around
Earth, he was fascinated
As he watched the sensational
brilliance of the sun;
There was an orbital sunrise,
and the placid rays of
Light gradually approached
as if in slow motion,
Below, he saw the beautiful
blissful blue globe and
Was awed by its peacefulness
and by its grandeur.
Interestingly enough,
Charlie’s spiritual life
Has followed a very
similar flight path,
Years ago, his petitions
and other prayers seemed
To vanish into the vast void
of a bleak black hole;
This was because his pitiful
prayers were mumbled
Meaninglessly in the last
few minutes of the day,
His rockets had little spiritual
fuel for a journey to Heaven,
So his life’s countdown
suddenly stopped.
Without enough spiritual fuel,
Charlie knew that he
Risked crashing and burning
in the fearful fires of hell,
An open-throated grave
that savagely swallows
Sinners and belches forth
filthy fumes of smoky sulphur;
He knew he needed to
double down on his prayer
Life to give greater thrust
to his mission,
So he went to mass more,
and delighted in the
Divine Office a little at a time
throughout each day.
Because of Charlie’s awakening,
he made the decision
To make persistent prayer
the top priority of his life,
At first he didn’t notice a
change, but with patience,
His spiritual life lifted off
and safely reached orbit;
Soon his spirit was freed
from the burdensome bonds
Of serious sin, and he felt
wondrously weightless,
He gracefully glided towards
the flaming monstrance
Of the Son, and His
rays of Divine Mercy.
From the happy heights
of the heavens, his
Panoramic perspective
really changed,
Life appeared so much
simpler through the
Detachment of prayer in front
of the Blessed Sacrament;
The petty possessions,
the worries of the world,
The fettering fears,
the doomsday deadlines:
They were all so surprisingly
insignificant compared
To a fabulous future
filled with perfect peace.
We are imprisoned by
multitudinous false gods:
mesmerized by materialism,
hypnotized by hedonism;
God is trying to get our attention,
but what will awaken us from
our slothful spiritual slumber?
the dread of a worldwide depression?
the horror of a nuclear holocaust?
the fear of a global pandemic?
death?