TO ST. IGNATIUS OF LOYOLA /  by Joe Castorino

It took a cannonball

For God to get your attention,

To teach you what it is 

To be a true knight --

A knight of Christ;

And so He guided you

In founding the Jesuit order,

And as the Light shone through

The colorful prism of your mind,

You discovered God’s beauty,

God’s goodness, God’s truth;

May your Spiritual Exercises

Draw us more deeply into

The Sacred Heart of Jesus,

To be intellectually illumined,

To be socially sympathetic,

To be aesthetically alive,

To be spiritually strong.

CARRYING MY CROSS /  by Joe Castorino

Carrying my cross,

I take lumbering steps

up the steep mountain;

I grumble with every step,

like Job, wondering why

the Lord is asking me

to shuffle along, dragging

this heavy wood with me

wherever I go.

But then I come to

a dangerously deep

crevasse that threatens

to end my journey,

and even with a

giant Herculean leap,

I know that I would fall

down, down, down,

into the black throat

of the abyss below.

Suddenly, a white Dove

darts right past me,

causing me to jump back

from the edge of the cliff;

as I do so, the cross falls

forward so that its top

now rests on the other side,

forming a wooden bridge.

After I carefully crawl

to the other side,

I look back at the cross,

wondering if I should

kick it down over

the edge of the cliff,

but, instead, I choose

to slowly pick it up,

embrace it, and

faithfully follow

in the footsteps of Jesus.

SACRED ART /  by Joe Castorino

Inspired by St. Francis of Assisi & St. John Paul II

Our Heavenly Father is the

Divine Artist, who paints

On the canvas of our souls; 

When we surrender to Him,

He very gently and delicately dips

The brush of the Spirit into 

The palette of the virtues,

And He colors our lives with Love;

But when we smudge our painting

With the charcoal pencils of our sins,

Then He paints over our faults with

The Blood of His Son’s Love,

For God is beauty,

And if we are patient,

He refines us and perfects us,

Making us a masterpiece.

THE VINE /  by Joe Castorino

You are The Vine,

and I am a little branch.

When I am proud,

I stubbornly cut myself

off from you, Lord,

and I remain in self-love,

without your grace

my branch dries up

and my fruit shrivels,

as my soul slowly dies.

But when I am humble,

I remain in your love,

and your delicious grace

surges through me and

thus my fruit sweetens,

as I am born again.

I am just a little branch,

but you are The Vine.

Christmas Day /  by Joe Castorino

Christmas Day

Baby Jesus is born,

And through Our Savior

We can be born again daily;

Day by day each of us awakens,

Day by day the evil one tempts us,

Day by day Divine Mercy is victorious,

As we surrender to the God of Mercy,

As we trust the God of Goodness,

As we embrace the God of Love;

Thus, we are born again daily

If we choose life with Him,

So every day can be like

Christmas Day.

LECTIO DIVINA: TO JESUS THROUGH MARY /  by Joe Castorino

The whispering voice of

Our Lady of Love

Joyfully and peacefully

Fills my heart with Beauty;

Then, the strong clear voice of

The Father of Love

Patiently and kindly

Fills my heart with Goodness;

Next, the enthusiastic voice of

The Spirit of Love

Generously and faithfully 

Fills my heart with Truth;

Finally, the compassionate voice of

Jesus, The Lord of Love,

Gently and silently

Fills my spirit with Divine Mercy,

And so I spiral through the Scriptures,

Ascending higher and higher

Into the realm of Divine Wisdom.

THANKSGIVING /  by Joe Castorino

When we’re thanks-living,

We choose for living,

We choose for giving,

Lovingly for-giving.

Thanksgiving,

What a wonderful

Gift from God,

It seems to me like

An inexhaustible 

Spiritual ocean of the

Dazzling, magnificent

Divine Mercy.

When we’re living,

In thanksgiving to God,

We’re living for giving,

Lovingly for-giving.

FIRST HOLY COMMUNION /  by Joe Castorino

It was a memorable day for me,

The greatest of my young life;

I still remember the class photo,

Me and another boy were the only

Ones dressed in suits of white,

And I loved wearing white

For the first time in my life.

Then inside the old church,

I recall wondering to myself

What Jesus would taste like;

When the time came to go forward,

I stood in line, and when our turn came,

We kneeled at the communion rail,

Waiting for the good God to come.

There He was, my Lord and my God,

And He was dressed in white too;

I meekly opened my small mouth

To welcome the King of Kings,

And then Baby Jesus was gently

Placed by His Holy Mother

On the manger of my tongue.

THE DIVINE ARTIST /  by Joe Castorino

Inspired by Bishop Robert Barron


I thirst for Beauty,

Dazzled by her loveliness,

But when I find her,

I realize that I also hunger,

Hunger for Goodness,

So I try to establish a 

Meaningful relationship

With Beauty, looking for

Goodness in her,

Yet even these two things 

Do not give me fulfillment,

For I also need to find Truth;

But when all three blend

Together in holy harmony,

Then, only then, do I find

The Love, the Joy, and the Peace

That I have been searching for –

In the touch of the Divine Artist.

TO MY GUARDIAN ANGEL /  by Joe Castorino

Guardian Angel, please pray for me,

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 petitions rise like a happy dove

Higher and higher up into the air.

When the evil one tries to pour words of

Corrosive poison into our innocent ears,

Teach us to think of the Lord Jesus crucified,

So that banished are all our fears;

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 can crush the soul like snow,

You lead us on a path filled with Light,

So that our life in the Spirit will grow.

TO ST. MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL /  by Joe Castorino

You are the great warrior angel,

Ready for the spiritual battle,

Always sober, vigilant, and alert,

You wait and watch for the enemy;

Then in the midst of black terror,

You slay the red dragon of fear,

And brandish the sword of the Spirit,

The glorious golden sword of Love;

Teach us to become brave soldiers,

Soldiers of Jesus Christ the Lord,

Nourished by the holy Bread of Life,

Refreshed by His sweet new wine.

TO POPE BENEDICT XVI /  by Joe Castorino

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;

being a classical pianist,

you speak wisely 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.

LIFE IS WORTH LIVING /  by Joe Castorino

A Tribute to Venerable Fulton J. Sheen

In stature the bishop was rather short,

But spoke with power like a judge in court;

Sometimes his sharp eyes were piercing swords,

Other times his smile was warm, like the Lord’s;

His divine sense of humor won us all,

Yes, “Uncle Fultie” always had a ball;

His Shakespearean drama shook the soul,

Yet leading us to Heaven was his goal.

VIA CRUCIS /  by Joe Castorino

Pummeled by Parkinson’s,

he battles through the basilica,

leaning forward, heavily,

hunched over, crushed

under an invisible

wooden cross, laden

with the world’s woes;

from the ocean of onlookers,

a mother mildly lifts up

her little newborn,

and the Polish pope

most tenderly

blesses the babe

with a gentle kiss;

the spectators exhale

a halo as they breathlessly

and solemnly sigh, “O!”

TO ST. JOHN PAUL II /  by Joe Castorino

You have a playful, loving smile

  that was delightfully disarming,

You have pleasant, penetrating eyes

  that looked deep into our souls,

As a humble seminarian you silently

  evaded the nefarious Nazis,

Years later, your heroic words crushed

  the cold-hearted Communists;

Your valiant, victorious voice was

  carried on the wondrous wings

Of the cheerful cherubim, who raced

  round the globe and rained down

On the world God’s heavenly hope

  and wonderful words of wisdom.

 

You are a saint for our century:

  poignant poet, daring dramatist,

Protector of the powerless,

  merciful mystic, pro-life pope,

And stalwart spearhead who ignited

  the fire of the New Evangelization;

Your hideous opponent the devil,

  like a sly, sneaky soccer player,

Tantalizingly tried to kick abortion

  through Holy Church’s doors, but

As the goalie of the Chair of St. Peter,

  you flicked away temptation,

With your rock-solid shepherd’s staff

  gripped in your warrior-like hands.

 

With courage, you relentlessly pursued

  Christ’s love even though

You had to trudge terribly through

  the dreadful, dreary dark night

Of Nazi dictatorship, and you had

  to bear the wicked weight of the

Cruel, crafty Communists in your

  beloved, historic home of Poland;

Through your remarkable writings

  you lifted us ever so high in the air

In a Heaven-bound spiral, far far above

  the murky mist of moral relativism

And into the sublime, sunny splendor

  Of Christ’s truth and freedom.

TO SAN PADRE PIO /  by Joe Castorino

When we, your stubborn spiritual children,

Don’t listen to you in holy confession,

You slap the Spirit into our sleepy souls,

As you make prayerful intercession.

When we plan to drop the blitzkrieg bombs

Of mortal sin into our desperate heart,

You bilocate and bravely speak the truth,

And the holy fear of God to us impart.

When the evil one stealthily attacks us,

Aggressively seeking victims to devour,

As a warrior, you heroically hunt him down,

And lasso the beast with Rosary power.

A PROFILE OF COURAGE /  by Joe Castorino

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.

TO ST. THERESE OF LISIEUX /  by Joe Castorino

My sweet Little Flower,   

your humble acts of charity   

are like tiny mustard seeds,    

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!”

THE SAINTLY COUPLE /  by Joe Castorino

Behold the Little Flower’s mom and dad,

They pray for parents about to go mad.

The Martin family had five sweet girls,

So their devout home was filled with French curls;

Louis and Zelie were full of great love,

They taught their daughters the path of The Dove;

With their “little queen” they had lots of fun,

And each of their girls became a young nun;

When Louis and Zelie finally died,

Heaven’s beautiful doors opened real wide.

So parents that want to pull out their hair

Should ask them for help, for they really care.