Saints This Month - 5 October : Bl. Bartolo Longo, Apostle of the Rosary

Many Saints begin their life as sinners. It is not very often that you come across one who was a Satanist priest. Bl. Bartolo however was an ordained member and leader of a Neapolitan Satanist cult. He was born in 1841 to a devout family but his mother died when he was ten and he slowly began to lose his faith. By the time he had gone up to the University of Naples he had renounced his Christian heritage. He tried to fill this gap by experimenting with witchcraft and magic. He became involved with a Satanist group and after having spiritual experiences was elected by his fellow devotees to be ordained in the priesthood of Satan.

His life became a mixture of depression, confusion, ill-health and diabolic visions. The physical and mental strain became too much for Bartolo and he turned to an old school friend for advice. His friend pleaded with him to renounce Satan and speak to Alberto Radente, a Dominican priest renowned for his spiritual counsel.

After a long period of reflection and repentance, Bartolo was received as a lay Dominican, taking the name Rosario. Whilst he had renounced his wicked life Bartolo still felt the need to offer reparation. He went to Pompeii and joined a charitable group, where he aided the good works of Countess Di Fusco. Whilst he did great work for the poor and sick, he still felt that his service at the altar of Satan had condemned him to Hell. As he fell deeper into despair the grace of God touched him and he remembered Fr. Radente telling him that the Blessed Virgin had told St. Dominic that "he who propagates my rosary will be saved". With peace in his heart he knew what God wanted him to do.

He found a run-down church and began to restore it. He then organised a festival in honour of Our Lady of the Rosary. In 1875 he obtained a painting of Our Lady of the Rosary to be hung in the church. People flocked to the church and miracles began to be reported. With the encouragement of the Bishop he began work on a much larger church. It was consecrated in 1891 and in 1939 was enlarged to become the Basilica of Our Lady of the Most Holy Rosary of Pompeii.

At the suggestion of Pope Leo XIII, Bartolo Longo and the Countess Mariana di Fusco were married. The chaste couple continued to do many charitable works and provided for orphaned children and the children of prisoners which, for its time, was revolutionary. Longo continued promoting the Rosary until his death in 1926. Pope John Paul II beatified him in 1980 and in his Apostolic Letter Rosarium Virginis Mariae called him the "Apostle of the Rosary".

Bl. Bartolo shows us the power of the Holy Rosary and the infinite mercy of God. It does not matter how far we are from God: because He who descended into Hell still holds out his hand for us to grab and be pulled to safety.

Not Just Old Bones

The reaction to the arrival of the relics of St. Therese of Liseux in England has been very mixed within the media and society. The liberal-secularist media elite has been aghast at the idea of the thousands of people taking time to see some "old bones". The Times' Matthew Parris called for his fellow atheists to take to the streets to fight these "nutters". The Guardian's Simon Jenkins compared Catholic veneration of relics to shamanism or elephant worship and a Barnsley councillor twittered his distaste for "slobbering zealots". There has also been criticism from Protestants with protests at York Minster against idolatry. Even within the Catholic community some unease has been expressed at the perceived arcane and medieval practice of venerating the mortal remains of a Saint.

Many of the attacks fail to understand truly the veneration of relics. Veneration of relics is a natural human instinct. One only has to visit Red Square and view the body of Lenin or search eBay for a pen used by Ronald Reagan or a napkin used by Elvis Presley to acknowledge that we honour the possessions and bodies of those we love or respect and who have died . Even looking at the gravestones in a cemetery displays this point.

The Christian veneration of relics has biblical foundation. Miracles were worked through both the cloak of Elijah and the bones of Elisha. In Acts we see people healed by coming into contact with handkerchiefs touched by St. Paul. We also of course see a woman healed by touching the hem of Christ's cloak.

The early Church also treasured and venerated the remains of the early martyrs. After the martyrdom of St. Polycarp, the Smyrnaeans collected his bones, which they regarded as "more valuable than precious stones or refined gold", and laid them in a suitable place that they might venerate them. The importance of relics was emphasised by the second Council of Nicaea in 787, which declared that no church should be consecrated without relics being placed in the altar stone. Whilst miracles may be attached to relics they are not magic or Juju. As St. Jerome points out: "We do not worship, we do not adore, for fear that we should bow down to the creature rather than the creator but we venerate the relics of the martyrs in order to better adore Him, whose martyrs they are."

Relics help the believer to pray with faith and confidence because of their physicality. We can see, touch and kiss "the burnt-out remains of love for God". It is through this faith that God works miracles not because the objects are lucky charms or magic. We are brought closer to a holy person and this brings us closer to God.At Cologne in 2005 Pope Benedict summed up the part relics play in the life of the Church: "By inviting us to venerate the mortal remains of the martyrs and saints, the Church does not forget that, in the end, these are indeed just human bones, but they are bones that belonged to individuals touched by the transcendent power of God. The relics of the saints are traces of that invisible but real presence which sheds light upon the shadows of the world and reveals the Kingdom of Heaven in our midst. They cry out with us and for us ‘Maranatha!’ – ‘Come Lord Jesus!’”

The Dominican Friars will be leading Compline at the Oxford Oratory in the presence of St. Therese's relics on the 7th of October at 11:45. For more information click here.

Saints This Month-1 October: St. Therese of Lisieux

Little flower? She was as tough as old boots! - Fr Denis Geraghty OP, Lourdes 2009

As Oxford prepares to welcome the relics of St. Therese of Lisieux, it is a perfect time to reflect on her life and message. She was born in Normandy in 1873, to devout parents, both of whom have been beatified. Her mother died when she was four and her father sold his lace business to a nephew and relocated the family to Lisieux. Therese experienced another loss at the age of nine when her "second mother", her sister Pauline, entered the local Carmelite monastery.

A few months after this the child Therese took ill with fever. As the family stood around the sick-bed, looking at her like a "string of onions", Therese focused on the statue of Mary in her room and prayed to her. She saw the statue smile at her and was healed. After her recovery she developed a great habit of mental prayer, finding places of solitude and quiet to listen and speak to God. However she was still prone to wild emotional tantrums and would often burst into tears at the slightest negativity. However at Christmas 1886 , just as such an outburst was bubbling inside her, she felt Jesus enter her heart. This conversion, as she called it, gave her a greater understanding of others and herself. The following Christmas she would enter Carmel.

Whilst she is affectionately know as the Little Flower, over the following year she displayed a will of steel and the toughness of old boots. The superior of the Carmelite Convent said she was too young to enter. Therese went to the Bishop who concurred with the Mother Superior. Therese became very depressed and her father tried to cheer her spirits by taking her and her sister Celine on pilgrimage to Rome. Therese enjoyed the experience tremendously. Her small stature and youth were an advantage as she could touch tombs and relics without being shouted at. The highlight of the trip was an audience with Pope Leo XIII. As the childish girl from Normandy came close to the Vicar of Christ she broke all protocol of the Papal Court and begged the Holy Father to allow her to enter the Carmel in Liseux. The Pope replied, and Therese was carried away by two guards. However the Vicar General was impressed with her determination and she was accepted for early entry into the convent.

During her first years in the convent she experienced much suffering. Her father had a stroke and became very ill. Gossip filtered into the convent about his sanity and Therese was filled with guilt believing that her entry was responsible for his malady. She also experienced dryness in prayer, saying that she was so grief-stricken that she often fell asleep in prayer. She consoled herself by saying that mothers loved children when they lie asleep in their arms and so God must love her when she slept during prayer.

She knew that as a Carmelite nun she would never be able to perform great deeds. "Love proves itself by deeds, so how am I to show my love? Great deeds are forbidden me. The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least actions for love." She took every chance to sacrifice, no matter how small it would seem. She smiled at the sisters she didn't like. She ate everything she was given without complaining -- so that she was often given the worst leftovers. One time she was accused of breaking a vase when she was not at fault. Instead of arguing she sank to her knees and begged forgiveness. These little sacrifices cost her more than bigger ones, for these went unrecognised by others. No one told her how wonderful she was for these little secret humiliations and good deeds.

In 1896 she began to cough blood. She kept working without telling anyone until she became so sick a year later that it was obvious. Worst of all she had lost her joy and confidence and felt she would die young without leaving anything behind. Pauline had already had her writing down her memories for a journal so they would have something to circulate on her life after her death. Her pain was so great but her one dream was of the work she would do after her death, helping those on earth. "I will return," she said, "my heaven will be spent on earth." She died on September 30, 1897 at the age of 24. She was canonized 28 years later and in 1997 she was declared a Doctor of the Church.

Her influence is still very much present. Her "Little Way" is an inspiration for millions of people. She expresses how traditionally great deeds and heroic acts are not the only way to sanctity. She gives an example of the spiritual life that is understandable and imitable by all, regardless of education or sophistication. St. Therese always wanted to travel the world as a missionary and in a way she does. Her relics have been taken around the globe! Their presence has not only deepened the faith of Catholics but has helped people of all denominations and religions, as their stopover in York Minster showed.

St. Therese realised that one does not need to found a religious order or suffer martyrdom to know and love Christ. She realised that love is the calling of all Christians and to love truly is always a great deed: "I feel in me the vocation of the Priest. I have the vocation of the Apostle. Martyrdom was the dream of my youth and this dream has grown with me. Considering the mystical body of the Church, I desired to see myself in them all. Charity gave me the key to my vocation. I understood that the Church had a Heart and that this Heart was burning with love. I understood that Love comprised all vocations, that Love was everything, that it embraced all times and places ... in a word, that it was eternal! Then in the excess of my delirious joy, I cried out: O Jesus, my Love ... my vocation, at last I have found it ... My vocation is Love!"

The Dominican Friars will be leading Compline at the Oxford Oratory in the presence of St. Therese's relics on the 7th of October at 11:45. For more information click here.

A Common Mistake...

St Francis of Assisi

Tradition has it that St Francis and St Dominic met in Rome when they were both there to seek ratification for their new Orders from the Pope. The two Orders have regarded themselves as 'first cousins', even 'brothers', ever since. Where possible, Franciscans come to Dominican churches to preach on the feast of St Dominic and Dominicans go to Franciscan churches to preach on the feast of St Francis. Below is the homily given by Br Robert Gay OP at the Capuchin Franciscan church in Oxford for the feast of St Francis, 4th October 2009.

If you were to choose a person on the Cowley Road at random and ask them to name a saint, it would be worth betting a reasonably large amount of money that the answer you would get would be St Francis. I would certainly be very surprised if the answer was St Dominic! There is no doubt that Francis has captured the popular imagination, much more than any other saint. If you were to ask that same person what he knows about St Francis, then he might mention something about animals or birds. And this is where it starts to go wrong. Of course, a love of creation was an important part of Francis’ life, but as with so many of the popular ideas about him, it simply doesn’t do him justice.

Zeffirelli’s famous film, ‘Brother Sun, Sister Moon’ is just one example of a rather limited, a rather skewed view of who Francis was and what he stood for. I looked at the blurb on the back of the DVD box for the film yesterday, and it says this: ‘Francis sought communion with the natural world, by renouncing his family’s riches to seek his own destiny’. It continues: ‘Francis was, in a sense, history’s first drop out; he left a life of comfort to seek spiritual union with the world’.

The problem with this blurb, and perhaps with many of the popular images of Francis, is that it doesn’t do him justice because it doesn’t mention anything about what his life was really all about. Why? Because it doesn’t mention Jesus Christ. From the moment Francis heard the voice from the cross at San Damiano, he was hooked – he was captivated by Jesus Christ, and he wanted to penetrate the mysteries of his life, and do whatever he had to do to follow him.

I want to suggest to you that Francis’ captivation with the person of Jesus shows us something important about his path to founding the Order, and about his particular route to sainthood. The beginning of this path was an encounter with Jesus, and he continued to be nourished along the way by contemplating Jesus throughout his life. He had a special fascination with the incarnation, something which I think shows itself in three ways, each one related to the other.

Firstly, we see the importance Francis gave to Christ’s infancy, and as I’m sure you know, he is credited with introducing the practice of having a nativity scene in the Church during the Christmas period. He clearly felt that contemplating the child in the manger was an important way of getting close to Christ, and he came to understand what it meant for Christ to be poor, weak, and defenceless.

Francis also saw how the condition of the child in the manger was linked to another episode in Jesus' life; his poverty, weakness and defencelessness during his passion, and his death on the cross, which was his second distinct way of looking at the incarnation. The importance Francis gives to Jesus’ final days is shown in the ‘Office of the Passion’, a collage of scriptural passages that Francis arranged to be used especially during Holy Week. Reading this collection, we can see how he uses the scriptures to outline a contemplative journey: accompanying Jesus in Gethsemane, standing with him before Pilate, witnessing the scourging and crowning with thorns, his crucifixion and death. And we should not forget the marks of Christ's passion, the stigmata, which provided Francis with a personal experience of the suffering of the cross in his later years. His third way of looking at the incarnation was to look at Jesus present in the Blessed Sacrament, what looks like a simple piece of bread revealing the Saviour to those who have the eyes of faith. What seems small and insignificant is in fact nothing less than Christ himself.

Through contemplating the incarnation, Francis realised that he had to model his life on this mystery. The way of poverty, vulnerability, the way of suffering and rejection, that Francis saw in Christ was to be his way too. And once he had started living in this way, it had a dramatic effect. Francis began to see the poor, the sick and the marginalised as people just like Jesus Christ. And he saw that to serve these people was to serve Jesus, because they were like Christ in the manger, or Christ on Calvary. And his job, and the job of his brothers, was to tend to their needs, and to speak to them of the one who had become a poor man to share their broken condition. In his service of them, he showed them the love of Christ. For Francis being vulnerable and rejected like Jesus, and serving those who shared that condition brought him true joy, the sign that he had found his vocation.

Today’s feast is a great occasion. It’s a chance to honour Francis and give thanks to God for his life and his witness to Jesus Christ. It’s a chance to give thanks to God for the Order in all its branches, and for the gift of benefactors and friends. But that isn’t all. Whether you are a Friar who has celebrated his golden jubilee, a newly clothed novice, a tertiary, or a member of this parish, it’s a chance to look at Jesus again, through the eyes of Francis. It’s a chance to contemplate the poor vulnerable child in the manger, to contemplate Jesus in his passion and on the cross, and to gaze and adore him present in the Holy Eucharist. And when you pray to him this day, ask that he open your eyes, so that you may see more clearly who are poor, weak, vulnerable, and the needy here in Oxford that he is calling you to serve.

In the News ...

This month Br. Lawrence discusses his vocation and journey to solemn profession in an article for Catholic Life entitled A Journey into Religious Life. His profession was also featured in The Catholic Herald.

As part of the preparation for the arrival of the relics of St. Therese of Lisieux, the young people of the Oxford Oratory staged Divine Comedy: A Theresian Mystery Play. Our very own Br. Daniel, seen treading the boards below, played the priest at the execution of Pranzini, who called for the criminal to repent for his crimes.

The relics of St. Therese arrive at the Oxford Oratory on Wednesday next, 7th October, the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary, and the Dominicans from Blackfriars will be singing Compline in their presence at 11:45 p.m.

The Year of the Priest - Victim 0001

As September 11th came around again, we remembered the 2,993 men, women and children who died in the terrorist atrocities of 2001. The first recorded victim of the September 11th attacks was Fr Mychal F. Judge OFM. He was the Chaplain to the New York City Fire Department. On hearing that the Twin Towers had been attacked, he went directly to ground-zero. On his arrival he was greeted with a horrific scene that we can only imagine. His first concern was for the dying, who were lying in the streets. He administered the last rites, where he could, and proceeded to the emergency command post set up in the North Tower’s lobby. He offered prayer and aid to the emergency services, the injured and the dead. The Mayor of New York arrived and asked Father Judge to pray for the city. At 9:59am the South Tower collapsed, sending tons of debris crashing into the North Tower Lobby, killing many. Father Mychal was among the dead. His last-words were a prayer: "Jesus, please end this right now! God please end this!"

Father Judge understood his calling and duty as a priest. He tried to be a good shepherd. When his flock needed him he was there. He was a familiar face to both Catholics and non-Catholics in the NYFD, often working sixteen hour days and getting up

in the middle of the night to offer support to both the victims and the fighters of fire. He followed the Good Shepherd and was prepared to lay down his life for his sheep. The photo of his lifeless body being carried from the carnage, became an iconic image of this dark day, being dubbed American Pieta. His sense of duty and sacrifice, led to the moniker “the Saint of 9/11”, being attributed the Franciscan friar. His helmet was presented to Pope John Paul II and he has received many posthumous awards but what is truly amazing is the example he gave of priestly service. As he prophetically preached, the day before his death, in his last homily:

"You do what God has called you to do.

You get on that rig,

you go out and do the job.

No matter how big the call,

no matter how small,

you have no idea of what

God is calling you to do."

Mychal F. Judge OFM (1933-2001)

Eternal rest grant unto him and all the fallen of September 11th, O Lord.

And let perpetual light shine upon them

May their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed,

through the mercy of God,

rest in peace.

Amen.