December 12th is the Feast Day of Our Lady of Guadalupe and it is a very special day in our home. This feast day is significant to many throughout the world, but it is especially important to Mexican-Catholics because of the rich history of Our Lady and her apparition in Mexico. So one might be wondering why this day holds such significance to a little Korean-American family like ours living in Texas. For whatever reason, Our Blessed Mother has chosen to follow our family around for many years under the title of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Our Lady of Guadalupe, Patroness of All the Americas It was the year 1531, when a poor Aztec Indian named Juan Diego, was walking through the Tepayac hill country in Mexico. He encountered a beautiful lady surrounded by a bright light and she spoke to him in his native tongue. She revealed herself to him as the Mother of the true God, the Lord of Heaven and Earth, and gave Juan Diego a specific mission to go to the bishop and request that a church be built in her honor. A miracle took place when Juan Diego stood before the bishop, a cascade of beautiful roses falling from his poncho-like tilma. The bishop and his advisors fell to their knees. On his tilma was a perfect image of the Virgin Mary—the image of Santa Maria de Guadalupe. The bishop believed that Juan Diego had a true encounter with the mother of Jesus and approved her request. Since then, millions of Aztecs converted to Catholicism. Not only was the apparition a miracle, but the image on the tilma has been studied over the years and has proven to be a miracle itself. It can be seen today in the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City, Mexico. A Mother’s Love Growing up in middle school, I had a Mexican-Catholic best friend. At the time, I had a very tumultuous relationship with my own family and had almost no relationship with them aside from living under the same roof. So my best friend’s family lovingly and graciously “adopted” me. I would spend multiple days and nights at her house, go on family vacations with them, and call her parents “mom and dad.” They would jokingly say that they had adopted the Korean girl whenever they introduced me to strangers, and I was fully immersed in their family life. Meanwhile, Our Lady of Guadalupe was working on my husband, Paul, to convert him back to Christ. She would reveal herself to him through the smell of roses and through the powerful prayer of the Rosary. When he was discerning religious life, she was there in a thirty-foot mural on the outside of the friary he lived in, assuring him of her prayers every day that he passed it. Her image would follow him around through several important life stages, always reminding him of her Son’s love and mercy. Our Lady of Guadalupe became very near and dear to Paul’s heart. “My little son, there are many I could send. But you are the one I have chosen.”     An Unexpected Encounter When Paul and I began dating, I started learning more about Catholicism. I appreciated how his Faith had beautifully impacted his life. One night, on December 12th, we went out on a date and went to a cupcake bakery. The employee serving us had a tattoo of Our Lady of Guadalupe on her arm. Paul made a comment about how it was coincidentally her feast day, and that led to an interesting conversation about her. He told me the story of Saint Juan Diego, the miracle of the tilma, and the conversion of millions of people because of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I found it all fascinating, but I was also looking at him like he was crazy. You see, at the time, I knew nothing about Mother Mary. I was born and raised in a hardcore Protestant family. Speaking about the Mother of Jesus was unheard of. Honoring her in any way was considered blasphemous. So when Paul started sharing about her, it made me feel very uncomfortable. I also had a very rough relationship with my own mother. She had unexpectedly left our family one night and then my parents got divorced. It was a very traumatic experience that left me with feelings of abandonment and betrayal. I didn’t understand how a mother could leave her children and it put fears into my own future as a potential mother. “My dear little son, I love you. I desire you to know who I am. I am the ever-virgin Mary, Mother of the true God who gives life and maintains its existence. All those who sincerely ask my help in their work and in their sorrows will know my Mother’s Heart in this place. Here I will see their tears; I will console them and they will be at peace.” My First Prayer So that night, on December 12th, Paul asked me, “Have you ever just said a prayer to Mother Mary?” I was thinking, Absolutely not! Is that even okay? He asked me if I would like to try. I had no idea what to say. He told me to tell her anything you would say to the best of mothers. So I said a very honest and simple prayer: “Mary, I don’t know what to say to you or how to feel about you. I don’t even have a relationship with my own mother right now and I feel so disconnected. But I know you’re the Mother of Jesus and I think that’s beautiful.” Immediately, I felt immense peace, love, and comfort. She told me, “I am your Mother. I have always been your Mother. And I’ve been praying for you and loving you before you even knew me.” Much like the words she said to Saint Juan Diego. This very first prayer that I ever prayed to Our Blessed Mother was the first step in my relationship with her. It played a big role in my conversion to Catholicism and it also began the work of me finally forgiving my own mother and restoring my relationship with her. “Let not your heart be disturbed. Am I not here, who is your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection?” Coming Full Circle A couple years later, Paul and I were married and pregnant with our first child. I was nervous about being a mother because of my past and all the pain I had worked through surrounding motherhood. My doctor told us we were expecting a baby girl and her due date was December 12th. We were shocked to hear that date but I knew that there was a very slim chance that babies are born on their actual due dates. In fact, it happens in only about 5 percent of pregnancies. So nine days before December 12th, we prayed a novena to Our Lady. And sure enough, our daughter was born on her due date, on the Feast Day of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the day I became a mother. Much like my childhood friend’s family “adopted” me as their own, I feel like Our Lady of Guadalupe has truly adopted our family. She has always been a figure of peace, joy, and maternal love in our home. We attribute so many blessings and answered prayers to her intercession. And we are forever grateful to call her Mother. How has Our Lady shown her maternal love for you? What would you like to ask her to pray for you?   [bctt tweet="Our Lady of Guadalupe and How She Adopted Our Family #BISblog //" via="no"] MARY SHOWS US THE WAY Just as a mother might pass on a beloved family tradition to her daughters, Mary shares the recipe for growing in virtue with us. This study on Mary's Virtues will breathe new life into your everyday, beginning right in Mary's home. GET HOME STUDY

If you hear the two words “church father” you might be thinking of an ancient, white-haired man who probably did some good things for the church a long, long time ago. At least that’s what I used to think of. But when learning more about each one, like actually learning, I realized how big of an impact their lives have had on my own. For example, Saint Ambrose. It is thanks to him that today I love praying with the Bible using Lectio Divina. And it was Saint Ambrose’s intimacy with the Lord through Scripture that prompted Augustine to take a closer look at the faith—making him a great intercessor for those in our own lives who may have fallen away from the faith, or perhaps, have yet to find it. From Roman Governor to Bishop of Milan Ambrose was born to a wealthy Christian family in 340 A.D. His father died when he was just a child, so his mother brought him to Rome to be trained for a career in law, where he received a great education in the classics and rhetoric. While in his thirties he was headquartered in Milan as governor of two of the northern provinces in Italy. Here there was much fallout between the Christians and Arians, even after the Council of Nicea sought to resolve this heretical controversy. Peace was not achieved, and many people still adhered to the heresy that denied Christ’s divinity. Ambrose continued to work towards this desired peace. The former Bishop of Milan, Auxentius, was in favor of Arianism and thus considered to be in opposition to the Catholic faith. Ambrose himself believed in the Nicene Creed, disagreed peacefully with the Arians, and was abreast of the theological controversies of the time. So after the death of Auxentius, Ambrose gave a discourse on peace and moderation. It was during this that the crowd began chanting, “Ambrose, Bishop!” But this would become much more than just a chant. Through the influence of the people, he was considered elected. So eight days later, December 7, 374, Ambrose was consecrated Bishop of Milan. In eight days he was baptized, ordained, and consecrated (the custom at the time was to wait to be baptized until as close to death as possible). While Ambrose was well-educated, he was a layman and didn’t know Scripture very well. His new role as Bishop launched his deep dive into Scripture reading, and eventually, he started praying using lectio divina as his way of listening to the Lord’s words and the promptings of the Holy Spirit to inspire his preaching and writing. In the words of Saint Ambrose, “When we take up the sacred Scriptures in faith and read them with the Church, we walk once more with God in the Garden” . . . a place where Saint Augustine, a contemporary of Saint Ambrose, had an experience of transformation. Conversion in a Garden Augustine was raised by a Pagan father and a devout Christian mother. For himself, he chose Manichaeism, a dualistic religion that taught that the world was evil and salvation could only be found through knowledge. Like Ambrose, Augustine was known for his rhetoric and eventually became a professor in Milan, where he frequently visited the cathedral just to hear Bishop Ambrose speak. This prompted him to shift his religious views to one that incorporated both the philosophy of the Roman pagans and Milanese Christians. Augustine admitted that he was a sinful man, but he still grappled with overcoming the temptations he so enjoyed giving into. When looking back on a time in his childhood when he stole pears with his friends, he said, “Our real pleasure consisted in doing something that was forbidden. The evil in me was foul, but I loved it.” But no matter how evil or foul his sins, his mother Monica prayed fervently for his eventual conversion to Christianity. As Augustine walked in his garden, reflecting on his life and feeling restless about the choices he made, he heard a child’s voice saying, “Take and read.” He took these words to heart, and picked up the letters of Saint Paul to the Romans. . . . let us conduct ourselves properly as in the day, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in promiscuity and licentiousness, not in rivalry and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the desires of the flesh. // Romans 13:13-14 These are the words that gave Augustine hope in the truths that Scripture held, and he would become further inspired by Ambrose’s example, seeking him out as a mentor and going to him frequently for advice. The Attractiveness of the Gospel It was Ambrose’s testimony and the witness of the church in Milan that made Augustine attracted to Christianity. He was moved by the witness of the church community, and by how unified they were in their strong resistance to the influence of Arianism. Ambrose taught in such a way that helped Augustine more fully understand the history of the church and the beauty of the mysteries it holds. “Searching Out The Meaning” It was not only Ambrose’s preaching of the Gospel that struck Augustine; it was his personal approach to reading Scripture. When Ambrose wasn’t meeting with people to give spiritual guidance, he himself was pouring over the Word of God. But unlike the custom of the time, he read silently. Augustine wrote in the Confessions: When Ambrose read, his eyes ran over the columns of writing and his heart searched out the meaning, but his voice and his tongue were at rest. Often when I was present-for he did not close his door to anyone and it was customary to come in unannounced-I have seen him reading silently, never in fact otherwise. I would sit for a long time in silence, not daring to disturb someone so deep in thought, and then go on my way. This was unusual, because at the time, Scripture was meant to be read aloud, both for others to hear, and for the reader’s own understanding. Augustine was struck by how familiar Ambrose seemed to be with Scripture, and through this close relationship with the text, how well he lived the faith out. This informed Augustine’s own approach to the faith and on April 24, 387, Ambrose baptized Augustine in the Cathedral of Milan. A Bit Of Honey In addition to being a patron Saint of Milan, he is also a patron of beekeepers and is known as the “honey-tongued Doctor.” There are a few good reasons for this. The word “ambrosia” is Latin for honey, and his rhetoric, as Augustine experienced, was as sweet as honey to the soul. Legend even says that while he was laying in his crib as a baby, there was a swarm of bees flying in and out of his mouth, but never stinging him! Saint Ambrose, pray for us to share God’s word as eloquently as you, coming not from head-knowledge but from an experience of the heart.   [bctt tweet="Saint Ambrose // Walking with God in the Garden #BISblog //" via="no"]

“I have done what was mine; may Christ teach you what is yours.” These words of freedom spoken by Saint Francis of Assisi’s to his brothers when he was on his deathbed encapsulate Saint Andrew for me. Andrew introduced his brother, Simon, to Jesus, and then watched as Simon became Peter and one of Christ’s inner circle. Selfless Saint Andrew A typical response in that situation might be resentment or jealousy. I am sure many of us have had the experience of introducing friends to friends and watching them become close. While there is happiness for them, there is a twinge of sadness of not being part of that "we" anymore. Andrew even became known simply as “Simon’s brother.” All of us younger siblings know what that is like and how easy it is to be annoyed by it! Yet we don’t see that in Saint Andrew. He is not possessive. He did what was his to do. If he hadn’t, would Simon have become Peter? Would we have the witness of Peter walking on water, or his repentant “yes, Lord, you know that I love you?” Andrew didn’t have 20/20 Gospel hindsight as we do. He didn’t know how their story would unfold, he merely did what was his to do: He first found his own brother Simon and told him, "We have found the Messiah." Then he brought him to Jesus. // John 1: 41 Saint Andrew and Our Lady At the feeding of the five thousand, Andrew again did what was his to do. Among so many, it was Andrew who notices the boy with the five loaves and two fish. He heard Philip exclaim that 200 days' worth of wages would not provide enough to feed all the people. He could have easily written off the boy’s lunch as not worth mentioning. Instead, he brought it before the Lord, almost with an air of dejection: There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish; but what good are these for so many? // John 6:8 What strikes is the similarity between Andrew’s words and Our Lady’s words at the wedding feast at Cana: “They have no wine.” Neither Mary nor Andrew tell Jesus what He ought to do, they do what is theirs to do and let Christ do what is His to do. All About the Lord's Plan Perhaps this is the best witness of Andrew after all. He didn't tell Jesus his great plan and ask Jesus to bless it. Instead, Andrew held his information lightly before the Lord and was humble enough to let Jesus use it, or not use it, as He willed. Isn’t this a temptation we all have? Often I tell Jesus my plan and hope He will bless it, but what if I instead held it before the Lord, laid it at the foot of the Cross, and saw what He wanted to do with it? Like Saint Andrew, I will probably see a greater miracle than what I was trying to engineer on my own.     Saint Andrew's Life Pointed to Christ Tradition tells us that Saint Andrew spread the Gospel throughout Greece and Turkey after Jesus’ Ascension. He was martyred upon an X-shaped cross. It is believed that he requested this kind of cross because he didn’t feel worthy to die on the same kind of Cross as Jesus. Perhaps he was also thinking that it wasn’t for him to die like Jesus; Jesus had already done that to save us from our sin. Perhaps Andrew knew that the X-shaped cross would make it clear that it was for him enough to die as a witness to Jesus. The Christmas Novena Saint Andrew’s feast day falls at the beginning of Advent, and many of us begin the Saint Andrew Christmas novena today. Though the novena is only named after Saint Andrew because it starts on his feast day, I think the prayer would be loved by him. It is traditionally recited 15 times a day and brings into focus the reason for Advent: the birth of baby Jesus. Like Saint Andrew did with Saint Peter, the Saint Andrew novena points us to Jesus, our Savior. It reorients us each day to what is ours to do in Advent, to remember how blessed “the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born of the most pure Virgin Mary at midnight, in Bethlehem, in the piercing cold.” I can’t help but think Saint Andrew might be a perfect patron for Advent. The planning, the preparation, and the parties make this season extremely busy and full. May Saint Andrew intercede for us so that Christ can show us what is ours—and not be jealous or worried about what is not ours—to do.   [bctt tweet="On Saint Andrew and Doing What is Yours #BISblog //" via="no"]

Gift giving is an important part of the Christmas season. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when the tradition of exchanging Christmas gifts began. But even on that first Christmas, wise men from the east brought the Newborn King gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh (see Matthew 2). And we certainly can’t think of Christmas without the legend of Saint Nicholas, whose generosity inspired the idea of our modern-day Santa Claus. Yes, gift giving is a longstanding and enjoyable Christmas tradition. There is an excitement about giving gifts that we carefully select for the loved ones on our list. We anticipate their surprise, and we are overjoyed in their delight. But what about those random gift exchanges we are invited to participate in? The generic exchange with coworkers at the office or the silly white elephant game with our book club, for example? These exchanges can be challenging because they take the personable thoughtfulness out of gift giving. And they leave us with things that we really don’t need or want. Even still, we stay active in these exchanges, because we care about the people with whom we share this tradition. We laugh at the silliness of some of the gifts, and our competitive spirit comes alive when the “stealing” portion of the game begins. But more often than not, when the exchange is over, there is a sense of being let down. Why is that? I think the answer is twofold: The very nature of gift giving is thoughtful. It is always about being together. Gift Giving is Thoughtful Normally, we think of the person for whom we are giving a gift, and we carefully consider what he or she would like to receive. But when we partake in certain gift exchanges it is much harder to be thoughtful. Gifts for generic exchanges—within an office setting, for example—are supposed to be one size fits all. White elephant gifts are meant to be silly (the crazier, the better, right?). Gift Giving is About Being Together The reason for any gift exchange is simply to be together. And so, while we may not enjoy the white elephant concept, we want to continue some type of tradition with family and friends. How can we modify the holiday gift exchange to restore meaning and thoughtfulness? How can it become more about simply being together?     Introducing the Favorite Things Gift Exchange When I heard a friend describe her book club’s Favorite Things Gift Exchange, I realized I found the answer. As she shared the gist of it with me, I was quickly sold on the idea. And this Christmas, I hope my loved ones will want to give it a try with me. We All Have Favorite Things Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens. Brown paper packages, tied up with string. These are a few of my favorite things. This infamous song from the beloved musical, Sound of Music, reminds us that we, indeed, have favorite things. Whether it is a favorite lip gloss, candle, or kitchen gadget, each of us is surrounded by various items that bring us joy, simplify life, or help us to look our best. Likewise, when we hear about someone else’s favorite things—a book recommendation or a treasured recipe—we are more likely to try them out ourselves, trusting the source of the suggestion. Yes, so often our favorite things, when shared, become others’ favorite things, too. As we approach the Christmas season, a time of giving and receiving, why not consider sharing our favorite things with those we love through a Favorite Things Gift Exchange? What is a Favorite Things Gift Exchange? The purpose of a Favorite Things Gift Exchange is to give your favorite things and to receive others’ favorite things in return. This brings a level of meaning and thoughtfulness to gift exchanges that have, in the past, focused too much on one-size-fits-all giving. In addition, with a Favorite Things Gift Exchange, we can avoid the tacky silliness of white elephant games, where most people leave with items they unfortunately do not want. Lastly, it becomes more about being together, because it gives us an opportunity to get to know one another better through the sharing of our favorite things. How to Host a Favorite Things Gift Exchange Below are simple steps for hosting a Favorite Things Gift Exchange. Before the Exchange: Each guest agrees to purchase three of her same favorite thing. Stay within the agreed upon budget. For example, $10 for each favorite thing, for a total of $30. Bring the gifts wrapped. At the Exchange: At the exchange, each guest writes her name on three slips of paper, and puts them into a bowl or basket. Then, everyone draws three names. These are the recipients of your favorite things. Be sure not to draw your own name or the same name twice. Then, each guest takes a turn sharing her favorite thing and why she loves it. After she shares, she gives her favorite thing to those whose names were drawn. How It’s Flexible What is lovely about a Favorite Things Gift Exchange is its flexibility. The number of gifts can be adjusted. For example, each person could just bring one item. Or if it’s a larger group, each person could bring five smaller favorite things. The budget can vary, too. Perhaps, each person brings one item for $10 or two items for under $30. A favorite things gift exchange works well in a variety of settings, too: Families Kids Book clubs Bible study or small groups Co-workers How to Incorporate Faith Into the Exchange Since the Christmas season is all about the birth of Christ, including an element of faith to a Favorite Things Gift Exchange is simple. Here are a few ideas: Who is your favorite Saint and why? Include a holy card of that favorite Saint with your gift. Give the gift of Catholic prayer by sharing your favorite prayer book or journal. What are your must-have Catholic products? Stickers Rosaries Mugs Jewelry This Christmas season, our favorite things will restore thoughtfulness to our gift exchanges. In addition, we will discover a few new favorite things through our loved ones’ suggestions. We will also focus on spending time together, getting to know one another better. Lastly, we can incorporate the true meaning of the season into our gift giving by sharing our faith-based favorite things with others. Have you hosted or attended a Favorite Things Gift Exchange? If so, please share your experience in the comments below.   [bctt tweet="How to Host a Favorite Things Gift Exchange #BISblog //" via="no"] THE PERFECT BOOK FOR KIDS Rise Up will open up beautiful conversations with your children about the virtues. . This will bring beautiful fruit to your prayer life and to your children's prayer lives. GET RISE UP

Whenever I pack to go camping, it’s inevitable that I will find myself asking the same question. Generally between stops at the store, and cramming sleeping bags, tents, cookware, rain gear, toilet paper, ice, meals and water into the car, I will pause and think: Remind me why it takes so much stuff to slow down and live simply for the weekend? I value the simplicity of spending time in the woods. But if I’m honest, staying home feels like the simpler option. You know this feeling too, I’m sure. Wearing two hats (or more!) for the weekend or as a vocation. Maybe you chose them both, maybe you didn’t choose either: wife and caretaker; working and mom; leader and introvert. Absolutely none of these things are mutually exclusive, but we all resonate with the feeling of having more than one calling at one time. We understand the need to be true to ourselves while being faithful to our call. In other words, we are well-versed in paradoxes. Saint Martin of Tours is a fascinating study in what it means to live in paradox. Saint Martin of Tours Born into a pagan family, Martin began attending a Christian church as a boy and chose to become initiated in the Church against his father’s wishes. Christianity had become legalized only three years before Saint Martin was born. Followers of Christianity were not highly regarded at this time, particularly among people of means. As the son of a military family, Martin was required to become a soldier in the Roman army. After his Baptism in 354, however, Saint Martin declared his allegiance to Christ rather than his commanding officer: "I am the soldier of Christ: it is not lawful for me to fight." In response, Martin was jailed and called a coward. Martin offered to go unarmed to the battlefront, and leaders nearly took him up on the offer but the battle never occurred because their opponents unexpectedly sought peace. Saint Martin was released from military service. Martin the Merciful Among the many marks of his saintly life, Martin of Tours is most famously known as "Martin the merciful" after an encounter with a naked beggar. A Roman soldier at the time, Martin cut his own cloak in two and gave half to the beggar. Later in a dream, the face of the man to whom he had given the cloak was revealed to be Christ. Beautifully, this image is heralded by those in military service as well as those aligned with pacifism. He is celebrated as both patron of soldiers as well as conscientious objectors. In fact, his feast day (November 11th) is also the secular observance of Veteran’s Day in the United States, on which we recognize and celebrate all soldiers living and deceased who have fought on behalf of their country. His unique example made him a bridge between two distinct camps: pacifists and soldiers. His Defense of the Truth Following his military service, Martin became a follower of Hilary of Poitiers and a staunch defender of the Church against Arianism. For this he was beaten and exiled by the Arian Archbishop. In 361 he became a hermit and established a hermitage that attracted many followers. Ten years later, Martin was selected as Bishop of Tours. Legend has it that he was so opposed to this post that he hid in a barn full of geese, but their cackling gave him away. (Thus arose the connection to his title as patron Saint of geese). Despite naysayers who thought him too disheveled to serve as bishop, he rallied and served to eliminate pagan temples and statues, all the while establishing monasteries. Eventually, he established the monastery of Marmoutier, where he could be near Tours while living his call to the monastic life and avoiding public attention. Living the Call of Christ The shrine of Saint Martin de Tours continues to be a popular stopping point for those pilgrims walking the Camino de Santiago Compostela in Spain. Martin himself remains an important figure in the tradition of the Church that holds room and celebrates his loyalty and commitment as a soldier, as well as his prayerful discernment to opt out of conflict he could not fight in good conscience. Saint Martin, although raised pagan, chose Christ. While serving in the Roman army, he chose to serve Christ rather than his anti-Christian leaders. In his public role as bishop, Martin found creative solutions to lead while maintaining commitment to his call as a monastic. In your own walk with Christ, have you been challenged to serve with creativity between different callings? How does Saint Martin inspire you to persevere? Let’s pray: Lord God of hosts, who clothed your servant Martin the Soldier with the spirit of sacrifice, and set him as a bishop of your Church to be a defender of the Catholic faith; Give us grace to follow in his holy steps that at the last we may be found clothed with righteousness in the dwellings of peace through Jesus Christ our Lord who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, One God now and forever. Amen. Saint Martin de Tours, pray for us!   [bctt tweet="Saint Martin the Merciful #BISblog // " via="no"]

I felt the hard, uneven cobblestones beneath my feet and took in the views all around me with fresh, wide eyes. It was one of the first days of my study abroad program in Rome and I was in awe of the beauty and history all around me. The streets of this historic city were like another world compared to the city I had just left in the Midwest. It was surreal to be walking into whatever church we happened to stumble upon and then see the original artwork of a familiar childhood image. This took place a number of times, but one of the first was when we entered the seventeenth century church Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini (Our Lady of the Conception of the Capuchins). It wasn’t particularly eye-catching from the outside, but when we went inside we were met with gorgeous paintings in the side chapels, including work by Pietro da Cortona, an Italian Baroque painter and architect. Then the one I was so thrilled to see, an altarpiece of St. Michael the Archangel Defeating Satan by Guido Reni. The Dragon Does Not Prevail I love this piece because it shows the physique of both Saint Michael and the devil. While the devil is being crushed under the heel of the Archangel, he isn’t portrayed as weak. Rather, you can see Satan’s triceps, biceps, even the tendons in his hands flexed in resistance as tightly as he can muster. His muscles are literally rippling. In contrast, you see the serene countenance of Saint Michael, gracefully pulling back his sword to strike the source of all evil. He is fearless. As it reads in Revelation 12:7-8: Then war broke out in heaven; Michael and his angels battled against the dragon. The dragon and its angels fought back, but they did not prevail and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. This is why we ask Saint Michael the Archangel to “be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil” and why many parishes pray the Prayer to Saint Michael after Mass. A prayer written by Pope Leo XIII after he had a terrifying vision of demonic spirits. After witnessing this horrific sight he requested that the prayer be said at the end of Mass so that as we go back out into the world, Christ’s light will shine over the darkness. We can pray this prayer daily, as we intercede for the salvation of all souls and reflect on our own death. In this month that we call to mind all those who have died, let us return to Santa Maria della Concezione again. Beneath which you will find a crypt where the remains of four thousand Capuchin friars adorn the walls. The Chilling Capuchin Crypt in Rome If you enter this crypt you might feel goosebumps raised on your skin and feel yourself chilled. Not just from the coldness which emanates from the cold ground, but also from a plaque which reads, “What you are now, we once were; what we are now, you shall be.” This quotation is displayed among the bones of friars who have died between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries. At the time the church was built, Pope Urban VII commissioned this church with the hopes that it would provide a space for the growing congregation of Capuchins. When the architecture was completed, the remains of Capuchin friars who had been buried nearby were moved to Santa Maria so that all of the Capuchin remains would be together. But instead of reburying the bones, the monks used them as ornamentation in the crypt to be a reminder of momento mori. To remind them that death is imminent. Purification and Purgatory So here we are, reminded that we are not promised tomorrow, but gratefully living in the presence of God on earth today. In this gift of life that we share in today we have the Christian responsibility to pray for the souls in Purgatory. We also share in the great hope that they will soon be greeted by Saint Peter as he brings them face to face with Jesus. All who die in God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after death they undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven. // Catechism of the Catholic Church 1030 While there are many unknowns about what Purgatory may be like, we can rest assured that we are on our way to Heaven’s gate. As Pope Saint John Paul II said, Purgatory is not a place but a kind of existence. “Those who live in this state of purification after death are not separated from God but are immersed in the love of Christ. Neither are they separated from the saints in heaven—who already enjoy the fullness of life—nor from us on earth—who continue on our pilgrim journey to the Father’s house. We remain united in the Mystical Body of Christ, and we can therefore offer up our prayers and good works on behalf of our brothers and sisters in Purgatory.” Saint Michael, pray for us! As we remember the souls who have passed from this life on their journey to Heaven let us call upon the intercession of Saint Michael the Archangel. We can turn back to the pages of Revelation to recall his great strength and pray the Saint Micael prayer, not only for the souls in Purgatory, but also for our own souls. Saint Michael, be with us as we reflect on our own mortality. Pray for us to have your strength, strength to overcome our own spiritual battles. What is your favorite way to pray for our deceased brothers and sisters?   [bctt tweet="Angels, an Artist, and the Capuchin Crypt in Rome #BISblog //" via="no"]

My husband’s name is Michael and I am always on the lookout for gifts that honor him through his namesake, Saint Michael the Archangel. This past Valentine’s Day I was looking for a special gift and came across Litany’s Archangel Pocket Squares. The designs are incredibly creative and each one is overflowing with deep meaning. Even though I set out to find something to honor his name, I ended up getting him the Saint Raphael one that featured Leonardo da Vinci’s sketches of the ideal city, with references from the book of Tobit around the border. It made the perfect Valentine’s Day gift! Even before marrying Michael, I loved learning about God’s angels and striving to draw close to them, especially my Guardian Angel. It was, however, when I met and married Michael, that my desire to learn about his patron Saint grew. That longing overflowed into a great devotion to Saint Michael’s fellow Archangels, too. Let's Meet the Archangels One of my favorite resources to learn more about angels is the book Time to Meet the Angels by Mark Miravalle. It’s filled with so much wisdom and I learn something new every time I pick it up to read. Here are some of my favorite facts he mentions in his section on the Archangels: There are two times in Scripture that the name for the eighth choir of angels, “Archangel”, is mentioned: 1 Thessalonians 4:16 and again in Jude 1:9. Archangel refers to this choir's role as leaders. They deliver important messages to us, the faithful here on earth. Saint Michael Name Meaning // Who is like God Found in Scripture // Daniel 10:13 // “Michael, one of the chief princes.” Daniel 12:1 // “At that time shall arise Michael, the great prince who has charge of your people.” Jude 1:9 // “But when the archangel Michael, contending with the devil, disputed about the body of Moses, he did not presume to pronounce a reviling judgment upon him, but said, ‘The Lord rebuke you.’” Church’s Ascribed Role // “Prince of the Heavenly Host,” the leader of the angelic army appointed by God the Father to battle Lucifer. (Revelation 12:7) Important Prayer // “Prayer to Saint Michael the Archangel” promulgated by Pope Leo XIII for the protection of the Church. This prayer is often recited after Mass. Patron Saint of // Military and Police forces Reflection // We should call upon Saint Michael daily, turning to him for protection, especially when we experience spiritual warfare. Ask his intercession for those who are called to lead and protect. May we be brave, humble, and courageous like this great Archangel, who combats Lucifer’s pride with humility, a humility so great that we now proclaim him to be “Who is like God.” Saint Michael, pray for us. Saint Gabriel Name Meaning // “Man of God” or “Strength of God” Found in Scripture // Daniel 8:16 // “Gabriel, make this man understand the vision.” Daniel 9:21-27 // Gabriel prophecies to Daniel the time when the Messiah will come. Luke 1:26-28 // Gabriel brings the message and invitation of the Incarnation to Mother Mary. Luke 1:19 // Gabriel announces the conception of Saint John the Baptist to Zechariah. Church’s Ascribed Role // As “Strength of God,” tradition holds that Saint Gabriel was the Angel who served Jesus during his Agony in the Garden. Important Prayer // The Hail Mary, the “Angelic Salutation.” We repeat Gabriel’s words as we proclaim, “Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with you.” Patron Saint of // Messengers, those who work for broadcasting and telecommunications such as radio and television, postal workers, clerics, diplomats, and stamp collectors. Reflection // Just like Saint Gabriel, let us always greet one another with joy, inviting those we meet to encounter Christ and take Him within their hearts as their own. May we ask Saint Gabriel to strengthen us, especially in our sufferings, agony, and temptations. Saint Gabriel, pray for us. Saint Raphael Name Meaning // “God heals” Found in Scripture // The book of Tobit includes Saint Raphael as one of the central characters, interceding with both physical and spiritual healings. Tobit 6:10 // We read about the spiritual healing of Sarah and in Tobit 6:6-8; 11:7-8 the physical healing of Tobit from blindness through the intercession of Saint Raphael is recorded. Tobit 12:15 // “I am Raphael, one of the seven holy Angels who present the prayers of the saints and enter into the presence of the glory of the Holy One.” Church’s Ascribed Role // “Healer of God” Important Prayer // Holy Raphael, I entreat thee to help me in all my needs and in all the trials of this life. And since thou art the “physician” of God, I pray thee to heal my soul of its many infirmities, and my body of the ills that afflict it, if this favor be for my greater good. I plead for angelic purity that I may be fit to be the living temple of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Patron Saint of // Travelers, the blind, bodily ills, happy meetings, nurses, physicians, and medical workers. Reflection // We all need spiritual and physical healing in some way. Saint Raphael, intercede on our behalf for the healings we need to truly flourish as daughters of our High King. May we always turn to you for protection and guidance, especially when we encounter those we love. Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael the Archangels, pray for us!   [bctt tweet="Meet the Archangels #BISblog //" username="findphilothea"]   This post contains affiliate links. Thanks so much for supporting the ministry of Blessed is She!

When we are ready to give up hope, we must persevere. The Saints teach us this. Even the darkest night will not last, and it will—it must—give way to the glory of a new morning. The 20th century was filled with many dark nights, especially the horrors inflicted during the World Wars and thereafter. It is tempting to give up hope. The heart-struggle of the centuries begins to enter in, our heart cries out, “If God is good, then why would He allow such evil?” Abounding Grace Our Faith teaches us that everything God allows and permits is for our salvation and the salvation of the world. The Resurrection is proof that with and through God, beauty arises, even from the monstrousness of sin. We see this reality in many of the lives of the Saints, and in the lives of the men and women the Saints personally impacted. The 20th century, though filled with atrocities beyond comprehension, was filled with great beauty. “Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more” (Romans 5:20). A Miracle Story A powerful example of Saint Paul’s words to the Romans is found in a miraculous story that started during the height of the Second World War. Three people—two of them declared Saints and the other, a Polish woman who celebrated her 100th birthday last year—were all united in the hope of Christ. Survivor Wanda Półtawska Wanda Półtawska was twenty years old when she was arrested in February 1941 for assisting in the Polish Resistance against the Nazi Regime. She was sent to Ravensbrück Concentration Camp, north of Berlin. During her time in the camp, Wanda was victim to medical experimentation by the Nazis. Doctors cut into the legs of the victims and injected bacteria into the muscles and bones of the prisoners. Close to death, Wanda barely survived, and was saved by her friend Krysia who pulled her out of a heap of corpses. Wanda was twenty-four years old. A Holy Friendship Determined to live the remainder of her life as a healer, Wanda became a doctor of psychiatry and ministered to camp survivors, especially children who had been abused. During that time, as she sought her own healing, Wanda and her husband became close friends with a young bishop of Kraków, Karol Wojtyła—the future Pope Saint John Paul II. The Półtawskas’ friendship with Bishop Wojtyła deepened and they would be a source of inspiration for many of his teachings, especially those on marriage and love, including Theology of the Body. Wanda was among the founders of the Institute of Theology of the Family at the Pontifical Academy of Theology in Krakow (Pontifical University of John Paul II) as well as a lecturer in pastoral medicine at the John Paul II Institute of Rome. Where Two or Three are Gathered Their friendship culminated in a miraculous story of healing and involved another friendship: the friendship between Bishop Wojtyła and Saint Padre Pio. We see here the power and necessity of holy friendships and of intercession, the reality of the Communion of Saints. Mother to four young children, Wanda was diagnosed with cancer in 1962. The doctors told her that though her prognosis was terminal, they would try their best to remove the cancer. Heartbroken and struggling to persevere, Wanda told her dear friend Karol about her disease. “Resignation is contrary to God’s will,” replied Karol. Immediately upon hearing the news, Bishop Karol wrote to a priest who had touched his own life, Padre Pio of Pietrelcina. Karol had met Padre Pio in the summer of 1947 when he traveled to San Giovanni Rotondo, attending Mass and going to confession with him. The Power of Intercession “Venerable Father,” wrote Karol, “I ask for your prayers for a certain mother of four young girls, who lives in Krakow, Poland (during the last war she spent five years in a German concentration camp), and now her health and even her life are in great danger due to cancer. Pray that God, through the intercession of the Most Blessed Virgin, has mercy on her and her family. Most obligated in Christ, Karol Wojtyla.” “To this one it is not possible to say no!" was Padre Pio’s response. The holy priest began to pray. The answer to his intercession was discovered as the surgeons went to remove the cancer from Wanda: nothing was there. The cancer was gone. Miraculously. Encounter of Grace Five years later, Wanda traveled to San Giovanni Rotondo and attended Padre Pio’s Mass. After Mass she, along with other pilgrims, went into the sacristy to meet the man who had interceded for her. She had never met him before. He walked up to her, looked deeply into her eyes, and said, “Now are you all right?” Wanda’s is one of the miracles that led to Saint Padre Pio’s canonization. Women of Beauty, Women of Healing These three lives, intertwined in friendship, holiness, and intercession by God’s grace teach us that within the horrors of suffering and pain, beauty can rise. Through God’s Merciful Love, there is hope, there is healing. We are called, dear sisters, to cultivate strong, holy friendships that are centered on Christ. We are called to intercede for one another. Lord, give us the grace to be holy in the face of evil and suffering. Let us be women of beauty and healing.   [bctt tweet="Saint Pio and the Miracle of Wanda Półtawska #BISblog //" username="findphilothea"]

Our parish is a Metropolitan-ish cathedral that is often crowded with tourists. Combine that with our tendency to be right on time for Mass and we often do not get the best seating choices. My eldest daughter is a petite thing who has more problems than most with being able to see over pews and persons. However, one thing she can always see–and I delight in her pointing out to me–is the crucifix that is carried by the altar servers as they process in and out. “Look Mommy! Jesus is flying!” she exclaims with glee, and I share her thrill. “He’s like a superhero,” she concludes with her four-year-old logic. “The greatest superhero of all time,” I confirm. The Cross Has Always Been a Symbol of Power To me, there is something profound about the fact that my child is not only drawn to the cross, but also associates the cross with supernatural powers. Too often in my upbringing, my Catholic teachers put the emphasis for association on the cross and death. I reveranced and treasured it because of Christ, but my heart saw it as something sad and mournful. This is not how the earliest Christians viewed the cross. On the contrary, they saw it as my daughter does– as a source of power. For the Romans… To this day, crucifixion remains one of the most gruesome ways a person can die. In fact, it is actually from where the term “excruciating” comes (see the “cruc” in there?). Invented hundreds of years before Christ’s time, it was “perfected” by the Romans. Everything about the process was designed to inflict pain. The placement of the nails in the hands severed the medial nerve causing radial burning and paralysis of the hand while also limiting the bleeding. The placement of the nails in the feet were also precise, ensuring the legs hung in a specific position that allowed for further torture (including painful breathing, with weight born solely on the thighs until their strength gave way causing the body to fall forward and shoulders, elbows, and wrists to dislocate). From this position, breathing was nearly impossible. Obviously, this caused the entire inner workings of the body to falter and fail. Oxygen and carbon dioxide cannot be moved well and thus organs start to fail. In particular, the lungs collapse and fill with fluid, essentially causing the victim to drown. In other cases, before complete suffocation, the stress on the heart caused it to burst. Some people died of severe dehydration. This entire process could last up to nine days thanks to the “mercy” shown by the Romans. A small piece of wood was nailed under the behind of those being crucified, providing momentary relief by resting their weight on the seat. This feature did provide some reprieve, but also extended the agony. Lastly, crucifixions took place along public roads. This served two purposes. First, those being crucified were stripped naked and exposed for all passerbyers to see, thus adding insult to injury (though I believe the physical pain had them caring very little about the shaming). Secondly, the crucifixions sent a message to the public. It instilled fear in the hearts of those who passed. In short, it was a silent but bold way in which Rome delivered the message: “Stay in line, or this will be you.” For the Christians… Needless to say, the tactic was pretty successful. Crucifixion kept people petrified and did manipulate most people into “proper” behavior. No one wanted to experience that tumult. However, Christ’s death—and more specifically His Resurrection—changed everything. The followers of Jesus knew of His death, some of them even watched it take place before their eyes. Then they saw Him again, gloriously alive! The negative powers of the Cross were diminished. They witnessed its inability to conquer Christ. Thus, these Christians no longer feared the instrument, or death itself. In fact, they adopted the Cross as a symbol of their belief that God conquers all. With dramatic flair, Christians usurped the symbol. They elevated and exalted it, using it as a sort of “taunt” against Rome, assuring those with worldly power, “You have no power here.” What is Your “Crucifixion”? So every Sunday, when my daughter points out the crucifix as it passes by our pew, I picture the tortures of my own life, and throw them back at the voice of the enemy inside my head and remind him (and myself) that I am not afraid. The Cross conquers all. On this feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, I invite you to reflect on your own life and try to pinpoint your own, modern version of crucifixion. What is it that you fear most? What can be or is being used to manipulate, silence, or paralyze you into inaction? Whatever it is, take that distress and unite it to Christ’s Cross. Find freedom in the knowledge that He has already conquered this evil. The Cross is no longer something to fear. The Cross has been transformed into a source of glory and grace, we have only to sink into that reality.   [bctt tweet="A Practical Way You Can Exalt the Cross #BISblog //" via="no"]

I always had a problem with my name growing up. I wondered why my parents didn’t give me an easy-to-pronounce name. Rocio, although beautiful when pronounced rightly in Spanish, felt like a burden when teachers at school tried different variations: Rocchio, Roxio, Rokio. I could get started on a list of funny and embarrassing moments tied to my name, but the point is that it was a struggle. I did not want to accept my name. It wasn’t until I was a young adult beginning my journey of discerning religious life that the Lord started to do something unexpected: He began to connect the dots between my name, my identity, and my mission. Accepting My Own Name Through a series of events, including a prophetic encounter you can read about here, I began to take ownership of my name and what the Lord had entrusted me with. I discovered that in my name, which translates to "dew," He was inviting me to be a consolation to others and to be intimately attune to the Holy Spirit of which dew is a Biblical and liturgical image. The things I learned during those years remain with me even now, since the Lord was redeeming such an essential part of my identity: my name. When we think about the feast day of the Most Holy Name of Mary, some might think, what’s the big fuss? Why have a whole day dedicated to her name? We love her and all of that, but isn’t that a bit excessive? Well, maybe I would have been on board with that same thinking before– but not anymore. Now, I know well from experience the connection and importance between who we are, the name we are given, and the mission we are entrusted with. The woman chosen from all time for the most important task of bearing in her body, feeding at her breasts, and holding to her heart the Savior of the world and the Son of the Most High did not just happen to have the name Mary (Mariam in Greek/Miryam in Hebrew). It must have been for a reason. Although the exact definitions of the name of Mary vary, I think it would help us in our devotion to take a look at the different meanings and what they can tell us about her identity and mission. The Holy Name of Mary // Sea of Bitterness or Drop of the Sea? Among some of the translations found for the name of Mary, the connection to water is common. Some say Our Lady’s name could mean either a sea of bitterness or a drop of the sea. I invite you to reflect with me today on the possibility of Our Lady’s name meaning "a sea of bitterness." Why would this be a fitting name for the Mother of Christ? The sorrows our Mother was to undergo were possibly alluded to in her name. It would suffice to remember the words of Simeon in the temple at the entrance of the holy pair with the Messiah in their arms to understand why Our Lady’s identity and mission could be tied to bitterness. After being moved by the Spirit to proclaim what Jesus would be, namely salvation (see Luke 2:27, 30), Simeon looks to Mary and confesses rightly that a sword will pierce her own heart (2:35). To think of Our Lady as being a “sea of bitterness” is not to deem that her heart was full of bitterness and ill-will because of the suffering she was going to pass through. Instead, we can understand it to be a reference to the immense sorrows of Our Lady’s heart: the sorrow that came with knowing in anticipation the suffering the Messiah was to undergo, witnessing the rejection of His own people, and the torments of her Son during the Passion. Being unable to relieve her child of this suffering would be enough to cause an increase of pain in her own heart–an experience comparable to a sea of pain, a whole ocean of bitterness. She who experienced immense heartache was entrusted with a mission: to accompany all of the children entrusted to her from the Cross (see John 19:26) on their own journey of heartache and bitterness. She would be the model for her children on how to carry these things in one’s heart (see Luke 2:51). Some translations say she “treasured” them in her heart. The things she did not understand, the pain of separation already experienced by them in the young life of Jesus, the expectation of all that was to come– she treasured all of these things. She did not become bitter because of it, although she was only just beginning to walk on the shores of this sea. May we learn from her the mysterious art and mission of remaining joyful in the midst of bitter anguish. The Name of Mary: Beloved The name of Mother Mary can be found in the Old Testament, belonging also to the sister of Moses (see Numbers 26:59). Miriam was considered a prophet and led the people in praise of the Lord who had freed them (see Exodus 15:20-21). Because the Israelites were in Egypt during this time, it is important to take into consideration what the Egyptian root of the name Mary/Miriam could be. One of the possibilities of the Egyptian meaning of the name is "beloved" (source). One of my favorite titles of Mary is her as the Beloved Daughter of the Father. It cannot be denied that she was beloved by God. Here one might be tempted to say that she was so loved by the Father because of the importance of her mission. But we would be forgetting one important thing: her identity precedes her mission. Mary is loved first because of who she is. Her belovedness was not bound up to how faithfully and fruitfully she would fulfill her mission–which she did perfectly beyond exaggeration–but her loveable-ness is found first in the essence of her being Mary. The Father looked upon her and loved her. In the same way, before all that we do and any mission we may feel called to fulfill, you and I are loved first and foremost because of who we are. We are loved because we exist and we exist because we were loved into existence. Our origin and our destiny is love. How fitting it is, then, for Our Lady’s name to mean “beloved” since we know this to be true about ourselves! She is the beloved daughter of a very good Father, the beloved mother and sister (see Matthew 12:50) of Christ her Savior, and the beloved espoused by the Spirit. Her Name Remains a Model Can you and I see in Mother Mary a model of living out one’s belovedness? She lived this in total trust and abandonment to the Father. May we also learn to live from our identity, dependent not on our own strength or the loftiness of our mission to somehow earn His love but by realizing we are already the beloved right here and now. May she who held a sea of bitterness in her heart and was at the same time beloved, pray for us to receive and accept our names, our identities, and our mission on this earth. Consider honoring the name of Mary today by praying with some of the beautiful devotions and quotes from the Saints listed here.   [bctt tweet="The Holy Name of Mary #BISblog //" via="no"] HIS WORD CHANGES LIVES God is speaking to you through His Word. In this personal study, you will learn to hear God's voice by reading slowly and praying deeply. BEGIN THE JOURNEY

In Something Beautiful for God, the British Journalist Malcolm Muggeridge wrote about an exhilarating experience while filming a documentary on Mother Teresa in 1967. The film crew had arrived at the "Home for the Dying" but were disappointed to encounter a dimly-lit building with small windows. Despite the challenges, the pictures were processed. Muggeridge wrote that they were “bathed in beautiful soft light.” At the time, Muggeridge was a religious sceptic who possessed a corrosive wit for mocking precious beliefs. But the light that emanated from Mother was so real, so tangible, that it beckoned the prodigal within, convicting him to pick up the shards of a lost life, illuminating his way home. The Call to the Light Today, on the feast of Saint Mother Teresa, we are invited to awaken to this Voice that beckons us to “come be my light” just like it beckoned the petite Albanian nun whose heart burned with radical love for the unwanted, unloved, and uncared for. This light led her to the poorest corners of Calcutta and it shone on rotting bodies of the dying, those with seeping wounds, and those who were deliberately shunned by society. Mother Teresa’s witness teaches us that it is not enough to just receive light. We must become light. We must be so bathed in this luminous mystery that we don’t just expose invading darkness but overcome it with the brilliance of God’s grace. Saint of Darkness The Christian Faith is built on presence. We long to see signs of the cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night. We wait for the still small voice. We sing, we pray, we weep at His feet. Nothing is more devastating than Divine absence. Nothing is more overwhelming than the weight of unanswered prayers hitting a ceiling of brass and bouncing back. Nothing is more wounding than thinking God’s promises come to pass for everyone else… but us. In Come Be My Light, a collection of private letters to her spiritual advisers, Mother Teresa spoke of this absence of God even as she ministered to those missing from the radar of compassion and care. She was indeed a light, but experienced little of the illumination of God’s comforting presence. She spoke of "dryness," "darkness," and "torture.” She spoke of a night so dark, so long, that lasted 50 years. "If I ever become a Saint—I will surely be one of darkness, I will continually be absent from Heaven—to (light) the light of those in darkness on earth," she wrote. What do we make of this painful predicament? Her confessor, Father Neuner, explained that this spiritual desolation did not arise from sin or failure on Mother’s part nor could it be fixed by any human action. The dark night is an assurance that God is present still, even if hidden. It is a form of suffering exemplified by Christ Himself when He cried out on the Cross; it is a sure sign of a deep-seated longing for God, a thirst for at least a ray of His light. We cannot long for God unless God is present within our heart. A Study on the Works of Mercy Misericordia Walk with the saints, including Saint Teresa of Calcutta, and discover practical ways to live the Works of Mercy. Explore Misericordia → The Gift of the Dark Night Today, we are invited to think deeply about these spiritual realities. We live in a here-and-now world, driven by feelings, wired by sight. We look for quick fixes and we refuse to wait. We are lured by spotlights and we struggle to encounter Christ in the destitute and diseased because we are fixated on the glorified Lord, not the suffering Savior. Mother Teresa’s dark night is a comforting assurance for those who struggle in life’s deep trenches and have to overcome their darkness by crying out, "Lord, I believe, help my unbelief." The dark night is a gift God lavishes to share in the redemptive and transforming work of the Cross. It is a tool God uses to identify more deeply with the hungry, the naked, the homeless, those unheard and unloved, and those who live without worth and dignity. Beneath the pain of Divine absence ran a deeper river of joy—Mother was in the center of God’s will as she served the poorest of the poor. If she didn't feel Christ's presence the way she would have hoped for, she encountered Him in those Jesus ardently sought for and loved. Friend, what about you? How can we offer our "dark night" in exchange for Christ’s gleaming grace? What if, instead of resisting the Holy Spirit, we released our grip and invited the Lord in in a way He deems fit? What if, in some paradoxical way, our dark night is a gift to the world, perhaps even to our own home?     Missionary to the Unwanted Prior to the pandemic, a friend from church invited me to join her to a shelter that housed run-away domestic helpers. These were women who’d been abused, stripped off their wages, and cheated of their labor contracts. Some were stuck without a passport for years, others had not seen their family, and still others were holding caterwauling infants in their bosoms, soothing them to sleep. The sight was staggering even as it was sanctifying. That evening I shared my conversion story. I testified of the hope I had found in Christ Who embodies our brokenness and I proclaimed the message of the Resurrection. There was silence at first, then tears, and then a burst of praise. We connected. We shared about our cultures, our countries, and our children. Our stories found common ground in the crucified Christ. Sharing in Another's Pain In Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life, Henri Nouwen says, “Simply being with someone is difficult because it asks of us that we share in the other’s vulnerability, enter with him or her into the experience of weakness and powerlessness, become part of uncertainty, and give up control and self-determination.” Our willingness to become “displaced,” is central to our experience of the Gospel and of our transformation within. When we do not intentionally "cross the street" toward someone who is different, hurting, or in need, our hearts become cold and closed and our empathy muscles atrophy. We are then reduced to a mere building, not the body of Christ that we are. Mother Teresa dressed the leper, carried the crippled, and picked up babies from bins, even amidst stark cynicism and criticism. She taught us compassion in action. She showed us that the biggest disease in our times today is not leprosy or AIDS but the feeling of being rejected. Today, she challenges us to refute the secular throwaway culture and step forward and “be the change” we want to see in this world. Do Something Beautiful Perhaps it’s become a cliché in our culture to say, “I’m no Mother Teresa!” in response to some extraordinary act of charity. Oddly enough, Saint Teresa of Calcutta would agree. She wouldn’t want people to be exactly like her, but to accomplish God’s unique will in their lives. She said, “What I can do, you cannot. What you can do, I cannot. But together we can do something beautiful for God.” Each of us, with our own unique gifts, our own stories, and our own history can touch people in ways others cannot. We can find "our own Calcutta" right where we are. We can do something beautiful for God. Sister, where in your life is God calling you to do something beautiful for someone? In God’s economy of grace, every contribution matters. Even in every detail of parenting or teaching, sewing, and scrubbing, baking, calculating, or studying, we participate in God’s illumination. Today, the light that bathed this great Saint is upon us invigorating our shadows, and sending us forth as luminous witnesses (see 1 Peter 2:9) to a world hungry for love and thirsting for Hope. Will you let the light of Christ lead you?   [bctt tweet="Saint Teresa of Calcutta // A Saint in the Darkness #BISblog //" via="no"]   This post contains affiliate links. Thanks so much for supporting the ministry of Blessed is She!

In the tradition of the Church, Bartholomew and Nathaniel are the same person. Think of Nathaniel as his first name and Bartholomew as his last name, since it designates his sonship. We have many obscure Saints in our Church, but it is always fascinating when, even among the first Twelve Apostles of Our Lord, there can be so little known about them. The Invitation Although we may not know so much about the life of this Saint after the Ascension of Our Lord, and he is barely highlighted in the Gospels besides being listed among the Twelve in a handful of passages, Nathaniel has a lot to teach us. When we think of what it means to follow Jesus, we may often turn to Peter, Paul, or John for our first look. But take a look at Nathaniel. The interaction between him and Our Lord recounted in the Gospel of John (see John 1:43-51) deserves our attention. In an echo of the events that unfolded for Andrew and Simon Peter (see John 1:35-42), Nathaniel is approached by a friend, Philip, who just encountered the Lord. In this encounter, Philip became convinced that Jesus was the long-awaited Messiah and wished for Nathaniel to also come and meet the Christ. There were certain words that made him pause, however: “Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth” (John 1:45). The future disciple wondered if anything good could come from such a place. Can you relate, sister? How often do we not find ourselves questioning if the Lord could use this person or that situation for anything worthwhile? Yet, here we must pause to honor the simple words of Philip that made all of the difference: “Come and see” (John 1:46). This is the same invitation made to us when we are uncertain if the Lord can do something astounding or if He is truly present in our lives. The Response Nathaniel models for us a prompt response to this invitation. Putting aside his questions on the worthiness of Nazareth to be the home of the Messiah, he goes to find out for himself. He is then met by the gaze of Christ, a gaze that truly sees him. One of my favorite titles of the Lord in the Scriptures is found in Genesis 16:13, when the slave-woman Hagar calls the Lord El-Roi, which means, “The God Who Sees.” Sister, like Nathaniel, can we believe that as we approach the Lord, as we turn our hearts to Him, He sees us? This moment must have been more than we can comprehend through the text alone since at seeing Nathaniel, Jesus makes a declaration that astounds him and stirs him to faith. Jesus compliments Nathaniel with a phrase He does not repeat of any other person: he is an “Israelite in whom there is no deceit” (John 1: 47). Jesus looked at him and saw him–not his hang ups or his questioning and doubts. Our Lord saw Nathaniel’s heart and found there an authentic, faithful man. The Question and the Answer How striking would it be to hear these same words spoken of us, sister? “Here is one in whom there is no deceit.” How disarming, striking, yet also alarming as it discloses that the Lord knows me entirely–in my coming and going, in my showing off and in my hiding, at the pulpit and in my secret place, He knows me. The Lord sees me and He sees you, sister, just as He saw Nathaniel. As Nathaniel asks Jesus where it was that He got to know him, I can almost hear the hesitancy in his voice and perhaps the expectation of the answer. What if something good can come out of Nazareth? What if Philip was right and this man is the Messiah? What if he really does know me? “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you” (John 1:48). Jesus’ answer undid Nathaniel’s hesitancy, that uneasiness he felt with a Stranger claiming to know him so deeply so as to see the intentions of his heart. What must have happened under that fig tree between the Lord and Nathaniel? What secret prayer had he prayed from his depths? Maybe he was bowing in prayer asking for the coming of the Messiah and the deliverance of Israel? Perhaps he was surrendering something dear to him or making an act of true worship to the Lord, there in this place where he thought he was alone with God. A Revelation of Love Yet, Jesus saw him under the fig tree and this declaration was enough to rouse in Nathaniel such deep faith and assurance of the identity of Jesus that he exclaimed, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel” (John 1:49). It was first curiosity that led Nathaniel to “go and see” who this Jesus was. As he was now faced with an immediate revelation–a revelation of his own heart and of Jesus’ divine identity–Nathaniel’s heart was moved to see Christ. He saw him now not just as merely the man of whom Philip spoke, but as Someone who was much more than what could be seen with earthly eyes and also Someone who knew him intimately. Sister, on this feast of Saint Bartholomew, may we entertain for a moment the thought that we ourselves are approaching the Lord. What does He say about you when He sees you? Do you also see that more than the list of faults you think He is focused on? The Lord, in His tender mercy and intimate love, is focused on you–who you really are in your depths. Let Him undo your own hesitancy and fill your days with faith that He truly is El-Roi, the God Who sees. Will you take time to pray with this passage from the Gospel of John today?   [bctt tweet="On Saint Bartholomew #BISblog //" via="no"]

Holocaust survivor and Nobel Laureate Elie Wiesel, in one of his essays, relays his experience in Auschwitz. A Jew was being executed while the rest of the camp watched aghast. As he hung on the gallows, struggling in the throes of death, an onlooker muttered under his breath, “Where is God?” At that moment, Wiesel says, a voice within resounded, “There, on the gallows, where else?” There is something especially galling about the innocent being killed. Our hearts freeze when we hear news of lives lost by the ruthlessness of indifference. Yet, what is it about men and women, who though stripped of everything, except the bare reality of existence, can find in such darkness, a flickering flame of hope? How is it possible for hearts to burn with intense charity, even as mercilessness hangs as thick as a fog? The Feast of Saint Maximilian Kolbe Today we celebrate the feast of Saint Maximillian Kolbe, patron of prisoners and living testimony to the shining light of Christ amidst the darkest moments of human history. When the Nazis invaded Poland in 1939, Maximilian Kolbe was serving as a priest. He was immediately arrested and taken to Auschwitz where he was stripped of any vestige of his former life, his habit taken away and replaced by a prisoner’s striped uniform. One day, in 1941, in retaliation for the escape of a prisoner, ten men in Maximilian’s cellblock were chosen randomly to be executed. One of those men cried out, “What will happen to my wife and my children?” Moved by his plight, Maximilian volunteered to take his place and the substitution was allowed. What followed were weeks of unimaginable horror. The prisoners were stripped naked, forced into a bunker, and deprived of food and water. Two weeks later, impatient that prisoners were not dying fast enough, Maximilian and four others were executed by carbolic acid injections. Leading to this death, eyewitnesses recounted Maximilian’s countenance as one bright and radiant, burning with unparalleled zeal as he sang hymns and encouraged fellow prisoners. This same light is infused in our Baptism. This light does not take us out of this world, to some illusionary shores of safety. This light propels us forward in courage, into the shadows and gallows of our modern Auschwitzes, so we can cast light, so we can show the way home to those lost in darkness. Prophesying Hope This May, I visited my mom for the first time in two years. During the pandemic, her dementia had steadily progressed. Though I’d seen glimpses of her delusions while we video-chatted, nothing prepared me more for what I would see face-to-face. She didn’t recognize me. Her once exuberant countenance was now consumed by confusion, the plaques and tangles of dementia not only choking away old memories but also piercing her dignity, even her very soul. My dad described it as the "most bitter and most humiliating of all chalices"…. yet not in the absence of Hope. Sometimes the weight of our world can feel like the darkness of Auschwitz. Immersed in some unfathomable tragedy, hanging under excruciating gallows of life, we might find ourselves like Elie Wiesel’s comrade, wondering where God is. We may look at our demented loved ones, and wonder if suffering has any meaning at all. We may be tempted to settle, to compromise, to extricate pain from what seems opposed to our immediate, temporal happiness. In such times, St. Maximillian calls on us to prophesy hope. It is hope that enabled him to trustingly walk forward, even in the face of death. It is hope that grounded him in the promises of Christ. It is hope that protected him from the temptation of thinking life's tragedies are but random coincidences, outside of Providence—only hope in the Risen Christ. This season has unleashed hope for me in new ways. It has taught me to speak life even over what seems dry and dead. It has given me courage to see beyond the frail body of my mother to a vision of God flooding her with eternal consolations. I believe that my mother, even at her foggiest, remembers that day follows night. The light is stronger still. This is hope. Greater Love, Everyday Those few days at home were a catalyst for change. I discovered the gift of the present moment. With unexpected medical complications and continual changes in daily routine, my spiritual life was tossed upside down. I had no time for quiet mornings or personal prayer. I felt exhausted wondering if an active spiritual life was even possible for those plagued by such sicknesses. Until I saw my dad. His daily sacrifice for my mother, being fully present to her needs, taught me that our seasons, though devoid of religious activities, could still be richly inundated with spiritual fruit. His faithfulness encouraged me not to be weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed. His witness inspired me to see everyday as an opportunity to practice “Greater love has no one than this, that a person will lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). What does it mean to "lay down our lives"? We may be tempted to recall heroic acts of Saints like Maximillian Kolbe and wonder if such holiness is even possible in our everyday moments? We may wonder if serving our spouses and children even counts, as these take place in the confinement of our own home. Yet these are the very places Christ calls us to "lay down our lives," and practice "greater love." Each day of our lives contains within it the possibility for sacrifice. Each day is an opportunity to lay down my need to understand why things happen the way they do. I can lay down my fears about being validated by what I do. I can lay down my desire to prove my worth, and lay down my pride that begs me to build walls. Each day, I can lay down my life. Each day, I can practice greater love. Sister, where is Christ calling you to greater love? Perhaps in sleepless nights while you soothe a fussy child? Perhaps patiently responding to repeated requests from your teenager? Perhaps giving up free time so your spouse can have his? Remember, Maximilian’s greatest acts didn’t emerge from a vacuum. Like Mary, his fiat was perpetual, a result of a lifetime of being conformed to Christ through prayer and sacrifice... each day. Only by consistently practicing self-denial by taking up his cross daily could Saint Maximilian be conformed to Christ to such a degree that, in that pivotal moment, he was able to imitate Christ on the Cross, laying down his life, so another might live. No More Night Sister, we live in a world where Rachel weeps for her children, where loved ones go mute and where sickness leaves us shell shocked. Our tendency is to become so overwhelmed in the aftermath of these horrors that we lose sight of the sky above infused with heavenly light, reflecting Him Who willingly went to "the gallows" on our behalf, He Who, in the place of unimaginable horror, proclaimed peace to the prisoners. It is this Risen Christ that Saint Maximillian Kolbe radiated and followed. It is this Christ whose unceasing whisper beckons us, re-directing our earthly pilgrimage toward shores of our lasting city, where one day, “night will be no more,” for God Himself will be our light (see Revelation 21:23). For those in Christ Jesus, the last word will always be light. As for now, we lament, we stand in the gap, we press on forward, we turn to Saint Maximillian Kolbe, we pray for greater love, we lay down our lives.   [bctt tweet="Saint Maximilian Kolbe // A Prophet of Hope #BISblog //" via="no"]

Happy feast of Santa Chiara! Saint Clare, who was a dear friend of Saint Francis, was born in Assisi, Italy in 1194. After living a profound, deeply Christocentric life, she died in her monastery, San Damiano, on August 11th, 1253. Saint Clare founded a religious order, helped the poor, healed the sick, and wrote some of the most alluringly beautiful letters I have ever read. The Letters of Saint Clare I have always been drawn to letters. I love receiving them (I treasure my husband’s love-letters to me that he wrote during our dating and engagement!) and I love the art of writing them. There is something extremely powerful about taking the time to express, share, and entrust our hearts, minds, and souls to another person. As a history major, I loved reading historical letters, in particular the letters of Saint Francis de Sales to the faithful. I have recently been captivated by another Saint’s letters, today’s patron, Saint Clare of Assisi. The Recipients Saint Clare wrote to two different women named Agnes: her younger sister, Saint Agnes of Assisi, who followed Clare to Saint Francis just sixteen days after Clare left her home, and Agnes of Prague, a princess who desired to imitate the life and poverty of Saint Clare. Saint Clare wrote other letters, yet the wisdom Saint Clare imparts in her letters to these two Agneses continues to help us grow in our faith today as women of Christ. Christ As Lover These letters read like a prayer and they are a beautiful way to contemplate the depth of love a Saint has for Christ. That is precisely what stands out to me when I read Saint Clare’s letters: she speaks of Christ as our great Lover. It may be alarming to us to view Christ in this romantic way, yet intimately cleaving to Jesus as our first and greatest Love follows the great traditions of our Faith. When we follow Saint Clare’s instructions of cultivating a romantic love with Jesus, our faith and trust in Him will grow. We see the magnitude of this romantic love in her fourth letter to Agnes of Prague when Saint Clare writes to the princess: “As you contemplate further His ineffable delights, eternal riches and honors, and sigh for them in the great desire and love of your heart, may you cry out: Draw me after You! We will run in the fragrance of Your perfumes, O heavenly Spouse! I will run and not tire, until You bring me into the wine-cellar, until Your left hand is under my head and Your right hand will embrace me happily and You will kiss me with the happiest kiss of Your mouth.” These passionate words are reminiscent of those we find in the interactions of the bridegroom and bride in the Song of Solomon. This nuptial love between God and His people can be traced back to Creation, culminates at the Cross, and remains steadfast in His Saints. We, too, no matter our vocation—single like Princess Agnes, religious, or married—are called to this intimate, spousal relationship with Jesus Christ. Intimacy With Christ On her feast day, I encourage you to pray with the letters of Saint Clare. As you do, ask yourself these questions: Do I view Christ as my first and greatest love? What is holding me back from an intimate relationship with Jesus Christ? Fear? Past injuries to my heart? Lack of trust? Name what it is and present it to Christ. Do I realize Jesus wants an intimate relationship with me? Lord, we desire to be embraced by You and to run tirelessly to You so that we may find complete rest in You. Jesus, increase our trust in You. Increase our love for You. May we allow You to romance our hearts and thereupon begin the greatest love story of our life. Amen! Saint Clare, pray for us!   [bctt tweet="The Letters of Saint Clare #BISblog //" via="no"]

As the process of selecting Confirmation Saints looms near at our house once again, I find myself doing a lot of name-dropping in case anyone is looking for inspiration related to choosing a patroness with some moxie. “Saint Rita,” cough, cough. “Mary Magdalene was the first one that the Risen Christ appeared to…” “My grandpa told me there are so many Theresas (Avila/Lisieux/Benedicta of the Cross!). Ask for their help and someone will hear you!” “Saint Edith Stein,” wink wink. Thinking Outside the Box Since I have learned her story and begun reading about her life, Edith Stein (Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross) has quickly moved to my short list of favorite female Saints. Edith exudes deep self-awareness, intelligence, introspection, friendship, discernment, suffering, and selflessness. She was ahead of her time, and speaks a much-needed truth to all of us living in the context of a society that has boxed up what it is to be a Catholic woman and left us all short-changed. Edith was highly intellectual. Many credit her study of philosophy as the training ground for her deep spiritual life. But it was the lived witness of her friends and the Saints that helped to move her from her head to her heart. Edith Stein's Conversion to Catholicism I’m a sucker for conversion stories and Edith’s is a good one. She was born into a devout Jewish family in Germany, in 1891. She lost faith as a teenager, in part because of the conflict she had observed in World War I. For a time, she served as a nurse, but later pursued her doctorate in Philosophy. While studying, she was surrounded by Catholic friends. After witnessing a friend who had been widowed and grieved with hope, Edith’s curiosity was piqued. Later, after picking up a book about the life of Teresa of Avila, she decided to become Catholic. Out of respect for her mother, whom she did not want to grieve by formally leaving the Jewish faith, Edith continued the very unusual business of lecturing and teaching at the university (at a time when doing so was nearly unheard of for women) before being received into the Catholic Church. These years may have afforded her the opportunity to give great attention to the themes that she spoke of so eloquently. Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross' Take on the Feminine Genius Each woman who lives in the light of eternity can fulfill her vocation, no matter if it is in marriage, in a religious order, or in a worldly profession. This idea, for her time, was really quite remarkable. To some, it still is. Women have a vocation to bring the light of Christ to the world—a task that can be done from the cloister, the cry room, or the university. Her language is so beautiful and encouraging that it invites deeper reflection and offers hope to women in all stages of life to be attentive to her particular calling within her circumstances. Edith Stein spoke highly of the unique gifts the women in particular brought to world through their many vocations The woman’s soul is fashioned as a shelter in which other souls may unfold. Because of her unique role as an educator and mentor, alongside of her devotion to the Blessed Mother, Edith came to understand the particular abilities and opportunities that women have to nurture those around her. The world doesn’t need what women have, it needs what women are. The Fullness of Who We Are Edith was an eloquent advocate for women knowing and bringing the entirety of themselves into all that they did. Bringing her entirety to her day and age must not have been easy, living in the rising tide of Nazism, though it may be how she learned to attend to particular circumstances. Already in a letter dated 1933, she described her Holy Thursday prayer in this way: I told our Lord that I knew it was His cross that was now being placed upon the Jewish people; that most of them did not understand this, but that those who did would have to take it up willingly in the name of all. I would do that. At the end of the service, I was certain that I had been heard. But what this carrying of the cross was to consist in, that I did not yet know. Her Witness in Death Being a Jewish convert to Catholicism in Nazi Germany, and having the well-known name as a presenter of the time meant that Edith attracted the attention of the Nazis. The Carmelite order made efforts to conceal her whereabouts and transferred her and her sister Rosa to a convent in the Netherlands. However, on July 26th, 1942 the Dutch Bishop’s conference condemned Nazism across the nation and, in response, all Jewish converts were arrested. Edith and her sister were among nearly one thousand Jews transported to Auschwitz that day. They are believed to have been killed on August 9th, 1942. Maximilian Kolbe is often the first Saint that comes to mind as the martyr of the Holocaust, but Edith (now Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross) also experienced the horrors of the day. Each bore witness to Christ and to hope in the midst of deep suffering and despair. Each gave their lives along with their Jewish brothers and sisters. With the Lord, Nothing is Wasted Her remarkable and meandering story illustrates the deep attentiveness of the Lord to our unique callings and the ways in which nothing is wasted. Edith’s life offers a tremendous witness to embracing our own callings in a way that offers a refreshing take on the universal call to holiness. To what particular circumstances are you being asked to bring your entire self? How might Edith Stein’s example help inspire you to do so?   [bctt tweet="Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross + the Feminine Genius #BISblog //" via="no"]

Flos Carmeli is Latin for “Flower of Carmel.” As a child, I was under the impression that Our Lady of Mount Carmel was actually pronounced "car-a-mel." It made sense to me that Our Lady would be named after a delicious, smooth, and decadent rich candy. After all, she is the sweetest mother. Sweet as Caramel Instead of enrolling me in summer camp or something else that I deemed worthy of my time as an adolescent, my mom took me to church with her for nine straight days during the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. We sang hymns to our Blessed Mother, prayed the Rosary, attended Mass, and at the conclusion of the novena, we enjoyed a parish-wide potluck. Those hymns still awaken my inner child. I can still see the printed novena booklet with the stamp on the back that says not to remove it from the church. That time spent praying to Our Lady of Mount Carmel and getting to know her more intimately each summer is one of my most treasured memories now. I was able to savor the Faith in a way that I didn’t know would impact me later in my adult life. Generational Devotion It wasn’t until much later that I realized my mom’s commitment to the novena to Our Lady of Mount Carmel is because she was named after her, as was her mom. Both of them have Carmen in their names. My Grandma’s full name (God rest her soul) was Maria del Carmen and my mom is Carmen Elizabeth. Again, I never really connected the dots in my youth. Maybe you have a devotion in your family with a connection like that, too? My Grandma had a great love for this title of Our Blessed Mother and passed it on to my mom who passed it onto my siblings and me. What a priceless family heirloom prayer can be! Our family hasn’t been one to pass down handkerchiefs that great grandparents wore tucked into their suits or wedding rings that belonged to great, great grandmothers, but devotions like the one to Our Lady of Mount Carmel have remained. Everything that has been passed onto us is in the form of prayers, traditions of the Catholic Faith, and family celebrations (with the exception of tamale recipes). O gentle Mother, who in Carmel reigns, share with your servants that gladness you gained and now enjoy. // Flos Carmeli The Brown Scapular Our priest held the tradition of enrolling all the first communicants in the brown scapular. I have worn one ever since. My brown scapular has been an armor for me through some of my most trying moments as a teenager, young adult, and now as a wife and mother. I remember reading in the Pieta book that was given to me as a first communion gift, “whosoever dies clothed in this scapular shall not suffer eternal fire. This is Mary’s Promise made to Saint Simon Stock, July 16, 1251.” Those words aroused a great fear within me. Did that mean I could never take it off? What about when I showered? Did it have to wear it then, too? Clothed in Grace As my knowledge of the brown scapular grew I realized that Our Blessed Mother wasn’t after the nuances I was hung up on as much as wearing it reverently as a way to be clothed in her maternal intercession. For example, in my early twenties when I wanted to enjoy a night out on the town, Mama Mary would remind me not to wear clothing that didn’t honor my feminine dignity. There was no way to hide my scapular with a tube top or spaghetti strap shirt, so I ditched the outfit. Just that subtle brown cord sticking out of my clothing reminded me to be respectful towards myself and honor Our Blessed Mother. In a way, wearing the brown scapular has reminded me to WhomI belong. My brown scapular is a hidden sign to the world but a visible sign to me of my relationship with Mama Mary. A famous 18th century preacher once said, “The scapular is a bone fire set ablaze by a spark from the heart of Mary.” Our Blessed Mother stops at nothing for us to be close to her just like her Son. Some people get tattoos to demonstrate their love for Mary, but when you look closely, the scapular is more than that and is given freely. Enrolling in the Brown Scapular If you have never been enrolled in the brown scapular or are unclear about how to wear it (as I was when I was first enrolled), the Sisters of Carmel have an extensive FAQ that will provide you with peace of mind. If you would like to learn more on how to incorporate Carmelite spirituality into your daily prayer life or read the lives of Saints that practiced the Carmelite way, check out this blog post. One day through the rosary and the scapular, I will save the world. // Our Lady to Saint Dominic Third Order Carmelites One of my favorite aspects of our parish-wide novena was seeing the new third order Carmelites become enrolled in what looked like a very oversized brown scapular. Each year, a new group of women would line up in front of the altar and profess their vows, committing themselves to live out Carmlite spirituality. It was very powerful for me to see these women witness their desire to grow in holiness despite already being married and some of them being grandmas, too. Here is some additional information about third order Carmelites: Questions and answers about lay Carmelites What does "third order" mean? Discerning the third order Carmelites What is the life of a Carmelite if not one of contemplating, adoring, and loving, God incessantly? // Saint Teresa of the Andes More about the Flos Carmeli Want to learn even more about Our Lady of Mount Carmel, the Carmelites, and the brown scapular? What the scapular isn’t. Why wear it. A closer look at the Carmelite rule and timeline. Videos If you are a visual person and enjoy a quick video or two these will help you understand various aspects of the brown scapular. Fr. Mark-Mary and Fr. Gregory Pine explain how the scapulars work and the different types that exist. Learn about the origins of the brown scapular. Flos Carmeli Prayer O beautiful Flower of Carmel, most fruitful vine, Splendor of Heaven, holy and singular, who brought forth the Son of God, still ever remaining a Pure Virgin, assist me in this necessity. O Star of the sea, help and protect me! Show me that Thou art my Mother. O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to Thee! Mother and Beauty of Carmel, Pray for us! Virgin, Flower of Carmel, Pray for us! Patroness of all who wear the Scapular, Pray for us! Hope of all who die wearing the Scapular, Pray for us! St. Joseph, Friend of the Sacred Heart, Pray for us! St. Joseph, Chaste Spouse of Mary, Pray for us! St. Joseph, Our Patron, Pray for us! O sweet Heart of Mary, Be our salvation! Amen. Do you have a devotion to Our Lady of Mount Carmel? How did that come about in your life?   [bctt tweet="Flos Carmeli #BISblog //" via="no"]

Many years ago, my dad was going through his father’s desk and showed me a precious, antique Christmas card. Attached to the card was a relic of Saint Maria Goretti. I was about the age of Saint Maria Goretti was when I first saw it, and he gave it to me a few years later. It was my first experience with a relic and my first experience of a Saint choosing me instead of me choosing them to be a patron and friend. The Brief but Beautiful Life of Maria Goretti Many are familiar with her story. At age eleven, she is the youngest martyr canonized. Refusing over and over the advances of an 18-year-old boy working on the family farm, the last time he proceeded to stab her 14 times in rage for her refusal. Somehow, Maria lived through being stabbed in the heart, lungs, and intestines long enough to be transported to the hospital and undergo surgery without anesthesia. When she was asked if she forgave the man who had hurt her so brutally, she said, "Yes, for the love of Jesus I forgive him... and I want him to be with me in Paradise." She died twenty hours after being attacked on July 6th, 1902. As an attempted rape victim, why is she considered a martyr, when typically we understand a martyr as someone who dies for the faith? The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines martyrdom as “the supreme witness given to the truth of the faith: it means bearing witness even unto death” (CCC 2473). Maria bore witness to the gifts of purity, chastity, and saving the gift of herself for marriage, even unto death. She reminded her attacker that what he wanted to do was a sin. Alessandro, her attacker, admitted before his death that, “my behavior was influenced by print, mass-media and bad examples which are followed by the majority of young people without even thinking. And I did the same. I was not worried.” Maria’s witness is extremely important in our culture today, where, as Pope Saint John Paul II said during a homily in 2003 celebrating the 100th anniversary of her death: Pleasure, selfishness and directly immoral actions are often exalted in the name of the false ideals of liberty and happiness. It is essential to reaffirm clearly that purity of heart and of body go together, because chastity "is the custodian" of authentic love. She Knew Who She Was Maria was just 11 years old when she witnessed with her life the gift of purity and chastity. Maria knew she was a gift, and she desired to give the gift of herself in an authentic way, not to have that gift taken from her. How was she able to do that at such a young age? She grew up in a home of deep poverty and she never went to school. Even though her parents could not provide the best of material things or the best education, they gave her the greatest gift of all: faith. In that same homily, John Paul II pointed out: The Church has always recognized the role of the family as the first and fundamental place for the sanctification of its members, starting with the children. Maria knew her own dignity and worth. Romans 10:17 tells us that faith comes through hearing. Little Maria’s faith came through hearing her parents love the Church and each other. Faith was not something just reserved for Sundays for the Goretti family, but was integrated into every aspect of life, including sexuality and purity. Virtues don’t exist in a vacuum. They build and strengthen each other, so as much as Maria was pure, she must have also been courageous, prudent, and charitable. She must have learned this from her parents' witness and teaching. The Witness to the Witness We can see a glimpse of this in her mother’s actions after Maria’s death. She stood in the hall of the tribunal as Alessandro’s trial was taking place and forgave him on behalf of the family, even though he had no remorse and showed no repentance at that time. Miserable and near despair for six years, Alessandro had a dream of Saint Maria Goretti where she again forgave him. His life changed at that point, and after he was released from prison, he spent the rest of his life serving at a Capuchin monastery, but not before going to visit Maria’s mother, Asunta, and asking her forgiveness. He then went to Mass with her where he then asked pardon from the parish community. Maria wanted Alessandro to be with her in Heaven, and her mother played an active role in accomplishing her daughter’s last desire. To Be Reconciled Reconciliation is rooted in the Latin word cilia meaning "eyelash." To be reconciled means to "come eyelash-to-eyelash again." We see this profoundly in Assunta and Alessandro. Assunta and Alessandro sat together at Maria’s canonization Mass. Assunta was the first mother to witness her child’s canonization. It’s probably safe to say that Alessandro was the first murderer to witness his victim’s canonization. Yet we also experience this same deep reconciliation that Alessandro experienced when we encounter the mercy of God in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. There, too, is the witness in the martyrdom of Saint Maria Goretti. She was willing to risk it all for the sake of Alessandro’s soul, to die so that he might live. When she reminded him what he was wanting to do was a sin, she desperately wanted him to come back "eyelash-to-eyelash" with the Lord. When she forgave him before she died and wished him to be in paradise with her, she again desired this eyelash-to-eyelash relationship for him. This reconciliation was something she received through the gift of faith given through her parents, a gift more precious than anything they could have given her. Saint Maria Goretti is not only a model of purity and chastity, but also a model of what it means to have a friendship with the Lord, so close as eyelash-to-eyelash. How has reconciliation with someone who hurt or offended you brought you closer to the Lord?   [bctt tweet="Saint Maria Goretti // Witness to Reconciliation #BISblog //" via="no"]