Advent

PREGNANT WITH GOD

by Catherine Doherty

All of Advent is really Our Lady’s feast. Yesterday I was thinking about her pregnancy. She was told that the Holy Spirit would overshadow her. She was a virgin, and did not know any man. So she must have waited and then felt life within herself!

I thought about this fantastic situation—God imprisoned in the womb of a woman for nine solid months. Such a stupendous thought! It sort of “blows your mind!” I said to myself, “What is it that we are lacking today?”(I included myself in this question.) And the answer came, it is the ability to be pregnant with God.

Yes, that’s it. For it wasn’t Mary alone who was pregnant with him. It’s you and I who should be pregnant with him. At baptism our soul (or our heart, as we say) is opened to becoming pregnant with God. For we have entered into his kingdom.

We’re small; we’re little; we don’t understand much. But the years pass quickly, and we begin to be faced with the reality of our baptism in Christ. And we say to ourselves, or we should, Am I pregnant with Christ? There is a period in our lives in which we must become pregnant, because pregnancy means growth.

Eventually this Christ whom we have accepted into the womb of our heart is going to become a Child. And then he will grow and grow and grow —for God needs room! Then having given birth to him in faith, we must be ready for the next step: to become an inn.

These are facets of Advent that are so immense that we can barely absorb them: to be a womb, to be pregnant with Christ, to allow him to grow in us and to expand our hearts under his grace. These are thoughts we can meditate on for years.

Of course, if we allow Christ to grow in us, he, like the good Samaritan, is going to bring a lot of wounded people into the “inn” of our heart. In fact, knowing the size of our heart, and being able to enlarge it (if we let him), he will make our pregnancy become a fantastic gift to the world.

Think about it: becoming pregnant with Christ! You know, it shakes me. I don’t know if it shakes you, but I was thinking of the incredible situation of God being welcomed into a human womb. And to do that, he needs our availability. He needs our emptiness.

Let me share with you what Caryll Houselander wrote about emptiness in her book, The Reed of God, which is one of the best books about Advent:

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“That virginal quality which, for want of a better word, I call emptiness is… not a formless emptiness, a void without meaning. On the contrary, it has a shape, a form given to it by the purpose for which it is intended.

“It is emptiness like the hollow in a reed, the narrow, riftless emptiness which can have only one destiny: to receive the piper’s breath and to utter the song that is in his heart.

“It is the emptiness like the hollow of the cup, shaped to receive water or wine.

“It is emptiness like that of the bird’s nest, built in a round, warm ring to receive the little bird.

“The pre-Advent emptiness of Our lady’s purposeful virginity was indeed like those three things.

“She was a reed through which the Eternal Love was to be piped as a shepherd’s song.

“She was the flower-like chalice into which the purest water of humanity was to be poured, mingled with wine, changed to the crimson blood of love, and lifted up in sacrifice.

“She was the warm nest rounded to the shape of humanity to receive the Divine Little Bird.” (Caryll Houselander, The Reed of God. [New York, Sheed & Ward, 1961], p. 3.)

(((((((

Yes, that’s what Our Lady was, and that’s what we must be, too. We must be all these things in order to receive the Child.

Meditate on this. Let an image assemble before your eyes so that you can think about it. Slowly your desire to know, your urge to manipulate, will fall away like worn-out garments. Many things will fall away. Then you will be empty and able to receive the incredible.

From Donkey Bells, pp. 16-18, available from MH Publications.

HOW TO DO THE IMPOSSIBLE

by Cheryl Ann Smith

Yesterday, I woke up facing an impossible situation: we simply did not have enough people to meet the work needs of the day. Nor did we have enough singers in our schola (choir) for morning prayer and Mass. Nor could I see how I could adequately cover my new responsibilities as temporary local director of the women in Combermere, while at the same time being director of the schola and of the applicants. It was all clearly impossible!

As I was about to push the panic button, a memory pushed its way up into my consciousness. Many years ago, when I was an applicant being trained in the kitchen, I faced another overwhelming and impossible situation: a mountain of dirty dishes to be washed, dried and put away before we served out the food for lunch. (An orderly kitchen helps bring peace to the whole house, and order is just part of our way of life.)

The problem was that it was 11:45 AM, and we begin serving out the food at 11:50! There was no way I could even make a dent in the dishes, let alone complete the task. Why even start? Why not just leave them until after lunch?

That’s when the main cook, Jan Hills, stepped in. “Here, I’ll help you,” she said sweetly, starting to fill the sink with hot, soapy water. “I know there’s not much time, but I find that if I just say `yes’ and take a step, Our Lady supplies what is needed.”

Yeah, right, I muttered to myself, In five minutes! Ridiculous!

Just then, one of the staff came into the kitchen, saw our plight, and started washing dishes. Then someone else took the dish towel from my hands and started drying.

They continued while we served out the meal, and by the time we had finished, the dishes were put away, the counter was clean, and my skepticism had given way to a grudging acknowledgement that what I had thought was Jan’s naivete was actually a deep act of faith.

And Jan had not only trusted Our Lady but she had also followed her example. Can you imagine an archangel appearing to you? Can you imagine him telling you that you would be overshadowed by the Holy Spirit and that you would conceive by him? Can you imagine the angel telling you that your son would be the Son of the Most High and that he will rule over the House of Jacob forever and ever?

Impossible. For man, yes, but for God all things are possible. So closing the wings of her intellect and opening the wings of her heart, (as Catherine Doherty was always urging us to do) Mary said “yes.”

How would she survive the censure of the townspeople? How would she survive the sentence of stoning—the penalty for bearing a child out of wedlock? Overwhelming! Impossible!

Yet she trusted and said “fiat,” (let it be done to me). (Which didn’t preclude trembling knees. She was human, after all, as we are.)

Last week, I watched the parents of one of our new applicants take a similar courageous step. They had traveled across the country to see their only child in her new home. It was their last night here, and the next day they would have to leave and entrust their daughter to this Madonna House family.

It was a poignant evening, as their affection for their daughter mingled with their anxiety. Will she be safe and cared for here? Will she be loved? Will she be happy?

As they prepared to take their leave, I was deeply touched by the mother, who almost before our eyes said her “fiat” to God’s will, and took the step of letting go. She isn’t Catholic, and yet she was moved by the tenderness in the face of Our Lady of Combermere. And she was given a grace by the Mother who also had to surrender her only Child into the arms of God, not knowing what would befall him.

Yesterday throughout the day, I was musing on Our Lady and on impossible situations (ranging from work needs to the surrendering of a child), on trust, and on first steps. At one point, I passed by the statue of Our Lady of Combermere and when I reached the end of the path, at the highway, I suddenly remembered the little gate that used to be there.

That gate had witnessed a major struggle by Catherine when she had first arrived in Combermere—at a time when she was certainly overwhelmed.

By the time Catherine arrived in Combermere, at the age of 51, she had experienced much deep rejection. During the Russian Revolution, her homeland rejected her. (She had barely escaped with her life.) Then her first husband, Boris, rejected her. Later on, when she was in Friendship House Toronto, many within the Church rejected her, forcing her to close her apostolate there. And finally, just recently, very recently, her own spiritual children, the staff of the American Friendship Houses had rejected her.

And now God was asking her to open herself again, to begin again in Combermere. And she was so wounded by that last rejection that at that point even the thought of stepping off the property of her new home literally terrified her.

As she put her hand on the latch of that gate, she trembled. How could she say “fiat?” How could she open herself again to rejection? This time, she couldn’t bear it. It was impossible.

And yet, Our Lady gave her the grace to say “yes.” She took that step. She opened the gate and stepped out, and Madonna House was born.

And because Our Lady said “yes,” Jesus was born. That was His first step into this world that sorely needed Him. When darkness covered the land and half spent was the night, the Almighty Word leapt down (Wis 18:14-16). When mankind seemed so lost; when the darkness was the greatest, the Second Person of the Most Holy Trinity took that step into the marrow of our being, and infused all with his Light, with hope, and with all the grace needed for us to be able to utter our own fiat.

Today when I awoke in the mid-winter darkness and began to think of all that lay ahead of me, I whispered, “fiat,” and took the first step. I got out of bed.

The Pope’s Corner

GOD’S DEFINITIVE TRIUMPH

by Pope John Paul II

The following is excerpted from the homily of the Christmas Midnight Mass at St. Peter’s Basilica, 2001.

———-

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light (Is 9:1)

A truly great light indeed, because the light which radiates from the humility of the crib is the light of the new creation…. It is God himself made man….

In the Child of Bethlehem, the primordial light once more shines in humanity’s heaven and dissipates the clouds of sin. The radiance of God’s definitive triumph appears on the horizon of history in order to offer a new future to a pilgrim people.

…These joyful tidings… are also meant for us, the men and women of the dawn of the third millennium…. But does this certainty of faith not seem to clash with the way things are today?

If we listen to the relentless news headlines, these words of light and hope may seem like words from a dream. But that is precisely the challenge of faith, which makes this proclamation at once comforting and demanding. It makes us feel that we are wrapped in the tender love of God, while at the same time it commits us to a practical love of God and of our neighbor.

The grace of God has appeared, offering salvation to all (Ti 2:11). Our hearts this Christmas are anxious and distressed because of the continuation in various parts of the world of war, social tensions, and the painful hardships in which so many people find themselves. We are all seeking an answer that will reassure us.

…The birth of the only-begotten Son of the Father has been revealed as an offer of salvation in every corner of the earth at every time in history. The Child who is named Wonder-Counsellor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace (Is 9:5) is born for every man and woman. He brings with him the answer which can calm our fears and reinvigorate our hope.

Yes, in this night filled with sacred memories, our trust in the redemptive power of the Word-made-flesh is confirmed. When darkness and evil seem to prevail, Christ tells us once more: Fear not!

By his coming into the world, he has vanquished the power of evil, freed us from the slavery of death and brought us back to the banquet of life.

It is up to us to draw the power of his victorious love by appropriating his “logic” of service and humility. Each of us is called to overcome with Christ the “mystery of iniquity” by becoming witnesses of solidarity and builders of peace.

Let us go then to the cave of Bethlehem to meet him, and to meet, in him, all the world’s children, every one of our brothers and sisters afflicted in body and oppressed in spirit.

The shepherds, once they had seen, made known what had been told them concerning this Child (Lk 2:17). Like the shepherds, we too on this wonderful night cannot fail to experience the desire to share with others the joy of our encounter with this Child wrapped in swaddling cloths, in whom the saving power of the Almighty is revealed. We cannot pause in ecstatic contemplation of the Messiah lying in the manger and forget our obligation to bear witness to him.

In haste we must once more set out on our journey. With joy we must leave the cave of Bethlehem in order to recount everywhere the marvel which we have witnessed. We have encountered light and life! In him, love has been bestowed upon us.

A Child is born to us (Is 9:5). We welcome you with joy, Almighty Lord of heaven and earth, who out of love became a Child…. We welcome you with gratitude, new Light rising in the night of the world. We welcome you as our brother, the Prince of Peace.

Fill us with your gifts, you who did not hesitate to begin human life like us. Make us children of God, you who for our sake desired to become a son of man.

You, Wonder Counsellor, sure promise of peace; you, powerful presence of the God-Hero, you, our one God, who lie poor and humble in the dim light of the stable, welcome us around your crib.

Come, peoples of the earth, open to him the doors of your history! Come to worship the Son of the Virgin Mary, who descended among us, on this night prepared for down the centuries.

Venite adoremus!

Word Made Flesh

WHY GET OUT OF BED?

by Fr. Pat McNulty

The following is a reflection on the Sunday Gospel reading, Mark 13:33-37, for December 1st, the First Sunday in Advent.

———-

Stay awake, Christ tells us, You do not know the day or the hour (Mk 13:33). Stay awake? It is excruciating enough for me even to get awake in the morning.

Sleep has always been a problem for me. The first half of my life—up until the age of about 50—I could never get enough of it. The demands of an active childhood, a busy adolescence, and a fever-pitch ministry as a priest left little time for real, consistent, dependable sleep. (There were days on end in those early years as priest when four consecutive hours of sleep seemed like a miracle.)

Let me say it very clearly: I am not one of those weird persons who jumps out of bed singing like a dumb bird, giggles at myself in the mirror as I brush my teeth, then proceed on my 500-mile jog as I keep pace with the latest music via my trusty Walkman, then go back to a nice hot shower and have fresh orange juice with rye toast just itching to get in the car and take on the whole world for another 24 hours.

No! No! No! No! I am one of those not-so-rare people who absolutely, categorically, hates to get up at any time. Period! You can ask anyone in my family. If I am awakened in a loud, harsh or hurried fashion, nothing in the room is safe, be it animal, vegetable, mineral, or human.

So if you have to get me up at 7 a.m., you’d best begin the process of waking me at about 3 a.m. with a slight cough, a clearing of the throat and then leave me alone. Repeat the same thing at about 5 a.m. with a bit more gusto and then leave me alone.

By 6 a.m. you can touch me ever so lightly without endangering your life. And if you take great care, you might be able to whisper: “Psssst. Pat, it’s getting close to that time.”

Then by 7 o’clock it is quite probable that I am out of the killer stage, and you can jump right in and do your job:

“Wake up!”

“Huh? What? Who? Uh!”

“Wake up!”

“Oh! O-o-o-o-oh! It can’t be that time already. Just give me a few more minutes.”

“Wake up!”

“All right already! I’m up!”

So when I hear Jesus say things like, “Stay awake!” in this passage from Mark’s Gospel, I get a little frightened not only because I often have such a terrible time trying to get up, I also have a terrible time trying to stay awake once I’m up.

For not only am I dangerous at the waking moment but even when fully awake, I am also probably a borderline narcoleptic like one of my sisters. She and I can fall asleep standing up as we shake hands with the pope in a private audience! It is absolutely incredible.

But obviously Jesus is not talking about physical sleep when he says, “Stay awake!” He is talking about being ready, willing, alert, not only for his second coming but for every moment of grace being offered every moment of every day.

For me, part of that being awake has meant that I have had to seriously hunt for the grace hidden in the moment. And as I hunted I discovered that this life-long struggle with sleep is a key to my life of faith, and this has become an incredible grace.

What is the heart of our Christian Faith? Is it not that we believe in Christ when there is absolutely no rational reason to believe, no proof that it “works,” believe even though nothing seems to change. Isn’t Faith just that: I choose to believe.

Well, gradually it dawned on me that this is precisely what the first few moments of my waking are all about: At that point, for me, there is absolutely no rational reason for me to get up, no proof that today is going to be any different than yesterday. Nothing has really changed. So why not just sleep on—forever?

Now you shouldn’t have to be a first cousin of Sigmund Freud to figure out that I deal with depression (a low level one) and that this depression is most severe in that first hour after sleep. My sense of hopelessness at that point is part of the disease—I think.

The very first moment of my every day is the one moment of my day when I feel absolutely no reason whatsoever for doing anything, let alone getting up. And so at that moment I am completely free to choose to get up out of pure faith. It is, I believe, my most perfect act of faith for the whole day.

And thus my struggle with sleep and my waking up depressed have made it possible for me to start every single day by faith alone!

And gradually I have come to see that there are other gifts that come through that moment of faith.

I have begun to see that sleep does not belong to me as a right. It is a gift given and when I have had what I need, the Giver takes it back and asks other things of me: “Get Up!” To try to linger in sleep at that point is to deny that sleep is a gift and that now the Giver has purposes for my life other than sleep.

I have begun to realize that, even though all is dark and hopeless in my own psyche at that point, I can choose to get up as a sign of my belief in the life and promise and presence of Jesus Christ. So gradually the agony of sleep and waking up has become the gift of new faith in my life, and this creates possibilities every day I would never have dreamed of or believed in.

Nothing extraordinary or miraculous. It’s just that, since I’ve embraced the most difficult moment in faith, I can consciously choose to embrace in faith other moments during the day as well. And I can honestly say that at some moment of every day now, I am perfectly happy about being awake and alive and happy to be able to believe. It may only last ten seconds but it is so deep and so intense it carries me through the day and into the next one.

“Wake up!”

“I am awake.”

“Stay awake!”

“I’m trying. But be merciful to me, Lord Jesus. You know how I love to sleep and how hard it is for me to wake up. Don’t let me sleep through any of those simple, wonderful moments of grace which you offer to me in so many ways every day.

Especially don’t let me miss that first agonizing moment of every single day when it is so difficult to wake up that I sometimes wonder if I will ever get up again. Wake me up Lord Jesus and help me stay awake! Amen.”

O. L. of Guadalupe

I SUGGEST A COMPROMISE

by Fr. Bob Wild

“This is our new chapel,” explained our enthusiastic guide, “and a lot of thought has gone into it.” A group of us were being shown around the facilities of a wing of a seminary that had been converted into a retreat center.

As we entered the “new chapel” we looked around, seeking to discover the fruits of the new thought. There were no statues, no kneelers, no Blessed Sacrament, no stained glass windows, no flowers, no confessionals. The only Catholic feature of the whole chapel was a crucifix on a stand in front of the “altar table!”

I must confess I wasn’t fully attentive to the explanation we were being given of the non-existent aspects of the “hall.” I kept thinking to myself—I wasn’t courageous enough at the time to say it—“You’ve mostly taken the thought out of it!”

It seems that a certain brand of “thinking” on the part of some people in the Church today includes the idea that “trifles” such as statues and symbols must be stripped away, so that the mind and spirit can be unencumbered and concentrate on the “essence” of spiritual realities. We should call this kind of thinking by its true name: iconoclasm!

This experience came to mind as once again Madonna House celebrated the beautiful feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

On October 12, 1945, in a radio broadcast, Pope Pius XII proclaimed her Empress of the Americas: “Hail, O Virgin of Guadalupe, Empress of the Americas! May you keep forever under your powerful patronage the purity and integrity of our holy Faith, both in Mexico and the entire American continent.”

One of my current sadnesses is that this beautiful Lady, the Empress of the Americas, who came with maternal haste to visit her children in the New World, is still so little known among Catholics in so many parts of North and South America. But, if my “Adapted Chestertonian Compromise” were to be accepted on a wide scale, a great deal of this ignorance would be eradicated.

The story of Our Lady of Guadalupe is a simple one. In 1521 a beautiful Lady appeared in Mexico to a peasant, Juan Diego, and said that she wanted a church built on the site. He went and told the bishop, and the bishop asked for a sign.

So the beautiful Lady filled Juan’s tilma (poncho) with roses in winter to take to the bishop. When he opened his tilma in the bishop’s presence, and the roses tumbled out, her image was miraculously displayed on his poor tilma.

But what’s the connection between the beautiful Lady of Guadalupe and that chapel upon which so much “thought” had been expended? And what is the Adapted Chestertonian Compromise?

Well, significantly, Our Lady put her image—which is still indestructible almost 500 years later—on Juan Diego’s tilma at almost the same time as the “the stripping of the altars” was taking place in England, the time when the Protestant “reformers” were smashing statues of the Virgin (except the ones too high up for the ladders to reach).

It’s as if Our Lady of Guadalupe was saying to the whole world for all time: “I do not want my children to be without my image.”

And talk about symbolism! An immense amount of “divine thought” must have gone into her image on Juan’s tilma. No doubt it was requested of the Trinity by Our Lady herself, who, it seems, not only wished to appear perfectly dressed for the grand occasion of meeting her children of the New World, but desired to be perfectly recognizable as well.

For Juan Diego and his people, almost every detail of her image was symbolic.

She appeared on a hill of ancient worship called “Tepeyac,” which means “hill of the serpent.” And it is probable that, when he asked her name, she said in his own language, “Hebuatzin ni Coaatlaxupeuh,” which literally means, “I am she who crushed the serpent.”

Her image blocked out the sun whose hundred rays shone out from behind her. The blue of her outer cloak and the stars upon it (which are a perfect reflection of the stars in the firmament on that day!); her standing on the moon; the floral designs on her inner garment; the cloth band wrapped around her wrists; the cross in the pendant around her neck—all these symbols would have had a clear and definite meaning for Juan Diego.

Then a few years after her appearance, eight million native people were baptized. It seems that images are great for spreading Christianity!

Now, what was the “Chestertonian Compromise?” In England, in the early 1900s, there was a movement to take religion out of the schools. Right! In response, that great philosopher and writer, G. K. Chesterton, said that he would agree to this, provided they accepted his compromise. He would, he said, settle for nothing less.

This was his compromise: every school had to have a large statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary in its foyer. Every day, both upon arriving and leaving the building, the children had to bow to her. He would accept this in place of the teaching of religion!

You think he was joking? I’m not so sure. He understood profoundly the need and power of symbolism. I think he really believed that this alone could restore religion.

It just may have happened that if children were taught to reverence this Woman, taught that the school, the state, the government, the churches, believed that she was real, and that reverence should be paid to her every morning and afternoon, well, this practice might possibly lead them to wonder who she is. (Wonder is a peculiar trait of children).

They might wonder: why, if they had to reverence her, there were no statues of her in their churches and homes and government buildings; why, way up high in some of their churches, statues of this Woman could still dimly be seen; why some of these statues were broken; wonder if people of former ages had bowed to her?

Who knows where bowing to the Virgin every day might lead!

And now comes my “Adapted Chestertonian Compromise,” which I have adjusted for current times. (I speak here only to Catholic institutions where Catholics with a pure iconoclastic spirit are in charge.)

I propose to allow all religious symbolism to be removed, such as in the new chapel above, provided—and I will accept no compromise at all—provided that, in every such institution where the stripping of the altars is being proposed, a replica of Our Lady of Guadalupe be displayed.

Also tied to this proposal— and again, I will accept no compromise—is the condition that everyone, from the smallest child to the oldest adult, be taught the history of that image, its symbolism, its approval by the Church, and the fact that Our Lady of Guadalupe is the patroness of all the Americas.

And finally—again, no compromise, since I am giving up an awful lot here—that on entering and leaving said institutions, everyone must bow to this image and say, “Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mother of the Americas and my Mother, I greet you and I love you.” That’s all.

The apparition of Guadalupe is the only officially approved apparition of Mary by the universal Church in the new world. So, of course, dear reader, you do not have to wait for this proposal to be officially accepted by your local parish, diocese, or national episcopal conference.

Today you can get a picture of the Virgin of Guadalupe. If you are a parent, you can put her in your home. If you are a child, you can put her in your bedroom. If you are a school principal, you can put her in your school. And then you can bow to her every day, (and teach others to do so if it’s within your authority) and say, “Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mother of the Americas and my Mother, I greet you and I love you.”

And if you’ve never heard what she said to Juan Diego, I will tell you. (I would make the daily recitation of these words part of my compromise, but I am fearful of asking too much, in case that, as a result, the proposal would be turned down.)

But again, dear reader, you can read them yourself every day, or once a week, or even just on her feast day, December 12. These words would be like a mighty wall, protecting our holy Faith from “a lot of thought” and from material and verbal iconoclasm.

This Woman would keep you in the symbolic world, keep you in that most desired of all modern mental states —sanity.

Over a period of several days Our Lady said to Juan Diego:

———-

“Know for certain that I am the ever Virgin Mary, Mother of the true God from whom all life has come. I am your merciful Mother. I am the Mother of all who love me, who cry to me, who have confidence in me. I hear your weeping and your sufferings.

I shall repay you for all the worry, work and trouble you have taken on my behalf. Listen and let it penetrate your hearts: You have no cause to be frightened and anxious. Let your heart be troubled no longer. Have no fear of this sickness (his uncle was sick) or any other.

Am I your Mother not here? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not your fountain of life? Are you not `in the folds of my mantle? Are you not safe within my arms? Is there anything else you need?”

MH Arizona

THE PICTURE IN MY LIVING ROOM

by Paulette Curran

One day several years ago when I was on the staff of Madonna House in Winslow, Arizona, I was visiting one of our Mexican-American neighbors, a woman who was active in the parish. I said something about the beautiful picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe on her living room wall.

“Yes,” she said, “That picture means a lot to me.” There was a pause. Then she said, “I wasn’t always in the Church. Did I ever tell you how I came back?”

“No,” I said. I didn’t know she’d ever been away. This is the story she told me.

“I hadn’t been going to church for a long time— years,” she said. “Then one day two Jehovah Witnesses came to my house. They were very nice and talked to me about the Bible. When they left, they asked me if they could come back, and I said `yes.’

“So they kept coming back, and I enjoyed their visits. I wanted to know more about the Bible. They kept coming for about a year, and I was getting more interested.

“Then one day, one of them said to me, `We’ve been talking about you, and we decided to tell you that there’s one thing we don’t like about your house.’

“`What’s that?” I asked.

“`That picture over there.’ They pointed to that picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe. `We’d like you to take it down.’

“I don’t know what happened to me. I said to them, `That picture belonged to my parents. It was in my house the whole time I was growing up. I was the oldest in the family and the first one to get married, and when I got married my parents gave that picture to me. I put it up here, and it’s always been here ever since.

“That picture means more to me than anything I own, and if you don’t like it, you can just leave and never come back.”

“And they left.

“I was shocked at myself. I hadn’t realized how much that picture meant to me. It got me thinking. My oldest had just started school and I put her in catechism. Then after a while, I started going back to church again.”

Combermere Diary

EVENTS IN A QUIET TIME

by Denise Becker

As we move from fall to winter, about half the red, yellow and orange leaves have fallen leaving the branches more visible. It won’t be long before these trees and the evergreens will have their frosty coverings of snow. By the time most of you read this, it will be Advent or almost Advent, and winter will be with us. And in winter Combermere looks very much like a beautiful Christmas card. God’s beauty never ceases.

One of the highlights of the past month has been the annual meeting of our associate priests. About forty priests, deacons, and deacon wives were our guests for the week’s retreat from September 30th through October 4th. The theme was from John 15:11— That my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete —and from Catherine’s letter to the staff, April 9, 1968— “And this joy he gave us on the cross.”

During this time when being a priest in North America is especially difficult, our associates were given the opportunity to soak in our MH spirit and hopefully were rested and renewed to return and serve in their parishes and elsewhere. And we in turn were blessed by their presence.

They also took part in our work-life by helping in a practical way. At a time when we were short-staffed (as we almost always are), they pitched in to help in the potato harvest.

During one of the Masses, three priests made first promises and received their Madonna House crosses (See list in Milestones); one renewed; one, Fr. Jim Bozung, became an applicant; and one, Fr. Don Karlen, made finals. Another of our associates, Fr. Erbin Fernandez, made his finals at another time.

Speakers for the past month included Andorra Howard on a visit from MH Brazil and Professor Thomas Langan of the University of Toronto. Andorra talked about the recent Black Catholics Congress that she attended in Chicago. She spoke about what she’d learned there about ways we can become more racially and culturally sensitive in our relationships with one another and about the healing of racial and cultural wounds.

Thomas Langan in the first of St. Mary’s winter lecture series, gave a talk entitled, “Living Truth” about living as a Christian in today’s world.

Cynthia Donnelly continues to put on performances of the play, “A Woman in Love.” During the recent past there were two: one at King’s College in London, Ontario, and the other at a parish in Oakville where it was part of a day of recollection which she also gave. She also spoke at the Call to Holiness Conference in Toronto.

At the Madonna House training centre, we have started a series of mini-talks during our Friday suppers when we fast for priests. The plan is that every two weeks a different staff worker will teach about the vision and spirit of the particular work he or she does.

Mary McNamara, who is the head of the office, gave the first one. The office is the heart of MH, Mary told us, for the monies that pass through it make all of its life and work possible…. Those who work in the office are the custodians of that money, which Christ has inspired the donors to give us with such great generosity. They are, she said quoting Catherine Doherty, “the watchdogs of the Lord—always on the lookout as to the needs of the apostolate and all the ways possible… to save a penny here and a penny there.”

A few days after her talk, appropriately on the evening of Thanksgiving Day, many of us gathered for a work bee to write thank you notes to you our benefactors. We have so much to be grateful to you for.

We were blessed in an unusual way this month, by participating in an Eastern Rite ceremony of betrothal and blessing of engagement rings by Archbishop Raya. The archbishop’s grand-nephew, Amir, and his fiancee, Carla, and Amir’s parents, came all the way from California for this. The archbishop said the betrothal was like becoming an applicant at Madonna House—you try it out and see how it goes.

On October 15, Madonna House celebrated the anniversary of the founding of our apostolate—the day that Catherine Doherty began her first house—Friendship House, Toronto. We enjoyed a feast day Polish meal which included Polish sausage and perogies! We usually have some sort of presentation on this day and this year it was the applicants who gave it: Among other readings, they did one from her diary of that day in 193O. “Yes, I would not exchange my wedding day to God in that gray shabby room on that gray October day for any other day anywhere.”

Father Sharkey then introduced those who are beginning the spiritual formation program, our program for men who are considering priesthood. They are: Ken Lyng from Ontario, Michael Bezrucha from Seattle, Washington, and Peter Bullen from Grenada, West Indies. The next day, Fr. Sharkey gave the guests the first class in a weekly series on the fundamentals of the spiritual life.

God’s beauty is everywhere. We at Madonna House receive it in a special way through the guests—both those who pass through our doors for a few hours and those who stay with us for a while. This past month we have had guests from such countries as Korea, Brazil, Chile, the United States, Canada, Ghana, Singapore, England, Grenada, France, and Russia.

And so our life goes on as we do all the little things that we need to do every day. At this time of year the food processors are juicing apples, canning tomatoes and apple sauce, and cutting and freezing a large donation of peppers. And the butchering has just been finished.

The men at the farm continue taking care of our cows, chickens, sheep, work horses and land. And they, like the people in the gift shop who are closing up the museum and wool shop, are preparing for winter.

We are one with you in the body of Christ in doing all these little, ordinary things for love of God. God bless you also in your ordinary daily tasks.

Christmas

A VERY SPECIAL CRECHE

by Margarita Guerrero

When I was about seven years old, every few weeks throughout the year, we would go as a family to the ceramic shop and buy unfired clay figurines for a Nativity set. Then we would take them home and paint them together. Later we would go back to the shop to get them fired.

This turned out to be a nice way to spend time together as a family. And for all of us, there was a sense of anticipation and excitement and wondering if everything would get done in time for Christmas.

When Christmas came, we had all the pieces of the Nativity set finished, and we set them out in a corner of the living room. To my child’s eyes, it had everything you could imagine—even a green mountain and a sky with cut-out stars.

On Christmas morning, we just had to put the baby in first—before doing anything else. My sisters and I carried Baby Jesus in a shawl held at the corners, rocking him and singing Christmas carols to him. Then we went over to the manger, knelt down, and put him in.

It was such a profound moment for me. The fact that he was born was so real. After that, it didn’t matter if we got presents or not.

The wonder and awe of Jesus being born filled me so much that I wanted to do something with it and opening presents didn’t satisfy that —not even getting a beautiful doll in a bridal dress.

But later that day, my whole family brought beans, rice, and flour to the seminarians who lived by begging. It was this that completed the experience for me and fulfilled the desire to do something with what I’d been given.

It was the most wonderful Christmas I’ve ever had.

A Christmas Fable

THE BRUISED REED

by Jude Fischer

Once there was a reed, tall and proud, growing near a stream. He was a fine reed indeed. And how he loved life! He lived every moment to the full! From his height he had a splendid view of the whole area.

He watched the small animals scampering to and fro, and birds darting here and there, the multi-hued insects, the fish gliding in the stream. Best of all, he liked the flowers.

They came in a never-ending parade of exquisite form and color. Old friends would go; but the new ones promptly followed and delighted him so, that he never stopped to wonder what happened to the old. And all the while he stood tall and green. Yes, life was good indeed.

One morning he awoke, and as he looked into the stream, he discovered that his tip was turning brown. His dismay grew as, day after day, the malady spread until his fine green coat was completely gone. Not only that, but he began to feel dry, then drier and drier.

The rains came and beat at him; the wind battered him; and finally a might gust snapped him loose from the earth. He lay desolate on the ground—broken, bruised, and heavy-hearted.

Some days later, a young man came by and picked him up. He put him in his bag. It was black inside, so black that the poor reed could see nothing at all. he longed for the end, for anything but this unending darkness.

Finally the day came when the young man took him out of the bag. How good it was to see light again! And he saw fields and rolling hills and sheep grazing peacefully around.

The young man took a sharp knife and cut part of Reed away, hurting him so acutely that he couldn’t help but cry out. Then the man ruthlessly pierced him through, from end to end, clearing out his hollow. Every inch of his being quivered with pain. Then he was thrust back into the darkness again.

Some time later, he was taken out. He welcomed the light, yet dreaded the pain he anticipated would come along with it. And sure enough, there was the knife. This time the young man mercilessly cut several holes in him. He wept silently. Then he was plunged once more into blackness.

The day came when Reed, from his dark home in the bag, sensed something different, some excitement in the air. The young man joined some other shepherds and they hurried toward the edge of town. There they went into a cave, and the young man pulled Reed out of the bag. Reed braced himself for the inevitable knife.

Instead, to his surprise, he felt only the gentle caress of the young man’s hand as he lifted him tenderly to his lips. Then the young man poured his life’s breath into him; and there came forth from Reed a beautiful song, simple and pure.

And as Reed sang, he looked out and saw a young mother and her little Baby. And they smiled at him.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light (Is 9:1).

From Be Always Little, pp. 87-89, available from MH Publications.