A Sunday Thought About War and the Sacred Heart of Jesus
We're in the last days of June, the month we Catholics remember the Sacred Heart of Jesus in a special way. Our devotion to His Sacred Heart springs from our natural understanding that we are blessed with life, but often visited with sorrow and suffering during our sojourn in what we Catholics used to commonly call this "valley of tears." For our sins we beg His mercy; in the face of the sorrow and suffering which falls on us we beg His mercy. Of all sorrows and suffering faced by us men throughout history, perhaps the worst is war.
This year, June 6th marked the 70th anniversary of the D-Day invasions that accelerated the end of World War II. In August, we mark the 100th anniversary of the beginning of World War I, a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions, exceeded only by World War II, whose effects we still live with today. Thinking about these two world wars, I wonder what, if any, lessons have been learned.
Pope St John Paul II used to remind us, "No more war!" but recent events first in Ukraine remind us that we may not have taken these words to heart. Now we hear talk of another "Cold War" brewing. And my recent reading of The Death of Money by James Rickards has helped me understand how we may be seeing the first outbreaks of "financial war." (I can recommend the book for many reasons, one of which is to understand that even if governments avoid kinetic warfare - the sort we saw in the two World Wars - other methods of warfare, no less destructive, are being developed, tested and selectively used right now. Pray that these don't spread to the whole world. Indeed, pray hard for this.)
The closest I've come to war was my presence at the scene of the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center. I escaped without injury, but during the ordeal I did think on no less than three occasions that I might die that day - and I wasn't even in the Twin Towers. It was that frightening. On the way home, which consisted of a long trek up the island of Manhattan towards Grand Central Station, I stopped at St Agnes Church on 43rd Street between Lexington Avenue and Third Avenue, a stone's throw from Grand Central. As the trains and subways weren't running, I just entered St Agnes, knelt and prayed for a while. Only a few people were there, but out of the silence arose the voice of a man praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. I had never prayed this, but responded nonetheless to the Our Fathers and Hail Marys as this man led those of us in the church. I was deeply moved when, after the Hail Marys, he intoned:
This year, June 6th marked the 70th anniversary of the D-Day invasions that accelerated the end of World War II. In August, we mark the 100th anniversary of the beginning of World War I, a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions, exceeded only by World War II, whose effects we still live with today. Thinking about these two world wars, I wonder what, if any, lessons have been learned.
Pope St John Paul II used to remind us, "No more war!" but recent events first in Ukraine remind us that we may not have taken these words to heart. Now we hear talk of another "Cold War" brewing. And my recent reading of The Death of Money by James Rickards has helped me understand how we may be seeing the first outbreaks of "financial war." (I can recommend the book for many reasons, one of which is to understand that even if governments avoid kinetic warfare - the sort we saw in the two World Wars - other methods of warfare, no less destructive, are being developed, tested and selectively used right now. Pray that these don't spread to the whole world. Indeed, pray hard for this.)
The closest I've come to war was my presence at the scene of the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center. I escaped without injury, but during the ordeal I did think on no less than three occasions that I might die that day - and I wasn't even in the Twin Towers. It was that frightening. On the way home, which consisted of a long trek up the island of Manhattan towards Grand Central Station, I stopped at St Agnes Church on 43rd Street between Lexington Avenue and Third Avenue, a stone's throw from Grand Central. As the trains and subways weren't running, I just entered St Agnes, knelt and prayed for a while. Only a few people were there, but out of the silence arose the voice of a man praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. I had never prayed this, but responded nonetheless to the Our Fathers and Hail Marys as this man led those of us in the church. I was deeply moved when, after the Hail Marys, he intoned:
"For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world."With each repetition, I remember being grateful that I had decided to enter St Agnes, rather than hanging around Grand Central with the others waiting for the trains to start running or joining those gathered at local bars watching the TV images. I remember being grateful for being Catholic, which is what led me to stop and pray in church in the first place. And I remember feeling the mercy of Our Blessed Lord's Sacred Heart in a way I have never felt it before or since.
Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us.
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