A 17th Sunday after Pentecost Thought to Start the Week Off Right
For this 17th Sunday after Pentecost, The Inner Life of the Soul recalls the central and fundamentally critical role of suffering in our lives. The two feasts referenced are the Seven Sorrows of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Stigmata of St. Francis of Assisi.
In the traditional calendar, these fall within a series of "suffering" feast days that can help us understand and appreciate the importance of suffering more deeply. The observation of St. Francis's Stigmata has been removed from the new calendar, though it retains St. Francis's feast day in October.
Having spent my earliest years with the traditional calendar shaping and enlightening my childhood brain, I retained a fascination and devotion for St. Francis's Stigmata, even through the years I was a less-than-observant Catholic. It simply spoke to me in clear, concrete, graphic terms. It was and is a powerful means to accept suffering in our own lives, especially when we see the enthusiasm with which St. Francis accepted his Stigmata, along with so much other suffering, in his life.
The Inner Life of the Soul explains that each of us has his or her unique calling in this life. That calling encompasses our vocation, the work we do, our daily thoughts, word, deeds, even our feelings in a unique fashion.
"Each man among us has his vocation, his calling to a certain path in life, destined for him by the infinite, unerring wisdom of his Creator. These paths are widely different, for the Divine Voice calls in myriad ways. One man may mount a throne with St. Louis, another may live like the poorest beggar with St. Benedict Joseph Labre, a third may pray and study in the cloister with the Venerable Bede, a fourth may wear out his days in parochial toil with the holy Curé of Ars, a fifth may fulfill many years in a short time with the boy students Stanislaus, Aloysius, and Berchmans. All that matters not. The one thing needful is, as the wise Bishop of Geneva says, to do the will of God, even though that will should be to herd swine all our life, or to do the most abject thing in the world."
We all know the story of St. Francis. Born into a wealthy family, he turned his back on a career and an inheritance I suspect most of us would embrace. Perhaps you, like me, have struggled to provide for a family, doing work you weren't all that enthusiastic about. Even if I weren't married with children, imagining being offered a dream job at a handsome salary, then turning it down to live in abject poverty, simply because I love Jesus Christ is almost incomprehensible
But whatever our job status or material possessions, we still see our share of suffering, both in our own lives and in the lives of those around us. When our son died this year, suffering took on a whole new meaning. What I once considered suffering changed into, at most, mere discomfort or difficulty, virtually overnight. This entire year has been an ongoing living lesson in suffering. I once thought I understood the importance of suffering, but I never really lived suffering as I have now.
This isn't a complaint. I don't want sympathy. It's just an attempt to relay how suffering finally, irrevocably put its stamp on my life, as it either has or will on yours. We all share in suffering.
"Whatever our vocation may be, whatever calling in life is ours, one thing is the lot of us all - to suffer. Hard, grinding, not to be escaped, and at times, we think, almost intolerably the anguish seizes us. Suffering is now the lot of fallen man. How many of us walk worthy of this vocation wherewith we are called?"
Consider this question. Meditate on it. How you answer it will shape your understanding of how suffering shapes your life. In the end, acceptance of suffering for the sake of, and because of, our love of Jesus Christ, will be our ticket to everlasting happiness.
Perhaps we can draw some light and inspiration from how St. Francis understood the importance and redemptive power of suffering. The Fioretti narrates it thusly:
"...St. Francis was praying before daybreak at the entrance of his cell, and turning his face towards the east, he prayed these words: 'O Lord Jesus Christ, two graces do I ask of Thee before I die; the first, that in my lifetime I may feel, as far as possible, both in my soul and body, that pain which Thou, sweet Lord, didst endure in the hour of Thy most bitter Passion; the second, that I may feel in my heart as much as possible of that excess of love by which Thou, O Son of God, wast inflamed to suffer so cruel a Passion for us sinners.'"
Our Lord thus granted St. Francis his request.
In the traditional calendar, these fall within a series of "suffering" feast days that can help us understand and appreciate the importance of suffering more deeply. The observation of St. Francis's Stigmata has been removed from the new calendar, though it retains St. Francis's feast day in October.
Having spent my earliest years with the traditional calendar shaping and enlightening my childhood brain, I retained a fascination and devotion for St. Francis's Stigmata, even through the years I was a less-than-observant Catholic. It simply spoke to me in clear, concrete, graphic terms. It was and is a powerful means to accept suffering in our own lives, especially when we see the enthusiasm with which St. Francis accepted his Stigmata, along with so much other suffering, in his life.
The Inner Life of the Soul explains that each of us has his or her unique calling in this life. That calling encompasses our vocation, the work we do, our daily thoughts, word, deeds, even our feelings in a unique fashion.
"Each man among us has his vocation, his calling to a certain path in life, destined for him by the infinite, unerring wisdom of his Creator. These paths are widely different, for the Divine Voice calls in myriad ways. One man may mount a throne with St. Louis, another may live like the poorest beggar with St. Benedict Joseph Labre, a third may pray and study in the cloister with the Venerable Bede, a fourth may wear out his days in parochial toil with the holy Curé of Ars, a fifth may fulfill many years in a short time with the boy students Stanislaus, Aloysius, and Berchmans. All that matters not. The one thing needful is, as the wise Bishop of Geneva says, to do the will of God, even though that will should be to herd swine all our life, or to do the most abject thing in the world."
We all know the story of St. Francis. Born into a wealthy family, he turned his back on a career and an inheritance I suspect most of us would embrace. Perhaps you, like me, have struggled to provide for a family, doing work you weren't all that enthusiastic about. Even if I weren't married with children, imagining being offered a dream job at a handsome salary, then turning it down to live in abject poverty, simply because I love Jesus Christ is almost incomprehensible
But whatever our job status or material possessions, we still see our share of suffering, both in our own lives and in the lives of those around us. When our son died this year, suffering took on a whole new meaning. What I once considered suffering changed into, at most, mere discomfort or difficulty, virtually overnight. This entire year has been an ongoing living lesson in suffering. I once thought I understood the importance of suffering, but I never really lived suffering as I have now.
This isn't a complaint. I don't want sympathy. It's just an attempt to relay how suffering finally, irrevocably put its stamp on my life, as it either has or will on yours. We all share in suffering.
"Whatever our vocation may be, whatever calling in life is ours, one thing is the lot of us all - to suffer. Hard, grinding, not to be escaped, and at times, we think, almost intolerably the anguish seizes us. Suffering is now the lot of fallen man. How many of us walk worthy of this vocation wherewith we are called?"
Consider this question. Meditate on it. How you answer it will shape your understanding of how suffering shapes your life. In the end, acceptance of suffering for the sake of, and because of, our love of Jesus Christ, will be our ticket to everlasting happiness.
Perhaps we can draw some light and inspiration from how St. Francis understood the importance and redemptive power of suffering. The Fioretti narrates it thusly:
"...St. Francis was praying before daybreak at the entrance of his cell, and turning his face towards the east, he prayed these words: 'O Lord Jesus Christ, two graces do I ask of Thee before I die; the first, that in my lifetime I may feel, as far as possible, both in my soul and body, that pain which Thou, sweet Lord, didst endure in the hour of Thy most bitter Passion; the second, that I may feel in my heart as much as possible of that excess of love by which Thou, O Son of God, wast inflamed to suffer so cruel a Passion for us sinners.'"
Our Lord thus granted St. Francis his request.
Happy Sunday!
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