Examples of Real Unshakeable Faith on this 19th Sunday after Pentecost

Do we have real unshakeable faith? One test might be whether we know, understand and embrace the efficacy of the Sacraments.

For example, do we yearn to confess our sins and when we do, do we truly understand what has transpired? If our confessions are regular, good. But if they are rote - just something we do to fulfill an obligation - then, well, better than nothing, but maybe not so good.

When we think of our Baptism, or attend the Baptism of a new Christian, do we understand what has transpired? The burden of Original Sin has been lifted. To appreciate this, we, of course, must understand the reality of Original Sin and the necessity of Baptism to open the Gates of Heaven to us when our time on this earth has ended. Do we really understand this, or do we attend Baptisms because they are merely some sort of social occasion, a way to get together with family and friends?

How about marriage? There's a challenge for many of us if we consider how many Catholics get divorced these days. Do we understand the vows we exchange, and the fact that - except for the most rare and extraordinary circumstances - we have committed our exclusively to another for life? That we cannot marry another unless our spouse were to die?

We could go on, but ideally the point has been made. Our faith must be unshakeable. For that, we must know, understand, and embrace the truths of our Catholic Religion at the very least - never mind having a sincere and heartfelt desire to grow closer to God - Father, Son, and Holy Spirit - as one day follows the next.

In our secular society, and in an age when our Catholic Faith is barely taught to our children, if it is taught at all, one can understand if some of us need to profoundly change, to seek to learn what is lacking, and to live each day in the supernatural Light that comes to us from God's Grace.

But these are just words. To drive the point home, let's read - and do so attentively and solemnly - these words from the diary of Father Willie Doyle, whom we have come to know well. He describes a day in his life as a chaplain on the front in World War I. We might ask ourselves whether we have faith such as we find here.

A sad morning as casualties were heavy and many men came in dreadfully wounded. One man was the bravest I ever met. He was in dreadful agony, for both legs had been blown off at the knee But never a complaint fell from his lips, even while they dressed his wounds, and he tried to make light of his injuries. Thank God, Father, he said, I am able to stick it out to the end. Is it not all for little Belgium? The Extreme Unction, as I have noticed time and again, eased his bodily pain. I am much better now and easier, God bless you, he said, as I left him to attend a dying man. He opened his eyes as I knelt beside him: Ah! Fr. Doyle, Fr. Doyle, he whispered faintly, and then motioned me to bend lower as if he had some message to give. As I did so, he put his two arms round my neck and kissed me. It was all the poor fellow could do to show his gratitude that he had not been left to die alone and that he would have the consolation of receiving the Last Sacraments before he went to God. Sitting a little way off I saw a hideous bleeding object, a man with his face smashed by a shell, with one if not both eyes torn out. He raised his head as I spoke. Is that the priest? Thank God, I am all right now. I took his blood-covered hands in mine as I searched his face for some whole spot on which to anoint him. I think I know better now why Pilate said Behold the Man when he showed our Lord to the people.

In the afternoon, while going my rounds, I was forced to take shelter in the dug-out of a young officer belonging to another regiment. For nearly two hours I was a prisoner and found out he was a Catholic from Dublin, and had been married just a month. Was this a chance visit, or did God send me there to prepare him for death, for I had not long left the spot when a shell burst and killed him? I carried his body out the next day and buried him in a shell hole, and once again I blessed that protecting Hand which had shielded me from his fate.

(Source: williedoyle.org) 

 

Happy 19th Sunday after Pentecost!