'Twas battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"

But, No,
From the room far back a gray bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.

"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.

The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."

"And many a man with life out of tune
All battered and bruised with hardship
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.

But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.

Like its protagonist, Saint Joseph Desa of Cupertino, throughout much of his lifetime and most of the film, Edward Dmytryk’s 1962 film The Reluctant Saint is a modest affair that has attracted little attention, but has more to offer than meets the eye.

Critics were not kind to the film at the time of its release. As Les and Barbara Keyser note in Hollywood and the Catholic Church, a review in Esquire complained that star Maximilian Schell’s clumsy, buffoonish behavior seemed more slapstick than saint-like, and a writer for Saturday Review dismissed the humorously uplifting final shot as a gag shot worthy of Laurel and Hardy.

Such complaints bespeak a misunderstanding of the film nearly as notable as the misunderstanding of its subject by his contemporaries. It is true that The Reluctant Saint, though a pious, respectful production, is marked by an earthy humor and an absence of the dignified reverential gravity typical of devout productions of Hollywood’s Golden Age. For example, the heroine of The Song of Bernadette was also an unlettered peasant who was misunderstood and mistreated by her neighbors — but she always maintained her composure and equanimity, and never looked silly or was at a loss. And while Becket is full of humor, most of it belongs to Peter O’Toole’s choleric Henry II, not Richard Burton’s ultra-serious archbishop.

By contrast, consider The Reluctant Saint’s very first scene, almost its first shot, in which Giuseppe, falling out of the pack of young classmates among which he has just emerged from the school, produces a bird he has evidently been carrying inside his jacket, cradles it lovingly in his hand, and releases it — then looks at his palm in chagrin and wipes it on his jacket. One can hardly imagine a bird-poop gag at the expense of any other Hollywood saint.

Following in Saint Francis’ Footsteps
Though very different in mood from The Song of Bernadette or Becket, The Reluctant Saint is not therefore frivolous or unserious. English dialogue notwithstanding, it feels in certain respects less akin to, say, the previous year’s Francis of Assisi by Michael Curtiz than to Italian neorealist Roberto Rosselini’s lovely 1950 film The Flowers of Saint Francis — a film that, in keeping with its original title, Francesco, giullare di Dio (“Francis, God’s Jester”), offers a gently comic depiction of the early Franciscans as slow-witted “holy fools,” much given to stumbling in their efforts to follow in Francis’ footsteps.

In fact, given St. Joseph’s Franciscan context, The Reluctant Saint could almost be viewed as a spiritual sequel of sorts, or at least a follow-up, to The Flowers of Saint Francis. Filmed on location in the Lazio region of Italy with a supporting cast of Italian players, The Reluctant Saint evokes an authentic sense of time and place eluding most period productions of Golden Age Hollywood. Like Rossellini’s films and other works of Italian neorealism, The Reluctant Saint offers an Italian peasant milieu rich with authenticity and persuasive detail.

From the opening scene in the cobbled town square with its central fountain and the blacksmith’s shop, where people mill about rolling barrels or wheelbarrows and women walk with baskets or other burdens on their heads, to the disarray of the farmyard and the thick stone walls of Giuseppe’s home, to the fields of the nobleman where Giuseppe comes to grief driving a horse-drawn plow, The Reluctant Saint never feels staged or inauthentic. Few similar Hollywood productions, even when shot on location like The Miracle of Our Lady of Fatima, manage a comparable sense of realism. Adding to the authentic Continental feel is the effective score by Italian composer Nino Rota (La Strada, 8½, Il Gattopardo — all Vatican list films, incidentally).

Brother Ass
Maximilian Schell plays Giuseppe with his shoulders in a perpetual hunch, as if half braced for a blow that might come at any moment, from any direction. Schell, who won the Academy Award the previous year for his fiercely intelligent defense attorney in Stanley Kramer’s Judgment at Nuremberg, projects only sweet simplicity, uncomprehending patience and uncomplicated joy as Guiseppe. There is little sign here of the “hot and irascible temper” noted by the old Catholic Encyclopedia, though in one scene he does drive a bitter rival out of the monastery stables for which they are alternately responsible. But the saint’s childlike innocence, resignation to abuse and spiritual ecstasies are the essence of the film’s portrayal.

Giuseppe is a defenseless sheep, bereft of serpentine wisdom. Or rather, a donkey. “Brother Ass,” St. Francis half-jokingly called his body. It is an epithet that Giuseppe embodies in mind and body. Appropriately, donkeys are a recurring motif in the film, starting with the very first scene in the town square, where a donkey stands at the door of the blacksmith’s shop where two boys play a cruel prank on Giuseppe. In the same scene, another donkey carrying a load of sticks passes in front of Giuseppe and the nun speaking to him, momentarily obscuring the subjects of the shot; in the next scene, we see a donkey with a similar burden bound to its back at the farmhouse of Giuseppe’s mother, and there is the donkey that is stolen from Giuseppe when he and the other postulants are first sent out to beg.

This asinine imagery is explicitly paid off when Giuseppe is witnessed miraculously levitating in the stable in a prayer of ecstasy. The friar who sees him, the hunchbacked stable hand Gobbo (Carlo Croccolo) who has been one of Giuseppe’s chief tormenters, runs to report the miracle to the rest of the friars, and reports that Giuseppe’s is flying “like an angel.” When the skeptical Don Raspi (Ricardo Montalban) questions Giuseppe about this report, he shakes his head with a sheepish smile. “No,” he says radiantly, “like a donkey!”

Attentive viewers may notice that the first time Giuseppe flies, kneeling in the stable before his beloved broken head of the Madonna statue, lips moving wordlessly in rapturous prayer, it is the braying of a donkey that causes Giuseppe to become aware of his situation. Reportedly, animals could sense the miraculous aura around the historical Giuseppe; in this scene, the donkey’s raucous bawling gives voice to the prayer that the donkey-like Giuseppe offers in silence.

Holy Nonchalance
Going against conventional Hollywood wisdom, Dmytryk takes his time getting to the miracles for which Joseph of Cupertino is known. A friend and fellow critic maintains a rule of thumb that all the rules of a story, especially extraordinary or exceptional ones, should be established by the end of the film’s first act, usually within the first half-hour. Dmytryk lets over an hour expire with no sign of anything miraculous, or possibly even extraordinary, regarding Giuseppe, before the first levitation incident in the stable.

This could be regarded as a dramatic mistake — or it could be a strategic decision to treat Giuseppe’s miraculous feats with the same lightness and even carelessness with which Giuseppe himself regards them. Once he gets over the initial shock, it seems that Giuseppe finds it neither particularly important or even particularly interesting that he sometimes levitates in ecstasy while meditating on holy things; it is the holy things themselves that matter, not his response to them.

This holy nonchalance to Giuseppe’s miraculous experiences is perfectly expressed, with typical humor, in the coda that the Saturday Review critic found so frivolous. As the Franciscans process along the countryside chanting, Giuseppe begins to float upward, whereupon Don Raspi — until the end the most violent of Giuseppe’s skeptics, the one who insisted that he was possessed by the devil and performed the climactic exorcism on him — merely reaches out, without breaking stride or ceasing to sing, and takes hold of Giuseppe’s robe to prevent him drifting off … and the procession continues, with Giuseppe tethered like a parade float by Don Raspi’s grip on his robe. (The VHS edition of the film omits this coda, probably in deference to those who, like the Saturday Review critic, failed to appreciate its holy lightheartedness.)

One Man’s Dream
More important than Giuseppe’s flying, in the film’s schema of values, is the saint’s humble love of obscurity and of animals, both of which mark him as a true son of Francis. Mocked and misused outside the monastery, Giuseppe continues to be misjudged and mistreated by his fellow monastics who lack this true Franciscan spirit, particularly by his chief nemesis Don Raspi and his rival Gobbo.

As played by Montalban, Don Raspi is poised, confident, eloquent — everything that Giuseppe is not. He is also, obviously, proud and attached to his dignity, and like many religious antagonists in pious films is offended by the suggestion that someone of Giuseppe’s simplicity and lowliness might be God’s favored vessel. Gobbo, the peevish, vindictive stable hand, hates the smelly, messy barnyard work — so much so that he refuses to believe that Giuseppe is first overjoyed to be assigned to the stables, and then crestfallen when he is ultimately removed from his favored office and the stables reassigned again to Gobbo. In the same way, the prospect of begging makes other faces fall but Giuseppe’s face light up. One man’s dream is another man’s nightmare, and vice versa.

Giuseppe’s sanctity is not merely a matter of humility and simplicity, but also of charity, as seen in a key sequence in which, like Brother Juniper in Rossellini’s Flowers — who regularly returns naked from begging, having given away his robe to another beggar — Giuseppe gives what little he has to a nursing mother at the roadside.

The Hand of God
Until the arrival of Bishop Durso (Akim Tamiroff), the vicar-general of the Franciscan order, Giuseppe’s simplicity and innocence are consistently misunderstood. At first, the prelate’s inspection of the stables looks to be only the latest disaster in Giuseppe’s hapless existence: The disarray that so worried Giuseppe the previous day appears scarcely improved. Worse, Giuseppe is then discovered asleep under a pile of hay — where it turns out he has been caring for two newborn lambs.

Then the other shoe drops: Despite his high office, the bishop is not only a true Franciscan, but a peasant son of a farming family who sometimes finds his office as burdensome as Giuseppe would. At once this rustic hierarch sees that he has found the monastery’s most deeply Franciscan soul, while Giuseppe for his part has no idea that he has found a lifelong friend and advocate.

Durso is moved to quote Jesus’ retort to the Pharisees and scribes from Luke 15 (“What man of you, having a hundred sheep…”). Luke, of course, is the Gospel of the shepherds, the poor, the outcast, and the pastoral imagery of this passage speaks to Giuseppe in words he can well understand. Luke 15 becomes Giuseppe’s favorite scriptural text, and when at Durso’s direction Giuseppe is forced to study for ordination he learns scarcely anything else.

That his examination for the subdiaconate turns out to hinge this very passage could be regarded as a mere Gumpian farcical coincidence — but by the time he returns to be examined for the priesthood, the cat is out of the bag: Giuseppe’s first flight occurs in the interim, and so we see the hand of God at work when it turns out that the candidates for priestly ordination are to be examined by none other than the beloved Bishop Durso.

Passive Helplessness
Dmytryk typically shoots conversations with Giuseppe in right profile looking left, with his (often hostile) interlocutors — his mockers in the opening scene, his mother, the panel inquiring into reports of Giuseppe’s flying — in left profile facing right. By placing Giuseppe on the right with those speaking to him on the left, Dmytryk suggests Giuseppe’s passiveness as a target of the projections, intentions and actions of others (since there is a preference for left-to-right action in Western cinema, paralleling the direction in which we read).

This strategy is most notably utilized during the long exorcism scene, in which Giuseppe, kneeling in silent prayer and fettered to the floor, is shot in right profile looking left with the light of the torches falling full on his face — the picture of passive helplessness — while Don Raspi stands above him in left profile looking right, reciting the words of the ritual with the light behind him casting the whole left side of his face in shadow.

Then, when the ritual is over and Don Raspi turns to leave, the schema is dramatically overturned: Giuseppe’s chains fall away as he rises from the floor, and a blazing miraculous light falls full on the face of Don Raspi, dazzling him as he drops to his knees, now in right profile looking left, as helpless as St. Paul knocked off his horse.

Vivid details add immediacy to many scenes, from the cat in the window watching the bird Giuseppe releases in the opening sequence to Giuseppe hastily wrapping a morsel of food in his hat and then rolling his hat into his sleeve when called for his subdiaconate interview. Watch also for slow fades used to highlight the emotion of a poignant moment, particularly the lingering transition in which Giuseppe learns of his father’s death.

Simplicity and CommunionIn
A film in which every supporting player shines, The Reluctant Saint’s funniest moments undoubtedly belong to Lea Padovani as Giuseppe’s formidable mother, a woman who is the terror of every man who knows her, from Giuseppe to her shiftless husband to her brother, the kind-hearted abbott of the monastery (Harold Goldblatt).

My favorite scene, though, belongs to Tamiroff as Bishop Durso, who has been wearily nodding while listening to a learned discourse on the Holy Trinity, and slips out into the night to enjoy a low-key chat by a fire with Brother Giuseppe. Giuseppe’s attempt to explain the Trinity may illuminate nothing, but the incident itself is an icon of charity and a moment of grace in the life of an important man great enough to remember how simple he is, with sense enough to crave simplicity and communion above accolades and honors of men.

When the initial battles in the Revolutionary War broke out in April 1775, few colonists desired complete independence from Great Britain, and those who did were considered radical.

By the middle of the following year, however, many more colonists had come to favor independence, thanks to growing hostility against Britain and the spread of revolutionary sentiments such as those expressed in the bestselling pamphlet “Common Sense,” published by Thomas Paine in early 1776.

On June 7, when the Continental Congress met at the Pennsylvania State House (later Independence Hall) in Philadelphia, the Virginia delegate Richard Henry Lee introduced a motion calling for the colonies’ independence.

Amid heated debate, Congress postponed the vote on Lee’s resolution, but appointed a five-man committee – including Thomas Jefferson of Virginia, John Adams of Massachusetts, Roger Sherman of Connecticut, Benjamin Franklin of Pennsylvania and Robert R. Livingston of New York – to draft a formal statement justifying the break with Great Britain.

In the pre-Revolutionary years, colonists had held annual celebrations of the king’s birthday, which traditionally included the ringing of bells, bonfires, processions and speechmaking. By contrast, during the summer of 1776 some colonists celebrated the birth of independence by holding mock funerals for King George III, as a way of symbolizing the end of the monarchy’s hold on America and the triumph of liberty.

Festivities including concerts, bonfires, parades and the firing of cannons and muskets usually accompanied the first public readings of the Declaration of Independence, beginning immediately after its adoption. Philadelphia held the first annual commemoration of independence on July 4, 1777, while Congress was still occupied with the ongoing war.

George Washington issued double rations of rum to all his soldiers to mark the anniversary of independence in 1778, and in 1781, several months before the key American victory at Yorktown, Massachusetts became the first state to make July 4th an official state holiday.

After the Revolutionary War, Americans continued to commemorate Independence Day every year, in celebrations that allowed the new nation’s emerging political leaders to address citizens and create a feeling of unity. By the last decade of the 18th century, the two major political parties – the Federalist Party and Democratic-Republicans – that had arisen began holding separate Fourth of July celebrations in many large cities.

The tradition of patriotic celebration became even more widespread after the War of 1812, in which the United States again faced Great Britain. In 1870, the U.S. Congress made July 4th a federal holiday; in 1941, the provision was expanded to grant a paid holiday to all federal employees.

Over the years, the political importance of the holiday would decline, but Independence Day remained an important national holiday and a symbol of patriotism.
Falling in mid-summer, the Fourth of July has since the late 19th century become a major focus of leisure activities and a common occasion for family get-togethers, often involving fireworks and outdoor barbecues. The most common symbol of the holiday is the American flag, and a common musical accompaniment is “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the national anthem of the United States.

Abuse can take a number of forms—physical, verbal, emotional, psychological, sexual, etc. But any form of abuse is opposed to the ruling principle of God’s kingdom—unselfish love. An abusive person does not know love and does not know God. It’s in the Bible, 1 John 4:7, 8, NKJV. “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love does not know God, for God is love.”

The Bible forbids physical or verbal spouse abuse. It’s in the Bible, Colossians 3:19, NIV. “Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh with them.”

Persons given to verbal abuse reveal their true selves in their words. It’s in the Bible, Proverbs 13:3, NIV. “He who guards his lips guards his life, but he who speaks rashly will come to ruin.”

Violence is a characteristic of the unfaithful. It's in the Bible, Proverbs 13:2, NKJV. "A man shall eat well by the fruit of his mouth, but the soul of the unfaithful feeds on violence"

We are not to admire violent persons or pattern our lives after them. It's in the Bible, Proverbs 3:31, NIV. "Do not envy a violent man or choose any of his ways."

God forbids incest—one form of sexual abuse. It’s in the Bible, Leviticus 18:6, NIV. “No one is to approach any close relative to have sexual relations.”

Victims of abuse often feel guilty as if they have done something to provoke their abuser or that they somehow deserve the abuse they receive. Abusers are often skillful at making their victims feel responsible. But no one deserves to be abused by another, and abusers are responsible for their own choices and actions.

The Bible offers comfort—not guilt—for the victims of abuse. It’s in the Bible, Psalm 91:1-16, NKJV.

“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, “He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.” Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the perilous pestilence. He shall cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you shall take refuge; His truth shall be your shield and buckler. You shall not be afraid of the terror by night, nor of the arrow that flies by day, nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness, nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday.

A thousand may fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand; but it shall not come near you. Only with your eyes shall you look, and see the reward of the wicked. Because you have made the LORD, who is my refuge, even the Most High, your dwelling place, no evil shall befall you, nor shall any plague come near your dwelling; for He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. In their hands they shall bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone. You shall tread upon the lion and the cobra, the young lion and the serpent you shall trample underfoot.

“Because he has set his love upon Me, therefore I will deliver him; I will set him on high, because he has known My name. He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him and honor him. with long life I will satisfy him, and show him My salvation.”

Eventually abusers will get their due. It's in the Bible, Romans 12:19, NKJV. "Beloved, do not avenge yourselves, but rather give place to wrath; for it is written, 'Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,' says the Lord."

With God’s protection and blessing, we are safe and can sleep without fear. It’s in the Bible, Proverbs 3:24-26, NKJV. "When you lie down, you will not be afraid; Yes, you will lie down and your sleep will be sweet. Do not be afraid of sudden terror, nor of trouble from the wicked when it comes; for the LORD will be your confidence, and will keep your foot from being caught"

Jesus came to the world for abused victims. It's in the Bible, Isaiah 61:1, NKJV. "The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon Me, because the LORD has anointed Me to preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound"

You are not all alone. It's in the Bible, Hebrews 13:5, NKJV. "Let your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such things as you have. For He Himself has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Fatalities from U.S. Wars and Conflicts
American Revolution (1775-1783 )4,435
War of 1812 (1812-1815) 2,260
Mexican War (1846-1848) 13,283
Civil War (1861-1865) 620,000
Spanish-American War (1898-1902) 385
World War I (1917-1918) 116,516
World War II (1941-1945) 405,399
Korean War (1950-1953) 36,574
Vietnam War (1964-1975) 58,220
Gulf War (1990-1991) 383
Afghanistan War (2001-present) 2,381
Iraq War (2003-2012) 4,500

Memorial Day History

Three years after the Civil War ended, on May 5, 1868, the head of an organization of Union veterans — the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR) — established Decoration Day as a time for the nation to decorate the graves of the war dead with flowers. Maj. Gen. John A. Logan declared that Decoration Day should be observed on May 30. It is believed that date was chosen because flowers would be in bloom all over the country.

The first large observance was held that year at Arlington National Cemetery, across the Potomac River from Washington, D.C.

The ceremonies centered around the mourning-draped veranda of the Arlington mansion, once the home of Gen. Robert E. Lee. Various Washington officials, including Gen. and Mrs. Ulysses S. Grant, presided over the ceremonies. After speeches, children from the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Orphan Home and members of the GAR made their way through the cemetery, strewing flowers on both Union and Confederate graves, reciting prayers and singing hymns.

Local Observances Claim To Be First
Local springtime tributes to the Civil War dead already had been held in various places. One of the first occurred in Columbus, Miss., April 25, 1866, when a group of women visited a cemetery to decorate the graves of Confederate soldiers who had fallen in battle at Shiloh. Nearby were the graves of Union soldiers, neglected because they were the enemy. Disturbed at the sight of the bare graves, the women placed some of their flowers on those graves, as well.

Today, cities in the North and the South claim to be the birthplace of Memorial Day in 1866. Both Macon and Columbus, Ga., claim the title, as well as Richmond, Va. The village of Boalsburg, Pa., claims it began there two years earlier. A stone in a Carbondale, Ill., cemetery carries the statement that the first Decoration Day ceremony took place there on April 29, 1866. Carbondale was the wartime home of Gen. Logan. Approximately 25 places have been named in connection with the origin of Memorial Day, many of them in the South where most of the war dead were buried.

Official Birthplace Declared
In 1966, Congress and President Lyndon Johnson declared Waterloo, N.Y., the “birthplace” of Memorial Day. There, a ceremony on May 5, 1866, honored local veterans who had fought in the Civil War. Businesses closed and residents flew flags at half-staff. Supporters of Waterloo’s claim say earlier observances in other places were either informal, not community-wide or one-time events.

By the end of the 19th century, Memorial Day ceremonies were being held on May 30 throughout the nation. State legislatures passed proclamations designating the day, and the Army and Navy adopted regulations for proper observance at their facilities.
It was not until after World War I, however, that the day was expanded to honor those who have died in all American wars. In 1971, Memorial Day was declared a national holiday by an act of Congress, though it is still often called Decoration Day. It was then also placed on the last Monday in May, as were some other federal holidays.

Some States Have Confederate Observances
Many Southern states also have their own days for honoring the Confederate dead. Mississippi celebrates Confederate Memorial Day on the last Monday of April, Alabama on the fourth Monday of April, and Georgia on April 26. North and South Carolina observe it on May 10, Louisiana on June 3 and Tennessee calls that date Confederate Decoration Day. Texas celebrates Confederate Heroes Day January 19 and Virginia calls the last Monday in May Confederate Memorial Day.

Gen. Logan’s order for his posts to decorate graves in 1868 “with the choicest flowers of springtime” urged: “We should guard their graves with sacred vigilance. ... Let pleasant paths invite the coming and going of reverent visitors and fond mourners. Let no neglect, no ravages of time, testify to the present or to the coming generations that we have forgotten as a people the cost of a free and undivided republic.”

The crowd attending the first Memorial Day ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery was approximately the same size as those that attend today’s observance, about 5,000 people. Then, as now, small American flags were placed on each grave — a tradition followed at many national cemeteries today. In recent years, the custom has grown in many families to decorate the graves of all departed loved ones.

The origins of special services to honor those who die in war can be found in antiquity. The Athenian leader Pericles offered a tribute to the fallen heroes of the Peloponnesian War over 24 centuries ago that could be applied today to the 1.1 million Americans who have died in the nation’s wars: “Not only are they commemorated by columns and inscriptions, but there dwells also an unwritten memorial of them, graven not on stone but in the hearts of men.”

To ensure the sacrifices of America ’s fallen heroes are never forgotten, in December 2000, the U.S. Congress passed and the president signed into law “The National Moment of Remembrance Act,” P.L. 106-579, creating the White House Commission on the National Moment of Remembrance. The commission’s charter is to “encourage the people of the United States to give something back to their country, which provides them so much freedom and opportunity” by encouraging and coordinating commemorations in the United States of Memorial Day and the National Moment of Remembrance.
The National Moment of Remembrance encourages all Americans to pause wherever they are at 3 p.m. local time on Memorial Day for a minute of silence to remember and honor those who have died in service to the nation. As Moment of Remembrance founder Carmella LaSpada states: “It’s a way we can all help put the memorial back in Memorial Day.”

Pope John Paul—now Saint John Paul II—had actively promoted the message of Saint Faustina. In his 1980 encyclical on God’s mercy, Rich in Mercy, he developed a scriptural and doctrinal basis for our faith in the mercy of God. By linking the revealed truth about God’s mercy to one of the most solemn Sundays after Easter itself, he illumined the fact that the liturgy already proclaimed the divine mercy. The truth has been embedded for two millennia in the worship of the Church.

Once again we see an illustration of the ancient saying, “The law of faith is the law of prayer.”On the Second Sunday of Easter, the responsorial psalm and Gospel for Cycles A, B and C center on the theme of mercy. In Psalm 118 we sing three times, “His mercy endures forever.” The Gospel, from John 20:19-31, begins with the risen Christ appearing to the apostles on Easter night. Jesus calms his disciples by saying and giving them “Peace.” He shows them the scars of his Passion, his wounded hands and side. His glorified body retains the evidence of his saving work through his suffering, death and resurrection.

He fills them with joy and again says to them—and produces in them—“Peace.” Then he breathes on them and explains what the divine breathing means with the words, “Receive the holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” He gives the apostles the power of God’s mercy for the sinner, the gift of forgiving sins from God’s treasury of mercy. The other texts speak of healing and give the assurance there is nothing to fear.

From Holy Thursday to Easter Sunday to the Eighth Day of Easter, the divine love song of mercy is chanted amid abundant alleluias. For centuries in liturgy the Church has proclaimed the mercy of God through the Word of God and the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ. The tables of Word and Sacrament are heaped with the promises of Divine Mercy and its grand effect in the lives of millions. The liturgy is the storehouse of the wisdom of God and a treasure chest for all the worshipers.

‘I Spoke as a Brother’

A TIME magazine issue in 1984 presented a startling cover. It pictured a prison cell where two men sat on metal folding chairs. The young man wore a black turtleneck sweater, blue jeans and white running shoes. The older man was dressed in a white robe and had a white skullcap on his head. They sat facing one another, up close and personal. They spoke quietly so as to keep others from hearing the conversation. The young man was Mehmet Ali Agca, the pope’s attempted assassin; the other man was Pope John Paul II, the intended victim. The pope held the hand that had held the gun whose bullet tore into the pope’s body.

In the cell, unseen in the picture, were the pope’s secretary and two security agents, along with a still photographer and videographer. John Paul wanted this scene to be shown around a world filled with nuclear arsenals and unforgiving hatreds. The Church has always used paintings, sculpture and architecture to communicate spiritual meanings. This was a living icon of mercy.

The Church was celebrating the 1,950th anniversary of Christ’s death and Christian redemption. The pope had been preaching forgiveness and reconciliation constantly. His deed with Ali Agca spoke a thousand words. John Paul’s forgiveness was deeply Christian. He embraced his enemy and pardoned him. At the end of their 20-minute meeting, Ali Agca raised the pope’s hand to his forehead as a sign of respect. John Paul shook Ali Agca’s hand tenderly.

When the pope left the cell he said, “What we talked about must remain a secret between us. I spoke to him as a brother whom I have pardoned and who has my complete trust.” This is an example of God’s divine mercy, the same divine mercy whose message Saint Faustina witnessed.

Ways to Observe Divine Mercy Sunday

With a relatively new liturgical celebration like Divine Mercy Sunday, the Church will look among its members for ways to celebrate. When he was archbishop of St. Louis, in 1998, Cardinal Justin Rigali wrote a pastoral letter to his priests in which he urged them to preach on the mystery of the riches of God’s mercy on Divine Mercy Sunday:

I ask that each of our Archdiocesan parishes observe the Second Sunday of Easter as a celebration of Divine Mercy. . . . I ask that the principal focus of our observance be the Eucharistic Liturgy itself, with special attention given in the homily to preaching on Divine Mercy. The link between Divine Mercy and the Easter celebration, especially on the Second Sunday of Easter, exists on many levels . . . .The Scripture readings lend themselves to linking Easter and Divine Mercy since the texts highlight the forgiveness of sins.

The disposition of trust in God’s mercy is essential for receiving the graces God wants us to have. The time of preparation for the Divine Mercy Sunday is meant to strengthen our people’s trust in God’s mercy. Artwork or holy cards related to Divine Mercy can play an important role. There is one image of Faustina that speaks to many hearts in a way that is deeper than words. Like a good icon, it confronts the praying and worshiping person with the merciful love of Christ, and its inscription, “Jesus, I trust in you,” encourages the believer to respond to this invitation with greater confidence.

One way the Church celebrates God’s mercy throughout the year is through the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Cardinal Rigali notes, “This beautiful Sacrament was presented to the Church by Christ himself on the day of his Resurrection, hence this Sacrament of Mercy is supremely relevant also in this Easter season.” The cardinal also suggests that finding times for Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament is another good way to observe Divine Mercy.

Saint Faustina Kowalska: Apostle of Divine MercyThe story of Saint Faustina Kowalska reveals the inspiration behind the Divine Mercy devotion. Helena Kowalska was born in Poland on August 25, 1905. She was the third child of a devout Catholic family. As a small child she reported seeing bright lights during her night prayers. At age 16 she went to work as a servant in a neighboring city. She soon resigned after a fainting spell, even though a doctor said she was healthy.

Helena told her parents that she wanted to enter religious life but failed to obtain her father’s permission because he felt she was too young. She took another post as a servant and made friends with a circle of young women. At a dance, she experienced a vision of Christ suffering that touched her conscience and revived her desire to be a nun. She soon left her job and sought entrance in a religious congregation.

In 1925, she entered the Congregation of the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy, taking the name Faustina. She served as a cook, gardener and doorkeeper in Krakow and several other community convents. The sisters liked her but did not appreciate or understand her deep interior life, which included visions and prophecies. On February 22, 1931, Sister Faustina experienced a new and life-changing vision of Christ. She saw him wearing a white robe and raising his right hand in blessing with his left hand resting on his heart from which flowed two rays of light. Jesus told her, “Paint an image according to the pattern you see, with the prayer, Jesus, I trust in you.”

Faustina could not paint, and struggled to convince her incredulous sisters about the truth of her vision. Ultimately she persuaded her spiritual director, Father Michael Sopocko, that the vision was real. He found an artist to create the painting that was named The Divine Mercy and shown to the world for the first time on April 28, 1935.

Father Sopocko advised Sister Faustina to record her visions in a diary. At one point she wrote that “Jesus said I was his secretary and an apostle of his divine mercy.” She devoted the rest of her life to spreading the message of divine mercy and the growth of popular devotion to it. Her mystical writings have been translated into many languages. She died of tuberculosis at age 33. Pope John Paul II canonized her on April 30, 2000.

The revelations experienced by Saint Faustina were of a private nature, which are not essential to anyone’s acceptance of the Catholic faith. These types of visions and revelations are described in the Catechism of the Catholic Church: “Throughout the ages, there have been so-called ‘private’ revelations, some of which have been recognized by the authority of the Church. They do not belong, however, to the deposit of faith. It is not their role to improve or complete Christ’s definitive Revelation, but to help live more fully by it in a certain period of history” (#67).

In another section, the Catechism describes popular piety, which helps us to put Saint Faustina’s revelations into a broader context: “The religious sense of the Christian people has always found expression in various forms of piety surrounding the Church’s sacramental life, such as veneration of relics, visits to sanctuaries, pilgrimages, processions, the stations of the cross, religious dances, the rosary, medals, etc. These expressions of piety extend the liturgical life of the Church, but do not replace it….Pastoral discernment is needed to sustain and support popular piety” (#1674-76).

So we see that devotion to divine mercy in no way replaces any of our rich liturgical traditions. The Divine Mercy devotion fosters the virtue of trust in God’s mercy that finds its fulfillment in the liturgy of Reconciliation and the Holy Eucharist. Popular piety animates the faith attitudes that make participation in the sacraments more vital and fruitful.

Mercy in the Midst of Tragedy

The news is filled with illustrations of mercy—or the need for mercy—in our world. One of the most moving stories came to us on October 6, 2006, when an armed man entered an Amish schoolhouse in Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania. He chased out the little boys and lined up the 10 little girls in front of the blackboard. He shot all of them and then killed himself. Five of the girls died. After the medics and police left, the families of the fallen came and carried their slain children home. They removed their bloody clothes and washed the bodies. In each home they emptied a room of furniture except for a table and chairs. They sat for a time and mourned their beloved children.

After a while they walked to the home of the man who killed their children. They told his widow they forgave her husband for what he had done, and they consoled her for the loss of her spouse. They buried their anger before they buried their children.

On the wall of the local firehouse is a watercolor of the schoolyard painted by a local artist, Elsie Beiler. Its title is “Happier Days,” and it depicts the Amish children playing without a care before the shooting. Five birds, which some say represent the dead girls, circle the blue sky above.

Amish Christians teach us that forgiveness is central. They believe in a real sense that God’s forgiveness depends on their extending forgiveness to other people. That’s what the mercy of God is all about. That mercy is why we celebrate Divine Mercy Sunday.

Rev. Alfred McBride, O.Praem., is the author of several books on catechetics in the 1960s as well as a popular presenter on catechetics in the United States immediately following Vatican II, and more recently in introducing the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

Ash Wednesday

Your Father who sees . . .(Matthew 6:4)

Welcome to another season of Lent! Beginning today, we will be encouraged to take up the traditional practices of fasting, praying, and giving alms. Today, in fact, is set aside as a special day of fasting, along with a Mass where we will be marked with ashes and reminded that we are dust. We’ll wonder what we should “give up” for Lent, and we’ll hear readings at Mass calling us to repent and follow Jesus more closely. In other words, this can be an intense season as we prepare for Easter.

But there’s another side to Lent. It’s almost hidden in plain sight, tucked away three times in today’s Gospel reading: “Your Father who sees” (Matthew 6:4, 6, 18). It tells us that God is always looking on us in love, so we don’t have to work hard to get his attention. If anything, our Lenten observances are there to help us begin looking at him.

Open to the first page of Genesis, and you’ll find similar words. God saw his creation and announced it to be “very good” (Genesis 1:31). He was pleased, especially when he looked upon men and women—the crown of his creation.

Even when sin darkened his masterpiece, God never stopped seeing us with his eyes of love. In fact, he intensified his gaze, giving us the Law, the prophets, and, ultimately, Jesus himself. Even on the cross, Jesus was seeing us, looking on us with mercy and forgiveness.
This is the good news of Lent: God sees you. He knows you. He is committed to you. He loves you. No amount of work on your part can increase his love for you. It’s already complete, perfect.

By all means, do fast and pray and give alms! Just remember that these practices aren’t meant to grab hold of God’s attention. They’re meant to help you fix your eyes on your Father, who sees. And your Father, who sees, promises to reward you.

“Thank you, Father, that you see me with love. Help me gaze at you this Lent.”


Joel 2:12-18
Psalm 51:3-6, 12-14, 17
2 Corinthians 5:20–6:2

Each person is tempted when lured and enticed by his desire.
(James 1:14)


What a perfect day to hear these words from St. James! Why today? Because it’s Mardi Gras. All over the world, revelers will recall that this is their last chance to eat, drink, and be merry before Lent begins. It’s the last day for a bit of self-indulgence before a season of self-denial. And so it’s good to hear James warn us not to let our desires get out of hand—any day of the year. It’s good to be reminded that temptation comes when the wrong kinds of desire are stirred up and fed. These desires can lead us to sin, and if we remain in sin, it can lead to death (James 1:15).

This sounds awfully grim, doesn’t it? Of course there’s nothing wrong with a little extra fun on Mardi Gras—especially if we stay within the bounds of moderation. But as we head into Lent, it’s good to be reminded how tricky and how deceitful our desires can be. We can want something so badly that we go to dangerous lengths to get it. Isn’t this what happened with King David and Bathsheba? He wanted her so much that he ended up committing adultery, deception, and murder just to get his way (2 Samuel 11).

Now, we know that not all of our desires are sinful. In fact, our deepest, most powerful desires are also our purest desires. We all long for the love, mercy, and joy that come from the Lord. We all yearn to taste his holiness, his purity, and his wisdom. We long for the day when all of our desires are purified so that we can receive “every perfect gift” that God has for us (James 1:17). And that’s exactly what Lent is all about.

Some people see Lent as a time of gloom and doom. They look on Ash Wednesday with a sense of dread. But that’s not how God sees Lent. He sees it as a season of grace and gift giving. He sees it as a time when our fallen desires can be healed and restored. He is a good and gracious Father, and he wants nothing more than to give us the best, the brightest, and the most satisfying gifts we can imagine.

“Jesus, you are my heart’s true desire!”

Psalm 94:12-15, 18-19
Mark 8:14-21

God who gives to all generously . . . (James 1:5)

James’ letter can read like a long list of advice, kind of like a supersized to-do list: be joyful when you suffer. Persevere perfectly. Ask in faith. Recognize you will fade like a flower. But James doesn’t give us a bunch of “shoulds” and then leave us to work away at it. He reminds us of something very important: God is generous and ungrudging with his grace.

God is not a stingy accountant looking for our shortcomings, and we are not slaves to a list of rules, left to sweat away on our own strength. God has given us his grace, and he delights in giving us even more of it. There’s no reason to doubt that.

As an exhortation on ethical conduct, the Letter of James has much in common with the Wisdom books of the Old Testament. James describes what the “just man” looks like, not simply by virtue of obeying the Law, but by virtue of the grace he receives in Christ. That’s the lens through which James speaks to us. And that’s why he is quick to remind us how much Jesus loves to give us good gifts.

You have received this grace James talks about. How can you tell? As you continue to grow in prayer, you might find yourself becoming more willing to forgive a coworker or friend. You might find yourself just a bit more patient with your children than you were last year. You might be more likely to pray for someone in need rather than shrug your shoulders or feel powerless. These are all signs that God is continuing to pour grace upon grace into your heart.

A to-do list might leave you feeling discouraged, especially when you struggle to accomplish everything on it. But listen to James: God never tires of giving us his gifts. You can ask him for the wisdom you need. You can ask him for help when you find yourself lacking. So go ahead and try to follow James’ advice, but be sure to seek out the grace and help you need. You don’t have to do it on your own!

“Father, I trust your generosity. I believe that you have poured grace into my life and that you have even more grace waiting for me!”

Psalm 119:67-68, 71-72, 75-76
Mark 8:11-13

6th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Brothers and sisters, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God. (1 Corinthians 10:31)

Ash Wednesday is this week. While some of us are keen to begin Lent, some may feel disheartened at the prospect of keeping their Lenten resolutions. If this is you, don’t worry. Paul’s words have come at just the right time. Not only is this verse encouraging, but it’s a fitting theme for Lent—something you can return to again and again for inspiration and direction.

Brothers and sisters. First, remember that you won’t be embarking on this journey alone. You are swept up into a vast family called the Church. This multitude will be walking arm in arm with you as you follow Jesus on his road to the cross. You can always call on these traveling companions for encouragement and support in prayer. What’s more, you can always ask your Father to send down reinforcements of grace if the going gets tough!

Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do. Remember, the kingdom of God isn’t a matter of eating and drinking (Romans 14:17). Neither is it a matter of not eating and drinking. So don’t get hung up on the details of your resolution. And don’t worry if you slip up every now and then. Instead, keep your focus on your love for Jesus. Running errands. Doing laundry. Caring for a spouse. Even fasting. These can all become opportunities to let your love for God work itself outward into every nook and cranny of your life.

Do everything for the glory of God. If you’re still feeling unsure about Lent, cling to the motto of St. Ignatius of Loyola: “For the greater glory of God.” God is shown to be glorious when his children offer their daily tasks to him and find happiness in glorifying him. This is the heart of Lent: putting aside temporary pleasures in order to become satisfied in God.

“Lord, here’s all my life—for your glory.”


Leviticus 13:1-2, 44-46
Psalm 32:1-2, 5, 11
Mark 1:40-45