Rock solid

Today is the feast day of St. Thomas More who loved his family and loved his king, but God over all. He's known to most of my contemporaries from the excellent 1966 film A Man for All Seasons, in which he is said to elegantly confront his betrayer with "Why Richard, it profits a man nothing to give his soul for the whole world... but for Wales?"

It pleases me that he is the patron of politicians, step-parents, difficult marriages, large families and lawyers. He must love to intercede, because he's got his work cut out for him.

This line is from a letter he wrote from prison to his daughter: "Although I know well, Margaret, that because of my past wickedness I deserve to be abandoned by God, I cannot but trust in his merciful goodness." May we all be blessed with the grace to follow his example in our trials, however petty or however great.

Youthful faith

This started out as a comment on Therese's preceding post on "saints who blazed up early". As I reached the third paragraph, I decided to give it more space.

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I've never found myself particularly drawn to examples of early zeal, probably because I was such an example of early lukewarmth. But it's good to think about those struck by early and thorough grace.

I know a number of teens whose faith and devotion to God are incredibly edifying. Thinking about your post has made me realize that part of me subconsciously waits for the other shoe to drop, because I didn't see any such mature examples of youthful devotion while I was growing up. I'm waiting for the rebellion that so many parents (good ones as well as weak) encounter in their teenagers. But I could spew out name after name of young people I know (and some I was privileged to give birth to) who could take me to school when it comes to genuine faith and a well-formed conscience. And I've seen at least some of them persevere thorough some genuine difficulties that would stretch the faith of many an adult.

Cautionary note: They are still young people, after all. It's pretty amusing some times to see strong faith and adolescent decision-making in the same kid. I guess parents aren't going to become redundant any time soon.

Giving it all, bud, flower and fruit

Today is the feast day of St. Aloysius Gonzaga, a young Jesuit who died of the plague that he contracted while taking care of the poor. His innocence and purity are stressed strongly in the Mass prayers of the day, and I thought about the beauty of the younger saints, those who died under the age of 25. St. Aloysius and my patroness, St. Therese of Lisieux were two of a kind. They had all the energy and over-the-top passion of that age, the teens through the early twenties, and used it to love God as only people that age can. Their writings and sayings are almost embarassingly affectionate, intimate and loving; I sometimes have to turn my eyes away from such transparency, such glowing love.

Compare the older saints, St. Teresa of Avila or St. Augustine. St. Teresa, who entered religious life young, lived in comfort and gabby popularity for a long time before she had a conversion of heart. St. Augustine lived it up for years, until his mother's prayers and the power of the Holy Spirit knocked him to his knees. Their writings reflect their battles, their knowledge of the world, their understanding of the weaknesses and failures of others.

Both sets of saints are equally holy, I'm not setting up a scale. But they bring a different passion to their love of the Lord and we need both kinds as examples.

Help me think of other saints who blazed up early and died young. I am very attracted to them, probably as contrast to the scratched, bug-covered windshield through which I view the Lord and His Mercy.

A "studly" Mystery - Finding Jesus in the Temple

I'm speculating on a Mystery that I think would especially touch the heart of men: losing, then finding Jesus in the Temple. I know that I as a woman can meditate on this Mystery and review the pain of losing touch with Jesus in my life, the surprise of assuming Jesus is with you when He's not, the surety of being able to find Him in the sacraments, in Church.

But men have a natural protective and guarding instinct that I think would make them dwell on the terror Joseph and Mary must have felt. The searching, the feeling of loss of control, the threat of failed parenthood. Men don't even have to be parents to exercise this guardianship.

Is this indeed a "studly" Mystery?

Sending it 'round again

Just to keep the kettle boiling, here's a link to my previous post on the visitation between Mary and Elizabeth. Therese's and my minds clearly run in similar channels, though the adjective "great" to describe them might be a bit of a stretch.