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Commentary on 1 John 1:5-2:2 Read 1 John 1:5-2:2 »

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Commentary on 1 John 1:1-4

Today, on this feast of St John, Apostle and Evangelist, we begin reading from the First Letter of John and will continue to do so until early January. Today’s reading of the first four verses forms an introduction to the letter.

Already at this early stage in the Church, there were those who could not accept that the Son of God could have taken on a genuinely human body.  In a mistaken zeal for the spiritual, they condemned everything material as evil, and they held that the humanity of Jesus could only be a mirage, an appearance.  To be fully united with God meant to withdraw as much as possible from everything material.

The people who held such views were known as Gnostics and, because they are such a concern of the author of this Letter, we might list some of their main ideas:

• The human body, which is matter, is evil.  It is to be contrasted with God, who is totally spirit and therefore good.
• Salvation is escape from the body, achieved not by faith in Christ, but by special knowledge. The Greek word for knowledge is gnosis, and hence the derivation of their name.
• The Gnostics denied Christ’s true humanity in two ways. First, some said that Christ only seemed to have a human body, a view called Docetism (from the Greek dokeo, meaning ‘to seem’); and second, others said that the divine Christ joined the man Jesus at Baptism and left him before he died—a view called Cerinthianism, after its most prominent spokesman, Cerinthus.  It is this second version that we meet in 1 John 1:1; 2:22; 4:2-3.
• Since the body was considered evil, it was to be treated harshly.  This ascetic form of Gnosticism is the background to part of the letter to the Colossians (2:21-23).
• Paradoxically, this dualism also led to licentious behaviour.  The reasoning was that, since matter—and not the breaking of God’s law (1 Jn 3:4)—was considered evil, breaking his law was of no moral consequence.

The Gnosticism addressed in the New Testament was an earlier form of the heresy, not the intricately developed system of the 2nd and 3rd centuries.  Mention of Gnosticism can be found in John’s letters, Colossians 1 and 2, Timothy, Titus and 2 Peter, perhaps even in 1 Corinthians.

The writings of John are a total rejection of this position.  The Word not only became a human being; John, in his Prologue, says provocatively that the Word was “made flesh”.  He fully entered into our material condition, blessed it and sanctified it.

And in today’s reading too he emphasises contact with a real, bodily Jesus.  Although the Word existed “from the beginning”, what we have heard, we have seen with our own eyes and we have touched with our hands. And, of course, similarly after the Resurrection, Jesus invites the sceptical Thomas to touch and feel him:

Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. (John 20:27)

And it is this physical, truly human, touchable Jesus that the Church proclaims.  Over the ages, there has always been in the Church the tendency to withdraw from the material.  In particular, there have been many concerns about the human body and its sexual functions. And even today, as Christians, we may feel awkward or embarrassed to speak about these things, especially in a religious context.

Everything that God made is good.  And as one medieval mystic liked to say, every created thing is a Word of God.  To those who can see, every created thing, living or inanimate, speaks of God and the Creator.  Few poets have expressed this as well as the English Jesuit, Gerard Manley Hopkins:

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things…The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

This has all been affirmed by the Incarnation, by the infinite Son of God sharing our bodily human nature and all its functions. This Word is life in the sense of being the source of all real living, not just existing.

In John’s Gospel (10:10) we read:

I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

This sharing of life is an idea most central to John’s spirituality. Unity among all Christians results from the common life shared by Christ between each Christian and God. It is that fellowship (a lovely word) expressing a close union of the believer with Christ (we think of the vine and the fruit-bearing branches), as well as communion with the Father and with all fellow-Christians.

Today’s passage presents a striking parallel to the prologue of John’s Gospel (1:1-18) but, whereas in the Gospel passage the emphasis is more on Jesus as the pre-existent Word, here it is on the Apostles’ witness to the ‘fleshiness’ and the ‘touchability’ of the Jesus they knew.  In the best sense of the words, Jesus was a ‘real man’.

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Commentary on John 20:2-8

From the Gospel, we know that John was the brother of James and the son of Zebedee.  He and his brother were among the first to be called (together with Peter and Andrew) by Jesus. 

Today’s Gospel reading describes the scene where Peter and the ‘beloved disciple’ rush to the tomb of Jesus after being told by Mary Magdalene that his body is no longer there.  Although the disciple “whom Jesus loved” got there first, he deferred to Peter, who went in first and saw the burial cloths.  One of the cloths—the piece that was wrapped around the face—was rolled up in a separate place.  When the ‘beloved disciple’ went in:

…he saw and believed.

In other words, he understood the significance of the cloth and he knew that his Lord had risen.

Later, the Risen Jesus will say to Thomas:

Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe. (John 20:29)

Here the disciple did not see the physical Jesus.  Nevertheless, on the basis of what he did see, he believed.

The question is: what exactly did he see?  What he saw was that the cloth which had covered Jesus’ head was not with the rest of the burial cloths, but rolled up in a separate place.  Why should that trigger his conviction that the Lord had risen? 

The book of Exodus (chap 34) describes how Moses, after coming down from the mountain and conversing with God, was so radiant with light that people were afraid to approach him.  And so, he put a veil to cover his face:

…but whenever Moses went in before the Lord to speak with him, he would take the veil off until he came out, and when he came out and told the Israelites what he had been commanded, the Israelites would see the face of Moses, that the skin of his face was shining, and Moses would put the veil on his face again until he went in to speak with him.
(Exod 34:34-35)

Now some believe that the word ‘veil’ used in John is a Greek translation of the word in Hebrew used about Moses.  In other words, the veil covering the face of the dead Jesus is now no longer needed because he has gone face to face with his Father.  This veil was the humanity of Jesus which enabled us to look at our God.  Jesus now has a new human body—his Church.  And that was what led to the ‘beloved disciple’s’ conviction that his Master had risen to new life.

For some commentators, the ‘beloved disciple’ is not actually John, but represents any person who has totally committed himself or herself to the following of Jesus, anyone who deeply believes and anyone who is passionately fond of Jesus.  At times, as in today’s Gospel, the faith of the disciple “whom Jesus loved” is shown as surpassing that of Peter.  While the disciples we know of had fled after the arrest of Christ, it is the ‘beloved disciple’ who stands with the Mother of Jesus at the foot of the cross.

Nevertheless, John as the author of the fourth Gospel and the three letters attributed to his name, reveals a depth of faith and insight into the meaning of Christ’s life, death and resurrection that borders on the mystical and clearly reveals a faith of extraordinary depth.  It is a faith and insight we can pray to have for ourselves.

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Joseph Pignatelli was born of a Spanish mother, and a father who was an Italian noble in 1737. He lived in the family palace in Saragossa (Zaragoza) in north-eastern Spain, about half way between Madrid and Barcelona. When his mother died in 1743, his father moved the family to Naples. Four years later his father died.  In 1749, at the age of 12, he returned to Saragossa and went to the Jesuit College there, living in the Jesuit community house.

On 8 May, 1752, he entered the Jesuit novitiate at Tarragona, south of Barcelona on the Mediterranean coast, and went through the normal formation programme of philosophy and theology. He was ordained a priest the week before Christmas in 1762, and spent the next four-and-a-half years in Saragossa doing ordinary pastoral work, including teaching grammar to young boys and visiting the local prison ministering to prisoners awaiting execution.

The hidden life of an ordinary teacher changed suddenly when, on 3 April, 1767, King Charles III of Spain expelled the Jesuits from his territory and seized their property. Overnight, 5,000 Jesuits lost everything and were left without a roof over their heads. Joseph might have used his aristocratic background to stay on in Spain, but he chose to go with his Jesuit brothers into exile.

The elderly superior at Saragossa, anticipating the difficulties ahead, passed his authority to the 30-year-old Joseph.  On arriving in Tarragona, the Saragossa Jesuits found other Jesuits also waiting to be deported.  Among them was the provincial superior, who also passed his authority on to Joseph, in effect making him superior of 600 or so Jesuits.

A fleet of 13 ships was needed to carry the Jesuit exiles to Italy.  However, they were not permitted to land at Civita Vecchia on Italy’s west coast nor at Bastia, a port in Corsica.  They were finally able to come ashore at Bonifacio, at the southern tip of Corsica.  They were only able to stay there for a year, when France acquired the island from Genoa in September, 1768 (thus making a Frenchman of its most famous inhabitant, Napoleon Bonaparte!).

Again crowded into ships, the Jesuits were brought to Genoa, and then had a 500 km trek to Ferrara, in the Papal States.  It was a difficult and tiring journey for those who were elderly or in bad health.  Thanks to Monsignor Francesco Pignatelli, a cousin of Joseph, the Jesuits were welcomed in Ferrara. 

But their situation was still precarious, because the rulers of Europe were pressuring Pope Clement XIII to suppress the Society everywhere.  He resisted, but his successor, Clement XIV, gave in and on 21 July, 1773, with his brief Dominus ac Redemptor noster, abolished the Society.  Suddenly its 23,000 members were now ex-Jesuits and no longer bound by their vows.

The priests, of course, were still priests, but those in formation and the Brothers were now just laymen.  Joseph (now an ex-Jesuit priest) moved to Bologna and from there maintained contact with his brothers scattered in many places.

There was one striking exception to the decree of suppression.  Catherine the Great of Russia had not allowed the papal brief to be promulgated in her territories.  This meant that, technically, the Society of Jesus continued to exist in White Russia (now Belarus). So Joseph wrote to the Jesuit provincial superior there asking to be re-admitted to the Society. 

At the same time, Ferdinand, Duke of Parma, also wanted to have Jesuits in his territory and began negotiating with the Jesuits in Russia.  In 1793, three Jesuits went to set up a Jesuit community in his duchy.  Joseph became a member of this group and on 6 July, 1797, at the age of 60, again pronounced his vows as a Jesuit.  Two years later, he became the novice master at Colorno, the only Jesuit novitiate in Western Europe at the time.

On 7 May, 1803, the Russian superior named Joseph as provincial superior of Italy, although the Society was still suppressed in most of the country (including the Papal States).  However, this haven was not to last.  When French forces seized the Duchy of Parma in 1804, the Jesuits had to move on to Naples.  This was possible because Pope Pius VIII, by a special letter of 30 July, 1804, restored the Society in the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.  But Joseph was able to stay there for only two years. When Joseph Bonaparte, Napoleon’s brother, took over the Kingdom, non-native Jesuits were forced to leave. 

Finally, in 1806, the Jesuits were welcomed by Pope Pius VII in Rome where they set up a community at St Pantaleon’s, near the Roman Coliseum, followed soon after by a novitiate in Orvieto. After 40 years of a life in exile, Joseph was full of hope that the Society would be fully restored, even though he might not live to see it.

During the last two years of his life, his health deteriorated and he suffered from haemorrhages, perhaps caused by stomach ulcers.  In October 1811, he was confined to his bed and died peacefully about a month later on 15 November, in his 74th year.  Just three years later, in 1814, Pope Pius VII fully restored the Society of Jesus.

Joseph Pignatelli was canonized by Pope Pius XII in 1954, and is remembered for his kindness, humility, gracious manner, as well as for his undaunted courage in keeping his exiled companions united in spirit.  He is, in some respects, almost regarded a second founder of the Order.

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John Chrysostom was born in 347, the son of an army officer at Antioch in Syria. His father died soon after his birth and he was brought up by his widowed mother. She saw to it that he was well educated in oratory and law (‘Chrysostom’, a later acquired name, means ‘golden-mouthed’). From about 373, he became a monk in a mountain community not far from the city, and like many other holy men, damaged his health through excessive austerities as well as the uncongenial surroundings of his cave hermitage. He spent long periods standing, and did not have sufficient sleep because of spending his time learning the Bible by heart. As a result, his stomach and kidneys were permanently damaged and poor health forced him to leave his hermitage and return to Antioch.

He also began to make his name as a preacher and commentator on the letters of Paul and the Gospels of Matthew and John. Against the Antiochene tradition, he emphasised the direct rather than the allegorical meaning of Scripture and how it could be applied to the problems of the age. In this sense, much of his writing is still relevant to our own day.

He gained political fame through his 21 sermons on The Statues in 387. These statues, representing the Emperor Theodosius, his father, dead wife and sons, had been smashed in a riot against the emperor’s taxation policy. Although reprisals were expected, an amnesty was won by the elderly bishop Flavian. Chrysostom’s sermons also helped bring peace and understanding to the issue.

Following the death of the Archbishop of Constantinople in 397, the Emperor Arcadius wanted John Chrysostom to take his place. Fearing opposition from the people, an envoy was sent to bring him secretly from Antioch. Theophilus, the Patriarch of Alexandria and uncle of the future Cyril of Alexandria, performed the consecration in 398, though he had actually coveted the post for himself.

John began immediately to reform the moral corruption of the imperial court, the clergy and the people. He reduced the expenditure on his own household and spent the money on the poor and on hospitals. He imposed strict discipline on the clergy, which some regarded as too severe.

He also attacked the behaviour, dress and bodily decoration of the women at court and condemned Christians who went to the races on Good Friday and to games in the stadium on Holy Saturday. The Empress Eudoxia, probably with some justification, regarded many of these reforms as personally directed against her. It did not help when a statue of her was set up outside the cathedral of Santa Sophia. Its dedication was honoured by public games—an occasion for superstitious and immoral behaviour.

Theophilus, who had wanted the see of Constantinople for himself, now began supporting the empress. He brought together a number of bishops who gathered in Chalcedon. They condemned John in his absence with false or distorted charges. They also accused him of treason for calling the empress ‘Jezebel’. They called for his banishment, and he was sent into exile. However, an earthquake in Constantinople frightened the superstitious empress and John was brought back to the city.

Undaunted, Chrysostom continued his verbal attacks which made the empress angry again. Theophilus once more turned against him by appealing to an Arian council in Antioch. Once again, Chrysostom was banished. The accusation was that he had assumed authority in a diocese from which he had been ‘lawfully deposed’.

Although his people were behind him and he had the support of the pope and many western bishops, he was exiled once again in 404. He first went to Armenia and then to Pontus.

John died on 14 September, 407, in the city of Comana on his way to his place of exile. He died as the result of the hardships of enforced travel on foot and in exhausting circumstances. There his remains rested until 438 when, thirty years after his death, they were transferred to the Church of the Apostles in Constantinople during the reign of the Empress Eudoxia’s son, Emperor Theodosius II (408-450), under the guidance of John’s disciple, St Proclus, who by that time had become Archbishop of Constantinople.

His relics were looted from Constantinople by the Crusaders in 1204 and brought to Rome, but were returned to the Orthodox Church by Pope John Paul II. His silver and jewel-encrusted skull is now kept in the Vatopedi Monastery on Mount Athos in northern Greece, and is credited by the Eastern Orthodox Church with miraculous healings. His right hand is also preserved on Mount Athos, and numerous smaller relics are scattered throughout the world.

In the Western Church, he is invoked as one of the Four Greek Doctors (with Athanasius, Basil, and Gregory of Nazianzus) and in the East as one of the Three Holy Hierarchs and Universal Teachers. His scripture commentaries and a treatise on the priesthood are his best known writings.

The following are examples of some of his more trenchant sayings:

-It is not possible for one to be wealthy and just at the same time.

-Do you pay such honour to your excrements as to receive them into a silver chamber-pot when another man made in the image of God is perishing in the cold?

-Do you wish to honour the body of Christ? Do not ignore him when he is naked. Do not pay him homage in the temple clad in silk, only then to neglect him outside where he is cold and ill-clad. He who said: “This is my body” is the same who said: “You saw me hungry and you gave me no food”, and “Whatever you did to the least of my brothers you did also to me…” What good is it if the Eucharistic table is overloaded with golden chalices when your brother is dying of hunger? Start by satisfying his hunger and then with what is left you may adorn the altar as well.

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Commentary on Ephesians 4:1-7,11-13; Mark 4:1-10,13-20

The Gospel reading is the Parable of the Sower as told by Mark. We are told that Jesus began teaching beside the shore of the Lake of Galilee. So many people came to listen to him that he had to get into one of his disciple’s boats and preach from there. He sat down (the position of a teacher) while the people were on the shore. There is, of course, a symbolism in the boat which here, and in other parts of Mark, clearly represents the church. Even now we sometimes speak about the Church as the ‘Barque of Peter’.

Jesus then proceeds to tell a parable about a farmer who goes out to sow seed in his field. It is a typical and not very fertile Palestinian field. We need to realise also that in those days the farmer would scatter the seed all over the field and only then plough the field. That explains the situation as the parable unfolds. Some of the seed falls on a path which is probably a ‘short cut’ going across the field. Here the seed has no hope of taking root and is promptly picked up by birds. Some of the seed falls on crevices in some rocks. There may be little pools of water in crannies so the seed begins to take root. But then the sun comes up, it dries up the water and the new plants wither away. Some of the seed falls on briars and weeds on the unploughed field. It takes root, but in time it is choked by the brambles and does not produce any grain. Lastly, some seed falls on fertile ground and produces fruit with various yields.

In every parable there is just one message. Here it is that God’s Word (the seed) is directed to every person without exception and, although it many cases it seems to fail, it will definitely succeed in producing the desired fruit.

The second part of the reading is a response to the disciples’ not getting the point of Jesus’ parable. In the explanation it appears now to more like an allegory. In a parable there is just one image, while in an allegory, each element is a symbol of something. So whereas in the parable the emphasis is just on the seed; in the explanation it is rather on the different kinds of soil in which the seed falls.

So the seed falling on stony ground is like those who hear the Word, but immediately the Evil One moves in and snatches it away. It does not even get started. The seed that falls on rocky ground is like those who hear the Word with great enthusiasm, but as soon as they face any difficulty, fall away. This must often have been the situation in the early Church when enthusiastic new converts dropped off at the first sign of persecution.

The seed that falls among the brambles is like those who accept the Word with joy, but very soon the temptations of the material world, ambition and the desire for money take over and stifle the Word. Most probably, there are very few of us who do not fall to some degree in this group.

Finally, the seed falls on rich, fertile soil where it is totally and unconditionally accepted. Then it produces fruit in abundance and is a source for the planting of seed elsewhere.

The First Reading from the Letter of St Paul to the Ephesians describes the various charisms or vocations that we, individually, are gifted by the Holy Spirit. John Chrysostom (Chrysostom means “golden mouthed”) was a famous preacher of the Word. And while many hung on his every word, there were many who did not want to listen to him, especially those—both clerics and lay people—who did not like his condemnations of their materialistic and corrupt ways of living. He was twice driven into exile by fellow clerics and died in exile.

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Francis was born, one of seven children, on 26 September, 1181, the son of Pietro di Bernardone, a wealthy cloth merchant, and his wife Pica Bourlemont in Assisi, a city within Tuscany, Italy. He was baptised John, in honour of John the Baptist, but was called Francesco (Italian for ‘French’), because at the time of his birth his father was doing very good business in France. As a young man, he helped his father in running the family business, but was also prominent in the social life of the pleasure-seeking well-off. During a war between Assisi and Perugia, Francis was imprisoned for a year and became seriously ill. Soon afterwards, still in his military gear, he deserted—abandoning the war and running the risk of being deemed a coward.

Already at this stage his concern for the poor and outcasts (such as lepers) was noticeable. One day he heard a voice which seemed to come from a crucifix in the small rundown church of San Damiano in Assisi. It said:

Francis, Francis, go and repair my house which, as you can see, is falling into ruins.

Francis understood the words literally and immediately got to work. He sold some of his father’s cloth in order to pay for the repairs. This led to a lengthy dispute with his father ending with Francis renouncing his inheritance and getting rid of his fancy and expensive clothes. The bishop of Assisi gave him some simple attire and Francis embarked on a totally new way of living.

In the beginning, his aim was primarily devotional. He wanted to be close to Christ on the Cross. But later he would also declare his allegiance to Lady Poverty, using the contemporary language of courtly love. He began to lead a life of extreme simplicity. With money he begged from the people of Assisi he was able to rebuild the church of San Damiano. In fact, he restored several ruined churches, among them the Porziuncola, the little chapel of St Mary of the Angels, just outside Assisi, which later became his favorite abode.

He became a wandering beggar in solidarity with those who were genuinely poor—and there would have been many. He looked after social outcasts, especially lepers (and those who were thought to have leprosy). There is the famous image of him overcoming his distaste and fear by embracing a leper. Then seven other men joined him. They lived together at the Porziuncula in Assisi, close to a leper colony.

At the end of this period (~1209) Francis heard a sermon about chapter 10 of Matthew’s Gospel which changed his life. In it, Jesus tells his followers to go forth and proclaim the imminent coming of the Reign of God. On the way, they are to take no money nor even a walking stick or shoes for the road. Clad in a rough garment, barefoot without staff or purse, he began to preach a message of repentance. Within a year Francis had eleven followers. Francis chose never to be ordained a priest and the community lived as “lesser brothers” (fratres minores)—the name by which the order is still known. The brothers lived a simple life in the abandoned leper house of Rivo Torto near Assisi. They spent much of their time as wandering preachers in Umbria bringing a message of cheer and song and making a deep impression on the people. One factor which differentiated them from other groups of poor preachers was their obvious respect and obedience to Church leaders and the orthodoxy of their teaching.

In 1209, Francis led his followers to Rome to seek permission from Pope Innocent III to found a new religious order. The pope agreed to meet with Francis and his companions. He consented to an informal recognition of the group and, when they had increased in numbers, they could return for more formal recognition. The group then received the tonsure and Francis himself was ordained deacon, allowing him to read the Gospel in church. Obedience to the pope would be a central feature of Francis’ First Rule (Regula Prima) drawn up and approved in 1210.

Their missionary apostolate continued to grow and reach more people and Francis’ sermons were becoming more popular. After preaching, the friars would return to their community house for their liturgy and personal prayer. They lived the simple lives of ordinary working people, supplementing their income when necessary, by begging. They lived in simple huts. Their churches were small. They slept on the floor without tables or chairs and only a very few books. It would be only later that some of them became well-known theologians. One of the most outstanding of these would be St Bonaventure.

Among those who heard Francis preach was Clare of Assisi and she immediately knew to what she was called. Her brother Rufino, too, joined the new order. On Palm Sunday, 28 March, 1211, Francis received Clare at the Porziuncola and thus was founded the Order of Poor Dames, later called Poor Clares.

Francis longed to reach out further in his preaching and thought specially of the Muslim Saracens against whom the Crusaders were fighting. In 1212, he set off for the Middle East, but his ship was shipwrecked in present-day Croatia. Two years later, in 1214, he set out for Morocco through Spain, but became so ill he had to turn back. In 1219, Francis and a few companions left on a pilgrimage of peace to Egypt. Crossing the lines between the Saracens and the Crusaders in Damietta, he was received by Sultan Melek-el-Kamel. Francis made a deep impression on the Sultan, but failed to convert him to Christianity. He refused the expensive gifts the Sultan wanted to give him and returned to the Crusaders. Altogether he spent some months as a pilgrim in Palestine. At Acre, the capital of what remained of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, he rejoined Brothers Elia and Pietro Cattini and most probably visited the holy places in 1220.

Then he was urgently called back to Italy because of developments in the Order which seemed to compromise his original ideals of simple living. The friars had increased greatly in numbers (up to 5,000) and new houses were being established outside Italy. The greater numbers now called for better organisation and administration than Francis’ simple rules could deal with. The Church authorities, too, saw the Order as an important instrument of reform, even to making some of the friars bishops. Francis felt that this might compromise the witness through poverty which was in itself a criticism of the materialist attitudes affecting the Church. Francis then resigned his position as Minister General at the General Chapter of 1220. He was very much aware that he was not the kind of administrator the Order needed in developing along these new lines.

He was succeeded by Brother Elias of Cortona. In 1221, Francis drew up another Rule. After some changes, it was finally approved as the Regula Bullata by Pope Honorius III. The Order now had the full approval of the Church authorities, but it involved concessions with which Francis was not at all happy. In 1221, Francis also initiated the Third Order by which married people could live according to the Franciscan spirituality.

It is in the later years of his life that some of the best known events took place. They include the setting up of a Christmas crib at Grecchio. It is said that Francis—who was never more than a deacon—read the Gospel with such passion that people wept. The famous Canticle of the Sun was written in 1224 when he visited Clare, who was seriously ill at the time. And it was also in 1224 that, during an ecstasy, he experienced the stigmata, by which the wounds of the crucified Jesus appeared on his body. While praying on the mountain of La Verna, during a 40-day fast in preparation for Michaelmas (29 September), Francis is said to have had a vision on or about 14 September, 1224, the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, as a result of which he received the stigmata. His companion, Brother Leo, later wrote:

Suddenly he saw a vision of a seraph, a six-winged angel on a cross. This angel gave him the gift of the five wounds of Christ.

It was soon after this that Francis became ill and blind. He suffered greatly from well-intentioned, but crude surgery. In the end he was brought back to the transito, the hut for sick friars, next to the Porziuncola. Here, in the place where it all began and feeling the end approaching, he spent the last days of his life dictating his spiritual testament. He died on the evening of 3 October, 1226, singing Psalm 141. He was just 45 years of age.

Francis was canonized, only two years after his death, on 16 July, 1228, by Pope Gregory IX, formerly Cardinal Ugolino and a long-time friend and patron of the Order. The following day, the pope laid the foundation stone for the Basilica of Saint Francis in Assisi. On 25 May, 1230, he was buried under the Lower Basilica. His burial place remained inaccessible until it was rediscovered in 1818. A crypt in neo-classical style was constructed under the Lower Basilica, but between 1927-30 it was redesigned by removing the marble decorations. In 1978, Francis’ remains were identified by a commission of scholars appointed by Pope Paul VI, and placed in a glass urn in the old stone tomb. Assisi is now a pilgrimage centre for people from all over the world.

Over the centuries, Francis has become one of the Catholic Church’s most loved saints. Some of this devotion, however, borders on the sentimental. He has been cultivated by nature lovers and even by ‘new agers’ while ignoring the heart of his spirituality—his devotion to the suffering Jesus and his commitment to a poor and simple life. He has been a genuine source of inspiration for many, not least of whom was Charles de Foucauld who perhaps went even further than Francis in his austere style of life.

After his death, many legends arose about him and these are collected in the Little Flowers of St Francis, a book whose popularity still endures. In art too, Francis has been a favourite subject, beginning with the artist Cimabue.

He is regarded as the patron saint of animals, birds, the environment, and Italy. It is common for Christian churches to hold ceremonies honouring animals around his feast day on October 4.

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Vincent de Paul (Vincent Depaul) was born on 24 April, 1581, of a Gascon peasant family in Pouy, in the south-east of France. He went to a Franciscan school in Dax and graduated in theology at Toulouse University.  He remained in Toulouse until he went to Marseilles to collect an inheritance. On his way back from Marseilles, there is a story that he was seized by Turkish pirates and brought to Tunis where he was sold as a slave.  But after converting his ‘owner’ to Christianity, he was freed in 1607, though some doubt the veracity of this event.

Vincent was ordained priest at the unusually early age of 19.  He began his priestly life as a court chaplain and was supported by the revenues of a commendatory abbey, but his life changed following a false accusation of theft. In 1609, he was associated with Pierre (later Cardinal) de Berulle and became tutor to the children of the Gondi family.  In 1617, he was made parish priest of Chatillon-les-Dombes.  All during his life he combined an apostolate among the well-off upper classes with an utter devotion to the care of the poor and oppressed.  While chaplain with the Gondi family, he gave help to prisoners condemned to work on galley ships, and in 1622 preached missions to prisoners in Bordeaux.

Vincent is probably best known for the two religious congregations he founded. In 1625, he set up a congregation of priests.  They lived from a common fund and renounced all church honours.  They devoted themselves to serving Catholics in the smaller towns and villages.  The purpose was to restore a more flexible apostolate among the diocesan clergy.

In 1633, they were given care of the Paris priory church of Saint-Lazare.  From this church the congregation came to be known as ‘Lazarists’.  Because of their founder they are also known as Vincentians, although the official name is the Congregation of the Mission (CM). Also in 1633, Vincent founded the Daughters of Charity (Filles de Charite).  They were the first congregation not to live in cloister so that they could devote themselves entirely to the poor and the sick.

Vincent said that their cloister was the street. In this he realised the original idea of Francis de Sales, whose congregation had been made to follow a more traditional religious life by Rome. In this venture, Vincent was aided by (St) Louise de Marillac, who was the first superior.  Together with Louise de Marillac, Vincent organised hospitals for the sick poor, founded institutions for abandoned children, opened soup kitchens, created job training programmes, taught young women to read, improved prison conditions, and organised countless local charities in the villages throughout France.

It is said that, even during his life, Vincent became a legend. Every level of society—clergy and laity, rich and poor, outcasts and convicts—all were won over by his charisma and selfless devotion.  Here was a man totally guided by his love for God and neighbour.

Rich women collected money and in other ways supported his countless good works. He gave alms for war-victims in Lorraine, and sent his priests to Poland, Ireland, and Scotland (even the Hebrides). From 1643, during the regency of Anne of Austria, who greatly admired him and valued his advice, he had considerable influence in her court.  The one exception was when he tried to persuade her to dismiss Cardinal Mazarin. He was also very aware of the dangers of Jansenism, to which he was strongly opposed.

He died on 27 September, 1660, at the age of nearly 80 and was canonized by Pope Clement XII in 1737. Pope Leo XIII named him patron of all charitable societies.  Among these is the lay movement called the Society of St Vincent de Paul, which was founded in 1833 by Frederick Ozanam.

Both the Vincentians and the Daughters of Charity are found today in many parts of the world.  The Irish Vincentians sent many priests as missionaries to English-speaking parts of the world, especially Britain, Australia and the US.

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Commentary on 1 Corinthians 1:26-31; Matthew 9:35-38

The Gospel reading from Matthew is a short description of the public life of Jesus.  We are told that he moved constantly through towns and villages.  He taught in synagogues and proclaimed the Good News of the Reign of God, inaugurating a society where people’s lives were based on mutual love and service and living together as brothers and sisters in God’s family. He also brought healing to those suffering from all kinds of sickness, of whatever kind.

When Jesus saw the crowds of people he was moved with compassion for them.  He saw them troubled and abandoned, not knowing where they were going, like sheep without a shepherd.

He saw the vastness of their needs and knew that he himself, in his humanity, could not serve them all.  So Jesus called on his disciples to help and for them to call on many others to help in the work of making God’s Reign a reality in the world.  He told them:

The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.

One person who answered this call with extraordinary generosity was Vincent de Paul.  We find him doing exactly the same work of Jesus—proclaiming the Gospel, bringing healing to the sick, and help to the poor and destitute.  And like Jesus, he invited a large group of both men and women to involve themselves in this work.  We thank God for the all great work they have done and continue to do.

But we too, must hear the word of Jesus.  The harvest is still great and the labourers are not nearly enough to bring it in.  Every baptised Christian is being invited to answer this call to help make our world the kind of place God wants it to be—a world of love, service and mutual sharing.

The First Reading is from the First Letter of Paul to the Corinthians.  In the passage Paul is telling the Christians of Corinth how few of them have come from either the educated or influential classes.  But it is precisely through their lack of the world’s resources that the Wisdom of God can shine through them:

But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to abolish things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God.

And it is true that the Christian communities in the early Church largely consisted of simple people and even slaves.  Yet, such was the power of the Gospel message that Christian message spread throughout the Roman Empire and beyond to the rest of the world.  As Paul says, because the Message itself has a power to win over people of all kinds, we should just tell it:

Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord..

Vincent de Paul himself came from peasant stock, but like his Master, reached out with the Gospel message to people of all classes.  But like his Master, too, he was filled with compassion for the poor and needy and did so much for them.  And his work continues both in the congregations he founded and in those lay organisations inspired by his example. We must ask for ourselves, where do I fit into all this?  And my family?  And my parish?

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Commentary on Hosea 2:16-17,21-22; Matthew 25:1-13

The Gospel reading for the feast is the parable of the Ten Bridesmaids from Matthew. It is one of three parables from near the end of Jesus’ public life in a section which deals mainly with the Second Coming of Christ and what is known as the General Judgement. The main theme of the three parables is the importance of being ready to meet Christ at the end of our lives.

The parable of the Ten Bridesmaids (or in some translations, the Ten Virgins) speaks of ten young women who go out to meet the bridegroom as he comes for the wedding ceremony. In our society, it is the groom who waits for the bride, but here it is the other way round. And though, in our time, traditionally brides have had the reputation for unpunctuality, here it is the man who causes the delay.

Each of the bridesmaids was carrying an oil lamp to greet the groom when he arrived. We are told that five of them were ‘wise’ and five were ‘foolish’. The foolish ones neglected to take extra oil with them, but the wise had brought flasks of oil in case of running short.

The bridegroom was long delayed and the young women became drowsy and even fell asleep. Then, at midnight, the cry went up:

Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.

By now, the lamps had all gone out and the foolish young women asked the wise to give them some oil for their lamps. The wise ones refused, saying that they did not have enough for all of them. They told the foolish ones to go and buy some for themselves.

While they were away, the bridegroom arrived and:

…those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet, and the door was shut.

When the foolish young women came back, they asked for the locked door to be opened: 

Lord, lord, open to us.

They then hear what are perhaps the most terrible words in the Gospels:

…I do not know you.

The message of the parable is clear. It is an image of our lives. Our life is a journey to our final goal—to be fully united with our Creator and Lord. But on the way we need to prepare ourselves; we need to be ready.

Jesus had said earlier in Matthew’s Gospel that we are to be the light of the world. But there is a danger that our light will go out. What is the oil we need to keep our light shining? The ‘oil’ is our maintaining a close relationship with Christ through steadfast prayer and living our lives in a constantly loving and caring relationship with those around us, especially those in greatest need, whatever that need may be.  As long as we live in this way, there will be oil to keep our light shining. And we will know Jesus because we will recognise, love and serve him in our brothers and sisters. And, at the end, he too will know us. It will be a meeting of old friends.

But if we live our lives in self-seeking ways, Jesus will not be part of it, and at the end, he will not know us. Edith Stein, in the earlier part of her life, led a life where God had little or no part.  But after her conversion and discovery of Christ, then she was indeed a “wise bridesmaid” in living faithfully her Carmelite vocation. And when the final trial came, she was ready to go in and meet her Lord, to whom she was already well known. Let us learn some of her wisdom.

The First Reading consists of verses from the prophet Hosea. This book uses the prophet’s own unfortunate marriage (where his wife Gomer was unfaithful to him) as an image of the relationship of the faithless Israel with Yahweh. And, just as Hosea felt he could not desert his wife because of her adultery, so Yahweh cannot abandon Israel. In today’s reading, Yahweh speaks of his loving relationship with Israel:

Therefore, I will now allure her
and bring her into the wilderness
and speak tenderly to her…she shall respond
as in the days of her youth,
as at the time when she came out of the land of Egypt.
(NRSVue Translation*: Hosea 2:14-15)

Here the text speaks of the Exodus, of Yahweh leading out his people from the slavery of Egypt when they were more faithful to him than now. Then the prophet writes:

I will take you for my wife in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will take you for my wife in faithfulness, and you shall know the Lord.
(NRSVue Translation: *Hosea 2:19-20)

This is the promise Yahweh makes, in spite of Israel’s unfaithfulness. Despite her conversion to Christianity, Edith remained a Jew all her life. She could not be otherwise. But as a Carmelite Sister, Edith had become betrothed to the Lord and became the bride of Christ. And she remained unwaveringly faithful, even to the sacrifice of her life for her Spouse.
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*The verses in the Book of the Prophet Hosea are arranged slightly differently in different translations. The First Reading verses cited in the two quotations above are from the NRSVue Translation.