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Commentary Ezekiel 47:1-2,8-9,12; Psalm 45; 1 Corinthians 3:9-11,16-17; John 2:13-22

Today’s reading from John’s Gospel is the account of Jesus’ cleansing the Temple. The synoptics report this event just before the Passion, but John puts it much earlier, just after the story of the wedding feast at Cana.

We are told Jesus had gone up to Jerusalem from Galilee because the Passover feast was near. When he entered the Temple area he found people selling oxen, sheep and doves to be offered by pilgrims as sacrifices. There were also money changers because Roman currency could not be used in the Temple and had to be changed for Jewish shekels. Jesus was not at all happy about these activities.

He made a small whip of cords and began driving out those selling animals and overturned the tables of the money-changers, saying:

Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!

Of course, what the sellers were doing was not against any law; in fact, it was a necessary service. The problem was that commerce like this should have been done outside the Temple area, just as we would not be happy to see trinkets and such being sold inside the church building after Mass. Hawkers tend to get as close to the action as they can and that is what was happening here—but it was still inappropriate.

However, some Jews challenged Jesus, asking: “What sign can you show us authorising you to do such things?” What Jews were these? Were they priests or officials of the Temple who were getting a ‘cut’ on the hawkers’ profits and turning a blind eye to their selling inside the Temple precincts?

Jesus gave them a strange answer:

Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.

The Jews took him literally saying:

This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?

This was the mighty Temple of Herod, which even after 46 years was not yet quite finished.

But, as John comments, Jesus was talking about the Temple of his Body. And it was only after the Resurrection that the disciples came to understand the meaning of Jesus’ words. They are words we need to remember today. We are celebrating the dedication of a church building, but what is much more important are the people who use that building. It is they who give it its significance, and not the other way round.

In the New Covenant, there is no temple building. The Temple is now the Christian community which is the Risen Body of Christ. Jesus is in effect saying: “Whoever sees you, sees Me.” So it is important in today’s celebration that we recall who we are, and how we are to be seen to be the Temple of Christ’s Body for the world.

There is a choice of First Readings today. One is from the prophet Ezekiel and is part of a beautiful image of fresh water flowing out from the Temple in Jerusalem and bringing new life and fertility to wherever it flows. This fresh and clean water flows east into the Dead Sea and makes it fresh again:

Wherever the river goes, every living creature that swarms will live, and there will be very many fish once these waters reach there. It will become fresh, and everything will live where the river goes…On the banks, on both sides of the river, there will grow all kinds of trees for food. Their leaves will not wither nor their fruit fail…

It is an image of the Temple of Jerusalem as a source of life for all. And in today’s celebration, it points to the life that comes to the world through the communities which gather together in a church like St John Lateran and all our cathedrals and parish churches. Again, it is not the building which is the source of life, but the community which gathers together there.

In the alternate First Reading from the First Letter to the Corinthians, Paul speaks very strongly of the Christian community as the true Temple of God:

For we are God’s coworkers, working together; you are God’s field, God’s building.

Paul sees himself as a builder, but it is not a building of bricks and mortar he is erecting, but a building of people. And he is only initiating the building work; others will take over from him and continue it. This building of people can have only one foundation, and that is Jesus Christ.

And Paul concludes in words that leave no room for doubt:

Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you? If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy that person. For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple.

So, in celebrating today’s feast, we are being called on to focus more on the kind of temple that we are than on the building, however important and beautiful it may be. In the beginning, there were no churches and people met in each other’s homes for the Eucharist. Church buildings became necessary because of growing numbers. In fact, if St John Lateran, St Peter’s and all the churches in the world were to collapse into ruins, the real Temple of God would continue—in us:

For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them. (Matt 18:20)

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Most people probably think that St Peter’s Basilica is the pope’s main church in Rome. But actually, it is the Church of St John Lateran which is the cathedral and hence the pope’s church as bishop of the Diocese of Rome. On the façade of the basilica there is an inscription in Latin which reads, “the mother and mistress of all churches of Rome and the world”. We tend to forget that the pope is primarily a bishop, a first among equals, and that this church has a special and symbolic importance for the whole Church.

The first church building on this site was built in the 4th century when the Emperor Constantine gave land he had received from the wealthy Lateran family. That church, and others which replaced it, suffered over the centuries from fire, earthquakes and war, but it remained the church where popes were consecrated until they returned from exile in Avignon, in the south of France. When the Avignon papacy formally ended and the pope could return to Rome, the Lateran Palace and the basilica were in a serious state of disrepair. The popes took up residency at the Basilica of St Mary in Trastevere, and later at the Basilica of St Mary Major. Eventually, the Palace of the Vatican was constructed, and it has been the pope’s residence into the present time.

The current Lateran basilica was erected in 1646. It ranks first among the four major basilicas in Rome (the others are St Peter’s, St Mary Major’s and St Paul’s Outside the Walls) as the Ecumenical Mother Church. On top of its facade are 15 large statues representing Christ, John the Baptist, John the Evangelist and 12 Doctors of the Church. Underneath its high altar are the remains of a small wooden table on which tradition claims St Peter celebrated the Eucharist.

St John Baptist and St John the Evangelist are regarded as co-patrons of the cathedral, the chief patron being Christ the Saviour himself, as the inscription at the entrance of the basilica indicates, and as is the tradition in the patriarchal cathedrals. The basilica remains dedicated to the Saviour, and its titular feast is the Transfiguration. Its full title then is “Archbasilica of the Most Holy Saviour and of Sts John Baptist and John Evangelist in the Lateran”.

Celebrating the dedication of the pope’s cathedral today is a way of expressing the unity of the whole Church with the pope, the Bishop of Rome. And the union of each local church with this church is an expression of the unity of all churches both with Rome and with each other.

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Commentary on 1 Kings 17:10-16; Hebrews 9:24-28; Mark 12:38-44

We live in a very image-conscious society. Status, respect and ‘face’ are very important. How we are seen is more important than who we really are. The scribes and Pharisees are presented today as very image-conscious. It was more important to be seen and thought of as good and holy than to be really so. In today’s Gospel, Jesus says:

Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets!

In fact, scribes, as interpreters of the Law, were deeply respected for their great learning. They wore long white robes as a sign of their devotion to the Law. People were supposed to stand in their presence and greet them with titles like ‘Master’ or ‘Father’. The problem was that they began to feel that such respect was a right, and this was accompanied by arrogance and pomposity. The respect for God’s Law, they began to arrogate for themselves.

The status-seekers
All of us can think of people in prominent positions in our own society who behave in a similar manner. They include some belonging to the ‘nobility’, those whose only claim to prominence is that they were born into a particular family; certain political leaders; some people in well-paid professions; some people who simply have a lot of money to throw around and can surround themselves with the perks of luxury; and last, but not least, some church and religious leaders.

At the same time, Jesus accuses the scribes of being rapacious exploiters who “devour widows’ houses” while making an outward show of piety. Power and position are all too frequently linked with material greed and corruption. Again, church leaders cannot always claim innocence. In our own time we have seen some so-called ‘televangelists’ raking in contributions from thousands of simple people and then living the high life (and even an immoral life) on these contributions.

All of these things we can observe in our own society. We see rich socialites anxious to make the world’s Ten Best Dressed list. When some famous celebrity, e.g. a member of the family of the US president or of royalty comes to town, there are people who jockey to get into the welcoming banquet and to be seated near (and above all to be seen to be seated near) the ‘distinguished’ guest of honour. We see politicians, community leaders and even clerics who not only get, but demand to be treated specially. We know of people in England desperate for that knighthood, or in France for the Legion of Honour, or people lusting after other prizes and honours that are dished out every year.

St Teresa of Calcutta
By contrast, one might remember the video footage of St Teresa of Calcutta (Mother Teresa) coming to visit a school in Hong Kong. Over her habit she wore an old grey cardigan and on her feet an ageing pair of leather sandals. A couple of weeks later she was back in India receiving the Templeton Award from Queen Elizabeth of England. Photographs showed her shaking hands with the queen and wearing the same cardigan and the same sandals. The queen did not seem to mind or probably even notice. Can you imagine the tizzy that some would be in on such an occasion? What will I wear? How will I look on TV?!

Perhaps we feel that Mother Teresa was different and could get away with it. And of course, she was different and that is the point. But why should we be different from her? Is she saying something to us we might profitably take note of?

When we are concerned about image and ‘face’, when we are worried about what people are thinking of us or are anxious about whether our weaknesses are too visible, we cannot relate to other people freely and concentrate on how we can be of help to them.

In speaking about the scribes and Pharisees, the Gospel is really talking to us Christians who suffer from exactly the same problems as they did. It is the Pharisees in our own midst that we need to be concerned about. Even more, it is the Pharisee in myself that should be a cause of most concern.

The widow’s lot
The second part of the Gospel shows a very different picture. In a way, it is a completely different scenario, and yet there are connections. The linking word between the two is ‘widow’.

The poorest people in Jesus’ society are represented by orphans and widows. In a society with no social welfare, these were people often without family support. The orphan, by definition, has no family and no means of support and is not wanted. The widow, in a society where husbands could often die young of disease or death in war, may often have been relatively young herself. In a world of arranged marriages, she might never be chosen again as a bride. With her husband dead, she was of no interest either to her husband’s family or even her own. If she had no children, she was alone and uncared for and possibly—and perhaps even probably—reduced to poverty.

There is a striking contrast between the poor widow described in the second part of today’s Gospel and the scribes and Pharisees in the first part. The simple piety of this woman of no social standing is contrasted with the arrogance and social ambitions of some so-called religious leaders. She is also contrasted with the rich donors ostentatiously offering money they can easily afford. It is doubtful that what they gave involved even the slightest diminution in their standard of living.

How often have we foregone a vacation, or a weekend away or even a single meal in a restaurant because the money for it was given to people who were living on the edge of survival? Again, the Gospel is pointing the finger at us and not to people who lived a long time ago.

A daring act of trust
This poor woman, in a daring act of trust in God’s providence, put into the treasury everything she had—and it was next to nothing. She had two small coins. She put in both. By the Law, she could have kept one for herself. But the service of God can never be in half measures.

The First Reading from the First Book of Kings has a similar story. It also features a poor widow and her son. Reduced to absolute penury, she is on her way to get firewood to cook a last meal for them both from “a handful of meal in a jar and a little oil in a jug”—all that she has left. She sees nothing but death before them. Then Elijah, the prophet, himself hungry, comes and asks her for water and bread. When she tells him her situation, he still asks her to make a “little cake” for him. In a generous act of sharing, she does so, and she is rewarded by there being enough for all three of them, and the jar of meal and the jug of oil does not empty until the drought is over. The message is clear: when everyone gives, everyone receives.

It may seem a foolish thing to do, but there are countless examples of people doing this in the service of the Gospel. The Gospel today is saying it is only when we realise that God and the Way of Jesus is the only real source of security that we will find the happiness, peace and security we all long for.

It is not money, or property, or university degrees, or professional status, or health that really matter. These can all disappear without warning. What really matters is that people take care of each other.

A bridge story
This story in Mark also forms a bridge between the teaching life of Jesus and the Passion narrative which is soon to follow. This widow, who gives up everything she has to God and puts all her trust in God, is a symbol of Jesus himself who will soon make the total offering of his life, his work and his good name to his Father out of love for us.

This story is meant to be also a summation of all Jesus’ teaching about discipleship. He wishes us to identify with this apparent ‘nobody’ over against the avaricious, arrogant, ambitious, image-conscious mindset represented by some of the scribes and Pharisees and the wealthy Temple-goers—the rich and famous of the day. In fact, the widow was anything but a ‘nobody’; she had a greatness which they totally lacked.

What matters is not what we have or what we can get; not what we can do or what people think of us. What matters is that I be fully, freely, truly my real self before God and before others. Can I let go of everything to give myself totally into God’s hands with the sure conviction that he will give me the support I need? When a lot of us do that, our faith will be confirmed.

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Following on the celebration of All Saints (November 1), today’s feast honours the Jesuits who are with God in glory: the numerous canonised saints, blesseds, venerables and many others, who, in the faithful fulfilment of their calling in the Society of Jesus, are now face to face with their Lord in unending happiness. This celebration calls to mind the power of God shining through human weakness and the reward given to those who, in the words of the Spiritual Exercises:

…faithfully labour under the banner of Christ’s cross.

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Commentary on Isaiah 40:1-5; Psalm 22; Matthew 11:28-30

The Gospel reading is one we associate with Jesus in his Sacred Heart. But it also expresses the spirit of Rupert Mayer. “Come to me all you who are weary and find life burdensome and I will refresh you.” These words express the compassion he expressed for people all through his life, first for the poor and homeless in the city of Munich and later in standing shoulder to shoulder with the ordinary soldier as they spent their days in the horrific conditions of the trenches in the First World War. No wonder he was so greatly loved.

Again, Jesus says: “Take my yoke upon your shoulders and learn from me for I am gentle and humble of heart.” A lovely interpretation of this call is that Jesus is offering to carry his yoke together with ours – one yoke shared together (as happens when two oxen are yoked together).

The “yoke” of Jesus in the sense of sharing his cross and carrying our own is one that Rupert Mayer knew. No sacrifice was too great for him in bringing God’s love and service to those among whom he worked so selflessly. And those who knew him also recognised a person who was full of compassion and tenderness and yet, someone who did not hesitate to speak out strongly where there was evil and injustice.

The First Reading from the prophet Isaiah is the opening of that part of the book known as the “The Book of Consolation”. It is a passage, too, which we associate with John the Baptist and quoted in that context by Matthew (3:3). It consists of God’s promise of salvation to his people.

And so much of it fits the life and work of Rupert Mayer.

Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, proclaim to her that…her guilt is expiated.

These words reflect the compassion that Rupert showed to the poor and all those who suffered.

The words applied to John the Baptist also belong to Rupert: “A voice cries out: In the desert prepare the way of the Lord! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!” He was indeed the voice of God’s truth, love and justice in the “desert” and “wasteland” that was Nazi Germany.

And indeed in Rupert the glory of the Lord was revealed for, through him, “the mouth of the Lord has spoken”.

Rupert Mayer is an inspiration for every priest and religious but also for every committed Christian – a passion for truth and justice, a heart of love and compassion, total commitment to those in need.

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Rupert Mayer was born on 23 January, 1876, in Stuttgart, Germany. On completing his secondary education he told his father he wanted to be a Jesuit. His father suggested he get ordained first and enter the Jesuits later, if that was still his wish. Rupert took this advice and studied philosophy at Fribourg in Switzerland and Munich. He then studied theology at Tubingen for three years before completing his final year at the seminary in Rottenburg. He was ordained priest on 2 May, 1899 and celebrated his first Mass two days later.

He served for a year as a curate in Spaichingen before entering the Jesuit novitiate at Feldkirch in Austria on 1 Oct, 1900. Following his novitiate, he went to the Netherlands for further studies between 1906 and 1911. He then travelled through Germany, Switzerland and the Netherlands, preaching missions in many parishes.

Rupert’s real apostolate began when he was transferred to Munich in 1912. There he devoted the rest of his 31 years to migrants who came to the city from farms and small towns looking for a job and a place to stay. He was totally committed to their needs – collecting food and clothing, looking for jobs and places for them to live. He also helped them preserve their Christian faith in a city which was rapidly becoming secular.

With the outbreak of the First World War in 1914, Rupert at first offered his services to a camp hospital. But later he was made Field Captain and travelled together with his men to France, Poland and Romania which brought him to the front line of battle. His courage and solidarity with his men became legendary. He was with them in the trenches and stayed with the dying to the very end. His courage was infectious and gave hope to his men in appalling conditions. In December 1915, he was awarded the Iron Cross for bravery, a rare honour for a chaplain. His army career ended abruptly in 1916 when a badly broken leg had to be amputated.

By the time he had fully recovered, the war was over (1918) and Rupert returned to Munich and did all he could to help people get back to a normal life. In November 1921, he became director of a Marian Congregation (Sodality of Our Lady) for men, and within nine years, its membership had grown to 7,000 men coming from 53 different parishes. This meant that Rupert had to give up to 70 talks a month to reach all of them. In 1925, for the convenience of travellers, he introduced Sunday Masses at the main railway station. He himself would celebrate the earliest Masses, beginning at 3:10 AM. In time, it would be said that the whole city of Munich had become his parish.

With huge social problems developing in Germany after World War I, Munich saw the rise of Communist and other social movements. Rupert took a close interest in these. He attended their meetings and even addressed them. His aim was to highlight Christian principles, and to point out the fallacies in other speakers’ ideas which could mislead people. He was one of the first to recognise the dangers of Adolf Hitler and Nazism, and again challenged Nazi policy with Christian principles. It was inevitable that he would come in conflict with the Nazi movement.

When Hitler became chancellor of the Reich in 1933, he began to shut down church-affiliated schools and began a campaign to discredit the religious orders. Preaching in St Michael’s Church in downtown Munich, Rupert denounced these moves. As a very influential voice in the city, the Nazis could not allow him to continue his attacks on them. On 16 May, 1937, the Gestapo ordered Fr Mayer to stop speaking in public places. This he did but continued to preach in church. Two weeks later he was arrested and put in prison for six weeks. At his trial he was found guilty, but given a suspended sentence. He then obeyed his superiors’ orders to remain silent but the Nazis took advantage of this to defame him in public. His superiors then allowed him to preach again in order to defend himself against the Nazis’ slanderous attacks. He was arrested six months later and served his formerly suspended sentence in Landsberg prison for five months. Then a general amnesty made it possible for him to return to Munich and work quietly in small discussion groups.

However, he was still seen as a threat and so was arrested again in November, 1940 on the pretext that he had cooperated in a royalist movement. Now 63 years old, Rupert was sent to the notorious Oranienburg-Sachsenhausen concentration camp near Berlin. After a few months, his health had deteriorated so badly that it was feared he might die in the camp and be seen as a martyr. So he was sent to stay in the Benedictine abbey in Ettal, in the Bavarian Alps. Fr Mayer spent his time there in prayer, leaving his future in the Lord’s hands. He remained in the abbey for almost six years until freed by American forces in May, 1945.

He at once returned to Munich, where he received a hero’s welcome, and took up again his pastoral work at St Michael’s. However, the years in prison and the camp had undermined his health. On 1 Nov, 1945, Rupert was celebrant at the 8 a.m. Mass on the feast of All Saints in St Michael’s. He had just read the Gospel and began preaching on the Christian’s duty to imitate the saints, when he had a stroke and collapsed. Facing the congregation, ”The Lord… the Lord… the Lord…” were his last words. He died shortly afterwards. He was 69 years old. While he was first buried in the Jesuit cemetery at the Jesuit house of studies in Pullach, outside Munich, his remains were later brought back to the city and interred in the crypt of the Burgersaal, the church next to St Michael’s, where the men’s Sodality regularly met.

In 1956, Pope Pius XII, who had personally known Rupert Mayer during his time as papal nuncio in Munich, awarded him the title Servant of God. Under Pope John XXIII, the beatification process was initiated, the results of which were formally accepted by Pope Paul VI in 1971. Under Pope John Paul II, the degree of heroic virtue was issued in 1983. Rupert Mayer was beatified by Pope John Paul II on 3 May 1987 in Munich.

Father Mayer’s grave was visited by Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI, whose parents had venerated him.

He is remembered for his staunch opposition to Nazi inhumanity and for his selfless dedication in helping the poor.

Rupert Mayer’s favourite prayer:

Lord, let happen whatever you will;
and as you will, so will I walk;
help me only to know your will!
Lord, whenever you will, then is the time;
today and always.
Lord, whatever you will, I wish to accept,
and whatever you will for me is gain;
enough that I belong to you.
Lord, because you will it, it is right;
and because you will it, I have courage.
My heart rests safely in your hands!

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Commentary on Romans 12:3-13; Psalm 88; John 10:11-16

The Gospel reading from John is, appropriately, Jesus’ description of himself as the “good Shepherd”. In the verses which follow, he gives the qualities of a good shepherd. The first of these is that the good shepherd does not hesitate to give his life for his sheep, as indeed Jesus himself would do.

He compares the good shepherd to someone who is hired to look after someone else’s sheep. The moment danger appears, for instance, the sight of a wolf, the hired man runs away abandoning the sheep to be seized and scattered by the wolf. The reason is that the hired man is only doing it for the money; he has no personal interest in the sheep.

However, the good shepherd is very different. First of all, although to others they all look alike, he knows each individual sheep and the sheep know their shepherd also. Jesus knows and his known by his sheep just as he knows his Father and his Father knows him.

But Jesus goes further. He is not satisfied just with the flock he already has. There are other sheep which do not belong to his fold, and he wants them to hear and recognise and follow his voice. Then, there will finally be just one Shepherd and one flock. This is Jesus saying in other words that he is The Way. In him, through him and with him lie Truth and Goodness.

Charles Borromeo was an outstanding shepherd. He could have spent the rest of his life in the luxury of the papal court while ‘hired men’ were given the responsibility of his diocese of Milan, using it resources to line their pockets. But he returned to the diocese for which he had been consecrated bishop and, living a simple lifestyle, and devoted all his energies to the spiritual and material well-being of his flock, especially those in need.

He also was responsible for setting up centres where dedicated priests would be trained in the pastoral skills they needed to serve God’s people. These became models followed by the Church all over the world. We pray today for good bishops and priests who are good shepherds and pastors, and also that one day there will be just one Shepherd and one Flock.

The First Reading from the Letter to the Romans discusses the Church as one Body with many Members. Paul begins by warning each one in the community not to think of themselves more highly than others. This, of course, was a major problem of the Church in the time of Charles Borromeo. It was a time of patronage and benefices, when some of the senior clergy rubbed shoulders with aristocracy, loaded themselves with grandiose titles and lived in ostentatious luxury, all while surrounded by poverty and hardship.

Paul emphasises that every person in the community is a member of a single body. Each one has his own special role to play in the overall well-being of the community. No member can live just for itself. Each member exists for the good of all the others. It is a relationship of love and service, irrespective of what role is allotted to us:

…we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another.

As archbishop of Milan, Charles worked hard to change existing practices. His was not a position of privilege giving him access to wealth and luxury. On the contrary, his responsibility was to be totally at the service of his flock. He first of all adopted a materially simply lifestyle, giving away much of his wealth to the needy. In times of hunger and disease, he was down there personally giving a helping hand to those who were suffering. His behaviour is just as relevant today as it was then and it should speak loudly to all persons in positions of power and authority.

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Charles Borromeo was born in 1538, the son of Giberto II Borromeo, Count of Arona, and Margherita de Medici, in the castle of Arona on Lago (Lake) Maggiore, in the north of Italy. Through his mother, he was related to the famous Medici family. He was educated at Milan and Pavia. He was both intelligent and religiously devout, with a great capacity for sustained work, but had a speech impediment.

Already at the age of 12, he had received the clerical tonsure together with the revenues of the abbatial see of Arona, a benefice long enjoyed by his family. At the age of 22, he received his doctorate, by which time his uncle, Cardinal Angelo de Medici had become Pope Pius IV. Ecclesiastical honours were now heaped on the nephew, including ambassadorships, protectorates, the administration of the diocese of Milan and an appointment as cardinal, which made Charles in effect Secretary of State for the Papal States. He was responsible for the administration of the Romagna, and the March of Ancona, as well as supervision of the Franciscans, the Carmelites, and the Knights of Malta. Thus, at the age of 22, he was practically the leading statesman of the papal court. In compliance with the pope’s desire, he lived in great splendour.

As all this required his presence in Rome, the government of the Milan diocese was delegated to deputies. Nevertheless, Charles was anxious to leave the luxury of the papal court and even become a monk. He was persuaded, however, to remain in his present position, and to move back to his diocese as soon as it was feasible.

He strongly supported his uncle, the pope, in re-opening the Council of Trent for its final session. The council’s continuance and conclusion were largely due to Charles’ energy and diplomacy.

Many important doctrinal and disciplinary decrees were passed at this session, and Charles was particularly prominent in the drafting of the official Catechism. He was also responsible for the reform of the liturgical texts, and of church music for which he was a patron of the composer Palestrina.

It was only in 1564, at the age of 26, that he was ordained priest and consecrated bishop. As papal legate for all Italy, he held a provincial council at Milan, which promulgated the Tridentine decrees.

In the following year (1565) he was called to the deathbed of his uncle, the pope, and obtained from his successor, Pius V, permission to live in his diocese of Milan. The next year, he began its reform. He was the first resident bishop there in 80 years.

Charles began by personally adopting a very simple style of life and gave much of his considerable revenue away to the poor. He held councils, synods, reformed the administration, and made regular visits to parishes. In order to deal with the serious question of clergy formation, he founded seminaries, which were copied in many other parts of the Church. He also was concerned with the moral reform of those who were already priests, and set up a confraternity to teach Christian doctrine to children in Sunday schools. He was helped in all of this by religious orders, including the Jesuits (established in 1540) and the Barnabites (founded by St Antony Mary Zacaria).

He was generous in helping the English College at Douai, and his personal confessor was Dr Griffith Roberts, a Welshman. He had a devotion to the English martyred bishop, John Fisher, whose picture he kept by him. He was active in visiting even remote areas of his diocese, removing ignorant or unworthy priests, preaching and catechising at every opportunity.

But his reforms were vigorously resisted by some. He came into conflict with civil authorities, and there was even an attempt by a disgruntled friar to assassinate him in 1569.

In 1570, and again in 1576, Charles came to the aid of his city, in one case feeding people during a time of famine and later in providing nursing care for victims of plague. During the plague, he personally went about giving directions for nursing the sick and burying the dead, avoiding no personal danger and sparing no expense. He visited all the parishes where the contagion raged, distributing money, providing accommodation for the sick, and punishing those, especially clergy, who were remiss in carrying out their duties.

In 1580, he was visited at Milan by a group of young English Catholics returning to their country. They included Ralph Sherwin and Edmund Campion, future martyrs. In 1583, Charles was sent by Rome to Switzerland to deal with superstitious practices, and also with the heresies of Calvin and Zwingli.

Constantly on the move, he was already worn out by the age of 46. He died in Milan on the night of 3 November, 1584 and was buried in his cathedral. His sanctity was immediately recognised and he was canonised in 1610, just 26 years after his death.

Through his influence on the Counter-Reformation he is matched with Ignatius of Loyola (founder of the Jesuits) and Philip Neri (founder of the Oratorians). He is best remembered for the reform and education of the clergy, and in the work of catechesis. Above all, in contrast to so many of his peers, he gave an outstanding example of a zealous and reforming pastor in a very important diocese at a time when such renewal was so much needed after the Reformation.

Contrary to his last wishes, a memorial was erected to him in the Milan cathedral, as well as a 20 meter tall statue in his birthplace, Arona, as a tribute to his leadership in the Counter-Reformation. The church of San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane (St Charles at the Four Fountains) in Rome is dedicated to his memory.

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There are no fixed Scripture readings for today, and Lectionaries will show a wide choice available from both the Old and the New Testament. As such, there is no specific commentary for this day. However, there are commentaries written for a number of the readings listed today in the Lectionary, and they may be accessed using Living Space’s search facility or the indices in the adjacent sidebar.

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Yesterday we celebrated the feast of All Saints. Today is the commemoration of All Souls—a commemoration of all the faithful departed.

The Church often speaks of the totality of the baptised as the Communion of Saints. The word ‘saints’ is used in the scriptural sense of the New Testament, when it generally refers to baptised members of Christian communities.

The Communion of Saints is formed of three groups. The first are those who can properly be called ‘saints’, that is, those who have died and are now enjoying a face to face relationship with God for all eternity. We sometimes call that ‘heaven’, but it is less a place than a relationship.

The second group are those who are living on earth at the present time, and are part of the Pilgrim Church on its way to ultimate union with God in unending happiness.

The third group are those we are remembering today. They are those who have died, but are not quite ready to meet God face to face. Most of us would probably acknowledge that we are far from perfect, and that we still need to go through some purifying process before entering the eternal presence of God. What that process is like, it is not for us to speculate.

What we are reminded of today is that those who are already in the eternal presence of God, and those who are still on pilgrimage on earth can help the group we call ‘Holy Souls’ to reach the Vision of God sooner, through our good works and prayers.

And so, although it is a “holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead”*, it is especially appropriate on this day. Naturally, we will remember especially family members and good friends, but we should also think of those who may not have anyone to remember them. When our time comes to leave this world, it is the prayers of those people on whom we will depend.

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*From 2 Macc 12:46, as stated in the Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition Bible.