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Commentary on Romans 8:22-27; Psalm 18; John 15:1-8

In the First Reading from the Letter to the Romans Paul reflects on his mystical experience of knowing Christ. They parallel the experiences that Teresa also had:

…we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.

Like Paul, she wanted to be in the image of God’s incarnate Son.

At the same time, her experience is one of longing for something that has not yet been fully realised. It is a time for faith and trust and for hope. As Paul says:

For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope, for who hopes for what one already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Ultimately, our salvation is one of hope, but it is hope based on confidence in the reliability of God’s Word.

And, when we are feeling less confident, then it is:

…the Spirit helps us in our weakness, for we do not know how to pray as we ought…

And Paul makes the striking statement:

…that very Spirit intercedes with groanings too deep for words.

Teresa knew all about this. Her attachment to Jesus knew no limits, but like many of the greatest mystics, she had her times of desert—what her companion John of the Cross called the “dark night of the soul”. If even the saints had this experience, we cannot expect anything different. But we need to realise, as they did, that when Jesus seems furthest away is often the time when he is closest to us. This is the time of our testing. As Teresa liked to say: “It is love alone that gives worth to all things.”

The Gospel reading is from Jesus’ discourse at the Last Supper which we find in John. It is from Chap 15 where Jesus speaks of himself as the True Vine. While he himself is the Vine, it is his Father who is the Vinegrower. Jesus’ followers are the branches on the vine. Branches which produce no fruit will be cut off and while branches which do bear fruit will be pruned in order to increase their yield.

It is clear that, if we are to remain united with Christ, we must lead fruitful lives. Others are to benefit from the way we lead our Christian life. Elsewhere Jesus had told his disciples that they were to be “the salt of the earth”, to be “a city built on a hill”, to be “a lamp [that] gives light to all in the house”. Again, he had said it was no use accepting God’s gifts and then carefully burying them in the ground. They are to be used for the benefit of other people.

But even in the case of those who are ‘fruitful’, there will always be need of some ‘pruning’. Some form of penance and self-denial is a central part of the fruitful Christian’s life. This penance may be self-chosen or it may come in the course of our daily lives. These are not meant to punish us, but rather to purify our intentions and make us more effective in spreading the spirit of the Gospel among other people.

Jesus also emphasises in this image, the importance of our being totally united with him. That means we accept entirely his Way of life and try to make it our own. Only then will we have something to share with others:

Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me.

We need to realise that:

Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.

On the contrary:

If you abide in me and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.

And the reason is, when we live in Christ, his will and our will coincide.

Finally, it is by leading truly fruitful lives that we will give glory to God. Words of adoration alone will not be enough.

We see all this fitting so well into the life of Teresa. Her whole life was to be deeply united with her Lord. She was indeed a living branch on the vine. She experienced pruning in the many challenges and difficulties she met in reforming the Carmelite Order, not to mention the life of penance and austerity which were a feature of her convents.

But she was fruitful also in the influence she had on drawing others into living their lives at such a high level of commitment. This was shown by the large number of convents which were founded in her own country and eventually all over the world.

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Teresa was born on 28 March, 1515, of a noble Castilian family at Ávila, in central Spain. As a child, Teresa showed piety beyond her years. On one occasion she ran away from home with a younger brother with the intention of going to Morocco and dying as martyrs. Their uncle spoiled their plan when he spotted the two children outside the city walls.

Following the custom of her social class, she was educated at home up to the death of her mother, which happened when Teresa was just 14. She then developed the usual teenage interests of romantic affairs and fashionable clothes. Her father then sent her to be educated by Augustinian Sisters in Ávila. About 18 months later, she became ill and spent her convalescence reading the letters of St Jerome. This resulted in her desire to become a nun. Her father was at first opposed to the idea, but then consented and Teresa, then 20, entered the Carmelite convent of the Incarnation in Ávila.

However, she soon became ill again from malaria. She was sent home to her family for medical treatment, but three years later, returned to the convent.

At this time the convent had a large community of about 140 nuns and had become somewhat lax in its following of the Carmelite rule. The convent parlour was often visited by the gentry of the town, and the nuns were even allowed to leave the enclosure of the convent. In this rather easygoing atmosphere, with not much time given to solitude or the observance of religious poverty, Teresa at first tried to live a life of prayer, then abandoned it. But following her father’s death, she took it up again for the rest of her life. Teresa’s charm, cheerfulness, prudence and care for others were greatly admired, not least by those who came to visit the convent. Her own spiritual life was deepened by her prayer life. In 1555, she experienced an inner conversion when she identified herself with two famous penitents, Mary Magdalene and Augustine. The latter’s Confessions had a deep influence on her. She had both Dominicans and Jesuits as spiritual directors.

On the feast of St Peter in 1559, Teresa became firmly convinced that Christ was present to her in bodily form, though invisible. This vision lasted almost uninterrupted for more than two years. In another vision, an angel drove the point of a golden arrow repeatedly through her heart, causing an indescribable happiness and pain. (This is dramatically represented in the famous sculpture by Bernini—The Ecstasy of St Teresa in Santa Maria della Vittoria in Rome.) The memory of this experience would inspire her for the rest of her life, and was the motivation behind her lifelong desire to identify with the sufferings of Jesus, expressed in her prayer: “Lord, either let me suffer or let me die.”

Unfortunately her mystical experiences, including visions, became known and she was subjected to ridicule and even persecution. It was a time when such experiences subjected one to the investigations of the Inquisition—St Ignatius Loyola would have similar experiences. However, up to the year 1560 she received support and encouragement from Peter of Alcántara.

After 25 years of Carmelite life, which she felt was not living up to the ideals of the Order, she desired to set up a community where the original rule would be strictly observed. Her proposal met with strong opposition from both church and civil authorities. But she went ahead and set up the community of St Joseph in Ávila in 1562. Here 13 nuns lived in conditions of strict poverty and enclosed solitude. On moving to the new convent, Teresa got papal approval of her commitment to absolute poverty and renunciation of all property. Her plan was a revival of earlier, stricter rules. These were supplemented by new regulations such as the use of the ‘discipline’ (a small whip) to be used three times a week, and ‘discalceation’ of the Sisters, that is, the substitution of leather or wooden sandals for shoes. For the first five years of the new foundation, Teresa remained in prayerful seclusion, engaged mostly in writing.

The Ávila convent would be the first of 16 similar convents set up during Teresa’s lifetime. It would also inspire the setting up of other reformed communities in other countries and in the generations that followed. The characteristics of this life were material simplicity, signified by the coarse brown wool habit and leather sandals. The lifestyle of manual work, supplemented by alms, provided the income for this way of life, which included a diet that totally excluded meat. Teresa, though the superior, took her turn at sweeping, spinning and other household chores. The convents were small and poor yet built in such a way that the personal needs of the community could be met.

Teresa was no mere idealist, but a very down to earth person. Her combination of common sense, prudence and trust in God’s Providence, together with a great capacity for work and organisation, overcame the many obstacles she had to face. In choosing candidates for this challenging way of life, she emphasised intelligence and good judgement (she once declared: “God preserve us from stupid nuns!”). It was her conviction that intelligent people can better be aware of their faults and, at the same time, see the need to be guided. This, she felt, would not be the case with the less-able and narrow-minded who could become complacent and see no need for change.

During the late 1560s, Teresa was also active in the reform of the Carmelite friars in association with John of the Cross. This reform, as in the case of her own convents, met with much opposition from the Calced (unreformed) Carmelites. Eventually the reformed (or Discalced) Carmelites were recognised as a separate structure from the unreformed. In Teresa’s lifetime and later, the Discalced friars would prove invaluable as spiritual directors of the Sisters.

In her teaching on prayer, Teresa’s work would be complemented by the more theological approach of John of the Cross. Her own writings, though in a more colloquial style and written under obedience, emphasise various kinds of prayer which can endure over a long period, but can be the stepping stones to true mystical prayer. Her books include her own life story, Libro de las Fundaciones (the story of her Foundations), The Way of Perfection (written for nuns) and The Interior Castle.

In 1582, she founded her last convent at Burgos, but died on her way back to Ávila at Alba de Tormes on 4 October of that year—she was 67 years old. Her body was buried and still rests there.

Forty years after her death, in 1622, she was canonised and she is revered as the ‘Seraphic Virgin’. The Spanish Cortes Generales made her patroness of Spain in 1617, and the University of Salamanca had earlier conferred the title ‘Doctor ecclesiae‘ (Doctor of the Church) to be distinguished from the Holy See’s ‘Doctor of the Church’ given in 1970, the first woman to be so honoured. The mysticism in her works exerted an influence on many theologians of the following centuries, such as Francis de Sales, Fénelon, and the Port-Royalists.

A contemporary portrait, painted in 1570 by Fray Juan de la Miseria, survives at Ávila. Her usual emblems are a fiery arrow or a dove above her head.

The ideals and way of life established by her survive in the numerous small communities of Carmelite Sisters, who witness to the importance of contemplation in our modern world. Her written works are spiritual classics read by Christians of all kinds.

Although she died on 4 October, her feast is on 15 October because in 1582, on the very day after her death, the Gregorian reform of the calendar was adopted, and ten days were permanently omitted from the month of October.

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Commentary on Romans 5:1-5; Ps 30; Matthew 5:1-12 Read Saint John Ogilvie – Readings »

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St John Ogilvie, Priest and Martyr, SJ (Memorial) Read Saint John Ogilvie »

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Commentary on Wisdom 7:7-11; Hebrews 4:12-13; Mark 10:17-30

The man who comes up to Jesus in today’s Gospel is clearly a very good person, but it is clear that he has serious deficiencies where the Gospel is concerned. He thinks it is enough to be a morally good person, but the Gospel demands more than that.

Even his opening question indicates a certain self-centredness:

Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?

As far as his ‘salvation’ is concerned, other people do not enter into the matter.

Ten Commandments enough?
Jesus at first replies by reminding him to observe the Ten Commandments. These commandments, of course, do involve relations with other people, but in this case, and very often in our case too, the emphasis is on what we do rather than on what happens to others. That is revealed in the way we make our Sacramental confessions: “I was not at Mass on Sunday…, I disobeyed my parents…, I stole money…, I had lustful thoughts…, or did ‘bad things’…, I gossiped…, I was jealous or envious…” These are a litany of personal failures, with no mention of faulty relationships with others—a failure to love. Love or compassion are never mentioned. I am sorry because I broke rules and I have disappointed my self image.

The young man, in all sincerity we can take it, says that he has constantly observed these commandments. Maybe he was expecting to be told that that was all he needed to do. If that was the case, he was in for a disappointment.

Where perfection lies
In Matthew’s Gospel, the man is told:

If you wish to be perfect… (Matt 19:21)

Earlier Matthew had quoted Jesus as saying to his followers:

Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.
(Matt 5:48)

In today’s Gospel from Mark:

Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

In so speaking Jesus was doing a number of things:

• He was zeroing in on the young man’s weakest point. Up to this, it probably had never struck the man that wealth and religious perfection could possibly be in conflict with each other. The man had asked for perfection and Jesus was asking him to give up the one thing he may even have thought was a clear sign of God’s blessing. (As well, see the reaction of the disciples immediately after this story.)
• Jesus was making it clear that personal moral perfection is not enough to follow the Gospel and be a member of the Kingdom. To be a follower of Christ, one must become a partner with God in the creative work of building the Kingdom—a complex of mutual relationships based on truth, love, respect, and justice.
• The man is not told just to give alms generously to the poor. He is told to sell all his property and give it to the poor. The Gospel is not about giving donations from one’s surplus; it is about sharing what one has with one’s brothers and sisters.

If I have 100 dollars/euros and I give 10 or even 20 dollars/euros to the needy, that is alms or ‘charity’. But if I give at least 50, that is sharing. The Gospel is really only interested in sharing, not just in almsgiving. In almsgiving, poverty is temporarily alleviated, but not removed. In sharing, there is a solidarity.

This is the meaning of the story of the feeding of the 5,000 in the desert. It is the meaning of the Eucharist which we are now celebrating. In the Eucharist, we do not ‘receive’ Jesus in ‘communion’. We are expressing a solidarity of sharing by eating together from one loaf, which represents all that we as a community have and are. Sadly, we would have to admit that most of our Eucharists are, strictly speaking, a form of sacrilege and blasphemy as many of us have no intention whatever of doing anything of the sort.

Difficult for the rich to “enter the kingdom of God”
And this is the point that Jesus brings up with his disciples afterwards. After the rich man had gone away, unable to part with his wealth, Jesus commented on how difficult it was for the rich to enter the Kingdom of God. Being rich, by definition, does not just mean having a lot. It means having a lot more than others where, among those others, there are many who do not have enough. Wealth and poverty are relative to each other. An ordinary middle class person in a modern city today enjoys amenities that would have been completely unknown even to the very wealthy of another age. A ‘peasant’ regarded as very wealthy in a rural area may not have as much as a factory worker in big city.

That said, the disciples are “greatly astounded” by Jesus’ words about:

…how hard it is for those who have riches to to enter the kingdom of God.

To the disciples, wealth is a sign of God’s blessing and, as such, highly desirable. They say to one another:

Then who can be saved?

Jesus only emphasised his point by saying that it was:

…easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.

What about those who have left everything for Jesus?
Then the disciples begin to see the other side of the picture. They themselves are far from being rich. And now they have gone further. They have given up everything to be with Jesus: their families, their profession and the instruments of their work. Yes, indeed, there is something for them. To follow Jesus is not to enter into a kind of emptiness. On the contrary, by following his Way, they will enjoy an abundance of blessings. This is not just a pie in the sky promise.

The followers of Jesus are to be bonded in a close fellowship founded on mutual love, care and compassion. They are to build a community where everything is shared, where each person’s main concern is to see that the needs of brothers and sisters are taken care of. When we all give, we all receive. This was what the rich man in the story—and those who cling to wealth in every age—did not understand. It is, alas, a lesson that has not been put into practice very much in the Church, let alone in the wider society. At its best, religious life is an attempt to put this Gospel vision into practice, but here too, legalism has often stifled the spirit. Oddly enough, atheistic Marxism appeared, on the surface, to implement the spirit of the Gospel in its slogan of “To each according to their need; from each according to their ability”. It is hard to believe that Jesus would have quarrelled with such a sentiment; it is exactly the vision presented in today’s Gospel. It was not the slogan that was at fault, but the horrific way people went about making Marxism a reality.

So Jesus tells his disciples that having left father, mother, brothers and sisters, and their home and material goods, they will:

…receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life.

And it happens in this life; in that sense, Marx had it wrong. Christianity is not an opium, a kind of drug to help people forget their sufferings by longing for a future happiness. What Jesus is saying is supposed to happen now. And it can happen now if we have the will to put it into effect.

What we need is not wealth, but the wisdom of which the First Reading speaks. It is wisdom which brings us a deep insight into the really important values in life. To have such wisdom is real wealth because it is the key to happiness and security. And is not that which we all long for?

It might be no harm for us to reflect to what degree this vision of Jesus is a reality in our parish community. To what extent do we really care for each other and share our resources?

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Commentary on Acts 1:12-14; Psalm Luke 1:46-55; Luke 1:26-38

The Gospel reading from Luke is the account of the Annunciation, when Mary of Nazareth is asked by the Angel Gabriel to become the Mother of a child who will be the Son of God. Mary is quite taken aback by this request which she cannot reconcile with her present status. She is betrothed, that is, fully committed in marriage to Joseph, but they are not yet married and have not begun to live together. The angel assures Mary that the conception will take place by a special intervention through the Spirit of God.

Mary still does not fully understand but, putting her trust completely in the words of God’s Messenger, she accepts totally and unconditionally to the request:

Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.

And at that very moment, the awesome happening we call the Incarnation, the ‘en-flesh-ment’ of the Son of God took place in the womb of Mary. Nothing would ever be the same again in the history of the world.

The First Reading, from the beginning of the Acts of the Apostles, shows the disciples of Jesus returning to Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives after the Ascension. They went to the Upper Room where they had gathered with Jesus on the night before his Passion. All the Apostles are there with the obvious exception of Judas, who, overcome with guilt, had taken his own life.

But also among them were a number of women who had been companions of Jesus and among them was Mary. She would be with them, too, when the power of the Spirit of Jesus would come down on them giving them their mission to continue the work that Jesus had begun, the work of establishing the Kingdom of God on earth.

Today’s celebration invites all of us to meditate and pray on the events in Jesus’ life, following the example of Mary who was so specially involved with all of these events through her unique participation in the bringing the Son of God to live and work among us as one of us. We will identity with the Joyful, Sorrowful, Glorious and Light mysteries of his life, which is the Source of our own life.

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Our Lady of the Rosary is a title of the Virgin Mary related to the prayer of the Rosary, whose origin has been attributed to an apparition of Our Lady to St Dominic in 1208 in the monastery church at Prouille, near Carcasonne in the south of France.

Pope Pius V instituted the feast of “Our Lady of Victory” to commemorate the naval victory of Don John of Austria over the Turkish fleet at Lepanto on 7 October, 1571, the first Sunday of the month. The victory was attributed to the help of the Mother of God, because a rosary procession had been offered on that day in St Peter’s Square in Rome for the success of the League in preventing Muslim forces from overrunning Western Europe. Two years later, at the request of the Dominican Order, Pope Gregory XIII, in 1573, allowed this feast to be kept in all churches which possessed an altar dedicated to the Holy Rosary. In 1671, the observance of the feast was extended by Pope Clement X to the whole of Spain.

Somewhat later, Pope Clement XII, following the victory over the Turks gained by Prince Eugene on 6 August, 1716 (the feast of our Lady of the Snows), at Peterwardein in Hungary, decreed that the Feast of the Rosary be celebrated by the whole Church on the first Sunday in October.

Pope Pius X changed the date to 7 October, and in 1969, Pope Paul VI changed the name of the feast to “Our Lady of the Rosary”. Today’s celebration invites all of us to meditate often on the mysteries of Jesus’ life.

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Commentary on Acts 5:27b-33, 40b-41; Ps 30; Luke 12:4-9

Read Saint Diego Aloysius de San Vitores – Readings »

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Blessed Diego Aloysius de San Vitores, Priest and Martyr, SJ

Diego (James) Aloysius de San Vitores was born of a noble family in Burgos, Spain, in 1627.

His parents wanted him to follow a military career but Diego had a desire to be a Jesuit from the age of 11. He entered the Society of Jesus in 1640, studied philosophy and theology in Alcalá de Henares before being ordained on 23 December, 1651. Despite his desire to be a missionary in China or Japan, the young Jesuit taught grammar at Oropesa and then taught young Jesuits studying theology in Madrid. Finally the superior general, Father Goswin Nickel, assigned San Vitores to the Philippines missions in 1659.

He left Spain on 15 May, 1660 and sailed first to Mexico where we spent 18 months before continuing on to the Philippines. While in Mexico City he gave mission and preached in the streets. In 1662, on his way to the Philippines he stopped over in Guam and vowed to go back there some day. Three years later, through his close links to the royal court, he persuaded King Philip IV of Spain and Queen Maria Ana of Austria to order that a mission in the Ladrones group of islands about 1500 km northeast of the Philippines be established.

On arriving in the Philippines, he spent some months learning the local language. He was made master of novices and dean at the university in Manila. During the five years he spent there, he also did missionary work in other parts of Luzon and on the island of Mindoro.

When a mission opened in the Ladrones Islands, Diego was chosen to lead it. In June 1668 , he set sail from Acapulco in Mexico to Guam. He gave the Chamorro archipelago the new name of “Islas Marianas” (Marianas Islands) in honour of the Queen Regent of Spain, Maria Ana of Austria, as well as the Virgin Mary. The missionary landed on Guam in the village of Hagatna where he was greeted by Chief Kepuha. Kepuha’s family gave him land to establish the first Catholic mission on the island. On 2 February 1669 Diego established the first Catholic church in Hagatna and dedicated it to the “Dulce Nombre de Maria” (Sweet Name of Mary).

Work in the new mission began very smoothly partly because of a shipwrecked Spaniard whose friendship with several island leaders opened a path for the Jesuits, who imitated the simple life of the natives by walking barefoot, eating frugal meals and wearing a garb made of matted fibres. After only six months, the Jesuits had baptised some 13,000 people.

After Chief Kepuha’s death in 1669, relations between Spain and the Chamorro leaders deteriorated. Trouble began in 1670 when Fr Luis de Medina was martyred on Saipan, one of the Las Marianas islands. Diego began to pray for the grace of martyrdom. Then war broke out in 1671. Following several attacks on the Spanish mission, a peace was finally negotiated. Although he was inspired by the peaceful methods of St Francis Xavier, Diego recognised that a military presence would be necessary to protect the missionaries on Guam. In 1672, Chamorro resistance increased, led by Makahnas and Kakahnas (indigenous priests and priestesses) from the Chamorro nobility, who felt they would lose their leadership position and status under a Catholic mission and a male-dominated Spanish society.

On 1 April 1672, Diego set out with his Visayan companion Pedro Calungsod to save a servant from what they considered a dissolute life. When the two men entered the village of Tumon, they met a man named Matapang who was one of the mission’s first converts. Matapang threatened Diego, who left the village but did not go far away. When Matapang found him, he threw a spear without warning into the chest of Diego’s companion. The missionary, realising his own end was imminent, grabbed his crucifix and fell to his knees. A companion of Matapang struck the Jesuit in the head, killing him instantly. The bodies were then thrown into the sea.

Diego de San Vitores was beatified by Pope John Paul II in 1985. He is remembered for his missionary zeal in preaching God’s word to native populations and is acknowledged as the “Apostle of the Marianas”.

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Francis Borgia was born in Gandia, Spain, in 1510. He was the eldest son of the Duke of Gandia, great grandson of the notorious Pope Alexander VI (known as the ‘Borgia Pope’) and of King Ferdinand V of Aragon. He received a private education and was presented to the Emperor’s court at the age of 18. In the following year (1529) he married Leonor de Castro, and was made viceroy of Catalonia by the Emperor Charles V. He and Leonor had eight children.

In 1543, he succeeded his father as the fourth Duke of Gandia. Because of problems arising from his attempts to put an end to corruption by legal officials, he retired to his estate. He then devoted his time to the development of his property, including the setting up of a Dominican house and the restoration of a hospital.

His happy family life came to an end when his wife died in 1546. In the following year, he quietly entered the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) and passed the dukedom on to his eldest son, while making provision for the rest of the family, including arranging their marriages. The news of this very distinguished candidate to the Society could not remain a secret for long and, although he tried to downplay his social status, his genuine ability could not be hidden.

He was ordained a priest in 1551. Because of his aristocratic birth, great abilities and wide reputation, he was immediately offered a cardinal’s hat. This he refused, preferring the life of a travelling preacher. However, in 1554 he was made Commissary General for the Jesuits of Spain and Portugal by St Ignatius Loyola, the founder and first Superior General of the Jesuits. Here his previous experience in government and administration proved invaluable, and he established many colleges and other Jesuit houses.

In 1561, he was called to Rome, and in 1565 was elected Superior General of the Jesuits. For the remaining seven years of his life he was so active and effective in governing that he has been called the Society’s second founder. He worked for the reform of Christian life in Europe, and set up a new Jesuit province in Poland as well as new colleges in France. He also promoted missionary work in other parts of the world, especially in the Americas. In Rome, he was one of the founders of the Roman College (later known as the Gregorian University), he built the church of St Andrew on the Quirinal as well as initiated the building of the Gesu church. Despite the high status of his office, Francis led a humble life and was widely regarded, even in his own lifetime, as a saint.

When the plague struck Rome in 1566, he organised relief for the poor as well as sending Jesuit priests to take care of the sick in hospital. In 1571, he accompanied a papal ambassador on a visit to Spain, Portugal, and France, which was very successful. However, under the burden of both sickness and the cares of office, he died on 30 September, 1572, soon after his return to Rome, but not before giving his blessings to his children and grandchildren. He was 62 years old. Francis was canonised by Pope Clement X in 1671 and is remembered for his spirit of prayer and his humility that led him to renounce worldly honours in order to live for Christ alone.