Fr.
Matthew "I'm here to speak on 'Perfection' because Tink can't!"
He
must have meant I couldn't make it last week to speak on that topic
because I was busy at my parish. And he was right.
But
whatever he may have meant, I'm here to speak on Humility, because
Fr. Matthew can't." ...and what I mean is just that he is busy
up at his parish and everything. He tells me again and again, "one
day, when you grow up and become a pastor yourself with your own
parish, you will understand what I mean."
Okay
that's enough fun, we could do this all day but I might need to go to
Confession after my talk if I don't stop now. Plus, it wouldn't
really do us much good - that's not why we are here.
We
are here to hear about a man, a priest, named Josemaría
Escrivá who founded a nice little catholic
club that we know of now as Opus Dei. In
fact, this group was so unique in its time that it required its own
sort of legal status within the Church's structures. What Josemaría
envisioned was that all work (as long as it wasn't
morally objectionable) could become an Opus Dei, a work of God: our
work can be made into God's work.
So
the title tonight, “Footprints in the Snow” may have seemed
confusing to you, and I apologize if it was a point of angst that you
had no idea what it meant. But if that curiosity was good enough to
bring you here tonight, then I don't apologize. I'm glad it worked.
You see, I simply robbed it from this little pictorial biography I
read last fall about this Saint.
Near
the beginning of the biography is the story from the title, which is
also portrayed in the movie version about the first 35 years of this
saint's life and the beginnings of Opus Dei during the Spanish Civil
War (the movie is called There Be
Dragons, and
it's one of those rare saint movies that doesn't make you want to gag
because it gets too cheesy – so you can try to share it with some
people who aren't too into their faith but are open to it).
Okay so, back to the snowprints ….(Chapter 2).
This
vocation grew slowly within him... a lot like me. It took a long
time for me to make sense of my future, but I, like Josemaría,
was happy along the way – trying to stay
close to the Lord and asking for guidance. But eventually going to
seminary, Josemaría finds
his vocation to be a diocesan priest so that he could be more
flexible for wherever God was leading him in his future. One thing
that surprised me about this saint, and about the lives of so many
other saints that is so often different from our own: something hits
them hard and wakes them up to live life on a different level. I am
stunned that so many saints have severe trial or tragedy in their
lives, even if something as simple as the death of loved ones. For
Saint Josemaría, he
lost three younger sisters in under 4 years: an infant, a 5-yr-old
and of 8-yr-old. Then his dad died just months before his ordination
to priesthood. Why do these things so often play a part in making
saints? I think because it impresses upon them, deep into their
hearts, some simple truths that we all should remember: (1) human
life is precious and every day counts. (2) our decisions make a
difference, a huge difference. And because even the small choices we
make have impact, then our passions, the deeper reasons for what
motivates all we do, have the force of a tidal wave.
I
love music, and listened to a lot of Christian music ever since
childhood. There's a band I've been listening to lately called
Switchfoot, and they have a song that gets exactly at these points.
Some of the lyrics are: “You change the world, you change my world,
every day you're alive.” And “what you say is your religion, how
you say it's your religion. Who you love is your religion; how you
love is your religion. All your science, your religion. All your hatred, your religion. All your wars are your religion. Every breath is your religion.”
We
are called to greatness, and it comes from
I
didn't run into this saint until just before I entered into seminary.
My friends in college were all given this collection of quotes from
this Saint which he organized from snippets of letters he wrote, etc.
It was called “The Way” and that was really about all I knew at
the time. I was in fact, pretty jealous that I didn't receive a copy
myself at the time. I couldn't pinpoint why but I wanted
one. Perhaps I felt left out or something – you know, missing all
those Catholic “inside jokes” and stuff. Anyways, a year or two
goes by and I decide to buy for myself the book, and actually the
whole trilogy in one book, which includes two more sets of sayings,
about 1000 each, most of them just two or three sentences. Talk
about bite-sized and really useful for busy people.
St.
Josemaría
gives
his own advice on the three books as a Prologue. For The
Way
he writes: Read
these counsels slowly. Pause to meditate on these thoughts. They
are things that I whisper in your ear – confiding them – as a
friend, as a brother, as a father. And they are being heard by God.
I won't tell you anything new. I will only stir your memory, so that
some thought will arise and strike you; and so you will better your
life and set out along ways of prayer and of love. And in the end
you will be a more worthy soul.
I
want to use tonight to look at some of the lessons that Josemaría
gave
me through this little book.
For
Furrow,
he says: My
reader and friend, let me help your soul contemplate the virtues of
man, for grace works upon nature. But do not forget that these
considerations of mine though they may seem very human to you must be
priestly as well. Since I have written them for you and for myself –
an I have put them into practice too- before God. I ask Our Lord that
these pages may be of use for us. May we profit by them and e moved
by them so that in our lives our deeds may leave behind a deep and
fertile furrow.
Oct
6, 2002 Canonization 500,000
Humility
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