Feast of John Vianney, Curè d'Ars, 1859 Prayer is not a way of making use of God; prayer read more

Feast of John Vianney, Curè d'Ars, 1859 Prayer is not a way of making use of God; prayer is a way of offering ourselves to God in order that He should be able to make use of us. It may be that one of our great faults in prayer is that we talk too much and listen too little. When prayer is at its highest we wait in silence for God's voice to us; we linger in His presence for His peace and His power to flow over us and around us; we lean back in His everlasting arms and feel the serenity of perfect security in Him.

There is no need for peculiar conditions in order to grow in the spiritual life, for the pressure of God's read more

There is no need for peculiar conditions in order to grow in the spiritual life, for the pressure of God's Spirit is present everywhere and at all times. Our environment itself -- our home and our job -- is the medium through which we experience His moulding action and His besetting love. It is not Christian to try to get out of our frame, or to separate our outward life from our life of prayer, since both are the creation of one Charity. The third-rate little town in the hills, with its limited social contacts and monotonous manual work, reproves us when we begin to fuss about our opportunities and our score. And this quality of quietness, ordinariness, simplicity, with which the saving action of God enters history, endures from the beginning to the end.

Feast of William Tyndale, Translator of the Scriptures, Martyr, 1536 Every man is a missionary, now and forever, for read more

Feast of William Tyndale, Translator of the Scriptures, Martyr, 1536 Every man is a missionary, now and forever, for good or for evil, whether he intends or designs it or not. He may be a blot radiating his dark influence outward to the very circumference of society, or he may be a blessing spreading benediction over the length and breadth of the world. But a blank he cannot be: there are no moral blanks; there are no neutral characters.

Commemoration of Caroline Chisholm, Social Reformer, 1877 You and I drift on through the years dully enough, because we read more

Commemoration of Caroline Chisholm, Social Reformer, 1877 You and I drift on through the years dully enough, because we do not believe in God, not really, and so we have no expectation. But Jesus did believe in Him, was sure He is alive and abroad in the world; that, therefore, anything may happen any hour. And thus to Him any smallest incident was a magic casement opening upon who could tell what possibilities. A fisherman offers Him a crude, inchoate half-faith, and with that He is sure that He can found a world-wide Church that will defy the powers of evil, aye, and grind them into nothingness at last: a dying brigand, paying the just penalties of his crimes, gropes towards Him in the darkness with the vague hands of a blind man, and, founding upon that, Christ dies, quite sure that He has won: two or three Gentiles seek an interview with Him, and He sees a whole teeming world of men and women being saved.

One attempt to reconcile the Gnostic doctrine [of the unreality of evilness] of matter with the apostolic teaching about Christ read more

One attempt to reconcile the Gnostic doctrine [of the unreality of evilness] of matter with the apostolic teaching about Christ was the theory that the body which our Lord took at His coming into the world was not a real body but a phantom one. He only seemed to inhabit a material body, and from the Greek word dokein ["to seem"], people who held this theory were known as Docetists. But if Christ's incarnation was unreal, His death and resurrection were also unreal; and the whole gospel message was thus evacuated of its truth and power: one unhappy legacy of this short-lived phase of Christian heresy remains to bedevil Christian witness to Muslims up to the present day. For when the Koran says of Jesus that "they did not kill Him, nor did they crucify Him, but they thought they did", we may infer that Muhammad was indebted for this idea to a Christian source tainted with Docetism.

Feast of Stephen, Deacon, First Martyr O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie! read more

Feast of Stephen, Deacon, First Martyr O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep The silent stars go by: Yet in thy dark streets shineth The everlasting Light; The hopes and fears of all the years Are met in thee tonight. For Christ is born of Mary; And gathered all above, While mortals sleep, the angels keep Their watch of wondering love. O morning stars together Proclaim the holy birth; And praises sing to God the King, And peace to men on earth. How silently, how silently, The wondrous gift is giv'n! So God imparts to human hearts The blessings of His Heav'n. No ear may hear His coming, But in this world of sin, Where meek souls will receive Him still, The dear Christ enters in. O holy Child of Bethlehem, Descend to us, we pray, Cast out our sins, and enter in, Be born in us today. We hear the Christmas angels The great glad tidings tell; O come to us, abide with us, Our Lord Emmanuel.

Continuing a Lenten series on prayer: A man who prays without ceasing, if he achieves something, knows why he read more

Continuing a Lenten series on prayer: A man who prays without ceasing, if he achieves something, knows why he achieved it, and can take no pride in it... for he cannot attribute it to his own powers, but attributes all his achievements to God, always renders thanks to him and constantly calls upon him, trembling lest he be deprived of help.

Commemoration of Gladys Aylward, Missionary in China, 1970 [Leaders of the anarchist movement in Amsterdam] call their public read more

Commemoration of Gladys Aylward, Missionary in China, 1970 [Leaders of the anarchist movement in Amsterdam] call their public demonstrations "Happenings". These paintings, these poems, and these demonstrations... are the expression of men who are struggling with their appalling lostness. Dare we laugh at such things? Dare we feel superior when we view their tortured expressions in their art? Christians should stop laughing and take such men seriously. Then we shall have the right to speak again to our generation. These men are dying while they live, yet where is our compassion for them? There is nothing more ugly than an orthodoxy without understanding or without compassion.

Christmas Eve High o'er the lonely hills black turns to gray, Bird-song the valley fills, mists fold away Gray wakes read more

Christmas Eve High o'er the lonely hills black turns to gray, Bird-song the valley fills, mists fold away Gray wakes to green again, Beauty is seen again, Gold and serene again dawneth the day. So, o'er the hills of life, stormy, forlorn, Out of the cloud and strife sunrise is born; Swift grows the light for us, Ended is night for us, Soundless and bright for us breaketh God's morn. Hear we no beat of drums, fanfare, nor cry, When Christ the herald comes quietly nigh; Splendor He makes on earth; Color awakes on earth; Suddenly breaks on earth light from the sky. Bid then farewell to sleep: rise up and run! What though the hill be steep? Strength's in the sun. Now you shall find at last Night's left behind at last, And for mankind at last, Day has begun!