Road to Heaven Not an Expressway

If you know anything about Michael the Lesser then you know that I am a fugitive from a monastery. Back in the mid-1970's, I felt that I had a calling to be a Franciscan brother.  I began earnestly to look into the orders that were hiring at that time.  There were ads promising that I would learn to fly an airplane in my first year, some that promised I would live in Rome or the Holy Land and still others that made even more extravagant promises.  Then tucked away in the corner of Catholic Digest was a little ad for the Third Order Regular of St. Francis in a place called Loretto Pennsylvania, they made no extravagant claims, they just called young men to a life of penance in the Third Order Regular.  I applied and was accepted.  I quit my job and with eight hundred dollars in my pocket to last my postulant year, I packed up all of my worldly possessions into a television box (this was way before flat screen so the boxes weren't skinny) and after a tearful goodbye to my parents, who thought my idea was dumb, and my siblings who could have cared less, I flew off to Loretto.  For the next two years, I did my best to live the life of a Franciscan.  It is kind of nice living with a bunch of people who have the same thoughts and feelings about religion that you do.  On the other hand, living in community with a bunch of men was not the easiest thing to do.  One thing that I missed was the support of my family.  The other guys would come home from school and they would find a letter from this relative or that relative or a package of goodies from home while my pigeon hole was always empty. This weighed on my mind and did have a chronic case of homesickness, but I stayed the course for two years. Then, for reasons that I am not going to go into here (you can read about them in my autobiography "Glimpses of God" available through Amazon.com) I decided to leave. I packed up my television box and flew back into Chicago, my heart was broken and I was very angry at God.  My father picked me up at the airport and dropped me off at my former roommate's apartment.  The night before I ended my day with Compline, the Church's prayer said at the end of the day. This night, I ended my day by getting happily drunk at the Cork Lounge, I was a civilian again, dammit! Long story short, it took a year for me to recover to the point where I was not angry at God. He is most merciful and He allowed me to vent and yet stayed by my side through the whole ordeal.  Some mystics write about the dark night of the soul and how that is a sign you are close to God.  Well, forgive me, I know myself and I know that if that ever happened to me, I would perish. Through the years, God has taken me down some different roads. Some of the roads, if I had my druthers, I would not have taken, but He knew and knows what He is doing.  There is no way I would change anything that has happened in my life. The time in the monastery was my basic training.  It helped me grow up and become an independent person. All of the jobs and the people I've met along the way have helped me to become who I am. Change any one thing, any one incident, and everything that came after it would change and I never would have met and married my wife and my life would have been lonely and sad without her spirit joined to mine as we grow old together and love each other more day by day. 

So, what is the point of all this drivel, what do I as Michael the Lesser, owner and operator of one of the least known blogs on the internet want you to take away from this post?  I would say, be like Matthew in our reading.  He left everything to follow Jesus and he never looked back.  He is a man to imitate as we travel down life's roads.  I apologize for this posting, it contains the word "I" many more times than it should.  I do not see myself as a shining example to be followed, just a fellow traveler sharing stories along the way.  God Bless. 

The Age of Martyrs

In 1998 my wife and I had the pleasure of visiting Ireland.* It is a most beautiful country with a warm and charming people. After a nights rest in Limerick and a call to the car rental people to send someone to fix our boot (trunk) because someone had hit our rental car in the parking lot, we set out for one place and ended up in another.  We actually ended up in Galloway Bay, a beautiful town on the coast.  We found a bread and breakfast that had room for us and after a wonderful dinner we found our way to the local church for Saturday Evening Mass.

 When we walked into the church we were greeted with the sound of angels singing.  The youth choir at this church was singing a prelude song before Mass started.  It was absolutely beautiful. I noticed that the Irish people had a great reverence when they were in church. It was quiet, no idle chatter disturbed the peace. The mass itself was said with a joyfulness that I have only found here in the states a couple of times.  All through Ireland we found this same attitude towards worship. I got the feeling that the people actually wanted to be there. As we explored the country I tried to figure out why the Church seemed so different there.  Then it hit me. The pestilential British made martyrs of Catholics and the right to worship came at a very high cost. Much blood was spilled and many churches were destroyed yet the Church could not be extinguished at the point of a sword. 

Today we face barbarians that make the shenanigans of the British against the Irish seem like child's play. The people who claim to be Muslims jihadists in the Arab countries are enriching the soil of the lands that they infest with the blood of Christians some of which have been there since the second century.  These members of Isis will not be able to win. It is not the military might of the United States or the Coalition that will defeat them, it is the blood of those that they martyr that will serve to extinguish their lust for power.

I look at what my brothers and sisters in those lands have gone through and still have kept the faith and I wonder if I too would have the strength to offer my life for my fellow Christians.  I like to think that I would.  The power of the example of the martyrs is what will keep the church alive. The barbarians had lined up about 30 Coptic Christians to execute them. Included in the group was one man who was not Christian.  The Coptic men kept repeating the name of Jesus and kept praying while waiting for their death. The cowardly barbarians asked the man who was not a Christian to immediately convert to Islam and his life would be spared. The man, without any hesitation said, "Their God is my God."

In today's first reading at Mass we see that Paul and Barnabas where brought before the leaders and they without fear spoke out on how they had to obey God's word and not man's.  They were punished and expelled from the district, but the church still grew. 

As you enjoy your Sunday bring to mind all of those that came before us that made it possible for us to worship as we do.  Thank God for the martyrs and for his One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church.  

If you are interested in more information about the persecution of the British against the Irish, click on the link and you can read a brief paper about it.    (  LINK  )

*1998 was a long time ago of course, and the Irish Church has had some set backs as has the Church all over the world. The errors of common society have unfortunately been embraced by many Irish people.