DEATH

 

In Jesus’ passion and death, we see the suffering of the world, past and present. Our faith tells us that in our own suffering and death, which leads to the tomb, we will one day wake with Him in everlasting life.

 If anything, this walk with Christ during these days of sorrow, must reveal to us- and to a world that will listen- His infinite love for us. To paraphrase the refrain after each Station of the Cross: We adore You, O Christ, and we bless You, because You love us”. 

"As Christ died on the cross He drew all those to Himself who would die His death and enter with Him into the mysterious glory of it, all those who by dying would redeem other men: those whose lives seem to be failures, to be cut off before they have come to their flowering; those people who could have had brilliant careers, who could have benefited their fellow men immeasurably, but are cut off at the very beginning of manhood, or who die in childhood; deaths that seem to be nothing else but waste to which we cannot reconcile our hearts.

He identifies Himself with all the young men who would die in battle, all the men and women who would fall in the squander of destruction that is war, all those children who would die in innocence with the burning splendor of His purity still radiant in their souls, with His passion of love still whole and not frittered away.

 He identifies Himself with the old people who, when death comes, will think their lives were wasted, who will think that they have done nothing for God’s glory, taken no part in the world’s redemption, but who in reality are dying His death and saving the world in the power of His love.

 Christ on the cross is God and man, He is wholly human; He knows the utter desolation and loneliness of death as no other man will ever know it.  He knows the grief of leaving those whom He loves – His mother, His friends, Mary Magdalen who seems utterly dependent on Him.

 He feels abandoned by His Father.

He is dying all our deaths.  Death is too big a thing for any one of us to face alone.  It separates us, for a time, from those we love on Earth.  It is difficult for us Earthbound, rooted creatures to want Heaven; it is impossible for us to realize what the glory of God will be to us.  It is loving God, and that only, that can make Heaven, Heaven.  Here imagination does not help us: we cannot really imagine ourselves loving the “Supreme Spirit” – we even want to cling to our human frailties and comforts, to our human weakness

It is now that Christ takes over.  He has died all our deaths on the cross; now we are going to die His; it is Christ in us who surrenders to God.  It is not with our own heart and our own will that we can long for God, but with Christ’s.  And Christ has given His heart and will to us.  In this is the supreme mercy that comes to us in the hour of death.

“Father, into thy hands….”  We can say it with Christ’s love and trust in the Father.  “Father, into thy hands not only my spirit, my body and soul, but those people whom I love, and whom you love infinitely more than I 

Now I love God with Christ’s will, with Christ’s heart, with Christ’s trust; and because He has taken whole possession of me, in the hour of my death I shall at last love my friends too with His loveNot only will my suffering of mind and body, molten into His in the fire of His love, be the beginning of my blessed purgatory purifying me; it will also be Christ’s sacrifice on the cross offered for those whom I love.

Of each one surrendered wholly to Christ in the hour of death, we can say: “Greater love than this no man has, that he lays down his life for his friends.”  (Caryll Houselander)

Art:  Gianpaolo Berto- Italian

NAILS

 

“As Christ stretched out His beautiful craftsman’s hands and composed His blameless feet on the hard wood of the cross to receive the nails, He was reaching out to countless men through all time: as He stretched his body on that great tree that was to flower with His life forever, He gave Himself to be made one with all those who in every generation to come would willingly bind and fasten themselves irrevocably to the cross, for the love of God and the love of men.

 For all through time for those who love Christ and who want to be one with Him, love and the cross would be inseparable; but because Christ willed that He should be nailed to the cross Himself in His human nature, love will always predominate and redeem the suffering of the cross.

 As the three nails were driven home into the wood, fastening Him to it irrevocably, Christ gave Himself to all those men and women who in the years to come would nail themselves to His cross by the three vows of religion – poverty, chastity, and obedience; those wise ones who know the weakness of human nature, who know how easily the will can falter when the sweetness of the first consolation of prayer is over; how hard and bleak the winter of the spirit when its springtide and its summer and harvesting seem passed forever; how hard to go on faithfully clinging to the Christ life with only one’s own weak will to drive one.  Christ, receiving the nails, gave Himself to those men and women who would nail themselves by binding vows to Himself upon the cross, who would have the ability to remain true to their chosen life because their hands and feet are put into His hands and feet, and they are held onto the cross by the nails that held Him.

 He gave himself in that moment to all those men and women who would pledge themselves to Him and to one another with the vows in matrimony, the three blessed nails of human love safeguarding husbands and wives from the assaults of temptation in every circumstance of the world, the vows to love, honor, and obey.

He gave himself to all those converts who bind themselves to the laws of the church and all those Christians who persevere in the faith, nailed to it by their own baptismal vows, no matter what hardships it may involve them in; nailed to it willingly because they know well that without Christ they can do nothing, and that Christ in this world is inseparable from His cross.

And with what great tenderness, with what depths of understanding, Christ gave Himself in that hour on Calvary to all those whom He would indwell – Religious, married people, ordinary Christians, trying to adhere to Him, not through emotion, not through sentimentality, but by uniting their wills to His, and binding themselves irrevocably to him.  With what love He gave himself to them, knowing how they too would be considered to be fools, would be mocked, and even looked upon with distrust and anxiety by their own people – by those who loved them…

…Despite the fact that in many countries of the world today, to openly vow yourself to religion is to put your head into the noose, to invite persecution!

Not only would the Religious be thought to be fools, but those married men and women who were faithful and compelled themselves to be faithful to their three vows – whose love and whose fidelity to love is not that which the world of today can understand.

…To all these Christ reached out across the years when He was nailed to the cross.  He identified Himself with them; He accepted their limitations; He gave them His will.  For them as well as for Himself, His prayer was uttered forever: “Father, not my will but thy will be done.”     (Caryll Houselander)

 Art: Kevin Rolly, Los Angeles

LIKE THE ANGEL GABRIEL

 

Today, the the solemnity of the Annunciation, it is announced that the beatification of VENERABLE FULTON SHEEN will take place Sept. 24 in St. Louis. This day was chosen for the announcement  as the Archbishop  spent his life continuing the work of the Archangel Gabriel.

Due to the great number of people wanting to participate, St. Louis was chosen due to the close proximity to the Diocese of Peoria, where Archbishop Sheen was born, ordained, and first served as a priest. This city has an arena  (The Dome at America’s Center), large enough to hold the many who will come for  the celebration.

On March 6, 2014, the board of medical experts who advise the Congregation for the Causes of Saints unanimously approved a miracle of  Archbishop Sheen’s, in which a stillborn baby survived due to his intercession.

A MODEL FOR SUFFERING

As we continue through the stations of the Cross depicting the last days of Jesus' life and death, we consider the life of another man who offered his sufferings for the life of others.

VENEABLE FAUSTO GEI was born on March 24, 1927, in Brescia to Angelo and Maria Della Biasia. He earned his high school diploma from the Calini Scientific High School and enrolled in the Faculty of Medicine and Surgery at the University of Pavia. Becoming a doctor was his dream.

At the age of twenty, while completing his second year of university, he was struck by a mysterious illness. He diagnosed it himself, which was later confirmed as multiple sclerosis. He told his family, “It's a fatal disease. I don't know how long I'll last."

Abandoned by medical science, he clung to the hope of a miracle, going to Lourdes but was not cured.
Returning from the pilgrimage, he told someone: "I prayed for those who suffered more than me. I want to speak to those who suffer. I have not been able to help them as a doctor, I will do so as a sick person."

While his body gave way under the progression of his illness and his suffering increased day by day,, he portrayed serenity, and peace.

In 1955 he joined the Center for Volunteers of Suffering and gave one of the most profound definitions of the Association: "There are two attitudes that a soul can have when struck by suffering: that of the forced or that of the volunteer. Those forced to suffer are those who, in pain, curse, rebel, despair, without improving, but rather worsen their situation, which thus becomes more difficult and desolate, while in rebellion and sin every possibility of merit and comfort is extinguished, with the risk of transforming one's earthly unhappiness into eternal unhappiness. 

Volunteers to suffer, on the other hand, are those who, without making useless and vain comparisons with those who are "apparently" well and without getting lost in sterile regrets, accept the command of Jesus: "Whoever would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow me." Souls who have learned from Faith the providential nature of pain, who believe in the love of God and trust in Him even when He puts them to the test, the Volunteers of Suffering agree to continue the Passion of Jesus within themselves, to give glory to the Lord, to sanctify themselves and to extend the fruits of Redemption to all their brothers, especially those most in need of divine mercy. In their submission to the Will of God and in the offering of their own pain, they experience joys and comforts that no earthly happiness can even remotely equal”.

Fausto wrote on 31 July 1956: “I believe I have found the secret of happiness. Despite the physical limitation that afflicts me, I am always serene because I am always happy with everything. The lack of normal activity (normal for men) does not deprive me of serenity. I cannot see my illness as an unjust punishment, but only as a means to reach the goal and to carry out God's plans”.  

He wrote in his spiritual testament: "We must help our brothers and sisters find the path that leads to God. This involves offering suffering and sacrifice, but remember that the key word is: Love, suffer, offer. The salvation of a soul is priceless, and our greatest consolation must be that of having brought it back to the Father's fold... Don't be afraid of some failure: in life you don't always have to win, the important thing is to fight. To do all this, you must ask Our Lady for help, abandoning yourself into her hands. Always remember her favorite prayer, the rosary. For me, it has been the weapon that has given me the best results, especially on days when the devil was most threatening me."

He wrote to Monsignor  Luigil Novarese* (Co-founder of the Apostolate of the Suffering): “I don’t want to be defeated and I want my spirit to always triumph. I am always serene because I am always happy with everything.” 

The monsignor replied: “Live your day, the hours of your day, next to the Most Holy Madonna. She, who has perfectly understood the mystery of suffering, will not fail to support you, guide you, and make you ever more active in your offering.”

Fausto died on March 27, 1968, at the age of 41. Pope Leo declared him Venerable on February 21, 2026.

* Monsignor Novarese was beatuified May 11,  2013.

STRIPPED

 

“Before He is nailed to the cross, Jesus gives us yet another overwhelming showing of His love, yet another proof of His identification with men in their bitterest humiliation: Jesus is stripped of His garments.

It is hard to bring oneself to reflect on this, yet it is necessary because of what every detail of this dreadful incident can mean to men today.  With all the wounds on His body, the wounds of the scourging, of the falls on the way to Calvary, of the heaviness and the roughness of the cross on His shoulder, Christ’s garments must have been stiff with blood and adhering to His body.  The soldiers would not have treated Him tenderly, although there is no reason to suppose they were fundamentally cruel.  They would undoubtedly have torn His clothes from Him as quickly as they could and as roughly as they must.  It would have been almost as if His skin was being torn off Him.

There, exposed in His nakedness, He stood in front of the whole mob – and, which must have been far harder to bear, in front of those whom He loved, His mother; John, His chosen friend; Mary Magdalen, who washed His feet with her tears.  He stood naked.

He was stripped there on the summit of Calvary not to reveal His sacred body in its perfection.  He was the fairest of the sons of men; no other men had ever had, or ever would have, a body approaching His in perfection; but it was exposed to the world only when it was disfigured by wounds and bruises, only when it was exhausted and almost falling to the ground with weariness.

Again Christ identified Himself with those whom He would indwell through all time.

He stood there naked in front of the world and in front of His Heavenly Father, identified with all those sinners who are found out, whose shame is made public, or, perhaps more terrible for them, shown to those whom they love and from whom, above all others, they would wish to keep it secret...

He stood there identified with everyone who loves, because everyone who loves must be known sooner or later as he is, without pretense, his soul stripped bare.  

Art: Glass, Albert Chavaz (d. 1990), Parish Church, Vercorin, Swiss Alps

THE NUN WITH THE SMILE

 

 

 

 

We continue with young people who died young, uniting their suffering with the suffering of Christ- our theme for this Lent.

SERVANT OF GOD SISTER CECILIA MARIA of the HOLY FACE was born in 1973 in San Martín de los Andes, Argentina as one of ten siblings in a military family. Despite the challenges of frequent relocations, she was deeply inspired by the faith she encountered through her family and education. Her calling to the Carmelite order began to take shape during her university years, when the writings of St. Teresa of Ávila awakened in her a desire for intimacy with Christ.

 A nurse by profession and a violinist, she stood out for her joy and ever-present smile. After a winding journey of discernment, including time in two other Carmelite communities, Cecilia María finally found her home in the Carmelite convent of Santa Fe. There, she embraced the contemplative life with a warmth and humanity that would become her hallmark.

 In her time living at the monastery, she played the violin and was known for her sweetness. In late 2015, during the Advent season and the Jubilee Year of Mercy, Sister Cecilia María received a devastating diagnosis: cancer of the tongue, with metastasis to a lymph node. Despite the pain and grueling treatments, she exuded a sense of peace that astonished those around her. During this difficult time, she continued to pray and offer up her sufferings, convinced that she was close to her encounter with God.

  A poignant image of her, lying in a hospital bed with a serene smile on her face, went viral shortly before her death in June 2016. The photo encapsulated her ability to radiate hope and beauty even in the face of profound suffering. In one of her final letters to her family, she wrote, “I feel the pain growing, but I am not alone. Together, we will follow the Lamb.”

Those who knew Sister Cecilia María describe her as a beacon of joy and empathy. Her smile, often visible even in her final days of suffering, became a symbol of her profound spiritual peace. “She had the gift of connecting with people,” recalls Sister Fabiana Guadalupe Retamal, a fellow Carmelite. “Even in her hardest moments, her smile came from the depths of her heart. It wasn’t forced—it was a reflection of her trust in God.”

In the final weeks of her illness, her condition worsened, and she had to be hospitalized. From her bed, she never stopped praying and offering up her sufferings, with the certainty that her encounter with God was near.

 She wrote her last wish on a piece of paper: “I was thinking about how I would like my funeral to be. First, some intense prayer, and then a great celebration for everyone. Don't forget to pray, but don't forget to celebrate either!”

 She passed to the Lord in Buenos Aires in the early hours of June 23, 2016. Sister Cecilia Maria’s death, her life, and her smile were a testimony to happiness. Our Lord assured us that the world would know we are Christians by our love.

In January 2025, the archbishop of Santa Fe de la Vera Cruz in Argentina, Sergio Fenoy, decreed the beginning of the cause for beatification and canonization.

 In 2024, when signing the edict to begin the process prior to the cause, the prelate highlighted the witness of the nun’s “love and trust in Jesus Christ, even in the midst of the most difficult trials,” assuring that “she has awakened in many hearts the desire for a greater commitment to Christian life.”

 We continue with young people who died young, uniting their suffering with the suffering of Christ- our theme for this Lent.

LAST FALL

"This is the worst fall of all.  It comes at the worst moment of all.  It tears open all the wounds in his body; the shock dispels the last ounce of strength that he had mustered to go on.  It shatters the last hope, the last remnant of faith, in nearly everyone in the crowd.  It is triumph for his enemies, heartbreak for his friends. 

The effect on the crowd is terrible.  From having been an object of compassion, of admiration, he has become an object of contempt.  Hope has given way to despair, struggling faith to bitterness and derision: “He has saved others, himself he cannot save!”

Now Christ gets up, he does not turn his head, he does not heed the disappointment of the crowd.  He gets up, weaker than he has ever been, almost too exhausted to go on, all the old wounds open and bleeding; more abject than he has ever been, a greater disappointment to his followers than he has ever been, in their eyes a complete failure.  He gets up and goes on; lays his beautiful hands, those hands of a carpenter, on the wood of the cross for the last time, and without looking round begins the ascent to the summit of Calvary.

The last fall is the worst fall.  In it Christ identified himself with those who fall again and again, and who get up again and again and go on – those who even after the struggle of a lifetime fall when the end is in sight; those who in this last fall lose the respect of many of their fellow men, but who overcome their humiliation and shame; who, ridiculous in the eyes of men, are beautiful in the eyes of God, because in Christ, with Christ’s courage, in his heroism, they get up and go on, climbing the hill of Calvary.

In the third fall, the showing of Christ’s love is this: He does not indwell only the virtuous, only those who are successful in overcoming temptation, only those who are strong and in whom his power is made manifest to the world; he chooses to indwell those who seem to fail, those who fall again and again, those who seem to be overcome even when the end is in sight.  In them, if they will it, he abides; in them he overcomes weakness and failure, in them he triumphs; and in his power they can persevere to the end, abject before men but glorious with Christ’s glory before God." (Caryll Houselander) 

Art: Jan Toroop (d. 1928)  Dutch