How is it, my dear brethren, that so few Christians behave with one end only in view — to please God? Here is the reason, pure and simple. It is just that the vast majority of Christians are enveloped in the most shocking ignorance, so that, humanly speaking, they really do the very best they can.
The result is that if you were to compare their intentions with those of pagans, you would not find any difference. Ah, dear Lord, how many good works are lost for Heaven! Others who are a little better informed are interested only in the esteem of their fellow men, and they try to dissemble as much as they can: their exterior seems good, while interiorly they are filled with duplicity and evil. Yes, my dear brethren, we shall see at the Judgment that the largest section of Christians practiced a religion of whim or caprice only — that is to say, the greatest number of them practiced their religion merely from motives of routine, and very few sought God alone in what they did.
John Vianney, Priest
Saint John Vianney was a French parish priest born in 1786. Known as the patron saint of priests, Saint Vianney became internationally respected for his pastoral care, confessional wisdom, and children’s catechesis.
Born into humble circumstances, Saint Vianney’s parents modeled a pious lifestyle, practicing the corporal and spiritual works of mercy as a family. At age 20, Saint Vianney decided to leave his rural upbringing and attend secondary education. His studies progressed slowly and a decade later he was ordained, despite aptitudes of compassion over those of learning. With this ‘tender heart’, he opened an orphanage and began to minister in the local parish in the aftermath of the Revolution. He was appointed curé, minister of souls, and was known to spend up to 18 hours a day in the confessional. Over time, his methods rippled internationally, as up to tens of thousands of pilgrims traveled annually seek his counsel. He was canonized in 1925 by Pope Pius XI.
Written by Sarah Ciotti
Here are the SERMONS OF THE CURE OF ARS – EXCERPTS
Friend at my side, Jesus is.
He comes to me in day time and night
Whenever I call,
Whenever I am up or down,
Whenever my heart is heavy
Whenever I seek His Inspiration
Whenever He calls me to pray
Whenever I spread His Word
Whenever the mountains are too high
Whenever the river is too deep
Whenever my life is filled with love.
RAnn of This That and the Other Thing hosts Sunday Snippets–A Catholic Carnival, a group of Catholic bloggers who gather weekly to share posts of interest to Catholic bloggers.
Posts I’m sharing this week:
A poem honoring St. Michael the Archangel
Michael, Michael: Michael of the Morning,
Michael of the Army of the Lord,
Stiffen thou the hand upon the still sword, Michael,
Folded and shut upon the sheathed sword, Michael,
Under the fullness of the white robes falling,
Gird us with the secret of the sword.
When the world cracked because of a sneer in heaven,
Leaving out for all time a scar upon the sky,
Thou didst rise up against the Horror in the highest,
Dragging down the highest that looked down on the Most High:
Rending from the seventh heaven the hell of exaltation
Down the seven heavens till the dark seas burn:
Thou that in thunder threwest down the Dragon
Knowest in what silence the Serpent can return.
Down through the universe the vast night falling
(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Morning!)
Far down the universe the deep calms calling
(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Sword!)
Bid us not forget in the baths of all forgetfulness,
In the sigh long drawn from the frenzy and the fretfulness
In the huge holy sempiternal silence
In the beginning was the Word.
When from the deeps of dying God astounded
Angels and devils who do all but die
Seeing Him fallen where thou couldst not follow,
Seeing Him mounted where thou couldst not fly,
Hand on the hilt, thou hast halted all thy legions
Waiting the Tetelestai and the acclaim,
Swords that salute Him dead and everlasting
God beyond God and greater than His Name.
Round us and over us the cold thoughts creeping
(Michael, Michael: Michael of the battle-cry!)
Round us and under us the thronged world sleeping
(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Charge!)
Guard us the Word; the trysting and the trusting
Edge upon the honour and the blade unrusting
Fine as the hair and tauter than the harpstring
Ready as when it rang upon the targe.
He that giveth peace unto us; not as the world giveth:
He that giveth law unto us; not as the scribes:
Shall he be softened for the softening of the cities
Patient in usury; delicate in bribes?
They that come to quiet us, saying the sword is broken,
Break man with famine, fetter them with gold,
Sell them as sheep; and He shall know the selling
For He was more than murdered. He was sold.
Michael, Michael: Michael of the Mustering,
Michael of the marching on the mountains of the Lord,
Marshal the world and purge of rot and riot
Rule through the world till all the world be quiet:
Only establish when the world is broken
What is unbroken is the word.
by G K Chesteron