09 September 2026
Conservative Bishop Hosts Heretical Women's Preaching Conference
Everyone knows that the enemies within who are overt heretics are dangerous. But everyone tends to ignore their conservative enablers.
What Did Medieval Cloaks Really Look Like?
From Modern History TV
Jason Kingsley, CBE, the Modern Knight, looks at several of his medieval cloaks and compares them to types of cloaks used in movies like The Lord of the Rings. Wearing Medieval Cloaks: How They Worked vs. Fantasy Costumes. Ever wondered how medieval cloaks actually worked? 🧥 In this video, we dive into the practical design, use, and versatility of cloaks in the Middle Ages and compare them to the dramatic cloaks seen in fantasy TV shows and movies. Learn how real medieval people stayed warm, dry, and stylish, and why Hollywood’s cloaks might not cut it in real life!
Explore:
The materials, styles, and construction of medieval cloaks
How cloaks were used for protection against the weather
Differences between historical cloaks and fantasy versions
Why some TV and movie cloaks look great but wouldn’t work practically
Real historical examples and tips for creating authentic medieval costumes
Whether you're a history enthusiast, RPG fan, or costume designer, this video reveals the truth behind one of history’s most iconic garments!
👉 Watch now to discover:
How did medieval cloaks keep people warm and dry?
Why are fantasy cloaks often impractical?
What do historical records say about the functionality of cloaks?
Traditional Catholic Morning Prayers in English | September
Traditional Catholic morning prayers to help start your day in a holy way! The month of September is dedicated to the Seven Sorrows of Our Lady. I hope these prayers increase your devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary this month, to share in her sorrows and to and draw you closer to her Divine Son, Jesus Christ. Begin each day with morning prayer! This video is a compilation of many traditional evening prayers Catholics say, and should not be considered a replacement for those who have an obligation to pray the Divine Office evening prayers.
3 Popes? - Three Popes at the Same Time?
From Catholic Truth
3 Popes? Were there really three popes at the same time? No. There were not 3 popes at one time. Three popes is a historical myth which we break down in this short video.
Yale’s Most Popular History Course Is Not What You Might Expect
The Calvinistic protestant founders of Yale must be spinning in their graves and weeping and gnashing their teeth in their final home, hell.
From Aleteia
By Rose Bryan
While many people are talking about defunding the humanities and getting away from liberal arts education, this college course is charting a different way forward.
Yale University, voted fourth place as the best National University in the U.S. News and World Report 2026, has a top-enrolled history course, and it’s not the history of law, for which Yale is most famous. Instead, according to Yale history instructor Sergio Infante writing in Slate, the most-enrolled history class at Yale is called “The Catholic Intellectual Tradition.” This popular course welcomed 85 students last spring. It surveys Catholic thinking and writing throughout the Church's 2,000-year history.
“Each week,” Infante explained, “after scrolling past calls to defund the humanities and to automate the many jobs that make a liberal arts education possible, I found myself surrounded by eager students ready to engage with fourth-century Christology, medieval mysticism, World War II-era debates over ‘just war’ theory, and much more.”
This interest in Catholic courses reflects the findings from recent surveys from the Harvard University’s Cooperative Election Study (CES), the Barna Group, and the Gallup poll, to name a few, that show a rise in Catholicism among Gen Zs. Just a decade earlier, “The Catholic Intellectual Tradition” course enrolled a meager 13 students.
Anthony Gross, a Gen Z Catholic influencer, is just one person noting how more and more young people are drawn to the Catholic Church. In a New York Post feature this past spring, he commented:
“I think Gen Z feels really lost, and some of that is a lack of purpose and direction. The best antidotes to finding those are, number one, God, and number two, connection …”
“The Catholic Intellectual Tradition” course beat out other established popular courses at Yale, such as “The Birth of Europe” and “The Roman Empire.” The course has long been offered at Yale, listed in earlier catalogs as an introductory survey of Catholicism' s interaction with Western culture.
Catholic influence extends beyond the classroom at Yale. The university's St. Thomas More Catholic community had a weekly independent reading course, also focusing on the Catholic intellectual tradition.
As explained on their Instagram:
As the academic year draws to a close, we are sharing highlights from the past semester, including an independent reading course focused on The Catholic Intellectual Tradition (CIT). The Catholic Intellectual Tradition is the 2,000-year-old practice of integrating faith and reason in a perennial quest for meaning, purpose, and truth. This course focused on the profound renewal that this tradition underwent in the twentieth century. Carlos Eire, T. Lawrason Riggs Professor of History and Religious Studies, was the instructor of record, and Assistant Chaplain Damon McGraw, PhD, served as guest scholar. The class was offered through Yale College and met weekly at the Thomas E. Golden, Jr. Center.
“What I did not anticipate was how the course would impact me,” said Jeth Fogg, Saybrook College ‘27. “I came in expecting intellectual stimulation, but what I found was something harder to name. The tradition that I encountered in this course integrated my intellectual life to a degree beyond which I had previously experienced. For once, my study of history, my formation in philosophy, my engagement with political theory, and my own life of faith were not running on parallel tracks; they finally converged. The Catholic intellectual tradition in the twentieth century is not something to be surveyed from a safe academic distance. It is a living conversation about what it means to be a human being, and it has the uncomfortable habit of implicating the reader in its conclusions.”
The three undergraduates in the course came from different disciplines; their unique experiences and areas of study enriched the weekly discussions. As a testament of the course’s significance, the group compiled their weekly written reflections into an anthology that preserves their responses to the material they encountered, much of it for the first time.
The Catholic intellectual tradition is the 2,000-year old practice of integrating faith and reason in a perennial quest for meaning, purpose and truth. This course focused on the profound renewal that this tradition underwent in the 20th century.
Those who attended found the information powerful, as was shared by a student on Yale’s St. Thomas More Chapel page.
“What I did not anticipate was how the course would impact me,” said Jeth Fogg, Saybrook College ‘27. “I came in expecting intellectual stimulation, but what I found was something harder to name. The tradition that I encountered in this course integrated my intellectual life to a degree beyond which I had previously experienced. For once, my study of history, my formation in philosophy, my engagement with political theory, and my own life of faith were not running on parallel tracks; they finally converged.
The Catholic intellectual tradition in the 20th century is not something to be surveyed from a safe academic distance. It is a living conversation about what it means to be a human being, and it has the uncomfortable habit of implicating the reader in its conclusions.”
While no independent Yale registrar data or History department enrollment rankings have been officially confirmed, the desire for young people to learn more about Catholicism is rising. Increases in Catholic student organization participation, Mass attendance, and OCIA numbers on U.S. college campuses reflect high numbers, with one dataset from nearly 60 campuses showing an average OCIA participation up approximately 115% year-over-year into 2025-26.
One person who must certainly not be surprised by such interest in Catholicism among the youth is Pope Leo XIV:
“The new generation is not closed to the Gospel; on the contrary, many, when they rediscover it, wish to know it better, because they sense that within it lies the secret to being truly happy.”
The “Almost Popes”: 6 Papal Favorites Who Left the Conclave As Cardinals
From Purely Catholic
In the high-stakes, hyper-secretive world of Vatican papal elections, being the absolute favorite can be a curse. Throughout history, powerful cardinals known as papabili, appeared destined for St. Peter’s Throne—only to see the Papacy slip right through their fingers. In this video, I’m diving into the stories of 6 figures in modern Catholic history who almost became Pope, what went wrong behind closed doors, and how their near-elections changed the course of history.
Beautiful Film for Wise Spectators
Dr Kmita takes a Platonic view of films, especially films about Saints, such as A Man for All Seasons (St Thomas More) and Monsieur Vincent (St Vincent de Paul).
From One Peter Five
By Robert Lazu Kmita, PhD
What the templum was for the Romans, the surface on which we watch a film is today.
When we speak about films, just as we do about any other creation that appeals to the sense of sight, we must make a few clarifications from the outset, as elementary as they are essential. Following Plato’s teaching in the dialogue Timaeus (69e), we must pay due attention to the way in which the human being is created by God. Thus, Plato draws our attention to the hierarchy of the constituent parts of the body: the head, the noblest part, generally regarded as the seat of the intellect (of thought), is hierarchically separated from the rest of the body by an “isthmus”—the neck—intended to suggest the excellence of the former. Following, therefore, this teaching of Plato, we shall note the hierarchy of the senses that make knowledge possible for fallen man.
Associated with the eyes, sight is the “highest” and, of course, the most highly valued of the senses. The loss of this sense is regarded as a terrible catastrophe, one that led the Argentine writer and poet Jorge Luis Borges (1899–1986) to declare, bitterly, that more than once he had wished for death over a life without the apple of his eye. Second in the hierarchy of the senses, as indicated by the position of the organs that make it possible—the ears—hearing is intended for the auditory perception of the world, but also for the contemplation of the sonic harmonies of music worthy of the name. Next comes smell, corresponding to the olfactory organ, the nose, followed by taste, corresponding to the gustatory organ, the tongue. All these senses are situated at the level of the head. The fifth sense, touch, can be considered inferior only in a restricted sense—when we think of the hands, which most often exercise it. In reality, however, we experience touch with the whole body. Although it is the “lowest” sense in relation to the others, Saint Thomas says that it is the most important at the strictly physical, bodily level of our interaction with the surrounding world.
By the statements above, I wished to draw attention to the hierarchical superiority of sight in relation to all the other senses. Our experience readily confirms this. None of the senses offers a broader horizon of knowledge. Although limited, the depths to which it gives us access—from the faces of those immediately around us to the celestial beauties of the Sun, Moon, and stars—make it, unquestionably, our “highest” sense. As is said of a single image, the knowledge it offers us is worth more than a thousand words. We now arrive at a point of crucial importance, set forth by the Angelic Doctor, Saint Thomas, in the Summa Theologica:
Beauty relates to the cognitive faculty; for beautiful things are those which please when seen (“Pulchrum autem respicit vim cognoscitivam: pulchra enim dicuntur quae visa placent” – Summa Theologica, Prima Pars, q. 5, a. 4, ad 1).
The “cognitive faculty” of which St. Thomas speaks refers to everything that provides us with knowledge, beginning with the senses and ultimately emphasizing the one who knows through them—the intellect (i.e., the “eye of the soul”). We say that something we behold is “beautiful” when we perceive that charm, that discrete diaphanous halo of light that delights our eyes. And nothing exerts a greater power over man than that which is beautiful. Living proof of this is found not only in artistic creations intended for the eye—paintings, sculptures, architecture, drama, comedy, film, animation, and so forth—but also in the unprecedented development of tourism in all its forms: people who, sometimes traveling thousands of miles from their homes, wish to look at, see, and admire everything that offers pleasure to the eye—churches, monuments, places, landscapes, works of art, and so on.
Precisely for this reason, given the universal spread of the “discreet charm of voyeurism,” before beginning a discussion about discerning films, we must be perfectly aware of the serious danger that these creations—as well as all those that address the eye—entail. We must therefore be fully aware of the deepest stake in our discussions: avoiding becoming “consumers” of films rather than contemplators of the beauty that such creations can offer. But in order to become contemplative spectators, we need a serious purification of our senses and, likewise, of our hearts, drawn as they are into the vortex of superficial and, often, even sinful pleasures.
In order to become aware of the enormous danger posed by the gaze, let us remember that a single indecent glance was enough for King David to commit the sin of adultery, and subsequently to become guilty of the murder of Uriah:
It happened that David arose from his bed after noon, and walked upon the roof of the king’s house: and he saw from the roof of his house a woman washing herself, over against him: and the woman was very beautiful (2 Kings/2 Samuel 11:2).
That alone was enough for one of the most famous kings in history to commit the vilest of deeds. This is the reason for the uncompromising position of the prince among the masters of moral theology, Saint Alphonsus Maria de Liguori. With regard to reading books containing indecent material, he admitted that they could involve only venial sins so long as the provocative passages had not been sought out or read intentionally for the sordid delectation of the imagination. But when it came to accidentally seeing a painting containing nudity, he could hardly regard the matter as remaining within the territory of venial sin—except on the condition that one immediately turned away one’s gaze.
The severity of such judgments always derives from the lesson we learn by reading the tragic history of King David: sight is the most valuable sense and, at the same time, the one most exposed to sin. This is why the virtue of prudence—“custody of the eyes”—in its use can never be recommended strongly enough. With regard to films, this virtue must be practiced, first and foremost, by establishing a reasonable number of films to watch: an experienced Benedictine monk recommended to me, as a layman, no more than one film per week. Of course, there are no precise recipes or numbers for anyone; each person, however, must establish a rhythm that allows him or her to remain within the realm of contemplation rather than consumption. So, quality, not quantity.
Seeking to explain the mysteries of contemplation, the highest form of Christian life, the Dominican Father Antonio Royo Marín states that no human experience is better suited to such a comparison than art. Art therefore invites us to an act—the contemplation of beauty—that is comparable to the contemplation of God, the exceedingly rare gift attained by saints such as Teresa of Ávila and John of the Cross. With regard to film, as I noted in another article devoted to the same subject, we are truly dealing with something that recalls the ancient meaning of the notion of contemplation:
Perhaps somewhat vaguely, the film as a phenomenon reminds one of what the Romans called a templum: a space circumscribed and separated by priests from the rest of the land. Imagine, for example, the frame of a painting without content—just the frame—through which you would gaze into the sky. That space would be the templum once consecrated by priests. However, in the case of film, the templum is not a sacred space, but a delineation that allows the focus of attention of those who look towards the content that is shown.[1]
What the templum was for the Romans, the surface on which we watch a film is today—the screen, monitor, wall, etc.—where the projection takes place. Nowadays, for many people, a smartphone is enough for this purpose. Be that as it may, we are therefore dealing with a circumscribed space similar to the Roman templum. But what is truly important is the content offered to us within that space of moving images.
I will set aside the endless disputes concerning the origins of cinema (An extension of theatre? Magic? Science?). What interests us here are films as the visual extension corresponding to the demands of the new form of dramatic art. Let us admit it: there is no content better represented in the films of yesterday and today than the two major “inventions” of ancient Greece: drama and comedy. But if we speak of dramas and comedies, we are, of course, speaking of actors and their performances. Even though we are often fascinated by the beauty of the images presented to our eyes, we recognize that the essence of a film has to do with the performance of the actors, guided by the vision of the invisible “conductor”: the director.
Yet however gifted the director may be, without the right actors no film can capture the public’s attention. But what does it mean to be a good actor? First and foremost, it means being someone who performs powerfully—with “conviction” —the role entrusted to him. In the Poetics, Aristotle says of the authors who write tragedies that they cannot bring convincing characters to life unless they participate, in their souls and imaginations, in the psychological state of their own characters: they must weep wholeheartedly with those who weep and laugh with those who laugh. They must love with those who love and hate with those who hate. Only in this way can they create memorable characters. The same applies to actors: they must participate in the lives of their characters, internalizing them in an appropriate way so that they can then bring the character to life in all its complexity.
Obviously, characters have no meaning or purpose outside the narrative—the “story”—being represented. And here the coherence of the whole, the sequence of episodes, the ultimate resolution, the twists and turns, in a word, everything contributes to the quality—positive or negative—of a film. Professional critics, who watch and analyze films and rate them, take all these aspects into consideration. But everything depends on the formation of taste and the cultivation of certain aesthetic preferences. If we wish to speak of quality cinema, we must take into account the major problem confronting artistic creations, past and present: their enormous power of manipulation.
Eager for success, and often attracted by the fabulous profits that the “dream factory” makes possible for actors, directors, and film executives alike, producers often take the easy path of superficial sensualism, practiced with the intention of securing the audience’s allegiance—at any cost. This manifests itself through a disproportionate emotional bombardment directed at viewers. Unable to create something beautiful, they prefer to create something scandalous, terrifying, or shocking.
For example, the horror genre keeps us on edge through the abominations it depicts and the fear it arouses in viewers. Or, in the case of violent films, everything is played on the card of adrenaline, whose pace accelerates in the whirlwind of action. Sci-fi directors want to show us, as Spielberg does, extraterrestrials and persuade us to turn their mediocre creations—full of special effects but lacking in art—into something that goes purely and globally viral. There are, therefore, entire cinematic genres—just as in “mass-market” literature—that aim at emotionally manipulating viewers in an overwhelming, visceral manner that completely obscures the capacity for contemplation. In most such cases, there can no longer even be any talk of beauty, but only of special effects and plots full of absurdities. Superhero and extraterrestrial films belong to this category.
Likewise, the emphasis placed by most directors on the charms of certain physically attractive actors and actresses belongs to the same category of manipulation, driven by the desire for success at any cost. When this is done with specially created screenplays, there is no problem: people with well-developed taste will always avoid such films. But when literary masterpieces such as The Odyssey, Don Quixote, Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, War and Peace, or The Lord of the Rings are adapted for the screen, the discrepancies become glaring. This is what happened with the film adaptation of Tolkien’s novel, which was completely inappropriately adapted to the style of action films. This provoked the saddened reaction of Christopher Tolkien. But there are other examples as well (“Aesthetics of The Lord of the Rings Film Trilogy”).
Of all the screen adaptations of masterpieces of Victorian literature, such as Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, only one—the six-part miniseries released by the BBC in 1995—deserves our attention. Those who have seen them all, as I have, are outraged by the enormous differences in style and quality of directorial conception, which is lamentable in almost every case, as are the actors’ performances. In such cases, it becomes clear that adding scandalous erotic elements, as well as casting actors and actresses who have not made the slightest effort to understand the psychology of a world very different from the one in which they live today, leads to complete failures.
Of course, in order to make good choices, it is not enough to read articles explaining what makes a good film. We need recommendations that suggest cinematic works through which, by watching them, we can learn what quality films really are. To give this somewhat theoretical article a concrete dimension, I will perhaps make three recommendations. I do not wish to convince anyone that the films I prefer are necessarily masterpieces or that everyone must see them. I rather think, however, that everyone who has watched them has felt, at the end of the viewing, when the curtain fell, that their time had not been wasted.
Probably, in the world of lovers of that category known as “art film,” there is no name as resonant as that of the Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky (1932–1986). Whatever I might say about this absolutely unique and inimitable creator is surpassed by the enormous number of articles, biographies, analyses, and reviews devoted to him. As far as I am concerned, I recommend just one of his films: Stalker (1979). Here, from one of the finest science-fiction novellas ever written, Roadside Picnic (1972) by the Soviet authors Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, Tarkovsky fashioned a truly peerless metaphysical film in which the search for happiness is the driving force behind the journeys of several characters—the Stalker, the Writer, and the Professor—portrayed with extraordinary skill. Everything in this movie is a lesson: from the mysterious beauty of deserted landscapes to the iconic faces that reflect the struggles, doubts, and inner turmoil of those portrayed. You can watch it and lose yourself in the world of its characters just as easily as you can search for the keys to its interpretation. In the presence of such a creation, every path is possible. One very important thing that anyone who watches Stalker can learn is, quite literally, how to step outside of time: its slow rhythm, interrupted by remarkably unusual situations, forces you—if you want to enjoy a masterpiece—to leave behind the agitation of contemporary life.
*
Ever since I first saw it, many years ago, I have never tired of recommending the best film about the life of Saint Thomas More: A Man for All Seasons (1966). For lovers of historical films depicting the lives of saints or important historical figures, this work is not merely a film to delight the eyes and the mind, but a true milestone. A milestone when it comes to portraying holiness—one of the most difficult tests an actor can face. How can you put yourself in the shoes of a saint? Of a holy woman? Failures abound. And yet actors, too, have their moments of grace. Such was the case with Paul Scofield (1922–2008), who played Thomas More. He certainly felt, and intuitively understood, the exceptional stakes of such a role. This helped him enter that state in which actors are, as one might say, willing to “give everything.” The result is remarkable. Watch this film and meditate on the words of the saint as he goes to give his life for his faith:
“I die His Majesty’s good servant…
…but God’s first.”
The same category, films about saints, also includes Monsieur Vincent (1947). Filmed in black and white, the story is that of Saint Vincent de Paul (1581–1660), who devoted his life to those whom fate had afflicted. He asks the wealthy women of Paris for help in founding missionary projects. Despite his incredible efforts, he is always left with the feeling that he has done too little. For Saint Vincent truly has a father’s heart, one that cannot accept the moral and physical misery in which many of his “children”—the poor—were living.
Portrayed in an absolutely extraordinary performance by Pierre Fresnay, Monsieur Vincent is one of the best films ever made about the life of a great saint. Its depiction of the historical context is faithful to a troubled period in the history of France. Another important aspect presented is Saint Vincent’s attitude when confronted with a truly terrible pandemic: the plague that devastated France from 1644 to 1657. With the courage characteristic of true saints, he worked tirelessly to save and care for the sick. Definitively, this is a film that must be seen by anyone who wants to gain a deeper understanding of the meaning of life. It is also a film that serves as a masterclass for those wishing to develop a taste for masterpieces and true cinematic art.
[1] “Eco’s Error; Or, Why Some People Like Casablanca:” https://europeanconservative.com/articles/essay/ecos-error-or-why-some-people-like-emcasablanca-em/ [Accessed: 26 August 2026].
Second Day Within the Octave of the Nativity
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From Dom Prosper Guéranger's Liturgical Year:
Let Us make man to Our image and likeness. (Genesis 1:26) “And God made man; He modelled him,” says Tertullian, “to the image of God, i.e. of Christ. Wonderful deed, to fashion this slime of the earth! God seems to be absorbed in it; He makes it the work of His hand and of His heart; counsel, wisdom, providence, and above all love, trace the lines. As He forms each lineament of this clay, He has in mind Christ who is to become man. This slime of the earth, stamped with the image of the Christ to come, is not only God’s work, it is also His pledge.” (Tertullian, De ressurect. carnis vi)
These words were spoken concerning our first parent, Adam; but how much more truly do they apply to the Mother of the Man-God, during these days when He who is to be born of her watches over her growth! As God, He now places in her provisionally what He wills to take from her hereafter. For, as Man, He will receive from her, together with His sacred Body, everything that children naturally inherit from their parents: such dispositions and qualities as arise from the physical complexion; features, ways, habits acquired by imitation or by early education. Such is the ineffable condescension of Him who, knowing all things by infused science, condescends to pass like us through the apprenticeship of life. Jesus is to have no earthly father; He will therefore receive more from His Mother than could any other son. In return, no creature could be so like to Jesus in the order of grace, as she whom He thus deigns to resemble in the order of nature; and our heavenly Father loves every creature in proportion to the degree of that creature’s conformity to the image of His divine Son. How exceedingly, then, O Mary, art thou loved! Already in thy sweet features we discern the nobility of the King’s daughter, whose glory is from within, hidden beneath the golden fringes and variety of ornaments that deck her; for the manifold gifts of the Holy Spirit enhance the grace and beauty that crown thee in thy very cradle. Together with Andrew of Crete, speaking on this day, we thus salute thee: “Hail, mediatrix of the law of grace; seal of the ancient and of the new Alliance; luminous fulfillment of all prophecy; summary of revealed truth; living, immaculate book of God the Word, wherein, without writing or characters, the Word God its Author may be daily read! Hail, first-fruits of our regeneration; term of the divine promises and predictions; sanctuary promised by God to His own glory; liberatrix foretold to the nations!” (Andrew of Crete, In Nativit. Deiparæ, Oratio iv)
The Greeks make today a special commemoration of our Lady’s holy parents. Already yesterday the Menæa repeated in a thousand ways the gratitude all creatures owe to them. We select the following passages from among many.
MENSIS SEPTEMBRIS, DIE VIII
Let heaven exult and earth rejoice, for God’s own heaven, his bride, is this day born on earth. According to promise, the barren mother suckles her infant Mary; Joachim rejoices in his daughter, saying, Mine is the branch whereon is to blossom Christ the flower, of the root of David.
Now may Anne say: Thou hast heard, O Lord, my prayer, giving me this day as fruit, the Virgin chosen among all women and of all generations to be thy spotless Mother.
Eve’s sentence is cancelled today; and Adam, released from the ancient curse, cries out at thy birth, O immaculate one: In thee we are redeemed from death.
I hear David singing to thee: Virgins shall be brought after thee, they shall be brought into the temple of the King. And I, uniting my voice with his, celebrate thee in my songs, O daughter of the King!
Come, hasten, all ye barren and fruitless souls; for Anne is now the joyful mother of many children. And ye mothers lead the choirs with the Mother of God.
O prodigy! the fount of life springs from one that was sterile. Rejoice, O Joachim, for among all fathers there is none like unto thee, by whom was given to us the Virgin Mother of God, the tabernacle of the Divinity, the holy mountain.
Exult, O ye people: the nuptial chamber of the light has come forth from her mother’s womb; today is born the eastern gate which will soon give entrance to the great High Priest, for the salvation of our souls.
Bitterness Is Poison: How Christ Heals the Heart Through Forgiveness
A sermon for today. Please remember to say 3 Hail Marys for the Priest.
St Kiaran, Abbot in Ireland
From Fr Alban Butler's Lives of the Saints:
HE was converted by hearing a passage of the gospel read at church. He put himself under the discipline of St. Finian, who, admiring his great proficiency and fervor, foretold that half the monasteries of Ireland would receive a rule from him.‡ St. Kiaran afterward founded a numerous monastery in the isle of Inis-Aingean, which was bestowed on him by king Dermitius. Committing the government of this house to another, he built, by the liberality of the same king, another great monastery and school in West Meath, called Cluain-Macnois,§ on the river Shannon, which soon became a bishop’s see, Allemagne in his inaccurate Monasticon Hib. thinks in the life-time of our saint; but Cummian, in his letter to the abbot Segienus in the seventh century, does not give him the title of bishop.1 The monastic rule, or as it is called in the Annals of Ulster, the Law of Kiaran, was very austere.|| This saint died on the 9th of September in 549, and was honored as chief patron of Connaught in the same manner as St. Brigit was of Leinster. See his Acts quoted by Usher, Antiq. p. 471, Suysken the Bollandist, t. 3, Sept. p. 370 to 383. Sir James Ware, &c
Ss Gorgonius, Dorotheus, and Companions, Martyrs
From Fr Alban Butler's Lives of the Saints:
From Lact.1. de Mort. Persec. et1. 6, Inst. Euseb.1. 8.
A. D. 304.
DOROTHEUS was first chamberlain to the emperor Dioclesian; Gorgonius and Peter were under chamberlains. They were the three principal eunuchs of the palace; had sometimes borne the weight of the most difficult affairs of state, and been the support both of the emperor and of his court. When the palace of Nicomedia was set on fire, probably by the contrivance of Galerius, who unjustly charged the Christians with it, Dorotheus, with Gorgonius, and several others under his dependence, were very cruelly tortured, and at length strangled. Peter having refused to sacrifice, was hung up naked in the air, and whipped on all parts of his body. After the executioners had torn his flesh in such a manner that the bones started out, without being able to shake his constancy, they poured salt and vinegar into his wounds; then had a gridiron brought, and a fire made, on which they broiled him as we do meat, telling him at the same time that he should continue in that condition if he would not obey; but he was resolute to the last, and died under the torture. The bodies of St. Dorotheus and his companions were cast into the sea by an order of Dioclesian, lest the Christians should worship them as gods, as Eusebius mentions: which mistake of the heathens could only arise from the veneration which Christians paid to the relics of martyrs. The martyr Gorgonius, whose name was famous at Rome, seems different from the former. The Liberian Calendar published by Bucherius mentions his tomb on the Lavican way, and he was honored with an office in the sacramentary of pope Gelasius. Sigebert in his chronicle on the year 764, Rabanus Maurus in his Martyrology and others, relate that St. Chrodegang obtained from Rome, of pope Paul, the relics of St. Gorgonius, and enriched with that treasure his great monastery of Gorze, situated two leagues from Metz. Among the poems of pope Damasus is an epitaph on St. Gorgonius.1
The martyrs show by example, that a true Christian is invincible in virtue and fortitude; for, as St. Gregory Nazianzen says, he looks upon misfortunes and crosses as the seeds of the most heroic virtues; therefore he exults in adversity. Torments do not discompose the serenity of his countenance; much less do they change the steadfastness of his heart. Nothing is able to pull him down; everything yields to the magnanimity and wisdom of this philosopher. If he is stripped of the goods and conveniences of life, he has wings to raise him even to heaven. He flies even to the bosom of God, who abundantly makes him amends for all, and is to him all things. He is in the world with a body as if he were a pure spirit. In the midst of passions and sufferings, he is as invincible as if he were impassible: he lets himself be vanquished in everything except in courage; and where he submits, he triumphs by humility, patience, and constancy, even in torments, and in death itself. Do we maintain this character even under the light trials we meet with?
Collect of St Ciarán of Clonmacnoise, Abbot & Confessor ~ Indulgenced on the Saint's Feast Day (See Note)
According to the Apostolic Penitentiary, a partial indulgence is granted to those who, on the feast of any Saint, recite in his honour the oration of the Missal or any other approved by legitimate Authority.
V. O Lord, hear my prayer.
Let us pray.
O God, who by the preaching of Thy blessed servant Ciarán Thou didst cause the light of the Gospel to shine in Leinster: Grant, we beseech Thee, that, having his life and labours in remembrance, we may show our thankfulness to Thee by following the example of his zeal and patience
Through Jesus Christ, Thy Son our Lord, Who liveth and reigneth with Thee, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, God, world without end.
R. Amen.
Collect of St Gorgonius, Martyr ~ Indulgenced on the Saint's Feast
According to the Apostolic Penitentiary, a partial indulgence is granted to those who, on the feast of any Saint, recite in his honour the oration of the Missal or any other approved by legitimate Authority.
V. O Lord, hear my prayer.
R. And let my cry come unto thee.
Let us pray.
Let us pray.
O Lord, may Thine holy servant Gorgonius gladden us by his prayers, and make this his blessed Festival to be unto us indeed a day of rejoicing.
Who livest and reignest with God the Father in the unity of the Holy Ghost, God, world without end.
Who livest and reignest with God the Father in the unity of the Holy Ghost, God, world without end.
R. Amen.
08 September 2026
Pilgrimage to Faith: The Sanctifying Work-Life Journey of St Edith Stein
St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross (Edith Stein), said, “God is truth, and whoever seeks the truth is seeking God, whether he knows it or not.”
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From Crisis
By Julie V. Burkey
Edith Stein’s early intuitiveness of work as an expression of her deepest core, her philosophical studies, and the colleagues she met provided the way of her pilgrimage to faith.
Gregory Pierce author of Spirituality at Work, wrote, “We spend so much time at work it would be a shame if we couldn’t find God there!” I propose that we can find God at work and, more specifically, that our work life, when properly discerned and fully engaged, provides a unique road to discovery of the transcendent and that the quest to give meaning to our work is a deeply spiritual enterprise.
As a means of illustrating this hypothesis, a brief recounting of the work-life journey of Edith Stein, St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, will serve as a lens to illustrate this theory.
Edith Stein was born into a Jewish family in pre-World War II Germany. Later in life, she converted to Catholicism, eventually becoming a Carmelite nun who was later named a saint of the Church. Her journey to the Catholic Faith may appropriately be termed a pilgrimage (a sacred journey, moving a person from everyday life toward deeper truth) to the shrine of belief, the place where her long quest for truth was finally satisfied. This journey is all the more spectacular given that Edith once declared herself a nonbeliever. She, along with several of her family, gave little consideration to religious belief.
From an early age, one thing Edith did give a great deal of consideration to was her choice of career. She pondered the choices carefully, often standing firm against the advice of well-meaning family members. She had an innate desire to utilize her talents in the service of others. At the age of 20, she declared, “We are in the world to serve humanity…this is best accomplished when doing that for which one has the requisite talents.”
By profession, Edith Stein was a philosopher/teacher immersed in a branch of philosophy known as phenomenology, founded by the “Master” Edmund Husserl (1859-1938), an Austrian-German mathematician and philosopher whose ideas had a substantial impact on 20th-century philosophy. Phenomenology seeks to analyze and describe the world as we experience it. It asks the question: How can we know things outside of ourselves and how does that knowledge become our own? Given Edith’s early profession of her quest for “truth,” it is not surprising that she would be drawn to phenomenology—though she was decidedly not drawn to find that truth in God or religion, at least not for many years.
Edith’s philosophic study in the subfield of empathy was the engine of her search. In her dissertation, On the problem of Empathy, she explored how one can connect with the disposition or feelings of another, or “the knowing experience shared by two persons, i.e., intersubjectivity,” as defined by Husserl. Indeed, it was her observation of and friendship with both peers and colleagues at the University of Göttingen, several of whom were converts to Christianity, as well as the philosophical method, that greatly influenced her own conversion.
Edith finally found her “truth” while reading St. Teresa of Avila’s biography, after which, at the age of 30, she declared, “This is truth.” When questioned as to the reason for such a proclamation, her answer was and would always remain, “This secret belongs to me.” Some 25 years later, Edith wrote, “God is truth, and whoever seeks the truth is seeking God, whether he knows it or not.”
Edith’s early intuitiveness of work as an expression of her deepest core, her philosophical studies, and the colleagues she met provided the way of her pilgrimage to faith. It has been said that without phenomenology Edith would have been incapable of opening herself to the thought of God with the absolute objectivity of judgment so characteristic of her.
Work can be as much a vehicle for spiritual growth and understanding as going to a synagogue or church or taking a walk in the woods. In fact, work may be among the most potent vehicles for fulfilling our spiritual life because, for many of us, it presents the best opportunity to meld community, social, and economic productivity with personal belief and individual talent. This is possible for all types of work: mental or physical, regardless of compensation level. This philosophy of “work as holy ground” eliminates the divide between the sacred and the mundane.
In Justified by Work: Identity and the Meaning of Faith in Chicago’s Working-Class Churches, author Robert Anthony Bruno has as his focus this intersection of faith and work. He interviewed dozens of blue-collar workers, many performing menial jobs, often working long hours, sometimes in two jobs. Their stories are perhaps not as complex as Edith’s, and their journeys to faith not always as lengthy, but the result is often the same: they found God in and through the daily activities and circumstances of their work.
Even work that is difficult and long-suffering can lead one to God. One individual put it this way: “unless you go through something traumatic, the inner strength of a person is never realized, and it is precisely ordinary people enduring extraordinary pain that proves the existence of a higher power.” There are many stories worth repeating: the high school custodian who sees his work of keeping the school clean so that students have a better environment in which to learn as “godly”; the woman who views her ability to pay the bills through her work as “little miracles”;the plumber who has come to see God as the giver of his talent; and so many more.
All of these individuals, like Edith Stein, were on a pilgrimage to ever-deepening faith, the way there having been greatly illuminated by their work.
Now, let’s briefly consider some of the characteristics of Edith Stein’s work journey that can help us recognize the transcendent nature of our own work.
The Importance of the Discernment Process in Deciding One’s Lifework
As was the case with young Edith, we are presented with a myriad of career choices. Today, career discernment is no longer a topic limited to those just starting out in a career. Midlife and later career transitions, necessitated by economic, social, or personal factors, are common. How to determine which profession will bring satisfaction and fulfillment is the same question young Edith had. After much consideration, she pursued the great love of her life, philosophy. It seemed that philosophy most fully engaged her interest and utilized her talents for study, research, and contemplation while offering her both personal satisfaction and a way of making a contribution to society.
Discernment requires a great deal of introspection, an objective “knowing” of oneself. It requires an interiority that digs down deep to discover what work brings joy and satisfaction. It is a discovery of one’s spiritual self, the place where one makes the connection between the contributions of a singular life and the rest of humanity, past and present. It is where one finds meaning for living out daily life.
The Exercise of Our Particular Gifts and Talents Through Our Work Is an Expression of Our Deepest Core, Our Spiritual Selves
A result of the discernment process is also a knowing of one’s particular giftedness: the specific talents one has to offer through one’s work. These talents are determined by means of our own introspection along with the assistance of others—relatives and friends who know and observe us over a period of time.
Our giftedness forms an important part of our makeup as unique persons; it is an expression of the very core of who we are. Our gifts are our divine spark; we are fully ourselves when they are employed. Edith gave testament to this spark when she wrote of the profound personal pleasure she experienced in engaging in the work of writing: “The writing would bring a rosy glow to my face, an unfamiliar feeling of happiness surged through me…every day I felt that the ability to continue my work was like a new gift.”
Recognition of the Innate Dignity of All Work and Workers
The late Martin Luther King Jr. gives us a profound comment on this theme:
If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the host of heaven and earth will pause to say, “There lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.”
When both work and the worker are regarded in this way, we affirm the uniqueness of all human beings and the work they do, a realization that may well lead to a contemplation of one’s role in the overall scheme of creation and the consideration of a Creator God. In Christian theology, the dignity of every person is a consequence of humanity having been formed in the image and likeness of God. While most of Edith’s lifework focused on her role as an academic/philosopher, she recognized and valued the dignity of all work. This was certainly due to the hard labor necessitated by her parents’ lumber business, a business her mother took over after her father’s sudden passing. It was during those early childhood years that Edith developed her exceptional work ethic; she also observed her mother taking on a role that was then largely unheard of for a woman.
Openness to Others
A state of openness enables one to more readily grasp the feelings and experiences of others—and, perhaps, even to identify or empathize with those feelings; but this process is not the whole story. The reality is that there is a consequence that follows from opening oneself to another: one either accepts or rejects the feelings and/or experiences of the other as having validity for oneself.
In her dissertation on empathy, Edith Stein maintains that our self-understanding is, to a great extent, a result of our relations with others. The fact is that the people whom we come in contact with can have a significant impact on us. In Edith’s life journey, there are many instances when her vulnerability allowed her to be open to considering the thoughts and experiences of others, many of whom greatly influenced the choices she made. She had this to say about Max Scheler:
His influence, beyond the bounds of philosophy, was of great importance during those years [first semester at University of Göttingen]…this was the time when he was overflowing with Catholic ideas and when he was pleading them with all the brilliance of his intellect and his eloquence. This was my first contact with a world that had so far remained entirely unknown to me, and even though it did not lead me to the faith, it did open up a whole range of “phenomena” that I could no longer blindly pass by.
It is through our work, then, that we become more of who we are meant to be. And when we recognize that destiny at its deepest level, we can find ourselves in communion with the divine.
This is how work itself can be a pilgrimage to the sacred place of belief.
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