St Stephen King of Hungary

From Dom Prosper Guéranger's Liturgical Year:

“Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness. (Judges 14:14) The people with teeth of steel grinding the nations gives itself up as food to him, to whom was said: Kill and eat; (Acts 10:13) the mouth of the Huns, formerly vomiting foam and rage, now distills the honey of charity. Such, O Christ, are thy miracles; such are thy works, O our God!” (Baron, Annals. eccles.  Silvestri II) Thus does Baronius, on reaching in his history the year of Christ 1000, hail the arrival of the Hungarian deputies, who came to offer to the Roman Church the suzerainty of their land, and beseech the Vicar of Christ to confer the title of king upon their Duke Stephen.

We are carried back in thought a century earlier, when, led by Arpadus, the son of Almutz, under the banner of the hawk, the Magyars came down from the mountains of Transylvania into the plains watered by the Theiss and the Danube. Attila seemed to live again in these sons of his race, who poured like a torrent over Germany, Gaul and Italy. But the empire of the Huns over reconquered Pannonia was only to be lasting on condition of its ceasing to be the scourge of God, and becoming the rampart of his Church. In this world, while it is not yet time for eternal justice, the instruments of God’s anger are soon broken, unless they are amenable to love. Five centuries earlier, Attila in person was rushing like an overflowing river upon the capital of the world, when he was met by the Sovereign Pontiff. The Hungarian chronicles record the following message as having been then received from heaven by the universal devastator: “Hearken to the command of the Lord God, Jesus Christ. Thy pride shall not be suffered to enter into the holy city where lie the bodies of my Apostles. Return. Later on a descendent of thine will come to Rome with humility; and I will cause him there to receive a crown that shall last forever.” (Chartuicius, Chronica Hungarorum , De Victoria Aquile regis) Attila thereupon recrossed the Alps, and had only just time to reach the Danube before he died. In the days of St. Stephen the heavenly promise was fulfilled. Let the reader not be astonished that we do not discuss its authenticity. Legendary or not, as to the forms with which national traditions have clothed it, there is nothing in this divine engagement that the historian need reject: it is in accordance with the rules of God’s Providence, which governs history. God never forgets a service; nor does apostolic gratefulness wear out with years: the debt of gratitude which Leo the Great contracted, Sylvester II paid at the appointed time. From that tomb respected by the plunderer, a virtue came forth, changing the avenger into an apostle. The crown, placed on the brow of Attila’s successor by Peter’s successor, was destined to be his as long as he should be preceded by the Cross, that other mark of honor conferred upon him. Like the Holy Empire, to which Hungary was to be later on united without however being absorbed by it, the Hungarian monarchy was founded upon Peter; for his sake it subsisted, and he alone, under God, was the safeguard of its future.

Let not the sad forebodings of the present hour make us forget the marvelous power shown on this feast by the Lamb the Ruler of the earth. (Isaiah 16:1) Scarcely had the blood shed by the sons of Arpadus disappeared from the streets of the cities; scarcely had the smoke of burning ruins and the dust of crumbling walls been scattered; when their fierce energy, tempered like a choice blade in the waters of the sacred font, became the defense of Christianity in the East. A new sort of invasion began; the holiness sprung from Stephen put forth numerous branches, which, shedding their beautiful blossoms over the whole earth, filled all lands with perfumes for the Spouse.

Let us read the history of the apostolic king, as given in the Book of Holy Church.

Stephen introduced into Hungary both the faith of Christ and the regal dignity. He obtained his royal crown from the Roman Pontiff; and having been, by his command, anointed king, offered his kingdom to the Apostolic See. He built several houses of charity at Rome, Jerusalem, and Constantinople: and with a wonderfully munificent spirit of religion, he founded the archiepiscopal See of Gran and ten other bishoprics. His love for the poor was equaled only by his generosity towards them; for, seeing in them Christ himself, he never sent anyone away sad or empty-handed. So great indeed was his charity that, to relieve their necessities, after expending large sums of money, he often bestowed upon them his household goods. It was his custom to wash the feet of the poor with his own hands, and to visit the hospitals at night, alone and unknown, serving the sick and showing them every charity. As a reward for these good deeds his right hand remained incorrupt after death, when the rest of his body had returned to dust.

He was much given to prayer; and would spend almost entire nights without sleep, rapt in heavenly contemplation; at times he was seen ravished out of his senses and raised in the air. By the help of prayer, he more than once escaped in a wonderful manner from treasonable conspiracies and from the attacks of powerful enemies. Having married Ghisella of Bavaria, sister of the emperor St. Henry, he had by her a son Emeric, whom he brought up in such regularity and piety as to form him into a saint. He summoned wise and holy men from all parts to aid him in the government of his kingdom and undertook nothing without their advice. In sackcloth and ashes, he besought God with most humble prayer, that he might not depart this life without seeing the whole kingdom of Hungary Catholic. So great indeed was his zeal for the propagation of the Faith, that he was called the Apostle of his nation, and he received from the Roman Pontiff, both for himself and for his successors, the privilege of having the Cross borne before them.

He had the most ardent devotion towards the Mother of God, in whose honor he built a magnificent church, solemnly declaring her patroness of Hungary. In return the Blessed Virgin received him into heaven on the very day of her Assumption, which the Hungarians, by the appointment of their holy king, call “the day of the Great Lady.” His sacred body, exhaling a most fragrant odor and distilling a heavenly liquor, was, by order of the Roman Pontiff, translated, amidst many and divers miracles, to a more worthy resting place, and buried with great honor. Pope Innocent IX commanded his feast to be celebrated on the fourth of the Nones of September; on which day, Leopold I emperor elect of the Romans and king of Hungary, had, by the divine assistance, gained a remarkable victory over the Turks at the siege of Buda.

Apostle and king, protect thy people, assist the Church, succor us all. At the close of that tenth century, when anarchy had penetrated even into the sanctuary, hope sprang up once more on the day whereon the Holy Spirit, the Creator and Renovator, chose thy race, in all its native vigor, to renew the youth of the world. Satan, who thought that the Papacy was humiliated once for all, trembled with rage when he saw new laborers coming to Peter, as to the only foundation on which it is possible to build. The proudest family that had ever caused the empire of Romulus to shake, asked of Rome the right to be counted among the nations of the West. How true it is that the gates of hell shall never prevail against the rock, against the Church founded thereon, against the holy city prepared on the top of mountains to draw all nations to itself. In vain had the storm stirred up the very mire of the torrents of the abyss: it was the hour when God lifted up his hand, as the prophet says, towards the far-off lands, and kings came, bringing to the ever-holy Bride those unknown sons whom they themselves had educated for her. (Isaiah 49:12-23)

No, the Lord confoundeth not them that wait for him. And therefore, we will hope, even against hope, in the future of the noble nation established by thee upon the apostolic strength. A people justly proud of so many irreproachable heroes could not allow itself to be long led astray by a false liberty kept up by Jewish gold and extolled by all the enemies of the country’s traditions. Martin watches together with thee over the land of his birth; and the sovereign of Hungary, the august Queen of heaven, will not suffer her loyal subject to the listen to the proposals of the infernal spirit.

St Brocard: Miracles, Crusades & the Hidden Carmelite Legacy

A sermon for today. Please remember to say 3 Hail Marys for the Priest.

St Brocard, Carmelite: Butler's Lives of the Saints

St Stephen, King of Hungary: Butler's Lives of the Saints

St Brocard, Confessor

From the Carmelite Institute of North America

How does one write a biography of someone whose known data consists of no more than his initial? The "Brother B" to whom the Carmelite Rule is directed remains shrouded in the mystery of the ages, even though some fanciful stories developed about him, especially during the 14th century. Even his name Brocard depends on a tradition which cannot be entirely supported. Other legends describe him as being a native of Jerusalem, who performed miraculous healings, and dealt with important Muslim leaders. He is also said to have been buried on Carmel, which seems more likely than the other details. Within Carmelite circles, his feast was added to the liturgical calendar in 1564, but then suppressed in 1584 as the reforms of Trent took hold. So what can we know about Brocard?

Fortunately, we do know quite a lot about the hermits and eremitical life during the medieval period, and that may help to flesh out the details of the actual historical figure. Today when we speak of someone as being a "hermit," we often mean an individual who cannot or will not adapt to social norms or the accepted society. He or she may have severe emotional or mental problems which impede normal dealings with other people. It is important to not confuse this image with the hermits of the 12th or 13th centuries.

The men and women of that era had much in common with the first wave of holy hermits from the 4th century onward, who reacted to the growing corruption and secularization within the Constantinian church. The eremitical rebirth of the Middle Ages grew out of a growing sense of anger at the wealth and luxury of the hierarchy and the overly rigid, legalistic life of many of the most important monasteries. The hermits of the Holy Land (who were the ancestors of the original Carmelite of the Wadi ‘Ain es-Siah) had many counterparts in all parts of Europe. They were primarily lay preachers, who distanced themselves from what they considered sources of decay in the Church, but not at all from the people of God. A typical hermit would find a quiet place, often physically beautiful and inspiring, where study of Scripture and silent prayer were possible. Their food, clothing, and possessions were of the poorest type, in testimony to the simplicity of Jesus and his disciples. Hermits would often engage in a simple and informal ministry of some sort, since charity was seen as the finest of the virtues. Indeed they were quiet people, but often very vigorous and well respected.

In the Holy Land, the mild climate allowed an easy life in the most basic shelters. Caves were ideal wherever they could be found. Elsewhere, a tent or simple lean-to shelter of branches or leaves could supply enough shade from the sun for most of the year. Rain was seasonal and predictable, cold weather was rare, except for chilly nights. The hermits wore clothing similar to the local people, woolen robes and cloaks with hoods. Simple stripes were the only concession to variety in dress. Food was easy to find or grow wherever there was a water source. The warm sun and gentle change of seasons allowed a variety of nutritious crops. Grain for simple bread was usually barley or wheat. Grapes, olives, citrus fruit, and figs were easy to find growing wild, or to plant and tend wherever they were wanted. Meat was not usually desired by ascetics, but the local people could provide lamb or chicken whenever sick or infirm people needed extra protein.

The hermits who followed the Crusaders to Palestine had the added characteristic of a unique hardiness. They survived the perils of travel and privation to live in a land where their local support was less certain. They tended to gravitate to holy sites associated with Biblical events."Walking in the footsteps of Jesus" was a primary goal in the individual's spiritual journey, especially in such places as Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Nazareth. Other favorite spots for hermits would be the Jordan valley, the Judean desert, Mount Tabor, the Sea of Galilee, or the slopes of Carmel. Such holy sites were well populated by men and women of prayer and reflection as long as the western armies help the door open for them.

But after the disastrous battle of Hattin (1187), the integrity of the Christian Kingdom collapsed like a punctured balloon, and many of those solitaries found themselves vulnerable to bands of violent enemies. Nearly all of them had to run for their lives toward the few remaining enclaves along the sea coast. Many of them did not make it. We have reason to believe that there was a centuries-long tradition of hermits living on or near the Carmel valleys, but the military disaster probably meant that many more came there. Their numbers were swelled with refugees from elsewhere, thanks largely to the protection of the seaward side of the mountain barrier. It seems very likely that the need for a written formula of life may have been seen as a way to organize this overcrowded population, and settle disputes over details of their spiritual practice.

Brocard may very well have been the peacemaker who rose to this challenge by seeking out a significant prelate to settle the questions of ascetical discipline. The simple fact that he is the one whom Albert of Jerusalem addresses indicates that he could speak for the others, probably because of a consensus on his leadership. He may also have had to contend with ethnic differences among hermits from many different places. Despite the contention that Brocard came from Jerusalem, it is much more likely that his roots were French or Italian. The Crusaders came from a broad spectrum of European states, but the military leadership was generally in the hands of the Normans. There were Norman nobles from France, England, and Sicily, all acknowledged to be the best fighters. The lion’s share of the crusading knights came from parts of France, with healthy contingents of Italians, Germans, English and Belgians. There were relatively few Spanish or Portuguese knights, principally because they had their own crusade at home, as they fought to expel the Moors from Iberia. More than likely, the first community in the Wadi reflected this ethnic mix. Most other religious communities began with members from one specific location. Brocard’s position as leader may have reflected his skill at mediating the small disputes which arise among strong minded people.

Archaeologists working in the 20th century have discovered two graves in front of the door of the old chapel. One of them was a primary burial of a man, laid to rest with great respect. Is it Brocard? There is no way to confirm or deny the theory. But knowing what we do about the hermits of his day, we can assume that someone of extraordinary leadership was honored with this symbolic act. Someone who helped pave the way for everything that followed.

St Stephen, King of Hungary, Confessor

From Fr Alban Butler's Lives of the Saints:

From his life written by Chartuiz and from the historians Bonfinius, in Hist. Hungar.1. 1. Hermanus Contractus, &c. See also Czuittinger, Specimen Hungariæ Litteratæ, p. 1, t. 1. The Elzivirian edit. of Resp. et Status Hungariæ, p. 117, 154. Antonius Pagi in Baron. and Gabriel de juxta Hornad, L. de Initiis Religionis Christianæ Inter Hungaros. Francofur. 1740.

A. D. 1038.

GEYSA, the fourth duke of the Hungarians,* by conversing with certain Christian captives, and afterward certain holy missionaries, as Piligrinus, bishop of Passaw, St. Wolfgand, bishop of Ratisbon, &c., or their disciples, became infinitely delighted with the sanctity of the maxims of our holy faith, and was convinced of its divine truth and original by the motives and arguments which are, as it were, the stamp which God has put upon his revelation in order to confirm it to us. And though he had reason to fear great disturbances from the ferocity of his people upon a change of religion, he despised such dangers, and was baptized together with his wife Sarloth, and several of his officers and courtiers. Sarloth was so penetrated with the wonderful mysteries of religion, and so strongly affected with the great ideas of eternity, that she walked in the paths of heroic perfection with a fervor not inferior to that of the saints. Being some time after with child, she was assured by St. Stephen, the protomartyr, in a dream, that she bore in her womb a son who should complete the work she and her husband had begun, and abolish idolatry in that nation. The child was born in 977 at Gran, the ancient Strigonium, at that time the metropolis of the country, and on account of the abovementioned vision was christened Stephen. St. Adalbert, bishop of Prague, who for some time preached the gospel to the Hungarians, and, according to the German historians, baptized St. Stephen, had certainly no small share in the honor of his education, and Theodatus, an Italian count of singular piety, was his tutor; these two holy persons by their example and instructions were, under God, the great instruments of his future sanctity. Geysa died in 997, and Stephen, who had been chosen waywode, that is, leader of the army or duke, some time before, then took the reins of the government into his hands.

His first care was to settle a firm peace with all the neighboring nations. This being done, he turned his thoughts wholly to root out idolatry, and as much as in him lay to make Christ reign in the hearts of all his subjects. Performing himself the part of a missionary, he often accompanied the preachers, and pathetically exhorted his people to open their eyes to the divine truth. Many, however, were so obstinately attached to the superstitions of their ancestors as to take up arms in defence of idolatry: and having at their head a count of great interest and valor named Zegzard, with a numerous army, they laid siege to Vesprin. St. Stephen placed his confidence in the Lord of Hosts, and prepared himself for the engagement by fasting, alms-deeds, and prayer, invoking particularly the intercession of St. Martin and St. George. Though inferior to the rebels in the number of his forces, by the divine assistance, he gave them a total overthrow, and slew their leader. To give to God the entire glory of this victory, he built near the place where the battle was fought, a great monastery in honor of St. Martin called the holy hill; and besides estates in land he bestowed on it one-third part of the spoils. It is immediately subject to the holy see, and is called in Hungary the Archabbacy. St. Stephen having quelled the rebels found himself at liberty to prosecute his design; which he did by inviting into his dominions many holy priests and religious men, who, by their exemplary lives and zealous preaching, sowed the seed of faith, civilized that savage nation by the precepts of the gospel, built churches and monasteries, and some of them obtained the crown of martyrdom.

The zealous prince founded the archbishopric of Gran or Strigonium, and ten bishoprics, and sent Astricus or Anastasius, the new elected bishop of Coloctz, to Rome, to obtain of Pope Sylvester II. the confirmation of these foundations and of many other things which he had done for the honor of God and the exaltation of his holy Church, and, at the same time, to beseech his holiness to confer upon him the title of king, which his subjects had long pressed him to assume, and which he now only asked to satisfy their desires, and that he might with more majesty and authority accomplish his great designs for promoting the glory of God, and the good of his people. Miceslas, duke of Poland, upon marrying a Christian princess, the daughter of Boleslas duke of Bohemia, had embraced the faith in 965. About thirty-four years after this, he sent an embassy to Rome to obtain the title of king confirmed to him by the authority of the apostolic see. Sylvester II. who was then pope, was disposed to grant his request, and prepared a rich crown to send him with his blessing.* But the extraordinary zeal piety, and wisdom of St. Stephen deserving the preference, his holiness delivered this crown for him to his ambassador Astric, together with the present of a cross, granting, by a special privilege, that it should be carried before him in his armies. At the same time he, by a bull, confirmed all the religious foundations which our holy prince had made, and the elections of the bishops. St. Stephen went to meet his ambassador upon his return, listened standing, with great respect, to the pope’s bulls whilst they were read, and fell on his knees as often as the name of his holiness was repeated. To express his profound sense of religion, and to inspire all his subjects with a holy awe for whatever belonged to the divine worship, he treated the pastors of the Church with honor and respect. The same prelate who had brought the crown from Rome, anointed and crowned him king with great solemnity and pomp in the year 1000.†

The good prince, by a public act, and with extraordinary devotion, declared that he put all his dominions under the special patronage of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and never ceased most earnestly offering his daily prayers to implore her powerful intercession for obtaining the divine blessing upon all his subjects. Whence, in many medals and coins of this kingdom, she is styled patroness of Hungary. It is incredible with what ardor the king exhorted his people, especially his domestics, to the practice of all virtues. With a view to propagate on earth the divine honor and praise beyond his own life, and to the end of time, he filled Hungary with pious foundations. At Alba he built a stately church in honor of the Mother of God, in which the kings of Hungary were afterward both crowned and buried. This city St. Stephen made his usual residence, whence it is called Royal Alba, to distinguish it from Alba Julia or Weissemberg in Transylvania. He founded, in old Buda, the monastery of SS. Peter and Paul and in Rome on mount Cœlio the church of St. Stephen, with a college of twelve priests; also an inn and hospital on the Vatican-hill for the entertainment of Hungarian pilgrims; and he built a church at Jerusalem; not to mention the magnificent monastery of St. Bennet, and many other churches in Hungary. Throughout all his dominions he commanded tithes to be paid to the churches, though these are redeemed to this day in many places by the noblemen for a certain sum of money.

St. Stephen, who would seek no alliance but by which piety might be strengthened in his realm and family, took to wife Gisela, sister to St. Henry, king of Germany, who was shortly after crowned emperor; and that holy prince admirably seconded and assisted our saint in all his pious designs. St. Stephen abolished many barbarous and superstitious customs derived from the ancient Scythians, and by severe punishments repressed blasphemy, murder, theft, adultery, and other public crimes. To put a stop to incontinence and idolatry he commanded all persons to marry except religious and churchmen, and forbade all marriages of Christians with idolaters. He was of most easy access to people of all ranks, and listened to every one’s complaints without distinction or preference, except that he appeared most willing to hear the poor, knowing them to be more easily oppressed, and considering that in them we honor Christ, who being no longer among men on earth in his mortal state to receive from us any corporal services, has substituted and recommended to us the poor in his place and right. The good king provided for their subsistence throughout his whole kingdom, and took them, especially the helpless orphans and widows, under his special protection declaring himself their patron and father. Not content with his genera charities and care for all the indigent, he frequently went privately about to discover more freely the necessities of any that might be overlooked by his officers. One day it happened, that, whilst he was dealing about his plentiful alms in disguise, a troop of beggars set upon him, threw him down, beat him, plucked him by the beard and hair, and took away his purse, seizing for themselves what he intended for the relief of many others. The king esteemed himself happy to suffer in the service of his Redeemer, and addressed himself in these words to the Blessed Virgin; “See, O queen of heaven, in what manner I am requited by those that belong to your Son, my Divine Saviour. As they are his friends, I receive with joy this treatment from their hands.” He learned, however, from this accident no more to expose his person, but he renewed his resolution never to refuse an alms to any poor person that asked him. His nobles rallied him on this occasion; but he rejoiced in all humiliations, and God was pleased to testify how agreeable his sincere and heroic piety was, by conferring on him many extraordinary graces; with the gifts of prophecy and many miraculous cures.

How difficult soever it may seem to practise extraordinary severities and humiliations in the midst of a court, and surrounded by the most flattering objects of softness and pride, where such gospel maxims are seldom heard, yet the extraordinary fervor of our saint found means for the exercise of both. He desired to serve and wash the feet of poor men in public; but the fear of giving offence to his subjects, whose minds were not yet framed to imbibe such ideas of a prince’s humility, made him only do it privately. He lost no part of his time in vain amusements or idle company; but divided himself between the duties of religion, and those of his station. To the former, he regularly allotted many hours every day; and the latter, he sanctified by religious motives, and by the constant recollection of his soul. Thus, if he was not able always to praise God with his tongue, he did it without intermission by his life, all his actions being directed to the same point of God’s holy will and greatest glory. His charitable and zealous application to all external duties of life, and to the government of his kingdom; his alms-deeds, mildness, temperance, patience, and other virtues, succeeding one another in their victories and repeated heroic acts, sanctified his whole life, and made it, as it were, one uninterrupted sacrifice to God. The least faults of frailty and inadvertence by which its perfection might be impaired, he labored to expiate by daily penance and tears. The shining example of his virtue was a continual most powerful sermon to those who conversed with him. His happy influence over his children was most sensible in the virtuous courses they pursued. St. Emeric, his eldest son, walked in his steps with so much fervor as to be in his youth the admiration of Christendom. Rising always at midnight he recited matins privately on his knees, pausing a little in devout meditation at the close of every psalm. Many wonderful things are related of his virtues and miracles; to comprise his character in one word, nothing could be more amiable, more pious, or more accomplished, than this young prince. His father trained him up not only in the perfect practice of the most heroic piety, but also formed him in the art of government.

St. Stephen’s excellent code of laws, to this day the basis of the laws of Hungary, are inscribed to his son duke Emeric. In fifty-five chapters the pious legislator has comprised the wisest and most holy regulations of the state. He pathetically exhorts his son to sincere humility (which he calls the sole exaltation of a king), to patience, meekness, assiduous and devout prayer, charity, compassion for the poor, the protection of all that are in distress, &c. He forbids, on pain of severe punishments, all grievous public crimes, especially of impiety and irreligion, as a violation of the Sunday or a fast-day, talking in the church, a culpable neglect to call in the priests to assist dying persons, &c. He commands the most religious respect to be paid to all holy things, and to the clergy.1 These wholesome laws he caused to be promulgated throughout his dominions, and had them always most strictly observed; as on the exact execution of the laws the tranquillity of the state depends.

The protection of his people engaged him sometimes in war, wherein he was always victorious. The prince of Transylvania, his cousin, invader his dominions; St. Stephen defeated him in battle, and made him prisoner; yet gave him his liberty, and restored him his dominions, requiring of him this only condition, that the gospel should be allowed to be freely preacher in them. The saint was never the aggressor in any war; that with the Bulgarians was obstinate; but they were at length overcome, and obliged to receive the laws which he prescribed them. There is no saint whose virtue is not exercised by tribulation. Sickness deprived St. Stephen of all his children. St. Emeric the eldest was carried off the last. He had then begun to sustain a great part of the burden of the state, and to be both a comfort and assistance to his father. The interest of the state, and that of the infant Church of his kingdom, conspired with nature to make this stroke more severe; but the good king bore the loss with entire resignation, adoring in it the holy will of God. St. Emeric was canonized by Benedict IX. and is honored among the saints on the 4th of November. This affliction weaned the king’s heart more and more from the world, and he desired, if it had been possible, to reserve to the care of his own soul the remaining part of his life, that being freed from all worldly concerns, he might be preparing for his last passage. But, as the affairs of both the Church and State did not allow this, he continued to endure the toil of business, knowing that he was accountable to God for the least neglect or omission in the particular duties of his station towards his Creator, his subjects, or himself. He endeavored, however, to redouble his fervor in all his religious exercises, and applied himself particularly to those which are more immediately preparatory for a happy death, to which he principally directed his devotions and charities.

Though brave and expert in war, he had always been a lover of peace; but, from this time, he took a resolution to spill no blood in war, in which he earnestly begged the interposition of Divine Providence, which did not fail him. For to hostilities he, after this, opposed no other arms than fasting, prayers, and tears, and by them alone was ever victorious. The Bessi, a fierce nation of Bulgarians, the most implacable enemies of the Hungarians, made a furious irruption into his territories; but, moved with veneration for the sanctity of the holy king, they on a sudden repented of their enterprise, begged, and easily obtained, his friendship, and returned peaceably home. St. Stephen, by an act of justice, caused some of his own subjects to be hanged on his frontiers, for having plundered them in their retreat. After the death of our saint’s good friend St. Henry, the emperor, his successor Conrad II. invaded Hungary with a powerful army in 1030, and advanced so far, that St. Stephen was compelled to lead out his army against him, though still trusting in God that the effusion of blood would be prevented. All things seemed to be disposed for a decisive battle, when St. Stephen again recommended himself and his earnest desire of peace to the Blessed Virgin; and to the surprise of all men, the emperor on a sudden turned his back with his army, and without having executed anything, marched home into Germany with as great precipitation as if he had been defeated.

St. Stephen labored three years under a complication of painful distempers. During this time four palatins, exasperated at the strict execution of justice which he caused to be observed, entered into a conspiracy to take away his life. One of them got into the king’s chamber in the night with a dagger under his cloak; but let it fall in a fright upon hearing the king ask, who was there. Seeing himself discovered, he threw himself at the feet of his sovereign, and obtained his pardon; but his accomplices were executed. The saint perceiving that his last hour drew near, assembled his nobles, and recommended to them the choice of a successor, obedience to the holy see, and the practice of Christian piety. He then again commended his kingdom to the patronage of the Blessed Virgin, and after having received the sacraments of penance, the viaticum, and extreme-unction, happily expired on the feast of the Assumption of our Lady, the 15th of August, in 1038, being threescore years old, of which he had reigned forty-one from the death of his father, and thirty-eight from the time he had been crowned king. His sacred remains were honored with miracles, and forty-five years after his death, by an order of the pope at the request of the holy king St. Ladislas, were enshrined and placed in a rich chapel which bears his name within the great church of our Lady at Buda. He was canonized by Benedict IX. in the manner described by Benedict XIV.2 Innocent XI. appointed his festival on the 2d of September, in 1686, with an office for the whole Church, the emperor Leopold having on that day recovered Buda out of the hands of the Turks, after many signal victories over those infidels. In Hungary, his chief festival is kept on the 20th of August, the day of the translation of his relics.

Virtue is the most excellent dignity, and the only good of rational beings, as St. Austin observes.3 Genius, learning, power, riches, and whatever else a man enjoys, are only good when made subservient to virtue. Hence the ancient Stoics called such external goods conveniences, not good things, because, said they, virtue alone deserves the name of good.4 This is our glory, our riches, and our happiness in time and eternity. To acquire and continually improve in ourselves this inestimable treasure is the great business of our lives. Yet how careless are the generality of mankind in this particular! Many spare no pains to cultivate their minds with science, or to excel in accomplishments of the body, and in every qualification for the world, yet neglect to reform and regulate their heart. Half that attention which they give to their body or studies, would make them perfect in virtue. An hour, or half an hour a day, employed in holy meditation, pious reading, and self-examination, would be of infinite service in this most important and noble study. This would teach us the divine maxims of virtue, inspire us with its sublime sentiments, and instruct us in its exercises; and a constant attention and watchfulness in all our actions would inure us to the practice, and ground us in perfect habits of it. Were we but thus to learn well one virtue every year, we should soon be perfect saints. Holy kings upon the throne never suffered any avocations or business to be an impediment to this earnest application to the science of a Christian. Virtue no sooner gains the empire in the hearts of men but it rules and sanctifies the whole circle of their actions, makes all the employments of their state an uninterrupted exercise of its various acts, and advances daily in fervor and perfection.

Collect of St Brocard, Confessor - Indulgenced on the Saint's Feast (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.

R. And let my cry come unto thee.
Let us pray.
O Lord! Sanctify the servants who humbly beseech Thee on the Feast of Blessed Brocard, hermit of Mount Carmel and Thy Confessor: that, by his salutary patronage, our life may be everywhere guided through adversities.

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. 

Nota bene - St Brocard is not celebrated on the Universal Calendar, but today is his Feast Day in the Order of Mt Carmel. The Collect is taken from the Proper of his Feast in the Carmelite Rite

Collect of St Stephen of Hungary, King & Confessor - Indulgenced Today

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.
Grant unto Thy Church, we beseech Thee, O Almighty God, that even as Thy blessed Confessor Stephen, whilst he was a King upon earth, was her forwarder, so, now that he is a glorious Saint in heaven, he may be her defender.

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. 

Francis’ Biographer Slams Cardinal Sarah for ‘Incendiary Language’ Against Pope

If you look up "popesplainer" in the dictionary, there's a picture of Ivereigh, a friend of Jimmy Boy Martin, SJLGBTQ∞, next to it.

From LifeSiteNews

By Patrick Delaney

Cardinal Robert Sarah spoke out against restrictions on the Traditional Latin Mass, prompting Pope Francis biographer Austen Ivereigh to accuse him of attacking the papacy.

Pope Francis biographer Austen Ivereigh accused Cardinal Robert Sarah of using “incendiary, belligerent language” directed at the papacy after the retired Guinean cardinal warned that the Church “cannot declare war” on Catholics with a devotion to the Traditional Latin Mass (TLM).

In a September 1 post quoting a Catholic News Agency report of Sarah’s remarks, Ivereigh wrote, “What ‘war’? This incendiary, belligerent language of Sarah directed at the papacy is unbecoming of a cardinal. He may be over 80, deprived of all posts and responsibilities, and desperate for attention. But the vow he took still stands.”

Sarah, former prefect of the Congregation for Divine Worship, made the comments in a late August interview with the Italian newspaper Il Giornale. “We, as a Church, cannot declare war on those who devoutly attend Mass simply because they prefer one form over another; this is a shortsighted and entirely ideological stance and, therefore, neither pastoral nor Christian,” he affirmed. “It is harmful and destructive to the Church.”

The cardinal was responding to restrictions imposed by Pope Francis’ 2021 motu proprio Traditionis Custodes that sharply limited celebration of the Vetus Ordo that Benedict XVI had liberalized in 2007 under Summorum Pontificum.

Sarah said Benedict’s decision produced a “positive influence — I would even say the correction — regarding possible abuses in the celebration of the ordinary form.” Many priests, he added, “testify that discovering the extraordinary form helped them celebrate Mass better.”

Traditionis Custodes “nullified” that approach “while the pope emeritus was still alive,” Sarah said. “That did not seem to me a decision that was either sensible or respectful.”

He described Benedict as “a man as gentle as a lamb” who “allowed himself to be humiliated and thus offered his suffering to God in silence and prayer.”

Sarah argued that ancient rites cannot simply be curtailed by decree. “Access to ritual forms that have been recognized and in existence for centuries must never be artificially restricted,” he said. “If a rite did not serve the faith, it would disappear on its own; if, conversely, it preserves and fosters the faith, we must by no means restrict it.”

In an earlier August interview with Il Foglio, Sarah went further, calling liturgical conflict itself sinful. “It is a drama, indeed a true and proper sin, that on an essential theme such as the liturgy there should be a kind of war,” he said. “The liturgy is the source of the Church’s communion, and it is unthinkable that on liturgical themes there should be such opposition and such fierce confrontations.”

He urged a return to Benedict XVI’s “balanced, pastoral and theologically well-founded position” that allowed both forms of the Roman Rite to coexist and enrich each other.

Ivereigh commits sins of rash judgment, calumny?

Ivereigh, author of The Great Reformer and Wounded Shepherd, has long been one of the late Pope Francis’ most prominent English-language defenders. Critics have accused him of dismissing traditional Catholics rather than engaging their arguments.

In a 2018 Crux essay, he suggested that some convert journalists who questioned papal actions suffered from “convert neurosis.” Named writers included Ross Douthat, R.R. Reno, and LifeSite’s John-Henry Westen. Carl E. Olson replied that inventing such a diagnosis was “typical lefty laziness” that isolated critics instead of answering them.

Replies to Ivereigh’s latest post echoed that pattern. One user quoted his phrase back at him: “‘Incendiary, belligerent language,’ eh?” while presenting a screenshot of the author posting an article titled “Why I hate the old Latin Mass: A confession.”

Another indicated a projection on behalf of Ivereigh, suggesting Sarah’s warning applied to Ivereigh himself: “It is time for you to look in the mirror.”

A third suggested Ivereigh committed the sins of rash judgment and calumny for misconstruing the motivation of Sarah and his words as an attack on the pope when they were, by all accounts, a defense of traditional Catholics. “Your character assassination of this holy cardinal is shameful,” the commenter wrote. “I found his statement balanced + fair.”

Following the restrictions imposed by Traditionis Custodes, ostensibly to protect ecclesial unity, Sarah and other orthodox prelates have held that suppressing the TLM which has been fruitfully the heart of the Catholic Faith for many centuries, is neither pastoral nor within the Church’s proper authority.

“I don’t know what authority we have to prevent a liturgy that has been celebrated for centuries,” Sarah said on a previous occasion. “Pope Benedict said that what was sacred in the past remains sacred today.”

Wendell Berry’s Affections

Wendell Berry died yesterday. He was one of the mainstays of the "back to the land" movement, writing on rural topics of interest to those in the movement.

From The Imaginative Conservative

By Gary W. Houchens

The debt Wendell Berry described is owed by everyone who has inherited something – a faith, a family, a school, a country – from people who are now gone and who are now responsible for handing it, intact and loved, to people yet to be born. That is the whole of the cultural cycle Berry described.

Kentucky writer Wendell Berry has died. In this age of polarization, the poet, farmer, novelist and essayist steadfastly defied conventional political labels.

Progressives were drawn to Berry’s criticisms of industrial capitalism and his advocacy for environmental causes. But conservatives often noted that what progressives find appealing in Berry’s work is really the result of his deeper commitments to traditional, local ways of life, and how modernism (and, I would argue, liberalism) has undermined not just the physical environment, but the culture of family and place, perhaps even in ways Berry himself did not fully realize.

A good example is Berry’s 2012 Jefferson Lecture. Established in 1972, the Jefferson Lecture is an annual recognition by the National Endowment for the Humanities and is considered the highest honor awarded by the federal government “for distinguished intellectual achievement in the humanities.”

Berry’s Jefferson Lecture was entitled, “It All Turns on Affection,” and he used the occasion to argue that utilitarian arguments for environmental conservation are insufficient without an even deeper emotional attachment to the specific places that are to be conserved. Such attachments are the results of generations of connection to a local community, its history, and its physical environment.

The example Berry used to frame his argument was his own family farm in Henry County, Kentucky, and especially his grandfather’s legacy of trying to preserve that land through the ups and – more often – downs of decades of tobacco farming, downs often engineered by corporate interests that benefitted tobacco companies against the farmers who grew the crop.

Berry described how technological “progress” has deprived most Americans of any meaningful connection to the land like his family has experienced for four generations. Many Americans may have an abstract appreciation of the natural environment, which they indulge through their visits to national parks or while admiring the countryside during a drive, but they lack a sense of emotional attachment to such places that would impact not just their politics or policy preferences, but the way they live their lives.

“Virtually all of us now share with the most powerful industrialists their remoteness from actual experience of the actual world,” Berry wrote. It is “in affection [that] we find the possibility of a neighborly, kind, and conserving economy.”

“The primary motive for good care and good use [of the land] is always going to be affection,” he says, “because affection involves us entirely.” Such total attachment completely transcends a merely utilitarian approach to conservation. “We endangered ourselves first of all by dismissing affection as an honorable and necessary motive.”

Berry was surely correct that our loss of bonds of affection with natural places has eroded our commitment to their preservation. But traditionalists and postliberals – “conservatives” of a more ancient sort than you typically encounter in American politics – can hear in Berry’s arguments a cry of grief for the loss of affections that don’t just tie us to the land, but that bind us to each other, to our history, and our core values.

It all does, indeed, turn on affection, and Berry’s lecture hints at the broader cultural implications of this notion without explicitly naming them.

“Corporate industrialism,” he wrote, “has failed to sustain the health and stability of human society. Among its characteristic signs are destroyed communities, neighborhoods, families, small businesses, and small farms.”

Berry is right. Corporate industrialism has prized the individual seeking his personal satisfaction and fulfillment, usually in materialistic terms, above the bonds of affection that also tie us to our families, faith commitments, and traditional values. Such individualism and disdain for unchosen obligations and traditions are part and parcel to liberalism more broadly understood, an argument postliberal thinkers like Patrick Deneen have been making for the last decade or so.

It is not clear that Berry was as concerned about the demise of traditional family structures and Judeo-Christian ethics as he was about the demise of the land, but the connections are obvious, and he seemed to suggest as much in certain parts of the Jefferson Lecture:

“The problem of sustainability is simple enough to state. It requires that the fertility cycle of birth, growth, maturity, death, and decay… must turn continuously in place. For this to happen in the stewardship of humans, there must be a cultural cycle, in harmony with the fertility cycle, also continuously turning in place. The cultural cycle is an unending conversation between old people and young people, assuring the survival of local memory.”

Liberalism (which includes the free market fundamentalism of many “conservatives”) has severely damaged the cultural cycle Berry described by teaching us that we owe little to the past except the freedom to do as we please, to reject the people, places, and traditions that gave us such liberty in the first place.

Only through affection for our inheritance “is the promise of a stable, democratic society,” Berry wrote, “a promise not to be found in ‘mobility’: our forlorn modern progress toward something indefinitely, and often unrealizably, better. A principled dissatisfaction with whatever one has promises nothing or worse.”

Indeed, progressive education has taught generations of American school children to be perpetually and principally dissatisfied with the culture they have inherited, with disastrous results not only to their civic and historical knowledge, but for the very future of democracy itself.

In his 2018 book Return of the Strong Gods: Nationalism, Populism, and the Future of the West, R. R. Reno explains how this disaffection with the past is the direct result of a cultural shift he identifies as “the postwar consensus.” Indeed, Return of the Strong Gods is an excellent companion to Berry’s essay, “It All Turns on Affection,” and thoughtfully diagnoses our collective disenchantment and ultimate rejection of everything that, like Berry’s understanding of the land, once commanded our loyalty and love.

According to Reno, an ethicist by training and editor of First Things magazine, European and American intellectuals were so horrified by the carnage of the First and Second World Wars, they committed to challenging foundational assumptions about Western culture so that we would never again face the specter of totalitarianism and global war. But however noble this instinct, the “postwar consensus” that emerged completely misread the root causes of World War II and mislead every generation since about what it really takes to maintain a flourishing, free society.

The postwar consensus mistakenly claimed that the violence of the world wars was the result of something inherently evil in Western civilization, the conviction that we must restrict loves that command our fierce loyalty, loves that Reno calls the “strong gods:”

By “strong gods,” I do not mean Thor and the other residents of the Old Norse Valhalla. The strong gods are the objects of men’s love and devotion, the sources of the passions and loyalties that unite societies. They can be timeless. Truth is a strong god that beckons us to the matrimony of assent. They can be traditional. King and country, insofar as they still arouse men’s patriotic ardor, are strong gods. The strong gods can take the forms of modern ideologies and charismatic leaders. The strong gods can be beneficent. Our constitutional piety treats the American Founding as a strong god worthy of our devotion. And they can be destructive. In the twentieth century, militarism, fascism, communism, racism, and anti-Semitism brought ruin.

But the postwar consensus concluded that all strong gods must be rejected, and that to avoid future tyranny we must insist on a weakening of all convictions and truth claims that might be held too tightly. “The inescapable lesson, most came to believe, was that war and destruction arose from close-minded modes of life and thought,” Reno wrote. Paradoxically we must enforce (violently, if necessary) a culture of openness, weakness, and disenchantment. We must be skeptical of all truth claims. We must insist on the supremacy of the individual to find his or her own “meaning” in life. We must worship diversity and multiculturalism as the only antidotes to creeping fascism.

The postwar consensus helped effectively define the West against Soviet collectivism, but with the end of the Cold War, we have found it impossible to let go of the tyranny of the soft gods.

“The Manichean tendency of the postwar consensus, which insists that either it must dominate or fascism and racism will return, blinds our leadership class to the realities of the twenty-first century and poisons our politics with an all-or-nothing moralism that is as self-serving as it is destructive,” Reno writes.

Today, the greatest threat to the political health of the West is not fascism or a resurgent Ku Klux Klan but a decline in solidarity and the breakdown of the trust between leaders and the led. Fearful of strong loves and committed to ever-greater openness, the postwar consensus cannot formulate, much less address, these problems. Unable to identify our shared loves—unable even to formulate the “we” that is the political subject in public life—we cannot identify the common good, the res in the res publica. Under these circumstances, increasingly prevalent in the West, civic life disintegrates into the struggle among private interests, and in this struggle the rich and powerful win. In the twenty-first century, oligarchy and an unaccountable elite pose a far greater threat to the future of liberal democracy than does the return of Hitler.

Berry and Reno are both right that our current cultural crisis stems from a lack of affection – attachments to those things that give life purpose and meaning. But an obvious objection to Reno’s position is that affection for place, nation, and inheritance can easily become just another “soft” god, curdling once again into the prejudices and tribalism of the twentieth century that gave liberalism so much of its fuel.

Berry, in the last book of his life, seemed to address this concern directly. In The Need to Be Whole: Patriotism and the History of Prejudice, Berry returned to the wound he first examined in 1970’s The Hidden Wound, that slavery left both white and Black Americans broken on the inside, bound together by a fracture neither side can heal on its own. His answer is not to weaken affection for past and place (Reno’s concern) but rather to order it rightly. Patriotism, for Berry, was about homemaking, the discipline of facing our inheritance honestly but deliberately carrying forward what in it needs to survive. The postwar consensus concluded that we must love less, and less fiercely, to keep prejudice at bay. Berry’s last book insists on the opposite. Prejudice is what fills the space where honest affection should have been.

The sad irony is that in the absence of rightly ordered loves (what St. Augustine called ordo amoris), we don’t simply love less; we love wrongly. We attach ourselves to identity politics, consumption, shallow “self-fulfillment,” to whatever counterfeit offers the feeling of belonging but without real sacrifice. R.R. Reno saw it happen to a nation, while Berry saw it happen to the land, but both were describing the same disorder from different rooms of the same house.

Wendell Berry has died, but the conversation he asked us to engage in does not end with him. We do not honor him by treating affection for place as a nostalgic virtue reserved to farmers, any more than we honor the American Founders by treating the Constitution like some kind of quaint museum artifact. The debt Berry describes is owed by everyone who has inherited something – a faith, a family, a school, a country – from people who are now gone and who are now responsible for handing it, intact and loved, to people yet to be born. That is the whole of the cultural cycle Berry described.

His death is an occasion not just to mourn a great writer, but to ask what our own generations are built upon, and whether we still know how to love it enough to keep it.

___________

This essay originally appeared on the author’s Substack, “Schools, Souls, and Civitas.”

The featured image is a photo, “Wendell Berry stands before the solar panels on his farm in Henry County, KY. ” Photo by Guy Mendes. Date 14 December 2011. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Bishop Challoner's Meditations ~ September 2nd

ON POVERTY OF SPIRIT

Consider first, that the first of the eight beatitudes is expressed in these words: 'Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,' Matt. v. 2. This beatitude or happiness, which brings with it a title to the kingdom of heaven, belongs in the first place to them that are poor by condition and in effect, Luke vi. 20, provided they be contented with their poverty, and cordially embrace it as the beloved companion and favourite of Christ and his saints. The Son of God came down from heaven to seek poverty upon earth: he was born in poverty, he lived in poverty, and he died in poverty, and shall we, my soul, disdain, shall we fly and abhor what the wisdom of God made choice of for him and his? especially since he has declared, that to be poor here is the true way to be rich hereafter, and that the men of riches, who have their consolation here, after they have slept out their short sleep, shall find their hands empty; whilst the poor, after their short sufferings, shall be admitted to the immense treasures of a happy eternity. 

Consider 2ndly, that this beatitude belongs in the second place to them that are poor in affection; that is, who set not their heart on their worldly wealth, but are in readiness of mind to part with their riches, whenever God shall call for all, or any part of them; and in effect, willingly resign them up, when he by any occasion is pleased to take them away: as also to all such as are poor by choice, for the love of Christ, who, when they understand such to be the will of God, actually relinquish all they have to follow him. In fine, to all such as have their affections disengaged from all perishable things; from all worldly honours, possessions and pleasures; from all that is earthly and temporal; in a word, form all that is not God; for such as these, and only such as these, are in a proper disposition to fly up to the kingdom of heaven. There is no flying thither as long as we are tied down by affection to any thing upon earth. O who will give me the wings of a dove, that is, of simplicity and purity in all my intentions and affections, that being let loose from this wretched earth by this true poverty of spirit, I may fly up freely to my God, and eternally repose in him!

Consider 3rdly, that this beatitude belongs in a particular manner to the humble; for such as they are truly poor in spirit; for such as they have not their spirit puffed up with windy pride, nor with any conceit of any ability of their own; like him to whom it is said, Apoc. iii. 17. 'Thou sayest, I am rich and made wealthy, and I have need of nothing, and thou knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind and naked:' nor are they high-spirited or high-minded - which is being rich in spirit - but are poor, mean, little in their own eyes, and therefore exalted by God: who to such little ones as these gives his grace in this world, and his heavenly kingdom in the next. O teach us, dear Lord, to be thus poor in spirit; teach us to be little and humble.

Conclude to begin thy study of true wisdom by applying thyself to learn well this first lesson of poverty of spirit; especially since thy great master expects, and requires of all his disciples that they should enter into his school with a disengagement of their heart and affection at least from every thing else - that they should leave all to follow him.

2 September, Antonio, Cardinal Bacci: Meditations For Each Day

Intimacy with Jesus

1. In his memoirs written while in exile, Napoleon says: “Many have desired and endeavoured to be obeyed, revered and honoured by all; only Jesus Christ has demanded this, because He is God.”

“As the Father has loved me, I also have loved you,” we read in the Gospel of St. John. “Abide in my love.” (John 15:9) Jesus therefore asks each of us not only to love Him but to remain intimately united with Him in love. He has a perfect right to demand this, because as God He is our Creator, and as God-Man He is our Redeemer, Who out of love for us has given Himself entirely.

2. The union of love which should exist between Jesus and us is modelled on the mysterious union between Him and His heavenly Father. (1) This intimacy between us and Jesus should be first of all in the mind. Our thoughts will be good when we think like God, and with the mind of Jesus, Who is “the true light that enlightens every man who comes into the world.” (John 1:9) If we stray away from that light, darkness overwhelms us even as it pervaded the earth during the agony of Jesus Christ. Our intelligence is a ray of light which comes from God; we should take care not to allow this ray to be separated from its divine source. This heavenly ray always shone on the faces of the saints, because they were clean of heart and close to God. That is how we should all be. (2) In the second place, we should be united intimately with Jesus in our sentiments. “Have this mind in you which was also in Jesus Christ,” (Phil. 2:5) says St. Paul. Our love must not be abstract or partial, but must be all-absorbing. Jesus calls us friends, and friendship unites two hearts as one. We must give ourselves completely to Jesus without reserving anything for ourselves. True holiness is found when God and man are united like two faithful, constant friends. (3) In the third place, there must be intimacy in action. It is not possible for a man who truly loves God to do anything which would offend Him. Jesus compares the love which we should have for Him with the love which He has for His Heavenly Father, so we should model our lives continuously on the life of Jesus. Jesus must work in us, as He did in St. Paul and in all the Saints.

St. Francis de Sales writes that Jesus should always be in our minds, in our hearts, in our eyes, and on our tongue. We should be living images of Jesus; and we must therefore live and act for Him, with Him, and in Him.

3. Do not imagine that this intimate union of the human heart with that of Jesus is the privilege and vocation of a few, that is, something reserved for priests, religious, mystics, and saints. Do we think that this privilege is only for saints? But we must all be saints. “You shall be holy, because I am holy.” (1 Peter 1:16) “You therefore are to be perfect, even as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Mt. 5:48) This does not mean that we all have the same vocation and that we should all be priests or religious. Sanctity is nothing other than this intimate, loving, and active union with Jesus. It must be practised in different ways in accordance with the positions which men occupy. For one it will be the sanctity of the workman, for another the sanctity of the student or of the clerk, of the professor or of the statesman, because the duties of each differ. But all must renounce their evil inclinations and their personal egoism. They must also, as the Gospel insists, renounce themselves in order to have the life of Jesus. They must love God above all things and also more than themselves, and they must love their neighbour as themselves. The goal is certainly hard and difficult; but if at present we are not able to reach it, we must at least have the strong and active desire to strive for it.