by Fr. Giovanni Grosso, O.Carm.

A Saint of Yesterday For Today — Albert is one of the two most ancient saints in the Order. Along with St. Angelus, he is called the “Father of the Order,” pater ordinis, for his sanctity and the exemplary quality of his life We do not have much information about his life, but we can trace its main lines with reliability. The oldest biography was written probably a little after 1385 and is the basis of a second manuscript text by an anonymous Carmelite now preserved in the Vatican Library. We know of two other ancient biographies of St. Albert, one by Vincenzo Barbaro and the other by Theodore de Aquis.

There are also medieval biographies of Albert by Giovanni M. de Poluciis of Novarella, and the Legenda aurea, both dating from the fifteenth century. These depend on the saint’s biography by Theodore de Aquis. In the same period various items of information were gathered in the lists of saints which goes under the name of the Catalogus sanctorum.
A tradition confirmed by various documents says that Albert was born in Trapani around the middle of the thirteenth century. His parents were Benedetto degli Abati and Giovanna Polizi, a couple who had been unable to have children in twenty-six years of marriage. This detail recalls the great biblical examples of Samuel (1 Sm 1:1-2, 11) and John the Baptist (Lk 1:5-25, 5 7-80). The mother initiated his vocation by promising him to the Lord and she sustained this commitment even in the face of the plans of Albert’s father, who wanted to see him married and inheriting the family fortune. Albert joined the Carmelites who had established a priory in Trapani and whose foundation had been endowed by his family. After ordination Albert was sent to Messina. Various documents testify the he had returned to Trapani not later than August 1280, when he witnessed the will of Ribaldo Abati. He was in the city again on April 4, 1289, when he witnessed the will of Perna, the second wife of the same Ribaldo, and again on October 8th the same year, when he witnessed a contract relating to property of the knight, Palmerio Abati. Albert was remembered as a man of prayer and as a celebrated preacher sought after throughout Sicily. A document of 10 May 1296, recording a gift by Palmerio Abati to Donna Perna, mentions that Albert is Carmelite Provincial of Sicily. There is no record of Albert’s participation in the crucial events in the history of the Order in those times, nor of how he may have contributed to the consolidation and growth of the Order, but there is no doubt that as a friar who had a deep experience of God and a real capacity to recognize people’s needs, his work in preaching and charity contributed much to the growing appreciation of the Order in Sicily. It is perhaps not only by reason of antiquity that the title pater ordinis came to be conferred on him.

Tradition is that Albert died in Messina on August 7th 1307. The tradition also records the episode of an argument between the clergy and the laity at the time of his funeral. Popular affection and devotion led to the people to want to celebrate Albert as a saint, but the clergy preferred a normal Requiem Mass. The legend recounts that, in the middle of the argument, some angels appeared and intoned the Os justi, the Introit for the Mass of a Confessor, and thus confirmed the popular feeling and Albert’s reputation for holiness.

The translation of his relics took place either in 1309 or more probably, in 1317. The skull was taken from Messina to Trapani by the provincial Cataldo di Anselmo of Erice. Other relics of Albert were dispersed to various places. All through Sicily there are memories of the presence of Albert and of miracles he performed. In Agrigento there is a well whose water he purified; at Corleone his flask for wormwood was preserved; at Petralia Soprana there is a stone which he used as a pillow; at Piazza Armerina there is said to be the first chapel in his honour.

Many miracles were attributed to the saint, both in his lifetime and after his death. While he was in Messina he managed to lift the blockade imposed on the city in 1301 by Robert of Calabria, then King of Naples. Through Albert’s intercession one or more ships—the sources mention from one to twelve—succeeded in breaking the siege and bringing provisions to the starving people of Messina.

A characteristic of Albert’s ministry was healing. He restored the sight of a blind lad, who then became a Carmelite; some women were cured of abscesses of the breast; and others who were cured of fever. A Jew with epilepsy was converted after the saint’s intervention. As well as such physical healings, the legends also recount spiritual ones, and particularly his work as an exorcist.

St. Albert and hearing the Word of God

Legend relates that Albert recited the entire Psalter every day, as well as the Liturgy of the Hours. It’s not possible to say to what extent this story is true, but nevertheless it gives us a glimpse of the spiritual personality of the saint and the way of praying characteristic of his time. The custom of reciting the entire Psalter was not an eccentricity but a well-attested practice among medieval hermits. The first hermits on Mount Carmel also used this type of prayer, which was a response to the Lord’s command to pray without ceasing. In the solitude of his cell the hermit marked out the time and accompanied his manual work with the recitation of the Psalms, which he knew by heart. The Psalms, which Jesus used for his prayer, had been born as the prayer of the devout Israelite and in the early years of the Church became the backbone of Christian communal prayer. Christians found new depths of meaning in the ancient Jewish texts. Themes, symbols, and images from the Psalter called the substance of the Gospel to mind, so that monks, canons and hermits felt that they were praying the psalms “through Christ, with Christ, in Christ,” in the Church and with the Church.

The recitation of the Psalter, therefore, is reminiscent of the love for the Word of God recommended in various ways by the Carmelite Rule. In fact, the whole Rule is a tapestry of direct and indirect references to Scripture, the fruit of a kind of lectio divina. The Carmelite Rule makes several explicit references to the Word: reading the scripture during meals (Rule 7); lectio divina or meditating day and night on the Law of the Lord (10); The Liturgy of the Hours, (11); the daily Eucharist (14); “the sword of the Spirit.., let everything be done in the Word of the Lord” (19). None of this is strange, for the whole of the first Christian millennium the Word of God constituted the heart of common and private prayer. It was read, or rather heard, committed to memory, and “ruminated” in continual meditation, which flowed into prayer. The first step, reading, allowed one to understand the literal sense of the text, what it says, what is its purpose. Meditation was not a purely mental or intellectual exercise, but a repetition of the phrases of the biblical text under the breath. This was something, then, which involved the whole person— speaking, hearing, and, in the case of someone who could read, seeing. In meditation, furthermore, one explained the text from other pages or words of Scripture, and one considered its allegorical sense (what does this word refer to? what is it a symbol of?), its anagogical sense (what is the purpose of my life, of our life, of history?), and its moral sense (what must I do, must we do?).

At this point, after this intense reflection on the word, a person would feel prompted by the Spirit to pray, to respond in prayer to God who has spoken through his word. The continuing and progressive path of familiarity with Scripture and meditation on it would open the mind and heart to contemplation, that is to the joyous and grateful recognition of the action of God in one’s own story and in the history of all. This method was developed by the monks and was the heart of their formation, a rather different one than the “scholastic” approach worked out in the universities, which was more intellectual, logical and speculative.

All this effort served to allow the Word to penetrate into the heart of a person, which little by little would be transformed and progressively identified with Jesus. In St. Albert’s case the identification is very marked—he acts in ways which are typical of the evangelical person, of the disciple of the Lord, the authentic witness of the Resurrection (cf. Mk 16:9-20). He heals the sick, frees the possessed, purifies the waters of poisoned wells... only one who has encountered the Lord in a deep and decisive way, one who has discovered in Jesus of Nazareth the Messiah, the Son of God (cf. Mk 1:1; 3:11; 5:7; 15:39), can perform these miracles.

St. Albert and proclaiming the Word of God

St. Albert has often been portrayed with an open book in his hand, or with the Child Jesus in his arms. This is not by accident, for these are both iconographical attributes which indicate a preacher of the Gospel, which is precisely what Albert was.
In order to be authentic proclaimers it is necessary to have encountered Jesus, and this is possible primarily through the hearing of the Word. It was his familiarity with Scripture, cultivated in lectio divina with purity of heart and openness to the transforming action of the Holy Spirit, which made St. Albert capable of proclaiming the Gospel. People could say of him the same thing as they thought about Jesus: “They were astonished by his teaching, because he taught them as one with authority and not like the scribes” (Mk 1:22; cf. Mt 7:28¬ 29; Lk 4:32).

St. Albert is remembered for an extraordinary ability to speak to people with conviction and immediacy. We don’t know whether he had studied in some university, or if, as perhaps is more probable, his formation was of a more monastic type. In either case, it would have been cantered on the Word of God, the continuous, deeply-felt, insightful reading of the Sacred Page, as the Bible was called at that time. Formed by the biblical and gospel texts, Albert had assimilated their spirit and was able to translate them in an attractive and understandable way, so they could be light and inspiration moving his listeners to put the word into practice.

Popular preaching was precisely a characteristic of the new religious families founded from the end of the 12th century onwards. Preaching was not restricted to the liturgy. The ministry of preaching, which until then had been a prerogative of bishops and their official delegates, was assumed also by simple friars and even by lay people. The Carmelites, too, almost from their beginning and especially after the Second Council of Lyons (1274), dedicated themselves to this activity, considering it a true and proper vocation of service to the people of God. Therefore, the first two saints of the order, St. Albert and St. Angelus, were also outstanding preachers. Indeed, it is told of St. Angelus that he was killed precisely because of accusations made against a corrupt nobleman in the course of a sermon.

St. Albert appeared as a true disciple of the Lord, an authentic witness of his incarnation, passion, death and resurrection. In fact, he spent the greater part of his time and energy as a preacher. His preaching was confirmed by the wonders it accomplished: he not only proclaimed the Gospel, but healed the sick, gave sight to the blind, and drove out demons according to the commission Jesus gave to the disciples (Mk 16:9-20). The Word he preached was materialized in gestures of tender attention to those who were in real need of healing and new life. His arrival in a place really brought good news, the Gospel. His life, simple and coherent, spoke on its own, spoke of Christ and his gift of salvation and grace. This transparency of his life allowed him to translate the Word into concrete actions, and this also expressed in a certain way his devotion to the Blessed Virgin: like Mary he knew how to give life to the Word, he was a “God machine,” as his confrère Blessed Titus Brandsma would have said some centuries later.

His attention to the basic and primary needs of the people he met is a powerful indicator of his capacity to talk to those who had the most need of hearing the Gospel proclamation. Albert did not distract his listeners with elegant forms of preaching but stressed the vital content of the message. The Carmelite gets down to basics: he hastens to meet men and women who need a word of salvation and life and hope, and to them, the least, he comes in the power of love, faith and hope. Therefore, his word is effective and powerful, capable of producing extraordinary effects of inner and outer healing, for which he was venerated as a miracle-worker.

St. Albert, man of purity

Another iconographical attribute of St. Albert is the white lily, symbol of purity. This means that his life shines as an example of virtue and sincerity, recognized and venerated by the people of God as a gift and reminder for all. The chastity of St. Albert became a radiant expression of a radical, definitive and complete choice for God.

Two other elements of the legend of St. Albert converge, in different ways, on this same value of purity. We are told that his mother, Giovanna, grateful to God for having given him to her after such long expectation, wished that her son would come to a life of total consecration to the Lord. His father, on the other hand, would have preferred to see him married, perhaps to the daughter of some powerful noble or a rich merchant, the usual way to elevate the social and economic condition of the family, as well as guaranteeing the son a comfortable future. The legend continues that the son, faced with this choice, preferred the spiritual intentions of his mother to the more worldly outlook of his father. His wife eventually won over the father to the decision.

As if this was not enough to show Albert’s radical choice for God, the legend also recounts the temptation to which he was subjected as a novice. The devil disguised himself as a beautiful young woman in order to attract the attentions of the young novice and to draw him away from the decision he had made. But, as they say, the devil makes pots but not lids, and Albert discovered the Tempter’s true identity, which the beauty of the girl failed to totally conceal, the devil accidentally showing his cloven hooves beneath the girl’s skirts. The novice was quick to drive the devil away, en trusting himself once again to the divine protection. There are paintings which depict Albert, in a sign of his victory, trampling a devil with feminine features but with goat’s feet. The story, of course, needs to be understood in symbolic terms: even the most beautiful realities can be transformed into temptation if they are detached from the realization of God’s will and one’s own vocation.

It is no accident that the legends and stories pay so much attention to Albert’s purity. These are figurative ways, even as the use of symbols and images in paintings, to tell about St. Albert, true Carmelite and follower of Mary, the Virgo purissima. The purity practiced by Albert is not simply a physical fact, but primarily a spiritual reality. It is certainly not a chastity which is lived as a renunciation of human love and natural fruitfulness. Rather it serves to translate in concrete terms a fundamental, radical choice for God and his plan of salvation, which requires total availability and complete dedication. Albert allowed himself to be seized by God: he placed himself totally at God’s service, gave God his life and capacities, and welcomed God’s call as a gift and a commitment for life.
St. Albert’s purity expresses his full conformity to Christ, his simple and total adherence to the Word of life, the transparency with which his character manifested and communicated this fundamental choice for God. Like Mary, Albert knew how to accept the Word which was addressed to him and how to make it come alive and real in the experience of his life. His character is made so transparent by the Holy Spirit that his words and actions are able to give explicit witness to the activity of salvation which the Lord continues to exercise through the work of his disciples.

St. Albert, man of poverty

There is no doubt that St. Albert professed and lived a life of poverty. It is demonstrated by his decision to enter the community of Carmelite friars, already taking their place in the mendicant movement, that is among those religious who did not base their livelihood on rents or fixed incomes, but who preferred simplicity of life, “uncertain mendicancy,” as travelling preachers who would eat whatever the people offered them according to their possibilities and generosity. They held everything in common and shared all their goods, considering themselves brothers, and therefore members of the one family, for which the Father of all would provide.

St. Albert had made poverty a real life-decision. Coming from a well-off family of some social standing was not an obstacle for him to embrace the poverty of Christ and his disciples. He could have made a different choice and joined the city clergy, or some abbey or canonry.

Instead he chose to put himself alongside the minores, the least important people of his time and place, sharing the style and condition of their lives. This doesn’t mean that he wasn’t able to appreciate his family experience and social connections. He did, in fact, make use of them from time to time to help others. For example, during the blockade of Messina St. Albert had some influential connections which enabled him to arrange food supplies for the city. On the other hand, it’s clear that his motivation for action on that occasion was the hunger of the people and his sense of responsibility towards those who really needed help at that moment. The gospel command to give food to the hungry was his motivation. Evangelical poverty implies a struggle for life, justice, truth, and peace. St. Albert, poor by choice, was able to recognize the true needs of the people beside him, and he had learned how to intervene with evangelical generosity, however it was required in the circumstances.

A consequence of poverty is the penitence and austerity of life proper to the Order of Carmel, at that time still fairly close to its origins on Mount Carmel. Tradition records at least two facts linked to this practical-spiritual dimension of Albert’s life: the flask of wormwood preserved in Corleone, and the rock of Petralia Soprana, where he is supposed to have rested. The latter offers us a glimpse of the saint’s way of life, often on the move along the bright roads of Sicily, to preach, heal, counsel, and soothe spirits. The Carmelite could have found better accommodation: he had friends and family connections which would have guaranteed him more comfortable accommodations. Nevertheless, he chose to travel as a poor man. Poor among the poor, he sought chance accommodation during his travels: he was no stranger to barns, caves and natural shelters.

Bitter wormwood had become a customary condiment for food on penitential days, on Fridays, for example. St. Albert used to mix it with foods and drinks, making them less pleasing to taste. It was another way of mortifying the senses. Today we have a different idea about food and a different concept of penance, but we should respect the ways of acting of previous generations. There is still validity in a poor and austere life, which concentrates on the essential, without getting lost in useless things, which is committed to building authentic and non-manipulative relationships with others and with the reality around us. The Gospel poor, like St. Albert, know that they cannot count on anything except God and his grace, they accept as a gift whatever they receive from their brothers and sisters, without presuming anything, and they are thankful for it all. Evangelical poverty makes one able to see the needs of others and to respond with generosity.

St. Albert, man of charity

Holiness is manifest principally as Christian life lived in its fullness, and especially on the level of charity. In Novo millennio ineunte John Paul II called holiness the “high standard of ordinary Christian life” (n. 31). This is true for St. Albert: he is one of that band of saints remembered and venerated for a radical, intense life, committed in all its dimensions, especially in its generous attention to the needs of the people of his time.

St. Albert, the Carmelite friar, was truly a brother to many sisters and brothers who turned to him because they recognized him as a man of God, that is as someone able to reveal the grandeur of the love of God for them in delicate or difficult situations. Albert was a man of concrete and generous charity on more than one occasion, attentive to the needs of all,
especially the poorest. It’s not by chance that among the many miracles he performed a number were to benefit women suffering from some illness, and for Jews, who converted to Christianity after their cures, recognizing in the work of St. Albert the hand of Jesus the Messiah.

St. Albert’s charity is seen in quite different situations, which can be considered in three broad categories. A first group of deeds is concerned with community and problems of a social character; a second with physical sickness; and third with psychological or spiritual problems. In this and in the next section we’ll examine each of these three groups.
The first category concerns the social communitarian sphere. Tradition recounts at least two miraculous interventions that took place in the cities of Messina and Agrigento and the purpose of which was to relieve populations in trouble.

The first and more famous concerns the breaking of the blockade of Messina by Robert of Calabria (later King of Naples) in 1301. Through Albert’s intervention some ships—from one to twelve, depending on the story— managed to break the naval blockade and bring supplies to the starving citizens. This episode was also recorded by a source outside the Order, for it is mentioned in chapter 10 of the Chronicle of the Roman Anonymous, also known under the title Life of Cola di Rienzo. Apart from the obvious relief for the exhausted populace, Albert’s intervention was a clear overture for peace. Why is it always the ordinary people who have to suffer in the struggles and disputes of the powerful? The ordinary citizens of Messina had more pressing concerns than who controlled the Straits of Messina, or the unification of the kingdoms of Sicily and Naples, or who held power in Europe. St. Albert made himself the spokesman for the needs of people that were otherwise going unheard, and in the process managed to make the circumstances of war less burdensome for many families.

At Agrigento the memory is still preserved of the saint purifying the water of a well. In this case there is a clear biblical reference to the episode of the well of Jericho purified by the prophet Elisha (2 K 2:19-22); and the Carmelite was part of the prophetic family which originated with Elijah and Elisha. Albert’s purifying the well and making its water drinkable gave the people the possibility of getting water without too much difficulty— and this at a time when having running water at home was beyond imagination for most people. Water still remains one of the most precious goods of creation, and we often forget that even now is not accessible to everyone. All too often political interests, not always acknowledged, have made water a weapon of blackmail and oppression and an instrument of power. The prophetic gesture of St. Albert reminds us that water is a sacred gift, meant to give life to all without exception.

St. Albert’s charity also has a beautifully personal dimension. We often find him ready to cure the sick in body and soul with the unique compassion which is characteristic of genuinely spiritual people. The healing of physical ills, spiritual direction, and the practice of exorcism are three complementary aspects of Albert’s life. His whole self is caught up in the Gospel message, which is revealed in inner and outer healing and liberation working on any kind of impediment or bondage which blocks a fully human and spiritual life.

Sickness, suffering, pain—these are always situations we want to avoid. They discomfort us and we try to avoid them whenever we can. When they come to people who are already weak, physically, morally or socially, they become still more burdensome. Young people and women had particular needs for attention and healing, too often neglected by the society of the time which favoured the strong, the rich, and the powerful. Albert stood beside those who had no protector, put himself at their disposal, offering a concrete and practical help to anyone in need of healing but with nowhere to turn except to God. Albert was a man of God who revealed God’s maternal tenderness in healing his weakest sons and daughters.

Various miracles of healing are recorded, both during his lifetime and after his death. In Palermo a boy who had been blinded by his sister during a game gone tragic regained his sight, and afterwards became a Carmelite. Another boy, from Lentini, healed through the faith of his mother, who covered him with a piece of the saint’s clothing, also became a Carmelite. However, in this case, gratitude and indebtedness were not sufficient signs of a true vocation, and after a time he left the Order. Sometimes a physical cure plays itself out in an enduring influence and spiritual discernment regarding a choice of life.

A woman in Trapani was helped by the saint during a difficult childbirth, in which both her life and that of her child was at risk. Albert managed to comfort the young woman, who then bore her baby safely. Women turned to the saint to be cured of abscesses of the breast or fevers, especially puerperal fever, which was a cause of many deaths in childbirth in those days. The death of a woman— especially a wife, a mother—as well as being a grief for the survivors was often a social disaster of considerable consequence, leaving children with no one to care for them. Mortality among infants and mothers was high in Albert’s day, and he put himself at the service of life and of the security of the family.

However, he was not concerned only with the physical. St. Albert was always on guard against the devil. Albert was also an exorcist. In Licata on one occasion a woman came and asked him to liberate her daughter, who was suspected of being possessed by the devil. The saint went and succeeded in freeing the daughter from the evil presence with a gesture of humility, offering the other cheek after the young woman struck him a blow. Someone is really free only when all the dimensions of his life—body, soul and spirit—are completely oriented to God and his will. The man of God is able to restore troubled and tormented souls to the wholeness, self-control and openness to the will of the Lord for which God has created us.

The historicity of these events aside, what matters is their meaning: they signify to us that Albert is a saint, a prophet, a man of God, who still shines for us today as a person made new by the Gospel, so united with the Lord and so permeated by his Word that his every action becomes a practical and eloquent continuation of the healing and liberating action of Christ.

St. Albert and the Jews

Today there is a quite widespread understanding of the relationship between Christians and people of other religions which is very different from the one that was normal in the past, even until quite recently. Even today our attempts at understanding and cooperation with those of other faiths is not always reciprocated. Faith is such an intimate reality that it concerns and marks a person’s entire life, it orients the way one sees the world and the personal choices one makes at every level. Education, culture, and social context all influence, and are influenced by, the way one views one’s own religion and the religion of others. In addition, today the secularized society of the West is infected with relativism which denies there to be a single invariable truth. Moral principles are cast in doubt and subjected to the exclusive and sovereign assessment of personal conscience, so that many people think that all forms of religious expression are indifferent or equivalent.

The problem of relativism is a serious one, not to be resolved by propaganda, slogans or crusades. On the other hand, encountering those of other religions is not only a matter of dialogue, of mutual knowledge, welcome and appreciation, but also of proclaiming the Gospel through an authentic witness. We give this witness by placing ourselves humbly and patiently not above those of other faiths but alongside them, respecting their dignity, appreciating their point of view and their culture, adapting oneself to their times and rhythms. Above all it is necessary to witness to our experience of the Resurrection of Christ and of our union with him in the Church while, at the same time, acknowledging that the Holy Spirit does not wait for the Gospel to be proclaimed before being active in each person’s life. In this matter of showing respect to other religions, we must keep in mind that the Jewish religion is a most special case. Pope John Paul II addressed the Jews as “our older brothers,”—this is a long way from the days when “Christians” referred to them as “perfidious” or branded them “Christ-killers.” What was St. Albert’s attitude?

On at least two occasions Albert had dealings with Jews. Once the saint saved three Jews from drowning near Agrigento, and on another occasion he cured a Jewish boy of epilepsy in Sciacca. In both cases the legends speak of explicit confessions of faith and subsequent baptism. So are these stories to be understood as examples of evangelization, dialogue, or proselytism? An answer must be developed without prejudices and in the light of the historical context and the mentality of the times.

There have been various occasions throughout history when Carmelites and Jews have come into contact. The convent in Toulouse was established on land donated by a Jew who was grateful to Mary, whose intercession had led to his cure. Other legends, apart from those related to St. Albert, tell of more or less amiable relations between Carmelites and Jews. On the less amiable side, in the Middle Ages a few friaries were close to Jewish quarters and became centres for preaching aimed at their conversion. However, there are some interesting accounts of respect shown for members of the Jewish people, of whom Jesus and Mary were, of course, a part. In France, in the 17th-18th century Reform of Touraine the novice masters urged novices to greet Jews they encountered with deference, and the Venerable Albert Leoni (died 1642) rebuked some novices of his who had taunted some Jews in the street.

Perhaps the memory of Elijah had some influence. Albert and the Carmelites considered it a point of honour to proclaim the faith to the members of the Chosen People in imitation of the Prophet (1 K 18:20-40). These days the discussion has moved on to a level of dialogue and of recognition of the fundamentals which we hold in common, of the need to work together in the proclamation of faith, but the example of St. Albert reminds us that the most basic witness is at the level of authentic, delicate and courteous charity. Only someone who makes himself “all things to all people” (1 Cor 9:22) is able to help others experience the salvation of God and to favour a personal encounter with Christ.

St. Albert, devotee of Mary

St. Albert’s profound devotion to the Mother of the Lord is attested by more than one of the old legends, but it would be strange to imagine a Carmelite of the first generations who did not share the Marian character proper to the Order. Even if we can’t attribute to Albert all the characteristics of the Marian piety developed in Carmel in subsequent centuries, we can at least indicate those which were common in the time he lived and which are found in texts from the same period.

Mary was originally venerated by the Carmelites as the Lady of Carmel (from the place where the first hermitage was) and of the Holy Land, because she was the mother of Christ, feudal Lord of that land acquired at the cost of his blood. The Carmelites dedicated the oratory built in the midst of their cells to her because she was “the Lady of the Place” and a model for all who were trying to follow Christ in an evangelical life. By dedicating their chapel to her, they committed themselves to the service of the Virgin.

In Mary the Carmelites saw the new woman, obedient to the Word of God, completely devoted to discerning his will and carrying it out in purity and humility. In this context it was natural to contemplate the virginity of Mary and to understand it not merely as something physical, but as interior virtue, purity of heart, a psychological and spiritual orientation devoted exclusively to God. This was in fact one of the central points in the spirituality of St. Albert. Obedience to the Word of God, which finds expression in obedience to his superior will and in a life of charity for others develops to the full in a pure heart, transparent to the light of God, able to contemplate the beauty of his will and to translate it freely and imaginatively in the world of the everyday. The Annunciation becomes one of the natural and attractive points of spiritual reference for the Carmelites of the first generations when we understand it as a manifestation of the surrender of the human will to the divine plan.

As a consequence, the Mother of the Lord is understood as the “most beautiful,” who best enshrines the newness of life brought by her Son. She is the new Gospel woman, the prototype of every Christian, the “new Eve,” true mother of all the living and of all believers. Beauty is not something physical but embraces all aspects of Mary’s existence, for which reason she is recognized as immaculate and assumed into heaven, completely associated with the radical holiness of the Son and risen to new life with him. It’s not strange then, that in line with the interpretation of the Church Fathers and medieval writers, the Carmelites too recognize in the little cloud which rises from the sea at Elijah’s prayer (1 K 18:44) an image of the Immaculate assumed into heaven.

An ancient tradition links Albert with the statue of the Madonna of Trapani. It could have been carved and brought to Trapani while the saint was provincial of Sicily It’s difficult to say what foundation this story might have, but the luminous beauty of the image of painted marble, the twist of the Virgin’s body enabling her to look at the face of her child, the smile at once sweet and sad, perhaps gives us some idea of the sensibility with which Albert would have contemplated the Mother and Sister of Carmelites. In the affectionate movement of the child towards his mother Albert would have recognized a reflection of his own devotion, of a love which is tender and intimate but not sentimental, but rather demanding: for one who knows how to love and venerate Mary knows that it means to commit oneself to follow her in total dedication to the plan of salvation which the Father has for humanity. To be devoted to Mary, today as in the time of St. Albert, means to feel that one is accompanied and sustained in the journey of faith, on a down-to-earth path of humble and quiet charity towards one’s brothers and sisters, open to the hope of the new and full life which Christ gives us in the Holy Spirit.
 
Translated by P. Chandler, O.Carm.

Father Giovanni, a Carmelite from our Italian Province who combines historical research and writing with pastoral ministry, gives us not only a biographical outline of the Saint, but an understanding of why he is important to us today as an example of Carmelite life and values.

by Fr. Patrick Thomas McMahon, O.Carm.

Lay Carmelites seek God's presence in prayer while living an active life in the world. This duality of contemplative prayer and active ministry was modeled by the first Carmelites who lived as hermits on Mount Carmel, then later became mendicants in the cities of Europe.

Carmel is in the classic Catholic Tradition

There are too many people in the Church these days hitting each other over the head with the Catechism of the Catholic Church or the decrees of the Second Vatican Council or the encyclical letters of the Pope, or decrees from Roman congregations. All these documents are good and fine, but we should remember that they are doorways into an ancient tradition. And too often people point to the doorway and say, ‘see’, when with doorways we are called not to look at them and admire them but to walk through them. Carmelites, because of our rich tradition of the spiritual masters – the masters of a century ago, St. Thérèse and Blessed Elizabeth, of four centuries ago, St. Teresa and St. John of the Cross, of eight centuries ago, The Rule of Saint Albert and The Fiery Arrow – know that we have to go back and study the tradition. Our past defines and shapes our present. We cannot understand our present unless we go back to our past. And so the writings of our Carmelite tradition have a very special place in our reading and study and prayer. And so too must the writings of our Catholic faith. We are not simply a people of Vatican II or the Catechism. We are a people of St. Augustine, St. John Chrysostom, St. Bernard of Clairvaux, St. Ambrose, all the Fathers/Mothers and Doctors of the Church. Look at the footnotes in the Catechism or the Council documents and you will see a vast and rich array of authors who have taught this Tradition through the centuries, through nineteen centuries, twenty centuries now. In fact, you cannot authentically interpret the Catechism or the Council documents without going back to the rich heritage of the twenty centuries of Christian faith that have preceded us.

Fortunately, today many of the essential writings, especially in the rich spiritual tradition, are easily available to us through sources like the Classics of Western Spirituality series published by Paulist Press. Also many parishes, retreat centres, and local colleges sponsor talks and workshops. Even the internet makes many of these sources available. It is the spiritual poverty of our ‘Evangelical’ brothers and sisters that so many of them have forgotten the nineteen centuries of faith that stand between us and Jesus. We Catholics must not loose the rich treasure we have in our theological tradition, a tradition dating not to the 1950s or even to the early part of the last century, but a tradition that dates back almost twenty centuries. And I would hope that Lay Carmelites would increasingly turn to the Fathers/Mothers and Doctors of the Church, to the great mystics and writers, without detracting from the primacy of Scripture in our spirituality. I hope we can turn to the Tradition and study it, to profit from it. Put down the other things you read – The Radio Times or Hello! or The Racing Post or (my favourite) Gourmet Magazine – and pick up something that matters, something that points us home, to our true home in God. Let me say one practical introduction to the Fathers/Mothers of the Church and the Doctors of the Church, in this rich treasury of Christian literature, is in The Divine Office, which contains many fine sections of this classical Catholic tradition in the daily Office of Readings (in the full 3 volume breviary). Our faith will be much richer and deeper as we become more familiar with the thoughts of the men and women who were part of the great chain of Christians who received the faith from the apostles and handed it on to us.

by Fr. Kilian Lynch, O.Carm.

The modern mind is no longer the Greek or medieval mind; it is inductive in its approach to things and its starting point is the actual world about us. It is also dynamic, geared to change and bent on finding the stuff of its thinking in the existential order of things. In practice, this means that if the spiritual life is to be relevant today, it must be a dimension of real life. The earthly path is the one to heaven and one must find God in the works of his hands, especially in persons.

This new outlook seems to be very much in line with biblical spirituality. The best days of Old Testament spirituality were passed in the desert when life was a Passage from the slavery of Egypt to the Promised Land. It was then that the Living God was felt to be close to his people. They depended entirely upon him for food and guidance and were led by a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. The felt presence of God in their midst was the greatest factor in their history. He was their God and they were his people. The Tent was where they met him. We make a clear distinction between the first and secondary causes. The chosen people overlooked this distinction and attributed everything to God. His intervention was their history. They saw everything in his light and their best days were passed in the radiance of his Face.

One cannot read the Old Testament without being struck by the vivid consciousness of God which his people had. In the first Book of Revelation we read how God said to Abram: “I am God Almighty, walk before me and be blameless” (Gen. 17:1). The chosen people did not always obey this command. Sin often led them to hide from the Face of God as sinful Adam did but they were conscious of it.
 
When Tobit was carried away captive, all his brethren ate the food of the Gentiles but Tobit “remembered God” with all his heart. He gave the same solid advice to his son and asked him to keep God in his mind all his days.

The great figures of the Old Covenant were keenly aware of the eye of God upon them. Job asked in desperation: “How long wilt thou not look away from me, nor let me alone till I swallow my spittle?” (Job 7:19). And the Psalmist: “Look away that I may breathe again” (Ps. 38).

The prophets were all men filled with the divine presence. Elijah (Elias) is typical of them all. He rose up like a fire and his word burned like a torch (Sirach 48:1) because his soul was full of God in whose presence he stood, always ready to do his bidding.
 
The Book of Psalms is the supreme expression of the spirituality of the Old Covenant and from beginning to end the presence of God to his people is its basic theme. Psalm 139 is typical:

                        “Whither shall I go from thy Spirit?
                        Or whither shall I flee from thy presence?
                        If I ascend to heaven thou art there!
                        If I make my bed in Sheol, thou art there!
                        If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
                        Even there thy hand shall lead me and thy right hand shall hold me.”

Their constant prayer is that God might lift up the light of his Face upon them and be a lamp to their feet and a light to their path.

 

The Exodus spirituality is a necessary introduction to our own. Its basic facts are, of course, the Creation and the Redemption. Both are not just events that took place in the past. The Creation continues and we are co-operators with God in bringing it to perfection. The Redemption is also a continuing process that will end only when all the members of the mystical body are glorified in Christ in the consummation of the paschal mystery. We are pilgrims of eternity on our way in Christ from the slavery of sin to the full freedom of our Promised Land.

 

God entered our lives and our history to re-create us in his own image. As Gunter Bornkaum puts it: “To make the reality of God present: this is the essential mystery of Jesus”. Through Baptism our lives are hidden away in Christ; we become members of his mystical body that we may grow to the fullness of age in him. “He (Christ) is the image of the invisible God” (Col. 15). He is God with us in a far more intimate way than He was present to his people of old. It is in him we live and move and have our spiritual being. He is our sphere of existence, our environment.

Where Creation is there is God; where Redemption is there is Christ. And so we are living parts of a great on-going process in which we are nearer to God than we are to ourselves.

            “God is at work everywhere carrying out the designs of his will” (Eph. 1:2).

            “In him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).

            Christ ascended into heaven “to fill creation with his presence” (Eph. 4:10).

In keeping with modern thought present-day theology stresses the fact that God is present in the world to build a new heaven and a new earth; in other words He is the God of the future. His transcendence, properly understood, embraces immanence. The creature is completely permeated by God's unceasing action and yet God is totally Other.

The modern mind shows a bent towards the future and is vitally interested in building a better world for humankind. A true Christian outlook should see that humanity is not alone in this great work; that it is the very reason for the Incarnation and that we are co-operators with the cosmic Christ. “For He has made known to us in all wisdom and insight the mystery of his will, according to his purpose which He set forth in Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth” (Eph. 1:10).

Down to the rise of modern science God was seen at work in the world and in the works of his hands. “My Father is working still and I am working” (Jn. 5:17). The mind of Christ that saw everything here below as a symbol of something above was a part of the Christian outlook. The world was a great monstrance showing us the Face of God and everything was clothed in the beauty of his countenance. St. Hilary asks “Who can look on nature and not see God?” The whole of nature was a divine milieu; the visible was the footprint of the Invisible and as the poet expressed it “Earth's crammed with heaven.”

The rise of science and technology has brought about a growing alienation from God. Things have become forces, monads and cells: they are no longer words God has spoken and that speak of him and his presence. As Cardinal Danielou writes: “Nature sings the glory of God; the machine sings the glory of man.” The modern ear is attuned only to the machine.

The extraordinary progress of science has given humanity a false sense of independence: man has declared himself God and usurped the place of God in human life. Over a century ago Dostoevsky foretold this state of things: “The old morality will disappear. Men will strive to extract every kind of pleasure from life. The human spirit will be puffed up with satanical pride: man will be his own God. With his conquest of nature man will experience a joy that will replace his hopes of happiness in a future world.” [1]

This describes the actual state of things. Humanity has begun to live from below and spurns any light from above. The trust humanity placed in God has been transferred to science and the miracles of technology have replaced the miracles of the Gospel. All this, however, is on the instrumental, existential level and there are signs that the basic problems of the meaning of life still bother man. As Gerard Philips writes: “Never has man had such a surfeit of good things, and never has he hungered as he does today. Never has he been able to exploit the energies of nature as he can today and yet his anguish is of cosmic dimensions. His insolence is a cover-up for the distress he refuses to acknowledge. He laughs that he may not weep. With all his blusterings he cannot stifle the incessant clamouring within. Each time the fundamental questions are dismissed, they leap back to the forefront.” [2]

The wave of religious emotion that is sweeping the world and that finds expression in the anti-culture movement has been provoked by the rank materialism of the West. As Schillebeeckx writes: “All kinds of ‘spiritual movements’ are emerging and they are most in evidence where secularization has taken effect most completely. The process of secularization has been accompanied by an increase in all kinds of neuroses and psychoses and of phenomena such as the consulting of horoscopes.” [3]

One is reminded of the words of the prophet Amos: “Behold the days are coming, says the Lord God, when I will send a famine on the land; not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the Lord.” (8:11).

This hunger for God is our opportunity, as Carmelites – sons and daughters of the Prophet – to present the Practice of the Presence of God to our age in such a way that it will be relevant. It is our duty to re-vitalize this old Exercise that has been the very substance of Carmelite spirituality.

The time seems to be opportune. Fr. Dalrymple, who is a man of wide experience in England, holds that young people today find the beginnings of their prayer in things about them, especially in people, and from there they rise to God. He adds that “The idea of presence is an increasingly meaningful one to describe prayer and contemplation. By considering the different ways we are present to a stranger, a friend and a lover, we can see how prayer develops beyond the stage of saying prayers to an abiding sense of being with God in all the multifarious activities of the day till an enduring relationship (I-Thou) to God is achieved.” [4]

There are also many indications that the Practice of the Presence of God is growing in adult circles as one of the new forms of prayer.

Perhaps the best exponent of this exercise is Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection (c.1611-1691). His little work entitled The Practice of the Presence of God [5] has been translated into many languages and is very popular among non-Catholics. It is found in many Protestant church racks and bookshops. The sight of a dry, leafless tree in midwinter led him to reflect on the divine power that would transform it in springtime. He left the world where he was a coachman and entered Carmel where he became cook in the convent of Paris. His greatest desire was to spread this devotion: “If I were a preacher I would preach the Practice of the Presence of God before everything else; if I were a director of souls, I would advise the world to follow it, so necessary and so easy is it.” (Second Letter, p. 16). When he discovered that the purpose of all spiritual exercises is union with God, he wrote: “I have given up all devotions and pieties which are not of obligation, and instead try to keep myself always in God's presence by simple attentiveness and a loving gaze upon him.” (Fifth Letter, p. 20). “To be with God it is not necessary to be always in church. We may make a chapel of our hearts whereto to escape from time to time to talk with him quietly, humbly and lovingly. Everyone is capable of such close communion with God, some more, some less; He knows what we can do.” (Fourth Letter, p. 18). “There is no life in the world happier or more full of delight than one of continual communion with God – they only can realize it who have practised and experienced it.” (Second Letter, p. 16).

The actual practice of the Presence of God has many forms. Since it is in God, the Creator, that we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28), we can all say with St. Catherine of Genoa: “My Me is God”; or with St. Augustine: “He is nearer to me than I am to myself.” Where God acts, there He is present and this presence transcends the whole of his creation. Our dependence on him is absolute.

Cardinal Newman treats of this form of divine presence when he writes: “If I looked into a mirror and did not see my own face I should have the sort of feeling which actually comes upon me when I look into this living, busy world and see no reflection of its Creator … Were it not for this voice speaking so clearly in my conscience and my heart, I should be an atheist, or a pantheist, or a polytheist when I looked into the world.” [6]

This presence of God in things is the basis of Eastern Mysticism that is so prevalent in the West due to the influence of Zen-Buddhism. The Romantic poets have always felt a divine presence in nature and those who look upon God as “the ground of Being” find him there. However, one must avoid a form of immanence unrelieved by transcendence.

It is in human beings that God is present in a special way for men and women are the living images of God and a revelation of him. As St. Irenaeus of Lyons observed: “Gloria Dei vivens homo; vita autem hominis est visio Dei” (the glory of God is men and women fully alive). [7]

Love, according to St. Thomas Aquinas, did not permit God to remain alone but urged him to share his life and love with us. By creation humanity is a visible projection of the invisible God: a vision of him. This image is dim but real and “the root reason for human dignity lies in man's call to communion with God.” [8] Our whole being is immersed in the infinite love of God and we were made to hold dialogue with him. It is in humanity and through humanity that God has revealed himself. Christ, the Man, is the living Image of the God we cannot see.

The human heart seeks God and is hungry for him even when it is completely unconscious of the fact.

However, God is present to the Christian in a special way. We who were far off have been brought near through the grace of divine adoption. We are daughters and sons in the Son and “oned” to him in a most intimate way. He is the Vine; we are the branches. He is the Head and we are his members. We are born into Christ to reach a fullness of age in him and become his loving images.

Grace, according to St. Thomas Aquinas, is an assimilation to Christ in mind and heart and spirit. And the more we strive to live in him, the more He lives in us to become the great living Reality of our lives.

According to an old Roman saying friendship finds or makes equality. God has made us lovable that we may share kinship with Christ and be able to live in the sweet companionship of his love and friendship.

In one of his Letters Seneca gives a word of advice to a friend: “My dear friend, I wish to end by giving you a useful piece of advice which I beg you to take to heart. It is that we should select some really good man whom we will constantly bear in mind, and under whose eye we will imagine ourselves to be always living and acting. For most of the faults that are committed would be prevented if a witness had been present when they were about to be perpetrated. Therefore, let us call to mind someone we greatly respect and let the thought of him sanctify the most secret of our actions.”

Surely for Christians the Someone is Christ for who is Friend like him? He proved his love by dying for us and there is no greater love than this. And if we live in his presence He will sanctify our most secret thoughts. The apostles, martyrs and saints all met the challenge of Paul: “Who will separate us from the love of Christ?” (Rom. 8:35).

St. Teresa of Jesus (of Avila) explains why we need the friendship of Christ: “We are not angels for we have a body. To attempt to play the angel on this earth is foolish. Ordinarily, we need a leaning-staff for our thoughts. When occupations, persecutions, pain, trouble and repose – when dryness comes to me – Jesus Christ is our very good friend. He becomes a companion for us; and when we accustom ourselves to the thought, it is very easy to find him standing close beside us … If you accustom yourselves to having him at your side, and if He sees that you love him to be there and that you are always trying to please him, you will never be able, as we put it, to send him away nor will He ever fail you … Do you think it is a small thing to have such a friend as that beside you?” [9]

Since Christ is the “Mighty Word upholding all things” (Heb. 1:3), we ought to find him in the world made in his image and likeness and redeemed by him. “The creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God.” (Rom. 8:19). And the final Sentence He will pronounce upon humankind shows that He wishes to be found, loved and served in his fellow - men. St. Francis de Sales asks us to see the neighbour in the heart of Christ. It is there where he was when Christ suffered on Calvary and it is there where he still is. Faith should lead us to see the neighbour as the sacrament of Christ, and we could be everyone on whom the eyes of Christ rested. Each and every one of us is the traveller who was robbed, beaten and left to die, into whose wounds Christ poured the wine and oil of divine love and compassion. Each one of us is the Lazarus He called from the tomb, the blind man to whom he gave sight and the deaf and dumb to whom He gave the power to hear and bear witness. Faith should reveal Christ working among men.

From the redeeming Christ in our midst, we should find our way in to the Christ at the centre of our being where we are rooted and founded in him. We ought to live for the day when we are able to repeat St. Paul's words: “I live, now not I, Christ lives in me.” (Gal. 2:30).

Down the ages the saints have found their way in to the Indwelling Spirit, but to the great majority the Holy Spirit remains the Unknown God. How true what Courtois writes: “It is not our age which is poor but the men who live in it that are dwarfs, because they no longer have with them and in them the Spirit of the Living God. What is lacking in our time is nothing else but the guidance of the Holy Spirit. We lack men who, in their daily lives, depend upon the Holy Spirit, men who, day after day, strive to walk in the presence of the living Christ.” [10]

The difficulty is that we interpret grace as a Thing while, in reality, it is Someone. As Rahner puts it: “The first thing we must do is to listen simply to what Scripture tells us about the Spirit. That accepted, believed, lived, embraced and loved in the depths of one's being … that is the Holy Spirit! There He encounters us as He is and not as a mere abstract appropriation. In any event our true supernatural life consists in the communication of the Divine Spirit and everything one can say about the essence, glory and end of the Christian can be summed up by saying that he has received the Spirit of the Father, and in this way has been filled with the divine life.” [11]

When the saints discovered this Someone in the depths of their souls, it changed their whole life and was the beginning of what they called their conversion. The early martyrs were full of the Holy Spirit and looked upon themselves as Godbearers. And for the early Fathers we are composed of body, soul and Holy Spirit. What the soul is to body, the Holy Spirit is to the soul.

Eusebius tells us how Leonidas, the father of Origen, used to kneel down and kiss the breast of his sleeping child because he believed it was inhabited by the Holy Spirit. St. Augustine looked everywhere for God and found him in his own heart: “Return to your own heart and find him.” And again: “0 Beauty ever ancient, ever new, too late have I known thee, too late have I loved thee. And behold thou wast within me whilst I was without seeking thee … Thou wast with me but I was not with thee.” [12]

St. Teresa of Jesus also regretted the time during which she neglected the great king dwelling in the little palace of her soul. And she adds: “Remember how St. Augustine tells us about how he sought God in many places and eventually found him within himself … We need no wings to go in search of him but have only to find a place where we can be alone and look upon him present within us … Remember how important it is for you to have understood this truth – that the Lord is within us and that we should be there with him.” [13]

When Elizabeth of the Trinity “discovered” the “In-dwelling Trinity” all became clear to her: “It seems to me that I have found my heaven on earth since heaven is God and God is in my soul. The day I understood that, everything became clear to me.” [14]

“Lo, you were Someone all of a sudden." In his “Magnificat” Paul Claudel, who grew up an agnostic, describes how one Christmas Day he went to Notre-Dame where Vespers were being chanted. All in a moment God became Someone for him and from that time his entire life was dominated by the presence of God.

Cardinal Newman would define the Christian as one with a ruling sense of God's presence: “A true Christian, then, may almost be defined as one who has a ruling sense of God's presence within him … In all circumstances of joy or sorrow, hope or fear, let us aim at having him in our inmost hearts; let us have no secret apart from him. Let us acknowledge him as enthroned within us at the very spring of thought and affection … This is the true life of the saints. This is to have the Spirit witnessing with our spirit that we are the sons of God.” [15]

The Holy Spirit is not just the sweet Guest of our souls. As St. Gregory the Great says: “God is love and love is never idle.” He is the Living Spring that never ceases to flow; the Living Fire that never ceases to consume and inflame and diffuse the life of God into our souls. He is the Finger of God moulding, forming and shaping us into the living images of Christ and leading us along the way that is Christ.

St. Paul reveals the action of the Holy Spirit in our lives when he writes to the Corinthians: “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled faces, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another; this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.” (2 Cor. 3:17-18).
 
The life that is being transfigured by the Holy Spirit is the life we live day-in and day-out in our daily occupations. It was in the framework of daily toil that Christ accomplished the work of our redemption: it is in the same setting that we sanctify ourselves and redeem the world about us.

“And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself.” (Jn. 12:32). It is through the power of his Spirit that Christ is drawing us into himself. He revealed the basic attitude of his life when He said: “I live for the Father.” The Indwelling Spirit is drawing us into the current of loving surrender that still fills the heart of Christ. If we accept life as it comes in the spirit of loving surrender to the Father's will we are surely co-operating with the Holy Spirit and our life is going, moment by moment, into the Father in Christ. The living stream of divine life is bearing us back to its Source.

St. John tells us that “He who says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked.” (1 Jn. 2:6).

It requires a living faith to live and walk in the light of the Indwelling Spirit. Faith is the medium through which we see God; the deeper it is the keener is our sense of his Reality and of his all-pervading presence. And since prayer is the oil in the lamp of faith there is no awakening to the divine presence within us without persevering prayer. The more our life becomes prayerful, the clearer is our vision of God. A certain measure of detachment is required for the Practice of the Presence of God. We are the pilgrims of eternity; we do not have here a lasting city; we must live in two worlds at the same time. It is when the light from above meets the light from below that we can build the Kingdom of Christ and a better world for humankind at the same time.

By approaching daily the twofold table of the Word and the Eucharist we can make Christ a living reality in our daily lives. The word of God is life and spirit: it is the Word re-creating the world in his own image. St. Jerome writes about a friend who, by prayer and study, made his heart the living library of the words of Christ. A heart of this kind is full of the Holy Spirit.

Mary is the supreme example of one who knows how to ponder the word of God. She kept all the things that were said to her about her Son and pondered them lovingly in her heart. This is how She became the perfect disciple of Christ.

The Eucharist is Christ himself coming to renew his presence in us and to make us more alive to his presence in the mystical body. We receive the Body of Christ to become his Body, the Church. As Schillebeeckx writes: “In the new approach to the distinctively Eucharistic presence of Christ, an attempt is made above all to situate this presence within the sphere of Christ's real presence in the believer and in the whole believing community. In this way, the early Christian view can be recovered in its full dimensions – the distinctively eucharistic presence is directed towards bringing about Christ's more intimate presence in each individual believer and in the community of believers as a whole. The eucharistic presence is thus no longer isolated.” [16]

“Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” (James 3:8). God is seeking us with a love infinitely greater than we could ever imagine. It is a haunting love which found expression in the words from the Cross: “I thirst”. The love that reduced him to the utter weakness of the Cross is still seeking us. As De Caussade writes: “He is offering himself to me at every moment, in every place. When I see this … everything becomes bread to feed me, fire to purify me, a chisel to shape me according to the heavenly pattern. Everything becomes an instrument of grace for my necessities. Now I see that the One I used to seek in other directions is himself seeking me incessantly, and giving himself to me in everything that happens.” [17]

“Come and see.” (Jn. 1:39). Christ's invitation to Andrew to come and abide with him goes out to all. It was in his divine presence that Andrew found the love that lifted him to the Cross and united him so closely to his Master. Draw near to me and I will draw near to you; this is a promise of tremendous spiritual value. If we open our hearts to him in the spirit of faith and loving surrender, He will take full possession of our souls and make them all his own.
 
-----------------

REFERENCES:

 

[1] Demons.

[2] Achieving Christian Maturity.

[3] God, the Future of Man, p. 63; Sheed and Ward, 1969.

[4] The Christian Affirmation, p. 65; Libra Book, 1971.

[5] The Practice of the Presence of God; Paternoster Series; translated by Donald Attwater; London, Burns and Gates, 1957.

[6] Apologia, p. 319; Doubleday, 1956.

[7] 4 Contra Haer.

[8] The Church Today; Vat. II; 19.

[9] Way of Perfection, Ch. 28.

[10] Before his Face; Vol. I, p. 90; Herder, 1962.

[11] Spiritual Exercises, p. 252; Sheed and Ward, London, 1956.

[12] Confessions, Book 10, Ch. 27.

[13] Way of Perfection; Ch. 28; Peers, London.

[14] The Spiritual Doctrine of Sr. Elizabeth; Ch. The In-dwelling of the B. Trinity, pp. 46-80; Quoted by Philipon; Mercier Press, 1947.

[15] Parochial and Plain Sermons, pp. 225-226.

[16] The Eucharist, p. 104; Sheed and Ward, London.

[17] Self-Abandonment to Divine Providence; p. 130 (Fontana Library Theology and Philosophy).

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Brother Lawrence - (ca. 1614 -1691), Carmelite lay brother

Brother Lawrence was born Nicholas Herman in the region of Lorraine, located in modern day eastern France. He received a revelation of the providence and power of God at the age of 18, but it would be another six years before he joined the Discalced Carmelite Prior in Paris. In this intervening period he fought in the Thirty Years' War and later served as a valet.

Nicholas entered the priory in Paris as a lay brother, not having the education necessary to become a cleric, and took the religious name, "Lawrence of the Resurrection". He spent almost all of the rest of his life within the walls of the priory, working in the kitchen for most of his life and as a repairer of sandals in his later years.

Yet despite, or perhaps because of, his somewhat lowly position, his character attracted many to him. He was known for his profound peace and many came to seek spiritual guidance from him. The wisdom that he passed on to them, in conversations and in letters, would later become the basis for the book, The Practice of the Presence of God. This work was compiled after Brother Lawrence died by one of those whom he inspired, Father Joseph de Beaufort, later vicar general to the Archbishop of Paris. It became popular among Catholics and Protestants alike, with John Wesley and A. W. Tozer being among those who recommended it.

As a young man, Herman's poverty forced him into joining the army, and thus he was guaranteed meals and a small stipend. During this period, Herman had an experience that set him on a unique spiritual journey; it wasn't, characteristically, a supernatural vision, but a supernatural clarity into a common sight.

In the deep of winter, Herman looked at a barren tree, stripped of leaves and fruit, waiting silently and patiently for the sure hope of summer abundance. Gazing at the tree, Herman grasped for the first time the extravagance of God's grace and the unfailing sovereignty of divine providence. Like the tree, he himself was seemingly dead, but God had life waiting for him, and the turn of seasons would bring fullness. At that moment, he said, that leafless tree "first flashed in upon my soul the fact of God," and a love for God that never after ceased to burn. Sometime later, an injury forced his retirement from the army, and after a stint as a footman, he sought a place where he could suffer for his failures. He thus entered the Discalced Carmelite monastery in Paris as Brother Lawrence.

He was assigned to the monastery kitchen where, amidst the tedious chores of cooking and cleaning at the constant bidding of his superiors, he developed his rule of spirituality and work. In his Maxims, Lawrence writes, "Men invent means and methods of coming at God's love, they learn rules and set up devices to remind them of that love, and it seems like a world of trouble to bring oneself into the consciousness of God's presence. Yet it might be so simple. Is it not quicker and easier just to do our common business wholly for the love of him?"

For Brother Lawrence, "common business," no matter how mundane or routine, was the medium of God's love. The issue was not the sacredness or worldly status of the task but the motivation behind it. "Nor is it needful that we should have great things to do. . . We can do little things for God; I turn the cake that is frying on the pan for love of him, and that done, if there is nothing else to call me, I prostrate myself in worship before him, who has given me grace to work; afterwards I rise happier than a king. It is enough for me to pick up but a straw from the ground for the love of God."

Brother Lawrence retreated to a place in his heart where the love of God made every detail of his life of surpassing value. "I began to live as if there were no one save God and me in the world." Together, God and Brother Lawrence cooked meals, ran errands, scrubbed pots, and endured the scorn of the world.

He admitted that the path to this perfect union was not easy. He spent years disciplining his heart and mind to yield to God's presence. "As often as I could, I placed myself as a worshiper before him, fixing my mind upon his holy presence, recalling it when I found it wandering from him. This proved to be an exercise frequently painful, yet I persisted through all difficulties."

Only when he reconciled himself to the thought that this struggle and longing was his destiny did he find a new peace: his soul "had come to its own home and place of rest." There he spent the rest of his 80 years, dying in relative obscurity and pain and perfect joy.

by Fr. Patrick Thomas McMahon, O.Carm.

Lay Carmelites seek God's presence in prayer while living an active life in the world. This duality of contemplative prayer and active ministry was modeled by the first Carmelites who lived as hermits on Mount Carmel, then later became mendicants in the cities of Europe.

Carmel is in harmony with the teaching office of the Pope and the bishops

Carmel is a family within the hierarchical Church. This is very necessary, I think, for us to reiterate today. We are not a Church unto ourselves but we’re one part of a Church that stretches around our globe, the Catholic Church. Our Prior General, Father Fernando Millán Romeral, is directly accountable to the Holy See. And every Carmelite friar, sister, and nun is answerable to the Bishop – not in matters of Carmelite observance, there we answer to the Order – but in our ministries to the People of God and the ways in which we relate pastorally to the bishop’s flock. And so, too, with Lay Carmelites; in matters strictly Carmelite you take direction from the Order. For example, it is the Carmelite Family that determines the rules about prayers to be said daily or at community meetings, or the fasts and the feasts that we celebrate as Carmelites. But in matters pertaining to your participation in the larger Church you take direction from your pastors and your bishops. The Church is in crisis today because people are setting themselves up in place of rightful teachers. The teaching office of the Church belongs to the bishops in a unique way and yet it is being usurped both by ‘liberals’ and ‘conservatives’ who are teaching in contradistinction to the legitimate pastors of souls. Everyone seems to think that they are the authority on what the Church holds, but you and I are not interpreters of the Church’s teaching. It is not for you to judge if your bishop or parish priest is being faithful to the Church. If a priest is working contrary to your bishop and his directives, it is up to your bishop to take the necessary steps to address the problem, not for you or your community to act on your own in rejecting his authority. And if you think your bishop is working contrary to the teaching of the universal Church, it is up to the Holy See to take the necessary steps, not for you or your community to sit in judgment on the bishop.

Until and unless they are removed from their positions, we are to show our bishops, priests and deacons obedience and respect.

The Church today is in great danger of being divided, even of being pushed into schism and this is not just because of ‘liberals’. In fact, history shows us that schism is more likely to come from the right than from the left. There are some who claim that the current Mass text is heretical or deficient or invalid. Others reject the Second Vatican Council because of its teachings regarding Protestant Churches and non-Christian religions. Still others support the Church’s teaching on abortion, but reject its teachings on war, on capital punishment, or on the rights of immigrants. Some of these people profess a great loyalty to the pope, but they think they can be disloyal to the bishop that the Holy Father has appointed to be their pastor. In the United States some years ago we saw the shocking scandal of one prominent American Catholic nun tell the people of Los Angeles that their Cardinal Archbishop is a heretic and should not be obeyed. There is no room for that sort of open rebellion in Carmel. The only way we can be sure that we are with the Church is to give obedience and respect to our bishops, and to trust the Holy See to keep the bishops in line. Our task is not to be ‘liberal’ or ‘conservative.’ It is to be faithful. And faithful means to be obedient to legitimate authority. And the bishop, whether we agree with him or not, is the legitimate authority. And it is for the Holy See, not for you or for me, to decide if he uses that authority wrongly. Right now the unity of the Church depends on our adherence to that authority.

This does not mean, of course, that we cannot think for ourselves. We need to read and study our faith and that means that we should not only be familiar with papal statements, but read good Catholic books and periodicals. God gave us intelligence and expects that we will use it. We need informed obedience to the Church, not blind obedience. There are many things which we can question. Issues of Church discipline, as opposed to Church doctrine, are not defined truths and we can have our opinions. The Church would be healthier if a well-informed laity asked the right questions—and expected thorough answers – about matters of administration and finances. Priests should get helpful feedback to their homilies and about the quality of parish liturgies. A healthy parish and diocese will have laity as full and well-informed participants in all their programs – and directing many of those programs, not just carrying out ‘Father’s orders.’ Moreover, priests and bishops need to hear the life-experiences of the faithful. Many of our teachings on the role of our Christian faith in economic and political life, as well as family life and human sexuality seem yet to be incompletely formulated because while the input has been there from the bishops and the theologians, the experience of the faithful, the consensus fidelium, has not yet been given voice. Yet, in all these matters, while we may have our various thoughts and ideas, they must always find their voice in ways that build the unity of the Church and not undermine it. We question, we discuss, we even argue, but always with respect, with a willingness to submit to the authority of the Church, and with a passion to preserve the unity in charity which the Body of Christ requires.

Carmel’s vocation, St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus tells us, is to be charity in the heart of the Church. And we cannot do that if we are involved in the frays that are tearing our Church apart. You and I do not need to go slugging on in these battles. Our task is to pray for the Church, to work for the Church, to build up the Church through charity. While others go and fight the battle, let us withdraw in prayer for them and for the Church. Let us devote ourselves to meeting all with charity. Let us devote ourselves to the simple background work that makes the Church work. Let us devote ourselves to feeding the hungry, visiting the sick, comforting the elderly, working with the youth in our parishes. The mission and ministry of Carmel is to be charity in the heart of the Church, to be a contemplative centre for the Church. If you have a passion to defend orthodoxy, join the Dominican Third Order; that’s their charism. Our task is to be charity in the heart of the Church. Let us build up the Church. Let us only say good things about people. Let us wage war for the truth not by our efforts by our fights and our quarrels, but by quiet prayer and unfailing charity. Related to this need to be in harmony with the Pope and bishops is the next characteristic we will examine: remembering that Carmel stands in the classic theological tradition of the Church.

Daily Lectio Divina for August

• Wednesday, August 1, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 13,44-46
• Thursday, August 2, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 13,47-53
• Friday, August 3, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 13,54-58
• Saturday, August 4, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 14,1-12
• Sunday, August 5, 2012
  Lectio: 18th Sunday of ordinary time (B)
• Monday, August 6, 2012
  Lectio:The Transfiguration of the Lord
• Tuesday, August 7, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 14,22-36
• Wednesday, August 8, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 15,21-28
• Thursday, August 9, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 16,13-23
• Friday, August 10, 2012
  Lectio: St. Lawrence, deacon and martyr - Jn. 12,24-26
• Saturday, August 11, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 17, 14-20
• Sunday, August 12, 2012
  Lectio: 19th Sunday of ordinary time (B)
• Monday, August 13, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 17,22-27
• Tuesday, August 14, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 18,1-5.10.12-14
• Wednesday, August 15, 2012
  Lectio:The Assumption of Our Lady
• Thursday, August 16, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 18,21-19,1
• Friday, August 17, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 19,3-12
• Saturday, August 18, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 19,13-15
• Sunday, August 19, 2012
  Lectio: 20th Sunday of ordinary time (B)
• Monday, August 20, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 19,16-22
• Tuesday, August 21, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 19,23-30
• Wednesday, August 22, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 20,1-16a
• Thursday, August 23, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 22,1-14
• Friday, August 24, 2012
  Lectio: St. Bartholomew, Apostle
• Saturday, August 25, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 23,1-12
• Sunday, August 26, 2012
  Lectio: 21st Sunday of ordinary time (B)
• Monday, August 27, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 23,13-22
• Tuesday, August 28, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 23,23-26
• Wednesday, August 29, 2012
  Lectio: The Martyrdom of St. John the Baptist
• Thursday, August 30, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 24,42-51
• Friday, August 31, 2012
  Lectio: Matthew 25,1-13

BENEDICTUS PP. XV

To my Venerable Brother
Bishop Jesús García Burillo of Avila

1. Resplendens stella: “a star shining in great splendour” (Libro de la Vida, [The Book of My Life] 32, 11). With these words the Lord encouraged St Teresa of Jesús to found the Monastery of San José in Avila. This was the beginning of the Reform of Carmel which will be celebrating its 450th anniversary next 24 August. On this happy occasion I would like to join in the rejoicing of the beloved Diocese of Avila, of the Order of Discalced Carmelites and of the People of God on pilgrimage in Spain, as well as of all those in the universal Church who have found in Teresian spirituality a sure light for men and women to attain a true renewal of their life through Christ. In love with the Lord, this illustrious woman did not want anything other than to please him in all things. Indeed, it is not those who do great things based on the excellence of their human qualities who are holy; on the contrary, holy people are those who humbly let Christ penetrate their soul and act through them, who truly allow him to play the lead in all their actions and aspirations, inspiring every project and sustaining every silence.

2. Only those who have an intense prayer life are able to let Christ lead them in this manner. The Saint of Avila says that a life of prayer consists in “being on terms of friendship with God, frequently conversing in secret with him who, we know, loves us” (Libro de la Vida 8, 5). The reform of Carmel whose anniversary fills us with inner joy was born from prayer and is inclined to prayer. By distancing herself from the Mitigated Rule in order to further a radical return to the primitive Rule, St Teresa de Jesús wished to encourage a form of life that would favour the personal encounter with the Lord, for which “we have only to find a place where we can be alone and look upon him present within us. Nor need we feel strange in the presence of so kind a Guest” (Camino de perfección [the Way of Perfection] 28, 2). The Monastery of San José came into being precisely in order that all its daughters might have the best possible conditions for speaking to God and establishing a profound and intimate relationship with him.

3. St Teresa proposed a new way of being a Carmelite in a world that was also new. The “times were dangerous” (Libro de la Vida 33, 5) and in these times, as this spiritual teacher said, “the friends of God should be strong, in order that they may support the weak” (ibid., 15, 5). And she eloquently insists: “the world is on fire. Men try to condemn Christ once again, as it were, for they bring a thousand false witnesses against him. They would raze his Church to the ground.... No, my sisters, this is no time to treat with God for things of little importance" (Camino de perfección, 1, 5). Does not this most luminous and challenging reflection made by the holy mystic more than four centuries ago seem familiar to us in the situation in which we are living?

The ultimate aim of the Teresian Reform and of the creation of new monasteries in the midst of a world devoid of spiritual values was to strengthen apostolic work with prayer; and to propose an evangelical lifestyle that might serve as a model to those in quest of a way of perfection, based on the conviction that every authentic personal and ecclesial reform passes through reproducing, ever more faithfully, the “form” of Christ (cf. Gal 4:19) within us. The Saint and her daughters strove to do exactly this and this was the exact commitment of her Carmelite sons who endeavoured solely to “advance in virtue” (Libro de la vida, 31, 18). In this regard Teresa writes: “He [Our Lord] prizes one soul which of his mercy we have gained for him by our prayer and labour more than all the service we may render him” (Libro de las Fundaciones [The Book of the Foundations] 1, 7). In the face of forgetfulness of God the Holy Doctor encourages prayerful communities that protect with their fervour those who proclaim Christ’s name everywhere, so that they may pray for the Church’s needs and bring the cry of all the peoples to the Saviour’s heart.

4. Today too, as in the 16th century and also among rapid changes, trusting prayer must be the soul of the apostolate so that the redemptive message of Jesus Christ rings out with deep clarity and vigorous dynamism. It is urgently necessary that the Word of life be harmoniously vibrant in souls, with resonant and attractive tones.

Teresa of Avila’s example is a great help to us in this exciting task. We can say that in her time the Saint evangelized without mincing her words, with unfailing ardour, with methods foreign to inertia and with expressions haloed with light. Her example keeps all its freshness at the crossroads of our time. It is here that we feel the urgent need for the baptized to renew their hearts through personal prayer which, in accordance with the dictates of the Mystic of Avila, is also centred on contemplation of the Most Holy Humanity of Christ as the only way on which to find God’s glory (cf. Libro de la Vida, 22, 1; Las Moradas [Interior Castle] 6, 7). Thus they will be able to form authentic families which discover in the Gospel the fire of their hearths; lively and united Christian communities, cemented on Christ as their corner-stone and which thirst after a life of generous and brotherly service. It should also be hoped that ceaseless prayer will foster priority attention to the vocations ministry, emphasizing in particular the beauty of the consecrated life which, as a treasure of the Church and an outpouring of graces, must be duly accompanied in both its active and contemplative dimensions.

The power of Christ will likewise lead to the multiplication of projects to enable the People of God to recover its strength in the only possible way: by making room within us for the sentiments of the Lord Jesus (cf. Phil 2:5), seeking in every circumstance a radical experience of his Gospel. This means, first of all, allowing the Holy Spirit to make us friends of the Teacher and to conform us to him. It also means accepting his mandates in all things and adopting such criteria as humility in behaviour, the renunciation of the superfluous and giving no offence to others or proceeding with simplicity and a docile heart. Those who surround us will thus perceive the joy that is born from our adherence to the Lord and see that we put nothing before his love, being ever ready to account for our hope (cf. 1 Pet 3:15) and, like Teresa of Jesus, living in filial obedience to our Holy Mother, the Church.

5. Today, this most illustrious daughter of the Diocese of Avila invites us to this radicalism and faithfulness. Accepting her beautiful legacy at this moment in history, the Pope asks all the members of this particular Church, and especially youth, to take seriously the common vocation to holiness. Following in the footsteps of Teresa of Jesus, allow me to say to all who have their future before them: may you too, aspire to belong totally to Jesus, only to Jesus and always to Jesus. Do not be afraid to say to Our Lord, as she did, “I am yours; I was born for you, what do you want to do with me?” (Poem 2). And I ask him to obtain that you may also be able to respond to his call, illuminated by divine grace with “determined resolve” in order to offer “that little” which is in you, trusting in the fact that God never abandons those who leave everything for his glory (cf. Camino di perfección 21, 2; 1, 2).

6. St Teresa knew how to honour with deep devotion the Most Holy Virgin, whom she invoked with the sweet name of Carmel. I place under her motherly protection the apostolic aspiration of the Church of Avila so that rejuvenated by the Holy Spirit she may find appropriate ways for proclaiming the Gospel with enthusiasm and courage. May Mary, Star of Evangelization, and her chaste spouse, St Joseph, intercede so that this “star” which the Lord set alight in the universe of the Church with the Teresian Reform, may continue to shine with the great splendour of the love and truth of Christ for all humankind. With this wish, Venerable Brother in the Episcopate, I send you this message. I ask you to make it known to the flock entrusted to your pastoral care and, especially, to the beloved Discalced Carmelites of the Convent of San José in Avila so that they may perpetuate in time the spirit of their Foundress. I am ever grateful to them for their fervent prayers for the Successor of Peter. To them, to you and to all the faithful of Avila I impart the Apostolic Blessing as a pledge of abundant heavenly favours.

From the Vatican, 16 July 2012

During the Provincial Chapter of the Province of Indonesia held on 20-27 July 2012 were elected:

• Prior Provincial:  Fr. Ignatius Joko Purnomo, O.Carm.
• Vice Prior Provincial:  Fr. Dionysius Kosasih, O.Carm.
• First Councilor:  Fr. Henricus Pidyarto Gunawan, O.Carm.
• Second Councilor:  Fr. Antonius Maria Kristiyanto Gunawan, O.Carm.
• Third Councilor:  Fr. Henricus Edison Tinambunan, O.Carm.
• Fourth Councilor:  Fr. Lucianus Simon Rande, O.Carm.

The 26th of July of this year, 2012, will be the 70th anniversary of the martyrdom of Blessed Titus Brandsma. His life was an example of a very close relationship between a mystical life and a firm commitment in the world to the dignity of the human person. He was noted for his readiness to receive anyone in difficulty and to help in whatever way he could.
In the period leading up to and during the Nazi occupation in Holland, he argued passionately against the National Socialist ideology, basing his stand on the Gospels, and he defended the right to freedom, in education and for the Catholic Press. This led to his imprisonment. So began his Calvary, which brought him great personal suffering and degradation whilst, at the same time, he himself brought solace and comfort to the other internees and begged God's blessing on his jailers. In the midst of such inhuman suffering, he possessed the precious ability to bring an awareness of goodness, love and peace. He passed from one prison or camp to another until finally he arrived in Dachau where he was killed on 26th July 1942. He was beatified as a martyr by Pope John Paul II on the 3rd of November, 1985.