PAD 30: The End in the Beginning

 

At the annual Life Chain in October.

PAD Challenge, Day 30 prompt: For today's Two-for-Tuesday prompt, write a The End poem and/or write a Beginning poem.

The End in the Beginning

“Finis origine pendet.” – “The end depends on the beginning.” (Manlius, 1st Cent. Roman poet).

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end” (Revelation 22:13).

Most people begin with a sprint and then they choke out,

But some begin like a marathon as soon as the race has broke out;

The latter begin with a sure-footed step,

Not worried by those far ahead at first lap,

For they’ll persevere and then shorten the lead

When the sprinters will falter and struggle to breathe.

As parents, we always will look to the end,

And efforts to form a good character spend.

I have somewhere read that by the ripe age of six,

The foundation for character’s already fixed.

So we should not give children a life made of ease,

But forge them through toughness and responsibility.

We parents have always to think far ahead,

Or face dire consequences that we dread:

That Eli’s true shame would become then our own

For lack of good diligent discipline shown.

If twisting persists when the sapling is green,

Distorted and warped will the full-grown tree be.

With diligent discipline prune we the branch,

Or else all is fruitless not taking a stance

To form moral compass and character firm

In all of our children, despite tantrums and squirms.

Thus, we look to the end when raising our children,

Raising to maturing: with this sight we begin.

But how to form their character when often it’s the case

That many men are fatherless or with indifference raised?

So often, men do seek to be affirmed in manliness,

And often seek it wrongly in a woman’s sweet caress.

Boys are made to men within the council of other men,

Political correctness cannot stifle this natural trend.

We look to the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End,

The first One and the last One, to be our very Friend;

To reveal to us the Father, and Saint Joseph in His stead,

As we seek to raise our families and earn our daily bread;

To give to us His Spirit, Paraclete and Counsellor,

That our efforts may be fruitful by His grace for to endure.

Eucharistic Revival: Come To Me

 

Sanctuary Lamps burning before the Tabernacle, where the Lord Jesus Christ is truly present in the Holy Eucharist.

Come To Me

Tune: Chartres, 15th Century French Tune
Meter: 87.87 D

Come to Me, all you, My faithful,
Come unto My altar-throne,
Come and visit Me more often
For I wait here all alone.
I have kept My lamp-light burning,
Glowing in deep crimson red,
For I thirst for one small visit
More than all this silence dread.

Come to me, all you o’erburdened
By your sorrows and your woe,
I will grant you rest more precious
Than the pleasures of the foe.
I have kept My lamp-light burning,
Come and rest your weary head,
I will calm the storms of anguish
More than sleep upon your bed.

Come to Me, all hearts yet broken
Treading sorrow’s darkened road,
I will be your sweet Salvation,
I will be your Joy untold.
I have kept My lamp-light burning,
See its beams of blesséd light,
Come to Me and in your heart I’ll
Set your hope to burning bright.

Come to Me, all you who, sinners,
Live amidst despairing fear,
Be not afraid, My Blood was shed,
Price was paid, and you are dear.
You are not beyond My Mercy,
Repent, enter My Heart’s cove,
See, I keep My lamp-light burning:
In the Host, My Heart of love!

Come to Me, all you the lukewarm,
Now’s the time to fervent grow;
Come to Me, be My disciple,
Learn from Me and get to know
All the ways of love and mercy,
Fervent charity to sow.
See, I keep My lamp-light burning,
Keep your baptism-flame aglow!

Come to Me, all unbelievers,
See Me in the Host at Mass!
I am here, your great Redeemer,
Hear My priest, have faith at last!
Look! I left My lamp on for you,
I who am the Lamb of God,
Doubt no longer, come to know Me,
Come and find what saints have sought!

PAD 23: Burden of the Heart

 

Image Source

PAD Challenge, Day 23 prompt: for today's Two-for-Tuesday prompt: write a "(blank) of the Heart" poem, and/or write a "Heart of the (blank)" poem.

Burden of the Heart

"See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are. The reason why the world does not know us is that it did not know him." (1 John 3:1).

"Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master; nor is he who is sent greater than he who sent him" (John 13:16).

"And when they bring you to trial and deliver you up, do not be anxious beforehand what you are to say; but say whatever is given you in that hour, for it is not you who speak, but the Holy Spirit" (Mark 13:11).

My heart weighs so heavy within my own soul,
My heart bears a cross that so few people know;
This cross is the knowledge that where Christ hath trod,
I will quickly follow my Master, my God.

There looms in the sky such an ominous cloud
Attempting the light of my faith to cast out.
May God grant me courage to stand and be true,
Despite that strong persecution will ensue.

I often do wonder ‘bout what I will say,
But God will give words to my mouth on that day.
May God grant me courage to say what I must
‘Gainst participation in others’ own lusts.

A law has been made and been put in effect:
In others’ own sins we must partake direct;
But I will not bow to this godless decree
That strips us of all religious liberty.

Now some say that prudence means bowing to this,
But we must stand up against evil amiss,
Or otherwise suffer the fate that is sure
For letting an evil agenda endure.

Written in 2016 at Martindale Army Airfield in San Antonio, Texas, just after a mandatory class on transgenders and homosexuals in the military. I nearly walked out during that class because the NCO giving it said, “Any individual or any religion still holding that transgenderism and homosexuality are wrong needs to get with the times.” I was so furious that I would have walked out, except that my fellow soldiers must have seen how red my face got (my face must have been beet-red because I know I was trembling and burning hot), for they really plead with me during the break, saying, “Don’t ruin your career!”

I will state outright that I do not hate anyone, not even transgenders or homosexuals. There are many who suffer from the disorders of gender dysphoria or same-sex attraction, and I am aware that such are heavy crosses to bear. But what I cannot and will not tolerate is being told that I have to sit down and shut up, and act like those disorders are ordered to true love when they are in fact ordered to sin (if they are indulged in and acted upon). I have often heard it said that “You can’t help who you love,” and that may be true because we should love everyone; but even if we reduce love to mere physical attraction, people can still help how they love others. To phrase it similarly, “You can help how you love.” Not all love is or should be marital love; there are also other types of love: there is filial love, which a child has for a parent; or parental love, which a parent has for a child; or the love of friendship. In Christianity, there are also the self-sacrificial love (agape) and love that wills the best for others in light of eternity (caritas). Though there are times in a marriage when the marital love is good and delightful, there are also other times when the love is more akin to agape-love or caritas-love, wherein spouses let go of their own desires for the good of one another or of the whole family.

There is one more point. There are nine ways of being an accessory to another's sin:

1. By defending the sin.
2. By being silent.
3. By being a partner in the sin.
4. By concealment, or hiding another's sin (in this case, a sin that is public; revealing someone else's sins that are not public is another sin called detraction).
5. By praise or flattery for the sin.
6. By provocation.
7. By consent.
8. By command.
9. By counsel.

The NCO instructing the class ultimately said that we must agree and act like everything is normal. That would force us into participation in others sins by violating numbers 2 and 7; those who participate in June Pride events or misrepresent the whole affair as one of "civil rights" are also violating numbers 1 and 5; and those who try to paint these sins as normal and acceptable are also violating number 9, and potentially number 6 as well. Those who, in schools or other venues, conceal from the parents any surgical procedures, pharmaceutical prescriptions, or sexual education or counselling that their children receive, are also in violation of number 4. Of course, when we speak out about anything, prudence is required. Sometimes others are not ready to hear our message, at other times they are unwilling to hear it. In that case, we pray for them so that their interior disposition will be softened and enlightened and ready for the grace of God. Then, when they are ready, we speak the truth with great charity. As Aristotle once wrote, "having virtue just means doing the right thing, at the right time, in the right way, in the right measure, toward the right people." And we should take these words to heart when teaching others the truth of the Catholic Faith.

Ash Wednesday Poem: Silence Fleshly Lust

 

Silence Fleshly Lust

Remember, man, that you are mortal dust,
Humble yourself and silence fleshly lust.
The lust of food against all moderation,
So that the more you may resist temptation.
The lust of reins against all chastity,
So that in heart and mind you may be free.
The lust of comfort against all good reason,
So that you may be fruitful in all seasons.
The lust of anger to vent all your passion,
So that you may be gentle with compassion.
The lust of greed to usury and harm,
So that you be detached and give out alms.
The lust of unforgiveness in your heart,
So at your judgment you won’t hear “Depart!”

PAD 17: Not Septuagesima, But Modern Captivity

 

PAD Challenge, Day 17 prompt: take the phrase "Not (blank)," replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: "Not the Only One," "Not Like This," "Not Without Eating One More Piece of Pie," and/or "Not Sure What I Was Saying."

Not Septuagesima, But Modern Captivity

This season once both honored and revered
Is in the Pauline Rite excised, severed;
And though reformers gave their reasons why,
One’s only known by hindsight’s keenest eye:
We do not celebrate this season now,
But in our own captivity we bow
Beneath a heavy yoke painful to bear,
Yet firm in Peter’s Barque, the storm we dare.
Hear ye this truth which I shall here define:
We do not celebrate Gesimatide,
For in captivity ourselves we find.

When Israel returned from Babylon,
And seventy years’ exile had been done,
The Levites had to interpret the Law:
Aramaic was their tongue since Babylon,
But God’s Law written in the Hebrew tongue.
And so it is in hist’ry’s second lung
(The first lung was the time before the Christ,
The second now ‘til Christ returns in light):
The Liturgy in languages dispersed
Has all but lost the language of the Church,
One of the triple-tongues made sacred by
Its presence on the sacred Cross of Christ.

Septuagesima means “seventy”,
Full excised in year Nineteen-Seventy.
To some, these things are mere coincidence;
To me, they are clear signs of Providence.
No longer in the Babylon of old,
The enemies of Christ are very bold.
The true captivity that now we face
That seeks our holy Faith to now erase,
If not from out our churches, from our hearts,
Causing us to doubt is where it starts.
And when our faith and hope become unmoored,
Our love grows cold, our souls become so poor.
All this is driven by our enemies
Who hold us in present captivity.

“Who are these captors?” this we dare to ask.
They are Freemasons, working Satan’s task.
And just like Satan wants us to believe
That he does not exist because unseen,
So his Freemasons operate in dark
To snuff out grace divine, God’s inward spark,
To force atheism upon the world
By cruél and barbaric means untold.
Yet now in modern times it’s not the same,
They saw that by Martyrs the Church became
Stronger than before the captors came,
To their public disgrace and utter shame.

Here they attack through universities,
And that is why they push to get degrees,
Even though most are useless now because
The trades are in demand, not tie-wear jobs.
They educate to materialism
By marketing and consumerism;
And by not training in money and budget,
They set up youth as slaves to crushing debt.
These secular institutions have sold
So many minds to errors for much gold.
They hate the Church and all us patriots,
And train up Marxist useful idiots
Devoid of faith in God and moral ways,
Hell-bent on pure destruction in their wake.

While “climate change” at first appears to be
A lack of faith in nature’s God fully,
God who created things both great and small,
Things visible, invisible, and all;
God who, the Word through whom all things were made,
Who in our flesh would calm the wind and wave;
God who, the Spirit hov’ring o’er the deep,
Would order all from chaos to beauty.
But hidden ‘neath this surface lack of faith
Is hatred of our God by treach’rous knaves.
‘Tis Satan’s strong desire: “All but God!”
So he would have us worship naught but sod,
Which is the earth absent God’s sacred breath
(His Rhua breathed into our clay-formed flesh).
This is the reason demons fiercely hate
All men and strive to earth depopulate
From us who bear God’s image and His life.
And to this end, divide as with a knife,
As fear spurs hate, and hatred global war,
Abortion, and indiff’rence to the core,
Murd'ring the helpless all throughout the land,
Ignoring needs of neighbors – fellow man.

For theft of hope, the demons oft employ
The media, which steals all peace and joy.
The news itself has rightfully been called
“The devil’s gospel”, for ‘tis evil sprawl
That they lay out to catch us in a snare,
Evil on full display to cause despair.
The devil often seems angel of light,
He shines in our devices glowing bright,
So we beware his evil, wicked glow,
Whence vile impurity is wont to flow:
Through TV and radio waves he roams
As uninvited guest into our homes.
Beware his wickedness on full display,
Or else he'll with your fam’ly have his way.

So how do we our spirits now renew,
How dread fear and anguish to undo?
We laugh, rejoice, and smile in evil’s face,
And thank God for this undeservéd grace:
That we more keenly feel this exile now,
And lift our eyes to heaven from the ground.
For we have been so prosp’rous here below,
It's dulled our senses to what we should know:
That Christ is King and Lord of hist’ry here
Upon this earth, so we should never fear.
For what can separate us from the life
Or love of God, save sin, ‘gainst which we strive?
Our charity for God and neighbor’s good
Will lift us up to heaven by His Rood.

May faith and hope and charity abide
In each today we have ere death’s divide.

Septuagesima Poem: Prepare Ye Well

Gesimatide, Ash Wednesday, and the four Sundays of Lent before Passiontide.
The fourth Sunday of Lent is also called "Laetare Sunday".

Septuagesima: Prepare Ye Well

Septuagesima Season reminds us that we are
Not in heaven-Jerusalem, but in exile afar,
Held captive by this world of sin, this city-Babylon;
Remember we our miseries by sin and vice brought on.
A deep, honest Confession we prepare ere holy Lent,
So Lent we start within God’s grace, in spirit penitent.
And in this preparation we can see our weaknesses,
And form a Lenten practice to combat our sinfulness.
So for example, if it’s sloth to which we tend to fall,
Resolve we to not hit the snooze, but out of bed to crawl,
And day’s first battle thus is won, and each day strength we find.
Then on Good Friday offer Christ what habit we’ve refined,
And though Lent may be over with the joy of Eastertide,
This habit that we’ve formed for good need not be cast aside.

PAD 16: The Babylonian Captivity

 

Destruction of the Temple of Jerusalem, by Francesco Hayez (1867).   Image Source: marsmet543 / Flickr

PAD Challenge, Day 16 prompt: we have our third Two-for-Tuesday prompt: write a poetic form poem, and/or write an anti-form poem.

Today, I have decided to invent my own poetic form, which I have called a gesima. 

How to Write a Gesima

The first stanza has seven pairs of one line of heptameter (seven syllables), followed by a line of tetrameter (four syllables).

The second stanza has seven pairs of one line of hexameter (six syllables) followed by a line of tetrameter.

The third stanza has three pairs of one line of pentameter (five syllables) followed by a line of tetrameter.

Inspiration Behind the Gesima

In the Septuagesima Season (called Gesimatide by some), there is one week of Septuagesima (seventy), one week of Sexagesima (sixty), and only three days of Quinquagesima (50), leading up to Ash Wednesday and the holy Season of Lent. This Gesimatide leading up to Lent was often called "pre-Lent" in English (this Season was abolished in the Missal of 1970 because of much misunderstanding and ignorance even on the part of liturgical reformers; however, it is now seeing a revival thanks to the Sarum Use employed by the Ordinariates established by Anglicanorum Coetibus).

The first stanza is for Septuagesima week, hence the lines of heptameter. 

The second stanza is for Sexagesima week, hence the lines of hexameter.

The third stanza is for Quinquagesima week, hence the lines of pentameter.

Since this season prepares for holy Lent, and Lent is called Quadragesima (forty), the second lines of all three stanzas are tetrameter. The first lines coupled with the second lines of four syllables are a way of saying, "It's Gesimatide. Get ready, Lent is on its way! Prepare now your hearts, wills, and bodies for the penance."

But there is one last thing that is special about the poem: it's as if the poem is spoken by two voices. Thus, the poem makes the most sense when reading the longer lines first, and the tetrameter lines second. If it were put to music, two different voices could sing the lines simultaneously.

And now, on to my form (gesima) poem...

The Babylonian Captivity

Seventy years as captives
With bitter tear,
For idol-worship punished,
How could we ring
Sabbaths Israel defiled,
The songs we sing
Consciences Judah beguiled,
To captor’s jeer?
Prophets shamefully reviled.
To torment’s wrong
This valle lacrimarum:
We grant no song
Ere heaven’s joy, earth’s strong gloom
In Babylon.

The time for reform near,
The blood of them
Embrace the fast with cheer.
Who died for Him,
Lent's corporal weakness
Of Church the seed,
Should lead us to meekness,
The harvest-wheat
And to great compassion.
Sown in good ground
Mortifying sadness
Where grace abounds
Leads to Easter gladness
As time goes 'round.

Choose your penance now,
Fasting and prayer,
Bend your haughty brow,
Almsgiving dare,
Grace's work allow,
Your soul to spare.

From the Scripture

Jeremiah 25:8-11: “Therefore thus says the Lord of hosts: Because you have not obeyed my words, behold, I will send for all the tribes of the north, says the Lord, and for Nebuchadrezzar the king of Babylon, my servant, and I will bring them against this land and its inhabitants, and against all these nations round about; I will utterly destroy them, and make them a horror, a hissing, and an everlasting reproach. Moreover, I will banish from them the voice of mirth and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride, the grinding of the millstones and the light of the lamp. This whole land shall become a ruin and a waste, and these nations shall serve the king of Babylon seventy years.”

2 Chronicles 36:15-21: “The Lord, the God of their fathers, sent persistently to them by his messengers, because he had compassion on his people and on his dwelling place; but they kept mocking the messengers of God, despising his words, and scoffing at his prophets, till the wrath of the Lord rose against his people, till there was no remedy. Therefore he brought up against them the king of the Chaldeans, who slew their young men with the sword in the house of their sanctuary, and had no compassion on young man or virgin, old man or aged; he gave them all into his hand. And all the vessels of the house of God, great and small, and the treasures of the house of the Lord, and the treasures of the king and of his princes, all these he brought to Babylon. And they burned the house of God, and broke down the wall of Jerusalem, and burned all its palaces with fire, and destroyed all its precious vessels. He took into exile in Babylon those who had escaped from the sword, and they became servants to him and to his sons until the establishment of the kingdom of Persia, to fulfil the word of the Lord by the mouth of Jeremiah, until the land had enjoyed its sabbaths. All the days that it lay desolate it kept sabbath, to fulfil seventy years.”

Daniel 9:2, 22, 24: “I, Daniel, perceived in the books the number of years which, according to the word of the Lord to Jeremiah the prophet, must pass before the end of the desolations of Jerusalem, namely, seventy years. [Gabriel] came and he said to me, ‘O Daniel, I have now come out to give you wisdom and understanding. Seventy weeks of years are decreed concerning your people and your holy city, to finish the transgression, to put an end to sin, and to atone for iniquity, to bring in everlasting righteousness, to seal both vision and prophet, and to anoint a most holy place.’”

PAD 15: What's In The Middle Of A Tree?

 

Moses and the Burning Bush   Image Source: Pascal Deloche / Getty Images

PAD Challenge, Day 15 prompt: write a middle poem. Some people feel stuck in the middle; others like being in the middle of things. There are foods that are known for their middles (like jelly doughnuts and empanadas). So poem your way to, within, or away from the middle today.

What's In The Middle Of A Tree?

"So they gave money to the masons and the carpenters, and food, drink, and oil to the Sidonians and the Tyrians to bring cedar trees from Lebanon to the sea, to Joppa, according to the grant which they had from Cyrus king of Persia" (Ezra 3:7).

What's in the middle of a tree?
The rings of age we cannot see,
Until it's cut across the trunk.
How do those rings get in the wood,
Which we can see in frame of bunk
Or dining table, firm and good?
It seems they form in winter freeze
After the tree has lost its leaves,
When sap begins to move more slowly
And colder days are shorter growing.
Between each ring, a year of life
And growth beneath the summer sky.
What happens if the tree gets hollow,
And it no longer has tomorrow?
Well, then the tree, though not alive,
Becomes a bustling honeybee hive.
The hive in turn attracts the bear,
Or humans seeking honey there.
If hollow only is the branch,
The squirrels will nest and bark and prance.
Yet if the tree should all be dead,
The logs could make a firewood spread
That would be stored in a woodshed,
To keep us warm in winter dread,
To cook our food and bake our bread,
Or whittle and woodburn instead.
The branches cut alive and tarred
Form fenceposts for our land to guard.
And so the middle of a tree
Bears strength we often do not see:
It has such uses, tells a tale
Of fair weather, storm, and gale.
Pay heed: though it seems lazy there,
Its roots are deep and does not scare.
The ultimate Tree, on its middle
Hung our Savior, face with spittle,
Pierced by nail, spear, and thorn --
On that Tree the Church was born.
And now that Tree of Life has built
The Barque of Peter, sailing still.

PAD 13: For My Oldest Living Son

 

Homecoming Day, after my oldest son's stay in the NICU.

PAD Challenge, Day 13 prompt: write a living poem. What makes a living poem may be different for everyone. Some people may like to live it up, while others may focus solely on being alive. However, only you know what kind of poem you can live with. After all, it's your life (and poem).

After several years of struggle with infertility, and then the loss of two sons nearly one year apart from each other, our oldest son was finally born. After a brief stay in the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit (NICU), we brought him home to take care of and, best of all, to hold onto and love.

For My Oldest Living Son

"He gives the barren woman a home, making her the joyous mother of children. Praise the Lord!" (Psalm 113:9).

Oh my dear son, my littlest one,
My heart is so happy because you have come.
This smile that rests across my happy face
Is because I now have you to hold and embrace.

I’ll never forget your Mommy’s tearful eyes
When we first heard your tiny but beautiful cry.
Your hand on your cheek truly seemed to express,
“Oh, what am I doing here? Oh, my goodness!”

You came slightly early and were very small,
You needed some help, so the NICU was called.
It drove Mommy crazy that you were downstairs,
She had to get better when you were not there.

But every time that she had visited you,
Her spirit was strengthened, her heart was renewed.
She healed so much faster with you in her arms,
You healed her much better than strongest of pharms.

I thank God for the skill of your Mommy’s doctor,
Without her good skill you’d have been lost for sure.
We owe her so much, for your life she did save,
And she saved Mommy’s, too, on that most joyful day.

PAD 12: A Christmas Inscription

 

PAD Challenge, Day 12 prompt: write a funny poem. Keep in mind that funny isn't always "ha-ha" funny. For instance, your poem could include a funny smell or talk about a funny (or weird) person or situation. And if you've ever hit your funny bone, that pain is not making anyone laugh. So write a funny poem, whether it's for a laugh or not.

I wrote this inscription in a gift for an elderly gentleman this Christmas. As you can see in the image, I wrote it in a book of Dad Jokes. Due to a lack of time, I am using the inscription for today's poem.

A Christmas Inscription

"A cheerful heart is a good medicine, but a downcast spirit dries up the bones" (Proverbs 17:22).

My Dear Fellow,

I hope you like these light and punny jokes
Made for both great and ordinary blokes,
But be prepared, for laughter they provoke,
And if you tell them, give all: go for broke!

Now some may groan and roll their solemn eyes,
While others laugh until they split their sides,
But all will have some fun while peace abides,
And that's why wholesome humor's always wise.

And so, please take this book up without fear,
May it bring you merry Christmas cheer,
With wholesome laughter all throughout the year,
And please keep me in thoughts and prayers so near.

From,

A Fellow Gentleman

PAD 11: The Deepest Ties

 

My Oma and Opa. Photo taken 2022.

PAD Challenge, Day 11 prompt: write a memory poem. The poem could conjure up an actual memory that you have from your childhood, or last week, or earlier this morning. Or the memory could be made up. Or the memory is just a starting point for a completely different poem. Your memories, your poems.

The Deepest Ties

"O son, help your father in his old age, and do not grieve him as long as he lives; even if he is lacking in understanding, show forbearance; in all your strength do not despise him. For kindness to a father will not be forgotten, and against your sins it will be credited to you; in the day of your affliction it will be remembered in your favor; as frost in fair weather, your sins will melt away. Whoever forsakes his father is like a blasphemer, and whoever angers his mother is cursed by the Lord." (Sirach 3:12-16).

When a loved one has dementia,
It is hard to understand
How she looks the same as always,
But her memory is bad.

My Oma had this happen,
And a while I did not see,
But when in March I saw her,
She could not remember me.

I stooped down low to kiss her
On her forehead where she sat,
But her eyes grew wide and startled
As she asked my Dad, “Who’s that?”

Perhaps if I’d have shaved my beard
She might have known ‘twas me,
‘Cause I’ve only grown it lately
In the last two years or three.

But my Dad said not to worry,
For her mind is fading now.
Very soon we’ll say farewell,
We know not where nor how.

As autumn leaves that gently fall
Preparing for the cold,
So time fades to eternity
As blesséd ones grow old.

So how do I connect with her
With most her mem’ries gone,
Bereft of hope to share our lives
In verbal ways alone?

Ah, there are ways that I can see
Of service I admire,
So many people come to help,
Their hearts with love afire.

My Dad is great, he spends much time
With Oma in these days,
And though he is her youngest son,
Looks she with empty gaze.

His patience is a sight to see,
His calm voice and gentle touch
Convey to her the message clear,
“I love you, Mom, so much!

“You may not now remember me,
But I can for us both,
Because you gave me life and love,
Passed on your heart and soul.”

So now I think I understand
The secret that he bears:
The deepest ties can never die
So long as love is there.

Identity can seem to fade
As memories die out,
But only this side of the grave
Until death lifts the shroud.

As soon as Oma crosses o’er
To Heaven’s sacred shore,
She will regain her memories,
Along with many more:

How Opa stood so valiantly,
Steadfastly by her side,
Even when his heart seemed broke
And silently he cried.

How Dad and all his siblings worked
So patiently with her,
And all their spouses lent a hand
To help Opa endure.

How caregivers became members
Of the family for love,
By mercy caring for her needs,
A grace from God above.

So now I see, while it is sad
She not remember me,
A stronger love connects us than
Her long-lost memories.

PAD 10: Love is Better

 

Mixed Wildflower Field #1.   Image Source: wanderingYew2/Flickr.

PAD Challenge, Day 10 prompt: take the phrase "(blank) Better," replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: "Be Better," "Write Better," "Wanting Better," and/or "There's Nothing Better."

Love is Better

"So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love." (1 Corinthians 13:13).

Better than the roses red:
Words both calm and gently said.

Better than a pink carnation:
Angry words that go unspoken.

Better than gold chrysanthemum:
Willing help with cheerful hum.

Better than blue forget-me-not:
Petty fight that goes unfought.

Better than the bright sunflower:
Kindly words in needful hour.

Better than yellow daffodil:
Work that’s done with love and skill.

Better than Texas bluebonnet:
Heartfelt words formed into sonnet.

Better than all this world’s flowers:
Faith, hope, love in life’s short hours.

PAD 9: The Castle of Love

 

Cardiff Castle in Cardiff, Wales. Source: Roman Babakin/AdobeStock

PAD Challenge, Day 9 prompt: for the second two-for-Tuesday prompt, write a love poem and/or an anti-love poem.

The Castle of Love

"I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that you stir not up nor awaken love until it please" (Song of Solomon 8:4).

Modesty is more than clothing,
Though clothing’s the right place to start,
Because clothing will veil the body
To guard both the mind and the heart.

Modesty offers protection,
The custody of one’s own eyes,
To never look over a lady
In a way her father would despise.

For modesty is the deep moat,
The first of the castle’s defense,
So the image won’t come through the eyes
And then in the heart lead to sin.

Chastity is, then, the wall
Of the castle that is one’s own soul,
The second of the three defenses
That lead to true love as their goal.

Chastity means not to lust,
Not desire inordinately
That which one has not a right to:
Another person’s body.

That lust leads to sins of the heart
Before corporal adultery,
And it also leads to fornication
For those who are not yet married.

If a true man can keep his own eyes
And his heart and his body well chaste,
That man will more easily conquer
Because he's open to God’s grace.

Purity is third defense,
It rules all the thoughts of the heart,
It is the tower of the castle,
Here the vict’ry in battle will start.

The principal key here is love,
To preserve one’s treasure without loss,
To the glory of God, who hath bought us
By the Blood of His Son on the Cross.

We remember that marriéd love,
Is beautiful, stronger than death;
This love, it should not be awakened
Until after marriage it’s blessed.

PAD 8: Receiving the Cassock

 

Me as a Legionary novice, on the day I put on the cassock for the first time, 2005.

PAD Challenge, Day 8 prompt: write a major event poem. The major event could be something historical. Or it could be something personal (like a wedding or graduation).

Receiving the Cassock

On evening great of September Fourteenth,
After retreat in both silence and peace,
The moment for which we prepared had arrived:
We received the cassock of the Legion of Christ.

I reverenced the cassock when handed to me,
I was filled with great joy intermingled with peace.
I went to my bed, for the next day was eager,
For then I would don it for the first time ever.

That night I remember, slept barely a wink,
With longing much stronger than a child's Christmas Eve.
The morning lights went on, and quick as a flash,
Prepared and was ready for cassock and sash.

I went to the chapel then hurriedly,
Thanked God for that moment so excitedly.
God blessed me abundantly in those two years,
That time of great peace, but also some tears.

The novitiate on Our Lady of Sorrows began,
And out of the world to the good Lord I ran.
Because my own heart at first might have some sadness,
He gave me His Mother to help me find gladness.

Little did I know then how smitten I'd be
By beauty of Christ's Bride in Sacred Liturgy:
The seasons with their colors, incense, bells, and candlelight,
Would bring into my heart and soul both longing and delight.

Jesus in the Eucharist to my own self became
The fire which kindled my cold heart with flame;
His Heart within the Sacred Host was always my first care,
As daily adoration was my portion and my share.

But I gave in to scruples in that first year because
Offending God was my deepest horror and fear;
But soon I discovered that this idea was wrong
Because the Fear of God's simply respect we give as sons.

The fear of sin and fear of making any small mistakes
Lead me away from love to sinking in the stormy waves.
I had to learn to trust in my novitiate-director
As son, and by so doing, embraced God as my own Father.

And though I am not now a seminarian or priest,
I know Christ is in Peter's Barque on high and stormy seas.
I fell in love with Jesus through His one and holy Bride,
And I'll still let her lead me on and be my holy guide.

PAD 7: Not Lucky, But Blessed

 

Image Source

PAD Challenge, Day 7 prompt: write a luck poem. The luck could be good luck or bad luck. Maybe it's just the luck of the draw, or a contemplation of whether luck even exists.

Quoting the ancient Roman stoic philosopher Seneca, my father once told me that there is no such thing as luck, except when "preparedness meets opportunity." He went on to explain that I must do my own part no matter what, and never wait around for "luck". This poem is a tribute to that wise advice.

Not Lucky, But Blessed

Believing in and relying on luck
More than once has got a man stuck,
It's far more important to be well prepared
So that all of one's goals be attempted and dared.

On luck are too many to often relied,
And often they blame it for ventures untried.
But preparedness, grit, and some stubborn ol' pluck
Far outweigh in merit all random, pure luck.

The virtues form character (diligence, too),
But luck forms a laziness hard to undo.
One must not put all of the eggs in one basket,
Or else face defeat if things fail what one ask it.

Some say it's not what, but it's who that you know
That often gets one to where one wants to go,
But I disagree, for it's best to prepare:
Opportunities often catch one unaware.

Luck makes empty promises, precipitates woes,
And often can place one at mercy of foes.
If you find results far exceed e'en your best,
Consider that you are not lucky, but blessed!

Despite all this praise for the merit of effort,
Sometimes one can find all one's goals at the scaffold,
So we must remember Divine Providence
When all of our efforts seem useless and spent.

Depend not on luck, but on God's providence,
And have ye strong faith in His own faithfulness,
For He keeps His word and revokes not His call,
And He'll remain with you through failures and falls.

Our God is the King and all things do His will,
And He has a plan for our good, not our ill.
He does not ask us to always have success,
But to put in our effort with great faithfulness.

Divine Mercy Sunday: Confession

 

Image Source

Confession

When darkness falls at eventide,
‘Tis evil’s fiercest hour:
It’s then I’m tempted, sorely tried,
All mustered is Hell’s power.

The ancient foe comes ‘gainst my soul
With cunning hatefulness,
To rob me full of self-control,
And live in idleness.

‘Tis difficult to call on God
To save me from this test,
To walk where all the Saints have trod
And never once to rest,

Because it seems He hears me not –
This, too, I must confess –
I sense no help where I had sought;
Then comes paralysis.

And then because I turn not fast
Away from evil thought,
The time to fight will soon be past,
And battle poorly fought.

And when I fall then into sin,
I feel no hope for me,
But Sacrament of Confession
Is God’s Divine Mercy!

To confess sin with intention
To never sin again:
To combat Satan’s temptation
With grace which God doth send.

And when the Priest gives his advice,
I listen with intent,
And do the penance to suffice
And turn away from sin.

And then I make an act contrite
In sorrow for my sin,
And with his Priestly hand upright
He gives absolution.

And when I kneel in church to pray,
I thank the Lord above,
For pardoning my sinful way
In mercy and in love.

And then I go, resolved for this:
Make restitution or
To practice virtue opposite
My sin, and please the Lord.

Pope Francis

I really love how Pope Francis draws the parallel between the Paschal Mystery, Divine Mercy, and the Sacrament of Confession. Check it out:

 “The Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation flows directly from the Paschal Mystery. In fact, on the evening of Easter the Lord appeared to the disciples, who were locked in the Upper Room, and after addressing them with the greeting, ‘Peace be with you!’, he breathed on them and said: ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven’ (Jn 20:21-23). This passage reveals to us the most profound dynamic contained in this Sacrament.” (Pope Francis, General Audience, February 2014).

“Among the Sacraments, certainly Reconciliation renders present with particular efficacy the merciful face of God: it is constantly and ceaselessly made real and manifest” (Pope Francis, Internal Forum organized by the Apostolic Penitentiary, March 2015).

Divine Mercy and Confession are intimately connected. Understanding the Divine Mercy message apart from the Sacrament of Confession is impossible. However, the COVID-19 Pandemic and the attendant shutdown of Catholic Masses and gatherings across the United States gave me pause to reflect. It seems that while the Sacrament of Confession is the ordinary means of recovering or maintaining the state of sanctifying grace in our souls, in cases where it is impossible to get to Confession, the Divine Mercy Chaplet can be an extraordinary means of grace and a cause for hope in a dire situation. This Chaplet seems like it was provided to us by God by precisely our times. But the Chaplet is certainly no substitute for Confession, especially under normal circumstances. Strive to maintain the life of God's sanctifying grace in your soul; however, if you have lost sanctifying grace through sin, get to Confession now while you still can!

PAD 6: Young David and Saint Marcellinus

Samuel Anointing David; Francois-Leon Benouville; French, 1842; Columbus (OH), Museum of Art

PAD Challenge, Day 6 prompt: write a minimum poem. Some people only do the minimum; others like to pay the minimum. When I first started working, I earned minimum wage. My kids had to reach a minimum height requirement to ride roller coasters at amusement parks. When writing your minimum poem, you could write a super short form like a senryu or craft a one-sentence poem. And well, that's just the minimum of minimum-related topics out there.

I chose to write two acrostic poems.

Young David

Young shepherd anointed,
Of Jesse descended,
Upon whom the spirit rushed,
Now ruddy and flushed,
God was all his trust.

David's five stones
Are the wonder of thrones,
Victor against giants
In spite of defiance,
Delivered by God's holy Name.

St. Marcellinus

Martyrdom is one of the primary reasons,
Add that you are relatively unknown,
Right in the middle of the Roman Canon,
Confirmation name chosen for your love for Christ known.
Exorcist Peter shares a feastday with you,
Little-known feast on the Second of June.
Loving the Lord even to your physical detriment,
It was your great glory to never relent,
Not even when others offered you the world,
Under no circumstances would deny Christ the Lord.
So I chose you my patron many years ago.

N.B. Holy David, Prophet and King of Israel, has a feastday on December 29th in the traditional Roman Martyrology. In the modern Roman Martyrology, all the Ancestors of Jesus Christ are celebrated on December 24th, Christmas Eve.

PAD 5: Tell Mom

 

My grandparents, Don and Catherine Varella.

PAD Challenge, Day 5 prompt: take the phrase "Tell (blank)," replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: "Tell It Like It Is," "Tell Me Something Good," "Tell the World What You're Thinking," and/or "Tell It Slant."

I wrote this poem as if I were giving this advice to my sons.

Tell Mom

When you fall on concrete
And you scrape up your knee,
Tell Mom;
She'll make it all better
With a mother's kiss tender,
Tell Mom.

When you're going to school
And your friends all look cool,
Tell Mom;
She won't make you like them,
But by virtue like Him,
Tell Mom.

When your voice starts to change
And you're feeling all strange,
Tell Mom;
She'll help you feel fine,
'Cause all things change in time,
Tell Mom.

When you're out on life's road
And you bear heavy load,
Tell Mom;
For a load borne by two
Makes it light, heart renewed,
Tell Mom.

When life makes you confused
And unsure what to do,
Tell Mom;
Then hear her advice,
For love makes her wise,
Tell Mom.

When she's old and afraid
And all set in her ways,
Love Mom;
Take her into your home
So she's not so alone,
Love Mom.

Her love is a treasure,
You'll hardly do better,
Love Mom;
Make her latter days prized,
You'll be blessed to the skies,
Love Mom.

From the Scriptures

Taken from Sirach (3:1-16):

Listen to me your father, O children; and act accordingly, that you may be kept in safety. For the Lord honored the father above the children, and he confirmed the right of the mother over her sons. Whoever honors his father atones for sins, and whoever glorifies his mother is like one who lays up treasure. Whoever honors his father will be gladdened by his own children, and when he prays he will be heard. Whoever glorifies his father will have long life, and whoever obeys the Lord will refresh his mother; he will serve his parents as his masters. Honor your father by word and deed, that a blessing from him may come upon you. For a father’s blessing strengthens the houses of the children, but a mother’s curse uproots their foundations. Do not glorify yourself by dishonoring your father, for your father’s dishonor is no glory to you. For a man’s glory comes from honoring his father, and it is a disgrace for children not to respect their mother. O son, help your father in his old age, and do not grieve him as long as he lives; even if he is lacking in understanding, show forbearance; in all your strength do not despise him. For kindness to a father will not be forgotten, and against your sins it will be credited to you; in the day of your affliction it will be remembered in your favor; as frost in fair weather, your sins will melt away. Whoever forsakes his father is like a blasphemer, and whoever angers his mother is cursed by the Lord.

Regarding the wisdom of a mother's advice, my wife has a sign on her side of the bed that says, "A mother understands what a child does not say." The mother has an intuition about what is going on in the minds and hearts of her children, and I can attest to having seen this many times in my life when mothers are taking care of their children, especially in my mother and in my wife. Many times I have been able to exclaim like Samwise Gamgee in the Lord of the Rings movie, "[That's] an eye opener and no mistake!" It is truly amazing.

From the Church

On January 1st, 2019, Pope Francis gave us a beautiful reflection on mothers. Of that reflection, this was a real gem:

A world that looks to the future without a mother’s gaze is shortsighted. It may well increase its profits, but it will no longer see others as children. It will make money, but not for everyone. We will all dwell in the same house, but not as brothers and sisters. The human family is built upon mothers. A world in which maternal tenderness is dismissed as mere sentiment may be rich materially, but poor where the future is concerned.

On the grace and office of motherhood, Venerable Jozsef Cardinal Mindszenty had this to say:

The Most Important Person on earth is a mother. She cannot claim the honor of having built Notre Dame Cathedral. She need not. She has built something more magnificent than any cathedral -- a dwelling for an immortal soul, the tiny perfection of her baby’s body... The angels have not been blessed with such a grace. They cannot share in God’s creative miracle to bring new saints to Heaven. Only a human mother can. Mothers are closer to God the Creator than any other creature; God joins forces with mothers in performing this act of creation... What on God’s good earth is more glorious than this: to be a mother?

There are many other beautiful instances of what the Catholic Church has to say about mothers (including Pope Pius XI's encyclical Casti Connubii). But for now, may the above quotations give us great material for reflection, a renewed tenderness towards mothers, and a venerable esteem for the office of motherhood.

PAD 4: Hard To Believe

 

Me as a novice with the Legionaries of Christ,
before I left them and went into the archdiocesan seminary mentioned in today's poem.

PAD Challenge, Day 4 prompt: "write a mistake poem. Everyone makes mistakes. Yes, even that person standing in the corner shaking their head to the contrary. And even those people who don't admit to making mistakes have seen others make them. So whether it's the mistakes you've made, witnessed in others, etc., write a poem about it today."

Hard To Believe

A great mistake that I did make
Was to give someone too much power,
When I was going through priestly discernment
In diocesan seminary's bower.

When I first started at that place,
By a seminarian I was solemnly warned
To not go to the Archbishop or
The superiors if I'm alarmed.

He said if I did so, He'd make sure I would be
Treated accordingly
By him and other students there,
Who'd ensure I'd never be a Priest.

At one point in the course of that year,
Two invited me to come
To watch an unrated movie with them
In the common room for Collegians' fun.

But suspecting vice, I rightly declined,
Then th' invitation turned to a threat:
They said to join them in minutes fifteen
Or from my room they would drag me instead.

I gave in out of fear and not knowing much option
Just to make it to Ordination,
But as I suspected, the movie was smut;
A few days later I made my decision.

As hard as it was, that place I would leave
In a voluntary manner,
Though I knew that I would have to give up my dream,
That wasn't to me what had mattered.

Most important to me was obeying God's law,
And that meant that I had to leave;
I gave up seminary to live moral life,
And that is what's hard to believe.

It took a few years and some anger and tears
To get over the hurt that I felt,
But I learned to trust in Divine Providence,
And in peace, play the hand I was dealt.

Hindsight is funny, it makes things so clear:
I should have punched them in the nose,
And if they spoke of it, they'd have had to reveal
Their warped consciences and be exposed.

But now they are Priests anointed of God,
And I'd never lay my hand upon
The anointed of God, just as David had said
When he truly could have harmed Saul.

Despite all my hurt, I have not left the Church,
For I could not abandon my King;
I know He is there in the Tabernacle,
And like me, He knows deep suffering.

In the Latin Mass from the Missal of past
God touched me with His healing balm;
Some say it's not right, but I'd rather not fight
In the "liturgy wars" that go on.

I know it's more blessed to obey and to stay
Than to leave o'er liturgical form,
For Christ's in Peter's Barque, there I lean on His Heart,
For He sleeps there in peace on the storm.

I recommend the Memoirs of Don Bosco
To seminarians surrounded by vice,
For he has there great truths that will help you get through,
If you would only heed his advice.

Be bold and be kind, but be keen as the hind,
For if the priesthood's your calling, you must
With prudence and might carry on in the fight,
For in you many souls need to trust.

Saint John Bosco to Seminarians

from Memoirs of the Oratory of Saint Francis de Sales, by Saint John Bosco (Part II, Ch. 19)

And as for my companions, I stuck to my beloved mother's advice. That is, I fraternized only with companions who had a devotion to Mary and who loved study and piety. Here I must give a word of warning to seminarians. In the seminary there are many clerics of outstanding virtue, but there are others who are dangerous. Not a few young men, careless of their vocation, go to the seminary lacking either the spirit or the goodwill of a good seminarian. Indeed, I remember hearing some companions indulging in very bad language. Once, a search amongst some students' personal belongings unearthed impious and obscene books of every kind. It is true that these later left the seminary, either of their own accord or because they were expelled when their true character came to light. But as long as they stayed, they were a plague to good and bad alike.

To avoid such dangerous associates, I chose some who were well known as models of virtue. These were William Garigliano, John Giacomelli of Avigliana and, later, Louis Comollo. For me, these three friends were a treasure.

Just to note, I do not think it was a mistake to have left the seminary, especially because God worked it out for my own good: omnia in bonum. He provided me a virtuous wife, with whom I have built a very good life. We have three wonderful children here on earth, and we have two little saints in Heaven. What I do believe was a mistake, however, is not having done something to stand up to the seminarians who threatened me. But perhaps it was God's way of showing me where my true vocation was; after all, I am very happy, and being a father has helped me to come to know the love of God the Father in ways that I otherwise would have been unable to experience. And for sure, there is a need for virtuous Catholic fathers and mothers who will raise their children to become the next generation of virtuous Catholics, whether married or religious or Priests. This kind of renewal of the domestic church will lead to a true renewal in the whole Church.

PAD 3: David Michael Moses Saving Lives

 

Father David Michael Moses is on the left. Image Source: FatherDavidMichael.com

PAD Challenge, Day 3 prompt: pick a musical act or artist and either make that the title of your poem or incorporate into the title of your poem; then, write your poem.

David Michael Moses Saving Lives

Out in greater Houston there’s
A man I’d love to meet.
As I listen to his music,
I think he’s really neat:
He writes up his own poems put
To music on his sheet,
And performs special concerts for
Both moms and little feet.

By his concerts I can tell that
He’s a joy to be around,
And videos he makes are mostly
Short, and yet profound.
Though he’s got a sense of humor,
He is not a senseless clown;
His zeal and joy and smile prove
In darkness, grace abounds!

He is so very young, his youthful
Vigor is not spent;
In him I see belovéd John
Trail Jesus where He went,
Who at that Supper, leaned on Christ
To ask Him who’d offend;
Or David with his youthful heart
Like God’s, beyond all men.

He must maintain humility
In God’s presence to thrive,
For good and wholesome virtue
He must never cease to strive.
His concerts help some mothers’ plight,
In this he’s most alive,
For he is a Priest of God
Who’s saving babies’ lives.

If we were fortunate enough
To have him in our house,
I’d introduce him promptly to
My children and my spouse.
If he could spend the eve with us,
I know he would not grouse,
Perhaps he’d bless our home, our walls
With holy water douse.

When and where I meet him,
At a concert or at church,
I know we’ll have a thing to share:
Our love for rhyming words;
How we do oft communicate
Through poems sung and heard,
And in this way, participate
In Christ, the living Word.

Two Original Songs by Father David Michael Moses

The first is one of the best videos  of priests and seminarians using their talents to help pregnancy centers in the Houston area. The second is a song about the Church as his wife, since he is a Priest. For more information on how to help the cause, visit his website: FatherDavidMichael.com. Enjoy the songs!

What Heaven's Like

Trophy Husband

PAD 2: Home from Work

 

PAD Challenge, Day 2 prompt: Two for Tuesday: write a happy poem and/or write a sad poem.

Home from Work

When I get home from work,
It’s the best time of the day,
For my children are waiting
And wanting much to play.

As I exit the car,
I hear and I see:
The children are squealing
And jumping with glee.

They shout, “Daddy’s home!”
As I open the door,
And I see in their eyes
That it’s me they adore.

Sometimes that is scary,
And it makes me sad
That one day they will see
I’m not a perfect dad.

But fatherhood’s built
With both sorrows and joys,
At times I am happy,
At times I'm annoyed.

For now I will bask
In the smiles of my kids,
And enjoy all their wonder
Before it all ends.

PAD 1: The Challenge

Image Source

The Annual Poem-A-Day Challenge

I am attempting the Poem-A-Day (PAD) Challenge for April 2024, which is hosted by Robert Lee Brewer on Writer's Digest. April is National Poetry Month, which was begun in April 1996 by the Academy of American Poets. 

In doing some research about celebrations of poetry, I also discovered that UNESCO established World Poetry Day in Paris in 1999; since then, this day occurs every year on March 21st (a day special to me because it is the anniversary of my baptism).

PAD Challenge, Day 1 prompt: write an optimistic poem. Here goes:

The Challenge

I am optimistic:
A poem every day,
Some a meager stanza,
Some with more to say.

With grit and perseverance
And discipline of self,
I will have thirty poems to
Increase my notebook's wealth.

While often life's a fury,
Some things get left behind,
Yet still my goal is thirty
To exercise my mind.

Hymnology: Saint Ferdinand III, A Saint for Our Times

 

Saint Ferdinand III, King of Castile and Leon

King Saint Ferdinand III is largely forgotten in our time. Even in my hometown (San Antonio, Texas) where the Cathedral, or Mother-Church of the Archdiocese, is named after him, his feastday on May 30th is not observed. In the 1962 Roman Missal, May 30th was a First Class Feast (the equivalent of today's Solemnity) in the Archdiocese of San Antonio precisely because the Cathedral is named after him. Today in Spain, his feastday has been downgraded to an optional memorial (indicated by the lower-case "m" on the Spanish liturgical calendar), while here in the US, it seems that the optional memorial of Saint Joan of Arc has taken precedence lately. While we do have a strong culturally-French background in parts of the U.S., we also have strong Spanish roots (which may be even stronger now due to immigration). To resolve this discrepancy of feastdays, I believe we should have both St. Joan of Arc and King St. Ferdinand III as Optional Memorials here in the U.S. so that different areas may avail themselves of whichever one is more suited to the location and to the faithful. After all, isn't that the goal of inculturation? Additionally, St. Ferdinand's reconquest of his homeland from the enemies of Christianity, specifically the enemies of Catholicism, are the perfect reason for Catholics (and all Christians) to seek his heavenly intercession today. 

As we watch our homelands in the West fall, one country at a time, to the unreasoning and demonic forces of evil, we need to look to this Saint who had reconquered his homeland from the enemies of Christianity centuries ago. We need to look to his example so that we also can take back our own homelands today, and although we do not fight this battle today taking up physical arms because "our war is not against flesh and blood, but against...the spirits of wickedness in the high places", we do need to take up our spiritual arms and fight: the Holy Mass, the Seven Sacraments, the Divine Office, Lectio Divina (praying with the Bible), the Holy Rosary, the sacramentals, family prayer, and so forth. There are many opportunities to keep the life of grace alive in our souls, and to raise our children in the joy and mirth of our holy Faith and in the Liturgical Year.

In two short months, June will again be upon us, the month we Catholics have for centuries dedicated to the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. The demonic forces of evil have striven for the last few decades to wrest this month from us and dedicate it to sinful pride. It is time for a spiritual reconquest, one that the great Saint Ferdinand III, the Reconqueror, can help us to achieve. There were two things that Saint Ferdinand always did: first, he always spent the night in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament before any battle; second, he always brought an ivory statue of Our Lady with him into battle, hanging from his saddle (his first wife, Beatrice, gave that ivory statue to him just after their marriage as a token of her virtue). Thus, the first thing we can learn from him in time of battle is to run to our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament and to do battle with and through Our Lady. One last thing to mention is that Saint Ferdinand shares one thing in common with the Little Flower, Saint Therese of Lisieux: Our Lady smiled on him just as she would smile on Saint Therese centuries later.

I wrote this hymn to St. Ferdinand to ask his intercession in our fight to reclaim our homeland for Christ today.

San Fernando, King Victorious

Text: David D. Varella (2023)
Tune: CWM RHONDDA by John Hughes (1907)

1.     San Fernando, King victorious,
King reclaiming Christendom,
King whose sword’s name means “wolf-slayer”,
Slay the wolves Christ’s flock surround.
San Fernando, San Fernando,
Raze proud Satan’s kingdom down!
Raze proud Satan’s kingdom down!

2.     San Fernando, noble ruler,
Greatest King on Spanish shores,
Help us to reclaim our homeland
As you did in days of yore!
San Fernando, San Fernando,
Help ‘gainst evil spirits’ war!
Help ‘gainst evil spirits’ war!

3.     San Fernando, all-night vigils,
Kneeling ‘fore God’s altar-throne,
Great on earth your holy fervor,
Prayer before each battle done:
San Fernando, San Fernando,
Thus were all your battles won!
Thus were all your battles won!

4.     San Fernando, now in Heaven,
Praying Christ the Lamb before,
Hear the prayers of Christian people,
As we fight a valiant war:
San Fernando, San Fernando,
Help us here on earth once more!
Help us here on earth once more!

5.     San Fernando, just and pious,
Patron Saint of governors,
Pray for all th’Executive Branch
That to Christ the King they turn!
San Fernando, San Fernando,
Help them Christ the King to learn!
Help them Christ the King to learn!

6.     San Fernando, chosen patron,
Our devotedness is vast.
Intercede for our salvation,
And our kin ere time is past.
San Fernando, San Fernando,
Guide us while our life shall last!
Guide us while our life shall last!