Saturday, July 18, 2026

Thoughts on detachment

 

Letting Go
From: With Open Hands
Detachment is often understood as letting loose of what is attractive. But it sometimes also requires letting go of what is repulsive. You can indeed become attached to dark forces such as resentment and hatred. As long as you seek retaliation, you cling to your own past. Sometimes it seems as though you might lose yourself along with your revenge and hate – so you stand there with balled-up fists, closed to the other who wants to heal.
 
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Reflection Question: What is something that you may be holding onto, and what can you do to start letting go?

 
A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones.
- Proverbs 14: 30
 

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Henri Nouwen (1932–1996) was a priest, professor, and spiritual writer. He authored over 40 books on the spiritual life and spent his final years at L'Arche Daybreak, a community for people with intellectual disabilities. Drawing from his own journey of vulnerability and faith, he invites seekers into deeper intimacy with God, themselves, and others. 
 

Friday, July 17, 2026

Thoughts on parables

 


Jesus proposes more parables in our Gospel for this week: the field with weeds and wheat growing together, the tiny mustard seed that becomes a resting place for the birds of the sky, and yeast that the woman mixes with the flour.


Let’s focus on the parable of the weeds and the wheat. It manifests the work of God’s creative love in action. Though the kingdom is being preached and “sown” in many hearts, evil and rejection remain. (The human heart is so subtle, so delicate—the attempt to root out the evil may destroy the good.) God knows that the good and evil in the heart often stem from the same disposition. Like the Sower whose field has weeds and wheat together, God is patient: better to give grace time to work its victory.


We are very aware of the struggle within each of us to embrace God’s merciful work. St. Paul, in our second Reading, says that the Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness and intercedes for us “with inexpressible groanings.”

Among the many things that we are learning about God on our journey together as disciples is that God’s greatest power lies in loving care for us and in forgiveness of us. For, “to us has been given the grace to know the mysteries of the kingdom.”


In the words of our opening prayer this Sunday, we pray to be “watchful in keeping God’s commands,” Let us pray to be aware of God’s deepest desires for us “poor children of Eve” as we continue to walk together in faith, hope and love.


-Fr. Len Kraus, S.J.




Thursday, July 16, 2026

Thoughts on the Feast of the Scapular

 

Today, the 16th of July, the traditional Roman calendar celebrates one of the most beloved feasts in the entire Marian calendar: the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel, patroness of the ancient Carmelite Order and Queen of the brown scapular. The feast was instituted for the Carmelites and extended to the whole Church by Pope Benedict XIII in 1726. In the traditional calendar it is kept as a feast of the first class for Carmelites, and as a beloved commemoration for all the faithful. It is also known, simply and tenderly, as the Feast of the Scapular.

This is a feast that reaches back to the Middle Ages, even to the Christian era, to the mountain of the prophets. Sacred Scripture celebrates the beauty of Carmel, where the prophet Elijah defended the purity of Israel's faith in the living God. That same mountain, centuries later, drew hermits who withdrew from the world to pray, to fast, and to place themselves entirely under the protection of the Mother of God. In the twelfth century, these hermits were organized into an Order after the traditional Western type, and later, oppressed by the Saracens, they slowly emigrated to Europe. They carried with them an unbroken devotion to Our Lady that would soon bear remarkable fruit.


Why does the Church assign July 16 as the day of this feast, and why is it inseparable from a small piece of brown wool?


According to Carmelite tradition, on July 16, 1251, the Blessed Virgin appeared to Saint Simon Stock, then Prior General of the Carmelite Order, who had pleaded with Her for some special sign of Her protection. She placed in his hands the brown scapular — a small portion of cloth representing the habit of Her Order — and with it came a promise that has consoled the Church for nearly eight centuries. Mary's words, preserved in a fourteenth-century narrative, were these: "This will be for you and for all Carmelites the privilege, that he who dies in this will not suffer eternal fire." She was not speaking merely of Carmelite friars. She was speaking of every soul who would take up this devotion, wear Her livery with fidelity, and place themselves under Her maternal care.


The promise did not end there. The Sabbatine Privilege, connected with Pope John XXII, extends Our Lady's maternal intercession even into Purgatory: that She Herself would descend there on the Saturday after the death of the faithful scapular wearer and lead them to the holy mountain of life everlasting. Two great promises bound together: one for the moment of death, one for the purification that may follow it. The scapular, worn faithfully and with the conditions required by the Church, is not a charm or a superstition. It is a consecration — a putting on of Mary's habit, a living under Her mantle, a daily renewal of the pledge to belong entirely to Her Son through Her.


Here lies the doctrinal lesson this feast presses upon us: consecration to the Immaculate Heart of Mary is not a private devotion for the spiritually advanced. It is a maternal gift that Our Lady Herself has offered to every soul. She does not wait for us to become worthy. She offers us Her protection precisely because we are weak, because we face a particular judgment, because purgatory is real and hell is real, and because She is our Mother and She wishes to bring us safely home.


This is precisely where Fatima meets Carmel in a way that is not accidental but providential. On September 13, 1917, Our Lady announced to the three shepherd children at Fatima that in October, Our Lady of Carmel would come. She kept that promise. At the final apparition on October 13, 1917, while the great crowd witnessed the Miracle of the Sun, the three children saw a final vision: the Blessed Virgin appearing as Our Lady of Mount Carmel, holding the brown scapular in Her hands. She spoke no words at that moment. She did not need to. When Sister Lúcia was later asked why Our Lady held the scapular, She answered: "Because She wants everyone to wear it — it is our sign of consecration to Her Immaculate Heart." And when asked whether the scapular belonged to the Fatima message, Lúcia gave an answer that admits no ambiguity: "Most definitely — the scapular and the Rosary are inseparable. You cannot have one without the other."


Our Lady came to Fatima to call the world back from the edge of catastrophe — from the errors spreading through nations, from the sins that fill hell with souls, from the cold indifference that empties churches and destroys families. She asked for the daily Rosary. She asked for the Five First Saturdays. She asked for penance and the consecration of hearts to Her own Immaculate Heart. And She sealed all of it, at the very last apparition, with the silent gesture of the brown scapular held out toward us.

Today, in honor of this feast, let’s begin wearing the brown scapular as a tangible sign that we belong to Mary and wish to be consecrated to Her Immaculate Heart. If we already wear the scapular, we might renew that consecration today with fresh attention and gratitude, examining whether we are wearing it faithfully and living the spirit of chastity and prayer it asks of us. Also, let us pray one decade of the Rosary specifically in reparation for the sins of those who distort or deny the Catholic Faith, for apostates, for those who spread false doctrine, and for Catholics who have drifted from the fullness of the truth they once received. Offer it through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, asking Her to carry it where we cannot follow, as She carried the witness of Her children at Fatima across the whole of the century. You may also add this Prayer for the Hastening of the Triumph of the Immaculate Heart of Mary; click here for a copy of this prayer. It is by these quiet, faithful prayers, offered in the spirit of a pope who held the line when it was costly to do so, that we show our true love for Jesus and Mary, and hasten the Reign of Mary upon the earth and the Triumph of Her Immaculate Heart.


In the Hearts of Jesus and Mary,


Christopher P. Wendt
International Director
Confraternity of Our Lady of Fatima

P.S. If you like what we do and want to regularly support our mission to build the Reign of Mary and/or assist the episcopal ministry of Bishop Athanasius Schneider, please consider becoming a Servant of Mary.




Sunday, July 12, 2026

Thoughts on death

 

A Fruitful Death
From: Finding My Way Home: Pathways to Life and the Spirit
What I appreciate as I read Scripture is that Jesus saw death, and his own death in particular, as more than a way of getting from one place to another. He saw his death as potentially fruitful in itself, and of enormous benefit to his disciples. Death was not an ending for him but a passage to something much greater.
When Jesus was anticipating his own death he kept repeating the same theme to his disciples: “My death is good for you, because my death will bear many fruits beyond my death. When I die I will not leave you alone, but I will send my Spirit, the Paraclete, the Counselor. And my Spirit will reveal to you who I am and what I am teaching you. My Spirit will lead you into the truth and will allow you to have a relationship with me that was not possible before my death. My Spirit will help you to form community and grow in strength.”
 
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Reflection Question: What fruits can you imagine emerging from your life after your death?

 
But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.
- John 14: 26
 

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Henri Nouwen (1932–1996) was a priest, professor, and spiritual writer. He authored over 40 books on the spiritual life and spent his final years at L'Arche Daybreak, a community for people with intellectual disabilities. Drawing from his own journey of vulnerability and faith, he invites seekers into deeper intimacy with God, themselves, and others.