Video: Vatican: Pope on suffering and love

"Pope: The world needs the joy that springs from truth
[...]
vatican — April 01, 2010 — The joy that comes from Christ gives us happiness, but it also gives us the ability to suffer and to continue being intimately happy even when we suffer. This is what Benedict XVI said on Thursday, April 1st, during the homily of the Chrism Mass, which he presided over in St. Peters Basilica with 1,600 priests of the Diocese of Rome and from the Roman universities, who afterwards renewed their priestly promises together with the attending cardinals and bishops. The Pontiff then blessed the oils of the Catechumens and of the Sick and the Holy Chrism, which will be used in the sacraments throughout the year. Let us pray to be capable of bringing the joy of the Holy Spirit Benedict XVI said to t ...

[...]

God Jesus Jesus Christ Pope Benedict XVI Vatican Holy See Catholic Church Christianity "

View video on YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCz6uvO3HK8

"He helped others, but couldn't save himself"

(Also appeared at : Journey in a Broken World 26 / 08 | August / 2009)


Editorial by Marc Aupiais

"He helped others, but couldn't save himself"

Are these not famous words. Words about Jesus, about our beloved words. True words in a sense. I always try to view the gospel via different eyes- and these words, at least in english- are true of Jesus.

He helped many, but he could not save himself. Even his mention of hosts of angels who could save him shows his nature true- he says that it must not be.

God is infinite in all- defined and contained by his nature. It was impossible for Jesus to avoid the cross- impossible because he was and is God.

When he rose again, I would say that again- He made it impossible for Him to save himself. His name was Jesus- Yahweh Saves, and I would say that He was risen from death by the other persons of the Holy Trinity, possibly His own power also- possibly all three acting- but Jesus never once did a miracle on his own power- He said it was faith, or prayer- or the Holy Spirit. I have prayed to God to pray for me, and been scolded by non-Catholics for it, but God does pray to God, and did when on earth.

The priest can hear my sins, and have God heal them- but he cannot hear his own sins. Nor can the saints do miracles apart from Reality- from God, Yahweh.

Jesus could help others, but He was never sent to save Himself from the crucifixion.

This message gives us simple truth. God demands we save ourselves first- by the parable of the splinter and log, but he also makes us to rely on others- and the world, so others rely on us.

We can only save others if we in turn are saved by God- safe I say rather- for salvation can be lost is the cutting in half and splinterring of a moment. Yet, who can save themselves alone?

The Gospel teaches perseverance in salvation as the ultimate virtue... Yet, we save ourselves by being Godly to others.

God the Son does not scratch his own Back- God the Holy Spirit enabled his miracles.

The message which that terrible comment teaches us is simple- God never works alone. Our salvation and that of others are linked. If we pray for others, we are adding good to the world- we are aiding our own salvation. It is why the wisdom of the Old Testament says to throw bread in the river so it will return on one.

Our every breath has changed the world. Our every action is but prayer. Our faith is in our actions- for salvation is In Faith, Within Faith. Our faith is in word, thought- our salvation in perseverance... Within Faith.

We cannot save ourselves, but if we do not play our part in our salvation- we will not be saved! For Jesus was murdered and thrust into Prison, where He preached- yet in this obedience saved all who may be called all. And then- He was raised- himself saved though he was never lost.

We are never alone- we have the saints- living and eternally living. And we have the sacred Mother, and the church, with her doctor's healing sacraments where Christ acts on our Salvation by chosing his way- to enter into his ways!

The God of Love does not save in isolation. My whispered lie, can cause death in you- my hidden truth can save you..!

"He saved others but (by his very Nature) He can't (Now) save Himself (yet, in allowing His loss, His Trust, He enabled our salvation!)"

God bless.

Marc

Eternity, it moved, it was not time, but matter, I smiled, I moved

(Journey in a Broken World )

Article by Marc Aupiais

Darkness, it spread, as the slow sun began to set. A pinkness of hidden weakness, it latently ...touched the sky, a moment of serenity, as below: a single woman stood; vulnerability: it covered her anguished, fearful face. Around, the mystical ...African air, was icy, was cold, and the icy winter freeze: ...it made her shiver. She looked, no, only slightly glanced: up, above: were the stars, and in them were her hopes: distant as life in a fallen world.

She has only existed for a few seconds: only in my thoughts: ...and words as yet: to you, you have not yet read these words. To you, she has not borne, a moment's life: to you,... only an idea: in an author's dreams.

You see, when we describe her deep, dark: entrancing, enchanting eyes, which enter you, with her powerful deified glance: when we describe her soft skin, which shines whitely, hidden in the shadow, the slight sparkle and meekly beautiful glance of her deep dark eyes: when we describe long brown hair, youth and innocence. We breath in: hoping to drink the memory in.

I used to read many books: these days: mostly I read older books, they are better: I read books, of a different sort than many: because they have standards: I can never really empathize with these evil "Good" characters in many a modern work.

I want, and drink in innocent moments, and mystery, and just a slightly infinite goodness: of good : true good: conquering evil: through weakness finding a way to be somehow find some path, or intriguing ingenuity: which makes them become somehow: strong; somehow: powerful.

We love watching, enchanted ...as the innocent overhear, we enjoy so greatly, when they are hiding, sometimes safe and away: but mostly just beyond the certainty of capture, and of certainty with doom ...conquered in the slightest of secret luck.

I love children's novels, and fairytale: we all do: and I cannot stand many a book or modern movie. When the character is not a simple ordinary little person, who does the right thing: or the good and necessary, somehow: ...finding that slight small amount of courage:

...when it is not some good person doing what is right: it really is a pointless watch. I hate especially: when people are made evil: or such: because people do like weakness: we don't like weakness: but those who triumph despite it: not those who seek out evil.

As a child, I would read for hours: I would oft excuse myself from friends: I never wanted to give up my reading time: and spent much of breaks with books, rather than people who I often couldn't quite empathize with.

I love to write: I love the worlds, I am able to create. Softly, carving up a mystery: slowly watching as people take life as it approaches: and barely escape with their life: ...yet in such a way as to do good: or learn of good: so as to do right. I love, when they are still good, still normal at the end, even as they do what is necessary.

God: he too: he ...likes such books: there is ample evidence in the bible: Jesus: who only knew what we needed him to know; the rest he left behind: how else did he have to learn, grow it wisdom, change his mind: how else did he run away to the temple, not knowing he'd offend his beloved mom. His family, was poor, and God: he loved shepherds, and people who were weak. Like their bandage: he sought them out, in their tears: for these tearful eyes knew of their need of him.

His story: is: of an ingenious young man: old as time itself, and: ...of his mother, and his friends:

...the world... it has abandoned good: and they and a small hidden underground of men, children, and women: they join to his soul: and through wisdom, and goodness, and Obedience to Jesus' parents (all four of them; or is it five: God, Mary and his step-father Joseph); a child, now a man: he cannot do what his conscience objects to: and despite fear, despite tears: he does the right thing, and barely makes it through.

You see, God is the author of our world: we do not shout loudly, and violently into the heavens at human authors for writing villains, or obstacles into stories: to hamper characters', and heroic persons': way: especially: we love it when the odds are impossible, and when evil, it seems to triumph: only to melt in the eternity of the living, everlasting justice of the sun.

Let us not judge God, our author: but surely, let us aid him: to do what he wants: to write us: a book: one he'll want to read forever: and God only wants to read books with happy endings: become such a book: become your own Julian, or Nancy Drew: 'cept be the author, and one writ by God. Human books are nice, but his: oh the joy of writing our lives: I give that task to Philomena: my saint; who always writes so well, and to her co-authors in heaven and Earth: do likewise: let them write: but in your turn: remember to solve the mysterious events, come now Nancy Drew, Hardy boy, or Julian: to do what's right; and give your audience something to enjoy: to remember: cause God alone can only write your surrounds: he needs your help to write your life; as much as any author covering it would: only more, and more honestly.

Ask of an adventure; to shock, to awe: I know I have asked for a powerful story of my soul.

Works and deeds, prayer and the rosary, and the exhausted praying Catholic, at midnight

(Journey in a Broken World)

Article by Marc Aupiais

Darkness merged with darkness, and fatigue began to touch my limbs, as gravity tries to chain one to the ground.

Each few minutes my hands would fumble, and every now and then I would forget what I was doing- as I continuously mumbled soft whispered busts of phrases. Every now and then I would stop, exhausted in my extravagant needs. I had only began praying- I had perhaps over an hour's worth of prayers before I could go to bed.

Perhaps clarification is needed- the reason I was praying for so long, why I prayed, and finished to go to bed at 12:12 AM the next morning, was not zeal, but laziness. I had neglected my morning prayers, and therefore was combining them with my evening ritual- which generally takes 40 minutes to an hour or so. In the evening I pray to Saint Philomena at least 60 times, and to Saint Michael the Archangel about 5 or six times, to God the Trinity about ten times, and Mary about five. It's something I started to do some time ago- and it is odd, my soul almost needs to pray these, it is as though an invisible order had gone out- that I was to pray- and ask for God's world view, salvation, and godliness.

So why bring these things up- the reason lay in what I had wanted to do- as my hands fumbled expertly over the last rosary bead, and I had finished Hail Holy Queen, and Oh God whose- I did not want to continue. I just wanted to sleep, but the same voice that led me to the church- the same slight touching on my heart's shoulder told me as it had the first time- that I must finish my prayers if I wanted to sleep, and trusting what people call intuition, I knew I had to do so, even as these thoughts were with foreign words, almost dazed words as I was losing my functioning with the late hour.

A gray dusk settled on me, and my hands were almost guided, perhaps by habit, or by the ghostly presence that comes with prayer. My long prayers went forever, and I realized that I had not nearly finished even a 16th of my prayers, when already I felt like stopping, and every sort of temptation began to enter into me with force. I truly empathized with Saint Peter in the garden with Christ. I did not want to pray, but the intuitive voice would not let me stop, and so I fumbled across my collection of paper, prayer-book, cell-phone and rosary, and continued to pray. To do this- I detached myself from any sense of time.

I prayed and did what I sometimes do with the oh so short rosary. Whenever my hand hit the separated bead, I would stop and begin a few more of my prayers, before reading a novena to my beloved saint.

Finally, as the winds outside softly caressed my window, or perhaps there was silent nothingness, I began to speak almost gibberish. I empathize with the Charismatic movement seldom, but I was not speaking in tongues. I was saying the wrong words. Once before I have said this- when I was in terror, and prayed the Our Father, and the Hail Mary came out, and before also have I spoken words which are not what my mind had wanted. Despite this I finished my prayers, said my final please, and quietly put my rosary, papers with prayers, and a small pamphlet away.

Why hadn't my intuitive sense allowed me to skip the ritual, well I believe it lies in the concept of prayers and work. I had asked, cannot my novena count for all that prayer, cannot I substitute the rosary, but this was not allowed. We can never substitute one righteous deed for another. We can do one or the other or both- but obedience cannot be bartered with. My prayers had become works, and I had already, even as I had been praying there, covered in protest and fatigue, but also in obedience- begun slightly- to understand last night's lesson.

The physical world can never be replaced- prayer can never replace firm actions, but nor can firm actions replace fear, which causes despair, and they cannot substitute for prayers. The word spirit has in the English phraseology so mixed its essence up with the word morale, or culture that we forget that even spiritual things have solid substance, and are utterly real. Action, can also never substitute prayers. Prayers open the way for actions, like weapons of war- commandos, or scouts- they clear the territory, and yet the actions are like the gun turrets on large battleships, and the prayers that follow these like an air-strike.

Actions are given substance and power in prayer. Our lowly, practical, and often extravagantly expert- prayer firstly alters our environment, and then, the bursts of our souls- the constant prayers- they resonate and echo within the power of our actions, turning them from pathetic pleas, to powerful blows against untruth, through merciful justice, of listening and acting at the right time, and with dual force- physical and spiritual, and finally we feel hurricane forces- winds which raise the sand in protest- prayer's aftershock- their effect on ourselves and others.

Like submarines, we operate on the open ocean. Prayer is like breaking beneath the surface of waves- and before actions we pray. As we are surfacing to attack we also pray, and once we have launched our torpedoes we pray again. Prayer is like breath, it is that which must saturate and inebriate the veins of our actings. Actions are like our blood, and prayer like the soul which permeates every small tiny drop of substance in a man.

Without prayer nothing spiritual is possible, but without action, very little physical can we done. Like large cruising battleships on the open ocean, we must be rested on prayer, and moving on momentum with action, for the essential essence of what we seem to be- exists but as one single being, but on both dimensions of existing, and must always move as one who has two worlds to contend with. One like the water, the other- the air around us.

Prayer can never substitute action- yet this can help effects of it.

Journey in a Broken world- Jesus, Mary and the big communication accident at the temple

(Journey in a Broken World)

Article by Marc Aupiais

In vain we could look for historic texts about Mary flying around in the gray, dusky, dust-filled middle-eastern sky, yet somehow this never seems to appear, which may sadden some, but now that she is a saint- she can at least manifest herself anywhere!

When she was still alive, and probably in her late teens or early twenties, the immaculate mother of humanity, through Christ- had an interesting experience, so interesting that it is in the rosary.

We can imagine as a shot of horror enters her veins, and the middle-eastern sun stands somewhere in the dusky, or maybe daylight sky.

There would have likely been a quick frenzy, maybe even desperate prayers, and concern over what could ever have happened. Maybe Mary cries, even weeped as she realized her mistake, and that of her Husband, Saint Joseph.

We often forget, not only couldn't Mary fly, and that she didn't wear a blue and red suit with underwear on the outside (quite inappropriate for a woman or man), but dearest mother Mary, also made mistakes, and errors of judging situations, even assumptions.

Mary never once sinned, but she did make mistakes, and this is not only shocking, but beautiful. God's mother, the ultimate female icon of holiness, never once sinned, nor was disappointing to God, and yet, at that moment, when she began to realize the desperate horror that a mother feels at having lost her child, she was human, so utterly human.

Christ also, when he had been left by his parents, and was sitting, listening to the teachers in the temple, had also made a mistake. He was God, and yet God allowed himself to do something which his own parents disapproved of, and yet this was not sin. It was God's choice to not have all knowledge, but only that required for our salvation, and his choice also to allow an unwinding of the dark path of life, so that the trickling of streams and rivers amplified this fact.

Jesus and his parents did not communicate as they should have, both made wrong assumptions, or something like such- both were not sinning in their assumptions, both made mistakes.

Now, it may seem to cheapen my often extravagantly poetic style by mentioning a popular culture figure such as Super Man, and yet this is the ultimate man in our culture's eyes- he is indestructible, can't feel pain, makes no real mistakes, and wears his underwear on the outside, as though mocking us normal people.

Mary, our role model- she cries, she makes mistakes, and she is powerless to prevent her son from being subjected to an unjust killing, and humiliated. She is nearly divorced by a husband who wants to do the right thing, by a husband who is rightly a saint, and yet misjudged the very Mother of God. The divorce itself would have been from an unconsummated marriage, and not from a sacramental union.

Jesus, also- he weeps in public, and associated with what many consider still today to be societal slum, and yet he was weak and compassionate around these. And remember- it is he who didn't follow his parents from the temple towards their earthly home!

The true powers of both Jesus and Mary- as exemplified in the Finding in the temple- lies not in superpowers, but in absolute humanity. They could make every mistake as people, every assumption, every communication lapse- but they never once willfully did wrong, and never once purposely rebelled against God.

A mistake and a sin, are not the same. As far as our salvation was concerned, neither Jesus, nor Mary once ever sinned, and yet- while utterly immaculate, both could disagree with each other. The wedding at Canaan, or the finding in the temple both show this- and in both circumstances- our foundation chooses to obey his Mother- God who knows all- submits to a perfectly human, even though perfect in every way- flesh and blood virgin woman.

Let us delve deep into this mystery, as though breathing into fresh air, or scooping deep into a creamy ice-cream.

Neither Jesus or Mary ever sinned, what they did and chose to do was always perfect so far as morals and doctrine are concerned- but so far as worldly wisdom, both were capable of learning from utterly real communication lapses or even mistakes.

Rosary Secrets- A look at the dedication of Our Lord and Saviour, Illustrious, and Divine- Jesus, our Lord, Son of Mary, child in Jerusalem

(Journey in a Broken World)

Article by Marc Aupiais

It is not a sad event when Jesus, our Christ, chooses to comply with his culture, and its rules, in fact- it is as glorious as the light shining on the girl's extravagant dresses, and the shadows falling over the boys suits, for their first Holy Communion.

It is no sad event when Jesus is circumcised, and no sad event when he becomes a man in Jewish culture, and is presented to God, as the firstborn child.

When Jesus fought his culture like a suffering crocodile in drought- he was not fighting its foundation, but something foreign to it. When he called the Pharisees, and Suddacees snakes- Vipers even, he was apposing something which was fighting for the very soul of his culture, and from within the very positions designed by men, even Holy men- to safeguard the essence of the powerful Jewish culture.

Anything bad within a culture, is surely not distinctive- sin is banal- and sin is everywhere- simply because it is the done thing does not mean we should set it high on clouds as culture. Culture is distinctive. Culture is that which separates the life and truth of one society from all others. A culture is something beautiful and to be preserved, it lies in nuance, it lies in language, it lies in the ways in which people manifest God. The parts of a culture, which are sinful- are just as evil as any disease, these must never be preserved, because in the end they will destroy utterly the cultures which harbor them.

In essence, every culture is now undergoing the fight between the True culture, and the Culture which does not exist, which fights to destroy true culture, though pretending to be something at all, except plain and simple depraved perversity.

As the war for truth is so powerfully fought in the valleys and mountains and waves, and dunes, and winds and hurricanes- of what is culture, let us always most strongly represent the Catholic Culture, the simple and kind righteousness, the devotion to the Rosary, to Prayer, Mass, Sacraments, Mary, Saints, and actions. Let us not Hide it- let us be firstly Catholic and then whatever culture we represent so far as this benefits God.

Attacks on the Catholic Idea of naming saints after where they come from also are evil, and sinful- in as much as they are illogical. Saints reflect not only their Catholicism, but it is in such a way as to affect their own culture, and often- will a saint manifest all or many of the best traits of their area of residence, while holding none of the bad. Our culture is our heritage, and must be respected, but the part of culture to be respected is the part which saves us from sin and sinful perversity.

Ultimately, every culture finds its hight and summit in respect of truth, in not supremacist hatred of foreigners, but rather in defending its own territory, which also allows respecting what is just in others cultures, even helping these cultures to refine their good over their evil, and sometimes allowing this within themselves, by letting some traits of cultures be lessened or made greater. This is why, ultimately, every culture is united in the Catholic Church, it is the hight and salvation of all. Only through Catholicism, do we find the universal culture which united and unites all people in Christ. It is through realization of what man is, by truly understanding what his source- God is, and how exactly man's status, and dignity was raised by Jesus' incarnation, that we truly are able to manifest the true elements- instilled by God, in every nation's culture.

As Catholics, we are universal, but we are also local- let us firstly be universal, and where necessary- local. Let us firstly gain great respect for our Catholic heritage, and history, and then also for what is good in our own cultures. By what is good in a culture, let us destroy what is bad in it, let us not falsely glorify the goodness in our national cultures, as the cultures of small groups often have flaws, and it is by highlighting both the strengths and the weaknesses of our culture, in a positively true portrait of events, that we are both prevented from despising utterly our people, and from supremacism.

Let us therefor anchor our cultures in their purpose for having good, and purpose, Christ, through the church, the pillar and foundation of truth (I Timothy chapter 3 verse 15)- which always, if its own integrity is preserved, should preserve what is good in culture, and destroy if not utterly what is evil. It is not Catholicism that needs changing by culture, but cultures, who need refining by the mysteries of faith. These cultures include Catholic cultures, these cultures include the cultures within the church in various countries. The culture of those who claim to be Catholic, so often is not Catholic at all. The true hope of every Catholic is Christ, and for this- we do not need to too much be part of our culture, rather- a culture is most richly enlivened, by righteous diversity- so far as its soul is to be preserved.

I am firstly Catholic, and then I am whatever else I am, for in Catholicism, my goodness is sucked from the depths of reality, and made to be- a masterpiece it ever will shine- of true beauty, of that which is made real through faith.

Culture also- can be utterly local, or result in organizations, or in heritage of ancestors, or so much else, yet culture which is good- is what is good and proportionate in culture. It is through truth that we conquer evil, through truth, love, respect, justice, and sometimes through the utter destruction of structure of evil, even to the extent that sometimes the church has sought to rid society of some persons, and seldom governments also do. Let us never respect what is evil in a culture, rather, let us learn from the good in cultures, and in Christ, by truly making them good, by calling out and obeying their counterparts from within the Faith.