Each day until Divine Mercy Sunday on April 7th, I will email you one thought from that day’s brief reading from Fr. Michael Gaitley’s fine book, 33 Days to Merciful Love. I render full credit for these thoughts, respecting copyright laws, to Fr. Gaitley. Each reading ends with a prayer, which I ask you to pray with me for this intention: the conversion of our parish.
Day Twenty-Eight
Today Fr. Gaitley gives us Mother Agnes’ remarkable description of her sister’s death. Thérèse didn’t die of tuberculosis; she suffered from TB, but she died of love; she died from her extreme desire to be fully united to her Spouse. “Her breathing suddenly became weaker… she fell back on her pillow … and pronounced very distinctly her final act of love: ‘Oh! I love him …’ she said, looking at her crucifix. “My God, I … love … you!’ She raised her eyes, shining with an indescribable happiness … then she closed her eyes.”
I promised in an earlier reflection that I would tell you how Thérèse visited me from beyond the grave. It was the summer of 1997, and I had taken a group of 30 young people from World Youth Day in Paris to Lisieux (a 90-minute train ride). A pictorial history of Thérèse’s life ran around the perimeter of the basilica, and at the end I came to the photograph of her in death. The fragrance of roses engulfed me; I walked a bit away, and the fragrance dissipated, and then walked back and was again surrounded by roses. No one else smelled it but me at that time. But more importantly, I was surrounded by a peaceful conviction that death was not the end of our lives. I read her words under the photograph: “Je ne meurs pas; j’entre dans la vie.”
You can translate her words for yourself, but from that moment, 27 years ago, I have never been afraid of death. On August 18, 1997, St. Thérèse freed me from that fear. On dark days, I sometimes forget that the sun shines above the clouds, and that after all is said and done, I’m going to heaven. But then I think of Thérèse, my patroness in so many ways (for example, our seminary class chose her as our patron saint). Or I think of Mother Teresa or John Paul II or Francis of Assisi, and their radiant peace in the face of darkness and death. They knew where they had come from, and they knew where they were going. And so do we.
Prayer
Come, Holy Spirit, fire of mercy. Witness that I choose to accept St. Thérèse’s help as I prepare to offer myself to Merciful Love.
Day Twenty-Eight
Today Fr. Gaitley gives us Mother Agnes’ remarkable description of her sister’s death. Thérèse didn’t die of tuberculosis; she suffered from TB, but she died of love; she died from her extreme desire to be fully united to her Spouse. “Her breathing suddenly became weaker… she fell back on her pillow … and pronounced very distinctly her final act of love: ‘Oh! I love him …’ she said, looking at her crucifix. “My God, I … love … you!’ She raised her eyes, shining with an indescribable happiness … then she closed her eyes.”
I promised in an earlier reflection that I would tell you how Thérèse visited me from beyond the grave. It was the summer of 1997, and I had taken a group of 30 young people from World Youth Day in Paris to Lisieux (a 90-minute train ride). A pictorial history of Thérèse’s life ran around the perimeter of the basilica, and at the end I came to the photograph of her in death. The fragrance of roses engulfed me; I walked a bit away, and the fragrance dissipated, and then walked back and was again surrounded by roses. No one else smelled it but me at that time. But more importantly, I was surrounded by a peaceful conviction that death was not the end of our lives. I read her words under the photograph: “Je ne meurs pas; j’entre dans la vie.”
You can translate her words for yourself, but from that moment, 27 years ago, I have never been afraid of death. On August 18, 1997, St. Thérèse freed me from that fear. On dark days, I sometimes forget that the sun shines above the clouds, and that after all is said and done, I’m going to heaven. But then I think of Thérèse, my patroness in so many ways (for example, our seminary class chose her as our patron saint). Or I think of Mother Teresa or John Paul II or Francis of Assisi, and their radiant peace in the face of darkness and death. They knew where they had come from, and they knew where they were going. And so do we.
Prayer
Come, Holy Spirit, fire of mercy. Witness that I choose to accept St. Thérèse’s help as I prepare to offer myself to Merciful Love.
Photo credit: St. Therese Parish and School, Deephaven, MN
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