Dear Penny, I just got a panicky note from your twin sister, who is extremely anxious about the state of your soul. I realize that she tends to overreact, but some of the things she mentioned are worth going over a bit, even though I need to be quick about it (this new warden is determined to “break down my defenses” as he puts it, and another “dialogue session” starts in just a few minutes).  The main point is your vanity.  Don’t be alarmed; I have long known how eagerly you seek recognition and praise from your peers.  Some people are too proud to care about their popularity; you, on the other hand, tend to exert yourself too much to attract the crowds.  The story of today’s saint, though its historicity seems spurious, will be quite instructive for you.  Here’s it is in a nutshell. Pelagia was a Palestinian actress who lived the great ancient city of Antioch.  She was “equally celebrated for her beauty, her wealth, and her disorderly life” as one biographer eloquently put it.  It so happened that the Patriarch of that city had called a synod (kind of a board meeting) of his bishops.  One day the bishops were gathered in the portico (kind of a front porch) of the great basilica, listening to the words of St Nonnus (bishop from Edessa), when Pelagia and her retinue of slaves and accomplices drove by.  She spied the clerics and pulled up beside the portico, whereupon all the bishops lowered their eyes to avoid seeing her audacious glances and her provocative attire – all except St Nonnus, that is.  She tarried only for a few moments, then laughed at them and moved on.  St Nonnus kept looking at her until she was out of sight.  Then, much to the astonishment of his fellow pastors, he queried, “Did not that woman’s beauty please you?”  The other bishops were nonplussed, and they didn’t answer.  St Nonnus continued, “I was well pleased to see her, for it seems to me God sent her as a lesson to us.  She goes to an infinity of trouble to keep herself beautiful and to perfect her dancing in order to please men, but we are considerably less zealous in the care of our dioceses and of our own souls.” And that, my dear niece, is my point.  If you tend to seek inordinately the approval of your peers, your teachers, and everybody else, it is a weakness, and the tendency will never completely disappear.  But why not simply redirect that desire to please, so that you are equally (if not more) concerned about pleasing your Lord?  In all things, occupy yourself with winning his approval and pleasing him, and you will be a saint before the semester is out, guaranteed!  (Pelagia soon repented, by the way, and was baptized by St Nonnus).  You will have much more peace (because our Lord is easier to please than your peers – though harder to satisfy), and you will be storing up great treasure in heaven. I have to go.  Count on my prayers. God bless, Uncle Eddy

Dear Rose, I received a visit today from your guardian angel, who informed me that lately you have “opted out” of your commitment to pray the rosary (or at least a decade of it) every day.  I do so dislike being the heavy hand among you and your cousins, but if not I, then who?  Therefore, I feel obliged to remind you that there are only three possible reasons for a Christian not to make use of this simple and most effective aid to prayer: ignorance, pride, or laziness.  I already know which reason applies to you, but lest I shame you too much, I will address each separately (though briefly – a new warden has taken charge of this prison, and he is eager to interrogate me afresh in just a few minutes). Ignorance of what the rosary is and what it’s for can turn people off.  True, “prayer beads” of various forms have appeared through the ages in many non-Christian religions, but so has ritual sacrifice.  Just as pagan rituals do not invalidate the sacrifice of the Mass, so pagan prayer beads do not invalidate the rosary.  Indeed, the universality of the phenomenon indicates its appropriateness for human nature (we are not angels, so we need aids to prayer).  The origin of the Christian rosary in particular is a hotly disputed topic.  Eastern Christians long had strings of beads to help them pray, but these are unrelated to the rosary itself, which developed in the west.  Some scholars point to the tradition of lay brothers and lay people reciting 150 Our Fathers or Hail Marys as a way to join their souls to the monks in the nearby monastery who prayed all 150 psalms every day or week.  Some claim that St Dominic received the whole plan of the rosary from Mary herself in a vision.  In any case, the remote origins of the rosary as it is now organized remain clouded.  We know for sure that the Dominicans utilized and popularized the current form of reciting the rosary in the 15^th and 16^th centuries. Regardless of its origins, its nature and fruitfulness stand firm.  Each decade (an Our Father, ten Hail Marys, and a Glory Be) brings us into extended contact with one of the key mysteries of our Lord’s earthly life.  As we contemplate those mysteries, which are inexhaustible fountains of wisdom and spiritual nourishment, the words of the familiar prayers act as a kind of spiritual tour guide, helping us to stay on track.  The simple but profound structure encloses all the wealth of Christian theology, making it easily accessible to souls who have not had the benefit of formal instruction, to people who are ill or otherwise incapacitated, and to the most learned and holy men and women the world has ever known.  When it comes to the value of praying the rosary, the “proof is in the pudding,” as the saying goes – it has helped countless thousands come closer to Christ (and it also aided the defense of Christendom against the Muslim Turkish invasion at the Battle of Lepanto on October 7, 1571, thus the date of this feast).  Of course, it doesn’t do any good at all automatically; we need to put our hearts into it, to explore its recesses and plunge into its depths. Knowing that the rosary is a tested aid for prayer (which numerous popes have recommended to the faithful, by the way), why wouldn’t we make use of it?  If we think ourselves “above” such simple modes of prayer, we will disdain it.  But we really can’t be “above” it without being “above” the need to get to know Jesus Christ, since that’s what the rosary is all about.  Sometimes we offer other excuses, like not having time, or being bored by it.  A decade of the rosary takes two or three minutes to pray.  You can pray it while walking to class, while waiting for class to begin, while waiting for the subway… “Not enough time” for the rosary really means “too lazy” for the rosary.  Bored?  Well, sometimes the spiritual life demands self-discipline and work.  If God sees fit to give you spiritual candy when you pray, enjoy it; but if he sees fit to give you oatmeal, trust his choice of menu.  Many times the boredom we experience in prayer is our own fault.  If we put our whole heart and mind and imagination into our prayer (all our prayer, not just the rosary), what appeared to be “spiritual dryness” may actually be exposed as “routine” – another product of spiritual laziness. My dear niece, I hope you didn’t really need this little review session.  But if you did, well, there it is.  If you’re still not convinced, let me put it this way: you shouldn’t neglect your Mother.  I must be off. Love, Uncle Eddy

Dear Bruce, I am quite exasperated with you.  Your sister (God will bless her for it) has kept me duly informed of your deplorable dissipation in recent weeks.  Why must you tempt Providence with your repeated relapses into dissolute living?  I can only conclude that God has huge plans for you, otherwise the devil wouldn’t spend so much time and energy drawing you into worthless (and potentially harmful) distractions over and over again.  I am convinced that God has such plans, but what does it matter if I am convinced?  You need to be convinced of it; otherwise you’ll continue to be easy demon fodder.  Today especially I will pray for you, and ask St Bruno to aid you with one of his miracles. Actually, Bruno would be a good patron for you.  He’s one of those spiritual giants that tried his best to keep under the radar screen of fame, but God foiled his efforts.  He was born in central Germany, educated at the famous cathedral school of Rheims, became professor there, and in turn educated a generation of holy priests, bishops, and even a Pope.  After maintaining that famous school for 18 years, the local bishop appointed him diocesan chancellor (kind of like personal secretary for the bishop).  Soon thereafter, Bruno realized that the bishop was living a scandalous life, and confronted him about it, following the proper ecclesiastical channels.  The bishop was resentful, to say the least, and his threats of reprisal sent Bruno and his fellow accusers into hiding.  During the years when he served the Church in an “active” capacity, he had developed a deep yearning to devote himself to God more exclusively, free from the shackles of worldly concerns.  He took advantage of this incident with his scandalous bishop to pursue that desire. You see, as his reputation for scholarship, holiness, and prudence spread, it became clear that he would eventually be nominated to the archbishopric of Rheims.  But in his heart he knew that God was asking him to pursue a more solitary life.  So he left behind the popularity, comfort, and prestige of his coveted position (bishops played important roles both ecclesiastically and civilly in the Middle Ages), and approached St Hugh (bishop of Grenoble) with a few companions, asking for permission and land to start a community of monks.  St Hugh saw the hand of God in the proposal, and gladly provided him with everything he needed, most especially a harsh mountain plateau called the Chartreuse, where Bruno and his companions built a little chapel and a cluster of cells.  There they took upon themselves the regularity and austerities of a religious community dedicated to prayer (individual and communal), solitude, study, and work (mostly copying books –their lifestyle was poor to the extreme, but their library was rich).  They arranged themselves in little huts separate from each other, and came together periodically for Mass and for parts of the Divine Office.  Thus was born the only ancient religious order that has never been reformed, because it never needed a reform, the Carthusians. Six years after the foundation of this religious order, God gave Bruno a heavy cross.  One of his former students had become Pope, and asked the saint to leave behind his hermitage and come to Rome, where he could be a papal advisor.  Nothing could have been more distasteful for the holy monk than returning to the “toils and honors” (as he called it) of the world.  But out of love for Christ and his Vicar, he obeyed.  In Rome (and, later, in Calabria, in southern Italy) he advised Church officials, but he also managed to continue a semi-monastic life style, which attracted more disciples.  Soon communities of Carthusians sprang up in Italy as well as France.  Since then, this remarkable religious order has never ceased being one of the most inspiring lights in the large constellation of the Church’s communal charisms. Perhaps St Bruno will be able to help you decide once and for all to make Christ and his Kingdom your first priority.  Only in that way will you find the peace and joy you keep hoping to get from all those other pursuits of yours. Love, Uncle Eddy