The immediate thing that strikes me about the saints death is how perfectly she pointed like a little compass towards God. As a compass always points North everything she said and did pointed perfectly towards God. A perfect, saintly Catholic death which could only have come about after a beautiful saintly Catholic life. But I must admit from the outside looking in that it scares me more than a little. So much darkness!! So much suffering! A real agony! I am more than a little bit of a coward when face to face with so much truly horrendous suffering. But I am comforted that the good God only sends us the Crosses we can bear and the graces to do so. 1 Corinthians 10:13 There hath no temptation taken you but such as man can bear: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation make also the way of escape, that ye may be able to endure it.
From Knock Shrine page: “I understood that every flower created by Him is beautiful, that the brilliance of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not lessen the perfume of the violet or the sweet simplicity of the daisy. I understood that if all the lowly flowers wished to be roses, nature would no longer be enamelled with lovely hues. And so it is in the world of souls, Our lord's living garden.” - St Thérèse of Lisieux Today, October 1st, we celebrate the Feast Day of St. Thérése of Lisieux, known as ‘The Little Flower’, Carmelite Saint and Doctor of the Church. Here in Knock, the contemplative Community of Sisters at ‘Tranquila’, the Carmelite Monastery of the Nativity, have been part of the prayer life of the Shrine since 1981. Find out more about their spirituality at www.carmelitesknock.org
She gives such an example and pathway in suffering. Surrender at the Speed of Light with St. Therese of Lisieux and St. Elizabeth Ann Seton The courage and boldness of St. Therese and Mother Seton, especially in the face of great suffering and agony, flowed from their willingness to throw themselves completely into the arms of the Father. BY LISA LICKONA “From nature springs the fear of death, from grace springs audacity.”—Saint Thomas Aquinas “Death grins broader in the pot every morning, and I grin at him and I show him his master. Oh, be blessed, blessed, blessed. I see nothing in this world but blue skies and our altars. . . . We talk now all day long of my death and how it will be just like the rest of the housework.” — Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton I want a certain faith like that of Elizabeth Ann Seton. I want to live with joy in front of suffering, even if my bones and tissues are ravaged by tuberculosis. I want to grin at death as she did, unafraid. I want to die as she did, firmly holding to Christ, certain that he, and not a yawning darkness, is what will meet me in the final moment. I want such holy audacity, the fruit of grace, the inheritance of the saints. Today’s saint is a sure witness to me of this possibility, and a mentor on this path: Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face. Although she is also known as “The Little Flower”—a soft, feminine nickname, if ever there was one—Thérèse was anything but delicate. Thérèse was born in 1873 into a middle-class French family that, from the perspective of holiness, was something of an all-star cast—her two parents are canonized saints and one sister is on the road. All the same, as a child, she suffered intensely—first from her mother’s untimely death and then from her own paralyzing sensitivity. Nevertheless, at the age of fourteen, she developed the desire to follow her two older sisters into the Carmelite convent. She entered the next year. From this time to her death some eight and a half years later, Thérèse lived out what she herself called her “Little Way”, an “elevator ride” to holiness based not on extraordinary penances or mystical encounters, but on entrusting herself totally to God in and through the simple acts of the everyday. After her death, this simple but revolutionary formula catapulted her to Catholic greatness. Before Thérèse was even canonized in 1927, Pope Pius X had already called her the “greatest saint of modern times.” And in 1997, one hundred years after her death, John Paul II raised her to the status of Doctor of the Church, which is to say that her “Little Way” is a sure teaching for Catholics of all time. I first encountered Thérèse in that same year, on Holy Thursday, when I sat down to watch a French film version of her life by admitted atheist Alain Cavalier. Although Cavalier took some liberties with his presentation, his stark, minimalistic version of Thérèse’s life drew me right in. In scene after scene in the film, Cavalier’s Thérèse appears in delicate gauzy white—her nightgown, her Carmelite cape, the wedding dress she wears when she pledges her vows to Christ. And yet, she is no delicate ingenue. The drama that unfolds is a striking display of her inner certainty and undeniable boldness. The scene that most affected me has the twenty-three-year-old Thérèse lying in the infirmary, suffering a painful death by tuberculosis. Her sister Céline who had also joined the convent, is acting as her nurse. Thérèse speaks pointedly to her sister. “When I say “’I suffer,’ (je suffre)” she tells her, “you say ‘Good’ (bien).” Céline goes along, and there follows a series of quick cuts, snippets of scenes in which the ailing Thérèse repeatedly gasps the words “Je suffre”-and the obedient Celine replies “Bien.” I suffer. Good. I suffer. Good. I suffer. Good. As I witnessed this simple litany, Thérèse began to steal my heart. Is not “I suffer!” the most basic of human cries, common to each one of us? Babies cry out in pain and hunger, as do people who are not even fully conscious. We heard this cry again and again during the COVID-19 pandemic. This cry wells up from someplace deep in the brainstem; it is ancient as the psalmists’ lament. And yet, it finds a place precisely on Golgotha, in the anguish of the God-man who cannot help but cry out “why?” But only in Christ can this cry attain to goodness. Only here does suffering become redemptive. And like every saint, Thérèse discovers and lives the link between suffering and goodness in union with the Suffering One. But what Thérèse adds to the union with Christ in suffering is a holy audacity, a boldness, a thrilling “at-onceness.” For Thérèse, the secret of the holy life is an immediate giving up of the self, a surrender at the speed of light. And this is only possible because Thérèse’s soul is tremendously light. She attributes no great virtue to herself. She is simply a child, basking in the Father’s love. And with the sheer trust of a child she catapults herself confidently into the arms of God. Simplicity. Alacrity. Audacity. The Little Way amounts to a sort of dizzying act of trust in God. It is, in fact, the Great Way and is a truly saintly maneuver. We see the same in the deathbed scene of Mother Seton. She too is being ravaged by tuberculosis. She too is being nursed by her own kin. And like Thérèse, in this moment, her soul’s movements seem effortless. Her holiness becomes a kind of thrilling impetus for those around her. Death appears to have no hold. Don’t we want this same boldness, this same courage? It seems the only way to get it is, in imitation of Thérèse, to throw ourselves into the arms of the Father. Surrender, at the speed of light.
Asking the Little Flower to be with my courageous Alyce today who is suffering so much as we see the neurosurgeon about her cervical disease. Peace. God is always good.
SAINTS OF THE DAY FRIDAY, 2 OCTOBER, 2026 FEAST OF THE GUARDIAN ANGELS Angels are servants and messengers from God. "Angel" in Greek means messenger. In unseen ways the angels help us on our earthly pilgrimage by assisting us in work and study, helping us in temptation and protecting us from physical danger. The idea that each soul has assigned to it a personal guardian angel has been long accepted by the Church and is a truth of our faith. From the Gospel of today's liturgy we read: "See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven always look upon the face of my heavenly Father" (Matthew 18:10). The Catechism of the Catholic Church states that "the existence of the spiritual, non-corporeal beings that Sacred Scripture usually calls 'angels' is a truth of faith (328)." From our birth until our death, man is surrounded by the protection and intercession of angels, particularly our guardian angel: "Beside each believer stands an angel as protector and shepherd leading him to life (336)." The Church thanks God for our helpers, the angels, particularly on this feast day and September 29 which is the feast of Saint Michael, Saint Gabriel, and Saint Raphael, archangels. Today's feast appeared in Spain during the sixteenth century. It was extended to the universal Church and made obligatory in 1670. Be alert in your every action as one should be who is accompanied by angels in all your ways, for that mission has been enjoined upon them. In whatever lodging, in whatever nook or corner you may find yourself, cherish a reverence for your guardian angel. In his presence do not dare to do anything you would not do in mine. Or do you doubt his presence because you do not see him? Would it really help if you did hear him, or touch him, or smell him? Remember, there are realities whose existence has not been proven by mere sight. Brethren, we will love God's angels with a most affectionate love; for they will be our heavenly co-heirs some day, these spirits who now are sent by the Father to be our protectors and our guides. With such bodyguards, what are we to fear? They can neither be subdued nor deceived; nor is there any possibility at all that they should go astray who are to guard us in all our ways. They are trustworthy, they are intelligent, they are strong — why, then, do we tremble? We need only to follow them, remain close to them, and we will dwell in the protection of the Most High God. So as often as you sense the approach of any grave temptation or some crushing sorrow hangs over you, invoke your protector, your leader, your helper in every situation. Call out to him and say: Lord, save us, we are perishing. — St. Bernard PATRON: Spanish police officers. PRAYER TO OUR GUARDIAN ANGEL Angel sent by God to guide me, be my light and walk beside me; be my guardian and protect me; on the paths of life direct me. Amen. ANGEL OF GOD Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day (or night) be at my side, to light, to guard, to rule and guide. Amen.
There is an amazing story about Padre Pio having a big row with his Guardian Angel one time. The devil had attacked him and given him a very bad beating and as he did so the saints Guardian Angel hovered above singing and praising God. Padre Pio was very angry that his Guardian Angel did not help. Such a very human response. But of course if the angel did not defend Padre Pio it was because God had not wanted it to. I remember reading one time that before great disasters like boats sinking of planes crashing there are always much higher numbers of people cancelling their journeys, up to 20%. It seems clear to me that their angel guardians had warned them not to go. How many people would be saved in all kinds of accidents and shootings if only they had been in a state of grace. Being in a state of grace allows our angels free range to help us. But being in a state of grave sin restricts what they can do. But the best protection of all is to have a devotion to and pray to our Guardian Angels.
I have recently started to pray to my Guardian angel every morning as I say my rosary. I must try and remember to do so at nights before sleeping. It is strange how life has come full circle. This is what I was taught to do as a child and I am returning to do so again.
