The Ascension (1775) by John Singleton Copley
However, sometimes feast days like today’s can feel a little distant from our daily lives. We might ask, “Okay, I believe those things – but how are they relevant to my life right now?” Especially in a difficult time, a time of suffering like this current pandemic? It’s a good question. While it’s good to know and recall the doctrines we believe, we sometimes have to work a little harder to understand how they are important for us here and now.
Today’s Gospel gives us the answer. In today’s first reading, we heard the story of the Ascension itself, but it’s in the Gospel that we find its practical importance for our lives. Jesus has gone up to heaven and will one day come back; in the meantime, he has given his disciples work to do. We call this passage from the Gospel of Matthew the Great Commission – the great sending forth of the disciples to go and share his teachings with the world, making disciples of all nations. The Church never tires of this work; it is her fundamental task, her mission until the day Jesus returns. And that includes us, as well – every baptized person, not just the apostles long ago, or priests and bishops today. It’s the calling and obligation of every Christian. To share our faith with others, to evangelize – that is how we strive for holiness, seeking to follow after Jesus so as to join him in heaven.
Still, we might ask, “But how do I do that, Father? Me, in the time and manner of my life here and now?” Another good question. Evangelizing – bearing witness to our faith – can often be done in ways that aren’t as obvious as being a literal missionary. Sometimes, holiness that is quiet and humble can nonetheless impress itself upon others in a remarkable way. I’d like to share with you three examples of this kind of holiness from the lives of saints whose feasts we celebrate around this time of year. While their circumstances are different than ours, perhaps their stories can give us an insight into how we too can fulfill what Jesus commands in our own lives.
Isidore was a farmer who lived in Spain in the 11th century. He was a peasant, and a laborer — a farmhand specifically. He was a simple man, who loved the land, and worked it with great care. He had a wife and a son, although his son died at a young age. Despite his own poverty, he shared what he had with those with even less. He was known by his peers as a man of prayer, and even was believed to have the power to work miracles, especially on behalf of the poor. Today St. Isidore is honored as the patron of farmers, peasants, day workers, and those who work in agriculture.
Rita was born to a noble family in Italy in the 14th century. Despite the fact she wanted to be a nun, her family arranged for her to be married. Unfortunately, it was not a good match. Her husband was immoral, unfaithful, and even abusive. Whereas today Rita might well have had a good reason to flee the union, or even seek to have it declared null, things were different in her time. She remained in the marriage and endured the ill treatment. Slowly, with humility, kindness, and prayer, she had a transformative effect on her husband. When he was killed some years later, she prevailed upon her sons to not avenge his death. Eventually, living in a time of pandemic herself, she entered the local monastery and dedicated the rest of her life to prayer. Today St. Rita of Cascia is the patroness for the lonely, survivors of abuse, those in difficult marriages, and widows.
The third story is more recent. Franz Jägerstätter was born in Austria in 1907. He also was a farmer, and a bit of a wild man in his early years. However, he married a devout Catholic woman and through her influence became a pious man who worked hard to support his family. When Austria was annexed by Nazi Germany, Franz knew he would be conscripted into the army. He also knew that his conscience would not allow him to swear an oath of loyalty to Hitler. His friends in the village encouraged him to not put himself at risk over something as meaningless as a signature on a piece of paper — he could keep on thinking whatever he wanted in private. Even his parish priest told him it would be okay to lie, but Franz knew he couldn’t. He told the priest he was prepared to die rather than commit a mortal sin. Only his wife, Franziska, supported him in his stance, despite the great cost to her and their three daughters. Up until the last hour of his life, Franz could have avoided his fate if he merely signed his name to the oath. Instead, he went to his death at the guillotine, a few months before Hitler and the Nazi regime came to their own end. Although Franz’s story was not well known for many years, it’s become better known in recent decades, and in 2007, Pope Benedict declared Franz a martyr, and he was beatified in Austria with his widow in attendance. Today Bl. Franz is the patron of conscientious objectors.
Franz and Franziska Jägerstätter on their wedding day in 1936. He was martyred in 1943.
All three of these stories are about relatively simple people. While they lived in different times and places than we do, they probably weren’t all that different from us. Each of them, in their own way, were faithful to Jesus’s Great Commission – not by becoming great evangelists or missionaries, not priests or theologians or founders of religious orders – but by listening for and responding to the call of the Holy Spirit. Isidore did it by faithful, prayerful labor; Rita by suffering in humility; Franz by obeying his conscience rather than the voice of the world. We too can find holiness appropriate to our lives and circumstances, and so give witness to our faith to others. And that must always be relevant to what we do.
Friends, at the end of today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us that he will be with us always. Let’s trust in that too – that he empowers us with his Spirit, poured out on us from the right hand of his Father. And he comes to meet us in the sacraments, especially in the Holy Eucharist, where he offers himself as Food for our journey. With these gifts, his Spirit and his Sacrament, he bids us to go forth and bear witness.
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