St. Anthony of Padua

Reflection for the Feast of St. Anthony 

Anthony Ascends:

His long travelling days over,

there is now only one direction left;

up, or is it, perhaps, 

more truly, in?

The hilltop hermitage

was not high enough

to discourage those

who would still

seek his words,

disturb his deep prayer,

his long sought peace.

So now the boughs 

beckon him higher

to a cell, a nest woven

between the branches

by the brothers.

This is his place now;

held halfway between

Heaven and Earth

What matter?

His heart has lived this way

all his life;

now the rest of him does so too.

Here, finally, the weariness

of the world may be dropped,

as he, worn out from roads

and crowds, and even from miracles

climbs just a little nearer 

to the clouds.

His body, almost too frail now 

to hold Heaven’s fire. 

Still, there are glints

of golden flame along the edges,

in his flashing eyes, 

in his measured movements,

or on his tongue 

as it tells the hours

in psalming whispers.

He is now,

a prophet become a burning bush,

a priest become a burnt offering,

a brother following the seraph song

all the way to Heaven’s vestibule.

He leans his back 

against the trunk, 

sits still and slowly fades.

A brown robed, grey-friar,

a hooded crow, upon the branch 

as weather beaten as the wood 

on which he rests.

His chapel vault, 

an arching branch.

The greening sunshine 

through the leaves,

his stained glass window.

His choir, the birds.

And he who has learned 

at last, their song of innocence,

hears, understands, and smiles

at their skyborn summons.

From here he will ascend,

this sylvan stylite,

and will be ever after known,

and busied even in eternity as,

Finder of the lost things,

Friend of the poor ones,

Pilgrim preacher of peace,

Brother to the sisters 

in their needs.

But for now, at least, 

there is a moment’s rest,

here upon the hillside

under the passing sun 

and moon,

beneath the branches, 

and breeze played leaves,

above the earth,

alone, at last,

where all the words

are dropped

like leaves

upon the wind,

Anthony 

simply

is.

(At the end, St. Anthony retired to a hermitage but owing to the crowds who came the brothers built him a treehouse in in which to spend his days in uninterrupted prayer. Icon by Br. Robert Lentz)

Feast of our brother St. Anthony of Padua today! Known as the "Good Doctor" for his immense wisdom and learning he was an indefatigable preacher and teacher of the Gospel and the first teacher of theology to the Friars from amongst their own number. 

Known for the immense number of miracles worked during his life he was granted the title of Thaumaturge or Wonderworker. He also worked tirelessly on behalf of the poor and opposed corruption wherever he found it. His last years were spent living as a hermit (in a treehouse!) and teaching the brothers. He is the patron of the poor, of children and pregnant women and of preachers and teachers, and is invoked to find that which is lost and, above all, of miracles! 

He is one of our truly extraordinary brothers and one of my own special spiritual teachers and friends. We entrust ourselves to his prayers this day and always +

(Photos include wonderful moment I got to venerate the cross St. Anthony burned into the wall of the Cathedral in Lisbon with his finger when only 12 years old in order to repel a temptation of the devil to leave his studies to become a priest.)

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SAINT ANTHONY OF PADUA - JUNE 13, 2018

.

Glorious St. Anthony, I salute thee as a good servant of Christ, and a special friend of God. You once were favored to hold the Christ Child in your arms as you cherished His Word in your heart.

Today I place all my cares, temptations, and anxieties in your hands. I resolve ever to honor you by imitating your example.

Powerful patron, model of Purity, please win for me, and for all devoted to thee, perfect purity of body, mind, and heart I promise by my example and counsel to help others to the knowledge, love, and service of God. Amen.

The creator of the heavens obeys a carpenter; the God of eternal glory listens to a poor virgin. Has anyone ever witnessed anything comparable to this?" .

"The birds are the saints, who fly to heaven on the wings of contemplation, who are so removed from the world that they have no business on earth. They do not labour, but by contemplation alone they already live in heaven." ~ St Anthony of Padua

The relics of St. Anthony of Padua (of Lisbon originally) exposed for veneration. A detail of them that always makes my heart ache is that upon forensic examination of his bones it was found that his foot bones were worn almost away due to the countless miles he walked to preach the Gospel and serve the poor... Miraculously, his tongue and vocal chords have remained incorrupt to this day.

Ordinary Miracles

 Ordinary Miracles.

Today I am so tired

I have no space in me for big.

So I must return 

to the small ordinary miracles;

to the way the cup 

and the bowl 

laid upon this table, 

once earth themselves, now,

after fire's touch

are something else 

entirely,

and give themselves 

freely,

and with the 

simple symmetry 

of their curved line

to the holding 

of emptiness 

or fullness.

Or I will drink tea, 

and follow it's warmth 

and healing touch 

within and without,

and mingle my breath 

with its vapour and 

touch the journey 

of its essence 

from far away lands 

to here, to now, to me.

Or spend time 

simply remembering

that between the covers 

of the books 

upon my shelves 

are held minds, lives, worlds, 

stories, wisdom 

that will all last longer 

than this little body of mine.

Or marvel 

at the striped stones 

upon the shore 

that tell deep time, 

layer by layer 

and recall wild days 

of disaster and dancing 

in their still sea vigil 

slowly loosing 

their grains and building 

beaches for children's hands 

to make sand castles with 

until the next tide 

sets them swimming again.

Or just knowing 

that already I have seen 

a seed become a tree 

become a log 

become a fire 

become dust 

and become soil 

for seed's planting.

Or watch the sky 

and know that the blue 

is still behind the clouds 

and the stars still shine 

even in the day.

Or simply sit 

with the slow rhythm 

of breath

knowing its biology 

as blessing, 

its divine anchoring 

as presence and prayer.

Today, I am so tired 

I have no space in me

for big questions, 

queries, feelings, 

problems, pains, 

plans, 

whether mine 

or others,

so I will just sit 

with the small ordinary 

miracles of being; 

breathing, watching, 

touching, tasting 

the now, 

and in the now 

knowing

the love 

from which all that is, 

is.

I will dwell there, 

today, 

in the wonder 

of it all,

in the wildness of 

the small 

ordinary miracles

of being.

(An older one today but its how I’m feeling and a good reminder to me to seek and find the extraordinary in the ordinary. May it be such an invitation to you too in these quarantined quiet days)