Blessed be God

I sat down last night to write a blog post and absolutely nothing would come to mind that didn’t just sound like a vague update. The reason is not because there hasn’t been anything happening. A great deal has been happening. I just haven’t been able to process it enough to put it into words. 

The days I had in Mugnano del Cardinale were absolutely incredible. Spending several hours a day in front of the relics of my patroness was like a dream. That dream led me to my next stop on the pilgrimage portion of my sabbatical: Ireland. 

The Sanctuary at Knock marking the place of the apparitions.

Arriving at the airport, I found my way to my rental car and mentally braced for what was to come: driving on the opposite side of the road, driving on the opposite side of the car, and driving a manual transmission for the first time in a few years...left handed. No pressure. I made it safely to my goal: Knock Shrine. I hadn’t heard a great deal about Knock until the last year or so. It’s a rather fascinating apparition. Most places, such as Fatima or Lourdes, have Our Lady appearing alone and giving some sort of message. At Knock, in 1879, there appeared outside the church an altar upon which stood a Cross and a young Lamb. Next to the altar stood the Blessed Mother, St. Joseph, and St. John the Apostle. They appeared there for two hours in silence. Not one word was said. While many focus immediately upon Our Lady, the central focus of the apparition it seems is in fact the Lamb. As one of the witnesses that night noted - the figures looked as if made by light, but the Lamb was the brightest. Many interpretations and reflections have been offered on this silent apparition full of signs and symbols, but the theme that has spoken to me most powerfully is that of a depending of love for the Mass and the Eucharist. Dom Mark Kirby, O.S.B. has written beautifully about this on his blog Vultus Christi. On account of my love for the Mass and a desire to grow in love for the Eucharistic Lord, I went to Knock. There were no spiritual fireworks. There was simply peace. But not a sort of generic peace or a peace only due to a lack of disturbances. It was a peace that was living, active. A peace with a name and a face. Jesus - my Lord, my God, my all. 

The cross constructed at Knock for the Papal Mass celebrated by Pope St. John Paul II.

That living peace is where I still find myself, but in a different location. I am currently at Silverstream Priory in Stamullen, Ireland - about half an hour north of Dublin. The day is consumed with liturgical prayer offered in a most beautiful and edifying manner. Mass today was an hour long... and that was just a regular Saturday Mass without a homily. For some people that would be torture. But for this little priest - a slice of heaven! That is why I decided to come here at the very end of this long pilgrimage. Here I knew I would be able to be consumed not with worries about parking or money or accommodations or schedules. Here, there is simply worship of the One True God. 

Long ago Psalm 116 was composed as a prayer of thanksgiving to God. In it the Psalmist cries out, “How can I repay the Lord for His goodness to me? The cup of salvation I will raise. I will call on the Lord’s Name.” I can think of no better way to conclude this pilgrimage than by saying and doing the same.

Blessed be God! 

A bit excessive

Many times over the past two months, as I’ve had time to sit and think about all that the Lord has done in my life, I have thought to myself, “It’s really a bit excessive.” And yet that is His love for me. And for you too. It is excessive.

While I was in Santiago de Compostela, I was able to take the bus trip that I spoke about in my previous post. It brought me to two places that are of particular importance to conclude the Camino. The first was Finisterre (translated means ‘the end of the earth’) on the Atlantic Coast. This is the place where pilgrims traditionally would walk after Santiago to burn their clothes as a sign of a new beginning. The burning of clothes is now greeted by hefty fines from the local police, but the visit alone was a time of mediation on beginning again. From the heights of the cliff, one gazes out over the wide open ocean. In a revelation to St. Faustina, Our Blessed Lord describes his mercy as like an ocean. Immense. Peaceful. Powerful. Beautiful. I was reduced to silence and a quiet gaze in the direction of home. A new beginning.

From Finisterre we travelled to Muxia. I heard it was beautiful but soon found out that it was much more than that. According to tradition, St. James has walked across Spain and had made only two disciples by the time he reached the coast at Muxia. It was there that the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to him and told him that his work there was completed and to return to The Holy Land to see her once more before she departed from earthly life. And so he returned. Before the days of planes, trains, and automobiles, when pilgrims reached Santiago de Compostela or Finisterre, they simply had to turn around and walk back home via the same route they took to arrive; the arrival in Santiago was the halfway point of their full pilgrimage. As I think about it, I realize the day I was in Muxia was the halfway point from the time I left home and the time I’ll return. Well played, Lord. Well played.

From Santiago I took a plane to Naples, Italy. I arrived there on Tuesday and on a Wednesday I got up and hopped on a train that would bring me close to my goal: the Shrine of St. Philomena in Mugnano del Cardinale. The train stops a mile or so away from the town, so I got to feel like a pilgrim for a little bit again as I walked to the Shrine. I’m blessed to stay here in their guesthouse and to spend five days here. I was able to offer Holy Mass on the ‘miracle altar’ on the day I arrived. It is called such because numerous miracles have taken place before that altar, indicated by the many ‘ex voto’ plaques there saying “Thank you Saint Philomena” in a variety of languages. The greater joy came yesterday when I was able to offer Holy Mass on the altar that actually contains her relics. Another bucket list item checked off, but it is much more than that. It is the fulfillment of a desire to visit her shrine that has resided in my heart for 14 years now and is finally fulfilled in dramatic fashion. It is one more sign of God’s providential care for me. His love is excessive, after all.

As I continue to sit before my dear patroness, know that all of you are in my prayers being lifted up through her intercession. May her prayers for us rain down an abundance of graces, she who is a great Wonder-Worker even in our day.

St. Philomena, pray for us!

Coat of Arms

Explanation of the Coat of Arms

of Fr. Brent Maher

The blazon of arms is marked by five main components on a silver shield. The central part is the Saltire - the cross in Murrey, a reddish-purple color to recall the Precious Blood of Christ. At the top of the shield is the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus in Murrey with a crown of thorns and a flame in Or, a shade of gold. The left side of the shield, from the vantage of the front, is the Immaculate Heart of Mary in Murrey with the crown of roses, the sword of sorrow, and, a flame in Or. Opposite this is the Most Pure Heart of St. Joseph in Murrey with a crown of lilies and a flame of Or. The bottom of the shield features an anchor in Murrey with a wood shank in Or. This symbol is an ancient symbol of hope, but doubles for me as a symbol of my patroness, Saint Philomena. The parchment scroll below the shield is marked with my personal motto, Ecce Venio, about which I have written on the home page of the site. The blazon of arms and parchment are crowned with the traditional clerical saturno, a black hat worn by many priests. The single cord coming down each side indicates that I am a simple parish priest with no special rank or title (thanks be to God!). And because sometimes the Lord allows things to happen in such a way that there are hidden components we had not planned in the midst of our labors that appear to us only later - there seems to be a cat smiling at one if they look at it right. That’s right. I, who have been dubbed ‘the cat priest’ by many friends accidentally wound up having a cat’s face in the shield of my coat of arms: the hearts of Mary and Joseph being the eyes, the anchor being the mouth, and the saltire making a nice outline to form the ears at the top. Touché, Lord.

Thank you to Mr. David P. Burkart for his heraldic guidance and artistry in advising and creating these arms. I would highly recommend him for others considering having arms drawn up for themselves.