I have always felt that Maxime de la Rocheterie's description of Marie-Antoinette is one of the best: She was not a guilty woman, neither was she a saint; she was an upright, charming woman, a little frivolous, somewhat impulsive, but always pure; she was a queen, at times ardent in her fancies for her favourites and thoughtless in her policy, but proud and full of energy; a thorough woman in her winsome ways and tenderness of heart, until she became a martyr. ( The Life of Marie-Antoinette by M. de la Rocheterie, 1893) Marie-Antoinette spent the first fourteen years of her life in Austria, worshiping in Rococo churches and listening to the music of Haydn and the Italian composers. Architecture and music in that time and place celebrated the glory of God in the beauty of His creation. As Queen, her desire to promote beauty around her, especially in the lives of those whom she loved, was an outgrowth of the culture in which she was raised. She loved theater, acting, o...
This popular prayer, a favorite of many Catholics, dates back to the 15th century and takes its name from the first Latin word of the prayer, "memorare," which means "remember." The Memorare is of unknown authorship, although it has been attributed to St. Augustine (354-430), St. John Chrysostom (c. 347-407) and, with more reason, to St. Bernard of Clairvaux (c. 1090-1153). St. Bernard's sermons on Mary were famous, and it was his Cistercian monks in the monastery of Citeaux in the 12th century who popularized the name "Our Lady" for Mary. The Memorare has also been attributed to the French cleric Claude Bernard (1588-1641), known as the "poor priest" of Paris, whose homilies contain passages that echo its words. No matter who wrote this prayer, it was Father Bernard who did much to popularize it, teaching it in hospitals and prisons, where Mary's intercession was effective in working miracles of grace. The first manuscript of the Mem...
My father was not one to demonstrate affection to us kids either physically or verbally. However, while he was in the hospital dying, one day he held up his hands and said to my mom and me, “I showed my love by these hands.” Dad always worked night shift in a factory and came home at three in the morning. His hands were calloused. Sometimes a fingernail was black, damaged in the shop. I thought of my father’s hands when I read the account of the risen Lord coming to his apostles for the first time. They already heard he was alive from the women and from the two disciples who met him on the way to Emmaus. But they don't believe he rose from the dead. When Jesus comes though the locked doors, they are terrified and think he is a ghost. Jesus proves that it is really he by showing his hands and feet that are still marked with the wounds of his love. You would think that a new, glorified body would be perfect—but, no, the body of Jesus bore scars. He may be marked like that for all ...
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