Today is the feast day for St. Padre Pio. As I was growing up, I can remember my grandfather talking about this great man. He predicted, accurately, that Padre Pio would one day be named a saint. When my grandfather passed, I inherited some of his book collection. In it were several books on Padre Pio which I have spent some time studying. Padre Pio believed that the love of God was inseparable from suffering and that suffering all things for the sake of God was the way for the soul to reach God. Many say that he embraced this concept so well, he was blessed with the stigmata. He felt that his soul was lost in a chaotic maze, plunged into total desolation, as if he were in the deepest pit of hell. During his period of spiritual suffering, his followers believe that Padre Pio was attacked by the Devil, both physically and spiritually. He sincerely thought of himself as useless, unworthy of God's gifts, full of weakness and infirmity, and at the same time blessed with divine favors. Amid so much admiration around him, he would say, “I only want to be a poor friar who prays." He died on September 23, 1968. So many people struggle with the concept of Saints often citing the fact that many lived so long ago. Padre Pio is a man of our time and therefore very relevant to us. I would encourage to spend some time getting to know him better by visiting his official website here: St. Padre Pio
I am just beginning to dive into the beautiful, ancient devotion to the Five Wounds of Jesus, and I wanted to share a bit of the journey with you. It can feel a little overwhelming at first to look at the Crucifix this closely, but I’ve found such a gentle guide in St. Bernard of Clairvaux . In his Jubilee Rhythm on the Passion, Bernard doesn't treat the wounds of Jesus as distant historical facts or sights to be avoided. Instead, he approaches them with the tenderness of a friend, speaking directly to the feet, hands, side, and face of our Lord. For someone like me who is just starting out, his rhythm teaches that prayer isn't just about reciting words; it’s a holy hide-and-seek. Bernard invites us to literally hide ourselves within these wounds, seeing them as clefts in the rock where we can find shelter when our own lives feel turbulent or heavy. As I start this process, I’ve been practicing what I call gazing and greeting. Following Bernard’s lead, I look at the Crucifix an...
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