Blessed Solanus Casey was far from a cartoon character of holiness; he was a man of grit who found humor in the humble. Known for his penitential morning mash-up—where he’d pour his entire breakfast, coffee and all, into a single bowl—and his penchant for singing loudly and poorly to the playful chagrin of his brother friars, Solanus embraced the awkward and the ordinary. His life was marked by significant trials, from losing siblings to diphtheria to being ordained a simplex priest. Because he struggled with the Latin and German required for seminary studies, he was denied the faculties to preach formal sermons or hear confessions. Instead of harboring bitterness, he served as a humble porter, greeting the brokenhearted at the monastery door and even working little miracles that revealed God’s tender care. Perhaps the most charming was the ice cream miracle of 1941, where two cones left in a desk drawer for an hour on a sweltering summer day remained perfectly frozen, simply so he could celebrate a successful dentist appointment with a young novice.
The road to sainthood for Fr. Solanus is paved with a radical trust he called thanking God ahead of time. This spiritual discipline wasn't just a catchy phrase; it was a profound act of the will that disposed him to see Divine Providence in every disappointment. Following his death in 1957, his reputation for holiness grew, leading to his cause for canonization. In 1995, Pope St. John Paul II declared him Venerable, and on November 18, 2017, he was Beatified in Detroit after the Vatican officially recognized a miraculous healing of a woman with a chronic skin disease who prayed at his tomb. Today, he stands one miracle away from being declared a Saint. His life serves as a powerful witness that holiness isn't found in prestige or intellectual dominance, but in the simple, joyful gratitude of a soul that handles bees without fear and thanks God for the answer to a prayer before it even arrives.
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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