"Divine Mercy" and the Gift of the Holy Spirit

"For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have Mercy on us and on the whole world."

I pray this prayer every day, when I say the chaplet of Divine Mercy. According to Saint Faustina, Jesus urged the practice of praying this repeatedly, using the beads of the Rosary, promising that this "chaplet" would be a source of great and special graces for us and for the world (if you don't know this prayer already, see this LINK).

When I pray the chaplet, I seek to unite myself spiritually to the offering of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, because it is through the Eucharist that I can pray the prayer at the beginning of each decade: "Eternal Father, I offer you the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Son Our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world."

These prayers express so much about the love of the Father, the truth about our sins, and our total dependence on the mystery of Christ's sacrifice. But sometimes I have wondered: where is the Holy Spirit in this prayer? Then I thought (and this is just my own opinion), that Mercy itself refers to the Holy Spirit. Through the redeeming sacrifice of the Son of God made man, the Father and the Son breathe forth the Spirit upon the world, and into the hearts of those who receive God's saving love.

The Divine Mercy devotion and the special icon given to Saint Faustina focus on the "blood and water" that flowed forth from the Heart of Jesus. But as Saint John tells us, "there are three that bear witness...the Spirit, and the water, and the blood; and these three are one" (1 John 5:7-8). In some sense, can we not think of the Mercy of God as the gift of His Spirit?

Then, the prayer of the chaplet becomes a Trinitarian prayer: "For the sake of His [the Son's] sorrowful Passion, [Father] have Mercy [send Your Holy Spirit] on us and on the whole world." I don't see any reason why it cannot be understood in this way, but the more important thing is that I know that when I pray the chaplet and implore God's Mercy for me and for the world, I am begging for the grace of the Holy Spirit, by which God works the miracle of His Mercy in me, and embraces in His Mercy all those who have been entrusted to me - those who need my prayers. I want to lift up my heart and immerse myself in the mystery of the Holy Trinity, of the God who is Love, and who is my only hope.

And I beg for that Love to be poured out as healing mercy on a poor world that is so broken and so full of longing and suffering and deception and violence — a world that I feel inside my own heart, crying out for a love it does not know, crying out for the Presence of Christ to radiate love within it through me. 

Come Holy Spirit, make me an instrument of God's love and mercy.

Saint Andrew Kaggwa of the Uganda Martyrs

This is the story of Saint Andrew Kaggwa, one of the group of martyrs whose feast we celebrate today.

The nineteenth century witnessed the first sustained interaction between European nations and the many different cultures of sub-Saharan East Africa. Europeans met not only various tribal societies, but also a remarkable political entity on the shores of what is now Lake Victoria: a nation of three million people united under a centralized bureaucracy and ruled by an absolute monarch.

This realm was called Buganda, and its ruler was the Kabaka. The “Kingdom of Buganda” dominated the surrounding region, received tribute and took slaves from enemy tribes, and traded with Arab merchants. Some of the Bagandans accepted the religion of the Arabs, abandoning their traditional animism for an adherence to one God.

Among the many slaves was a young boy born about 1855, taken from a neighboring tribe, adopted by a Baganda clan family and raised as one of their own. He was given the name Kaggwa. His strength and outgoing personality won the favor of many, and he was recruited by the prestigious royal service as a teenager. He was assigned to the royal musical retinue which was at the time trained by Arabs. Young Kaggwa had a keen intelligence and (along with many other Bagandans) a remarkable hunger for the truth. Desiring to serve the One God who created all things, he followed his Arab teachers at that time and became a Muslim.

Meanwhile, French Catholic missionaries first arrived at the court of Kabaka Mutesa in 1878. Mutesa was a complex character, fascinated by religion, refined, but also corrupt, ruthless, and bent on the maximum consolidation of his own power. He allowed freedom for religious teaching, but constantly vacillated his favor between Arabs, English Protestants, and French Catholics.

Kaggwa was not content as a Muslim. But soon he encountered the French Father Siméon Lourdel, a Catholic priest from a strange land with a strange skin color, but also specially prepared to share something beautiful with the Baganda people. Lourdel proposed the true God who created all things, and who also became man in Jesus and redeemed the human race from sin. Jesus seeks every person of every race and nation, to draw them into communion with his ongoing presence and gift of himself in the Catholic Church.

By the time Kaggwa took his place at the Kabaka’s court, he had decided to enroll as a Catholic catechumen. The grace of the Holy Spirit worked powerfully in transforming his own searching intelligence and openheartedness. The missionaries were astonished by how Kaggwa and several other young catechumens rapidly learned the catechism with thoroughness and comprehension, became passionately committed to their faith, and began spreading it to others even before their own baptism. Kaggwa soon brought his friends to receive instruction from the missionaries, who found that they had already learned much from Kaggwa himself.

Finally, he was baptized “Andrew” Kaggwa on April 30, 1882. In the next four years, he rose to prominence in the court of Mutesa’s son, the Kabaka Mwanga. He married and began a Catholic Christian family, and also taught the faith to many others as a catechist in his home. In this way, however, he aroused the envy of anti-Christian officials which led to his martyrdom a week before that of young Charles Lwanga and the other children attendants at the royal palace on June 3, 1886.

On John Paul’s Birthday, I Remember Being 28

Today is John Paul’s 28th birthday. When this blog began he was 13. Now he’s nearly five years married with a family of his own. When I was 28, I was still single and several years into my graduate studies.

It was the year 1991.

Here is a poem-of-sorts that I wrote a few months short of turning 28. It has a visual component, as I am comparing myself to ten years earlier (1981). It’s not a very deep reflection, but it’s based on a sense of how we change as we grow older. At this age, after a decade of “adult experiences,” we have a stretch of life we can “look back” upon.