Dominica in albis, St. Thomas the Apostle and St. Catherine of Siena

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Today has several monikers. One of these is Quasimodo Sunday, after the first word of the Introit of the Mass, “Quasimodo geniti infantes …,” taken from the first letter of St. Peter: “Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good.” (1 Pet 2:2) You may recall the movie, the Hunchback of Notre Dame wherein the hunchback was named “Quasimodo” because they found him on the steps of the cathedral on this day, Quasimodo Sunday.

It is also called the Octave of Easter. The great feasts of the Church are celebrated for eight days – the day itself and the following seven days. As a result, sometimes we will hear this day called Pascha clausit, that is, Easter closes.

Finally, it is sometimes called Dominica in albis deponendis, that is, the Sunday for putting away the white. On Easter, the catechumens in the early Church were given white robes to wear. We have a reminder of this 2000-year old practice in the white outfits that children typically wear when they are baptized today. Today, Dominica in albis deponendis, the Sunday for putting away the white, is the day when the catechumens put aside their white garments after celebrating their entrance into the church for the full Octave of Easter.

By whatever name we call this day, it is the formal close of our celebration of the most profound event in all of history: God-made man sacrificing Himself on the Cross for our sins, and then, as proof, as the final fulfillment of everything He promised, He rises up from the dead. As we ponder the depth of this mystery, it is appropriate that we hear the story of the gathered Apostles and the appearance of the risen Christ to Thomas, who, having doubted Christ’s first appearance to the Apostles, now exclaims, “My Lord and My God.” The story of doubting Thomas, brings to the fore two critical questions:

• What does it mean that Jesus is the Son of God?

• And what does it mean to believe that Jesus is the Son of God – for Thomas to exclaim “My Lord and my God.”

If Jesus is the son of God, that is, He is one in being with the Father, that is, He is God, the second person of the Blessed Trinity, then

• everything the Scriptures prophesy about Him is true;

• everything He said in the Scriptures is true;

• all of the miracles are true;

• His death on the Cross truly redeems us from our sins;

• He truly could and truly did raise himself from the dead;

• there is eternal life after death, and the doors of heaven have, indeed, been opened for us – if we wish to walk through them;

• He is truly present here on the altar in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass that He gave us so that His wondrous sacrifice for us would be ever present – so that His wondrous gift to us of Himself would truly be a foretaste of heaven, as St. Thomas Aquinas calls it in his famous Corpus Christi antiphon O sacrum convivium.

All of it - all of it - is true.

Can we prove any of this? Well, there is certainly more than adequate historical evidence and witness testimony. But that does really matter? Again, quoting St. Thomas Aquinas, “To one who has faith, no explanation – no proof – is necessary.”

So the greater question is “What does it mean to have faith - to believe that Jesus is the Son of God?”. I can say that I truly believe that Jesus is the Son of God - here, in my head. I know the Creed and everything it contains, and I believe everything it contains – intellectually. But do I believe here – in my heart and in my soul?

Sometimes I wonder. I think that if I really believed,

• how could I look up the Crucifix and not be overwhelmed with sorrow and gratitude, with guilt and joy;

• how could I possibly fail in the meager penances that I take on during Lent;

• how could I look upon the elevated host after the Consecration and not have to turn my eyes from the blinding brilliance of the sight of God.

• how could I take the host, the body, blood, soul and divinity of Christ – God Himself – on my tongue and not drop into ecstasy as the open gates of heaven appear before me?

Don’t get me wrong. I look upon the crucifix, the consecrated host with great love, thanksgiving, respect and adoration. I engage my penance in earnest. I take the Mass and the reception of communion VERY seriously. But afterward, how different am I?

Sometimes I think that if I had a truly strong faith, if I believed in the depth of my heart and my soul, I would be radically different. I think that I would be more like the great saints we venerate, for example a saint like St. Catherine of Siena. (St. Catherine was born on Palm Sunday and her feast day is this week, April 29; she is a good saint to examine here.)

When Catherine was sixteen, living as a Sister of Penance in a small cell in her family home, she had an ecstatic dialogue with God, in which He said to her, “Do you know, daughter, who you are and who I am? If you knew these two things you would be blessed. You are that which is not; I am He who is. If you have this knowledge in your soul, the enemy can never deceive you; you will escape all his snares; you will never consent to anything contrary to My commands; and without difficulty you will acquire every grace, every truth, every light.” (Giordani, St. Catherine of Siena, 35)

When God says to St. Catherine, “I am He Who is,” He is echoing the words that He spoke to Moses from the burning bush, “I am Who Am.” He is echoing the words of Christ to the Jews when they questioned him and He said, “Before Abraham was, I am.” He is saying, “I am God. I am EVERYTHING that is beautiful, good, and true.”

When God says to St. Catherine, “You are that which is not,” He is not decrying Catherine as a “nothing.” She is, after all, His creation, made in His own image and likeness. Rather, He is saying, “You, Catherine, because of your fallen, sinful nature, can do nothing on your own. You cannot even reflect what is beautiful, good, and true. If you think you can, the enemy will deceive you, he will ensnare you, you will defy My commands, and you will acquire no grace, no truth, no light. BUT If you empty yourself – become “nothing of yourself” and let ME in – Who am EVERYTHING, then you will reflect my “everything-ness,” the enemy will never deceive you; you will escape all his snares; you will never consent to anything contrary to My commands; and without difficulty you will acquire every grace, every truth, every light.”

St. Catherine’s ascent to God comes from this moment – this truth. From this discovery, she achieved that intimate union with God – that profound faith – that made St. Thomas cry out, “My Lord and My God.”

From this point onward, her life progressed in stages, from one of solitude, contemplation and penance to one of more active service. She was blessed with ecstatic visions constantly. She could read souls, even from great distances. She was the instrument of miracles. Everyone who met her was transformed, even those who came to her to denounce her as a fraud, even great rulers.

She was the person who went to Avignon, where the French court had “captured” the pope, and after almost 70 years of others failing, she convinced Pope Gregory XI to return to Rome and assume the leadership that was needed to end the petty fighting throughout Italy that was tearing the Church apart – not by her own acumen, but by the power of God working through a woman who had emptied herself of her self concerns – her selfishness – and let God take over.

After Gregory XI’s death and the following schism with 3 “popes” claiming the chair of Peter, it was, again, St. Catherine who eventually brought about a resolution and healing in the Church.

St. Catherine could not write. She struggled to learn to read. Yet, Catherine is perhaps most famous for her writings, all of which she dictated because she could not write. Her dictated letters and book, the Dialogue of Divine Providence are so profound that in 1970 Pope Paul VI declared her a Doctor of the Church in 1970, that is, she is one of a rare number of people whose writings are key to the understanding of the dogmas of the faith.

St. Catherine had a motto of sorts: “contemplari et contemplata aliis tradere” “Contemplate, and having contemplated, give yourself to others.” However, this is a completely accurate translation. The Latin verb trader does not mean simply “to give.” It has more the meaning of “to hand over; to surrender,” for example, Jesum ad principes Judas tradidit. (Judas handed Jesus over to the high priests.) So St. Catherine’s “giving to others” is a complete surrendering of herself to the service of others, as a result of using contemplation to empty herself of herself and let God fill her with Himself. In a way, we could see her life as God “surrendering” Himself to the service of others through St. Catherine, of which the ultimate service was God surrendering His only begotten Son on the Cross.

Thus, her life is a perfect analogy for our own contemplation of the Paschal mystery: Christ spending his early life is isolation (contemplation), and then in a final intense time of contemplation in the desert; then giving himself completely and totally for others (for us) – ultimately sacrificing Himself on the Cross for the sins of all humanity. “Therefore, God raised him up … giving him the glory that was His before the world was created.” (Phil 2:9; John 17:5)

St. Catherine was a person who truly believed with every fiber of her being.

I wish I were like that, but I am not. I believe in my head, but my faith is more like that of St. Catherine’s mother, who, according to St. Catherine’s biographer, “loved God, yes, but in a measured way that took health and money into consideration.” (Giordani 32)

But, thanks be to God, today is a day God has made for me, because today God says to me, “Even Thomas had weak faith, and yet I have lifted him up to heaven. I know that your faith is weak. That is why I sacrificed my only begotten Son, to redeem you from the sins that would result from your weak faith. That is why I left you the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, so that my Sacrifice for you will be ever present to strengthen and to nourish your faith, however weak it is. That is why I have given you the sacrament of Penance (instituted on this Sunday), so that when your faith weakens and you fall into sin, you can return and try again.

Then God says to me, “That is not to say, my child, that I am satisfied with your weakness. For I am a jealous God, I will have no other gods before me. I want not just what you can give me in your spare moments – in your weakness. I want all of you, all of the time. I want you for now, and I want you for eternity.

So, look at your life. What is it that prevents you from emptying yourself of your concerns so that I can fill you with ME? Is it your fascination with the emptiness of the TV, the internet, the radio? Is it all the things of the world that you let barrage your senses? Is it the silliness of politics, the sensationalism of the news? Just what is it that you fill yourself with that is so much more important than I WHO AM?

Can you quiet your mind long enough to begin to get rid of what’s not important – for my sake? For the sake of your faith? For the sake of your soul? What will it take for you, my child, to be able to say not just from your head, but from the depth of your heart, “My Lord and My God!”?

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