If only I’d had Catholic parents, maybe I’d have the name “Irenaeus…” But you can’t get any better than St. Mark for a baptismal patron.
Lord Jesus slept. In a boat. While the storm gathered and began to blow.
Does God sleep? On duty?
A couple weeks ago, we read at Mass from I Kings about Elijah taunting the pagans about their false god, Baal. “Perhaps he is asleep!”
But we get these taunts, too. Has God slept since the Ascension of Christ? Or since the New Testament got finished?
Near the beginning of his encyclical on Mother Earth, Pope Francis explains something crucially important about the meaning of two words. The word “nature” refers to: plants, animals, the earth, the sea, the weather, sharks, us (the human animals)—“nature” refers to all this, an orderly system governed by scientific laws.
But the word “creation…” “Creation” means that “nature”—the beautiful system operating according to laws—exists for a reason. A Person has willed that all of it exist. And He continues to will that it exist, and He moves it toward a goal. The great God, Who transcends nature, has created nature, for His reason. And St. Irenaeus teaches us the reason—or rather, St. Irenaeus expresses the reason as taught by Christ, the Son of God: The Creator receives His greatest glory by our reaching eternal life. The Creator created that we might live.
The divine Trinity does not sleep. He has laid down laws, and those laws require that human beings sleep sometimes. Lord Jesus, a man, took a nap. Forty-six-year-olds need naps sometimes, too.
But God, Who wills the existence of everything that is, at all times, does not sleep. He works His perfect plan of peace and reconciliation.
Speaking of which… Somewhere between 1/4 and 1/3 of my generation never had the chance to walk the earth and contemplate the beauty of nature as God created Her—because they got killed in the womb by abortionists.
May God gather all those souls to Himself, the classmates, friends, brother priests, companions in life I never had—because of the cruel abortionist’s knife.
Now that I’m on the downward slope of life, God can take me home when He wills. But on my birthday, I pray: may He let me live to see the day when the nonsensical nightmare of Roe v. Wade gets taken off the books and put into the Museum of Human Evil and Folly, where it belongs. May every baby have a birthday, like we, dear brothers and sisters, all had the wonderful privilege of having.