St. Dominic founded the Order of Preachers to preach the truth of the Gospel message in a world that was in need of saving grace. But prior to founding the friars, St. Dominic established the community of Dominican nuns. St. Dominic saw that an intimate life of contemplation, prayer, and penance was necessary for the preaching of his Order to bear fruit in the world. In this post I would like to draw attention to the Dominican life lived by the Dominican nuns at the Monastery of St. Jude in Marbury, Alabama.

Fire mesmerizes man. It dances, moves, fixes our gaze, and attracts us to its warmth and security. Why are we so drawn to fire?

One bread, one body,
one Lord of all,
one cup of blessing which we bless.
And we, though many,
throughout the earth,
we are one body in this one Lord.

It would be rare to find a Mass attending U.S. Catholic who has not heard and sung John Foley’s One Bread One Body at some time or another. Though the song’s refrain only began to ring in our ears in the late seventies, the image of the Church as the Body of Christ goes back as far as St. Paul himself. This Pauline image has long inspired the Christian imagination, but what exactly is it that makes the Body of Christ such an apt image of the Church?

O gates lift up your heads
Grow higher ancient doors
That the King of Glory may come in
Who is this King of Glory?
The Lord of Hosts,
He is the King of Glory! (Ps 24:7–9)

In this psalm, as in many other Scripture passages, God is described as coming in power and strength to redeem his people from the bonds of slavery and sin. This is the God who spoke with booming voice in the storm cloud to Moses upon Mount Sinai, and the same God who descended in a pillar of fire to consume the offering made by Elijah to shame the false prophets of Baal. In comparison to these dramatic episodes, the Christmas coming of the Christ child seems a bit understated. Can this little babe really be the King of Glory come to save the world? Why not speak to the world as He had done before?

Fifty million people watched, but no one saw a thing.

This tagline belongs to the film Quiz Show, which cleverly depicts America’s fascination with weeknight game-show drama. In 1955, millions tuned their black-and-white television sets to watch NBC’s Twenty-One, where men of talent and wit displayed their intelligence by answering the hardest questions that could be put to them, in both scholarly and popular domains. The one catch to America’s favorite game show, however, was that none of the drama and challenge was real.

My brothers, the Lord called me into the way of simplicity and humility to have me poor and foolish in this world . . . God will confound you by your own wisdom and learning, and, for all your fault-finding, bring you repentance whether you will or no.

No, these words of reproach were not leveled at a Dominican ensnared by intellectual pride. These are the words of St. Francis exhorting his own Franciscan brothers to the life of simple poverty for which he is so well known. Even coming from such a holy man, the exhortation to humiliating poverty and self-abasing foolishness is shocking. How does one heed the words of Francis without falling prey to an unchecked and misguided zeal? How was the poverty of Francis such a sure path to holiness? To answer these questions, we need to look at what caused St. Francis to live the way he did.

I’m going to show the people that this city doesn’t belong to the criminals and the corrupt . . . People need dramatic examples to shake them out of apathy . . . A man is just flesh and blood, and can be ignored or destroyed. But . . . as a symbol I can be incorruptible, everlasting.
“What symbol?”
I’m not sure yet. Something elemental. Something terrifying.

There are many heroes on whose lips these words would not be out of place. This particular quote, however, belongs to Bruce Wayne at the beginning of Batman Begins, the first of Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy. Anyone who has seen these movies recognizes that the Batman is an awesome and terrifying figure. An expert in dozens of martial arts and just generally intimidating in his armor and bat-gear, he is the one man that Gotham’s criminals fear. But there is more to this fighter than his skill and equipment. These are only the surface of what it means to be “the Batman.”

In the German film As Far as My Feet Will Carry Me, a number of German soldiers are captured by the Soviet military and are brought into a labor camp deep within the borders of the Soviet Union. Separated from any city, forest, or free-flowing water, the camp itself has no fencing and few guards, since a prisoner could live but a few hours in the surrounding cold, ice, and snow. Most, if not all, of the prisoners are brought to the camp to work until they die. Life in such a situation would surely be hopeless.

From Braveheart to Gladiator and Master and Commander, every movie about warfare and strategy has its epic battle scene. The fighting, however, is always preceded by a time of intense preparation. In the midst of their camp or ship, soldiers and sailors prepare themselves and their equipment for the fight that is a few short hours away. Some men lay all their gear out before them, while others have a memorized procedure that takes only minutes. Some are nervous and panicked, and others are seen praying as they tighten, buckle, and sharpen their battle array. However this ritual is done, each man takes his preparation seriously, realizing that the strap and link he ties now may be the one that deflects the fatal strike from his enemy.

When converts come to the faith, it is a joy to see their excitement and love for the Lord. Of course, the first few months or years are usually filled with great zeal, but there can be a drop in fervor as the years go by. Sometimes, discouragement sets in. There seem to be no great spiritual advances beyond the initial conversion, and the question arises, “If there are so many faithful and practicing Christians, why haven’t more of them achieved spiritual and moral perfection?”