TO ST. SIMON THE APOSTLE

You were a zealot against the Romans,

  Whom you terribly wanted to crush,

Perhaps you dreamt of spearing their skulls,

  And watching their bright blood gush;

But Jesus of Nazareth was meek and mild,

  And he turned the other cheek,

When He healed the Roman’s servant,

  Did you think the Messiah was weak?

But Jesus spoke to rich and poor,

  With an amazing proclamatory power,

And for all people -- even Samaritan and Roman --

  He humbly died in that Crucifixion Hour;

His multitudinous miracles filled your

  Heart with amazement and with awe,

Almost imperceptibly you came to realize

  That He was the fulfillment of the law.

Some say that you were cruelly crucified,

  Just like Our Most Blessed Lord,

Others say you were sawed in two,

  With your body savagely and brutally gored;

Either way, the acid anger of hate

  Corroded the malicious murderers’ brains,

While in your holy heart God’s Spirit

  Everlastingly and eternally reigns.

OUR FATHER

Our Father’s eyes are upon us,

And we are gently caressed

By His compassionate gaze;

He speaks with a voice sublime,

Words of hope and encouragement,

Urging us to remain in Divine Mercy;

He knows everything about us,

The good, the bad, the ugly,

And yet, remarkably, He still loves us;

Then, we humbly approach Him,

Like the repentant prodigal son,

Wearing the tattered rags of sin:

He joyfully embraces and kisses us,

And, to our amazement, we are

Forgiven, and we are born again.

TO ST. THOMAS THE APOSTLE

The Christ was cruelly crucified in

  that tumultuous Passover season,

So your life was shattered and shaken,

  and you surrendered to the god of Reason;

You started to sound like a practical pagan,

  and not like a Christian apostle,

For you to believe Jesus rose from the dead,

  it would take a miracle very colossal.

The other apostles saw Jesus alive,

  and that’s why their faces turned pale,

But to you this sounded like a stupid story,

  like a fantastical fairy tale;

With stony sarcasm you scoffed at them,

  and you told them you needed proof,

Without some truly indisputable facts,

  it seemed like an apostolic goof.

But a week later you were with them

  as He walked right through the wall,

Your dark eyes now twinkled in the Light,

  and tears of faith began to fall;

Then you looked closer at Jesus’ flesh,

  and it was ripped by a Roman lance,

So you crumbled to your knees in humility,

  and you melted in His merciful glance.

Your soul had dried up in the desert of reason,

  with troubling doubts all around,

But now in this flash flood of Living Water,

  they very, very quickly drowned;

You then became the apostle of India,

  as your journeys led to the East,

Helping many people find their way,

  to the Heavenly wedding feast.

TO ST. BARTHOLOMEW

With smug sarcasm you doubted Philip:

  the Christ from Nazareth could not come;

Philip’s words sounded impossible,

  and he didn’t believe his Bethsaidan chum.

Smiling softly, this Jesus said that

  He had seen you under the fig tree;

Your spiritual eyes suddenly opened,

  and the true Messiah did you finally see. 

You saw Lazarus slowly lurch forward,

  as he stepped out of his rocky grave;

This was one of many amazing miracles

  that in the end your soul did save.

Decades later, you screeched and screamed in pain

  as your sordid killers skinned you alive;

But now your bright eyes see Heavenly glory

   where for eternity you very happily thrive.

TO ST. PHILIP THE APOSTLE

Maybe like Falstaff you were a “practical” man,

  It’s even possible that from danger you ran;

Perhaps you were very timid and shy,

  Then Jesus called you to life on high;

Did you fear the Holy Spirit’s fire?

  If so, even introverts God can inspire!

In Bethsaida born and in Phrygia killed,

  Even the meek God’s kingdom can build.

TO ST. JUDE THADDEUS THE APOSTLE

You had fabulous fun playing with Jesus,

Your second cousin who knew no guile,

You loved to visit His mild mother,

Who always had the sweetest smile;

Through the patient passing of the years,

You saw the magical messiah mature,

And He chose you and your brother James,

To be disciples who strive to be pure;

In loving loyalty your mother agonized,

With Jesus’ mother at the foot of the cross,

Your father Cleophas was monstrously martyred,

And his death was a dire loss;

But you steadfastly served the Lord,

And were famous for physical healing,

You happily sought out holiness,

And spent much time prayerfully kneeling;

In a foreign land you were beaten to a pulp,

Until you were door-nail dead,

But it wasn’t satisfying enough,

So your murderers lopped off your head;

Now you wear a martyr’s golden crown,

And live in Heaven’s perennial jubilation,

Interceding for the Church Militant,

You help it become a new creation.

DO WHATEVER HE TELLS YOU

O Lady of Love,

   my holy queen,

Your lively faith

   by few is seen;

Point me to the

   light of your Son,

He is my king,

   the Holy One.

TO ST. JAMES THE LESSER, THE APOSTLE

About you we really don’t know a ton,

Except that you were Alphaeus’ son;

Why were you called James the Less?

Big James was a lot taller I guess;

Or maybe you were very humble,

Making Arrogance trip and stumble;

The Lord Jesus taught you to love,

To know His peace from way up above;

You faithfully spread the holy Word,

Unlike anything that was ever heard;

You’re the unknown mystery apostle,

But I bet your deeds were colossal.

TO ST. JAMES THE GREATER, THE APOSTLE

You were a son of Zebedee and Salome,

  And brother of John the Apostle,

Though your fishing boat was very reliable,

  It was definitely nothing colossal;

You were a fiery fisherman from Galilee,

  And Jesus called you a son of thunder,

Perhaps your anger flared in the boat

  When your brother committed a blunder.

You saw Jesus rise at the Ascension,

  And it stirred in you a most pious desire,

Then within your breast burned a glorious zeal

  Which glowed like a holy fire;

But King Herod Agrippa persecuted Christians,

  And wanted them to go away,

He thought that killing a respected apostle

  Would make them cease to pray.

It’s very true that King Herod seemed

  Like the most vile and pernicious slug,

He was very much like his grandpa,

  Who killed the holy innocents like a thug;

His wretched grandfather was selfish,

  The very violent Herod the Great,

Who savagely slaughtered the babes of

  Bethlehem in his beastly ire and hate.

Being a member of Jesus’ inner circle,

  You had a target on your back,

The giant executioner grunted, as he

  Chopped off your head with a whack;

You became the first apostolic martyr,

  In the year A.D. forty-four,

But Jesus awaited you with a beaming smile,

  As you opened that Heavenly door.

SURRENDER

The more I grasp,

The more the stars

Slip through my fingers;

But the more I surrender,

The more the stars shine,

Reflecting the Light.

TO ST. JOHN THE APOSTLE

Son of Thunder, you requested that Jesus

  Revengefully rain down ferocious flames,

You wanted to get back at those fools from

  Samaria who wouldn’t welcome Him;

But your fisherman’s soul was softened

  By the Savior, as Love taught you to love,

You were transformed by the Transfiguration,

  And you soon became the Apostle of Light.

During the Last Supper, you leaned on Love,

  And, alarmed, asked Him about the traitor,

Then, later, you saw the wondrous wounds

  Of Love wash away the world’s guilt;

He gave you His Most Blessed Mother,

  And you cared for her with holy compassion,

You, the Beloved Disciple, bravely and

  Courageously taught us obedience.

You were the miraculous martyr who

  Survived a bubbling, boiling cauldron of oil,

Then the Roman Emperor Domitian

  Egregiously exiled you to the isle of Patmos;

Hideous heresies denied Christ’s divinity,

  So you wrote a glorious gospel to refute them,

You were the mild mystic, the peaceful preacher,

  And the unforgettable Apostle of Love.

TO ST. ANDREW THE APOSTLE

Your mariner’s heart hungers to know the truth,

  And your saltwater soul is satisfied with John’s words;

But the brave Baptist has spoken of a greater one,

  And you are thinking about what he will be like;

You hope that he will be the promised messiah,

  Who will handily harpoon and sink the Romans;

And you hope he will be the holy and majestic king,

  Who will restore peace and prosperity to his people.

One morning the Baptist paternally points towards the

  Shore of the Jordan, at the fearless Fisher of Men;

Your eager eyes are alert as you race after Jesus,

  With sweat dripping from your shaggy beard;

As you reach him, he turns and smiles at you with warm,

  Welcoming eyes, and your heart is mystically awakened;

It feels like a beautiful balmy breeze is sweetly caressing

  The sails of your fisherman’s soul.

TO ST. PAUL

You watch with piercing pistol eyes as

  Stephen is brought before the Sanhedrin,

The leaders flog him with false witness,

  And revengefully rush at him;

They drag him outside the city,

  And lay their cloaks at your Pharisaical feet,

Then, with hellish hate, they hurl

  Spear-like stones that crush his body;

Horribly hideous thoughts float through

  The black ocean of your mind,

And you are obdurately obsessed with

  Driving Christianity into total oblivion;

You track and hunt down the Christians

  With dreadful determination,

You throw them into prison,

  Seeking to snuff out the sparks of the New Way.

On the dusty road to Damascus,

  You relish your recent conquest over the Christians,

You are smugly satisfied with your success

  Against those religious rebels;

But then there is a blinding flash,

  Infinitely brighter than a bolt of lightning,

Catapulted from your horse,

  You clumsily crash to the ground and collapse;

Then you unmistakably hear that familiar

  Gentle voice of Christ the Courageous,

He tenderly and mercifully asks,

  “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

Suddenly you are struck blind,

  And you are entirely enveloped in darkness,

It appears as if God has blown out the sun,

  As if it were a giant candle in the sky.

Pondering and perturbed, you are praying quietly,

  In a home on Straight Street,

Lost in your thoughts, you rhythmically

  Stroke your black mustache and beard;

Your heavy heart weeps in dismay,

  As your brashness has led to your bitter blindness,

Now the hero who was persecuting the rebels

  Is himself converting into a rebel;

Scattered at your feet are the shattered

  Pieces of your old way of life,

A day ago those puzzle pieces all fit together,

  Like the pillars in Solomon’s Portico;

But now a key piece of the puzzle is missing:

  The messianic centerpiece,

You repentantly fast and pray,

  As Ananias approaches with the missing piece.

Gazing at the Circus Maximus, you know

  That your time in this world is very short,

As you reflect back upon your life,

  You realize how much you’ve changed;

Through the limitless love of the Lord,

  You have become a very humble man,

And through the Prince of Peace,

  You are filled with the fruit of the Spirit;

After so many years, you long to

  Give the kiss of peace to the saintly Stephen,

You hunger and thirst to embrace your

  Magnificent Messiah, Jesus the Just;

The sun sets in Rome’s crimson sky,

  Surrounded by clusters of woolly clouds,

This flock of lambs is ready to follow

  The shepherd-sun down into Vatican Hill.

TO ST. PETER THE APOSTLE

Your fishing boat bobs up

   and down in uncertainty,

As you reflect upon the

   meaning of your life;

With a sterile stare you

   gaze at the wobbly waves,

While the wonderful wind of

   the Spirit is silently approaching;

A merciful Son of Man is

   standing on the sandy seashore,

He is looking for his Rock,

   to make him a fisher of men;

The breeze blows through

   your stubborn dark hair,

As the Son of Man asks if He

   can come aboard your boat.

As Jesus ascends, He disappears

   into nebulous misty clouds,

You feel like a floundering

   fisherman without his nets;

Without the Good Shepherd,

   your heart seems hollow,

You now appear more like

   a pebble than a rock;

But later, a deafening wind

   whirls through the room,

And fantastical flaming

   fireballs crown all present;

In divers tongues, all mystically

   praise the good God,

And you proclaim the Word

   with holy courage.

As you are cruelly crucified

   upside-down on Vatican Hill,

Your life is brimming with

   meaning and significance;

Your blood falls to the earth

   like a myriad of mustard seeds,

Where the Church will

   take root and grow strong;

You are the first link in

   the precious papal chain,

An unbreakable chain dripping

   with martyrs’ blood;

This chain will withstand

   the hammering of heretics,

It will be like a fruitful vine

   bringing Love to the world.

TO THE HOLY FAMILY

Good St. Joseph, you were sent

To be my wise knightly master,

So that through your assistance

I could reach Heaven faster.

Sweet and holy Queen, you are

So kindly patient and so humble,

The dark one terribly hates you,

For you make him trip and stumble.

Babe of the Incarnation, above you

Swirls the immaculate white Dove,

For now God enters His creation

To show the true depth of His Love.

A FATHER'S PRAYER TO ST. JOSEPH

O St. Joseph,

The humble one,

Unite your prayers

To Our Lord Jesus

With those of

The Holy Virgin,

And implore Him

To give each of us

What you gave to

Your Holy Family:

Strength to lead,

Love to inspire,

Wisdom to guide.

Amen.

THE SACRED HEART

As the Sacred Heart

Beats with thrills of joy,

The new wine of Divine Love

Sweetly surges through the

Thirsty Body of Christ,

Bringing the refreshment

Of the Holy Spirit,

And the gentle mercy

Of our Heavenly Father;

With compassion, Jesus says,

“Let every beat of my heart today

Be an act of love for you.”

SILENT KNIGHT, HOLY KNIGHT

St. Joseph the Silent Knight,

Holy man of common sense,

You preached the gospel,

Though often without words,

If you had the knowledge,

You answered your neighbor,

If not, then through divine wisdom

You put your hand over your mouth;

Teach me how to hold my tongue,

To follow the Spirit’s lead,

Instead of getting in trouble

By rashly running ahead of Him;

It’s pleasant to converse,

But it’s far better to be prudent.

THE KNIGHT

Christmas,

The night of Christ,

The breathtaking eve when the

Babe of the Incarnation

Heroically came to save us.

St. Joseph,

The Knight of Christ,

The brave, holy man that the

Babe of the Incarnation

Trusted wholeheartedly.

PRAYER TO JESUS THROUGH MARY

Dearest Mary, Queen of All Hearts,

Star of Love in the dark night,

Have mercy on us,

And on the whole world:

Pray for us!

Precious Jesus, King of the Universe,

Lord of Love and Lord of Light,

Have mercy on us,

And on the whole world:

I trust in You!