Los santos son estrictos consigo mismos en formas que podr\u00edan confundirnos, y Elizabeth Ann Seton no fue una excepci\u00f3n.<\/p>\n
As the foundress and leader of the first American congregation of women religious, the Sisters of Charity of St. Joseph’s, Mother\u00a0 Seton adhered to a Rule that organized her day into moments of work and prayer. It regulated what she ate, when she slept, and when she took her ease. But for Elizabeth, this regimen was not hard enough. In fact, she often sought ways to sacrifice even more\u2014to eat less, sleep fewer hours, work harder\u2014than the Rule itself dictated.<\/p>\n
Such voluntary penance\u2014characteristic of saints throughout the ages\u2014seems to our modern sensibility more absurd than heroic. What is it about draining the literal lifeblood out of your body (which some saints did, through scourging) that gives glory to God? How can we serve our neighbor if we deplete our own strength?<\/p>\n
Esas preguntas van al coraz\u00f3n de lo que es ser santo y, francamente, ponen patas arriba muchas de nuestras propias ideas. En efecto, la primera preocupaci\u00f3n del santo no es lo que consigue personalmente, sino lo que hace Dios. En \u00c9l han encontrado una fuente, un manantial, una energ\u00eda sorprendente que lo cambia todo en la vida.<\/p>\n
And this brings us smack-dab into the center of today, Palm Sunday \u2014 Pasi\u00f3n<\/i> Sunday \u2014 in which we read aloud together the story of the salvific suffering of the God who has come in the flesh, Jesus Christ.<\/p>\n
We are given a voice in this drama as \u201cthe Crowd,\u201d but if we are honest with ourselves, we know that it\u2019s hardly even a bit part. The main event, really the only event, is what Christ is doing. We condemn him, spit on him, knock him about, scourge him, crown him, nail him on a wooden cross\u2014but s\u00f3lo porque \u00c9l nos lo permite.\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n
Consider Peter, James, and John in the garden, to whom Christ says, \u201cWatch and pray\u201d and then returns to find asleep, \u201cfor they could not keep their eyes open.\u201d We might look at them and think \u201cwould that they could have persevered, that they could have stood by Jesus in his moment of trial.” But, really, what if one of those disciples had stayed awake? What then could that man claim\u2014that he supported Christ in His passion, that he \u201chelped\u201d the Savior of the world?<\/p>\n
All the failures of the Old Testament Law showed that these men could do nothing to make themselves righteous. They, like us, will be made whole, clean, and perfect by the blood of this sacrificed Lamb\u2014and by that blood alone. Here again, the Scripture must be fulfilled, and the Father\u2019s will be done.<\/p>\n
No, we are not the \u201cdoers\u201d here. In this moment we are the receivers of the action of Another, a wholly unexpected gift, the surprising re-creation of our broken selves.<\/p>\n
This is the secret the saints have encountered, and they burrow their hearts so deeply into it that in some ways they become indistinguishable from it. They mortify themselves because they have come to know that only suffering saves the world. They welcome death because it brings them life. They even accept crosses on those they love\u2014because they know that these will make them free.<\/p>\n
To a friend weighed down with worries, Elizabeth bluntly writes, \u201cI hope your cross may increase till it purifies you like gold.\u201d<\/p>\n
These are the words of a woman who has utterly thrown in her lot with Christ. Before any heroic penances come into play, she receives from Him the answer to her nothingness, the fullness that meets her unending need. \u201cI am atom! You are God! Misery all my plea!\u201d she cries at one point, echoing other spiritual greats.<\/p>\n
After all, the Lord told St. Catherine of Siena: \u201cI am he who is. You are she who is not.\u201d And St. Th\u00e9r\u00e8se of Lisieux confessed to being the \u201clittle flower\u201d along the path where the Lord\u2019s feet tread.<\/p>\n
Perhaps we don\u2019t feel qualified to enter with gusto into such prayers, to make such words our own. Yet, we can perhaps acknowledge that we are neither saviors nor superheroes. We are not even regular heroes. We are selfish and unkind, impatient and lazy. We are slaves to our appetites, addicts of one sort or another. Like St. Paul, we realize that we cannot do what is good, that we habitually fall into behavior that is bad. And, well, what then?<\/p>\n
Entonces, tenemos que dejar que alguien m\u00e1s act\u00fae. El protagonista. El que es. El verdadero Salvador del mundo. Mortificaciones, penitencias, reglamentos, Reglas: todas ellas son formas de entregarnos a su obra. Son herramientas de nuestra caja de herramientas para ayudarnos a seguirle, a dejarle hacer.<\/p>\n
Y luego descubrimos, quiz\u00e1 con gran sorpresa nuestra, que en todo esto Nuestro Se\u00f1or se manifiesta como el tipo m\u00e1s tierno de Salvador, que nos mira con la misma compasi\u00f3n con que miraba a sus disc\u00edpulos dormidos. En otro lugar, Isabel escribe:<\/p>\n