Pope Benedict XVI was baptised as Joseph. Here is an extract from a homily he gave to workers on this day in 2006.
In many passages, the Bible shows that work is one of the original conditions of the human being. When the Creator shaped man in his image and likeness, he asked him to till the land (cf. Gn 2: 5-6). It was because of the sin of our first parents that work became a burden and an affliction (cf. Gn 3: 6-8), but in the divine plan it retains its value, unaltered.
The Son of God, by making himself like us in all things, dedicated himself for many years to manual activities, so that he was known as “the carpenter’s son” (cf. Mt 13: 55). The Church has always, but especially in the last century, shown attention and concern for this social context, as the many social interventions of the Magisterium testify and the action of many associations of Christian inspiration show; some of them are gathered here today and represent the whole world of workers.
Work is of fundamental importance to the fulfilment of the human being and to the development of society. Thus, it must always be organized and carried out with full respect for human dignity and must always serve the common good.
At the same time, it is indispensable that people not allow themselves to be enslaved by work or idolise it, claiming to find in it the ultimate and definitive meaning of life.
If the Son of God made himself like us in work, may our work make us more like him, day by day.
What is a saint? Jesus sets out for all of us how we are to become saints when he gave us the Beatitudes. Jesus is challenging us to a new way of life as he challenged those who sat listening to him beside the Sea of Galilee. This way of life is a way of love. To live the Beatitudes is to be a light shining in the darkness. Our world, filled with violence, hatred and death needs Christ’s light shining in our lives.
Here is a prayer written by St John Henry Newman which was recited daily after Communion by Saint Mother Teresa of Calcutta and her Sisters of Charity. It can be our prayer asking for the grace to be a light that shines in the gloom.
Dear Jesus, help me to spread Your fragrance wherever I go.
Flood my soul with Your spirit and life.
Penetrate and possess my whole being so utterly,
that my life may only be a radiance of Yours.
Shine through me,
and be so in me that every soul I come in contact with
may feel Your presence in my soul.
Let them look up and see no longer me, but only Jesus!
Stay with me and then
I shall begin to shine as You shine,
so to shine as to be a light to others.
The light, O Jesus, will be all from You; none of it will be mine.
It will be you, shining on others through me.
Let me thus praise You the way You love best,
by shining on those around me.
Let me preach You without preaching,
not by words but by my example,
by the catching force of the sympathetic influence of what I do,
the evident fullness of the love my heart bears to You. Amen.From Fr Anthony Charlton
The young mother had just walked past me, her 8 month old son cosily wrapped in her sling. As she turned to look at the market stall his dark brown eyes looked into my blue eyes and he smiled. So of course I smiled back: ‘What a beautiful child!’ I exclaimed. Smiles all round.
There’s a smile in this picture too. Although Abel is someone I’ve known all his life he’s still worth a smile, he is still good news.
A smile affirms the person receiving it, especially when it’s an unexpected blessing like the one – no two – that came in my direction. Babies can be profligate with their smiles; so can we.
For if you love those who love you, what right have you to claim any credit? Even the tax collectors do as much, do they not? And if you save your greetings for your brothers, are you doing anything exceptional? Even the pagans do as much, do they not? You must therefore be perfect just as your heavenly Father is perfect.'
Matthew 5.47.48
That smile. Those few words, the offering of a seat on the bus; these little gestures are Good News, sharing the Message of Jesus without being explicit. Preaching the Good News without using words. As people get stressed in the run-up to Christmas, a few smiles will not come amiss.
“A smile costs less than electricity but it gives out as much light.” Abbe Pierre
It has been a different 18 months, with my mother’s death, my illness (prostate cancer and Parkinson’s); my daughter-in-law’s gall-stones and my son’s heroics looking after her and their baby. Then his sister and son moved in here while buying a new home. Suddenly I feel old! This Advent please join an Oldie’s reflections on following the star. We start with sitting on a wall.
It could be one of three or four walls that I use these days. Unless you go into the park there are no benches between the city centre and my house, so when the knees are buckling and the brain begins to spin, a wall is welcoming. This one is at Saint Peter’s church and quite narrow with those iron railings, but it’s a good height for sitting and a good spot for contemplation. And for conversation too.
People I know will come through the gate – or prod me in the back – and stop for a chat. Many friends walk this way, especially now that town is less crowded with tourists. I might not see them if I were going along at full pelt. One neighbour, another former prostate cancer patient, remarked, ‘many’s the time I’ve been glad of that wall!’ That’s what I call solidarity!
Jesus was sitting by Jacob’s well one day when he got talking to the Samaritan woman and before long to her fellow citizens. Taking a rest and going off timetable can be productive.
Star: Hales Place chapel, Canterbury; Jesus and the woman at the well, Baptistry, St Maurice, Switzerland
#When Jesus reached the territory of the Gadarenes, two demoniacs came towards him out of the tombs—they were so dangerously violent that nobody could use that path. Suddenly they shouted, “What do you want with us, Son of God? Have you come to torture us before the time?” Now some distance away there was a large herd of pigs feeding, and the devils pleaded with Jesus, “If you drive us out,send us into the herd of pigs.” And he said to them, “Go, then,” and they came out and made for the pigs; and at that the whole herd charged down the cliff into the lake and perished in the water. The herdsmen ran off and made for the city, where they told the whole story, including what had happened to the demoniacs. Suddenly the whole city set out to meet Jesus; and as soon as they saw him they implored him to leave their neighbourhood (Mt 8:28-34).
We were looking at the strangeness of evil yesterday, its illogic and its inexplicability. I’d like to consider another element in this story today: the pandemonium. All the major players in this scene except Jesus are doing a lot of running around: the pigs are dashing over the edge of the cliff; the pig-herders are dashing back to town to tell their experience to everyone they see, and then the townspeople are soon dashing back to Jesus, and not to thank him but to plead with him to go away. Mass-hysteria seems to be the word for it. Jesus, however, is stillness incarnate, the quiet eye of the storm. But, no matter how still, how masterful Jesus has been, he has not won over the Gadarenes. They are running scared and want nothing to do with Jesus. The Gadarenes seem to be just as frightened by Jesus now as they had been by the demoniacs before.
And another strange thing: the account in the gospel of Matthew does not suggest that the townspeople and the pig-farmers may have been upset by the loss of income that the pigs’ bizarre death represented. I doubt that this was an accidental omission on Matthew’s part. I think, in fact, that Matthew is telling us that financial considerations were not uppermost in the Gadarenes’ minds. The real issue for them seems to be much deeper. I believe they saw rightly that the conflict that took place between the demoniacs and Jesus was no ordinary conflict, but one of genuinely epic proportions. It seems to have been experienced by the townspeople for what it was: a supernatural conflict between Good and Evil.
I begin to reflect that the people of the Gadara region were pagans and had very little, if any, religious background to help them understand their experience. So they were way out of their depth and could not integrate any of it. They genuinely needed, it seems to me, to place some distance between themselves and this man Jesus, who they knew was the catalyst of this show-down between the primordial Light and Darkness.
I suggest, too, that Jesus understood their problem, because when the Gadarenes ask him to leave, Jesus leaves, no questions asked. He doesn’t reproach them as he sometimes reproaches the Jews for their lack of faith. Maybe, with time, the Gadarenes would come to understand what had happened on that God-forsaken road next to the tombs. But now, they could not cope with it. Jesus respects their need and in no manner does he force himself upon them. Once again: he honours human freedom.
As I draw these reflections to an end, I become aware that this passage is still not an easy one for me. I do not feel that I’ve grown in warmth toward Jesus as I’ve pondered the story. Jesus seems a difficult Jesus in this passage, a deeply serious Jesus, very focused on handling the demoniacs, very intense, quiet and rooted in the Truth. I then realise that Jesus simply isn’t easy to understand, and if I expect him to be so, it’s time to adjust my expectations. Jesus is the Son of God. There is a divine ‘strangeness’ about him as he confronts evil, quietly subdues it by the power of very Truth, and resolutely refuses even to negotiate with evil, to give it any air, or allow it in any manner to prevail.
I see how masterful Jesus is in the supernatural world that revealed itself in the demoniacs. It was a situation that was so evil that no other human being had been able to manage it. I renew my trust in him.
Also, I see how he handles this situation at the deepest possible level. No bandaid-therapy, this. I reflect that he always does that when I pray to him for help. He always answers my prayer, but at a depth that I may not have been ready for and that may not seem at first to improve the situation. I think of the Gadarene townspeople. They have been helped by Jesus, but they are not ready for the depth of help Jesus has given them and they send him away. I suddenly realise that if I were to send Jesus away, he would respect my request and leave immediately, no questions asked. I pray that I am never so senseless as to do any such thing.
I need to integrate this into my relationship with the Lord. But, like the Twelve, who lie doggo for a little while, I too, should be silent and observe closely the way Jesus deals with events that are far beyond my understanding. Jesus is Lord. That much is completely clear.
‘Nobody could use that path’; this short cut at Silverdale did not lead us past dangerous demoniacs, but it’s not difficult to imagine feeling afraid if confronted by them . Who wouldn’t hope to get away as quickly as possible? Sister Johanna Caton explores and answers that question in four posts, starting today, Thank you , Sister!
When Jesus reached the territory of the Gadarenes, two demoniacs came towards him out of the tombs—they were so dangerously violent that nobody could use that path. Suddenly they shouted, “What do you want with us, Son of God? Have you come to torture us before the time?” Now some distance away there was a large herd of pigs feeding, and the devils pleaded with Jesus, “If you drive us out, send us into the herd of pigs.” And he said to them, “Go, then,” and they came out and made for the pigs; and at that the whole herd charged down the cliff into the lake and perished in the water. The herdsmen ran off and made for the city, where they told the whole story, including what had happened to the demoniacs. Suddenly the whole city set out to meet Jesus; and as soon as they saw him they implored him to leave their neighbourhood. (Matthew 8:28-34)
This story from Matthew’s gospel is strange. Extremely so. As I was reading it for my lectio recently, I realised I would not like to have been there. Not only is the demonic present in this episode, full on, but the events unfold in perplexing ways. But then I reminded myself that when I read the gospel for lectio, it doesn’t do to say, ‘Don’t get this,’ or ‘I don’t like this,’ and then move on to read something else that I ‘like’ better. If I don’t get it, don’t like it, it’s an invitation from the Holy Spirit to explore the text more deeply. When I respond to the invitation and reread the text prayerfully, slowly and honestly, then new understanding never fails to be given. So (a bit reluctantly, I admit), I went back to the beginning of this strange story.
I try to place myself within the story, but I quickly discover that I am not sure what to do there. I decide then that my role is to just watch and try to absorb this story as deeply as possible, even the parts that perplex me.
I see first that when Jesus arrives at the town of Gadara, he decides to take the road that no one else in Gadara would use because of their fear of the demoniacs living among the tombs there. Jesus is not in the least afraid. Okay, so far, I’m good with that. I would not have expected less of Jesus.
But as I reread this text a few more times, it suddenly occurs to me that I don’t know what’s happened to the Twelve. Where’ve they gone? They were there, presumably, because Jesus enters Gadara after making a boat-trip with them across the Sea of Galilee (see Mt.8: 23-27). But they are totally silent—highly unusual for a group of men who were ordinarily keen to be Jesus’ visible companions. Now they have become invisible. Nor does Jesus try to bring them forward and assign them roles here, as he does at other times in his ministry. The Twelve seem to be keeping their distance, wary of these demoniacs. I muse over this: twelve men, usually so full of bravado that they are frequently caught by Jesus arguing about which one of them is the greatest, are, all of them, suddenly doggo. Even Peter. The demoniacs must have been formidable.
I smile a bit ruefully and return to the text. I think to myself that if I had been there, I’d probably have been doggo, too. I allow the realisation to settle and try to let the reality of the scene become more vivid in my imagination. This, for ordinary people who aren’t God Incarnate, was a scary situation. I realise further that Jesus has barely appeared on the scene when things began to happen. Jesus does nothing outwardly to provoke what takes place. He simply shows up and immediately Hell’s doors open and two dangerous demoniacs emerge from the tombs and come toward him.
But here I find myself wondering: the demoniacs run to Jesus. I would expect them to have run away from him. After all, they had been rejecting the Divine Being throughout their entire demonic lives. Why are they now so eager, as it were, to interact with Jesus? What is this strange magnetism that Jesus has, so that even terrifying demoniacs are irresistibly drawn to him? They don’t run away, don’t try to hide, nor do they go the other way and try to harm Jesus; they are said by Matthew to be ‘dangerously violent’, but, despite this reputation, they seem to be the frightened ones in this story.
And so I begin to sense an unfathomable power coming from Jesus. Jesus, the Son of God and very God. Jesus the Ground of Being. Jesus through whom all things were made. Jesus the Judge of the living and the dead. Even the demons tremble before the face of God, and Jesus is God’s human face.
I decide to pause here for the day and return to this tomorrow. May the Holy Spirit help us to understand this astonishing story.
Welcome back to Sister Johanna Caton who invites us to revisit with her a short, familiar saying of Jesus, and to be encouraged and comforted.
Everything has been entrusted to me by my Father (Mt. 11: 27). Although this is one of Jesus’ most well-known sayings, and I have read it many, many times, for some reason, I had never before felt its impact. But recently, in my lectio divina, these words came alive for me and demanded my full attention in an entirely new way. I wondered how I ever could have read them without being bowled over by their astonishing claim. The words are game-changers—especially one word: “everything”. This time I couldn’t stop marvelling over it
Everything. At first I thought: This is such a BIG statement. Who in his right mind would say such a thing? But then other implications quickly began to occur to me and soon the reflection I will share with you here began to take shape.
Right away, as I repeated these few words over and over, I began to feel immersed in peace. I realised that if I trust Jesus (and I do), there cannot possibly be a more sublimely comforting claim than this. Everything has been entrusted to me by my Father. I began to look inward, then, and to reflect in my heart about the different blessings contained in these words.
I recalled first just Who Jesus is. I realised afresh that he is emphatically not like anyone else. In particular, he’s not like the kinds of people we probably all know who need to inflate their own ego by pretending to have power that they do not have, or like those who make promises that they never had any intention of keeping—the people who talk big but deliver nothing. Such people are deserving of pity and need prayer, granted. But at the same time, most of us have learned to be very wary when listening to certain kinds of claims from certain kinds of people.
But when Jesus speaks we have an entirely different situation, and a diametrically different personality before us. Namely, he is not someone whose claims are false, whose promises are empty. When Jesus speaks, we are listening to that particular human being who is the Son of God. But he never attempts to invent a persona that seems invincible. In fact, his repeated prophecies of his passion and death warned anyone who was listening that he was not powerful in any ordinary sense. Yet Jesus’ power, although different and mysterious, was real, and he very rightly made big statements, like the one we’re looking at today—indeed, he is inwardly compelled by his own truth to make big statements—because he is big—he is God the Son.
The gospels show us that Jesus never utters anything but the Truth. So, unlike the appropriate scepticism we need to exercise when other people are making unreliable claims, with Jesus we don’t have to be sceptics or defend ourselves against the least degree unreliability—we never have to take any of his claims with a grain of salt. We can trust that every word he speaks is the truth and we can give him the fullest allegiance of our heart and mind, our body and soul.
When Jesus says, then, that “Everything has been entrusted to me by my Father,” we can believe every word. Again, can there be anything more sublimely comforting? This means that every fear, anxiety, uncertainty, perplexity, every apparent contradiction, sorrow, dismay, every wound, every injustice, everything is held by Jesus in his life-giving hands. We are hurt by the ubiquity of sin, by layers of dishonesty in public life and government, by
structures of human interaction that reinforce egoism and pride, by human folly at the highest human levels, by world-scale disasters. These things will and must happen in a world where sinful human beings abuse their God-given freedom and free will. We are rightly wary as we make our way through this world—and we would be foolish to be anything else. But in parallel to this freedom and free-will we have the assurance that nothing, in fact is too big—or too horrid—for Jesus to hold. Nor, for that matter, is anything so tiny or insignificant that it may slip through his fingers. All the millions and millions of things that are way beyond our control, that seem unredeemable and destructive in the most complete sense, have been entrusted to Jesus by his Father.
This does not mean, I recognise, that we will know immediately how everything will turn out—these are the dispositions of God and, it is not possible for us to know them.
Nor does it mean that we can expect some magic-wand-experience to occur in which—poof!—all the hurt and ugliness of life vanishes to be replaced by a world full of nothing but pretty flowers.Then what can we expect? We can expect that, because everything has been entrusted to Jesus by his Father, Jesus will safeguard everything in a manner best suited to our eternal salvation. There are no contradictions here. In Jesus’ hands there are only convergences. All things will resolve within the mystery of God’s Kingdom through the powerful work of Jesus on our behalf. Everything has been entrusted to Jesus by his Father.
Gathering the flock, September 1969, Serre Eyraud, French Alps.
Great News! Another of Sister Johanna Caton’s reflections.
Everything has been entrusted to me by my Father (Mt. 11: 27). Although this is one of Jesus’ most well-known sayings, and I have read it many, many times, for some reason, I had never before felt its impact. But recently, in my lectio divina, these words came alive for me and demanded my full attention in an entirely new way. I wondered how I ever could have read them without being bowled over by their astonishing claim. The words are game-changers—especially one word: “everything”. This time I couldn’t stop marvelling over it.
Everything. At first I thought: This is such a BIG statement. Who in his right mind would say such a thing? But then other implications quickly began to occur to me and soon the reflection I will share with you here began to take shape.
Right away, as I repeated these few words over and over, I began to feel immersed in peace. I realised that if I trust Jesus (and I do), there cannot possibly be a more sublimely comforting claim than this. Everything has been entrusted to me by my Father. I began to look inward, then, and to reflect in my heart about the different blessings contained in these words.
I recalled first just Who Jesus is. I realised afresh that he is emphatically not like anyone else. In particular, he’s not like the kinds of people we probably all know who need to inflate their own ego by pretending to have power that they do not have, or like those who make promises that they never had any intention of keeping—the people who talk big but deliver nothing. Such people are deserving of pity and need prayer, granted. But at the same time, most of us have learned to be very wary when listening to certain kinds of claims from certain kinds of people.
But when Jesus speaks we have an entirely different situation, and a diametrically different personality before us. Namely, he is not someone whose claims are false, whose promises are empty. When Jesus speaks, we are listening to that particular human being who is the Son of God. But he never attempts to invent a persona that seems invincible. In fact, his repeated prophecies of his passion and death warned anyone who was listening that he was not powerful in any ordinary sense. Yet Jesus’ power, although different and mysterious, was real, and he very rightly made big statements, like the one we’re looking at today—indeed, he is inwardly compelled by his own truth to make big statements—because he is big—he is God the Son.
The gospels show us that Jesus never utters anything but the Truth. So, unlike the appropriate scepticism we need to exercise when other people are making unreliable claims, with Jesus we don’t have to be sceptics or defend ourselves against the least degree unreliability—we never have to take any of his claims with a grain of salt. We can trust that every word he speaks is the truth and we can give him the fullest allegiance of our heart and mind, our body and soul.
When Jesus says, then, that “Everything has been entrusted to me by my Father,” we can believe every word. Again, can there be anything more sublimely comforting? This means that every fear, anxiety, uncertainty, perplexity, every apparent contradiction, sorrow, dismay, every wound, every injustice, everything is held by Jesus in his life-giving hands. We are hurt by the ubiquity of sin, by layers of dishonesty in public life and government, by structures of human interaction that reinforce egoism and pride, by human folly at the highest human levels, by world-scale disasters. These things will and must happen in a world where sinful human beings abuse their God-given freedom and free will. We are rightly wary as we make our way through this world—and we would be foolish to be anything else. But in parallel to this freedom and free-will we have the assurance that nothing, in fact is too big—or too horrid—for Jesus to hold. Nor, for that matter, is anything so tiny or insignificant that it may slip through his fingers. All the millions and millions of things that are way beyond our control, that seem unredeemable and destructive in the most complete sense, have been entrusted to Jesus by his Father.
This does not mean, I recognise, that we will know immediately how everything will turn out—these are the dispositions of God and, it is not possible for us to know them. Nor does it mean that we can expect some magic-wand-experience to occur in which—poof!—all the hurt and ugliness of life vanishes to be replaced by a world full of nothing but pretty flowers.
Then what can we expect? We can expect that, because everything has been entrusted to Jesus by his Father, Jesus will safeguard everything in a manner best suited to our eternal salvation. There are no contradictions here. In Jesus’ hands there are only convergences. All things will resolve within the mystery of God’s Kingdom through the powerful work of Jesus on our behalf. Everything has been entrusted to Jesus by his Father.
John the Baptist, perhaps the ultimate fashionista ? It has to be said that this Venetian Baptist’s camel skin is elegantly pleated and has an eye-catching hem line and a shawl, presumably of camel skin as well, People flocked to see him and hear him, but why? Not for his trendy togs:
Jesus began to say unto the multitudes concerning John, ‘What went ye out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken with the wind?
‘But what went ye out for to see? A man clothed in soft raiment? behold, they that wear soft clothing are in kings’ houses’. Matthew 11:7-8.
Soft clothing was rather more expensive in First Century Palestine than today when cheap, largely plastic clothes are thrown away in the West well before they are worn out.
Many Africans are happy to pick up a bargain at the local market but the clothes on sale come from mixed bales of used clothing from richer countries. Not all the garments are saleable and they often end up in landfill and contributing to plastic pollution. This article from Earthbeat explores the problem and challenges us to buy fewer clothes and better quality; to wear them for much longer and to dispose of used clothes thoughtfully.
Enjoy looking good this summer, but think before you buy, think before you discard! Look in the back of the wardrobe: A friend was looking good the other day in a jacket her sister bought 23 years ago!
As he had done with Mary, God revealed his saving plan to Joseph. He did so by using dreams, which in the Bible and among all ancient peoples, were considered a way for him to make his will known.[13]
Joseph was deeply troubled by Mary’s mysterious pregnancy. He did not want to “expose her to public disgrace”,[14] so he decided to “dismiss her quietly” (Matthew 1:19).
In the first dream, an angel helps him resolve his grave dilemma: “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:20-21). Joseph’s response was immediate: “When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him” (Matthew t 1:24). Obedience made it possible for him to surmount his difficulties and spare Mary.
In the second dream, the angel tells Joseph: “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him” (Matthew 2:13). Joseph did not hesitate to obey, regardless of the hardship involved: “He got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod” (Mt 2:14-15).
In Egypt, Joseph awaited with patient trust the angel’s notice that he could safely return home. In a third dream, the angel told him that those who sought to kill the child were dead and ordered him to rise, take the child and his mother, and return to the land of Israel (cf. Matthew 2:19-20). Once again, Joseph promptly obeyed. “He got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel” (Matthew 2:21).
During the return journey, “when Joseph heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. After being warned in a dream” – now for the fourth time – “he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth” (Matthew 2:22-23).
The evangelist Luke, for his part, tells us that Joseph undertook the long and difficult journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem to be registered in his family’s town of origin in the census of the Emperor Caesar Augustus. There Jesus was born (cf. Luke 2:7) and his birth, like that of every other child, was recorded in the registry of the Empire. Saint Luke is especially concerned to tell us that Jesus’ parents observed all the prescriptions of the Law: the rites of the circumcision of Jesus, the purification of Mary after childbirth, the offering of the firstborn to God (cf. 2:21-24).[15]
In every situation, Joseph declared his own “fiat”, like those of Mary at the Annunciation and Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.
In his role as the head of a family, Joseph taught Jesus to be obedient to his parents (cf. Lk 2:51), in accordance with God’s command (cf. Ex 20:12).
During the hidden years in Nazareth, Jesus learned at the school of Joseph to do the will of the Father. That will was to be his daily food (cf. Jn 4:34). Even at the most difficult moment of his life, in Gethsemane, Jesus chose to do the Father’s will rather than his own,[16] becoming “obedient unto death, even death on a cross” (Phil 2:8). The author of the Letter to the Hebrews thus concludes that Jesus “learned obedience through what he suffered” (5:8).
All this makes it clear that “Saint Joseph was called by God to serve the person and mission of Jesus directly through the exercise of his fatherhood” and that in this way, “he cooperated in the fullness of time in the great mystery of salvation and is truly a minister of salvation.”[17]
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We will return to Saint Joseph in a couple of days. Tomorrow we have Pope Francis’
agnellusmirror 