Oct 17 – Memorial for St. Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop and Martyr
St. Ignatius (c. 50–107) was a convert from paganism to Christianity. He succeeded Peter as bishop of Antioch, Syria. He served during persecution of Domitian. During the persecution of Trajan, he was ordered to be taken to Rome to be killed by wild animals. On the way, a journey which took months, he wrote a series of encouraging letters to the churches under his care. He was the first writer to use the term The Catholic Church. He was an apostolic father and a martyr. His name occurs in the Canon of the Mass. Legend says he was the infant that Jesus took into his arms in Mark 9.
- Patron Saint Index
Eph 1:15-23
Lk 12:8-12
…how infinitely great is the power that he has exercised for us believers.
A few weeks ago, on 23 September, the feast of St Padre Pio, I went for my usual jog, listening to the rosary as I ran. As I passed under a tree, a bird dropping landed on me, and since some say that brings good luck, I wondered what good fortune was coming my way. Further on, I spotted otters in the canal beside the path and stopped to video them. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, opening my eyes, after a passer-by stopped to check whether I was all right. I had blacked out and fallen hard on my face. There was blood crusted on my eyelashes and more of it dripping down from my forehead. The wounds needed stitches, and my face swelled badly.
When the doctors told me I could have detached my optic nerve, suffered a concussion, lost teeth or broken my nose, my first thought was how lucky I had been. What unsettled me was how suddenly it happened. On an ordinary day, I went down without warning and did not know I had fallen until a stranger stopped beside me. In the weeks since, I have wanted two things above all — to understand it, and to give thanks that it was not worse.
Thanksgiving and understanding are at the heart of St Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians. He begins with thanks, telling them that since he heard of their faith in the Lord Jesus and the love they show towards all the saints, he has never failed to remember them in his prayers and to thank God for them. Then he asks for understanding, though not the kind we might expect. He does not pray that their troubles will pass or that everything will make sense, but that the Father of glory will give them a spirit of wisdom and perception, so that they may come to know him fully. If we were praying for the people we love, how often would that be the first thing we asked?
He also asks God to enlighten the eyes of their mind, so that they can see what hope his call holds for them and what rich glories he has promised the saints will inherit. When I opened my eyes on that path, the first thing I saw was blood. It is easy to live like that, seeing only the injury in front of us. St Paul prays for a different kind of sight — one that looks beyond what has gone wrong to the hope to which God has called us, a hope that does not depend on how quickly our wounds heal.
St Paul wants them to grasp how great God’s power is for believers. It is the same power that raised Christ from the dead and seated him at God’s right hand, far above every sovereignty, authority, power or domination, or any other name that can be named. God has put all things under his feet, and nothing that happens to us lies outside his reign.
Finally, St Paul tells them that God has made Christ the head of the Church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills the whole creation. That body is meant to carry his care to every member, especially those who are hurting. Because he fills the whole creation, no place or day is too ordinary for him to be present.
I set out that day wondering what good luck a bird dropping might bring. Looking back, I was given something better than luck. On the feast of a saint whose simple advice was “Pray, hope, and don’t worry”, I was reminded that I am held by the same God whose power raised Christ from the dead. May he enlighten the eyes of our minds, so that even while our wounds are still healing, we can see the hope to which he has called us.
(Today’s OXYGEN by Stacey Fernandez)
Prayer: Lord, enlighten the eyes of my mind, so that I may look beyond my wounds to the hope to which you have called me, and trust in the power that raised Jesus from the dead. Amen.
Thanksgiving: Lord, thank you for watching over me when I did not even know I had fallen. Thank you for the passer-by who stopped, for the doctors who treated me, and for the healing that continues each day. Forgive me for the times I have mistaken your care for luck.
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