The True Saint Nicholas

 ⬇️ Deutsche Version siehe unten ⬇️

Little children are restless on the eve of Saint Nicholas Day. “When will he finally arrive?” Little boots are polished until they shine, a wish list is written to the Christ Child and tucked inside so that Saint Nicholas can pass it on.

Saint Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, lived in Asia Minor in the 4th century. He is known for his secret acts of charity towards the poor. The legend of the three virgins who were unable to marry due to their bitter poverty is truly magical. (1) When the bishop heard of this, he went to their house on three consecutive nights and threw a bag of gold coins through the window. Thanks to his generosity, their misery came to an end and all three were able to walk down the aisle.

This story is also the origin of the custom of secretly bringing gifts to children on the night before the saint's feast day in his name. Over the centuries, St. Nicholas has increasingly become “Santa Claus,” particularly due to the commercial abuse of this tradition.

“Is that the real one?” children often ask with justified suspicion when they encounter men (or even women!) in red suits and white bushy beards in the city. This question should make us sit up and take notice.

As Catholics, we do not want to turn the holy helper and benefactor into a business. “Ho-ho-ho, I am Saint Nicholas” – no! We honor the saints, and that is why we should oppose such abuse in a friendly but firm manner.

When we celebrate the tradition of St. Nicholas, the actor dresses up as a bishop, with dignity and in honor of the saint. And please, not as “Santa Claus.” This is beautifully depicted in the booklet “Sankt Nikolaus” by Ida Bohatta. It is a good and beautiful tradition in honor of the saint. It goes without saying that children should not be lied to. If they ask honestly, it should be explained to them: it is a tradition, a game—in the name of the saint.

For other, however reprehensible reasons, Martin Luther resolutely fought against this Catholic tradition: the veneration of saints was a thorn in his side, so he unceremoniously moved the gift-giving to Christmas Eve and made the Christ Child the bringer of gifts. He abolished the feast day of Saint Nicholas. (2)

One more thought: perhaps this could also encourage us to celebrate the tradition of gift-giving during Advent in the original Catholic manner and not turn Christmas Eve into a materialistic battle. Isn't it contradictory that the poor baby Jesus in the manger is supposed to bring so many material gifts—instead of the secret benefactor St. Nicholas—and is usually completely forgotten on Christmas Eve under the mountain of presents? If it has to be at Christmas, it would make more sense for the gift-giving to take place on the feast day of the Three Kings... and then in favor of the poor...

The Child Jesus is the most beautiful gift of all, filling the soul completely. 

This was a small impulse to reflect and consider whether the tradition of gift-giving during Advent should perhaps be “put right” again—in a truly Catholic manner.

Carrying The Cross With Love – A Constructive Approach to Suffering

⬇️ Deutsche Version siehe unten ⬇️

Introduction

“How can God allow this?” some people ask themselves when faced with illness, pain, and death. 

“How can you still believe in a loving God?” when you see innocent children suffering.

“How can I still pray?” when you are confined to bed for years by an illness, when the pain sometimes becomes almost unbearable and the days and nights seem endless, when every moment is torture...

“When, oh when will this finally end?” you ask yourself.

We are all called to take up our own cross day after day and carry it together with Our Lord Jesus Christ out of love for Him. In the series “Carrying the Cross with Love,” I would like to present concrete ideas for everyday life on how to accept suffering and transform it into a sacrifice of love. 

In particular, I dedicate these posts to all people who have a heavy cross to bear and to those who stand by them.

1.    Jesus carries the cross with me

When I suffer, I am never alone. Jesus carries my cross with me. 

Jesus, our Lord and God, came here to earth, became human for me, left the glory of heaven—yes, why? Because He loves me infinitely. He wanted to become human for me, poor, small, despised by all. Jesus became human in order to die for me on the cross. He suffered terribly, more than any human being ever before or since.

He suffered terribly, more than any human being ever before or since. 

He did this voluntarily because He loves me. For me.

He knew what was coming—and out of love for me, He said “yes” to it.

Yes, He died on the cross out of love for me. There is no greater proof of love. Golgotha is the pinnacle of love.

Look, He is stretching out His holy hands to us! He shows us the deep wounds of the nails in His hands, His feet, His pierced heart... His whole holy body is torn by the blows of the scourging, His head crowned with thorns, His shoulder torn open under the weight of the crossbeam.

Yet His gaze is full of infinite love. No reproach, only this infinite love shines from His eyes. He looks at me. “Do you love me?” This question is not only for Peter, but also for me, for each one of us. 

“Do you love me? Will you help me carry My cross? Out of love?”

Yes, Lord, Thy will be done. I know that Thou lovest me infinitely and that everything Thou wantest is for my good. Thou art love. I have no doubt about that. Yes, I firmly believe that Thou lovest me. I surrender myself to Thee, full of trust, care for me, Thy will be done. 

Yes, even if I have to suffer, I accept it from Your hands. From Your good hands, which were nailed to the cross for me. I accept my suffering out of love for You (specifically: the illness, pain, depression, weakness, loneliness, the disappointments... and say “yes” to them).

Yes, I want to love You and grow in my love for You. Do with me as You will, my Jesus. I love You. Fiat voluntas Tua, Domine. Amen.