Lorica

Episode 298 - Infant Martyr Flowers

How can we be so bold — to call this massacre a feast? To crown the slain children of Bethlehem with palms and praise? And yet the Church dares. Because the Cross has transfigured all suffering — even this. The swords that fell upon them are now their toys; the blood they shed is their baptism. What Herod meant for evil, God received as an offering. These little ones, the Church’s first blossoms, were matured not by years but by innocence. Their deaths recall Egypt and exile, Rachel’s weeping and Mary’s sorrow — but also the promise: they shall return. They shall come back from the land of the enemy. This is how we dare to rejoice. Because Christ is born. Because death is now the servant of glory. Because no cruelty can touch what is held by Love.

Episode 297 - Everything is Contained in Everything

On this feast of the Nativity, we see the eternal Word become flesh — and with Him, the meaning of all things made visible. The Christ child, born of Mary, is not only the Redeemer, but the very structure and center of all creation. In Him all things hold together; without Him, nothing can be known, or beautiful, or whole. And yet this mystery, so vast and cosmic, is made intimate through His birth. The font becomes a womb, the womb becomes a tomb, and in each — a beginning. In Him, we are born again, not from Adam, but into the new race of the redeemed. The stain is blotted out. Mortality is overcome. Though shadows still linger — the Innocents, the flight, the cross to come — joy remains unshaken. In the light of His coming, every sorrow is recast. Let us be glad. There is no proper place for sadness when we keep the birthday of the Life that has overcome death.

Episode 296 - Who Are You?

The question echoes — from the mouths of priests, from Pilate, from us. Who are you? The answer is not always spoken, and rarely heard by those who will not first repent. John the Baptist stands at the threshold, wild and holy, pointing not to himself but to the One already among us, unrecognized. The light has come, but the darkness does not comprehend. Recognition requires purification. Illumination follows repentance. Not all darkness is sin — some is mystery, some is trial — but sin blinds. The heart must be made clean to see what is already here: the Christ, in the breaking of bread, in the midst of our lives, in every sorrow and grace. He has given himself to us fully. The only question is whether we will turn again, and let him be born in us — again, and again, and now. Repentance is not one of many ways. It is the only door. Let us walk through.

Episode 295 - Are You the One

John is in prison. Christ is healing the blind, the deaf, even the dead. But when John sends to ask, “Are you the one who is to come?” — Jesus does not answer. He says only: “Tell him what you see. Blessed is he who is not offended in me.” This is not doubt. It is Gethsemane. We are meant to see in John not only the forerunner of Christ’s ministry, but the forerunner in His suffering. He walks every step before the Lord — even into death, even into hell. His question is not confusion, but consummation. He is living the answer with his life. So we ask again: do we know what we already know? Can we trust Him, even when the heavens are silent? Even when the cup is not taken away?

Episode 294 - The Day Is at Hand

We stand again at the turning of the circle — where the liturgical year ends, and begins anew. Not with sentiment, not with celebration, but with a summons. The old year closed with a warning: the end will come, and all will be judged. And the new year opens with the same cry. This, we are told, is not redundancy — but mercy. The Church does not shy away from final things. She begins her year not with nativity but with apocalypse, calling us not to despair but to readiness. Repentance is not merely sorrow, but preparation. Wakefulness is not anxiety, but faith. We are not meant to drift. We are meant to walk in the light, clear-eyed, prepared. And yet — beneath the sternness, there is joy. For the judgment of Christ is also our redemption. And to live Advent fully is to become capable of joy — the kind that does not flinch from the truth, but finds in it the way home.