Memorial of Saint Catherine of Siena, Virgin and Doctor of the Church

1. Lectio

“So what I say, I say as the Father told me.”

It is the conclusion of a long discourse—
not a new message,
but a reminder.

Christ is, in a sense, doing precisely what my public speaking instructor once advised:

He is telling me what He has told me.

2. Meditatio

I have been told many things in my life.

Some I have forgotten.
Some I have ignored.
And some, quite inconveniently, have remained.

Christ’s words seem to fall into the last category.

For the past weeks—gate, shepherd, voice—He has been speaking,
and now, at the end, He tells me what He has already told me:

This is not His message.

It is the Father’s.

Which is both comforting and unsettling.

Comforting, because it is not subject to fashion.
Unsettling, because it is not subject to me.

And then comes Saint Catherine of Siena—
a woman who took what she was told by God
and proceeded to tell it to everyone else, including the Pope.

Now here I find myself in dangerous territory.

For I, too, have written letters—emails, posts, perhaps even the occasional unsolicited epistle—
urging reform, clarity, action.

And like Catherine, I have felt the peculiar tension of speaking upward:

Who am I to say such things?

Though, unlike Catherine, I have not yet been declared a Doctor of the Church—
which I take as a sign of either humility or accuracy.

I have been told, quite directly, that I do not possess the full picture.

Which is undoubtedly true.

But then, Catherine did not possess the full picture either—
only a clear voice and a stubborn obedience.

And here is where the word told becomes troublesome:

There is a difference between being told something by God
and telling something for God.

One requires listening.
The other risks presumption.

And so I find myself in a delicate position:

Caught between silence and speech,
between humility and responsibility,
between what I think should be said
and what I have actually been told.

3. Oratio

4. Contemplatio (Chestertonian synthesis)

Chesterton would delight in the absurdity of it all:

A young woman with no office, no title, no worldly authority—
telling the Pope what to do.

And being right.

This is the peculiar genius of Christianity:

Authority does not silence truth.
Truth sanctifies authority.

Saint Catherine of Siena did not speak because she was certain of herself—
but because she was certain of God.

And even then, she spoke as one who had first been spoken to.

The modern world encourages everyone to speak their truth.
The Gospel asks something far stranger:

To speak the truth—
but only after it has been received.

The danger is not that I might say too little—
but that I might say too much of myself
and too little of what I have been told.

For Christ Himself does not innovate—
He obeys.

And if the Son of God speaks only what He has been told,
it may be wise for me to do the same.

5. Actio — In Light of Laudato Si’ and Synodality

Now, faced as we are with global environmental deterioration, I wish to address every person living on this planet. 

Laudato si’ §3

Laudato si’ reminds me that authentic dialogue requires both speaking and listening—never one without the other.

Action:

Today, before I express a strong opinion or correction, I will pause and ask:

Is this something I have truly been “told” by God—or merely something I want to say?

For Synodality is not everyone speaking at once—
it is everyone listening together first.

6. Song Pairing 🎵

🎶 “I Told You So” by Randy Travis.🎵

7. Movie Pairing 🎬

🎬Movie: “The Greatest Story Ever Told” (1965)

8. Poetic Verse

I spoke too soon, I spoke too sure,
and claimed what I had known—
yet found my words were mostly mine,
and very little Thine.

But You, who heard before You spoke,
and listened into light,
have shown me truth is not declared
but given to the sight.

So let me learn the quieter art
of hearing what is told—
for words that rise from borrowed truth
are better far than bold.