Mary has requested that the daily message be given each day to the world. It is read nightly at the prayer service from her Image Building in Clearwater, Florida, U.S.A. This is according to her request. All attempts will be made to publish this daily message to the world at 11 p.m. Eastern time, U.S.A.

We acknowledge that the final authority regarding these messages rests with the Holy See of Rome.

I appear my children on this former bank building in Florida, Our Lady Clothed with the Sun.

January 15, 2002 - Fr. Carter's birthday

January 16th Holy Spirit Novena
Scripture selection is Day 4 Period II.

The Novena Rosary Mystery
for January 16th is Joyful.

We need special prayers for
one urgent intention for Wednesday.

Begin praying right away.

        Spread the Blood of Jesus on everyone involved,
            consecrate their hearts in so far as you are able,
            cast the devil far away, ask for a special
            outpouring of grace from the Holy Spirit.

And continue to pray very, very fervently for this
even after Wednesday.

Excerpt from January 3, 2002

Jesus speaks: My dear earth and all Shepherd of Christ

Members.

I call you to special days of prayer

January 12-17 for the Priestly Newsletter

Book II and the Prayer Manual

and its mailing.

I call you to pray through the intercession

of Our Lady of Clearwater and

your Founder Fr. Carter.

On January 17 you will end with the

Prayer Services at 6:20 in

Morrow, Ohio.

Your prayers should focus on this

for these 6 days and for all

priests receiving the mailing,

for the publication and distribution

of the Newsletter.

end of excerpt from January 3, 2002

Healing Rosary in Sidney - January 22, 2002

Please come to Clearwater, Florida
    on February 5, 2002.

During the day we will celebrate
    the anniversary of the Rosary Factory.

We really need the $35,000 for the postage
    for the Newsletter Book II so they can
    send it as soon as it is printed.

Our donor will match the whole $35,000.

    Response to God's Love is a book written by Fr. Carter and used as a text book for about 16 years at Xavier University. He taught there for over 30 years. He has authored some 17 books and written six years of priestly newsletters which have been circulated around the world.

    Jesus desires this section to be included. This book is so important to Jesus. You will have greater insights into the Divine Mysteries if you read slowly as Jesus requests and pray for vision and grace. Oh God, thank You for this great work.

    The moment Fr. Carter took his pen in hand God was giving the world a great body of knowledge to help renew the Church and the world.

    Fr. Carter has spiritually directed all of us through his writings and Jesus has directed him his whole life to help renew the Church and the world.

    St. Claude de la Colombiere, St. Margaret Mary, St. Francis, St. Clare, St. Ignatius and St. Xavier intercede for us, especially for the Jesuits to help us do this work to help bring about the Reign of the Sacred Heart and triumph of Mary's Heart.

Excerpt from Response to God’s Love by Edward J. Carter, S.J.

                                                        4

                                                        Death and Resurrection

                                          Our incorporation into the mystery of Christ at baptism, and the gradual maturing of that life in the process of becoming, is centered in the pattern of death-resurrection. Indeed, the theme of death-resurrection is at the heart of salvation history. Let us briefly consider its place in the Old Testament, in the New Testament, and in God's ongoing self-communication, always remembering that any form of death—that is, any form of suffering—is meant to lead to greater life, greater peace, and greater happiness.

       The theme of death-resurrection is at the heart of Old Testament history. The Jewish people, under the leadership of Moses, experienced death-resurrection as they were formed into the people of the covenant—Yahweh's people. In the great Exodus event, they escaped Egyptian slavery, went on to Mt. Sinai where the covenant was ratified, and then progressed to the Promised Land. As members of the Mosaic covenant—as Yahweh's people—the Jews experienced a religious transition; they passed over to a higher level of religious existence, to a more intimate union with God.

       This religious transition contained death-resurrection. For the Jews to become people of the covenant, to remain so, and to grow in the life of the covenant, it was necessary that they undergo a mystical or spiritual death. In short, the Jews had to be willing to pay a price; they had to be willing to bear with that which was difficult in covenant life; they had to be willing to die to that which was not according to Yahweh's will. This mystical death, however, had a very positive purpose; it was directed at life in the covenant and at growth in that life. This spiritual death, in other words, was aimed at resurrection.

       Christ perfectly fulfilled the Old Testament theme of death-resurrection. In doing so, he, too, was experiencing a religious transition. He was passing over—gradually, at first, and then definitively in his death—to a new kind of existence, to the life of his resurrection, which he achieved not only for himself, but for all mankind. To achieve this new life of resurrection, Jesus was willing to pay the price; Jesus was willing to suffer, even unto death. That it had to be this way—that the only way Christ could have achieved resurrection was through suffering and death—was pointed out by Jesus himself to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus: "Then he said to them, 'What little sense you have! How slow you are to believe all that the prophets have announced! Did not the Messiah have to undergo all this so as to enter into his glory?' Beginning, then, with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted for them every passage of Scripture which referred to him" (Lk 24:25-27).

       Christ has structured the Christian life by the way he lived, died, and rose from the dead. It is obvious, then, that the pattern of death-resurrection must be at the heart of the Church's life. Individually and collectively, we continually die with Christ so that we may continually rise with him. Thus, we pass over in a process of continued religious transition to a greater participation in Jesus' resurrection. It is true that our participation in Christ's resurrection will reach its completion only in eternity. Nevertheless, we begin the life of resurrection here upon this earth, in the here and now of human life, in the midst of joy and pain, in the experience of success and failure, in the sweat of our brow, in the enjoyment of God's gifts. As Christians, we should have a sense of growth concerning our here-and-now life of resurrection. Some Christians seem to have a rather static view of the Christian life. They do not seem to have a vital and efficacious realization that the Christian life, centered in death-resurrection, should become more conscious, more experiential, more dynamically relative to daily existence.

       We cannot maintain the life of resurrection or grow in it without a willingness to suffer. This does not mean that we need to feel overwhelmed and heavily burdened by the suffering in our lives. The greater portion of suffering for most Christians seems to be an accumulation of ordinary hardships, difficulties, and pains. At times, however, deep suffering—even suffering of agonizing proportions—can enter one's life. During these oppressive periods of suffering, a person's sense of anguish can become so great that the prospect of continuing life becomes an agony in itself. Whether the sufferings of Christians are of either the ordinary variety or the rare and extreme type, Christians must nevertheless convince themselves that to properly relate to the cross is to grow in resurrection—and for an individual Christian to grow in resurrection means that he or she will also have an increased capacity to help give resurrection to others.

       One of the most traditional forms of the experience of the cross—that is, of dying with Jesus—that spiritual masters have always treated is self-discipline or asceticism. All forms of life demand self-discipline: The athlete must subject himself or herself to rigorous training; the musician must endure long hours of practice; the doctor must be willing to order his or her life to the rigorous demands of the medical profession.

       The Christian life, too, has its own form of discipline or control that has as its comprehensive purpose the greater assimilation of the Christian's total being to Christ. Christian self-discipline, or asceticism, allows for the proper development of the Christ-life in all its dimensions. Like all forms of authentic discipline, it is at the service of life; when it is properly exercised, asceticism helps us to grow in our capacity to love God and others.

       This proper, grace-inspired control over the complete person is necessary because the various sense and spiritual faculties do not automatically follow the lead of grace. Because of original sin and personal sin, there are various tendencies within us that, if they are not properly controlled, will lead us away from Christ and our spiritual development. The Christian, therefore, must be willing to exercise a reasonable self-discipline despite the difficulty that is involved. Moreover, this control must extend to all of the person's faculties.

       Regarding our intellectual lives, there are various tendencies inimical to the spiritual life that must be disciplined. There can be a laziness, for instance, that might prevent the proper pursuit of study that is necessary for our own particular role in the Church. There can be an unwholesome curiosity that might lead us to want to know that which is pleasing, rather than, first of all, that which is necessary. There can be an intellectual pride that might manifest itself in various ways; some people, for example, find it extremely difficult to be open to the ideas of others or to admit their own mistakes.

       The will, the decisive faculty of the human person, must receive special attention. It must become both supple and strong: supple in order to be open to the varied movements of the Holy Spirit; and strong in order to guide the entire person, including those forces that can so powerfully lead away from God. Concerning concrete decision making, there are two extremes that must be avoided: On the one hand, we must avoid precipitous action that is devoid of reflection that is rooted in an appropriate openness to the movements of the Spirit; on the other hand, we must not fall prey to the habit of indecision. Some people are prone to spending an excessive amount of time in making decisions about even the simplest matters. Life is short, and we must condition ourselves to make decisions after appropriate reflection, which, in many of our ordinary actions and decisions, is practically instantaneous. Unhealthy fear and other factors that are responsible for indecision must be curbed despite the great pain that this can, at times, cause for certain temperaments.

       The faculties of memory and imagination must also be controlled. These can be of great value if properly guided; if they are not properly guided, however, they can, in their unruliness, become great obstacles to spiritual progress. An undisciplined memory and imagination can, for example, seriously interfere with our prayer life. Similarly, memory and imagination that are not properly controlled can also give rise to numerous temptations against the various virtues.

       We must also properly control the emotions. A considerable portion of past spiritual literature has not given due allowance to the role that God intends the emotions to exercise. When we speak of controlling the emotions, therefore, we are not suggesting either an aggressive repression or an inhuman rigidity; rather, we speak of a control that permits the emotions to contribute to the richness and overall value of our actions. We must remember that the emotions, when they are properly integrated with the movements of the intellect and will, enhance the goodness of our acts.

       It is obvious, however, that we must strive to discipline the emotions' evil tendencies if these emotions are to contribute to spiritual growth. The emotions can cause havoc if such a discipline is lacking. At times, they can reduce a person to an almost brute existence; at other times, they can seriously constrict a person and, consequently, seriously impede the proper exercise and development of the Christian life.

       It is equally obvious that a person's bodily nature should also be the subject of proper discipline. The body is essentially holy, partaking in the holiness of Christ's body; however, the body is also subject to numerous evil tendencies that are at war with the spiritual life and must be controlled with a sound asceticism. St. Paul reminds us of this: "I do not run like a man who loses sight of the finish line. I do not fight as if I were shadowboxing. What I do is discipline my own body and master it, for fear that after having preached to others I myself should be rejected" (1 Cor 9:26).

       Renunciation is another form of dying with Jesus that, over the ages, has been given much attention in the teaching of the spiritual masters. Indeed, the New Testament itself attests to the undeniable role that renunciation plays in the Christian life. The gentle St. Luke, for example, teaches with a peculiar intransigence Jesus' message of renunciation—a message that Jesus himself lived. Renunciation was by no means the only aspect of Christ's life, but it was an undeniable one. Christians, because they are followers of Christ, must also include renunciation in their lives regardless of their individual vocations. Again, it is well to remind ourselves that the cross is always intended to be connected with life and love. Paradoxically, then, we embrace renunciation for the sake of life. This was the purpose of renunciation in Jesus' life, and it must have the same purpose in the Christian's existence. Let us now consider some of the various ways in which the principle of renunciation applies.

       Self-discipline or asceticism, which we have already discussed, does not necessarily include the aspect of renunciation. A person can exercise self-discipline in the positive use of created goods, and renunciation would not be involved; rather, the person would be relating to a created good according to God's will. Renunciation is, however, sometimes related to the practice of self-discipline; a person cannot always properly relate his or her total being to God's creation unless, from time to time, he or she is willing to renounce particular goods and values. Consider this example: A person will not always properly employ his or her external senses in using God's creation unless, at times, he or she denies the senses what they naturally desire. If we are not willing to admit this, we are being falsely optimistic about human nature. There is a sinful element within us that inclines us to a misuse of creation. To control this tendency toward misuse, we must exercise renunciation of those goods toward which our various spiritual and sense faculties are oriented.

       In addition to being an aid to self-discipline, there are other uses of renunciation. The choice of a particular vocation or life's work, for instance, demands a renunciation of various other created goods and values. A person who chooses marriage has to be willing to sacrifice certain values and activities that might well be appropriate for a single person, but are incompatible with the married vocation. The Christian scholar, who is called by God to make his or her contribution to the life of the Church in the academic sphere, must also learn the lesson of renunciation; such a person cannot be true to the demanding work of scholarship unless various human values—all of which are good in themselves—are nevertheless sacrificed.

       Another use of renunciation is its special witness to the transcendent aspect of the Christian life, one element of which is that our life of grace is a participation in the transcendent life of God. This life has a radical thrust of desiring God as he is in himself; this particular desire will not be completely satisfied until we achieve the beatific vision in which we will possess God as he is in himself, without the mediation of the world. Here on this earth, however, we can, to a certain extent, go out to God as he is in himself. Among the methods for achieving this goal is the practice of renunciation. Speaking of this kind of renunciation, which is expressive of transcendent love of God, Karl Rahner observes: "For such renunciation is either senseless or it is the realized and combined expression of faith, hope and charity which reaches out toward God precisely insofar as he is in himself, and without any mediation of the world, the goal of man in the supernatural order" (Theological Investigations, vol. 3, pp. 51-52). God, then, wants us to seek him not only as he is immanent in creation, but also as he is transcendent in himself. To reiterate, one way to achieve this is through the prudent, periodic renunciation of created goods and values.

       We have been discussing two main forms of dying with Jesus, namely, self-discipline, or asceticism, and renunciation. These traditional forms of the Christian cross actually permeate the experience of numerous and various kinds of pain, suffering, hardship, bearing with the difficult—whatever name one wishes to apply. Let us consider some of these ways in which we are daily called to mystically share in the death of Jesus.

       A common form of suffering is the experience of loneliness. Trying to cope with loneliness, in fact, seems to be one of the major problems of our day, and some think that the problem is perhaps greater in the United States than anywhere else in the world. Loneliness, of course, is not limited to urban centers, but it does seem to haunt our crowded cities in a special way. Ironically, it seems that the more populated an area becomes, the more possibilities there are for loneliness.

       There are two basic kinds of loneliness—that which need not be and that which cannot be avoided. The first type of loneliness results from the fact that we are not in proper touch with our true selves, with God, or with others; the second type results from our existential situation as wayfarers, as pilgrims, who have not yet arrived at our final destination. The pain that results from the first type need not be, and we should work to eliminate its causes. The suffering and dying that are related to the second kind, however, are inevitable. As Christians, we should use this suffering and dying to grow in various ways, among which is the maturing realization that we have no lasting home here on earth.

       There is, in addition, the very prosaic type of suffering that is involved in the proper living of each day. There is nothing dramatic about this form of pain, and, precisely because it seems so uneventful, it is very difficult to properly relate to it in a consistent fashion. On particular occasions, we might feel that a quick death by martyrdom would be preferable to the daily dying that involves all sorts of little sufferings. But this daily dying is a precious type of suffering, and to grow in the realization of its importance is a significant sign of spiritual progress. It is a sign that we have the spiritual keenness to comprehend that God so often situates the cross within the ordinariness of everyday life.

       Crucial decision making is also a distinct form of dying. Making a decision, we realize, is extremely important for both ourselves and others. There might be two possibilities or three or even more. We might seek advice from others, but in the last analysis, we know—oh, how well we know—that, ultimately, we alone must make the decision before God. We pray for light and strength, for we realize that we need help not only to make the proper decision, but also to properly deal with the pain that is inevitably involved.

       The experience of failure is another suffering that we encounter in various degrees along the path of life. Some fail in their attempts to achieve the type of employment they so much desire; others fail to perform properly once they have been so employed. Some are not very successful in initiating interpersonal relationships; others are not very successful in maintaining the ones in which they do become involved. Some experience failure because they strive to accomplish too little; others experience failure because they strive to do too much. Some encounter failure because they have not given the proper effort; others feel failure's pain despite their conscientious perseverance. In these and in other types of failure there is a double pain—the pain of having failed and the pain in having to begin over again. The pain of having failed, however, must not be wasted; we must use it to become better persons. If we do use it, we are able to cope more maturely with the effort that is involved in beginning afresh.

       Experiencing various types of transition along the path of life also produces its own kind of pain. Periods of transition from one age of life to another are numerous, and some are obviously much more radical than others. The transitions from childhood to adolescence, from adolescence to young adulthood, from young adulthood to middle age, from middle age to old age produce various, and sometimes rather intense, kinds of sufferings. There is the classic kind of pain that adolescents experience, for example, as they grope for some kind of self-identity, as they try to cope with various types of peer pressure, as they struggle for a new kind of relationship with parents because their childhood relationship no longer suffices. These periods of transition, or life-stages, also involve changing interests and goals; that which held our interest at one stage of life leaves us bored at another. To establish a new set of interests and challenges is sometimes painful, but not so painful as the boring vacuum that we must exist in if we fail to replace those now-dead interests and goals with new ones.

       Another type of transition involves our work-life. During the past decade, people have increasingly experienced the necessity, and sometimes the desirability, of making work or professional changeovers. Whereas in the past a person would more or less be expected to remain in the same skilled labor or professional position for the duration of his or her working years, today it is not uncommon for a person to embark upon several or more career changes. These changes, even when the desire for a change rather than a circumstance of necessity has been the catalyst, involve the inevitable difficulties that accompany the adjustment to new surroundings, different coworkers, and different responsibilities.

       Furthermore, work or professional changeovers sometimes demand a change in residence, not only to vastly different parts of the country, but even to other parts of the world. The transition that involves a change of residence, in fact, is a growing characteristic of our times. We are definitely becoming a much more mobile and transient population; however, even when persons freely seek these changes in residence, they can experience considerable hardship. One must die a bit—one must separate himself or herself from people, places, customs, landmarks that he or she has perhaps cherished over a long time. Not to feel this jolt, this separation, this dying, would mean that one possessed less than a sensitive heart.

       Rejection, in various forms, is another pain not uncommon to human experience. Rejection because of race, religion, or ethnic origin has been, sad to say, a rather prominent part of our country's history. Blacks, in particular, have felt the wrath of racial rejection and discrimination. Others, too, have not been immune—this group includes, among others, American Indians, Puerto Ricans, and Mexican-Americans.

       Although we ourselves might not have suffered racial, ethnic, or religious rejection, we are certainly susceptible to other types. We may have experienced, for instance, a certain ostracism in not being accepted—or being only reluctantly accepted—by this or that group, by this or that organization. When our ideas and opinions are not accepted by others, we feel the sting of yet another type of rejection. Further still is that very painful yet all too common rejection of not feeling loved by the person whom we dearly love.

       The type of rejection that we experience—no matter what it might be—carries with it its own kind and degree of suffering that we can neither deny nor instantaneously cause to go away; we can, however, profit from its painful presence. One of the things we must do in order to grow from the rejection that we experience is to refuse to harbor bitterness against the person or persons who have caused us pain. Not to be bitter can be difficult—at times, it can be very difficult. If we do remain bitter, however, our suffering is increased by a type of pain—the pain of bitterness—that is not growth promoting, but is, rather, pernicious to the well-being of our personality.

       The experience of various kinds of uncertainty is another type of suffering, or dying. The list of examples of human uncertainty is a long one. There is the uncertainty that is connected with the approach of a first experience: the young doctor who is still in training, for example, is understandably apprehensive as he or she prepares for his or her first surgery. There is the uncertainty of the young man and the young woman who are about to marry. Both begin to realize the uncertainties that are attached to marriage: Am I really marrying the right person? Will the children be normal and healthy? Will my partner love me over a lifetime, or is it possible that love will turn to coldness or even hatred? Likewise, the young businessman wonders whether the financial investment that he is about to make will result in increased earnings or ultimately lead to bankruptcy. There is also that common uncertainty that has plagued men and women of our contemporary age—namely, the question of whether life as we now know it on this earth will suddenly end in a nuclear holocaust.

       Christians, of course, experience these same uncertainties to the same extent that non-Christians experience them. Christians, however, precisely because they are Christians, should react to uncertainty and assimilate it in a manner that will differ from that of non-Christians. The Christian life is, after all, supposed to extend to all the dimensions of authentic human existence—including the experience of uncertainty.

       There is, however, a way in which Christians experience uncertainty in a manner that differs from non-Christians. There are specific uncertainties that explicitly arise out of Christian practices. Let us consider a few examples. In deciding one's basic state of life, the doubt, confusion, and anxiety that can temporarily accompany a choice of vocation can be agonizingly painful for some people. There are, in addition, the uncertainties and obscurities that, at times, accompany spiritual development in general. In the practice of prayer, for instance, there can be dryness, or an apparent inability to encounter God, even though God is really present to the person. There can also be a certain repugnance as one feels the demanding effort that is required to pray in present circumstances, as well as the bothersome uncertainty that makes us wonder whether our prayer is the proper type for us here and now.

       What is more, various uncertainties surround the seemingly contradictory manifestations of God's will. There might be, for example, a certain indication that God would have us act in a particular way, yet his will, as it is channeled to us from a different perspective, seems to suggest another course of action. Of course, God never contradicts himself; the contradiction is only an apparent one. We are not without pain, however, as we work through the confusion and uncertainty.

       How should we Christians act in times of uncertainty? We must be conscious of the two great realities of love and trust. First, we must try to be particularly conscious of how much God loves us in Christ. This deepened realization, in turn, will lead us to return that love in such a way that our love will be characterized by an abandoning trust in God's providence for us. Consequently, times of uncertainty can be times of tremendous growth. For we are creatures who all too often can become self-complacent before God; we are prone to forget just how weak and helpless we are without God. The discomfort of uncertainty, then, can help arouse us from this false sense of security because at these times we become more conscious of our helplessness and we approach God for guidance, strength, and consolation.

       When we experience uncertainty we should also be aware that, although we do not possess all possible light, we do have enough light to properly cope. The general pattern of Christ's life is always before us as an example and can be lived out in circumstances of uncertainty as well as at any other time. We can also utilize particular means that can lessen or even dispel the uncertainty, or that will at least help us to properly cope. Examples of such means are prayer and the seeking of advice from competent persons—if the particular uncertainty indicates that the counsel of another or others would be helpful.

       We have been discussing some of the specific ways in which we experience suffering. Let us now end this discussion in the same way that we began—by reminding ourselves of suffering's purpose in God's overall plan. Suffering, when it is properly encountered, leads us to a more mature Christian existence, that is, to an increased participation in Jesus' resurrection. If it is unchristian to flee the suffering that God intends for us (we are, of course, allowed to take proper means, as indicated by God's will, to dispel or alleviate suffering), it is also unchristian to view suffering out of perspective. We should view suffering, or dying with Christ, in relation to growth in the life that Jesus came to give us in abundance. As we properly encounter suffering, we are more and more cutting through the layers of the false self and increasingly coming in touch with the true, Christic self. If we live according to this true self, we become more capable of loving God and our fellow human beings. We become more vibrant personalities, more sensitive to the true, the good, the beautiful. We concentrate on the good that God's love has put in creation rather than on the evil therein that results from man's sinfulness.

       Although we might endure suffering with a proper Christian perspective, this is not to say that we find it easy to suffer. We need constant motivation for the proper assimilation of the suffering that daily faces us. This motivation, in turn, must be centered in the remembrance of the one who has suffered before us:

                Though he was harshly treated, he
                             submitted
                       and opened not his mouth;
                Like a lamb led to the slaughter
                       or a sheep before the shearers,
                       he was silent and opened not his
                             mouth.
                Oppressed and condemned, he was
                             taken away,
                       and who would have thought any
                             more of his destiny?
                When he was cut off from the land of
                             the living,
                       and smitten for the sin of his people,
                A grave was assigned him among the
                             wicked
                       and a burial place with evildoers,
                Though he had done no wrong
                             nor spoken any falsehood.
                                                                 —Is 53:7-9