20260811 Memorial of Saint Clare, Virgin

(Ez 2:8—3:4; Mt 18:1-5, 10, 12-14): May We Become Children Filled with You Alone Today, we commemorate the holy life of Saint Clare, who deeply anchored the grace of monastic life through absolute poverty and humility, following in the footsteps of Saint Francis—who, in the twelfth century, restored the lost essence of the Church and shone a bright light through the presence of the Lord and total devotion to the poor. We live in an age that longs so deeply for her blessed life—one that did not pursue worldly riches or grand ideals aimed at self-aggrandizement, but was instead filled with God alone and discovered the truly beautiful essence of humanity in the little ones around her. In Ezekiel 3:3, the Prophet receives this word: “Son of man, feed your stomach and fill your belly with this scroll I am giving you. I ate it, and it was as sweet as honey in my mouth.” There is a line from the lyrics of the song The Place I Dream Of by Song-hee Bae: "My beloved, do not let me go / My beloved, you who are like honey on my lips / Melt me within your love / My beloved." In these days, I offer prayers that our passion may neither fade nor be wounded—a passion for those meditation notes written through the night out of longing for the Lord's word, sweet as honey to the soul, and that earnest desire to proclaim every word imbued with the Spirit of the Lord. In the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 18, verses 4, 10, and 14, the Lord says: “Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. See that you do not despise one of these little ones... In just the same way, it is not the will of your heavenly Father that one of these little ones be lost.” Before God, a poor and humble heart—one that gazes upon and accepts our 'as-is' selves, praying to be transformed into a deeper, more complete love—is precisely what it means to be like a child. This was the true joy Saint Francis gained when he became free from the burdens and temptations of the world, rendered endlessly light, and made himself poor among the poor. Clare’s soul, drawn by the purity of his spirit, stepped forward toward God in the very same way. The divine fragrance emanating from such an untainted soul conveys and plants heavenly echoes not only within oneself, but also in those who dwell nearby. The arrogance of believing one can dictate another’s place simply because one has attained a certain status makes a person feel like an 'adult.' In reality, however, it does nothing more than invite a life like a barren wilderness, where another soul cannot find a place to rest deeply. What kind of emotion could a single flower in a vast, empty field truly convey? Yet how beautiful is the praise of wildflowers that, even if short in stature, sway together in a shared gesture—harmonizing with their distinct shapes, colors, and fragrances! If we can be invited to a place where anyone can join in the dance, resting in a space of solace and peace where laughter and tears are shared without reserve—not merely on the surface, but from the depths of our souls—that place is none other than the Kingdom of God, the place of grace where the Father’s will is fulfilled. As we treasure the pure life of Saint Clare, who longed for the Lord alone so that her life was steeped in His hue, and whose words, thoughts, and deeds allowed His love to spread, I pray that the hearts of all gathered in this Mass today may be enraptured by the love given by the Spirit of the Lord. Amen.