The Yoke of Christ

2011-08-22T06:53:00.001-05:00

Please visit my new blog:

The Path of Life

Musings on Meeting the Miraculous
in the Midst of the Mundane

Please click here.

The Yoke of Christ blog will remain in place, but nothing new will be posted here.
Thank you.

PAX
Br. Francis

Stepping forward ...

2011-08-17T10:28:00.002-05:00

I have moved--to a new blog. It is called The Path of Life. Please click on the link and join me there.

"Path of Life: Musings on Meeting the Miraculous in the Midst of the Mundane" will be much the same as this blog, but with a different theme and look. You can read a fuller explanation by following the link above to the new blog.

I will not be taking down this blog. It will remain in place. However, I will no longer be posting anything new here. Please continue to join me on our journey together toward everlasting life ...

PAX
Br. Francis

In God we trust

2011-08-12T10:18:00.000-05:00

NOTE: For some reason, I found the following Psalm particularly striking this morning while our monastic community was reciting it during Vigils. Surely, in one way or another, it is a prayer we can all relate to and make our own. The larger question is this: Can we also make it Christ's? Saint Jerome once said of it: "This Psalm shows Christ in his passion." So, what does it mean if it is both my (your) prayer and also Christ's? Something to meditate on ...

-- Br. Francis

Psalm 56

Have mercy on me God, people crush me;

they fight me all day long and oppress me.

My foes crush me all day long,

for many fight proudly against me.

When I fear, I will trust in you,

in God whose word I praise.

In God I trust, I shall not fear:

what can mortals do to me?

All day long they distort my words,

all their thought is to harm me.

They band together in ambush,

track me down and seek my life.

You have kept an account of my wanderings;

you have kept a record of my tears;

are they not written in your book?

Then my foes will be put to flight

on the day that I call to you.

This I know, that God is on my side.

In God, whose word I praise,

in the Lord, whose word I praise,

in God I trust; I shall not fear:

what can mortals do to me?

I am bound by the vows I have made you.

O God, I will offer you praise
for you rescued my soul from death,

you kept my feet from stumbling,

that I may walk in the presence of God

and enjoy the light of the living.

PSALM-PRAYER: Jesus, you trusted in your Father's protection and kept silent when you were tormented. Give us that same confidence and we will gladly suffer with you and for you, offering the Father our sacrifice of praise and walking with him in the light of the living.

-- Adapted from the Liturgy of the Hours, Vol. 4, p.892

Fear not

2011-08-10T08:52:00.000-05:00

Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name:
you are mine.
When you pass through the water,
I will be with you;
in the rivers you shall not drown.
When you walk through fire,
you shall not be burned;
the flames will not consume you.

Isaiah 43-1-2

We are involved in salvation

2011-08-09T10:31:00.002-05:00

"There is a vocation
for suffering with Christ,
and through it the possibility
of being involved in his salvation.
Christ continues to live
and suffer in his members.
The suffering experienced
through union with the Lord
is his suffering, and is a fruitful part
of the great plan of salvation."

Edith Stein (St. Benedicta of the Cross)

1891-1942

Edith Stein (St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross) was a German-born Jew who in her teens lost faith in God and embraced atheism. She went on to become an accomplished philosopher, scholar, and teacher. Later undergoing a conversion, she was profoundly moved by reading the autobiography of St. Teresa of Avila, and was baptized Catholic in 1922. When academic pursuits were no longer possible for her under the Nazi regime, she was granted her longtime wish of joining the Carmelite order in Cologne in 1933, taking the name Teresa, Blessed of the Cross. In 1939, she was smuggled into the Netherlands as the anti-Semitism of the Nazis erupted into World War II. However, she and her sister Rosa, who had also converted and had joined the Carmelites with her in the Netherlands, could not escape the grasp of the expanding Nazi regime, which distrusted all Jewish-born Christians, particularly intellectuals. Edith and Rosa were arrested by the Gestapo Aug. 2, 1942, and along with many other Jews, were taken by cattle car to Auschwitz. A week later, on Aug. 9, 1942, they were among those killed by the Nazis in the gas chamber at Auschwitz. St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross was canonized by Blessed Pope John Paul II in 1998. Read more about her life here.

God's passionate embrace

2011-08-07T21:37:00.003-05:00

Once I had a very vivid dream that has remained with me for some time. It involved a girl that I had a big crush on as a youth, although in the dream we were both adults. I have not seen this woman in probably more than 20 years, and we never dated, so I have no idea why she suddenly would have appeared in my subconscious.

It was not a sexual dream, although it was certainly sensual. As I have reflected on it, however, its meaning seems to go far beyond mere physicality. In it, I have come to recognize our long loneliness as human beings on one hand, and on the other, God’s intense longing to bridge the chasm of fear between us, drawing us into his loving presence.

In the dream, I was sitting in a chair when this woman entered the room near me. Our eyes met. Though I had an intense desire to get up, go over, and embrace her (and could tell from her gaze that she was inviting me to do so), I simply could not work up the courage.

So I just sat there. And I was miserable as we just looked at one another for some time. With her eyes, she questioned whether she should, instead, come over to me. While I did not turn away from her gaze, for whatever reason I was still too fearful to answer with my own eyes and say, “Yes, please do.”

Why, I thought, would she want to come over to me? To me?

Miraculously, though, she did. Smiling, she came over, and without a word, leaned over, embraced me, and held me tightly. We remained locked together like that for what seemed like eternity, as supreme happiness and joy flowed between us.

Although I was incredibly attracted to this woman, (and she, beyond my comprehension, was incredibly attracted to me), there was absolutely nothing lustful about the encounter. We were lovers immersed in a passionate embrace, but not in the lascivious sense we so often consciously imagine or fall prey to in today’s sex-obsessed culture. We were infinitely satisfied simply holding one another like that, and I was overwhelmed that her love for me would be so great that she would come to me, bend over, and take me to herself despite all my trepidation.

All my anxiety melted away in her arms. I was at peace—full of joy, comfort, love, and trust in a love greater than my own, which I was eager to reciprocate beyond measure.

OK, I hear you – TOO MUCH INFORMATION! As I said, it was a very powerful and vivid dream.

But I will dare to shock further by suggesting that this dream presents an image of God we all too often ignore or dismiss—God as a passionate lover!

God loves us immensely, as the woman in the dream loved me beyond my wildest dreams. Like her, God invites us to embrace him. And when we won’t—or can’t—God comes to us. Smiling, and without so much as a word, God leans over to our level, embraces us, and holds us tightly, inviting us to remained locked together like that for eternity as supreme happiness and joy flow between us.

Sound erotic? It is! It is Holy Eros! As I have reflected on this dream, I have realized that it was not this woman (whom I barely know and haven’t seen for years) that I was embracing. Rather, I was embracing the self-sacrificing, holy, and pure love being offered to me by God, the lover of souls (Wisdom 11:26). Yes, that is a very powerful and provocative idea, but it is not a new one, and it is one we need to be reminded of.

Scripture and our Christian tradition present us with many images of God’s everlasting love for us. They are too numerous to cite here, but following are a just a few, along with one citation from the Old Testament and one from the New Testament for each. So, in the light of Scripture, God is a:

-- Parent: (Isaiah 66:10-13; Luke 15:11-32)
-- Disciplinarian: (Deuteronomy 8:5; Hebrews 12:9-11)
-- Sibling: (Genesis 45:4-5, 14-15; Mark 3:34-35)
-- Teacher: (Psalm 119:33-40; Mark 6:34)
-- Shepherd: (Ezekiel 34:11-16; John 10:11-16)
-- Healer: (Jeremiah 33:6-9; Mark 6:56)
-- Friend: (Exodus 33:11; John 15:12-16)

In addition, it seems that we typically have no trouble focusing on the image of God as the Supreme Being who judges and punishes.

None of these images, presented by God through his Word, are wrong in and of themselves. However, there is another that encompasses all of these but which we typically fail to recognize or respond to. And I would suggest that it is the primary way in which God wishes to relate to each and every one of us.

This is the image of God as a passionate lover, a God who really digs you, and a God who wants absolutely nothing but to have that passionate love reciprocated. Just as two spouses unite in the total gift of self, God wishes to embrace each one of us, and remain locked together like that for eternity as supreme happiness and joy flow between us.

Like marriage, it is a covenant relationship. It is an erotic love (energized with individual desire, but disciplined and purified) that leads us to agape (self-giving love directed outward to encompass and generate life among all). Agape is totally selfless, only seeking the good of the beloved, and is most fully expressed in the love shared among the three Persons of the Holy Trinity, of which Christians are invited to share (John 13:34-35).

As the Cathechism of the Catholic Church states, “God who created man out of love also calls him to love—the fundamental and innate vocation of every human being. For man is created in the image and likeness of God, who is himself love. Since God created him man and woman, their mutual love becomes an image of the absolute and unfailing love with which God loves man. It is good, very good, in the Creator’s eyes” (No. 1604, emphasis added).

And as anyone who has had an honest, committed, chaste relationship knows, the most passionate lover sharing him or herself in this way also displays many of the other qualities above that are associated with God. The truth is that God is beyond our imagining. No image suffices. God is all of these and much, much more.

However, if one takes a step back from Scripture and tradition with an honest view toward the whole, this is what emerges: GOD IS LOVE (1John 4:8,16). Those three words express it all—creation, redemption, resurrection, and everlasting life. Scripture, tradition, and all of salvation history up to this very moment are chapters in an epic love story of a God who pursues us with almost insane jealousy in order to draw us into a love beyond imagination.

This nuptial relationship we are called to share with God, and through God with one another, is expressed both implicitly and explicitly throughout Scripture. In that regard, the following passages are just a few of the many worth meditating on: Exodus 6:7; The Book of Ruth; Psalm 45; Isaiah 62:5; Hosea 2:19-20; John 17:26; Revelation 19:1-9.

But the most prominent illustration of this within the canon is the Song of Songs, which is in everybody’s Bible but (I’m willing to bet) rarely read. It is a beautiful love poem with a strikingly erotic tone. God is the Lover, and God’s people are the beloved. Here are a few lines:

BRIDEGROOM:
How beautiful you are, how pleasing,
   my love, my delight!
Your very figure is like a palm tree,
   your breasts are like clusters.
I said: I will climb the palm tree,
   I will take hold of its branches.

BRIDE:
I belong to my lover
   and for me he yearns.
Come, my lover, let us go forth to the fields
   and spend the night among the villages.
Let us go early to the vineyards, and see
   if the vines are in bloom.
There I will give you my love.
   Both fresh and mellowed fruits, my lover,
   I have kept in store for you.
           -- Song of Songs 7:7-9, 11-13, 14

Whew. Once I was in a class on Human Sexuality and Christian Maturity, and one of the seminarians, after hearing a passage like that read aloud exclaimed, “THAT’S in the Bible?!”

Yes, that’s in the Bible, and for good reason. In poetic fashion, it describes God’s relationship with his beloved people, who are increasingly drawn into spiritual union with the Lord through the bond of perfect love. Saints—doctors of the Church—have written beautiful commentaries on the Song of Songs. St. Bernard and St. Francis de Sales come immediately to mind. Others have contributed poetic meditations in the same vein, such as St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross. Theirs was a passionate love for God, who loved them passionately, and sometimes these saints expressed this is erotic terms. As the introduction to the Song of Songs in the New American Bible states, “In Christian tradition, the Song has been interpreted in terms of the union between Christ and the Church and particularly by St. Bernard, of the union between Christ and the individual soul.”

In his encyclical Deus Caritas Est (God is Love), Pope Benedict XVI boldly declares that God’s love is personal: “God loves, and his love may certainly be called eros, yet it is also totally agape. The prophets, particularly Hosea and Ezekiel, described God’s passion for his people using boldly erotic images” (No. 9).

In their book Holy Eros: Pathways to a Passionate God, James D. and Evelyn Whitehead write that “Christian thinkers today, Pope Benedict XVI and Charles Taylor among them, are returning to the ancient image of eros as an apt symbol of God’s radical love. This is an eros known through and beyond sexual arousal; its vital energy courses through the world, enlivening and healing human hearts. Experienced as affection and also as compassion, in desire and also in hope, eros becomes ever more generous as it folds into that most capacious love described in the Bible as agape” (p.5).

I wonder why it surprises us, makes us so uncomfortable, to be told so explicitly of God’s intensely passionate love for us? And yet it does—despite its solid roots in Scripture and tradition. For thousands of years, God’s people, generally speaking, have been fearful of intimacy with God. Giving in to such fear has resulted in increasingly horrifying manifestations of human sin and pain. Yet, God still pursues us with steadfast love, hoping we will all one day realize that a person will only love truly when he or she is truly loved.

As Philosopher Charles Taylor states in Holy Eros: “We have to recover a sense of the link between erotic desire and the love of God, which lies deep in the Biblical traditions, whether Jewish or Christian, and find new ways of giving expression to this. … This terribly fraught area in Western Christendom, where the sexual meets the spiritual, urgently awaits discovery of new paths to God” (p.16).

In the Gospel at today’s Mass (Matthew 14:22-33), Jesus is walking on the stormy Sea of Galilee when his disciples, being tossed about by the waves, spot him from their boat. They are terrified. And he says to them: “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid.” Longing to be with Jesus on the water, Peter calls out to him. “Come,” Jesus responds. So Peter gets out of the boat and miraculously begins walking on the water toward Jesus—until his fear returns and gets the best of him. He begins sinking, but Jesus catches him, draws him up safely out of the water, and returns with him to the boat.

The stormy seas of life frighten us as well, and despite our long loneliness we are afraid to bridge the chasm of fear between us and God. Yet Jesus beckons from the water, “Do not be afraid. Come.” God longs to draw us into his presence with the passion of a lover, but will not force us to do anything against our will. We are invited to step out of the boat, but if we begin to sink, God’s arms will catch us. And if we won’t—or can’t—“step out of the boat” as the other disciples could not and I could not in my dream, God comes to us, as the woman in my dream did.

At some point, of course—whether we are single, married, or in religious life—we must not only chastely reciprocate God’s passionate love for us in the manner suitable for our state in life, but also get out of the boat (out of the chair, in my dream). Then, we must help others bridge that chasm of fear separating them from the love of God. We must become the woman in the dream, as it were. Like God, we must be willing to approach the fearful soul with a smile, bend over, embrace, and share the supreme happiness and joy flowing from God’s passionate love.

But it cannot be done until we first accept God's embrace. As Passionate Lover.

Welcome (back)!

2011-08-05T14:10:00.002-05:00

Today at Saint Meinrad Archabbey, we have three monks to either welcome or welcome back:

X Anushka Fonseka, who this evening before Vespers will be invested as a novice in our community. Anushka, originally from Sri Lanka, came to Saint Meinrad as a candidate a couple months ago. Prior to that, he lived in Mobile, Alabama, where he was an engineer. Read more here.

As I type this, he is receiving his corona, or tonsure, courtesy of Br. Martin "Scissorhands" Erspamer. May God bless Novice Anushka's discernment with peace. We are glad to have him here.

X Br. Luke, who has been in Switzerland at our mother abbey of Einsiedeln most of this past summer, as I was last year. It has been an eventful year for him, as he also lost his father this summer (last summer, he lost his mother). It is good to have Br. Luke back in the fold, and we look forward to hearing of his adventures in Europe.

I haven't had much chance to speak with him yet, but he visited several places I didn't get around to last summer-- such as Chartres, Paris, and Leuven.

I trust that he returned with some Swiss chocolate ... if not, we may have to send him back!

X Br. Thomas Fässler, of our motherhouse of Einsiedeln, who arrived here with Br. Luke. As did Br. Mauritius last year, Br. Thomas will be studying in the Seminary and School of Theology here this next school year and living with us in the monastery. (Br. Mauritius, incidentally, is soon heading for the Holy Land to improve his Hebrew language skills in preparation for Scripture studies.)

I had the privilege of getting to know him a little last summer in Switzerland, while we were both still junior monks. Br. Thomas made his solemn profession last month. It is a joy to have him here!

The bigger picture

2011-08-04T14:54:00.000-05:00

The following caught my ear this morning during the second reading at Vigils. It is good reminder of our need to pray for perseverance and greater trust in God--through whom all things work together for good (cf. Romans 8:28)--whether or not we can see or understand within present circumstances. -- Br. Francis

The less we connect
the providence of God
with all that happens,
the more we are upset
with the smallest
annoyances in life.

Fulton J. Sheen

The better part

2011-07-29T10:38:00.000-05:00

NOTE: Today's Gospel (Luke 10:38-40) is particularly meaningful to those with a monastic vocation, but it has relevance for all Christians. Listening to it today at Mass, I was reminded of the following reflection I wrote back in August 2005 after my very first visit to Saint Meinrad. While I was here for a few days of retreat at that time, I met with one of the monks here for spiritual direction, and he had specifically recommended this Gospel passage as one to meditate on as I continued my discernment. As I wrote this, I think (with the Holy Spirit's guidance, of course), I was trying to teach myself something.

Our love for God can be more readily stirred if we simply content ourselves to rest in him, in silence and peace. Our own tired attempts at prayer can often end in frustration, and while our Lord certainly appreciates sincere effort in calling out to him, prayer without a heart truly centered on God is simply recitation.

After all, do we really know what to pray for? Only God can see our true needs from the perspective of eternity. Perhaps the better part is being content with listening to what God has to say to us rather than telling him what we think we need.

Jesus imparts this message in the gospel story of Martha and Mary (Luke 10: 38-42). As Jesus visited her home, Martha busied herself waiting on him and her other guests. Her sister Mary, the gospel tells us, “sat beside the Lord at his feet listening to him speak.” Martha was upset by this, not because Jesus didn’t appreciate what she was doing, but because she felt all the work was left to her, and she resented Mary for it. “Tell her to help me,” Martha says to Jesus.

Instead, as he so often does, Jesus gently turns our weak and limited thinking inside out. “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things," he says. "There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part and it will not be taken from her.”

Jesus was not criticizing Martha's effort, but drawing her attention to the motivating focus which is essential for any effort. She was focused on what she was doing rather than on the reason why she was doing it--to serve the Lord.

Mary, on the other hand, was completely focused on Jesus, sitting at his feet, listening to him. Her gaze was on Christ, so she was choosing the better part. She was content with simply listening to what the Lord had to say.

In the context of Luke's entire gospel narrative, it must be remembered that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem, where suffering and death awaited him. Surely his heart was burdened by this, but also grieved because he knew that many in the world would continue to disregard the salvation he would soon be offering through his death and resurrection. God Incarnate was sitting among the guests at Martha’s house, and so his perspective was eternal. The reason he was there was to restore fallen humanity, yet it had to pain him deeply to know in advance that his gift of love would later be refused by so many, up to this very day.

Considering this viewpoint, which seems more suitable--being fussed over by Martha, or gaining Mary’s full, undivided, and loving attention and devotion? Mary, of course, had chosen the better part.

So it must be with the disciples of this generation. Yes, we have work to do. But we must not forget why we do it – to build up the Kingdom of God for his greater glory. And yet the Kingdom does not depend solely on each one of us. God knows who we are, what we are capable of doing or not doing. He has already won the victory. It is our “task” to simply enter into this truth, to be enlightened and encouraged by his spirit of love.

This spirit is best communicated to us when we engage in silent praise of our Creator and Redeemer--focusing solely on him, letting God's intimate will enfold our hearts.

This is principally accomplished in three ways. First, through Scripture, which invites us to listen with our hearts to God through his living Word. This same Word has a unique message for each one of us -- instructing, admonishing, and comforting us individually through the universal account of salvation history.

Then there is prayer, which is fueled more readily by sincere and ardent longing for God--to seek, know, and do his will above all else. There are distractions to contend with at times, but often our biggest distraction is the one who is praying! We must truly place ourselves in God's presence, listen to his voice, unite our heart with his will, and refrain for a time from busying about. It means emptying ourselves completely so his illuminating light can pour into our souls.

Finally, and most importantly, there is the Holy Eucharist, the Bread of Life, which encompasses all, continually renewing and transforming us, providing the nourishment necessary to hear his voice and follow his will.

In essence, all three of these elements are presented in Luke's account of Martha and Mary. The Eternal Word, Jesus Christ, was speaking to those present. Mary was listening intently, gazing on Christ, praying in purest form in simple adoration. And all of this was taking place at a meal with Christ as the guest of honor, which speaks in some way of the Eucharist that he would later offer in fuller fashion.

So, let us take every opportunity to make ourselves available to Christ, listening intently to what he says in the depths of our hearts while we focus solely on him, transfixed by the splendor that is our God. Then, in Eucharistic fashion, we can go forth from the table, having been instructed and nourished to go about the work God has entrusted to us, with Christ as our inspiration and strength.

Just as we partake of several meals a day to nourish our bodies, so we must regularly replenish our souls by partaking of God's Word, the gift of prayer, and the mystery of the Holy Eucharist.

This is the better part, sitting at the feet of Jesus, listening to him in silent praise--in all our ways and through all our days.

Truly I have set my soul

in silence and peace.

As a child has rest

in its mother’s arms,

even so my soul.

Psalm 131

Heaven for 21 minutes

2011-07-29T09:13:00.001-05:00

A little slice of heaven from the Lancaster (Ohio) Eagle-Gazette.

Read it by clicking here.

PAX
Br. Francis

Picture perfect

2011-07-28T11:39:00.001-05:00

"The very contradictions in my life
are in some ways signs of God's mercy to me."

Thomas Merton

What do you notice that is special
in this photo? Me neither.

Yesterday I spent some time in Louisville, escorting several sabbaticants with Saint Meinrad's Institute for Priests and Presbyterates around town. Our stops included the Thomas Merton Center at Bellarmine University, the Cathedral of the Assumption (with a guided tour by current IPP Director Fr. Ron Knott, the former pastor at the cathedral), and a variety of museums. While I have been to these places before, yesterday I did something very simple that I've been wanting to do for a long time--take a picture of downtown's intersection of Fourth and Walnut (now called Muhammad Ali Boulevard).

Before explaining why, allow me to back up a bit. As I've mentioned before on this blog, the life and writings of Trappist monk Thomas Merton (1915-1968) have long held my interest. Surely, the same can be said for a great number of people. Merton, one of the most influential (not to mention prolific) spiritual authors of the 20th Century, was a monk of Gethsemani Abbey in Kentucky, about an hour south of Louisville. Although I ultimately discerned that Trappist life was not for me and came to Saint Meinrad to be a Benedictine monk instead, I spent a considerable amount of time looking at and visiting Gethsemani back in 2005. It is a wonderful place, and because of Merton's popularity as a writer and social commentator, is probably the most well-known monastery in the world.

Shortly before the monk's sudden death, Merton named Bellarmine as the repository for his manuscripts, letters, journals, tapes, artwork, photography, etc. The idea was to maintain a central collection of his vast work that was accessible to others without intruding on the necessary solitude integral to the monastic life at Gethsemani. Today, the Thomas Merton Center (http://www.merton.org/) serves as a regional, national, and international resource for scholarship and inquiry on Merton and his works.

(As an aside, our tour guide yesterday at the center related an amusing story. Merton himself came to the center to deliver some manuscripts one day, dressed in his grubby work clothes worn in the fields surrounding Gethsemani. Not recognizing him and apparently distrustful of his appearance, a receptionist turned him away. Merton simply shrugged, and walked back out with his undelivered manuscripts, only to be met along the way by the college president at the time, who apologetically ushered him back in!)

Whenever I visit the Merton Center and see his old typewriter, his handwritten notes and letters, his work boots and camera, and shelf upon shelf filled with volumes containing his writings, I am simply overwhelmed by the breadth of his interests, the depth of his commitment to the monastic life, and the abundance of words he wrote during a relatively short lifetime (not to mention their insight and wisdom).

Merton was an extremely bright, high-spirited, yet very complex person filled with self-acknowledged contradictions. Like anyone else, he struggled with sin, with the meaning of life, with who he was, and how he was called to live out his vocation (in his case, as both a monk and a writer, a hermit and a human being intimately involved with the world in which he lived.) He was born in France, spent periods of his life in England, New York, and Kentucky, and then Southeast Asia, where he died. He lost his mother at a very young age to cancer, his father (who often left him alone for long periods) later to a brain tumor, and his brother to World War II. He fathered a child out of wedlock as a young student in England, when he was known as a hard-drinking agnostic.

Later he underwent an intense conversion, was baptized, and eventually discerned a religious vocation as a Trappist monk at Gethsemani, where he once again would have to undergo a number of difficulties and transformations. He, his abbot, and the entire monastic community struggled with this "hermit of Times Square." Toward the end of his life, he both embraced and spearheaded inter-religious dialogue, and also fell madly in love with a woman for the first time in his life. Ultimately, but not without great struggle, he remained true to his Catholic faith and his monastic vows--perhaps even deepening his understanding of those commitments. In short, the Merton who entered the monastery in 1941--though the same man--was a much different person than the Merton who was accidentally electrocuted in Bangkok in 1968.

His was an intensely lived life of contradiction in pursuit of holiness, which is why I have included the quote at the top of this post.

OK, back to Fourth and Walnut. It was at this corner, during a trip to see a doctor in Louisville in 1958, that Merton had his famous "epiphany," which he wrote about later. It was a life-altering moment for him, which is often quoted by others more than 50 years after the fact. This is how he described it:

In Louisville, at the corner of Fouth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. ... It is a glorious destiny to be a member of the human race, though it is a race dedicated to many absurdities and one which makes many terrible mistakes: yet, with all that, God himself gloried in becoming a member of the human race. ... I have the immense joy of being a man, a member of a race in which God himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.

Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depth of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God's eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they reall are.

So, I wanted to take a picture of Fourth and Walnut in Louisville where this light dawned on Merton, and I did. The site is utterly unremarkalbe. There is a bronze plaque commemorating the moment, but you really have to look for it. I've seen it many times, but even on this afternoon while specifically looking for it, I walked right by it before having to double back. Surrounding it are traffic signs and signals, a lamp post, a trash can, and a bicycle rack. Nearby is downtown Louisville's Fourth Street Live entertainment district.

And if you look closely at the picture below, you'll notice that the plaque is not only enveloped in obscurity, but also in seeming absurdity. Directly across the street from the spot where this cloistered monk had an inspired revelation on a crowded street corner -- is a Starbucks. All this strikes me as extremely funny, and better yet, perfect! I am positive that Merton would feel the same way.

So, after taking the pictures, in mid-afternoon 97-degree heat, I went across the street and got a cup of piping hot coffee. It was perfect.

Totality of time

2011-07-28T07:25:00.000-05:00

NOTE: An excerpt from our second reading during Vigils this morning that I thought was worth sharing:

It seems difficult to convince good Christians--even monks, nuns, and priests--that a time should be set aside for prayer. Even the expression to "set aside a time for prayer" causes a violent reaction in those who think there is no longer any need for prayer.

If the important thing is to give our time to the service of others and consecrate it to human relationships, it no longer seems very clear why a time must be reserved for converse with God. The idea of a direct relationship with God has lost meaning for many people. Relationship with God is now achieved through a relationship with our fellow humans.

But if we wish our prayer to blossom into a constant alertness to the mysteries of God, it is difficult to imagine how this can happen if we do not wish to consecrate a little time to it. Some people will be able to give each day some time--short or long--to prayer. What is important is that God's love should become the object of our total attention if only for a few minutes each day.

The fixing of our attention on the invisible is a burden which can be borne only by faith. The Church knows this very well. That is why she has instituted times of prayer, special periods in which we direct our attention to the divine mysteries. It is for this reason, for example, that she has set apart the Lord's Day with its ritual and its prayers. In Christ and through his eyes, the Church contemplates the divine mysteries, and she invites the faithful to do the same. She tries to make them recognize in this dedicated time, somewhere outside time, where God is. The seeing Church invites us to become attentive at a time and a place which become the basis from which to contemplate the invisible and the eternal. This time, cut out of our ordinary time, gives notice of that which lies beyond time and space.

Christ himself, Son of God though he was, gave time to personal prayer as the gospels mention several times. We know he spent many hours and sometimes whole nights in prayer. It has been suggested that he prayed only to give us an example. But I think that, as a man, he had to spend time in prayer. This time was essential for the awareness of his relationship to God to come to fruition within him as a man. The relationship with God he enjoys throughout eternity had also to be realized during the years he was a man.

Yves Raguin, S.J., How to Pray Today, 1974

Pressing forward

2011-07-21T10:38:00.002-05:00

Just a quick note to say that I haven't fallen off the face of the earth. My apologies for the dearth of postings lately. As I had mentioned a couple weeks ago, it's a busy but exciting time. I hope to soon be posting more regularly and also incoporate some changes for this blog site.

In the meantime, however, other duties call. While I am not normally in the habit of promoting Abbey Press products here, two projects I've been heavily involved with this summer may be worth mentioning and of interest to readers of this blog:

1. Hot off the presses is a book I edited titled Thirsting for God: Prayers from a Monastery, published by Abbey Press' Path of Life Publications. This full-color book features the original poems, prayers, and reflections written by 20 monks of Saint Meinrad Archabbey, as well as photographs taken from around the "Holy Hill." In one small way, it is a testament to the Gospel lives of prayer coursing through this place.

2. Upcoming (in September) is anothor book I am editing that it is in the production and design stage now at the Abbey Press. It will be called Sacred Rhythms: The Monastic Way Every Day, and is a compilation of titles that have been published as part of our Notes from a Monastery booklet series. This series, featuring the wonderful artwork of Br. Martin Erspamer, O.S.B., presents in each booklet one aspect of the the Rule of St. Benedict as it may be applied by anyone living in the world. The booklets--now chapters in the upcoming book--have been written by Benedictine and Trappist monks and nuns from around the country, oblates, and other well-known religious and lay authors familiar with the Benedictine way of life.

Anyway, that is what is keeping me occupied at the moment. In addition, I am preparing to give Candidate Anushka his novitiate retreat shortly (he will be invested as a novice Aug. 5; please keep him in prayer). I'm also working on an essay for the next installment of the Saint Meinrad Studies in Pastoral Ministry series, edited by Fr. Denis Robinson, O.S.B., who is the rector of the Seminary and School of Theology here. Each installment focuses on a particular theme. Last year was celibacy. This year, it is imagination. My essay in the book is (tentatively) titled Buried Treasure: Unearthing the Art of Faith through Journaling and Creative Writing. Good stuff, I hope. Pray for me, through the intercession of St. Francis de Sales. I leave you with just a snippent from that essay as I continue to plug away at it:

Christina Bieber Lake, in her 2005 book The Incarnational Art of Flannery O'Connor, says that we are becoming "posthuman"--striving for made-to-order lives, even made-to-order bodies. We are seeking to perfect ourselves without God, "to become like gods," as in the downfall of Adam and Eve. Lake notes that we are moving away from "a healthy view of the self--the conviction that we are created beings, made in the image of God, but limited and dependent--toward an unhealthy belief that we are cosmic accidents whose only hope is to remake ourselves into whatever image fits our fancy."

A faithful imagination is our defense against this. It acknowledges God as the beginning and end of the equation, and invites him into everything in between. Imagination is freedom from self. It is trusting in the revelation that our limited human nature is redeemed through incarnated grace. Imagination is bearing the imprint of Christ in our very being--human beings borne from God's imagination. We are players, characters, true persons in God's story of human creation, incarnation, and redemption. Imagine that.

UPDATE NOTE: You may purchase the Thirsting for God book here. -- PAX

Strong as death is love

2011-07-13T11:13:00.000-05:00

It has been HOT here the last several days--as it has through much of the country. The high recorded in Evansville on Tuesday was 99 degrees. With the extremely high humidity levels, the heat index was near 120. Weather fit neither for man nor beast. Merely step outside at 8 a.m., and immediately break into a sweat.

Apparently, an atmospheric tipping point was reached Tuesday afternoon about 3 p.m., when a severe thunderstorm accompanied by torrential downpours burst upon us. As it it began, while I was typing away in my office at the Abbey Press, I remember thinking, "Oh, good, now it will cool down a little--at least for a while." That it did, but first it got very LOUD.

A few days ago, I posted something with some references to fireworks, thunderstorms, and God's voice resounding over the waters. If God addresses his people out of the storm (cf. Job 38:1), then yesterday he certainly had a lot to say. Along with the wind and 2-3 inches of rain, there were some particularly close lightning strikes. One literally made me--and my co-workers--jump a few inches off our seats. Later, as I headed back up the hill to the monastery for Vespers, I noticed two trees not more than a hundred yards from the Press with long streaks of stripped-away bark from top to bottom. This morning, I took a picture of one of them, shown above (the Abbey Press is in the background).

The area where this lightning struck is where the original monastery and church once stood when the first monks arrived from Switzerland in the mid-19th Century. Still, the damage was not nearly as severe as it was a few weeks ago when a tornado hit the other end of the campus. Thankfully, no one has been injured.

I, for one, would much rather listen to God whisper than shout. However, it is wonderful to consider that the Source of that incredible power unleashed in these storms is infinitely greater than anything we can possibly experience or imagine in this world. And it is from that life-energizing, death-stripping power that we are invited by the God of Power and Might to "see what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God, and that is what we are" (1John 3:1).

That knowledge, informed by faith, will make us stand taller than any tree, withstand any heat, and survive the strongest storm. As we heard God say to a startled Moses in today's first reading at Mass (Exodus 3:1-6, 9-12), "I will be with you."

The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire.

The voice of the Lord shakes the wilderness;

The voice of the Lord causes the oaks to whirl,

and strips the forest bare;

and in his temple all say, ‘Glory!’

Psalm 29:7-9

Hearts overflowing

2011-07-11T07:19:00.000-05:00

As we progress in this way of life
and in faith, we shall run
on the path of God's commandments,
our hearts overflowing
with the inexpressible delight of love.

Rule of St. Benedict, Prologue 49

NOTE: For more on the feast of St. Benedict, whose memory we honor today, and for some of my personal reflections in connection with it, please see my post from earlier this year by clicking here. Also, the photograph headlining this blog (for today) was taken last summer at Sacro Speco (Sacred Cave) in Italy, where it all began for St. Benedict and his Rule. For more on that, see my June 1, 2010 post Clinging to the Rock. PAX

Resounding on the waters

2011-07-10T21:37:00.002-05:00

One evening last weekend while I was on vacation, my brother-in-law carefully maneuvered his boat from the Ohio River onto the Muskingum and up into Marietta, Ohio. Anchored there with many other boaters as dusk fell, he and my sister, mother, nephew, and I prepared to watch the city’s annual Fourth of July fireworks display over the water.

As the show began, it quickly became obvious that the only way to watch with ease was to recline on our backs or slouch down in our seats and look straight up into the starry sky. The shells were exploding directly over our heads, high above the river. Each soaring flare and burst of shimmering color was quickly followed by a splitting boom that seemed to slice the heavens and shake the mountains around us as if we were meeting God at the foot of Mount Sinai.

Positioned as we were, with our bodies parallel to the river and just a couple feet above the water, we also experienced an almost indescribable sensation. Each boom was quickly followed by a resounding echo that seemed to travel along the river and then back into our very bones through the water directly below us. If you’ve ever been on or near a lake or river during a thunderstorm or a fireworks display, you know what I mean. The water magnifies the sound descending from above.

The sensation reminded me of the theophany of Psalm 29, which describes the presence of God revealed in a thunderstorm over the water:
The Lord's voice resounding on the waters,
the Lord on the immensity of waters;
the voice of the Lord, full of power,
the voice of the Lord, full of splendor.
For some reason, this imagery again came to mind as I listened to the opening lines of today’s Gospel reading at Mass (Matthew 13:1-23). The text describes Jesus sitting down by the sea, and as large crowds gather around him, getting into a boat and addressing the people standing along the shore. This is a perfectly practical act in and of itself. Jesus needed space from which to address his followers, and the water from which he spoke would have magnified his voice for all to hear.

However, there are deeper, theological implications as well. Imagine standing on that shore and listening to the power and force of Jesus’ message being carried by the water directly into your bones. The Word made Flesh, God Among Us speaks, and the water magnifies the sound descending from above:
The Lord's voice resounding on the waters,
the Lord on the immensity of waters;
the voice of the Lord, full of power,
the voice of the Lord, full of splendor.
From a boat used by human beings to sail across the water, the God of glory thunders, and his Word is magnified and carried throughout the world. This image, of course, can be connected with that of the story of creation in Genesis, in which the wind (or spirit) of God sweeps over the waters (Genesis 1:1-2).

So what is being communicated to us through these passages from Holy Scripture? Perhaps the key to pondering this further lies in the next chapter of Matthew’s Gospel—specifically Matthew 14:22-33—in which Peter is called forth by Jesus to walk on the water with him. Here we have the fearful disciples in a boat being tossed about by the waves on the stormy sea. Suddenly, Jesus appears, walking toward them on the water!

“Do not be afraid,” Jesus tells them.

Then Peter expresses some measure of faith. “If it’s you,” he calls out, “command me to come to you on the water.” A bold request! Jesus has no problem with it. “Come,” he says.

So Peter gets out of the boat and begins to walk on the water toward Jesus. However, when he loses focus, he begins to sink and cries out for help. Jesus reaches out and saves him, and the wind dies down.

In the ancient world, the sea represented darkness, danger, and death. So, in a very real sense, these passages and images from Scripture illustrate God’s redeeming power over these elements, manifested fully in the person of Jesus, which means “God saves.”

However, God doesn’t want us to simply listen to the message of salvation from the safety of the shore. Neither does he wish us to cower in fear as we are tossed about by life’s storms. Jesus invites us to step out of the boat, to break out of our comfort zones and leave behind excessive concerns for health, wealth, control, and security.

He wants us to participate in his redeeming power over darkness, danger, and death. He desires for us to come to him, to magnify his voice, and carry his Word over the waters, echoing to the ends of the earth.

There is nothing to fear. If we begin to sink from time to time, he will be there to catch us. And we don’t need to be as spectacular as a fireworks display. We simply need to walk with Jesus above the stormy waves and through the abyss, giving witness to the power of God that turns back the tide of darkness. As St. Francis of Assisi would say: “Preach the Gospel. If necessary, use words.”

God’s voice can thunder through our lives if we allow his Word to travel through us like the Muskingum River carrying and magnifying the sound of booming fireworks descending from above. Mary, the mother of Jesus, is the perfect model in this regard. She doesn’t say much in Scripture, but her witness to the Word born from her womb has echoed for 2,000 years. Her life, like the river during the fireworks show, magnifies God’s voice for all to hear. “My soul magnifies the Lord,” the pregnant Mary proclaims to Elizabeth (Luke 1:46) in the Magnificat, the canticle of praise we sing each evening at Vespers.

“Do not be afraid,” Jesus says. “Come, and with the Spirit of truth and love … move on the water’s face bearing the lamp of grace; now to all humankind let there be light” (a line from the hymn God, Whose Almighty Word, by John Marriott).

We’re all called to be part of the grand finale!

The Spirit blows where it wills

2011-07-10T11:08:00.000-05:00

Every moment and every event of every person’s life
on earth plants something in his soul.
For just as the wind carries thousands of winged seeds,
so each moment brings with it
germs of spiritual vitality
that come to rest imperceptibly
in the minds and wills of men and women.
Most of these unnumbered seeds perish and are lost,
because men and women
are not prepared to receive them:
for such seeds as these cannot spring up anywhere
except in the soil of freedom, spontaneity and love.

Thomas Merton

Scattered seed

2011-07-07T11:27:00.000-05:00

Sunday, July 10, 2011
15th Sunday in Ordinary Time—A

Isaiah 55:10-11
Romans 8:18-23
Matthew 13:1-23

In the opening verses of Scripture, God blesses humanity, saying, “Be fertile and multiply” (Genesis 1:28). In the closing verses of the Bible, John is shown “the river of life-giving water, sparkling like crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb. On either side of the river grew the tree of life that produces fruit twelve times a year” (Revelation 22:1-2).

God calls us, his children, to be fruitful according to his Word—but not of our own accord. It is God’s lavish generosity that plants, waters, warms, and produces the growth that leads to fruitfulness.

It may seem to us sometimes that God’s graciousness is wasteful and foolish. The seed of his Word is scattered recklessly for all, but is often met with indifference, ignorance, opposition, and despair—both in the world and within our own hearts. As St. Paul says in today’s second reading, “we know that all creation is groaning in labor pains.”

However, marvelous effects result whenever just a few seeds are sown within receptive hearts. As Jesus says in today’s Gospel, “the one who hears the word and understands it bears fruit and yields a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold.” God’s generosity cannot be outdone. His Word, like the rain sent from the heavens to water the earth, will achieve its end.

Despite the barren, rocky, thorny terrain within and around us, those tiny seeds watered by heavenly dew will produce abundant, sweet fruit hanging from the branches of the tree of life in God’s garden (cf. Rev. 2:7).

Let us taste and see!

Looking ahead ... and back

2011-07-06T16:31:00.000-05:00

The incredible view of the Ohio River from the deck
of my sister and brother-in-law's home in West Virginia.

Having returned to Saint Meinrad Archabbey last evening from my two-week vacation, it will take me just a while longer to "catch up" and resume posting here more regularly. It is a busy but exciting time, as I am involved with a number of writing and editing projects at the Abbey Press, and for the School of Theology. In addition, I will soon begin working on my thesis to complete my Masters in Theological Studies degree and undertake further studies toward a graduate certificate in spiritual direction. And, of course, there is always plenty going on in the monastery itself. In addition, I hope to soon implement some changes regarding this blog, tying it in more closely with my work for the Abbey Press.

For now, I thought I would simply share a few photos from the last week or so:

My nephew and godson Ian cheers on the home team while watching the Reds
and Indians play in Cincinnati. Unfortunately, the Reds lost,
but the postgame fireworks were fabulous (and loud)!

Ian fuels up.

My brother Kevin looks for a chance to swipe Ian's hat.

My sister Shannon and her husband Ty.

St. Peter in Chains Cathedral in Cincinnati
where we went to Mass. Built in Classic
Greek style in 1845, it is the oldest cathedral
west of the Alleghenies still in use as a cathedral.

Mosaic behind the cathedral altar depicting Christ
bestowing the "power of the keys" upon St. Peter,
and Peter's imprisonment in Jerusalem and Rome.

Ian gets ready to tube on the Ohio.

Faster, Dad, faster!

My mother can't wait for her turn!

Evening Prayer on the river.

Saint Meinrad tornado

2011-06-29T21:36:00.000-05:00

I received word today that while I have been away on vacation, a tornado hit Saint Meinrad in the very early morning hours of Sunday, June 26. No one was hurt, I've been told, but there was some significant damage in the area, including on the grounds of Saint Meinrad Archabbey.

You can view some photos (including the one above) taken by Fr. Eugene and posted on the Saint Meinrad Facebook page here.

As you can see, the damage includes roofs being torn partially or completely off several buildings, collapsed structures, and uprooted trees. It appears that most (but by no means all) of the damage was at the bottom of the Hill in the corner of the campus where the Abbey Press warehouse and shipping plants are located, the physical facilities buildings, and the Gessner House.

The tornado touched down at 2:12 a.m. at the southern edge of the campus and moved east-northeast for about five minutes and 2.3 miles. Wind speeds were clocked at 95-100 mph.

Fr. Kurt, the monastery prior, reports that this is the closest and most violent encounter Saint Meinrad has had with a tornado in his 41 years at the monastery.

In an unrelated matter, we have also learned that the father of Br. Luke (who is in Switzerland as I was last summer) has died after a long illness. Last summer while I was away, Br. Luke's mother died. May they both rest in peace.

If you would, please take a moment to pray for Br. Luke's entire family and for all those throughout the country affected by the severe weather and flooding this summer and past spring.

As for my vacation, things have thankfully been much more pleasant than they apparently have been back home in Indiana. I have been visiting with a number of family members and friends, doing some bass fishing, watching some baseball, and doing some writing for a fun project that is long overdue. I plan to be back at Saint Meinrad July 5.

Joy in Mudville

2011-06-27T07:53:00.001-05:00

A few scenes from Saturday night

(Louisville 9, Toledo 2)

Great seats--right behind home plate!

Muddy disagrees with the
ump's call at the plate.

(L-R) Uncle Kenny, Jim "Chicken Man" Gerschutz, Uncle Joe

Cousin Patty
really likes french fries!

'Do this in memory of me'

2011-06-25T12:37:00.000-05:00

Sunday, June 26, 2011
Solemnity of The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ—A

Deuteronomy 8:2-3, 14b-16a
1Corinthians 10:16-17
John 6:51-58

“Remember” Moses tells the Israelites in today’s first reading. Remember how God has directed you, guided you through every affliction, strengthened you, protected and delivered you, and how he has sustained your life with food and drink from heaven. “Do not forget,” Moses instructs the people—whose long and trying journey to the Promised Land prefigures our Christian journey in this world.

Remember in this sense means quite simply: “Trust God.” Trust that you are in his presence every step of the way, and that he will care and provide for you. Trust that you are being fed spiritually through Word and Sacrament with food and drink from heaven. Trust that we, though many, participate in the very life of Christ, the Bread of Life who gave his life that we might live forever.

This is how we are to recall the reality of God’s presence in our lives, and share Christ’s very real presence in a unique and special way during the Eucharist, where time and eternity meet. It is important to keep in mind that today’s Gospel passage from John follows shortly after the multiplication of the loaves. After miraculously feeding the crowds with only five loaves and two fish, the people hungrily pursue Jesus. And he tells them, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever.”

Remember.

Ordinary beauty

2011-06-24T10:25:00.000-05:00

Earlier this week I began a two-week vacation. I spent the first few days away from the monastery but still on the grounds of Saint Meinrad Archabbey--in a house we own on the edge of the property. Primarily, I wanted to be near our library to do a little research for a writing project I'm working on, but it was also nice to just relax. I feel well-rested!

Now, I am off to both Ohio and West Virginia to spend time with my family and friends, especially my mother. I also plan to catch a couple ballgames and do some fishing, as well as reading and writing. I hope to do a little blogging as well.

During the last few days I also did some hiking in the area, and took a few photos, which are posted here. Nothing spectacular. Just ordinary, everyday beauty graciously given by God.

PAX
Br. Francis

Who made the world?

2011-06-21T09:12:00.000-05:00

'The world is charged with the grandeur of God'

Gerard Manley Hopkins

This past weekend, I led a retreat at our guesthouse titled Reading the Sacred in Creation. Preparing beforehand, I pulled together a great deal of source material for both my own relfection and (hopefully) that of the retreatants--Scripture, saints, and spiritual authors. More importantly, the point of the retreat was to actually read God's Word in Creation itself to guide us toward joining together in singing nature's continuous hymn of thanks and praise to the Creator of all.

This morning, I ran across these pieces by the poet Mary Oliver. They would have been perfect for the retreat. Since that moment has passed, I thought I'd post them here:

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean--

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth
instead of up and down--

who is gazing around with her
enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms
and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know what a prayer is.
I do not know how to pay attention,
how to fall down into the grass,
how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed,
how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with you one wild and precious life?

-- Mary Oliver, The Summer Day

***

It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try

to make them elaborate, this isn't

a contest, but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

-- Mary Oliver, Praying

'Unless you become like children'

2011-06-19T21:04:00.000-05:00

Exhausted from giving a weekend retreat at our guesthouse (good experience, but I'm an introvert), I have spent some down time alone today trolling online for interesting exposes of one type or another. Earlier, I posted a link to one about a father's ultimate sacrifice. This one, in its own way, may be even better:

"For Franciscan Twins, Simple Lives Had Depth," a piece in the New York Times by Dan Barry.

It is the remarkable story of two simple biological twin brothers who became unassuming Franciscan brothers, serving side-by-side in the same religious community, and who recently died at age 92-- on the same day!

It's an amazing story, and I am edified by what I have read of their lives. These two had it figured out, it seems. Holy simplicity and humility and joy. A good lesson for us all.

A father's love

2011-06-19T14:02:00.000-05:00

If you read only one Father's Day story today, this should be the one: Jeffrey Goldberg's column "Father's Day Lesson About Children and Life" at bloomberg.com. It is simply amazing -- a portrait of fatherhood modeled on Christ's self-sacrificing love. Read it--and keep some tissues handy!

Blessings to all fathers, living and deceased.

(Don't) think about it!

2011-06-16T10:42:00.000-05:00

Sunday, June 19, 2011
Solemnity of The Most Holy Trinity—A

Exodus 34:4b-6, 8-9
2Corinthians 13:11-13
John 3:16-18

Richard Rohr, in his book The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See, recalls an amusing, yet enlightening, moment from his days as a child in school. Attempting to introduce the mystery of the Holy Trinity to Rohr and his befuddled classmates, their teacher, an Irish nun, held up a shamrock for them to gaze upon and said: “Don’t think about it!”

While some theologians and learned Christians may overanalyze the Trinity, the majority of us rarely ponder it at all. And yet, it is the central doctrine of our faith. It is why we make the sign of the cross so often. It is explicitly present in the liturgy, and implicitly present in Scripture. We confess one God, but one God in three divine and distinct persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. They are co-equal, co-eternal, and consubstantial. The one and only God is one, but not solitary.

Huh?

As Rohr’s teacher would say, “Don’t think about it!”

It is a very slippery thing—like trying barehanded to grab fish swimming in a barrel. Once we think we’ve finally taken hold of it, somehow it slides out of our grasp. The difficulty lies in our Western either/or mentality that tends to view things through one of two lenses in order to classify and compartmentalize. We struggle with paradox, with mystery, with viewing things with a “third eye” that is comfortable with opposites held in tension with one another.

But the Trinity cannot be captured. The Trinity must capture you.

Rohr encourages his readers to think of God not as a noun (or proper noun, as it where), but as a verb. Rather than attempting to “solve” the mystery of the Trinity (or avoiding the issue altogether), we simply need to be “captured” by the exchange of Love (as a verb) shared among Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—to be an integral part of this divine relationship. We are invited to become what we contemplate!

The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.

Come, Holy Spirit

2011-06-11T09:47:00.000-05:00

Come, Holy Spirit, come,

and from your celestial home

shed a ray of light divine!

Come, Father of the poor!

Come, Source of all our store!

Come, within our bosoms shine!

You, of comforters the best;

You, the soul's most welcome guest;

sweet refreshment here below;

in our labor, rest most sweet;

grateful coolness in the heat;

solace in the midst of woe.

O most blessèd Light divine,

shine within these hearts of yours,

and our inmost being fill!

Where you are not, we have naught,

nothing good in deed or thought,

nothing free from taint of ill.

Heal our wounds, our strength renew;

on our dryness pour your dew;

wash the stains of guilt away;

bend the stubborn heart and will;

melt the frozen, warm the chill;

guide the steps that go astray.

On the faithful, who adore

and confess you, evermore

in your sevenfold gift descend;

give them virtue's sure reward

give them your salvation, Lord;

give them joys that never end.

Amen.

Alleluia.

Veni, Sancte Spiritus, "The Golden Sequence"

Rabanus Maurus (+856), trans. Edward Caswall, 1849

The breath of God

2011-06-09T10:48:00.000-05:00

Artwork by Gwen Meharg:
http://www.drawneartogod.com/

Sunday, June 12, 2011
Solemnity of Pentecost—A

Acts 2:1-11
1Corinthians 12:3b-7, 12-13
John 20:19-23

The Holy Spirit is the very breath of God who enlivens and enlightens all creation. The Third Person of the Holy Trinity, sent by the Risen Son through the Father, breathes life into the Church so that the world may live, move, and have its entire being in God.

Filled with the joy of the Resurrection, this is the message and mission of Pentecost for the Church—2,000 years ago, and today.

Wind and Spirit are associated with one another throughout Scripture. This analogy—and reality—is meant to remind us that we live by the very breath—or Spirit—of God. The Spirit—wind—is stirred up whenever God is creating or achieving one of his “mighty acts.”

The first verses of Genesis tell us that the “mighty wind” of God swept over the chaotic and dark nothingness to bring order and light and life to the universe. In Genesis 2:7, God forms man and blows into him the “breath of life.” In Genesis 8:1, God makes a “wind sweep over the earth” to chase away the deadly waters of the Great Flood. In Exodus 14:21, acting through Moses, God’s wind sweeps over the Red Sea to part the waters and grant the Israelites safe passage. In Ezekiel 37, the prophet in a vision imparts God’s breath to restore life in a valley of dry bones.

In today’s readings for Pentecost, these signs take on new meaning in God’s mighty act of breathing life—the Holy Spirit—into the Church through Christ. A mighty wind, tongues of fire, and the very breath of Jesus fill his disciples with the divine life necessary to go out and fill the world with his presence.

As he sent them with the Spirit, so he sends us. The gift of the Holy Spirit continues the work of God through our service of one another. So, as the Church, the Body of Christ, let us breathe God’s peace into the world and enflame it with the fire of his love—for many though we are, we all drink of the one Spirit!

Canine ministers

2011-06-03T10:47:00.000-05:00

It's likely pretty clear by now how much I love dogs. So, I could not help but be taken by this story (click here) from The Criterion, the newspaper for the Archdiocese of Indianapolis. I ran across it while reading the piece about Br. Mauritius. It describes the very real therapeutic benefit provided by "ministry dogs" at St. Vincent Hospital in Indianapolis. Sometimes Four-Pawed Presence can make all the difference in the world.

The story reminds me of the dogs kept at a hospice facility in northwest Ohio, which I visited several times while a good friend of mine was dying of cancer about 10 years ago. At that time, the facility had two trained dogs that simply came and went as they pleased into all the patients' rooms to provide comfort or consolation. It was wonderful to watch--like canine spiritual directors on their appointed rounds!

The dogs were able to sense which patients and families were receptive to their presence and which ones were not, and they respected those unspoken boundaries. They were very quiet and dutiful, yet cheerful and calming. Yes, they were trained, but all that was also part of their disposition. Just good companions when simple presence is all that is needed or desired.

I know for a fact that those dogs provided a great deal of soothing relief and joy for a good number of people in need of it, and in a way that human beings are sometimes not able to do while under stress.

They aren't called man's best friend for nothing!

Swiss Guard

2011-06-02T20:44:00.001-05:00

Br. Mauritius, then known as Marco Rudolf Honegger,
takes his oath as a member of the Swiss Guard.

Although he has returned to Einsiedeln in Switzerland, Br. Mauritius is still making headlines!

Click here to read a feature story about Br. Mauritius' experience in the Swiss Guard in the latest issue of The Criterion, the newspaper for the Archdiocese of Indianapolis. The article recounts his service as a Guard member at the time of the death of Pope John Paul II and the election of Benedict XVI.

'I am with you always'

2011-06-02T10:43:00.000-05:00

Sunday, June 5, 2011
Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord—A

Acts 1:1-11
Ephesians 1:17-23
Matthew 28:16-20

If one were looking for a short, simple passage that synthesizes all of Scripture, summarizes Jesus’ purpose for coming among us, and declares the mission of the Church, today’s Gospel would be an excellent choice.

All three readings speak of the establishment of the Kingdom of God in a manner that surpasses all human expectations. The Gospel, in particular, portrays Jesus completely reclaiming a fallen world wounded by sin, and commissioning his weak, doubtful, and confused disciples to proclaim this message of hope to all peoples.

Can you imagine? These eleven, as Matthew points out (Judas having betrayed Jesus before his death), are unlearned men still stunned by Jesus’ resurrection. They doubted, Matthew says. And they did more than that. These same men, while trying to follow Jesus, nonetheless were tripped up by human ambition, jealousy, selfishness, pride, misunderstanding, fear, and even denial of Christ. The first disciples were just as broken as we are!

Yet Jesus entrusts the Church to them—to us. We are to evangelize, celebrate the sacraments, teach one another, and live the Gospel—but not all alone. “I am with you always, until the end of the age,” Jesus says.

This powerful promise echoes throughout Scripture. It’s there in Matthew’s infancy narrative, recalling the words of the prophet Isaiah: “They shall name him Emmanuel, which means ‘God is with us’” (cf. Mt 1:23; Is 7:14). And it is there in 2Chronicles 36:23, the very last words of the Hebrew Bible, when the earthly King Cyrus claims his dominion under God and links it to the temple in Jerusalem, urging the people, “Go up, and may God be with [you].”

All this is tied together and fulfilled when Christ the True King ascends into heaven with the Earth at his feet, and then sends the Holy Spirit to be with his first disciples—and us in the building up of God’s heavenly Kingdom.

To the ends of the Earth, and to the end of the age. Amen.

Wanted: Laborers for the harvest

2011-06-01T20:16:00.002-05:00

"The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few;

therefore ask the Lord of the harvest

to send out laborers into his harvest."

Matthew 9:37-38

This week Anushka Fonseka has joined us as a candidate in the monastery, where he will live and work. Today he received his tunic and belt and joined us in choir. God willing, he will be invested as a novice in early August, receiving the scapular and tonsure and beginning his novitiate year of formation and discernment. We are glad to have him here. May God bless and guide him, and grant him peace as he embarks on the monastic journey.

Also this week, we have a pair of young men here as part of our biannual Monastic Observance program. They will live, work, and pray with us in the monastery for a few days as part of their ongoing discernment.

I ask your prayers for Anushka and these observers, and for all who may be called to our way of life. We could use some more novices and juniors--spread the word!

The place of Christ

2011-06-01T10:22:00.000-05:00

Crosier at Abbot's choir stall,
made by the late Br. Lawrence.

Many blessings to our Archabbot, Fr. Justin DuVall, O.S.B., who today honors the memory of his holy patron, the martyr St. Justin. May God guide him, and the monastic community he serves, along the way of everlasting life.

"[The Abbot] holds the place of Christ in the monastery. ... Everything he teaches and commands should, like the leaven of divine justice, permeate the minds of his disciples."

-- Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 2, "Qualities of the Abbot"

All-Star

2011-06-01T09:55:00.001-05:00

"Put me in coach, I'm ready to play today."

Chorus from John Fogerty's "Centerfield"

My 8-year-old nephew (and godson) Ian, playing first base for his Little League team, the Reds. Naturally, he is a Cincinnati Reds fan (he lives along the Ohio River with my sister and her husband).

When I am on vacation over the Fourth of July weekend, my family and I will be attending a Reds game in Cincinnati. It will be Ian's first pro ballgame--always a milestone for a young boy. I still vividly recall my first game--also when I was 8 years old. Reds vs. Mets, 1973 National League Championship Series. Tom Seaver pitching for the Mets, ahead 1-0 going into the 8th. Then Cincinnati's Pete Rose hit a solo homer in the 8th to tie it, and Johnny Bench hit a walk-off home run in the 9th to win it 2-1.

As an aside, when I related this a while back to Br. Mauritius, he said politely, "I'm sure it was exciting, but I have no idea what any of that means." Baseball does not register in Switzerland. Only soccer.

Anyway, on that October evening in 1973, my father had to put me on his shoulders at the end to see, and I remember waving my new Reds cap and cheering along with thousands of other fans so loud I became hoarse. Although the Reds ended up losing the series, that moment was etched into my memory, especially as the Reds went on to win the World Series in 1975 and 1976.

I can only hope Ian's first ballgame will elicit such fond memories when he is older.

When I was a kid, I loved playing first base as well, and my favorite player was Tony Perez, who played first base for the Reds. These days of course, the Reds also have a pretty good first baseman--Joey Votto, who was the National League Player of the Year last year.

Perhaps one day several decades from now, some young boys will pretend to be All-Star first baseman Ian Snodgrass!

"[My Catholic faith and baseball] have each taught me lessons about love, loss, and life. Each has its own rewards, its version of universal truth. Each reveals a wondrous glimpse of what it is to be human. I'm no theologian, and I was never very good with a curve ball, but I marvel at the symbiosis, the intimate connection between that which is heaven sent... and the game which is heaven on earth."
-- Gary Graf, And God Said, "PLAY BALL!"

Dog day afternoon

2011-05-29T20:30:00.000-05:00

My friend Cinnamon, who took me for a walk Sunday afternoon.
Her real human, Sr. Diane, lives at the bottom of the Hill.

Dogs are our link to paradise.

They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent.

To sit with a dog on a hillside
on a glorious afternoon
is to be back in Eden,
where doing nothing was not boring
-- it was peace.

Milan Kundera

Connectivity

2011-05-27T11:37:00.001-05:00

Sunday, May 29, 2011
Sixth Sunday of Easter —A

Acts 8:5-8, 14-17
1Peter 3:15-18
John 14:15-21

Today we receive a foretaste of Pentecost—the birth of the Church—with a reminder of how the Holy Spirit works in the Body of Christ. The message is this: We are never alone. “I will not leave you orphans,” Jesus promises. In baptism, we are sanctified—claimed—as God’s children. Through the sacrament of confirmation, which today’s first reading describes, we are fortified by the Holy Spirit to live more fully in faith, hope, and love.

The Spirit is not a concept, but a Person—the third Person of the One and Triune God who animates and enlightens God’s Temple, the Church as the Body of Christ, and our individual souls. Jesus calls the Spirit the “Advocate” who will be with us always. The Greek term for this word supplies us with a traditional definition—a supporter or defender, like a defense attorney. It also means an intercessor, a mediator, spokesperson, and a comforter or consoler.

However, there is a deeper meaning—that of a teacher or witness. The Spirit of Truth instructs and provides evidence through personal presence. This means that Jesus is more fully present to us than he ever was to his disciples in his own time and place. Then, he was only present to them. Now, he is present to all, throughout time and eternity.

In Christ and through the Holy Spirit, we are made friends of God. We are all connected--the ultimate social network.

Because of this, we have the Advocate—in prayer, in the Eucharist, in the sacraments, in Scripture, in the ministers of the Church and its living Tradition, in one another, and in our hearts. The Spirit—coequal and coeternal with Father and Son—is the reason for our hope.

Brought to life in the Spirit through the death and resurrection of Christ, we have faith in yesterday, hope in tomorrow, and love for today. We become one with the Holy Trinity, now and forever. Amen.

Advancing ...

2011-05-27T11:27:00.000-05:00

The retreat was wonderful, and drew to a close this morning with a special Mass that included the renewal of vows. It was a good week.

After Mass, Br. Luke said his farewells. He is off to Switzerland, and Einsiedeln! It's likely he has no idea how fortunate he is, but he will soon enough! May God go with him.

Our closing reflection for the retreat was Chapter 72 of The Rule, on "The Good Zeal of Monks," which is a good summary and theme for St. Benedict's entire work:
Just as there is a wicked zeal of bitterness
which separates from God and leads to hell,
so there is a good zeal which separates from evil
and leads to God and everlasting life.

This, then, is the good zeal which monks must foster
with fervent love: They should each be the first
to show respect to the other (Romans 12:10),
supporting with the greatest patience
one another's weaknesses of body or behavior,
and earnestly competing in obedience to one another.

No one is to pursue what he judges better for himself,
but instead, what he judges better for someone else.
To their fellow monks they show the pure love of brothers;
to God, loving fear;
to their abbot, unfeigned and humble love.

Let them prefer nothing whatever to Christ,
and may he bring us all together
to everlasting life.

(+Timothy Fry, O.S.B., trans., Liturgical Press, 1981)

Retreating...

2011-05-22T16:31:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow morning we begin our annual community retreat here in the monastery. It is a time for us to slow down a bit, renew, and recharge ourselves spiritually during a week of prayer, recollection and fellowship.

Fr. Patrick Caveglia of Conception Abbey in Missouri will be leading the retreat, giving two conferences each day. For table reading during the retreat, we will be listening to Barbara Brown Taylor's An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith.

One of the nice things about the retreat will be the return of many of our expositi -- monks of Saint Meinrad who are assigned to live, work, or study elsewhere most of the year. The retreat ends on Friday with a special Mass and the renewal of vows by solemnly professed monks.

During the retreat, my exposure to the Internet will be minimal, so I will not be posting anything here until Friday, when I will put up the weekly commentary on the following Sunday's Mass readings.

Please keep us all in prayer!

The forgotten prophetic dimension

2011-05-21T14:07:00.000-05:00

NOTE: Following is the text of Abbot Martin Werlen's convocation speech on Saturday, May 14, for the Saint Meinrad Seminary and School of Theology graduation ceremony. He is the abbot of the Benedictine Abbey of Einsiedeln in Switzerland--the motherhouse of Saint Meinrad Archabbey. As you can see, he offers some challenging words for us all. --Br. Francis

Dear Abbot Justin, dear President-Rector, members of the Faculty and of the administration, graduates, confreres, students and guests:

Last year, in the context of our community retreat, we read the Gaudium et Spes. I was really amazed about the prophetic dimension of this last document of the Second Vatican Council, not prepared by the Curia, but really a document of the Council itself.

Where is this prophetic dimension of the Church today? I dare to say: It is forgotten!

Surely, there are some really prophetic documents since the Council, for example the encyclical letter Populorum Progressio by Pope Paul VI. Or the apostolic letter Novo Millennio Ineunte by Blessed Pope John Paul II. But we have somehow forgotten what the last council says in Lumen Gentium No. 35:

“Christ, the great Prophet, who proclaimed the Kingdom of His Father both by the testimony of His life and the power of His words, continually fulfills His prophetic office until the complete manifestations of glory. He does this not only through the hierarchy who teach in His name and with His authority, but also through the laity whom He made His witnesses and to whom He gave understanding of the faith (sensus fidei) and an attractiveness in speech.”

Why did we forget the prophetic dimension? There are many reasons. I want to point out only a few of them. Maybe not even the ones we normally think about.

The Western Church is – in its way through all the centuries – again and again in the danger of over-institutionalization. Let me mention just one example. Ordination does not make a priest a real spiritual father. To be a spiritual father is a charismatic dimension. This charismatic dimension is not often considered--so much that not only celibate life of the diocesan clergy is not understood by many baptized men and women as charism, but also that of religious, but instead merely as a matter of law.

The proclamation of the Gospel is a prophetic task. A prophet – as you all know – is not a kind of fortune-teller. A prophet says the right word at the right moment. The prophet does not destroy faith – as he is sometimes perceived – but he purifies faith and actualizes it. The prophet knows to read the signs of the time in the light of the Gospel. The priest, therefore, clearly has a prophetic vocation.

It is not the Church’s vocation to defend systems or positions of power. Neither is it the Church’s vocation to build a parallel society. The Church’s vocation is to be leaven in our society: The ear at God’s heart, the hand at the pulse of time.

It is the Church’s vocation, as Blessed Pope John Paul II puts it in words, “to remember the past with gratitude, to live the present with enthusiasm and to look forward to the future with confidence” (Novo Millennio Ineunte No.1).

Where is the enthusiasm today? Where is this confidence today? At least in Europe we really miss it. We miss it also in documents coming from Rome.

In the apostolic letter Novo Millennio Ineunte we read:

“The ‘purification of memory’ (in the year 2000) has strengthened our steps for the journey towards the future and has made us more humble and vigilant in our acceptance of the Gospel.”

Is this true? Did it become true? Where are the confidence and the awareness that the word is true: “I am with you always, to the close of the age” (Mt 28:20)?

The prophetic dimension in the Church is not a new program. It is not going back to earlier stages. “The program already exists: it is the plan found in the Gospel and in the living Tradition.” That’s how Pope John Paul II expresses it (Novo Millennio Ineunte, No. 29). In the Gospel and in the living Tradition. To the living Tradition of the Church belongs the Second Vatican Council, also its clear demand for a liturgical reform.

With the recently beatified Pope I am convinced: “What a treasure there is …in the guidelines offered to us by the Second Vatican Council!” (Novo Millennio Ineunte, No.57).

How is it possible, that we as Church are speechless in so many challenges of our time? The Gospel is not just Good News for past times – the Gospel is Good News for our time! Also for women, also for divorced and remarried people, also for sinners – especially for sinners!

When Pope Benedict XVI in August 2005 during his vacation in Aosta was confronted by the priests of the region with the situation of so many divorced and remarried people, he admitted that the response of the Church is insufficient. But what happened since? Is it a surprise when people of our time don’t consider us anymore to be competent and trustworthy in such matters? The living tradition of the Eastern Churches knows other ways, never condemned by the Western Churches.

I am convinced: Fidelity to the Gospel and to the living Tradition opens ways into the future. Let us have a look at today’s feast day [May 14]: Saint Matthias.

Jesus called 12 young men as his friends and made them apostles. All of them had a hard time living their vocation. One didn’t dare to ask forgiveness. He committed suicide. The symbolic number 12 was no longer complete. What to do? Don’t forget: Jesus himself called the 12– these 12! The Church decided to replace Judas. Courageous. And we celebrate this very courage today. And later on – the Church dared to have more than twelve bishops, and not only from the rank of fishermen.

And let us look at the way Judas was replaced. "In these days [we read in the Acts of the Apostles] Peter stood up in the midst of the disciples and said ...” I don’t want do make a commentary. This could be too dangerous. Instead I leave the word to the living Tradition, to the great bishop and preacher Saint John Chrysostom. I dare to do this because the Church itself gives us this commentary today officially as text for meditation.

John Chrysostom says: “As the fiery spirit to whom the flock was entrusted by Christ and as the leader in the band of the apostles, Peter always took the initiative in speaking: ‘My brothers, we must choose from among our number.'” And John Chrysostom explains – quite reasonable, I think:

“He left the decision to the whole body, at once augmenting the honor of those elected and avoiding any suspicion of partiality. For such great occasions can easily lead to trouble. Did not Peter then have the right to make the choice himself? Certainly he had the right, but he did not want to give the appearance of showing special favor to anyone. … He himself did not nominate them; all present did. But it was he who brought the issue forward, pointing out that it was not his own idea but had been suggested to him by a scriptural prophecy. So he was speaking not as a teacher but as an interpreter. … They spoke with such confidence, because someone had to be appointed. They did not say ‘choose’ but ‘make known to us’ the chosen one; ‘the one you choose’, they said, fully aware that everything was preordained by God. ‘They then drew lots.’ For they did not think themselves worthy to make the choice of their own accord, and therefore they wanted some sign for their instruction.”

Surprising texts – both the Holy Scripture and the living Tradition! And the Church today gives us these texts for meditation and consideration. Amazing!

Amazing also that Canon Law does not have to justify the common practice of appointing bishops. But some dioceses in Switzerland have to justify their practice, where all Catholics – baptized and confirmed – are involved in the process of electing a new bishop. And the Pope confirms the elected.

Are the Swiss Catholics heretics? Not at all – at least in this matter. They don’t have only the Scripture and Saint John Chrysostom on their side, but also the rich Benedictine tradition.

Saint Benedict in his monastic Rule writes 1,500 years ago about the abbot “chosen by the community” (RB 64:1). And that’s the way it is since, in Einsiedeln since 934 and in Saint Meinrad since 1870 – even though with some troubles. And experience – at least in the past – says: it is not the worst way…

Furthermore, Saint Benedict is considered as the father of Western monasticism, patron of Europe and he is patron saint of the Holy Father.

By the way, Saint Benedict has a lot to say about the forgotten prophetic dimension. It is his conviction that God likes to speak through unlikely persons. That’s why it is a Benedictine way of leadership to listen especially to those from whom we expect nothing. Let me mention just two examples.

“Whenever anything important has to be done in the monastery, the Abbot must assemble the whole community and explain what is under consideration. When he has heard the council of the brethren, he should give it consideration and then take what seems to him the best course. The reason why we say that all should be called to council is this: It is often to a younger brother the Lord reveals the best course” (RB 3:1-3). And at the end oft the same chapter, Saint Benedict says: “If, however, there are less important matters to be transacted … the Abbot should take counsel only with the senior monks” (RB 3:12).

That’s really not the way we are used to – some of the newly appointed cardinals – the council of the Pope – are more than 90 years old. Maybe we do not have important matters to deal with… Or maybe that’s the reason why the prophetic dimension in the Church is a forgotten dimension.

Another example. Benedict – I speak about the father of monasticism – knows that guests may sometimes criticize. He writes: “And if indeed … he criticizes or points some things out, the Abbot should consider the matter carefully. For it may be that the Lord has sent him for this very purpose” (RB 61:4). Amazing, isn’t it? Benedict is, of course, aware that it is easier to accept if someone criticizes with humble charity and is reasonable (cf. RB 61:4).

That’s not the way we are used to dealing with critics. Maybe that’s also a reason why the prophetic dimension is a forgotten dimension.

Dear Abbot Justin, dear President-Rector, members of the Faculty and of the administration, dear graduates, confreres, students and guests, we all received the sacraments of baptism and confirmation. We all have a prophetic vocation. And we have the Scripture and the living Tradition with so many saints as good examples.

“Duc in altum!” – “Let’s put out into the deep!” (Lk 5:4). That’s what we read on the back of this pectoral-cross, a gift from Pope John Paul II.: “Duc in altum!”

Thank you for listening so someone from whom you expected nothing!

Swiss Sanders

2011-05-20T21:20:00.000-05:00

As I write this, Einsiedeln's Br. Mauritius is likely midway over the Atlantic on his way back to Switzerland. Earlier today, I drove him to the airport in Louisville, Ky., about and hour and a half east of Saint Meinrad Archabbey.

He had been studying here in the School of Theology and staying with us in the monastery since last August. Of course, it was also about this time last year that I was flying to Switzerland for a summer at Einsiedeln, where I first met him.

It is strange. We are from different countries, different backgrounds and cultures, and our age difference is vast (almost 20 years). Yet, the two of us really hit it off, and we have become good friends. I will miss him, as will the rest of the monastic community here at Saint Meinrad. Although I know he will be glad to be back home, he fit in well here. We were blessed to have him with us this past year, and wish the best for him and all the monks at our motherhouse in Switzerland.

By now, you are probably wondering why in the world this post is accompanied by a photo of a Colonel Sanders statue. Well, let me tell you. Colonel Sanders, as you know, is the iconic face of Kentucky Fried Chicken. Sanders (1890-1980), was from Henryville, Indiana, and died in Louisville. He founded KFC and was known for his trademark white suit, black tie, white beard, and black cane.

What's that got to do with Br. Mauritius? At the airport in Louisville, after he checked his bag, Br. Mauritius suggested we sit down for one last meal together before he went through security and boarded his flight. "You know, I haven't eaten at a Kentucky Fried Chicken yet." Well, right there on the main concourse level of the Louisville airport is a KFC. I had not eaten at a KFC for years, but that's where we ate lunch before we bid one another farewell. Br. Mauritius' last meal on American soil was in Louisville, Kentucky, at a Kentucky Fried Chicken--five feet away from a statue of Colonel Sanders sitting on a bench.

Oddly, that seems entirely fitting.

The photo above is not mine; I found it online. But is is the same statue at the same airport. Before leaving for the airport this morning, I ignored an impulse to take along my camera. Wish I had. Would have been a perfect parting shot.

Then again, maybe it's better left to the imagination--Colonel Sanders and a Swiss monk sitting side by side on a bench. What a wonderful world.

Building blocks

2011-05-19T09:37:00.000-05:00

Sunday, May 22, 2011
Fifth Sunday of Easter —A

Acts 6:1-7
1Peter 2:4-9
John 14:1-12

“Master, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?” the Apostle Thomas asks Jesus in today’s Gospel. It is a prayer most of us have prayed at one time or another: “Lord, I don’t understand. What is going on, why is this happening, where is it taking me, what do you have in store for me? How can I know your will, your purpose in this? Help me to know.”

Jesus’ response is one of reassurance. In the previous chapter of John’s Gospel, he had encouraged his disciples through word and deed to love and serve one another in the face of betrayal, suffering, and persecution. He was speaking of his own impending death, but was also foretelling the trials his disciples would face—then and now. The Eternal Word of Christ resounds throughout history, and what he says is just as true for us as it was for his first disciples. “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” he says. “Have faith in me. I am the way, and the truth and the life.”

There is a point where we simply have to let go, and let God, as the popular saying goes. We are living stones, as St. Peter says, in God’s spiritual dwelling. God builds us up, and Christ is the cornerstone on which we are fastened. The trouble is that we often wish to do the building according to our own designs when God has other, better plans.

In faith, as God’s living stones, we must do what St. Peter urges: “Let yourselves be built into a spiritual house.” Not build, but be built. There is a difference.

We are the work of God, and in him we dwell.

Web gem

2011-05-17T20:05:00.001-05:00

If you watch one baseball play all year,
this should be it (even if it's faked).

(and unless the Reds win the World Series--hey it could happen!)

Trash talk

2011-05-16T22:19:00.000-05:00

Although Lent is long gone and we are in the midst of the Easter season, we should still be practicing spiritual discipline. After all, the purpose of Lent leading into the joy of Easter is to transform our entire way of life as we move toward the fulfillment of the coming of the eternal Kingdom of God. I was reminded of this today as I ran across the piece posted below by Luke Armstrong, director of God's Child Project in Guatemala (you can read it in its entire context here). I will let Mr. Armstrong's reflection speak for itself (it was originally addressed to high school students, but applies to us all). Following that, a few additional observations of my own:

Two years ago one of our social workers discovered six siblings living in a garbage dump outside of a village called Ciudad Vieja. This garbage dump was as close to hell on Earth as any place can be. Looming above it was an active volcano. A fine layer of ash fell like snow from its frequent eruptions.

In the garbage dump, the volcano was not the only thing that burned. Decades of garbage lay in enormous mountains. Trapped gasses ignited underground fires, which caused a thick, chemical smoke to hang heavy in the air.

Amongst the waste, carcasses of household pets decayed and emitted putrid smells while flies swarmed and swarmed and swarmed. In the torrent of this oppressive environment, there were also people. Little boys and girls climbed the mountains of burning garbage looking for food. They spent twelve hours every day scouring these mounds of waste in search of a way to stay alive.

As is our mission, we worked to get six siblings out of that environment. After putting the right pieces in place, we managed to find them a place to live and enrolled them in classes at one of our schools. Each student was given new clothes to wear and school supplies.

For two weeks, it seemed as though we had succeeded. But then, all six stopped showing up to school. We could not find them in their new homes. We went back to the garbage dump and sure enough, there they were.

It leads one to ask the question, “Why would any sane person choose a life in hell over a dignified house, and the chance for a good education?” We soon found out the answer.

In the hustle and bustle of getting these kids out of the dump and into new clothes, one of the girls slipped through the cracks and did not receive a new pair of shoes. Her name was Carmen. Carmen wore a pair of ragged shoes that she had found in the garbage dump. During her second week of school another girl noticed these shoes and made fun of her. She laughed at her for having such shabby shoes. Others joined in and made fun of her shoes.

Carmen had lived her whole life in a garbage dump. The social pressure of being made fun of for her shoes was new and completely dislodging for her. It was too much for her to take. She decided to leave school and return to the dump. At least in the dump no one made fun of her. She was the eldest sibling, and her brothers and sisters decided that if she was going to return to the garbage dump, then they were all going to return together.

This story does have a happy ending. In the end we were able to convince the children to return to school where they remain today.

I tell you this story and ask you to share it for this reason. Six people’s lives were almost destroyed because of one unkind comment. All the girl who made the comment did was make fun of another girl’s shoes. Surely all of us have done worse. I know I have. If asked why she did it, I’m sure she would say something we hear all too often: “It was just a joke.”

The girl likely could never have imagined how far the negative consequences of that “joke” could have reached. But that joke almost destroyed the life of six children. Children in garbage dumps don’t survive long. If their health does not give out by the time they reach adolescents, exploiters or human traffickers prey on them.

Though we will never fully know how far our unkind and kind acts will reach, I believe that both reach further than any of us could ever imagine. Every day we are presented with a thousand opportunities to choose kindness or unkindness.

I no longer believe in trivial acts. Everything we do carries enormous weight. Everything we do has repercussions that will last long after we have left this Earth. If we look at the world like this, I think it becomes nearly impossible to choose unkindness over kindness.

Even though others irritate us sometimes, and almost invite nastiness, none of us knows what another is going through. What we can be sure of is that everyone deserves our kindness.

And we can all be thankful that life gives us limitless opportunities to give it.

After reading this, the following thoughts came to mind. Perhaps they will also prove useful to you:

-- Incidents such as the one recounted above happen numerous times every single day all over the world, not just in Guatemala. They happen in the United States. Even here in a monastery in Saint Meinrad, Indiana. The circumstances may be much different, but the same principle is at stake.

-- There are many different types of "garbage dumps" in which people are living--spiritual, emotional, and psychological wastelands that allure and entrap us.

-- It is relatively easy for me to remember the times when I perceived, like little Carmen, being on the receiving end of a "little joke" that made me desire the "safety" of my own little garbage dump--which ultimately leads not to security, but to death. Much more difficult is calling to mind the many times (likely much more numerous than I care to remember) that I was on the "giving" end--offering a seemingly harmless, yet unkind comment driving another to his or her own little garbage dump. Often, such remarks--the flippant observation, the sarcastic response, the "good-natured" put-down--are made simply to elicit laughs. They are wasteful words--trash talk.

-- In his Rule, St. Benedict speaks often of the need for silence, for taciturnity, for intentional and charitable speaking from a prayerful silence when necessary. Sometimes, he says, even good things should be left unsaid. Benedict seems to be against laughter altogether, but that is not really what he's driving at. He points out a truth we prefer to ignore -- we sin most often with our tongues, the same instruments we use to bless God. Words can either build up or destroy. They are powerful--sharper than any two-edged sword.

-- "Everything we do carries enormous weight," Mr. Amstrong says. "Everyone deserves our kindness." That is the Gospel we proclaim and strive to live, pure and simple. But it's not easy. Or is it? "My yoke is easy and my burden light," Jesus assures us (Matthew 11:30). Kindness, gentleness, compassion, encouragement, and genuine, uplifting humor usually costs nothing and reaps unlimited spiritual fruit in the lives of all. That should make us pause before opening our mouth in prideful haste, or simply out of convenience, because one word in the opposite direction can cost somebody everything. No joke.

Gäste von Einsiedeln

2011-05-16T10:23:00.001-05:00

Our guests from Kloster Einsiedeln in Switzerland:

(from left) Br. Alexander, Abbot Martin, and Br. Mauritius

Unsere liebe Frau von Einsiedeln, bete für uns

Good Shepherding

2011-05-15T14:02:00.002-05:00

"God has not called me to be successful.

He has called me to be faithful."
Mother Teresa

Willkommen

2011-05-14T09:22:00.001-05:00

A warm welcome to Einsiedeln's Abbot Martin and Br. Alexander, who have come to Saint Meinrad Archabbey to visit for a few days. They arrived late Friday evening at the airport in Louisville, and were picked up by their confrere Br. Mauritius, who has been staying here the past year while studying in the Seminary and School of Theology.

This is Br. Alexander's first visit to Saint Meinrad. Abbot Martin, of course, has been here a few times, although not for a few years. Like Br. Mauritius, he studied here when he was a young monk. Abbot Martin will be giving the convocation address at this afternoon's graduation ceremony for the Seminary and School of Theology. He and Br. Alexander will return to Switzerland early next week.

Later next week, Br. Mauritius will fly back to Switzerland. It has been good having him here. The time for departure has arrived too quickly! Hopefully, he will be back again one day. In the fall, another confrere from Einsiedeln, Br. Thomas, will be joining us for a year of study, so we look forward to that.

In the meantime, Saint Meinrad's own Br. Luke will be leaving in a couple weeks to spend the summer at Einsiedeln as I did last summer. I wish him well on this adventure of a lifetime!

It is good to keep these connections between Saint Meinrad and our motherhouse of Einsidelen strong and growing. To know who you are and where you're going, you need to know where you're from.

Hopefully, in the next couple days I will be able to get Abbot Martin, Br. Alexander, and Br. Mauritius together long enough to take a photo and post here. In the meantime, in their honor and that of all the monks of Einsiedeln, I have posted a few shots of the motherhouse taken last summer.

Security gate

2011-05-13T16:02:00.000-05:00

Behind and before you encircle me.

Psalm 139:5

A sheepfold

Good Shepherd fresco
from the catacombs of Callixtus in Rome.
From the mid-3rd Century, it is the
earliest known image of Christ
portrayed as Shepherd.

Sunday, May 15, 2011
Fourth Sunday of Easter —A

Acts 2:14a, 36-41
1Peter 2:20b-25
John 10:1-10

How can the shepherd also be a gate?

Today’s Gospel passage introduces John’s well-known “Good Shepherd” discourse. The image of Jesus (and God) as shepherd has deep roots throughout Scripture and has provided comfort and assurance for many believers. However, a closer look at the passage reveals that the focus is on a gate. “I am the gate for the sheep,” Jesus says. “Whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.”

How are we to reconcile these two images? After all, Psalm 23 begins with the words, “The Lord is my shepherd”—not, “The Lord is my gate.”

Perhaps we interpret the word shepherd too narrowly—as someone who only guides, comforts, and provides for his flock. That is all certainly true. But a shepherd also protects, defends, and rescues the flock, even at the risk of his own life.

Recall that Christ is prefigured by David, a shepherd in his youth who, before going off to fight Goliath, pointed out to King Saul that he had slain lions and bears to save his father’s sheep (1Samuel 17:34-37). In a fuller way, Jesus does the same for us, the sheep of his pasture. He defeats the power of sin and death by giving up his own life so that we “might have life and have it more abundantly.” By his wounds, we have been healed.

And there is this: In Jesus’ time, the shepherd would protect his flock at night by herding the sheep into an enclosure with rock walls (a sheepfold) and then positioning his own body across the entrance to prevent the sheep from straying out into harm’s way and to keep preying beasts and marauders out—unless they came through him first. He became the gate. In this way, the shepherd laid down his life for the sheep, just as Jesus does for us through the cross.

This is a striking image to consider on this Good Shepherd Sunday. Jesus is our gateway to salvation and eternal life. He is shepherd and guardian, and through him we find pasture and repose for our souls.

Alleluia!

Benedictus interruptus

2011-05-11T14:07:00.000-05:00

As Benedictine monks, we arise daily (and early) at Saint Meinrad Archabbey and process into the church for the Divine Office (or Liturgy of the Hours). We do this four times every single day (five, including Mass), seven days a week, rain or shine. I've been doing it for almost five years now. Some of my confreres have been doing it for 70 years.

This schedule provides the framework for our entire lives as monks. No matter what other jobs we have--and most of us have more than one--nothing is to be preferred to the Work of God, our common prayer, as St. Benedict says in the Rule.

This was a rather easy mindset for me as a novice, I recall. These days, I will be the first to admit that often enough, when I hear the bells summoning us to church, I have a difficult time separating myself from the task already at hand--whether it's writing, studying, doing other work, or even sleeping. I know in my mind and believe in my heart that the Work of God always comes first, and I am grateful for this great privilege and responsibility, but sometimes it can be difficult to shift gears so quickly and so often each day. Sometimes, I'd rather continue what I'm already doing, and sometimes I carry with me to choir an unfocused disposition.

Most likely, there aren't many monks who don't experience this from time to time. It's only natural. But the Work of God is the reason we're monks. Without any of the other things we do around here, we could still be a monastery. But we could not be one without the daily Work of God. And, even more importantly, it is necessary for our own conversion as monks. Our obedience in this regard hinges on the stability that the Work of God provides.

As our Prior, Fr. Kurt, writes in a recent Abbey Press publication,

"In the monastery, our prayer does regularly interrupt our work. However, we don't consider that inefficiency. We consider it an act of thanksgiving for the day we have been given, and an opportunity to thank the Giver of the day. We need reminders--opportunities--like that, because all of us, even in the monastery, can get so lost in what we are doing that we lose our sense of the One behind it all."

I am also reminded of a delightfully insightful piece our Fr. Christian wrote a few years back comparing monastic life to the premise of the 1993 movie Groundhog Day starring Bill Murray as TV weatherman Phil Connors. In the movie, Phil finds himself stuck in a time warp in which he is forced to relive the same day over and over again. Initially, this produces shock, frustration, and even anger (like any good novitiate!). Eventually, however, Phil begins to change his reactions to the never-ending repetition of daily encounters until he gradually becomes less self-centered.

Similarly, Fr. Christian points out:

"The monk ends his day, goes to sleep, awakens again the next day to the ringing of the bells, and the cycle begins again. It is a structured, repetitive and somewhat predictable life. In some ways, every day feels the same. Of course, this structured life is not just a repetition of practices but, more importantly, it is a repetition of encounters with people. The monk, unlike Phil, voluntarily chooses this life of repetitive practices and encounters in connection to the vow of stability. The vow of stability is a monk's promise to stay in the same place with the same people and engage in the same monastic practices for the rest of one's earthly life. ... Repetition can help us with this transformation, not merely be keeping us surefooted, but by supplying and resupplying opportunties to us for loving choices."

I began ruminating on all this early this morning after hearing read at Vigils the passage below from The Principles of Monasticism. Lately, it seems, I have been ultra-focused on a number of very worthwhile, fulfilling, and time-consuming projects. It seems they often capture (and hold) most of my attention. Until the bells start ringing again--reminding me once again of what and WHO is truly important and makes it all possible. Blessed be the God of Interruptions!

Common prayer is your exalted duty, your blessed lot and special function. You are called a Benedictine; then you should, by reason of the very name you bear, bless God with a never-ending praise, and in a special manner receive blessings from him. Monks are founded because of the choir in order that the Spouse of Christ, the Church, may use their voice as her own. The become chanters of all creation. They are representatives at prayer for the faithful, their mediators before the Most High. Now you have been accepted into the number of the elect of whom the Lord speaks: "This people have I formed for myself; they shall show forth my praise."

Holy Church has assigned to you an angelic ministry of great responsibility. You hold a privileged place day and night in the palace of the Most High King. You are granted this privilege in order to offer the sacrifice of praise. Indeed, no duty must ever mean more to you than dedication to divine worship. It is the capital and stronghold of the monastic life, the heart of religion, the bond of harmony for monks, the crown of all occupations -- that is to say, it is that first duty to which all others, because they are less worthy and honorable, are merely associated. To it nothing at all must ever be preferred.

You must realize that you are to resemble in a distinctive manner that angel who stood before the altar, having a golden censer; and there was given to him much incense, that he might offer it with the prayers of all the saints upon the golden altar which is before the throne.

At the same time you must never forget that St. Benedict called this duty the Work of God. For it is indeed a laborious task, to which you must devote your whole interest and effort. Be solicitous for the Work of God and employ diligence in preparing for it. When the bell sounds, say to yourself: This is the sign of the great King; let us go. Put aside whatever you have been doing, hasten to the choir. Examine yourself so that you may make certain that your disposition is worthy as you prepare to stand before the Lord in prayer, and that you may devote your whole being to the divine service.

For by your love and devotion to the Work of God you may measure your faith and your love of God, your esteem and reverence to your vocation, and your zeal for the house of God.

-- Dom Maurus Wolter, O.S.B.
The Principles of Monasticism

Tis the season

2011-05-11T09:45:00.000-05:00

Not that it's ever out of season.

Just sayin'.

(I've been wanting to post this for a long time.)

Ain't it beautiful?

Surprised by hope

2011-05-05T11:13:00.000-05:00

Guilded bronze panel by Tom McAnulty from the Archabbey Church altar.
The altar, with 17 bronze panels on each of its four sides focusing on themes
in the life of Christ, is modeled after the altar in the Royal Cathedral
of Charlemagne in Aachen, Germany, built in the 9th Century.

Sunday, May 8, 2011
Third Sunday of Easter —A

Acts 2:14, 22-33
1Peter 1:17-21
Luke 24:13-35

In the current issue of America magazine, Dominican sister and New Testament professor Barbara E. Reid, O.P., writes insightfully about today’s Gospel as a metaphor for the Christian virtue of hope. To illustrate her point, she quotes Vaclav Havel, the former president of the Czech Republic:

Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well
but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.

Similarly, the Letter to the Hebrews (11:1) famously connects hope to the virtue of faith:

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for,
the conviction of things not seen.

The disciples on their way to Emmaus in today’s Gospel are unseeing. Things have not turned out well in their eyes. They are uncertain, unconvinced--downcast, St. Luke tells us. They are walking away from Jerusalem, the city which just a week previous held so much promise for them, so much hope. “We were hoping…,” they tell the stranger who appears at their side along the way.

They—just like us—are in need of the assurance that faith provides. The stranger listens. He understands. He journeys with them, interprets their doubts in the light of Scripture, and then stays with them, joins them at table. As he takes bread, says the blessing, breaks it, and gives it to them, their eyes are opened.

It is Jesus!

Now they are certain, convinced, joyful. Hearts burning within them, by faith they head back to Jerusalem, the city of hope, to share the good news.

These two disciples represent all Christians, then and now. We are a pilgrim people, sojourning, as the First Letter of Saint Peter says. We are living in temporary exile from our true home, the heavenly Jerusalem, for which we strive by faith, in hope, and through the love burning within us.

Our encounter with the Risen Christ along the way is the source of our faith, hope, and love. He is all that makes sense, regardless of how anything else appears to turn out. Jesus transforms our doubt into faith. He is never absent. He makes himself present to us in Word and Sacrament during this time of our sojourning. He enlightens us, feeds us, and brings us together in his name.

Stay with us, Lord!

...as we forgive those who trespass...

2011-05-02T09:07:00.006-05:00

In light of the news emerging from Pakistan today, a couple responses from the Catholic/Christian perspective that should inspire some serious reflection:

"In the face of a man's death, a Christian never rejoices, but reflects on the serious responsibilities of each person before God and before men, and hopes and works so that every event may be the occasion for the further growth of peace and not of hatred." -- Fr. Federico Lombardi, S.J., Vatican spokesman

The Catholic Response
to the Death of a Murderer

By Michael Denton
(from The American Catholic)

An already busy weekend concluded with the surprise announcement by President Obama that Osama bin Laden had been killed on Sunday, May 1 by a team of American forces in a compound in Pakistan.

There’s a lot to be digested, and a lot of questions for what this means for an already uncertain future in the Middle East. However, as the crowds pour out in jubilation, it is important to remember how May 1 began. It began as Divine Mercy Sunday, the Second Sunday of Easter, which this year saw the beatification of John Paul II, an event which marked the holiness of the man. One cannot think about the holiness of John Paul II without recalling his powerful forgiveness of his would-be assassin. For Catholics, the day began as a testament to the powerful force of God’s love and mercy.

So it should it end the same way. Bin Laden did much evil. He killed scores of innocents, contributed to the starts of several wars, and used religion to create a culture of hatred. For Americans, we watched as our brothers and sisters were killed, wounded, or separated from their families. If anyone deserved to be riddled with American bullets, it was he.

But “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us” has no “but” clauses. The culture of life that John Paul II spoke from womb to tomb, the dignity and beauty of God-given human life, is not diminished by one’s sins. God’s mercy and love have no exceptions; as Christians our mercy and love are to have no exceptions.

Simply put, God loved Osama bin Laden and extended his mercy to him. It is our duty as Christians, as witnesses to the love of God, to extend our forgiveness to bin Laden and pray that he accepted that mercy and that he will be with us in paradise. The celebration around his death ought to make all Christians uneasy; even more so the many declarations that they hope Osama is burning in hell.

This is a difficult teaching to be sure, especially for those who lost a loved one due to bin Laden. But the Church has never claimed that its teachings were easy. Instead, it has offered the grace and sacraments to live it out, as well as pointed to the examples of extraordinary human beings who lived it out. Sunday, the Church named a man blessed who knew deeply about the costs of love and forgiveness.

So Blessed John Paul II, pray for us. Pray that our country can use this moment to emerge more unified. Pray for the world that we may escape an era of fear and hatred and violence. Pray for us that in this time, we can follow your example and use this moment to witness to the love and mercy poured out by our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Be not afraid

2011-04-30T10:06:00.000-05:00

NOTE: In honor of Pope John Paul II, who will be beatified on Sunday, I am posting something here that I wrote shortly after his death in 2005. This column, written more than a year before I joined the monastery, appeared in The (Toledo) Blade, my former employer. Accompanying the column are some photographs I've added from various stages in the late pontiff's life. Blessed Pope John Paul II, pray for us!

John Paul II:
The truth of human dignity

By Craig Wagner, Blade Wire Editor

© The Blade, Toledo, Ohio, April 7, 2005

It was hard to watch Pope John Paul II struggle physically the last few years. The image of him attempting in all futility to speak from that balcony window a few days before he died is a difficult one to shake. Literally trapped in an eroding body, he was silently screaming in agony and frustration.

Such a contrast to a vigorous, beaming Karol Wojtyla proclaiming to the world in October, 1978, at his installation: "Be not afraid! Open wide the doors for Christ!"

But those are in essence the very words he was silently proclaiming to us as he weakened and died, fully aware that the world was watching him struggle. The message -- one of courage and human dignity -- is the same one he demonstrated for 26 years all over the world.

Oh, he should resign, some of us said. Just look at him. He's not doing anyone any good in that state.

However, the beauty -- and the difficulty -- of Christianity is its counter-cultural nature. It takes what society values most and turns it upside down to reveal what most of us would rather not look at or deal with. It is ugly in our limited vision, seeing the weak, the suffering, the dying, but is most precious in the sight of God because it is precisely here that he calls out to each one of us.

Many of us would rather avert our eyes from the disheveled man wrapped in a tattered blanket limping across a downtown Toledo intersection late at night, or from the lonely, wheelchair-bound widow we sometimes see in the window of a house just down the block. It's just too hard to look.

Pope John Paul II easily could have chosen in the last several years of his life to shut himself up inside the Vatican and conduct the business of the Church quietly behind the scenes as he deteriorated, refusing to let us see him. Instead, this most public of popes openly invited us to watch him. In a sense, it was a more powerful message than any encyclical he issued or homily he delivered.

Do not be afraid, he was telling us, to look deeply at what is painful to bear, to rejoice in the human dignity you see there. Let your heart be motivated to action by compassion that can only come by noticing the cross your neighbor is bearing, and like Simon aided Christ on the way to Calvary, pick it up and help.

This message is not one that Karol Wojtyla simply theorized about, contemplated or preached. He lived a life of hardship and persecution that gave him unequaled moral authority in our time to show us what Christ meant. His faith was a truth he shared with us from his own despair. It welled up in his grieved heart as he lost his mother at age 9, labored in a quarry as the Holocaust decimated his country, and witnessed his countrymen groaning under the weight of the Iron Curtain.

Long before he became Pope, he had endured enough hardship to turn any bright-eyed idealist into an embittered pessimist. His faith, however, prevented him from turning inward and bemoaning his own fate. Instead, he left his very self behind -- as Christ asks us all to do. He saw the human dignity in the downcast eyes of those around him, and he bent down to help pick them up, figuratively and literally.

He showed us how time and time again, whether it was providing peaceful words of encouragement to help lift the hopes of the Solidarity movement in Poland, reaching out and embracing a young AIDS patient, or looking into the eyes of his would-be assassin with love and mercy instead of hate and condemnation.

We all have value and purpose, particularly those whom society tends to disregard. It is precisely these most forgotten who are able to offer us life's most profound lesson -- the truth of human dignity.

One can do no better than reflect on and act upon some of the words from his own writings:

The sick, the elderly, the handicapped, and the dying teach us that weakness is a creative part of human living, and that suffering can be embraced with no loss of human dignity. In the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus teaches us to show a generous initiative on behalf of those who are suffering. He reveals His presence in all who are in need and pain, so that every act of helping the suffering is done to Christ Himself. This means suffering, intended to sanctify those who suffer, is also meant to sanctify those who help and comfort them.

Be not afraid.

Divine Mercy

2011-04-30T09:58:00.001-05:00

A few days ago, I posted a short reflection on this coming Sunday's Gospel regarding the apostle Thomas' encounter with the risen Jesus, who invited him to touch his wounds and believe. During lectio this morning, I ran across this passage in Pope Benedict XVI's new book Jesus of Nazareth, Part Two: Holy Week, from the Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection. It is a wonderfully lucid insight, I think, as to how the cross of Christ heals us despite our objections. Even if we're OK with the Resurrection, we'd rather leave the Cross behind. However, they are one reality, and like Thomas, Jesus invites us to touch his wounds so that we may believe and be healed. As the First Letter of St. Peter tells us: "By his wounds, you have been healed" (1Peter 2:24):

In Jesus' Passion, all the filth of the world touches the infinitely pure one, the soul of Jesus Christ and hence, the Son of God himself. While it is usually the case that anything unclean touching something clean renders it unclean, here it is the other way around: when the world, with all the injustice and cruelty that make it unclean, comes into contact with the infintely pure one--then he, the pure one, is stronger. Through this contact, the filth of the world is truly absorbed, wiped out, and transformed in the pain of infinite love.

Because infinite good is now at hand in the man Jesus, the counterweight to all wickedness is present and active within world history, and the good is always infinitely greater than the vast mass of evil, however terrible it might be.

If we reflect more deeply on this insight, we find the answer to an objection that is often raised against the idea of atonement. Again and again people say: It must be a cruel God who demands infinite atonement. However, the real forgiveness accomplished on the cross functions in exactly the opposite direction. The reality of evil and injustice that disfigures the world and at the same time distorts the image of God--this reality exists, through our sin. It cannot simply be ignored; it must be addressed. But here it is not a case of a cruel God demanding the infinite. It is exactly the opposite: God himself becomes the locus of reconciliation, and in the person of his Son takes the suffering upon himself.

God himself grants his infinite purity to the world. God himself "drinks the cup" of every horror to the dregs and thereby restores justice through the greatness of his love, which, through suffering, transforms the darkness.

Of course, as I have mentioned in previous posts, the "Exclamation Point" to all this is the Resurrection of Christ, which we celebrate this Easter season, and hopefully, every day of our Christian lives. The Resurrection changed everything. It is our hope. If not, then why else did weak, frightened apostles who understandably abandoned Jesus on the cross suddenly find the courage and strength and motivation to gather and proclaim his name throughout the world?

If it were all a hoax, a lie, then why not simply fade into safe anonymity? Instead, they began building something wonderful--and most of them paid for it with their lives. If the cross and resurrection are not historical realities, then none of that makes any sense.

Therefore, the image of Jesus on the cross is not one of horror, but of human healing through the grace and peace of God. It is Divine Mercy -- the image of Beauty and Truth personified.

"Do not be unbelieving, but believe" (John 20:27)

'Do this in remembrance of me.'

2011-04-29T20:00:00.000-05:00

Blessings and congratulations to my nephew Ian, age 8, who makes his First Communion on Sunday!

The exquisite piece of art you see above is by Ian himself (in case you can't tell). Each of the children preparing to receive First Communion was to make his or her own banner as a pew marker for the special day.

Prayer for First Communicants

Jesus,

You loved us so much

that you gave us the gift

of the Holy Eucharist.

Look graciously on the young children

who are about to receive you for the first time.

Protect them from all evil,

stengthen their faith,

increase their love,

and endow them will all the virtues

that will make them worthy to receive you.

Amen

Pursuing peace

2011-04-28T22:09:00.002-05:00

Toblerones in Switzerland (See Postscript below)

In anticipation of Pope John Paul II’s beatification on Sunday, for table reading in the monastery refectory we are currently listening to The Pope’s Maestro by Sir Gilbert Levine (Jossey-Bass, 2010). In the book, the author—a Brooklyn-born Jew and son-in-law of a Holocaust survivor, recounts his almost two-decade long friendship with Pope John Paul II, who died in 2005. The two became acquainted in the 1980s when Levine became conductor of the Krakow Philharmonic. As we know, the Pope (Karol Wojtyla) was Polish and had been Archbishop of Krakow and then Cardinal before being selected Vicar of Christ in 1978.

Levine and the Pope collaborated in organizing a unique series of Vatican-sponsored, internationally broadcast concerts aimed at reconciling Jews, Catholics, and peoples of other faiths who have historically endured estranged and even violent relations. Through their shared love of music, the two sought and strove after peace. Along the way, Levine rediscovered the depths of his own Jewish faith.

Tonight we heard of Levine’s first visit to Krakow in 1987. At that time, Poland was still under Communist rule, the vestiges of a horrific world war that began when Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union invaded in 1939. As we know, the young Wojtyla was profoundly affected and influenced by the foreign occupation of his homeland and the systematic degradation and murder of many Jewish friends and acquaintances. Even attending Mass was risky business in those days.

In tonight’s reading, Levine kept a promise to his mother-in-law to visit the Nazi extermination camp she had survived—the dreaded Auschwitz-Birkenau camp. More than 1 million men, women, and children from all over occupied Europe, most of them Jews, died in the camp—primarily in gas chambers, but also from disease, starvation, torture, and other unspeakable crimes. Bodies were disposed of in immense brick ovens, spewing the stench of death over the Polish countryside day after day. Truly hell on earth. (As a side note, the most strangely sparse yet harrowing account of the Holocaust I have read is Elie Wiesel’s Night. Its personal account of human madness is utterly sickening, but should be required reading for everyone.)

In The Pope’s Maestro, Levine describes the pall of death that still hovers over what is left of Auschwitz-Birkenau. As he walked through the camp in 1987, he recalls stooping down to scoop up a handful of earth, still riddled with human bone fragments more than 40 years after the war’s end.

No, it is not pleasant table reading, at least at this point. My stomach always curls up when I hear such things. However, no matter how much we all desire peace, we cannot afford to overlook or forget such a horrendous thing. It is simply unimaginable. Hideous. But true. Human beings—God’s children—did this to one another, and not so very long ago. And in many other ways throughout the world to this very day, they still do—we still do.

It may not be happening on the scale of World War II, but it is certainly happening, and ultimately, we all bear some responsibility. We are not isolated beings independent of one another. Quite the contrary, as St. Paul reminds us: “If one part of the body suffers, all the parts suffer with it; if one part is honored, all the parts share its joy. You are Christ’s body, and individually parts of it” (1Corinthians 12:26-27).

Although we are still celebrating the joy of Christ’s Resurrection this Easter season, the sober reality is that stark monuments of humanity’s capacity for evil still remain in need of redemption and reconciliation. The promise of our faith is that the Gates of Hell will not prevail. But in the meantime, we have a lot of bulldozing to do.

Pope John Paul II achieved a great deal in this regard, particularly in light of the fall of the Iron Curtain in Eastern Europe. Additionally, much of today’s ecumenical and interreligious dialogue grows from seeds he helped sow and cultivate. As he becomes Blessed (and possibly Saint) Pope John Paul II, let us pray for his continued intercession so that Christ’s peace may truly reign in all hearts, sowing faith, hope, and love througout the world.

POSTSCRIPT: The accompanying photographs have absolutely nothing to do with Levine’s book, Poland, the Holocaust, or the Pope. They are, however, remnants of World War II. I took these pictures in Switzerland last summer. Switzerland was never invaded by the Axis powers, but at one point during the war it was surrounded on all sides, and realistically feared that it would be. Switzerland was neutral in the war, but was ready to defend itself. The fact that neutral Belgium and Norway were invaded demonstrated this very real possibility for the Swiss as well. The objects shown—called toblerones and named after the famous Swiss chocolate bar of the same shape—are huge “concrete teeth” intended to obstruct Nazi tanks. They are covered with steel spikes. Miles of rows of these obstacles were installed throughout Switzerland. When I was at the Abbey of Einsiedeln, I talked to a few of the older monks who distinctly remember how real the threat of invasion was at the time. Some of the toberlones have been removed, but many have intentionally been left in place—reminders that the promise of peace must also be pursued through the love of God. Let us pray...

Touching the wounds that heal

2011-04-28T10:23:00.000-05:00

Sunday, May 1, 2011
Second Sunday of Easter (Divine Mercy Sunday)—A

Acts 2:42-47
1Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31

It is significant that in today’s Gospel, Jesus appears in the midst of the disciples gathered together on the first day of the week—a Sunday—to bring them peace and the promise of reconciliation in the Holy Spirit. When the apostle Thomas—who was not present at the time—finds the testimony of his companions—“We have seen the Lord”—difficult to believe, he does not mock their account in a spirit of cynicism. Rather, he honestly questions in a spirit of openness and faith. After all, he did come back the following Sunday.

Once again, Jesus appears in their midst, offering peace, and then inviting Thomas personally to touch the sanctifying wounds that crucified him and redeemed the world. Thomas responds by proclaiming, “My Lord and my God!”

What all three readings today offer us is a profound vision of the early Church that has been passed down to us. Together, we gather on the first day of the week, devoted to the teaching of the apostles, fellowship with one another, the Eucharist, and communal worship and prayer around the Word made Flesh.

We come with our wounds and our doubts, but we come nonetheless to proclaim, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus is in our very midst, offering peace and reconciliation in the Holy Spirit, and inviting us to touch the wounds that heal us.

The message is this: We don’t have to be whole and know all the answers to believe. We only need to gather in a spirit of openness and faith, willing to embrace our own and one another’s woundedness within the Body of Christ.

In this way, God, in his great mercy, gives us new birth to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed!

Where's the fire?

2011-04-27T14:40:00.000-05:00

Jesus himself drew near and walked with them,

but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.

Luke 24: 15-16

In today’s Gospel (Luke 24:13-35) we hear again the post-resurrection account of two disciples walking along the road to Emmaus. They are disheartened. They still do not understand what it all means—Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection.

Then Jesus himself joins them, and still, they do not see—at least initially.

I have been thinking about this passage (one of my favorites, which we will also hear on the third Sunday of Easter). Sadly, the two lines above (verses 15-16) are all too descriptive of many Christians (monks included). Jesus draws near, he walks with us, and tries to show us the way. If we allow him, as the two disciples do in today’s Gospel, he will eventually get through in Word and Sacrament.

But how often do we really do that? So often, it seems to me, we are so intent on our routines, so “busy” with “important” matters, so eager to keep moving along to the next thing, that we leave Jesus there by the side of the road without even noticing him.

I can just imagine him calling out, “Hey guys, wait up!”

Sorry, we say politely, we’re late. We need to be going.

Or, even if we do allow him to join us, doesn’t it seem that all too often, we’re not really “there”? Preoccupied, we just go through the motions—even in the breaking of the bread.

First we do this, then that. Later comes this, that, and the other. We need to hurry, though.

But, what if we simply slowed down a little, and ...

... breathed deeply,
... allowed a little variation in the routine,
... entered into the sound of the gently falling rain and distant thunder,
... watched the evening sun sink beyond the horizon,
... read something without expecting to “get something out of it” or “do something with it”?

What if we noticed the journey rather than focusing on the destination?

What if we observed something without instantly analyzing or critiquing it?

What if we really listened to someone—anyone—without at the same time formulating our own judgment, response, or opinion?

What if we were simply present to the presence of Christ—God among us?

What if we just stood still to let Jesus catch up with us?

What else is so important, anyway?

Thinking about this reminds me of the refrain to the hit song a few years back by the popular country music group Alabama:
I'm in a hurry to get things done
Oh I rush and rush until life's no fun
All I really gotta do is live and die
But I'm in a hurry and don't know why
Yes, as human beings, we need to be fruitfully occupied. But even noble or holy tasks can become ruthless masters. Life is not a series of tasks to be completed or appointments to be kept. Rather, life is about who we bring to those tasks and appointments—and who we leave with as we move from one to another. Hopefully, by the grace of God, who we bring and who we leave with is not quite the same person. There should be a discernible progression. We should become more like Christ—our companion along the Way. And that means spending time with him, for absolutely no other reason than because he is Jesus.

Earlier in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus tells the agitated Martha that her attentive sister Mary has chosen the better part. If Martha and Mary had been the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, I imagine Martha would be way out in front of Mary, worried about keeping good time, hollering back at her loitering sister to step it up.

Mary, meanwhile, would be wandering from one side of the path to another, absorbing the wonder of God’s creation all around her. Stopping to watch a butterfly or pick a flower, perhaps, suddenly Jesus would be there. They then walk side by side, leisurely but passionately conversing, totally absorbed in one another, and calling out to Martha, “Hey, wait up!”

Martha, though, simply mutters and quickens her pace.

When I happen to notice Martha in another person, or in myself—monks are not immune from the agitated “busyness” of the world—I can only pray as we did today at Vigils that all our hearts will burn within us (cf. Psalm 39:4; Luke 24:32) for the presence of Christ.

May it always be, so that as Jesus draws near and walks with us, our eyes recognize him, and our voices plead, “Stay with us, Lord!”

Or, in country music vernacular, we can sing (my apologies to Alabama):
I’m in no hurry to get things done
Oh I won’t rush and rush until life’s no fun
All I really gotta do is live and die
So I’m in no hurry, and Jesus is why

Pillar of Fire

2011-04-25T16:24:00.001-05:00

This year's Paschal Candle in the Archabbey Church,
designed by Br. John Mark Falkenhain, O.S.B.

Easter lillies in front of the ambo
and Paschal Candle. Br. Kim Malloy,
O.S.B., decorates the Archabbey Church.

Easter is too good to leave behind after only one day of celebration. It is central to our Christian faith, and therefore to the liturgical year. MUCH BIGGER than Christmas (sorry, Madison Avenue). Easter is where it's at; what it's all about; why we are Christians.

It's why we continue to celebrate the Octave of Easter for the next seven days, and the Easter season until Pentecost -- 50 days, compared with Lent's 40. Even after Pentecost--or especially after Pentecost, one might say--the joy and mystery of Easter should continue to glitter within the grit of our daily lives, and it is there in the Church as well -- Baptism, the Eucharist, Scriptures, etc. It is all one. The Easter celebration of the Resurrection of Christ is simply the exclamation point that brings it all to life within us--the Body of Christ. It is a Pillar of Fire to guide us all year-round, which is what the Paschal Candle represents, and why it figures so prominently in the Easter liturgy.

So, since we're not quite through celebrating, following is the Exultet, or Easter Proclamation, which is sung in front of the new Paschal Candle during the Easter Vigil after it has been carried into the darkened church and used to light the candles of all those present as the sanctuary is gradually illuminated and the liturgy begins.

Can you tell that I really, really like Easter?

(Pass the dark-chocolate covered pretzels, please!)

Exultet

Rejoice, heavenly powers! Sing, choirs of angels!

Exult, all creation around God's throne!

Jesus Christ, our King, is risen!

Sound the trumpet of salvation!

Rejoice, O earth, in shining splendor,

radiant in the brightness of your King!

Christ has conquered! Glory fills you!

Darkness vanishes for ever!

Rejoice, O Mother Church! Exult in glory!

The risen Savior shines upon you!

Let this place resound with joy,

echoing the mighty song of all God's people!

My dearest friends,

standing with me in this holy light,

join me in asking God for mercy,

that he may give his unworthy minister

grace to sing his Easter praises.

Cantor: The Lord be with you.

People: And also with you.

Cantor: Lift up your hearts.

People: We lift them up to the Lord.

Cantor: Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

People: It is right to give him thanks and praise.

It is truly right

that with full hearts and minds and voices

we should praise the unseen God, the all-powerful Father,

and his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.

For Christ has ransomed us with his blood,

and paid for us the price of Adam's sin to our eternal Father!

This is our Passover Feast,

when Christ, the true Lamb, is slain,

whose blood consecrates the homes of all believers.

This is the night

when first you saved our fathers:

you freed the people of Israel from their slavery

and led them dry-shod through the sea.

This is the night

when the pillar of fire destroyed the darkness of sin!

This is the night

when Christians everywhere,

washed clean of sin and freed from all defilement,

are restored to grace and grow together in holiness.

This is the night

when Jesus Christ broke the chains of death

and rose triumphant from the grave.

What good would life have been to us,

had Christ not come as our Redeemer?

Father, how wonderful your care for us!

How boundless your merciful love!

To ransom a slave you gave away your Son.

O happy fault,

O necessary sin of Adam,

which gained for us so great a Redeemer!

Most blessed of all nights,

chosen by God to see Christ rising from the dead!

Of this night scripture says:

"The night will be as clear as day:

it will become my light, my joy."

The power of this holy night dispels all evil,

washes guilt away, restores lost innocence,

brings mourners joy;

it casts out hatred, brings us peace,

and humbles earthly pride.

Night truly blessed when heaven is wedded to earth

and all are reconciled with God!

Therefore, heavenly Father,

in the joy of this night,

receive our evening sacrifice of praise,

your Church's solemn offering.

Accept this Easter candle,

fashioned from the work of bees,

a flame divided but undimmed,

a pillar of fire that glows to the honor of God.

Let it mingle with the lights of heaven

and continue bravely burning

to dispel the darkness of this night!

May the Morning Star which never sets

find this flame still burning:

Christ, that Morning Star,

who came back from the dead,

and shed his peaceful light on all,

your Son, who lives and reigns for ever and ever.

Amen.

One world within another

2011-04-24T20:53:00.000-05:00

Saint Meinrad Archabbot Justin DuVall's homily
from the Easter Vigil (very) early Sunday morning:

Genesis 1.1-2.2
Romans 6.3-11
Matthew 28.1-10

All the joy of the mystery we celebrate this night lies in the words of the angel to the women: “He is not here. He is risen.” That is Easter, the Paschal event that gladdens our hearts. But during those hours of Sabbath rest that first stood between the sadness of the cross and the joy of Easter, when our Lord Jesus Christ passed over from death to life, another mystery unfolded.

In the Apostles’ Creed we say about Christ’s journey that he “descended into hell.” Since we have no knowledge of the world of death, we can only imagine his triumph over death with the help of images which shed light on the mystery. The “harrowing of hell,” as the tradition names it, belongs to the mystery of the resurrection because it tells us that the healing Christ won for us reached back to the roots of it all, to the beginnings of the whole of creation. Redemption touches not just future generations, but every generation from Adam to the last.

The resurrection effects a new creation, even before this one is quite finished, and like the women at the tomb, those of us who encounter the Risen Christ begin the new life of that creation even while we live in this present world.

During this night of Vigil we have listened to the story of God’s people, beginning with the creation of the world. Our celebration of the paschal mystery takes us back to the first act of God, when he made everything that has come to be. All of this before that “happy fault” that led to the second creation in Christ.

If the contemporary mind has trouble with belief in the resurrection, it likely follows from trouble believing in the doctrine of creation. These days we hear a lot about respect for “nature,” and an endless line of celebrities eagerly jump on the ecology bandwagon. But the Church has a more developed approach. What a Christian believer should see when he looks around at the world is not merely one reality, either creation or nature; the Christian believer should look with both eyes, seeing, as it were, one world within another; not only nature, but also creation, “radiant with the beauty of God in every part” (David Bentley Hart).

Everything in this world, even if glimpsed through the veil of death, bears the image of God’s handiwork, because nature is the sacrament of creation. For this reason, the things of nature find a rightful place in our celebration of the Paschal mystery tonight. Fire, water, flowers—and the things made by human hands which share in God’s creative work: candles, cloth, bread & wine—all of these things recall for us the marvelous works of God who delighted in his creation.

When we carried our candles in the darkness of this church earlier, they twinkled with the promise made to Abraham that his descendants would be “as countless as the stars of the sky.” Nature’s wax burned with the Word of creation’s God. And yet, we know too well how the beauty of God’s handiwork was spoiled—not destroyed—but in need of deep repair. God, who at the beginning of days looked on his creation and saw that it was very good, would not let it perish in chains. With faith in the God of creation, we have gathered in vigil and heard once again the beginning of our story.

But the story of creation and all the other readings of this Vigil Night are not merely records of the past; they are the prophecies of the future which the living Christ fulfills now in our hearing. The Gospel of the resurrection proclaims God’s handiwork of a new creation. At the resurrection, a great earthquake shook more than just the ground; it shook the authority of the guards at the tomb, and it shook the sorrows of the women who came to the tomb.

We’re quite familiar with the natural destructive power of an earthquake from the recent photos of the devastation from Japan. It was a natural disaster. And in the gospel nature is again the symbol of a new creation. But there the earth erupted in a rolling belch to let out what it could not digest because more than nature was involved. The God who created the earth was again at work to create something even more wonderful than the first creation.

When those women arrived at Jesus’ tomb, carrying their dashed hopes and their modest expectation, nothing could have prepared them for what they found, and what they did not find. Death—and the familiar stink of its decay—had vacated the tomb, leaving it as empty as their own hearts. Instead of the natural silence of death, they heard the shocking words of an angel saying that Jesus “is not here, but he has been raised, just as he said.”

That straightforward announcement reversed everything they knew about how life and death are supposed to work in this world. If Jesus had been raised, then the power of God can repair anything, even the final corruption of death; and if death is no longer the end of it all, then everything is made new. The Kingdom of God does not simply follow the contours of nature or obey its logic; rather, to all who believe the power of God’s creation, it is opened by way of a natural absurdity: an empty tomb (Hart). Out of that tomb the life of the new creation spills forth.

If this long night of our Paschal Vigil is to be more than a pageantry of fire and water, song and incense; more than a once a year variation of our usual routine; if the Church, for having celebrated this night of resurrection, is to speak to the heart of the world with conviction of the new life it shares from the empty tomb; then we must allow ourselves to be plunged into the mystery of Christ’s resurrection, and to shudder with the exhilaration of coming up from the deep, gasping for air.

This is the joy of Easter: in the resurrection love has been shown to be stronger than death and destruction, and we are free. Love made Christ descend into hell, and love is also the power by which he ascends, the same power by which he re-creates our human nature (Pope Benedict XVI). Now, as those who belong to the new creation, we share in this new life.

St. Paul says, “We have been buried with Christ through baptism into his death, so that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life.” The life of Christ in us is real, as real as the face of death, but overcoming death in all its hold over us. This victory is the heart of our celebration of the Paschal mystery today, and the power for our living every day beyond today.

That dreadful hour, when Jesus was all alone and for all appearances dead and gone, had swallowed him up, but it could not hold him. So also, we may face threats of sin and defeat throughout our lives, but in the end they cannot hold us. Christ’s victory over death assures our new life, if we hold fast to him. Clinging to his Body we have life, and in communion with his Body we reach the very heart of God. Only in this way is death conquered, we are set free and our life is hope (Benedict XVI).

The more deeply we plunge ourselves into the life of grace, despite the real shortcomings that we will inevitably find in life, the more deeply we discover the power of Christ’s resurrection at work re-creating the world, defeating the forces of death, and making the glory of God shine as brilliantly as the sun.

Our long night of vigil has all but given way to the approaching dawn of Easter. Today is the Day of Resurrection, so let us rejoice in this first day of the new creation, and let us embrace one another in the peace of Christ. Let this day be our joy. Healed of our ancient mortal wound, let us also speak of peace to any who hate us, and in the Resurrection let us forgive everything—for Christ is risen—he is truly risen—and in him we are born to new life!

Life and Light arise

2011-04-23T22:17:00.000-05:00

Mercy and faithfulness have met;
justice and peace have embraced.
Faithfulness shall spring from the earth
and justice look down from heaven.

Psalm 85

Easter, April 24, 2011
Easter Vigil of the Lord’s Resurrection—A

Genesis 1:1-2:2
Genesis 22:1-18
Exodus 14:15-15:1
Isaiah 54:5-14
Isaiah 55: 1-11
Baruch 3:9-15, 32-4:4
Ezekiel 36:16-17a, 18-28
Romans 6:3-11
Matthew 28:1-10

With the dawn of this new day, we celebrate the mystery of our common faith and baptism in the Risen Christ. As we listen to today’s readings, we recall that in Christ, we:

 Are the light of the world, created in the image of God.
 Are blessed abundantly through the faith of Abraham.
 Like the Israelites, have passed through the waters of sin and death to everlasting life.
 Are called back from our infidelity to the tender mercy of God.
 Seek and call on God, who is always near.
 Walk toward splendor by the light of the wisdom of God who comes among us.
 Live with God’s spirit within us.
 Die with Christ so we may also live with him.
 Run with joy to tell the world what we have seen and heard and believe.

So, as we renew our baptismal promises and gather around the table of our Eucharistic Lord on this Resurrection Day, let us illuminate the Church and the world with the One Flame given each of us by Christ. May our hearts shine as children of light so we grow more fully into the Light of the World as the Body of Christ.

As St. Augustine said, “You are the mystery that is placed on the Lord’s table. You receive the mystery that is yourself. To that which you are, you will respond.”

HAPPY EASTER!

We are weary, given no rest

2011-04-22T19:38:00.000-05:00

I am reckoned as one in the tomb.

Psalm 88:5

Artwork by Saint Meinrad monk Fr. Donald Walpole, O.S.B.
This piece is placed in front of the reliquary
in the Archabbey Church for Good Friday and Holy Saturday.
(Fr. Donald, by the way, turns 94 next week).

LAMENTATIONS 5:1-22

Remember, O Lord, what has befallen us;
   look, and see our disgrace!
Our inheritance has been turned over to strangers,
   our homes to aliens.
We have become orphans, fatherless;
   our mothers are like widows.
We must pay for the water we drink;
   the wood we get must be bought.
With a yoke on our necks we are hard driven;
   we are weary, we are given no rest.
We have made a pact with Egypt and Assyria,
   to get enough bread.
Our ancestors sinned; they are no more,
   and we bear their iniquities.
Slaves rule over us;
   there is no one to deliver us from their hand.
We get our bread at the peril of our lives,
   because of the sword in the wilderness.
Our skin is black as an oven
   from the scorching heat of famine.
Women are raped in Zion,
   virgins in the towns of Judah.
Princes are hung up by their hands;
   no respect is shown to the elders.
Young men are compelled to grind,
   and boys stagger under loads of wood.
The old men have left the city gate,
   the young men their music.
The joy of our hearts has ceased;
   our dancing has been turned to mourning.
The crown has fallen from our head;
   woe to us, for we have sinned!
Because of this our hearts are sick,
   because of these things our eyes have grown dim:
because of Mount Zion, which lies desolate;
   jackals prowl over it.

But you, O Lord, reign for ever;
   your throne endures to all generations.
Why have you forgotten us completely?
   Why have you forsaken us these many days?
Restore us to yourself, O Lord, that we may be restored;
   renew our days as of old—
unless you have utterly rejected us,
   and are angry with us beyond measure.

"Come to me all you who are weary
and are burdened, and I will give you rest."

Matthew 11:28

Triduum horarium

2011-04-22T14:40:00.000-05:00

Things are a little different around here during the Holy Triduum. It is a precious time that breaks away from the normal monastic routine. Primarily, it is a time when things slow down in the sense that the world views such things. However, our prayer, reflection, silence, self-denial, liturgical celebrations, and other community activities intensify dramatically. Strangely, it is both spiritually restful and physically exhausting!

Below is the modified horarium (or daily monastic schedule) we observe here in the monastery for Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday. As you can see, on Friday and Saturday, we begin a little later than normal (instead of 5:30 a.m.), but spend a lot more time in church. Today--Friday--is particularly intense. Inbetween the times listed, individual chores and responsibilities are taken care of (some, like me, may even still be attempting to finish up papers for class!). For those who are musicians or singers (which I am not), there is even more to do because of all the preparation that must occur prior to the liturgies.

The liturgical celebrations are quite beautiful and even stirring. Occasionally, there are even emotional moments for some--whether monks, guests, students, or retreatants. It is a blessed time to enter more fully into the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, so that we may be transformed by the mysteries we celebrate and live them more genuinely the rest of the year.

I am deeply grateful to be granted the privilege--and responsibility--of observing the Triduum in this fashion each year in the monastery.

A most blessed Triduum and Happy Easter to all!

Holy Thursday of the Lord's Supper
+ 5:30 a.m -- Vigils and Lauds
+Noon -- Midday Office, followed by lunch (casual)
+1:30 p.m. -- End of recreation until Easter; house silence observed
+5 p.m. -- Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper (during which the Abbot washes the feet of 12 monks, guests, students, or retreatants)
+7 p.m. -- Holy Thursday Dinner (shared with all guests)

Good Friday of the Lord's Passion and Death
+6:30-7:15 a.m. -- Breakfast
+7:15 a.m. -- Vigils and Lauds
+ Noon --Midday Office, followed by lunch (formal, silence, table reading)
+3 p.m. -- Liturgy of the Passion and Death of the Lord
+5:15 p.m. -- Chapter of Faults (monks only: this is where we openly confess our public faults and weaknesses--NOT sins--and ask for the community's prayers.)
+ 6 p.m. -- Supper (formal, silence, table reading)
+7 p.m. -- Compline

Holy Saturday of the Lord's Rest
+6:30-7:15 a.m. -- Breakfast
+7:15 a.m. -- Vigils and Lauds
+ Noon --Midday Office, followed by lunch (formal, silence, table reading)
+5 p.m. -- Vespers
+6 p.m. -- Supper (formal, silence, table reading)

Easter Sunday of the Lord's Resurrection
+3 a.m. -- Easter Vigil and Lauds/Eucharist (ending approximately 6 a.m.)
+Recreation after Lauds/Breakfast 45 minutes after Lauds
+NAP TIME!!!
+11:30 a.m. -- Midday Office, followed by community social
+12:30 a.m. -- Dinner (No table reading, talking allowed)
+MORE NAP TIME!!! (or whatever)
+5 p.m. -- Vespers, followed by buffet supper (casual)
+7 p.m. -- Compline

The world is gathered here

2011-04-22T09:16:00.000-05:00

If the Lord were not to help me,
I would soon go down to the silence.

Psalm 94:17

The people are coming up slowly
to kiss the cross--

hardly moving, because the crowd is so big;

moving slowly,

like waves of a calm sea

gently surging forward,

caressing the quiet shore

with a single wave

that breaks on the steadfast rock,

whose touch disperses

the sea's sorrow of shipwreck

in spray of delicate foam;

like the hair of Mary Magdalene

shining wet with tears

over the feet of Christ.

The word is gathered here,

kissing the cross.

They are not afraid:

they have made the Way of the Cross;

they have nothing to fear any more.

Christ with them,

Christ in them,

strength of them--

every one:

Christ, with His cross on His back.

In a single wave of love,

breaking upon the shore,

they are singing inaudibly,

"Consummatum est!"

Caryll Houselander,

The Adoration of the Cross, 1942

Wait quietly for salvation

2011-04-21T21:50:00.001-05:00

The six bells in the Archabbey Church's two towers
have been silenced until the Gloria at the Easter Vigil.

LAMENTATIONS 3:1-66

I am one who has seen affliction
   under the rod of God’s wrath;
he has driven and brought me
   into darkness without any light;
against me alone he turns his hand,
   again and again, all day long.

He has made my flesh and my skin waste away,
   and broken my bones;
he has besieged and enveloped me
   with bitterness and tribulation;
he has made me sit in darkness
   like the dead of long ago.

He has walled me about so that I cannot escape;
   he has put heavy chains on me;
though I call and cry for help,
   he shuts out my prayer;
he has blocked my ways with hewn stones,
   he has made my paths crooked.

He is a bear lying in wait for me,
   a lion in hiding;
he led me off my way and tore me to pieces;
   he has made me desolate;
he bent his bow and set me
   as a mark for his arrow.

He shot into my vitals
   the arrows of his quiver;
I have become the laughing-stock of all my people,
   the object of their taunt-songs all day long.
He has filled me with bitterness,
   he has glutted me with wormwood.

He has made my teeth grind on gravel,
   and made me cower in ashes;
my soul is bereft of peace;
   I have forgotten what happiness is;
so I say, ‘Gone is my glory,
   and all that I had hoped for from the LORD.’

The thought of my affliction and my homelessness
   is wormwood and gall!
My soul continually thinks of it
and is bowed down within me.

But this I call to mind,
   and therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases,
   his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
   great is your faithfulness.
‘The LORD is my portion,’ says my soul,
   ‘therefore I will hope in him.’

The LORD is good to those who wait for him,
   to the soul that seeks him.
It is good that one should wait quietly
   for the salvation of the LORD.
It is good for one to bear
   the yoke in youth,
to sit alone in silence
   when the Lord has imposed it,
to put one’s mouth to the dust
   (there may yet be hope),
to give one’s cheek to the smiter,
   and be filled with insults.

For the Lord will not
   reject for ever.
Although he causes grief, he will have compassion
   according to the abundance of his steadfast love;
for he does not willingly afflict
   or grieve anyone.

When all the prisoners of the land
   are crushed under foot,
when human rights are perverted
   in the presence of the Most High,
when one’s case is subverted
   —does the Lord not see it?

Who can command and have it done,
   if the Lord has not ordained it?
Is it not from the mouth of the Most High
   that good and bad come?
Why should any who draw breath complain
   about the punishment of their sins?

Let us test and examine our ways,
   and return to the LORD.
Let us lift up our hearts as well as our hands
   to God in heaven.
We have transgressed and rebelled,
   and you have not forgiven.

You have wrapped yourself with anger and pursued us,
   killing without pity;
you have wrapped yourself with a cloud
   so that no prayer can pass through.
You have made us filth and rubbish
   among the peoples.

All our enemies
   have opened their mouths against us;
panic and pitfall have come upon us,
   devastation and destruction.
My eyes flow with rivers of tears
   because of the destruction of my people.

My eyes will flow without ceasing,
   without respite,
until the LORD from heaven
   looks down and sees.
My eyes cause me grief
   at the fate of all the young women in my city.

Those who were my enemies without cause
   have hunted me like a bird;
they flung me alive into a pit
   and hurled stones on me;
water closed over my head;
   I said, ‘I am lost.’

I called on your name, O LORD,
   from the depths of the pit;
you heard my plea, ‘Do not close your ear
   to my cry for help, but give me relief!’
You came near when I called on you;
   you said, ‘Do not fear!’

You have taken up my cause, O Lord,
   you have redeemed my life.
You have seen the wrong done to me, O LORD;
   judge my cause.
You have seen all their malice,
   all their plots against me.

You have heard their taunts, O LORD,
   all their plots against me.
The whispers and murmurs of my assailants
   are against me all day long.
Whether they sit or rise—see,
   I am the object of their taunt-songs.

Pay them back for their deeds, O LORD,
   according to the work of their hands!
Give them anguish of heart;
   your curse be on them!
Pursue them in anger and destroy them
   from under the LORD’s heavens.

This is BIG

2011-04-21T10:27:00.000-05:00

I waited, I waited for the Lord, and he stooped down to me.

Psalm 40:2

Holy Thursday, April 21, 2011
Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper—A

Exodus 12:1-8, 11-14
1Corinthians 11:23-26
John 13:1-15

God’s love for humanity is so big, so immense, and so high, that he makes himself small, insignificant, and low to lift us up. In John’s Gospel, we are told that Jesus, the Word made Flesh, “rose from supper and took off his outer garments. He took a towel and tied it around his waist,” and then began washing the disciples’ feet.

God stoops down, literally taking the form of a slave, to cleanse those enjoying the banquet with him. In doing this, he strips himself of divine privilege and wraps himself in the towel of servile humanity. However, Jesus does much more than simply wash the disciples’ feet. This action symbolically illustrates what he will do in reality on Good Friday, when he will be stripped of his garments and nailed to a cross to cleanse and free humanity—just as the slaughtered lamb at Passover saved the children of Israel in Egypt. In doing so, he offers all a seat at the heavenly banquet.

All this, of course, echoes the famous Christian hymn in St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians (2:7-8):
He emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself,
becoming obedient to death,
even death on a cross.
Tonight, we recall again God’s self-sacrificing love for us as demonstrated through posture while we commemorate the Lord’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection in the Liturgy of the Eucharist. God stoops down to us, allows himself to be broken and shared among us, so that we who are so broken may together become the whole Christ, blessed and shared with all.

Like Peter, who at first won’t allow Jesus to wash his feet, we who are so small want a God bigger than us, perhaps because that would "let us off the hook" in so many respects. Though God is bigger, he becomes small enough to be placed in our hands and on our tongues in the Eucharist. Kneeling before his disciples at the Last Supper, stripped of all dignity on the cross, and in the form of bread and wine in the Eucharist, the Son of God gives us his very self so that we may live in him and he may live in us.

Then, Jesus asks us as he did the apostles:

“Do you realize what I have done for you?”

Our honest answer must be, “No.”

However, our honest prayer can be, “Not yet. Wash me.”

Sometimes growing in maturity means merely recognizing our capacity for it—and being small enough to ask for it. Stooped down, broken and shared in love for the life of the world, we are raised as the Body of Christ higher than we ever imagined.

God is at work in you both to will and to do.

Philippians 2:13

Scattered stones

2011-04-20T20:07:00.000-05:00

LAMENTATIONS 4:1-22

How the gold has grown dim,
   how the pure gold is changed!
The sacred stones lie scattered
   at the head of every street.

The precious children of Zion,
   worth their weight in fine gold—
how they are reckoned as earthen pots,
   the work of a potter’s hands!

Even the jackals offer the breast
   and nurse their young,
but my people has become cruel,
   like the ostriches in the wilderness.

The tongue of the infant sticks
   to the roof of its mouth for thirst;
the children beg for food,
   but no one gives them anything.

Those who feasted on delicacies
   perish in the streets;
those who were brought up in purple
   cling to ash heaps.

For the chastisement of my people has been greater
   than the punishment of Sodom,
which was overthrown in a moment,
   though no hand was laid on it.

Her princes were purer than snow,
   whiter than milk;
their bodies were more ruddy than coral,
   their hair like sapphire.

Now their visage is blacker than soot;
   they are not recognized in the streets.
Their skin has shrivelled on their bones;
   it has become as dry as wood.

Happier were those pierced by the sword
   than those pierced by hunger,
whose life drains away, deprived
   of the produce of the field.

The hands of compassionate women
   have boiled their own children;
they became their food
   in the destruction of my people.

The LORD gave full vent to his wrath;
   he poured out his hot anger,
and kindled a fire in Zion
   that consumed its foundations.

The kings of the earth did not believe,
   nor did any of the inhabitants of the world,
that foe or enemy could enter
   the gates of Jerusalem.

It was for the sins of her prophets
   and the iniquities of her priests,
who shed the blood of the righteous
   in the midst of her.

Blindly they wandered through the streets,
   so defiled with blood
that no one was able
   to touch their garments.

‘Away! Unclean!’ people shouted at them;
   ‘Away! Away! Do not touch!’
So they became fugitives and wanderers;
   it was said among the nations,
   ‘They shall stay here no longer.’

The LORD himself has scattered them,
   he will regard them no more;
no honour was shown to the priests,
   no favour to the elders.

Our eyes failed, ever watching
   vainly for help;
we were watching eagerly
   for a nation that could not save.

They dogged our steps
   so that we could not walk in our streets;
our end drew near; our days were numbered;
   for our end had come.

Our pursuers were swifter
   than the eagles in the heavens;
they chased us on the mountains,
   they lay in wait for us in the wilderness.

The LORD’s anointed, the breath of our life,
   was taken in their pits—
the one of whom we said, ‘Under his shadow
   we shall live among the nations.’

Rejoice and be glad, O daughter Edom,
   you that live in the land of Uz;
but to you also the cup shall pass;
   you shall become drunk and strip yourself bare.

The punishment of your iniquity, O daughter Zion, is accomplished,
   he will keep you in exile no longer;
but your iniquity, O daughter Edom, he will punish,
   he will uncover your sins.

Lift your hands to him

2011-04-19T20:41:00.000-05:00

LAMENTATIONS 2:13-22

What can I say for you, to what compare you,
   O daughter Jerusalem?
To what can I liken you, that I may comfort you,
   O virgin daughter Zion?
For vast as the sea is your ruin;
   who can heal you?

Your prophets have seen for you
   false and deceptive visions;
they have not exposed your iniquity
   to restore your fortunes,
but have seen oracles for you
   that are false and misleading.

All who pass along the way
   clap their hands at you;
they hiss and wag their heads
   at daughter Jerusalem;
‘Is this the city that was called
   the perfection of beauty,
   the joy of all the earth?’

All your enemies
   open their mouths against you;
they hiss, they gnash their teeth,
   they cry: ‘We have devoured her!
Ah, this is the day we longed for;
   at last we have seen it!’

The LORD has done what he purposed,
   he has carried out his threat;
as he ordained long ago,
   he has demolished without pity;
he has made the enemy rejoice over you,
   and exalted the might of your foes.

Cry aloud to the Lord!
   O wall of daughter Zion!
Let tears stream down like a torrent
   day and night!
Give yourself no rest,
   your eyes no respite!

Arise, cry out in the night,
   at the beginning of the watches!
Pour out your heart like water
   before the presence of the Lord!
Lift your hands to him
   for the lives of your children,
who faint for hunger
   at the head of every street.

Look, O LORD, and consider!
   To whom have you done this?
Should women eat their offspring,
   the children they have borne?
Should priest and prophet be killed
   in the sanctuary of the Lord?

The young and the old are lying
   on the ground in the streets;
my young women and my young men
   have fallen by the sword;
on the day of your anger you have killed them,
   slaughtering without mercy.

You invited my enemies from all around
   as if for a day of festival;
and on the day of the anger of the LORD
   no one escaped or survived;
those whom I bore and reared
   my enemy has destroyed.

Pre-rinse

2011-04-19T08:32:00.001-05:00

Hey, it saves time and water.
Everybody wins.

CAUTION: Remove pre-rinse device
before beginning wash cycle.

Thrown down, poured out

2011-04-18T21:33:00.000-05:00

LAMENTATIONS 2:1-12

How the Lord in his anger
   has humiliated daughter Zion!
He has thrown down from heaven to earth
   the splendour of Israel;
he has not remembered his footstool
   on the day of his anger.

The Lord has destroyed without mercy
   all the dwellings of Jacob;
in his wrath he has broken down
   the strongholds of daughter Judah;
he has brought down to the ground in dishonour
   the kingdom and its rulers.

He has cut down in fierce anger
   all the might of Israel;
he has withdrawn his right hand from them
   in the face of the enemy;
he has burned like a flaming fire in Jacob,
   consuming all around.

He has bent his bow like an enemy,
   with his right hand set like a foe;
he has killed all in whom we took pride
   in the tent of daughter Zion;
he has poured out his fury like fire.

The Lord has become like an enemy;
   he has destroyed Israel.
He has destroyed all its palaces,
   laid in ruins its strongholds,
and multiplied in daughter Judah
   mourning and lamentation.

He has broken down his booth like a garden,
   he has destroyed his tabernacle;
the LORD has abolished in Zion
   festival and sabbath,
and in his fierce indignation has spurned
   king and priest.

The Lord has scorned his altar,
   disowned his sanctuary;
he has delivered into the hand of the enemy
   the walls of her palaces;
a clamour was raised in the house of the LORD
   as on a day of festival.

The LORD determined to lay in ruins
   the wall of daughter Zion;
he stretched the line;
   he did not withhold his hand from destroying;
he caused rampart and wall to lament;
   they languish together.

Her gates have sunk into the ground;
   he has ruined and broken her bars;
her king and princes are among the nations;
   guidance is no more,
and her prophets obtain
   no vision from the LORD.

The elders of daughter Zion
   sit on the ground in silence;
they have thrown dust on their heads
   and put on sackcloth;
the young girls of Jerusalem
   have bowed their heads to the ground.

My eyes are spent with weeping;
   my stomach churns;
my bile is poured out on the ground
   because of the destruction of my people,
because infants and babes faint
   in the streets of the city.

They cry to their mothers,
   ‘Where is bread and wine?’
as they faint like the wounded
   in the streets of the city,
as their life is poured out
   on their mothers’ bosom.

For these things I weep

2011-04-18T11:12:00.000-05:00

The Holy Week liturgies here at the monastery--beginning with the (sung) Passion on Palm Sunday through the Triduum and Easter Vigil--are especially rich, moving, and full of meaning. They really express in a concentrated manner the essence of the Christian faith and place the rest of the liturgical year in perspective. The beautiful celebrations this week always point toward the Resurrection, but also provoke within the open heart a good deal of soul-searching--individually and universally.

One of my favorite parts of Holy Week is the change of pace at morning Vigils. Typically, the lengthy biblical reading for this Office is read. This week, however, the readings are all taken from Jeremiah's Book of Lamentations. Segments of the readings are alternated between the reader and a cantor.

Although this won't come close to doing justice to the actual experience of hearing the reading/singing of the Lamentations in the Archabbey Church, I thought I would post here each day this week the reading from Vigils. (Better still, come to Vigils if you can! Yes, it's early--5:30 a.m.--but you can sleep after Easter!)

The passages will all be from the New Revised Standard Version. To begin, however, a piece of the book's introduction in the New American Bible, just to provide some historical context (which can then be applied toward Israel's longing for the Messiah, the coming of Christ, and the promise of restoration through His death and resurrection). In other words, the Lamentations have meaning for us all, up to the present day:

INTRODUCTION (NAB)
The sixth century B.C. was an age of crisis, a turning point in the history of Israel. With the destruction of the temple and the interruption of its ritual, the exile of leaders and loss of national sovereignty, an era came to an end. Not long after the fall of Jerusalem (587 B.C.) an eyewitness of the national humiliation composed five laments. They combine confession of sin, grief over suffering and humiliation, submission to merited chastisement, and strong faith in the constancy of God's love and power to restore. The union of poignant grief and unquenchable hope reflects the constanct prophetic vision of the weakness of humanity and the strength of God's love.

LAMENTATIONS 1:12-22 (NRSV)

Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by?
   Look and see
if there is any sorrow like my sorrow,
   which was brought upon me,
which the LORD inflicted
   on the day of his fierce anger.

From on high he sent fire;
   it went deep into my bones;
he spread a net for my feet;
   he turned me back;
he has left me stunned,
   faint all day long.

My transgressions were bound into a yoke;
   by his hand they were fastened together;
they weigh on my neck,
   sapping my strength;
the Lord handed me over
   to those whom I cannot withstand.

The LORD has rejected
   all my warriors in the midst of me;
he proclaimed a time against me
   to crush my young men;
the Lord has trodden as in a wine press
   the virgin daughter Judah.

For these things I weep;
   my eyes flow with tears;
for a comforter is far from me,
   one to revive my courage;
my children are desolate,
   for the enemy has prevailed.

Zion stretches out her hands,
   but there is no one to comfort her;
the LORD has commanded against Jacob
   that his neighbours should become his foes;
Jerusalem has become
   a filthy thing among them.

The LORD is in the right,
   for I have rebelled against his word;
but hear, all you peoples,
   and behold my suffering;
my young women and young men
   have gone into captivity.

I called to my lovers
   but they deceived me;
my priests and elders
   perished in the city
while seeking food
   to revive their strength.

See, O LORD, how distressed I am;
   my stomach churns,
my heart is wrung within me,
   because I have been very rebellious.
In the street the sword bereaves;
   in the house it is like death.

They heard how I was groaning,
   with no one to comfort me.
All my enemies heard of my trouble;
   they are glad that you have done it.
Bring on the day you have announced,
   and let them be as I am.

Let all their evildoing come before you;
   and deal with them
as you have dealt with me
   because of all my transgressions;
for my groans are many
   and my heart is faint.

From within

2011-04-15T09:37:00.000-05:00

A snippet from this morning's second reading at Vigils that caught my ear (see, sometimes I'm awake!).

Instead of looking for outward events to change our course of life, be sure of this, that if our course of life is to be changed, it must be from within. God's grace moves us from within; so does our own will. External circumstances have no real power over us.

Let us understand that nothing but the love of God can make us believe in him or obey him; and let us pray him, who has "prepared for them that love him, such good things as pass man's understanding," to pour into our hearts such love toward him, that we, loving him above all things, may obtain his promises, which exceed all that we can desire.
-- Cardinal John Henry Newman

If only it were always that easy...

2011-04-15T09:13:00.000-05:00

From the Wabash River in West Lafayette, Indiana. Funny, but also amazing. It seems these fish are all too eager to be caught. Would that this would also be the case with each of us, attempting to "leap" into the boat of the "fishers of men" (cf. Mt 4:19; Mk 1:17) !

Hosanna, Exclamation Point

2011-04-14T11:11:00.002-05:00

Sunday, April 17, 2011
Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion—A

Matthew 21:1-11 (Gospel at Procession with Palms)
Isaiah 50:4-7
Philippians 2: 6-11
Matthew 26:14 – 27:66 (Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ)

Today’s solemn liturgy seems to offer an odd mixture of jubilant anticipation and terrifying confusion. We begin by recalling Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem with his disciples, holding palm branches and proclaiming “Hosanna!” We end having proceeded through the events surrounding Jesus’ Passion, which concludes with the Son of God’s lifeless body sealed in a tomb. It is enough to make one’s head spin!

However, a certain measure of disorientation is perhaps necessary if we are to genuinely enter into the mysteries of this Holy Week. Profound clarity and renewed life can arise from momentary disorientation. Often, we need to be “distracted” to focus more clearly on the Truth underlying our daily lives, and then ask ourselves: “What is really important? How am I striving for it? Where do I go from here?”

As we ponder those questions, two points are worth consideration. First, as Pope Benedict XVI points out in his book (Jesus of Nazareth, Part II: Holy Week, The Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection, 2011), the proclamation Hosanna, derived from an ancient Hebrew term basically meaning “God, save us!” (cf. Psalm 118:25), is a simultaneous expression of petition, praise, and hope all in one. Its reply, quite simply, is “Jesus,” which in Hebrew means “God saves.”

Secondly, the high point of today’s liturgy, just as it is at every Mass, is not Jesus’ death but the consecration and reception of his body and blood in the Eucharist: “This is my body, which will be given up for you.” What Jesus offers us in himself is LIFE, as recalled from his exclamation in last week’s Gospel: “I am the resurrection and the life.” God saves us through the death and resurrection of Christ.

Regarding this integral association of the Resurrection with the Eucharist, Pope Benedict writes, "The Day of Resurrection is the exterior and interior locus of Christian worship, and the thanksgiving prayer [at the Last Supper] as Jesus' creative anticipation of the Resurrection is the Lord's way of uniting us with his thanksgiving, blessing us in the gift, and drawing us into the process of transformation that starts with the gifts, moves on to include us, and then spreads out to the world until he comes."

You may also recall from last week God’s promise to Ezekiel: “I [will] open your graves and have you rise from them!” And so today, during the Passion from the Gospel of Matthew, we hear that at the same disorienting moment of Jesus’ death, “the earth quaked, rocks were split, tombs were opened, and the bodies of many saints who had fallen asleep were raised.”

Once again, profound clarity and renewed life can arise from momentary disorientation. Apparent defeat gives way to true victory.

That message’s exclamation point, which we celebrate next Sunday, is an everyday reality.

So, what is really important? How am I striving for it? Where do I go from here?

All your works thank you, Lord

2011-04-12T20:04:00.001-05:00

With all the rain and the unseasonably warm weather we've had lately, the grounds of Saint Meinrad Archabbey have quickly become invitingly lush and colorful. Just one of the reasons I love spring around here. New life abounds. Here are a few quick shots I took late this afternoon in the monastery rock garden outside the cloister. Enjoy.

Feline Groovy in Red

2011-04-11T14:24:00.003-05:00

The sun did not shine.

It was too wet to play.

So we sat in the house

All that cold, cold wet day.

... Then we saw him step in on the mat!

We looked! And we saw him!

The Cat in the Hat! And he said to us,
“Why do you sit there like that?”
“I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny.
But we can have lots of good fun that is funny!”

Opening lines to Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat

It is a rainy day here in southern Indiana.

No cat in a hat,

but we've had cats and red hats,

how about that?

(My apologies to Dr. Seuss, rest his soul).

Yesterday was quite warm around here, so the doors of the Archabbey Church were left open. So, naturally, Socks, the unofficial monastery cat who has been the subject of previous posts, decided to join us for Vespers. She strolled in as we all approached the altar for the Magnificat. No doubt, she presumed we were all coming to shower her with attention. As we began to sing, she stationed herself by a pillar, alternately watching us and engaging in her, um, evening grooming. As we continued, she processed over to the shrine to Our Lady of Einsiedeln. Then, before we were finished, she sauntered out the way she had come in. It was nice of her to stop by.

Today at noon prayer, a group of Red Hat ladies, complete in purple attire and wearing red hats, was seated in the visitors' section. Such groups of Red Hatters in the region visit us every so often, part of their periodical excursions in search of fun, friendship, freedom, fulfillment, and fitness. You see, according to the Red Hat Society's mission statement (see http://www.redhatsociety.com/), the organization is:

... a global society of women that supports and encourages women in their pursuit of fun, friendship, freedom, fulfillment, and fitness.

Fun – we celebrate life at every age
Friendship – we solidify and expand the bonds of sisterhood
Freedom – we discover and explore new interests
Fulfillment – we realize our personal potential
Fitness – we embrace healthy, life-lengthening lifestyles

The Red Hat Society has become the international society dedicated to reshaping the way women are viewed in today's culture.

I must be very careful here. My mother is a Red Hat lady. So, of course, I think the Red Hat ladies are the best thing since the invention of collapsible umbrellas.

One time I asked her, "When Red Hat ladies meet, what do you do?"

"Anything we like," she responded--so emphatically, I might add, that I was afraid to ask any more questions.

Since it's raining and colder today and the Archabbey Church doors are closed, I suppose Socks will not be joining us for Vespers. And the Red Hat ladies are off somewhere now doing God knows what.

But they're welcome any time, as long as they don't get out of line.

Well, I'm sure, at least, that the cat will behave...

Musings

2011-04-09T20:37:00.003-05:00

Some random, seemingly unrelated thoughts from today:

+++

This morning I -- and several other confreres -- attended the funeral Mass for the father of one of our monks (made possible because it took place in nearby Evansville). It was a beautiful expression of hope in God's mercy through the Resurrection of Christ, and it was good to be there. It was also sad, of course. Although I did not know my confrere's father, his family is mourning the death of man who died too soon (age 69) after complications from a recent surgery that has left his loved ones emotionally exhausted.

On the way back to the monastery, I thought about the Lenten penances or bona opera (good works) we take up as Christians and monks to prepare ourselves to enter more fully into the Easter mystery (hopefully) year-round. Like many, I suspect, I cannot claim to be "100 percent successful" in my Lenten observances. However, genuine asceticism aims at purity of heart and flows from an interior disposition focused on the love of God regardless of exterior circumstances.

In this respect, it occurred to me (as it has before, though I must have needed a reminder) that the most difficult penances, good works, or other acts of asceticism -- and therefore the most spiritually valuable in the eyes of God -- are those we don't choose ourselves but that are thrust upon us. Witnessing the profound sorrow of my confrere's family reminded me of that. It's a place I've been before, something we will all experience at one time or another, and the pain is indescribable--yet also potentially life-transforming.

This family event, I'm sure, was not on anyone's list of Lenten observances. I do pray, however, that it intensifies their authentic spiritual longing for the eternal joy of Holy Easter. And I know that it will.

+++

A couple weeks ago, I sat at the same lunch table with Br. Jerome Croteau (who turned 82 yesterday). Somehow we got on the subject of the various jobs he's had through the years as a monk of Saint Meinrad Archabbey. He's had quite a few, and plenty of stories to go along with them. Among other things he worked years ago in the monastery's vineyard and wine cellar (now defunct). More than 50 years ago, he helped build Bede Hall here, which is currently undergoing extensive interior renovation. He has worked on the groundskeeping crew, helped dig graves in the cemetery, and he has been a firefighter. The list goes on.

Br. Jerome

Anyway, at one point I said to him, "Br. Jerome, you've seen a lot of history around here. You should write a book!" He simply laughed, but the next day he tapped me on the shoulder and told me that about 20 years ago or so, he had written down some of his remembrances, and asked if I would be interested in reading them. Of course, I said.

So, this past week I have been thumbing through a thick folder of writings he handed over to me. I wonder if anyone else even knows they exist. There's a piece on the vineyard, another about growing up on an Indian mission in North Dakota, and the time he spent at St. Paul's Mission school in Marty, South Dakota, in the late 1940s. "I was always slow in school," he writes. "I stayed two years in a couple of grades. I do not remember which ones they were."

Br. Jerome is a very astute man in many ways, but he is not known as a writer. So, I have been rather taken aback by how detailed, straightforward, humorous, and even profound the pieces are that he gave me. They are not works of art by any means, but they achieve, I think, one genuine vision of monastic life at Saint Meinrad lived out by someone who's been at this for 62 years.

Here is a little snippet of one of his reflections that stopped me in my tracks:

I am reminded by Psalm 1 that we may never reach the extreme either of virtue or of vice, but we are at every moment making for one or the other. We need to remind ourselves what the end of each road is and that we have a powerful companion along the one road, but along the other, we are alone.

+++

Something I ran across during lectio this morning:

You may say that it sometimes seems that you are without the desire to turn to God. My answer is this: Why do you feel such grief upon the subject of this seeming lack? Loss of an object causes grief only in proportion to the affection you have for it. If we had not regard for it, we should feel no grief at being deprived of it. Do you know great grief at being without wealth, honors, beauty, and so forth? These things do not afflict you, and you never give a thought to them. The same would apply to your desire for God, were that desire truly absent from your heart. If then, this seeming absence afflicts you, evidently the absence is not a real one.

-- Fr. Jean-Pierre de Caussade, S.J. (+1751)

Come out!

2011-04-07T10:52:00.000-05:00

Sunday, April 10, 2011
Fifth Sunday in Lent—A

Ezekiel 37:12-14
Romans 8:8-11
John 11:1-45

Three relatively short lines in today’s lengthy Gospel passage summarize and inspire our entire Christian life of faith. One is a proclamation by Jesus. The second is an act of Jesus. The third is an overwhelming display of Jesus’ power and compassion as the Son of God. The three lines are:
“I am the resurrection and the life.”

Jesus wept.

“Lazarus, come out!”
Together, these lines contain a profound promise. Just as with the blind man in last week’s Gospel and the Samaritan woman the Sunday before that, Jesus’ friend Lazarus represents all of humanity. We are spiritually parched, unseeing, and dead. However, Jesus comes to meet us where we are—the well of shame, the darkness of doubt, and the tomb of isolation. He stands ready to relieve our thirst, give us sight, and bring us out of the depths of loneliness. He wants to liberate us from sin and death, and has the power to do so. As God tells Ezekiel in the first reading: “I have promised, and I will do it.”

How, precisely?

Let us look again at the three lines above. In the first, Jesus proclaims that the life of the resurrection is not just a doctrine or a theory. It is a person—God himself made flesh. What Jesus proclaims here, he will do as the Paschal Mystery builds during Holy Week and climaxes on Easter Sunday. He IS the resurrection and the life.

In the second line, Jesus demonstrates his human solidarity with us. He shares our sorrows, our pain, and our death amid persistent doubt and confusion—but not only to console us. He weeps with us to embrace our human condition in a manner that promises us eternal life if only we die with his Spirit dwelling in us.

And in the final line, Jesus conquers sin and death. Ironically, this action will ultimately lead to his own death, but in a double-twist of irony, Lazarus’ rising prefigures the resurrection of Jesus—and ours with him. God has the last word.

As you listen to today’s Gospel or read it on your own, picture yourself as Lazarus in the tomb, bound in the burial cloths of sin and death. Imagine the stone being rolled away, light creeping in, and hearing Jesus’ voice outside calling to you:

“Come out!”

You are untied, freed.

Do you believe this?