Monthly Archives: June 2013

Simple truths gained in Ireland

17 Monday Jun 2013

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Statue of St. Benedict, Glenstal Abbey

Spiritual truths and lessons come our way via many different means.  As I continue my pilgrimage around Ireland I am becoming more aware of this fact.  I would like to share three spiritual truths I have gained in the past two days … none of which were spoken.
 

The first spiritual truth was gained at Glenstal Abbey.  Glenstal is a Benedictine monastery of around thirty-eight monks.  If I remember Fr. Cuthbert (the cellarer of the community and our pilgrimage group’s guide) correctly, the monastery began in the mid-1800’s when a landowner’s estate was purchased and given to the community.   Even though built in the 1700’s the estate was constructed to resemble a twelfth century fortress.  Currently the monks run a boys’ boarding school that will soon be made co-ed.  Fr. Cuthbert shared that the school is currently ranked first in the country. 
On the main lawn of the complex (in between the school and the monastery) stands a statue of St. Benedict and to his mouth is pressed his right index finger.  I have seen this image at every Benedictine monastery I have visited and the lesson is the same: in silence and contemplation is found a sure pathway to God.  Benedictine monasteries live this truth so much so that even the very physical space of every monastery (at least the ones I have been to) seems shaped by the value of silence and not just silence as the absence of noise but silence open to and even pregnant with the presence of God. 
We need this silence in our lives.  St. Benedict and all his monastic sons and daughters teach us this truth.  We might not be able to live at a monastery but each of us can seek for and even build this type of silence into our lives.  We can step away from the computer and turn off the music and television.  We can step away from a relentless string of activities and projects.  We can build time enriched by prayer and Scripture into our daily routines.  If we take St. Benedict at his “hush” then we will be blessed for it.
Shrine of Our Lady of Knock
The apparition of Our Lady of Knock appeared on August 21, 1878.  For two hours an image of Our Lady appeared on the outside wall of a small, rural parish.   The Blessed Mother was accompanied by St. Joseph and St. John the Evangelist.  In the vision she gazed upon on altar on which stood a lamb.  Behind the altar stood a large cross and around the altar and lamb shimmered angels.  Fifteen people testified to witnessing this vision and the Church has accepted their testimony as valid.  Although not as famous as Lourdes, the Shrine of Our Lady of Knock brings pilgrims from around all of Ireland and also all the world.  Today it is a beautiful complex and place of prayer.
I must admit that I have been pretty ignorant of this apparition of our Blessed Mother until my visit to the shrine today.  Mary did not speak during this vision.  What she did though was gaze upon the Lamb upon the altar.  Mary always points to Christ and some have speculated that this apparition, which came after the great famine which truly decimated the country of Ireland, was a gift of hope to this poor and suffering people.  Christ is the lamb of sacrifice who has taken on all the sufferings of our world.  In the midst of our sufferings and even the most unjust pains of our world we can find comfort and consolation in the witness of our Blessed Lady – someone fully acquainted with suffering – and know that our sufferings are not lost to an impersonal and uncaring universe but are somehow caught up in the very dying and rising of Christ.

The Abbey of Ballintubber has been called the “Abbey that refused to die”.  Located on a site where St. Patrick was reputed to have baptized people and a small church was established; the abbey itself was constructed in 1261 A.D.  Despite King Henry ordering all abbeys and monasteries closed in 1542 A.D., Oliver Cromwell destroying most of the structure in 1653 A.D., the penal times when the Catholic Church was outlawed in Ireland and the Great Famine, the Eucharist has continuously been celebrated at the abbey since its founding in 1261 A.D.  Even when there was no roof on the structure, people would still gather for Mass and the celebration of their faith.

Abbey of Ballintubber

As with all churches and ruins of churches in Ireland (because they are considered holy ground), the Abbey of Ballintubber is surrounded by a cemetery.  All the graves face east.  They face the rising of the sun and, by this, give silent witness to our Christian hope in the great day of resurrection.  These countless graves and indeed the very witness of this “abbey that refused to die” teach us that there will be a day of resurrection and that all wrongs will be righted and that we, as Christians, live by hope and not resignation.  We live our lives today already in the dawning light of the great day of resurrection!
Lessons offered quietly and in truth.  They speak to our hearts and they bring comfort, consolation and hope.

A visit to Glendalough

16 Sunday Jun 2013

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(I am currently on an eleven day diocesan pilgrimage to Ireland.  Our pilgrimage group is visiting different religious and cultural sites in the central and southern part of Ireland.  The following is a reflection on our visit to the ruins of the monastic city of Glendalough.) 

Glendalough is a glacially-formed valley in Ireland that is within an hour’s drive outside of Dublin.  The name means “glen of the two lakes”.  The glen is remarkable for its peacefulness and beauty.  In the sixth century, St. Kevin arrived in the glen seeking a life of prayer, penitence and contact with nature.  The reputation of the holy man grew and other people came to the glen seeking Christian community.  A monastic city grew and thrived there for centuries.  Scholars estimate that at its height around one thousand souls lived within the monastic city with non-monastics (merchants, tradesmen, etc.) living outside its walls and pilgrims arriving continuously from all over Ireland and Europe.  The monastic city became a center of faith, learning, peace and life within the dark and often violent times of the middle ages.  The city was destroyed around 1368 A.D. by British troops and now all that is left are the stone ruins of a once thriving faith and cultural center.
 
Today, as I toured Glendalough and learned its history, I was reminded of the stunning mosaic above the main altar in the Basilica of San Clemente in Rome.  In the center of the mosaic is the cross of Christ and from the cross sprouts branches calling to mind the saying of Christ that he is the branch and that we are the branches and that the cross is indeed the “tree of life”.  Within the twists and turns of these branches are found different images of culture and life: artists at work, people performing music, laborers, people learning and many more such images.  The mosaic testifies that life flows from the cross of Christ and that it is life that both transforms and builds culture.  The monastic city of Glendalough was a living testimony of this truth.  In a savage and brutal time a man began a community that, informed by the Christian faith and the light of the Gospel, developed learning and truly aided humanity.  I would say that Ireland and in fact all of humanity is in a better place because St. Kevin and his followers took the light of the Gospel seriously and, by so doing, raised the human condition. 
The monastic city of Glendalough and the mosaic of San Clemente remind us that Church and faith build culture.  This is an important memory for Christians as we live in a time steeped with revisionist history and agendas seeking to cast the Catholic Church solely in negative and demonizing terms.  These tendencies portray the Catholic Church as an impediment to human progress rather than the catalyst that it has historically been and also continues to be.  History records that St. Kevin’s faith, and the vision of the monastic city, brought light and hope to a truly dark and dangerous time.  This is just one example of a multitude throughout history and around the world.
We, as Christians, must be prepared to do the same today.  I would even go so far as to say that we cannot but do so because it is within the very makeup of who we are.  The mosaic of San Clemente demonstrates this almost organic connection between the proclamation of the Gospel and the growth of human learning, light and hope.  God is the source of all knowledge, light and truth; therefore, to encounter Christ is to encounter truth and light.  It is easy to tear down.  It is not easy to build.  The Christian faith builds culture and life and this work shines forth even more brilliantly and truly when the surrounding ethos has nothing to truly offer the deepest yearning of the human heart. 
Does this mean that we need to seek out our own Glendaloughs and retreat from the troubles of our age?  First, I would say that some men and women are called to the monastic and eremitic witness but not the majority.  Second, I would say that St. Kevin and monastics and hermits of all times do not “hide away” from the human condition but rather, have the courage, guided and impelled by grace, to enter fully into the human condition.  The community founded by St. Kevin became a faith and cultural center precisely because it grew into a community of authentic humanity.  A “growth” made possible by the light of the Gospel.  The Gospel leads to true humanity; the “world” (despite loud protestations to the contrary) is what often fears the human condition.  
What do we Christian do in this age and every age?  We cling to the light of the Gospel and we allow this light to develop an authentic humanity that is clearly distinguishable from the shallowness of a worldly ethos.  The Christian monastic living in a monastery separated from the rush of the world is called to do this as well as the Christian disciple living in the non-stop movement of a major city.  The light of the Gospel leads to an authentic humanity which, in turn, creates a human space where life can be found and true friendship can be encountered.
Today, we each need to be a “St. Kevin” – trusting in the light of the Gospel and living an authentic humanity.            

Anniversary of ordination and some lessons learned

03 Monday Jun 2013

Posted by in Community of Sant'Egidio, gratitude, Ordination anniversary, priesthood, thanks to God

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On June 3, 1995 I was ordained a Roman Catholic priest.  These years have been and continue to be an amazing adventure!  Over these years I have been confessor, teacher, parochial vicar, pastor, youth ministry director, vocation and seminarian director, university chaplain, confidant, counselor, committee chairman, pilgrim, retreat director and friend.  I have experienced people automatically putting me on an unrealistic pedestal just for being a priest as well as people scorning, ridiculing, trying to convert me and automatically assuming things about me just for being a priest.

A couple of constants throughout my ministry have been building projects and working with youth and young adults.  At my first assignment at All Saints Church in Knoxville I watched (and learned) as the multi-purpose building and rectory were built followed in short order by the church building itself.  At Knoxville Catholic High School I assisted as the community left the old school and moved to a new property across town and I had a role in the design of the school chapel.  When I arrived at St. Mary Church in Athens, TN as pastor I stepped into the design phase of the new church building project.  In the course of five years we built the new church and rectory, literally picked up and moved the classroom building to the new property and sold the old property leaving the parish debt-free.  In the course of my time at the Catholic Center at ETSU one focus I have had has been the renovation of the chapel and I can honestly say that I think it looks quite good and is a place of prayer and worship.  But, even more than the building of structures, I have worked in the building and strengthening of Christian community. 

Except for the couple of years focusing on the building needs at St. Mary Church in Athens my ministry has always had the component (if not outright focus) of working with youth and young adults.  During these years I have been in the role of parish youth minister, diocesan youth ministry director (twice), high school chaplain and teacher (now twice) and college chaplain (now twice).  My whole priesthood has been lived under the scandal of the clergy sexual abuse crisis and in a time when many priests express fear and worry of being too close to young people.  For whatever reason I have been called back again and again to this ministry and I have chosen to say “yes” and remain with our young people.  It has been a blessing.

My priesthood has been blessed, strengthened and perhaps even saved through the Community of Sant’Egidio.  In a way that I can only describe as providence I met this community and now cannot even consider my life of faith apart from the community and their strange notion that yes, lifelong friendship is possible especially friendship with the poor!  This community has helped me to name and clarify rumblings in my own soul and heart regarding the true work of the priest and the disciple of Christ.  I have seen the danger of priest solely as CEO/administrator and I do not want that.  I want to be a priest – a man whose whole life is rooted in the mystery of Christ and who lives and who acts in the ways of Christ.  The community has helped me to see that there is a different way to live priesthood and discipleship and they have helped me to recognize that Christ is indeed encountered in faithful friendship with the poor. 

Here are some things that I have learned in my years of priesthood:

It is not about me. This is freeing realization when all is said and done.  The job of “Savior of the world” has already been taken and God is bringing about his Kingdom – end of story.  I have my part to play and there is certainly work to do but the final result is not in question.  This realization allows one to enjoy where one is at and also not think too highly of oneself.  It also helps lead one into the grace of obedience and its wisdom that the world cannot understand.     

It is the basics and it is the Gospel that truly matter.  In my years as a priest I have seen and participated in a number of different programs, drives and activities … and some of them even worked!  But when all is said and done – at least in my experience – it all comes back to the basics of the Christian life: serving and loving, proclaiming the Scriptures, breaking the bread and being a community in Christ. 

To love Christ one must also love the Church.  Warts and all, Christ loves his bride, the Church.  I have a deep sorrow for those who cannot recognize this truth.   

The Gospel can never be advanced by manipulation.  Manipulation, in the name of Christianity does occur.  I have seen it.  It might get immediate results but it leaves long lasting wounds and resentment.  God’s measure of success is not the world’s measure and part of growth in faith is to learn God’s measure. 

The poor move us beyond politics.  The poor help us to get real about a lot of things and help us to get beyond the “polarizations” that so much time and energy in our world is wasted upon – not an idea of the poor nor the poor as clients or the poor as a source of service credits but the poor as friends and as brothers and sisters.
  
Be human.  No one will care how much you know until they know how much you care.  God did not disdain becoming human in every sense but sin; why should we?

Good, Better, Best.  This is a philosophy I learned from Fr. Anietie Akata.  If you come to a place or situation which is not good then work to make it good.  If it is good then work to make it better.  If it has been made better then work to make it the best.  It is a good philosophy to live by. 

The love of Christ.  Just recently while in prayer, sitting before an icon of the face of Christ, I was brought to a deeper awareness of God’s love.  It seems that the journey of faith is a journey of coming to know in ever-deeper ways this love.  God continually pours forth his love and this is truly at the heart of all creation.

I give thanks to God on this anniversary of my ordination!  God is truly good in his blessings and in his love poured forth!       

               

"Stay with us…" The Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ

01 Saturday Jun 2013

Posted by in Encounter with Christ, Eucharist, Relationship

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“The Road to Emmaus” by Caravaggio

In the last chapter of Luke’s gospel we are given the Emmaus story.  The risen Lord joins two disciples on the road and fully reveals himself to them in the breaking of the bread whereupon he vanishes from their sight.  Prior to this, when they are still on the road and the Lord makes as if to continue on, the disciples make this request, “Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent.” (Lk. 24:29)

This Sunday, as the Church celebrates the Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ (or Corpus Christi), I would suggest this request of the two disciples as a way of exploring this holy mystery of the Eucharist at the heart of the life of the Church. 

Notice first of all that it is a request.  The Church does not own nor control this mystery.  We cannot command the presence of God.  At heart, all we can do is request, ask and when God is present – live in gratitude.  Earlier today I was at the ordination of Fr. Christopher Manning – the newest priest to be ordained to the Diocese of Knoxville – and in his homily, Bishop Richard Stika, spoke of the danger of seeking to control the Eucharist and form it through our thought and perception into our image rather than letting the Eucharist transform and change us.  We do not transform the Eucharist (when we attempt to do so we get into trouble both individually and even as “church”) rather the Eucharist transforms us.  When we receive the Eucharist we need to let this dynamic reality occur and we need to entrust ourselves to this movement of extraordinary grace.  The language of request acknowledges and respects this graced encounter that can never be controlled on our part.  “Stay with us…”

Secondly, notice that it implies relationship.  Our awareness of the mystery of the Eucharist grows as our relationship with Christ as Lord and Savior grows and our lived acknowledgement of Christ as Lord and Savior grows just as our humble entering into the mystery of the Eucharist increases.  Relationship is a lived reality, it is a give and take exchange.  The mystery of the Eucharist (like any relationship) cannot be “proven” from the outside. It must be entered into, in order to be encountered and experienced.  This “entering into the mystery” is not just a matter of filling a spot in a pew on Sunday either.  It is a dynamic of the heart and the heart’s willingness to enter relationship.

The breaking of the bread and Christ giving himself in the form of bread and wine occurs on the road.  The Eucharist is often referred to as “bread for the journey”.  While in this world – as individual pilgrims and as church – we are always on the journey.  We are on journey toward the Kingdom of God and beyond that which holds us bound.  The Eucharist is not prize for the victor who has won solely on his or her own abilities rather, it is food for the pilgrim on the journey, who often stumbles and who can even take wrong turns and get lost sometimes.  We need the Eucharist.  We need it’s transforming grace.

The Eucharist nourishes and refreshes us from the struggles of life.  The weariness of life can be heard in the request of the disciples who just had their hopes dashed by the cross on Calvary.  “…it is toward evening and the day is far spent.”  In a truly divine way, the Eucharist nourishes and refreshes us as we also encounter the pains and struggles of life.  The subtlety of the Eucharist is one of the great paradoxes and stumbling blocks in the eyes of the world.  In the simple receiving of what appears on the surface to be only bread and wine the very life of God is given to us and received by us!  God’s power is revealed exactly in not having to act through flash and show but rather in giving of Himself in a subtle presence.  A discerning and maturing heart begins to recognize this.  The Eucharist nourishes and opens our eyes to the ways of God. 

In his first letter to the Corinthians (1 Cor. 11:23-26), Paul recounts what he himself had received and now, what he himself, hands on.  “…that the Lord Jesus, on the night he was handed over, took bread, and, after he had given thanks, broke it and said, ‘This is my body that is for you.  Do this in remembrance of me.’  In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood.  Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”  Before the gospels were written, before the canon of Scripture had been codified, before Christianity was legally recognized and no longer persecuted, the Eucharist was being celebrated.

The first Christians encountered the living Lord in the breaking of the bread … this same encounter continues today.