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Pope Francis, the Community of Sant’Egidio and their mutual friend

14 Saturday Jun 2014

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This coming Sunday (May 15th), Pope Francis will visit with the Community of Sant’Egidio at the Basilica of Santa Maria in Trastavere in Rome and will then walk a block to the Chapel of Sant’Egidio where the community is headquartered.  The heart of this visit by the Bishop of Rome will be an encounter with the poor.  Pope Francis’ friendship with and care for the poor is well known and is shared by the Community of Sant’Egidio.  When Andrea Riccardi along with a group of his friends in 1968 (all young high school students) heeded the summons of the Second Vatican Council to pick up the Gospel and read they quickly discerned that to be a Christian meant to be friends with the poor.  This realization led them to the slums of Rome where they began the first “School of Peace” – a daycare for the children of poor families.  Since then the Community has continued to walk with the poor and forgotten around the world and continues to learn the lessons that only the poor can offer any disciple of Christ. 
In one sense it is no wonder that Pope Francis and the Community of Sant’Egidio are having this encounter because it is the poor who are bringing them together.  It is like a mutual friend saying, “Come, I really want you to meet someone!”  The poor are the mutual friend bringing the two together.  Truth be told, this is not the first encounter of Pope Francis with the community.  Pope Francis has been a friend to the community since his days in Argentina.  In his role as cardinal of Buenos Aires he was supportive and encouraging of the work of the community.  But, even more so, he has himself been a friend of the poor throughout his own priesthood and life of faith.  From his biography we learn that Cardinal Bergoglio was not adverse to the slums and, in fact, that he encountered his Lord and Savior in the faces of his poor friends, brothers and sisters.  Pope Francis also walks with the poor and has learned the lessons that they alone have to offer.  
Being brought together by their mutual friend the poor is the key, I believe, to this coming encounter between the Bishop of Rome and this particular community of disciples.  Many people are talking about the “Francis effect” – meaning how Pope Francis has caught the attention and imagination of the world.  A danger in such talk is to try to determine his “technique” or, maybe worse, create a narrative which proposes a technique which can then be learned and copied.  I do not think Pope Francis has a technique in this regard; I think he just has friends and he loves his friends and wants to be with them.  Pope Francis is authentic and authenticity always attracts. 
As a diocesan priest and a member of the Community of Sant’Egidio I have found that my own priesthood and life of faith has been strengthened and often reinvigorated by my friendship with the poor.  The key word is “friendship”.  The poor are not clients, they are not a once or twice a year encounter (usually around the holidays), they are not a service project rather they are friends and this has implications.  I want to be with my friends, I enjoy their company, I do not have to pretend I can solve their problems it is enough just to be together, I trust that they also have something to offer me.  One of the greatest gifts that the poor have to give is the desire to just be together.  “When are you coming back?” is a question often asked by my poor friends.  
Currently, I am in a time of transition in my priesthood.  I am returning to parish ministry after seven years in specialized ministry.  A year ago I was also reassigned to a different part of my diocese (an area from which I am now moving).  The gathering of Sant’Egidio that I had begun at a Newman Center in this new location was just beginning its service and friendship with the poor in a low-income residence when we had to cease for summer break.  I find that my own priesthood and discipleship is not as strong and resilient and is easily turned inward when I do not have a continuing and faithful relationship with the poor.  There is a lesson here, I believe, both for the priest and the parish and it is a lesson that I have heard both Pope Francis and the Community share.  We can easily turn inward and become self-absorbed and stagnant in the life of faith and we therefore need something that continually turn us away from self and toward others and this means more than just our own particular circle of friends.  The poor do this and it is not a technique, it is an encounter.  It is friendship. 
Once settled, I hope to begin a gathering of Sant’Egidio in my new assignment.  I will do this both for the parish and for my own discipleship.  As I look to my new assignment and as I look to this upcoming meeting of Pope Francis and the Community by their mutual friend I wonder how things in the parish might be different as we realize friendship with the poor.  As Pope Francis has often said, “A Church of the poor and for the poor.”  I do not have the full answer to this but I am willing to find out. 
(If you are interested, the meeting of Pope Francis with the Community of Sant’Egidio will be live streamed on Sunday, May 15th, beginning around 3 p.m. Rome time.  To watch, go to the community website at www.santegidio.org.)                  

Easter Homily, 2014 – "Christ is risen! Very truly, he is risen!

20 Sunday Apr 2014

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(Homily given at the Easter Gathering of the Community of Sant’Egidio in the U.S.)
We have arrived at Easter after having followed Jesus in the last days of life.  He welcomed us at the table with great friendship, he bent down before us to wash our feet and he taught us to do likewise one to another.  He gave himself in the bread broken and the wine poured out.  When anguish and sadness weighed heavy in his heart, he wanted us at his side in Gethsemane.  He has indeed given all of his very self for our salvation and we have accompanied him, even to the tomb.  A heavy stone sits in front of the tomb; our Lord is on the other side.  We ask, “Who will roll it away?”
So often, we place too much trust in our own abilities and strengths.  “How might we remove the stone?” we ask.  But now is not the time to trust in our strengths and in our abilities.  Now is the time to trust in God.  Tonight, as family, we are invited to trust in the weak power of love.  It was as a family and in love that the women went to the tomb.  They did not know how the stone would be moved.  They just loved.  They just went.  Love and faith teach us not to trust in our own strength but to trust in God.  Love and faith teach us that life needs God.  Faith and love is to believe that I need God to roll away the stone – the stone that covered the tomb of Jesus and all the stones that cover the tombs of our world and even our own lives.  We need to go to the sepulcher, to go there just as the women did – in faith and love.  Without going to the sepulcher we will not meet the angel nor hear the angel’s message.
“Do not be afraid!” says the angel, “I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified.  He is not here, he is risen!”  Whoever seeks Jesus must have no more fear!  Jesus’ tomb was opened – the stone was rolled back – now all the graves will be able to be opened, all the stones of our lives can be rolled back!  There is a force of life and love that emanates from the empty tomb and it is a force that continues to transform all of creation!  
Tonight, we are once again reminded that the darkness of pain and suffering in the world, the darkness of my sin and your sin, has been overcome by the light of the Lord.  The light of our Easter candle is the light of the resurrection!  It is the light that does not diminish just as it is being shared.  This is the light that has entered the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it!  It is the light of the resurrection but in a sense it is a weak light.  For a moment, let us reflect on the entrance of this light into our community.  We held up the Easter candle yet then, one by one, we began to pass that light one to another.  One by one we shared the light.  The light depends upon us; it waits for us to share it. 
One by one, the light grew, one by one the darkness of sin, violence and isolation dissipated.  One by one the risen Lord enters our hearts and breaks the darkness of sin and expels the darkness of fear. 
As for those first disciples, so for us – one by one the light illumines our hearts and one by one, we carry that light back to our cities and towns to help scatter the darkness.  We shine the light of the resurrection through community and family, through friendship with the poor, through prayer, especially as we have been invited this Easter, prayer for the sick and for peace.  
Let us go quickly for we have an appointment to keep – in Galilee!  Tonight, at this gathering, we might as well say in New York, in Boston, in Washington, South Bend, Manchester, Chicago, Minneapolis, Oxford, Seattle, Johnson City, Chattanooga, Rome.  Jesus is waiting for us!  One by one, he is inviting us to find and meet him in these places where life is lived every day.  Where the people are – especially with our friends the poor – the Lord awaits us.  “He is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.”
This is a momentous time!  There is a decision to be made; we have an appointment that cannot be missed!  Tonight’s celebration marks a new beginning for our lives and the life of our community.  There are so many heavy stones and so much darkness – we all know this – but tonight we sing “Alleluia!” because Christ has risen!  Free from fear and free from darkness we sing, “Christ is risen!  Very truly he is risen!”  That is the song of the community and our song!  The sad logic of sin, death and violence is vanquished.  Let us live the joy of the Gospel!  
The risen one goes ahead of us to Galilee – to each of our towns and cities.  We must remember that we are never alone.  The risen one is already there, waiting for us, waiting to show us the way.  In the gospel we are told that the women left the tomb quickly and as they were running the Lord appeared to them.  Jesus comes to whoever runs toward him!  We need to move, we need to go, and we need to live for others and not for ourselves!  This is the love that can transform our lives and can change the life of our world – one by one.  
Chris is risen!  Let us rise with him and bring the good news to everyone!  Christ is risen!  Truly he is risen! 

Thoughts on the Sunday Readings: Fifth Sunday of Lent (A): Jesus as Saviour, not Superhero.

06 Sunday Apr 2014

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In this Sunday’s first reading (Ez. 37:12-14), God says, “O my people, I will open your graves and have you rise from them…”  How does God open the grave and overcome death?  Does he snap his fingers?  Does he send a vast multitude of angels upon the earth?  We know that the answer is “no”.  God does neither of these two things.  Rather, the Word becomes flesh – fully human in all things but sin – and this Word died that we might have life.
There is much at work in today’s Gospel (Jn. 11:1-45) – Jesus is certainly suffering for the death of his friend Lazarus whom he loved very much, Jesus is certainly moved by the pain of loss expressed by Martha and Mary and their relatives.  But, I believe that Jesus is also, in the fullness of his humanity, wrestling with his approaching death and the Father’s will.  We all fear death.  This is a universal human reality.  Jesus, being fully human, would not have been exempt from this.  Right before this passage we are told that the Jews were looking to capture Jesus, this is why Jesus goes across the Jordan.  By going back into Judea at this time in order to perform such a public miracle of healing, Jesus was basically signing his own death certificate.  The religious authorities would not let this go unanswered.  This is why Thomas says, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” 
He knew that death awaited him and he probably knew what type of death.  You know for the first few centuries of Christianity, Christians would not draw images of the crucifixion.  It was too recent and it was too brutal.  Crucifixion was in essence state sponsored terrorism.  It was Rome’s way of saying, “If you mess with us this is what will happen to you.  We will take you, beat you, strip you and hang you for all your family and nation to see until you die an agonizing death.”  This sheer brutality of violence was what awaited Jesus and he knew it.  Yet, he goes back into Judea but as a savior, not as a superhero. 
One of my favorite Lenten images is the painting “Christ in the Desert” by Ivan Kramskoy.  In the painting we have the “fully human” Christ.  He does not have a halo.  There is not a choir of angels around him.  He is not is some majestic pose.  Rather he sits alone in the hot desert.  There is a weariness and fatigue to his posture.  His shoulders are hunched and burdened.  In his expression it is easy to see that he is lost in his own thoughts.  The painting carries with it a sense of grave silence. 
I contrast this image with that of the superhero Iron Man.  In a movie poster I have seen this figure stands tall on his own two feet!  He is all metal and strength!  His eyes gleam forth in vision and leadership!  His weak humanity is completely covered over by a suit of iron.  This is the superhero who rights wrongs and triumphs over evil … or so we are told. 
But Iron Man is a myth and not a savior and Jesus is real and never pretended to be a superhero. 
In Scripture we are told that Christ is like us in all things except sin.  In fact, Paul in his letter to the Philippians tells us that Christ emptied himself and took the form of a servant.  He humbled himself even being obedient unto death.  (Philippians 2:5-11)
If Christ is like us in all things except sin then he is not a man covered in iron but rather a man living in flesh and blood like each one of us.  He knew limits and weariness.  He knew hunger and thirst.  He experienced disappointment, fear, anger and loneliness.  Pope Benedict XVI points out in his second volume of “Jesus of Nazareth” that Jesus knew the whole gamut of human reality even unto infinity precisely because he experienced the full human condition in all its fears, uncertainties and limits without reverting to sin.  The “except sin” of Christ does not shield Jesus from the fullness of the human condition; rather it leads him ever deeper into it.  We are the ones who shield ourselves precisely through our sins. 
Our sins, from the very beginning and even to today, remain a running away from the human condition. 
Why not a superhero?  Why not a man covered in iron to save us? 
Here a poem entitled, Letter to Genetically Engineered Super Humans by Fred Dings might instruct us:
You are the children of our fantasies of form,
our wish to carve a larger cave of light,
our dream to perfect the ladder of genes and climb
its rungs to the height of human possibility,
to a stellar efflorescence beyond all injury and disease,
with minds as bright as newborn suns
and bodies which leave our breathless mirrors stunned.
Forgive us if we failed to imagine your loneliness
in the midst of all that ordinary excellence,
if we failed to understand how much harder
it would be to build the bridge of love between such splendid selves,
to find the path of humility among the labyrinth of your abilities,
to be refreshed without forgetfulness,
and weave community without the thread of need.
Forgive us if you must re-invent our flaws
because we failed to guess the simple fact
that the best lives must be less than perfect. 
Throughout Lent we journey with the savior Christ – human like us in all things except sin.  He is not a superhero nor does he want to be.  In the fullness of the human condition, the much “less than perfect reality”, he turns again and again to God and he binds himself to the Father’s will even to the point of sweating blood in the Garden of Gethsemane.  This is what makes him both savior and brother to us.  In his grace we are now invited to also bind ourselves to God not despite of but through our imperfect human condition and to be restored in relationship to God, to one another and to our very selves. 
Now, as always, we need a savior rather than a superhero.  God says, “O my people, I will open your graves and have you rise from them…”  Jesus says to his disciples, “Let us go into Judea again.”     

Thoughts on the Sunday Readings: Third Sunday of Lent (A): Encountering Christ

22 Saturday Mar 2014

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The woman at the well did not know who she was talking to.  This is of specific importance in today’s gospel reading (Jn. 4:5-42).  To her this man was some strange Jew – particularly strange in the fact that he would talk to a Samaritan woman.  
A danger in the life of faith is that we turn faith and Jesus himself into an idea.  The problem with that is that in order to grasp an idea you have to have it all figured out.  Also, ideas are passive.  They wait for our acting upon them.  Jesus is not an idea, he is a person and faith is not an ideology, it is an encounter.  People can introduce themselves to us without our expectation.  It happens all the time.  Some person comes up to us on the street or in the store.  People are active.  They can necessitate an encounter.  This is what Jesus did at the well.  “Give me a drink,” he asks of the woman.   
You may have seen the painting of Jesus standing at the door and knocking.  An aspect of that painting is that there is no door handle on Jesus’ side of the door.  He stands waiting.  There is some truth to that depiction of Christ.  In faith there is an element where we have to open the door to Christ and let him into our lives.  But, in light of today’s gospel, this image falls far short.  Christ initiates!  Not only does he not stand meekly rapping on the door, he busts the door down!  “…whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst … You are right in saying, ‘I do not have a husband.’  For you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband.”  We should imagine a stranger approaching us in the supermarket and saying something similar in regards to our life.  How would we respond?  However we might respond, I doubt we would regard that stranger as a passive, shrinking violet.  
The Christ that we proclaim as Christians is a person – a person who once was dead and who now lives.  A person who can enter into our lives however and whenever he so chooses.  Frankly, keeping Christ as an idea can be a mechanism on our part that we deploy to keep Christ and the fullness of the demands of the gospel on our life at bay.  It is much easier to put off an “idea” as a nice thought for “sometime down the road” than it is to put off a person who is staring us in the face and whose presence necessitates a response.  Christ necessitates a response. 
In the fifth chapter of Luke’s gospel we find the call of Simon Peter.  It is interesting to note how Luke presents this call.  Jesus sees two boats on the shore and the fishermen washing their nets.  Luke then writes, “Getting into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, he asked him to put out a little from the land.”   Then after teaching for a while, Jesus says to Simon, “Put out into the deep and lower your nets for a catch.”  In neither instance does Jesus ask permission.  He did not ask Peter’s permission to get into the boat, he just got in.  Then, he tells Peter (an accomplished fisherman) to lower the nets.  Jesus walked into the very midst of Peter’s life, even his livelihood, and totally redirects it.  An idea cannot do this, only a person can.
Keeping Christ as an idea might seem safe and comfortable but it limits and even deadens life.  It was only through her encounter with this man who is Jesus that the woman at the well found healing from the scars she bore and the pain that had hardened her heart.  Freed from that burden she, who had been the outcast of her village, became the messenger who helped to bring her fellow villagers to believe in Christ.  
Jesus is not an idea, he is a person and faith is not an ideology, it is a living encounter.  
The woman said, “I know that the Messiah is coming…”  Jesus responds, “I am he, the one speaking with you.”   

 

Thoughts on the Sunday readings: Second Sunday of Lent (A): The Transfiguration and the Smallest Mustard Seed of History

15 Saturday Mar 2014

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While reflecting on the message of the parables in the first volume of his work on Jesus of Nazareth, Pope Emeritus Benedict writes this:
The time of Jesus, the time of the disciples, is the time of sowing and of the seed.  The “Kingdom of God” is present in seed form.  Observed from the outside, the seed is something minuscule.  It is easy to overlook.  The mustard seed – an image of the Kingdom of God – is the smallest of seeds yet it bears the whole tree within it.  The seed is the presence of what is to come in the future.  In the seed, that which is to come is already here in a hidden way.  It is the presence of a promise.  
Further on, Pope Emeritus Benedict will refer to the resurrection of Christ as “the smallest mustard seed of history” precisely because it was so improbable.  Living as Christian disciples nearly two thousand years after the fact, we can – on the surface – find this statement to be counterintuitive.  “What does he mean that the resurrection is the smallest mustard seed of history?”  We know and we claim the resurrection to be the defining point of all human history yet Pope Emeritus Benedict is getting at an extremely fine point here.  The resurrection of Christ is a seed and it is the smallest of seeds because at no other time in all of human history had the stone of the tomb been rolled away nor had any human person been resurrected to eternal life.  In this “seed” death is conquered and the tomb is emptied!  And the seed bears fruit!    
The seed of the resurrection “bears the whole tree within it” and “is the presence of what is to come in the future”.  The mystery of the Transfiguration (Mt. 17:1-9), which we reflect upon this second Sunday of Lent, is itself a foreshadowing and a glimpse of the fullness of what is to come! 
Throughout Scripture we find that God is a gardener and has the patience and deliberateness of a gardener.  In the account of creation itself we see that God plants all of creation and takes great delight in it.  A little further on in Genesis – from this Sunday’s first reading – (Gen. 12:1-4a) we find that God chooses a people and plants them in human history.  From the littlest seed of Abram’s faith, God will make a great nation …, from which all the communities of the earth shall find blessing.  Centuries later, our Lord (a son of this great nation promised to Abram) takes Peter, James and John up on a high mountain and is transfigured before them.  Moses and Elijah appearing beside him – Jesus is the fulfillment of the law and the prophets!  It could be said that God has so cultivated creation and human history that now this “seed” who bears all of the fullness of the Kingdom of God within himself and who is indeed the fullness of what is to come in the Kingdom is brought forth and is preparing to die that we might have life!  
Is it no wonder that those three disciples fall prostrate and are caught in fear at the enormity of the vision presented before their eyes?  In any icon of the Transfiguration you will see that Peter, James and John are cowering, even turning away and hiding their faces.  The vision terrifies in its magnificence, wonder and beauty!  God is at work and in the transfiguration we are afforded the slightest glimpse of this work!  …then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” 
So … what are we disciples of Christ in 2014 to do?  I would say that the Gospel calls us to hold fast to this smallest mustard seed of history!  In many ways the truth of Christ still remains small and perhaps it always will this side of history.  Many people still scoff and deride Christ and his message, the violence of this world rages, fear and the constant message of “Save yourself!” abounds in our time.  Yet, as Christians we hold to something different and by this we set our lives and our hope.  I would also say that the Gospel calls us to train our sight by this smallest mustard seed of history.  Christ is bringing about the Kingdom; God is at work healing his creation.  The powers of the world desperately want to claim all our attention for fear that we notice what God is doing.  When we recognize God at work, the powers of the world lose any and all illusion of authority. 
Christians, turn toward the Transfiguration and away from the false illusions of our time!  Hold fast to Christ and train your sight to the healing work of the smallest mustard seed of history!  
“This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.”

Notes on Preaching, #4 "The Joy of the Gospel"

14 Friday Feb 2014

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Pope Francis, in his continuing reflection on the act of preaching in Evangelii Gaudium, puts forward the image of a “mother’s conversation.”  I find the image of the mother’s conversation to be striking by the sheer fact that it is a reality that probably 99.9% of humanity has experience with yet, because it is so common, it often goes unreflected upon.  The Holy Father, in just a few short paragraphs, explores the dynamics of this form of conversation and presents it as a worthwhile model for all preachers to learn from.
We said that the people of God, by the constant inner working of the Holy Spirit, is constantly evangelizing itself.  What are the implications of this principle for preachers?  It reminds us that the church is a mother and that she preaches in the same way that a mother speaks to her child, knowing that the child trusts that what she is teaching is for his or her benefit, for children know that they are loved. (EG, 139)  
There are two principles at play here which are of immense importance for preachers: 1. the love of a mother and 2. the awareness (sometimes awe, wonder and even concern) of life unfolding in the other. 
First, the love of a mother.  The love of a mother is unconditional, it cannot be faked and love ideally undergirds all the interacting and relationships of a family.  St. Thomas Aquinas defined love as willing the good of the other as other.  This is a good principle on which to base the preaching moment.  The homily should be seen as an act of love, a giving of self, just as a mother giving advice, offering comfort or even challenging a son or daughter is an act of love.  But the love is critical.  If the love is absent then the words ring empty and they produce no lasting fruit.  Just as a mother gives of her very self (even to the point of losing self) for her child then the preacher should see in the act of preaching a giving of self.  Just as a mother would not hold back any of herself for the sake of her child then why should a preacher?
Yet, there are different levels to giving self in love.  Not every moment of a mother’s love is giving physical birth to a child nor is every homily that a preacher gives the Easter homily.  Just as a mother’s love is found in the daily and often unnoticed tasks so can a preacher’s love be expressed convincingly in the weekday, simple homily.  What is key is the love being present (the love on the preacher’s part both for God’s word and God’s people).  A mother’s fundamental concern when conversing with her child is neither to win admiration for a cleverly concocted argument nor to impress by her intellect but to love, to will the good of her child.  The focus of the preacher should not be to win a reputation for his own erudition but to will the good of the community through the homiletic act.  I would say that a preacher has done his job when a community leaves church spending less time thinking about him and more time thinking about themselves in the light of Christ.   
Second, the awareness of life unfolding in the other.  We said that the people of God, by the constant inner working of the Holy Spirit, is constantly evangelizing itself … Moreover, a good mother can recognize everything that God is bringing about in her children, she listens to their concerns and learns from them. (EG, 139)  The mother is the first and primary witness of life moving and unfolding in her child.  I would think that it is an amazing and awe-filled thing to behold.  But just as she watches this life unfolding in the beloved she then learns and she adjusts because where the child is today is not where he or she was yesterday.  Here, I believe that Pope Francis is saying that the preacher needs to have the same attentiveness toward his community and the Spirit at work in the community that a mother has toward her child and the movement and growth of life in her child.  The spirit of love that reigns in a family guides both mother and child in their conversations; therein they teach and learn, experience correction and grow in appreciation of what is good. (EG, 139)  
The mother, herself, grows in this dynamic of growth in her child; the preacher, himself, grows in learning to recognize the Spirit at work in his community!  There is a great mystery at work here and I believe it relates to the scriptural image of the sower who sows the seed but then goes to bed and knows not how the seed takes root and grows.  The preacher/the community, the mother/the child – all together – are caught up in this great mystery of the Spirit at work and each must step back and be attentive to how the Spirit is moving and then (trying neither to obstruct nor control) allow the Spirit to work through her or him.
In these short paragraphs and by use of the image of the mother’s conversation, Pope Francis is putting forward the living context of the homily.  The context that allows for a living and effective homily is not a preacher isolated and removed writing down his own thoughts for the edification of the community.  The context that allows a homily to be living and effective is that of family, relationship, conversation and love where all seek to be attentive to the movement of the Spirit.                     

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time (A): The Law of Foundation

19 Sunday Jan 2014

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In the readings for this Sunday we can detect a dynamic of moving, of straining forward into discipleship and identity with Christ.  In the gospel (Jn. 1:29-34), John points him out; Behold, the lamb of God…  Seek Christ!  Move toward Christ!  Paul in his letter to the church in Corinth (1 Cor. 1:1-3) reminds his listeners that they are indeed, called to be holy.  For the Christian, holiness can only be found through living in relationship with Christ and his body – the Church.  Isaiah (Is. 49:3, 5-6) prophesies that the true servant of the Lord will not just be a light for the tribes of Jacob but a light to the nations.  

This very moving and straining forward is the Church’s law of foundation.  There is a wonderful analogy used by St. Augustine in reflecting on Christ as the foundation of the Church and of our very lives. 
 

Foundations, Augustine points out, are usually at the bottom supporting a structure but Christ, as the head, is above.  How, therefore, can we call Christ the foundation?  There are two kinds of weight, observes Augustine, and here he defines “weight” as that force within a thing that seems to make it strain to finds its proper place.  For example, hold a stone in your hand – you feel its “weight” because it is “seeking” its proper place.  Take your hand away and the stone falls to the ground.  The stone has reached the goal it was tending toward.  It has found its proper place – its foundation.  Now (and here is where the poetry of Augustine’s analogy comes in), some weights find their proper place by pushing down and others by pushing upward.

Imagine, writes Augustine, a container of oil falling into the ocean, underneath the water and then rupturing.  The oil is not content to remain under the water, at the bottom.  It seeks its proper place so there is the ‘uneasy movement’ while the oil strains toward its proper place – its foundation – above.  
God’s Church – though established here below – strains toward heaven precisely because our foundation is found there – Christ and the fullness of God’s Kingdom.  The law of foundation says that objects strain toward their particular foundation and proper place.  This is why the Church throughout history and indeed the very life of every Christian strains forward – toward a more just and right existence.  This occurs because we seek our foundation.  The Church lives in the crucible of history but the Church always strives beyond the merely historical of our world because we seek our proper foundation which is not of the world.  If the Church (if we) fail to point and strive toward the Kingdom, if we just become self-referential and enclosed within our institutions then we have forgotten our truth.  Yes, there is ‘uneasy movement’ as we strain forward – we have to strain through the weight of this world and our false selves – but we do so in order to reach our true foundation which is more than this world.  Our foundation is the Kingdom of God and Christ himself! 
John points him out, Behold the lamb of God!  We are indeed, called to be holy.  This very dynamic of straining toward holiness (often turbulent and uneasy), itself witnesses to the law and truth of our foundation – who is Christ himself.  
St. Josephine Bakhita – a woman who was severely mistreated as a slave and who bore the scars of horrendous whippings on her body – implicitly knew this law of her true foundation.  She put it this way, “I am definitively loved and whatever happens to me – I am awaited by this love.  And so, my life is good.” 

P.S.  Technical issue – I am having trouble uploading photos onto my posts.  This has only happened recently.  If anyone has a suggestion on how to correct this please let me know. 

Hell 2.0 and why I think I was sent there

18 Thursday Jul 2013

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What happens to Hell once people stop believing in God or when religion is pushed to the edge of people’s lives?  The late Fr. Andrew Greeley once noted that when the Church drops something others seem to pick it up.  In Church, we do not talk so much about Hell anymore.  Therefore, has “Hell” been picked up and adapted to a secular, post-modern world?  If so, what are the punishments of this secular Hell and who might be consigned to its sufferings? 
I found myself ruminating on these thoughts recently following an interaction I had with a young woman regarding an aspect of Church teaching.  The young woman was not a fan and she eagerly made her disdain known regarding both the teaching and the Church.  I have been a priest long enough now to recognize when blinders are up and it is just not possible to get anywhere and I have learned to curb my effort rather than spin wheels.  At these moments I take a form of comfort in the knowledge that people even walked away from Jesus himself. 
But, this does not mean that I myself cannot reflect upon such encounters and learn from them.   
Two things struck me from the above mentioned encounter.  The first was the realization that, in her own way, this young woman who had no time for religion or Church because of its perceived judgmentalism toward different peoples and attitudes was, herself, condemning me to a form of Hell.  The second is that I realized that this young woman was operating out of a profoundly impoverished and even stunted understanding of God’s grace in life.  I would like to spend some time exploring these two realizations because, sadly, I think this young woman is not alone in her attitude and perception.   
The worst thing one can do in our society today is to be viewed as saying “no”  or raising questions concerning another person’s perception of life, how they wish to live and even how they view reality.  The second worse thing is to say that it is possible to “be more”, to rise above and live by a different set of standards other than the standards of the world.  From my work in college campus ministry I have realized that one of the worse things you can do in the eyes of our younger generation (especially if you are an older adult) is to be seen as judging others.  This almost pre-conscious aversion to judging others invokes a sharp reaction of disdain, which can even border on belligerence, in the younger generation.  God forbid that one try to put forward the notion that making judgments and key distinctions is a part of an authentic life and that it is possible, and even necessary, to judge actions while not pretending one has a full understanding of the core identity of another person. 
In our encounter, I saw myself making reasoned judgments and key distinctions.  The young woman saw me and the institution I represented as retrograde artifacts of a prejudiced bygone era – hence, my being condemned to “Hell” in her eyes.  Now, how was I condemned?  She shut me and the Christian perspective off easily and completely.  For her, my lived faith had nothing whatsoever positive to offer.  How was I punished?  Ridiculed (both my beliefs and myself) and treated with indifference.  These are the favored condemnations and punishments of the secularized Hell and you do not have to look very far in order to see how they are being played out on all levels of our society – from the daily encounter, to the classroom to the television and movie screen. 
Interestingly though, I left this encounter feeling profoundly sad for this young woman.  She, it seems to me, has chosen the lesser and more impoverished part and she does not even realize it.  People are afraid of God’s grace these days and people are afraid that life can indeed be transformed and transfigured.  Despite all of our hero-worship we are afraid to rise above and live by a different set of standards.  Maybe this is exactly why we are addicted to hero-worship.  It allows an easy-out where we, ourselves, do not really have to change or be different.  Our time will be judged on its failure to love.   
The Church says it is possible to live differently and this scares the world.  The Church can say this because the Church truly accepts the radical transforming reality of God’s grace.  For a good number of people (if they even acknowledge God) grace is seen as external.  God created, we sinned, Jesus came to save us and show us how to live and now it is up to us to do so.  “Father God” remains way up in heaven and we have now been given all the means necessary to live rightly down here on Earth.  Grace has become so diminished within and so overused and even cheapened without (i.e. a means to get ones needs met) as to be practically nonexistent in the lives of people.  Unless … there is a perceived big, flashy “Paul on the road to Damascus” moment!  Then, grace bursts in, subjugates the human will and sets things right!  Neither of these two extremes is the Catholic understanding.  Grace can move in surprising and striking ways but more than likely its presence is subtle and neither will grace overcome and subjugate the human will.  Grace is a daily encounter and a working with our human will and effort.  God chooses to not force us along the way but to walk with us; bringing us deeper and deeper into the fully authentic life.  Grace that is allowed within does make it possible to live by a different standard and can make possible that which, on the outset, seems impossible. 
It is possible to live an authentic life!  Grace makes it possible.  But when transforming grace is denied from the outset then life and existence become mean, narrowed and impoverished.  We starve ourselves even as we sit right before the great banquet table!  It has been said that the only regret in life is to not have been a saint and it is true.    
Saints are not possible without transforming grace and hearts open to accepting grace.  We are meant to be saints.  My sadness for this young woman as we ended our encounter was that she, in fact, was walking away from who she is meant to be.  I pray for her and for all the others like her.  I pray that God in his infinite mercy and judgment will heal her and bring her to the truth of her very self.  May God bless us all on our journey and may God ever walk with us and share his love in our very hearts!     



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.