SEEL Preparation Week - Day 2 "The Good Shepard"

John 10 1:17

“Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber. But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice, as he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has driven out all his own, he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they recognize his voice. But they will not follow a stranger; they will run away from him, because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.” Although Jesus used this figure of speech, they did not realize what he was trying to tell them. So Jesus said again, “Amen, amen, I say to you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came [before me] are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved and will come in and go out and find pasture. A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly. I am the good shepherd. A good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. A hired man, who is not a shepherd and whose sheep are not his own, sees a wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away, and the wolf catches and scatters them. This is because he works for pay and has no concern for the sheep. I am the good shepherd, and I know mine and mine know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father, and I will lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. These also I must lead, and they will hear my voice, and there will be one flock, one shepherd. This is why the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again.

Who are the other sheep not of this fold? The world of the unreached people of the world who have not heard His voice? Is it those sheep who have listened to the word and believe but have chosen paths different from what the beloved disciple would think proper? Might it be me because I have not indeed abandoned my self-directed struggles to be unique? Is it possible I am being pointed toward sheep who belong to the fold but are not sure of their place or feel a need to be pulled closer to the sound of his voice?

As I ponder and wrestle with these thoughts, suddenly the sound of the clock ticking has become thunderous. The benign rushing noise of the water running through the lines beneath out to the sprinklers has become impossible to ignore. The words, the ideas, and the message I am to receive today are difficult. No matter the answer, I may be called to action of some kind and it is always my preference to be lazy. Maybe I am overthinking all of this and the unusual volume of routine sounds might be the result of me sitting in this space wearing my hearing aids and I am not accustomed to the new volumes. What is certain, however, is the fact I have committed these thoughts to the blank page points to what is normal for me. I am often distracted when I focus on reflective prayer on something divine. 

If the sheep outside the fold represent the billions of people of many different beliefs, I think of my cousin Rusty and his wife Penny who are focused on the work of being missionaries to the sheep around them. I admire their singleness of purpose and have committed to supporting them in prayer and companionship. Their calling, however, is not my own. My charisms call me in other directions so I will continue my reflective prayer for other answers. 

It feels more appropriate to focus on the sheep who have chosen other paths, those who belong to the fold but need more and myself. Feeling the call to teach and touch those who have wandered or doubted, I will finally turn to myself. Am I willing to embrace his call to me that I hear again today to feed his sheep? My answer for today, this morning, is yes. 

The clock's ticking and the running water hum have faded into the background. I hear his voice. 

Amen. 

SEEL - Preparation Week Day 1 The Samaritan Woman

Today's post marks the beginning of a 9-month-long retreat on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius. Viewing faith through the lens of Ignatian Spirituality is an interesting sojourn for someone who has been immersed in Benedictine Spirituality for more than a decade. And away we go...

John 4 1-15

He had to pass through Samaria. So he came to a town of Samaria called Sychar, near the plot of land that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there. Jesus, tired from his journey, sat down there at the well. It was about noon. A woman of Samaria came to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” His disciples had gone into the town to buy food. The Samaritan woman said to him, “How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?” (For Jews use nothing in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered and said to her, “If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” [The woman] said to him, “Sir, you do not even have a bucket and the well is deep; where then can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us this well and drank from it himself with his children and his flocks? Jesus answered and said to her, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again; but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.”

Today this statement strikes me: "Jesus had to pass through Samaria."  This was not strictly true. While Samaria lay between Galilee and Judea, most travelers from Galilee chose to cross the Jordan into Jordan and then travel south to Judea and cross back the river back into Israel. Samaria was hostile land and Jewish travelers tended to avoid the danger by going around rather than through Samaria. Jesus did not have to go through Samaria yet it was still necessary. Why? He had an appointment to keep with the Samaritan woman, so he puzzled his followers by going directly to a specific town not necessary on the way to Judea and then to then pausing at the well of Jacob after shooing away his disciples. There he waited for her to come, and she became the first disciple not born of the historic Jewish faith.  

I have reflected on this passage many times and often use it to introduce folks to Ignatian contemplation; each new examination offers a new revelation. Today I zeroed in on verse four. I am overwhelmed by the recognition that the meeting at the well was not just some serendipitous happenstance. He went out of his way even though his followers would have been reluctant to make a potentially hazardous diversion. 

What comes to me this morning is the sudden recognition that Jesus will go to great lengths to encounter us in a way that can redirect the arc of life as it did for this woman. In prayer, I am assured he has traveled from afar to meet me where I am and invite me to be in his company. Me. He has come to me. He knows me in the same he knew the woman. He is asking me to drink from the wellspring of everlasting life. Me. He has invited me, a sinner, a person of inconsistent and incomplete faith to drink from the cup he offers.

The woman responded to the invitation with wholehearted and complete acceptance. I wish to do the same. I accept the offer. The woman rushed back to her hometown to tell others of her experience and bring them to meet Jesus. I am in a different setting, at a different time with a different calling but I pledge to live today in a way that might allow others to encounter Jesus through me so that they might be encouraged to go to the well to meet him. 

A New Journey - To Where?

 I have not posted since February and prior to that, it was December since I took the time to add to the blog in a meaningful way. How can I imagine myself a writer unless I sit down, stare at the blank page in front of me and hit a key? Yes, I have been keeping a written journal on a regular basis but pushing myself to be present during the day with an eye toward observing what surrounds me has been missing. So here I sit. What do I want to say? 

For many years I prepared a reflection on a Gospel passage from the lectionary on more or less a weekly basis which I shared with a group of close friends I relate to as brothers. After leaving Helena and moving here to the pond by the river, I no longer have anything to share with them, no spark of insight touched off by the Holy Spirit. In the months since I have tried to find a new motivation, a different wellspring of imagination worthy of sharing with an unknown, perhaps even non-existent audience. I could always count on my brothers to eat up whatever I served them and I am grateful for the generous attention and feedback. 

I surprise myself when I flip back through the blog posts piled up over the years. Sometimes I had something important to say and could say it in a meaningful and readable way. Other posts were just exercises in ego I would like to delete but I must take inspiration from Peter who was a man of many characteristics and traits but who never seemed more capable as an evangelist as when he was less than perfect as a disciple. He was human. He was well-intentioned, divinely intentioned and yet he was like me, prone to gaps of faith and poorly thought-out suggestions. I am also human. 

Since retirement, I seem to have been caught in a vortex that was too subtle for me to be aware of what was happening but powerful enough to keep me spinning without direction. I have begun to focus my prayer on questioning God on how I can best use my talents but use them with humility and awareness of the power of the Holy Spirit. 

I have discerned taking a 9-month retreat devoted to the Ignatian Spiritual exercises as a way of firing up my reflective spiritual practices which will allow me to return to the blog. I believe I am hearing the call to enter the retreat. 

Secondly, I offered my services as a catechist to both the Journey movement and Christ the King church. I await a response and invitation. If asked I will accept what is offered. 

Finally, I have volunteered to serve as a tour guide at St. Mary's Mission and this appeals to my love of the church and to my love of Montana history. I look forward to opportunities. 

As a Benedictine, I am always reminded to listen to the voice of the Master. I am listening. I pray to hear the call, regardless of what I am called to offer, with an open heart.

Lord, hear my prayer. 

Following the Way. Practicing the Way

Mark 9:38-40

 

John said to Jesus,

“Teacher, we saw someone driving out demons in your name, and we tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.” Jesus replied, “Do not prevent him. There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time speak ill of me. For whoever is not against us is for us.”

 We are a month out from spring, yet this morning dawned on a river cutting through rock the same as it does every day but with a cold mist of fog rising from the waters into unsettled 8-degree air. The Bitterroot Valley is a place of relative, calm, fierce winds not attended by a storm are rare so to have unleafed trees bending from a 20 mile per hour east wind was a surprise. I was hunkered down in an open spot in the willows to find respite from the wind. Shelf ice has reformed since the deep freeze began again Sunday and so I watched the waters flow under the ice shelf after piling shush up against the ice ledge. The sound was cold. There is no other sound like ice slush on running waters. Even watching a video in the warmth of my study causes me to sense a shudder of chill shivering down my spine. Now, however, hearing the river run and feeling the bite of the wind without the radiant warmth of still hidden sun, I was deeply chilled dressed even as I was to ward off the cold. I would not spend much time rolling the gospel around in my mind and heart to see what might be revealed but I spent long enough. What was revealed, however, was not challenging, comforting, or inspiring. Instead, sadness and disquiet settled deep within me, and it kept company with the cold until the cold yielded to the warmth of my home.

 

Why I am discomforted by the gospel today. It seems straightforward enough. The more I considered my unrest the more I realized it points to my future and those with whom I will struggle to follow the way. More precisely, those with whom I practice the way. Do you know what I mean? Before Christians were called Christians, they called themselves "followers of the way."  The way of Jesus. I have shared with you over the past years and last year in particular. I have loved every step I have taken with you for the past 12 years. It is comfortable for me, easy because of our history. Like the disciples, we have become "us" but, like the disciples, I have seen demons being driven out by others who do not "follow us". You know, Protestants. Non-Catholics. Curiously enough even some agnostics.

 

I like being Catholic. I love our liturgy and the majesty of 2000 years of revelation provided us by the magisterium. I am proud of the fact the bible is the product of our church and that our church is not just a product of the bible. There is so much more. I love being a Benedictine and I have been able to increasingly been able to integrate the rule of Benedict into my rule of life. I love being able to practice advanced theological and scriptural reflection with others who appreciate, understand, and who have sought the wisdom revealed through me. Not by me, THROUGH me. Now I am being called to move out to serve those "someone(s)" who are driving out demons in his name. They need love, support, prayer and to be offered the gift of my charisms. They need the gifts of spiritual and physical nourishment and blessings of the sabbath. They have invited me to follow with them. After prayer and guidance from spiritual mentors and my spiritual director at the abbey, I must accept their requests. I have begun teaching the gospel and offering direction and mentoring to church leaders who are both Catholic and Protestant. It would take me hours to explain how all the things that have come together now all blend into one way, His way. I am not leaving the Cursillo/Journey movement or the church because all that I do will be pointed toward evangelization I hope will lead some to the Catholic faith but overall, I want to contribute to building his church.

 

Again, the question of why I am feeling sad and unsettled needs more explanation. Simple. I don't like change. I like being secure. I like doing things the uncomplicated way. I would rather zoom it in Wednesday mornings but….

 

I will be tutoring an in-person and zoom-based group of unchurched but still fervent believers. Pray for me as I will pray for you.

  

The Lord’s vóice resóunding on the wáters

 

Tá glór an Tiarna ar an uisce, tá Dia na glóire ag toirneach:tá an Tiarna os cionn na n-uiscí móra. Tá glór an Tiarna go cumasach: tá glór an Tiarna go maorga.

The Lord’s vóice resóunding on the wáters, the Lórd on the imménsity of wáters;

the vóice of the Lórd, full of pówer, the vóice of the Lórd, full of spléndour.

If you have known me more than a minute you know I have always been drawn to rivers. I have come to believe and accept my love of fishing is centered in my need, desire and drive to be on, near or in moving water. What I have also come to embrace is that in my deepest of deeps, all rivers lead to the sea, the alpha and omega of earth. To be here were the waters, the lands, and the air all meet is to find a place of infinity reflective of the infiniteness of the creator.

This place of meeting is not where I live but it is, in a sense, where I am always headed when I step into the currents of a place far upstream from here. I am not home here even though it is home. Where waves hit rocks and spray flies into the air is where I see eternity at work in a way I recognize even if I don’t yet understand.

The rocks define where the waters end yet the water defeats the rock over time. Water drops fly into the air and merge into the air as vapor only to inevitably fall back to earth, here or somewhere further east carried by the wind. To be where time immemorial meets time eternal is to enter into mystery. The meeting of water, land and air is always the same but is never the same but there is deep comfort in the unknowing.

How can there not be a God who creates, sustains, and loves us enough to gift with a sense of imagination and wonder? Even if you do not believe, just allow yourself to be open to the beauty of creation and just enter into wonder about the wonder.

Christmas - 2021

 John 1:1-5, 9-14

In the beginning, was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him, and without him, nothing came to be. What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came to be through him, but the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, but his own people did not accept him. But to those who did accept him, he gave power to become children of God, to those who believe in his name, who were born not by natural generation nor by human choice nor by a man’s decision but of God. And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Father’s only Son full of grace and truth.

 Understanding what is meant by “Word” is the first challenge for us. We think of "Word" as being a noun, an inanimate thing that rests in whatever place we position. We also tend to think of "love" as being a simple emotion or "abide" as a place of rest. When we think of God, however, all things are in motion and require energy to fulfill God's intention. To understand this amazing, mystifying and incredible passage we first come to understand God used "Word" to bring all things into being. 

God said, “Let there be light” and light appeared, light that can never be extinguished. I love the imagery “word” evokes. We communicate by words, we create with words, we express ourselves with words. Words can be wasted or dangerous but the word of God is never less than a complete mission and redemption for us. We believe in the word because the word believed in us first and created us to love the word. The word loved us first, last, and always. "Word" is not a noun it is a verb.

In the past week, we heard Father Shea use words to tell the story of Deacon Dick. His words created a vision that consoled our sadness and pointed us toward consolation 

I have often sat in the quiet during the Christmas season just gazing at our Christmas tree and whatever decorations we have put up that year. In my imagination, the many lights on our tree and those shining around the quaint English village we set up come to represent all of the people of my life who have shared the season with me. Often memories of Christmas’s past come to mind and the memories reflect the richness of my life. I hear Mary Kay Huber sing an incredible rendition of “O Holy Night” during the Christmas Eve service at the First Methodist church in Anaconda while the congregation sang along with her while raising and lowering a hundred candles which threw dazzling shadows around the walls and ceiling of the church. The memories pull at my heart 60 years later.

The lights bring back the words I spoke to baptize a baby named John we gave back to God 40 years ago this past week. I also see the lights shining in the eyes of my sons as they delighted with the first illumination of the tree 30 years ago.

We read and hear these words: What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

Our Christmas lights dazzle and sparkle and bring us enjoyment but they are nothing compared to the light of Christ which first appeared with his incarnation. What amazes me is the light was always there, always shining in the darkness but we could not see the light until the words were spoken by Mary, “Let it be as you intend” allowed the word to become flesh. This is what revealed the light to us. It happened through the power of the Word.

Our very existence, our joy for the day and all days, our hope and consolation for the future exist in, through, and out of the Word. 

Credo verbum.

Creidim an focal.

I believe the word.

Fourth Sunday of Advent - Peace

Luke 1:39-45

Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the infant leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, cried out in a loud voice and said,

“Blessed are you among women,

and blessed is the fruit of your womb.

And how does this happen to me,

that the mother of my Lord should come to me?

For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears,

the infant in my womb leaped for joy.

Blessed are you who believed

that what was spoken to you by the Lord

would be fulfilled.”

I am always grateful for the iconic recitation of this passage in A Charlie Brown Christmas. It reminds us to join the chorus of praise that those shepherds of old heard, “Glory to God in the Highest and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased.” (Lk 2:14). That the essential Christmas message is given from the most unlikely, and yet wisest, character of the show should not be lost on us. In his humility, clutching at his blue security blanket, Linus sees what no one else could and tells us what Christmas is all about.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined”

Isaiah 9:2

As I write this, I anticipate that peace and joy is not the feeling our nation or world will be feeling as we roll up on the 4th Sunday of Advent, the last Sunday before Christmas. Snow is falling softly in fluttering quarter-sized flakes and the world outside has become blanketed with a few inches of white, fluffy snow. A currier and Ives portrait has been etched on the landscape outside my window. If I was to imagine what world gifted with Christmas peace, what would be imagined would be what I can see. A storybook Christmas scene, snow falling on barren cottonwoods and frosted pine trees. I love what I can see and I ache to hold on to the image and never let go. The world, however, will not allow the peace I see to linger. I am struck with the truth the peace I see is not what Christmas peace is all about anyway. Peace is not about what we can see, it is about what is in our hearts.

When Christmas comes, we will undoubtedly still be roiling from this long and arduous year, which has drawn us down into an abyss. The “results” of the election will still divide further our nation, families, communities, and parishes. The plague of COVID-19 and all the restrictions this pandemonium of fear has imposed will still be crushing to the spirit, to put it mildly. How will we find the peace we are promised? Where can we find peace when relationships are being ruptured by the debate over vaccinations?

The peace we expect to come with Christmas is elusive this year, perhaps even more so than usual as sorrow darkens our thoughts. The loss of our beloved Deacon brings sadness as we think first about all of the ways he loved and impacted us. Through the sadness, though, comes some first glimpses of peace as the promise of the incarnation reminds us death is just an illusion, and belief brings peace that leads to joy consolation. He has gone home. He is at peace. We rejoice for him but we still need to wipe the tears of today away to let peace find its way to us.

Where is peace? We are called to reject fear and to rejoice because the Prince of Peace is born again. Out of unseen places he appears. Christ has come and He remains with us through it all. The beauty of our faith is that we do not need to succumb to the anxiety our world generates. Sorrow need not be our legacy.

Rather, we can remain fixed upon that great luminary of the night sky that portends God’s victory over every evil that afflicts us. Liturgy declares in the ‘O antiphon’ for the day: “O radiant dawn, sun of justice: come and shine on those who dwell in darkness and in the shadow of death.”

This antiphon reminds me of one of my favorite scenes from the Lord of the Rings. As Samwise Gamgee and Frodo Baggins are making their way to Mount Doom, across the sickened and dark plains of Mordor, Sam sees a “white star twinkle for a while” in the dim and pale night sky. “The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end, the Shadow was only a small passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.”

Advent reminds us that we are born up by a star in the night sky. Hope is the virtue God gives to endure the trials of this life here, below the heavens, with certainty that the Prince of Peace will prevail as His light pierces the darkness. Christmas reminds us that our hope is not in vain. Christ did come, and he will come again when the time is right. In fact, the Lord is never late; he shows up precisely when he means to. This Christmas will be no different. Peace comes from the prince who teaches us Joy and life eternal will come. We believe it.