Palm Sunday of the Passion of Our Lord

Palm Sunday - Part 1

Palm Sunday - Part 2

Lk 23:1-29
Is 50:4-7
Phil 2:6-11
Lk 22:14 – 23:56

Focus: Today is the beginning of Holy Week which is the peak point of the liturgical year.
Function: We are invited to participate in it fully, actively and consciously.

It was a shock when Fr. Dick Hauser, whom many of us knew, was diagnosed with cancer and died only a few weeks after that. A week ago, on April 3, was the fourth anniversary of his passing into eternity.

Fr. Dick, Jesuit and Professor at Creighton University, also presented many workshops at St. Benedict Center and was my spiritual director. Two weeks after his diagnosis of terminal cancer I was able to visit him. Fr. Dick shared that he had been angry toward the doctors. Wouldn’t they have been able to detect the cancer earlier?
However, this lung cancer was aggressive and fast-growing. A specialized treatment might have prolonged his life some, but could also have had devastating side-effects. Fr. Dick decided against it. One night he didn’t get any sleep, wresting with these issues, in prayer. But then he could accept reality and found inner peace.

To me it was utterly amazing how this very active man now dealt with this sudden turn in his life. In response to my inquiries, he did share some of his struggles. However, time and again he managed to direct our conversation away from him and toward me. He asked me about my life and my prayer; I shared a few things. He listened and commented. In the end, he asked for my blessing and I gave it to him. I asked him for his and he blessed me. I will never forget this visit with a person who, even in the sight of impending death, was so completely oriented away from himself and toward others.

This encounter came to my mind as I prayed with the Passion of our Lord according to Luke. The evangelist Luke highlights more than the other three how Jesus, in his suffering, constantly cares for the well-being of others. During the last supper, he says to Peter, “I have prayed that your… faith may not fail… once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers and sisters.” – On the Mount of Olives, Jesus heals the ear of a servant that one of his disciples had cut off. – On the way of the cross, Jesus talks to the weeping women, comforts them, and calls them to conversion. – Hanging on the cross in agonizing pain, he prays for his executioners: “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.” To the repentant criminal he says: “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” His merciful love offers a person an opportunity for repentance even in the hour of his death.

Luke’s gospel as a whole is also the one in which we find Jesus in prayer most often. Luke describes Jesus’ prayer on the Mount of Olives in greatest detail, too. Jesus was in such agony and prayed so fervently that his sweat became like drops of blood falling on the ground. Only Luke relates this. In his prayer, as always, he addresses God as Father, Abba in Aramaic, Daddy. He prays with great trust. And we hear (only in Luke) that an angel appeared to him from heaven to strengthen him. It is prayer that prepares Jesus for his Passion and that supports him in it. In his prayer for his torturers, he asks, Abba, this heavenly Father, to forgive them. And in prayer he surrenders himself the Abba: "“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

Today is the beginning of Holy Week which is the peak point of the liturgical year. We are invited to participate in it fully, actively and consciously. We journey with Jesus from his triumphal entry into Jerusalem through his trial, his passion and his death on the cross, to his glorious resurrection.

During these days, we are invited to be with Jesus on this journey. Jesus sets no limits to his love. It is good during these days to empathize with Jesus, To be with him, to stick it out with him, to stay with him, to see and to listen. If we do so then he will also be and increasingly become our teacher of love, a love which we are meant not to abandon even if things become difficult in our own lives.

Secondly, Holy Week is a time to bring our suffering in prayer trustingly before our heavenly Father, and before Christ our Lord, our own issues and struggles, those of our families and of our Church, of people in our country and around the world. None of these things are foreign to Christ. Let us pray especially for the people in Ukraine, who are suffering from a brutal war and for the Ukrainians who have fled their country that they may receive effective help and not lose hope.

The Servant of God in today’s first reading spoke to the weary words that encouraged them and he showed them kindness. We are invited especially also during these days to be aware of those around us (and those for away from us) who are in need. There are so many ways in which we can do good to others and so imitate Jesus’ compassion and other-centeredness.

We know that he who emptied himself and died on the cross is Lord to the glory of God the Father! AMEN.
~Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB

Thursday of the 5th Week of Lent

Genesis 17:3–9
John 8:51–59

This is Abraham’s Day in Lent. Clearly, Abraham is a key figure in the word we are hearing in the final stretch of our Lenten journey. Abraham was all about the future. The Abraham story has left his past behind. There is not one story about Abraham’s past. It is all about setting out. And it is not setting out for a planned future. It is setting out for what God will show him. Abraham’s future lies in following God’s word. Finally, God makes a covenant with Abraham. It is a covenant of promise, promise about the future, a covenant of word. And a grand future at that: the father of nations and a land where he could stay. Imagine–a future based on a promise to a childless husband and wife with no possible future. And yet that is God’s word, God’s promise. But this is Lent, letting go of the past and following the promise of God. It means trusting this God in the face of what in human terms is a dead end. Does God keep his promise? Sure every time there is trust in the face of the world’s foolishness. So Lent is about returning to trust in God’s word, and hearing that word in unexpected places.

Jesus understands himself as the One in whom Abraham hoped. Jesus notes that Abraham rejoiced and was glad when he saw Jesus. Abraham knew then that God was faithful to his word. The future was not a dead end. God is being God to Abraham’s descendants as he promised in covenant.
Jesus is no less about the future. “Whoever keeps my word will never see death.” Now one need not be a physical heir to Abraham. Now one need only keep the word of Abraham’s heir and the new life of the future will be yours. The future all hinges on keeping the word of this Jesus from Nazareth. Keeping this word open us up to the resurrection and its new life; it opens us up to the creative power of
the Word God sent to make all things new. It is this word that releases us from time and propels us into the future.

When Jesus pushes Abraham’s claim to have seen Jesus in the future even further and claims that he always existed, this is too much for his antagonists. Up come the stones to get rid of this man who sees things so differently. But what about us? Can we understand that Christ is the core of all things that exist, seen and unseen? Can we understand that he is at heart of every person, that he is found in the dust of the stars and the dust of earth? Can we stretch our imaginations to find him before Abraham was, to find him now even in our broken world, and be ready to find him glorified when our fragment of time is done? But that is the Easter mystery toward which our lives are moving. Christ yesterday and today…all time belongs to him-thus we open the Easter Vigil. Thus is God’s covenant with us.

~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

5th Sunday of Lent - 2022

Isaiah 43:16–21
Philippians 3:8–14
John 8:1–11

The Gospel from John we have just heard is often titled “The Woman Caught in Adultery.” At first hearing we might nod our heads in agreement. But really the Gospel is not about the sexual behavior of the woman. The key phrase in the gospel is not adultery. The key word is test. The scribes and Pharisees wanted to test Jesus and to find a charge against him. The woman is merely a pawn in the machinations of local leaders. There is not much concern for the woman; the concern is Jesus and what he will make of this situation. It is a trap. That a woman is caught between men’s games is nothing new, sad to say.

The story is part of the collection of conflict stories that we find in all the gospels. Religious leaders question Jesus or give him questions and situations to test him. These conflicts often take place in the temple where Jesus is teaching. These conflicts increase the longer Jesus stays in Jerusalem. So too here. Jesus is really the one on trial. His judgment is being put to the test. If Jesus says yes, stone her. He is usurping the death penalty, which is not for him to administer. He could be considered a revolutionary disturbing Roman rule. If he says she should not be stoned, he contradicts the Mosaic Law and long-standing tradition. He will also be considered a hypocrite in front of the people who regard him favorably. He is contradicting is own message of mercy and compassion, indeed, of not judging.

There is something strange in the story. In the Mosaic Law both of those caught in adultery should be stoned to death, both the male and the female. But where is the woman’s male partner? Nowhere to be seen. Perhaps. But the stones at hand are enough for two. So who is the second? Perhaps Jesus is the male for whom the stones are intended. John’s Gospel has made it clear that leaders picked up stones more than once to throw at him. His crime, making himself equal to God, calling

God his Father and so seeing himself as Son. Jesus’ act of adultery is bringing the human and divine into contact with one another in an unheard of way. The deeply intimate relationship of Jesus and his Father—that is Jesus’ crime of adultery.

So how does Jesus answer? He keeps silent and bends over and starts writing on the ground. People have been asking what he is writing. What do you write on a notepad or a blank page when you are bored or when someone is talking on the phone?..talking talking…you doodle, you scribble. So Jesus scribbles while the leaders talk and talk, pushing him up against a wall….we doodle so we have time to think, to let another’s words run dry. When their words have run out and the silence needed for the right word has matured, then Jesus stands up and speaks. So Jesus has found the right words: “Let anyone among you without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” Instead of watching Jesus doodle away in the sand in the temple courtyard, read what is written in the secret of your own heart. Then Jesus goes down to doodle again…and slowly as each one begins to read what is in their heart, they start to walk away. The eldest first…no doubt they have a long list of things they know and others too—their infidelities piled up over the years. Soon enough everyone who wanted to cast a stone either at the woman or Jesus, the two adulterers, has left.

Then Jesus stands up and speaks in human terms to the woman. Note that Jesus is the only one in the scene to speak directly to the woman. For the authorities she is only an object to catch Jesus off guard. When he speaks to her, Jesus merely asks where the accusers are. They’ve gone. They offer no act of condemnation. If he throws a stone at all, it is one of mercy. He offers no judgment. He spends no time rehearsing the woman’s past. He shows concern only for her future. His judgment is a freedom for what is to come: “Go your way and from now on sin no more.” No moralizing lecture; just a command rising from a heart of mercy and compassion. Just a word that allows a new thing to happen for this woman. It was a critical moment for both of them. It appeared they were on trial. But it became a critical moment for their accusers when they realized that they too had something to be ashamed of. Words fell silent. And in that silence mercy blossomed. In the silence and doodling a new thing could come about.

The woman was not longer defined by adultery; she was free to set out again on her life focused in the right direction, following the way laid out by her God. In Jesus, God had put something new in front of her, gave her back her dignity and told her to go, go forward from here. “Remember not the events of the past,” says the prophet today. That is what Jesus says to the woman. Become part of something new.

Paul today gives us a glimpse of what happened to him when he encountered Christ. A whole new way is opened up for him. The past was great he says. But I have met Christ and now the past is rubbish in comparison to meeting him. I now journey with him. It not always easy; it involves his cross. But it is only in that cross that I can move forward. It is the Christian paradox: only in Christ’s shame, his condemnation can I move forward.

Jesus transformed a woman’s shame into an opportunity for her to move forward toward her proper goal. She met Jesus in a moment of shame and he changed it to an opportunity for honor.

If the Word today recalls anything, it reminds us that God is not finished with his people of old, his Church today or with you and me. Lent is not about lamenting the past; there is no beating the breast in the Word today. There is only the wonder of God acting again, setting us toward our goal, a goal that Paul says is always upwards toward Christ Jesus in his fullness.

~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

Memorial of the passing of our Holy Father St. Benedict

Genesis 12:1–4a
Philippians 4:4–9
John 17:20–26

It seems that for centuries we Benedictines have call this day the Transitus of our Holy Father Benedict. Transitus easily translates into English as “the Passing” of our Holy Father Benedict. In our American culture where death is often spoken of without using the term, ‘passing’ may seem to be nothing more than a euphemism for death.—a word to soften the reality, to avoid talking about it or at least holding back a bit. And yet, we Benedictines today are celebrating the Passing of St. Benedict, we are honoring him on the day he died. We read the account of his death and are impressed and comforted. There is no sense of Benedict hiding his death or avoiding it. He planned for it, prepared for it, told others of it. He was helped by the brothers when the moment came. He was helped into the oratory where he received the body and blood of the Lord. He died with his arms lifted up in prayer.

When we say someone passed, we might ask, passed from what to what, from whom to whom? Passing is not a dead end. Transitus means a movement from one place to another. Death is not the end. Death is the moment when we definitively move from our visible life here to one which is not visible to those who have not yet passed. It is very visible for those who have transited, who have passed. Perhaps calling death a passing is not so much to soften its impact but to draw out its meaning and its movement.

To speak of death as a passing, a transitus, is to ground it in the gospel, in John’s gospel to be exact. There when Jesus’ public life has concluded, the evangelist moves the story forward by simply saying, “Jesus knew that his hour had come to pass from this world to the Father.” He knew this because the community was about to celebrate their Passover, the foundational act of their passing out of slavery into freedom and at the same time to remember that God passed over them when handing out death to the Egyptians. Like Jesus, Benedict knew that his hour to pass was at hand.

A transitus, a passing, in a Christian sense is to move from one place to another; it fact it is to be on the move, presumably on the move forward. We hear the beginnings of that transitus in the Lord’s call to Abraham. “Go forth from the land of your kinsfolk. I will show you the way forward.” From that moment on Abraham was in transit; his life was life of moving, always moving. And all that kept him moving was God’s constant word of promise, promise of land, promise of a son, promise of a legacy, promise of a name. Abraham was kept in transit by the word of the Lord. And that became a blessing. To always follow the promise and keep moving forward is a blessing. Such was Abraham, such was Benedict, a man blessed by God.

We are remembering today Benedict’s final moments in his transitus to what lay ahead. Like Abraham, like Paul, like Jesus, those who pass through life well attract others on their transit through life. And when the final moment comes to step forward from this life into the Kingdom, they leave behind a word for those still in transit and following their footsteps. Abraham walks his journey following the promise of many nations yet to come, his transit in this world is based on the word of promise. Paul in prison writes to his Philippian community, his favorite community, about what will make their passing through life one of peace and joy. Stay with what is pure, lovely and gracious, be grateful. And we hear Jesus in the midst of his followers praying for them as he departs from this life. And as he prays he lays out the vision and hope for who they are to become. As he enters into his passing from this world to the Father, he lays out for them their goal, what they themselves are transiting into. It is a communion between him, them and their Father. It is a legacy of unity for the world. Their movement into this unity is in fact what the Father wants so that all are united in him. It is another way of speaking of the blessing promised to Abraham generations before.

It is customary for us today as we remember Father Benedict transiting from this world to the heart of the Father, passing into the unity he saw in his vision a short time before his death, to called to mind his legacy. Perhaps at one time we did that by counting the number of his followers. But that is perhaps not the legacy that concerned him. Benedict’s legacy was a short rule, a guide of how to live as you and I transit through this world into the love of the Father and Son. This is his word. Not an end in itself, he says, but a beginning. What we can say today about this legacy of his guide is that it works. Follow it and what the Scriptures promise as the goal will happen to you: You will be transformed from a person of fear into one of love; at the end you will see what God has prepared for those who love him. For the transitus, the passing is a movement into that love which is the foundation of the world, the spirit and energy that upholds it. Yes, we will be at home in the love that has always passed between the Father and his Son. It is the love that is the foundation of each of us. For at is core a transitus is the final acceptance and the great Amen we say when our hearts are fully expanded by the indescribable sweetness of love.

~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

1st Sunday of Lent - 2022

Lk 4:1-13
Dt 26:1-10
Rom 10:8-13

focus: The temptations of Jesus in the desert describe basic dangers for all of us.
function: The Season of Lent is an opportunity to face them and, with the help of God’s grace, to overcome them.

I was amazed to see what has become of our Stations of the Cross, here outdoors, East of the lake and beyond the bridge. In the course of twenty-five years, they had turned very dark and also were dirty from bird droppings. Now our good maintenance and grounds keeping team, Harold and Dan, have cleaned them, put a new coat of bronze on them, glazed them – and they look like new!

They are very good art, made by the late Lore Friedrich in Germany. However, the cleaning and do-over was needed so one can see again what they depict; and even though most of them (except for the Easter station #15) point us to very sad and sorrowful events, there is also real beauty in some of them, for instance, in Jesus’ standing uprightly and with great dignity before Pilate, and in Veronica’s holding the sweat towel of Jesus.

Looking at these Stations, now again so shiny and beautiful, raised the question in me: Do I, do we, need such a do-over on occasion, too? Can it be that we, who are fearfully, wonderfully and beautifully made by God in God’s image, sometimes don’t show this beauty anymore as we used to, that we need, as it were, some cleaning and polishing?

St. Benedict, the founder of our order, thought so. In his Rule, in the chapter on The Observance of Lent, he writes: “The life of a monk ought to be a continuous Lent. Since few, however, have the strength for this, we urge the entire community during these days of Lent to keep its manner of life most pure and to wash away in this holy season the negligences of other times.

Does today’s gospel speak to us about this task? In we find Jesus in the desert, where he goes in order to prepare for his public ministry, fasting for forty days. He has returned from the Jordan River, from his baptism, where he has experienced himself as God’s Beloved. He is filled with the Holy Spirit. It is the Spirit then that leads him into the desert. Apparently, it’s a Divine necessity that he goes there and experiences “temptations.”

The temptations, which Jesus was a faced with, he who became in all things like us except for sin, are fundamental dangers for every human being: being caught up in material things, greed and consumerism (“Turning stones into bread”), exercising power and control over people (“I shall give to you all this power and glory”), and seeking prestige and the acclaim of the people (“Throw yourself down from here”). Jesus faces the temptations, but doesn’t give in to them. God’s word, which he throws against them, helps him to overcome them.

What is important for us is honesty. When does it happen that we fill the hole in our chest, that may well also have to do with old childhood wounds, with things like food, booze, our accomplishment and our reputation, having to be in control, refusing to forgive or being selfish with our time, talent and treasure? The truth is that we can make good choices. We always have a choice (2x). The truth is that we can do what is right instead of what is easy. The truth is that, in spite of everything, we can take over responsibility for ourselves. As the Holy Spirit guided Jesus in the desert, so the Holy Spirit guides us, too, in our decision making.

Dear sisters and brothers in the Lord, the temptations of Jesus in the desert describe basic dangers for all of us. The Season of Lent is an opportunity to face them and, with the help of God’s grace, to overcome them.

This can happen though prayer, fasting and acts of charity, to which the church calls us during this Holy Season of Lent. One important form of prayer is praying with Holy Scripture. Jesus knew the Sacred Scriptures and could draw from them words to combat the suggestions of the tempter.

In regards to fasting and abstinence, St. Benedict writes in his Rule: “Let each [monk, during Lent,] deny himself some food, drink, sleep, needless talking and idle jesting – and look forward to Holy Easter with joy and spiritual longing.” There is a connection in Benedict’s mind between these two things: abstinence – and the joy that comes from the Holy Spirit. Abstinence is not a goal in itself. It is meant to create inner space, inner openness and freedom, so that the wellspring of the Holy Spirit can gush forth within us more easily.

Acts of charity: When I think of acts of charity, Veronica comes to my mind again. She practiced charity toward a suffering person along the way of the cross and encountered Christ. The same can happen to us when we assist people in need today.

Let us pray this morning: O Loving Christ Jesus, we come to you with our wayward hearts. Teach us through your word and example so that this Lent will become for us a time of cleansing and of conversion, a time in which the beautiful image of God, according to which we were lovingly created, shines forth anew in us. AMEN.

~Fr.l Thomas Leitner, OSB

Ash Wednesday

Joel 2:12–18
2 Corinthians 5:20–6:2
Matthew 6:1–6, 16–18

There are a number of good Lenten verbs with their corresponding demands in our Word for this Ash Wednesday. The Prophet Joel gives two: “return” and “weep”. Paul says, ‘Be reconciled to God,” and Jesus says what you do is to be hidden or secret. Taken together they offer a guideline for what Lent is all about and our way of participating in it.

For all the prophets’ their favorite word and cry to the community which had strayed from the Lord was “return.” It implies that one has walked off the path or that one has moved away from someone and now you need to come back or to come home. Lent is the time to consider the path, the way we are walking upon. Remembering that a very early name for the disciples was The Way, Lent is now the opportune time, as Paul, says to get back on the way, to return to the primary relationship that holds us together. “Return to the Lord, your God,” says Joel. ….The place where the return happens is our hearts. The road is within. What are our hearts really set on? Our lives are to be lives of seeking God. But in the course of time the heart may have grown weary, clouded, discouraged, even worn out. So what are we returning to in Lent? Who is this God? What awaits us on our return is one who is gracious, merciful, slow to anger, rich in kindness and relenting in punishment. The Lenten way is above all a journey into a love that is the source of our being and all the universe we can see and even what we cannot see or fathom. Lent is hardly a dire time; it is the time to awaken ourselves to the love that will never let us go. We are returning to love itself.

Come together and “weep” says the prophet. Yes, Lent is about tears and crying. In the spiritual life tears and deep prayer are joined. What provokes the weeping is a heart that experiences compunction; the heart is broken. The tears can come from loss of so much, but deep down it comes from the realization that I thought I could walk this way on my own. The tears come when I am overwhelmed by the belief that I am not alone. I had trained my heart into believing that all depended on me, that I was the center and everyone and everything had to revolve around me. Then one day I awoke to find that I am truly myself when my God is with me and then I cried; I let go of this stubborn heart and found I was borne by love. Tears are about the very heart that I carry on my journey to the Lord. They are about my prayer during this time. A prayer not focused on wanting something my way, but a prayer that comes from the center of myself, the Spirit of God within me.

Today we are asked to weep together with the people of Ukraine as they experience evil in their lives. Weeping with them acknowledges a loss they feel. It also expresses our solidarity with other children of the same Father. Weeping with them also allows us and them to remain in touch with the love that will never fail, that will always overwhelm and one day raise us up together.

“Be reconciled to God,” says Paul. This too is about being loved. We do not plan out the steps of reconciliation. It is God who has reconciled us to himself. God has entered into my stubbornness and rebellious self in his Son. His son has taken up my humanity and returned with it to the Father. I do not have to invent the relationship again. In a mysterious way, I need to accept the restoration of my heart as a grace, a gift freely given. Lent is about accepting the gift of a restored relationship, opening my hands and heart to the gracious God the prophet proclaimed. Lent is about letting in the light of an already restored relationship, a reconciliation that has happened. Now Lent is the time to become a part of this process of the healing grace that God has already wrought and laid in front of us. There is a potentiality of full life and being that is offered these days. Accept it, do not let this grace (another word for love) fall from your heart or your hands.

And Jesus, what does he lay out for us today? You can call it the hidden or quiet way. It is a way of relationship. Each of us looks to be acknowledged, to be recognized and appreciated. In simple terms, we want to be noticed. Our delusion is that we think that when we are noticed by those we live with we become someone. Jesus calls us back to the center. You are already a child of God, God is Father, source of your very self and the source of affirmation of yourself. The goodness that arises within you and touches other people’s lives, let it happen for it is right and just to pray, to fast, to share your goods. But it needs no recognition from others. It stands on its own. You do it because you know your relationship with the Father. He has called you his child and has been doing that since your baptism. He continues to call you his child. Lent is a return to that quiet place within. That secret place is nothing less than a relationship with the Father, the same Father whose Son is Jesus. If you need motivation for doing what is good and upright, then look at the Son.

Lent is a return, a return to our Father and God whose name is mercy, graciousness and kindness. The return may seem hard, but if it does, then remember: the gracious God sent a Son to heal our brokenness and heal our primary relationships. Remember this Son and live from the love that he has set loose in the world once again. It is a love that became visible when the Father raised him from the dead. And Lent, it is our journey into that same love that will not let us die forever.

~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB


8th Sunday in Ordinary Time - 2022

Sirach 27:4–7
1 Corinthians 15:54–58
Luke 6:39–45

Today we are blessed to be hearing from two wisdom teachers. There is Ben Sira trying to lay out the wisdom of Israel to a diaspora community in a Hellenistic world. He is looking to put before the community the riches of their tradition from lived experience. His goal is to show what traits will reveal a person’s true character and integrity. Then there is Jesus who is trying to put in front of his disciples a way of integrity that will lead them to bear good fruit in due season. Jesus has been a teacher for his disciples and for us the past few Sundays. Jesus as the teacher of wise living not only speaks well and graciously as we heard a few weeks ago; he also lives out his word in a life of kindness and compassion. Last week he pushed us to the limits of that kindness when speaking of the depth our love must have. It must include those we label other or enemy.

Like a good teacher and in line with many a wisdom teacher, our two teachers today use exaggeration to make their point and employ metaphors taken from daily life and the natural world. The familiar biblical image of a tree seems to have caught their attention. Jesus notices that some folks actually have a plank or beam in their eyes. But having a log of wood in your eyes does not make one a very efficient speck-remover for someone else’s eyes. It would seem that a beam in one’s eyes would mean that you are blind. A sense of superiority distorts our vision of our neighbor and ourselves. We start giving advice when we ourselves know very little or have little experience of the matter at hand. We can be great at making snide remarks or giving false praise but to make sure we are on top in our interactions. We find ourselves quick to be on the offensive against others, making sure they and everyone else knows their faults. We are quick to place ‘ought to’ on others as if we were teachers of the first order. And at the same time, some of us could win prizes for the way they use words to defend ourselves.

A characteristic of a wise man or woman is not that they have a good vocabulary. Rather they exhibit wisdom in knowing themselves well enough to be aware of the appropriate moment of when to speak and how to speak. Classical wisdom says that a fool uses a volley of words, they come spewing out. The wise person does not judge but speaks from the fullness of their heart. Self-knowledge is key to the wisdom tradition and a Kingdom way of seeing and hearing. If we do not know ourselves, we have the tendency to paint a wonderful picture of ourselves or even to paint ourselves as innocent and pure. We then view the imperfect world around us as if we are not a part of it. We live in disdain of it rather than with compassion and mercy as we learned last week. The only way to approach others is to know well our own story. The wise person, the person in the Kingdom, walks humbly before God and with themselves.

There is a story told about Gandhi that might be helpful when it comes to a plank or beam in your eye.. It sheds light on how one wise person approached a situation.
A woman brought her granddaughter to Gandhi and commanded, “My granddaughter eats too much sugar. Tell her to stop.”
Gandhi said, “Bring her back next week.”
The granddaughter and grandmother returned the following week. But Gandhi put them off again, saying the same thing, “Bring her back next week.” This happened three times.
Finally, Gandhi said to the granddaughter, “You should not eat so much sugar. It is not good for you.”
The grandmother was bewildered. “We waited four weeks for this simple remark.”
“Ah!” Gandhi sighed. “It took me that long to stop eating too much sugar myself.”

Jesus ends his wisdom sayings with a simple but profound line: “From the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.” In our biblical tradition with its wisdom, the spiritual center of a person is called the heart. It bears the source of our identity. A good tree bears good fruit. A good heart speaks truth and love and recognizes goodness and beauty. The heart is the hidden source of speech. It has within it an abundance, a treasure that the mouth draws on and makes available to the outer world. The heart then appears in the outer world and can be judged through what a person says. If the person spins out evil imaginings, then we are assured the heart is not good. If a person’s words weave scenes of reconciliation, hope and peace, we can be assured that their heart is in touch with the God of reconciliation, love and forgiveness. What you say reveals who you are.

Jesus makes it clear that a disciple of his can be recognized by the words that he or she speaks. The integrity and identity of the person will easily become known. Words matter, language matters. Jesus uses images of blind and seeing people, logs and splinters and trees to drive his point home. The tree is an ancient symbol of the human person. Different aspects of it are used to speak of various qualities of being human. Sometimes it is about stability, about drawing life from the right sources, or about bearing fruit. Today all these combine to producing fruit, that is speech that flows from a good heart, a heart that loves our Father above all else and that loves others for who they are.

In his book The Hidden Life of Trees, the German forester Peter Wohlleben has a chapter early on entitled “The Language of Trees.” He is aware that the reader will be surprised that trees can communicate, that they speak. He gives some examples of trees that live together in the woods and forests and their communication methods that are quite visible and tactile. But he also shares what science has recently come to know: that the trees are also communicating where it cannot be seen, underground through their root systems and their fungal networks. With this system, the trees talk to one another, help and defend one another in their community of forest. We outsiders do not see or hear this, but a language is maintaining a community and sustaining it.

Perhaps today the wisdom teacher will want to draw on this part of the image of a tree to remind us of the quiet power of our simple day-to-day words to support, nurture and look after those we live with. Hidden it seems from the outside but in effect assuring that the tree bears leaves and fruit.

Jesus’ words come from his heart. We hear them as grace-filled. We see in his life that what he speaks, he also walks and lives….

Lent is upon us. This is the time to get our heart back in order so that we can speak again “Alleluia” “Praise the Lord” from the heart and build up one another in love with words that carry life.

~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - 2022

Isaiah 62:1–5
1 Corinthians 12:4–11
John 2:1–11

The words of the prophet Isaiah and the Gospel story from John concern weddings–both are a special kind of wedding. At a first glance it looks like the gospel story is about something that could happen at the wedding of someone we know. Food and drink are not enough…This could be an embarrassment for the bride and groom. Someone miraculously intervenes and everyone saves face!!!

It is the vision of Isaiah that clues us in that there is something bigger going on than a familiar Galilean wedding scene. Isaiah sees a wedding, but the wedding is between God and his people. The people are the bride and the Lord God is the bridegroom. The prophet is excited about the significance of this wedding. He says he cannot keep quiet and will not be silent. He must say what he sees. And what does he see? He sees God coming close to his people, he sees God loving his people. He sees an intimate relationship between God and the community. Yes, he sees everything there could be between a bride and groom: all the love, the closeness the care, the forgiveness, the respect, the hopes and dreams that come with every bride and groom. Yes, he sees that all happening between God the creator and redeemer and the people he calls his own. A people he calls his delight.

Like any wedding, the prophet sees a new beginning in this relationship. The lives of bride and groom are not the same after the wedding. Something new is born between them. So the prophet sees that something new is born between God and his people. There is a new name because there is a new relationship and a new love taking place.

When we look closely at the story of the wedding of Cana, we can find this same message hidden in what looks like an all too familiar Middle East wedding. The clue to what this story is all about is at the end. John says Jesus was doing a sign. What happened was not so much a miracle but a sign. John says look beyond what you see and hear at first; look beyond the physical elements to the spirit elements of the story. What happened in Cana points, like a sign, to something and someone.

How does the story begin? It begins with a lack on our part. Mary’s says it clearly, “They have no wine.” Her simple words state the obvious—our human insufficiency. We have lost something in our relationship with God. Something is missing and the union between God and humanity, the wedding, cannot go on. It is terribly broken and wounded.

They have no wine. This statement reflects all our limitations. We see it in the Gospels. Each person that approaches Jesus for help is lacking something essential: sight, hearing, the ability to walk, stand up straight, is hungry and thirsty and finally facing death, the great gap in life. In the face of our limitedness, Mary gives us a voice. She mediates our lack and limitedness to the Son who reflects the love of God. We have come to the end; we feel the helplessness of our human condition; think of sickness and death alone. Our wine, our zest for life is running out. The Spirit seems far away.

At first Jesus seems to balk at having to do anything with human limitation. “Why are you telling me?” It is not the time to get involved in humanity. But he knows he must. He knows that his hour is coming when he will have to face human treachery and death. He knows that the moment he stands in now is about the love of two human beings being sealed—it is a wedding. And he must be faithful to healing human love. Love is what he knows in the bosom of the Father and love he must show. And so he does. Mary points him the direction of divine love fulfilling human love and relationships.

Jesus turns to the limitations around him: simple stone water jars that are empty, waiting to be filled--six of them, the number signing incompleteness. He speaks a word and the servers fill them with water; something, yes, but not quite what will match the festivities of a wedding. But Jesus takes all this limited material of humanity: a failing party, the loss of face of the bride and groom, 6 empty jars, water and fills them with something new, with wine. Jesus transforms the limited situation and fills it with abundance and blessing. Jesus takes his hour, though he says it not yet, and yet does what his hour is all about. He loves the human situation, he takes delight in our humanity. He will do that fully when he takes our death and fills it with new life.

It is the least in the story that mediate this transformation from empty jars to full jars of water and carry it as wine. Who are the ones in the story who realize what has happened between filling the water jars and carrying them to the headwaiter? Only the servers. The servers know.

Isn’t being a servant where you and I are in the story? We are caught in a life whose joy seems running out. We can name the limitations in our society and in our world at large. We can see the party of humans, but we know that it is lacking life, commitment. The delight of togetherness is fragile at best. But then comes the word of Jesus. We hear it as we do every Sunday here. With that word in our hearts, we do what at first makes no sense. But we are faithful servants who obey the master so we carry out his word.

We servants believe that our human limitations, like no wine, empty earthenware jars, are the stuff that our God takes up and fills with new life, with reconciled relationships, with hope and grace. We believe that because Jesus stands in the middle of our life’s journey to take up our emptiness and fill it with new wine, with the Spirit with all its gifts to generate life. Our task is simple: be servants who carry this new wine to a world whose meaning is running dry. Do that and the delight God sees us to be will not be a distant promise but a reality.

~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

Feast of the Epiphany

Mt 2:1-12
Is 60:1-6
Eph 3:2-3a,5-6

focus: Jesus is the light, the Savior of all humankind.

We are invited to receive the light and to manifest it to others. Some things we’ve lost we seek with greater intensity than others. If we’ve lost a penny, we don’t bother much; if it’s a hundred dollar bill, we bother much more! A person who misplaced their only set of car keys may turn the whole house upside down. Parents who’ve lost a child will never, never stop searching!

Today’s gospel presents us with the magi form the East. Their scientific insight, and probably what they’ve read in their own sacred writings, move them to embark upon a great search, a long journey. They follow a star. They travel “from the east.” They bring gifts. The diligence of their search indicates their belief in the value of the One for whom they search. They seek a special “newborn king.”

They don’t mind the discomfort, the troubles and risks that often came with traveling in antiquity. In Jerusalem, they have to contend with the power hunger, the fear, and the intrigue of King Herod. Finally, the seekers arrive. Because the eyes of their hearts are open they can recognize the wonder-full work of God in the poor child of Bethlehem. They use their own knowledge; they are willing to learn from the Scribes in Jerusalem;and they are ready to be surprised by God! Beyond the reverence due to any ruler, they fall down – in worship. They become the first representatives of the peopleswho get to Jesus after his birth. They acknowledge, as was said earlier in Matthews Gospel,that in this child “God is with us.”

Oftentimes artists depicted in paintings the effect that the visit in the stable had on the magi. The rough hands of the old men become tender and their faces marvel as they kneel down at the manger and present their gifts to the child. The gifts symbolically fit with the recipient: The gold represents Jesus’ royalty, the incense points to his divinity, and the myrrh indicates his suffering and death. Then the magi are warned in a dream not to return to Herod; and they depart for their county by another way. That they are open to such guidance from God shows once again that they are people who listen inward. At the same time, this different route symbolically expresses that their experience has transformed them. The ways they choose in their lives now are new and different ones!

In today’s first reading, the prophet Isaiah presents with a vision of God’s light and glory, which, he says, will be granted to many nations. One day, so Isaiah, nations and kings will walk by this shining radiance and will joyfully come with their gifts and riches to praise and adore God. With the Evangelist Matthew, we see this prophecy fulfilled in Jesus Christ.

Today’s solemnity of Epiphany, the word translated means ‘Manifestation,’ expounds for us in greater fullness the meaning of Christmas: Jesus is the Light of the nations, as the 2nd Vatican Council points out, ‘Lumen Gentium.’ He is the Messiah, the shepherd and ruler of his people Israel and of all peoples. And in him, as the preface of the feast proclaims, God has renewed all humanity in God’s own immortal image. Through Him, in Him, God gives all of us, all humans, a share in his divine nature.

My sisters and brothers, Jesus is the light, the Savior of all humankind. We, like the magi, are called upon to receive the light and to manifest it to others. In a threefold way, the magi are models for us. First, they were seekers. They made use of their mind’s natural light in order to gain knowledge; and they were open to a revelation that they could only receive. Prayer, regular and persistent prayer, is necessary for such openness of mind and heart to come about.

Second, the wise magi were also people of action. They were ready to set out, to act upon what they had understood. They took risks, and gave up the comfort of their lives at home, for the sake of the journey. The result was that they found God, not in abstract concepts, but in the person of Jesus Christ. Also for us, finding God is very concrete and often involves concrete human beings.

Finally, the magi were transformed by their experience. They returned on a different route. It was impossible for them to be silent about what they had heard and seen. They became persons of manifestation themselves.

Cardinal Kurt Koch, the President of the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity,wrote, “As the Lord’s appearance in Bethlehem was plain and inconspicuous, so His Epiphany in the lives of Christians will occur ordinarily and not sensationally. And as the Lord appeared in our world humanly and in solidarity with the people, his appearance can be extended through the church today and bring encouragement and liberation. Since Christmas, God’s Epiphany wants to continue through the lives of Christians in this world.”

‘Lumen Caecis’ is the motto of our missionary Benedictine Congregation, Light for the Blind. That’s what all of us can be as a result of our search for God and of our pilgrimage to Bethlehem.

~Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB

Christmas Day - 2021

Joh 1:1-18 
Is 52:7-10 
Heb 1:1-6 

focus: God’s gifts often come in simplicity.

function: We are invited to notice the gift, to adore, and to be a gift to others.

The largest diamond of all times was found in a mine in South Africa in 1905. It was bigger than a man’s fist and weighed more than a pound, or 621 grams. The Transvaal government at the time  bought it from the mine and it decided to give it as a gift to the king of England, Edward VII. First, however, it had to be shipped to England! Due to its extraordinary value, a rumor was spread that it would be transported on a steamboat. A parcel was ceremoniously locked into the captain’s safe there and guarded on the entire journey. However, this was a tactic to divert the public’s attention. The stone on that ship was fake; and not too much would have been lost if someone would have stolen it. The real diamond was sent in a simple cardboard box through regular mail. Both diamonds, the fake and the real one, made it to England without a problem. The raw diamond was later cut into 105 smaller diamonds, the two largest of them are among the jewels in the British crown.

Just like the gift of the diamond arrived in a cardboard box in simplicity, so it is with the much greater gift that we celebrate today: Jesus Christ, who is God’s gift  to us.  He came in the simplicity of a stable. The child was born in poverty. Mary, his mother, laid him in a manger, a feeding trough for animals. And there in the stable he was surrounded by Mary and Joseph, the simple shepherds, marginalized at this time because they were smelly and often considered thieves. And there were some animals.

Today’s gospel points us to the true magnitude of God’s gift:  Christ is the creative Divine Word through which in the beginning everything came into being. He is the source of life. His life is the light of the human race. He shines more than any diamond ever can. No darkness can ultimately overcome his light.  And then there is the key sentence: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.” He pitched his tent among us, would be the literal translation from the Greek text of the gospel. He became one of us, in all things like us except for sin. He knew poverty and life’s hardships. The tent reminds me of refugees. Jesus was a refugee himself as a baby in Egypt. Later in his ministry Jesus will show how much God cares for all,   especially for the poor, for those on the margins like shepherds and foreigners, for sinners, and for all of us.

 Jesus is the fulfillment of what the prophets of old longed for. “How beautiful upon the mountain are the feet of the one who brings glad tidings, announcing peace, bearing good news, announcing salvation.” This was originally an oracle for the people who have returned from the Babylonian Exile, but the beginnings were difficult.  With the help of God’s amazing grace, the prophet says, Mount Zion, the temple, Jerusalem, will be restored. The people can live again at home with peace and joy.  What follows then certainly became true more in Jesus: God’s salvation, God’s comfort,  extends to everyone, to all the nations, to the whole world! We have reason for joy!

To those who accept him, St. John says, Jesus gave power to become children of God.  We can be born anew of God. “God took on our human nature, in order for us to share in God’s own nature,” Pope St. Leo the Great says in his famous Christmas sermon that we heard last night.  He continues, “Do not forget that you have been rescued  from the power of darkness and brought into the light of God's kingdom … Christian, remember your dignity … Through the sacrament of baptism you have become a temple of the Holy Spirit. Do not live below your dignity.”

Dear sisters and brothers in the faith, God’s gifts often come in simplicity. We are invited to notice the gifts, to adore, and to be a gift to others. How have God’s gifts come to you in the course of this year which was still marked quite strongly by the pandemic? Let’s think of the simple gifts. While we have been able more this year to go about the activities of our lives as usual, some of my meetings still took place on videoconference rather than in person. We sometimes conversed on Zoom or on the phone rather than in the same room. Did you have more time to go out for good walks, to get things in order in your home and to pray? I can say that this was true for me and I am grateful for it.

Our nativity sets that surround us these days are an invitation to sit down in front of one quietly in adoration. As we do so, the darkness about which the gospel speaks may come to our minds at first. The suffering of so many of our relatives and friends from Covid or other illnesses, the loneliness and the economic hardships that so many still experience   and so much more. And yet we can pray that the gentle Divine Light that shone forth at the first Christmas may brighten our hearts and the hearts of those who are near and dear to us. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

Christmas shows us God’s greatest and most precious gift to us, his Son Jesus Christ. We can ask ourselves: How can we whom his has given a share in his divine nature, be a gift to others? Through listening, through tokens of appreciation, through sharing what we have, through prayer?  There are many ways of extending Jesus’ work of making known God’s great love for all and so become God’s precious gift for others. AMEN.

~Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB

Christmas Eve Vigil - 2021

The Nativity of the Lord-Mass during the Night

Isaiah 9:1–6
Titus 2:11–14
Luke 2:1–14

Christmas is a feast of light. The official prayer of the Christmas Mass that we prayed speaks of the splendor of true light radiating in the night. The prayer reminds us that we have known the mysteries of light in our lives. Ultimately, our minds are illuminated so that our actions may shine with light. The prophet Isaiah opens the feast with the grand proclamation that “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light, places of gloom have seen light shine on them” (Is 9:1). Of course, we know something of light associated with Christmas from the many trees and houses decorated outside with lights. The lights on the trees inside are a fascination when we are young. As we get older and see these lights around towns and decorating malls, they bring a sense of comfort. We might wonder at times if there is too much light in decorations. But we will in the end say, no, we need these lights. This is an indicator that light holds an attraction for us in its beauty and in its hope for a renewed earth with the richness of its cultures.

The light, says the prophet tonight, shines in the darkness; it shines on people living in gloom. Perhaps for the light of Christmas to make any sense, we first need to acknowledge the darkness in our world and in our hearts. Christmas is not a season to forget all the darkness that we acknowledge or reluctantly admit. Or worse, it is not a time to deny the darkness. We live in a broken world, a fragile world.

Who are the people living and working in the darkness? For the prophet Isaiah, it is that section of Israel that had fallen under the dictatorship of Assyria, the super power of his day. Every Israelite who experienced that knew the sound of the invading boots. They saw and heard the cracking of the whip of slavery, the yoke that forced them to work or go in one direction or their blood would be shed. Anyone who knows the history of Assyria at war knows the cruelty and violence with which they exercised power and dominion. Forced labor and exile were their preferred methods of conquering. This is the darkness that the prophet knows and sees. And in that darkness, he sees God’s response: a child, a son.

The darkness Isaiah sees is not for his time. We can name who the people are living in darkness now: It is the human family, brothers and sisters, who live with war and conflict; it is that portion of humanity on the move that arrive at borders, walking in hope, but find the way blocked, or in the story of Christmas, “no room at the inn.” Humanity living where poverty reigns and the dregs seem endless or who live under dubious political structures or are caught in rampant economic inequality by powers seeking oil or weapons. Or it is the brothers and sisters standing out in the open air because their houses and living have been blown away in a whirlwind. What of the darkness of the drug addict’s mind or a family member hemmed in by addiction. Yes, the darkness of Isaiah is well-known in our human family.

Yet it is for those in such darkness that a great light is seen today; it is for those in gloom that light is shining tonight. But it is not a light of our own making, a candle or electric bulb, white or colored. The prophet says look, there is a child born for those in darkness, a son is given to us who know gloom. This is God’s response to the power, the slavery, the war and violence that breathe in darkness. We look for relief from oppression and structures of sin and how does God respond? He responds in the fragility of a child. A child whom we all know is powerless, except when the child is God’s gift. In the powerlessness of this child, a new world opens up for us. It is a world not just for you and I in our comfortable society, but a child for the earth, for humanity, for all its peoples. On this child’s shoulders, rests a dominion of peace, of justice and freedom—not on our terms, but on God’s terms.
We gather as a church in the darkness this Christmas night, we do this so we can proclaim that light has come and will shine all the brighter for its contrast to the dark. It is not a flickering light, like a candle ready to go out. It is a clear light that only our God has promised and we believe has come true. In the end, darkness, we believe, does not reign; it is light that rules. It is imperative that we proclaim this light in the darkness and especially for those who are living in it in any form.
The story of Jesus’ birth has him born in the night. This is not by mere chance. It is because he is the child of light. Listen closely to the story again and you will find where the light is shining. It shines around those earning a living in the darkness. It is around the shepherds that the glory of the Lord shines. It is around the lowly shepherds, whose work goes on even in dark, that glory and light shines. And they receive the same message that Isaiah gave: a child is born for you, your joy and your hope. And they go and see. But that is not all. They talk and speak about the child.

We need to be the shepherds who go about telling all that the light means. For the light becomes real when we sit with it, when we are in awe of its radiance, and finally when we speak about it. For Christmas happens when the unspeakable light that is God is spoken and becomes our flesh, a child for us. And Christmas continues to happen when we in our turn become shepherds who speak the word about the light we have come to believe. The more we proclaim that light, the more we live that light, the more humanity will know God’s plan, God’s vision for us, a plan for peace, for solidarity among humans, for justice, for an earth that is a garden bearing fruit and a place of beauty for all.

~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

sign up for st. benedict center newsletter
Sign up for Mission House Newsletter

© 2025 Christ the King Priory   •   1123 Road I, Schuyler, NE 68661    •   402.352.2177
Privacy Policy