22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time - 2022

Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB - celebrant

Lk 14:1.7-14    
Sir 3:17-18.20.28-29  
Hebr 12:18-19.22-24

focus: Being a Christian makes it possible for us to be humble, to be realistic and to be humorous.

 The following wisdom story made me chuckle: One day a little bird lay on his back and raised his legs toward heaven. Another bird came, sat down besides himand asked: “What are you doing? Are you dead?” – “No, I am not dead,” was the answer. “Why are you laying here keeping your legs so stiff?” – “Don’t you see what I am doing? I am supporting the sky with my legs! If I pull in my legs  and let go of the sky, it will collapse and fall down!” When the little bird had said this a leave fell from a tree and rustled a little. This frightened him. He turned around and flew away; and the sky didn’t fall down!

The little bird thought that without him the whole world would collapse; but it didn’t. This was a good reality check!

Also today’s gospel is a reality check. Jesus speaks about the places of honor at a wedding feast; and he gives the advice not to choose the place of greatest honor.  A more distinguished guest could arrive late  and then the person who sits at the place of honor may be asked to step down.  Very embarrassing! One should rather choose the lowest place!

What Jesus is saying here is a rule for prudent behavior at social events;  but it is more than that. “Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled;  but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” The attitude of humility,  which Jesus illustrates, isn’t only politeness. Rather it’s a way of viewing ourselves  and others. It also, shows something about our relationship with God.

Our English word humility comes from the Latin word humus, which means earth or ground. Humility means: being on the ground, connected with the earth; being grounded in the earth like a tree which is rooted and, therefore, stands firm. It can’t be overthrown by the wind.  Humility means being down to earth, realistic. It means being aware of our reality, of who we are, also with our limitations   and weaknesses.

The word humility is related with humor, too. A humble person doesn’t take himself/herself too seriously and can smile or even laugh about himself/herself. Stories about Pope Saint John XXIII  can come to mind here: Visiting a hospital, he once asked a boy what he wanted to be when he grew up. The boy said, “Either a policeman or a pope.” – “I would go in for the police if I were you,” the pope said. “Anyone can become a pope, look at me!

Another anecdote: Saint John XXIII had a conversation with a newly appointed bishop who came to him—for the first time—in private audience and complained:  “Holiness, since I received my new office I can’t sleep anymore.” – “Oh,” John answered with a compassionate sound in his voice, “the same happened to me during the first weeks of my pontificate. But then I saw in a daydream my guardian angel; he told me: ‘Giovanni, don’t consider yourself too important.’ Now I sleep again.” Pope John XXIII could sleep calmly in spite of his immense tasks because he was humble and humorous, because he viewed the working of God’s Spirit  to be much more important that anything that he could do out of himself.

We are created by God according to God’s image and likeness. We are given, as Vatican Council II says, “the sublime dignity of the human person.” Humility also means seeing and acknowledging the good things within ourselves,  our greatness — and knowing that every good thing comes from God.  All that we have, our strengths, our abilities and talents, all these are gifts from God. St. Paul writes, “It is no longer I who live. Christ lives within me.”  And, “Don’t you know that you are God’s temple, that the Holy Spirit lives within you?” Our true reality is that the Triune God lives within us. Within us there is a place where God dwells in us. There our real worth, our dignity originates which we don’t have to earn and which nobody and nothing can take away from us. Humility means living this freeing message of Holy Scripture.

My sisters and brothers, being a Christian makes it possible for us to be humble, to be realistic regarding our greatness and our shortcomings, and to be humorous. Aren’t we sometimes like the bishop worrying too much about what we, with our own strength, can do or can’t do?  Or like the small bird who tried to bear the whole sky with his little legs?

Of course, it is good to see what’s going on, to do something, to use our energy, and to take over responsibility, where it is appropriate. However, it would be pride to think that everything depends upon us, that we have to do – and can do everything alone. That would be the contrary of humility.

Jesus is calling us to humility today. Let’s open our hearts to this freeing gospel.  If we do that then we don’t have an all too great need to seek the places of honor in life. Then we become similar to Jesus who said about himself:

 “I am meek and humble of heart. My yoke is easy and my burden light.”   AMEN.

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time - 2022

Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB - celebrant

Isaiah 66:18–21
Hebrews 12:5–7, 11–13
Luke 13:22–30

The vision God puts before us today through the prophet Isaiah is expansive. It is truly a picture of a universal community coming together in the Lord. It is catholic, in the root meaning of that word. It is also one we should feel comfortable with and are able to recognize. The key seems to be in the geography. It is helpful to update the place names of Tarshish, Put and Lud, Mosoch, Tubal and Javan. When we do this, we find that it is all the peoples who live in the Mediterranean basin that are coming to the gathering that God has called. Today we would have to say places like Turkey, Greece, Italy, Spain and Portugal and on the south side, Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya and Egypt. If the peoples represented were diverse in the 500 years before Christ, they are just as diverse today. Just think of all the nationalities and ethnic groups that border the Mediterranean. Think too of the great variety of religious beliefs today: groups representing various approaches to Islam and the variety of Christian communities of West and East, not to mention those today who profess little or no belief. This is the source of the community God is calling together and it includes those who have never even heard of him.

If the makeup of the peoples is overwhelming, so is what God asks us to see in them. He calls them our brothers and sisters, for he understands them all as in some way, his children. He even envisions that they will be integrated into the worshiping community; they will not be given back row seats let alone left outside. Some, the Lord says, will even be serving at the altar and exercising leadership. And they will not come empty handed. They will themselves become an offering to the Lord. They will come with the treasures of their culture, their language, their recognition that there is an author and father of all life.

I say we should recognize this vision, this gathering that God is bringing about, because we know it as our experience of Church. For us it is not just a list of where the Church can be found today in distant lands. It is a reality for our Church in the USA today. There may not be too many from the Mediterranean basin. But our world is truly global and in its mobility that globalization is experienced in our land. The people are coming from our own sea, the Caribbean, like Cuba, Haiti, Dominican Republic. These can all be found in our gatherings as Church. So also our neighbors to the south, Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Panama and further south. And to the West, beyond the Pacific, we have seen the peoples of Vietnam, Philippines, Korea and China and India especially. In many of our communities the universal church is not over there or far away, it is in our own backyard. Our own back yard—there are the nations of the indigenous peoples, and those who find their roots in Black Africa.

The final vision of the prophet Isaiah is not something in a dream world or for a distant future. It has become our present experience of God building up his family. It is apparently not accidental, this gathering of everybody. It is part of the mystery of our God’s way of working.

So it might seem that the Gospel today comes with a discordant note to this grand vision shared by Isaiah. Jesus does speak of the Kingdom of God as the place where nations gather, east and west, north and south, he says. In other words, the world. But he seems to put a limit on who can sit at the table or enter the Kingdom. He talks of entry through a narrow door. What does he mean by this rather restrictive attitude?

Remember, Jesus is talking to the home community, to those who are to get ready to receive this global membership. What he is doing is checking their expectations. We humans seem to prefer being selective. We take charge and make sure that those come in whom we might judge worthy. We set up some criteria for sitting at the banquet table. Jesus chooses one example. Namely, it is who you know that matters. Or put another way, a place in the Kingdom is open to those with connections. Who did you or I do business with, the stranger or a family friend? Jesus roundly rejects that entry ID, to the consternation of his friends. When they claim to know him and have been in his company, his response is “I don’t know where you come from?” It turns out that it is not who you know that matters it is who you are. It is a matter of where your heart is not social status or connections that are so dear to us. Sitting and eating at table with Jesus does not seem to be the key to getting into the Kingdom. It is not a matter of being seen as belonging to Jesus for a while. It is a matter of what you carry within you. It is a matter of “where do you come from.”

Jesus doesn’t answer the question of how many will make it into the Kingdom. All he does is point us to the narrow door and send us back to our origins in our deepest self, in our heart. The key to entrance into the Kingdom is that narrow gate. And Jesus has made it clear that the narrow gate is what he is walking toward on his pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The narrow gate is his Passover accomplished on the cross.

You and I know that the cross is more than a violent end to an innocent man. The cross is a work of love. It is a work of giving up oneself for the sake of another. Suffering and death are what the Father is asking of Jesus in Jerusalem. This is the offering he is bringing. This is what Jesus will recognize as what relates him to us and we to him, and you and I to one another. Remember Jesus said that it is the one who does the will of the Father that is brother and sister to Jesus, son and daughter to the Father, brother and sister to fellow human beings. And the Father’s will is clear: I want all to be my children. And I want all my children to be those who love from the heart, love enough to set aside self so that others can live. This self-emptying for others is possible now. It is not restricted by geographical limitations or by social status or by race, by sex, not even by religion. The only restriction is a failure to hear God’s call to turn toward him and to one another with a heart open to the Spirit’s breath of love.

To do this takes discipline of action, of attitude, of values and priorities. But that too is part of the narrow gate. And for those who are strong enough, they know that when they do that, their heart, as St. Benedict and the Psalmist affirms, will expand in inexpressible love. And that is the key to recognizing who will be at the table in the Kingdom of God. Because a heart of faithful love is who our God is.

~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time - 2022

Fr. Anastasius Reiser, OSB - celebrant

In our St. John's Bible, which we have on display in the entrance area, there is a beautiful illustration of the parable of the sower in the book of Gospels (Mark 4). We all know this parable that Jesus tells us, a sower who sowed his seed. You remember, part fell on rocky ground, part among thorns, and a good part on good ground. (Mt 13:1-9)

Then the gospel continues and the sower took care of his field as a good farmer should (Mt 13:24-30), he worried about who had sowed all the weeds in his field. Then he watched the wheat and fruit grow as it is.

Now we come to the gospel of today and the harvest time is coming and he sees that it will be a good harvest. His work and care are rewarded and he imagines in his heart what it will be like when he has harvested. He could rest and enjoy what he now has in his barn because it will last for a few years.

And in that moment God answers him in the parable that that is not wise, because he could still die that same night and would not have any of the wealth he has accumulated.

Well, what has changed in the sower since he started cultivating his field?

Do you remember the time when you sowed seeds without machines? I think most of the farmers are using nowadays seeders to sow their corn or wheat. These machines are more accurate and you can set exactly how much wheat needs to be planted per acre so that the optimal amount of corn can grow in the field. But my grandfather and my father still sowed the grain by hand in smaller fields where large machines could not be used. When my father taught me that too, he told me that the most important thing when sowing seeds is that the hand must be opened!

And that's true! One cannot sow if the hand remains closed. You can’t make a fist! You have to give the seed away, be willing to let it go. Like the sower in the gospel, when you sow the seeds, you don't have to worry about what will happen to the wheat. You have to let it go, a trust in what God is going to do with the seed. No matter if a part falls under the thorns or on rocky ground. When the farmer sows, he doesn't worry, he has faith that it will grow.

Likewise, when the plants are growing. Even then he will remain relaxed and let the weeds grow with the wheat. He will not be overly cautious in plucking at each little seedling to encourage growth. Furthermore, he cannot decide how often it should rain. Even in this state of field work he will remain calm and trust in God, who has everything in his hand.

And now comes the point where this farmer stops keeping his hand open. It's okay that he's happy about the harvest. But he folds his hands in front of his belly, wants to stop working, wants to build a bigger barn and then have a carefree life for himself. What is interesting is that he concludes inwardly that he no longer wants to take part in the dynamics of life – and that his hand is now closed! His hands were fully open during the harvest, now they are closed!

And this is the part of the gospel parable where God intervenes and says: stop! When we don’t want to stay in the flow of life and only want to live from what we have, are no longer willing to reseed and no longer want to share with others, God intervenes and says stop!

We humans naturally want to stay in the flow of life. If we stay in life and our everyday life is in a good flow, then we experience ourselves as content. This is contentment about work, about processes that are changing, about growth and movement.

We know from our life experience that this is not always the case. There are crises in life, problems that we have to solve. But that is also part of life and challenges us to stay in the flow of life. But even in such situations: If we master such situations together, then in the end we can be satisfied that we made it together. Here, too, it is important to keep one's hand open for people and to seek and find solutions together with others.

If we look at the Rule of Benedict, we will not find any standstill in life.

The cellarer gives what the monks need to live. And even if he has nothing to give, then at least a good word. So that life keeps flowing and the monk doesn't leave sad, i.e. cut off from the flow of life.

When the abbot has something to discuss, he calls the community together and discusses it with them. He doesn't figure it out on his own. Here, too, he opens his hand and wants to solve the problems with the others.

The superior in the monastery has a feeling for the life flow in the monastery and Benedict says that only then he can be happy when "the flock entrusted to him is allowed to grow". So here, too, contentment only when the community is on the way, when there is change, when life is pulsating.

A contentment that is actually self-righteousness is not a condition that gets you anywhere. That would be a condition that excludes and cuts you off from living with others. This can then also be the same as spiritual death.

Death as the end of life is actually addressed by Benedict only when he speaks of the end of life as a learning process: Lifelong learning in the monastery as "a school of the Lord". Benedict says: We remain in the school of the Lord until to the end of our live. This means that we remain in the dynamic of life permanently.

This is exactly what we do as Missionary Benedictines. Sharing with others what we have. To do it like the sower, the hand must open up, the seed should fly properly so that it can spread everywhere. (And if you look later at the illustration of the St. John’s Bible you can see how the seed are flying between the other words.) We try to show that in our hospitality but also in our missionary work in Africa, where we sow the Word of God, build schools and help the sick people in our hospitals to get well again.

We cannot sit back and relax. When the harvest has been brought in, the next year is waiting for us and continues with sowing new seeds and with the circle of life.

Amen.

~ Fr, Anastasius Reiser, OSB

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Today’s Homily - by Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

Genesis 18:20–32
Colossians 2:12–14
Luke 11:1–13

Luke often presents Jesus as a model of how a disciple is to act. Today Jesus is the model for a person who prays. A disciple sees Jesus praying and asks him to teach them as well. What we hear then is a sort of summary about Jesus thinking on prayer.

The basis of prayer is quite simple. It is a form of communication with someone whom we believe is the source of life and from whom we draw life. Prayer implies a relationship of some familiarity and openness. It is easy for us to say that prayer is communication with God because he is the source of life and so is bound to us who come from him. But consider some other factors that influence how we understand God. How much in charge of life is God? Don’t you and I have a lot of control over our lives today? With our science and technology, we can solve a lot, we can supply a lot. We have a knowledge that says, I know where this comes from or how this works. We have achieved a lot. That is all wonderful. But at the same time, we have reduced the areas in which at one time we took for granted that God is in charge. Only in extreme cases do we find it necessary to turn to God.

Consider another factor of present-day life. Much of what we do is instant. We get instant results in many areas. And we want instant results in many areas. We press a button and we get a person on the other end. We touch a key on the computer and up comes the relevant information. Maybe we have a crisis—someone unexpectedly ill, an economic need, a death by accident, so we pray. Do we carry with us the expectation of instant results in prayer? We ask, so we expect to receive today. And notice our impatience in ordinary things when we call for service and it is not forthcoming very soon. Do we pray and have expectations of how we should be answered? We know what we are looking for, so is that what we should go for? Is that what we need?

In the readings today we get some intriguing images of what prayer is all about. Abraham seems to be haggling with God. Abraham knows very well that God is in charge. God has stated his intentions quite clearly. He is going to see things for himself regarding Sodom and Gomorrah. Abraham knows what he’ll see and what he’ll do: destroy the whole city and population. But Abraham starts to bargain with God. Abraham comes across as a good Middle Eastern buyer who won’t let up until the price is within range or what it should be. So Abraham bargains for God’s justice and faithfulness to even the few. And he gets it down to ten good people and the whole will be spared. He appeals to God as God. It looks like a merchant and a buyer in a Middle Eastern bazaar. But Abraham knows that he is talking with God, the final authority. But he appeals to the best of what God is—the one who saves for the sake of a handful. The end of the story is that Abraham and God each make out. God does bring justice and Abraham at least knows that mercy is shown even in a situation that is dire and facing doom.

Is prayer about haggling and bargaining? Perhaps, as long as we know that God will be God in the end and I don’t have the last word. Perhaps it is about haggling as long as we are haggling about God being true to himself. Abraham never appealed for his family directly. What he appealed to was God to be faithful to those who are faithful to him, even a few. Prayer to God implies that we have a relationship to the one to whom we are praying. If we call upon that relationship only when we are desperate, then maybe we will get our priorities mixed up. We may ask as Jesus tells us. But ask about what? Prayer as we hear about it today means that we can be as familiar as Abraham is with the Lord. But we can also be as unconditional and leave it in the hands of the Lord at the end.

Jesus offers two images of prayer. The first image is of a sleeping man who is woken at midnight because of a friend pleading for assistance. We might not like to think of God as the person who is asleep when we come calling. But that is the way life is. Crises come when they come. The visitor comes when they come. In an age and time when communication was slow, that could be anytime. But God is the sleepy householder who gets up and helps out his friend. He does it because he has what his friend needs. He does it because what his friend is asking for is much larger than just a personal need. Hospitality was not just a private affair; it was an affair for the whole community. If the man who was in bed refused help, it was the same as saying to the visitor, you are not welcome here! Get out and move on! In Jesus day, that was unthinkable. The arrival of a visitor was a chance for the whole community to demonstrate its capacity to welcome and share. The man’s prayer to his friend drew on what the man could offer; it drew on the best of what was expected of a fellow human being. Does it say something about our prayer to each other in the course of a day? Is what we ask of each other something that we are able to share? Will sharing it show honor and respect to another? And will it not be that by sharing it, we will honor and respect our humanity.

The other image Jesus gives us is that of a father caring for his children. When the father is doing his best, he will not cheat his children of what they ask for. He will not cheat them because what they ask for is food; namely what is essential for life. When he gives it, he will function as a true father. The implication is that a true father will not cheat his children. If he does cheat them, then he is no longer worthy of being called a father. If he cheats, not only are the children cheated but he too is a disgrace to others. Jesus implies that God is like that and more. He will not trick anyone because that is not what asking and receiving is all about. But even more, God is capable of satisfying our prayer with what we truly need. In the end, it is about need and not wants. Jesus says a human father takes care of the needs of his children, gives them food. What God gives is his own Spirit. A share in his own life. What God gives to those who ask is a share in the very fabric of what binds God the Father and Son together and what binds them both to the world and the human family.

What is prayer in the end says Jesus? It is asking God for his Holy Spirit with the assurance that he will give it us. It is the Spirit that carries with it the power to forgive, the grace to share even if what we have is small. It is the spirit that will move us to open ourselves even when not convenient. And lastly it is the Spirit that will let us stand strong when difficulties seem to overwhelm us and cut away at our security. In the end, we pray for the Spirit because that keeps us human and keeps us in communion with God, the source of all life.

Solemnity of St. Benedict

Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB - celebrant

Proverbs 2:1-9
Colossians 3:12-17
Luke 22:24-27

The Rome of Benedict’s day was a broken city. Its glory had faded. The city had been attacked a number of times. Foreigners where at the helm of leadership. When Benedict went there to study, he found decadence, low moral life. He abandoned his pursuit of knowledge that he hoped to find there and went off to a lonely place. Perhaps it looks like escape. But by grace even in his youth he realized there was another way, another path to the truth of life. Even in his youth he was led to the realization that there was wisdom of another kind than what Rome could offer. He went to search for that wisdom. The voice that we just heard in the book of Proverbs, the voice of the wise Master echoed in him. He followed it so that he could listen and learn the ways of wisdom that comes from God. He went to the cave and the craggy mountainside to be still with himself so that truth could be born in him.

So Benedict went to listen to the voice of the Master. He went to let that voice claim him. He went to serve that voice that would keep him in the way of honesty, truth and humility. But he was not called to be a hermit or a solitary. His response to the breakdown of the world that surrounded him was not to be a withdrawal and a search for a safe place. Benedict found that he was called to lead and to serve others. He found that his time of solitude led him to a way of wisdom that would bind others together. His experience of the wisdom of God led him to lay out a way not for others to escape from the corruption of society but rather a way to be together in the heart of a fallen world. Benedict’s listening to wisdom became a treasure that he served up for others. The silver and gold he found with wisdom we have come to call his Rule—A guide for those who wish to live together the way of the Gospel. The gift that Benedict came to share with us was the gift of how to organize and live in a community. This was the Gospel response he offered to the chaotic world of his day.

Benedict has shared with us the fruit of his prayer and his life long experience as an abba, a father leading others who wish to live in community with Christ as the living center. His wisdom is the gift of forming a society whose rhythm, manner of life, values and priorities may clearly be different from the world around it. And yet it can speak to that world, to our world. It can say that it is possible to live in a less chaotic, less pressurized and stressful manner. It can speak to the society at large of a balanced life where prayer, reading and work are the breath that both humanizes and divinizes. Benedict’s way offers a vision where the poor and the rich, the colored and the not so colored, can be with one another in a peaceful way.

Remembering – that is what today is all about. Remembering our Holy Father Benedict today brings us back to our roots in history and in vocation. The word of God helps us to hear again what Benedict gave witness to. We are reminded that the Rule is a way of wisdom, way of life, something that is all encompassing—from when and how we get up, how we are to sit at table with one another, to how we divide our day and how we listen and speak to each other, how we welcome those who come to us. We are reminded that we are living in community; we follow Christ in the midst of others. Humility is the virtue that will surface in us as we rub against each other in Christ; and forgiveness must be the attitude that governs what we cannot change or we do not like in others.

And then, we remember service, service modeled on that of Christ, the table waiter. That is how leadership is to be exercised and how the members are to be toward one another. We learn this in the monastery, in the school of the Lord’s service. It is all an ideal, an ideal for us as Benedictine monks who are living under a Rule and an abbot. But today is a day to recall, to remember the ideal as a challenge for us to continue to put on our new life in Christ. It is also an ideal that our world longs for. Today reaffirms our witness in a society where families are fragile and individualism triumphs over solidarity and the good of the other. Today we are confirmed again in our vocation and in our witness. It is a day to take courage. A day to listen again to the wisdom of God in our ancestor and our father, Benedict. It is a day to remember and give thanks for the treasure of wisdom, the wisdom of Gospel living, that has been handed on to us.

~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

 

Feast of The Most Sacred Heart of Jesus - 2022

Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB - celebrant

Ezekiel 34:11-16
Romans 5:5-11
Luke 15:3-7

We are invited this year to grasp the image of the heart through the image of the shepherd. Instead of the heart of Jesus being up front, so to speak, we have the sacred shoulders of the shepherd.

Jesus gives us the beautiful picture of a shepherd looking for a lost and missing sheep. The shepherd finds it and then takes it up on his shoulders. It is all so simple and so natural. It was so striking that one of the first representations of Jesus himself in art was that of a shepherd carrying the sheep on his shoulders. What Jesus is trying to do is to get us to look at the connection between God and the lost. To do this he pulls at the human experience of pasturing. On the one hand, we might take it for granted that a shepherd would go off to find one out of 100. But really now, from the point of view of the market and trading, would the investment in one that had gotten lost really pay off. It might be just as well to loose the one and have the 99 than take time and effort on one. What is one among a 100? But Jesus asks us to reconsider. The theme seems to be that God will not be satisfied unless there is a whole. The community of 100 matters and if one is missing then the group is somehow broken. The community is supposed to be made up of the 100 not 99. So the concern of God is shown to be concern for the whole. The attitude that one sheep got lost and that is too bad does not seem to fit the way God deals with the community. God’s concern is for the lost. Not only is God concerned for the lost, his joy is reflected in having a celebration for the one who was found and is now part of the whole community again. God is happy over the lost being found not the lost being forgotten.

All this is to stress how the heart of God works. All this is to make a point that God’s approach to the brokenness, the lostness of the human situation may be far different from our own. The small picture of the shepherd lifting the lost on to his own shoulders and carrying it back is a picture of tenderness and care. It is certainly not the picture of someone scolding and upbraiding someone because they got lost, went astray, broke rank, and ran away from the group. It is a picture of concern; it is a picture of a shepherd who wants his flock together; he wants everyone who has been entrusted to him to be living in unity. The ultimate purpose of God is not excommunication for doing something wrong, but rather an ingathering a welcoming back, in fact a rejoicing when a stray is picked up and made one of the group again. The heart of God is shown to us by Jesus as he stretches out to include what might naturally be allowed to disappear.

The prophet Ezekiel fills out this picture of the shepherd for us. There we have to imagine our selves as in a hospital room after surgery or serious illness. Here the shepherd is the doctor or the nurse who comes in to check on the wounds, to change the bandages and put on the ointment. Here the shepherd is the physician who is involved in healing. I myself will do this God tells the prophet. God is the nurse, the health care worker. The image of the heart is placed next to the image of the nurse, the doctor. Again, the focus is on life, on healing, on being restored to the community. God protests that he will not let his sore sheep wander in the mists of the hills. He wants them back whole and hearty. Again the focus is on gathering in the scattered, on making the community. The heart of God is stretched to be all embracing. The heart of God has a thought for what is in the darkness what is in the mist. We might run from the shadows, from the rains and the darkness, but God chooses to look there. What is in there must be part of his family, his gathering, his church.

This shepherding of God is made visible in Jesus Christ. That is what our feast proclaims today. The heart of God which is all embracing, the heart of God which is about concern for the weak, the heart of God which is about holding the wounded and the healthy in the same community; the heart of God which is about keeping the virtuous and the lost in touch with each other—that heart is made visible in Christ. And its visibility is offered to us in the concertinas of the actions of a good shepherd. Christ is that Good Shepherd. And when his heart is broken open upon the cross to reveal its depths, what do we find but a source of healing and new life flowing from his side. And what do we hear about that self-offering on the cross? When I am lifted up I will draw all people to myself! The heart of Jesus poured out upon the cross is the place of the gathering of all, the strong and the weak, the lost and the found. It is on the cross that the Good Shepherd lays down his life and gives witness to the love of the Father. It is on the cross that the shepherd ultimately carries on his shoulders the lost, the woundedness, the burden of the world and its peoples. The picture of the shepherd with sheep on his shoulders is completed by the shepherd on the cross. There on the cross the heart of Christ became the center of the world, reconciled and at peace. There on the cross God proves his love for us. Shepherd, heart, cross, Christ–this is mystery that is before us today.

 

Nativity of St. John the Baptist

Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB - celebrant

Isaiah 49:1–6
Acts 13:22–26
Luke 1:57–66, 80

A birth brings joy. New life has come into the world. We feel it today in the gospel story about the birth of John the Baptist. The parents rejoice; their barrenness has been wiped away. The villagers join in the rejoicing. The villagers and relatives are so excited. They want to have their say in this wonderful blessing. When the eighth day comes to name the child, that is to say, to give him his identity, the relatives and villagers seem to know what to do, what the name will be. It was understood that one’s identity is in the name. They will name the child according to tradition.

At this point the domestic scene gives way to another story. The reaction of those around moves from rejoicing at the blessing of a birth to amazement and fear. What is really happening here? When Elizabeth and Zechariah insist that the baby boy is to be named “John”, all know that the birth is out of their hands. This is not just a usual domestic scene; this is a work from on high.

This is a God-event wrapped in a birth story. The family and relatives are right to say God has shown his mercy in this birth. And that mercy is to be part and parcel of the name of the child: John, God is gracious. What we are celebrating today is the graciousness of God. God is being faithful to his promise and to his word. In this child, the God revealed as mercy and kindness on Mt Sinai is now moving to live even in the domestic life of a family— And then beyond the domestic scene into the world at large. This child is a Spirit-filled person, one whom God has formed in the womb and one whom God has named. The parents, the relatives, the villagers find themselves swept up into a story of mystery.

The birth of John the Baptist is God’s work, God’s blessing to an old couple. The parents, Elizabeth and Zechariah, the relatives and friends suddenly realize that the God of Abraham is acting again. What he did once for Sarah and Abraham, the old couple, he is doing again. But the birth of this child has implications far beyond the local village. It is a blessing in that through them God is keeping his promise to visit his people. The herald of God’s visit is born. God is coming to live with us. And that is cause for awe and rejoicing. They are witnessing what many of the ancestors before them waited for and longed to see.

When Zechariah writes the name on the tablet, when he writes “John is his name” he can talk again. His silence is broken. He breaks into song to say that the tender compassion of our God is dawning, breaking upon us. It will shine where there is darkness and death. God’s compassion is dawning so that you and I can rise and walk. The light is coming so that the way of forgiveness and peace opens up for us. Our fears are laid aside to hear and find the graciousness that is being born each day. The name of the child heralds a new view of the world and of our God in that world. No wonder Zechariah says, “Blessed be God.” In the words of an Advent carol, “Love is at the door.”

Our human tendency is to domesticate the prophet, domesticate the Word. We are happy to receive this word, but in the end, like the relatives, we want to take charge of it, we want to name it. But our God won’t let us. That is what this birth of the Baptist is about. Rejoicing that something new and wonderful can happen beyond our expectations, but at the same time realizing that God has a story to tell, God has a presence in our lives. But it is always his presence, his grace. “God is gracious” is born today.

Where is the graciousness of God breaking into our lives and into our world today? Can we rejoice in its arrival even if it is in simple quiet domestic settings? Can we rejoice when we see God’s blessing happening in the lives of others? Are we heralding the arrival of the God of mercy? “God is gracious is born today, love is at the door” Let us join the relatives and villagers and wonder: What can such graciousness mean for our lives?

~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ - 2022

Part 1

Part 2

Genesis 14:18–20
1 Corinthians 11:23–26 
Luke 9:11b–17

Food and drink. Very ordinary, very simple. Very necessary. Without them we die. Stop eating and drinking and we will soon be having a burial. The word we have just heard is all about food, the ordinary food of that time: bread and wine-fruits of the earth and vine. The priest Melchizedek wants to give thanks for Abraham’s victory and so he brings out food, bread and wine the text says. St. Paul reminds the Corinthians of what Jesus left behind as his farewell gift, the stuff by which to remember him. And what is it: bread and cup. Ordinary food into which he put himself as it were. This food Jesus left behind would become life, a way of life for those around the table. If food is necessary, then the food of Jesus is necessary for his followers. Otherwise, we are headed for a sure death, death of spirit and body. And finally, today our Gospel story of the marvelous scene out in the open deserted country. Many people, and little food. Only 7 pieces of food can be found in the crowd of 5000. Bread and fish, the staple food of a lakeside community and the impossible odds of making such little ordinary food keep alive a crowd of 5000. But in the hands of Jesus and with the blessing from God the food is enough and more.

Ordinary food and drink, bread and wine, and in the gospel a few fish. Nothing elaborate, nothing special, just ordinary food---and yet in each case a moment of new life and opportunity for staying alive. It is wonderful how Jesus can use the simple things of ordinary life to make his points. A lost sheep, a lost coin, a farmer sowing seeds, a tiny mustard seed, a lost son who comes back to a welcoming father, a servant who is faithful to his master through thick and thin: all language to speak of the Kingdom of God, to speak of where to find God’s activity in the world. Today someone’s supper of five loaves and two fish, or a picnic lunch becomes a moment when God nourishes his new community in a new desert of loneliness and hunger. It is in the simple ordinary things, words and actions that God’s mighty deeds are made known and continue. At the end of his life, Jesus eats with the 12 and picks up a loaf of bread and breaks it and shares it, and then says: from now on you will find me with you in the bread and in the cup of spirit-filled wine. Everyday food now filled with a life and power beyond imagining.

This feast of the Body and Blood of the Lord is a feast about Jesus taking up the ordinary sustenance of human life and transforming it into himself, transforming it into the very means by which we experience God’s sustaining, nourishing and feeding us. The Gospel writers have preserved the story of Jesus feeding thousands in an open, deserted place six times, one for each Gospel and twice in 2 gospels. It is the only miracle story that told so many times. Not even the story of Jesus’ death is told so many times. Why is this? What is the fascination of this event? It may be simple: food speaks to us humans in a way that nothing else can. Eating together and sharing food and drink with one another is not only something that keeps the body alive, it is something that keeps the human spirit in us alive. The sharing of food not only binds those who eat together, but hidden in that communion with one another is communion with God himself.

The numbers in today’s Gospel are significant. It is not just anybody who comes to realize the critical nature of the situation: it is the end of the day, people are hungry, and there is not much to go around—5 loaves and 2 fish for 5000. It is the Twelve who bring this crisis to the attention of Jesus. It is the Twelve, the 12 leaders of the new community of Israel that are concerned for the needs of the 5000. Here is the leadership of the Church showing concern for the community at large and feeling helpless with what is at hand. Here the new community, like Israel of old, is in the desert and hungry on their journey. And here in this lonely place manna will come again from the hands of God. But the community is not totally helpless. What is new in this desert feeding is that God uses the ordinary food at hand to feed his people. 5+2=7, the number of the days of creation, the number of perfection and wholeness. Creation and we humans come together with God in Jesus and thus the larger community is fed and satisfied. What is essential in this meal is that we share. Jesus invites the 12 to feed the people themselves. Don’t buy; money is not necessarily the way to handle the deep seated hunger of people. Don’t buy, share; you have what you need within you. You think it is a lack and insufficient what you have. But it is not. The feeding story of the people is a meal story where we learn about how to satisfy the hunger of others; we learn something about eating. We share what we have; Jesus takes our sharing and then shows us how to bless God for it and then to break it. We share what we have and from Jesus we learn that the meal is completed only when what is shared is broken.

The miracle of the sharing of food from little to more than enough, ends with another number, but it is the number that started Jesus off: yes twelve. How many baskets are there at the end? Twelve baskets with fragments, pieces left over. What is in the baskets? Pieces, fragments of bread. Are not these twelve baskets ourselves? We are fragments, pieces, yes, but pieces of one, the one loaf that was broken and shared. We cannot be discarded and thrown away. The loaves were precious because held by Jesus’ hand for blessing and praise; precious because broken by him. But each broken piece is precious because it belongs to the whole; it is part of the Twelve, the community Jesus is founding and setting up so that God’s people may continue in time.

Yes, the feeding story ends with you and I gathered carefully, not forgotten, not thrown away. We are gathered with the Twelve, held in the community for whom the Lord said this is my body broken, for you. And this is the cup of my blood, poured out for you. The feeding story does not end with leftovers to be fed to others or swept away. The feeding story ends with you and I, now bread in Christ, gathered and collected into the community of the Lord, into his body. We are pieces, broken and precious, held in the basket of his love.

Yes, ordinary stuff: loaves of bread, hands that break bread so that it satisfies even all humanity, and baskets to hold what looks like pieces but really is the body of Christ renewed, refreshed and loved by the one who gave his life that we might have life forever.

Ordinary stuff—this bread and cup, but now extra-ordinary, filled with power, love and life. The source of the power: in simply breaking and sharing. But that is what Jesus did with his life.

~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB

 

Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity - 2022

Fr. Anastasius Reiser, OSB - Celebrant

It is a beautiful feast church, the Feast of the Holy Trinity. We celebrate it in the after the great feasts of the Church, Pentecost, Ascension Day and Easter. Even the nature of early summer contributes to a good feeling. It is a grand conclusion to the Easter celebrations.

That is the reason why we put the Easter candle again in the midst of the chapel.
Those feasts that belong to the Son have now past. The feast, which is about the Holy Spirit, we celebrated last week.

And the Father is always included in those feasts. When Jesus was born: “He will be called the Son of the Most High”, or at the baptism in the Jordan when a voice from heaven says: "This is my beloved Son". The Father is the home that Jesus always mentions when he was talking about God .
Well, today all three together! It becomes clear that some people have their problems with this feast. If you have to explain how it is that three are one and one is three, then it is not so easy to say.
It is a statement of the creed that God is "One"! And that he is also “three persons”.
I would like to start with the word "Trinity":

Another word for "trinity" is the old word "threefold". It designates a shrine or, to put it more precisely, a chest of drawers with three drawers.

I still remember the chest of drawers that was in my grandparents' house. In the first drawer there were games for us children, in the second drawer there were books for the older ones and in the third drawer there were the sweets. Everything in one chest but in three drawers! For us children only ONE dresser!
And so God is said to be "Threefold." He is Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Now let's open the drawers one by one.

The father: Visible in creation. Everything that has life got breath through him. He is the principle of life. We can't see him. Nobody can see him. But we can see his handwriting in everything that lives. And if we honor creation, if we care for and preserve it, we also praise its Creator.

The son: Jesus Christ lived among us as a human. God took flesh. A man in whom God was present at all.
God showed us in his son Jesus what a life for God could be like. Charity, healing the sick, he saves people from death, fellowship with all people no matter what class they come from.
And, that even in dying there is still hope, Jesus shows us through his death. For he rises from the dead – and life remains, not death.

The Holy Spirit: He takes away the fear of the disciples after Easter, puts the right words into Peter's mouth when he should speak, he brings the church together and turns a handful of frightened disciples into a flourishing church. It is God who gives us movement, who is our drive, who has a particularly strong effect in love. As Paul said in the second reading: “because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”

And all three persons are one and the same God. He is God whom we can experience in our life.
And the Apostle John adds: (1 John 5:7-8) “Because there are three in Heaven that testify – the Father, the Word and the Holy Spirit – and these three are one.”

We have many examples here on earth where three things come together that can be used to explain the Trinity. But you won't really be able to explain it. We humans on earth remain limited with our possibilities.
What we can do is to stand before this God, to remain silent, and to try to answer through our lives. From the beginning of our Christian life we are drawn into this communion of the Trinity. At baptism we are baptized into the Trinity.

And what is interesting is that to give an answer is expected from us:
In the sacrament of baptism, the formula is:
“N., I baptize you in the name of the Father,
and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit.
There is no “Amen”

In the baptism of children this answer remains open. One would probably now expect an "Amen". But this "Amen" only comes at confirmation! Then the confirmand has to stand by his/her faith and say "yes" with his/her "Amen".

In the book of Revelation (5:13): Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, everything in the universe, cry out: “To the one who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor, glory and might, forever and ever.”
(Rev 5:14) “Amen,”

And later (Rev 19:4) “Amen, Alleluia”
Psalm 106:48: Blessed be the LORD, the God of Israel, from age to age! Let all the people say, Amen, Amen! Alleluia!

On Easter our song was the “Alleluja”. Our answer to God in our life is the “Amen”.
He is Jesus' father, he is also our father, Jesus is the son of God, we, too, are sons, are daughters, and both send us the Spirit so that we can live of his life and with his life and so that we, too, who are many, can become ONE as he is ONE.
AMEN.

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