ST JOSEPH'S ABBEY, SPENCER MA

  Somehow there had been a quiet comfort in the darkness, a grateful predictability. People left you alone, pitied you and that wasn’t so bad. You listened more, you had to really. You noticed things- the plumpness of a fig, the tiny fingers of a little girl’s hand. And always counting the steps- from bed to hearth, from hearth to door. Feeling the smooth corner of the table and knowing you were in the right place. And then off to the town square to beg- about 83 paces. Then sit on the ground, hands open and ready, listening for a familiar voice.    Today everything changes for this blind man, as he hears a new voice, the voice of Jesus. Then the spitting, the mud, the gritty slime on his eyelids. In a flash he is dashing to the pool to wash, panting. Now stooping down, now kneeling on the edge of the pool. Then splash, splash, splash. And then- light-  an explosion of light. Squinting. Learning color, noticing sparkle, lovely shadows. Voices have faces. Not sm...

In the monastery we live in a kind of in-between place; a place where the urgency of God’s just demands on us is always coupled with the ample grace of His ever-present mercy. And if Christ Jesus calls us so urgently to repent, to a complete change of heart, it is because He longs to be Mercy for us, to have access to our broken hearts and be compassionate to us. Christ Jesus our Lord is constantly turning toward us in love and mercy. And He asks us to do likewise- to keep turning to Him and to one another in love and mercy and reconciliation over and over again.  This is what we have vowed to do by our  conversatio  as monks- to continually allow our hearts to be broken open. Perhaps this is why Saint Benedict will remind the monk to keep death always before his eyes. As monks we are meant to live on the edge, in a place of urgency that perhaps many will only experience in the wake of horrible tragedy or on their deathbeds, a place where all we have to depend on ...

As divine presence draws near, perhaps Mary senses her inadequacy, the fear of incapacity, a space too modest for God. And so for all its beauty, the scene is essentially, tremendously frightening. Imagine the existential loneliness of Our Lady at this moment. How wise the Angel Gabriel is to remind her not to be afraid. This heavenly messenger knows too well that Mary will need great courage as she abandons herself to God's desire. Perhaps Mary understands in this moment of all moments the pure, almost intolerable desire for God alone which is deep within her, deep inside each of us, this space that only God can fill. And perhaps even as she realizes and experiences most deeply her emptiness and longing, she senses that it is in this very moment that all of her will be most available to God.  She is made for this moment of all moments. And her fear turns into a vast, ineffable joy. “How can this be? I do not understand, but I trust.  Behold, I am the handmaid of th...

   “If only you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink, ‘you would have asked him instead and he would have given you living water.” If only you knew. Achingly beautiful and somehow disorienting. Hearing these words, this Word, we are reminded that Someone is very near,   but we may be somehow unaware of the gift and the presence.      Today Jesus comes to the well, that place of sacred encounter, a place that quivers with meaning. For this is the place of betrothal, where Jacob kissed Rachel his future wife and wept for joy.  What will happen here? Jesus comes to this place of sacred communion, exhausted and very thirsty. And he meets a Samaritan woman with a history of infidelity. She senses immediately the inappropriateness of Jesus’ familiarity, “Why are you talking to me, a Samaritan and a woman?” She is female, Samaritan and promiscuous- the one who should be excluded, ignored by a rabbi, a prophet, certainly un...

‘My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’ In Christ Jesus, who will give himself entirely for us on the cross, we have everything, everything we need. As today's first Reading from the Prophet Micah tells us, the Lord " delights in clemency and will  have compassion on us." It is by Jesus' passion and death that he will tread "underfoot our guilt" and "cast into the depths of the sea all our sins" revealing God's utter faithfulness to us. Everything God has and is is thus given to us in abundance in and through Christ Jesus our Lord. Excerpt from today's Gospel according to Saint Luke.

Certainly a key effect of Joseph’s obedient faith is his participation in God’s plan to overcome the effects of sin in the world. The English word sin is derived from the German term Sunde , which carries the connotation of sundering or dividing. The Greek word diabolos , from which we get our word devil , the evil one, basically means “scatterer”. In the Book of Genesis, the original sin – incited by the serpent – amounts to a sundering of the human relationship to God (expulsion from the Garden) and a radical division and scapegoating among creatures. Separation, suspicion, mutual hatred, blaming – all are signs that the scattering power of sin is let loose. God, on the other hand, gathers. The history of Isra el is the story of God’s gathering of his people into one through the power of his covenant. It is the story of Israel’s hope for unity, a hope kept alive through the suffering of periodic separation, of division, and even exile because of their infidelity to that coven...

...the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said,  “Joseph, son of David,  do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home.  For it is through the Holy Spirit  that this child has been conceived in her.  She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus,  because he will save his people from their sins.”  When Joseph awoke,  he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him  and took his wife into his home Saint Joseph has faith in God, faith in Mary. He is obedient, trusting and trustworthy. We love to imagine his tender care for the household in Nazareth. Our life in the monastery is like Joseph's life with Jesus and Mary- ordinary, obscure and laborious.    Fragment of a wooden  carving of  Saint  Joseph in one of the corners of the Abbey. Verses from today's Gospel according to Saint Matthew.

    In St. Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians, he says, “All of us, gazing with unveiled face on the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as from the Lord who is the Spirit.” This passage came to mind as I read today’s gospel of the Transfiguration and pondered the events that led up to it at Caesarea Philippi. I wondered, how does the Spirit bring about our inner transformation as He did with the apostles? I think it must have to do with at least three factors: our free choices; the mystery of suffering; and the revelation of the Holy Trinity. Let us begin with our free choices.   Six days before the Transfiguration, after asking Peter and the apostles what people thought about Him, Our Lord turned the question to them: “But who do you say that I am?” Peter, inspired by the Spirit, said, “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” He spoke from the depths of his conviction, not fully enlightened perhaps, but h...

Dom Bernardo, Abbot of our monastery of Novo Mundo in Brazil, visited us this week. Formed at Spencer and a monk of our Abbey for 14 years, he spoke with joy of discovering his vocation in this place. Bernardo  reflected with us that religious vocation always begins with a theophany , an experience of God’s living presence in a specific place with a particular community. He believes that, as was his experience, the candidate comes to the realization that God can be encountered in this place, with these men, and he grows in the desire to find his place among them.

Like the deer that yearns for running streams, My soul longs for you, my God!  Psalm 42 Photograph of deer browsing in Abbey woodlands  by Kathleen Trainor, 2014.

Give me that I may give.  Saint Augustine Father Simeon entered the monastery in April of 2003 and was ordained to the priesthood in May of 2013. An accomplished author, preacher and retreat master, Simeon is currently editor of the Monastic Wisdom Series for Cistercian Publications. In addition he often leads retreats in the Abbey Retreat House, pitches in as community cook  and  does his part in the regular round of chores. Father Simeon tells us that he treasures: "the rhythm of  the common life that draws me back to essentials even when I am most distracted or concerned with more relative things."

This small but dazzling panel painting by the Italian master Duccio tells the story of today's Gospel. In a barren, craggy landscape we see Satan sooty black and hairy, an ugly beast with bat wings, long fingernails and spiked hair. He is frightening but ultimately ineffectual. He is trying to distract Jesus, who is depicted as strong and noble, serene, upright and majestic, undaunted by Satan's overtures. And all the candy-colored kingdoms Satan offers appear small and toy-like. Jesus dismisses him with a simple, direct gesture, "Get away!" And angels sneak in to offer heavenly comfort. Jesus is dressed in a crimson red robe- red the color of clay, of earth, of ruddy flesh, the color of blood and fiery passion. And he wears a great cloak of brilliant celestial blue, the color of the heavens, of the ether, the color of divinity, even of pure water- the baptismal water from which he has very recently emerged. Indeed, Jesus'  clothing says it all; for he is e...

Today we hear Christ Jesus refer to himself as Bridegroom. Our fast and Lenten observance are meant to increase our longing for him and deepen our awareness of his love for us.  As Cistercian monks we are called to cling to Christ, the Bridegroom of the Church and of each Christian.  Especially through the Eucharist, he teaches us the intimate nature of what it means to belong to him: gratuitous, total, ongoing and life-giving love that invites reciprocity. And so we are called to give concrete priority to prayer, understood as gratuitous giving and receiving,  experienced as loving faith anticipating the coming of the longed-for Bridegroom.  We promise to work at the discipline of love, a love based on truth that opens us to self-knowledge and mercy in the face of our own misery and the misery of others. Icon of Christ the Bridegroom.  Lines adapted from Dom Bernardo Olivera,  2002.

Remembering that we are dust, we are heartened because Jesus himself has became our dust, our fragile flesh, our nothingness because of his immeasurable affection for us.  His life is hidden within our sinful flesh. Jesus' words to us this morning,  "when you pray, go to your inner room,  and pray to your Father in secret," remind us us that we can find God there, hidden within, in the depths of our hearts, our own inner room. Our lives are mingled together; God in us, we in God. Nothing can separate us.  When go to our inner room, we wait for him in confidence

Mardi Gras in the monastery brings our “farewell” to the Alleluia at this evening’s Vespers, as we chant an elaborate Alleluia at the conclusion of the office. Then we head to the refectory for Brother Patrick’s homemade pizza, followed by ice cream and sweets. Then there’s clean-up followed by Compline, and the last time we can chant the Salve Regina with Our Lady’s window illumined until Easter Sunday. The sanctuary is then prepared for the Ash Wednesday Mass, and the cross over the altar veiled in purple for the holy Forty Days ahead.