ST JOSEPH'S ABBEY, SPENCER MA

It was the custom in the ancient world, long before engraved announcements or phones or texting or email, that when a baby was born to a respectable family, messengers would be sent out to announce the birth to the “right sort of people,” friends of the family’s social class in the best neighborhoods of the city. And so heavenly messengers announce Jesus’ birth to shepherds. Notice who gets invited to visit the baby. The very poor, these “lowest-esteemed laborers,” receive the birth announcement of God’s own Son. They are the “right sort of people” for our God, people of God’s own social standing. One scholar remarks that this open “traffic” between heaven and earth is the great sign of the awesomeness of the event of the Nativity.* The heavens are opened, angels are everywhere. There is now an easy interchange, for God’s dream of intimacy with his creation has come true in Mary’s womb. Through Mary Heaven has been irrevocably wedded to Earth in Christ Jesus. And the right sort of ...

On this feast of the Holy Innocents,  martyred as infants so long ago we recall that even now the wailing and crying  continue in too many places - for unborn and lowborn, and all those who cannot keep up or speak up or plead their own cause. And so day after day, even hour by hour, we pray, hoping against hope and daring to believe that our prayers matter, that God hears. Panel painting by Fra Angelico.

According to the Gospel of Luke, Jesus, Mary and Joseph got settled into a regular family life only after they returned to the little village of Nazareth following the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple of Jerusalem.  There, in Nazareth, Luke says, “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.”  Of Jesus as an older boy, Luke says that he was obedient to his parents and that, “Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and favor before God and man.”  If the instrument of our redemption is the humanity of Jesus Christ, it was in the humdrum, concrete reality of family life and the social and religious life of first-century Palestine that the human nature of Jesus—united as it is to the divine Person of the Word—that the human nature of Jesus took on our full humanity. We believe with the Church that Jesus…blossomed in his perfect expression of a human personality through the agency of the nurturing, the love, example, and i...

As Saint Stephen is martyred, he sees the heavens open and Jesus at the right hand of the Father.  We too know that the heavens have indeed been torn apart - the newborn Christ lying in the manger has come down to us like the spring rain upon the tender grass. With Stephen let us hand over our entire selves to God Most High, who has become for us God most low. The Stoning of St. Stephen , Rembrandt (Rembrandt van Rijn) (Dutch, Leiden 1606–1669 Amsterdam), 1635, etching. The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Used with permission.

In his Apostolic Letter, Patris Corde , Our Holy Father Pope Francis has encouraged us to deepen our devotion to St. Joseph – a beloved father, a tender and loving father, an accepting father. As I thought about today’s celebration, I couldn’t help but think that the liturgy reveals the heart of another father – our heavenly Father, the God and Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory and the God of all consolation. It is with the heart of a tender and loving father that our heavenly Father has prepared this feast for us, his dear children. From the Introit to the closing hymn, the Father opens his heart to show us his overflowing love for his Only-begotten. The whole world must know it: “You are my Son; it is I who have begotten you this day.” In the dark of the night watch, the Father summons all creation to witness the glory of his beloved Son. Indeed, “the heavens proclaim the glory of God, and the firmament shows forth the work of his hands.” Tonight “deep is calling...

Later in his ministry, Jesus will remind a follower that he, “the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” But for now, the Infant Jesus rests in the arms of Mary and Joseph, hidden with them in an ordinary life of pleasures, dull routine, sorrows, aches and pains like ours. And even now, he  asks each of us if he can rest his head against our heart. How shall we respond?

This evening in the final  O Antiphon  we chant to Christ Jesus: O Emmanuel , king and lawgiver,  desire of the nations,  Savior of all people: Come and set us free, Lord our God.   Emmanuel is God with us, in all that we go through, in our joys and sorrows.  As monks, it is our duty and privilege to become attuned to the Lord's  continual  advent. For if it is true, as we believe, that one day the Lord will return once and for all to gather us all together and bring us home to the Father in the end time, we also know that his coming toward us is a relentless, already-happening reality. And we are meant to be  experts -- experts at waiting, attentiveness; experts at emptiness, the emptiness that is  constantly  clearing a space for him. In Christ Jesus, our Emmanuel, God has made a giant leap towards us. Jesus our Lord is  always  drawing near.   And attentiveness to his presence is the secret we were made for. At the...

This evening at Vespers we chant: O King of the Gentiles and the Desired of all, you are the cornerstone that binds two into one.  Come, and save man whom you fashioned out of clay.  King may be a title we need to remind us of the place we want Jesus to have in our lives, in our hearts. But it is simply not a title Jesus chooses for himself. He has come to serve, not to be served. And so he tells us: "Whatever you did to one of these least brothers of mine, you did to me."  He, the highest, speaking from his throne of glory, thus declares himself to have wholly passed over, in his actual existence on earth, into “the least”, and these, the lowest, he also claims as his own brothers and sisters. Christ’s eternal origin in his heavenly Father, dynamically mediated through the Incarnation, creates a new brotherhood among all human beings. This is not a natural brotherhood, existing by the mere fact that we are all human beings.  This is a supernatural kinship that ...

  This evening we call, out to the Lord Jesus: O Rising Dawn, Radiance of the Light eternal and Sun of Justice: come and enlighten those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. Faith is light. In John’s Gospel, Christ says of himself: “I have come as a light into the world, that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness.”  John 12:46   “We, therefore, are not the origin of this light but it is the great gift of Jesus as light of the world. As Jesus exclaims to Peter after his confession, ‘Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.’ ” The consequence of this supernatural gift is that “Those who believe, see; they see with a light that illumines their entire journey, for it comes through the risen Christ, the morning star that never sets.” And with the light of faith, we gain fresh vision, new eyes to see. This vision is never simply the assimilation of an idea, for faith  “is born...

  This evening we call out to Jesus as "Key of David." Keys open doors. Jesus is  the  key to our freedom from all that would frighten, cripple or close us in on ourselves.  He offers us the small, fragile hand of God beckoning us not to be afraid. Whatever our fears, our sins, Jesus notices and offers us accompaniment and a way out. He assures us that we are more than all that. He has come to save us from all that would paralyze and hurt us.  Now in Him we have the power to forgive, not because “It’s alright. It’s nothing.” No, the opposite is true- very much has happened. We’ve been hurt, ignored, but we are able to absorb the hurts and forgive because we trust in Christ Jesus who is at our side, even within us, assuring us that pain and fear and suffering are powerless to define who we truly are. We belong to him. He is our Key to freedom and peace. O Key of David, opening the gates of God’s eternal Kingdom: come and free the prisoners of darkness! Gislebertu...

  O Root of Jesse, standing as a sign among the peoples; before you kings are speechless, to you the nations will make their prayer: Come and deliver us and delay no longer! We chant this evening’s antiphon, acclaiming Jesus as “Root of Jesse.” And we recall that he is the Origin and Source of all our good, all our hope, all our longing. This antiphon is a kind of gloss on the words of the prophet Isaiah: On that day, The root of Jesse, set up as a signal for the peoples— Him the nations will seek out; his dwelling shall be glorious. On that day, The Lord shall again take it in hand to reclaim the remnant of his people …He shall raise a signal to the nations and gather the outcasts of Israel... Jesus is truly the One who gathers and joins together in hope all peoples, scattered by hopelessness, hate, and fear. As we name his “Root of Jesse,” we pray especially for all migrants and refugees.

O Adonai, and leader of the House of Israel,  who appeared to Moses in the fire of the burning bush  and gave him the law on Sinai:  Come and redeem us with an outstretched arm. This evening in our Vespers antiphon we address Jesus, using the Hebrew title for Lord "Adonai." Indeed Jesus is for us Lord of lords, Master and Ruler of all creation, present in the burning bush on Sinai, and still with us now in all our ordinariness. We recall the words of the poet  Elizabeth Barrett Browning:  Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes. Let us notice and honor the Lord in the ordinary events of our day. Abbey colored glass photographed by Brother Daniel.

  As we begin this evening our novena in preparation for Christmas, we name Jesus first of all "Wisdom." And we recall Paul's words to the Corinthians, "Let no one deceive himself. If any one among you considers himself wise in this age, let him become a fool so as to become wise.  For the wisdom of this  world is foolishness in the eyes of God."  So it is that the promised Messiah, God Most High, will come to us hidden, small, clothed in the flesh of our precarious humanness. This is the wisdom of God, God's way of doing things. O Wisdom, you came forth from the mouth of the Most High and, reaching from beginning to end, you ordered all things mightily and sweetly. Come, and teach us the way of prudence.

“ Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?’”  At that time Jesus cured many of their diseases, sufferings, and evil spirits;  he also granted sight to many who were blind.  And Jesus said to them in reply,  “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard:  the blind regain their sight,  the lame walk,  lepers are cleansed,  the deaf hear, the dead are raised,  the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. Luke 7 Perhaps John the Baptist expected a different sort of Messiah, someone who would be more of a rabble-rouser, more than the One who cures and heals and consoles. What have seen and heard that clearly attests to the presence of God's Holy One here in our midst, right now? Who were we expecting? Who is Jesus for us? When do we notice him?

The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a marriage feast for his son and sent his servants to call those who were invited to the marriage feast, but they would not come. Again, he sent other servants, saying, “Tell those who were called, ‘Behold, I have made ready my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves are killed, and everything is ready; come to the marriage feast.’” But they made light of it and went off, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his servants, treated them shamefully, and killed them. The king was angry, and he sent his troops and destroyed those murderers and burned their city. Then he said to his servants, “The wedding is ready, but those called were not worthy. Go therefore to the thoroughfares, and call to the marriage feast as many as you find.” And those servants went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both bad and good; so, the wedding hall was filled with guests. Matthew 22 I understand this parable a...

Today is the Sunday of Rejoicing, Gaudete Sunday--the great feast of Christmas is around the corner and the Final Coming of Our Savior Jesus Christ is ever closer.  The readings are all about glad tidings, rejoicing heartily in the Lord, about spirits rejoicing in God my savior and about exhortations to “Rejoice always” and, finally, in the midst of our winter darkness, today's Gospel speaks about John's testifying to the light.  Well, we can all testify to a lot of darkness right now: darkness on our country's political horizons (it is hard to believe what is going on around us and in the courts) and the darkness and uncertainty we face in the Covid-19 pandemic (when will this horror end?)-the threat of death from the disease is coupled with the threat of economic ruin for millions of American workers and people the world over.  I am often tempted to pray to God, “Dear Lord, when I wake up tomorrow, please make it be 2022!” This week Pope Francis has, in a sense, in de...

Today we remember Our Lady of Guadalupe, Patroness of our Land. Each year on this day we set up a special shrine in the transept of our church with her image adorned by flowers and two candles that are illumined throughout the day. She is our Mother and our Refuge in all tribulation. We are greatly consoled by her words to Saint Juan Diego in 1531:  Do listen,  do be assured of it,  my littlest one,  that nothing at all  should alarm you,   should trouble you,  nor in any way disturb  your countenance,  your heart.   For am I not here,  I, your mother?  Are you not in the cool  of my shadow?   In the breeziness  of my shade?  Is it not I that am  your source of  contentment?   Are you not cradled  in my mantle, c uddled in the crossing  of my arms?   Is there anything else  you need?

The Bridegroom arrives unexpectedly, at midnight to be precise, at the moment when the darkness is thickest and those awaiting him are plunged into unconsciousness. “There was a cry, ‘Behold, the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’” Everyone is caught off guard; everyone will now be seen by the Bridegroom exactly as he or she is in reality, with unkempt hair and bleary eyes and a sleep-sodden brain. No time now for last-minute cosmetic touch-ups before the mirror. No time now to prepare apologies and explanations. At long last, he has truly arrived and is standing here before me, bigger than life. What have I to offer him? What I do not already have with me, what I have not already become—that I surely cannot now magically manufacture or borrow from another! Christ wants me and not a false, borrowed identity. “There was a cry, ‘Behold, the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’” The crucial turning-point of the parable has arrived, the time of u...

  We recall these words of Our Blessed Lady to Saint Juan Diego, whose memorial we celebrate today: Listen, Juan, my dearest and youngest son….know for sure, my dearest… that I am the perfect and ever Virgin Holy Mary, Mother of the God of truth through Whom everything lives, the Lord of all things near us, the Lord of heaven and earth. I want very much to have a little house built here for me, in which I will show Him, I will exalt Him and make Him manifest. I will give Him to the people in all my personal love, in my compassion, in my help, in my protection: because I am truly your merciful Mother, yours and all the people who live united in this land and of all the other people of different ancestries, my lovers, who love me, those who seek me, those who trust in me. Here I will hear their weeping, their complaints, and heal all their sorrows, hardships, and sufferings… Juan Diego is the Church’s first saint indigenous to the Americas. Saint John Paul praised him as “a simple, h...

Fitting in was always important, perhaps too important. And if you grew up too different in any way, not strong enough, not big enough, too soft, too dark, too tall, too big, too little, too whatever for whatever reason…your course was set early on, you didn’t measure up , you desperately wanted to blend in, but you were an outsider, you sensed it, and so, you learned how to “ pass,” how to be nondescript. Fitting in was worth it. P assing, as something you were not - as anything else that would fit in with what was supposed to be - was often the norm with all of the self-abasement and shame that it might entail.* God too, the One who is completely Other, had longed for endless ages - to pass so he could fit in. And so, he comes up with plan at once scandalous and achingly beautiful. Only his love and desperate yearning for us can explain it. God wanted to be ordinary. He will take on human flesh and become one of his own creatures, so that he can sneak in to rescue us from sin and pa...

Today we begin the Gospel of Mark, which we will follow throughout the coming liturgical year. It opens with: “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ the Son of God.” As we know, the first line of Mark serves as a title for his whole Gospel. From the first Mark lets us, his readers, in on his secret: Jesus, meaning the Lord saves, is the Christ, the anointed one, the fulfillment of the hope of Israel, the long-awaited Messiah.   And he is Son of God. Mark will unfold for us what this last title means gradually, as we follow along with him through the course of his narrative. Mark’s end is in his beginning and his beginning is in his end. Jesus Christ, the Son of God. On our part, the beginning and end is faith. We’ve all already heard Mark’s story countless times. From the beginning we can respond to Jesus’ question to his disciples, “Who do you say I am?” with the same answer as Peter: “You are the Christ.” And with the centurion under the Cross, we can say, “Truly, this ...

Fittingly enough on this Advent morning, we celebrate Saint John of Damascus the great defender of icons.  In the eighth century when there was fanatical opposition to images in the Eastern churches, John argued that Christ’s coming in the flesh as the image of the invisible God had changed everything.  These are his words: I make an image of the God whom I see. I do not worship matter, I worship the God of matter, who became matter for my sake, and deigned to inhabit matter, who worked out my salvation through matter. I will not cease from honoring that matter which works my salvation. I venerate it, though not as God. How could God be born out of lifeless things? And if God’s body is God by its union with him, it is changeless. The nature of God remains the same as before, the flesh created in time is brought to life by a logical and reasoning soul. I honor all matter and venerate it. Through it, filled, as it were, with divine power and grace, my salvation has come to me. W...

Today we remember Saint Francis Xavier, one of the first companions of Saint Ignatius Loyola. They always remained close friends and exchanged letters while Francis Xavier was on mission in the Far East and Ignatius stayed in Rome. One letter from Ignatius to Francis Xavier concludes poignantly, "I shall never forget you. Entirely your own, Ignatius.”  Imagine the deep friendship between these two saints. We hear an echo of the words of our own Cistercian Father, Saint Ælred of Rievaulx, “God is friendship.” Indeed it is through the love of those we love, that we may learn what God is like.