July Fourth

The Beatitudes from today's Gospel of St. Matthew are not the U.S. government standard way of proceeding but ours as Catholic Christians marked deeply by Christ’s cross. The life of Gospel values which Jesus presents to his disciples as a plan for God’s Kingdom is intrinsically counter-cultural, still is, and always was. We rejoice when there is a confluence between Jesus’ ideals of care for the poor and justice for the oppressed and the policies and practices of our nation. When there is not, we promise always with him to prefer the poor and the needy, to protect their rights and do all we can to alleviate their suffering.

As monks our woundedness and poverty is everything; it’s all we’ve got to show- all we’ve got to offer Christ, offer the Church, even perhaps what we as monks can offer our country- the reality of total dependence on the mercy of God from moment to moment.  Ours is certainly not the crushing poverty of the totally dispossessed and homeless, we dare not compare it. Still it’s all we’ve got- all the stuff we’ve got no choice about. And we believe it’s the very place where blessing and mercy can intrude and take root- poverty as blest by God’s loving regard. We are truly blessed, when our poverty is blest as emptiness filled to overflowing with Christ’s peace and most affectionate compassion. This is everything for us as monks. And what is more, we believe that our true blessedness depends upon our willingness to become ourselves mercy-doers, mercy-makers for all who are poor wherever we notice them.

Photograph by Brother Daniel.

Saint Thomas the Twin

On a balmy summer morning we hear once again an Eastertide Gospel. Thomas' questioning leads to his intimate encounter with the wounded and resurrected Jesus. The wounds in the Body of Christ are places for our intimate encounter with the risen Lord.

"Put your finger here and see my hands,
and bring your hand and put it into my side,
and do not be unbelieving, but believe."
Thomas answered and said to him, "My Lord and my God!"

Photo of the candidates' Cottage by Brother Brian.

Peter and Paul

Perhaps Peter and Paul whom we feast today whom we celebrate today would not mind if we noted that neither of them had anything to be proud of- Peter who even as his best friend is being slapped and sentenced insisted to a serving girl in the glow of a charcoal fire that he did not even know who that man was; and self-righteous Paul who dragged the first followers of Jesus from their homes to prison and persecution. Both Peter and Paul find themselves discovered by the Mercy of God in Christ Jesus, who identifies himself as the betrayed one, the persecuted one. They have been empowered by mercy and compassion and forgiveness. We celebrate two men desperately in need of transformation, a transformation that happens in their encounters with their most merciful betrayed and persecuted Lord.

 

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Saints Peter and Paul, 15th century, Fondamenta Cavour, Murano, Italy.

The Baptist's Birthday

The Liturgy invites us to notice a wonderful newborn. Elizabeth’s had a baby, at her age. And Zechariah who had been speechless for months now names his son John and his tongue is loosed. He then breaks out in praise of God and prophecy of his little son’s future mission. All are amazed and rejoice with them. The tone and content of today’s Gospel all speak to us of God's amazing breakthrough on his people’s behalf in a new and unprecedented way. There is hope and promise.

And if the Scripture in the Liturgy presents us with the great question: “What will this child be?” The Liturgy has the rather tragic answer for us as well. With the hindsight of Liturgy, we know all too well what will become of baby John. (This too will be occasion for a liturgical celebration at the end of August. We’ll be in red then though, for John is going to lose his head.) John’s weakness for speaking the truth will be his undoing. A mad divorcee’s rage, her daughter’s dancing and a drunken fool’s vow, showing off to guests at his birthday party, and John’s head will end up on a platter. What will this child be? We know all too well. Liturgy lets us look in both directions.

Saint John the Baptist, c. 1230,  North Portal, Chartres Cathedral.

Aloysius

We are inspired by the ardor and single-heartedness of Saint Aloysius, who died as a Jesuit scholastic while caring for plague victims in Rome in 1591. As Cistercians we recall that on his deathbed Aloysius asked his brother Jesuits to read to him from Saint Bernard's Sermons on the Song of Songs, a text that he always found consoling.

The Vocation of Saint Aloysius (Luigi) Gonzaga, Guercino (Giovanni Francesco Barbieri) (Italian, Cento 1591–1666 Bologna), ca. 1650.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Used with permission.

The Secret

We share reflections from Father Robert's homily for the Eleventh Sunday of the Year:

The secret of the kingdom is the experience of God explaining to you in secret that, without you in any way deserving it, the God of unlimited goodness and truth has already chosen to love you and share with you his divine love. This is the revelation of something which transcends all the changes of time and space. It exceeds the reach of thoughts like good and bad. It is beyond all the achievements of the human imagination or the functions of the bodily senses or the grasp of the intellect. It is my exposure to the unlimited nature of divine love in a way that stories and parables can only set me up for. The kingdom of God is our invitation to share in this unlimited way of loving and being. The secret of how this is revealed is the mystery of the Incarnation.

Photograph by Michel Raguin.

Cloister Madonna

In the early 1950's this very large painting of the Madonna and Child was given to the monastery with the stipulation by the donor that there always be flowers and candles to adorn it. We are told that during the nineteenth century artists often made copies of Renaissance paintings in European museums for a burgeoning American market. Our Madonna seems to be such an image, freely rendered after the central panel of the Triptych of San Domenico (1482) by Carlo Crivelli in the Pinacoteca di Brera of Milan. 

This altarpiece was originally painted for the Dominicans of the municipality of Camerino. The enthroned Madonna and Child is flanked on the left by Saint Peter with his tiara and keys and Saint Dominic with his lily. On the right Saint Peter Martyr, his skull cleaved with a dagger, is represented with Saint Venantius, patron of Camerino holding a model of the city. His scarlet leggings and cap are references to his martyrdom. The Christ Child holds a little long beaked goldfinch, foreshadowing his passion, as the goldfinch was thought to eat thorns.