Sunday, December 10, 2017

Lasallian Reflection - Second Sunday of Advent

The Gospel for the Second Sunday of Advent is the story of John the Baptist, who came out of the desert wearing a camel’s hair outfit held together with a leather belt and proclaiming that people’s sins – anybody’s sins – were forgiven simply by a baptism with water, a cleansing of the inner soul by a symbolic cleansing of the outer body.

But wait, there’s more. He said that somebody would come after him who would do even greater things, who would cleanse them on a whole new level. I’m sure that people of the time didn’t quite know what to make of it all, but they did go to have their sins forgiven, and if that meant having to be plunged into a cold, flowing river, so be it. All they had to do – and this was probably the hardest part – was to acknowledge their sins; to name them, to recognize and come to own all the ways that relationships and trusts had been broken or hurt.

It may be that it was through his own desert experience – in the stark, empty simplicity of desert life – that John the Baptist came face to face with his own sins, his own limitations, his own false inner stories. Having experienced God’s mercy by moving through his own emptiness into an appreciation of God’s presence and fullness, when he emerged from the desert, he was compelled to share the benefits of his experience with all those whose burdens were so similar to his own.

The poet Robert Frost wrote the line: “The best way out is always through.” It’s a similar good way to think about and deal with personal sins, challenges, difficulties, or just the minor inconveniences of life. Don’t try to go around them. Simply move through them, acknowledge what’s true, step forward, and step beyond their potential to skew the way that you see and encounter the world around you.

Goodness and mercy best come to the fore surrounded by a cloud of difficulties. Indeed it is this that helps them emerge in stark relief. The Indian philosopher Rabindranath Tagore once wrote: “The dark takes form in the heart of the white and reveals it.” Mother Teresa, for example, stood out as a small light in an ocean of dark poverty. Because of her example, she revealed to the world both poverty and the power of God’s goodness and mercy. She also was a voice crying in the desert.

John the Baptist invites us to follow his example and come to know what the advent of Jesus Christ might mean for us and for others. In his meditation for the Second Sunday of Advent, St. John Baptist de La Salle applies his example to the ministry of teaching. He writes that by living in the desert, John the Baptist was able “…to dispose his own heart to receive the fullness of the Spirit of God in order to make himself fit to carry out his ministry properly.” Then he says, “Because you have to prepare the hearts of others for the coming of Jesus Christ, you must first of all dispose your own hearts to be entirely filled with zeal, in order to render your words effective in those whom you instruct.” (Meditation 2.2)

This is why De La Salle so often recommended prayer and meditation to the teachers. We cannot give what we have not received ourselves, especially when it comes to the depth of our conviction, or care, or commitment to our students and school community.

The time that we take for prayer, for reflection, for quiet presence; these are the desert that is available to us for our personal renewal, insight, and the inner alignment of our priorities. And it is also these that will, like St. John the Baptist, best prepare our receptivity to the Good News of the incarnation when Christmas arrives.
(Video Version HERE)

Sunday, December 3, 2017

Lasallian Reflection - First Sunday of Advent

In the Gospel for the First Sunday of Advent, Jesus tells his disciples: “Be watchful! Be alert!” because you don’t know when the end will come. For us, we could be watchful in anticipation for something joyful, or we could be watching for something challenging. Anything that begins anticipates an end. There will usually be an end. Endings are part of reality, so don’t pretend that they don’t exist. But ending can also be catalysts to new beginnings. The prospect of death, for example, has a wonderful way of focusing one’s attention. The daredevils of this world illustrate this all the time, declaring that they’ve never felt so alive as they do when they hover near the edge of catastrophe. It’s as if there is only a true beginning when you are faced with some sort of end, either through choice or by necessity. New life emerges. Jesus said “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.” (John 12:24)

The Advent season, this annual beginning of the Church’s liturgical year, begins with the end in mind. And it’s been doing this for centuries, even before Stephen Covey’s book about the 7 habits of highly effective people, where the same principle shows up as the 2nd habit. In its application to our spiritual lives, keeping the end in mind brings a healthy respect for what God is likely to expect of us, both now and in the future. St. John Baptist de La Salle makes this eminently clear in his meditation for the First Sunday of Advent. He says “Those whose lifespan is so uncertain should not delay to take the steps needed to insure their salvation.” (Med 1.1.) This is like the story of someone who asked “If I am to be saved, when should I repent.” The answer came: “You should be sure to repent on the day before you die.” “Well,” they said, “how can I do that when I don’t know when I’m going to die.” “That’s easy,” was the response. “Repent now!”

What does all this have to do with Advent, the waiting period that looks towards Christmas and its celebration of the birth of Christ? One way to look at Advent is to see it as a time of fostering and building up a greater awareness of God’s mysterious presence in our lives – in our friendships & relationships, in our personal habits, in our priorities, in what we read and say, in what we do and feel. This is Advent as an intentional pursuit of everything that most allows the seeds of faith to become more deeply planted within our lives, so that when we do come to celebrate Christmas, we can truly know and embrace its genuine impact on our lives. Repentance naturally follows.

Within our Lasallian context, Advent is a time to get in touch with the divine proposition that we reach God through the poor, the needy, the lowly, and the simple. Christ and the Gospel brought about what the sociologist Peter Berger called, “a cosmic redefinition of reality.” (First Things, Remembering Peter Berger – October 2017) God’s presence dwells among the poor and the powerless more than among the rich and the powerful. Christ is found in the stables of our students’ lives much more than in their mansions. The Lasallian advent happens every time we step into school, have a conversation with a student, prepare a lesson, or meet with parents. The classroom is our manger, and the students we approach with a humility and reverence like God.

The potential of Advent for us mirrors the potential we find every day as part of our Lasallian vocation. Isn’t that worth our best attention?
(Video Version HERE)

Thursday, August 24, 2017

The Great Eclipse Journey of 2017

The trip to Oregon to see the great eclipse of 2017 went surprisingly smoothly; a straight shot to the Eugene area from Napa in 8.5 hours, where family connections were providing hospitality for a couple of nights before the big event for the three of us 50+ male relatives. Then - just to be sure, you know - off on Sunday evening to a previously reserved 10x15 overnight spot at the Philomath, OR, Frolic and Rodeo Grounds, where 1,000 spots had been prepared for the onslaught of out-of-state ‘clipsers. (Turns out that only about 100 spots were needed.)

We arrived in downtown Philomath without the anticipated last-minute traffic congestion from Eugene and picked out a nice centrally located spot in the large stubbly field, where we set up the tent, the 6-inch Celestron telescope, and our various camping accoutrements. The astrobuffs of the group (not me) aligned the heavens on the telescope, and soon, while darkness descended, we were hosting nearby campers to look at Saturn and its moon, Titan. Somebody fifty feet away was singing songs with his acoustic guitar, a nice wine was near at hand, and conversation flowed freely among camping neighbors. Gradually people entered their eerily-lit nylon-covered dwellings for the night, with dancing lights making their way to the distant port-a-potties.

But you want to hear about the actual eclipse experience, and not the long night in the field (one person in the tent, one in the car, and one on the ground with an improvised tarp-tent above). The sky the next morning was clear as a bell, and the sun was hot, impossibly bright, and confidently overwhelming. The action in Philomath began at 9:04:47 and ended at 11:37:13. With the help of an eclipse timer app, a calm voice told us exactly what to notice at certain times, when to take off our special glasses during the total eclipse time ($21.35 on Ebay three days earlier… free at the fairgrounds.. Oops) and when to put them back on.

By this time we had made lots of friends, and a steady group of campers came over to look through our telescope, which by now had been set up with its solar filter and synchronized to the sun’s movement across the heavens. Solar flares and mini-astronomy lessons occupied our time until the app suddenly called out “First contact in 1 minute!”
This was the point when the moon first began to cover the sun. Nothing much was noticeable until about 30 minutes later, when 25-30% of the sun was covered, and someone mentioned that the world around her looked like somebody had lowered the brightness control on her computer screen. Things around us were darker and less defined. The closer we came to 10:16:49, there was less light and noise (no bird sounds at all) as we moved towards the time of totality.

The last minute was the most dramatic. Like a door closing on the sun, in the space of 60 seconds - with the app helpfully counting down for us - the world around us became dusk-dark, then evening-dark, then in the last five seconds after a brief flash of light (the “diamond ring effect”) completely dark
. The silent fairgrounds burst with short acclamations from the campers. Where just a moment ago there was a sun impossible to look at, there now was a black disk ringed with a fiery-bright corona, alive with bold, white-light power streaming out in all directions. Some of the brighter stars - planets actually - were clearly visible in the darkened sky. Cameras of all kinds - on tripods, car roofs, and in hand-held phones - were recording the event, as we were finally able to take off our solar glasses and appreciate the full impact of the eclipse totality.

The strangeness of the phenomena was what was most impactful to me. Something wasn’t right with the world in a big way, but we knew that it would only last a very short time (a minute and 34 seconds in our case), and therefore we enjoyed every moment. Kids young and old were agog with the overwhelming 3D immersive quality of the experience. You pretty much forget everything else while something like this is happening, as if a primal chord is struck for just a moment, the echoes of which you know will last a lifetime. One young man was seated lotus-style on the ground, calmly gazing upward with absolute equanimity and not a care in the world. An
elderly couple held hands while seated in their camping chairs, entranced by the sky-show above. And the dogs among the campers were absolutely quiet, along with the rest of nature, as if this were one of life’s hiccups to be quizzically endured.

Then in much too little time, the solar diamond flashed once again on the opposite side - “Put your glasses on!” - and the world rapidly returned to its daily normality. As quickly as the darkness had descended, it disappeared, the sun door was reopened, and animated conversations started: “Wow, did you see ….?” “How come ….?” “Can I look through the telescope?” Groups came to see the second half of the eclipse through the telescope against the bright ferocity of the sun and the clear tiny sun-spots, each of which in reality was at least as large as the earth. Within a few minutes, those around us went back to their camping areas to relax or in many cases to pack up. By the time the moon had covered 3/4 of its journey across the sun, half of the campers had finished their journey, packed up and left for home, eager to beat the traffic, which would prove to be as impossible as beating one of those celestial bodies in the sky.

We waited and watched until the real end of the eclipse at 11:37:13 am, enjoying unimpeded access to the telescope and the moon’s 2,288 mph (relative to the earth) routine trip around the earth and, for a very short while, across the sun. Then we packed up, made a beeline for Eugene on two-lane highway 99, and had plenty of time to enjoy the Oregon countryside as the predicted gridlock appeared in about one minute and 34 seconds. But no matter, we saw the eclipse, and it was worth it!

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Dealing with a Controversial Issue

It's time to get back online. Time waits for no one, and keeps on moving along. Hence it's appropriate to renew my good intentions and back them up with the discipline that all good intentions require. The item below was recently published in the local Napa Valley Register as a letter to the editor. It was written in response to another letter to the editor entitled "The Largest Provider of Abortions?) in which the writer wrote that “If Planned Parenthood can’t murder the unborn, then why should the Holy Trinity? For It to be cut slack just because It is God or Gods is hypocrisy.” For proof, he cited the great number of “natural abortions” that occur as a result of miscarriages, where the cause was attributed to “It or God.” He then complained about those silently praying the rosary in front of the local Planned Parenthood office, offering silent witness and support, if desired by those seeking an abortion. My response to his letter was what follows:

Any search on the Internet will, indeed, confirm that miscarriages – which are called that for a reason and may be generally defined in various ways – outnumber successful births by a large amount. But to equate a natural result due to nature to an unnatural result due to intention undermines what it means to be a human being. You might as well say that any murder should be allowed because people die naturally all the time, or that any sexual act is allowed because it occurs in nature.

Without the conscience that vilifies the atrocities of ISIS, Pol Pot, or Hitler, or indeed any other intentional victimization or known deliberate oppression, we would hardly be worthy of calling ourselves distinctively human. We respond to some things because we cannot not do so. Doing so aligns with the “It or God” part of the conversation. That part of us that radically distinguishes us from the rest of nature is precisely the “It or God” piece that we much too easily ignore at our peril.

We don’t say “Oh darn, I’ve done it again!” about essentially good things but rather about things that we essentially know are not good. Our conscience comes from something larger than our capacity for understanding it.

The error in equating abortion with miscarriage is one of mistaking a difference in degree for a difference in kind. Abortion is a different kind of thing than a miscarriage; not merely a different version of the same thing. We cannot in all good conscience equate intentional abortion to natural miscarriage, except in the most unreflective, materialistic, and mechanistic sense. There is so much more involved in both abortions and miscarriages than “merely” the physical.

Women know well, or come to know well, the personal echoes of both, either now or in the future. People don’t have abortion celebrations or are ecstatic that they’ve had a miscarriage.

The intentional momentum of our nature is in favor of life, of realized potentiality, of building the better. In the case of abortion – which is called that for a reason – the direction and effects lead elsewhere, and rarely if ever, when wholly and deeply considered with honesty, toward happiness, joy, emotional well-being, or positive advocacy.

It all comes down to the strange mystery that there is something in our human nature that lies beyond the scope of being simply an extension of the natural world. We have built families, laws, cultures, fashions, friendships, and Facebook pages – a whole universe of relational realties – upon the foundation of the deep-seated but often unacknowledged conviction that wonder, charity, embraced paradoxes, humor, goodness, and a host of other internal mysteries dwell at our center.

The evidence floods in on all sides of our common experience. We are not just improved-upon apes. We see our life as a different kind of thing, essentially, and this leads us to see the beginning and end of our lives as being different than solely biological. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” (Hamlet, 1.5.167-8) This is the impetus that draws us forward into mystery, instead of away from it.

Using the example of art and early cave painting, G.K. Chesterton puts it well, stating that with human beings there is “something that is absolute and unique; that belongs to man and to nothing else except man; that is a difference of kind and not a difference of degree. A monkey does not draw clumsily and a man cleverly; a monkey does not begin the art of representation and a man carry it to perfection. A monkey does not do it at all; he does not begin to do it at all; he does not begin to begin to do it at all. A line of some kind is crossed before the first faint line can begin.”

That line is all the more important in making the distinction between abortion and miscarriage.

Those reciting the rosary in front of clinics, I would venture, do so with sadness, concern, and a genuine interest in providing alternative options. Nobody is perfect, as all of us are reminded of again and again. You could do much worse than say some prayers in quiet witness, offers of comfort, charitable intent, and sincere hope in favor of life – actual and potential. Someday I’ll get the courage to do so myself, but for now a letter to the editor must suffice.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Endings and Beginnings

A Möbius strip is a simple and fascinating figure that connects two ends of a rectangular strip in such a way that there is only a single edge and a single side. As we get to the end of a school term, and as I end my two years in Singapore, it’s an appropriate image for illustrating the integration of ends and beginnings. We might see some things as ending and others as beginning, but actually the whole of life is one unbroken reality, as mysterious as it is obvious.

One example of this is found in the making of major decisions in life. Those who get married or commit themselves to a particular way of life think that they are limiting their options, ending their freedoms, and restricting their future choices. Yet those who fully engage new life realities in their major decisions discover that their options have widened, their freedoms have increased, and their choices have become much more meaningful. (My Singapore fling is just one such example.)

Richard Niehaus once wrote that “we act in the courage of our uncertainties.” The word decide comes from the Latin decider, “to cut off.” In deciding “you have cut off the alternatives and pray you have decided rightly. But you do not know for sure. Or else you are trapped in the tangled web of indecision. He then quotes 1 Cor 4:3-5 “But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. I do not even judge myself. … Therefore do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart.” When we make a choice, we enter a depth dimension of life and open up a whole new web of possibilities, previously unseen and unknown. It’s only later that one can say: “That was the best decision I ever made.”

The fact is that one’s interests, priorities, and values emerge in whatever choice is made in life. Gradually, these come to the fore and either colour or hijack the particulars of your life such that the inner core of your soul’s interest – otherwise known as your vocation – emerges to blossom in the soil where it finds itself planted. So there is little to worry about in this respect. Make the decisions that you are invited to make, respond to the people and situations that invite your response, and step into that uncertain future with a core confidence, one that becomes more real and steady as it is expressed and lived out. But keep feeding the soul.

I keep only one little sign on my desk. It is one that I found in a small shop years ago and that I still find meaningful. It reads “What would you start to do if you knew that you could not fail?” This is the sort of sentiment that invites engagement, the doing of things. Because it is only in the doing that you can set the conditions for your future positive decisions. You cannot see around the corner, but you can get yourself to the corner so as to see what lies beyond. This approach is particularly helpful in difficulties, as expressed in one of my favorite poems and hymns: “Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, // Lead Thou me on! // The night is dark, and I am far from home // —Lead Thou me on! // Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see // The distant scene—one step enough for me.” (John Henry Newman)

Ends and beginnings are two sides of the Möbius strip of life’s journey. Don’t try to peek over the edge. Instead, enjoy what is there, pursue what is important, and keep moving on.

Sunday, June 8, 2014


There is a fascinating dynamic that occurs when a group of individuals gathers for a specific purpose. The focus, direction, and purpose of the gathering create the conditions for its success. The cumulative human capacity and interests of those brought together, along with the hopes and positive intentions that they bring, set the stage for allowing the greater potential of human community (and God’s grace) to become an active and present reality. Any positive gathering of individuals brings to life this mysterious dynamic of the “more” in human relational capacity. It’s an example of God’s true presence among real people doing real things in real situations. The Golden Rule lives!

The occasion for this reflection is the upcoming feast of Pentecost, commemorating the gift of the Holy Spirit to the early Church. It is well described by St. John Baptist de La Salle in one of his meditations: “On this day the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles and on all those who were gathered together with them in the large upper room. He came to bring them a new law, the law of grace and love, and poured himself out upon them like a strong, driving wind. This was to show that just as God in creating man had, as Scripture expresses it, breathed into him the breath of life, so too, in communicating a new life to his disciples to live only by grace, he breathed into them his divine Spirit to give them some share in his own divine life.” (Med.43.1)

The human basis for this festive theophany – grace builds on nature – happens any time people who have a common purpose come together. It could be a birthday celebration, a planning session, a board meeting, a wedding or a funeral, a tennis match or FIFA game, a history class or study session. Each has its own character, purpose, hopes, limitations, focus and outcomes. Sometimes we get a bit overwrought when we cannot “control” the outcome of these gatherings, and some people are more comfortable with situations that are more predictable than others. But I would submit that the most rewarding, human, and enlivening events of this sort are those which carry an edge of unpredictability to them. As C.S. Lewis observed through Mr. Beaver about Aslan, the lion who has God-like characteristics in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe: “He'll be coming and going. One day you'll see him and another you won't. He doesn't like being tied down - and of course he has other countries to attend to. It's quite all right. He'll often drop in. Only you mustn't press him. He's wild, you know. Not like a tame lion.”

The most enigmatic encounters with others and with the real circumstances of our lives are those that involve an openness to this mystery of God, such as liturgies, retreats, and faith-focused gatherings. But they also include anywhere “where two or three are gathered” in God’s name, because this is exactly where the Holy Spirit, the dynamic and active presence of the resurrected Jesus in union with the Father, is most immediately engaged. The living face of God, the Holy Spirit, is found in and through actual relationships, real encounters with real people in real circumstances. Insofar as we approach these as true encounters with God’s presence, as Jesus did, they become the spiritual raindrops that quietly ripple through our souls.

In the school setting, De La Salle highlights that we actually do that all the time, or should: “You carry out a work that requires you to touch hearts, but this you cannot do except by the Spirit of God. Pray to him to give you today the same grace he gave the holy apostles, and ask him that, after filling you with his Holy Spirit to sanctify yourselves, he also communicate himself to you in order to procure the salvation of others.” (Med.43.3)


This week, we celebrated the “Ascension of Jesus” into heaven (Luke 24:50-53 - Mark 16:19 – Acts 1:9-11), which occurred 40 days after his resurrection in the biblical narrative. It is the commemoration of the strong and long-standing belief that Jesus was fully taken up into heaven, resurrected body and all, so that the Holy Spirit might be sent “who will teach you all things.”

Back in the 1970’s I remember going to a beach in California called Goat Rock. In order to get there, you had to wind your way along the cliffsides for a time before descending to the beach itself. At one of the parking areas on top, we had stopped to watch a hang glider laboriously assemble his flimsy contraption. After about 30 minutes, he was ready, put on his helmet, strapped himself in, and waddling to the edge of the cliff stood poised, looking over the ocean ahead and the beach way below. He said: “Okay. Bye.” and then stepped out into nothing.

I had expected him to drop straight down and then rise up, like a jet taking off from a carrier. But instead something amazing happened. He hadn’t quite stepped off. He had leaned over into the wind that was coming up the side of the cliff. Then he turned the wings of the glider just so, and he rose straight up as if he were standing on an invisible elevator. The rest of us just gawked as he went higher and higher. After a while, I looked around expecting someone to say “Men of Galilee, why do you stand here looking up into the sky?” (Luke 1:11) It was as nice an ascension as I have ever witnessed.

Who knows what the experience with Jesus was like, except for what we know from Scripture and the Church’s tradition? But if I can use that hang-glider analogy, there is an element of genuine, practical trust involved in all of this. When the young man leaned over the cliff, into the invisible wind, he placed his trust in what he knew to be true, and because he took that leap of faith, ascension happened and he was carried up by that which cannot be seen but can be felt and noticed by what it touches. Similarly, God’s grace manifested in Jesus Christ cannot be easily seen, but it is felt and experienced by its effect and impact on others, if not on oneself. The ascension teaches me to be open to God’s life, God’s breath, AKA the Holy Spirit (from the Hebrew Ruah, meaning breath or wind), to step out into God’s arms and trust the Spirit to be present, whatever the circumstances. It is that descent of the Holy Spirit which we celebrate next Sunday at Pentecost, an event that Jesus’ ascension initiated.

Anthony Bloom says it well: “We no longer know Christ according to the flesh, we do not touch Him as Thomas did, we do not hear and see Him as Apostles and the women, and all crowds of people did, but we know the Christ of the Spirit, the risen and ascended Christ, who is everywhere where two or three are gathered together, who is everywhere when a lonely soul cries for Him, when a life is being dedicated to Him. And so we are confronted with this mystery of a separation, which is a victory, a separation, which leads us to a new knowledge, to a new discovery of Christ. His Divinity is no longer veiled for us by His human presence, He is revealed to us as God resplendent not only in His Godhead but also in His humanity. And so it happens also all the time when people meet on a human level and then discover one another in the Holy Spirit, a discovery that makes humanity resplendent with eternity.”

In the end, the Ascension of Jesus is about embracing the life of God in Jesus, through the Holy Spirit, and being carried by his love and example into being and doing the same for one another. No hanglider or elevators are necessary. Just lean over into the life of the Holy Spirit and tilt your wings correctly.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Mary - Mother of Jesus - Mother of God

Before the month of May comes to a close, it is worthwhile to provide a short reflection about Mary, the mother of Jesus. In the Catholic world, the month of May is the month of Mary, during which there are special prayers and celebrations that highlight her role in the history of salvation.

Mary has become a very special figure in all of Christian religious history. She is also the only woman mentioned by name in the Quran. (Qs 3:42) One theologian has said that she represents the feminine face of God for many people. The one thing that the Church has strongly and regularly said is that Mary is not someone to worship; rather she is someone to emulate, to pray with in approaching God, to turn to for intercession when all else fails or seems far away. In this respect, she represents the best of “motherhood” and all that this means for people.

The biological connection between mothers and children goes far beyond the physical, even beyond the emotional. A well of deep connections and unacknowledged complexities lie beyond our grasp when it comes to our mothers. Psychologists, therapists, clergy, bar tenders, and airplane seat-mates may experience the ripples of a mother’s influence on her son or daughter. As one person once told me, “Your mother knows how to push all of your buttons because she put them there.” She knows your faults and limitations but loves you nevertheless and, for the most part, unconditionally.

One can imagine how the mother of Jesus was involved in the life of Jesus, from his birth to his death. While we don’t know the details, we know the results. Much of the personality, priorities, and passions that shaped the person of Jesus are due in no small part to his 24/7 relationship with Joseph and Mary, both during his early years, his teenage years, and his twenties. If indeed Jesus did not start his public ministry until the age of 30, he would have developed a close, mature relationship with his mother.

Therefore it is not strange that we should hold Mary in such high regard and assume that her present connection with Jesus is closer than that of anyone else. Ever since the early years of the Church, her influence has been notable, concrete, and frequent. Christians have turned to her for any need, as they would turn to their own mothers when they were young. One can try to analyze and rationalize this all day, but the plain fact may simply be that she indeed has the kind of close ongoing relationship with Jesus which allows for a different sort of intercession. There is more engaged mystery here than one can simply dismiss. Just look at the history of Marian devotions, apparitions, sayings, and all the rest.

G.K. Chesterton puts Mary in appropriate light: “When I was a boy a more Puritan generation objected to a statue upon my parish church representing the Virgin and Child. After much controversy, they compromised by taking away the Child. ... You cannot chip away the statue of a mother from all round that of a newborn child. You cannot suspend the new-born child in mid-air; indeed you cannot really have a statue of a newborn child at all. Similarly, you cannot suspend the idea of a newborn child in the void or think of him without thinking of his mother. You cannot visit the child without visiting the mother; you cannot in common human life approach the child except through the mother…. The Blessed Virgin Mary is born to be Mother. The supreme consolation that Our Lady receives at the foot of the cross of her Son is the assurance that her vocation as Mother does not end with Christ’s death. The Lord commands the world, ‘Behold your Mother.’ The resurrection begins for Mary – and for us – with these words. The Blessed Virgin’s womb remains forever fruitful. Mary leads us to Christ, but Christ leads us back to his Mother, for without Mary’s maternity, Jesus would become a mere abstraction to us.”

School Mass on Founders Day - Part 3

For today’s reflection on the Catholic prayer form known as the Mass, or the Eucharist, I would like to provide a fine quotation by Ronald Rolheiser, who sums up the multi-dimensional experience of this ritual, the source of which lies outside of and beyond all of them put together.

(Rolheiser, Ronald. Our One Great Act of Fidelity, Pg. 28-29)

“Christians argue a lot about the Eucharist. What does it mean? What should it be called? How often should it be celebrated? Who should be allowed to participate fully?

“There are lots of views on the Eucharist. For some it is a meal, for others it is a sacrifice. For some it is a ritual act, sacred and set apart, for others it is a community gathering, the more mess and kids the better. For some it is a deep personal prayer, for others it is a communal worship for the world. For some its very essence is a coming together, a communion, of those united in a single denominational faith, while for others part of its essence is its reaching out, given that it contains an innate imperative to wash the feet of those who are different from ourselves. For some it is a celebration of sorrow, a making present of Christ’s suffering, the place where we can break down, for others it is a place to celebrate joy and sing alleluia. For some it is a ritual remembrance, a bringing into the present of the historical events of Jesus’ dying, rising, ascending, and sending of the Holy Spirit, for others it is a celebration of God’s presence with us today. For some it is a celebration of the Last Supper, something to be done less frequently, for others it is God’s daily feeding of his people with a new manna, Christ’s body, and is something to be done every day. For some it is a celebration of reconciliation, a ritual that forgives and unites, for others unity and reconciliation are preconditions for its proper celebration. For some it is a vigil act, a gathering that is essentially about waiting for something else or someone else to appear, for others it is a celebration of something that is already present and is asking to be received and recognized. For some it is understood to make present the real, physical body of Christ, for othes it is understood to make Christ present in a real but spiritual way. Some call it the Lord’s Supper, some call it the Eucharist, some call it the Mass. Some celebrate it once a year, some celebrate it four times a year, some celebrate it every Sunday, and some celebrate it every day. Who’s right?

“In truth, the Eucharist is all of these things, and more. It is like a finely cut diamond twirling in the sun, every turn giving off a different sparkle. It is multivalent, carrying different layers of meaning, some of them in paradoxical tension with others. There is even in scripture no single theology of the Eucharist, but instead there are various complementary theologies of the Eucharist. …

“How does one put this all together? By letting the Eucharist be patient with us. … There is no adequate explanation of the Eucharist for the same reason that, in the end, there is no adequate explanation for love, for embrace, and for the reception of life and spirit through touch. Certain realities take us beyond language because that is their very purpose. They do what words cannot do. “

School Mass on Founders Day - Part 2

This reflection follows on last week’s regarding the upcoming Founder’s Day activities, which includes a student body Thanksgiving Mass for all High School students and Catholic Elementary School students from Grades 4, 5, and 6. For a more comprehensive rationale about this, please see

“The Mass is not merely a meal which reminds us of the Last Supper, or a Passion play which helps recall Good Friday, or a Sunrise service which celebrates the Lord’s resurrection. In the Eucharist, when we recall these mysteries of redemption, ‘the Church opens to the faithful the riches of the Lord’s powers and merits, so that these are in some way made present in every age in order that the faithful may lay hold of them and be filled with saving grace’ (Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, #102). At every Eucharist, in a real yet mystical way, we become present to these central mysteries of our Faith.“ (Thomas Richstatter, OFM)

It is important to recognize that all Christians seek to relate to, and enter into, God’s mysterious, loving, constant, and intimate presence through the life, passion, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus of Nazareth, who introduced, defined, and became “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6) really and truly, actually and practically, up to today and into the future. This is crazy to some, foolish to many, incomprehensible to most, and difficult to all. But to those who have lived into this subtle yet oddly familiar mystery, this too-easily-dismissed historical conviction on the part of billions of people, the truth of God’s loving and saving presence in Jesus Christ becomes more and more firmly entrenched through the practice of reflective, genuinely engaged experience, the kind of intentional experience that the Gospels call us to again and again. The question is no longer “Is this true?” In some ways you come to realize that this is the wrong question. The question becomes “Where in my life does this remain not true?” Perhaps it is similar to what happens whenever love blossoms, when “Does she/he love me?” gradually becomes “Where or in what ways can I love her/him further?” What was first seen more in reference to self is reframed through the sometimes difficult expressions of sacrificial love into being for the most part referenced in terms of the other. Parents will know this dynamic well. God knows it best.

For Catholic Christians, the focal invitation, expression, and sustenance of this dynamic – what we call the “paschal mystery” of Jesus – is centered in the Eucharist, which means “thanksgiving” in Greek and refers to the ritual that through the centuries has most profoundly and best touched our inner lives in ways that are undoubtedly unique to each person who has taken its invitation to heart. Robert Taft, SJ, one of the greatest scholars of the Eucharist (the Mass), who also happens to be an Old Boy of the Brothers, summarizes things well: “The purpose of the Mass isn't to make hosts so people can go to Communion. The purpose of the Eucharist isn't to change bread and wine into Jesus Christ. It's to change you and me into Jesus Christ. That is not only supposed to happen, it's also supposed to be represented.” ( If at the end of each Mass Catholics attend, we emerged with greater conviction and ability to be more like Jesus towards others, its rationale and substance would be self-evident.

For those who may not be fully familiar with the parts of the Mass, which can certainly include many Catholics, or the reasons why this ritual has developed as it has over the last 2000 years, I have uploaded two short articles that walk through what it all means and provide a succinct summary worth reading. You may just find that this ancient yet modern ritual is more relevant than you had thought. You will certainly find it all very interesting. The link to the document is this one: