A Certain Kind of Community

It has now been just about two months since I arrived at SJI International, “fresh from the boat” as they say, and eager to encounter the new environment and community here in Singapore. In that respect, my initial experience has not been very different from that of many of the young people who come to the Elementary School or the High School for the first time. We are both fascinated by all of the new experiences that we encounter (What is that red sauce? Did I understand that person? I wonder if they expect me to do something now? What do all those acronyms mean?) and we are comforted by the fact that people are the same the world over. Plus, thankfully, Lasallian schools carry common characteristics that are as welcome as they are familiar.

One of the primary characteristics of a Lasallian school revolves around a certain kind of community. People come together for all kinds of purposes and causes. Many times, community is formed because it will enable individuals to accomplish something that they really want for themselves or for their interests. There is nothing wrong with that. The difference in a Lasallian community is that the purpose is focused on others, on the growth and improvement of others, on the future of others, on the spiritual life of others. The reason that teachers and administrators come together in a school is to accomplish something that will touch the hearts and minds of each student.

All great teachers and all genuine teachers (which makes them great) have taken on that vocation because of who they are and how they see themselves as people of integrity, people who are honest with themselves. Many of them could have been quite successful in other industries, and perhaps they were in other industries. But there was a generous spirit, an intellectual curiosity, and a hunger for personal encounter that drew them to the sometimes messy vocation of the classroom. It is there that they have found out who they really were, and it is there that they bring out the best in those confided to their care.

I am very happy to be here with the Brothers in Singapore and to be able to be part of the educational community at SJI International. I am looking forward to many fine opportunities to further appreciate Lasallian education as it is lived in a culture that is different from my own. 

I’m on a rather steep learning curve, but that keeps things fresh and exciting. Just like class.

What Makes a Good School?

One question that St. John Baptist de La Salle would often ask in his letters to the Brothers was, "Does the school run well?" There was no specific definition of what that meant. He assumed that the recipient would understand the meaning of "run well." The Brothers had over the years developed a resource called The Conduct of Schools that specified everything in the school, from the schedule to the exact curriculum to the placement of wall art. A Starbucks or McDonald's franchise manual couldn't be as detailed.

But the question, I think, had to do with more than simply how well that Conduct of Schools was being applied. When we ask someone, "Are you well?" or "How are you?", there's more going on than meets the ear. Certainly, we are interested in the practical details of the person's life. But also, and perhaps more critically, we are making a cautious venture into the person's deeper levels of life. One can simply respond with "Fine!" and leave it at that. Or one can respond with humor, as Kathryn Hepburn is reported to have done - "Fine, if you don't ask for details." Or one could cautiously ask in return, "Do you really want to know?" and thereby begin a very different kind of conversation. (Many people don't particularly want to go there, by the way, unfortunately.) Finally, there are those who really will tell you how they are, and then it's either "excuse and run" or "full speed ahead."

Perhaps De La Salle had this in mind, giving permission to the Brothers to whom he was writing to be perfectly candid in their responses, letting De La Salle know both the joys and the challenges of their vocation. At the same time, he was genuinely interested in making sure that all Lasallian schools ran well. And that meant more than simply doing a fine job of academics. Reading his meditations makes it very clear that education must be more than academic excellence.

Some might think that there's little that's more important than good academics in a school. After all, isn't that why schools exist in the first place? Well, yes and no. De La Salle and Lasallian educators would say that academics are vital but never sufficient. A school is much more than a bunch of people gathered in one place in order to learn academically. It is a community of learning, a group of individuals who together advance in ways not yet fully realized or fully appreciated. Why else do we form such close bonds and carry so many fond memories with us for years afterwards; conversations, discoveries, relationships, clubs, sporting events, outings, explorations, and all the rest. Seeds of wisdom, of knowledge, of relationships, of spiritual life, and of true vitality were planted, many of which would need years of cultivation before they came to blossom. Saint Thomas Aquinas calls teaching the most charitable co-operative art, because teachers hardly ever see the results of their efforts. And the final results that teachers truly appreciate are much more than those that come from academics alone.

One of my favorite quotations about teachers and teaching comes from Abraham Joshua Herschel:

"Everything depends on the person who stands in the front of the classroom. The teacher is not an automatic fountain from which intellectual beverages may be obtained. He [She] is either a witness of a stranger. To guide the pupil into the promised land, he [she] must have been there himself [herself]. When asking: Do I stand for what I teach? Do I believe what I say? he [she] must be able to answer in the affirmative. ... What we need more than anything else is not textbooks but textpeople. It is the personality of the teacher which is the text that the pupils read; the text that they will never forget."

Wise words. Is it any wonder, then, that De La Salle spent such time and effort on cultivating the souls of the Brothers, those who followed him into teaching the young? Teachers are the ones who carry the school forward, who bring the "mission" to the classroom, and who are the direct instrument of God's grace in the lives of their students. They carry the seeds of Lasallian education.

So I think that when De La Salle asked the question "Does the school run well?," he was really asking about the people, about the community, and about the inner vitality of the school's life, not about its academics alone. His was a much more broad understanding of "school," one that essentially focused on the people within it.

Are we a witness or a stranger to those we teach? Does our inner school run well? (How are you?) De La Salle's provides a bit of fine advice for fostering the inner school life of all:

"Never speak except in a kindly manner. When you fear to fail in this, remain silent."

The Thing About Christmas

Yesterday I stood before a display rack of Christmas DVDs that must have included more than forty titles - cartoons, comedies, and classics. Most of them I'd never seen, but the story was likely to be predictable: a child / adult / animal is depressed / unappreciated / "difficult" or "different" and encounters / undergoes / confronts an experience / situation / challenge that is unpredictable / impossible / rare which thereby transforms / undercuts / alters the context / understanding / shape of their local world / life / reality.


Life's common themes prevail. And Christmas is a time when these common threads of life experience become focused and intense, concentrated around the story of the birth of Jesus, that quiet bursting forth of actual and potential immensity of life, love, and learning "in the bleak midwinter, long time ago." No matter the circumstance, it seems to say, transformation is possible because transformation lies planted within the deepest roots of things, and something beyond "mere" transformation has become incarnate, a reality in our midst.


Children hint as these things on a daily basis, as do those who approach life simply, radically, and with daily wonder (those I've met with Down's Syndrome come to mind, as do those I consider holy men and women). Their comments, gestures, and actions regularly burst forth with genuineness and passion; very little is lukewarm or artificial. Yes, they're not warm and fuzzy all the time. But they're all out there all the time. Like God.


That's perhaps the greatest challenge we have, to be more and more like God, to be more and more in love with our lives, our circumstances, our immediate neighbors, our daily challenges, and dare I say, even our enemies. Boy, is that one difficult, even for those who really try. But it's possible, unpredictable, and providential. 


Take one example. Radical love may perhaps be best exemplified in that strange thing called forgiveness, without which salvation and Christmas itself would have no meaning beyond the warm and fuzzy.

In her book The Hiding Place, Corrie Ten Boom tells the story of her family’s efforts to help Jews in Holland and their later suffering in a Nazi death camp, where her sister Betsie died. Following liberation, Corrie, an avid evangelical Christian into her old age, lectured and preached throughout Europe on the need for forgiveness and reconciliation. After one of her talks, a man came up to her. He did not recognize her, but she recognized him immediately—he had been a particularly cruel SS guard at the Nazi death camp who had repented after the war and become an active Christian himself. She writes of their meeting:

“How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein,” he said. “To think that, as you say, [Christ] has washed my sins away!” And suddenly, it was all there— the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsie’s pain-blanched face. ... His hand was thrust out to shake mine. And I, who had preached so often about  the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side. And even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them. Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more? Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him. I tried to smile. I struggled to raise my hand. I could not. I felt nothing, not the slightest warmth or charity. And so again I breathed a silent prayer, Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me your forgiveness.


As I took his hand a most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.  And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world’s healing hinges, but on [God’s]. When He tells us to love our enemies, He  gives, along with the command, the love itself…. It is a joy to accept forgiveness, but it is almost a greater joy to give forgiveness.

Sounds like God is in the building. 

This Christmas, imagine that it may be God's greatest joy to be able to bring forgiveness, to be able to bring it to birth in Jesus Christ and, through Christ, in each of us. What a great notion! And as we find joy in accepting forgiveness, there's a whole world of new joys to be explored in giving forgiveness, difficult at that may seem. Talk about real love in action.

May you have/find/seek the grace/hope/love that will burst through like a supernova - quiet, largely unseen, but HUGE - bringing true life to everything and everyone you touch.

[For those interested in my Christmas Newsletter, it's HERE.]

Yet another opinion about the "New" Mass

The new changes in the English translation for the Mass have led to all sorts of unexpected consequences, and I feel a bit out of sort. There was plenty of preparation, lots of discussion, and extensive coverage in the news and in the pews. But as with most things, the actual experience of change is often altogether different than one's expectations.

I remember going through the Latin-to-English transition period in the 1960's, when "And with you" sounded clunky and inauthentic, especially as an altar server who was used to the Latin responses. Now, "And with your Spirit" sounds clunky and strange. In that first transition, the move was from one language to another, and therefore everything was new. This present one is within the same language and seems so much harder, perhaps because only some things are new. The reason for some of the present awkwardness seems to be two-fold. One has to do with the subject of the change (the language) and the other with the context of the change (the ritual).

Having gone to Mass pretty much every day since 1970, the texts had become a part of me, like the Our Father, or fine poems, or parts of Shakespeare ("Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediment..."). They had become a highway for my prayers, my thoughts, my way of living, with the words and phrases both familiar and accessible. I could pray as easily as I could speak to another person. I didn't have to think about which words to use. The medium had become part of me, a spiritual home.

The present change pulls that familiar linguistic rug out from under me. There's no way that I can keep my balance, let alone pray. Over the last few weeks, the Masses have been stilted and hesitant, juggling pew cards and books and new music. This will not last, of course. But the question is not whether we will grow used to it. My question - and it still is a question - is whether we will grow more prayerful through it.

The present change is not only a change in language, it's a change in character. It's not like putting on prism-glasses that make the world look upside down; something that  the brain quickly adjusts to, and everything is soon "normal." This is more like a well-loved and comfortable folk-dance that is suddenly altered, just a bit here and there. And as a result, people (the "folk") are bumping into one another all over the place, the dance-leaders (generally non-"folk") are doing their best to put a good face on it all, and those participating in the dance aren't having such a good time, too careful to avoid making mistakes to be able to really do what they came there to do; i.e., dance.

Unexpected consequences include getting lost in the multiple clauses of the prayers, the use of translated words that distance ("chalice" and "prevenient grace" come to mind) or confuse (How are we to convey a radically incarnational theology by using "with your Spirit" so much?), the need for weight-lifting classes for altar servers so that they can carry the new missal (You think that there won't soon be an iPad hidden in a carved-out old missal?), and the temptation to design kitchens instead of truly listening to the Eucharistic prayer.

Just one small example of something unexpected: that use of "chalice" an average of three times during the consecration. Did Jesus use an Aramaic or Hebrew word similar to our word "chalice" at the Last Supper? Do we use that word anywhere else except for the Mass? If it's now only used at Mass (and movie dialogues dealing with Kings and vampires and the like), is it wrong to think that we're quietly drifting towards a linguistic Docetism or Monophysitism [Look it up]?

Perhaps a future blog entry will take all this back and wax eloquently about the beauty of the text and the "rightness" of the changes, as many others are doing today. I can't predict that right now.

But I do really, sincerely, and simply hope that I (we) will come to pray more deeply as a result of these present changes. I don't have a lot of time to wait for the next translation, and I'm really sorry to see so much of what I was familiar with and grew close to ride off into the sunset.

"Shane, come back...."

Tempus fugit. Omnes translationes imperfecta.

"Just" God

“God is at home, it’s we who have gone out for a walk.” (Meister Eckhart)

Why is it that so many insist on adding a possessive pronoun to any reference to God? Increasingly, it seems, published prayers and prayer leaders place “my,” “your,” or “our” in front of any reference to God.

“We now bring our prayers to our God...”
“May your personal God give you blessings in your life...”
“As you sit in the presence of your God...”
“The blessings that my God has given to me...”
“I invite you to pray to your God and our God so that...”

Somehow it appears to have become necessary to amend any reference to God, as if the simple word “God” has become too remote, or too limiting, or too great. Or perhaps people just don’t think about any of this too much and have habitually begun to think of God as simply one thing among many things in their lives. My God, your God, our God... What’s the difference? It doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s just one of the many elements in my life, and every once in a while I think about it, just like I think about lots of other “things” during the course of my day.

Is it that difficult to realize that we are inadvertently domesticating (i.e., controlling) a reality that is not tameable? (For those who remember the Narnia Chronicles: “He’s not a tame lion, you know.”) Some poor and inadequate analogies: It’s as if a person were seen solely through the chemical makeup of a single one of his/her cells. It’s as if we judged the nature of the universe through what we saw by looking up at the sky during one minute of the day. It’s as if we were stuck in a cave looking at flickering images on the wall, the shadows of things behind us and unaware of the realities of the world outside, let alone the things making the shadows (apologies to Plato). The point was perhaps best indicated by Annie Dillard in one of her essays:

“Why do people in church seem like cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute? ... Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense or the waking god may draw us to where we can never return.”

Now Annie does something different - she uses “the” in front of “god.” That’s a bit better, since it indicates a single reality, not one among many. But most mystics and holy folks dive more deeply and, when they refer to God at all, use the word “God” by itself … with care, humility, and trepidation, because even “the” indicates a reality that we can somehow define or encompass or comprehend. No wonder that the Hebrew Scriptures refer to God with “YHWH” and resist pronouncing the word at all, substituting Adonai or Jehovah instead. God’s true name is simply too holy to blithely throw around, even in a prayer.

There’s something important about all of this, but it continues to escape my full comprehension. Meister Eckhart helps a bit: “The eye with which I see God is the same eye with which God sees me.” Those pronouns “my”, “your”, “our” and all the rest should be turned inside out. God does not belong to me or to us, I and we belong to God, yet we remain trapped in our own perspective. When we pray, truly pray, we begin to glimpse something of God’s true life; right now, right here, right away. We peek through the door, as it were, and are blinded by what we see. The temptation then is to call that “my door” and pretend that it adequately represents what lies behind it. In reality … in reality, it remains a mystery to me, and it’s best to simply acknowledge that. This may be sufficient, even beneficial.

The only thing I’m sure of is that I will never be able to speak of God with any pronoun attached; I can only hope and pray for my own growing, awkward attachment towards God.

Finally, God is nothing when compared to everything else we might know, love, understand, or pursue. I invite you to dive into the deep end of that reality with St. John of the Cross (1542 - 1591):

To come to the pleasure you have not
You must go by a way in which you enjoy not.
To come to the knowledge you have not
You must go by a way in which you know not.
To come to the possession you have not
You must go by a way in which you possess not.
To come to be what you are not
You must go by a way in which you are not.

WYD 2011 - Departure and Completion

August 24, 2011

This is a simple entry to complete the journey. This morning we left Madrid for NYC and beyond. Starting before 6 AM, we gathered in the gym with all of our "stuff" and figured out what to leave behind as donations.

We arrived at the local Metro stop just when the trains began running, The trip out to the airport would take a while and we didn't want to be late. On the trains, other travelers seemed to be of the same mind, judging from the luggage they were dragging with them.

When we arrived at the Madrid airport, we were among the first in line for checking our luggage, getting our boarding cards and moving through the security lines. As before, once beyond security, it was a matter of waiting, sleeping, walking around, or looking at whatever stores were open early.

The plane was a simple jet, six seats across, and most of us were pretty cramped in our seats for the 7.5 hour journey to JFK. But it was all to be expected and the trip was uneventful.

Upon our arrival at JFK, the bus from Saint Raymond High School and JP Riley were waiting for the group. I remained at the airport for my flight to SFO three hours later, but I was able to get some last pictures as the group boarded the bus for the trip to Manhattan College where most would spend the night prior to moving on to their various home locations.

And so the journey comes to an end (on the outside). The inner journey continues.

All of the photographs from our WYD experience are here. Below is a slideshow of the photos from just today. For individual photographs, you can also click on the slideshow to go to the album.

WYD 2011 - Final Day in Madrid

August 23, 2011

Today was our final day in Madrid. Most people wanted to visit the Prado Museum during the day, and a small group wished to visit the stadium where the REAL Madrid soccer team played. I decided to join the stadium group and visit the Prado afterwards.

We began the day, as in the past, with morning prayer together and a short meeting. Then our small group departed for the bus into town. It wasn't hard to find the stadium once we came to the general area. It was the biggest thing out there. This soccer team is somewhat of a legend in the soccer world, not only because of its winning history but also because of its outreach programs to the needy and to kids. Tickets for the tour were a bit steep, but I think we all decided that finally it was worth the expense.

We bought our tickets and commenced the tour, along with many others who were visiting today. First we went up to one of the highest levels, where you could really get a good view of the entire stadium. From there we walked through various museum levels, showing the trophies, outreach programs, famous players, history and the like. Eventually, we reached the ground floor where the playing field was located. We were even able to sit in the seats that the players occupy during a game. What struck me most was the fact that there wasn't a bad seat in the house. Whether on top or near the bottom, everyone had a great view of the entire field. My guess is that the tickets to games would be quite pricey.

We ended up in the team store, of course, but none of us were willing play the somewhat outrageous prices that they were charging for simple jerseys or t-shirts. Instead, we simply looked and then made our way out and on to the Prado Museum. Along the way, we passed locations on the street where we had stood or sat during the WYD activities. Now they were completely abandoned and normal traffic was flowing. It was interesting to see these places in their "normal" state after being there when thousands of people had squeezed into these spaces in hopes of seeing the Holy Father and participating in the various WYD activities.

The Prado Museum was a great experience. The quality of artwork there was simply amazing. I spent about three hours walking through the various exhibits. I particularly likes the Velazquez, Goya, and Caravaggio paintings that they had, although there were also some surprises - paintings that jumped out of the wall or became more interesting the longer you looked at them. This was the kind of museum that required regular and intentional visits over a period of years in order to fully appreciate. But I did what I could and think that I absorbed as much as one could in an initial visit.

The group had split up initially and met up later in the afternoon, returning to the school via the Metro for our scheduled final gathering and prayer service. During the day, others had tried to get into the Prado but had found it too packed. They instead toured around on foot, ending up in a Benedictine Church where they were able to join into a Mass that was about the commence. They commented that this was exactly the thing they had been looking for and happily joined in.

When we had all gathered back at the school, in the small school chapel, one of the Brothers took our group photo in the yard outside of the chapel, and then we spent an hour or so talking about our pilgrimage experience - what it had meant to us, what stood out, what we had learned, etc.

The session turned out to be a great summary and celebration of our time together. A number of people said that the real value of the experience lay not so much in the WYD activities as in the life of our small ad hoc community. In the short time that we'd spent together, we had become a genuine community, gathered around a specific pilgrimage, purpose, and prayer. Our common experiences in the Lasallian world easily wound themselves into something larger than any one of us could have anticipated, a quietly joyful and significant journey of faith. In some ways, it was simple, straightforward, and direct. In other ways, it was profound, insightful, surprising, and filled with grace. Sort of like Lasallian education, it had aspects of practicality and whispers of eternity. By the end of the prayer service, I felt that we had come to a comfortable and solid place of completion. Much credit is to be given to Br. Peter Killeen for facilitating and organizing a structure by which all that was able to be accomplished.

After the service, we made our way to a nearby restaurant for our final meal together - simple, relaxed, comfortable, and fitting. We had had a wonderful time, and we were now ready to move ahead. I believe that we had also been able to convey a good sense of what the Brothers vocation was all about, perhaps not in so many words as in the example and experiences of the various people and situations that were part of this pilgrimage. In many ways, the value of a pilgrimage such as this lies with those who participate in it. Their intentions, personalities, expectations, behaviors, interactions, mistakes, conversations, prayers, frustrations, joys, and challenges shaped the character of the final impression - vaguely discerned but deeply felt.

No wonder that for centuries people went on pilgrimages, much to the chagrin of friends and family who couldn't quite figure out why they would do so. Like anything that emerges from a nascent passion and builds upon its exercise, the dynamic lies in the doing of it. All the rest is commentary.

All of the photographs from our WYD experience are here. Below is a slideshow of the photos from just today. For individual photographs, you can also click on the slideshow to go to the album.

WYD 2011 - Some Tourist Activities

August 22, 2011

Today was our day to relax and enjoy Madrid. In the morning, we had a prayer service and meeting in the school's chapel during which we reflected on our experiences thus far, especially those things that had surprised us over the last few days. It was a good way to share one another's impressions, observations, and thoughts. It can be quite profound to hear someone share a moment that, until then, had simply been a piece in a chain of moments but that now struck us with a new brilliance because of its personal significance.

Afterwards, we participated in a scheduled tour of the printing press next door. The Brother in charge took us through all aspects of the process, explaining as we went along. It was obviously a very extensive operation, with a lot of machinery and a fast variety of printing projects. Everyone was suitably impressed. The highlight for many was the machine that cut through stacks of paper with a razor-sharp electric cutter. Most of us could just imagine what it would do to an errant finger or limb. Clearly, this whole plant was a major player among the printeries in Spain and would certainly provide a good income for the District.

The group, without Br. Peter who decided to stay behind and rest, then proceeded to downtown Madrid on the bus, walking through the downtown area on the way to a large Daughters of Saint Paul bookstore where many shopped for small souvenirs to take back. Different groups went in different directions from there, the Brothers walking to where we thought the cathedral would be. Upon finding a small church that had "Cathedral" in its name, we also saw that it was closed. Since time was running out we proceeded a nearby Metro stop and returned to the school, since we Brothers had been invited to join the Brothers at the school for their 2 PM meal.

They were waiting for us when we arrived back at the community and we spent a fine hour with them, chatting in Spanish and enjoying the special meal (Paella, champagne, etc.) that they had prepared in our honor. At the end of the meal, the Director made a fine little speech, and Br. Ed responded in kind, having a good facility in Spanish because of his many years as principal in the Bronx. It was a warm gesture on their part and an enjoyable celebration of our common vocation as Brothers. We might not have fully understood one another's words, but we felt fully at home in our common life and consecration.

Peter had arranged to meet up with the others from our group who were already downtown, and we Brothers now tried to find the agreed-upon location. Emerging at a different Metro stop from those we'd known, we wandered around, finally realizing that this meeting might involve a bit of a walk. Nevertheless, we were able to see a good part of the city and eventually made our way to the actual Cathedral (not the "old" cathedral that had deceived us that morning), coming to it from below and visiting the crypt church before making our way along the street to the upper level. By now, we had missed our meeting time and thought we wouldn't be able to find our group. Then suddenly we say Thomas Gramc crossing a street about 200 feet ahead of us. We all shouted but he didn't seem to hear us. Then Ed used his NYC / Schoolyard voice and Tom noticed us, yelling at us to stay there while he retrieved the rest of the group.

And so we were providentially reunited. The reunited group visited the Madrid Cathedral and then followed Tom's plan to visit five historical churches in the area, saying a decade of the rosary at each one. First, there was the church of San Francisco (closed) where we ran into a group of primitive Franciscans of some ilk, several of whom were Americans. We chatted a bit and then said the decade together on the street before proceeding to the next church. This was a church that had been the resting place of the remains of St. Isidore (the farmer) before his body was moved to another, larger church down the street. Nevertheless, we stopped here and were offered a tour by a young man from Belgium who was part of an international religious group that does this sort of thing, offering tours in other countries at religious sites in a variety of languages. After we'd said our decade, he quietly gave us an extensive tour of the inside of the church, providing history and details that most of us would have missed.

On we went to the larger church where St. Isidore was currently interred above the main altar. A quiet decade in the back and then we wandered around the church, noticing the various artworks and side chapels. One interesting thing I found was a large wooden sculpture of the Dormition of Mary. This is a popular scene among icons of the Orthodox church, but I had never previously seen a Catholic depiction, let alone a sculpture.

We moved on to several more churches, ending up in a church where Mass was going and where each of said our decade silently. Along the way, we ran into a Dominican priest who knew the Brothers and an elderly lady whose brother had been educated by the Brothers. They both seemed happy to see us and eager to talk. It was all very friendly, serendipitous (providential?), and enjoyable.

The group ended up at one of the largest plazas in Madrid, lined with stores and restaurants. Scouts were sent out to check out the restaurants around the plaza. We ended up at an outdoor place in one of the corners of the plaza. Figuring out just what our left-over food vouchers would get us was a bit complicated, especially since our waiter was a Rumanian speaking a sort of Spanish that even our Spanish-speakers had trouble understanding, but eventually we settled down and enjoyed a good meal together. The group next to us was also from the U.S., with some having a connection to various Lasallian schools, and so we were soon trading small gifts and conversing together. When darkness descended, vendors with little neon-blue helicopter toys filled the plaza and the place was filled with small lights soaring up and down in the air.

On the way back, we were able to see the cathedral lit up in all its glory. Once we arrived at our "home" Metro stop, Peter spoke with the helpful station personnel in order to figure out how to get transit passes for the next couple of days, since our WYD passes would expire today. Eventually it was all figured out. He passed them out to us in anticipation of tomorrow's activities and we happily made our way back to the school for a well-deserved and peaceful night's rest.

All of the photographs from our WYD experience are here. Below is a slideshow of the photos from just today. For individual photographs, you can also click on the slideshow to go to the album.

WYD 2011 - the Longest Day Continues

August 21, 2011

There's nothing like a night of tossing and turning on the ground in the open air with a million and a half other people to make you appreciate the benefits of a quiet room and a soft mattress. I'm just thankful that there was no need to answer the call of nature. Every once in a while one would notice trucks rumbling by or see groups of all-night folks walking around, but generally the night passed peacefully.

Around 5 AM, I'd had enough rest on the hard earth and got up to walk around. Br. Ed was also up and about, standing in one of the main roadways, and I joined him there. We were impressed with the sight of several priests listening to confessions out in the open, walking about with their albs and stoles and quietly speaking to whomever walked up to them. Evidently they had been doing so all night, since I'd seen them the night before inside of the adoration chapel tents. Those tents were now empty and stripped of their tent covers because of the wind the night before. The organizers had taken that precaution once one of the chapels had had its cover torn off by the wind.

We decided to walk about, and for the next hour or so we made our way through the main lanes of the fields covered with a million sleeping bodies, small tents, sleeping bags, and tarps. Along the way we met several groups of nuns, already up and fully dressed in their habits, some of the volunteers who were guarding the entrances to the areas near the stage, and other early morning risers. At one point, Ed said that we were watching the church awaken. I must say that this is one of my favorite memories of the entire experience - seeing all these young people gradually awaken with the increasing light of the new morning, seeing the young church slowly come alive.

Back at our own camp, various people awoke at various times. Some, who had stayed up half the night wandering about and making new friends, remained asleep until the beginning Mass at 10 AM. A group of Italian youth nearby was brewing coffee for themselves and offering free expresso to whomever wanted some. Around eight in the morning, the speaker system came alive and we were all welcomed to a new day by the two perky young announcers - way too perky for that time in the morning. Right afterwards, there were twenty minutes of loud commercials on the big screens followed by scenes of the Holy Father from the previous evening. It wasn't until a little after 9 AM and activities began in earnest.

One surprising and upsetting thing was an announcement that was made that morning, and repeated several times, about communion during the upcoming Papal Mass. They said that because of the "hurricane" last night, some of the tent chapels had been damaged and that it would not be possible to provide communion for most of those attending. Only the priests and some of those in front would be receiving communion. (Actually, I think they were simply overwhelmed by the numbers and took the easiest way out.) The more I thought about that, the more ludicrous this excuse seemed. Yes, there were a lot of people there. Yes, there were some strong winds last evening (for about 10 minutes). But saying that because of this there would not be communion bordered on the inane. There were some 1200 priests up front, concelebrating, and several hundred bishops, not to mention the thousands of Catholic youth who had been volunteering and carrying the bulk of the labor organizing the event. To think that they couldn't figure out how to distribute communion, even with some limitations because of the weather, was just beyond me. It's one of the things we do well, distribute communion to many people. This was THE sacrament of the Church, and the reason why we were there with the Holy Father, and they were asking us to engage in a "spiritual" communion? Very, very strange, and a first in the history of world youth day, as far as I could tell. I couldn't help thinking that JP II would have told them "Figure it out! These youth came here to receive Jesus Christ, and we won't deny them." It showed a whole different sense of what liturgy and full participation meant.

The Mass itself proceeded fine, but many groups were making their way to the exits during the second half of the Mass and during the interminable speeches afterwards. Finally, the pope announced that the next WYD would be in Brazil in two years (World Cup Soccer would be the following year, hence the abnormal two-year gap instead of three) and we knew we were at the end. We cleaned up our area, piling up the things we would leave behind in a neat stack (tarps, stools, mats, etc.) since they would be collected and donated to charity. Then we gathered our things and began our way for the exits ourselves.

Remarkably, the journey out went very smoothly. They had closed the streets toward the Metro and there were just a few places where the crowds slowed down - primarily because some group had decided to stop and consult in the middle of the street before proceeding. Eventually, we came to the Aluche Metro station and stood in line to enter it. Only 100 people at a time were allowed in; enough for one train, so as to prevent accidents on the platform. It was recommended by one of the police officers that we should instead go to the train station 100 meters away, make our way downtown, and there pick up the Metro. And this we did. The journey involved a bit more walking, but the trains, while packed, were on time and we soon found ourselves back at the school.

We were all able to have a nice rest before the evening's activities. Meeting later in the afternoon, we first went to the Brothers chapel where Br. Stephen led a communion service - the completion of the morning's Papal Mass. Then we searched around and found a local pizza place where Br. Peter treated us to dinner (they didn't take WYD vouchers). By previous arrangement, most of us had committed to going to a demonstration soccer game at a downtown stadium that evening and we made our way downtown via a packed Metro. Once there, the rain returned, but we were able to get our tickets and find our wet seats. The place was filled with pilgrims, and the game was to be between sets of retired soccer starts, most of whom seemed to be in their thirties and forties.

When the rain didn't let up, Peter, Eddie, Len and I decided to see if we could sneak into the empty seats underneath the upper tiers, but these sections were guarded much more conscientiously than those at the airfield had been. Funny how priorities are lived out. So we decided to make our way back home, being little interested in watching old soccer stars run around in the rain surrounded by thousands of screaming fans and air horns.

We ended up quietly sitting for about an hour on a balcony outside of the Brothers dining room, enjoying one another's company and talking about our experiences in Spain. The rain had stopped, there was a nice breeze, and it was a fine time to enjoy our evening time together. It was a good end to the "official" part of the pilgrimage.

All of the photographs from our WYD experience are here. Below is a slideshow of the photos from just today. For individual photographs, you can also click on the slideshow to go to the album.

WYD 2011 - The Longest Day

August 20, 2011

We had decided yesterday that today we would return to the "Love and Life" Center at the Palacio de Deportes for the morning liturgy for English-speaking pilgrims. It required an early start, but that was okay. It was going to be a long day anyway.

A number of us were comfortable walking around in our robes by now, and so we simply wore them on the Metro and for most of the morning. This time we made sure to arrive early enough to get good seats. When we did reach the Palacio, both Peter and I ran into one of the students who had joined us three years ago for WYD in Sydney. Otto and a friend of his were handing out leaflets advocating the canonization of Pierre Toussaint. It was good to briefly reacquaint ourselves with him and to see that his enthusiasm for the church and for his faith had not dimmed.

Inside the center, we tried different locations and finally decided to sit on the ground floor, near the middle in the back. Many bishops who would concelebrate were wandering around the hall, greeting others and interacting with the pilgrims. About four or five of them came up to us, seeing our robes, and spoke to us about their relationships with the Brothers, either as former students or as knowing the Brothers in their home diocese. They were inevitably complimentary and very pleased to see us.

When the Mass started, I was happy to see Cardinal Francis George (the main celebrant) who saw me during the procession and walked over to greet me briefly. During the Mass, Archbishop Timothy Dolan gave the homily. While he again left out the Brothers in his initial greeting to those attending, he did include us when he repeated the list (bishops, priests, deacons, sisters, etc.) during the homily. I like to think that perhaps Francis whispered something to him after he had left out the Brothers initially. In any case, it was a good homily. He does know how to speak to a large group.

At the end of the Mass, Francis George gestured to me that he'd see me afterwards in the back. All of the bishops were sticking around to greet pilgrims from their diocese. We made our way to the back and I had a few minutes catching up with Francis; certainly not enough time, but just enough to touch base. It's been too long since I've visited him in Chicago, and he is in his last year now. He's 74 and will submit his resignation next year. (We had known one another in the early 90's in Boston, when I was studying at BC and living with the OMI's in Brighton. At the time, he was a priest running a think-tank for Cardinal Law.) Hopefully, I'll be able to arrange something before too long. It was good to see him, however briefly, and take a few photographs.

We made our way back to Sagrada Corazon, the Lasallian school where we're staying, for a few hours break, getting some lunch at the now-popular Burger King nearby. Then we began to pack for our trip out to the old Madrid airport, where the major gathering of Catholic youth would take place with the pope. The radio had told everyone not to arrive too soon, since they would not open the fields until later, and we followed that recommendation, leaving around 2 PM.

The closer we came to our destination, the more pilgrims joined in. First, on the Metro, the trains became more and more packed. Once off the Metro, we simply followed the increasing crowds. Some were chanting, others were praying, others were simply trying to stay together. It was more and more crowded, very hot, and the atmosphere was filled with a sort of relaxed tension. People along the way would sometimes spray the grateful crowds with water from their garden hoses, or one person poured buckets of water from his 4th-floor balcony to shouts to "Gracias!" from below. At one point, Br. Peter began to recite the rosary out loud, and we joined in as we marched along. Later, some of our guys recalled that that helped them to relax and get into a better frame of mind about this wholly unique, somewhat challenging experience.

We arrived at the field and went through metal detectors (which we think were switched off and only there for show) and made our way to section D8, our designated area. I had been warned by Br. Chris Patino via a text message that the section was swamped with people already, although he and his kids from Cathedral High School had arrived much earlier. And this proved to be the case when we arrived. There was no place that wasn't either covered with people or being reserved for another group. After some slightly heated exchanges with folks saving places for others and a few awkward moments, the group decided to go to section F8, which we had been told still had room. This was quite a ways away from D8 and on the outer perimeter, but at least it was a place to stay. Each section was surrounded by metal barriers, and the entries were guarded by "Volunteers" - those Spanish young people with green jerseys who were ubiquitous throughout the events. At section F8, we were told that groups larger than 5 could not come in, since they were also filled. CJ Garcia spoke with them in Spanish and we were allowed to pass. He told them that someone was saving a place for our group of fifteen. A helpful fib.

Once inside, we soon found an area of dirt that was relatively unoccupied. We soon spread our tarps and made ourselves at home. Next to us was a group of religious and others from various countries in South America, and we soon saw that about 40 feet away was Br. Phong and his group of 90+ Vietnamese youth from San Jose. A little while later, we were able to claim another patch of ground that was somewhat contiguous with the space we already had. Within the hour we were settled in, napping in the hot sun. A couple of folks collected our food coupons and went to pick up our food bags for the day - called a "picnic" bag on the food coupon. When they returned, they had chosen the vegetarian option for all of us, since that line was by far the shortest one. Each bag contained water, drinks, food, snacks, and RTE meals for lunch, dinner, breakfast the following morning and a snack. It was plenty, and since Aramark was the company in charge, everything was fresh and well organized.

Our participation in the evening prayer service with the Holy Father was mediated primarily by the large screens scattered around the fields. With my binoculars, if one stood on a stool and looked just past one of the large scaffolds nearby that held up "our" giant speakers, we could see a tiny pope way in the distance under this lighted mushroom sort of focal point on the main stage. The screens were more immediate. He arrived, made his way around the large stage area and began the evening prayer service. I'd noticed some ominous clouds behind us, but they seemed to be moving in another direction. However, things changed.

About 15 minutes into the service, we saw lightning behind the stage and to the left of the fields. Behind and above us the clouds had become much darker. Then a warm, strong wind suddenly began, soon followed by light rain. After a while, the light rain turned to serious rain. From umbrellas and plastic rain covers, most of us ended up spending 20 minutes huddled together within a tarp sandwich, the rain drumming on top of us. The service was stopped - apparently some of the banners and decorations on the stage were being torn away by the winds - and the bishops and cardinals on the dais were able to seek shelter as well. When the rain let up, everything started again, the pope made a comment about being blessed by the rain, and the service continued to the end. The service ended with Eucharistic adoration, using a ten-foot ornate ancient monster monstrance from Toledo that emerged from the ground in front of the pope and after the service descended back to safety below. The pope said goodbye and left.

After it was all over, people began to mill about, some of us went to one of the nearby tent-chapels where we spent some time before the Blessed Sacramento (attacked by ants as we sat or knelt on the ground), before turning in. If there were 1.5 million people there, there were also 5 million ants. Those who only had mats to sleep on were bothered all night by the ants, while the rest of us were relatively safe on our large tarps. I rolled out my little 1-inch thick sleeping mat, borrowed a towel as a cover, and fitfully dozed through the night, waking up lots of times to sit up to stretch a bit and wonder why I was sleeping on the hard ground in an abandoned airport in Madrid. Several times during the night, trucks rumbled by (to empty garbage bins, etc.), and that group with the drums seemed to get more animated as the night passed on. But thank God for the little orange ear plugs. They made it all seem very far away.

All of the photographs from our WYD experience are here. Below is a slideshow of the photos from just today. For individual photos, you can also click on the slideshow to go to the album.