Fr. Kevin Burke, S.J. of the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley offered this image as a member of a panel on Jon Sobrino’s work at the meeting of the Catholic Theological Society of America.
“Theology is like a wild animal, like a wolf or an eagle or a great white shark. It’s dangerous, and given the propensity of human beings to domesticate and dominate what frightens them, it’s also endangered.”
Not a bad insight.
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St. Romuald the Abbot was born around 950 into a powerful, wealthy family. He entered a Benedictine monastery at the age of 20. He had lived the life of a powerful, wealthy young man until the day he had to serve as his father’s “second” in a duel with a relative over a piece of land. His father killed the opponent, but Romuald was so horrified by the experience that he turned away from the life he had been living.
Once in the monastery, he found that he was attracted by the life of a hermit, more than to the communal life of the monastery as he was experiencing it at Sant’ Apollinare in Classe. He spent most of his life moving back and forth between monastic life and the life of the hermit, traveling from monastery to monastery and leading reforms. He eventually founded a new community who combined those two forms of religious life, the Camaldolese order.
St. Romuald developed a “Brief Rule” of how to live in openness to God.
Sit in your cell as in paradise. Put the whole world behind you and forget it. Watch your thoughts like a good fisherman watching for fish.
The path you must follow is in the Psalms: never leave it. If you have just come to the monastery, and in spite of your good will you cannot accomplish what you want, then take every opportunity to sing the Psalms in your heart and to understand them in your mind.
And if your mind wanders as you read, do not give up: hurry back and apply your mind to the words once more.
Realize above all that you are in God’s presence, and stand there with the attitude of one who stands before the emperor.
Empty yourself completely and sit waiting, content with the grace of God, like the chick who tastes nothing and eats nothing but what his mother gives him.
St. Romuald’s rule may seem like it has no relationship whatsoever to the lives of most of us – those called to life as men and women, married and single, in the contemporary world – earning our living, raising our families, trying to do our little bit to make the world a better place for everyone. Yet there are elements of his rule that are applicable to all of our lives. We’re called both to a relationship with God and to engagement with the world.
A challenge many of us face is finding a place where we won’t be observed or disturbed by anyone. I remember the amusement of a group of my parents’ friends who discovered a Bible in the bathroom of mutual friends. It was the only place in that home where a parent could have a few minutes of privacy to read the word of God. I remember the religious magazines and books kept for reading in the same room in the homes of my grandparents and other relatives. These people knew that time for the Lord is precious and is to be snatched wherever possible.
Today, we have so many means of communication and response is expected so quickly, that even walking by the beach without having a telephone along can be seen as selfish and/or anti-social. We forget that paradise begins here when we open to the Lord. Our alone place may have to be the bathroom. It may be standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes. It may be driving home from work. The essential thing is to find a few quiet moments somewhere each day.
St. Romuald recommends praying with the Psalms. That’s really good advice and easier than it might seem. Many of the songs we use in liturgy are taken directly from the Psalms. Let the songs from Church run through your head during the day. There are songs/Psalms for all occasions. Then as now, they help turn our focus to the Lord.
“Realize above all that you are in God’s presence…” There’s not much to add to that. The trick is to remember and be open to see and experience that reality. Then all we need will be provided, just as the chick who receives food from its mother. We still have to work. But the work we do takes on a bigger, broader meaning when it is tied to God’s presence in the world and to our call to make that presence visible through our lives.
May peace and joy be yours.
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The Feast of St. Ephrem the Syrian is celebrated June 9 in the Roman Catholic and Anglican churches. It is celebrated January 28 in the Eastern Orthodox Church and the 7th Saturday before Easter in the Syriac Orthodox Church. Whatever the day on which the feast is celebrated, he was a remarkable man!
Ephrem was born around 306 in the city of Nibisis, an area currently part of Turkey. His family was part of a thriving Christian community. The persecution of Diocletian had just ended when he was born. The Edict of Milan, proclaimed in 313, provided for religious tolerance in the Roman Empire. However, controversies raged among various groups of believers as the community struggled to understand the mystery of Jesus’ relationship with the Father and the Holy Spirit. Some issues were resolved at the First Council of Nicea in 325. Ephrem probably did not attend that council, but his bishop, Jacob of Nibisis, did attend and was one of those who signed the Council documents.
Ephrem was not one of those people who were “perfect little angels” from childhood. He was not even particularly religious as a child and teen. He described some of his mis-adventures in the story of his conversion. Following his conversion, he lived as part of a community of people who shared their lives and faith. They were not “monks” in the later sense of the word, but monasticism grew from these types of communities. He became a deacon and teacher within the community.
He wrote hundreds of hymns, prayers, poems, and homilies. Some of the homilies were in poetry and others in prose. The hymns were designed to teach Christian beliefs and to discount the teachings of heretical groups. Many were arranged for choirs of women to sing, accompanied by the lyre. (One of the symbols often seen in pictures of Ephrem is the lyre.) Over 400 of his hymns have survived to the present, with some still in use in the Eastern Church.
Ephrem was also a prolific writer of homilies and Biblical commentaries and reflections. His writings led Pope Benedict XV to name him Doctor of the Church in 1920. His supportive approach to the role of women in the church, his sense of the presence of God in all of creation and of the interconnectedness of all things, the image of “healing” found in many of his reflections and his Eastern sensibility apparent in his poetry and hymns all make his writings relevant to the Christian community today, as we struggle to help bring the Kingdom to life in our multi-cultural, multi-ethnic 21st Century world.
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I must confess that I never knew much about St. Boniface until I began to do a little research about him today. My maternal Grandmother’s home parish was St. Boniface in Uniontown, Washington. So his name was familiar to me, but not any details of his life.
Uniontown was, and still is, a very small town in the middle of fertile farmlands. People spoke mostly German there when Grammy was a girl in the years leading up to World War I. Sermons at Mass were always in German, a language she did not speak well because her parents did not speak the same versions of German. They spoke English at home. (She could never understand why we complained about bad homilies when we were kids. After all, at least they were in English so we could understand them!) Uniontown was settled largely by Catholic German immigrants. They chose the patron of their former homeland as patron of their local community.
St. Boniface is known as the Apostle of Germany and is its patron saint. He was born in England around 672 and named Winfrid. He studied at Benedictine monasteries near Exeter and Nursling in the diocese of Winchester. He was noted for being a fine student and scholar, compiling a Latin Grammar during his time there.
In 716 he set off to Frisia to convert the residents of that area. However, there was a war raging in Frisia at the time and people were otherwise occupied. So he returned home without success. In 718 he traveled to Rome and in 719 Pope Gregory II gave him the name Boniface and commissioned him to return to Germany to evangelize and reorganize the church there. He also learned from people who had been working already among the German tribes how best to reach them. He spent most of the rest of his life working in Germany.
The felling of Thor’s Oak at Frizlar in northern Hesse is one of the stories told of his work. In the presence of leaders of the local people, he called on Thor to strike him dead if he destroyed an oak tree sacred to Thor. Then he began to chop down the tree. A great wind blew the tree down. Thor did not strike down Boniface, so the people became Christians. Boniface used some of the wood from the tree to build a chapel at the site.
Boniface chopped down other oak trees dedicated to Thor as well, in challenges to the ancient pre-Christian religion. It is said that at Geismar, there was a fir tree growing out of the roots of the oak tree that fell. Boniface told the people, “This humble tree’s wood is used to build your homes: let Christ be at the centre of your households. Its leaves remain evergreen in the darkest days: let Christ be your constant light. Its boughs reach out to embrace and its top points to heaven: let Christ be your Comfort and Guide”. The German tradition of using evergreen trees in the celebration of Christmas may have come from this event. (Think of him next time you see a Christmas tree!)
The years in which Boniface lived and worked were far from peaceful. Battles raged between the Franks, the non-Christian Saxons, and the northern Germanic tribes. Struggles for power over the church by civil authorities and for independence from civil authority by church leaders were common. The conversion of the Germanic tribes was part of the process that eventually led to their incorporation into Charlemagne’s empire. In 754, while again working to convert the Frisians, Boniface was killed by a group of brigands.
It seems fitting that Boniface was chosen as patron of the church at Uniontown. Many Catholic Germans who came to the United States during the 19th century did so as religious refugees. It wasn’t something they spoke about much. My grandparents weren’t sure why their parents or grandparents had come here, except they knew the men came so they would not have to serve in the Kaiser’s army. But from an old German Dominican nun, my mother learned that many came because their only choice at home was to convert to the Protestant religion of their new ruler, the Kaiser, or to worship secretly in defiance of the curfews. The young men came because they would have to leave the Catholic church when they were drafted into the Kaiser’s army. They chose to leave instead, bringing their faith with them to little towns like Uniontown all over the United States. Once here, they chose St. Boniface to continue to be their patron.
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The Feast of the Sacred Heart is celebrated 19 days after Pentecost each year. It is always on a Friday.
Devotion to the Sacred Heart began to develop in the Middle Ages, but it was considered a private devotion, not a specific feast day. Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque (1647-1690), a French nun and mystic, promoted devotion to the Sacred Heart in its current form and over time it was adopted as a formal feast. This devotion also includes Mass and Communion on the first Friday of each month.
A friend of mine was raised Catholic in an Irish family in Rhode Island. One day we were talking and laughing about some of the funny things that had happened when we were girls. She told of the time a non-Catholic friend of hers was visiting her family for the first time. The friend, a young man, commented that he was always shocked when he went into Catholic homes and was immediately confronted with a statue or picture of Jesus, with his heart showing – pierced and bleeding. He said something about how glad he was not to find that image in her parents’ home. He had begun to think that all Catholics were somehow off balance with this insistence on having the image around them. Then they went around the corner into the living room, and there was the picture on the wall, where it couldn’t be missed by anyone!
My friend and I were working together at the time. As we went around the corner into my home office, what was on the wall, but a picture of the Sacred Heart – more modern than the traditional one in her home, but unmistakably still, the Sacred Heart. We just laughed and knew again how much we had in common!
So what is it about the Sacred Heart? First, it’s important to remember that it’s not really about worshipping a physical human heart. The Feast of the Sacred Heart reminds us of the overwhelming love of God for us, as seen in the love of Jesus for us. As the Son of God, second person of the Blessed Trinity, Jesus became one of us, lived as one of us, died as one of us. God’s overflowing love poured through Jesus to us. It still does. Symbolically, Jesus’ pierced heart is a reminder that love is not always easy. It can be costly. Love flows out of the heart of God as the water flowed out of the heart of Jesus when pierced by the centurion’s sword. Nothing can stop that love’s flow but our refusal to accept it.
The Sacred Heart also reminds us that Jesus always forgives. God always forgives. Nothing we can do will keep God from loving us and forgiving us. We can turn away, but God is always there calling us back. Hoping we will once again accept love and mercy. Because God’s mercy is unfailing, all we need do is ask and accept it.
In celebrating the Feast of the Sacred Heart, we are called to love as Jesus loves, forgive as Jesus forgives and be compassionate and merciful as Jesus is compassionate and merciful. A tall order for our human hearts, but one to which, with the help of Our Lord, we are called.
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I like to take a walk in late morning each day. It helps clear my mind and stretch my muscles before I plunge into the work and activities of afternoon and evening. Living beside Monterey Bay, I never know what I’ll see on my outing.
Today, when I arrived at the water’s edge (actually at the cliff beside the water!), I got a wonderful surprise. I could see all of Monterey Bay – from the Lighthouse at Point Santa Cruz, around past Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos, Moss Landing, to the flatter lands where the Salinas River enters the Bay. Then the Big Sur mountains rise up behind Monterey and go out all the way to the ocean. The water was calm – very few waves for the surfers. The kelp beds were spreading out to enjoy the sunshine. The sea lions on the rock were chatting among themselves. Sea gulls soared over the water. I could see it all.
In “the olden days,” when I was a girl, I would never have thought that seeing all the way around a bay was anything special. I grew up in Eastern Washington state. We had clouds or sunshine. Sometimes we had fog. But you could always see across the river! And normally, you could see the surrounding mountains too.
Living on the coast, we never know from day to day whether the fog will be in or not. Even on a sunny day, the fog often sits in the middle of the Bay, blocking the view of the other towns and the mountains. But today it is clear. The smoke from the Summit fire is gone from the sky. The clouds we have are high and moving inland. The fog is sitting way off the coast, barely visible from land. And the view is stunning.
It occurs to me that the spiritual life is something like our views of Monterey Bay. Like the Bay, God is always present here – within us, among us, around us. I exist only because God has imagined me, given me breath, breathes through me, loves me continually into being. Yet all too often I don’t notice. I don’t see the beauty all around me. I miss the “love notes” scattered all around me – the flowers, the birds, the native bees in the weeds, the smiles of young mothers and their babies, the laughter of teens and the comfortable togetherness of retired couples out for a walk. I don’t see them for what they are, or worse, I don’t see them at all. I move through my life’s conversation doing all the talking, forgetting to look and listen for the presence of the Divine.
Today I pray that I’ll remember to open my eyes, ears, heart, mind to notice God’s presence. I’ll remember to ask myself, “What keeps me from seeing today?” I’ll remember to be grateful. I invite you to do the same. And maybe while we’re at it, we could also stop gratefully for a moment and ask, “What keeps us as a people from seeing today?”
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I asked our Theologika trustees for recommendations of materials on the Trinity for our readers. Patrick Conway, M.Div., Pastoral Associate at Resurrection Parish in Aptos, CA sent these ideas.
“On the Trinity: Abhishiktananda (Henri Le Saux) was a contemplative theologian who wrote of his mystical intuition of the Trinity, so anything by him. One of his landmark writings was Saccidananda: A Christian Approach to Advaitic Experience (Delhi: ISPCK Press, 1974). There is also an article, “Abhishiktananda’s Mystical Intuition of the Trinity”, by Wayne Teasdale in Cistercian Studies 18:1 (1983). In fact, I believe that entire issue was dedicated to Abhishiktananda.
“Then there is Rahner’s “Remarks on the Dogmatic Treatise ‘De Trinitate'” in Theological Investigations, Vol. 4, pp. 77-102. In this article he notes that, given the post-modern mentality, the only Christians would have to be mystics, particularly when it comes to faith in the Trinity. Perhaps he had Abhishiktananda in mind.
Also, Catherine LaCugna’s God For Us: The Trinity and the Christian Life. San Francisco: Harper, 1992.”
Some of these materials are easily available. Others are more likely found in libraries. If you come across them online, please let me know so I can tag them for other readers to access.
My thanks to Patrick for his quick and thoughtful response.
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Trinity by Andrei Rublev (ca 1410-1420)
The first Sunday after Pentecost is celebrated as Trinity Sunday. God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, yet one God. The Trinity is a reality over which Christians have puzzled for centuries. Jesus spoke of His Father. He stated that He and the Father were One. He promised to send their Holy Spirit. But what did it all mean?
We speak of the dogma of the Trinity as being a mystery. The use of the word mystery can be problematic. It can imply that if we just focus our attention and uncover the right clues, we can solve the mystery and get to its core. After all, that’s the way it works in detective novels and television shows! But that’s not the kind of mystery we’ve got in the Trinity. The reality of God is so much more than we can ever imagine, let alone comprehend, that the best we can do is look for threads that give us a small sense of the dimensions and reality of the whole.
Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM and the late Fr. John O’Donohue have both gifted us with meditative reflections on the Trinity in recent years. They speak of the Trinity in terms of rhythms and flow and surpise. Richard Rohr speaks of a “family resemblance” between the Trinity and all of creation, from the depths of the atom to the furthest extent of the universe, there is a similarity of pattern. All are in movement, all are in relationship to each other, the power is in the “in between.” Life is in the movement, the flow.
Fr. Rohr notes that the Greek Fathers of the Church described the Trinity as a relationship of perichoresis – a mutual interpenetration and indwelling. He explains that perichoresis can be translated as dance. God is the dance and we come to know God only from within the dance of the Trinity. As long as we remain open and allow ourselves to be pulled into the flow of mutuality, to the perfect giving and perfect receiving that is the life of God, we will experience the communion, intimacy and relationship characteristic of God’s life. Anything that stops the flow of loving – anger, resentment, judgement – cannot be part of who God is. To the extent that we harbor those blocks to love, we block the flow of God’s life/love in ourselves.
John O’Donohue, in a workshop for the Religious Education Congress of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles in 2005, also spoke of the Trinity in terms of rhythm and flow, touching on many of the same themes described above. A poet and storyteller, he looks at the mystery of the Trinity through poetic images – the flow of a river, a dream of the divine, dance, music, between-ness. He speaks of God as the “secret music of the heart and the universe… the primal music and dance of all that is.”
We most often experience the world in terms of dualities such as inside/outside, masculine/feminine, divine/human, light/dark and so forth. Yet O’Donohue points out that in reality we actually find ourselves at the threshold between those dualities most of the time. It’s a threshold that must be permeable if we and our relationships are to be healthy, so that the qualities of each side of the duality can pass between, refreshing, supporting and enlivening the other. As he points out, there’s the one side, the other side and the place in between. For O’Donohue, the place in between is where we find the Holy Spirit, holding “all the between-ness together.”
The insights of these two men are well worth hearing and pondering. There’s far more to what each has said than can be described in a short blog post. But the depth of the wisdom they bring resonates with the insights of the mystics from all the ages. As John O’Donohue notes, “Once you get a taste of God, nothing else tastes the same.” And again, “That’s what it’s about – coming fully alive to the dream of the Divine within you.”
May the dream of the Divine resonate within you and lead you ever more deeply into the life of the Trinity.
Readings for the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity – Trinity Sunday, Cycle A
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Sunday we celebrated the Feast of Pentecost and the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise to send the Holy Spirit to His followers. Now we enter into a time called “Ordinary Time” — a name which suggests that nothing special is going on and nothing special is to be expected. That perception couldn’t be farther from the truth!
Ordinary Time is the time of the Holy Spirit in the Church. It’s a time for learning, growing, sharing, reaching out to each other and the world. It’s also a time for entering ever more deeply into the life of the Trinity, a reality we’ll celebrate this coming Sunday.
How do we recognize the coming of the Spirit? I’ve been reflecting on the symbols we use for the Spirit and the words of the songs we pray at this season of our liturgical year. There’s the dove, a symbol for gentleness and peace. The Spirit came upon Jesus like a dove when He was baptized (Jn 1:32). Then there are the mighty wind and tongues as of fire that marked the coming of the Spirit to those gathered in the Upper Room (Acts 2:2-3). In the Old Testament, the Lord came to Elijah in a gentle breeze as he waited by a cave on the mountainside (1 Kgs 19:12-13).
Each of those images tells us something important about the Spirit and what the coming of the Spirit into our lives might mean. The idea that the Lord doesn’t come in the form of earthquakes, wind storms, or the raging of nature is important. Destruction is not a characteristic result of the coming of our God. Peace and the time to live, breathe and grow are. And in times of destruction, God comes through the caring hands and presence of those who try to help alleviate the pain and suffering.
The dove is a bird that we associate with gentleness and a soft cooing call. I loved waking up to the sound of doves cooing when I was a child and visited my grandparents who lived in a warmer community, where there were doves. The dove is often a symbol of love and peace.
But then again, at Pentecost there’s wind and fire… Living in California, we’re very much aware of the power of wind and fire. In forested areas, as well as in the hills covered by chaparral (the native vegetation), fire can sweep across the land, driven by winds it creates itself, leaving a swath of seeming destruction behind it. Those who live outside of the cities and towns must be constantly vigilant to keep the underbrush back away from their homes, so there’s a chance of saving the home in a wild fire.
How does fire fit into the whole peace and love scene we associate with the Holy Spirit? The image of a forest full of brush, or the overgrown chaparral on the California hills gives a clue. Brush in a forest can become so dense that it begins to choke the life of the other plants and the animals living there. A healthy forest is one that is cleared out regularly. Nature does this with fire. The chaparral even has plants that ignite spontaneously when the temperature reaches a certain point. The whole area burns off and then new plants can grow. There are plants that depend on fire in order for new seedlings to sprout — in forests and in chaparral.
In a very real way, each of us needs cleansing fire sometimes too. It’s not fun, but it clears the way for new growth and wondrous surprises.
Then there’s the other side of fire — the creative side. We speak of people being “fired by love” or “going like a house afire” into a new project or calling. Fire is powerful. Fire gives energy. Fire brings light. The Holy Spirit’s coming is to “light a fire” under each of us — to get us going as Christ’s body here on Earth. Hands, feet, voices, arms, legs, minds, hearts.
We sing, “Come, Lord Jesus, send us your Spirit, renew the face of the Earth.” And the Lord grants our request. The Spirit comes. And with the help and fire of the Spirit, we move forward to bring new life, to renew the face of the world around us – in our homes, our worksites, our communities, our world.
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In the United States, we are used to hearing questions like, “Are you ready for Christmas yet?” or “Are you ready for Easter?” The assumption is not that we have been spending time in spiritual preparation for these wonderful feasts, but rather that we’ve done our shopping, wrapped our gifts, mailed surprises to our loved ones, sent the Christmas cards, and so on and on and on. There always seems to be one more thing that must be done to assure a perfect holiday experience for ourselves and our families. Spiritual preparation often takes a back seat in the excitement of getting ready for a holiday. Yet, if the holiday is all about the material gifts and the perfect meal and the family all being on best behavior, it is bound to be a disappointing experience. No matter how wonderful the toy looked in the catalog, or the meal looked in the recipe book, they cannot fill the empty spot in our hearts that is longing for the Divine. And certainly, no one can control the behavior of children, family or friends who may not always act in kind, loving, patient ways. If celebrating the feasts requires that all be perfect, the celebration will certainly not be joyful.
Pentecost is a different sort of holiday. It isn’t even seen as a holiday by the culture as a whole. We never see “Pentecost Sale” in the newspaper or on TV, for example. We don’t have special dishes we prepare for Pentecost. No candies are stacked by the check-out stands to tempt the unwary. No cards or wrapping paper displays vie for our attention. It is almost a secret festival – an un-event.
This year, Pentecost comes very early, because Easter was very early. Pentecost comes on the 50th day after Easter every year. It was originally a Jewish feast. It became a Christian feast because that was the day the Holy Spirit came to the Apostles and others who had been hiding out in the upper room, afraid of what would happen to them because they had been followers of Jesus. With the coming of the Holy Spirit, the fear that had bound them was dispelled. They went out and witnessed boldly to what they had seen and heard. That Jesus who had been crucified had been raised from the dead and, in Peter’s words, “… God has made him both Lord and Messiah…” (Acts 2:36)
Pentecost is the birthday of the Christian Church. If the Holy Spirit had not come, the followers of Jesus would never have found the courage to go out into the world and share the Good News. But as He promised, Jesus asked the Father and the Father sent the Advocate, the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit of Love to us. And so, two thousand years later, we can celebrate Pentecost, our birthday.
So how do we celebrate? Certainly with liturgy. Make time in your day to join with the larger community for Mass. Make a joyful noise, sing praise. Invite the Spirit to come into your life in a special way. Join often in that ancient prayer, “Come Holy Spirit,” both in the days leading up to Pentecost and on the feast itself. Be as open as you can be to the coming of the Spirit and you will receive wondrous gifts. Then, take time to enjoy nature. Spend time with your family and friends. Light a candle for dinner – maybe a red one. Use a table cloth – red any one? Bake a birthday cake. Wear a touch of red in your clothing or jewelry. Every reminder of the coming of the Spirit in “tongues as of fire” (Acts 2:3) is good.
And this year, when Pentecost and Mother’s Day fall on the same day in the United States, celebrate the love of your mother, and remember that although God is neither masculine nor feminine, the Holy Spirit of Love is often described in terms of qualities seen as feminine in our culture – loving, tender, wise, compassionate, patient.
So … are you ready for Pentecost yet?
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The Synod has ended. Bishops, priests, nuns, and lay persons from around the world have again gathered in Rome to pray, listen, and reflect on where the Holy Spirit is leading us as a community in this new era. As their reflections and recommendations are offered to us, we are invited to join them in prayer as we move forward, always open to the guidance and inspiration of the Spirit.
