An ordinary man engages the circumstances of daily life, seeking to draw closer to the Mystery who gives meaning to everything.
Saturday, March 3, 2018
Friday, March 2, 2018
The Bells of Takashi Nagai
Dr. Takashi Nagai (1908-1951) was a Japanese medical doctor, a scientist and pioneering researcher who specialized in radiology, a highly respected professor, a beloved husband and father, and a convert from atheism to Jesus Christ and his Church. My article about his conversion will appear in Magnificat this Fall.
But there is another story, the story of a more profound conversion, a radical change in Dr. Nagai's whole life that set him on the road to a greater faith, but also involved his passing through an almost unimaginable horror that began at 11:02 AM on August 8, 1945.
I can only say that the story of this great man, his wife, his family, his colleagues, and his community is one of the most intense and heart-wrenching and terrifying and beautiful stories I have ever come across in the twentieth century Church.
It is a story he lived long enough to tell, in a book called The Bells of Nagasaki.
But there is another story, the story of a more profound conversion, a radical change in Dr. Nagai's whole life that set him on the road to a greater faith, but also involved his passing through an almost unimaginable horror that began at 11:02 AM on August 8, 1945.
I can only say that the story of this great man, his wife, his family, his colleagues, and his community is one of the most intense and heart-wrenching and terrifying and beautiful stories I have ever come across in the twentieth century Church.
It is a story he lived long enough to tell, in a book called The Bells of Nagasaki.
The Catholics of the Urakami district of Nagasaki, the disciples of Francis Xavier, the survivors of three centuries of persecution, were not specifically the intended target of the second atomic bomb. But because of various circumstances including weather conditions and wind, the very heart of Christianity in Japan--home to some 30,000 Catholics and their cathedral--became, literally, Ground Zero.
Many thousands of people were immediately reduced to ashes, including an estimated 8,000 Christians at the epicenter who were going about their morning routines, living, working, and praying. The cathedral was packed with worshippers praying for peace when the bomb exploded in the air above it. People in the vicinity of Ground Zero died where they were standing, sitting, or kneeling, in a flash.
The Nagai children were outside the city with their grandmother on that day. But their mother Midori Nagai was in the kitchen of their home in Urakami near the cathedral. The old home was built over a cowshed where her ancestors, the secret Christians, had gathered to pray and pass on their faith for seven generations without any priests, with only a basic catechism and the sacrament of baptism.
Days later her husband found remnants of her skeleton in the midst of the ruins, and some melted metal in the remains of the bones of her hand where he could barely make out the outline of a crucifix. Like so many of the Christians at Ground Zero, Takashi Nagai's wife had a deep devotion to Mary. When the awful fire fell, she had been praying the rosary.
Dr. Nagai was working at the Nagasaki University hospital on that morning. He was pinned under the wreckage of his laboratory, seriously injured but alive. Eventually the handful of doctors, nurses, and students who survived were able to reach him, stop the worst of his bleeding, and bring him to his feet. They formed a team that for several days worked heroically to treat whomever could be rescued from the flames and the scorched ground where there had once been a city.
As doctors, they did what they could to help the wounded, without medicines or supplies. As scientists, they discussed among themselves with horror and wonder the phenomenon that had occurred. They didn't know of the attack on Hiroshima, but they were able to see that this was a wholly new kind of bombing. Dr. Nagai and his colleagues were aware of the trajectory of atomic research, and had heard rumors that efforts were being made to use that research to make a horrible weapon, a nuclear bomb.
Their experience convinced them that these efforts had succeeded, and that they were living through a nuclear holocaust. And it wasn't over yet.
In the hours, then days, then weeks that followed, many people who had survived the blast developed strange and often fatal illnesses from radiation poisoning. Still others would succumb to their injuries. After a month of exhausting labor caring for the wounded and struggling to stay on his own feet, Dr. Nagai himself collapsed and was on the verge of death. His colleagues gave up hope of saving him as he moved in and out of a coma.
He recalled that he was prepared to die, but felt the desire and the need to live for the sake of his children (who had already lost their mother). Then he had a very unusual experience, which he reported to be something like a voice prompting him in a very specific way. In order to understand the significance of this prompting, we should note that Saint Maximilian Kolbe had lived in Nagasaki from 1930-1936 and was well known and much loved by the Catholic community. He had even been one of Dr. Nagai's patients. Fr. Kolbe had, of course, returned to Poland where the final act of his own drama awaited, and all news of him was blocked by the war.
But as Dr. Nagai lay dying, a voice seemed to urge him to "pray to Fr. Kolbe" for healing. No one in Japan knew that Fr. Kolbe was even dead, much less that he had died a martyr, but Takashi Nagai prayed for the intercession of the beloved friar. Soon after, he emerged from the coma, and the injury causing immediate danger to his life was inexplicably healed.
His fellow doctors said it was a miracle.
Unfortunately, his overall health was broken by radiation-induced leukemia, which eventually rendered him an invalid. From his bed, he turned to writing. In the light of his deepening faith, he wrote about the events he had experienced and their implications for the future. He wanted to record all he could for the sake of his native Japan and its reconstruction, for future scientific research, and as an advocate for peace in the world. He lived until 1951 and wrote 20 books, including The Bells of Nagasaki.
He is held in great esteem in Japan by Christians and non-Christians, and his story deserves to be more widely known. As I continue my literary (and film/video) "tour" of East Asia, you will hear more about him from me. His story is deeply Catholic, sorrowful, mysterious, and marked by the distinctively Japanese cultural character that we need to understand better.
But you don't have to wait for me. Fr Paul Glynn, an Australian priest who lived many years in Japan, wrote a very accessible biography that was recently reprinted by Ignatius Press, which you can get HERE. It is not an easy story, but it is one that needs to be heard, and that is very important for our troubled world today.
Many thousands of people were immediately reduced to ashes, including an estimated 8,000 Christians at the epicenter who were going about their morning routines, living, working, and praying. The cathedral was packed with worshippers praying for peace when the bomb exploded in the air above it. People in the vicinity of Ground Zero died where they were standing, sitting, or kneeling, in a flash.
The Nagai children were outside the city with their grandmother on that day. But their mother Midori Nagai was in the kitchen of their home in Urakami near the cathedral. The old home was built over a cowshed where her ancestors, the secret Christians, had gathered to pray and pass on their faith for seven generations without any priests, with only a basic catechism and the sacrament of baptism.
Days later her husband found remnants of her skeleton in the midst of the ruins, and some melted metal in the remains of the bones of her hand where he could barely make out the outline of a crucifix. Like so many of the Christians at Ground Zero, Takashi Nagai's wife had a deep devotion to Mary. When the awful fire fell, she had been praying the rosary.
Dr. Nagai was working at the Nagasaki University hospital on that morning. He was pinned under the wreckage of his laboratory, seriously injured but alive. Eventually the handful of doctors, nurses, and students who survived were able to reach him, stop the worst of his bleeding, and bring him to his feet. They formed a team that for several days worked heroically to treat whomever could be rescued from the flames and the scorched ground where there had once been a city.
As doctors, they did what they could to help the wounded, without medicines or supplies. As scientists, they discussed among themselves with horror and wonder the phenomenon that had occurred. They didn't know of the attack on Hiroshima, but they were able to see that this was a wholly new kind of bombing. Dr. Nagai and his colleagues were aware of the trajectory of atomic research, and had heard rumors that efforts were being made to use that research to make a horrible weapon, a nuclear bomb.Their experience convinced them that these efforts had succeeded, and that they were living through a nuclear holocaust. And it wasn't over yet.
In the hours, then days, then weeks that followed, many people who had survived the blast developed strange and often fatal illnesses from radiation poisoning. Still others would succumb to their injuries. After a month of exhausting labor caring for the wounded and struggling to stay on his own feet, Dr. Nagai himself collapsed and was on the verge of death. His colleagues gave up hope of saving him as he moved in and out of a coma.
He recalled that he was prepared to die, but felt the desire and the need to live for the sake of his children (who had already lost their mother). Then he had a very unusual experience, which he reported to be something like a voice prompting him in a very specific way. In order to understand the significance of this prompting, we should note that Saint Maximilian Kolbe had lived in Nagasaki from 1930-1936 and was well known and much loved by the Catholic community. He had even been one of Dr. Nagai's patients. Fr. Kolbe had, of course, returned to Poland where the final act of his own drama awaited, and all news of him was blocked by the war.
But as Dr. Nagai lay dying, a voice seemed to urge him to "pray to Fr. Kolbe" for healing. No one in Japan knew that Fr. Kolbe was even dead, much less that he had died a martyr, but Takashi Nagai prayed for the intercession of the beloved friar. Soon after, he emerged from the coma, and the injury causing immediate danger to his life was inexplicably healed.
His fellow doctors said it was a miracle.
Unfortunately, his overall health was broken by radiation-induced leukemia, which eventually rendered him an invalid. From his bed, he turned to writing. In the light of his deepening faith, he wrote about the events he had experienced and their implications for the future. He wanted to record all he could for the sake of his native Japan and its reconstruction, for future scientific research, and as an advocate for peace in the world. He lived until 1951 and wrote 20 books, including The Bells of Nagasaki.
He is held in great esteem in Japan by Christians and non-Christians, and his story deserves to be more widely known. As I continue my literary (and film/video) "tour" of East Asia, you will hear more about him from me. His story is deeply Catholic, sorrowful, mysterious, and marked by the distinctively Japanese cultural character that we need to understand better.
But you don't have to wait for me. Fr Paul Glynn, an Australian priest who lived many years in Japan, wrote a very accessible biography that was recently reprinted by Ignatius Press, which you can get HERE. It is not an easy story, but it is one that needs to be heard, and that is very important for our troubled world today.
Thursday, March 1, 2018
The Thirst of a Parched Land
I have been praying recently with this penitential text (posted in large print below) from Psalm 143. There is much here that strikes me and draws me to meditation.
Conversion and repentance spring from the memory of the power and goodness of the Lord. However great our sin and misery, when we turn to him we will discover that he has been reaching out to us, sustaining us, calling us all the while. He never forgets us.
The Lord is faithful, righteous (holy), the One whose works are good, who is worthy of trust. The Lord saves; he is full of steadfast love; he is the teacher, the One whose "spirit" leads to good paths, the preserver who rescues me from distress, and who is my refuge. He is also the One who will "enter into judgment" with me and with all who have ever lived.
He is "my God."
I am not righteous or holy as the Lord would have me be, so that I might stand in his presence. I have kept my distance from him, trying to live by my own self-sufficiency.
I forgot the Lord, and tried to exalt myself by my own strength, by my own ideas and the force of my own will. But then I learned that reality doesn't work that way.
Wandering by myself without the Lord, I became the prey of my enemies. I had no way of escaping the brutal, relentless logic of power and domination. It crushed my life, threw me into darkness, numbed my heart. My spirit was failing within me.
I was left in a desert inside myself, a parched land.
It was then that I remembered the deeds of the Lord, the works of his hands. I remembered his love, the love that creates and saves and renews and always prevails. I too am his handiwork. He is everything that my heart longs for.
Lord, my soul thirsts for you.
And now I cry out to the Lord, I seek his face, I wait upon his word, I lift up my soul to him, I trust in him, I beg for him to save me.
I am like the child who runs away for a careless adventure and becomes lost, then suddenly remembers the warmth of home and the generous love of his parents. The child cries out for help, to find the way home in the dark. He remembers again the tenderness and attentive concern of his parents and he takes heart--he knows that they are not far off, and that they are already searching for him.
"Hear my prayer, O Lord;
give ear to my supplications in your faithfulness;
answer me in your righteousness.
Do not enter into judgment with your servant,
for no one living is righteous before you.
"For the enemy has pursued me,
crushing my life to the ground,
making me sit in darkness like those long dead.
Therefore my spirit fails;
my heart is numb within me.
"I remember the days of old,
I think about all your deeds,
I meditate on the works of your hands.
I stretch out my hands to you;
like a parched land my soul thirsts for you.
"Answer me quickly, O Lord;
for my spirit fails within me.
Do not hide your face,
or I shall be like those who go down to the Pit.
Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning,
for in you I put my trust.
Teach me the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.
"Save me, O Lord, from my enemies;
I have fled to you for refuge.
Teach me to do your will,
for you are my God.
Let your good spirit lead me
on a level path.
"For your name’s sake, O Lord, preserve my life.
Conversion and repentance spring from the memory of the power and goodness of the Lord. However great our sin and misery, when we turn to him we will discover that he has been reaching out to us, sustaining us, calling us all the while. He never forgets us.
The Lord is faithful, righteous (holy), the One whose works are good, who is worthy of trust. The Lord saves; he is full of steadfast love; he is the teacher, the One whose "spirit" leads to good paths, the preserver who rescues me from distress, and who is my refuge. He is also the One who will "enter into judgment" with me and with all who have ever lived.
He is "my God."
I am not righteous or holy as the Lord would have me be, so that I might stand in his presence. I have kept my distance from him, trying to live by my own self-sufficiency.
I forgot the Lord, and tried to exalt myself by my own strength, by my own ideas and the force of my own will. But then I learned that reality doesn't work that way.
Wandering by myself without the Lord, I became the prey of my enemies. I had no way of escaping the brutal, relentless logic of power and domination. It crushed my life, threw me into darkness, numbed my heart. My spirit was failing within me.
I was left in a desert inside myself, a parched land.
It was then that I remembered the deeds of the Lord, the works of his hands. I remembered his love, the love that creates and saves and renews and always prevails. I too am his handiwork. He is everything that my heart longs for.
Lord, my soul thirsts for you.
And now I cry out to the Lord, I seek his face, I wait upon his word, I lift up my soul to him, I trust in him, I beg for him to save me.
I am like the child who runs away for a careless adventure and becomes lost, then suddenly remembers the warmth of home and the generous love of his parents. The child cries out for help, to find the way home in the dark. He remembers again the tenderness and attentive concern of his parents and he takes heart--he knows that they are not far off, and that they are already searching for him.
"Hear my prayer, O Lord;
give ear to my supplications in your faithfulness;
answer me in your righteousness.
Do not enter into judgment with your servant,
for no one living is righteous before you.
"For the enemy has pursued me,
crushing my life to the ground,
making me sit in darkness like those long dead.
Therefore my spirit fails;
my heart is numb within me.
"I remember the days of old,
I think about all your deeds,
I meditate on the works of your hands.
I stretch out my hands to you;
like a parched land my soul thirsts for you.
"Answer me quickly, O Lord;
for my spirit fails within me.
Do not hide your face,
or I shall be like those who go down to the Pit.
Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning,
for in you I put my trust.
Teach me the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.
"Save me, O Lord, from my enemies;
I have fled to you for refuge.
Teach me to do your will,
for you are my God.
Let your good spirit lead me
on a level path.
"For your name’s sake, O Lord, preserve my life.
In your righteousness save my soul from distress."
~Psalm 143:1-11
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
A Collage of Music
Have I been making some music lately?
Though I couldn't blame anyone for being skeptical, I have in fact been working on a little bit of music in these days.
I am definitely making instrumental collages😉...while listening to music. These are some of the musical instruments I have around the house, but by no means all of them.
I'm inspired. Stay tuned....🎵
I'm inspired. Stay tuned....🎵
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
Violence or Prayer
The heart has no boundaries.
Yet here we are, in this moment, in the midst of things that are limited.
If we try to grasp things and stretch them so that they correspond to the scope of our hearts, we will distort them and ultimately tear them apart.
This is the source of violence.
But if we act with the recognition that there is something more, that the goodness of things points to something and promises something that we do not see and cannot attain by our own power, then we act with receptivity, with a need and a question that opens us up to something or Someone who corresponds to our boundless hearts.
This is the seed of prayer.
This is the source of violence.
But if we act with the recognition that there is something more, that the goodness of things points to something and promises something that we do not see and cannot attain by our own power, then we act with receptivity, with a need and a question that opens us up to something or Someone who corresponds to our boundless hearts.
This is the seed of prayer.
Monday, February 26, 2018
Jesus Invites Us to Receive a "Good Measure"
Jesus said, "Stop judging and you will not be judged.
Stop condemning and you will not be condemned.Forgive and you will be forgiven.
Give and gifts will be given to you;
a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing,
will be poured into your lap.
For the measure with which you measure
will in return be measured out to you."
~Luke 6:37-38
I like to think I'm one of the people who don't "judge" or "condemn," but too often I'm just someone who wants to be "neutral" and disengaged. I don't want to cause trouble for myself or anyone else.
I want to be nice. I want to avoid controversy. I want to be left alone.
And this is exactly what I get. The walls I put up are very convincing. Everyone "respects" them. But behind those walls I am left alone.
I am left alone.
Often I really do think my misery is my own fault. Though perhaps I ought not to judge or condemn myself either. God alone judges, and even as he searches out our hidden faults, he also knows all the complex circumstances that constrain us and that can diminish somewhat our culpability.
This world, with its unprecedented and ongoing multiplication of so many kinds of power, smashes and breaks people in the places where they are vulnerable. It's a world of constant mental strain, and those who cannot keep up with the pace of its relentless, absorbing expansion of forces—or at least manage the stress—must shift through the wreckage it leaves behind in themselves.
I know this well enough. It's another more authentic reason why I don't want to be too hard on any person, and I suppose I should include myself. All these external pressures, along with my own weakness, overwhelm me on so many levels. I am more than vulnerable and sick. I am traumatized.
This world, with its unprecedented and ongoing multiplication of so many kinds of power, smashes and breaks people in the places where they are vulnerable. It's a world of constant mental strain, and those who cannot keep up with the pace of its relentless, absorbing expansion of forces—or at least manage the stress—must shift through the wreckage it leaves behind in themselves.
I know this well enough. It's another more authentic reason why I don't want to be too hard on any person, and I suppose I should include myself. All these external pressures, along with my own weakness, overwhelm me on so many levels. I am more than vulnerable and sick. I am traumatized.
But I do not put this forth as a sufficient excuse. I also know that I am a sinner. I throw myself upon the mercy of God.
Many of us are traumatized. We are all desperate and busy building walls around ourselves. Isolation is the order of the day. And isolation can take various forms.
We can be alone by ourselves, as intellectuals who analyze everything and commit to nothing. Or we can be alone "together" behind the fortress walls of our tribes—our illusory substitutes for commitment and community—bound together by violence and fear and the desire to make war on others.
Jesus says "stop judging" and "stop condemning," but at the same time he says, "Give..." which is akin to the exhortation to love, to suffer for the sake of justice, to lose ourselves for his sake so that we might truly find ourselves.
But he does not only exhort us. He draws us on the path that he himself has made through the cross to the resurrection.
Perhaps the closest step in this journey for each one of us is expressed in the words of this text that echo the Lord's Prayer: "Forgive and you will be forgiven." Every time we pray the prayer Jesus gave us, we implore God our Father for the fulfillment of all reality and of our own lives: for our daily bread, for his will, for deliverance from evil, for the coming of his kingdom.
In the midst of these pleadings, we make one petition in explicit relation to our own conduct: "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."
The call to forgive others appears to be laden with psychological associations that can seem crushing insofar as we have been deeply hurt by others. But there is no simple formula for expressing how the psychological and emotional profile of forgiveness should play itself out in a person's subjective experience. Wherever we may feel ourselves to be, we can only turn to God and beg him to empower us to give him what he asks of us.
God always loves us first. He wants to heal us and to open our hearts to receive his forgiveness and share it with others. Jesus came for forgiveness of sins. He came with the readiness to pour out a good measure, an overflowing love by which we might love him and one another.
He promises that good measure, and even now he prompts us to ask him to change us, to make us capable of receiving it, to be freed for the outpouring of forgiveness. He will show us the way and he will carry us on his shoulders.
"Ask and you will receive."
Sunday, February 25, 2018
I'm an Old Patchy Garden on a Ruined Estate
I am growing old. And I am like an old patchy garden on a ruined estate.
The layout is grand, but the walls are broken down. Weeds are everywhere. I have been tended at the edges, and there are bright blooming new flowers and bushes (brought from all over the world). The gaps are filled in by artificial foliage.
This is all for show, really. Most of it is fake.
It looks good to people who drive by the outskirts, people who drive fast.
Inside the garden the paths that are still left are scarcely visible. All the rows that were meant for the cultivation of delicate things are overrun with wild grasses and the crude but tenacious plants that can grow anywhere.
Other parts are barren, blighted by invasive weeds and plagues of insects, or dried up in exhausted unnourished soil. Yet another section is flooded into swampland and reeks of stagnant water and dead leaves.
There are places, nonetheless, where roses still grow. The bushes are rarely pruned, and so the roses are wild. But they have not lost their beauty.
A few of the great old trees survive, spreading shade in their spots and vitality beneath their soil. They nurture mosses and vines and clover and the hardy things of the forest that no one notices, but that break through the ground and reach up in search of the sun.
And there are flowers. Small and simple, pale and common, large and strange flowers in different places. Some look misshapen or half-dead, struggling against a polluted atmosphere. Half-dead, but also half-alive.
And they are flowers. They are alive. They have their own beauty.
I am an old patchy spoiled garden on a ruined estate—and the years have made a wreck of me, a wasteland.
But the sun still shines, the rains fall, and even now, a few new things are born from the earth.
There are new things and old things that still grow.
The layout is grand, but the walls are broken down. Weeds are everywhere. I have been tended at the edges, and there are bright blooming new flowers and bushes (brought from all over the world). The gaps are filled in by artificial foliage.
This is all for show, really. Most of it is fake.
It looks good to people who drive by the outskirts, people who drive fast.
Inside the garden the paths that are still left are scarcely visible. All the rows that were meant for the cultivation of delicate things are overrun with wild grasses and the crude but tenacious plants that can grow anywhere.
Other parts are barren, blighted by invasive weeds and plagues of insects, or dried up in exhausted unnourished soil. Yet another section is flooded into swampland and reeks of stagnant water and dead leaves.
There are places, nonetheless, where roses still grow. The bushes are rarely pruned, and so the roses are wild. But they have not lost their beauty.
A few of the great old trees survive, spreading shade in their spots and vitality beneath their soil. They nurture mosses and vines and clover and the hardy things of the forest that no one notices, but that break through the ground and reach up in search of the sun.
And there are flowers. Small and simple, pale and common, large and strange flowers in different places. Some look misshapen or half-dead, struggling against a polluted atmosphere. Half-dead, but also half-alive.
And they are flowers. They are alive. They have their own beauty.
I am an old patchy spoiled garden on a ruined estate—and the years have made a wreck of me, a wasteland.
But the sun still shines, the rains fall, and even now, a few new things are born from the earth.
There are new things and old things that still grow.
Friday, February 23, 2018
Day of Prayer and Fasting for Peace
Pope Francis has proposed that today be voluntarily observed as a day of prayer and fasting for peace, especially for the central African countries of the Democratic Republic of the Congo and South Sudan.
Both of these places are enduring protracted political instability, the effects of civil war, and ongoing humanitarian crises of gigantic proportions.
He invites all people of good will to join him in this appeal to God and self-sacrifice, to solidarity and compassion toward these suffering human beings in central Africa and though out the world.
I'm sure even people of "not-so-good-will" can join in too. The proportions of what's going on here are so enormous and catastrophic—everybody, just bring whatever you can to the table!
Click below to learn more:
Voluntary Day of Prayer and Fasting
Situation in Democratic Republic of Congo
Situation in South Sudan
Both of these places are enduring protracted political instability, the effects of civil war, and ongoing humanitarian crises of gigantic proportions.
He invites all people of good will to join him in this appeal to God and self-sacrifice, to solidarity and compassion toward these suffering human beings in central Africa and though out the world.
I'm sure even people of "not-so-good-will" can join in too. The proportions of what's going on here are so enormous and catastrophic—everybody, just bring whatever you can to the table!
Click below to learn more:
Voluntary Day of Prayer and Fasting
Situation in Democratic Republic of Congo
Situation in South Sudan
Thursday, February 22, 2018
The Rock
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| There is some serious rock in the region of Caesarea Philippi. |
When Jesus went into the region of Caesarea Philippi
he asked his disciples,
"Who do people say that the Son of Man is?"
They replied, "Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah,
still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets."
He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?"
Simon Peter said in reply,
"You are the Christ, the Son of the living God."
Jesus said to him in reply, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah.
For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you,
he asked his disciples,
"Who do people say that the Son of Man is?"
They replied, "Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah,
still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets."
He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?"
Simon Peter said in reply,
"You are the Christ, the Son of the living God."
Jesus said to him in reply, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah.
For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you,
but my heavenly Father.
And so I say to you, you are Peter,
and upon this rock I will build my Church,
and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.
I will give you the keys to the Kingdom of heaven.
Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven;
and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven."
And so I say to you, you are Peter,
and upon this rock I will build my Church,
and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.
I will give you the keys to the Kingdom of heaven.
Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven;
and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven."
~Matthew 16:13-19
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
Unpredictable Changes: Life is Full of Them
I haven't done an episode of My Front Porch in a while, but today seemed like a perfect day. So here I am, talking about the weather that has been changing from warm to cold/snow to hot within the past week.
Unpredictable changes: life is full of them!
Monday, February 19, 2018
The Grace and Freedom of Life in the Spirit
In the first days of Lent, we are exhorted to prayer, fasting, and works of mercy, justice, charity, and compassion.
At the same time, we are reminded that our very capacity to do good and the value of all our good actions are themselves his gifts to us and his work through us in the world.
He is the Creator and Lord, which means also that he is ever the origin, sustenance, and fulfillment of love. He creates us as persons endowed with freedom and sustains us in being at every moment.
Moreover, the gift of his grace in Jesus Christ raises us up beyond ourselves to a participation in his infinite life and love, a "divinized" existence that is fulfilled in our eternal destiny, but that begins even in the here-and-now: in the ordinary circumstances, joys, responsibilities, and sufferings of this life on earth.
This is life in the Spirit, the path along which we are called to grow to full maturity in Christ, and to help one another in living this vocation. Our freedom is empowered by the gift of his grace, and our actions of sacrifice and love sustained by it.
It is true that we must cooperate with grace. When God our Creator and Redeemer works "in" our freedom, he doesn't take its place. Rather, he makes our personal freedom more free, more profoundly our own, just as in creating us he gives us (really) to ourselves.
To live in the Spirit—to live and act by the grace of God—is to live in freedom, to grow toward becoming the fullness of the unique person he is calling us to be with him and with our brothers and sisters forever.
Still, freedom cannot be forced. God wants to empower us to choose and attain happiness, to love him and share in his life. But he doesn't compel us to respond to him, adhere to him, or stay with him. We can ignore his call of love; he won't force us to journey with him on the road he has prepared for our happiness and fulfillment.
But we cannot make ourselves happy by our own power. All good comes from God. Without him we cannot be whole and good; we cannot be happy. Let us therefore turn to him and trust in the grace and love that he surrounds us with all through our lives.
This Collect prayer from the second day of the Lenten season expresses well our recognition of our total dependence on the grace and mercy of the God who loves us and wants to bring us to our fulfillment in his image and likeness:
"Prompt our actions with your inspiration,
we pray, O Lord,
and further them with your constant help,
that all we do may always begin from you
and by you be brought to completion.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity
of the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever."
At the same time, we are reminded that our very capacity to do good and the value of all our good actions are themselves his gifts to us and his work through us in the world.
He is the Creator and Lord, which means also that he is ever the origin, sustenance, and fulfillment of love. He creates us as persons endowed with freedom and sustains us in being at every moment.
Moreover, the gift of his grace in Jesus Christ raises us up beyond ourselves to a participation in his infinite life and love, a "divinized" existence that is fulfilled in our eternal destiny, but that begins even in the here-and-now: in the ordinary circumstances, joys, responsibilities, and sufferings of this life on earth.
This is life in the Spirit, the path along which we are called to grow to full maturity in Christ, and to help one another in living this vocation. Our freedom is empowered by the gift of his grace, and our actions of sacrifice and love sustained by it.
It is true that we must cooperate with grace. When God our Creator and Redeemer works "in" our freedom, he doesn't take its place. Rather, he makes our personal freedom more free, more profoundly our own, just as in creating us he gives us (really) to ourselves.
To live in the Spirit—to live and act by the grace of God—is to live in freedom, to grow toward becoming the fullness of the unique person he is calling us to be with him and with our brothers and sisters forever.
Still, freedom cannot be forced. God wants to empower us to choose and attain happiness, to love him and share in his life. But he doesn't compel us to respond to him, adhere to him, or stay with him. We can ignore his call of love; he won't force us to journey with him on the road he has prepared for our happiness and fulfillment.
But we cannot make ourselves happy by our own power. All good comes from God. Without him we cannot be whole and good; we cannot be happy. Let us therefore turn to him and trust in the grace and love that he surrounds us with all through our lives.
This Collect prayer from the second day of the Lenten season expresses well our recognition of our total dependence on the grace and mercy of the God who loves us and wants to bring us to our fulfillment in his image and likeness:
"Prompt our actions with your inspiration,
we pray, O Lord,
and further them with your constant help,
that all we do may always begin from you
and by you be brought to completion.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity
of the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever."
Saturday, February 17, 2018
Friday, February 16, 2018
The Horror in Parkland Florida
Rapid-fire shots blistering through the halls and classrooms from an AR-15 semiautomatic rifle wielded by angry young hands.
Seventeen students and teachers killed. Numerous others wounded. An entire community reeling from the trauma.
Ugh, the horror. The horror of it! Words can't make it go away. Black ribbons, condolences, sorrow, none of it begins to fathom the depths of the ugliness, the evil, the laceration of humanity.
And the tears of parents, brothers, sisters, family, friends: yet another river of tears that runs into a vast ocean of all the tears that have already been shed.
These are evil times we live in. This is a death culture, with its illusions and excess and waste and loneliness, with "freedom" understood as the proliferation of meaningless choices.
By all means, let's make better laws.
Let's remember too that the particularly ugly violence of our times is not new. It's just getting harder to ignore. It's coming out of hiding. It's showing itself in more brazen forms.
It's showing itself in our own hearts. I see it in my heart: I hurt people, mock them, scoff at them, look down upon them. I do this above all to the people who are closest to me.
The horror casts its shadow within me, and its poison is always within reach. Violence is not just a problem in society. It's a problem in me.
And I can't resolve it. I don't have the answer, and I don't know how to extricate myself from complicity in the war that we all wage against one another.
"Non-violence." Is that just another impossible idea? Is that just more useless talk?
But I am convinced that the non-violence of love is greater than the violence of our hearts, of my own heart—not because I grasp this as a theoretical scheme or a social ideology or an imaginative utopian aspiration.
I am convinced because I have encountered love. I have met love in the flesh, and now my heart pleads for the freedom to follow that love, to see the face of that love every day.
Sometimes it's very hard to remember that beautiful face; it seems shrouded in darkness and there is the danger that we will begin to think that we just dreamed the whole thing up.
We must resist this sad sleep. Let's help one another to stay awake and remember.
It is only when I remember the face of love that I myself begin to have the courage to take the risks of love that bridge the abyss of death.
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Open Our Ears and Our Hearts
This text was published last week in MAGNIFICAT. It seemed to resonate with others, so I am reproducing it here as we enter upon this holy season of prayer, penance, and preparation for the celebration of the victory of Christ's all-embracing love.
Saturday, February 10, 2018
Thursday, February 8, 2018
Josephine Bakhita Shows Us How to be Free
Today we honor an African woman born in 1869 who endured years of slavery under brutal inhuman conditions before being freed, and discovering an even greater freedom in following Jesus.
She was called "Bakhita" by the Arab slave traders. It means "lucky one."
She was called "Bakhita" by the Arab slave traders. It means "lucky one."
There was nothing that looked lucky about the horrible abuse and mutilation that she suffered as a slave in Sudan. But then she was brought to Italy, where she worked in the household of an Italian diplomat and merchant and helped care for his daughter.
Accompanying the girl to her convent school, Bakhita encountered the love of Christ among the Canossian sisters, gave her life to him, and was baptized Giuseppina Fortunata ("lucky one" in Latin).
Though the diplomat's family treated her well, her position in Italy had not been legally clarified. An Italian court recognized her freedom, however, when she decided that she herself wanted to join the Canossian sisters.
As a consecrated religious sister she worked for 50 years at the convent and among the people, simply but with profound charity and great joy. She not only forgave her enslavers and oppressors, but said she would kiss their hands if she saw them, because through their hands the Lord had brought her to Jesus.
She died on February 8, 1947 and was canonized in the year 2000.
Though the diplomat's family treated her well, her position in Italy had not been legally clarified. An Italian court recognized her freedom, however, when she decided that she herself wanted to join the Canossian sisters.
As a consecrated religious sister she worked for 50 years at the convent and among the people, simply but with profound charity and great joy. She not only forgave her enslavers and oppressors, but said she would kiss their hands if she saw them, because through their hands the Lord had brought her to Jesus.
She died on February 8, 1947 and was canonized in the year 2000.
Saint Josephine Bakhita, you have a lot to pray for. We need your prayers especially in today's world.
Pray for an end to racism, human trafficking, child abuse, and violence against women.
Pray for South Sudan, your homeland. Pray for Africa and people everywhere of African heritage, especially those subjected to racial prejudice.
Pray for people all over the world who have been driven from their homes by war, persecution, or inhuman living conditions.
Pray for us, that we might love our enemies and and not seek vengeance against those who hurt us. Pray for us to be strengthened in the conviction that God loves us and them, that God has a plan, and that God orders everything to the good.
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
Twenty Six From Nagasaki
"My religion teaches me to pardon my enemies and all who have offended me. I do gladly pardon the Emperor and all who have sought my death. I beg them to seek baptism and be Christians themselves" (Saint Paul Miki, as he was crucified along with 25 others in Nagasaki, Japan, February 5, 1597).
[Photo above, at Martyrs' Memorial, Nagasaki.]
Today we honor the TWENTY SIX MARTYRS OF NAGASAKI, JAPAN. My current research has led me to this same place in the 20th century, to a remarkable Japanese doctor Takashi Nagai, who found Christ thanks to the witness of the spiritual children of these martyrs.
Today we honor the TWENTY SIX MARTYRS OF NAGASAKI, JAPAN. My current research has led me to this same place in the 20th century, to a remarkable Japanese doctor Takashi Nagai, who found Christ thanks to the witness of the spiritual children of these martyrs.
(Sorry, no spoilers from me on Takashi Nagai's amazing story, of which I am writing only the first part. You'll have to wait for the article.)
Sunday, February 4, 2018
The Miracle is that "Something is Different" in Our Lives
If we are committed Christians, we know that the love of Jesus is everything. This love has touched our lives, and we know that its power is nothing short of miraculous.
We know that it is wonderful. It is transforming. We know that he wants to share this love with every human person.
The miracle is not that everything is different in our lives, or that we have become totally coherent—that we have become overnight "instant saints."
And we are his witnesses.
Surely, we want to be on fire with this love so that it can shine through. We want the change in our lives to show that miracles are possible.
Right? "...Uh...yeah, sure.... I mean, yes, of course. Of course! Hallelujah!"
Hmm...so how's that "witness" going?
Maybe not so well, if we're honest about it. If we have known the love of God himself in the embrace of Christ, why do we keep forgetting and going back to selfishness, egoism, distraction, and strife?
Every day we fail. Even those who aim the highest find that they fall short again and again. Should this be a cause for discouragement?
Certainly not.
Certainly not.
It should be cause for humility, for prayer, for turning and returning to the sources of grace, the places where Jesus "touches" us. Our faith makes especially clear the fragility of our humanity, our immense poverty, our utter dependence on God for everything.
Still, we know that God is good and merciful, and that he has embraced our lives. We must not give up, but on the contrary cling ever more fully to him.
Knowing the depths of God's love and our own weakness, we have all the more reason to look upon the struggles of every human person with compassion. Knowing God's generosity and our own vulnerability, we have every reason to forgive others when they hurt us.
We cannot be complacent. We must always strive to say "yes" to the love God pours out on our lives, to beg for his love to change us, to turn us into lovers, to show the wonder of his beauty through us.
The "miracle" that people can discover when they look at our witness is not that we're "totally perfect" human beings. We're not even remotely close, and we don't need to hide that fact or pretend that's what we claim to be.
The "miracle" that people can discover when they look at our witness is not that we're "totally perfect" human beings. We're not even remotely close, and we don't need to hide that fact or pretend that's what we claim to be.
The miracle is not that everything is different in our lives, or that we have become totally coherent—that we have become overnight "instant saints."
Rather, if we are faithful, what people will begin to see is that in the midst of all our real messy flawed human lives, something is different— there is Something Else that gives us hope, "Something"(SomeONE) for whom we live....
Or at least they might see that we try to live for the One who loves us, that we desire it, we yearn for it and beg for it... because he is drawing us to himself.
I look at myself and it's clear that I'm so obviously mediocre, vain, and lazy that if there is any spark of that difference—that newness of life—in me (or even the desire for it) there must be Another at work in me.
I look at myself and it's clear that I'm so obviously mediocre, vain, and lazy that if there is any spark of that difference—that newness of life—in me (or even the desire for it) there must be Another at work in me.
I pray to be open to his work, to stay with him, to walk with him, and then in all the craziness of my life something new begins to happen. If as Christians we share the journey of our lives honestly and humbly, the light of the miraculous love that is changing us will shine and awaken hope in the hearts of others.
Friday, February 2, 2018
Presentation 2018
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| Details from Mosaic of the Presentation in the Temple, Marko Rupnik. |
"Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother,
'Behold, this child is destinedfor the fall and rise of many in Israel,
and to be a sign that will be contradicted
—and you yourself a sword will pierce—
so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed'"
(Luke 2:34-35).
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