The Transforming Power of Love

The winds of Hurricane Irene whistled outside as I read the Psalms and scriptures of morning prayer. Would the Spirit come to me on such a morning? Could there be inspiration in such a storm?



Patti, the love of my life, and my wife of forty years, stood at the window, anxious concern on her face. “The rocks will not hold!” she said.



She was referring to the rocks holding down the tarps on top of the industrial waste bin sitting in our driveway. The industrial container was filled to overflowing with old stuff from garage and basement that now could easily become dangerous debris filling the air – menacing missiles flying around our neighborhood in the winds of a powerful tropical storm.



Patti asked if there were any way we could tie the tarps down. Moments later I was out in the storm rope in hand.



All around me branches were cracking and falling from the trees in the screaming winds. The rain fell from the skies in torrents now driven into horizontal sheets by the raging gales. In moments I was soaked through and through, but I stayed on task though pelted without pause by racing wind and rain. I was doing it for Patti. I was doing it for love. It was love that moved through me, fueled my strength, and overcame my fear.



Even while I was tying down the tarps, I thought back to another moment where I had felt the strength of such love. It was while I was carrying my two year old son Patrick up Mt. Washington. We were at five thousand feet and raging winds had suddenly come upon us. Defying all predictions, the winds of Hurricane Dean had slammed into the state of New Hampshire, and we were without advance notice in the midst of the tempest.



Despite the fierce wind and rain, and the struggle of the steep mountain climb, I reached the summit where shelter and warmth awaited me and my son. I remember the power that came over me when Patrick said, “Da Da, cold, DaDa, cold!” At that time too, it was love that moved through me and fueled my strength. Nothing could have stopped me from saving my son.



The tarp was tied down. I headed back to the warmth and safety of my home. I suddenly thought of the cross of Jesus. It was love that moved through Him and fueled His strength. He endured the terror of the Passion for love of me, of us - all of us. Nothing could have stopped Him from taking us to shelter, home, and heaven in the Father’s House.

9-11 Can It be 10 Years?!

        There’s a powerful message in Fr. Peter’s preface to the September issue of “The Magnificat”. I think he is right in saying that there was a “message from God” for all of us in the meditation of Fr. Ciszek that was the reading in “The Magnificat” for September 11, 2001. Does it really seem like 10 years ago? In any case the lesson of Fr. Ciszek seems even more pressing and important for all of us today. Here's the meditation:

        “How easy it is … for us to become dependent on our routines… Friends and possessions surround us… It is the status quo that… carries us from day to day… We begin to lose sight of the fact that… behind all these things it is God who… sustains us. We go along, taking for granted that tomorrow will be very much like today, comfortable in the world we have created for ourselves… and give little thought to God. Somehow, then, God must contrive to break through those routines… and remind us once again… that we are ultimately dependent only upon him,… that his we are and that we must look to him and turn to him in everything. Then it is, perhaps, that he must allow our whole world to be turned upside down in order to remind us it (this world) is not our permanent abode or final destiny, to bring us to our senses and restore our sense of values, to turn our thoughts once more to him.”

        Incredible that this was the reading for September 11, 2001 in “The Magnificat”!!!

The Wedding Toast

To Andrea and Bernadette, given with all my love:






THE WEDDING TOAST





Many, many years ago I worked on a pig farm. I had told the farmer that I had worked on a farm before, and he hired me on the spot. I think he needed help desperately. If not, why hire me? What I didn’t tell the farmer was that I had worked only a chicken farm beforehand, and never at all on a pig farm. Whether the farmer was testing me or not, I do not know. But my first assigned task would in fact measure how much I actually knew about key procedures to keep in mind when working with pigs.



I was told to move a mother sow and her seven piglets out of a pen in the birthing house, and into a much larger pen adjacent to the barn, and all the way across the barnyard. How does one do that? I didn’t have a clue. But I must show confidence and an air of command and control to my boss, and that is precisely what I did. Saying to farmer McCalla, “No problem sir!”, I went to the birthing house to do my assigned task. Farmer McCalla handed me a large piece of plyboard as I made my way there. I had no idea what that plywood was for. Maybe for protection… Maybe it was a gate for the new and larger pen…



In any case, once in the birthing house, I opened the pen where the mother sow was with the seven piglets. The result was immediate mayhem. With the birthing house door also open, the sow and the piglets began to run all over the barnyard. Some of the piglets even started to run out into the boar’s field adjacent to the highway. Nothing I tried could get the mother sow under control. Once in the barnyard she sensed the feed bags along the barn wall, and headed to the “food” at a stampede pace. If I valued my life the only course of action I could take was “to get the heck out of her way”!



But the food did contain the mother sow’s movements. As I saw her tear into one of the feed bags, farm experience or not, I was smart enough to know that this mother sow was not going to go any where soon. So I turned my attention to the piglets. As they squealed out of my grasping hands time and time again, I realized that I couldn’t capture one of them. Without a pig farmer’s experience and know-how, I now knew that I was “in way over my head” – or to be more precise, “up crap’s creek without a paddle”.



My near fatal mistake was chasing one of the piglets out into the “boar’s field”. Boars have tusks, and have to be around 700 to 800 pounds. And as soon as I started chasing that piglet out into the boar’s field, the boar started chasing me – “Charging me” would be a better description. Thank God I realized soon enough what was happening, or this story would never be told. The heck with the piglet! I started running toward the boar’s field fence as fast as I could, and leaped over that fence with the grace and prowess of an Olympian. The edge of the boar’s tusks couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 feet behind me.



Once back at the barnyard, I found my breath again, tried to get my heart out of my throat, and back to its proper place in my chest. I also did everything in my power to avert my eyes from the glare and stare of my new boss. How I survived that first day at work, and lived to work there another day, I do not know, and cannot explain. Yet miracles do happen!



But once I did regain my composure, I experienced what I call to this day a “divine illumination”. There was Farmer McCalla using the plywood gate to “whack” the mother sow over to the new and larger pen across the barnyard. All you had to do to control the sow’s movements was hit her in the nose with the plyboard. Once she was in the new pen, an amazing event happened. Gradually but surely, all the piglets made their way to the mother. “Capture the mother, and you’ll get all the children as well.”



**************



Now even in that moment in the barnyard, as I watched all this unfold before my eyes, I realized the Lord was using this experience to teach me a most invaluable lesson. As the farmer must capture the mother pig to get all the piglets, so the Christian must capture the Kingdom first, and “all else that we need will be ours as well.”



What is the “Kingdom”? What is this central core of the Christian life that we must have even as every man and woman must have a pulsating heart at the center of their existence? The “Kingdom” is the “Reign” of God’s Love over the hearts and minds of all humanity. And to enter the Kingdom each of us must make a “prayer of the heart” like Mary, a prayer of openness to God’s Love, God’s Spirit, a prayer allowing that Love to reign over our heart and mind and human spirit.



This is the “heart” of the Christian life. It is the “treasure hidden in the field’, for which a man goes and sells all that he has, and purchases that field. It is the “pearl of great price” for which a man goes and sells all that he has, and purchases that pearl.



Without the “heart”, all the other parts of the body cease to function, cease to live. We lose all without the heart. We gain all with it. So too in the Christian life. if we seek first the “Kingdom of God”, all else we need will be given to us as well. If we capture the “mother pig”, we will get all the piglets!



***************



Andrea, I wanted with all my heart for you to marry Bernadette when you told me and my family that she was the “treasure” – the treasure for which a person should go and sell all that they have to but it. And you meant by “treasure” that Bernadette was a “sign” of the Kingdom, that she was for you, like Mary, the face of Christ’s Love.

I knew at that moment that you were of one heart with my daughter because she believes that you are the “treasure” as well. I wanted your marriage from the moment you said this because I knew then that your marriage would “touch heaven”, even as your wedding was a “touch of heaven”. I knew then your marriage to my daughter would bring “heaven to earth” for all of us, even as Mary did.



Hold on to this “treasure” and God’s Love will always go with you. He will never leave you, fail you or forsake you. With this “treasure” of the “Kingdom of God” within you, with this “treasure” of God’s Love” always on fire in your hearts, all else that you need will always come your way. God give you eyes to see what you have: that you now have the “heart” of the Christian life in your hands… You have the “treasure” hidden in the field, you have the “pearl of great price”, you have given all for the “Kingdom”, you have captured the “Mother Pig”!

"Summer Freedom"

“Summer Freedom”





Dear Friends,



It’s a perfect summer day in New England, and yet looking at the calendar, one knows that there won’t be many more to come. I chose the reading below this week because it has always captured for me the feeling of summer freedom, and the feeling of spiritual freedom as well. Why not take a look at the sharing below, and enjoy with me one last nostalgic experience of the summer freedom so soon to end for all Northerners like me?!





"For Freedom Christ Has Set Us Free"

- St. Paul, Gal. 5:1





Many, many years ago I went with friends to spend an incredible weekend at the summer home of my best friend's family. The home was gorgeous - right at the water's edge on Lake Winnepesaukee in New Hampshire. It was June of the summer before my senior year in high school, and vacation had just begun. I remember that weekend like it was yesterday. I remember how the feeling of freedom filled the air that weekend. The whole of that weekend all the youth present were on a "natural high". It was a feeling of freedom to the point of intense and intoxicating.



Freedom was with us every time we dove from the boat dock into the cool, clear water of the mountain lake. Freedom energized us too every time we raced each other out to the raft off shore. In the 60's rafts were everywhere at lakes and beaches, and this one was about fifty yards out at the beginning of a beautiful, broad area of open water. Just on its own out there, not connected or tied to the land, the raft itself was like a symbol of freedom. Once out there we had amazing views all around us - clear views into far off hills on every side of the vast expanse of the wide-open lake. We spent so many carefree hours out on that raft that weekend - hours that seemed to fly by like minutes. Perhaps it was because all of us were so ecstatic that exams were now done and all worries about grades were now past. A carefree spirit of freedom had indeed seized all of us. It had reached deep into each of us as we dove, swam, talked, and laughed. It was even with us as we just laid out on the raft deck, and silently soaked in the rays of the early June sun. All sense of time and pressure was a distant memory as we lay there without a worry in the world, all the while fanned by gentle lake breezes that "glided" over our bodies in a steady, cool, continual flow.



For myself though, even from the outset of this awesome weekend, I knew there was a deeper reason for the freedom I felt, and even upon arriving at the lake, I could think of little else. Even from my earliest years there was always a feeling of freedom when I headed north into New Hampshire. Even from early childhood New Hampshire always meant "vacation", and the feeling of being free of all burdens and cares. Ever since my early youth too, the most memorable vacation each year was always in New Hampshire. Then too, it was always the same one that my family repeated each summer. This was my family's annual summer climb into the White Mountains. As long as I can remember, some of my most exalted moments of freedom always happened on these hiking excursions in the mountains to the north.



So it was that even from the very moment of my arrival at the home on the lake, I was already reliving cherished moments of climbing each summer. I was reliving too the experience of freedom I always felt heading ever farther north into New Hampshire. Even now in the quiet by the lakeside that Friday, long before classmates arrived, I stood alone out on the boat dock and gazed off beyond the lake into the hills and peaks of the north country. With refreshing lake breezes blowing in my face and through my hair, I savored those treasured memories and relived the freedom born of those moments.



Gazing deep into the north country, I knew the "Presidentials" were out there beyond the lake, and beyond the hills and peaks I could see. In the quiet of the lake-side, I thought of how every summer of my youth climaxed with the hiking trip to Washingtom, Jefferson, Adams and Madison. The annual climbing excursions to the summits of these peaks had become a sacrosanct tradition in my family, and even now by the lake I could hardly wait for the summer hike soon to come. On the summits of the "Presidentials" I had so often felt my soul soar and fly, my spirit become unrestrained and free, like an eagle gliding ever upward toward the sun on the currents of the wind. Often on the summit of these majestic peaks, I would sit out even until way after sunset, feeling in the blaze of color in a twilight sky like nothing or no one could keep me from reaching the "top of the world" with my life and dreams.



There by the lake-side, one treasured summit memory in particular came alive once more, and I could feel as real once again the freedom of that moment. It was a night on the top of Madison. A magnificent sunset gave way to a golden full moon rising in the east. I stayed on that mountain summit even until after midnight, drinking in a feeling of peace and freedom as powerful moonlight beamed down on me from a moon that seemed so close I could touch it. I can remember the perfect peace and bliss I felt as I lay on a stretch of mountain heather and looked out, in the now silver light of a higher moon, over the vast panorama of the Jefferson valley far below. While I laid there for hours on a carefree vacation night, beautiful summer breezes blew white puffy clouds into the mountain and into me. The clouds glowed silver and almost ghost-like in the magnificent moonlight, and in the glowing clouds I felt not only free, but powerful - like Moses in the cloud on Sinai or like Moses before Pharaoh.



Freedom, Peace, Joy, the Power of God, and God himself were so real on that mountain that night. What a magnificent moment that was. What I had yet to realize though is that this Freedom, Peace, and the Power and Presence of God were to be equally as real at Winnepesaukee on that ideal weekend of my youth - so long ago now, and yet for me, never, never to be forgotten.



I remember that my friends and I had finished a great day of swimming and boating for hours and hours - yet hours and hours that again seemed to go by like minutes. It was on a perfect sunny Saturday where the sky was totally blue, and the open lake breezes were "to die for". It was evening now, and we were just finishing a great cookout over an open stone grill. At that time of my youth a "great cookout" always meant a menu that had to include juicy cheeseburgers and char-grilled hot dogs. I can't remember, and don't want to remember, how many of both of those items I had already finished, but I do recall being more than satisfied by the tons of food placed before us. Eating gave way to the family and all my friends just lounging out on the wide-open deck over-looking the lake, and as we did a most gorgeous sunset worked the magic of silencing even a group of teens and filling us all with wonder.



I can remember too the soothing sounds of a summer evening engulfing us. I remember the soft breezes off the lake were just right. I remember my best friend's dad removing the grid off the open-air stone grill, and stoking up the fire for light and warmth. As he did so, we all grew so much more relaxed and gladly continued to sit outside by the open lake into the evening and into the night. I can remember the last glimmers of mauve light on sunset clouds over the open expanse of the huge lake. I remember that the glowing light of the clouds lingered a long time, glowing not only in the evening sky, but also in the perfect mirror reflection that shone off the still, quiet lake. The soft glow from clouds and lake gave way only ever so gradually to the dark, vast sky, filled with millions of stars as one can only see in open country far from city lights, far from city smoke and smog.



I remember how all of us had become so quiet. We had become lulled into a deep peace by the crackling of the wood in the fire and the colorful dancing of the flames. I can remember being put to rest too as we all began to listen to the sounds in the darkness. We all were so drawn to the sounds of the evening, and loved hearing the serenade of crickets and God only knows what other creatures of the night. The last glimmers of natural light were gone now, and only the wood fire in the old stone grill could guide our movements on the deck along the lakefront. But the deep darkness by the firelight was not to be for long, for I can remember the most awesome quiet that came over all of us, as a June full moon now began to rise over the hills to the east. It was amazing how it began to make a luminous path directly toward us over the open expanse of the perfectly still water.









Yes, the evening was filled with the "sounds of silence", and so many moments of quiet awe before the beauty of God's creation. But the evening was filled with the fun of friends and family too. Jokes and great stories sent our laughter out over the lake - laughter accented all the more by the stillness and quiet of the air, the water, and the forest. It was also not too far into the evening before one person in particular stood out with prominence at the center of our jokes and stories. As amazing as it may seem, he was a priest. His name was Fr. Ted, and that weekend on the lake he was also a guest of my best friend's family.



His jokes and stories were awesome. They had come one after another in rapid-fire, and ever so gradually they were drawing us to gather around and near him. He sat near to the fire where we all could see him; where we all could focus on his facial features and expressions, observe his every move and gesture. He was a man so remarkably filled with joy and humor, and at times he would break out into a belly laugh that would make the whole group as well lose it with laughter. All the friends of my youth present were enjoying the challenge of drawing him out more and more, and making him share what were in fact so many hilarious episodes from his past. He loved the attention, and we came to see so quickly that he was an exceptional and gifted storyteller.



But for me and my friends it will always be for one story in particular that we will remember this man for as long as we live. Even now I can remember the whole of it - every detail of the amazing tale he shared that night in the solemn quiet by the fire. The story had an incredible power. Without any exaggeration, it was a story that kept all of us - even a bunch of high school teens - in rapt attention for hours. For me it was the power source for a transformation that has defined me to this day; the power source for an enlightenment that to this day has stayed indelibly lodged in my memory. How deeply the lessons and insights gleaned from that strange tale have guided me and impacted my life ever since that night. I know now the secret to its power was that the Presence of God was so real during its telling. That Presence seemed to issue forth with ever-deepening intensity as each chapter unfolded. For all of us there that night, the Presence of God was so real. It filled our hearts and filled the air. It overwhelmed that profound quiet by the lake front. The story had been nothing short of a powerful sign that God was here, that God was alive, and reaching out to our world and to us with a love beyond all that we can ask or even imagine possible.



I can remember how the story all started. The meal was winding down over home-made ice cream sundaes. Fr. Ted had moved us all toward the laughter of light-hearted conversation, and even silly conversation - conversation with all guards down, and with a beautiful openness and trust of family beginning to bond all of us together. We were "free" with each other, and even our laughter expressed the joy and exhiliration of the freedom that embraced us all that night. We were as free, relaxed, and as comfortable with each other as only best friends and family can be. I have always thought that this feeling of freedom was why Fr. Ted could totally open up as he did, and risk sharing with us all to the measure and depth of truth that he had.



The full moon had risen higher over the lake to the east, and was so high in the sky that its light had gone from gold to silver-white. It now cast a beautiful glow over our lake-side gathering. Fr. Ted became very pensive now. I remember how strange it seemed when his demeanor changed. He gazed first up at the moon, as if it reminded him of something important - perhaps some significant memory from the past. We all knew when the seriousness came over him that the funny stories were over, and that something of great import was now absorbing the whole attention of his mind and heart. He became quiet - ever so quiet. His long gaze upon a beautiful moon ended, and then slowly, he turned and looked toward the north and west - toward the hills and mountains in the deep north country. In the day time, this view to the north and west was beautiful to behold, and even now in brilliant moonlight the purple dark hills stood out strong and tall against a silver night sky. Many of us looked with Fr. Ted as he fixed his gaze high out over the lake in that north and west direction.





But despite the beauty of the hills, all of us could not help but notice the deep sigh that accompanied his gaze and the heavy heart that now filled the expression of the priest. It was as if something traumatic had happened out there, to the north and west of the lake, deep in the far north mountains. Perhaps it was something like a defining moment experience whose memory even to this day deeply moved him. Perhaps the moment had been the source of a powerful revelation that he needed to share. What we could discern was that the power of the truth he carried was too difficult to bear alone. We could all tell that he wanted to talk about it, if only to have others share the burden of the truth, and the power of the truth that he carried. His glance now turned from the hills toward us, and he focused with a solemn authority on all of our faces glowing in the firelight. He searched our eyes to see if he still had our openness, yet now to hear another story quite different from anything he had told so far.



The glow of the moonlight upon the northern hills had indeed revived a powerful memory within the mind and heart of the priest. It was the memory of a story, and that memory now consumed and overwhelmed him. It was a strange and uncommon story that Fr. Ted had heard from another priest only just the summer before our gathering at the lake. The other priest was named Fr. Andrew, and Fr. Ted had helped him the year before with a swelling summer parish in the vacation country of New Hampshire's White Mountains. As we all listened to the start of Fr. Ted's story, we all guessed it - the parish was way deep in the mountains to the north and west of the lake.



Fr. Ted told us that Fr. Andrew's story was a ghost story - and on Halloween night at that! All of us - family, friends, and youth huddled by the lake - smiled at the thought, and now settled into comfortable positions. The fire in the old stone grill simmered now, more than crackled, with a softer yet more intense red and blue flame. Its magic light surrounded and engulfed us, and the storyteller as well, with dancing shadows all in a golden glow. A ghost story by the campfire, and on the "Eve of All Hallows" to top it off! Could it get any better than that?



But though the suggestion of "Halloween and ghosts" had humored all of us into total quiet and full attention, the seriousness of Fr. Ted's expression never relented. He now looked us all in the eyes at that lakeside by the moonlight, and swore to us that the story Fr. Andrew had told him was totally true.



Now being young, carefree, and at the beginning of a fun-filled summer, there were a lot of concerns and questions about life and our world that deep down inside I was no where near ready to take seriously. And certainly ghost stories and Halloween tales were at the top of the list. Yet strangely, I began to listen to that story and heed that story - and really, we all did that night.



So now we were all comfortably settled into place. We had all moved as close as we could - near to the priest, and near to the fire. Our gaze would move from the fire to Fr. Ted, and back to the fire again. There was an enchantment settling over us, and we knew it. Yet it was irresistible, and we let it happen. It started when we fixed our gaze upon the fire - upon the warm glow of that quiet but intense red blue flame in the old stone grill. Yet the enchantment took over when we looked at the priest. It took over when Fr. Ted looked us all in the eyes, and began to speak - and speak with a depth of sincerity and solemnity that we had not seen in him before. It took us all by surprise. He spoke so intently, and the "Spirit" that began to flow forth from his words, his sincere warmth, and his depth of conviction, began to work its spell over all of us. His story unlike any other story began to lure us all totally into its magic.

A True Friend - Johnnie D.

A True Friend – Johnnie D.






Dear Friends,



In Book Two of “Eve of All Hallows, The Power of The Christ”, to be published this fall, I have an “Interlude” dedicated to one of my lifelong friends, Johnnie D. I hope that John, as well as all of my friends, enjoys its message. Here goes:





John – “…He Was a Lamp Burning And Shining,

And You Found Joy in His Light…”



- Jesus, talking about John The Baptist in Jn. 5:35



It was well after midnight now, and we had all been sitting by the campfire for over three hours. Yet the hours had seemed like minutes. What do they say about being in Love, or more precisely, about being in the presence of God? The hours go by like minutes, and even an eternity in the Presence of divine Love will seem timeless, will seem like a moment. And it was the presence of God that we were all feeling now. It was a spellbound awe in the presence of the Holy, but also an awe in the light of the Gospel and its power to release the Holy into our world - an awe that must have paralleled the awe of the shepherds before the angelic Light that pierced their own night on that first Christmas.



During each of the interludes in the story, either Lawr or Johnnie D. - and sometimes Michael and myself - would go to get more wood for the fire. But it was Lawr and Johnnie really who were the watchkeepers of the fire that night. With each pause in the story they would get up, and guided only by moonlight, quickly run over to the pile of stacked wood along the side of the lake cottage.



Unlike Michael and me, when Lawr and John came back from the pile, six or seven logs all at once rested on one of their muscular shoulders - and those all wrapped within the fold of one muscular arm. Let's just leave it at this - that Michael and I couldn't do that. In any case, mostly because of the vigilance of John and Lawr, now, hours later, the blue flames of logs burned right to their core still kept a full and vibrant fire crackling and sizzling quietly in the dark - yet still with a sound that was in stark contrast to the late night silence of the forest.



It was the segments in Fr. Ted's story about the Gospel and its Power that makes me want to reminisce about the awesome witnesses to the Faith that both Johnnie D. and Michael were also to become, even by their college years – much like the great Lawrence himself (Lawr!)! Johnnie D. and Michael, like all the rest of us around that campfire, were cut to the heart by Fr. Ted's story. Very much like Lawr - and unlike me - Johnnie D. and Michael were quick to open their hearts that very night to God's Presence. In the days, weeks, and months to come, they kept in touch with Fr. Ted, each seeking through his counsel and friendship to fill their soul and spirit with more of the transforming Power and Presence of Christ. How that Power and Presence had moved them, and all of us so deeply, just from the telling of Fr. Ted's tale - a tale of the supernatural on one special night, by the light of one special fire, so long, long ago.



I have already said much about Michael – about his leadership, his sharp insight and wit, and his charisma, especially with women. But John in no way was less in stature. He was a young man gifted and graced in so many ways, and he could always rise to the challenge of matching Michael – matching him as readily in the academic arena as out there on the athletic field.



As for after that summer weekend by the lake, John would go on from our high school to the University of Maryland, and there made his bold stand for Christ. In one challenging situation after another, John would witness intrepidly to the Power and Presence of Christ alive in our lives in our own day and time. I have loved so many of the stories of witness that Johnnie D. has shared with me over the years. So many of these he still shares on the high school Antioch Retreats that we now run together as adults.



One story in particular captures so well the kind of courage for the Gospel that is so characteristic of John. It is a story that explains why to so many, including myself, it is the role and power of an Evangelist that marks and defines John's bold witness to youth in the Church today.









As John tells it, he was going to daily Mass in Lent during one of his college years in Maryland. For those daily liturgies the priest celebrant would invite the students to gather up in the sanctuary around the main altar. The celebrant also encouraged dialogue homilies each day, and after he gave his priestly reflection on the scriptures, the students could share their own insights as well.



During one of these daily dialogue sessions, a young co-ed shared something that was extremely problematic for John. And though it was a young co-ed who shared it, it could just as easily have been any one of a thousand different young men too – a thousand and more who though alive and well out there in the Church today seem to be oblivious to the central and core concepts of Christianity, God knows why!



After the priest’s sharing, the co-ed was the first to speak up from among the many students gathered around that main altar. She was reflecting in response to one of the divine pronouncement passages in John's Gospel that had just been used at Mass. These are passages where Jesus clearly claims equality with God (Jn. 5:18). In this case the passage was one where Jesus clearly applied the divine name to Himself that Yahweh had revealed to Moses (Jn. 8:58) - "...before Abraham came to be I am."



The co-ed shared quite brazenly that as far as she was concerned, Jesus had problems - or to put it bluntly, had a "God-complex" like Jeremiah and so many of the other prophets who had a "pipeline to God" mentality. "Today we know better...", she said, "...than to believe in anyone who felt that as far as getting to God was concerned, it was their way or the highway. It’s preposterous for anyone to claim exclusive and privileged access to the divine, as if their way was the only way to God."



Johnnie D. was sitting there quietly around the Table of the Lord and in the context of the Eucharist, wondering why someone who thought this way would even be at the Mass in the first place. There was a prolonged silence. It was a dramatic silence, like that silent moment in film before the attack, the eruption. Or, put in more positive light, it was the quiet moment before a great and wonderful revelation, the quiet moment before Dorothy or Lucy opens a door to a whole new and beautiful world.



John studied the face of the priest and of all the students surrounding the altar to see if anyone was going to say something. The Gospel was at stake. No one spoke. But then, as is characteristic of John, and of anyone with his kind of charisma, he boldly spoke up, “driven irresistibly by the Spirit” to do so.



Yes, St. Paul’s words are meant here literally: “driven irresistibly by the Spirit”! Johnnie D. always shares on our retreats how in that moment he could feel the anointing of the Holy Spirit come upon him with Power. Perhaps, John has often reflected with me, it was much like Mary experienced when the Power of the Most High overshadowed her. Johnnie is so adamant in his challenges to me that his experience may well have been like that of the Blessed Mother. If she is the Mother of the Church, why should what is true for her not be true for us? Why, John insists, should we not expect that what is true for her, would also be true for the Church to follow and model?



In any case, it was abundantly clear to John during this dialogue homily that the Spirit of God was powerfully anointing him. As never before my friend felt with certainty that it was the Spirit Who was about to speak His Word through John as through the Lord's chosen instrument in that moment. Like Mary, John was about to bring Christ into the world, and into that sanctuary.



There at the main altar, before the priest and all present, Johnnie D. began his response to the co-ed by quoting from the Gospel of John, both John 14:6, and then John 12:32. From John 14 he read the words of Jesus that "...I am the way, the truth, and the Life, and no one comes to the Father but by Me.” From John 12 he read the words of Jesus, “…And I, when I am lifted up from the earth (on the Cross!), will draw all men to himself."







John shares in his talks with youth today how when he read these Words at that college Mass, they were alive and powerful, filling the sanctuary with the tangible Presence of God's Spirit. Johnnie reflects now on our retreats how he always knew the teaching of the Church - that when the Word is proclaimed at Mass, the Risen Jesus is rendered as present in the assembly as when the words of consecration are spoken over the gifts of bread and wine.



But John shares how in this moment during that dialogue homily, he knew that teaching for the first time not only with his mind, but with his heartas well. In that sanctuary that day, he could feel the Power of God's Love become present when God's Word was spoken. The Words were Spirit and Life, and God's Word spoken and proclaimed released the Holy Spirit into the whole assembly. Suddenly, Words that were living and active, and sharper than a two-edged sword, pierced to the hearts of everyone there. It was as if John's reflection upon God's Word rendered present the Spirit and Power of the Risen Christ.



What was his reflection in the light of God's Word from the Gospel of John? Johnnie D. explained that because of Jesus' Resurrection, He was "the way" that God has chosen for humanity to enter into His Life and Love. In fact, Johnnie D. himself was at the Eucharist they were now celebrating to do precisely that - enter into communion with Jesus' Life, Love, and Power. John stated boldly that the Resurrection sets Jesus and His teaching apart from the Founders of all the world’s religions. In the light of the Resurrection, Christianity and communion with Christ are God's way to enter into His own Heart, the Life and Spirit of His Son.



"But did the Resurrection really happen?" the co-ed retorted swiftly. But John too was quick to answer. What is this Eucharist, he replied, if not "the way" we enter into the Spirit of the Risen Christ, and become filled with the Love of the One Who was given up for us? "In the Eucharist", John said, "I expect to enter into union with the Risen Christ, and know in Him the Love and Spirit of the Father present in power to my life. And if you open your heart to His Risen Presence, you will experience that Power and Presence as well.”



“A personal Pentecost after all is the sign given to all of us that Jesus did rise from the dead and is now seated at the right hand of the Father. Jesus Himself said that when he would go to the Father, He would send His Spirit to us. In Eucharist, when we partake of His Body and Blood, we too are filled with the Spirit of Pentecost, and know even as the apostles did that only in Jesus do we find our way to God - only in union with Him, with His Spirit, does humanity become empowered like Christ to go to the Father as well."



There was now another kind of silence that came over that small assembly after John had finished speaking. It was a holy silence, a silence filled with the Presence of God. The priest looked at John with wonder and amazement, much as a father beaming with pride over a son who had just spoken with courage before a vast assembly. It is true too that each time John tells this story to yet another group of youth on our retreats, that same awesome silence settles over all of us. I have been on so many of those retreats, and seen this myself. Much like on that special night by the fire long ago, I too have felt with all the youth there on those retreats, that holy silence rich with God’s fire, a silence where our hearts burn with the Life and Love of the Risen Jesus - the Risen Jesus Who is present in power to us as well, alive and still with us in our own day and time.



But a final thought here is imperative. Each time Johnnie D. shares that story, like the priest in that U of M chapel, I too beam with pride over my friend. I feel so proud of him for speaking up - that he did what did, and that he did it for Jesus. I feel proud that such a man is honored to be my friend. His courage to proclaim Christ is exemplary, and so desperately needed today.













Contemporary society can be such a dark place – a dark world void of God’s Love, a world excising even the mention of God from it academic arenas and forums, from its assemblies and market places. How desperately then our society of today needs persons of courage to proclaim Christ, to proclaim that He is risen and still here in the midst of us. How desperately the world of today needs to know the Light of God’s Love as real and powerfully present to us. How desperately the world of today, tormented and terrified by its own darkness, needs to know the Power of God’s Light in the face of Evil, the Power of His Love as a real force for freedom - the freedom of a Love casting out all fear from our lives.



Yes, I feel proud that I have such a man of God for a friend, someone who has been my friend and brother since high school. I feel proud that such a man has stood with me and by me in the cause of Christ for the whole of my adult life. He is that rare friend who has especially stood by me even in the shadow of my cross. He is that rare friend who has imaged to me the unconditional love of God, even when it meant for him stepping out onto the water, and facing for me and with me the winds and waves of a storm at sea.

Larsan’s Funeral

Yes, as St. Paul says, our time on this earth is not meant to last forever – "We have not here our eternal home." How deeply that truth was brought home to me and to all who attended Larsan's wake and funeral over the last two days.

Our labor and suffering here is meant to prepare us for eternal weight of Glory in a world beyond our own – and again, as St. Paul says, the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing to the Glory that awaits us. And Larsan now sees the Glory!

The students at our school were at the services to the point of overflowing, and all seemed so open to this message – that Larsan has already what the rest of us still strive for, and strive for so often through cost, cross, crisis, and challenge.

The numbers at the wake and funeral were unbelievable. Over five hundred cars followed the hearse to the cemetery from the Church. Two lanes of the highway were blocked by the police for the five mile stretch on Rte. 95. Larsan was laid to rest in the cemetery right across the street from school property. White doves were released into the air after the closing prayer at the gravesite.

On Friday evening over a thousand people came to pay their respects. The waiting line went out the Church – the wake was in the Church – and around the whole parking lot into the neighborhood beyond. I said to Larsan's mother that it was a miracle that she and Larsan's father were able to greet all those people, and give each person their special moment with them. She agreed. She said the Lord strengthened her for that challenge, and that she would have had it no other way than to honor each and every person who came out to pay their respects to her son.

As for the Feehan students. I was bursting with pride and love for them. Three of them gave tributes to Larsan at the funeral, and all of their talks centered on how he was a witness to Christ's love for us all. They shared too so many examples of how Larsan demonstrated courage and strength through Christ to proclaim His Love boldly by his words and deeds – "I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me." (Phil. 4:13)

What I saw so profoundly throughout the whole time of our coming together was how much became "sacraments" to each other – people who allowed the power of Christ's Love to reach out through our love, and touch and heal and strengthen others in the process. It was like the embodiment of what the "Mission Talk" on the Antioch urges us to become: "sacraments to the world". Especially in the student tributes before the whole congregation, you could feel that their words were a word from God, for through their words all of us were inspired, comforted, and strengthened. Those students were truly vessels of Grace. The whole experience was a true celebration of Church, "Church" as a people filled with the Holy Spirit, and through the power of the Holy Spirit, a people becoming the Face of Christ for each other.

In my prayer during the service it was so clear just how much we need people, especially to face the unthinkable, which the tragic loss of Larsan's life truly was. Unless we come together in times like that we cannot handle such "dark hours" in our lives. We were truly not meant to handle such crises all alone. Yes, "I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me", but how much His Love wants to reach out and touch our lives through others.

Well. There's so much more I could write about, but enough for now. Forgive me if I got too heavy in this letter, but realize that I just have come through a most anointed and graced experience. It was that experience, more than any other right now that I felt led in the Spirit to share with you.

To all my friends, let us all live for the praise of his glory, for whatever "season" it is given to us by the Lord to live on this earth…

I hold you all in my heart,

In His Love for you,

Peace,

Doug +

A World In Desperate Need of Jesus

 

 

 

Henri! Hey there!

 

In this letter I'm going to reflect on the next essential point of the Gospel: "…be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit." (Acts of The Apostles 2:38) Specifically, let's focus on the need we all have to seek forgiveness of our sins by "baptism" – that is, immersion in God's Love through the gift of the Holy Spirit. Even your journey and mine to the fullness of God's Love in us must be out of and from a world steeped in sin. We too have been in that world and part of it.

 

But before we get into that, remember how I told you that I thought it might be fun if we used "Under The Tuscan Sun" to illustrate the meaning of the Gospel. So this morning I was reviewing the film on the Internet. Don't tell anyone, but I've come to love computers and the Internet – it puts a whole world library right at your fingertips!!! Believe me, the Doug Michaud of ten years ago would never have said something like that about computers.

 

I love "Tuscan Sun" because of the whole "Paschal Mystery" framework of the film. "Paschal Mystery" is the death and resurrection of Jesus, which we participate in through our communion with Christ. Through the Power of Christ, communicated through the Word of God and sacraments, we too pass from "death" to "life" in union with Him. This means that through the Power of Christ's Love we pass from brokenness to healing, from despair to hope, from darkness to Light; from being scarred, wounded, hurt and torn apart by sin in the world to being made whole and strong and free to love once more even as Christ loved us.

 

The whole California sequence in "Tuscan Sun" shows a broken world, a world in "sin". I don't remember if I taught you that the Greek word for "sin" is "harmartia"? Well, it is. And "harmartia" is actually an archery term, meaning to "miss the mark", "miss the target". "Sin" therefore is human lives "missing the mark", falling short of the ideal of Christ's Love, human lives twisted out of focus, human hearts and souls becoming cold and hardened to love because of the way sin and wickedness in the world have hurt us. (Matthew 24:12)

 

Thus, you have in the film the divorce (brokenness!) that tears Frances apart, the apartment house filled with divorcees, where you can actually hear people "weeping and wailing in this valley of tears." (Words from the prayer, "Hail Holy Queen")

 

It's also a twisted world, a disordered world that militates against the plan, order, and design that the God Who is Love (1 John 4:8) wants for our world. Consider the lesbian couple who want to toast over dinner to Frances' new found "freedom". Yet it is not at all a concept of "Christian freedom" that they are toasting to, but a "license" for Frances to do now whatever the "hell" she wants to do. There is no "right" or "wrong"; no natural written upon our hearts; no absolute Good or absolute Evil – kind of like what liberals want us to believe in contemporary American culture, and perhaps even more so in California!

 

So California in the film is the disordered world, a world in sin. Yet don't be mistaken here. Frances is part of that world – and so are you and I. Remember Jesus words to the people who wanted to stone the woman caught in the act of adultery: "Let him among you who are without sin be the first to cast a stone at her." (John 8:7) Remember also Jesus' story of "The Pharisee and The Publican". (Luke 18:9-14) Jesus condemns the Pharisee who felt He could stand righteous before the Lord in the Temple and say, "I thank you, God, that I am not like other men." But about the Publican (A Tax Collector), Jesus says, "…he went home at rights with God…" Why? It was because before God in the Temple, he would not even dare to raise his eyes. But bowed low before the Lord, he only repeated over and over, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner."

 

So Frances begins a journey – both an actual geographical journey to another place, but also a spiritual journey to healing and wholeness through the Power of Christ's Love. That love is imaged to her through Mary, the ultimate "transparency" of God's Love.

 

Now any window is a "transparency" – something that we do not look at, but rather something we look through. In "Tuscan Sun" Mary is a transparency to the Sun – or if you are open to the symbolism of the film, to the "Son", to her "Son", Jesus. Mary is a transparency to the Love of the Son, a window through which we can reach for and touch the Love of the Son, the fullness of the Love of God.

 

The name of the Villa that Frances purchases is called "Bramasole", which means "pining" or "yearning for the Sun" ("Son"!!!). But everywhere in the Villa are signs of Mary – 3 actually that I remember - and ever so slowly Frances will learn that Mary will be the medium, the vehicle, the window through which Frances will touch the "love of the Son". Through Mary, Frances will reach for and achieve the Love of the Son for which she is really yearning.

 

Henri, do you remember the night of the storm? When her friend Patti mentions "Tom", the husband that left Frances, the deep night "storm" outside in the Tuscan countryside ignites with fury. It is a metaphor for the storm within Frances, for her soul and heart torn apart.

 

But when in the fury of the storm, she "touches Mary", immediately there is a "sharp cut" in the film to a beautiful and peaceful morning. The "stormy night" is over; there is peace. It is a very significant scene that in many ways symbolizes what is going to happen in the film – and in Baptism as well. Through the Power of the Son's Love that we touch through Mary, darkness gives way to Light, a heart torn apart and broken is healed and made whole again.

 

Did you know that the Greek word "diabalein", from which we get the English word, "diabolic", means "to tear apart". It translates a Hebrew word that means the same, but which also means "to tear a man limb from limb". Interestingly enough, that Hebrew word also means as well "to gossip".

 

Now we're only scratching the surface so far with the Gospel brought to life through the film, "Tuscan Sun". There's so much more! But as you know from eating so many Italian meals, you shouldn't have all the courses of the meal all at once. You must have pauses between them to allow yourself the chance to savor what you have eaten.

 

So let's pause here and try to digest what we have looked at so far: 1.) Making a "leap of Faith" by accepting Jesus as our Lord and Savior; realizing too that we need a Savior. 2.) Allowing the Power of the Spirit to help us turn from the darkness and sin of this world to the Light of His Love. That will be the way we most powerfully experience God's Grace in our lives. It will be in the healing of our own sin by the power of His Risen presence anointing us in and through the Person of the Holy Spirit. 3.) That the world apart from God is in sin, twisted out of the true pattern and design which God's Love had planned for it; that we are part of that world, and by our own power cannot break free of it. We can and will experience God's Spirit empowering our own "Paschal Journey" from the world steeped in sin to "Church" in a most authentic sense – "Church" understood as a people filled with the Spirit of His Love and having the courage before the world to be the Face of Christ's Love for each other.

 

As always, I fear I may be getting too deep; or, giving too much of the "Gospel meal" all at once. But I pray that the Lord may use these words I write to lead you more and more into the Light of His Love for you.

 

For now it is enough. Next time we'll look at that last part of the Gospel proclamation by Peter: "…and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit." (Acts 2:38)

 

Until then I pray that in ever-deepening ways, our Lord may continue to bless you with the fullness and Power of His Love.

 

Peace,

Mr. Michaud +