The Friar Podcasts - preaching prayer and spiritual reflections

I often lack boldness in my faith.

Whether it is because I am uncomfortable sharing my opinion in matters relating to my faith; or just that I do not want to “make waves,” I often choose to be silent.

This was the case with the chief priests and elders in today’s Gospel. Jesus challenged them in front of the people gathered in the temple area when they asked by what authority he was teaching. They were afraid to answer his question with boldness and chose to remain in their comfort zone.

Lord, teach us to be bold in our faith. Help us to rise to these occasions with confidence in you and the willingness to break out of our comfort. You alone know how many lives may be impacted by our listening to the promptings of the Holy Spirit and speaking in the boldness of Christ.

Mrs. Lynn Kelly, Registrar

The thing I am most grateful for is the thing I most wish never happened. How is it someone could speak these words in honesty? Perhaps it is because this person understood the difference between joy, a gift of the Holy Spirit, and being free from any and all suffering.

Readings for Today

What is a fugue? While musicians and those who know more about music than I do might frown at my simplistic definition, a fugue is a musical piece where two separate musical parts are quite different from each other and yet because of the talent of the composer are brought together in one mix of beautiful sound. Moreover, it is generally the case that there is a recurrence of these themes throughout the entire work.

Houselander relates this idea of a fugue to God. “The history of the Incarnation is like a fugue, in which the love of God for the world is the ever-recurring motif. It was uttered first in Mary’s voice, in its very simplest phrase, like a few single notes.

A few words spoken to an angel and heard only by him: “Be it done unto me according to thy word.””

And in true fugue style, after the great fiat of Mary, this recurring motif is not present for the next nine months. There is a silent waiting for the Son of God to become fully human in this world. And in a way seemingly so unfitting for a Messiah, there was that dramatic moment when the cry of the infant burst forth at birth. The words of Mary gave way to the Word of God fully human in our world.

And as the child-Jesus becomes the man-Jesus, two statements become bookends of the grace of Jesus here on this earth. Mary and Jesus both utter powerful words to surrender to God. Both phrases have so much to do with our salvation. They uttered perfect surrender that we aspire to have in our own lives. The first bookend is when Mary says, “Be it done unto me according to thy word.” And the second bookend comes in the words of Jesus, “Not my will by thy will be done.” The first bookend brings the human Jesus in the world so he can utter the second. And both Mary and Jesus show us, model for us, exactly what we should do in life; we must surrender our will to the perfect will of God.

These two bookends are the two motifs that get played again and again. There is the dissonance of the sinful world in which both persons, both Our Lady and Our Lord must live, but again and again these motifs get played to show us the profound beauty of surrendering to the will of God.

And yet, from time to time, the motifs become evident in others. Others are inspired by these musical motifs to play melodies that arise from the notes of surrender. The manifestation of God’s will is seen in an infant leaping for joy in his mother’s womb. It is seen in the eloquent writing of the actions and words of the Messiah. It is seen when one brother brings another to Jesus. It is seen even after the resurrection in the conversion of one who persecutes the Church into one who becomes one of her great apostles.

The purpose of the two motifs is to show us just how deep faith in God and surrender to Him can in fact transform. Houselander puts this beautifully. “When he was born again, in life after life, it would always be in order to live through the same things as He did the first time: fear, poverty, exile, work, publicity, temptation, pain, betrayal, and crucifixion.

“It is obvious, too, that He intended to overcome all this in each person’s life, not by doing away with it, but by transforming it; and to overcome death itself by dying.” ...

As an English teacher, I am interested in the creative processes of the writers I like to read. Before I actually studied the matter, I imagined that a writer, struck by the muse, would retreat from normal life to some secret, perhaps exotic location, enter a world of magical, uninterrupted creativity, and emerge with a flawless, profound utterance. But then I read that Shakespeare would frequently compose in bustling taverns, mostly because of the free lighting at night (candles and lamp oil weren’t cheap), but also to keep an eye out for a possible colorful character sketch or conversation that might work its way into a play. Stephen King writes daily for the same amount of time, as if he were punching the clock for a job, and Jonathan Franzen, one of my favorite living writers, writes in an office with only a desk, a lamp, and a computer with just Microsoft Word on it. Many writers note that they wrote their best material when they weren’t feeling particularly inspired. I read an interview with another writer who sums up all of this nicely:  “I do my best work and am most creative when I am connected to the business of real daily life.”

John the Baptist, who is featured in today’s Gospel, is viewed by the people with the similar hyperbolic image I once had of writers. The crowds gather eagerly around John, whom they suspect may be the Messiah, the truth bearer, their new moral and spiritual compass incarnate.  They question him as if he were an oracle:  “What should we do?”

I could almost hear John sighing peevishly before he answered. He seemed overwhelmed and irritable about having to address their inflated expectations. His answers, and I paraphrase:  “Be charitable. Don’t cheat or bully people or gossip about them. Be thankful for what you have.”

Later on, Jesus, particularly in his parables, provides similarly un-glamorous commands for living a life pleasing to God:  The Good Samaritan:  be compassionate; the Prodigal Son:  forgive people even when they screw up royally; The Persistent Widow:  be steadfast in prayer.

Writers eventually have to deal with the critics, some of whom will pan even their best work. But Jesus has taught us just a few simple qualities to make the story of our life an enduring masterpiece in God’s eyes, and they are nothing more profound than love, humility, kindness and compassion.

-- Mr. David Brumfield, English Teacher

While there are many ways to divide the book of the prophet Isaiah, one way I like is to divide it as a book of challenge and a book of comfort. Isaiah challenged the people to change their lives, or bad things would happen. When they did not change and bad things did happen, he provided the comfort that God was still with them.

Readings for Today

I remember when I was in the seminary there was a theological debate that asked whether the Incarnation or the Resurrection was the more significant event. And as seminary debates go, this became quite serious. But it was quite foolish. The two events are intimately connected, for without one the other has no significance.

For it is the case that both events are magnificent divine events that transform us. As creatures who are broken because of original sin, both the Incarnation and the Resurrection help us to realize that there is a way to be saved. We share from our conception the brokenness of sin in original sin. We are freed from original sin, but our predisposition to sin means we still need a Savior. We cannot free ourselves from sin, and we cannot forgive ourselves without God’s powerful grace.

Such is the connection. Rather than leaving us in our damnation, God became one of us so that we could be saved, not through our own harder work, but in the free gift of salvation that became available to us through the Incarnation, which resulted in the death of Jesus, and the Resurrection which dramatically confirmed for all his divinity.

And so the celebration of the Incarnation is the celebration of the Resurrection. The New Life of the Resurrection became real when the Word became flesh in the Incarnation. And so in the waiting for the Incarnation we are waiting as well for the Resurrection, seeking the confirmation of our own salvation by the unbelievable and unimaginable generosity of our God.

This is what Mary’s faithful generosity brought about. When she said yes to God she opened for us the salvation of God. By allowing the Holy Spirit to incarnate Jesus the Son into the Blessed Mother, what was made real for us was that God indeed loved us so much He would do everything to save us, even at the cost of His own Son.

How much must Mary have longed for the Incarnation! She who saw the angel Gabriel to learn just how much it was that God loved her, and through her, how much it was that God would show His love for the entire world! “Yet she must have longed to hold Him between her hands and to look into His human face and to see in it, in the face of God, a family likeness to herself!”

But there was also a bitter sadness to all of this. Her life would become one where she would recognize more and more deeply that her love of her son was to be a love that led to her son’s suffering. And yet, as it became more obvious to her, especially in those moments where she did not always understand the actions of her son Jesus, that he would suffer and die, she did nothing to try to stop it. She imitated her son’s generosity by His giving his live for our sins. She took on His suffering just as he did. What mother does not suffer greatly when their children suffer?

And so it is very important to know that the Incarnation our Blessed Mother made possible in her fiat led to a waiting for him to become flesh, a becoming flesh that led to His suffering and dying on the Cross. And regardless of whether she realized the depths of suffering her fiat would bring her, at every moment she understood the suffering she endured was the necessary suffering for her son to save the world.

This means that we too must be like the Blessed Virgin, recognizing that when we say yes to God, we are saying yes to allowing Christ to be born in us, and as a result, to see that we suffer in his suffering, and He suffers in ours. ...

Once again, O LORD of hosts,

The ancient world is filled with kings who claimed not only absolute power but even divinity.  And yet this psalm (written to be sung in the court of King David) is a reminder that not only is the king of Israel unlike all those other kings, his kingdom is ultimately not even his!  The vine he tends is not a vine he planted.  In other words, his task is not to govern according to his own will, but rather to ensure that he acts in accord with the will of the true King, the one who planted the vine in the first place.

At our Baptism, each of us was invited to participate in the kingship of Christ, meaning that like Jesus (and like King David) we are made stewards of God’s people, albeit in a different way.  Maybe this means we are entrusted with the care of our family, our friends, our class, or our business.  Maybe we are called to roles of civic leadership or to serve in our local faith community.  Whatever “vine” we are charged with tending, we have to remember that our royal charge is not to impose our own will on others—it is rather to uncover and get out of the way of the will of God.  We’re vine-tenders, not vine-planters.

During this Advent season, as we prepare for the coming of the King, let’s commit to doing a few things.  First, let’s be grateful for all those God has put into our lives, like our students, our friends, and our family.  Second, let’s remind ourselves that it is indeed God, the Vine-Planter, who has appointed us to be vine-tenders.  Caring for those entrusted to us is therefore a holy task.  And finally, let’s join in the prayer of the king and ask God to strengthen us as we do this: “Take care of this vine, Lord, and protect what your right hand has planted.”

--Mr. Tom Eichwald, Director of Mission and Ministry

This is a commentary series on The Reed of God by Caryll Houselander.

With the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception happening tomorrow, it seemed like a good time to begin reflecting on a book I have read to help me each season of Advent, namely, The Reed of God by Caryll Houselander. While the book is still under copyright, and hence, I cannot share it in text or audio, it is readily available and even without reading it, it is hoped these reflections about Mary will be helpful to others.

“When I was a small child someone for whom I had great respect told me never to do anything that Our Lady would not do; for, she said, if I did, the angels in heaven would blush.

For a short time this advice “took” in me like an inoculation, causing a positive paralysis of piety.

It was clear to me that all those things which spelt joy to me were from henceforward taboo – blackening my face with burnt cork, turning somersaults between props in the garden wall, putting two bull’s-eyes into my mouth at the same time – all that was over! But even if I faced a blank future shackled with respectability, it was still impossible to imagine our Lady doing anything that I would do, for the very simple reason that I simply could not imagine her doing anything at all.”

What do you imagine Mary’s life on earth was like? I have to admit, just like Caryll Houselander, who wrote the words above, that for a long time I could not imagine Mary as a real woman, an historical figure who really lived. Rather, the images that were too often presented to me were those that were plastic, sterile, unhuman.

Fortunately, at some point in my life I came across the book by Caryll Houselander, who helped me to imagine a more human Mary. This did not take away my sense of Mary as a saint, in fact as the saint, but rather gave me faith in the grace of God that helps believers know that with God’s grace all things are possible.

The Reed of God is Houselander’s attempt to show the real life of Mary, the Mother of God. To be sure, she is the Mother of Jesus, the divine Son of God who comes into our world as one who is fully human.

I have read this book during Advent many times. It helps me to focus on the complete yes of Mary in a way that helps me to see that my feeble attempts at saying yes to God can become more than I can imagine because of God’s tremendous grace.

This advent I thought it helpful to share this little book, or more accurately, my reflections that arise from this little book, with a wider audience. The book is still under copyright, so I cannot read it aloud. But I can encourage you to think about the book even if you cannot find the time to read it.

Yet it is a value to read it. Houselander brings the powerful story of God’s grace alive in the person of Mary, who now intercedes for us so that we can be changed more and more from people who sin (though Mary did not) into people who say yes to God (which Mary always did).

“When we are attracted to a particular saint it is usually the little human details which attract us.” Isn’t this the truth? My patron saint, Martin de Porres became first appealing to me when I learned that he did not always do what his mother wanted (he gave away money his mother gave him to buy food). The story of mice in the convent and Martin talking with them (even if it is not true), helped me, one who loves animals, to see that I could too love God just like Martin loved God’s creation. . .

In today’s reading, we hear about John the Baptist and his prophetic ministry to “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.” When I think about John the Baptist (and really any historical or modern prophet), the phrase, “comfort the afflicted but also afflict the comfortable,” always comes to mind. John served as the “voice of the desert,” crying out that the world is not as it should be, and we as a community are called to repent and put on “the cloak of Justice” (from Baruch).

In a straightforward and loud way, John calls those who are comfortable to see the afflicted in our community and do something about it. This time of year, the Post-Dispatch shares stories from “100 Neediest Cases,” and people are compelled and encouraged to help when they hear the following:

Ms. R is a 59-year-old woman who lives alone, is visually impaired and has eight grandchildren. She’s on a fixed income and has nothing to spare, considering her meager disability payments. She’s barely able to pay her bills and hasn’t been able to afford Christmas gifts for her grandchildren for years. She wishes for help in providing them with a bright holiday.

Only the most cold person would not want to help Ms. R and her family in some way. The sad truth is that there are THOUSANDS of cases each year, and they must limit the number to 100. Are we able to hear the cry of those seeking comfort? Or is our comfort more important? How will we as a community of faith be changed by the call to action?

--Mr. Timothy Halfmann-Morris, Religion Teacher

Mary is a key figure of Advent. As a Dominican, I pray the rosary every day. But there is still something wonderful about encountering Mary anew during the season of Advent. There is the young woman who encounters the angel and says yes to God, not because of knowledge (she first asks how what will happen to her is even possible) but through faith. And then there is the appearance of Mary at Guadalupe, and the celebration of the ordinary man who became the one who performed something extraordinary.

I am reminded that every day, at every moment, I should be seeking the presence of God. And it is the two Marian feast days in Advent that remind me that God comes at any time, in unexpected ways, and that the Blessed Mother is the vehicle of that grace. “If we have truly given our humanity to be changed into Christ, it is essential that we do not disturb this time of growth.”

And a time of growth it is. For Mary those thousands of years ago, it was the literal growth of the baby Christ-child within her. But for us, this coming of Jesus we are preparing for is a time where Jesus grows in us too. We are the ones to open our hearts and make them ready for the coming of Jesus as well. The season of Advent in the Church is also the season of the advent of Jesus in our hearts.

But the fast-paced world in which we live does not always allow things the time to grow. We want what we want now. We do not like to wait. With the arrival of technology our jobs can make demands on us right away, right now. When we order something from away, no longer to we need to wait very long for its arrival. Even so, we still find impatience creeping in when something we want (not need) is taking so long to arrive. But to grow, to experience real growth, we must be patient and wait, for growth can be slow.

Houselander identifies the challenges that arise in waiting on God. “Everyone knows how terrible it is to come into contact with those people who have an undisciplined missionary urge, who, having received some grace, are continually trying to force the same grace on others, to compel them not only to be converted but to be converted in the same way and with precisely the same results as themselves.” This is obvious. You must like the Mass the way I like it. Extraordinary Form. Praise and Worship. No music. Forget that Jesus is present every time Mass is celebrated. Forget that the author or the human heart knows the human heart better, and knows precisely how to enter it, when invited. We are invited to grow in faith, not forced. “More tortuous than anything is the human heart, beyond remedy; who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9) God can, of course. And often, the feeble mind of the human cannot.

The undisciplined missionary is not motivated by something bad. Who would not want to share the tremendous insights? The undisciplined missionary is simply not willing to be disciplined enough to understand the deeply personal nature of God’s call to each of us. Advent is the time to look inward, not in psychological navel-gazing, but rather in the quest and search for the person of Jesus within us. “This is precisely the attitude we must have to Christ, the Life within us, in the Advent of our contemplation.”

What did it mean for Jesus to become fully human? “By His own will Christ was dependent on Mary during Advent: He was absolutely helpless; He could go nowhere but where she chose to take Him; He could not speak; her breathing was His breath; His heart beat in the beating of her heart.” It was the humble Jesus, the God-man, who surrendered to this full humanness in order to raise the sinful human to something great....