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Fr. Senan Furlong OSB

In 1912 the American poet, Robert Frost, moved to England for a few years. Among the friends he made there, was another poet, Edward Thomas, with whom he often went for long walks. One day as the two were wandering in the countryside, they came to a fork in the road. Thomas, who was indecisive at the best of times, couldn’t make up his mind which road to take. When eventually they took one road, he lamented that they should have taken the other. After Frost returned home to New Hampshire, he composed what is perhaps his best known and most quoted poem “The Road Not Taken”. Written in jest to his dithering friend, the poem is rich in possible meanings.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other …

The readings at Mass today concern a choice between two roads, albeit not equal roads like in Frost’s poem: the path of beatitude and blessing, or the way of curse and woe.

The first reading from the prophet Jeremiah is a short poem about the quest for true happiness. We have a choice to make: do we seek happiness by trusting solely in our own efforts and control, or do we tap into another source by trusting in God? These alternatives are presented in two vivid images: a shrivelled shrub in a dry desert, and a verdant tree whose roots reach down into a flowing stream. One is sterile, the other fruitful.

The psalm also speaks of two ways of life – good and evil – and their consequences – happiness and misery. Whoever hopes in the Lord and takes delight in his word is compared, as in Jeremiah’s poem, to a tree that is planted by a stream of water. In contrast the wicked are like chaff that is blown away by the wind during winnowing.

The gospel passage from St Luke presents Jesus’ teaching on blessings and woes. Looking straight into the eyes of his disciples Jesus pronounces four blessings followed by their mirror opposite, a quartet of woes. The blessings or beatitudes are not just surprising, but shocking. How can Jesus say that you are blessed if you are poor, hungry, reduced to tears, reviled and excluded? It’s outrageous. The woes too sound off-key. Surely it is foolish of Jesus to declare you unfortunate if you happen to be prosperous and well-fed, if you laugh and enjoy a good reputation? Everything is turned on its head. Jesus showers honour on those the world shuns, and shuns those the world is inclined to honour. This is Mary’s Magnificat: He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.

Is all this meant to the tell us something fundamental about God and about ourselves? That our way of seeing the world and its people is not God’s way? That what we often hold as dear is not what God cherishes? That what we consider important — the fashionable, the popular, the lucrative, the clever, the witty— is not truly important? That what we regard as a woe may indeed be a blessing and what we deem a blessing may in fact be doing us damage? Perhaps Jesus is provoking us today to take another look, to choose another path, to change our heart?

Tomorrow is St Valentine’s day. The symbol of Valentine’s day is of course the heart, that amazing muscle that pumps blood, life, 24/7 to every part of our body. That is, unless something clogs our arteries. If there’s a risk of obstruction, we know we have to make necessary changes to our life style to keep our arteries open and the blood pumping. Likewise we must make necessary changes to keep our hearts open if the Gospel message is to course through the veins of our lives. The beatitudes and woes prescribed for us today in Luke’s gospel account are like a double dose of medicine that we must take if we are to have an open heart, unclogged and un-shuttered, like the pierced heart of him who poured out his life blood for us.

In the course of a life each of us comes to many a fork in the road and each time we have to choose which direction to take. We can dither and dally, like Frost’s friend, and then regret the choice we made, or we can accept the invitation of today’s gospel to clarify what is truly important and so follow in the steps of him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

And that will make all the difference.

 

 

 

 

 

Fr. William Fennelly OSB

Scientists tell us that of all the five senses we possess, sight is the most valuable. It’s our sight that teaches us most about the world. By our nature, human beings are creatures who, above all, want to see and understand. That is why phrases like ‘I see’ mean both that we see in a physical sense and also that understand something. Other phrases like, ‘it finally dawned on me’ use the imagery of light to indicate that we have finally grasped something that had previously eluded us. When cartoon characters like Tom and Jerry or have one of their ‘bright’ ideas, it’s often represented by a light bulb appearing above their heads and being switched on.

Many commentators were so impressed by how the light bulb changed our millennia long relationship to day and night that they feared it was so powerful that the Jewish and Christian imagery so powerful for millennia would be made redundant by it. Whilst we can admire their enthusiasm for the power of technology we also know that they were wrong, of course. The imagery of light and understanding in today’s readings retains its power continues to be meaningful.

Isaiah reminds the people that if they act justly then ‘Your integrity will go before you and the glory of the Lord behind you.’ This is a really attractive allusion to the pillar of fire by night and pillar of cloud by day going before the people of Israel as they we were lead out of Egypt by Moses, of course the pillar and the cloud were the Lord himself, leading the people out of their slavery in Egypt.

The glory of the Lord, which shines throughout the Old Testament, is for Christians finally and fully revealed in the glorious light of the resurrection of Jesus. The gospel sees, Jesus link the idea of the visibility of a city on a hilltop, with a light shining to illuminate a room. In the book of Revelation the seer reports about the heavenly Jerusalem, ‘I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God almighty and the Lamb. The city had no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gave it light, and its lamp was the Lamb. The nations will walk by its light, and to it the kings of the earth will bring their treasure. During the day its gates will never be shut, and there will be no night there.’

The invitation of today’s scripture readings is to allow ourselves to be illuminated, to be light up. By this grace we can participate in the light of God, and can become a means of spreading that light to others. Faith enables to be enlightened by his grace, by his gift. God’s gift is what enables so many of us to be gifted in so many wonderfully different ways.  Regardless of how clearly we can see or, whether we are academically gifted or not, the gift of faith helps us see and understand saving realities of God’s work active here on earth.

While this sounds optimistic and easy; faith often doesn’t find us in an easy way. Today’s gospel has a moving image of this. Jesus the son of a carpenter comes to Simon Peter the fisherman who has been fishing all night without success. Tired, no doubt disappointed, why start all over again, and perhaps catch nothing, only to have to mend the nets a second time? Why listen to this visiting preacher? That Simon Peter does listen might perhaps already indicate the gift of faith. And we see the virtue of his faith. Against the odds, by trusting in Jesus, the fishermen haul in that huge shoal. Christ’s word holds good, he is afterall trustworthy. What God wants to give each of us isn’t something miserly, small or mean. Cardinal Newman once asked the rhetorical question: ‘What is more elevating and transporting than the generosity of heart which risks everything on God’s word?’ From this perspective, Simon’s fearfulness, and our own awareness of our shortcomings, our struggles, our sin, are themselves part of a graced journey of transformation within an ever deepening life of faith. They prepare us to experience God’s forgiveness with thanksgiving, a joyful recognition of graces given and received.

 

 

 

 

Br. Jaroslaw Kurek OSB

When a young man decides to become a monk and join our community here in Glenstal, he receives the monastic habit from the abbot. The abbot clothes the young novice in tunic and scapular and then girds him with a belt; a good leather belt, saying: As you wear the habit of our house, learn to bear the yoke of Christ. Keep in mind St Paul’s exhortation, ‘You must put on the new self which is created in God’s likeness and reveals itself in the true life that is upright and holy.’

We learn from the Institutes of John Cassian, a work recommended by St Benedict himself, that ‘it is fitting for a monk to have his loins girt’, since a monk is supposed to be a soldier for Christ who is always armed and ready for spiritual warfare. It is no accident that Cassian mentions this at the very beginning of his famous work.

The inspiration behind this remark of Cassian comes primarily from the prophets Elijah and Elisha, ‘who, according to the monastic tradition, first laid the foundations of this way of life in the Old Testament’. Jesus uses these two prophets as powerful examples in today’s Gospel, demonstrating for all of us how the divine plan was actioned throughout history.

What do these heroes of old have in common with monks and Christians of today? John Cassian tells us: monks, through their obedience, are to be eager for spiritual progress! This should be so for every Christian and this is what we see in Elijah, a prophet like fire, as the Book of Sirach says. His eagerness and zeal for the Lord are unmistakable. This is the good zeal St Benedict speaks about in his Rule: zeal that ‘separates from vices and leads to God and everlasting life’.

Now, the prophet Elijah’s life wasn’t easy, and yet he remained unyielding, carrying out the mission entrusted to him by God. He persevered in his zeal for God because he had his loins girt with a belt. In the same way, the monastic tradition sees in this belt the two-fold dynamic of the life of a monk: it restrains our fleshly inclinations, our attachment to earthly things, and keeps us vigilant in order that we may be strengthened and ready for the challenge of the monastic and Christian vocation.

This is the good zeal of which we speak. However, as Benedict warns us, there is also another kind of zeal, ‘an evil bitter zeal which separates from God and leads to Hell’ and this, sadly, is what characterised the other protagonists in today’s gospel: the inhabitants of Nazareth. Initially they were amazed by Jesus’ words, but ultimately they rejected him. Why? Because what they heard and saw, did not square with their ideas of the Messiah? Perhaps they were too familiar with Jesus, who they simplistically saw as ‘one of them’. This rejection of the Son of God separated them from him, evil thoughts entered their hearts, bitter zeal arose within them and instead of clinging to the one who wanted to save them, they expelled him from their town and from their lives.

This must never happen to us. We must remain open-minded, ready to accept all that comes from God, especially those truths that make us feel uncomfortable.

This belt, a symbol of our enduring zeal, girds the body tightly. In exactly the same way, we need to cling tightly to God. Let the good thoughts of our hearts tightly embrace the one who, in turn, will always be happy to gird us with his help and strength for our spiritual warfare.

 

 

 

fr. Christopher Dillon OSB

This third Sunday in Ordinary Time sees us still at the beginning moves of the story of Jesus’ ministry, a good time to be shaking off the shackles of the public health restrictions which have enchained us all for so long. The First Sunday always presents Jesus being baptised and being acknowledged by the Father, “This is my beloved Son, listen to him.”

The Second Sunday always has Jesus introduced to his chosen disciples; and, indeed, last Sunday, with the miracle at the wedding in Cana, we were told, “He let his glory be seen and his disciples believed in him.” In this third week, Jesus introduces himself to the wider world of the Chosen People, in terms of the messianic portrait as articulated by the prophet Isaiah, “The spirit of the Lord has been given to me, for he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring the good news to the poor,  to proclaim liberty to captives and to the blind new sight, to set the downtrodden free, to proclaim the Lord’s year of favour.” We, if not exactly the Chosen People, are certainly his adopted family, by virtue of our Baptism, adopted daughters and sons of the eternal Father; but we are also the poor, captives and blind; and Jesus is introducing himself to us, proclaiming good news, proclaiming liberty and bestowing new sight to our blindness.

This has been true for generation after generation, now, for twenty-one hundred years; and where are we? Are we seeing any better? Are we any more free of our obsessions, our cares? In our poverty, what have we made of the Good News? Do we even know what is meant by the Good News; that God has become human, so that we humans may become God?

In the wake of the hideous murders of recent times among us, we must ask what has happened to our society? Dare we question, in the midst of our newly acquired secular freedoms whether the triumph of secularism may have something to do with it? The Christian Catholic Church, in its heyday, may possibly have contributed to keeping the lid on our excesses; but it certainly has not eradicated them. As we shall see in next week’s Gospel reading, the people of Jesus’ own day were much the same as we continue to be; while they were hugely impressed by his miracles, they largely yawned at his urging that they change their behaviour, that they “repent”, as he put it, and look at the world with different eyes.

So what are we to do, as we set out, as Christians, on this new year of 2022? Can we hope to effect some change for the better in ourselves? Can we hope to make some impression on the society around us? And, if so, what form should our efforts take? You may have many and better ideas than I can put together; but I would dare to make this observation. It is for me to decide what I am going to do, now and in the immediate future; it is decidedly not the time to wait for, much less, to blame the Government, the Church, or anybody else, for not waving a magic wand and making things better. After the years, months and weeks of this health emergency, it is time to appreciate those who have laboured long and hard to get us through it, often at great risk to themselves. It is time for each of us to do ordinary things that we do particularly well; to give of ourselves, so that everyone may benefit from that extra conscious energy; for the Spirit of the Lord has been given to us too.

Remember, the followers of Christ have been called to be the salt of the earth. Individually and collectively, we can begin to restore something of that Christian taste which our society used to have. No one else can do it for us. Here is a simple prayer with which to begin your day, “Lord, give me the grace to see what I have to do today and the strength to do it.” It is really up to us, if this is going to happen.

-Fr Martin Browne OSB

‘The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. … From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.’ These words from the first chapter of the Gospel according to John summarise the key message of the Christmas season. The Eternal became human – ‘the Word became flesh’. The Holy One revealed his majesty in the person of his Son – ‘the glory as of a father’s only son’. God shared his very self with us through Jesus of Nazareth – ‘from his fullness we have all received’. Each Christmas we are drawn ever deeper into this truth: ‘The Word became flesh and lived among us… It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.’

That making known was not a single moment. The manifestation of God made visible in Jesus is what we celebrated at the feast of the Epiphany. The arrival of the Magi from distant lands has long been seen as representing the revelation of Christ as Saviour not just of the people of Israel, but of all peoples. The Baptism of the Lord, which we celebrated last Sunday, even though it recalls a moment from thirty years later, has also always been seen as part of the mystery of the Epiphany, because it recalls the revelation of Jesus as the Christ by his Father: ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’ And even though we have left the Christmas season behind us, and taken down the decorations, today we have heard of a third moment of Epiphany, when, by turning the water into wine, Jesus revealed himself to his own friends: ‘[He] revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him’.

It doesn’t say that the disciples were merely impressed with or intrigued by Jesus. It says that they ‘believed in him’. Believed what, I wonder? Believed in him as the ‘Word made flesh’? Believed in him as the revelation of God’s glory ‘as of a father’s only son’? Believed in him as the one from whose ‘fullness we have all received’? That is how the Gospel speaks of Jesus just a few verses earlier, so there’s a good chance that this is what the author is speaking about when he says the disciples ‘believed in him’. I find it really striking, then, that despite this moment of epiphany, the disciples’ belief in Jesus was not perfect or tidy – not even remotely. This story is from Chapter 2 of St John’s Gospel and the remaining nineteen chapters recount numerous instances where the disciples seem to have lost that belief, misunderstood it, or forgotten it. The miracle at Cana was the first of his signs. There were many more, and the Gospel of John speaks of several: healing a royal official’s son, healing the crippled man at the pool of Bethesda, feeding the five thousand, walking on water, healing the man born blind and raising his friend Lazarus from death. Yet, despite their belief in him, and witnessing these signs, and hearing his teaching, most of the disciples fled when Jesus was arrested on the eve of his Crucifixion; and of the two who remained, Peter denied him three times.

Looking at the Gospel as a whole, it would be easy to caricature the disciples as stupid or fickle – as cartoon characters, who, despite blindingly obvious evidence, just don’t ‘get’ it. But the Gospel says clearly that when Jesus revealed his glory in Cana, they really did ‘believe’ in him.

This reminds us that faith – belief – is something that needs to be nourished and fed. It needs to be worked at. In a few moments, we will sing the Creed, professing to believe in the key tenets of the Christian faith, and most of us will, I presume, do so sincerely. Yet we all have moments when we struggle to believe. Faced with famines and natural disasters, or with senseless horrors like the murder of a young woman out for a jog in Tullamore earlier this week, our confidence in the loving kindness – or even the existence – of God can be shaken. Also, just like the disciples, fear or temptation can cause us to ignore him. Or less dramatically, we can simply get careless and forget about God – clinging to the badge of belonging to the Church, or the parish – or even the religious community – without considering the implications of what we profess to believe.

The miraculous transformation of water into wine was the first of many signs given by the Lord Jesus. But signs don’t exist in a vacuum. A sign can only function as a sign if someone sees it. The many signs and wonders that characterised the ministry of the Lord and which we encounter in the scriptures are for us – to show us who he is – to, as the Gospel says, ‘reveal his glory’. We need those signs, because believing in God’s goodness, and in the astonishing news that ‘the Word became flesh and lived among us’ is not something we do just once. It is something we need to do afresh every single day and his signs help point us in the right direction.

When told about the wine shortage, Jesus, answered his mother somewhat sharply, declaring that his hour had not yet come. His hour came not in Cana, but some years later, outside Jerusalem – at Calvary. That was the reality to which the sign in Cana was pointing: when he would transform not water into wine, but death into life. That was the true and ultimate revelation of his glory – the true Epiphany. It is that mystery which is made present every time we gather around the altar.

‘From his fullness we have all received…’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fr. Henry O’Shea

SOME FORTY YEARS AGO THE COMMUNITY HERE MADE A RECORDING OF TRADITIONAL CHRISTMAS SONGS IN ENGLISH FROM KILMORE IN  COUNTY WEXFORD, WHERE THERE IS A TRADITION OF THESE SONGS GOING BACK TO THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

THERE ARE TWELVE SONGS IN ALL, ONE FOR EACH DAY OF CHRISTMAS.   THE FIRST VERSE OF THE CAROL FOR THE FEAST OF THE EPIPHANY INCLUDES THE WORDS: ‘THREE GREAT WONDERS FELL ON THIS DAY.A STAR LED KINGS TO THE PLACE WHERE HE LAY.WATER TO WINE IN GALILEE,AND CHRIST BAPTISED IN JORDAN’.

OF THE THREE WONDERS, THE WESTERN CHURCH HAS TENDED FOR CENTURIES TO DEVOTE MOST ATTENTION TO THE VISIT OF THE THREE WISE MEN, SYMBOLIZING AS IT DOES THE SHOWING OF CHRIST TO THE NON-JEWISH PEOPLE.

THE MIRACLE OF CANA HARDLY REGISTERS AT ALL.   IF IT DOES REGISTER, WE THINK OF IT PRIMARILY AS JESUS’S FIRST MIRACLE AND EMPHASISE THE PHYSICAL HAPPENING RATHER THAN JESUS’S  SHOWING OF HIMSELF FOR WHAT HE WAS AND IS – WHICH IS THE ESSENCE OF ALL MIRACLE STORIES.

BELIEVERS HAVE ALWAYS HAD DIFFICULTY WITH THE THIRD WONDER OR SHOWING – THE BAPTISM OF JESUS.   WHY HAD THE ONE WHO INSTITUTED THE NEW BAPTISM TO RECIEVE THE OLD BAPTISM, THE BAPTISM OF JOHN THE BAPTIST?   WHY DID THE GIVER OF NEW AND BETTER THINGS ACCEPT SOMETHING FROM ONE WHO WAS AWARE THAT HE HAD NO LONG ANYTHING TO GIVE? – ‘SOMEONE IS FOLLOWING ME, SOMEONE WHO IS MORE POWERFUL THAN I AM, AND I AM NOT FIT TO KNEEL DOWN AND UNDO THE STRAP OF HIS SANDALS’.

IS ONLY PART OF THE EXPLANATION TO SAY THAT JESUS ACCEPTED BAPTISM IN ORDER TO GIVE US AN EXAMPLE OF HUMILITY.   HIS ACCEPTANCE OF BAPTISM IS ONE OF THOSE HAPPENINGS, THOSE MYSTERIES IN JESUS’S LIFE, WHICH TELL US WHO AND WHAT HE WAS AND IS.

LIKE ALL THE OTHERS, THIS MYSTERY CANNOT BE REDUCED TO A NICE STORY OR TO A CHEERY AND CHEERING MESSAGE OR RULE OF THUMB FOR SUCCESSFUL LIVING. IN A SOUND-BITE AGE SUCH AS OURS, BUZZ-WORDS ARE INFLUENTIAL.  ONE SUCH WORD IS EMPOWERMENT .

EMPOWERMENT IS NOT AN ELEGANT WORD BUT IS A VERY DYNAMIC CONCEPT.  EMPOWERMENT MEANS AN IDENTIFYING SHARING. SHARING IN SYMPATHY, SHARING IN LIVING, SHARING IN ACTION WITH OTHERS, ABOVE ALL IT MEANS MAKING BEING AND ACTION POSSIBLE FOR OTHERS.

CHRIST’S BAPTISM IS A SIGN AND A MAKING REAL OF HIS EMPOWERMENT OF US. CHRIST’S EMPOWERMENT OF US INVOLVES HIS TAKING A BODY LIKE OURS, HIS IDENTIFICATION WITH EVERY ASPECT OF OUR HUMAN EXISTANCE – EXCEPT SIN.  AND WHILE NOT SAYING YES TO OUR SIN, THAT IS, WHILE NOT SAYING YES TO OUR SETTING OURSELVES UP AS GODS AND GODESSES, HE GOES SO FAR AS TO TAKE THIS SIN UPON HIMSELF AND MAKE HIS LIVING AND HIS DYING THE CURE, THE REMEDY, FOR THIS SIN.

CHRIST’S EMPOWERMENT OF US, EXPRESSED IN HIS BAPTISM, MAKES US ABLE TO ACCEPT THE END OF OUR SEPARATION FROM GOD, MAKES US ABLE TO BE RECONCILED WITH GOD.    THIS EMPOWERMENT MAKES IT POSSIBLE FOR US TO EMPOWER ONE ANOTHER AND TO BE RECONCILED WITH ONE ANOTHER.

FOR A JEW, BAPTISM WAS NECESSARY ONLY FOR THOSE WHO WERE NOT PART OF THE CHOSEN PEOPLE.   THAT IS, BAPTISM WAS A RITUAL PURIFICATION OR CLEANSING REQUIRED OF THOSE WHO WANTED TO BECOME PART OF THAT PEOPLE.

THE GREAT CHANGE BROUGHT BY JOHN THE BAPTIST WAS THAT HE MADE IT CLEAR THAT EVEN THOSE WHO BELONGED TO ISRAEL BY BIRTH WERE NOT EXEMPT FROM THE NEED FOR CONVERSION AND REPENTANCE.

IN RECEIVING JOHN’S BAPTISM OF REPENTANCE, JESUS THE SINLESS ONE, IDENTIFIES HIMSELF WITH THE SINFUL, AND EMPOWERS THEM  BY OPENING THE DOOR OUT OF SIN, BY MAKING THEM ABLE TO BECOME PART OF THE NEW, THE TRUE, ISRAEL OF THOSE WHO ARE RECONCILED WITH GOD.

THIS IS WHAT THE BAPTISM OF JESUS MEANS TO US AND ACHIEVES FOR US.   BUT BEHIND THIS MEANING AND THIS ACHIEVEMENT IS ANOTHER AND MORE FUNDAMENTAL ASPECT WHICH HAS TO DO WITH WHO AND WHAT JESUS WAS AND IS – AN ASPECT WHICH MAKES MEANING AND ACHIEVEMENT POSSIBLE.

THE TEARING OPEN OF THE HEAVENS, THE COMING DOWN OF THE HOLY SPIRIT, THE VOICE FROM THE CLOUD, ALL REVEAL WHO JESUS IS – THE SON OF GOD, THE SECOND PERSON OF THE HOLY TRINITY.   THEY REVEAL THE FORM HIS MISSION, HIS LIFE-WORK, IS GOING TO TAKE – SUFFERING SERVICE.

JOHN THE BAPTIST MAKES IT CLEAR THAT HE HIMSELF IS NOT THE CHRIST, NOT THE MESSIAH.  AND THE MESSIAH WHO APPEARS IN THE PERSON OF JESUS IS QUITE DIFFERENT FROM THE AVENGING WARRRIOR-KING EXPECTED BY ISRAEL.

THE RIGHTEOUS JUDGE IS GENTLE, THE KING AN OBEDIENT SERVANT, HIS THRONE A CROSS.

BEFORE THE BEGINNING OF THE PROCLAIMING, HEALING, TEACHING PART OF HIS MISSION, JESUS IS REVEALED AS GOD IN THE FLESH.   IT IS NO CO-INCIDENCE THAT LATER ON, JUST BEFORE THE SUFFERING, DYING AND RISING PART OF HIS MISSION, JESUS IS ONCE MORE REVEALED AS GOD IN THE FLESH, THIS TIME GLORIFIED IN THE TANSFIGURATION.

ON BOTH OCCCASIONS THE VOICE IS HEARD FROM THE CLOUD. ON BOTH OCCCASIONS THE CLAIM OF SONSHIP WITH GOD IS LINKED WITH SUFFERING AND WITH SERVICE.

THE HALF-RECOGNIZED MESSIAH RECEIVES THE BAPTISM OF IDENTIFICATION WITH THE SINFUL, IDENTIFICATION WITH US, AND IS REVEALED AS THE SON OF GOD.

HE EMERGES SILENTLY FROM THE BAPTISMAL POOL OF OBEDIENCE AND OF SHOWING, TO BEGIN A LIFE OF SUFFERING SERVICE.   HE EMERGES TO EMPOWER, TO BRING AND MAKE POSSIBLE, JUSTICE, SIGHT FOR THE BLIND, AN END TO DARKNESS, THE BEGINNING OF HOPE, THE POSSIBILITY AND REALITY OF RESPONSIBILITY.

HE EMERGES TO BE DESPISED AND REJECTED, BUT ULTIMATELY TO BE EXALTED AND LIFTED UP.   OUT OF THE BAPTISMAL POOL OF OBEDIENCE AND SHOWING HE BRINGS WITH HIM THOSE WHO BELIEVE IN HIM.   HE BRINGS THEM, THAT IS US THE BAPTIZED, TO THE SAME SUFFERING, THE SAME SERVICE AND ULTIMATELY TO THE SAME EXALTATION.

 

Fr Abbot Brendan Coffey OSB

The Magi must have been an impressive sight, riding their camels, bearing their precious gifts and the dust of a thousand miles. Traveling in ancient times was pretty miserable; but they came because they believed and no obstacle was too great. Their arrival in Jerusalem made quite a stir and King Herod had a complete meltdown when he heard about it. Herod was a crazy man, having previously murdered his own two sons and his wife. People knew how unpredictable he could be and unfortunately, they were right.

The Jewish religious leaders told Herod about the 700 year old prophecy, that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, and so Herod asked the Magi to come back and tell him, once they had found this infant king. The Magi followed their star and found the infant Jesus in a humble dwelling among the poor. They offered their gifts, gold, for a King, frankincense for the true God and myrrh for a sacrifice. Tradition speaks of three Magi and it even gives them names: Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar.

In 1895, Henry van Dyke wrote a short novel called ‘The Other Wise Man’. It tells a fictional account of a fourth Magus whom he calls, Artaban. Like the other Magi, he too sees the signs in the heavens proclaiming that a great king has been born among the Jews. Like them, he sets out to find this king, carrying treasures to give as gifts – a sapphire, a ruby, and a “pearl of great price”.

Artaban stops along the way to help a dying man, which makes him late for his rendezvous with the caravan of the other three Magi. He can’t cross the desert alone on his horse and so he is forced to sell one of his treasures, the sapphire, in order to buy the camels and supplies necessary for the trip. When he eventually arrives in Bethlehem, he’s too late to see the child, whose parents have already fled to Egypt. Instead, he comes upon a scene of horror. Herod has sent his soldiers to kill every male child in Bethlehem under two years of age. He hurriedly sells a second treasure, the ruby, to save the life of one child amidst this terrible slaughter of innocents and then he travels to Egypt and later to many other countries, searching for Jesus whom he failed to encounter.

After 33 years, Artaban is still a pilgrim, and a seeker after the light. He arrives, an old man, in Jerusalem, on Good Friday. There he sells his last treasure, the pearl, to ransom a young woman being sold into slavery. At that moment, outside the city, the Lord Jesus dies on the cross. The skies darken and the ground shakes. A tile from a rooftop slides off and strikes Artaban on the head, mortally wounding him. As he lies dying, he hears these words from heaven, “Truly I say to you, inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these, you have done it to me.” Finally, Artaban joins Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar, in a moment of Epiphany.

Christ often comes to us in the “distressing disguise” of the poor. Seek him as the Magi did and we may see other “distressing disguises”, like the mythical Artaban. The Magi, we’re told, had to “go home by another way.” Any real encounter with Christ means we need to change direction, because there is another way. To change direction is conversion, metanoia, and it is found at the heart of every serious Christian life. This is the true moment of Epiphany.

 

Fr Abbot Brendan Coffey OSB

Tadhg Eoin Mac Firbisig, was born on 19 August 1942 and grew up on Wellington Road, in Dublin with his family. He went to school in the nearby Gonzaga College and entered Glenstal on 6 September 1961 taking the name Br Ciarán. He made his monastic profession on 15 September 1963, over fifty-eight years ago. Whenever a new candidate enters the monastery, the superior asks him a series of questions and the answers are recorded in the entry logbook. Looking back over Ciarán’s answers, I had to smile to myself at the innocence of those days. Asked if he had ever been accused in the civil Courts? Ciarán replied, ‘Yes, for having no light on a bicycle.’ They were obviously very different times, a reminder of how the world can change over the course of one lifespan and a reminder too of Ciarán’s mischievous side, which never left him.

Anyone who knew Ciarán, knew that he was passionate about music. He listened to music all the time, he appreciated it, he derived peace and joy from it and he was able to hear the voice of God in his music. Mozart and Cecilia Bartoli were his favourites and the three of them spent many happy hours together.

However, most people knew Br Ciarán because of his skill as a wood-turner and indeed, he possessed a rare talent. He had an eye for the perfect piece of wood, which he could turn into a real work of art, as light as a feather and smooth as silk. His skill as a wood-turner needs no elaboration from me; it is recognised and lauded near and far. His beautiful wooden bowls being given as gifts by heads of state to the great and the good.

In the music of Ciarán’s own life, we find many different scores. We find first and foremost a song of love and friendship. He had many friends, here in Murroe, where he knew almost everyone, and beyond. Ciarán possessed a big heart. In another score we find a song of wonder, a song of nature, and Ciarán who excelled as a master craftsman, could marvel like few can marvel, at the work of the Divine Artisan in the exquisite beauty of creation. Ciarán loved this place and these grounds and was most passionate about them. At other times, there was a song of loneliness and sadness written on the score of his life as he struggled for many years with health issues – and in more recent times decreased mobility was very difficult for him. He was in a lot of discomfort and at times, pain. He continued to soldier on bravely and rarely complained about his condition.

As the world welcomed in a New Year, Ciarán was welcomed into new life. Although we can name the day of his passing, only God knows the moment. Ciarán slipped gently into God’s arms, moving quietly from this life into a new life. It was certainly the way he would have wanted it, but difficult for those left behind. However, providence had arranged a visit with his family only a few days before, a visit he greatly enjoyed. On his return, he told everyone he met about his few days away and the Christening he attended.

It is important that we realise here today, that the music of Ciarán’s life hasn’t ended, rather there has been a change of key and this means that we have to learn to listen in a new way to hear it; we have to listen now with St Benedict’s ear of the heart. As every good musician knows, silence is the necessary space between the notes. That space, what most of us experience as emptiness, absence, or a void, is in reality the birthplace of the music. Ciarán’s great hero, Mozart tells us that “The music is not in the notes, but in the silence between.” It sets a rhythm, holds the energy, and gives music its life, power, and beauty. It is never just emptiness; not in music, not in life, not in death, and not on this day.

Today we stand in that space between the notes, a space that makes room for Ciarán’s presence in a new way when we gather around the altar, a space from which God is making all things new. The preface in our liturgy tells us as much when it says that, ‘life is changed, not ended’. Death is not the musical coda, the conclusion, to this song of life. This is what St John means when he tells us ‘where I am you may be also.’

Today, we pray for our brother, Ciarán. We ask God to grant him his mercy and to forgive all his sins. We ask him to grant Ciarán his peace and eternal rest with all the saints until that day when we all meet again in Christ.

Braon de dhrúcht na bhFlaitheas

’s deoch ó thobar na grás

go mbronnadh Dia ar a anam

agus ar ár nanam féin in uair ár mbáis.

 

 

 

Fr. Lino Moreira

The author of today’s first reading, Ben-Sirach, believed that divine Wisdom had come down from the highest heavens, to dwell among the human race, when the God of Israel gave his people a Law according to which they could live. This was an entirely new theological insight, but it seemed to be borne out by Moses himself, who said to the people of Israel: I have taught you laws and customs, as the Lord my God commanded me. Keep them, put them into practice, for that is your wisdom and your understanding in the sight of the nations (Dt 4:6).

Alongside Ben-Sirach, other biblical authors have also regarded Wisdom almost as a distinct personality acting as God’s agent, not only in human history, but even in the very act of creation. For instance, in the book of Proverbs, Wisdom itself describes its own role, when God was creating the world, in the following terms: I was beside him as a master workman, delighting him day after day, ever at play in his presence (Pr 8:30).

Such imagery, however, is largely poetic, and it is only in the New Testament, namely in the Prologue to Saint John’s Gospel, that equality with God is eventually ascribed to Wisdom by transposing some of its defining features to the Logos, or divine Word.

In the beginning was the Word – says the evangelist – and the Word was with God, and the Word was God (Jn 1:1). And if the Word was thus co-equal with God, who else but the Word could have been at God’s side as a master workman when the world was being made? Indeed, all things came into being through him – the eternal Word – and without him not one thing came into being (Jn 1:3).

In the light of this revelation, God’s command in today’s first reading can also be taken as addressed to the divine Word: Make your dwelling in Jacob and in Israel receive your inheritance (Si 24:8) – said the Creator of all things. And such an unheard-of command met with a loving response, which the evangelist summarised as follows: the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory of a Father’s only son, full of grace and truth (Jn 1:14).

This is the astonishing mystery we are still celebrating with great joy. God’s only-begotten Son, the divine Logos, the light and life of the world, the fountain of Wisdom became one of our flesh and blood in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, born of the Virgin Mary. But the story was by no means an entirely happy one, as we have also heard: He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him (Jn 1:10) – in other words, did not love him. And St Paul also says, speaking of God’s Wisdom made manifest in Jesus Christ: None of the rulers of this world knew it, for if they had known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory (1 Co 2:8).

Who has ever heard of a more resounding defeat? And yet it was precisely by being so utterly rejected that the Son of God received Israel and all the other nations as his heritage. In fact, it was through his cross, through the mystery of his death and resurrection, that the Word incarnate gave to all who believed in his name the power to become children of God (Jn 1:10). And in this way the Church was born of every nation, of Jews and Gentiles alike, as a universal family of brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ.

So by confessing that Jesus is the Son of God and being baptised in his name, we were all born from above (cf. Jn 3:3.7), from God (cf. Jn 1:13). And we remember very well what our Redeemer said to Nicodemus: unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit (Jn 3:3.7).

At the beginning of a new year, then, we are called to renew our commitment to live more and more according to the Spirit, so that with hearts purified by love we may one day come to enjoy the riches of the glorious inheritance God has prepared for us among his saints (cf. Ep 1:4).