Let It Be Done To Me: Fourth Sunday of Advent

Fra Angelico, the 15th century Dominican Friar and artist, painted several Annunciation scenes.  But one, called the Annunciation of Cortona - named after where he painted it - is most interesting.  Like the others, it depicts Mary and Gabrielle conversing in a columned courtyard.  And in this one, the dialogue between the two figures is recorded between them (in Latin, of course.)  The Angel announces that the Holy Spirit will come upon Mary and that the Most High will overshadow her.  Mary responds, "I am the handmaid of the Lord, let it be done to me according to your word."  Makes sense.  It's almost as if Fra Angelico is giving us the closed-captioning version.

But what is most interesting, is that Mary's response is written upside-down, left to right.  To read it, you would have to stand on your head and read it backwards.  It is said that the artist never explained why he did it this way.  One guess is that it is directed to God, and so God, from heaven above, would not have to stand on God's head!  For us, though, I think there might be a more inviting explanation.

Mary utters her Fiat, her Yes, her "let it be done," and her world is quiet literally turned upside down. She was betrothed, probably making wedding plans and dreaming about her future "ordinary" life with Joseph.  But God had other plans for her (and for the world!)  God would send forth a Son to save and redeem; God would make possible what was impossible before; God would do something totally new.  And this would turn Mary's world upside-down because she was part of that plan, and with those beautiful words she says "YES."  Yes to God's saving plan.  Yes to bringing forth Jesus into the world.  Yes to allowing God to turn her world upside-down.

One writer commenting on this scripture notes that "She spoke not from a position of ability, but of availability."  And here is what I think Mary offers us today in this Gospel passage.  Just as Mary made herself available to God and to God's plans, so should we.  Even if that means we go where we might not choose.  Even if that means we are taken out of our comfort zones.  Even if that means our world is knocked upside-down. 

We are invited, like Mary, to trust that the Holy Spirit will also come upon us.  That the Most High will overshadow us with mercy, with peace, with love.  We are invited, like Mary, to say our own "Fiat," or own "Yes," our own "Let it be done."  May we be available to God so that God can turn our world upside-down.

Blessings on your Advent (even if this last "week" is really short!)

A Voice Crying Out: Third Sunday of Advent

If you have every watched the reality show/music competition "The Voice" you know that the first round is a "blind audition."  The singer begins to perform while the judges are seated in chairs with their backs turned to the contestant.  All the judges have to go by is the voice that they hear.  Not appearances, not stage presence.  Only the voice.  Now if the judges like what they hear, they hit a big button and the chair swings around and they can finally "see" the voice.  (One of my favorite blind auditions comes from "The Voice Italy".  You can check it out here.)

So what does this have to do with the Third Sunday of Advent?  I think it illustrates what we hear in the Gospel this Sunday.  Today, we hear John  the Baptist identify himself as "a voice crying out in the desert, make straight the way of the Lord."  We know from last week that he wasn't much to look at and probably didn't have the best presence: a scraggly camel hair tunic and dining on locusts (imagine his breath!) But his voice must have resonated with people because they came out to meet him, and were touched by his message of repentance and forgiveness of sins.  In a sense, they liked the voice they heard, and decided to "turn around" to see and heed the voice singing out.  Oftentimes in the New Testament, conversion really means "to turn around," to return to God, to turn so that we no longer have our backs to God, but we are able to see God once again.

John's message (his voice) is not meant just for the people of ancient Israel, but also for us.  We have a week left in Advent, our time or preparation for greeting Christ when he comes.  Even if short, that's more than enough time for us to begin to turn around, to hear the voice of God calling us back, to work towards conversion in whatever area of our life we might need it.  Let's all hit the big button so that we, too, can swing around and return to our God.  In doing so, we will straighten out way of the Lord so that we can joyfully receive him when he comes to us.

Blessings on your Advent!

Prepare Ye the Way: The Second Sunday of Advent

On this Second Sunday of Advent, we are introduced once again to John the Baptist.  And we remember that he was a bit of an odd guy.  He wears a shirt of camel hair and a leather belt aroud his waste.  He eats locusts and wild honey.  Probably not exactly the kind of person we would aspire to be.  (Although, I'm wondering if he could have shopped at Trader Joe's or Whole Foods!) 


But I think that our readings this Sunday invite to be exactly like John the Baptist.  Not that we need to wear camel shirts (although it looks like you can buy them online!  Or you could choose another alternative - see below.) And not that we have to eat locusts and grasshoppers (even chocolate covered.) 

You can find just about anything on Amazon.com

We are invited to be like John the Baptist in that we are called to "Prepare the way of the Lord."  This is John's mission, and ours.  So how do we do this?  I think our readings give us a nice image.  We are told (both in Isaiah and in the Gospel) that John's work takes place in the desert.  For the people of the Bible, the desert wasn't so much a hot sandy expanse as we might think of it, but the desert was a barren, dry, scraggly wasteland.  It was the hideout of robbers and bandits (so it was dangerous) and it was a symbol for a place of chaos and disorientation.  Just think of Moses and the people wandering around the desert for 40 years!


It is to this place of chaos that John - and us - are called to prepare the way of the Lord, to make the presence of the Lord known.  In the midst of chaos and disorientation - maybe someone who has recently lost a loved one or is facing a serious illness, maybe a family whose wage-earner has just lost a job, maybe an immigrant who is scared, maybe a parent who isn't sure if her child will be able to receive much needed medicine, maybe someone who is lonely during this holiday season - in the midst of all these (and much more) we can fill in valleys and straighten out paths and smooth rugged plains by being voices that cry out God's love and hope, by being people of compassion and mercy.  By proclaiming by our words and actions that Jesus is present even in the midst of the desert.  We do this by sitting quielty with one who is grieving or ill.  We do this by giving a gift or some food to an agency that works with those struggling financially.  We do this by uring our elected officials to base decisions on a higher moral authority and not on patisan politics.  We do this by visiting neighbors and friends who don't have much family around.  In these ways (and many more), we prepare the way of the Lord, and we point to the one who will come.

St. John the Baptist at the Basilica of St. John Lateran in Rome

As we continue our Advent journey, let's reflect on how each of us can be like John the Baptist and Prepare the way of the Lord!


Blessings on your Advent!

Be Watchful!: The First Sunday of Advent

Be watchful!  Be alert!

We hear this admonition four times from Jesus in the Gospel (Mk 13:33-37) as we begin the Season of Advent this year.  We know that Advent is a time of preparation  A time to prepare our hearts to celebrate the coming of Christ at Christmas.  And also a time to prepare our hearts to celebrate the coming of Christ when he returns in glory in his Second Coming.

So when Jesus tells us to be watchful, does he mean that we should watch the calendar so as to count down the days until Christmas?  Does he mean that we should watch the skies for his coming again so that we are not caught off guard?

I think the answer to both of these is Yes.  But I also think there is something more.

Advent invites us to not only look to the past or towards the future, but Advent also invites us to look at the present moment.  To be watchful and to be alert for how Jesus comes to us right now.  To be watchful and to be alert to the presence of Jesus in our midst in every moment of our lives.  When we open our hearts to Jesus in prayer.  When we try to listen to God's voice in our hearts or God's voice in Scripture.  When we forgive someone who has hurt us or when we seek forgiveness for a wrong we have done.  When we receive an unexpected phone call from a friend or a smile of a loved one or a random conversation with a stranger as we wait in line.  When we receive the grace of patience or courage or perseverance or understanding or whatever we need in the moment.  When we find a moment of silence in the middle of a rushed holiday season.  Even when we struggle with a difficulty or have a bad day.  When...  When... When... Just look around, be watchful, because Jesus comes to us in many different ways every day.  But we need to be watching for it so that we realize it!

The Season of Advent offers us a school of watchfulness, a sacred time when we can stop and learn how to watch so that we can see how Jesus comes to us each and every day of our lives.  To cultivate this attitude of watchfulness, I offer three simple suggestions

1) Spend a few moments of Quiet each day to be aware of and to reflect on how Christ has visited you during the day
2) Encounter the mercy of God through Reconciliation in which Jesus comes and says "You are forgiven"
3) DO something that helps others see Jesus come to them (such as contributing to a charitable cause or standing up for others' rights or just smiling at your coworkers or any of the Works of Mercy.)

As we enter into the Season of Advent, let us be watchful and alert...for the child born in the stable at Bethlehem...for the coming of Christ in glory...for Jesus as he comes to us right now, in our daily living.

Be watchful!  Be alert!

Blessings on your Advent!

Remembering Bro. Charlie

I am quickly learning a lesson.  The longer I am a Marianist, the more difficult funerals become.  My first few years, we would receive news of the death of a Brother, and he was someone I only knew in name, if even that.  Now, after some 10 years, the names are well-known, and in many cases I knew the Brother personally.

So, this morning, as we prepare for the funeral mass of Bro. Charlie Wanda, there is a pit in my stomach.  Sure, we knew it was coming.  I had visited him at hospice the evening before he passed into his eternal reward.  But, all the same, it's never easy.

Bro. Charlie (right) with Bro. Mark and Bro. Jean

Life can be funny.  Just last weekend, after hearing of the passing of Bro. Charlie, I was sitting on a plane going to St. Louis for the profession of perpetual vows of two of our brothers.  It's the big event.  The culmination of years of formation and the celebration of their decision to make a life-long commitment.  They are great guys, and the party was grand!  And I think it was even more poignant than normal.  As we celebrated their saying "Yes!" we also remember another "yes" that was made to the very end.  


Sitting here this morning, thinking about Bro. Charlie, two stories come to mind.  I think both remind us about saying yes and about our commitment to live Stability as Marianists.  

In early January, I traveled to Dayton to assist with a vocation retreat.  I got in the night before, and arranged to stay in a guestroom of the Novitiate Community where Charlie lived.  I didn't get there until about 11:00 that night.  I knew that the priest in the community was going to be out of town and I had meant to call ahead to see if the community wanted me to say mass the next morning.  Of course, in typical Bob fashion, I never called or emailed.  When I got to the house, I saw that the community message board said there would be mass in the morning.  Charlie heard me and came out to say hi.  I asked, "Oh, is someone coming in the morning for mass?"  Charlie looked at me, and as deadpan as he always was, drolly replied, "You're here.  Isn't that why we ordained you?"  Of course, a smile then broke out on his face, followed by, "No, seriously, you're saying mass.  After all you are a priest now."  

I smile now as I remember that night.  Bro. Charlie lived his life as the person he was.  I think I saw that vividly in these past several weeks as he accepted his illness with grace and peace.  He put his chemo-ridden bald head on Facebook as if to tell us all, "This is who God made me, this is who I am.  I'm going to live who I am until the end."  On that January evening, he called me to live who I was.  And he will always remind us all to be who God has made us to be, to continue to say "yes" to God in all moments of our lives.

Then, a few weeks ago, I stopped by the hospital on my way home from work to visit Charlie.  At that time, he was in a lot of pain, and the cancer was really taking its toll on him. While he was still waiting the results of tests, I think he somehow knew what the outcome would be and that it was coming faster than expected.  At the same time, there were two mutual friends of ours going through an excruciatingly painful family situation, having just lost a child.  In the midst of his weakness and pain, he asked about them.  He was so concerned about them, and was somewhat upset that he couldn't be present to them.

As I reflected on that visit with Charlie, it struck me that there he was, dying, and yet all he could do was think of others, wanting to "brother" this young couple in their hour of need - just as he had done his whole life.  At the time of perpetual profession, Marianists take a special vow of Stability.  I often struggle to explain it in words.  But it's one of those things you know when you see it.   For me, that moment with Charlie in the hospital room gives us a glimpse of what Stability means.  Charlie showed us what it means to be a Brother and love others to the very end, quite literally.  

Charlie was an artist, and one of my favorite pieces of his is the crucifixion, painted from the point of view of Jesus gazing from the cross upon his Mother and the Beloved Disciple.  "Woman, behold your son.  Behold your mother."  The phrase so dear to Blessed Chaminade, and the core of Marianist Stability.  As Jesus loved his own to the very end, and made sure that they would be taken care of, so did Charlie. 

In his life, in his dying, and still now, Bro. Charlie teaches us about living as a Marianist. For that, we should give thanks to our God.  

Brother Charlie, may the saints and angels lead you into Paradise.  May the holy martyrs welcome you into the New Jerusalem.  May Mary accompany you to your eternal reward.  May you rest in peace. 

Holy Thursday: Sharing Life

 Tonight we begin the Paschal Triduum, the great big liturgy that really begins tonight and only ends on the evening of Easter Sunday.  In it, we remember the greatest mysteries of our Christian faith.  And each liturgy is filled with rich symbolism and ritual that helps us enter into the mystery of Christ's suffering, death and resurrection.

We begin, of course, with the Mass of the Lord's Supper.  We remember when Christ gave us his body and blood.  We recall (and re-enact) Jesus washing the feet of his disciples as an act of humble service.  And then we "travel" with Jesus to Gethsemane where he asks us to watch and pray with him.  We are invited to spend time in the quiet church with the Lord, watching and praying.  This is one of my favorite parts.  Maybe it's because I like the dimmed lights and the last remnants of incense that still linger in the air.  Maybe it's because the liturgy gives me so much to ponder and contemplate.  Maybe it's because I just really need some more quiet in my life, and I let myself find it tonight.

Whatever the reason, that's what I did tonight.  I sat in the quiet of the church, watching and praying.  As I was doing this, a group of women came in together to do just the same.  In many places, it is a tradition to travel around to different churches and pray at their altar of repose.  I was first introduced to this when I was in Rome, and as I sat in the church tonight, my thoughts turned to two years ago.

Two years ago, myself and two Marianist seminarians decided to partake in the practice.  After going to mass at our parish, we began walking through our neighborhood, visiting several churches, stopping to say a few prayers at each one.  While the walking and the praying were good, what I remember most is just the fellowship we shared.  As we made our way from church to church, we talked, we laughed, and knowing us we probably yelled a little too (venting frustrations and disappointments.)  And I'm pretty sure we ended up going to the Roman equivalent of a dive - where the pizza was greasy (but oh so good) and the beer was cheap (and actually cold.)  But in doing all of this, we just shared life with each other.

And as I sat in the church tonight and recalled that evening two years ago, I realized that maybe this is one of the messages that Jesus tried to leave us at that last supper he shared with his friends.  At the Eucharist, we gather together around the altar, and we hear Jesus say, "This is my body and blood given to you."  It's as if he's saying, "Look, I am giving myself to you, I am sharing myself with you tonight."  In the Eucharist Jesus shares his life with us.  And then he tells us to do the same.  "Do this in memory of me."  It's as if Jesus is telling us, "Share your life with each other, just as I have done for you."  In the Eucharist we are called to share a apart of ourselves with each other. 

What I experienced two years ago with friends as we traveled on a Holy Thursday night, helped me glimpse what Eucharist is about.  Just as Jesus shares his life with us, we are called to share our lives with others.  We are called to walk with each other and just share life - maybe it involves laughing and talking, maybe even pizza and beer.  Maybe it just means that we understand that we are brothers and sisters, and we treat each other that way, or that we stoop and wash another's foot.  (As we look around the world today, it seems that we could use a little bit more of this, right?)  However we do it, though, we are invited to the table of life, and then we are invited to share this life, our life, with each other.  This is what it means to be Eucharist.

La vita è bella

About three months ago, I packed my bags and returned to the United States. My studies were completed (I now have an STB - Baccalaurete of Sacred Theology - you have to be careful how you say that one) and it was time to return home and get to work. In case you are wondering, I'm now living in St. Louis, but more about that later.

It was a bittersweet departure since I looked forward to the luxuries I was used to (one-stop shopping at Target and good hamburgers) and looking forward to leaving the things that drove me crazy (hot buses with leaky roofs, almost weekly transportation strikes, okay, public transportation in general). But I also knew that there were many things I had come to enjoy and appreciate from Bella Roma. So as I reflect back on my three year soggiorno in Rome, here is my Top Ten List of things I miss from Rome. After all, some one has to keep up now that David Letterman is retired.

(In no particular order...except for number 1)

The top ten things I miss about Rome

10) Lasagna and gelato, okay real Italian food

I don't know what they did different, but the lasagna at our house was the best. Also, you would be hard pressed to find better gelato than at Willy's which happened to be two blocks from our house. And the owner knew me. After my first year I was sick of pasta, but now I kind of miss my primo piatto. And tiramisu - there's nothing like the original (except strawberry tiramisu.)

Marina's lasagna is the best!

Emanuela wins for tiramisu!

Giolitti's wasn't bad, either (that's "the one by the Pantheon")

9) Walking to school

For three years, almost every day, I walked to school with Bro. Dan. Every day we passed the Colosseum and it never got old (pun intended). But what I miss is the quiet side of Rome (before the tourists arrived) and my conversations with Dan - we shared stories, we complained, we argued, we discussed theology, we were sometimes soaking wet...but we laughed a lot!

Our last day going to school.

8) Sitting in a piazza people watching

Rome js known for its piazze - plazas. There's not much better than sitting in one while an accordion plays in the background and playing the game "american or not" - yeah we tend to stick out.

Where I would study sometimes.

Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere - always something going on here.

7) Surprising people by responding in Italian

So like I said in #8 it was obvious that I am an American. My tennis shoes and baseball cap usually gave it away. But every now and then I got quite surprised looks when I broke into Italian. I was often asked, but aren't you American? We don't have a very good reputation when it comes to languages other than 'merican. It once helped me get through a police blockade, trying to get out of  the way of a "manifestazione" - a political rally.

6) Papa Francesco

Pope Francis.  Need I say more?  I was there the night he was elected. And sometimes I would wander down to St. Peter Square on Sundays for his noon Angelus talk just because I could. I can't even guess how many pictures that I took of him. He just captivated me.  And he's my kind of Pope, even if I never got to meet him personally.

My picture from the night he was elected.

The best parts of his talks is when he put the prepared speech down and just started talking off the cuff.

The closest I ever got to him...about three feet away.

5) Laughing at Italy

Parking. Bureaucracy. Traffic. The escalator in Barberini station that was broken for over a year. I shook my head a lot. But they did add a level of amusement to my life.

Park wherever you can find a spot.

The day we received our immigration documents.  Never again!

4) Random events, things, etc.

Praying with the Orthodox Patriarch of Armenia.  Running into (literally) a heard of sheep.  Seeing all types of relics of saints.  Watching Benedict's helicopter fly away on the night of his resignation.  These things just don't happen in Fort Wayne!

That was Pope Benedict leaving the Vatican as he resigned.

St. Clare of Assisi's ball of yarn.  (You can't make these things up, folks.)

My usual jogging companions in the park near our house....and we lived in the city.

3) History

To walk in Rome is to walk through history. Ancient, medieval, baroque. Rome has it all, and it is everywhere. The park in which I would often run had aqueduct ruins and there were pagan tombs on our property. And after three years, there are churches I never saw. Most things in Rome are older than the USA itself.

There's just too many pictures to post here!

 2) A good Italian family meal

This is connected to #10 but at a whole different level. This was typical: wine, prosciutto and bread, wine, lasagna, wine, another pasta, wine, two types of meat, two vegetables, wine, salad (which no one ever ate) and cheese, wine, 2 desserts, champagne, limoncello, sleep. Dinner was an event that included enjoying each others' company like I never experienced. Why the double of some things? Usually the cook couldn't decide what to make or what the guests would like, so you might as well make it all. Olive Garden might say "here you're family" but they just don't understand what it really means!

That's what I'm talking about.

I'm drooling right now.

Jenny and Sean learned how to be Italian when they visited.

And finally, the number 1 thing I miss about Rome....

1) The People

Of all things I miss, it is the people. Friends that have changed my life. Friends that taught me many things. Friends that put up with my poor Italian.  Friends that taught me how to give a proper Italian greeting (it's not a handshake and involves kissing.)  Friends that loved me and welcomed me as family and guarantee that I always have a home in Italy. And then there are the friends that came and visited me and shared in this experience.  All I can say to all of you is Grazie!

I culled through all my photos, and put together a snapshot of my last three years in Rome, as told by the scores of people who came into my life there.  You can view it here.

Ciao!