Above all, through all, in all

Consider the ancient tradition, teaching and faith of the Catholic Church, which was revealed by the Lord, proclaimed by the apostles and guarded by the fathers. For upon this faith the Church is built.

We acknowledge the Trinity, holy and perfect, to consist of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. In this Trinity there is no intrusion of any alien element or of anything from outside, nor is the Trinity a blend of creative and created being. It is a wholly creative and energizing reality, self-consistent and undivided in its active power, for the Father makes all things through the Word and in the Holy Spirit, and in this way the unity of the Holy Trinity is preserved.

Accordingly, in the Church, one God is preached, one God who is above all things and through all things and in all things [c.f. Ephesians 4:6]. God is above all things as Father, for he is principle and source; he is through all things through the Word; and he is in all things in the Holy Spirit.

Writing to the Corinthians about spiritual matters, Paul traces all reality back to one God, the Father, saying: Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service but the same Lord; and there are varieties of working, but it is the same God who inspires them all in everyone [c.f. 1Corinthians 12:4-6].

Even the gifts that the Spirit dispenses to individuals are given by the Father through the Word. For all that belongs to the Father belongs also to the Son, and so the graces given by the Son in the Spirit are true gifts of the Father. Similarly, when the Spirit dwells in us, the Word who bestows the Spirit is in us too, and the Father is present in the Word. This is the meaning of the text: My Father and I will come to him and make our home with him [cf. John 14:23]. For where the light is, there also is the radiance; and where the radiance is, there too are its power and its resplendent grace.

This is also Paul’s teaching in his second letter to the Corinthians: The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all [cf. 2 Corinthians 13:14]. For grace and the gift of the Trinity are given by the Father through the Son in the Holy Spirit. Just as grace is given from the Father through the Son, so there could be no communication of the gift to us except in the Holy Spirit. But when we share in the Spirit, we possess the love of the Father, the grace of the Son and the fellowship of the Spirit himself.

--St. Athanasius

The truth of baseball

Sometimes you win.

Sometimes you lose.

And sometimes it rains.

That's a quote from the 1988 film Bull Durham, which in my book is the best (and funniest) baseball movie ever made. Although unnecessarily irreverent and risque at times, the films's baseball situations, characters, and dazzling dialogue ring true. These days, as I lament the misfortunes of my Cincinnati Reds (who have lost nine straight, are hampered by some significant injuries and under-achieving players, and possess a remarkably consistent inability to locate home plate), I might add a fourth line to the quote above:

Sometimes you wish
it WOULD HAVE rained.

(Sigh...as another great quote from Bull Durham goes: "This is a simple game. You throw the ball. You hit the ball. You catch the ball. You got it?")

Easy for me to say, right? In any case, let's get it together, Reds! I'm sure they're listening, and that such an exhortation will provide just the boost they need, right?

As an aside, my brother Kevin actually lives in Cincinnati, sees Reds games in person much more often than I, and is in no way lacking in any kind of sports knowledge. Still, my chagrined mother (somewhat scandalized, I suspect) tells people, "If you want to know what's going on with the Reds, ask the one living in a monastery." One of my vices, I suppose. We all have them. 

But I tell you, these days it ain't easy being a Reds fan--especially when you're living in the same monastery with a monk who is an ardent St. Louis Cardinals fan (the Cardinals, for those lacking in knowledge of such matters, are in first place within the same division, and seem to find as many ways to win as the Reds do to lose. I hate them with a perfect hate, as the psalmist says). Since 1990, the last time the Reds won the World Series, the stupid Cardinals have been to four World Series, and won two of them. Have I mentioned how much I hate the Cardinals?

It's just a game, I know. The fate of the world is not at stake. The sun will come up tomorrow (unless it rains). But these days, especially, baseball is a counter-cultural icon of sorts, and I like that. Baseball is a grind--it's a long (six-month) season played out nearly every single day of the week, with plenty of ups and downs, batting slumps and winning streaks. You're never as bad as it sometimes appears, and you're never as good as it sometimes appears. The long haul is what counts--and you can't do it all alone. In that sense, baseball is an excellent metaphor for life in general. Like life, being successful means failing often enough to learn and adjust accordingly (a .300 batting average, the universal measure of offensive accomplishment, means that a hitter has failed to reach base safely 70 percent of the time). It means being patient and hanging in there, picking up the slack for a slumping teammate. And if things still don't go all that well, just wait until next year (after all, only one Major League team in 30 wins it all each season). 

Baseball is a game of hopeful, even stumbling, perseverance in a world that demands instant, even if fleeting, success and glory. Those who love the game realize that at its core, baseball is about seeking and striving for authenticity along a winding, arduous road. As such, it has many parallels with the spiritual life of any Christian. As John Sexton, the author of Baseball as a Road to God, says,"Conversion is not for the faint of heart. It is a difficult process, requiring effort and perseverance." Every day, win, lose, rain, or shine. Most of all, as with the Christian life, baseball is about hope amid this struggle. As the late Bart Giamatti, the short-lived commissioner of baseball in 1989, wrote, "Baseball is about going home, and how hard it is to get there, and how driven is our need."

And the Reds really need to find home right now. It's essential. It's a simple game...

First pitch tomorrow is 7:10 p.m. ET. Unless it rains (and I kind of hope it does).

R.I.P. (again)

A week after Saint Meinrad Archabbey lost Fr. Aelred Cody, O.S.B. (see previous post), Fr. Cyprian Davis, O.S.B., also passed on to his eternal reward. The death of Fr. Cyprian, 84, early Monday was a bit more of a surprise, though his health had been in steady decline in the last year or two. In the last couple of weeks, it had become increasingly more difficult for Fr. Cyprian to get around and to keep up with everything going on around him. However, he was determined to keep going to church and to other community functions right to the end. His will, I think, simply outlasted his body.

He fought the good fight. He finished the race. He kept the faith (cf. 2Timothy 4:7).

I think it is safe to say that Fr. Cyprian was one of the more beloved and respected members of the monastery--not only at Saint Meinrad, but across the country. His passion was history--both church and monastic. He was a professor in our school, and also served as Saint Meinrad Archabbey's archivist. For many years, he taught monastic history to novices in the monastery (including yours truly, back in 2007). So, many young seminarians and monks benefited from his wisdom. (You can read his obituary here.)

Fr. Cyprian was also well-known for his research and writing on the topic of African-American Catholics, especially his 1990 book The History of Black Catholics in the United States.

More than anything, however, Fr. Cyprian was a faithful monk--a quiet, prayerful, thoughtful, and humble man if I ever saw one. He was so well-respected around here that many monks (including yours truly) liked to tease him mercilessly about things like his teaching approach (footnotes!), politics, biases (Cluny, with no love lost for St. Bernard), and numerous awards. Actually, I think he enjoyed the attention. We will miss him.

A few years ago, while working at Abbey Press Publications, I helped put together the book Thirsting for God, a compilation of prayers, poems, and hymns written by monks of Saint Meinrad Archabbey (also available as an audio book, and as an e-book). Fr. Cyprian submitted a couple items. Here is one of them:

Take what is broken, Lord,

And make us mended;

Take what is tired,

And make us renewed;

Take what is scattered,

And make us whole.

And that which is lost,

Make us truly found.

Amen.

Requiescat in pace.

R.I.P.

Last evening, the monk who has lived across the hall from me since I made solemn vows in 2011 passed over to his eternal reward. Fr. Aelred Cody, O.S.B., 83, had been in declining health for several years, but the decline became more precipitous in the last couple of weeks. You can read his obituary here.

The term "one of a kind" is cliché, but in Fr. Aelred's case, it applies. Fr. Aelred himself, on the other hand, was anything but cliché. Two words come to mind when I think of him: brilliant and unforgettable. Those who knew him, I'm sure, would agree with that assessment. 

The obituary link above provides only a passing glimpse into Fr. Aelred's brilliant nature. So, too, do the pages in any New American Bible crediting editors and translators (pick up your Bible, and flip to the credits, and there you will find his name). Known and consulted the world over for his ecclesial, historical, and linguistic acumen (he knew a couple dozen languages, including some of the most archaic), he couldn't have cared less about such status. He was a monk through and through.

And he was unforgettable--both enigmatic and eccentric--in ways I could not even begin to describe. At the little reception after I was invested as a novice in 2007, my sister and Fr. Aelred got caught up in a long conversation. After a while, she came over to me and asked, "Who is that?" Then she went back over to continue the conversation. Unforgettable.

Requiescat in pace.

Play-Do, pursuits, and POWs

Wow, it has been quite a while since I’ve posted anything new here! So, I thought I’d provide an update on what’s been going on.

As previously mentioned, I took a little vacation in mid-April. Nothing too exciting, really, but some much-needed rest and relaxation. I did a lot of reading, and watched some Cincinnati Reds baseball on television (which I don’t normally get to do). One highlight was a brief visit with my sister and her family, including my little nephew Evan (soon to turn 3 years old, believe it or not). That’s him pictured above, busy creating Play-Do “pizzas” and “cookies” (two of the major food groups). We had a lot of fun; he sure is a joy to be around—and says the cleverest things.

Other than that, I’ve settled into my new job as secretary to the Archabbot in the monastery, and have been busy with the practicum portion of the spiritual direction program I’m in (besides meeting with directees, there’s a lot of self-evaluation, writing, and supervision work involved). This summer, I’ll also be filling in temporarily as secretary to the abbot’s council and the monastic chapter (the voting body of solemnly professed monks). Recently, I also was appointed to the liturgy advisory committee.

Last week, I gave a presentation on the topic of addictions as part of the formation program in the seminary. Over the next several weekends, I will be doing some traveling to Evansville, Indianapolis, and Louisville to present conferences to the oblate chapters in those cities. In the coming months, I need to prepare conferences for a retreat I’ve been asked to give two novices before they make their first profession in August (God and chapter willing), and also for a November day of recollection for oblates in New York (that will be my first-ever trip to New York City, so I am looking forward to that). On the side, I’ve been able to do a little writing, and recently had an article accepted for an upcoming issue of America magazine. Another publication has expressed tentative interest in another piece I’ve written, but has asked for some revisions.

The really big news around here at the moment, however, is the impending move of all the monks from the current monastery to Anselm Hall (which, until 1982, had been the monastery). This is due to extensive upgrades that are needed in the monastery—primarily to the heating, cooling, and plumbing systems throughout the structure. In addition, plans are to have the infirmary area expanded and reconfigured, and to remodel the refectory and pantry areas. All of the monks, and everything in the monastery, has to be out during the work, which is scheduled to take about 14 months.

The extensive moving operations are stepping into high gear right now. The target date for being totally in the “new” dwelling (which is actually the “old” monastery, and in any case is temporary) is May 27. The infirmary has already moved out, and crews are already doing some demo work in that wing. Things will soon be pretty messy around here—but, of course, with the idea of improving our home. The work certainly needs to be done. I hope to move my cell around the middle of May, with the secretary’s office more toward the end of the month (I’ve made some preliminary preparations, as have most of us, in the last month or so). Then, for the next 14 months, we will be living in quite different arrangements than what we have now. We will be occupying space normally reserved for seminarians, who will be shifted to areas on the Hill typically provided for guests. So, accommodations on the Hill may be a little tight for the next year and a half—if you’re planning to make a visit, get your reservations in early!

In my free time, I’ve been paying close attention to the fortunes and misfortunes of the Cincinnati Reds. Things don’t look all that rosy for them at the moment, but the season is still young, and there are enough bright spots to warrant some degree of optimism.

I’ve also been reading a compelling and inspiring book—Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption, by Laura Hillenbrand (there’s also a movie that came out recently). In Unbroken, Hillenbrand, who also wrote the best-seller Seasbiscuit: An American Legend, relates the true story of Louis Zamperini, an American who was one of the world’s bright young track stars in the 1930s. Literally one of the fastest men on the planet in long-distance running, he competed in the 1936 Olympics in Berlin at age 19, and was looking forward to almost certain gold in the scheduled 1940 Olympics in Tokyo. Of course, World War II intervened, and the Olympics were canceled. Zamperini enlisted in the U.S. Army Air Corps in September 1941, and became a bombardier. He and his crew saw significant combat action in the Pacific. After their plane sustained substantial damage in one battle, resulting in several injuries to the crew, Zamperini and a few of the more healthy crew members were transferred to Hawaii, and participated in a search and rescue mission for a missing aircraft. During the flight in May 1943, their plane encountered mechanical difficulty and crashed into the ocean, killing 8 of the 11 men on board. Zamperini, the injured pilot, and another crew member survived, and together they sought refuge on a flimsy raft, floating on the open water exposed to the elements with almost no food or water. Besides battling severe thirst, hunger, exposure, and isolation, they were on constant guard against ravenous sharks, who brushed up against their raft and even tried to leap in to make a meal of them. For good measure, while American search parties never found them, a Japanese bomber did, and strafed their raft with bullets. No one were injured, but the raft was ruined, and they had to make speedy repairs—while also fending off the hungry sharks. Zamperini and the pilot endured this long ordeal, but the third member of the party eventually died. The two survivors continued to drift westward toward the Marshall Islands. They were adrift for 47 days. The U.S. first informed family members that they were missing in action, and then declared them dead. And then things got really bad….

In the Marshall Islands, the two were captured, interrogated, and imprisoned by the Japanese. For the next two and a half years—until the war ended—they endured not only unbelievably deplorable living conditions, but intense starvation, beatings, torture, slavery, and simply the most inhuman brutality imaginable in several prisoner-of-war camps. It is simply amazing they survived (not to mention sickening what human beings are capable of doing to one another).

After the war, Zamperini got married, but he was understandably tormented psychologically by what he had endured as a POW (pure nightmares, only they were real!). Bitter and angry, he became a heavy drinker and quite abusive. With the aid of his wife and a Billy Graham crusade, he experienced a religious conversion, quit drinking, and finally experienced peace of mind after being able to forgive those who had tormented him as a POW. He became an inspirational speaker, and in the 1950s, returned to Japan, where he met with and expressed mercy to the imprisoned war criminals who during the war had made his life a living hell. Some, he later said, became Christians themselves as a result.

In 1998, when he was 80 years old, Zamperini ran a leg in the Olympic torch relay in Nagano, Japan, near one of the POW camps where he had been held captive. He died just last summer (in July, 2014) at age 97! It is simply an amazing story. What a testament to the grace-filled endurance of the human spirit, and the power of mercy! Zamperini's story is one worth listening to.

So, that’s my little book review. I highly recommend it. I haven’t seen the movie yet—though I hear the film version, unfortunately, doesn’t include what happened to Zamperini after the war.

Other than that, I’m currently enjoying the spring weather. Everything around here is beautiful right now—the landscape is plush and green, and bursting with colorful blooms. I’m always glad to see that each year—and amazed that it happens without fail. God is good.

Honor Your Inner Monk

On Good Friday, WISH-TV in Indianapolis aired a segment about Saint Meinrad Archabbey, and specifically about the popular "Honor Your Inner Monk" phone app developed by the Vocations Office here. It's worth a view!

Risen

Novice Timothy Herrmann (and fellow native of Findlay, Ohio; there are three of us in the monastery!) recorded this time-lapse video of the Easter morning sunrise over the Saint Meinrad Archabbey cemetery. In the background is a recording of the monks chanting the Philippians Canticle (Philippians 2:6-11). Enjoy--and a Blessed Easter season to all! (Soon, I will be taking a week or so away from the monastery for vacation, so I likely won't be posting anything during that time.)