2019 December From the Editor

The following was forwarded to me some time ago by my Abbey classmate Carroll Carter, who wanted to call to my attention this beautiful teaching of Ambrose, “the patron saint for one of our own beloved monks, teachers and mentors.” I hinted then that I would remember it on December 7. It is understandable that on this feast day many of us think of Dom Ambrose Wolverton, whose own preaching resonated with the same beauty and insight one finds here in the words of his patron:

“Saint Luke narrated three parables in order: that of the sheep which was lost and then found, that of the drachma which was mislaid and was located, and that of the son who had died and was brought back to life. All of this so that, having been taught the lesson of the triple remedy, we can cure our wounds, for a threefold cord is not easily broken (Eccl 4:12). Who, then, is this father, this shepherd, this mother? Could they not, perhaps, represent God the Father, Christ, and the Church? Christ carries you on his shoulders, the Church seeks you out, and the Father receives you. One, because he is Shepherd, continues carrying you; another, as Mother, ceases not to search for you; and then the Father comes back to dress you. The first, as a work of his mercy; the second, looking after you; and third, reconciling yourself to him. Each one of them matches these qualities perfectly well; the Redeemer came to save, the Church assists, and the Father reconciles. The same mercy is present in all divine activity…”  From Saint Ambrose of Milan (Glimpses of the Church Fathers, Claire Russell, Ed. © 1994, Scepter Publishers, Inc. www.scepterpublishers.org.)
 
 
Pax - B. Billings
December 7, 2019

I continue to return to one thing Alvaro Gazmuri said when I asked him about his experience with us. “Perseverance and just being there” had proven to be a key to success. This continues to resonate within me - and I take it in the spirit of Advent. Whether it be sitting at Adoration, as I am now, or going to Mass, or teaching students, or trying to do what is best by my family... I must remember the importance of perseverance and just being there. This typically does not seem like much. It would not make for an inspiring epitaph: “He was there.” But take heart. St Benedict makes much of perseverance. And those wise maidens, did they do much more than go and get a little oil, and wait? And after all, anything good in me, anything good I can do, it is actually from God. So, I’d best persevere, stay awake, be there, and wait on Him.

Pax - B. Billings
December 14, 2019
 

I am Zechariah. We read of him this week, and the announcement of the conception of his son, John the Baptist. I identify with Zechariah - except for the part about being righteous and blameless (Lk 1: 6). The part about being deaf and mute because of my disbelief, that is the Zechariah in me. You see, Zechariah seems to have been deaf as well as mute – Luke 1:22 says he was “qophos” (deaf), and in verse 62, others make signs to Zechariah, so that he might understand. And I too am “qophos”: in ways of the Spirit. I have trouble hearing the Lord, and I feel powerless to truly express His message of Good News. And the source of my paralysis, again and again, seems to be a lack of faith. But maybe this affliction of Zechariah is not ultimately all that bad, though. It is temporary, at least, and Zechariah is healed with the birth and christening of his son. And during the period of his punishment, if that be what it was, he could still communicate. A bit of hand-waving can get you pretty far. So if I am Zechariah, perhaps I too can just pay more attention to body language, keep my eyes open, and send out a “Current” or two. And when the Lord sees fit that I might hear his voice, and speak His Word fully, then it shall be.

Pax - B. Billings
December 21, 2019
 

Blessed be the Lord, Zechariah finally says.
 
Where do we make a home?

Today, for morning Mass of the day before Christmas, we read in the gospel Zechariah’s prophecy and prayer. “Blessed be the Lord...” This exhortation reminded me of a trip to Chile, and a lectio activity that involved being given a phrase of scripture upon which to meditate. As I walked, I repeated, “Bless the Lord my soul.” It seemed not inspiring for some time, until it dawned on me: what does my soul bless, anyway, after all? What do I speak well of, what do I hope will grow within me, what do I nurture and give growth to in my life? Is it goodness, justice, love? Is it the Lord? The lectio became a powerful moment of reflection and correction: make of my soul a blessing of the Lord; make it a place for Him to grow, and nothing less. Make of my life, of my soul, my being - an opening for God. This home building is the project of Benedict. To enable his soul bless the Lord, and nothing less. To make a place, a community, a workshop, in which this blessing project can transpire and be nurtured. This is really the Christmas blessing - God with us, taking us on, entering our hearts, our homes.
 
But… I have been making a home at this Abbey for nearly three decades now – have I made it an opportunity for my soul to bless the Lord? Have I made this place not simply a home for me, but for Him? While this blessing-project for my soul was a powerful and true message, it was partial. Nathan’s message in the first reading today calls for a reality check on this – would you build a house for me? Our eucharistic penitential confession echoes this admonition: I am not worthy to have you come under my roof. Have I even offered Him a manger? My blessing-project is first a worthiness-project, and there is much work to be done. This work to be done, this Christmas blessing-project: it occurs to me, unworthy me, that I must allow God to do that work. For while I would like to think I am making a home for Him, it is He who makes a home in me. It is Christmas grace. God has come to His people, Zechariah proclaims. He sets them free. He has raised up a savior. Let me accept this Christmas gift. Let my soul bless the Lord.

Christmas Peace - B. Billings
December 24, 2019