A full day yesterday at Boston College School of Theology and Ministry. New students, lay and ordained, secular and religious, got acquainted over a continental breakfast. The school introduced us to every member of the faculty not on sabbatical; each professor said hello and summarized his field of study, her research, his course offerings. The administrative staff took us briskly and virtually through the institution so we would know what we needed to know now. The riches of the Boston Theological Institute, the consortium of the ten Boston-area divinity schools, seminaries, and schools of theology, were revealed to the uninitiated. And returning students returned to greet us and pull us out of the bog of our first-day perplexities.
At one o'clock I paused for the celebration of the Eucharist at the chapel in the School of Theology and Ministry building. In the afternoon I met the director of the Master of Theology program and my own faculty advisor to confer over first-semester courses. Happily, I have registered for the courses I most wanted: the one on the Second Vatican Council and the other on feminist theologies.
A quick stop at the university's office of student services to grin for the camera, then obtain my student identification card; and the day was done.
Classes begin on Tuesday. Boston College, here we come.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Ministry
Meetings this afternoon with the lead organizer and board members of Massachusetts Interfaith Worker Justice, where I served in various capacities from 2006 to 2011. In between those meetings, there will be an opportunity to meet some of the hundreds of workers from Boston fast food restaurants who are on strike today for better wages.
I have been a volunteer, a paid intern, and full-time lead
organizer with Mass IWJ. I remained active with the group until I left Boston in July 2011 to begin initial
formation with the Capuchins. Now I aim to renew my service with Mass IWJ. I discussed this with the lead organizer this spring and met with him earlier this month to review Mass IWJ’s campaign priorities;
to inventory its base of constituents and resources; and to discuss its strategy
and tactics for achieving its objectives.
I have been waiting for this moment for a long time. I am eager to share my gifts and talents with the beloved community, the people of God in Boston. I have an extensive network of contacts with activist Christian ministers, both
lay and ordained, Catholic as well as Protestant, students and professionals, in
the Greater Boston area. Being a Capuchin does raise my profile as a public figure in the Roman Catholic Church and may help open more
doors for Mass IWJ in the Archdiocese of Boston. I offer my talents for
communication as an editor, writer, and public speaker. Mass IWJ needs religious activists who are good public speakers, who can preach, give
presentations and workshops, prepare documents, and design publications. They need leaders who can
mix with members of labor organizations as well as congregations. They need leaders who are comfortable with the lexicon of labor and the language of theology. They need people of faith who can translate between the two tongues, just as they can bring together
peoples from the worlds of labor and religion.
It will, of course, take some time for these talents to bear fruit again. I have been away from the Greater Boston area for two
years and have to learn again the existential realities facing workers in the
region. It will take some time to be educated on current campaigns and the
strategy and tactics being applied. I have to invest time and labor in
re-establishing social capital. Relationships need to be renewed. This
requires slow and respectful effort. Furthermore, my connections to labor are
less robust than my ties to faith communities. And my network with people
from faiths other than Christianity is in need of rebuilding. Finally, while my knowledge of organizing is good, I am out of practice!
As I integrate being a religious brother with the doing of
ministry, I must now balance fraternal life with the Capuchins and
studies at Boston College. These are significant new life commitments. I must
be careful not to take on too much, or make promises I cannot fulfill. While Mass IWJ is my primary ministry commitment, it is not my only activity. For instance, I have agreed to serve on the steering committee of the Boston New Sanctuary Movement, attend the group’s
monthly meetings and major events, and support its education and advocacy
efforts in service to immigrant families. And I would like to be involved in one of the local parishes serving the communities of Jamaica Plain and Roxbury.
Each brother in simple vows must find ways to integrate ministry and work for justice and peace within the Capuchin way of life, grounding these charisms within the fundamental charism of fraternity, as practiced in the setting of contemplative minority. Now it is my turn to discover how to be, how to do as a follower of Jesus in the manner of Francis.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Reticent
Been mum on the blog lately. I don't know why I feel inclined to silence, especially as life is getting interesting. Where it concerns this chronicle of religious life, is my creative muse urging me to expressions of a different form?
To review the days recently past:
Concluded our study of the Capuchin Constitutions on Thursday. The revisions to our charter document await approval from a department of the Vatican called the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life. We hope to see an English edition of the revised Constitutions late next year.
Mostly house chores on Friday: cleaning the bathrooms, receiving a fellow who inspected the fire extinguishers in our house. Some conceptualizing of ministry. Some reading and resting, too. Also watched a new documentary on the Second Vatican Council that I found online. God willing, I will be studying the council this fall with Richard Gaillardetz, the Boston College professor much-featured in this documentary.
On Saturday I traveled with a couple of brothers to Yonkers for the funeral of Bro. Robert Maher, for many years a missionary in Guam and Hawaii. The high points of the liturgy were the homily, in which Bob's best friend in the order recited original poetry; and the communion hymn, which was based on a Hawaiian melody. Verse and chorus swelled in volume, each wave succeeded by a grander wave, with warm voices surfing high but deep within a sea of sound provided by the organ's orchestra.
On Sunday I worshipped at Saint Mary of the Angels Parish, located in Roxbury on the border of Jamaica Plain. For years I had heard good things about this Christian community, a multi-ethnic, multiracial congregation long committed to peace and social justice in an impoverished, violent neighborhood. Several workers and union organizers of my acquaintance belong to this church. Oh, why did I never come here before? I was welcomed by no fewer than a dozen parishioners who spoke brightly of their relationship with the Capuchins and eagerly sought me to become a part of their life together. Their neighborliness, in the Good Samaritan sense, made a fast impression on me. I will definitely be returning for worship and participating in their fellowship.
Later that afternoon I shuttled uptown to the North End for the great street festival in honor of Saint Anthony of Padua. Although Anthony's feast day is June 13, and he already had a festival late this spring, this festival is special. It was organized a century ago by immigrants from a Neapolitan town called Montefalcione in Avellino. The town survived a severe earthquake in the 17th century when numerous surrounding villages fell, and the people attributed their safety to the protection of Anthony of Padua, who they believed had interceded on their behalf. The citizens sought to name Anthony their patron, and they successfully petitioned Rome to permit them a feast in August to commemorate his miraculous intervention on their behalf. When the sons of daughters of Montefalcione immigrated to Boston, they took their annual observance with them, and it became the pre-eminent street festival.
I arrived just before noon, in time to see the beginning of Anthony's grand procession around the narrow streets. The statue was already robed with all kinds of jewelry: rings, bracelets, chains, watches. In little time he was draped with several layers of U.S. and Italian currency. My gut reaction: Ack! Why? What is the meaning of this custom, which on the face of it is ironic to the extreme, since friars in his time were forbidden to touch money? First of all, the practice is an expression of gratitude to this friend of God whose advocacy preserved the people of Montefalcione and helps them and their descendants still. Second, the practice is charitable: the money collected on Anthony's person goes to support non-profit organizations serving the citizens of the North End. (The society that organizes the festival, San Antonio di Padova da Montefalcione Inc., began as a mutual aid society for Italian-American immigrants, helping families pay for burials and providing insurance for its members.) So it is at once an act of devotion and solidarity. Seen from a modern sensibility, the gesture appears terribly gauche, but the symbolism is sound: Anthony, who was poor in material things, is rich in heavenly things, the things that matter to God. And the people of God in Montefalcione, and later Boston, would show the world just where they intended to put their treasures -- not in luxuries and vanities, but in community, in one another, in neighborliness.
This friar got a real taste of that neighborliness when browsing the vendors. From one I ordered an arepa, a delicious corn fritter with mozzarella inside; it cost five dollars, but the woman insisted that I pay only three. Next, I visited a bakery booth where a bin of anisette biscotti caught my eyes and nose. I told the man I would like a half-pound, which cost six dollars, but when he saw me reach for my wallet, he said "Please," and he gave me the biscotti for nothing. Then I went to a vendor selling caramel apples and chocolate-covered fruit. I listened to the vendors tell other people it was five dollars for an apple. I came forward and asked how much, and the lady told me just to take any apple I wanted. I protested, saying I had money. She asked me only for a blessing, because she had been unable to attend Mass that morning because of the business of setting up the stand. So I read a psalm and gave a blessing. Then I promptly found a donation basket where the procession had started and dropped a five-dollar bill.
I am not comfortable with such unmerited privilege, but I try to remember what another Capuchin has told me: it is not you they are reverencing, but Christ in you. So let them adore Christ; as for you, aim to give away the gifts others give to you to the people who never get any gifts.
Today, more chores: excursions to the supermarket (Stop & Shop) and hardware store (Home Depot). We cleared everything out of a large room in the basement so that our maintenance man can paint the dirty dusty floor. Only rain and the threat of more rain kept us from cutting up our yard waste. This evening, we will have our first house chapter of the year to review housekeeping and other fraternal matters.
Okay, back to silence, or to expressing myself by other means.
To review the days recently past:
Concluded our study of the Capuchin Constitutions on Thursday. The revisions to our charter document await approval from a department of the Vatican called the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life. We hope to see an English edition of the revised Constitutions late next year.
Mostly house chores on Friday: cleaning the bathrooms, receiving a fellow who inspected the fire extinguishers in our house. Some conceptualizing of ministry. Some reading and resting, too. Also watched a new documentary on the Second Vatican Council that I found online. God willing, I will be studying the council this fall with Richard Gaillardetz, the Boston College professor much-featured in this documentary.
On Saturday I traveled with a couple of brothers to Yonkers for the funeral of Bro. Robert Maher, for many years a missionary in Guam and Hawaii. The high points of the liturgy were the homily, in which Bob's best friend in the order recited original poetry; and the communion hymn, which was based on a Hawaiian melody. Verse and chorus swelled in volume, each wave succeeded by a grander wave, with warm voices surfing high but deep within a sea of sound provided by the organ's orchestra.
On Sunday I worshipped at Saint Mary of the Angels Parish, located in Roxbury on the border of Jamaica Plain. For years I had heard good things about this Christian community, a multi-ethnic, multiracial congregation long committed to peace and social justice in an impoverished, violent neighborhood. Several workers and union organizers of my acquaintance belong to this church. Oh, why did I never come here before? I was welcomed by no fewer than a dozen parishioners who spoke brightly of their relationship with the Capuchins and eagerly sought me to become a part of their life together. Their neighborliness, in the Good Samaritan sense, made a fast impression on me. I will definitely be returning for worship and participating in their fellowship.
Later that afternoon I shuttled uptown to the North End for the great street festival in honor of Saint Anthony of Padua. Although Anthony's feast day is June 13, and he already had a festival late this spring, this festival is special. It was organized a century ago by immigrants from a Neapolitan town called Montefalcione in Avellino. The town survived a severe earthquake in the 17th century when numerous surrounding villages fell, and the people attributed their safety to the protection of Anthony of Padua, who they believed had interceded on their behalf. The citizens sought to name Anthony their patron, and they successfully petitioned Rome to permit them a feast in August to commemorate his miraculous intervention on their behalf. When the sons of daughters of Montefalcione immigrated to Boston, they took their annual observance with them, and it became the pre-eminent street festival.
I arrived just before noon, in time to see the beginning of Anthony's grand procession around the narrow streets. The statue was already robed with all kinds of jewelry: rings, bracelets, chains, watches. In little time he was draped with several layers of U.S. and Italian currency. My gut reaction: Ack! Why? What is the meaning of this custom, which on the face of it is ironic to the extreme, since friars in his time were forbidden to touch money? First of all, the practice is an expression of gratitude to this friend of God whose advocacy preserved the people of Montefalcione and helps them and their descendants still. Second, the practice is charitable: the money collected on Anthony's person goes to support non-profit organizations serving the citizens of the North End. (The society that organizes the festival, San Antonio di Padova da Montefalcione Inc., began as a mutual aid society for Italian-American immigrants, helping families pay for burials and providing insurance for its members.) So it is at once an act of devotion and solidarity. Seen from a modern sensibility, the gesture appears terribly gauche, but the symbolism is sound: Anthony, who was poor in material things, is rich in heavenly things, the things that matter to God. And the people of God in Montefalcione, and later Boston, would show the world just where they intended to put their treasures -- not in luxuries and vanities, but in community, in one another, in neighborliness.
This friar got a real taste of that neighborliness when browsing the vendors. From one I ordered an arepa, a delicious corn fritter with mozzarella inside; it cost five dollars, but the woman insisted that I pay only three. Next, I visited a bakery booth where a bin of anisette biscotti caught my eyes and nose. I told the man I would like a half-pound, which cost six dollars, but when he saw me reach for my wallet, he said "Please," and he gave me the biscotti for nothing. Then I went to a vendor selling caramel apples and chocolate-covered fruit. I listened to the vendors tell other people it was five dollars for an apple. I came forward and asked how much, and the lady told me just to take any apple I wanted. I protested, saying I had money. She asked me only for a blessing, because she had been unable to attend Mass that morning because of the business of setting up the stand. So I read a psalm and gave a blessing. Then I promptly found a donation basket where the procession had started and dropped a five-dollar bill.
I am not comfortable with such unmerited privilege, but I try to remember what another Capuchin has told me: it is not you they are reverencing, but Christ in you. So let them adore Christ; as for you, aim to give away the gifts others give to you to the people who never get any gifts.
Today, more chores: excursions to the supermarket (Stop & Shop) and hardware store (Home Depot). We cleared everything out of a large room in the basement so that our maintenance man can paint the dirty dusty floor. Only rain and the threat of more rain kept us from cutting up our yard waste. This evening, we will have our first house chapter of the year to review housekeeping and other fraternal matters.
Okay, back to silence, or to expressing myself by other means.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Tonight
Distant motors roar
Behind the crickets' whistles
I strain to hear more
A shadow passes
Along the moony street, fresh
From Hopper's limbos
The air does not touch
I bring my hands to my lips
I breathe; I recall:
Tonight, I am the wind. I am the light.
I am the world tonight.
The world is not enough.
Behind the crickets' whistles
I strain to hear more
A shadow passes
Along the moony street, fresh
From Hopper's limbos
The air does not touch
I bring my hands to my lips
I breathe; I recall:
Tonight, I am the wind. I am the light.
I am the world tonight.
The world is not enough.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Four O'Clock Prayer
God ever ancient and ever new,
Make me new again,
Before I get old once.
You who read me and know my story,
Whose life is life itself and the light of glory,
Feed me the pith of the marrow of the bone in the meat of the flesh.
Spare me the dust of the rind of the rotten and scrawny fruit.
Make me stride upon a hard road.
It is no kindness to wander softly through sand-blown gardens.
You who give the word that I cannot make,
Make me know the words I know how to spell.
You who bid me to breathe your love into me,
Deliver me from these gasps
Of suffocated poetry
Inflate this sagging sac
(If only it would burst!)
Give form to this triumph of deformity
And conform it to you
To reform me
Until I know nothing better
Than to relive your life
So to live this life
Once and for all
In me.
Make me new again,
Before I get old once.
You who read me and know my story,
Whose life is life itself and the light of glory,
Feed me the pith of the marrow of the bone in the meat of the flesh.
Spare me the dust of the rind of the rotten and scrawny fruit.
Make me stride upon a hard road.
It is no kindness to wander softly through sand-blown gardens.
You who give the word that I cannot make,
Make me know the words I know how to spell.
You who bid me to breathe your love into me,
Deliver me from these gasps
Of suffocated poetry
Inflate this sagging sac
(If only it would burst!)
Give form to this triumph of deformity
And conform it to you
To reform me
Until I know nothing better
Than to relive your life
So to live this life
Once and for all
In me.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Seventh to Heaven
Bro. Robert Maher, a Capuchin who served for years in the missions of Guam and Hawaii, died yesterday after falling and suffering a severe brain hemorrhage. He was 66 years old.
His funeral is on Saturday at our province's motherhouse in Yonkers, N.Y. Here comes another day trip, another day of brotherhood intensified by a rite of passage observed with intimacy and solemnity.
From our province, Brother Bob is the third friar to die this month, the fourth in two months, the sixth this year, the seventh in the last twelve months.
The older friars tell me this has happened before, where the deaths of brothers occur in clusters. Talk about doing everything in fraternity and never only on our own: our brothers do everything, even dying, together.
His funeral is on Saturday at our province's motherhouse in Yonkers, N.Y. Here comes another day trip, another day of brotherhood intensified by a rite of passage observed with intimacy and solemnity.
From our province, Brother Bob is the third friar to die this month, the fourth in two months, the sixth this year, the seventh in the last twelve months.
The older friars tell me this has happened before, where the deaths of brothers occur in clusters. Talk about doing everything in fraternity and never only on our own: our brothers do everything, even dying, together.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Ramping Up
Both friaries, San Lorenzo and Saint Francis of Assisi, are at capacity with the formators and student friars and guests who are here for the workshops on the Capuchin Constitutions. The first session begins this afternoon. We will be meeting in the San Lorenzo dining room-cum-conference room with our presenter, Bro. Regis Armstrong.
This week we will have meditation, prayer, and Eucharist mid-morning. This evening and for the remainder of the week, after meditation and prayer, dinner for up to 25 friars.
It feels good to have this many brothers around. Last evening's rite of renewal of vows and festive meal were very good. A full chapel and full table give me cause for rejoicing.
This morning, a few chores and errands. Conferred with the formation director about my fall class schedule (pending registration), formation meetings, and the selection of a new spiritual director while I reside in Boston.
At the moment it feels like we are going gradually, very gradually, on the way. It is like driving at 5 miles per hour onto the on-ramp, or taxiing lightly on the tarmac toward the runway. We are approaching the takeoff point slowly, casually, even. But in two weeks, after Labor Day, look out! I will have all the work I can handle: physical, mental, and spiritual labor.
It's not like me to do anything in half-measures. But this year the aim is to integrate part-time study and part-time ministry with full-time fraternity in a spirit of prayer and minority. A compromise with the works of mercy and justice? A cutting of corners instead of total commitment? Or common sense, good self-care?
Formerly I carried on the work God gave me without grounding it in the depth of my being. Now I look to take up that work again, but "with all my heart." This is not a platitude; this is a new resolution. To work with full devotion means to let the work proceed from the very life God has given me. This life has to be nourished in prayer and worship. This life has to be nourished in the communion that comes from participation in life of the body of Christ. This communion must be lived from within the soul; it must be lived at the most local level, in the household, in one's family. This I must do with my religious family, the Capuchins; my extended spiritual family in Christ, all my sisters and brothers who follow Jesus; and all my neighbors, everyone God gives me to love in this neighborhood, this city, this country, this world.
My studies, my ministries, my works: these were never my life. These could never give me life. God is the source of my life. Let me continue to live God's life, and let the labors, mental and spiritual, rise up gradually from it. It is better now to ramp up than to leap off and risk leaving behind the being that God bids me to bring to the work of proclaiming and living the kin(g)dom of heaven.
This week we will have meditation, prayer, and Eucharist mid-morning. This evening and for the remainder of the week, after meditation and prayer, dinner for up to 25 friars.
It feels good to have this many brothers around. Last evening's rite of renewal of vows and festive meal were very good. A full chapel and full table give me cause for rejoicing.
This morning, a few chores and errands. Conferred with the formation director about my fall class schedule (pending registration), formation meetings, and the selection of a new spiritual director while I reside in Boston.
At the moment it feels like we are going gradually, very gradually, on the way. It is like driving at 5 miles per hour onto the on-ramp, or taxiing lightly on the tarmac toward the runway. We are approaching the takeoff point slowly, casually, even. But in two weeks, after Labor Day, look out! I will have all the work I can handle: physical, mental, and spiritual labor.
It's not like me to do anything in half-measures. But this year the aim is to integrate part-time study and part-time ministry with full-time fraternity in a spirit of prayer and minority. A compromise with the works of mercy and justice? A cutting of corners instead of total commitment? Or common sense, good self-care?
Formerly I carried on the work God gave me without grounding it in the depth of my being. Now I look to take up that work again, but "with all my heart." This is not a platitude; this is a new resolution. To work with full devotion means to let the work proceed from the very life God has given me. This life has to be nourished in prayer and worship. This life has to be nourished in the communion that comes from participation in life of the body of Christ. This communion must be lived from within the soul; it must be lived at the most local level, in the household, in one's family. This I must do with my religious family, the Capuchins; my extended spiritual family in Christ, all my sisters and brothers who follow Jesus; and all my neighbors, everyone God gives me to love in this neighborhood, this city, this country, this world.
My studies, my ministries, my works: these were never my life. These could never give me life. God is the source of my life. Let me continue to live God's life, and let the labors, mental and spiritual, rise up gradually from it. It is better now to ramp up than to leap off and risk leaving behind the being that God bids me to bring to the work of proclaiming and living the kin(g)dom of heaven.
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