1. The Queenship of Mary
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB
    August 22, 2016

    Blind fools, which is greater, the gold,
    or the temple that made the gold sacred?
    Today we celebrate the Queenship of Mary, the memorial day on which we remember the fulfillment of the singular promise, made to a woman, made to a maiden, made to poverty that she would gain the world with a simple syllable: Yes.

    Today throughout the world, statues of the Blessed Virgin Mary will be dolled up in robes and dented crowns and rightly venerated for her unique achievement. We honor the Queenship of Mary with gold adornments, but we are left with Jesus’ question in the Gospel.
    Blind fools, which is greater, the gold,or the temple that made the gold sacred?
    Whom do we honor today?

    Certainly, we honor Mary, the young woman of Nazareth who hearing the audacious promise of the angel, took upon herself the task of helping God work out salvation for a thankless people

    Mary, the child who had the voice to strengthen the weakened hearts of Israel, suffocating as it was in the desert of its own indifference

    Mary, the woman of joy who became the mother of sorrows as she stood helplessly yet fearlessly at the cross of her son

    Mary, the woman of prayer, the woman of abandonment, the woman of greatness who humbled herself to the opinions of the short-sighted and small-minded of the earth to be the singular vehicle of God’s wildness

    Mary, the woman who knew, who completely understood in a way no other understood the truth of what Jesus said in today’s Gospel.
    Blind fools, which is greater, the gold,
    or the temple that made the gold sacred?
    She knew because she was, she is that temple that made, that makes the gold of our humanity sacred

    She is that temple from which the Word of God came forth with healing in his wings

    She provided that temple within herself in which was nourished the Lord of the Ages.

    But in her yes, in her belief, in her acquiescence …

    We are also that Temple, we have become that Temple.

    Destroyed long ago by the forces of human pride, the temple in Jerusalem could not stand forever, but we can stand forever.

    We are that temple upon whose walls echo the strains of the world’s acclamations and its cries.

    We are that temple that daily, hourly, offers up the sacrifice, the un-bloody sacrifice that alone can offer a hand outstretched to us, breaking as we are, aimlessly in the whirlpools of life

    We are the temple from which the salvation of the Lord breaks forth like the orient on high

    We are the temple made of flesh and bone, consecrated, that temple in which the gift of God, insinuated itself into time as flesh and blood, the same flesh and blood we receive today at this altar.

    This sacrament is our wealth. This savior who made his mother queen of heaven and earth turns to us today with his inviting hand. He offers us robes in which to doll up and a crown, dented by our folly, but shining nevertheless.

    He is calling us to glory as he called her. He is calling up to approach this altar, with fear of God and faith, approach and receive that which made her queen of heaven.
    Blind fools, which is greater, the gold,or the temple that made the gold sacred?
    Blessed are those called now, called to the temple, called to be that temple, called throughout time to the supper of the Lamb.



  2. Opening of 2016 Fall Semester Spirituality Week
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB
    August 22, 2016

    I have been invited by Fr. Bede to spend a few minutes this morning reflecting on the spiritual lives of priests as we begin this spiritual formation week. There is a great deal I could say, after all that is my job and I love it. This morning however, I know we want to get started and so I will offer a few reflections on what I consider the core of priestly spirituality, the life of prayer and service.

    I am proposing that the first challenge of priestly formation today is the cultivation of a dangerous life of prayer. Saint Paul tells us in the first letter to the Thessalonians to:
    Pray without ceasing for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
    There are three things that the Church requires of its priests. Celebration of the Eucharist, celebration of the sacraments and prayer. While we know that there is more to priesthood than these things, these are the core and, in some sense, all of the other activities of the priest should have reference to these three. There is nothing else that priests in our dioceses and religious communities are preparing for, so we should plan to give to these things our all. We should plan to give sacrificially. That must be part of our formation for we can hardly expect men to suddenly embrace a sacrificial life of prayer if that same thing has not been modeled and encouraged in the seminary.

    Here in this place, we must prepare ourselves for a life lived on our knees before God on behalf of the people we serve and will serve. Your seminary formation and your ordination prepares you for this and demands this of you, that you pray regularly, constantly before the mercy seat of God.

    As we move through the years of formation the time swiftly passes for you to be considering your commitment to a life of prayer. The time passes quickly for you to be lamenting your inability to pray, to get up in the morning. The time passes quickly for preparations. Time spent in the seminary is a time for action. You must be instructed: Pray until it hurts, not for yourself or your needs, pour out your love, your life in prayer on behalf of the Church you have promised, will promise to pray for without ceasing. Here our responsibility is hold out for you the Church’s vision. Bishops need to articulate clearly for seminarians their expectations about the Liturgy of the Hours, about devotions, about adoration. In seminaries we must be careful to stress the essentials, offering other alternatives but holding fast to the preferred forms of prayer, the Eucharist, the Liturgy of the Hours, etc. We must encourage men to have a strong devotional life, but not to see that devotional life as something inherently separate from, or, God forbid, more important than the Eucharist, the sacraments and the Liturgy of the Hours. We as seminary formators must be examples of prayer for you. We must model what we hope you will become by our commitment to prayer. In all things we must learn to be generous and to give our time to God.

    In many ways, prayer is the marker of your formation success. And it is dangerous, for us too. It requires something of us, not only our time but our souls, our lives. As a priest, primarily, I have nothing to do all day except celebrate the sacraments and serve God and I do that best on my knees. Here is what I say to you today: Wear out your knees, have knee replacements not because of too much running or running around but because of too much kneeling before the throne of the almighty, a throne mightily insinuated for us in our parish churches, in our chapels, before the tabernacle. There is the Holy of Holies our ancestors in faith worshiped before and died to preserve. There is the temple of the new covenant spoken of in the Book of Maccabees. There is the temple not made by human hands, that sanctuary of God. Give your life to God in its mighty shadow. Live a dangerous life of prayer and never look back. Never count the cost. Die in your vestments and you will have lived a most successful life.

    The other thing I think a seminary must assist new priests in cultivating is a vital vision of service in the Church.

    For the priest, this means one thing, service until death. There is nothing more beautiful in this life than to serve one another. We live to serve. It is a cheerful service. If we compete with one another, it is in service. We live it in hospitality, the desire to open my life and my home to all who come. We live it in volunteering, in doing small things with great love, in setting up the dining room, in cleaning the chapel, in preparing food, in the formal ministries we exercise and the informal ministries that are as close to us as our beating hearts.

    From a human standpoint, service until death is built on one thing, giving, giving, giving. I think about these words of St. Paul:
    For I am already being poured out like a libation,
    and the time of my departure is at hand.
    I have competed well;
    I have finished the race; I have kept the faith.
    The service we are called to is not divisive. It does not know strangers. It does not evaluate need according to creed. We do not make radical decisions about personal orthodoxy and then persecute those we find unworthy. We do not carry on heated conversations in pectore that we would be embarrassed to offer in the chapel. The life of discipleship and priestly service is the action of the Good Samaritan who sees the problem and promises to fix it, paying back all those who have helped him on his return. Service fixes us in the inn of life and it places us there with everyone, literally everyone, even those who deride, who hate our faith.

    Our lives as priests, as ministers of the Gospel present us in the inn with the poor, with the unloved and unlovely. It is, the ignorant, the pitiable, the leprous, the unacceptable, the barbed, the uncultivated. Any of us who have spent five minutes in parish life know that we are most needed by those who are in trouble, on the brink. Can you learn to love them as much as you love those with whom you share firmly fixed ideologies? One of the qualities of a delineating generation is that you make lists.

    You make lists of those who are acceptable and those who are not. This professor is acceptable, this one is not. This seminarian is orthodox and therefore okay, this one is not. Ideology that is soundly Catholic, solidly Christian is an ideology built on service.  I can preserve the purity of the faith all day, but if that rarified quality is maintained in a palace surrounded by the ditches of neglect, suspicion and even abuse, then that palace must be destroyed.

    What we must do is build a community of love. Building a community of love means going out of our way for the one whose attention warrants not one second of our time, in our mottled opinion. That must begin in the seminary, and then extend to presbyterates and parishes. Building a community of love means primarily not tearing down. It also means seeking the lost sheep.

    Seek the lost sheep. Seek the atheist. Seek the liberal or conservative. Seek the dumb bunnies. Seek the complainer. Seek the noisy. Seek the nosey. Seek the poor. I think our seminarians need to be challenged in this way: Do we even know the poor? Do we care about them at all? Are they the stray sheep, the one who got away? I can assure you we need not look far. Look to your families, your old friends, your fellow seminarians, perhaps even the rector.

    Seek the stray. Please God we need to seek the stray because that ultimately that stray sheep, brothers, is us. We are the one who got away and the Good Shepherd went looking for us and found us in our particular places. He found us in the cervices of the origami of our spitefulness.

    Perhaps that is enough for the first day. Needless to say, I will have more to offer as the year progresses. You can count on it. I will hold myself accountable and I will hold you accountable. I believe that is what charity looks like. I believe that charity expressed in prayer and service is the heart of this spirituality week.

    Image Source


  3. Daily Mass Homily
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB
    August 19, 2016

    We hear a singular promise from the Lord in today’s first reading:
    I will bring spirit into you that you may come to life.
    A question we might ask ourselves is this:

    How will that singular promise be fulfilled?

    Omran Daqneesh has been in the news this week in case you hadn't noticed. He was never a newsworthy item until early yesterday. Only his family had ever heard his name. He is not a pop star. He is not an Olympics champion engaged in rambunctious naughtiness. He is not Donald Trump’s newest handler.

    Omran Daqneesh is four years old and he is on the wrong side of the continuous escalating conflict in Syria. Yesterday, a picture of Omran appeared on the websites. He had been pulled from a bombed-out building in Allepo. He was wearing a tee-shirt with pictures of cartoon characters. He was bleeding badly and covered with dirt.

    In the short video, he is placed in an ambulance and sits there in shock, wiping the blood from his head and absentmindedly wiping it on the orange seat of the ambulance.

    Omran is what the news services call collateral damage. I call him a little boy caught up in a drama that people who should know better and should have better control have failed to quell.

    It is sad to say, but in so many ways for our troubled world, Omran Daqneesh is “everyboy”.

    Where is the promise of God in the life of Omran?

    I will bring spirit into you that you may come to life.

    Where is that spirit?

    Today rhetoricians speak confidently about the evils of Islam or this or that from the relative safety of their New York City penthouses or their gated Long Island estates. They haven't been on the streets of Allepo.

    We know (at least at some level) the trouble we are in.

    Our threat is not from without but from within. We have as a people, sometimes even as Church people, come to believe the myth that God is dead.

    We believe that we are called to navigate the world around us, a world of conflicting signals and conflated values, we are called to navigate that world on our own.

    We believe that we are in a precarious situation, sans trust, sans confidence, sans everything.

    And if God is dead it is certainly true. If God is dead then we are merely ghosts haunting the plains of a desolate place, the crumbling mansion of modernity.

    But, brothers and sisters, God is not dead. The Source of Life is neither dead nor does he sleep.

    What did God say?

    I will bring spirit into you that you may come to life.

    But we live in a cynical age.

    We want to preach faith, but our faith is eroding on the relentless shore of egoism and individualism

    We want to preach hope but our hope is faltering in the flailing waters of a time that cannot give assurance of the shore.

    We want to preach a bright message of love in a world enshrouded by the dark clouds of war, of political rancor, of despotism of death.

    We want to preach and so I keep going back in my mind’s eye, in my dreams, to the image of a stunned little boy named Omran Daqneesh 

    Can we preach faith, hope and love for Omran?

    Today all of you have come here to study, to be formed, and to be prepared for the great service of ministry to which you aspire.

    Today all of you, all of us have a vision of what that great service looks like, what it entails, who will be involved (or not), how it can be achieved.

    We all have a vision and yet other visions too confound us.

    Visions of explosions on the streets of Syria, of France, Belgium, England, the United States
    Visions of men and women and children, hated and ridiculed, crucified in the court of human opinion because they happened to be born in some other place.

    Visions of a wall being erected between us, among us, in our hearts, a wall that separates us from the fullness of God’s creation, even in the challenges, even in the questions.

    We learn to listen to the strains of another tune.

    A lyric of desperation

    A symphony of cacophony

    A canticle of confusion

    That is the music we have received: and yet, a great philosopher of the Twenty-first century said recently:

    Sometimes you just have to dance to the music that's playing.
    Sometimes you just have to dance to the music that's playing.Sometimes it's a waltz and sometimes it's a dirge echoing of the shattered walls of cities
    Brothers and sisters, why are we here?

    Our task here is not to beat out a tiny rhythm of disdain with the tiny bowl of a scruple spoon.

    Our task is to make the world a Christ habitable place for ourselves and for everyone else

    Our task here is to learn to sing a song of service

    Our task here is to memorize the strains of a symphony of justice

    Our task here, at Saint Meinrad, in this privileged time of formation, is to teach and to learn and to memorize and to live the promise of God

    I will bring spirit into you that you may come to life.

    It might be good to go back to our little friend for just a moment:

    Let’s go back to Omran Daqneesh 

    Let’s look at him again, sitting shocked in that orange, ambulance chair

    Let’s stand for a moment and hold Omran’s trembling hand

    What are those commandments of God?

    The first is to love God and the second is like it:

    Love your neighbor as yourself.

    Image Source 
Subscribe
Subscribe
Fr. Denis Robinson, OSB
Fr. Denis Robinson, OSB
Fr. Denis Robinson, OSB

Fr. Denis Robinson, OSB, is president-rector of Saint Meinrad School of Theology in St. Meinrad, IN. A Benedictine monk, he is also an assistant professor of systematic theology. A Mississippi native, Fr. Denis attended Saint Meinrad College and School of Theology, earning a bachelor's degree in philosophy in 1989 and a Master of Divinity in 1993. From 1993-97, he was parochial vicar for the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Memphis, TN. He joined the Saint Meinrad monastery in August 1997. Fr. Denis also attended the Catholic University of Louvain, Belgium, where he received a master’s degree in theology in 2002, a licentiate in sacred theology in 2003, and doctorates in sacred theology and philosophy in 2007.

View my complete profile
Links
Blog Archive
Categories
Loading
Dynamic Views theme. Powered by Blogger. Report Abuse.