1. Graduate Conference - Fall 2017
    October 21, 2017
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB

    I have been spending a great deal of time recently thinking about what motivates us. How do we understand, at a very basic level, who we are? How do we define ourselves, our value in the world, our position?

    Of course, there are many different answers and many different ideas about how such conclusions are reached. Perhaps they are as different as each individual.

    And yet, I do believe they fall into particular categories.

    Some of us define ourselves by our relationships. Am I in a relationship? Am I recovering from a relationship? Do I want to be in a relationship? We know that the permutations of interpersonal encounter can sometimes overwhelm us. We lay awake at night thinking: what does he or she think about me? Do they feel as strongly for me as I for them? Or we may turn that reality around a bit. I am not worthy to be thought of well by so and so. Can I ever meet there expectations? Can they every meet mine? These kinds of thought sometimes permeate them. They even permeate the lives of priests at times, when we find ourselves engaging in various kind of mental gymnastics in order to keep some kind of equilibrium.

    Another aspect of our personal identification is our work. As Benedictines we know that we are sometimes for good and sometimes for ill, defined by our work. We do these things and they define us. Likewise in the world outside of the monastery and seminary. We are defined by our work. Sometimes we are proud of that, and sometimes less so. Sometimes we believe that our work is closely matched to who we are and sometimes that we are merely floundering a world of meaningless labor in order to make ends meet. All of us desire at some level to be defined by our work and yet, we often find this a goal difficult to achieve.

    How am I defined?

    At a more base level, perhaps I am defined by money. How successful has my life been in monetary terms? I become defined by my possessions, what I have and what my neighbor has that I do not have. So much of life seemingly is looking across the fence into the neighbor's backyard and wondering how he was able to afford that pool or that RV. Or perhaps we are defined by less tangible but still infinitely important things like sexuality, or cultural identity, or any other construct.

    How am I defined?

    Is it family, friends, money, job, education, values, neighborhood. It might be any of those things or a combination of those things.

    However, as we advance in the Christian life (and hopefully that is what you are having the opportunity to do here) as we advance in the Christian life there is a growing complexity in our understanding of what is important, a growing complexity and, I would say, a simplicity.

    As Christians and as Catholics, I would say we have only one thing by which to define ourselves and that is the Eucharist.

    Our understanding of  a growing sense of discipleship must lead us to the conclusion that we are only fully defined by our participation at Mass.  Now, I think for us in this theological testing ground, that realization is, at least, theoretically correct. We know we are defined by the Eucharist, whether or not we have fully incorporated that reality into our lives. We are defined by the Eucharist. And yet, what do we practically encounter in our churches.

    Honestly we have to say that it can be a mixed bag. Sometimes the celebration of the Eucharist in parishes is very meaningful. Sometimes it calls us out of ourselves and our daily concerns and into the mystery of Christ lived in the eschatological moment of Holy Communion. Sometimes it does a very good job of reminding us of its centrality in our lives and the million practical ways it defines us.

    Sometimes, however we have a different story.  The celebration of the Eucharist can seem dull. It can seem perfunctory. It can seem to be rushed and watched over by less than diligent ministers. It can seem boring, the worst epithet our modern world can give anything.

    Now, we know at a REAL level, a valid celebration of the Eucharist is none of these things, and yet we can become ensnared in the external ideals and miss the internal truths. What are you experiencing here? I hope that you are experiencing quality education, good fellowship, a meaningful experience of Church, and GOOD LITURGY.

    Tomorrow we will have the privilege of praying together at Mass. This afternoon we will celebrate the Divine Liturgy of Saint John Chrysostom in the Byzantine chapel (follow your noses) at 4:30. I hope to see you there. Sometimes a mere shifting of rite can give us some new insight into where we are going or where we need to be. Sometimes a new rite can show us what we might be missing if we are too caught up in the tangibles (or the politics) of our Roman Rite. Sometimes we just need a little liturgical reset to get us moving in the right direction again.

    I hope that many of you will join us this afternoon, but I also hope that you might think of this little reflection on values as a way of doing a kind of discipleship reset, something all of us really need every day.


    Peace and blessings to each of you. 

    Image Source
    Posted by
    Labels: Conference for Lay Students Fall


  2. Mass of Thanksgiving-Fr. Stephen Lawson, OSB
    October 15, 2017
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson
    It is a very great honor to be asked to preach today on the occasion of Fr. Stephen’s Mass of Thanksgiving. I have had several chances to visit the community here at Saint Anslem’s through the years. My first time was more than 20 years ago, when I was visiting a young junior (I was also a young junior at the time) and then 7 years ago, I had the privilege of offering a retreat for the community. In those days, Fr. Stephen was a brand new monk. Now, I return for this day. What a good man and what a good new priest you have in Fr. Stephen. I am sure his own family is as proud of him as his monastic family is. In coming back to Manchester, I discovered an interesting bit of trivia, that is, Manchester is a city known for its dead-end streets. Let us pray today that the reputation of the city is not one that will effect the life of our new priest, Fr. Stephen.
    Now the homily.
    A number of years ago, I had the opportunity to reflect upon one of my favorite Church memories from seminary days, the group of women religious known as the Medical Missionary Sisters. Of course the sisters dated from even an earlier time in Church life. They were the products of the 1960’s, those experimental and somewhat heard days of liturgical renewal.
    If you ever knew of these women, you knew also of their most famous song: “I Cannot Come to the Banquet” a masterpiece of liturgical music that resounds to this day.
    Here are the words:
    I cannot come to the banquet, don’t bother me now.
    I have married a wife, I have bought me a cow.
    I have fields and commitments that cost a pretty sum.
    I cannot come to the banquet (musical interlude).
    I cannot come.
    While it is quite evident that these women were medical missionaries and not professors of English, I think their observation is on the money.
    Doesn’t it seem like everyone has a reason for denying gracious invitations.
    We start with the excuses early on.
    The dog ate my homework.
    My grandfather died suddenly (for the ninth time)
    I cannot possibility take gym today with my fragile health
    Of course, as we grow older and grow up, the excuses become even more complicated
    My inner child is suffering
    Memory loss is setting in
    I live in a shame-based patriarchal system
    No one understands me.
    And of course, we are not immune to hearing excuses in Church life.
    I had to miss Mass because a sinkhole swallowed my car
    I do not really care for the choir and the music in the parish
    If I don’t stay home and wait for the Sunday paper, the neighbor’s dog will eat it.
    We know of course that the excuses of life are endless.
    In the Gospel today, the invited folks must have had a slew of excuses, marital, bovine, or, well anything else.
    I just cannot come to your banquet my dear king. There is too much going on.
    Fields, commitments, husbands, wives, livestock are all encompassing. They eat us up, eat us alive.
    And yet we still have the host, the king, let’s just call him God for short asking us for something, a little bit of our time, a little bit of our attention.
    God has provided us with something quite wonderful, something quite extraordinary, something that is bound to enchant us.
    God has prepared something lavish, something sumptuous ,something really embarrassingly over the top.
    Yet, our excuses remain quite rampant and as myriad as the clever curvatures of each one’s mind.
    Now, of course you know we are not talking about a dinner party.
    We are ruminating instead on the eschatological banquet, the great feast of salvation.
    Alright, I cannot come to the banquet. What are our excuses?
    Perhaps you are angry with God, perhaps you feel let down by him, forsaken by him and so you wish to just sit in the proverbial corner while your neighbors feast and celebrate.
    Perhaps you feel you have nothing to celebrate in life. Perhaps you are just tired of trying to find meaning in what the world continuously pours out for you as a meaningless ego trip.
    Perhaps you are conditioned by pride. I don’t want God to give me anything. I will take from this world what I will take because I will take it. We find that we cannot be dependent, cannot be reliant, cannot be vulnerable to love, to the options of grace.
    Perhaps we are conditioned by age. It is too late for me. I have no energy to even try now. I just wish to sit here in the corner and wait for death, slurping down the cold comfort of my infirmity.
    Perhaps I am too poor, to ashamed, not by material poverty, but by the poverty of the spirit that fails to call out: “Abba, Father” because we don’t think our voice is anything special. God does not hear. God does not care
    I cannot come to the banquet.
    Endless excuses.
    None of them very good.
    But here is the thing: God is a generous host.
    God never fails to offer.
    God never backs away from the invitation.
    God never loses faith with us even when our faith wavers like a candle in the wind of life’s precariousness
    God never abandons us, he haunts us through our own stubbornness, our own pride, our own conceit, haunts the backrooms of our imaginations. He haunts us in depression. He haunts us even in sin.
    God never fails to call us. He wants us, wants us profoundly and he calls us as he called Fr. Stephen, years ago, as he called him yesterday in his ordination. He calls in every moment of our lives. He calls us in our wakefulness and in our sleep.
    God never fails to challenge us. Like a good father, he loves us and in loving us wants us to become better people, better Christians, better parents, better monks, better priests.
    God never loses hope, even when the bright beacon of hope seems lost in the fog of an early New Hampshire morning, lost in the fog of the morning after homecoming.
    Here is the Good News today. God loves us and grants us his mercy, his regard, his designation of infinite value even when we occasionally cannot, will not, love ourselves, love him.
    I cannot come to the banquet.
    Not a problem.
    God will bring the banquet to us.
    In the cold corners.
    In the wavering places.
    In the hopelessness.
    God will bring the banquet to us.
    The table is set,
    The candles are lit.
    Our waiter today is Fr. Stephen Lawson, OSB.
    And here in this banquet the LORD of hosts
    will provide for all peoples
    a feast of rich food and choice wines,
    juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines.
    On this mountain he will destroy
    the veil that veils all peoples,
    the web that is woven over all nations;
    It may seem mere bread and mere wine but it is really something else. It is really falling in love.
    No fear. No self-reproach. No morbid conscience. Fr. Stephen will lead us.
    No grudges. No shame. No hurts. No animosity. No death. No death.
    Here God is all in all. Here we have a place at the table. Here we encounter the Lamb of God who removes all our sins.

    How happy are those called to the supper of the Lamb. Will we come? Will we come today?
    Posted by
    Labels: Catholic Homilies Rector



  3. Feast of St. Denis
    October 9, 2017
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB

    You know my spiel by now. You know my shtick related to this Gospel. Let me say it again for the new boys and girls.

    All of us are sons of ditches. All of us.

    It doesn't really matter who you are, who your people are or what you think you might have achieved 

    It doesn't matter how big headed you are, how intelligent, how prone to the vagaries of ideas and ideals

    It doesn't matter if you have something, a car, a house, a big portfolio

    It doesn't matter if you have several academic degrees

    It doesn't matter if you have a home and kids

    It doesn't matter if you have a great job

    You are headed for the ditch. I am headed for the ditch

    Whether the ditch rises to meet you or you meet the ditch in a headlong plunge 

    It is a place we all find ourselves occasionally perhaps quite often in life.

    And we know the geography of the ditch don’t we?

    We know it's muddy bottoms, reeking with the ooze of human wastefulness, mired in the folly of our sinfulness, our need to do this or that, our inveterate desire to control.

    We know it's vermin infested banks, crawling, coated with a sense of either abandonment or entitlement or both, infested and invested in the narcissism of a decaying personal sense of entitlement.

    We know the ditch with its little landmarks 

    Pride

    Greed

    Avarice 

    Lust

    The ditch grabs us. The ditch confounds us. The ditch holds us in its insidious clutches.

    And we need a savior

    There is no getting out of the ditch without a savior,

    There is no hope without a helper

    There is no chance without someone.

    And who comes along?

    A priest comes along, in Luke’s rhetoric the impotent exemplar of a forlorn and forsaken creed, a Judaism bereft of meaning and circumscribed by its own complex Law

    Along comes a lawyer, a man accustomed only to argumentation, not accustomed to freedom or the desire of an internal liberty. This he could not provide.

    But O my brothers and sisters there was One; a Samaritan, one reprobate, one despised and rejected by men.

    Here is the scourge of the earth.

    Here is an untouchable

    Here is one born out of the normal time.

    His face was not handsome to look upon 

    His hands were callous and torn, fraught by labor and the stripes of torture.

    His clothes were gruesome to sense, the look of poverty, the disdain of poverty, the reeking of the robe and the odor of human mendacity.

    His feet were carved by the blades of the hard dirt of the road, a road pushed hard upon by the incessant force of time but a road leading to nowhere, not to Jericho, not to Jerusalem, a road that only circled around to a hill called Calvary as if vacant Calvary were the center of the universe.

    We circle that hill called Calvary as though we remember it as Eden in its better days. We are looking for the shades of Eden in a ditch.

    Brothers and sisters, we are that Jew in the ditch, we are that man on the road, we search, do we not the those muddy bottoms, those vermin infested banks, we search them for signs of some salvation.

    O we are down, we are lost,  we have almost given up hope.

    And yet this one picked us up

    When we were naked, we gave us something to wear

    When we were thirsty, he gave us living water

    When we were homeless, he lodged us in an inn, the katalyma of the Church

    When we thought we had no future. He said: I will return

    He picked us up and he took us to the inn and he bathed us and he bound up our wounds and he loved us, he loved us, he loves us. 

    We were sons of ditches but in the fullness of time, not a moment too soon, we have been given such a promise, such a rescuer, such a hero, such a lover, such an advocate

    And O brothers and sisters He has a name 

    The Good Samaritan has a name 

    A name above every name

    The name that trumpets across the firmament

    The name that howls down the storms of life

    The name that promises, promises, promises

    The name that confounds our false religion in the power of his mercy.

    It is the name of Jesus, our Good Samaritan, our Savior, our Grace, Lord forever and ever.


    Image Source
    Posted by
    Labels: Catholic Homilies Rector Seminary



  4. Rector’s Conference
    October 8, 2017
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB

    In the life of every priest there is a catalogue, a litany of sinners and saints.

    Here are a few of mine.

    Winnie was an elderly lady in my first parish assignment. She was probably in her eighties. She worked in the sacristy. She seldom said a word. She worked, cleaning candlesticks. She never stopped working, she never sought any praise. She didn’t seem to need it. She always seemed to be working something out. She was always there. I suspect that even though she died a few years ago that her spirit is still hovering over that sacristy.

    Clare was a business woman, a very sharp woman. She had the world by the tail and she knew how to swing it. People looked up to her. They trusted her. She had it all, including alcohol addiction, undetected and undiagnosed until she died of liver failure at the age of 60.

    Ben was a man of the Church, one of those men who heads the men’s group, who opens the doors, who fixes things, who carries other people’s burdens, who makes donations anonymously. And Ben, a very good father had a secret child for whom he cared. He was a good father to this little one too, but many saw him as a sinner. I saw him as one of us.

    Ann was another sharp lady. She carried herself well. She contributed to the life of the parish. She was a good Catholic, until one day she just stepped out into the middle of Union Avenue into oncoming traffic. She did it on purpose. Those who saw it knew it was on purpose. No one knows why.

    Terry was a man of substance. He was important in local politics. His name was always in the newspaper. He was a good Catholic, church going, raising his children in the faith. One day he walked into my office and told me he was also a closeted homosexual who was tired of living a lie. I never saw him again.

    The catalogue goes on, as all of us through the years acquire a litany of sinners and saints those we have been privileged to know.

    Often when I am sitting in a confessional in a weekend parish I will notice the parish directory.

    Sometimes several generations of parish directories reveal how the folks of that place have changed through the years:

    Hairstyles change, clothing styles change.

    Who has disappeared? 

    Who has moved? 

    Who has lost someone in the picture? 

    Those directories are catalogues, litanies if you will, of loss and change but also growth living into the mystery of the paschal Christ .

    They are catalogues, litanies of conversion.

    In my conferences this semester I am looking at the vows of the Benedictine monk, particularly as they relate to the diocesan priesthood.

    Last month I spoke about the importance of stability, hopefully highlighting its centrality to the charism of what we try to achieve here, what we try to achieve here for you and for us.

    In tonight’s conference we are looking at another unique charism, the vow of conversion.

    What does it mean to take a vow of conversion to define one’s life by change?

    What does it mean to do that in the context of the vow of stability, of living in one place over a long period of time?

    I would say the relationship is something like this:

    Stability is the condition of conversation but what is conversion of life?

    That is, indeed, the question

    I think I know what it is not. It is not sensational. It is not flashy. It is not riotous. Conversion requires patience and it requires the ability to see things beyond the superficiality of the moment.

    It is more, so much more than a perpetual courting of the stridently ephemeral and the slickly controversial.

    This is something that we must mark carefully in the life of the Church, a life over which all of us will one day have a presiding role.

    I am thinking about those of us who write blog posts.

    People who long to pedal influence they have no right to pedal in the name of a non-existent church should be on guard. Leading people into schism and leading people into heresy corrupts not only the souls of often innocent readers, it corrupts the soul of the writers of controversy.

    Following the lead of pastors who lack credibility is hazardous. Follow the lead of authentic servants of God, those servants who know only one True Thing: Jesus Christ and him crucified.

    No priest is perfect, we know that, but most are striving for perfection.

    Knowing the Truth and getting fully to that Truth is the core of conversion.

    Conversion to the Truth is a conversion to docility.

    Conversion to the Truth is conversion of the ideal of being a part of something, perhaps something broken or not fully known, but something other prophecy in its most corrupted form.

    Conversion to the Truth is a conversion to the deepest part of me, to myself at the root, to my secrets and my sins.

    Conversion to the Truth is laying bare who I am because I have the need to do it certainly, but the freedom to do it, absolutely. I have won that freedom in the maelstrom of discipleship.

    Conversion in our context is a conversion to love.

    It is conversion to the man Jesus Christ..

    It is a conversion to intimacy with Jesus Christ.

    Conversion to love has a face.

    It is thorn-pierced and wrapped in the brow like so much shrapnel from the warfare of life.

    It is spat upon by misunderstanding in this world, drenched in the spittle of racism, sexism, phobias of every kind.

    It is slapped to a deep redness, the redness of embarrassment at finding myself exposed

    It is cursed at

    It is maimed 

    It is disfigured 

    It is injured

    It is longing

    It is wrenched by finitude

    It is pure beauty

    What does it mean to organize our lives along these essential truths?

    What does it mean to find meaning in our lives, not in social events and games, not in banal activities that ultimately do not propel us down that road to being the pure evangelists for the Gospel that each one, by our vocations, necessarily?

    We have one task only in life and it is not to entertain ourselves.

    Our task in life is to see the face of Christ and to seek it exclusively and relentlessly.

    This is not a mystery beyond comprehension. I can see the face of Christ and I can see it everywhere, every time I look out from this pulpit.

    I can see it in your faces, faces sometimes filled with doubt, often consumed by pain, but turned resolutely toward our Lord, shining out for us in the glory of this Blessed Sacrament, regarding us from the beauty of the Cross.

    Conversion is finding the face of Christ in you. That is my conversion. That is my vow of conversatio, to live my life in the relentless pursuit of the face of Christ in you.

    Your conversion is finding the face of Christ in me and all of the others, in all of us.

    Look at my face

    Look past the lines and the creases 

    Look past fear

    Look past concern

    What do you see in my face?

    I am sure it is the same as what I see in yours.

    Sin

    Bigotry 

    Deceitfulness

    Misconduct

    An occasional inability to live God

    A ceaseless striving after vanity 

    And charity

    Excellence

    Goodness

    Kindness

    Concern for others

    Virtue

    And the ability to bear something, to bear one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ. Brothers we are far past thinking of the priesthood as merely a casual activity for Sunday morning, one that can be easily cast away when there is something more pressing on the carotid arteries of our desire.

    Brothers there is only one thing for us, an intentional and a total conversion to Christ and the full realization that nothing else makes any difference and when we can mark that, when we can start to show that, we are on the road to salvation.

    Conversion is also something else

    There is something else

    And something more

    Something more rare …

    Yearning

    Yearning

    Conversion is that yearning. 

    The ignorant of the world say that we celibate men are denied love. 

    It is quite the opposite. Love is what we seek above all things. We long for love. We long to be filled with love. We desire above all things to be consumed by love, eaten away by love, torn apart by love. 

    This is our conversion and it is hard for us to say, hard for us to realize, as men I mean.

    It is hard enough in family life and it is very hard in the priesthood because somehow we feel that the conversion to pure love is a weakness, a non-masculine emotive life that somehow does not suit our being men.

    We think that the consummation of God’s love is not in keeping with the distance needed to be a real man. 

    But here is what I know about real men.

    A real man is one not afraid to fall and not afraid to cry. Not afraid to be vulnerable, not afraid to be sober, not afraid to be lighthearted, not afraid to be open hearted not afraid to be IN CONVERSION, IN THE PROCESS OF COMING TO BE, and IN THE ABYSS OF COMING TO BE.

    We understand that the Truth of our masculinity lies as much in brokenness as in strength. 

    We know that the Truth of our masculinity sometimes edges away from what a false and cold culture wishes to heap upon it.

    Conversion is to know in the depths who we are and when we know in our depths who we are then we can turn toward glory.

    Do we have that strength in this community? I think so

    Can we in our conversion, in our celibacy long solely for God?

    Truly long for God?

    A longing that makes me cry for joy into my pillow at night?

    Can I live intensely for everyone and not the certain ones?

    Can my intense love for God only be relieved, only be realized by giving away my body and giving away my soul to all of you?

    And that in adversity as well as joy?

    Conversion is striving after God, searching for him in un-known rooms, seeking him out in the very halls of our personal hell.

    I think that is the key.

    To whom do I wish to give myself?

    You are this and you are that

    You are maimed and unable reach out

    You are wounded by folks in your past

    We are all of us, we are all that.

    We are … busted.

    And you know what?

    That is not only fine with me, that is my hearts blood.

    All of this doesn't happen overnight it never completely happens except for the saints. We are not yet saints but O my God we strive for it 

    In that striving for conversion, that heartache for beatitude, we become who we are called to be.

    And brothers it is our salvation. I cannot deny my undying love for each one here without denying that I have a soul. That God exists that there is hope not only in the world but in the cosmos for you and for me. For you and for me. 

    In conversion we remember that voice of the Lord calling to us calling for you and for me. 

    And, to me, that voice sounds like you. It looks like you.

    In conversion it looks like you

    It looks like Winnie 

    It looks like Clare

    It looks like Ben

    It looks like Ann

    It looks like Terry 

    It looks like us

    That conversion, that road I call the priesthood. 


    Image Source
    Posted by
    Labels: Rector Rector's Conferences 2017 Reflections Seminary


  5. Friday of the Twenty-sixth Week in Ordinary Time

    October 6, 2017
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB
    Whoever rejects you rejects me.
     And whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.
    The readings today are full of woe.

    Perhaps they are not so far from how we occasionally (usually) feel.

    In the first reading from Baruch, the people are flushed with shame. 

    Is that how we occasionally (usually) feel

    What is the hue of that blush?

    Perhaps it is the deep crimson of sin, the acknowledgement of sins past, our past, our shame, the shame that sometimes overwhelms us in the moment in which we should be triumphing.

    What is the hue of that blush?

    Perhaps it is the paler red of uncertainty, of simply not knowing right from wrong, our right hand from our left.

    What is the hue of that blush?

    Perhaps it is the pale pink of memory, of what we have done and what we must live with, now long past but not quite forgotten

    Or

    Perhaps it is just the threat of a blush that dares to arrive on our visage at any moment, knowing how weak we are, how vulnerable we are to whatever it may be.

    We wallow in it don't we?

    We expect to hear the voice of some lord, some god. 

    Woe to you for this or that because woe is your lot in life, woe is your destination on the journey

    Woe to you singer of tragedy, for your accusatory way of killing me with your song

    Woe to you, villages and towns of Puerto Rico for the scourge of God which has come upon you and your unreasonable request for help.

    Woe to you elderly people for living to long and living off the government too long

    Woe to you poor people for your lack of initiative

    We expect the woes don’t we? We expect what we presume to be God’s justice. We are sinners in the hands of an angry God

    This natural disaster is God’s justice 

    This social disease is God’s justice 

    The plague is God’s justice

    Sickness is God’s justice

    Poverty is God’s justice

    Pain is God’s justice

    We want to believe it all but

    It is a lie, a lie told by the devil, the war monger of this world’s sorrows, its conflicts, its pains

    Instead this is God’s justice

    Mercy is God’s justice

    Peace is God’s justice

    Life is God’s justice

    Joy is God’s justice

    Melody is God’s justice

    Harmony is God’s justice

    Happiness is God’s justice

    Love is God’s justice … unencumbered

    Unfettered 

    Unbridled

    Unrestricted

    Unhampered

    Un-self-conscious

    Unleashed

    Unhindered

    Un-hobbled

    Unblocked

    Un-delayed

    Un-smothered

    Un-stifled

    Un-muzzled

    Un-derailed

    Undefined

    Un-fixed

    Un, Un, Un, Un, Un

    O my dear brothers, my dear sisters if only we could live fully into the “un” of this world so as to realize that God’s justice is as close to us as the secret longing of my heart

    The secret longing of my heart is love

    Love

    Love

    Love

    So

    Woe to you devil for I'll have no part of you.

    Woe to you sin because my savior Jesus Christ has set me free.

     Image source
    Posted by
    Labels: Catholic Homilies Rector Seminary
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
Links
Blog Archive
Blog Archive
Categories
Categories
Loading
Dynamic Views theme. Powered by Blogger. Report Abuse.