1. Theological Reflection
    June 23, 2020
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson
    Dear Brothers and Sisters,
    As the months of summer wear on, there are many questions that all of us are continuing to ask about how, when, where and what our coming months will be like, particularly as we move toward the fall formation term. We have many wise minds who are working on the best practices for our fall semester. All of us are wondering what life will be like. We have spent and are spending a great deal of time and energy on developing the rules for re-convention. What will the practicalities be? We want to know how far apart we need to sit. We want to know if it will be safe to eat the food. Can we have classes together or must we stay online? Can we go out? Must we stay in? All important questions, and yet, perhaps they are the second tier of reflection. I do believe that we have to ask some very essential questions as we move forward. Our goal here is to have in place a definite plan by the first of August. In the meantime, as we mull over the practicalities, I would like to offer a series of theological reflections. Here are some of the thoughts that I have been having lately.
    First, I have been thinking about our holy patron. We all (I hope) know the story of Saint Meinrad. Saint Meinrad was a monk and he was a hermit. He planned very carefully to be a hermit, to live alone in the desert of the Swiss forest. The key event of his life, however, contradicted his plan. Two thieves appeared and Saint Meinrad did not turn them away, even though he knew that they would kill him.
    He did not disdain the values of the Gospel in order to protect himself. What does this say about our lives as Christian men and women? First, it indicates that there is a value from the Christian standpoint that we must always uphold. It is the value of hospitality. Hospitality is not recklessness, but it may be, in the end, a kind of resignation. We must take care of ourselves, but we must also take care of others, both in our orbit and in the world. A second value for Saint Meinrad was the importance of forming practical values on Gospel values. I was thinking recently about Christmas trees. We can have the most beautiful ornaments in the world (practical plans) but if we have no tree (Gospel framework) to hang them on they are merely glass and tinsel. The tree gives life to the ornaments. The Gospel values give life to the practical plans.
    We might also look at the life of St. Maximillian Kolbe. St. Maximillian found himself in desperate circumstances in the concentration camp at Auschwitz. Yet, he did not hesitate to intentionally exacerbate those circumstances by taking on the burdens of another, indeed, dying for another. Only the Gospel could inform a decision like that.
    In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus asks the disciples this important question:  Can you drink of the cup that I am to drink? The disciples did not hesitate to say yes and Jesus told them that they would drink the cup he was to drink. Jesus was clear with the disciples: Risks may need to be taken. I do not believe these risks have to be mere folly. But risks must be taken and survival at all costs may be a soteriological risk in itself.
    Here is what I know: I know that this health crisis is serious. I do not believe it is a hoax or a political scam. I also believe that we need to take every precaution we can to insure the well-being of all. I also believe it is essential for us to meditate and pray very earnestly on how we as messengers of the Gospel and ambassadors of Christ must respond to human suffering. We cannot endanger any life, but we may also need to seek and discover creative ways to reach out. Here is the theological tension. We must be careful, but we must be bold. We must be safe, but we must be risk takers for the Gospel.
    We do not know and we cannot know exactly what the scenario will be for our re-opening. We do not know the level of contagion in our dioceses or in our local area. We must plan and we must do so practically, but in the coming weeks as we internally look at various scenarios, I also want to reflect on the Gospel values we must continually uphold if we are to be worthy of the name of priest, deacon, seminarian, lay minister, or devoted Christian servant.  Let us then turn without hesitation and without apology to the greatest resource we have, prayer to our Almighty God who alone can ultimately resolve the crisis in which we find ourselves. As always, I am here for you in any way I can be. We are all working together to find the best answers to these critical questions in Christ. 
    Peace,

    FDR
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  2. Tuesday of the Twelfth Week of Ordinary Time

    June 23, 2020
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB

    “‘For out of Jerusalem shall come a remnant,
    and from Mount Zion, survivors.
    The zeal of the LORD of hosts shall do this.’’

    The Second Book of Kings is filled today with images of home.

    But, there is a need to understand that home is the place not where we are from or where we live now, or even where we are going, rather home is where our heart is.

    For the Jews, Jerusalem was home. It was home to them even if they were in exile, even if they had never seen its narrow gates and narrower streets.
    Jerusalem was home because it was, it is, the dwelling place of God, the God who was their true home, their peace, their living place.  

    I have been thinking a great deal about home recently. I’m sure we all have.
    People, around the world, we are told are confined to home
    Quarantined at home
    Cloistered at home
    For some people, home is a haven.
    For some it is a prison.
    For some it is expansive.
    For some it is confining.
    Home is where the heart is, unless our hearts wander.
    Home, no matter where it is, is the place where we truly, most significantly, for good or ill, understand our selves

    “‘For out of Jerusalem shall come a remnant,
    and from Mount Zion, survivors.
    The zeal of the LORD of hosts shall do this.’’

    Where is home for you?
    Perhaps it is 500 yards away, or 5000 miles away
    Perhaps it is at Saint Meinrad or perhaps somewhere else
    No matter where; we long for its comforts. We long for its understanding. We long for its domesticity. We long for its ability to quench our thirsty longings
    Home is where we long to sit upon the porch, and to know so well where we are.

    Jesus offers a little advice about home in the Gospel today:
    Strive to enter through the narrow gate.
    It may seem like odd advice but I believe the gist of the thing is this: Get in no matter what.
    No matter how hard it is, no matter the land mines, no matter the inconvenience
    All of us have a destination toward which we are turning
    We here are guided by the Gospel and because it is the Gospel we have the determination to get there.

    Where is home?

    500 yards

    5000 miles

    Or 5 feet away  
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  3. Notes from Saint Meinrad – 6/8/2020
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB

    What should I read?

    People are always asking me: What are you reading? Perhaps especially when the time at home has become more pronounced, many are looking for profitable ways to fill our time that does not involve a barrel of Utz cheeseballs. As some of you know, I have a bi-annual reading topic which last semester was shot, so this fall I will take up significant reading on Islam. Of course, no matter the topic (or lack of topic) other items get inserted along the way. Recently I have revisited the essays of Mary Beard and looked at James Michener’s The Source. This summer I am working my way systematically through all of the plays of Shakespeare (again). Sometimes a book comes my way through a complete tangent. Such was the case with The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration, a book by Isabel Wilkerson. The book was recommended to me by Drew Williams. Sometimes, books are wonderful. Sometimes they are even epically so. But rarely are books life-changing. For me, this book was life-changing, perhaps because I just finished it in the midst of the great upheaval we are experiencing in our country today surrounding the question of race. The book has been important to me because it made me ask questions about myself and my attitudes.

    I grew up in the Jim Crow south. My grandparents and my parents talked about equality, but I realize that to them in their liberal hearts, equality was largely a theory. Their concern did not change the fact that the black men and women around us were certainly separate but not equal. I didn’t grow up in a home where bigotry was open, but I did grow up in the midst of white privilege. I did grow up in a home where the only “colored” people we ever saw were domestic workers, who had to go home to their own neighborhoods at night. Things were not equal in “their” schools, neighborhoods, transportation, restrooms, and shopping options. They were separate but they certainly were not equal. Should I be ashamed? Again, I can say, it was not me. I pray that I have never outwardly treated anyone differently, much less interiorly because of their race or ethnicity, but I also know that attitude may also be a result of white privilege.

    I have two very distinct memories from my early childhood. Both happened when I was five years old. The first was a tour of the burnt out areas of Washington D.C. with my father and mother. My father wanted me to see the results of the rioting in the city, even though I was only five. I remember riding in my dad’s red Impala convertible, standing up between my parents in the front seat (you could do that in those days) and I remember seeing all of the rubble around me and my father fretting to my mother that the car had a Mississippi license plate. The second happened in that same spring. My mother and I had gone to the Tivoli Theater to see some Disney show, I don’t even remember the movie. I do remember that there was an assault on the theater, banging of doors and some sort of demonstration that was over before we left, but I could hear it. I don’t remember being afraid however. I probably just wished they would shut up so I could watch the movie. I guess I did not really believe that those burnt neighborhoods and those rioting people had anything to do with me. They were not me. Like my family, perhaps I cared, but from a distance.

    What is me, and I know this, is my idolization of the south and my south in particular. I love the south, my heritage, the culture, the manners, the food, everything. It is all a product of the old south. We can talk about the old south and the grand old days. There is another, more sinister aspect to this, however. That grandeur and those manners many southerners so idolize were built on the backs of slaves, men and women and children who were not treated as human beings. We have seen in recent days the controversy of removing the statue of Robert E. Lee from the park in Richmond. This has been going on in different places for a while now. Robert E. Lee we are told stood for the old gentility of southern ways. It may be that Lee was a good man, a good husband, a good father. But it is difficult to get around the fact that Robert E. Lee was a military leader responsible for leading the killing of millions of his fellow Americans to allow for the continued legal support for an institution that systemically enslaved millions of other people. That is part of the conflictual realization of the South.

    After the Civil War we entered a period of our history called reconstruction. What have we constructed in the past 150 years? We have not constructed a very convincing equality. It is not true to say that inequality is in the past. It is today as well. William Faulkner once said: The past is not dead; it isn’t even past. William Faulkner knew the South; he knew it on intimate terms.  I am afraid that what our country needs right now is a massive examination of collective conscience. I say that I am afraid, because an examination of conscience is first for me and then for us. We have to acknowledge that there is an “us” to make that examination.  Faulkner also once remarked: “All of us have failed to match our dream of perfection. I rate us on the basis of our splendid failure to do the impossible.”

    I know there are no easy answers to easing the tensions in our streets. We need leadership to do it and I believe leadership is what we are sorely lacking in our nation today. A consistent building up of a culture of individualism makes NO ONE altruistic enough to say: I am willing to sacrifice my own needs, indeed my own happiness, my own pursuit of the god of wealth, to try desperately to make other people’s lives better. Patriotism, even southern patriotism, only means something if we are willing to stop idealizing and start calling things what they are. All of us are called to know ourselves profoundly, to make that thorough examination of conscience, to confess our sins. We are also called to help others to do that. That is the authentic prophetic spirit. Perhaps that is authentic patriotism as well. We have to start by wanting to be better. We have to begin by a deep internal investigation, not to feel guilty or bad about ourselves, but to truly try and know ourselves. Lord I believe, help my unbelief!

    What should I read? Brothers and sisters, let us read the signs of the times.
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  4. Trinity Sunday

    June 7, 2020
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB

    Today, my brothers, we celebrate the Solemnity of the Holy Trinity. What a great moment in the life of the Church’s annual cycle to stop and meditate on this central mystery of our faith. And yet, if we are honest about the business, perhaps particularly as preachers, we are a bit daunted by it as well.

    The Trinity is a great Mystery, Or so I was told by my first pastor. When asked to elaborate he replied: I just told you it’s a great mystery. I don’t know anything about it.

    For many years I taught the course on the Trinity in the seminary. It is a great challenge to communicate on the one level the hylomorphism, the perichoretic quality, the circumincesion which is elemental, that is to say basic to Trinitarian theology to a group of seminarians in graduate school. It is quite another thing to bring that mystery to bear on folks at the parish level. And of course, it we are honest about it, we know that there is in fact little difference between the two groups. As the great theologian, Saint John Henry Newman once remarked: No one understands the Trinity. And so my old pastor may have been right. It is a mystery, but does that necessarily mean it is unknowable.

    Certainly one of the persons of this Divine mystery doesn’t think so.
    God so loved the world …
    When we step back from all of our fancy theological language, this is what we find.

    God so loved the world, that he gave his only son.  It is the essence of God’s love for us, which is so great that he gave his only son.

    And of course, it is a message that, all of us, young and old, rich and poor alike long to hear, a message that so many in our world today are desperate to hear.

    A message that we are desperate to hear, because loneliness and isolation are a poison, a deadly poison in the veins of the human family.

    We see it in our young people, alone, fearful and lonely struggling to find meaning in their lives through any possible means. We see it in those who hunger for human dignity and find no way to experience it.

    We hear it in the stifling silence of the quarantine of cities, of those longing for neighbors, for friends, for family.

    We hear it in the cries of the poor, the homeless, the marginalized, the outcast, the voices of those who cry for bread, for acceptance, for homeland.

    We hear it in the protests that are crowding our streets again, calls for basic understanding, for equality.

    We know it in our culture’s insistence on rugged individualism, popularism, pioneerism, the so-called prophecy of the one.

    We know what loneliness is because we feel the pinch of its skeletal fingers in the very heart of our being, in the vacancy of the stare that confronts us daily in the mirrors of our self-perception.

    We know what loneliness is because we, though wounded, continue to wound by turning our back on the clamor of the other’s, our neighbor’s, pleading

    In spite of the endless rhetoric from the cult of self-sufficiency, and individualism

    We still long for love

    Long to feel it in the presence of others, the warm breath of human contact, human kindness.

    Long to know it in our care for our brothers and sisters, in the awkward gestures of friendship and fellow feeling, of fraternal care engendered by friends, by family, even by strangers.

    Long to be a part of something, to be accepted in spite of our awkwardness

    And when we cannot find that place of belonging

    We seek in importune places
    Or we hide our loneliness in mind and spirit numbing substances.
    In experiences cyberic, in the comfortability of sin.

    But try as we might we cannot escape that Truth,

    The truth that is written in the very marrow of our being, we need community

    We need each other.

    We yearn for company, for understanding, for love, for human affection, for warmth, for a gentle hand, a consoling smile.

    We long for love, respect,

    We hope for presence and so this solemnity is one of singular promise

    It reminds us that the great dogmatic arc, the outcome of our faith is a single insight. God is Love. God is here.

    God is community, that is his nature, community, communion, and love. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, infinitely present to one another.

    Involved in a gracious economic outreach to a needy humanity
    Engaged in a endlessly varying immanent perichoretic dance
    Entangled in the mystery of persons and essences
    Entrenched in the life of the world and in the beatitude of heaven
    In Touch with the longing of humanity
    In contact with our deepest desires
    Present to us
    Real presence

    And we, who are created in his likeness may also be, can also be, must also be involved in the lives of others.
    Engaged in the messiness of the human condition
    Entangled in the joys and sorrows, the hopes and despairs of our fellow pilgrims.
    Entrenched in life, in the pure essence of living
    In Touch with the misery of the world
    In contact with the skin of creation
    This encounter with the Divine Reality which is also an encounter with our neighbor is an encounter with our deepest selves
    Our deepest desires
    Our most profound hopes

    God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,
    so that everyone who believes in him might not perish
    but might have eternal life.

    It is intimate and primordial
    As intimate as the bread we take, the words of everlasting life whispered in our ears.
    It is love given and giving.

    It is as primordial as the sound of a loved one’s voice, the sudden recognition of desire, the want, the ceaseless want of friendship, fraternity.

    The Father Son and the Holy Spirit, the mystery of the Trinity, the Mystery of relationship,
    You are not alone.
    We are not alone.
    You are not you, you are we.

    And Brothers, how is that not Good News?

    Today gathered here we celebrate the perpetual us. God with Us, We with God. We in one another and we discover that intimacy that only Good News can tell, that only the great Triune God can announce.

    That Good News travels down from the throne of heaven, into this very sanctuary. It shines its light on each of us. We are not alone.
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  5. Notes from Saint Meinrad - 6/1/2020
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB

    My dear brothers and sisters,

    We have broken another month. Pentecost is celebrated. Easter is over, at least formally. Today on the first of June new protocols are in place for us here at Saint Meinrad. We are relaxing things a bit. We are exploring the outside world a bit more, even as in so many places that outside world is experiencing an outbreak of pent-up anger in the streets of many of our cities. How should we respond? I don’t know, but I do believe that much of the violence we are seeing is the result not only of the terrible events in Minneapolis and elsewhere, but a product of our clamoring against our lack of control over life and its present unpredictability. We hate not knowing. We hate being out of control, but, I pray, as people of faith, we also know that God is in control. He does have a plan that we can perhaps not yet see. In other words, God is asking us to sit for a moment in chaos. Take stock. Look around. I wonder how many of us in the past days, weeks, now months, being confined to a few rooms have not had the chance to clean out some dresser, the kitchen cabinets, the sock drawer? Undoubtedly we have found things there we have not seen in ages. Here is grandpa’s old pen knife. Here is a single cup from an old dish set. Here is a box of buttons or tickets from a bunch of shows I saw. There is so much ephemera in life and now we are given a chance to look at it. I hope we are also looking inward. What an opportunity for a retreat, a forced retreat, but a retreat nevertheless. Even as we move toward more openness, perhaps we could take some time to cherish today the isolation with God we have experienced in these past months.

    Peace,

    FDR
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  6. Pentecost

    May 31, 2020
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB

    In 1967, the film maker, Peter Adair traveled to the mountains of West Virginia to create a documentary about Pentecostal snake handlers titled: Holy Ghost People. The film chronicles the life, and more intensely, the belief of men and women and children who take the injunction of St. Mark’s Gospel seriously. You shall take up deadly serpents and not be harmed. You shall drink poisons and not die. The folks of this tiny town in West Virginia took the Lord at his word. They handled snakes, they drank poison, all in the ecstatic conviction that: They are Holy Ghost People, people who cannot be threatened or overcome because they belong, completely irrevocably to God.

    The message of Holy Ghost People seems clear. In the faith, there is sign, there is wonder, there is miracle and, but there is also danger. There is indeed danger. An important question for us on this Pentecost day is: Are we comfortable with that? Do we need to be comfortable with that?

    What do we expect today? I wonder if in our Church today we have not gone a long way toward taming the Holy Ghost. We are uncomfortable with any excesses in religion, any sense of threat or God forbid contagion of some unknown origin. I wonder in these days if we have been Pentecostal enough. I do wonder it.

    I wonder. I wonder if in our Church we have not tried to eradicate the central mystery of faith, the unpredictability of our faith, the very core of our faith a core wrapped in a mantle of a kind of frenzy.

    What do we find?

    A morbid fixation on numbers and finances.

    A fear of the mysterious virus that haunts our church yards.

    A priesthood sometimes bereft of courage and spirit and instead in the mode of personal comfort, tastes, dependability.

    A sense of the need for being marketable and for being popular in order to “compete” in a volatile Church environment.

    An overwhelming boredom, a lethargy with liturgy, prayer, ministry and life.

    And yet we know, we know by faith that the Holy Ghost is still alive in the Church. It is alive in the men and women who struggle daily through hardships almost unimaginable to us, depravations, violence and persecution descended upon them because of their faith in Jesus.

    That spirit is alive in a thousand humming places, in small villages and towns around the world where people long to gather to hear God’s word and open the floodgates of his grace in surreptitious celebrations of the Holy Mass.

    That spirit thrives in the ceaseless devotion of the helpless, the confused and the alienated who, in the hour, the moment of their greatest need turn their hearts over irrevocably to the Spirit that sustains, the Spirit that rejoices, the Spirit that alone gives life.

    That spirit is alive in the common priest, the simple priest, in the eloquence of the ministry to which he has been called and upon which he has cast himself, the priesthood that gives life. The priesthood that alone can carry the burden of a world weighed down by the millstones of sin, of sickness, and pain and despair.

    Brothers, on this Pentecost day, do we not know how much we need the spirit? Do we not realize how hopeless our brothers and sisters are? Even in their wealth, their style, their popularity they long for the thing that money can never give, style can never maintain, popularity can never ensure. They long for dignity. They long for meaning. They long for respect. They long for excellence. They long for, hunger for life and they long for the assurance of something greater than themselves, an assurance that hovers over them and then buoys them up in the violence of call, of cry, of rampant wings.

    That spirit, descended upon the apostles on the Day of Pentecost continues today, in this place, among us. This is the upper Room. This is the day of Pentecost. We are the gathered number longing to hear God’s word, that comforting word, that reassuring word in our own language, the language spoken in the beating, the frantic beating after recognition of the human heart.

    That spirit guides and protects us even when we don’t realize we need to be guided, refuse to accept it, even in our self-sufficiency, that cursing spirit that makes us most vulnerable, that beguiling spirit that speaks ill when we need the comfort of God.
    But the comfort of God is not without its own violence.

    That same spirit that descended upon the apostles on the day of Pentecost comes to us here now and it ransoms us from the power of ill, but it also requires something of us. It requires surrender. Yesterday, the universal Church within our orbit, celebrated the ordinations of three new priests and two new deacons, fearless men standing in the line of so many other, men who have given their lives to God in far removed realms of the Holy Ghost, Mobile, Manchester. They were called, are called, so we are called. Gabe and Connor and Peyton and Alex and David encourage us by example, but they are not unique. On this Day of Pentecost, our voices must be given over to God, our will, given up to the Father, our lives given new meaning by the sacrifice of the Son whose body and blood, poured out on the cross is poured out again this day.

    His body and blood, the life giving Spirit that annihilates the spirit of self-will.

    In this mass we come to know more fully the precepts of the Master, the Servant, the Consuming and Consumed.

    In this celebration we come to recognize one another more perfectly, because we come to recognize one another in Christ.

    In this Eucharist we are changed as the apostles were changed as Our Lady was changed so long ago, changed into people of proclamation, whose spirits cannot be contained. Changed into speakers in tongues. Changed into men and women who can grasp the serpent of evil with a confident grip. Men and women who can consume the deadly poison of worldly values and not be harmed by it.
    Now, my brothers consider the great call you have received. Look here and see a people hungry for the gifts of the Spirit, gifts which you hold even now in the palm of your hand, literally in the palm of your hand. May that host of faith now help the gifts of the spirit you have recived to slide easily from your grasp into the hands of a waiting world. Brothers, the gifts of the Spirit you have received so abundantly in your call, eventually, to ordination are not for you alone. They are also for us, all of us. Begin now, here, to share these gives of the Spirit, as I know you can. Help us to nourish ourselves today from the fountain of life. Help us to hear the call to holiness in more profound ways. Make us Holy Ghost people, fanatical, dangerous and finally blessed.
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  7. Feast of St. Philip Neri

    May 26, 2020
    Very Rev. Denis Robinson, OSB

    But now I know that none of you
    to whom I preached the kingdom during my travels
    will ever see my face again.

    Fat chance

    I was thinking about Acts today. It has been a bit tedious moving through Easter with the second volume of Luke’s history of the early Church. It has been hard to listen to all of those homilies and heroic acts. But now that it’s coming to an end, I admit that I will miss it after a fashion. I will miss Paul and his swaggering. I will miss those congregations baying for his blood. I will miss the journey, and what a journey it has been.

    Of course, we will see Paul’s face again. There is more to come, even in ordinary time.
    So much more to come, and, of course, other Pauls

    Today we have a little Paul, Phillip Neri. Several years ago I had a rector’s conference about Phillip Neri. Here is what I said:

    Today we have Philip Neri. Not the reclining effigy in the Chiesa Nouva, nor the painted image, striking a pose in fiddleback vesture (I think Philip Neri would be embarrassed by all of that), not reclining at table with the rich and famous, but as he was. He was impeccably dressed, groomed from the top of his well-coiffed tonsure to his pre-Gucci slippers, soutain, just so, and standing, squarely in a pile of human crap in the middle of one of Rome’s least salubrious street.

    He didn’t mean to be standing in crap, but crap was what was presented to him on this outing and, do you know what the wily to-be saint did? The fool laughed. It was just more crap in a day of crap. It was excrement in the middle of diamonds, the diamonds being seen by him so attuned to beauty in the poor, the needy of this least salubrious street of Rome. That is because in Philip Neri’s heart there was already seared the branded chords of heroism, of seeing the world, in all of its crap, as something beautiful and worth maintaining.
    Perhaps he was able to do that because that is what he knew about himself. He knew the sin that dwelt beneath that immaculate exterior. He knew the longing that burst through those fiddleback vestments. He knew the love of God that overflowed in him, making him messy with love, imperfect with love, totally in love with the Divine Master. He knew everything there was to know, and so, standing in a pile of crap meant nothing to him, nothing at all.

    St. Philip Neri and St. Paul
    But now I know that none of you
    to whom I preached the kingdom during my travels
    will ever see my face again.

    Yes we will. We see it now. We see it here, here in this mess, in this chapel, at this altar.
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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.

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