March 2016 – Journeying Into Mystery

The Communion of Saints at Triduum – a reflection

The Triduum, the three days, in which one liturgy is celebrated, is the most powerful liturgy of the liturgical year. Every aspect of human life is celebrated, from birth to death to resurrection, and joined to that of Jesus’ own Paschal journey. From the sharing in the Divine Covenant at the institution of the Last Supper on Holy Thursday, the triumphal death of Jesus on the cross, in which the cross no longer symbolizes defeat, but rather victory, to the resurrection, the ultimate healing and sealing of humanity’s relationship with God in Jesus Christ. This year as I celebrated these three days in the entirety of the parish of St. Wenceslaus, I experienced most profoundly the Communion of the Saints.

As I stood by the baptismal font during the singing of John Becker’s beautiful musical setting of the Litany of the Saints, I saw in my mind’s eye all my loved ones who have died, standing with me around the font. My dad was there, my sister, Mary Ruth, my Grandpa and Grandma Wojnar, Uncle Joe and Aunt Ruth Cunningham, Uncle Bob and Aunt Babe Jernstrom. My Uncle Joe Wojnar and my Uncle Ed Wojnar were there. Aunt Rose and Uncle Leo, Aunt Bell and Uncle Bill, my cousin-in-law Bob Murphy were there. Dr. Maurie Jones, Helen and Bernie Kerber, Blanche and Ivo Schutrop, Archbishop Roach and Bishop Welsh, the men and women from my diaconal class, Bill Beckfeld, By Rudolphi, Tom Semlak, Tom and Lucy Coleman, Helen Ehrmantraut, and others I knew and to whom I had served and ministered were all standing there with me as if they had never left. I felt so overwhelmed and choked up by their presence, I had trouble singing “pray for us” to the Litany, my “pray for us” reduced quite often to a whisper.

I realized in a very striking way that the presence of the saints in my life were not there just because they had been invoked by the living. The saints in my life were there with me on Holy Thursday, and Good Friday, and for that matter every day of my life from they moment they left this life and moved into the fullness of human life.

Intellectually I have known this for a long time. I remember my sister, Mary Ruth, on her death bed greeting all of our dead relatives in the room and turning to my mother and I saying, “They are playing my song, but I am not ready to hear it yet.” I remember a parishioner, comatose on the cusp of death, suddenly opening her eyes as I began the prayer for the dead, “Go forth, Christian Soul to the God who love you …”, looking directly at me, and passed me to the divine life that awaited her. Then, dying the moment the “Amen” at the end of the prayer was said by those gathered around her bed.

The power of Easter is to remind us that life does not end when our physical bodies wear out and quit working. Human life is not defined by weak hearts, aching joints, sickness, weakness, failing organs and failing minds. Rather that death is the entry into a far better life, a life yet to be experienced. As St. Paul reminds us in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, “For this momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to what is seen but to what is unseen; for what is seen is transitory, but what is unseen is eternal. For we know that if our earthly dwelling, a tent, should be destroyed, we have a building from God, a dwelling not made with hands, eternal in heaven.” We recall, as we all gather around the baptismal font, with our communion of saints living and ever living, that this all began at our baptism, as the water was poured and we entered in death into the tomb with Jesus only to rise with him in the Resurrection on the third day.

Saint Judas – a poem by James Wright

Everytime I take part in the Passion of Jesus, I remember this poem by James Wright. I first encountered this poem in 1970 in Poetry class at the College of St. Thomas. It was in that class I developed a great love for poetry. I present here as a reflection for this Holy Week.

SAINT JUDAS

When I went out to kill myself, I caught

A pack of hoodlums beating up a man.

Running to spare his suffering,

forgot My name, my number, how my day began,

How soldiers milled around the garden stone

And sang amusing songs; how all that day

Their javelins measured crowds; how I alone

Bargained the proper coins, and slipped away.

Banished from heaven, I found this victim beaten,

Stripped, kneed, and left to cry.

Dropping my rope

Aside, I ran, ignored the uniforms:

Then I remembered bread my flesh had eaten,

The kiss that ate my flesh.

Flayed without hope,

I held the man for nothing in my arms.

Wright, James (2011-03-01). Collected Poems (Wesleyan Poetry Series) (Kindle Locations 1303-1310). Wesleyan University Press. Kindle Edition.

Psalm Offering 2 Opus 6 (for the Order of Franciscan Secular)

Psalm Offering 2, Opus 6 was originally conceived as an organ fanfare back in 1978. As a transplanted piano player, I always thought playing on the pipe organ was similar to wrestling a huge octopus. The unnatural way of playing pedals (hips were not designed to be turned that way), I have often thought led to the premature deterioration of both of my hip joints, not, as my Aunt Mary Jernstrom has postulated, me inheriting the family’s “Swedish hips.” All that aside, what I needed was a “fanfarish” piece of music to be used as a wedding recessional/postlude for liturgical celebrations. I composed this simple little tune that addressed specifically my needs as an transplanted piano/organist. In its original incarnation I entitled this, “A Fanfare for Brother Francis”. I have taken this simple music setting and have recomposed it to be played on my “King of Instruments”, the pianoforte.

I have dedicated this to the Order of Franciscan Secular. When St. Francis of Assisi was living, he established three Orders, namely, the Order of Friars Minor, the Poor Clares, and the Third Order. The First Order, Order of Friars Minor was created specifically for single men. The Second Order. the Poor Clares, was created for single women. And the Third Order, now known as the Order of Franciscan Secular, was created for lay men and women, married or unmarried, and secular clergy (diocesan priests and deacons). I feel that I was imbued with the Franciscan spirituality from birth. In May of 1980, I became a professed member of the Order of Franciscan Secular. The rule, or way of life, of this Order has profoundly impacted my life. That rule stated simply is “from Gospel to Life”.

Musically, this music is in Rondo form. Rondo form has a primary melody that, like a refrain, recurs following a number of different melodies. In this piano music the form is A, A, B, A, C, D, E, A, A. Recomposing this for piano gave me the freedom to fully express and explore the potential of the music. By the time I finished recomposing this music, it was an entirely new composition. While the bones of the original organ composition were retained, it has become something much finer and festive now.

Faith – in earnest or mere bravado (a reflection on Peter in the Passion of Luke)

This past Saturday and Sunday, I had the chameleon role in the Passion, proclaiming lines from Peter, Pilate, the unrepentant thief, the repentant thief, and the centurion. Early on in the Passion, the one line I spoke that resonated with me was Peter’s response to Jesus’ telling the disciples of his impending arrest and death. Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, I am prepared to go to prison and to die with you.” We all know how well that turned out for Peter. It was to be much later in his life that Peter would fulfill the words he spoke to Jesus that night.

Many would fault Peter for being a coward and denying Jesus in order to save his own skin. The question that arose in my mind as I read Peter’s response to Jesus at the Last Supper was would I be as full of the same bravado as Peter? When it comes to being true to my faith in Jesus, do I turn and abandon Jesus when I am forced to confront the injustices around me in the world and in the Church? Am I willing to sacrifice all in order to be faithful to Jesus? To I have the fortitude of the early Church martyrs, or, for that matter, the fortitude of Archbishop Oscar Romero who not only confronted the evils of the El Salvadoran government, but faced those evils with little or no support from Pope John Paul II and Cardinal Ratzinger?

In forty years of Church ministry, I have seen both the positive work that the Roman Catholic Church has done in the world as an institution. I have also seen and experienced the darkness of the institution’s underbelly. The institutional Church is not the whole and sole embodiment of Jesus Christ. The scandals and shortcomings of the Church as an institution only serves to support that the Church is as much in need of conversion as its human members, and the rest of humanity. The Church is, in itself, living proof of Jesus’ love and redemption for even the most crippled and imperfect of humanity.

What may be lacking in my faith in the Church as an institution, is not lacking in my faith in Jesus. While I might doubt the forthrightness of “holy Mother Church”, my faith in Jesus has never been in doubt. While I have experienced my share of hardships, in both health and life, my faith in Jesus has only been strengthened in those hardships.

However, if faced with imprisonment and possible death, would I back down and flee as did Peter, or would I stand my ground and face the consequences of being faithful to Jesus, to be willing, as Peter said with so much bravado, “to go to prison and to die with you (Jesus)!” I have searched my heart and reflected on this. Though the reality of such a thing occurring has not been part of my life’s journey nor may likely be a future part of my life’s journey, am I prepared to go to prison and die for Jesus? Given the current of the political situation in our nation right now, the mob rule that follows and receives tacit and vocal support from Donald Trump, would I be willing to confront the violent mob his candidacy attracts? I hope so.

I have discovered as I have aged that pain and suffering is a natural part of life. I have learned to accept the limitations that my injuries and illnesses has placed on me. There are some principles in life that are more important than comfort. There are some principles in life that are even more important than life itself. The one overarching principle has been that of the Gospel of Jesus, and doing my best to faithfully follow Jesus.

The time may come when I will hear Jesus say to me, “Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” (John 21:18) I hope and pray that if or when that day may come, my faith may not be the empty bravado of Peter from the Passion, but the resolute faith of the post-Pentecost Peter.

Death, the glory of God revealed: a homily for the 5th Sunday of Lent, Year A readings

From the moment Mary’s lips parted and said, “yes,” to the Angel Gabriel, God’s glory was made manifest in human history. The glory of God was revealed as a pregnant Mary approached her very pregnant cousin Elizabeth, and the baby in Elizabeth’s womb leaped for joy. God’s glory was revealed by the angels to the shepherds at the birth of Jesus, and later to the Magi who traveled from distant lands to worship the Messiah of all humankind. The glory of God was revealed at the baptism of Jesus by his cousin, John, in the Jordan River, on the mountain top at his Transfiguration, in his conversation with the woman at the well, and his healing of the man born blind. The glory of God was revealed as Jesus raises a very dead and decomposing Lazarus back to life. Next Sunday, Jesus will reveal God’s glory in his triumphal entrance into Jerusalem, and in his passion and death on the cross. And, then, on Easter Sunday, the greatest of all manifestations of God’s glory will be in the Resurrection of Jesus. The purpose of Jesus’ life, very simply, was the revelation of God’s glory for all to see.

You and I have been baptized into Christ Jesus. You and I are the living manifestation of Jesus in our world. We have been given the same mission as Jesus, to reveal the glory of God. How well have we done this?

Jesus reveals God’s glory in the joys, the confusion, the sorrows, and the tragedies of human life. In his own human condition and in the human condition of those Jesus met and touched, God’s glory is revealed. The death of someone we love reveals our human condition at its most raw and harshest level, our emotions and spirituality stretched to its utmost.

When someone we love dies, we may find ourselves closely akin to the people in this gospel story. We may find ourselves like Martha, not understanding the death of our loved one, but believing fervently in the power of Jesus to conquer all. Or we may be like Mary, who is so distraught by the death of her brother, she locks herself away in her room to grieve in isolation. We might find ourselves like the mourners who question why Jesus could cure the man born blind, but refuse to heal his best friend, Lazarus. Or we might find ourselves like Lazarus, emotionally and spiritually dead, awaiting to be raised by Jesus. Wounded by death, left in doubt, grief, confusion, and perhaps emotionally and spiritually dead, how can we reveal the glory of God within us?

My brother, my sister, and I never knew our maternal grandparents. Both our maternal grandmother and grandfather were dead by the time my mother got married. As we got older, my mom began to tell us the stories about her mother and father while they were alive. Though mom would reference their deaths, it really wasn’t until we were much older, specifically for myself, when I was 40 years old, that she began to talk in detail about their deaths.

When my mom was 12 years old, her mother and her 5 year old little sister died within two weeks of each other. Her mother died two weeks before Christmas. My mom’s little sister died on Christmas day. Days before she died, my 12 year old mother was summoned to my grandmother’s deathbed. On her deathbed, my grandmother told my 12 year old mother, “I named you Regina when you were born. Regina is another name of our Blessed Mother. The name means “Queen.” I am going to die. I have asked our Blessed Mother to be your mother. She is your mother now. Go to her when you need her.”

At that time, when people died, their families would wake their dead loved ones in their own homes. The wakes lasted two days and two nights. I asked my mom how it felt to have her dead mother and her dead little sister waked in her home. My mom that she was kept busy cooking food for the guests who came by to pay their respects, and to clean up after the guests. She told me how great a comfort it was to have their bodies of her mother and little sister there. After all the guest left, she said that in the middle of the night she would go downstairs and sit next to the bodies of her mother and her sister. She said that the closeness of their presence felt like they were embracing her.

Where, in the midst of this horrible tragedy that befell my mother and her family, was the glory of God revealed? My dying grandmother revealed God’s glory in handing over her daughter, Regina, to the loving care of our Blessed Mother, Mary. God’s glory was revealed in all of my mother’s Irish aunts and uncles who rallied around her, her remaining brothers and sister, and, her dad. God’s glory continued to be revealed following the funerals of her mother and her sister, in all the relatives, the nuns of her parish school of St. Rosalia, Fr. Coglin, her parish priest, who supported my mom and her family from that time forward. When my grandfather died when my mom was 25 years old, Fr. Coglin took on the responsibility of watching over my mom as a surrogate father. Many a young man had to run the gauntlet of Fr. Coglin before he could date my mother. Fr. Coglin was not just going to let any man date and/or marry Queenie, as Fr. Coglin called my mother. Fortunately, my dad passed the very exacting scrutiny of Fr. Coglin and married my mother.

Baptized into Christ Jesus, we are the living manifestation of Jesus in our world. Today’s gospel reveals to us that the glory of God can be made manifest in all the conditions of our human life. Let us open our lives to God so that God’s glory may be revealed in our joys and our sorrows, in our health and in our illnesses, and in our life and in our death. Ultimately, as with Jesus, the greatness of God’s glory will be revealed for all of us to see in our Resurrection.

Beyond Two dimensional living: Psalm Offering 1 Opus 6

As diametrically opposed as Religious Fundamentalism and Secularism are, they both share one thing in common. They are two dimensional ways of living.

Religious Fundamentalism doesn’t look beyond the rules. For Religious Fundamentalists living the rules is the end. The rule is Deified and becomes God. It is very ironic that by worshipping religious law, the Fundamentalist defies the 1st commandment, “Thou shalt not have strange gods before me.”

Secularism, on the other extreme, cannot see anything beyond what is offered in this world. The careers we have, the possessions we own, the material accoutrements, the self of a person becomes Deified because one cannot perceive anything else beyond the self.

Both ways of living are two dimensional ways of living. It is like looking at a blue sky on a sunny day and not seeing beyond the blue to the mystery and deepness of the universe that lies beyond what our eyes can perceive.

The mystics call us to be three dimensional people. We are called to see and to live beyond the blue skies of our two dimensional worlds of religious laws and secular materialism and enter into the deep mystery that created all things.

A symbol is not the end, but calls us to look beyond the concrete to what really is real. As. St. Paul writes in his 2nd letter to the Corinthians, that which we see and experience in this life is at best transitory. That which is real lays just beyond the realm of our five senses.

The music that I attached to this reflection is more than just a collection of pitches on a staff of different duration, pitch variation and articulation. It is more than just something composed in rudimentary Sonata-Allegro form. It is more than just the A melody in D minor expressed in Italian as fast and with great agitation. The B melody in F major and later in D major is more than just a pretty melody played a little slower.

Conflicts, challenges, tragedies in life are the allegro agitato parts of human life. There are times when our lives seem overwhelming and out of control. To hear this music two dimensionally is to hear a chronological progression of a fast minor key melody seguing into a slower more appealing melody, only to go back into the minor key melody that eventually segues once more into the second melody.

To hear this music three dimensionally requires us to hear deep within the conflicts and tragedies the presence of grace. We are called to open our eyes and all our other senses and to find the grace buried deep within the conflicts, the hurts and the tragedies of our lives. Though we may experience an oasis of calm and beauty from time to time in our lives, the manic and agitated pace of life hold within the mania and conflict, the core or seed of Divine peace and contentment.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: