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Someone once wagered Ernest Hemingway that he could not write a story in six words. The writer won the bet when he came up with: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” There is a literary genre called the six-word memoir, or the six-word story. The premise is to communicate much in a few words. One example is: “Penniless weirdo. Struck lottery. Overnight genius. These short, short stories provide few details, but there is sufficient substance to convey the essential meaning. Could there be a six-word Easter sermon? We could say it prosaically: “Died on Friday; rose on Sunday.” Or more eloquently as the angel did: “He’s not here; he is risen.” Or musically as did Georg Frederic Handel: “O death, where is thy victory?” Actually the Church has been proclaiming a bold, six-word Gospel practically since the beginning. It says in the space of six scant words that the whole world
has been dramatically changed by God’s grace and power. They are six words you know, and I pray you have them etched in your mind, engraved on your heart, and ready on your lips: “The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!”

We’ll soon be embracing the grace-filled season of Lent with the observance of Ash Wednesday. Some years ago, Dr. Daniella Zsupan-Jerome, Director of Ministry Formation and Field Education at Benedictine Saint John’s University, introduced me to John Berney Crome’s painting, Great Gale at Yarmouth on Ash Wednesday. The canvas invites us into the Lenten season with a visual story of turbulence featuring clouds and waves converging on the coast. The clouds belie the invisible power of the wind. That wind in turn stirs up the waves tossing the boat and slapping the coastal buildings. The clouds are varied: large white ones as well as dark storm clouds. The central black cloud is especially imposing; it is smeared, in the shape of a cross, much like the sign marked on our foreheads on Ash Wednesday. Lent calls us to conversion on the journey to Easter. That path is often through rough waters. We are tossed in the waves of our own desires and poor decisions; we are assaulted by our temptations and selfishness.

One richly meaningful Scripture passage
to which I often turn is Romans 8:28: “We
know that all things work for good for
those who love God, who are called according
His purpose.” That profound truth
reminds us that God the Father brought
good out of the worst tragedy of history,
the crucifixion and death of His Son, Our
Lord. Through Christ, the Father continues
to bring amazing good out of deplorable and
disgraceful situations, and we are called to
hold on faithfully to that central truth even
when we cannot see the good. That wisdom
does not mean, of course, that we just let
evil prevail and not do anything to oppose it
when it is in our power to do so; God sometimes
uses us to bring about some good.
However, even when we are called to fight
actively against evil, we must do so within
God’s call, in cooperation with His grace,
and with the love of Christ.

Every now and then, though less often than I would like, a phrase from the readings at Mass touches my heart and then sticks with me. Toward the end of the Easter Season, when Gospel passages were taken from Saint John, we heard Our Lord assert, “’I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now’” (Jn 16:12). Then He adds that when the Holy Spirit comes, “’He will guide you to all truth’” (Jn 16:13). The words “much more” give me encouragement. When my prayer, both private and communal, is dry over long periods of time, it seems that the Lord is not saying anything to me—at least nothing that I can experience as touching me or changing me. I then wonder whether if I am being hard of heart and failing to listen. Perhaps the Lord has given up on me and on the possibility of my further renewal in Christ. (I know that God never gives up on us, but sometimes it certainly seems to be the case when I feel that I have “lost” Him.)…

Perhaps among the least palatable verses of the Rule are those of the sixth and seventh steps of humility. St. Benedict tells us, “The sixth step of humility is that a monk [be] content with the lowest and most menial treatment and [regard] himself as a poor and worthless workman in whatever task he is given” (RB 7:49). The seventh step may sound just as degrading; it stipulates that a person be “convinced that he is inferior to all and of less value, humbling himself and saying with the Prophet: ‘I am truly a worm, not a man, scorned by men and despised by the people’ (Ps 22:7)” (RB 7:52). How can such statements be reconciled with our Easter faith, which proclaims that we have been redeemed through the…

What impression do people generally have of monks – or other vowed religious? At least for Catholic Christians it is probably that those who profess religious vows are spiritually strong, and there may be some truth to that. In order to profess vows of obedience, stability, and conversatio morum (or the better known vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience), a person must have achieved a certain degree of spiritual maturity and the ability to make sacrifices of lesser things for a higher good – ultimately for God Himself. St. Benedict says in his final chapter of the Rule that those who observe the Rule “can show that we have some degree…

Perseverance is essential to any worthwhile endeavor. Every wholesome undertaking involves trials which tempt us to give up, and only the grace of perseverance will enable us to proceed on the chosen path despite the hardships. In his instructions concerning the reception of novices and the profession of vows (RB 58), St. Benedict says that newcomers must be tested to see if they have a genuine vocation (58: 1-2); a prospective monk must keep “knocking at the door” (58:3) and “[persist] in his request” to enter the novitiate. During that time of formation as a novice, the new monk must show forth “eagerness for … trials” (58:7) and “be clearly told all the hardships and difficulties that will lead him…

A paradoxical saying that often comes to my mind, attributed to G.K. Chesterton, is, “Everything worth doing is worth doing poorly.” It stands in sharp contrast with the seemingly opposite adage, “Everything worth doing is worth doing well.” Both are true in their proper contexts. Surely, Chesterton was not saying that we should be careless or slovenly in doing the tasks given to us. On the contrary, we should do our very best. However, even when we exert our maximum effort, the results (if we are honest about them) are still somehow flawed. If we have perfectionistic tendencies (as many people seem to have nowadays), then we rarely…

Our whole world has been in a crisis because of the coronavirus. In almost every country stringent measures have been imposed to limit the spread of the virus. Nonessential businesses have been closed; social contacts have been severely limited; travel has been restricted; and certain vulnerable populations, in addition to victims of the virus, have been quarantined. The Church, too, has imposed seemingly harsh remedies in order to counteract the virus and to comply with government regulations. Since mid-March almost all public Masses have been canceled; church organizations have had to cancel or postpone meetings; also, marriages, baptisms, confirmations, and first communions have been postponed; and even the Sacrament of Reconciliation has become almost unavailable. These measures have…

As many of you know, the St. Vincent monastic community is preparing to elect a new archabbot on May 11-14, and we monks expect and appreciate the prayers of the Oblate community. Therefore, it might be a fitting time for Oblates and monks alike to ponder what St. Benedict prescribes as the qualities of a good abbot. Last fall retired Abbot Jerome Kodell of Subiaco Abbey gave us monks some helpful advice about preparing to elect our future abbot, that is, as he said, to choose someone who is best qualified in God’s sight, as best as we can discern. Abbot Jerome commented that the heading for Chapter 2 of the Rule, “What…

God can teach us valuable lessons through the most ordinary incidents. Recently I picked up a piece of litter which had been a package for a snack. One of the captions on the bag read, “Make the world your playground. Follow your tart.” How depraved is that message, and how utterly accurate in reflecting the mentality of much of our society! Our media and many people tend to see the world as a “playground,” a place for pleasure, entertainment, and self-gratification. Many “lost souls” (who may think that what they are doing is perfectly normal) wander, externally and internally, from one worldly attraction to another…

This past July 22, the Feast of St. Mary Magdalene, I found the reading for Vigils, an excerpt from Pope St. Gregory the Great, especially moving. Since as “hebd” (the leader of worship for the week) I was reading the passage aloud, I was able to absorb the author’s wisdom more effectively than usual. It concerned St. Mary Magdalene’s persistence in seeking the Lord Jesus after she had “lost” Him in death and then, again, through her experience of His absence from the empty tomb. St. Gregory comments, “She was still seeking the one she had not found, and while she sought she wept; burning with the fire of love, she longed for Him who she thought had been taken away. And so it happened…

I am beginning this article during the glorious Octave of Easter. Earlier this morning while some monks and seminarians (and perhaps some early-rising lay people) were in adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, I noticed that the silence was almost continually broken by a chorus of chirping birds. I can only speak for myself, but it seemed that our prayer was not seriously disturbed by these jubilant sounds. The multitude of birds were praising God with the unique voices that He gave them; we in the chapel were trying to praise God by our silence. A lesson from this experience might be that we sometimes respond to God’s call in speech and song, and sometimes in silent adoration or silent listening. Whatever we do, we should be in accord with God’s will and give glory to God. St. Paul urges…

Several years ago upon returning from the March for Life, I realized that I needed a new winter coat. Fortunately, the weather in Washington, DC, had been mild, but nonetheless it had been frustrating to have my coat falling apart. The zipper had been irreparably broken for several years; then the snaps failed; then the velcro stopped sticking; and then, during the march, the plastic belt buckle would not fasten properly. By God’s grace a very similar coat appeared in the monastery’s “beggars’-bench” room within a short time. Indeed, I rejoiced at the undeserved gift. However, I soon discovered that the zipper of the new coat could be problematic. Whenever I tried to zip…