Then Time Is Always Ours

For the past year or so, I have enjoyed a “creative correspondence” with a gifted poet named Scott Eagan.  I was delighted to discover that Scott lives and farms at Madonna House, the ongoing apostolate of one of my heroes, Servant of God Catherine Doherty.  Within the Madonna House community, Scott lives the simplicity and quiet of the Holy Family of Nazareth.  He works the land, he prays and writes.

Scott’s poems reveal the heart of a farmer, one who is close to the land.  In a time when so many of us are somewhat disconnected from nature, Scott’s poems provide an intimate window into the beauty of rural Canada, the changing seasons, farm animals, wild animals, harvests and crops, sun, moon and stars.  My own world is broadened by the images he shares and his interpretations of life and nature.

As the longest, darkest days of winter approach, and as we wait with both patience and impatience for the birth of our Savior, I wanted to share with you one of Scott’s poems:  “Winter Time.”  If we learn to appreciate the gift of each season, the rhythm of life that God has prescribed, then no time is ever fallow, no season wasted. 

And so before we look forward to spring, may we pay winter our respects, and find in her darkest night the Gift that, like nature herself, can never be rushed – the unity between God and human beings.

Thank you, Scott.

Winter Time

Times change

what once was our summer

warm sun and rains

almost as if God had smiled on

every solid working day

and every blessed night of rest …

then autumn passed

crimson and gold washed away

by cold, grey rains

through gusty winds ofpassage

and we are left with winter.

Our axis has tilted

our face turned north of the sun

almost as if His face has frowned

warm rains become white flakes

cold on the cheek, melting

on our summer passed by

washing across our autumn

now clinging to winter time.

Know that if we wait

if we may learn to enjoy frost

the cold and the crystal

the days when our face, low

to the sun’s waning light

- yet a loving face nonetheless -

perceiving the distant possibility of spring

and its rising warm smile to return

then time is always ours.

Scott Eagan

November 23, 2015

Claude Monet, Grainstacks at Sunset, Snow Effect, 1891

Why We Still Need John the Baptist

During Advent, we always meet John the Baptist in the Sunday Gospel readings.  John is a colorful figure, and we all love him for it.  But we might not love him so much if we met him in the desert!  Especially if he was shouting in our direction!

There’s a wonderful question in Luke’s account of the birth of John the Baptist.  When John was born, people asked themselves:  “What then will this child become?” (Lk. 1:66). 

What did John become?  And why is he still so important?

Luke's Gospel identifies John as the prophet who came to smooth rough ways by levelling mountains and filling in valleys.  That sounds like hard work.  And it is.  Because when it comes to the human heart, most of us have no interest in having our mountains levelled or our valleys filled in.  We go through our days saying, “I’m just fine thank you,” continuing right along the same rough path as always.  It was John’s momentous task to convince people that they are not fine.  As Jesus would later explain, “Those who are healthy do not need a physician, but the sick do” (Lk. 5:31).  It is hard work convincing people that they need a physician.  How often have you put off a visit to the doctor?  How often have you ignored pains and symptoms, hoping they would go away on their own?  John’s preaching convinced people that they could no longer ignore the symptoms.  And they repented, making way for a healing Savior.

John was a sight to see, a man of the desert, and I imagine his prophetic voice was quite loud.  We still need that loud voice ringing in our ears, that strange sight of someone so different telling us that something is not right in our lives, in our world.  Our own spiritual blindness, our self-satisfied complacency, is the impenetrable fortress John wanted to knock down. 

This was the work of the one who was not even worthy to loosen the thong of Jesus’ sandal!  This was the preparation for something even greater.  So imagine – imagine – what Jesus can do in our hearts if first we listen to the voice of the Baptist!

What Does It Profit Me?

The Solemnity of Mary the Mother of God (Jan. 1) marks the Octave of Christmas.  Next Sunday, we will celebrate Epiphany, and the Sunday after that, the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord.  As we transition from the Christmas season back into Ordinary Time, as we pack up the outward signs of Christmas, we want to find some small way of keeping Christmas – its meaning and its light – with us.  Has Christmas changed us?  How?

An image from an Edith Stein poem is a simple way to express the change that should take place within us every year:  “My heart has become your manger.”

Meister Eckhart in his own mystical way makes a similar point, and one which expresses the longevity of Christmas in the enduring power of the birth of Christ:  “But if it does not happen in me, if this child is not born in me, what does it profit me?  What matters is that God should be born again in me.” 

Has your heart become a manger – a refuge – for him?  Has he been born – in you?  How will you share him with the world?

A Christmas Prescription from the Angelic Doctor

As a theology student reading selections of St. Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologica, I was never quite sure whether I was falling into a rapture or falling asleep.  Although I’m sure Aquinas is entirely worthy of the ecclesial title “Angelic Doctor”, I always thought of him as more of an academic than an angel, and even though I treasure those volumes of the Summa given to me by a friend as I went off to college, I see them now as having more symbolic value than immediate theological relevance in my life.

That being said, I came across one of the Angelic Doctor’s sermons a few days ago that reminded me that Thomas Aquinas was not only methodical and intelligent, but also sensitive and spiritual.  In this homily, given on the First Sunday of Advent, he associated several unexpected Scripture verses with the impending birth of Christ.  I found each of them very worthy of Christmas meditation.

I offer these verses to you here with my own Christmas greetings.  I thank each of you for the support and encouragement you have offered me this past year, and I wish you and your loved ones a peaceful, meaningful, and very merry Christmas:

“And so it happened that there was in the same man justice to the full and infinite mercy, and so mercy and truth have met one another; justice and peace have kissed one another (Ps. 95:11)….  Thus he came to make peace between mankind and God.  And for this he is the appropriate arbiter, since he is himself our peace which makes both one (Eph. 2:14)….  He came to take away the contamination of sin, like a doctor.  Mt. 8:7 reads:  I will come and cure him.  He came to be in our company, like a friend; it says in Baruch 5, From the holy one my joy comes.”

-- St. Thomas Aquinas, Veniet Desideratus: Sermon on the First Sunday of Advent

Humanity's Dream

“Humanity’s dream which began in the Garden of Eden – we want to be like God – is realized in an unexpected way, not through the greatness of man, who cannot make himself God, but through the humility of God who came down among us in His humility, raising us to the true greatness of His being."

-- Pope Benedict XVI, General Audience, Jan. 4, 2012