Blessed Guerric of Igny (c. 1070-1157)

Guerric of Igny was born between 1070 and 1080 in Tournai, Belgium, and died in 1157. He was a Cistercian monk, abbot of Igny, and an influential spiritual writer. 


The young Guerric received his education at the Cathedral school of Tournai, almost surely at the feet of Odon of Tournai, headmaster between 1087 and 1092. It's possible that Guerric himself became headmaster there between 1121 and 1125. Drawn to a more solitary life, however, Guerric withdrew to a small dwelling close to the church in Turn, spending his time reading, and in prayer and meditation. Through a friend he heard that Bernard of Clairvaux had recently passed through Flanders, and Guerric decided to pay a visit to Clairvaux in 1126. It doesn't appear that it was his intention, at first, to enter as a novice. Nevertheless, the persuasive Bernard convinced Guerric to remain at Clairvaux. Early in his novitiate, it became clear to Bernard that, as a monk, Guerric displayed eminent virtue, and Bernard even mentions Guerric by name in several letters.  


In 1138 Guerric became the second abbot of Igny, one of Clairvaux's foundations in the Diocese of Rheims. Even though it was the custom for the abbot to be  "uniformly" elected by the community, St. Bernard seems to have exerted a bit of influence on the community of Igny to choose Guerric. Having lived first as a hermit, then as a disciple of Bernard of Clairvaux, Guerric was, by this time, no spring chicken, in fact, he was undoubtedly more than 60 years old, a fact at which he hints in one of his sermons, referring to his unsteady physical condition which prevented him from fully participating in community life as provided for in Bernard's rule. Under Guerric's direction the abbey of Igny flourished, and its religious prestige grew. Noted for its manuscripts which were widely circulated, vocations increased. Through donations a new monastic foundation was completed: the abbey of Valroy, in 1148, also in the Diocese of Rheims. Guerric died in his abbey of Igny on August 19, 1157. In 1876, at the time of the restoration of Igny, his body was exhumed and identified. Devotion to Blessed Guerric, which had prevailed for centuries in the order of Cîteaux, was officially recognized by the Church in 1889. 


54 sermons of Guerric of Igny have come down to us, published in Migne's Patrologia Latina. The sermons have greatly influenced the development of Cistercian spirituality and have been reprinted many times. Following the lead of St. Bernard, his spiritual master, Guerric developed a strong Marian theology. Referring to Mary's spiritual maternity, he says: "Mary helps form all those who are children by adoption in the likeness of her Son." She is the new Eve who instills new life into those who have become old by sin. Mary is the model for the Church. The Church similarly exercises her kind of maternity on our behalf. Even more astonishingly and boldly, Guerric says: "The child Jesus was born not only for us but in us. We have 'to conceive' God in our heart." (Sermon on the Nativity).

Brother Roger of Taizé: Apostle of Reconciliation

Today is the sixth anniversary of the death of Brother Roger Schutz of Taizé. Brother Roger was stabbed to death during the evening prayer service in Taizé on August 16, 2005 by Luminiţa Ruxandra Solcan. One of the brothers carried the gravely wounded Prior from the church. He died shortly afterwards. Ms. Solcan was immediately detained by members in the congregation and was taken into police custody.

Brother Roger was widely known and loved the world over. His funeral, held in the monastery Church of the Reconciliation on August 23, 2005, was attended by Nicolas Sarkozy, then Minister of the Interior of France and later, President of France), as well as Horst Köhler, President of Germany. The Taizé Community and friends were joined by thousands more who followed the service on a huge screen in fields outside the church. Brother Roger's remains lay in a simple wooden coffin, a wooden icon lying on top of it, and was borne by brothers of Taizé.

Quite amazingly, but most fittingly, the funeral of this Protestant monk was presided over by a Catholic cardinal, Walter Kasper, the president of the Vatican's Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity, who celebrated the Mass along with four Taizé priest-brother concelebrants. In his homily he said, "Yes, the springtime of ecumenism has flowered on the hill of Taizé", alluding to a comment which Pope John XXIII had made to Brother Roger, and which Pope John Paul II repeated in a visit in 1986, "Ah, Taizé, that little springtime!" Cardinal Kasper also noted Roger's passion for justice and compassion: "Every form of injustice or neglect made him very sad". Brother Roger's successor, Brother Alois Löser, in emulation of what Brother Roger would certainly have done, prayed for forgiveness: "With Christ on the cross we say to you, Father, forgive her, she does not know what she did."

Frère Roger was born in Provence, Switzerland, May 12, 1915, and was baptised Roger Louis Schütz-Marsauche. He was the ninth and youngest child of Karl Ulrich Schütz, a Protestant pastor from Bachs in the Zürich Lowlands of Switzerland, and Amélie Henriette Schütz-Marsauche, a French Protestant woman from Burgundy.

From 1937-1940, Roger studied Reformed theology in Strasbourg and Lausanne, and was a leader in the Swiss Student Christian Movement, part of the World Student Christian Federation. In 1940, he rode a bicycle from Geneva to Taizé, a small town near Mâcon, c. 240 miles southeast of Paris. Taizé was then in unoccupied France, just beyond the zone occupied by German troops. For two years Brother Roger hid Jewish refugees before being forced to leave Taizé. In 1944, he returned there to found what was, initially, a small quasi-monastic community of men, from various denominations, living together in poverty and obedience.

Since the late 1950s, thousands of young adults from all over the world, of all beliefs or none, have flocked to Taizé, where their time is spent in weekly meetings of prayer and reflection. Eventually the Taizé brothers began making visits and leading meetings in Africa, North and South America, Asia, and in Europe, as part of a “pilgrimage of trust on earth”. This had been organized by Brother Roger in 1982 to offer young adults, generally 18-30, a way of taking part in reconciliation among Christians, and the creation of peace and justice on earth, while still rooted in their own local or Christian community.  Usually at the end of each year through the beginning of the new year, larger gatherings were held, bringing together thousands of young adults for a few days of prayer and sharing in collaboration with local churches. 

Brother Roger was characteristically humble and ordinary, keeping a low profile and rarely giving interviews. He was due to give up his community functions just before his death because his advanced age and ill-health increasingly fatigued him, and he often had to use a wheelchair. Forseeing the need for continuity in leadership of the Community, in 1998 Brother Roger designated Brother Alois Löser as his successor. Brother Alois, had originally come to Taizé from Germany as a youth and was professed as a brother of Taizé. With the approval of the Community, it was announced in January, 2005, that Brother Alois would succeed Brother Roger as Prior of Taizé.

One of the greatest blessings of my life was to meet and speak with both Brother Roger and Brother Alois in 1992, in my hometown, Dayton, OH, at the annual “Pilgrimage of Trust on Earth”. I particularly wanted to attend this event because the gathering in Dayton was the first national meeting of the Pilgrimage in North America.  It was a moving and enriching experience in every aspect, bringing together some 2000 young people and adults of various Christian traditions from the U.S., other countries, and from the former Soviet-bloc countries of Eastern Europe.  

Small-group sharing was held each morning after the 10 AM talk by one of the Brothers.  The idea was to have a diverse group -- even of different languages, along with an interpreter -- mull over the assigned Scripture reading and questions which it provoked.  "Animators" were assigned, then separated into groups of about 10 people each, which met wherever they chose to go on campus for the discussion. 

The Common Prayer service on the evening of May 22 opened with much singing of the Taizé chants, and a welcome by Archbishop Daniel Pilarczyk of Cincinnati and Bishop Kenneth Sauer, Bishop of ELCA's Southern Ohio Synod. During the service, Brother Roger knelt behind the other brothers, who were lined up on each side of the aisle in front, and he was surrounded by several children who lit the Paschal candle and accompanied him when he addressed those gathered: 

"A long time ago, two centuries after Christ, someone wrote: 'The calling God gives to Christians is so beautiful that it is not possible for them to run away from it.' Run away from what? It is not possible to run away from the wellsprings of trust in Christ. It is not possible either to run away from responsibilities for those God entrusts to us. And that requires a great inner selflessness.

Yes, selflessness is profoundly linked to the Christian vocation. Selflessness is essential to pass on faith, to communicate Christ, in short, to evangelize. The credibility of faith is to a great extent linked to simplicity of the means we use. And, too, a similar selflessness is essential when we try to take on responsibilities to make the earth a place fit to live in...

To make the earth a home for all, the Northern continents, North America and Europe, are confronted with a serious question today. Here is that question. In some regions, not everywhere, human societies are being built up by a process that separates them into two. Some people experience growing affluence. To keep their material privileges, at a certain point they need to protect themselves by defensive means. Right next to them, others live in a poverty that makes their lives more and more difficult. Especially in the cities, there are islands of poverty."

At this point, Brother Roger stopped and said: "I will stop a moment now so that a child can sing a prayer. It would be wonderful if, in churches, children could support the prayer of all the generations by singing a prayer that older people could repeat. Then I will say a few more words..."  Two black children led the chant: "The Lord is my light, my light and my salvation; in God I trust, in God I trust", alternating with the voices of those gathered. Then Brother Roger continued:

"...I was asked to say something this evening about what came before the creation of the Taizé Community. So I would like to tell how much an old woman was, for me, a witness of the faith that supported the beginnings of Taizé. I am speaking of my maternal grandmother. During the First World War, that grandmother lived in the north of France. Her three sons were fighting on the front lines. And, while the bombs were falling, she welcomed into her home people who were fleeing.

Once the war was over, that old woman said, 'We must do all we can to stop another war.' Then she said, 'Christians, at least, should stop being divided! They should be reconciled, since they profess a God of love.' To make her aspiration concrete, that woman had to begin with herself. So, of Protestant background, she went to pray in a Catholic church. In those days, she had to take an inner step all by herself.

Little by little, through that elderly woman, it became clear that selflessness is one of the burning breaths of the Gospel. That breath touches the depths of the soul.

Going further along the road that my grandmother had opened, I realized that it was necessary to create a community of brothers determined to go the whole way by saying a "Yes" that committed their entire lifetime. Men attentive to selflessness, who would take risks for the Gospel. One of those risks is that of placing forgiveness and reconciliation wherever there are divisions between Christians.

Recently, a young man from Eastern Europe said to me, 'Without forgiveness, there will never be peace.' That young man had realized that without forgiveness, without compassion, there is no future for the human being. Without forgiveness, without reconciliation, there is no future for Christians, and there is no future for the building up of the human family across the earth.

And one day we will come to understand that, for the Gospel, forgiveness and reconciliation are miracles in our lives. Forgiveness is the extreme of loving."

Following the Common Prayer service people lingered, absorbed in quiet prayer and pondering Brother Roger's simple message. At this point, Brother Roger was standing off to the left side of the auditorium as people came and went from the Cross up front to pray, and as the soft chanting continued. I noticed that a few people had gathered in front of him and that he was speaking to each individually. I quietly walked over, rehearsing in my mind what I wanted to say to him in French, because I was aware from seeing him in a video that he spoke little English. As my turn came, I was transfixed by his magnificent blue eyes, which looked directly at you with a purity of soul that's only characteristic of God’s holy ones: so gentle, so compassionate, almost as if knowing already what you wanted.  He leaned forward a bit to hear, over the music, my faltering French requesting  prayer for a family member. He then leaned back and look at me with the most loving expression, and began to pray. Though I couldn’t catch all the words, he gazed at me with those magnificent clear eyes again and said, in a heavy French accent, “She is in Christ." 

The Dormition of Mary: A Responsary & Alleluia, by Hildegard of Bingen

Sweet branch

From the stock of Jesse,

How magnificent

That God saw the girl's beauty,

Like an eagle,

Fixing its eye on the sun:

When the highest Father saw

The girl's radiance

And desired his Word

To take flesh in her.

For in the hidden mystery of God,

Her mind was filled with light,

And there emerged from the Virgin

A bright flower,

Wonderfully:

When the highest Father saw

The girl's radiance

And desired his Word

To take flesh in her.

Alleluia!

O branch mediatrix,

Your sacred womb

Overcame death

And illumined

All creatures

In the fair flower

Born of the sweetest integrity

Of your sealed chasity.

Alleluia! 

"Help Me!"

When I preached on today’s Gospel passage from Matthew (15:10-28) three years ago, I began with part of a quotation from Deirdre J. Good, Professor of New Testament at General Theological Seminary, New York City, which rather took my breath away. I’m repeating the whole quotation again here because it’s so thought-provoking: “No one, not even Jesus, and possibly not even God, understands the infinitely expandable dimensions of God's open arms. In the face of Jesus' initial silence and the hostility of the disciples, the woman's persistence begins to change Jesus' attitude to outsiders. Where he declared to the disciples ("Go nowhere among the Gentiles...but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel," Matthew 10:5-6), [expressing] his own understanding of an exclusive mission (‘I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel’ Matthew 15:24), it is this anonymous woman [slave] proselyte who changes his mind…[H]e surely would have read and reflected upon both the narratives of Joseph's reconciliation with his brothers and Elijah's vision. However, Jesus changes his mind during the course of Matthew's Gospel. At the great commission of Matthew 28:16-20, he commissions the disciples to ‘make disciples of all nations.’ “ St. Paul, on the other hand, in the second reading (Romans 11:1-2a; 29-32), seems to have got it: “For God has imprisoned all in disobedience so that God may be merciful to all.”

Only in this instance does Jesus clearly refuse to heal, and only here does the insistence of this Gentile mother change his mind. She’s identified as a "Phoenician/Canaanite woman," a slave proselyte. The Mishnah's regular use of the word to identify a slave proselyte provides the most reasonable explanation for Matthew's designation, particularly in light of 1) the servant/slave language which Matthew inserts into Mark's shorter version; 2) the psalm-like language of prayer which the woman uses, "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David", “Lord, help me (vv. 22, 25), and "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the masters' tables" (v. 27); 3) addressing Jesus as "Son of David"; 4) the position of "kneeling, falling down, or worshiping" = proskyneo, a verb occurring frequently in Matthew to describe the respectful attitude of outsiders to Jesus.

Matthew identifies the area of Jesus‘ meeting with the woman as “the region of Tyre and Sidon”. The Roman province of Syria had incorporated the former Phoenicia. Tyre encompassed the tribal areas of Asher, Dan and Napthali. It was a Gentile area, although  a certain Jewish presence remained. Matthew says that the woman “came out’, so perhaps they met at the border. The woman is a Canaanite, part of an indigenous population supposedly destroyed by Joshua because of idolatry, but who remained in the land. Interestingly, Matthew includes in Jesus‘ genealogy several other Canaanite women: Rahab, the Jericho prostitute, and Tamar (Genesis 38). Though unnamed, this woman seems to represent for Matthew a figure who anticipates the later mission to the Gentiles.

We have no idea if the woman was married or was a single mother. Nor do we know the name of her daughter. An interesting question is: might the daughter have been right there as her mother pleaded with Jesus? Might this have added to the tone of the woman’s insistence: “my daughter is tormented by a demon”? It would make all the more puzzling and poignant Matthew’s observation that “he did not answer her at all”. One could also question whether the disciples‘ words, “Send her away”, are literal or possibly have the opposite meaning: “Free her...do what she asks”. In the latter case, the disciples could be seen as compassionate intercessors, rather than as people lacking in mercy.

Jesus‘ non-response, then response, is, at best, disconcerting to modern minds, almost reminiscent of the kind of Church policies which have turned off and driven away so many faithful believers at times. The woman, with great respect, really puts the pressure on Jesus: she calls him “Lord” three times; she gets down on her knees, possibly at eye-to-eye level; she begs him, “Help me!” To which Jesus replies: “It isn’t right to take children’s bread and give it to dogs.” Harsh! No way around it, even if one tries to interpret Matthew’s word kynarion = puppy literally, though “dogs” wasn’t a common insult for Gentiles, contrary to many who say otherwise. Despite Jesus‘ response, the woman counters, with great dignity, acknowledging that Jesus has the position of superiority, while at the same time holding to her urgent request. “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters‘ table.”   

At this point in the story, Matthew doesn’t give us any further specific details about how Jesus responded: with facial expressions, possible surprise, a smile and a twinkle in his eye, etc. He simply reports: “Then Jesus answered her, ‘Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.’ And her daughter was healed instantly.”  Jesus was very truly human, part of a specific culture and society which had both typically acceptable and taboos practices and policies. Can we be surprised that Jesus, just as you and I and others so often do, came up against these conflicting situations? Ambrosius Theodosius Macrobius (395-423), a Roman grammarian and Neo-Platonist philosopher, was also author of the Saturnalia, written for his son, Eustathius. It was a collection of historical, mythological, critical, and grammatical discussions. In it he includes the poignant story of an old soldier who finds himself in danger of losing a law case publicly, and requests from Emperor Augustus that the latter would appear for him in court. Instead, Augustus assigns an attendant to act as counsel. The soldier strips his sleeve, displaying his battle scars, and shouts: “When you were in danger at Actium, I didn’t look for a substitute, but I fought for you in person.” The Emperor, duly chastened, got his point and appeared on his behalf in court. 

In this time of critical social, financial, economic, and spiritual upheaval in so many places around the world -- Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, Somalia and Kenya, England, and here in the United States -- multitudes are crying out, “Help me...help me!” Aside from simply being intercessors for their causes and care, will you and I also become responders in whatever way we can, or will we settle for being dispensers by referral?

Lady Poverty

If any woman in history merited the title of "Lady Poverty", it would be Chiara Offreduccio. She must've been an extraordinary, as well as beautiful, young lady! At 18 she heard Francis of Assisi preach during Lent at her parish church of San Giorgio in Assisi. She was so taken with his message that she sought him out afterwards and resolved to join him in his way of life. Quite extraordinary, since at that moment it was only Francis and his brothers. Francis agreed, and on the evening of Palm Sunday, 1212, Chiara, whom we know as Clare, fled her wealthy family's home and ran to the Portiuncula. Here she exchanged her elegant clothing for the rough habit and cincture which Francis provided, and, kneeling before a statue of the Virgin Mary, she bowed her head as Francis cut off her long hair and covered her with a veil, making her the first woman to follow in the steps of "Il Poverello", and the first of the "Poor Ladies of San Damiano", as her group was later called, and the "Poor Clares", after her death and canonization.


St. Clare and other women who began to join her, including her own sister, Agnese, apparently worked side by side at first with Francis and the friars, but because of social taboos, they began living an enclosed life with Benedictine nuns in the Convent of San Paolo in Bastia, then at the Convent of Sant'Angelo di Panzo, and finally in the old priest's house near the Church of San Damiano, on the outskirts of Assisi. Clare remained in her enclosure for the rest of her life, and governed the convent for 40 years.


The Poor Clares lived a life of extreme poverty about which St. Francis preached, renouncing all income and property and depending entirely on alms and the kindness of neighbors and visitors, as they cared for the poor and neglected of the area. They went barefoot year round, slept on the floor, ate no meat, and maintained silence except for what was absolutely necessary. St. Clare went even further in her asceticism, to the point where both Francis and the bishop of Assisi had to intervene and help her tone it down a bit. For such a young woman, she must've had an incredibly commanding personality. Her biographer says that she "radiated a spirit of fervor so strong that it kindled those who but heard her voice." It didn't take long for Clare's sanctity to be recognized, and throughout her life she was consulted not only by ordinary people, but by clergy, bishops, cardinals, and even Pope Innocent IV, who visited with her at least twice.


Clare died at the age of 59, in 1253, 27 years after her beloved friend, Francis, had died. In all those years she experienced severe pain, and was bed-ridden most of the time. Even at that she continued to busy herself with sewing altar linens for the churches around Assisi. Her last words, as she lay dying, were "Blessed are you, O God, for having created me."  And how blessed are we that God did so, holding up before us such an example of holy poverty!


     

"The Treasures of the Church"

If you and I had been living in Rome when Valerian was Emperor in the 3rd century, especially if we'd been in the upper tax bracket, life could've been rather tough. Can you imagine a Pope (Sixtus II) being arrested and dragged off, along with seven of his deacons, then summarily executed, except for one: the Archdeacon Laurence.


Tradition has it that the prefect ordered Laurence to provide information on all the Church's treasures, which, of course, was really the bottom-line of Valerian's persecution. So Laurence goes out and gathers together the sick and the poor of the city, well-known to him, since, as a deacon, he'd ministered to them by assisting them in their needs. He presents them to the prefect and says: "Here are the treasures of the Church"! To say the least, the prefect wasn't amused. Laurence, according to tradition, paid for his heroism with his life, being grilled on a gridiron. Like Jesus, "he went not up to joy but first he suffered pain..."


Because of the great devotion to Laurence's heroic martyrdom/witness, Constantine, a future emperor, later built a shrine and basilica over Laurence's tomb which was in one of the catacombs. The current Church of St. Laurence Outside the Walls, a double basilica, was built between the 6th and 13th centuries.


Laurence is one of that "great cloud of witnesses" surrounding us, who inspire us in our following of Jesus to bring God's reign to bear on our own society. His witness poignantly reminds us that the sick in body and mind, the poor, the needy, the homeless, the disadvantaged among us are "treasures" to whose needs you and I are called to tend. That would be a great expression of devotion to the memory of one of our great Church heroes.

John Mason Neale (1818-1866)

Blessed John Mason Neale packed a lot of living into less than 50 years of life! A priest, scholar, poet, translator, compiler, hymnodist, humanitarian for the plight of disadvantaged women and girls, and founder of a religious order, the Sisters of St. Margaret, Neale was born in London. In his short life he did more than any other person to make the rich heritage of Greek and Latin hymns available to his own and succeeding generations.


Among his works are Medieval Hymns and Sequences, Hymns of the Eastern Church, Liturgiology and Church History, and a 4-volume commentary on the Psalms. His hymn compositions include The Day of Resurrection, All Glory, Laud and Honor, and Art Thou Weary? 


Along with Alexander Hope and Benjamin Webb, Neale formed the Camden Society in 1839, later known as the Ecclesiological Society. They believed that by using Church reform in conjunction with the piety of Gothic architecture, England might recapture the religious perfection of the Middle Ages. In one of the society’s early letters, they say: “We know that [medieval] Catholick ethics gave rise to Catholick architecture; may we not hope that, by a kind of reversed process, association with Catholick architecture will give rise to Catholick ethics?” The Ecclesiologists earnestly believed that medieval people were “more spiritually-minded and less worldly-minded” than those of the modern world, and that it was their duty to help return England to its former piety.


John Mason Neale died at age 48 on the feast of the Transfiguration in 1866.