It's Easter. It's Passover. It's the Master's weekend. Truly it is The Master's weekend. If the Masters' weekend is plural (golf) you can hang up now. If the Master's weekend is uniquely singular (Resurrection), you can hang up too. But if this weekend is a conundrum for you, I have something for you. Hope.
This day I did not go to church. I did stand in front of the Holy Eucharist held in repose in my little chapel. I did take half of the precious Body for myself. I left the other half for you.
My day was like all days lately. I spend every waking moment in personal conversation with God. When I am asleep, I put to practice what I have learned in many dream like scenarios. You are included in these. I will meet and interact with all of you eventually in this medium. So many of you look so young and you seem surprised that I am getting old.
Your sharing is so important to me. I carry your worries, dreams, plans with me when I am back awake. They allow me to reach out to you and make you a part of my never ending conversation with God. The things you are concerned with may never have occurred to me. Thank you for sharing your experiences. If my concern for you is seen as an intrusion, I apologise.
You children of the conundrum are my life now. You who cannot decide whether to accept God's presence in your life as a blessing or an inconvenience.
A conundrum is a perplexing riddle usually answered by a pun. My choice of Master's v, Masters' is a poor excuse for a pun. Perhaps it is really something else. What do you think it is?
Fr. Rod
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
Silence is Golden
In the last years of the seminary and when I was in my parish I used to vacation in Australia. I got to meet a lot of interesting church types there. I met Mathew Fox and heard him shouted down by Opus Dei members at one of his well attended lectures. I wondered why Opus bothered to attend. Fox fans ignored them and I think Matt fed off of them.
Later and on the other side of the continent I met a monk who was Padre Pio's English translator. I went to a beach gathering of some Blue Army friends and there he was sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of a long white sandy beach on the Indian Ocean. The ladies where dressed for a formal occasion despite sitting in the sand around father. I never could pronounce this guy's name, so it's no wonder I cannot think of it now. The ladies were quite chatty and I joined in on the conversation. I noticed however that all father translator did was nod and smile. I never heard him say a word.
This was to continue as I attended several house gatherings honoring this fellow. The gatherings were held at some incredible millionaire's mansions along the beaches in the Perth suburbs. I was wined and dined and I got to regale the crown with some of my best stuff. Father just sat there and ate. This went on for about a week until father was moved on to Adelaide during his conquering tour of Australia.
I never saw or heard of him again. I never heard from all those Aussie Catholic celebs again either. What went wrong? I gave them some of my best stuff. Father smiled and ate. I imagine that Father is still touring the best houses if he is still alive. He was quite old. Hmm, I am getting old and I get to tour my neighborhood here in Phoenix while walking the dogs. Is there a lesson here?
Fr. Rod
Later and on the other side of the continent I met a monk who was Padre Pio's English translator. I went to a beach gathering of some Blue Army friends and there he was sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of a long white sandy beach on the Indian Ocean. The ladies where dressed for a formal occasion despite sitting in the sand around father. I never could pronounce this guy's name, so it's no wonder I cannot think of it now. The ladies were quite chatty and I joined in on the conversation. I noticed however that all father translator did was nod and smile. I never heard him say a word.
This was to continue as I attended several house gatherings honoring this fellow. The gatherings were held at some incredible millionaire's mansions along the beaches in the Perth suburbs. I was wined and dined and I got to regale the crown with some of my best stuff. Father just sat there and ate. This went on for about a week until father was moved on to Adelaide during his conquering tour of Australia.
I never saw or heard of him again. I never heard from all those Aussie Catholic celebs again either. What went wrong? I gave them some of my best stuff. Father smiled and ate. I imagine that Father is still touring the best houses if he is still alive. He was quite old. Hmm, I am getting old and I get to tour my neighborhood here in Phoenix while walking the dogs. Is there a lesson here?
Fr. Rod
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