The Feast of James Otis Sargent Huntington

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Robert Sevensky, OHC

Fr. James Otis Sargent Huntington– Friday, November 25 2016

James Otis Sargent Huntington was not the first Superior of the Order of the Holy Cross—that honor goes to Father Robert Stockton Dod who along with Father Huntington and Father James Cameron joined together in 1881 on the Lower East Side of New York to begin the community that came to be  The Order of the Holy Cross.  But with Father Cameron's departure from the novitiate in October 1883 and then Father Dod's departure due to health reasons in March 1884, Fr. Huntington was left holding the title and the responsibility for the nascent Order.  Others soon arrived, of course, but the job fell to Father Huntington. And as Br. Adam McCoy says in his formative history of our Order:  “It is in this sense that Fr. Huntington became Father Founder: not that he had the founding vision, but that he had the founding strength to remain faithful, and his faithfulness raised up a mighty work.”  (p. 38)

Fr. Huntington served as Superior from 1884 until the very first opportunity he had to relinquish the position with the Life Profession, in 1888, of the second member of the Order, Fr. Sturges Allen. But he went on to serve again as Superior from 1897 until 1907 and then again from 1915 to 1918, and finally once more from 1921 until 1930, a total of twenty-four years. 

When he was elected in 1921, Father Huntington was already 67 years old.  By that time he had been living the monastic life for over forty years and, as we might say today, he had many years of leadership experience under his belt.  He was a seasoned and highly respected figure.

So I was surprised to read an entry from his daily meditations dated August 3, 1922, one year into his final nine-year term.

Before I read it, let me explain that it was then part of the Rule and tradition for each monk to make a daily meditation. But far for being an exercise in non-verbal contemplation, making a meditation generally consisted of a rather set pattern. The night before, a topic or Scripture passage was chosen. The next day, one then elaborated on the passage with three “points” or mini-reflections. These were to be written out in a notebook or journal, and then the whole exercise concluded with a “resolution” or intention for the day.

Our archives is filled with such books of daily reflections and meditations.  They are not always literary or spiritual masterpieces...they were never meant to be.  They were the stuff of private prayer.  But many of our early members, such as Father Huntington, were articulate and literate to a degree that astounds me, and much of what they wrote bears reading, both for their theology and spirituality as well as for what is revealed of their personalities.

So let me read to you that entry from August 3, 1922, by Father Huntington.The announced theme is “A civil ruler takes his oath of office,” and it begins with a quote from the Gospels that was likely the passage on which he was meditating that day: “Blessed is that servant whom his master shall find so doing... whom his lord hath made rule over His household, to give them their portion of meat in due season.”

 
He goes on: 

“In starting afresh on my office as Superior I must realize that I ought to be ready to give an account at any moment.  As “The Son of Man cometh when ye think not.”  A steward must be ever on the tip-toe of expectation for the return of his master. “Give me an account of thy stewardship.”  The call may come at any moment. “Be ye ready also.”  Alas, if the call were to come today how far behind I should be!  Why is it?  Am I unsystematic and for that reason wasteful of time and energy?  Am I attempting more than I should?  Am I giving disproportionate attention to things outside the community? I was, perhaps, wrong in accepting the office in regard to my family, yet that hasn't taken many hours in the course of ten years. I do not spend time in recreation or in study. Is it that I work slowly?  Is it that I ought to use the services of others more than I do?” 

And his resolution?  “To watch patiently today to see where the leak is.”

I love this entry.  I can so identify with it, as I would imagine so many of us here today do. Here is a monk of forty plus years deeply accustomed to the rhythms of the life and the duties and responsibilities of  leadership asking the same questions we all ask from time to time if not constantly.  Why am I so apparently unproductive?  Am I responsible enough, or am I over-responsible?  Do I try to do too much or not enough?  Am I disorganized?  Am I just slow?  Do I delegate?  What have I sidelined?  Recreation? Leisure? Study? 

And we can all add to that list, can't we?  Healthy relationships, community, physical exercise, proper nutrition, adequate rest and sleep, cultural development, creative endeavors, the arts and culture. Where is the leak in your life? In mine?

And it's an interesting resolution our Father Founder makes, isn't it?  A resolution not to rush to instant change or to reach for the quick fix but to watch patiently to see exactly here the leak is, to see what's actually going on, to look perhaps for the root causes of the problem, and then to begin to act on that.  It's an invitation, really, to become skilled observers of our own lives, exercising loving curiosity so that we can see where and what has sidetracked us. And to go on from there.  In this as in so much else, Father Huntington comes across to me as very humble and honest and even forward thinking. It is what endeared him to so many and what, I imagine, also perhaps frustrated those who wanted more decisive action...I think, among others, of his contemporaries such as Fr. Sill and Fr. Hughson. 

But strangely enough the meditation for that date does not end with his resolution. Father Huntington goes on to say, and I quote at length:

“There is a hierarchy of duties. We must use the Gift of Counsel to decide what is the most important of and what is less so.  All strength, or all wisdom, comes from God...consequently we must be sure that not only anything that separates us from God...but also anything that hinders us from an even closer union with Him is a weakening of those powers by which alone any effective work can be done, any lasting good accomplished.  “Mass and merit never hinder work.”  This is a brief statement of this principle.  Whatever lessens our assimilation of necessary nourishment stops our power to do anything whatsoever.  We must eat to live and we must live to work. So it is in the physical order. But the same principle holds in the spiritual order.  The first necessity is to have spiritual vitality, and for that we must use what feeds and re-invigorates our spiritual life.  Prayer, meditation, spiritual reading, above all Mass and Holy Communion, these are our first necessity. These we must secure if the new start is to be effective.”

This passage, too, cuts to the heart of Fr. Huntington's spirit and to ours as well.  If we are to be effective workers in whatever department of life, we must needs make sure that we are being nourished spiritually.  Prayer, meditation, spiritual reading, the Eucharist....these are not luxuries but vital necessities.  And not only for Superiors or monks or clergy but for all Christians.   We know this.

What I find fascinating is that after more than forty years in the monastery, Fr. Huntington still needs to remind himself of this, still needs to be called back to this fundamental truth.  I have to admit that, after my thirty plus years, I found it a great relief to see that I wasn't alone in my struggle to live into this truth.  It is at the heart of any vocation and of all Christian living.
 
So what to do?  Well, we could do worse than to appropriate for today at least, Fr. Huntington's own resolution for August 3, 1922:  to watch patiently for where the leak is. And then, with God's help, to perhaps apply a patch. The image I'm left with is of a bicycle tire, a patch here, a patch there...sooner or later, it is all patchwork.  But the end of that process is, in a sense, whole new tire.  I wonder if God is doing that with us, helping us to recognize and patch the leaks one at a time until one day we become a whole new tire, all patched up and ready to roll.
 
From what I can tell, this seems to be what God did with James Otis Sargent Huntington. Why shouldn't God do it with us as well, one leak patched at a time until with James, the saints and all the ordinary men and women of God, we find ourselves reinvigorated and renewed, transformed ever so slowly yet more and more radically into the mind and heart of Christ?
 
Why not?

Christ the King , Year C - Sunday November 20, 2016

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Robert James Magliula, OHC 

Christ the King , Year C - Sunday November 20, 2016

The Scapegoat

In our readings today on this festival of the Reign of Christ, we’re reminded of just how much our concerns and behaviors over the last twenty-five hundred years remain the same.  Jeremiah expresses his longing and demand for integrity in those who govern. His reference to shepherds is essentially political. King David, the great Shepherd of his people, became associated with kingship. Jeremiah, like all of us, worried about who would be running the country. His opinion of those who might was not very high. “You have scattered my flock and driven them away, and have not attended to them.” He makes a pledge to the people on behalf of God, who is the ultimate Shepherd, to bring them home from exile. He depicts a mysterious vision concerning a righteous Branch of David, who will reign, deal wisely, and do justice for the people.

In our Epistle, Paul struggles to find the words that will express the glory of Christ as Lord. The Letter to the Colossians begins as a prayer for strength and grace. It quickly becomes a lyrical hymn to the glory of Christ. Paul is trying to find language for which there is no language. He strives for the loftiest he can muster, which sets up a startling paradox with today’s Gospel. If our Epistle is filled with blinding light and splendor, our Gospel has us standing under a darkened sky in horror as the Christ, who is worshipped by all creation, hangs naked on an obscene cross.

Luke holds up for us the image of an utterly vulnerable Jesus dying on the cross surrounded by his enemies. This paradox is at the heart of what we mean by Incarnation and kenosis. The mystery of Incarnation is his choosing to enter human flesh and share it with us. The mystery of kenosis, a self-emptying by the Lord of all, is a giving over of all power, all beauty, all glory.

  
How ironic it is, here in the land of mass incarceration and execution, that it is a convicted criminal, undergoing public execution, who is the one to attribute kingship to Jesus. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He doesn’t preface his request with royal titles, but addresses him only as “Jesus”. The speaking of that name evokes a world of meaning and hope. The name means “God will save”. In that gruesome scene where we see no hint of a kingdom, he doesn’t ask to be rescued, but to be remembered. He’s able to recognize the salvation that intrudes into the absolute moment where no one is saved from suffering and death, which is also the moment when salvation breaks through. Jesus’ last words to another human being were words of promise. When he says, “Today you will be with me in paradise”, he is not referring to a 24-hour period of time, but that moment when God’s salvation fractures time. The leaders, the soldiers, the first criminal, and the mob all live in ordinary time where the powers of violence determine events, and death is the last word; but this criminal already lives in the reign of Christ. What does this scene say to us about how we are to live into today?

René Girard developed a sociological and philosophical explanation for how and why the pattern of scapegoating is so prevalent in some form in every culture. Leviticus 16 contains a brilliant ritualization of it. On the Day of Atonement, a priest lays hands on a goat, placing all the sins of the Jewish people from the previous year onto it. Then the goat is beaten with reeds and thorns and driven out into the desert. The people go home rejoicing, just as European Christians did after burning a heretic at the stake, or American whites did after the lynching of black men. Centuries ago Blaise Pascal wrote, “People never do evil so completely and so cheerfully as when they do it with a religious conviction.” Whenever the “sinner” is excluded, our ego is delighted and feels relieved and safe. It sort of works, but only for a while. Usually the illusion only deepens and becomes repetitive—because scapegoating did not really work to eliminate the perceived evil in the first place.

If our ego is still in charge, we will find a disposable person or group on which to project our problems. People who haven’t come to at least a minimal awareness of their own dark side will always find someone else to hate or fear. Unfortunately, hatred and exclusivity hold a group together much more quickly and easily than love and inclusivity. We saw this at play before the election and we see it today.

Jesus came to radically undo scapegoating. He became the scapegoat to reveal the universal lie of scapegoating. The Gospel is a highly subversive document. It painstakingly illustrates how the systems of both church and state conspired to condemn Jesus. Throughout most of history, church and state have sought scapegoats to carry their own shame and guilt. So Jesus became the sinned-against one to reveal the nature ofscapegoating.

He refused to transmit his pain to others. He says from the cross: “Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing”. Scapegoating largely operates in the unconscious. People think they are doing a holy or patriotic duty. This is why inner work, shadow work, and honest self-knowledge are all essential to any healthy religion. The vast majority of violence in history has been sacralized violence. Convinced that God is on our side, our violence becomes necessary and even redemptive. But there is no such thing as redemptive violence. Violence doesn’t save; it only destroys in both short and long term.  What is set before us this morning is how Jesus replaced the myth of redemptive violence with the truth of redemptive suffering. He showed us how to hold the pain and let it transform us, rather than pass it on to others. We embrace suffering as one vital form of participating in the mystery of the Incarnate One and the healing of the world. Spiritually speaking, no one else is our problem. We are our own problem. Until we own that truth about ourselves, as that criminal did, there can be no reconciliation, no reign of God in our lives.

This is a challenging notion for many of us. We would rather have Jesus say that God loves the people we like and who are like us. We want to be the judge and arbitrator of God’s love, forgiveness, and mercy. On the cross Jesus shares the victimization of humanity and it’s here that he experiences his own resurrection. He neither plays the victim nor creates victims. That’s the model offered to his followers. The work that describes this total dynamic of being given to and giving back with total vulnerability on each side is forgiveness. To forgive we have to be able to see ourselves, then the other person, at least momentarily, as a whole person, an image of God, containing holiness and horror at the same time. Only by acknowledging our own capacity for evil, can we honestly name and resist what is evil outside of us. Jesus consistently denounced evil and took action to address it, not at the expense of the other, but for the benefit of all. Forgiveness encompasses two thirds of Jesus’ teaching, and his death reflects its cost. What we human beings want is resurrection without death, answers without doubt, light without darkness, the conclusion without the process. We flee from the naked, self-emptying Jesus on the cross, the vulnerable one, who knows how to relate to all of creation.

Our Trinitarian theology says that spiritual power is circular, not hierarchical. It’s shared and shareable; it’s already entirely for us and grounded within us. God’s Spirit is planted within each of us. The Trinity reveals that God’s power is not domination, threat, or coercion. Richard Rohr writes that “All divine power is shared power—a giving away, a letting go, an infinity of trust and mutuality”.

Standing before the crucified Jesus we recognize that he became what all of us fear: nakedness, exposure, vulnerability, and failure. He became it to free us from our fear of it. He became what we do to one another and ourselves in order to free us from the lie of punishing each other and ourselves. He became the Crucified so we would stop crucifying. Jesus’ invitation to us from the cross is that we stop killing what we should love, and hating what could transform us.   +Amen.

Propio 28C-13 de noviembre de 2016

Monasterio de la Santa Cruz, West Park, NY
Br. Josép Martinez-Cubero,OHC 
Propio 28C- 13 de noviembre de 2016

VIGESIMOSEXTO DOMINGO EN TIEMPO ORDINARIO
Isaías 65:17-25
2 Tesalonicenses 3:6-13
Lucas 21:5-19

“Vendrán días en que de todo esto que ustedes están viendo no quedará ni una piedra sobre otra. Todo será destruido.”

El género de la porción del evangelio que hemos leído esta mañana pertenece a la literatura apocalíptica de la Biblia. La palabra apocalipsis es de origen griego y significa “revelar”. Lo que principalmente se revela en este tipo de escritura es el fin de la historia y la eternidad que lo seguirá. En otras palabras, la escritura apocalíptica es escatológica (tratando los tiempos del fin). A la misma vez, la escritura se basa en principios que son válidos a lo largo de la historia: el conflicto espiritual entre el bien y el mal y el control soberano de Dios sobre la historia y la naturaleza. El método de descripción es simbólico y visionario, o sea muchos de los detalles se siguen cumpliendo a lo largo de la historia. A mediante de este género de escritura ponemos al mundo en contexto y nos damos cuenta que todo pasa. Sin esta clase de contrapunto corremos el riesgo de tomar a este mundo demasiado en serio, de apegarnos a todo como si fuera a durar para siempre. Nos olvidamos que todo pasa, y todo se acaba.

La lectura del libro del profeta Isaías y el evangelio según San Lucas son escritas a comunidades que han sido sacudidas a la base por decepciones de la vida que ellos ni hubiesen querido ni hubiesen elegido nunca. Isaías le habla a un pueblo que acaba de regresar de exilio en Babilonia. Por muchos años el pueblo ha soñado sobre la Jerusalén que recuerdan, incluso el templo que había sido construido por el rey Salomón, con todo su esplendor. Pero la Jerusalén que encuentran a su regreso es una ciudad en ruinas. Ante ellos se encuentra la tarea monumental de reconstrucción pero sin los recursos que Salomón tenía a su poder. Es un tiempo de profundo pesimismo y desaliento. Pero Isaías nos da una visión para una comunidad de amor y compasión, el nuevo cielo y la nueva tierra que Dios está creando. Cada día, en cada situación, no importa que grande sea la decepción o la perdida tenemos la oportunidad de aceptar que la compasión y el amor de Dios funcionen.

 De manera similar, Lucas le escribe a una comunidad que ha experienciado la devastadora destrucción del templo en Jerusalén y la matanza de sus residentes por el imperio romano. El pueblo conoce muy bien la desesperación que se siente cuando en lo que uno confía muy queridamente ya no puede explicar la realidad en la que uno se encuentra. Recordemos que el evangelio fue escrito alrededor del año 85 d.C., o sea unos quince años después de la tercera destrucción del templo. Se puede decir que el texto no es profecía sino interpretación de historia, la historia que nos enseña que estas cosas se repiten una y otra vez. No obstante esta audiencia busca respuestas. ¿Quién es este Jesús, el que se supone que sea el Mesías, el nuevo rey David mandado para salvarnos de nuestros opresores? ¿Por qué murió? ¿Es verdad que resucitó y vive?¿Por qué Dios permitió que el templo se destruyera? ¿En donde se encuentra Dios en todo esto? El templo y todo lo que conocíamos se encuentra ahora en ruinas. ¿Y ahora qué? El pueblo había construido sus anhelos y sus esperanzas a cuentas del templo. Su imagen de Jesús como el Mesías, el salvador. Ellos como los escogidos y Dios el liberador, protector y la roca en la cual se podían parar. Pero el templo ahora estaba en ruinas.

¿Qué podemos hacer cuando nos fallan las imagines y los ídolos que elegimos para capturar el significado completo de aquél por quien añoramos? Cuando nuestro templo se destruye o la iglesia fracasa. Cuando las teologías son muy límites o las respuestas suenan absurdas o nos dejan queriendo mas. Cuando realidades nuevas se presentan en nuestras vidas. Es entonces que necesitamos el ejemplo de Jesús, quién supo lo que es vivir con las preguntas; rabino judío, maestro, experto en como contestar un pregunta con otra pregunta. Jesús, quién clamó por la justicia y defendió a los marginalizados. Jesús, quién puso a la gente antes de la ley y los animó a resistirse contra la injusticia y sin embargo no quiso usar armas. Jesús, quién desafió el status quo de las autoridades religiosas e insistió que Dios y nosotros somos uno. Jesús, quién insistió que el reino de Dios está aquí en la tierra y ha comenzado. Jesús, el que rompía las reglas y le gustaba las fiestas. Jesús, al que llamaron borrachón y glotón. Jesús, quién lo redujo todo a simplemente el amor, el amor a Dios y el amor al prójimo como sea ama uno mismo. Jesús, el que vivió y amó tan extraordinariamente, dándose completamente a la vida y a la humanidad sin querer desistir aunque sabía que era muy probable que lo mataran. Por eso en él vemos a Dios, la fuente de todo lo que es y siempre será.

 Aquellos de ustedes que tienen cuentas de facebook tal vez vieron, hace unas semanas, la fotografía del letrero de una iglesia que decía: “Cristo viene… y ojalá que sea antes de las elecciones.” Bueno, las elecciones han pasado y hasta la fecha que yo sepa la segunda venida no ocurrió. Todavía estamos aquí, pero ahora tratando de limpiar el desastre de una temporada de elección presidencial que a puesto sobre la mesa todo lo que quisiéramos pensar que no existe en esta nación. Es obvio decir que muchos están deslumbrados, preocupados y hasta con pánico por causa del resultado de la elección presidencial. Para muchos el país se siente completamente destrozado. Pero tenemos que recordar que en nuestra narrativa cristiana de salvación hubieron muchos momentos cuando el pueblo de Dios creyó que todo se había perdido y que no había salida, pero el pueblo siempre fue sorprendido con nueva vida y nuevos caminos emergiendo de circunstancias que parecían no tener ninguna clase de esperanza. (Y también recordemos que Jesús vivió en un territorio sometido al poder tirano del imperio romano que ejercía su dominio.) Ahora mas que nunca tenemos que recordar nuestra identidad como seguidores de Jesucristo y seguir adelante como una comunidad de esperanza, paz, justicia y reconciliación.

Como seguidores de Jesucristo declaramos nuestra confianza en el amor de Dios quien tiene todo el poder. Declaramos esta confianza hasta cuando la iglesia parece no poder contra todo lo que parece estar trabajando en contra del reino de Dios y hasta entre medio de circunstancias que retan nuestro sentido de esperanza. Seguimos adelante, firmes, con estabilidad y fe como insignia de lo que significa ser un creyente. Seguimos siendo testigos de las maravillas que Dios ha hecho, y continuamos aunque parezca lo opuesto. Todo depende en donde y en que centramos nuestro tiempo, nuestro esfuerzo y nuestra visión. Si nos fijamos solo en aquello que es temporario, nos perderemos las cosas que sí duran. Si solo vemos lo que aparenta tener obvia grandeza y esplendor, nos perderemos la belleza de lo que a primera vista parece no ser atractivo. Si nos centramos solo en el daño, lo destructivo, lo que es mortífero, nos perderemos lo que da ánimo, lo que es constructivo y lo que da vida.

Todos esos siglos atrás cuando el templo en Jerusalén se hallaba en ruinas, los seguidores de Jesús se dieron cuenta que Jesús era en realidad el Mesías. En Jesús encontraron el poder del amor. Con el tiempo se dieron cuenta que ese amor nacía una y otra vez en las caras de cada uno de ellos. Así mismo también comenzaron a vivir y amar al máximo, confiando que en Dios, quien es amor, encontrarían nueva vida- vida que es puro regalo.
Como Jesús, vivamos amando, sacrificando, luchando, probando, cuestionando, protestando con dignidad en contra de la injusticia, abrazando cada momento y confiando que Dios, la base de nuestro ser y creador de todo lo que es y siempre será nos sostiene por cada reto y por cada bendito momento no importa lo que venga. ¡Que así sea! ~Amén.