Monday, December 29, 2025

The First Sunday after Christmas Day, December 28, 2025

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Bruno Santana, OHC

The Word became flesh and lived among us.


When I speak, when you speak. Our words tell us something about ourselves. What we think, what we know, what we want to do or how I feel about something.  But in a very limited way because, as a human being I can only express a little bit of myself in my words. 


Now, think about God. Who is the perfect reality, the source of all creation. God can speak perfectly about himself, utterly. God can speak a word that totally carries the truth of who he is. 

In the creed we pray: God from God, light from light, true God from true God (this is our baby Jesus that we celebrate in this Christmas season) and today in gospel Saint John says: “The word was God” the logos, this is Jesus. The son is not just an aspect of the father, not just a little bit of the father's truth. He's the fullness of the father's truth



Today, First Sunday of Christmas, our liturgy calls to reflect this prologue to the gospel of John that is one of the great theological masterpieces in our tradition that does sum up whole Christianity and certainly what this Christmas is about. 


Let’s walk through some verses and bring to our heart God’s word. 

John begins: “in the beginning was the word and the word was with God and the word was God”. It's how the whole Bible commences. Genesis 1 says: In the beginning, when God made the heavens and the earth.  The Intention of John here is to tell a story of new creation. God is starting over with something fresh and new. He is completing his creation. This is something unique and specific to Christianity.

V2 “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.” 

The Father, God, as great artist was looking at his son and discerning in the son, the logos, all of the possible patterns of rationality and order and made the world according to the Son , logos. the son, logos, all things are made.


Now John the Baptist enters the stage. Was sent from God as witness to testify the light.

 In the past, God has sent spokespersons, prophets, and patriarchs who speak his word. We can also think of every great philosopher, every great scientist, every great poet, every great artist. Anyone that speaks what is love, true, faith, beauty, indeed speaks the word of God to some degree. They're human bearers of his word.  


The Evangelist John is telling us: This Jesus who was born on Christmas night that I'm talking about, this logos, is not like John the Baptist, not like one of the prophets, not just another philosopher, teacher. He is something qualitatively different, not just a bearer of the word. And I think that's a message which needs to be heard today.


V10. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him.


The church fathers said, "God became human, that humans might become God." 

That's how they summed up Christian faith. God condescended to take our nature to himself that that nature might be elevated and raised up.


Fulton Sheen, was an American bishop, talks about the hierarchy of being. He says: Something lower on the scale can be brought up higher but only through an act of condescension on the part of that which is above it. This natural law of the "descent of the higher to lift the lower" serves as an analogy for the Incarnation of Christ.

How do human beings become something higher? 


In that silent night (that we sing every year) Christ came and is not just one human being among many. He is God from God, light from light, true God from true God and now he can raise us up and share his own life. By condescending to us, he allows us to ascend into him.


Everything, especially the human beings, we are made through and for the logos (Jesus) in a very special way. We're meant for union with God. This is our own deepest identity. Union with God It's the deepest hunger of every human heart.


The centerpiece, it's verse 14 And the Word became flesh and lived among us. 

And that little detail now.  In the English translation, sometimes we miss the very important meaning of the word that we have in the original text, in this case in Greek. for example: the word became flesh and lived among us. In Greek literally says: He tabernacled among us; He made his tent among us. 


For biblical Jew though, when you say tent or tabernacle, they are thinking about the Book of Exodus when Israel is escaping from Egypt and God tells them to build a great tabernacle, a tent of meeting, a tent where he would commune with them. That's the prototype of the temple in Jerusalem many centuries later. The temple was the meeting place of heaven and earth. When earth and heaven meet, God comes down to meet his creation. 


Now, because of the holy night, because of Christmas, because of the incarnation, we have the full tabernacling of God among his people. The true temple now is Christ, the word made flesh. We now have a new and definitive place to go to meet God. Heaven and earth coming together in Christ.


 As the versus 14 says: “and we have seen his glory, the glory of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” That little juxtaposition is fascinating. Grace and truth. 


The incarnation It's the full expression of grace, Free gift. We can't deserve this. We can't merit it. God freely gives of himself becoming one of us grace upon grace. It's full of truth because Jesus is the incarnation of God that came among us.  because the grace of God's come among us we see what we ought to be.


The demand of Christianity is higher than any religion or philosophy because God's become one of us full of grace. and therefore, we are called to this fullness of truth to be perfect as your heavenly father is perfect.  


That's the good news of Christmas. That's the meaning of Christmas.  It's about God in grace condescending to come down to us that we might become participants in his own nature and that we might realize the fullness of the truth that he is, the truth of what we can become.


That's what Christmas is about.

Thursday, December 25, 2025

Christmas Day, December 25, 2025

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, New York

Br. Robert James Magliula

Christmas Day, December 25, 2025





Our experience of Christmas changes as we do. I recently had the opportunity to see it through the eyes of my two young nieces. For them, it’s a season of gifts. At dinner on Sunday, the eldest, Artemis, sensibly suggested that we should also observe Hannukah, because it would multiply the number of gifts we received. She is correct about the gift aspect of this feast. Christmas, as gift, cannot be explained by reason or doctrine. It can only be experienced. The Child we receive and celebrate today is the sign of God’s “Yes” to us and to all, without exception. That “yes” is the pure and unconditional gift of Christmas. It comes to us as love, acceptance, forgiveness, presence. It never comes wrapped in an economy of transaction which is what we’re used to. We live in a world in which we pay for what we get. That’s not God’s way. God love and presence are not reserved for those who try to purchase it by being worthy, faithful, or acceptable.

As I’ve aged, I’ve begun to experience Christmas from another perspective. Out from behind the advertisements and through the haze of old carols and crèche scenes, I began to see that Christmas is about finding life where we did not expect life to be. Given our humanity and the times we live in, we might have mixed feelings that cause us to hesitate about even recognizing, no less receiving God’s “Yes”, the gift of this feast. Every year of life waxes and wanes. Every stage of life comes and goes. Every facet of life is born and then dies. Every good moment becomes a memory. This last year we have lived in a land of deep darkness. We look at our world and ache to hear some good news of great joy for all people. Every one of us has experienced some darkness. Every one of us has longed to hear good news, but it’s hard to hear the angel’s voice when joy is in such short supply for so many.

I find that hope dims for me, until Christmas comes again. Then I am called at the deepest, most subconscious, least cognizant level to begin to hope and live again. Christmas brings me back to the crib of life to start over: aware of what has gone before, conscious that nothing can last, but full of hope, even in darkness, that this time, finally, we can learn what it takes to live well, to grow, to get it right. I find myself drawn to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place and be reminded once again that it’s all true.

That Jesus’ birth happened at a specific time within a particular set of circumstances, doesn’t mean his birth is limited to that time and those circumstances. There is no single Christmas story. There are an endless Christmas stories, happening all the time. This feast is not only a celebration of what was. It is also our participation in what is and what might be. There is a child in each of us waiting to be born again. The Christ Child beckons to those looking for life, those who refuse to give up, those to whom life comes new and with purpose each day,  those who can let yesterday go so that life can be full of new possibility, those in whom Christmas is a celebration of the constancy of change, a call to begin once more the journey to human joy and holy meaning. This Child shows us the reality and truth of our lives.

Today we are invited to move from the fact of Jesus’ birth to the meaning of his birth in our lives. We can only come to the manger as we are. We’re invited to come, not as spectators, but as participants in Christ’s birth. Spectators might see Jesus born in Bethlehem, but participants will experience God born in themselves. By becoming human, God encourages us to honor the vulnerability of our humanity and the fragility of our lives. God is with us in our fears and pain, in our losses, in the cruelty and inhumanity we witness daily perpetrated by Empire. The world was no different at Jesus’ birth.

Isaiah offered his prophecy and vision of endless peace, the destruction of the oppressor’s rod, and an end to the trampling boots and bloody garments of this world. Our sadness, anxiety, and fear for the world, can leave us shortsighted and unable to see the prophetic vision of Isaiah. We can feel a sense of dissatisfaction with simply hearing the story instead of our deep longing to live the story.

The shepherds, the first ones to hear the good news, left their flocks and went to the manger and in so doing they moved from the event of Jesus’ birth to the experience of his birth. They offered themselves, their curiosity and awe, as well as their status as homeless field workers, the outcasts and despised of their society. The birth that called the shepherds away from their fields and flocks is also the birth that returned them changed to the same fields and flocks. They carried the birth of Jesus back within them and made the Christmas story their own. Today Bethlehem is more than a geographical location. Today Bethlehem is within us.

Name your hopes and fears, your thanksgivings and disappointments, the joys and the sorrows of this past year, your desires and longings. His manger is big enough to receive whatever we might bring. Whatever we offer today at the manger let it speak the truth of our life. The Christ Child shows us who we are, who we can become, offering us a new beginning. If Christ is not born in the real everyday places of our lives, he isn’t born anywhere.

Today is not so much about explaining or analyzing, but about pondering, discovering, treasuring. Allow your wonder and awe to make you attentive. Awe precedes, and is the root, of faith. That’s our Christmas work. Then Christ is born in us and the divine life lives not only in Jesus but in us too.  +Amen.

Sunday, December 21, 2025

The Fourth Sunday of Advent, Year A, December 21, 2025

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Josep Martinez-Cubero
The Fourth Sunday of Advent, December 21, 2025

Every three years, the lectionary makes our entry point into the Nativity story on this fourth Sunday of Advent to be not through Mary, or Elizabeth, or John the Baptist, but through Joseph. The Gospel of Matthew reminds us that in fact, Joseph’s role in Jesus's arrival is absolutely central and of crucial importance. For Matthew’s Gospel the Messiah must come from the house and lineage of David, and so it rests on Joseph to give his name and his legitimacy to Mary's child. It is his consent to lean into what seems impossible, to embrace the scandalous, and to let go of his notions of holiness in favor of God’s messy plan of salvation, that allows the miracle of Christmas to unfold. If Joseph refuses, the fulfillment of prophecy comes to a halt.  


Matthew’s nativity story is not a detailed telling of Jesus’s birth, like the one we find in the Gospel according to Luke. Luke wants to tell us the story through the experiences of Mary, a young woman without status who carries the son of God in her womb, and the shepherds living in the fields who are the first to hear of the birth. Matthew, on the other hand, wants to tell us about Joseph. He is described as a “righteous man,” which is to say, a man of principle, devoted to God’s law, and ethical living. From any account it’s not hard to imagine Mary’s betrothed as someone who doesn’t like to venture too close to controversy. I imagine Saint Joseph as an honest and hardworking man who follows the rules, practices justice and fairness and desires to live an uncomplicated and orderly life.


We know that the anonymous writer we’ve come to name Saint Matthew was probably a Jewish Christian, possibly a scribe. He wrote between the years 80 and 90 CE and addressed his work to a community in conflict: Jewish Christians who were being pushed out of larger Jewish communities. So, it is important for this writer we call Matthew to place his own religious community right within its Jewish heritage and to portray a Jesus whose Jewish identity is beyond doubt. In fact, he begins his gospel by tracing Jesus’s genealogy, not just to King David, but all the way back to Abraham. What’s interesting is that the genealogy of the Son of God is a long line of dishonor and scandal. 


The forty-two generations of Jesus’ genealogy according to the Gospel of Saint Matthew are a long list of the names of broken and imperfect men, sprinkled a few times with those of broken and imperfect women. There is the patriarch who abandoned his son and twice endangered his wife’s safety in order to save his own skin, the trickster usurper who humiliated his older brother, the king who slept with another man’s wife and then had the man killed to protect his own reputation, a woman who pretended to be a sex worker, and another who was one and then turned into a spy. These are just a few examples, and the backdrop for God’s works of restoration, healing, hope, and second chances. And thus, it is within this context that the focus on Joseph appears in Matthew’s story of Jesus’ birth. Joseph embodies all that is best about the Jewish tradition of the time- keeping the law as a way to live with God. The law was a tried-and-true pattern of actions that expressed a Jew’s closeness to God and right relationship with others. 


In today’s Gospel story we hear that during the time of Joseph’s engagement to Mary, he discovers that she is pregnant and he knows he is not the father. Because he is a righteous man he decides to dismiss her quietly, but an angel of God appears to him in a dream and tells him not to be afraid to marry her so he obeys and does what the angel tells him. Right… But, in the Gospel account neither Mary nor Joseph say a word. What I want to know is what they said to each other. What was that confrontation like? I want to know about Joseph’s anguish, anger, confusion, and fear. He really had no good options. If he calls attention to Mary’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy, according to Mosaic Law she could be stoned to death. I want to know how long it took this righteous man to arrive at what he also knows in his heart is another part of his Jewish heritage: that the law must always be tempered with mercy.


After what may have surely been an agonizing struggle, Joseph’s thoughts, will, feelings, in other words, his aware sense of self, his “I” comes up with a plan that is rational, practical, and righteous. He decides to dismiss Mary quietly, in a way that would reduce public inquiry into what has happened. The thing is, though, that if he does, Mary would be reduced to begging or prostitution to support herself and the child. So, mercy is not enough! What is demanded of Joseph is to go beyond that old pattern of actions he knows so well. God reaches out to him through the subterranean world of dreams. His deeper self, the depths of his soul closest to the Holy, reveals that something else needs to happen, which from the perspective of righteous Joseph, must have felt shocking, unsettling, and scary. In his dream, Joseph confronts a power greater than his sense of self. An angel appears to him and says: “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid.” In other words, do not be afraid to do something that seems outrageous and that will take you way past what you can possibly ask or imagine in order to bring to fruition something that the law and the prophets have yearned for. So, Joseph acts upon a justice deeper than what is merely legal. It’s a theme Jesus will later expound at length in his preaching. Against the shadows of hateful violence dressed up as law, Joseph acts with merciful love, and the Good News of love begins. The Love made flesh, that came to dwell with us, and save us, and love us back to life. 


Our faith depends on our awakening to the messages from God welling up through the unconscious, and trusting the non-rational elements of life. The Spirit God moves through every moment of life, providing gentle (and not so gentle) nudges, insights, and synchronicities. In the account of today’s Gospel story, the plan of salvation depends on Joseph’s openness to listening to the wisdom of God mediated through the unconscious. And in choosing Joseph, God leads this righteous and good man straight into doubt, confusion and struggle. He has to reorder everything he thinks he knows about fairness, justice, goodness, and purity. He has to embrace a mess he did not create. 


It may not make for a warm fuzzy Nativity story, but it is the story I can live with. Seen from that angle, Joseph’s story gives me hope, because, while I like to think I usually arrive where I need to be, my obedience is anything but perfect and often involves a great deal of inner struggle. In fact, the first time I read Chapter 5 of the Rule of Saint Benedict as a postulant, which begins with: “The first step of humility is unhesitating obedience,” I thought to myself: “Say what? Unhesitating obedience?? Well, I guess I’m not humble and I’m just going to have to be an imperfect monk.” I can’t usually relate to or even trust people who leap headlong into obedience. I can, however, relate to a person who struggles, a person whose "yes" is cautious and ambivalent, but still a “yes”. I’m grateful that Joseph’s choice was a hard one and that he struggled, because I struggle, too. 


God’s messy plan of salvation required quiet and cautious Joseph, to choose precisely what he feared and dreaded most- the inexplicable, the complicated, the suspicious. No wonder the angel Gabriel tells him not to fear! The reality is that a life in relationship with God requires this constant reminder- do not be afraid. Do not be afraid when God’s work in your life looks completely different to what you thought it should look like. Do not be afraid when God disrupts your certainties or cherished assumptions. Do not be afraid when God asks you to stand alongside those considered deplorable, the suspected, the shamed, the forgotten. Do not be afraid when God asks you to love more than your self-absorption or reputation. 


May we all be open to more than we can ask or imagine. May we go beyond one-dimensional understandings of reality to embrace the unexpected divine revelations. And may we not fear our vulnerable, fragile, uncertain and messy hearts because that’s the place where Christ is born over and over again. ¡Que así sea en el nombre del Padre, del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo! ~Amen+

Sunday, December 14, 2025

The Third Sunday of Advent, Year A, December 14, 2025

Holy Cross MonasteryWest Park, NY

Br. Scott Wesley Borden

The Third Sunday of Advent, December 14, 2025


 

Here we are in the Third Sunday of Advent. In the great countdown to Christmas, we’re almost there. In some traditions this is known as Gaudete Sunday, Rejoice Sunday, and the candle in the Advent Wreath, traditionally, is pink rather than purple... You’ll notice that none of our candles are purple... let alone pink. The various colors are a modern tradition, and they are hardly set in stone.

But if the colors were part of our wreath, they would have a story to tell. The dark purple (or indigo or blue) would keep us aware that Advent, like Lent, is a penitential season... and the point of Gaudete Sunday was to remind us that it's not all doom and gloom... Emanuel is, after all, about to be with us. When the bridegroom is present you cannot be gloomy...

Some go a step further, supposing that this is the Sunday also known as “stir up” Sunday. But it isn’t and never was. It is true that the collect for today does begin with the call to “Stir up your power O Lord...” And the thought attached to this is that today was the day people preparing a Christmas Pudding had to stir up the batter... Alas, this is not the day for that. The Feast of Christ the King displaced that Sunday – which still exists as a sort of strange, unanchored footnote. Its collect does indeed also begin with stir up... “stir up we beseech thee, O Lord...” the batter for our Christmas pudding...

But the Sunday last before Advent, as it was formally known, has been given over to other purposes. And so steamed Christmas pudding is lost for all time... Here in the US, we’re not so big on steamed English puddings anyway, more is the pity.

It fascinates me that in increasingly secular cultures like Europe, some customs seem to persist. The venerable Advent Calendar is one that surprises me. I grew up with Advent Calendars that featured a daily chocolate treat of very dubious quality enclosed behind colorful paper flaps.

Apparently, chocolate only found its way into Advent Calendars in about 1958 – the same year I found my way into this world... As I was looking for details about the history of the Advent Calendar I found this little note: Today, Advent calendars can be found with a vast range of contents, including toys, makeup, cheese, and other surprises, though the original religious versions are still produced... Thank goodness that something of religious tradition still remains in Advent. Though I suspect for many it's just a misunderstood cultural artifact.

Part of the challenge for us, even for those of us who have the privilege of living in a monastery, is to let the Church Season of Advent keep its voice and not be out sung (or outshouted) by our Capitalist Secular culture that can make anything into a marketing opportunity. For example: for a mere thirty-four dollars you can purchase a Barbie Advent Calendar which includes a Barbie doll and then many days of Barbie accessories... If you want to spend more, how about the Missoma Fine Jewelry Advent Calendar for a mere twenty-two hundred dollars...

The notion of looking forward to the birth of our savior, born in poverty in a stable, with high-end jewelry, or with a collection of top shelf single malt scotches, or with exotic makeup is scandalous or worse.

And this is still Advent... What comes after makes Advent pale. Our Christmas celebrations are often a mockery of the message of Jesus. We’re not called to austerity – when the bridegroom is with us, we are meant to celebrate. But to borrow from our Shaker brothers and sisters; “tis a gift to be simple.” I dare say it’s not a gift on many people’s lists...

But let's come back to the Third Sunday of Advent... and in particular to the Gospel according to Matthew.

Though we are not yet at the arrival of Jesus, this passage from Matthew has us near the end of Jesus’ time on earth, and even nearer the end of John’s time on earth.

John sends out some of his disciples to ask Jesus if he is really the Messiah, or should they keep looking. It seems like John, of all people, should know the answer to his question. This is the same Jesus that caused John to leap in Elizabeth’s womb. This is the same Jesus who John baptized and the heavens thundered. But now, at this late moment, John’s faith is shaky? Or perhaps this question is more for the benefit of others... of us.

John’s disciples dutifully find Jesus and ask him. And Jesus tells them to go and tell John that the deaf hear, the blind see, the lame walk... Jesus is recounting the various prophesies about Messiah, about Jesus. Jesus is reminding John that the promised Messiah is not a great military hero, but rather a healer... a comforter... a lover of souls. Not a mighty warrior...

Sometimes our expectations of what we think is coming cause us to miss what really comes. Perhaps John, like so many of his contemporaries was drifting into the illusion that Jesus was here to destroy the Romans. Our expectations have a unique ability to blind us.

John’s disciples go to tell John, and Jesus turns his attention to everyone else: What are you people looking at? What kind of show did you come for? What are you here to see? Not a weak reed... not an over-hyped, pampered politician... Whether we know it or not, they (and we) have come seeking a prophet.

Our popular culture wants us to believe that prophets are seers of the future... Their primary purpose is to predict the far-off things. What a handy and useful skill that would be... But that is not the purpose of a prophet. Their purpose is to call us back to faithful living in God’s ways.

This is why nobody really likes a prophet... Herod didn’t like John – nor did his wife... So, John’s head was removed from the rest of him. Jesus laments that Jerusalem is the city that murders the prophets. And over the Millenia we haven’t changed on that... Just look at Martin Luther King.

Scripture teaches us that without a prophet the people parish. Yet there is one thing more dangerous than no prophet, and that is a false prophet – these days we have an abundance of those...

Jesus has given us some clues about this prophet business. He tells us that in all of history there has never been a greater prophet than John. John offers no hints about what the future may hold. But he is unrelenting in calling us to a holier way of living – to preparing the way of the Lord.

At this mid-point in Advent, John, in his prophet’s way, is reminding us that we have to keep in mind why it matters that Jesus is born in Bethlehem. All the celebration to come, the beautiful music and sumptuous food... the awesome decorations and the good company, must not obscure the fact that our world, like the world at the time of Jesus, is a sorrowful mess. Cruelty, violence, and grotesque injustice are in abundance. Why do we think it's acceptable for someone to have to choose between their prescription medications and their groceries – in the richest country on earth. Martin Luther King told us that justice is a calculation of God’s love. A lot of our social policies seem to calculate something very different... very ungodly.

Jesus comes into our world not to magically fix things. Jesus comes because we need saving – from ourselves. As Christina Rosetti puts it, love comes down at Christmas. And bit by bit we need to receive that love. As James Huntington tells us, love must act.  So, enjoy good food, sing joyful carols, look at beautiful decorations, take in the love of the season and the love of God. But don’t stop there. Take action to share God’s love with all of God’s creation.


Tuesday, December 9, 2025

The First Profession of the Monastic Vow of Br. Daniel Benjamin Hansknecht, OHC, December 9, 2025

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, New York

Br. Robert James Magliula

The First Profession of the Monastic Vow of Br. Daniel Benjamin Hansknecht, OHC, December 9, 2025





Ben, you came to us seven years ago to live alongside the community as an intern, and then a year and a half ago you returned as a postulant and then a novice in the community. You know first-hand that this life presents its challenges and its rewards. You’ve learned that community life presents human beings at their best and at their worst. When you requested to take the name Daniel, marveling at his experience in the lion’s den, I confess that it crossed my mind that there might be a parallel there to your initial monastic experience. Initial formation is intended to take you outside of your familiar framework to raise basic questions where meaning is challenged, decisions reconsidered, and doubts unearthed. It can be daunting and exhausting, and it can both drain but also infuse hope. When our private worlds go to dust, hope digs in the ruins of our heart for memory of God’s promise to bring good out of bad, joy out of sadness, and life out of death. For all of us, especially in these times, hope is not optimism in the face of dire circumstances, nor is it founded on denial. Hope is made of memories which remind us that there is nothing in life we have not faced that we did not, through grace, survive. Hope is the certainty that something will make sense, regardless of how it turns out.

Today, as you make your vowed commitment to continue your discernment, the more honest you are in examining your own motives, the closer you are to being yourself. The more equipped you are to distinguish the person you want to be from the one everybody else wants you to be, the more likely you are to become it. Without the honesty it takes to unmask the self, there is no liberation, let alone fulfillment. To make a truly life-giving discernment, we all need to squarely face what it is that gives us life. We need to speak the truth of our interests, our abilities, our desires, as well as our dissatisfactions. We need the help that comes from having our confusion, disappointment, and anxiety accepted and understood by those who are not threatened by it. We need the acceptance and encouragement of each other so we can move beyond fear to the freedom it takes to be who we are. The power that comes with self-discovery at any age catalyzes us. Our holy Father Benedict, in the longest Chapter of the Rule, emphasizes humility, which is nothing less than living in the truth.

The three-fold vow helps us to continue to embrace the path of seeking God and satisfying our desire in a communal context. The vow is not about negation, restriction, or limitation. The vow guides us in facing the three basic demands of this life: the need to listen, the need to not run away, especially from ourselves, and the need to change, the conversion of our way to the monastic way, by embracing transformation through common ownership and consecrated celibacy. Living the vow requires fidelity, endurance, perseverance, and patience---with yourself and with your brothers. The Epistle today wisely exhorts us to clothe ourselves in compassion, kindness, meekness and patience, forgiving each other, and clothing ourselves in love which binds us all together in harmony in one body. (Col.3:12-14) Your commitment today reminds all of us that the paschal mystery of Jesus’ dying and rising is the pattern of our monastic life. Our ongoing conversion is a sign of our commitment to allow God to continue to work within us.

While we come here seeking God, it becomes increasingly evident that God has sought us. In the depths of our heart, hear the invitation to abide with Christ. Our Gospel today reminds us that we cannot live this life apart from abiding in the love of Christ. He is the vine, the source of our life and love and all that flows from it in community. Our primary relationship is with Christ. He is both the Light we see and the Illumination by which we see. That Light and Illumination reveal mercy and forgiveness in the shadows of guilt and shame, courage in the night of fear, compassion and hope in sorrow and loss, a way forward in the blindness of confusion, and life in the darkness of death. Our monastic life is the call to immerse ourselves in the all-inclusive and transforming love of God. Giving witness to that love, leads deeper into the meaning of being chosen by Christ, and of learning to prefer nothing to Christ. It is the flame of God’s love that consumes our darkness and frees us for the peace God has promised.

Faithfulness is a prerequisite to trust and intimacy. With divine love flowing through us we can see others and ourselves in our connectedness and wholeness. But be warned, the vow does not put an end to struggle. God intends us to live together in the fragility of human imperfection which leaves us open to deeper truth. Yet, even when we fail, and often because of it, we come to know more of ourselves, each other, and God.

 Daniel, you are now embarking on another stage of your life pilgrimage.  Within the abundance God’s and our love, we give great thanks that you’ve decided to take this next step as we continue this journey together.  +Amen.