Thanksgiving 2019, Finger Painting: Ronald Raab, CSC November 2019

Gospel: Luke 17:11-19

(Prayer text: Ronald Raab,CSC)

“Christ the King” Painting by: Ronald Raab, CSC 2015

My Dear Followers of the Christ,

 We celebrate today, the King.

 Everything on earth will find its completion in Christ Jesus, our King.

 Take this into your hearts: Every moment of our unfaithful lives will be healed in Him.

 In the end, everything is going to be okay.

 This feast reflects the Paschal Mystery. Jesus’ passion, death and resurrection are our ultimate home. The King is the summation of our faith on earth.

We belong in Him.

We belong in Him. 

 We may struggle with our human definition of, “king.”

 However, this King is not about power and privilege.

 As we focus on this gospel today, this king is unlike any other king we have seen on earth.

 This feast comes from Jesus hanging on the cross.

 He could have saved himself just like he overrode the temptations of evil in the desert before his public ministry. So why didn’t he?

 He could have allowed his own freedom just like he raised Lazarus from the dead.

He could have healed himself as he healed the leper or cured Simon’s mother-in-law or released the stranger from a demon. So why didn’t he?

 Rather he took us with him to his death. For the place of the Kingdom is within every human heart.

 We die with him so we may discover his mercy in his Resurrection. His Kingdom is born in the empty tomb.

 We celebrate a king who entered our frailty, our dishonesty, and every aspect of our disturbingly human lives.

 For this king desires love for every human being on earth and every soul of heaven.

 As we overhear this intimate conversation between a thief and Jesus, we also desire along with this thief, to be forgiven. We too, voice our powerlessness into Jesus’ ear.

 “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

 And Jesus replies, “Today, you will be with me in paradise.”

 Imagine this encounter, this voice of love that overwhelms the thief in his last-minute confession. Only the gospel of Luke shares this treasure because he desires to have nothing stand in the way of our relationship with Jesus.

 I don’t know about you, but I want a share in this intimate encounter. I want to find my life and place in his promise and in his Kingdom.

 His kingdom is not a cartoon fairytale where we all have what we need.

 His kingdom is not a room at the Ritz or life smothered in extravagance and greed.

 His kingdom is not made of silver wishes and gold promises.

 His kingdom is not a pot of riches promised to us for being good.

 His Kingdom is not an all-you-can eat buffet.

 His kingdom is not hidden behind gated communities, safety-deposit boxes or storage units.

 His kingdom is not vast vistas of land. It is not having the last word. It does not come with military power.

 The Kingdom we all seek is to stand on this holy earth and realize that we belong.

We belong to Him.

 We are not alone no matter what.

 My sisters and brothers,

We don’t have to wait for a deathbed confession to be invited into the Kingdom of God.

 As we process this day down the aisle to receive the Real Presence of Christ Jesus, we have his ear. He humbles himself so we may be loved and forgiven.

 The Real Presence of Christ in our Eucharist on this last Sunday of the Church year feeds us in ways in which we least expect.

We don’t need to save ourselves.

We don’t have to worry about the power of evil overriding Him.

We are not undeserving.

We don’t prove ourselves in faith.

We don’t earn Jesus’ love.

The King simply offers us himself.

On this notion, we have built a Church.

Christ our King invites us into the Kingdom here on earth,

where the lost shall be found,

where the grieving will rejoice,

where the poor shall be rich and inherit the land,

and the hopeless will find purpose and joy.

This Kingdom is for the prostitute and the scholar,

The mentally ill man and the hotel housekeeper,

The butcher and the security guard at Wall Mart,

The bully and our maiden aunt,

And for those who wait for their final breath.

This Kingdom builds bridges and not walls.

This Kingdom open doors and welcomes the stranger.

This Kingdom welcomes the lost and embraces the sinner.

This Kingdom knows no foreigner, for skin color and language are all the same.

This Kingdom is built from a heart to heart encounter of love.

 This Kingdom is revealed in the place we least expect, in the human heart.

 This Kingdom is revealed in the place we least expect, in the human heart.

 Our eavesdropping on this holy exchange between two dying men unites us all in faith.

 On this last Sunday of our liturgical year, we might have expected a gospel that is triumphant and otherworldly to celebrate the gift of Jesus Christ, the King of the Universe. Instead, we ponder the last-chance confession of a dying man to get right with Jesus. We listen attentively with bruised egos and deep humility.

 I don’t know about you, but I want to be among those who lean into the voice of Christ Jesus.

 “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

 “Amen I say to you, today, you will be with me in paradise.”

Christ the King: Painting by Ronald Raab, CSC 2017

November 24, 2019

Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Let us pray that all life will gather in the name of Christ Jesus. May all hatred, violence and uncertainty be gathered into the peace of God’s Kingdom.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray that injustice and insecurity will reveal the love of Christ Jesus. May every nation and land find the riches of faith.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray that gratitude will prevail as we close our liturgical year. May every believer rest in the assurance of God’s Kingdom and may peace flourish in every human heart.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for people suffering mental illness and those who live with every bodily addiction and those who wait for genuine faith. May hope be born in every heart.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for the dignity of family life and honesty among those we love. May faith not be just an obligation but be made real for all of our relationships.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for our loved ones in God’s Kingdom. May we remember in hope all whom we have loved on earth.

We pray to the Lord.

“Christ the King” Painting by: Ronald Raab, CSC 2018

November 25, 2019

Reflection based on today’s gospel, Luke 23:35-43

 Soldiers and rulers sneered at you

You heard them in sacred rhyme

They yelled at you to save yourself

You felt in your heart the Father’s complex will

Filthy guards offered you wine on a sponge

You drank from the depth of human suffering

They pounded a sign above you regarding you as king

Your heart pounded for us as your tribe

Criminals at your side in the last minute saying to save yourself

You listened as always to the sinner’s mouth

Criminals understood your innocence

You lived the will of the Father until death

From the beaten-down heart of the criminal flowed a request

You will remember him in your Kingdom

From the bloody cross with flesh torn from bone

You promised paradise to the one who repented

We gaze upon the throne where blood gushed from your side

And now we drink of the sacrament of your blood

We gaze upon the throne and then look to the floor in shame

And now we cannot believe your love is for us

We gaze upon the throne knowing your complete sacrifice

And now we are ashamed of our pettiness

We gaze upon the throne where your bleeding body was stripped

And now we adore your Body and Blood

We gaze upon the throne where thorns tore your head

And now we see you as our King with eternal crown

We gaze upon the throne where your dead body hung

And now we know we are your body on earth

We gaze upon the throne along with Mary, Our Lady of Sorrows,

And now we stand among those who suffer

We gaze upon the throne with spikes in your hands and feet

And now we touch your glorious and redeemed wounds

We gaze upon the throne where death is the last word

And now we speak that all suffering is complete in you

We gaze upon the throne viewing your closed eyes in death

And now we wait your radiant face in the Heavenly Kingdom

Peace to you on this great feast of Christ the King,

Fr. Ron

November Rains Grief and Walks Through Wet Oak Leaves, Part 5

 My memory guides me through Holy Cross Cemetery in November even though I live far away from my brothers’ final resting place.

This stroll is like an underground railroad to spiritual freedom. The memory of my brothers brings hope that I will see God someday, in full view.

I hope I am on the right train.

I mine this underworld with gratitude.

This stroll becomes for me an act of art.

They were human, carrying both foibles and gifts. Now, we cannot change outcomes. We cannot change those who were fired from jobs or simply overlooked for promotions. We cannot wish that grace would have softened them or offered them forgiveness. We can’t change one sentence of a homily once given.

What happened has happened. I love that.

Somehow their gifts rise to the surface to meet others and me along the wet grass as we pray, especially in November. Their vocations still form us, like good art.

Fr. Bill’s voice still echoes in the silence of gravesites. His Irish-tenor, operatic voice will praise heaven for all eternity as his students still sing on earth.

I am amazed how memory brings voices to the surface within me.

I also love how his struggles with addiction helped form his faith. His pain gave him something even deeper to sing about.

Fr. Gene’s god-like, singing voice proclaimed the resurrection of Christ Jesus during Easter Vigil’s at Notre Dame for many years. When he sang, his clear voice pierced hearts and focused our attention that Easter heralded hope well after death.

During one Easter Vigil, I was a server as a student. His voice flowed over me and through me to God and to the congregation while his hands trembled in fear.

He was an artist and yet full of worry and stage freight.

When I squint my memory, I still see him as God, the Father, with his tall frame and straight shoulders, his salt and pepper beard and groomed, perfect hair. He is one of the people who initiated me into how to pray in public with beauty and deep faith.

I wish I had his hair.

Angels will stop and listen to Fr. Gene. I am convinced of this.

Another artist has left images of angels in glass and concrete. Fr. Tony, a painter, sculptor and teacher of art, left a mark of heaven in the chapel at Moreau Seminary. In fact, it is a full wall of heavenly hosts.

The think, dark glass protects worshipers from the morning sun, and the angel images protect us in our vocations.

These windows remain as one of his most impressive works. The images are two-stories high. There is not one student at the seminary since 1957 that has not prayed under the wings of these heavenly creatures.

I remember well when I was faced with decisions about my future while I was a student; I sought out these angels for guidance and protection.

I am confident those angels even helped me pass a few exams.

Fr. Tony’s art helped me become Fr. Ron.

After all these years, I now realize his art also helped me find my voice as a priest. Art is the courage to express our true belief, our varied experiences and our unique relationship with God.

Art lives.

I wish I could have coffee with Fr. Tony now. I have so much I want to ask him about his art and his life as an artist. He never wanted to speak of those things while he was on earth. I tried.

Now he has time to think about it all.

Now he is in the protection of the real angels of heaven. He is in full light.

Fr. Jim was a student while the angels were first being built in the seminary wall. He did a lot of heavy lifting to assist their completion. He also became an artist and teacher at Notre Dame.

Fr. Jim and I spoke often of his work while I was in graduate school. He had been commissioned to create a life-size seated Madonna and Child for a chapel in Jerusalem.

I would stop by his studio between classes. I watched him create a clay model of a woman after she sat for him while he photographed her. Chicken wire and wood provided a base. His creative hand carved a mother and child in clay.

I watched him create the faces of Jesus and Mary with earth and water.

I asked him one day, “Jim, how do you do that?”

He replied, holding a small tool in his hand, “It’s easy. You just take away what doesn’t belong there.”

I still listen to him as I search for Jesus’ face.

The procession to the cemetery is not just to bury one of my brothers.

The walk is so that our bodies will always remember.

The procession is art and poetry within our souls, from an underworld of love.

I remember most the Holy Cross men who were artists. I guess it is because much of their art is still on earth. I want to believe they are still helping us all create.

I have to believe this.

These holy men are still showing us the potential of life. Not only with clay and charcoal, with their music and voices, but with their lives.

These men are still forming us in faith.

They are still showing us how to be creative. Through art, peace will flourish. Through art, hope will find a home and there will be no more room for violence.

Art overrides our clumsy ways. Art forms justice, if we are courageous enough to find our true voices.

Architects and Designers… Praise the Lord.

Painters and Visual Artists…Praise the Lord.

Tenors and Pianists…Praise the Lord.

Sculptors and Metal Smiths…Praise the Lord.

Preachers and Teachers…Praise the Lord.

Writers and Poets…Praise the Lord.

Vocalists and Authors…Praise the Lord.

Finger Painters and Abstractionists…Praise the Lord.

All Artists and Believers, Living and Deceased…Praise the Lord.

Amen

Stained Glass Windows in Moreau Seminary Chapel, Notre Dame, by Rev. Anthony Lauck, CSC, artist

Sunday November 17, 2019

Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Let us pray for perseverance in faith. May our Universal Church secure our place in Christ Jesus. May hope abound.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for those who experience injustice by our lack of attention. May we reach out to the stranger, those who seek hope in our land and nation, and those who need food and shelter in order to thrive on earth.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for people facing natural disasters. May we reach far beyond our boundaries of comfort to help people in need. May our faith turn into practical care for victims of floods, fires and storms.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for lasting and secure peace. May we not forget our faith in working for non-violence for all people on earth. May we extend hope to those who need our helping hands.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for poets, artists and dreamers. May God continue to inspire those who help us see life without fear and boundaries. May art thrive in our family lives.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for our loved ones who have died. May our grief reveal hope for the next generation. In this Mass…

…Pray always without becoming weary…Painting, Ronald Raab, CSC 2019

Gospel  Lk 18:1-8

November 17, 2019

Dear Believers in the Christ,

This reflection is based on today’s gospel, Luke 21: 5-19.

I believe that all our eyes behold is because you love us

And we have not seen anything yet.

I believe that when we don’t appreciate what you give us,

Something will happen.

I believe that costly stones and vibrant gems on earth

Only reflect the beauty of your face.

I believe stones upon stones of our own making will crumple

And you will find us under the rubble of our egos.

I believe we can see our pride for miles

But we have not seen the beauty you have in store for us.

I believe there will be signs of your coming among us

When we least expect you.

I believe we will not comprehend what we see

When you decide our time has come.

I believe storms and chaos draw us into your calm

When fear disturbs our hearts.

I believe wars and violence happen because we cannot

Believe you are our true peace and serenity.

I believe awesome sights and mighty signs

Help us to come together and mean it.

I believe we are deceived by what we hoard and control

Especially our food and what feeds our hearts.

I believe earthquakes and famines reveal to us

To let go of our aggressive and isolated lives.

I believe that signs will show us the direction of

How you expect us to live today.

I believe that we have yet to discover our real value

And that tomorrow could reveal our true gifts.

I believe that when we trust in you

People in authority will be threatened.

I believe real prayer helps us discover that

Your purpose is ours alone.

I believe our truth threatens others

When we listen to the sound of your voice.

I believe that you know us so well

That the hairs on our heads remain counted.

I believe that life on earth is nothing to the beauty

When you finally hold us, telling us we are home.

Peace to you this week,

Fr. Ron

Procession to Holy Cross Cemetery

November Rains Grief and Walks Through Wet Oak Leaves, Part 4

 Especially in November, the cemetery reveals the paradox of how our men lived and how they died.

 Fr. Jack showed me in spiritual direction that paradox is real when he told me his story of recovery from alcohol.

As I hold my chalice on many days at Mass, I remember him because he was allergic to the Real Presence of Christ Jesus.

In graduate school I threw clay on a wheel one semester. I gave him my favorite bowl for Christmas. The bowl had one flaw, a chip on the rim.

I hesitantly offered it to him, telling him of the flaw as my eyes fell to the floor.

With the gentlest of smiles, he looked me in the eyes and said, “A Navaho rug is not a Navaho rug unless it has one flaw.” Now there is room for God to work.

I still hold his words in a chipped heart.

He died at high noon on Easter Day.

An academic dean once told me that Fr. Chet, who taught English at Notre Dame, was considered to be an up-and-coming poet in his younger days. I asked Fr. Chet why he gave up writing poetry.

He looked down to the ground and responded to me with a grunt, “I gave it up years ago, and that is all in the past.”

I always wondered what secret he held; about what flaw was his truth.

One time, I read poetry to him at his grave.

Fr. Jim was considered one of the most brilliant writers in Holy Cross. He died after slowly losing his sharp and intelligent mind.

I always wondered if we could find the reason for his decline written on an index card or a scrap of paper tucked away in one of his filing cabinets.

Fr. Bill was considered one of the most influential preachers at Notre Dame in a generation. He died five days after collapsing from encephalitis. He was 50.

His nickname was, “The Silver Fox,” because of his thick, silver hair, and his keen insights. The doctors had to shave half of his head for a surgical procedure to relieve the swelling on his brain. They tried to hide that half of his head in the casket.

Some paradoxes show more than others.

Fr. Tom traveled to Notre Dame from the University of Portland for his first meeting as a Norte Dame Trustee. On his way home, he was killed when an iron poll slid off a truck and slammed through his windshield.

He died at 45.

Jesus was barely mentioned during his funeral homily. I never needed the tenderness of Jesus more.

We all felt the same.

There is one grave that is empty in the cemetery. It is not just an answer to a trivia game.

Fr. Phil was in the process of joining a diocese, so he was buried in another state. His family and his Holy Cross family wanted a visual reminder that he still belonged among his brothers. He died of a long battle with alcohol.

He and I were born in the same year. He was 49.

Fr. Larry taught German at Notre Dame. His emphysema caused by smoking stopped his career after my freshman year.

I never had the courage to tell him… I flunked my second semester of German after transferring from his class.

Fr. Carl coughed so loudly that students could hear him across the campus. He learned the classical guitar in retirement. He played it beautifully, but with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

I can still hear the strings echoing his passion.

Fr. Briedenstein never learned to speak after a stroke only because he was too stubborn and proud. He had been a high-ranking military leader. He was used to barking orders at people. He fed on anger. He medicated with bourbon.

He died only able to speak one complete word. “Too, Too,” was his command to me and to others who cared for him. His red-faced commands echoed down the hallway of the retirement center with various inflections.

I tried to help him mouth the words, “thank you.”

I listen again to the echoes of paradox across the generations of these men who served beyond measure.

Burial of Rev. Theodore Hesburgh, CSC

Sunday November 10, 2019

Let us pray for our Church Universal and all who lead us in faith and service. May our leaders come to understand the real needs of those who follow Christ Jesus.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray to affirm our earthly relationships. May our families rejoice in faith and live at our family tables with respect and dignity.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray to seek God’s love and everlasting encouragement. May our hearts be strengthened in every good deed and be directed to the endurance of Christ Jesus.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for all who carry grief in their human hearts. May God heal the brokenhearted and provide hope in every relationship on earth.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for our children who are struggling to make ends meet. May our loved ones find adequate employment, shelter for those they love, and hope for their families under heaven.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for our loved ones who have died. In this Mass…

We pray to the Lord.