Life: too short

FUNERAL HOMILY FOR PAUL SEATON

Let me begin today addressing a word of condolence to Mary, Maryanne, Paul, Fred, Laura-Anne and all of Paul’s family.  I say a word of condolence, yet I know that no words can adequately take away the pain or the doubt that you have faced in the past few days.  There is a level at which all of this still seems like a dream; a bad dream from which we will one day awaken.

Paul had hopes and dreams, like we all do.  His was a bright young man with a promising career.  He cherished the gift of his children and he loved spending time with them.   He loved making them feel at ease; he loved to make them laugh.  This is what we all long for: the ability to gather with friends and family, to celebrate the blessings we have received.  None of us would ever have predicted that we would be gathered here today, struggling to make sense of the fact that this young man will no longer walk among us as one of us.  The virtuous persons always seem to be taken before their time.  It’s natural for us to expect that we will live to a ripe old age and that we will spend many happy years surrounded by those we love, but none of us knows how many years we will be given.

We have come to this place today, not to try to make sense out of this experience, but rather to celebrate the gift that Paul has been to so many, and to celebrate the fact that the promise made to him on the day of his baptism has now been fulfilled.  Long years ago, the apostle Paul tried to explain that our lives here on earth are only a preparation for the moment when we shall all be changed, when our perishable bodies, which can be beaten, bruised and broken, will become imperishable, when our mortality will be replaced with immortality as we gaze upon the face of our God.  This change, he says, will happen in the twinkling of an eye, but when it does, there are always others, those we have loved, and those who have loved us, who are left to look on, uncomprehending.

At another moment in time, Mary, the mother of Jesus stood surrounded by a few others too.  She watched uncomprehending as her son called out from the cross: My God, my God, why have you deserted me?  She who had always been able to soothe his pain before could do nothing now to help except to watch and to pray.  When Paul lay in the hospital last week, those who stood by his side would have done anything if it meant that he would be restored to health, yet this was not to be.  There are many questions which seem to have no adequate response, yet we are a privileged few, for what we are witnessing here today is part of a much bigger mystery.

None of us is God, and only God understands why Paul has been taken from us.  It’s natural for us to want to know why.  As he wrote computer programs, I’m sure that he often wondered why some of them would not work.  I’m sure he spent countless hours figuring it out, until it did work, but this mystery is not like a computer program.

Dear friends, ours is not the task of solving the puzzle of life and death.  Ours is simply the task of praying Paul into the loving arms of God, and of rejoicing with him because just as God raised his own Son from the dead and restored him to life, so too He restores Paul to the fullness of life, not a physical, corporeal life, but the fullness of life which we will all one day enjoy.

As a pledge of his abiding presence among us, and as a reminder that we are all destined to live with him in heaven, Christ gives us his body and blood, gifts which we will share at His table in a few moments, and when we have completed our prayer here in the Church, we will take Paul’s body to its place of rest.  Once this day has come and gone, we may visit his grave to pray, like Mary, the mother of Magadala, Salome and the other Mary were doing after the Sabbath was complete, but never forget that while his mortal remains will be buried, he himself is risen, he is not there. 

New beginnings

Considering that in the past two months or so there have been nine funerals celebrated, it's a happy change that we celebrated a baptism at one of the weekend Masses today.

The baby in question is named Kai Alexander.  His parents and his godfather are pictured here, but unfortunately, when I took this pic, his godmother was otherwise occupied.

Welcome to our family Kai.  We look forward to seeing you grow in faith as well as in size over the coming years.

Learnings from the shepherds

Lessons from ‘home’

Shortly after I returned from the recent pilgrimage to Europe, some of the people in this parish asked me to recount some of the details of the tour.  As with other such experiences I’ve had the privilege to live in the past couple of years, each pilgrimage takes a bit of time to digest once we’ve returned home.  I can tell you that at the very beginning of the tour, when we had finally arrived in Lisbon, we met our first tour guide, whose family name was Lopes.  Imagine my surprise!  You see, my mother’s maiden name is Lopes, and her family comes from Madeira which is one of the Portuguese islands.  When I explained this connection, our tour guide replied, Welcome home!  What a warm greeting; I felt instantly as though I truly was connected to a part of our family history about which I had (until now) only heard stories.

Jeronimos monastery, Lisbon

We had a whirlwind tour of Lisbon, but I’m sure that most of us were still asleep, due to jetlag.  I suppose that means that I’ll have to return someday in order to visit Lisbon properly.  Our visit to that city seemed to be over before it had begun, and we were then whisked away to Fatima.  In that place too I found myself thinking that I was at last connecting with a part of our family history, for the church of my early childhood, in Georgetown, Guyana, was Our Lady of Fatima.

Fatima, Portugal is famous the world over because three shepherd children were blessed to receive a series of visions of Our Lady.  I had heard the story of these three children long ago, but visiting Fatima rekindled my understanding and appreciation for their faith, and the lasting legacy that has been left for us in that place.  Francisco and Jacinta Marto were brother and sister, eight and seven years old respectively when the Marian apparitions began in May 1917.  Their cousin Lucia was ten at the time.  Theirs is not the first that I’ve heard of children being granted such divine favor, but Francisco and Jacinta are among the youngest to be Beatified.  Their cousin was present in Fatima in 2000 when they were declared Blessed by His Holiness, John Paul II, and I’m willing to bet that it won’t be long before her cause for Canonization will be introduced.

Lucia in the centre with her cousins

These three children were ordinary kids.  They laughed and played together with other friends.  They and their families were hard-working, honest people.  There were many other brothers and sisters too, and their living accommodations, though adequate were by no means luxurious.  As I toured these locales, I couldn’t help wondering about the fact that God so often chooses the children among us or the ones that society would rather ignore (the poor, the marginalized and the needy) to show us the great gift of his love and his mercy.

The gospel we have listened to today (tonight) is another example of this very truth.  Bartimaeus was a blind beggar, cast aside by society.  He was sitting by the roadside when Jesus and his disciples passed by.  They could easily have kept moving; after all, they were on their way out of Jericho at the time, headed for other places, but Jesus chose Bartimaeus, ignored by the society of his day, to teach us a very valuable lesson.  The conversation that took place that day was simple enough: Jesus, having heard his cry for help, asked him, what do you want me to do for you, and Bartimaeus stated his case: My teacher, let me see again.  Had Bartimaeus been a man of means, he may have tried to use reason or logic to argue his case, but he was a nobody so he was probably used to being ignored by passers-by.  This brief dialogue shows us though that he must have heard about Jesus and perhaps about other miracles he had performed.  Somehow, he must have come to believe that Jesus could help him, and so he called out for help.

Long after her cousins had completed their earthly journeys, Lucia recounted the story of their simple faith.  She wrote about Jacinta’s firm belief that she was to accept suffering in reparation for sinners, and about Francesco’s suffering as well, which he accepted because he too believed that the Lady who had appeared to them would accompany him to heaven.  Lucia herself lived within the walls of a cloistered convent until her death in 2005.  She never held any position of authority within her congregation.  She simply lived her life, doing penance for the sake of those who would benefit from its merits.

No one knows how many times she cried out in prayer to Jesus, our High Priest, the one who intercedes for us, but like her, we too come to pray in places such as this.  Many of us have been richly blessed in so many ways, but when all is said and done, we are all equal before God.  Success in life is only inadequately measured by position.  Rather, the true measure of success, the measure by which we will be remembered, is the extent to which we have loved, and often the most valuable lessons about love are taught by the ones in our midst who are the innocent, the less fortunate, the people who sit on the side of the road and call for help.  The trick to learning the lessons begins with an admission that we are more often the ones who sit in the dust than we are the ones who pass by.  We are the ones who must find the courage to call out for help, and we are the ones who must come to believe that Jesus can indeed restore us to wholeness … but then again, sometimes you have to travel long distances along the dusty roads of life in order to learn such lessons.

Saints, and the lessons they teach

Our tradition of faith

Last Thursday, October 11 marked the fiftieth anniversary of the opening of the Second Vatican Council.  Some who are present here today may remember images of the bishops and others who entered St. Peter’s Basilica on that day in 1962 for the opening of the Ecumenical Council.  Some of us have had an opportunity to study the findings and decrees of this Council, and some of us have been privileged to see at least some of the wisdom that was born from its deliberations begin to take shape over the past forty-five years or so.  There are some (perhaps even many of us) here today who have only heard of the happenings of the Council, and still others who may be wondering what I’m talking about.

The Second Vatican Council was called by Pope John XXIII as a means of renewing the Church.  Some have said that the past fifty years or so have only allowed us to begin understanding the depth and richness of the vision that was proposed by those who were present in the Council chambers, but one thing is sure: the Church has always been a place where God speaks with his beloved children, and where we attempt to listen for His voice.

One year ago, on October 11 of 2011, His Holiness Benedict XVI announced a Year of Faith, an opportunity for the Church to deepen our understanding of the treasure that is ours, and the ways in which we are called to live it out each day.  This Year of Faith began last Thursday, October 11, and will conclude on the Feast of Christ the King, November 24, 2013.

Coinciding with the beginning of the Year of Faith, there is also a Synod of Bishops being held in Rome this month.  The topic being discussed is The New Evangelization for the transmission of the Christian Faith.  The work of evangelization was entrusted to all of us by Jesus himself who first demonstrated to the apostles and the other disciples the process of explaining the good news of the Kingdom.  Even then, the disciples had difficulty understanding that this message had little to do with power and everything to do with service.  Take for example the discourse between Jesus and the brothers James and John.  In today’s gospel, we hear that these disciples tried to jockey for position.  Power that is born out of politics is nothing new to us.  It seems that it has ever been thus, but this kind of power is far from the understanding that Jesus came to preach.  Instead, he insisted that whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.

This understanding of power based on service has been at the heart of the Church, at the heart of our understanding of faith ever since Jesus first explained it.  It is out of his commitment to service that Jesus, our high priest, was able to sympathise with our weaknesses because he himself was tested as we are, yet without sin.  Not only did Jesus preach this new understanding of authority born out of service.  He also lived it, even to the point of being crushed with pain upon the cross.

Throughout the centuries which have come and gone, disciples of Jesus have always attempted to imitate his example of service.  Those who have provided example for the rest of us are often venerated as Saints.  In fact, this very day, the Church is celebrating with great joy as new Saints are proclaimed in Rome.  Among those who are raised to this honor is the Lily of the Mohawks, Kateri Tekakwitha.  Born in 1656, her mother was an Algonquin Catholic while her father was a Mohawk chief.

She lost her parents and her siblings at a very young age.  In fact, it was thanks to the Jesuit missionaries present at Caughnawaga that she first learned about Christianity.  There and at Kanawake, she strengthened her belief and her faith.  Having suffered with physical ailments for a good part of her life, she eventually died of tuberculosis shortly before her 24^th birthday.  Her life and her example of faith have been celebrated by First Nations people throughout Canada and the USA ever since.  At the Martyr’s Shrine in Midland, at parishes and missions throughout our diocese and beyond, First Nations people are rejoicing today that one of their own has been recognized for her faith.

As we commemorate half a century since the beginning of the Vatican Council, and as we begin the Year of Faith, what better way for us to celebrate than to unite our prayer with this woman of faith who intercedes for us before the face of God!

A hoppin' place

I was told when I arrived in this parish that this was indeed a happening place.  Many if not most parishioners are very involved and there is always something going on.  Even better, there are always one or two people who are willing to lend a hand if and when it is needed, so there is no reason for any one person to have to feel obligated to do everything.

This is a dream come true ... or maybe I'm still in the honeymoon stage of the experience.

I've been warned by some of the parishioners who have been through the mill a time or two that I should be very careful not to get too involved.  Rather, it's important to allow others to do their part.  It builds a sense of community and an understanding of the responsibility that each of us must take if we are (together) to build a vibrant community of faith.

Today was a prime example of the busy pace at which this parish seems to operate.  We've been in the midst of preparing a parish pictorial directory, so for the past week or so, the hall has been occupied by the folks with the cameras, but on Thursday evening, they had to move out and find other accommodations because the ladies moved in yesterday morning and before you knew it, the hall had been absolutely transformed from and empty canvas to the site of the Harvest Tea.  If that wasn't enough, I happened to drop in for an hour or so today and there was barely enough room to move between the rows of tables!  The number of people who were there was amazing: even to the point of some who had to wait their turn to sit at tables for lunch, sometimes necessitating their moving out into the hallway or into the church.

By tomorrow morning, there will be little if any evidence that this day ever existed, but then again that's the mark of a truly organized place.  There is life here, and there are a variety of activities, and they all coexist, creating a place for all those who enter the doors to find a place at the table.

A star has arisen

'Twas a week ago today that we received the news of Claudette's entry into eternity.  It took this long though to get all the arrangements done, so finally today the community gathered to bid her farewell.  In a sense, such moments are reminiscent of those who would stand on the sea shore and watch as a boat bearing loved ones set out to sea.  We will not see her again here on earth, but one day we will have the pleasure of knowing her presence again.  Until then, we wait in faith and hope.

FUNERAL HOMILY FOR CLAUDETTE TACHE
Fernand, Monique, Marc et tous les membres de la famille de Claudette: d'abord et avant tout, je voudrais vous présenter mes plus sincères sympathies ainsi que l'assurance des prières et le soutien de tous les ami(e)s qui se sont rassemblés ici ce matin.

In the first few weeks after my arrival here in this parish, I had the opportunity to meet Claudette.  She sat right here in the front rows of the church whenever she was here.  Last week, when she was in Sudbury for surgery, I stood by and watched as one by one, and sometimes in groups, people came to the parish office to ask about her.  It seemed almost as though there was a constant stream of people at times.  They all wanted news, any news at all that we had heard about how she was doing, whether the surgery had been completed, and how she was recovering.

Last Thursday eveing, she was doing well.  She had made it through the surgery and was talking about coming home soon, but little did we know then that her time here on earth was drawing to a close.  With shock and disbelief, we heard the news on Friday morning that Claudette's earthly journey had ended, and it seems as though from that day onward, we have all been trying to come to grips with the fact that she won't come through the door any longer.  We won't see her face again in this place.  That's a hard reality to accept, but our faith tells us that the promise made to her in baptism, made to all of us on the day of our baptism, has now been fulfilled for her. 

The faith community of Saint Peter's has gathered here this morning to bid farewell to a good friend.  Claudette was involved in many different groups here in the parish.  She sat in the office and helped with all kinds of chores.  She was an active and vibrant member of the Catholic Women's League.  She danced with the Rising Stars.  From what I'm told, she had her share of challenges (don't we all?) but she never let them stop her from believing in the power of love.

Saint Paul's words written to the Christian community at Rome are just as true today as they were when he first penned them: The life and death of each of us has its influence on others.  At times we don't even realize the ways in which the words we use and the actions we undertake speak to others about the way we live our lives.  Whether she was helping in the office, or dancing or welcoming friends and relatives into her own home, Claudette has left her mark on many souls in this community.  None of us knows the number of days that we will be granted to walk this earth, so we are wise to take every opportunity to do good.  If we practice doing good deeds every day of our lives, then when our turn comes to give an account of our lives, it will be easy to point out the good that we have tried to accomplish.

Today, we give thanks to God for the life of our dear friend Claudette.  Like Martha and Mary, we are still coming to grips with the fact that she is no longer here.  Perhaps we have even had our moments of wanting to cry out to God, to ask why.  Martha too spoke such words in today's gospel: Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died, but hopefully at some level, we will one day be able to speak other words of Martha's declaration: we know that even now, whatever you ask of God he will grant.  It is not within our power to bring Claudette back to life here on earth, but we can pray for her and with her today.  With her help, perhaps we can even learn to trust that Jesus has taken her into his loving embrace.  From her place in heaven, she now watches over us, caring for us and waiting for us until the day when we will all be united in heaven.

Dear friends, let us celebrate and give thanks today for the good that we have known in her life, for the many years that we have been granted to know and to love her, and let us ask Jesus, the Resurrection and the life to grant her eternal life.

And so it begins

Yesterday in Rome, the Holy Father presided at a Mass to open the long-awaited Year of Faith.  This opening coincided with the 50th Anniversary of the opening session of the Second Vatican Council (October 11, 1962) but for many Catholics born after the mid-1960s this date doesn't hold the same significance as it does for others who may remember where they were on that date.

Here is the text of the Holy Father's reflections for the beginning of this special year, during which it is our hope that many will deepen their understanding of and appreciation for the rich history that is ours and the faith that has been entrusted to us.

HOMILY OF THE HOLY FATHER FOR THE OPENING OF THE YEAR OF FAITH

Dear Brother Bishops,
Dear brothers and sisters!

Today, fifty years from the opening of the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, we begin with great joy the Year of Faith. I am delighted to greet all of you, particularly His Holiness Bartholomaois I, Patriarch of Constantinople, and His Grace Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury. A special greeting goes to the Patriarchs and Major Archbishops of the Eastern Catholic Churches, and to the Presidents of the Bishops’ Conferences. In order to evoke the Council, which some present had the grace to experience for themselves - and I greet them with particular affection - this celebration has been enriched by several special signs: the opening procession, intended to recall the memorable one of the Council Fathers when they entered this Basilica; the enthronement of the Book of the Gospels with the same book that was used at the Council; the consignment of the seven final Messages of the Council, and of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, which I will do before the final blessing. These signs help us not only to remember, they also offer us the possibility of going beyond commemorating. They invite us to enter more deeply into the spiritual movement which characterized Vatican II, to make it ours and to develop it according to its true meaning. And its true meaning was and remains faith in Christ, the apostolic faith, animated by the inner desire to communicate Christ to individuals and all people, in the Church’s pilgrimage along the pathways of history.

The Year of Faith which we launch today is linked harmoniously with the Church’s whole path over the last fifty years: from the Council, through the Magisterium of the Servant of God Paul VI, who proclaimed a Year of Faith in 1967, up to the Great Jubilee of the year 2000, with which Blessed John Paul II re-proposed to all humanity Jesus Christ as the one Saviour, yesterday, today and forever. Between these two Popes, Paul VI and John Paul II, there was a deep and complete convergence, precisely upon Christ as the centre of the cosmos and of history, and upon the apostolic eagerness to announce him to the world. Jesus is the centre of the Christian faith. The Christian believes in God whose face was revealed by Jesus Christ. He is the fulfilment of the Scriptures and their definitive interpreter. Jesus Christ is not only the object of the faith but, as it says in the Letter to the Hebrews, he is “the pioneer and the perfecter of our faith” (12:2).

Today’s Gospel tells us that Jesus Christ, consecrated by the Father in the Holy Spirit, is the true and perennial subject of evangelization. “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach the good news to the poor” (Lk 4:18). This mission of Christ, this movement of his continues in space and time, over centuries and continents. It is a movement which starts with the Father and, in the power of the Spirit, goes forth to bring the good news to the poor, in both a material and a spiritual sense. The Church is the first and necessary instrument of this work of Christ because it is united to him as a body to its head. “As the Father has sent me, even so I send you” (Jn 20:21), says the Risen One to his disciples, and breathing upon them, adds, “Receive the Holy Spirit” (v.22). Through Christ, God is the principal subject of evangelization in the world; but Christ himself wished to pass on his own mission to the Church; he did so, and continues to do so, until the end of time pouring out his Spirit upon the disciples, the same Spirit who came upon him and remained in him during all his earthly life, giving him the strength “to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed” and “to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord” (Lk 4:18-19)

The Second Vatican Council did not wish to deal with the theme of faith in one specific document. It was, however, animated by a desire, as it were, to immerse itself anew in the Christian mystery so as to re-propose it fruitfully to contemporary man. The Servant of God Paul VI, two years after the end of the Council session, expressed it in this way: “Even if the Council does not deal expressly with the faith, it talks about it on every page, it recognizes its vital and supernatural character, it assumes it to be whole and strong, and it builds upon its teachings. We need only recall some of the Council’s statements in order to realize the essential importance that the Council, consistent with the doctrinal tradition of the Church, attributes to the faith, the true faith, which has Christ for its source and the Church’s Magisterium for its channel” (General Audience, 8 March 1967). Thus said Paul VI in 1967.

We now turn to the one who convoked the Second Vatican Council and inaugurated it: Blessed John XXIII. In his opening speech, he presented the principal purpose of the Council in this way: “What above all concerns the Ecumenical Council is this: that the sacred deposit of Christian doctrine be safeguarded and taught more effectively […] Therefore, the principal purpose of this Council is not the discussion of this or that doctrinal theme… a Council is not required for that… [but] this certain and immutable doctrine, which is to be faithfully respected, needs to be explored and presented in a way which responds to the needs of our time” (AAS 54 [1962], 790,791-792). So said Pope John at the inauguration of the Council.

In the light of these words, we can understand what I myself felt at the time: during the Council there was an emotional tension as we faced the common task of making the truth and beauty of the faith shine out in our time, without sacrificing it to the demands of the present or leaving it tied to the past: the eternal presence of God resounds in the faith, transcending time, yet it can only be welcomed by us in our own unrepeatable today. Therefore I believe that the most important thing, especially on such a significant occasion as this, is to revive in the whole Church that positive tension, that yearning to announce Christ again to contemporary man. But, so that this interior thrust towards the new evangelization neither remain just an idea nor be lost in confusion, it needs to be built on a concrete and precise basis, and this basis is the documents of the Second Vatican Council, the place where it found expression. This is why I have often insisted on the need to return, as it were, to the “letter” of the Council – that is to its texts – also to draw from them its authentic spirit, and why I have repeated that the true legacy of Vatican II is to be found in them. Reference to the documents saves us from extremes of anachronistic nostalgia and running too far ahead, and allows what is new to be welcomed in a context of continuity. The Council did not formulate anything new in matters of faith, nor did it wish to replace what was ancient. Rather, it concerned itself with seeing that the same faith might continue to be lived in the present day, that it might remain a living faith in a world of change.

If we place ourselves in harmony with the authentic approach which Blessed John XXIII wished to give to Vatican II, we will be able to realize it during this Year of Faith, following the same path of the Church as she continuously endeavours to deepen the deposit of faith entrusted to her by Christ. The Council Fathers wished to present the faith in a meaningful way; and if they opened themselves trustingly to dialogue with the modern world it is because they were certain of their faith, of the solid rock on which they stood. In the years following, however, many embraced uncritically the dominant mentality, placing in doubt the very foundations of the deposit of faith, which they sadly no longer felt able to accept as truths.

If today the Church proposes a new Year of Faith and a new evangelization, it is not to honour an anniversary, but because there is more need of it, even more than there was fifty years ago! And the reply to be given to this need is the one desired by the Popes, by the Council Fathers and contained in its documents. Even the initiative to create a Pontifical Council for the promotion of the new evangelization, which I thank for its special effort for the Year of Faith, is to be understood in this context. Recent decades have seen the advance of a spiritual “desertification”. In the Council’s time it was already possible from a few tragic pages of history to know what a life or a world without God looked like, but now we see it every day around us. This void has spread. But it is in starting from the experience of this desert, from this void, that we can again discover the joy of believing, its vital importance for us, men and women. In the desert we rediscover the value of what is essential for living; thus in today’s world there are innumerable signs, often expressed implicitly or negatively, of the thirst for God, for the ultimate meaning of life. And in the desert people of faith are needed who, with their own lives, point out the way to the Promised Land and keep hope alive. Living faith opens the heart to the grace of God which frees us from pessimism. Today, more than ever, evangelizing means witnessing to the new life, transformed by God, and thus showing the path. The first reading spoke to us of the wisdom of the wayfarer (cf. Sir 34:9-13): the journey is a metaphor for life, and the wise wayfarer is one who has learned the art of living, and can share it with his brethren – as happens to pilgrims along the Way of Saint James or similar routes which, not by chance, have again become popular in recent years. How come so many people today feel the need to make these journeys? Is it not because they find there, or at least intuit, the meaning of our existence in the world? This, then, is how we can picture the Year of Faith, a pilgrimage in the deserts of today’s world, taking with us only what is necessary: neither staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money, nor two tunics – as the Lord said to those he was sending out on mission (cf. Lk 9:3), but the Gospel and the faith of the Church, of which the Council documents are a luminous expression, as is the Catechism of the Catholic Church, published twenty years ago.

Venerable and dear Brothers, 11 October 1962 was the Feast of Mary Most Holy, Mother of God. Let us entrust to her the Year of Faith, as I did last week when I went on pilgrimage to Loreto. May the Virgin Mary always shine out as a star along the way of the new evangelization. May she help us to put into practice the Apostle Paul’s exhortation, “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teach and admonish one another in all wisdom […] And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Col 3:16-17). Amen.

The Benedictines of Montserrat

Our final stop on this tour took us to the hills outside Barcelona, to the Benedictine monastery of Montserrat, the site of the revered Black Madonna.

For centuries, Christians have travelled to the top of Montserrat to pray before the statue of the Madonna.  Here they have sought solice and asked for divine favor.  The Benedictine monastery is also one of the stops along el camino, the world-famous walking pilgrimage to Compostella.  Pilgrims are welcomed every year by the Benedictines who call this mountaintop sanctuary home.  The view from up here is absolutely breathtaking!

As if protected by and hidden within the moutain, the monastery offers sanctuary to passers by even as it provides a home to the 75 or so Monks who live here.

It's hard to believe that the place where we gathered to celebrate Mass on this day was only a small chapel, beside the main church, and en route toward the place were we could join other pilgrims in venerating the Madonna, even as we asked her to hear our prayers.

All too soon, it was time to make our way back down the mountain, and to prepare for the journey home.

So many stories to recount, so many adventures to be told, and always an invitation to give thanks for all that has been, all that is, and all that is yet to be.

Inside the Gaudi

Now that you've seen the outside of the Gaudi masterpiece, here's your chance to have a peak inside (at least virtually so).

Choir loft, Sagrada Famiglia, Barcelona

 Gaudi's architecture is inspired by nature.  Apparently he spent countless hours as a child and even as a growing teenager and young adult studying nature: the way that a leaf would drop from a tree, the way light would play on various objects at different times during the day, the way animals would move in and out of the forest etc.  These movements are imitated in his architecture.  You can almost feel the movement of the levels of the loft.  It's hard to believe that they are cast in concrete.

The pillars supporting the roof structure of this basilica are poured concrete but they look more like the trunks of massive trees - purposely so, in order to give the impression that we are in a forest.

Even the canopy of this forest is made present in the roof lines, and there is plenty of natural light (or is it natural).  If there are artificial lighting fixtures in this place, they are not visible to the casual observer.

This view up the central nave of the church gives a good perspective of the use of angles and light.  The basilica is large enough to accommodate thousands of visitors who may gather here for liturgical celebrations, but since the interior of the building has only been consecrated for about two years or so, it hasn't been long since this sacred space has been used for sacred actions.

Then there's the next aspect of this place of prayer: the stained glass windows, portals of heavenly light to colour the interior with the hues that induce meditation.  Have a look, and enjoy the play of light, an artful understanding of how celestial light can transform the heart of terrestrial beings.

Of course, Gaudi designed many buildings other than the Sagrada Famiglia too.  One of those is an apartment which is still in use.

The characteristic absence of squared corners and of rounded edges has been the subject of discussions and inspirations for architects and art lovers the world over.