Old Or New ?

The Church is changing constantly. Yes, it is her task to reform herself again and again, as the Second Vatican Council expresses it (ecclesia semper reformanda). But what can this change look like? Is it change just for the sake of change? New things grab our attention; we always want to hear or have the latest. But do they really bring progress? Some things are new on the surface, but not really better. Frequent change can also be boring or tiring.

Once I had the chance to visit the Redwood forest in California. I was thrilled to see these old trees that have lasted for centuries. Some of them are 2,000 years old, which means they were alive at a time when Jesus was on earth. How could they have lasted so long? I stood before them in awe, just fascinated. Our world is changing rapidly. Economy, climate, technology, politics. That the world is changing is a given. That the Church is changing in the world is a given. In this situation, I am even more interested in what remains. That is even more exciting. What has the power to endure, what is worth keeping instead of throwing away? How should the Church handle change? The Rule of Saint Benedict has a good guideline for change management in a monastery (the Rule is 1,500 years old by the way…). St. Benedict states:

“The abbot ought to be learned in divine law, so that he has a treasury of knowledge from which he can bring forth things both old and new (Matt 13:52).” RB 64:9

What is most exciting here is the simultaneity of the new and the old. The abbot is to bring forth both at the same time. With the old comes the new, with the new comes the old. One could conclude: If you only change, if you cancel, it looks new, but it is not. It will not be lasting and sustainable. If you only cling to the old, it is not really old, because the contact with today is missing. The old helps the new to be. The new helps the old to be. In this sense, people who want to conserve and people who are creative and wish to change should work together. It is not “old or new”, it is “old AND new”.

Dear Lord, guide us through these times. Strengthen our creativity. Give us courage and joy to face today’s reality. But also give us faithfulness to our tradition. Give us respect for what our ancestors created. You have blessed your Church with a rich tradition. It is exciting to discover what the tradition holds for us today. Help us to keep its fire. Let your flock not be divided, but remain united. Amen.

The Heart of Man — An Abyss

Psalms have always given me comfort. In a strange way, I was recently comforted by a very dark verse from Psalm 64.

“The inside of a person and his heart – they are an abyss!”

Most English translations do not put the verse so drastically: “For the inward thought and the heart of a man are deep.” (Psalm 64:7) However, the context of the psalm shows that “depth” here really means “abyss.”

We know that every human being is created in the image of God; we know that every person has dignity. We encourage each other to see the good in others and in ourselves. This is a very helpful approach. But sometimes we discover abysses in other people, not only in times of war. People we thought we knew suddenly show another side of themselves that we could not have imagined before. I don’t want to open the list here: Hatred, aggression, violence … It is like looking into a yawning abyss, dark and impenetrable. Here we might have the dark side of our freedom. I am not advocating cynicism, rather realism. The psalm encourages us to have a kind of detachment that does not hinder us from loving and trusting. It rather invites us to take a sober look at what human beings are capable of; myself included.

The Psalms take seriously what I experience in this world. As God has accepted this world, so may everything have a place in my prayer. Starting from this acceptance, we can stop looking into the abysses and rather turn to the good. It is better to look to Christ.

Dear Lord, you created me as a free being. I thank you for this wonderful gift. I ask you to always choose the good. I ask you to protect me from the evil that may come from my heart or from the hearts of others. On Holy Saturday, you descended into the underworld. You stretched out your hand, even into the abysses of our existence. There, where we would rather not look – there you are with your healing, saving and life-giving power.

When God says NO

Have you had this experience? You wanted something, but God said no. You asked for something, but you did not get it. Sometimes you might only realize later that it was God who said no—that it was not the people, not the circumstances, neither your own unworthiness, nor your failure. Why does He say it?

When Saint Paul was on his mission trip, “the apostles had been prevented by the Holy Spirit from preaching the message in the province of Asia” (Acts 16:6) One could  wonder why. Paul was just in full flow, evangelizing and preaching, why not in Asia? The Holy Spirit knew. Historically we do not know why the circumstances did not allow the apostles to go into the province of Asia; the Scriptures do not tell us either. It is only clear that the apostles interpreted the situation by thinking: this did not happened by chance, it was the will of the Holy Spirit.

People are wishing for a child, but do not receive it, wishing for a partner, but don’t find one. People have dreams regarding their professional career, but never get there. Why? Is it their “fault”? It might be a relief to find out that it was the will of God not to receive this or that, even if it still hurts, especially when the no touches an important topic in my life. However, it can be an act of faith to “blame” God, rather than people, circumstances, or ourselves. First, because He can take it. Then, because often we experience that God’s no is transitory. Maybe it is too early yet. And finally, we realize that God, in fact, has the overview over our lives and knows much better than we do what is best for us.

Even Jesus had to experience a no from God the Father when he asked him to let the chalice pass. This no of God was actually in line with the “no’s” Jesus himself had said throughout his life: when people wanted to make him king, and he withdrew (John 6:14-15); when Peter wanted him to be kept from being killed, but he sharply rejected him (Mt 16:23); when Jesus was mocked and challenged to come down from the cross, and he did not “help himself” (Lc 23,35-37).

God knows us better than we ourselves. This is sometimes not easy to understand and to accept. When we believe that God loves us unconditionally, when we believe that whatever Jesus did, he did for the sake of the people and out of love for us, even when he said no, then we may believe, too, that a no from God is a gift.

Lord, you asked us to pray: Your will be done. This is what I ask for. You cannot say no to this request I guess? I believe that this is for my best.

There Is Blood

Kelch_Mauritius Wilde

When I became a priest, I had the longing to never get used to what I was going to do. My chalice should help to be remind me. Years before my ordination I had been in Auschwitz. I could hardly bear what one is confronted with at this place of suffering. I retired a bit from the crowds and–kneeling on the ground–my fingers played in the soil, and unexpectedly found an isolator. It had probably served on one of the deadly fences around the camp. Having it in my hands, I immediately thought this piece could become the node of my chalice. – Years later, shortly before my ordination, I carried the isolator to the goldsmith of our monastery and he was able to create a chalice out of it. The broken piece is now completed with mountain crystal as sign that God heals what is broken, in life, and especially during the Holy Eucharist. God completes what is not finished, He takes the broken and heals it. He does so by the shedding of the blood of his own Son.

I am trying to imagine how much suffering, pain, and injustice this isolator “has seen”. It is a witness of the injustice that cried out to heaven, of the blood that was shed innocently. Also, Jesus was killed innocently. We believe that during the Holy Eucharist the wine is changed into the blood of Christ. We should not forget: what we have on the altar and what we receive is blood. When we lift the chalice towards heaven, we are reminded that God heard the cry of his Son. He came to take the sins away. The liturgy is not just a nice spectacle. It is about life and death. It celebrates that life prevails. That the dead will be raised. Jesus himself suffered and was killed. But he was raised from the dead and is alive now, with God. This is my prayer for all who died in the concentration camps. It is my prayer, with each Eucharist, that wounds are healed, especially those of the generations of families whose loved ones died in the Holocaust.

It does not take much to see in this chalice also the suffering of today’s times. There are enough people who suffer; who are afraid; who are oppressed; who are sick and don’t get help; who are treated unjustly; who are sidelined; who are persecuted; who are kidnapped; who are killed. Unfortunately, the suffering on earth did not find an end after Jesus’s death; although he wants us to live according to the new rules of the Kingdom of God. At least–that gives me hope–God looks at the suffering of his people. And, finally, he will bring everything to a good end.

Lord, in silence we stand before you holding the suffering of our world and our own suffering up to heaven. Look on us in your mercy. Look at the blood of your Son. Let us not become too tired to cry out to you, to celebrate your Son’s death and resurrection, to celebrate the drama of his life and the new hope you have given us.

Isn’t She Lovely?

“Isn’t she lovely?” Stevie Wonder sang, stunned by the birth of his first daughter, adoring her when he first saw her. “Isn’t she pretty? Isn’t she lovely made from love?” Looking at his baby made him proud and humble and happy. And he started to praise God: “I can’t believe what God has done. Through us He’s given life to one.” So it is true for every father and mother what the Psalm says:

“I will sing of your majesty above the heavens with the mouths of babes and infants.” (Psalm 8,2-3)

How fascinating that Wonder was inspired by his daughter to write this song. Isn’t that an incredible phenomenon that a parent can be inspired by his child? Honestly, I have never seen a parent who was not inspired by his child. And even if he would not love his own – something you can hardly imagine – he would still be inspired.

If it is true that God, the Father in heaven, is an even greater and more loving father, I dare to think that He also is inspired by the birth of each of his children. I dare to imagine that He, whose love is abundant, starts singing, full of happiness and love whenever a human is born: “Isn’t she lovely? Isn’t he lovely? Isn’t she wonderful? Isn’t he precious?” And he continues to sing.

That God not only created me, but that I also inspire him is breathtaking. It is his love that makes this possible. His love comes to completion when he sees us. I am lovely because I am made from love. The history of men and God has proven it. God did not just create us and throw us into this world. When He saw us “the first time”, he fell even more in love with us–so precious were we, so wonderful. Because of this he can never let go of us.

Lord, it touches me deeply to think you sing a love song for me like Stevie Wonder did for his daughter. I am precious to you. Nothing and nobody can cancel that out. Let me live in this love. Let me hear your song for me. The song of love you are singing for me.

In need

Recently I talked with a hairdresser who was afraid to lose her job because the income of the salon had decreased dramatically amid the pandemic. Shortly before the crisis, she had moved to a more expensive apartment. Her son had stopped studying at the university because he did not like being a student and now he was working a job that did not pay well. Her second husband works as a waiter… better to say worked because the pandemic caused the restaurant to close.

The woman was desperate and courageous at the same time. She shared with me how much she was praying during the lockdown. Later, when going back to her church, she said her mask was soaked with tears. She was praying and praying and crying for help.

And the words of Jesus came into my mind: “What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish? Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg? If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the Father in heaven give the holy Spirit to those who ask him?” (Luke 11:11-13)

Yes, how will you not, Lord? The woman was not afraid to show her neediness. And she was not too proud or too afraid to show it to God.

Yes, Lord, often we are in need, often we are even needy. That is ok. We are like children, just needing. Just asking and wanting. This is ok. Because you, Jesus, told us, that God is our Father, our dear Father. We are his children. We are still his children. Sure, as adults, we must stay strong and responsible every day. We cannot let ourselves surrender. However, before YOU, we can. We can become like children and just express our need. In simple words, in simple gestures. It is not immature to do that. It shows our reality. It is ok to be in need. And you will answer us as our good Father. The best Father ever, ever.

Lord, I pray for this dear woman. I pray for so many who are in big need at the moment. Bless us all.

Making the Pontifex

How important it is at this moment to build bridges. We see divisions in our societies on the macro and on the micro level. Jesus encourages us to build bridges when he says: “Blessed are the peacemakers” (Mt 5.9). How do we realize His task?

Often, we forget that building bridges is an activity. It is hard work. One must use hands and head, get moving and start working. You must get your hands dirty. It is a building process and not a one-strike-does-it-all thing. Which bridge has ever been built overnight? Secondly, building bridges requires our entire involvement. You cannot stay outside and be just a nice observer. Why? Because a bridge begins on one side and ends on the other. The builder must be active on both ends. As bridge builder you must listen to both sides. You need a lot of patience. At times you need much courage, especially if the parties are aggressive. You need to try to understand both sides. This includes a certain loneliness–trying to show solidarity with both parties makes one feel lonely. The parties have not walked over the bridge yet, while you are still constructing and helping them to find a way to each other. You must be compassionate and neutral at the same time.

It sure makes a difference if the point of contest does not really touch me. In this case it is easier to stay neutral and help the parties to find their way. It is their responsibility. It becomes more difficult to be peacemaker and bridge builder if we are on one side or are part of one party. We must get out of our own way to find the middle ground. I think this detachment is possible with the backing of Jesus’ promise: “My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you.” (John 14:27) Staying in a conflict helps us to become humble as we learn that peace is a gift.

The Holy Father in Rome, the Pope, has the title “pontifex maximus”: greatest of all builders of bridges. Building bridges, however, is a job for all Christians. Each of us is invited to help bring peace and reconciliation: leaders, parents, teachers, pastors, each of us. We can try to be at least a “pontifex minor”.

Jesus, you brought peace to the world. Your presence brought understanding, consolation, clarification, truth, justice, healing. You knew how to include human beings of all ways of life. You bridged the abyss between God and man and brought reconciliation. You still do it these days in your church and in the world. Help us to help you spread peace. We are small and weak. With your help, we can do it. Let us do the work!

Can I love the Church?

“Can I still love the Church?” I asked myself recently. Having been part of the Church for many years as priest and monk, the honeymoon of the first years is over. I have seen a lot, both good and bad. It probably is similar to any relationship. There are things in the Church I love and things I really do not. There are things that bother me and others that sustain me. There is, over and over again, the moment to forgive and the joy to be forgiven.

However, compared to the first fresh view of the Church with the dreams and vision I had for her; the love, beauty, justice, and protection I expected from her; and after many years and experiences, one can feel disillusioned. I see the need for change. I suffer from her weaknesses, from her habitual problems, in parts from her dysfunctionality. I suffer mostly from the potential for evangelization and charity that she is missing out on. Knowing well that I myself am weak, I wonder: Can I still love the Church?

One could answer with Saint Benedict: love the brothers/sisters – hate the failure. In that sense: Yes, it is possible to love the Church by loving the brothers and sisters. However, what if I cannot stand some of them anymore? What if I have a hard time to love all the Church’s brothers and sisters? Pondering in prayer this question, it came to me: yes, I can still love the Church because I love Christ, because the Church is the body of Christ. It is Christ whom we love in the brothers and sisters. Not their sins certainly, but Christ in them. Christ who is present in them. Christ who constantly looks out for the good in them. Who has promised to stay with us. We love the Church because we love Christ. That is what keeps us.

Perhaps we must go even deeper: Why do we love Christ? It is because he loves us. Because he loved us first. It is his constant loving gaze that draws us in. It is his profound unconditional love and respect for us that binds us. It is his trust in us that makes us follow him.

I found the answer: our love to the Church is a response to Christ’s love for us, for me.

Dear Lord, you promised to be with us always, until the end of the age. We trust your promise. Do not leave us, especially, when we are in difficult times. Your love for us is like a “first love”. It never withers. Continue to love us, Lord, and continue to bless your Church.

Good and meek eyes

We have been in quarantine for four weeks already in our monastery at Sant’Anselmo. The new situation is challenging for us, like for everybody during the Corona pandemic. However, all monks are still healthy, and that makes us grateful and humble.

Every day I learn something new. For example, I noticed that in a crisis like this things surface that we can hide in normal times. Usually, there are many ways of avoiding in a community. Now this is no longer possible. We are – one could say – naked. On one hand, new parts of us appear–new creativity, spontaneity, a sense of responsibility, a readiness to selfless giving and support. On the other hand, our weaknesses that we do not want others to see, lie bare. I believe every relationship has secrets and that does not destroy it. Maybe in contrary. Now, however, we are together continuously, and are left uncovered. We see ourselves as we are, more aware of our bad habits–emotions erupt, perhaps from ancient tensions that were latent, but with which we could deal. In a situation of stress, it becomes more difficult.

What are the remedies? It helps me to remind myself that God is looking at us with his good and mild eyes. This is what I am also supposed to do: be good with myself, good and patient and meek. But also, be good and patient with my neighbors–To not judge them, to be merciful with them, to forgive them for how they are.

In paradise, we were naked in God’s eyes, but we did not notice it. When we let us be looked at by him, in these days, we can discover a new and good way to treat each other.

Lord, look at me. If I don’t like to see myself, look at me. If I don’t like to see the others, look at them. Your heart is so much bigger than ours. Cleanse me during this time, make my heart wider, my eyes milder and my faith deeper. Forgive me as I forgive my neighbors.

Prayer Pushed

There is a kind of prayer that has become very precious to me. In the German language it is called Stoßgebet, which means “pushed prayer.” In English, it is called ejaculatory prayer, an expression that stems from Saint Augustine. Iaculatorium is a “thrown, flung, hurled prayer”.

Unfortunately, it is not taught much anymore. However, it helps me often and a great deal. Its very characteristics are shortness and fastness. It is hearty and powerful; it “erupts”, so to speak, from the heart. It has the same mechanics as cursing, but it is actually its opposite. It is positive and directed to God. It wants to connect us with God. It is a prayer that breaks forth directly from our soul. It can have any simple content such as, “Bless me, Lord.” “Help me.” “Look at me.” “I love you.” “I need you.” “I trust you.” “Protect me.” You just speak it, not knowing what comes forward.

The Spirit too comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit itself intercedes with inexpressible groanings. (Romans 8:26)

This kind of prayer is very similar to the “Jesus Prayer” or praying the Rosary, which aims to help us pray constantly. They can go on and on in our heart and we can practice them continuously. Instead, ejaculatory prayer can be used at any time, in any situation. It is a one-shot prayer. You can do it while taking a shower, in the metro, before starting the car, before entering a door, before meeting a person. You have only to actively push it out. It needs a little physical effort, a spiritual-physical one, to get the prayer going. St. Peter invites us to cast the prayer.

Cast all your worries upon him because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5:7)

I won’t end this post as usual with a prayer. Rather, I invite you to throw out your own prayer. Whatever comes forth will be right. Even “Lord, I don’t know.” Just utter what is on your heart, push it out, towards God.