“I will now praise the godly, our ancestors, in their own time.” – Sirach 44:1
Today is the thirtieth anniversary of my ordination to the priesthood. As such, it naturally invites and encourages a degree of reflection on my life thus far. There are, of course, many ways in which I could approach such a reflection. For this post, I will make an attempt to list my spiritual genealogy, so to speak. I will briefly mention some people, in Church history and in my own, whom I can point to as spiritual ancestors. Each one of these has given me some kind of gift, or helped me see some gift I already had received.
Moreover, the fact that someone is not mentioned doesn’t imply that this person is unimportant in my life. I have chosen certain people who embody virtues that I admire and hope to embody in some fashion. Such a listing cannot help but be autobiographical. Those who know me will understand.
Mary Magdalene – I choose to mention her, but not for reasons that others might suppose. She is commonly thought to have been a converted prostitute. However, nothing in the Gospels says this, or even implies this. To be blunt, seeing her as a prostitute has more to do with men’s fantasies than with her own life. For me, she stands as someone who has been given a false reputation in order to serve someone else’s point of view. This was true for the Gnostics of the early Church, and just as true for some authors of our own time. The Gospels tell us that Jesus cast seven demons out of her. After that, she became one of Jesus’ followers, who supported him out of her means. She then becomes one of the few witnesses to Jesus’ crucifixion, death, burial, and resurrection. And yet, the apostles did not believe her when she first brought the news to them. Of course not. She was a woman, and the testimony of women was seen as suspect in Jesus’ time. Yet, Jesus still chose her to be this witness. I think of her when I recall how, as a freshman at Cheverus, I was told that I might not do well in English because, you know, I had a French surname (gasp). I think of her when I see how my call-within-a-call as a priest/hermit goes over with some people, or my mild autism. I think of her when I hear stories like how a woman volunteer on a youth pilgrimage was corrected by a priest who said (in front of some youth) that “women don’t know anything” – but then the volunteer turned out to be right. St. Mary Magdalene, pray for us.
Barnabas – We meet Barnabas in the Acts of the Apostles and the letters of Paul. The name “Barnabas” (son of encouragement) was given to him by the apostles. He soon lived up to that name, and then some. When the Church in Jerusalem heard that some Christians were speaking to pagans and winning them over to the faith, they sent Barnabas to see what was going on. Barnabas, being a man of great discernment, saw the work of the Holy Spirit here and encouraged these new converts. Moreover, he must have given some thought to who might be particularly gifted for this ministry. He thought of someone he met before, a certain Saul of Tarsus, and encouraged him to come along. And the rest, as we say, is history.
Given the challenges that people of faith face every day, I see my ministry as being basically one of encouragement in my homilies and other writings. The news brings us plenty of “fire and brimstone”. People need to know why believing in the Lord and belonging to the Church is better than not doing so. People need encouragement. St. Barnabas, pray for us.
Abba Poëmen – Many of you may not know who he is. He was one of the Desert Fathers and Mothers, one of thousands who went to live in the deserts of Egypt, Syria, Palestine and Cappadocia beginning in the fourth century. They were the first sizable group of Christians we know of who tried to live a life that had a good deal of solitude, but still some connection to the others who also lived that life in the area. To me, they were like spiritual test pilots, experimenting with a way of life that was still new in Christianity. Some went to excess, and some crashed and burned. But others learned an immense amount of wisdom, which they passed on in their sayings, stories, and other teachings. Abba Poëmen was one of the better-known of these early monks and hermits. He was especially renowned for his compassionate wisdom. He reminds me that an eremitic life has no point if it is not shaped continually by the mercy of the Lord. Abba Poëmen, pray for us.
Bernard of Clairvaux – Ten years ago, I might not have included St. Bernard in a list like this. Though he was one of the dominant personalities in twelfth-century Europe, what I knew of him (which wasn’t much) didn’t appeal very much to me. But then I encountered some of his writings. His homilies on the Song of Songs are enough to earn him a place here. But where he most speaks to me is in his writings on humility. Here was a very influential figure in his day, saying how his very prominence was, in fact, a means for him to learn humility. How could this be? He said that when one is prominent in any way, one cannot hide one’s gifts or one’s faults. Everything is out there for everyone to see. Any kind of public ministry, then, can be a way of growth in humility. If one is not active, or out front, one can more easily hide one’s flaws, at least for a time. Bernard helped me see that the more “in public” I am, the more I can grow in humility, as both my gifts and my weaknesses become evident. But that’s okay, he would say. It’s all a means of grace. St. Bernard, pray for us.
Bruno and the Carthusians – Although Carthusians live in monasteries, each Carthusian spends most of the time in solitude, living in a kind of hermitage within the monastery walls. The monks get together for a few occasions, but the focus is clearly on solitude. In recent years, I have found their writings very helpful for me in my own vocation and life. Theirs is a deep and rich well of wisdom and insight, won by simply being silent and still before the Lord for years. Watch the film “Into Great Silence” and you’ll get a taste of their life. Cardinal Sarah’s recent book “The Power of Silence” comes very close to Carthusian wisdom and spirituality. St. Bruno, and all the Carthusian saints, pray for us.
Romuald and the Camaldolese – The Camaldolese also live a life that is a blend of solitude and community, but they lean a little more toward community than the Carthusians. St. Romuald’s work “The Lord Be With You” is as good a place as any to begin to get a sense of what eremitic spirituality is all about. Because the Camaldolese are a little bit more open to the outside world than the Carthusians, their spirituality has felt just a bit more attainable for me – in my life as a diocesan priest/hermit. Check out the book “The Privilege of Love”, written by a number of Camaldolese, mainly from the community at Big Sur. St. Romuald and all the Camaldolese saints, pray for us.
Julian of Norwich – Though Julian gained a reputation for wisdom and insight in her own day, with many people coming to speak with her, we know almost nothing about her life except what she tells us in her work “Revelations of Divine Love”. She lived as an anchoress, her cell attached to the walls of a parish church. We don’t even know her original name. She is called “Julian” only because her cell was attached to St. Julian’s Church in Norwich. Here was someone who had truly died to her former life in order to live out her vocation. Though people did come to her for counsel, she could not know what the Lord would do through her willingness to say yes to him. Her writings become known only after her death. She helped teach me two things. First of all, one might never see the results of one’s “yes” to the Lord in one’s own life. That’s okay. Secondly, in her writings – an account of visions she experienced when she was once very ill and near death – she passed on to us what the Lord had taught us through Paul – that even though sin and evil may persist, that all will one day be well. Or, in Paul’s words, “all things work for good for those who love God”. Julian of Norwich, pray for us.
G. K. Chesterton and C. S. Lewis – I first encountered their writings when I was in college, and I was soon hooked. They showed me that it was possible to combine a rational mind, a creative imagination and a lively faith. Rational thought need not be dry or deadly, and imagination need not be irrational. One can learn and express truth in these and many other ways. I was especially fond of Chesterton’s love of wordplay, and of Lewis’ Narnia stories. I would strongly recommend that any literate Christian read Chesterton’s “Orthodoxy” and “The Everlasting Man”, as well as Lewis’ “Mere Christianity” and “The Screwtape Letters”. Do that and you may be hooked as well. Lewis and Chesterton, pray for us.
Thomas Merton – His books and journals have made him and his life story quite well-known. A worldly young man who converted to Catholicism in college, he later joined the Trappist community at Gethsemani in Kentucky, where he was eventually ordained a priest. He began to sense a call to greater solitude than the community in Gethsemani seemed to afford. Gradually, over the course of many years, he was allowed more and more times of solitude, until he had a hermitage given to him on the monastery grounds when he was around 50. What speaks to me most is that ongoing tension he felt between this call to greater solitude and his commitments as a Trappist monk. His community eventually recognized his call within a call, and gave him the space to live it out. However, this very struggle may have helped Merton see more deeply into his own heart and into the life of faith. One senses this in many of his works. I would point to “New Seeds of Contemplation” and “Thoughts in Solitude” as examples. Merton, in a sense, showed me the way and gave me a kind of permission to accept and pursue a similar call-within-a-call, with all its tensions and ambiguities, in my own life. And, like Merton, I have found that these very tensions have pushed me to look more deeply into my own spiritual life and into the richness of our Catholic tradition. Thomas Merton, pray for us.
Fr. Clement Thibodeau – Now, of course, I am stepping out of my pattern just a bit. I am choosing someone who is not well-known outside this diocese, and someone who is (perhaps) still alive. As folks in Maine know, he left his home on July 15 and has not been seen since. He is 85 and could be dealing with dementia. However, I feel that his life, too, should be commented on here. He deserves to be known as something more than “some old man who wandered away”.
I never had the privilege of being assigned with him. However, when I worked in chancery, I did help him out during Christmas and Holy Week for a few years. I was also privileged to see and hear him in other contexts. He gave a powerful talk to the newly-ordained in this diocese (when I was still one of them) on the dangers of clericalism in the life of a priest. I have always admired him and looked up to him as a priest of great intellect, strong personality, and deep integrity. He taught me that someone could be both strong and humble. The two need not be at odds. He was an excellent homilist, and made a significant contribution to every parish he served. He would have been an excellent bishop. We may not see his like again. Fr. Clem, pray for us.
There are many more whom I could have discussed here – the well-known, like St. Benedict, Sr. Ruth Burrows, or Annie Dillard; or priests known mainly in this diocese, like Msgr. Leopold Nicknair, Fr. Marcel Dumoulin, Fr. Lionel Chouinard, Fr. Ron Schmit, or Fr. John Clancy. There are also those who have been close personal friends through the years. All have had a positive impact on me. All have revealed something to me of the inexhaustible riches of God. Perhaps this may inspire you to make your own spiritual genealogy, and see what that reveals to you. I can only be grateful to God, having received such a rich bounty of grace through all these people. Pray for us, all you saints of God. Help me pray as well, and be as faithful in my life as all of you have been in yours.