Assurance of my prayers....

Hello, friends!

First, an announcement. As I’m sure you would expect, the Lenten Evening of Music and Reflection that I notified you of in my last blog post has been canceled due to coronavirus precautions. Peter, the Saint Ann Choir, and I are disappointed not to be able to be with you, but we look forward to seeing you next Lent!

How are you all doing? It has been a strange time, hasn’t it?

Here at our house we are juggling working from home, school closings, cancellations of everything from soccer seasons to college visits, and a general inundation of information from schools, employers, organizations, and every retail outlet I have ever purchased anything from! We will settle into a new rhythm, but the adjustment is challenging.

I don’t want to add to all the “messaging” coming your way about the coronavirus and how it is affecting our lives. I have no profound words to offer, only prayers for and solidarity with you during this time. For this year, this is our Lenten journey. And even when we cannot or do not gather together, we are still one Body—the Body of Christ. And we’ll keep walking together, one foot in front of the other, toward the cross and resurrection of Jesus. I will meet you there!

May Jesus the Healer bless and comfort us. May his hand be on the sick and those who care for them. He’s got the whole world in his hands.

Love,
Amy

Rembrandt, Healing of Peter’s Mother-in-Law, Courtesy WikiArt

Rembrandt, Healing of Peter’s Mother-in-Law, Courtesy WikiArt

Guest Blogger: My Dad

The Conscience of Franz Jägerstätter:
A Homily by Deacon Tim Vineyard

“Jägerstätter reasoned that, since God gives us free will and a conscience,
God holds us responsible for what we do.”


This past summer when I was home in Texas, I heard my dad preach this homily. It was pretty long for a homily, but you could have heard a pin drop. As the story built and the courage of Franz Jägerstätter came to life, we all got wrapped up in this story—this witness—of the power of human freedom and conscience.

One of my college professors, a Cistercian monk who himself had escaped an evil regime in Hungary, told us that the human will has limitless power. He said, “The whole universe could blow up in your face. You can still be saying ‘no.’” Franz Jägerstätter said “no.”

Thanks Dad—for preaching and sharing this homily, and for being a man of conscience in my life.

* * * * * * * * * *

The German army invaded Austria in 1938. The Austrians didn’t offer any resistance. Many Austrians actually welcomed the German invasion! At that time, there was a lot of support for the goals and aims of the Nazi movement in Austria.

Hitler was greeted by enthusiastic crowds waving Nazi flags and giving the Nazi salute. Afterward, some 70,000 Austrian political opponents of the Nazis were arrested and Hitler ordered a universal vote in Austria on the issue of the unification of Austria with Germany. A Nazi-led propaganda campaign supported unification. The Catholic hierarchy advocated a “yes” vote. In the end, the Nazis claimed that Austrians overwhelmingly favored the dissolution of Austria and its becoming a part of Germany. Hitler then began the process of the deep humiliation of Jews and, with the cooperation of the locals, ran many Jews out of Austria.

Franz Jägerstätter was an Austrian farmer. He married a woman who took her Catholic faith seriously. His marriage to her changed him, and he, too, became devout in his Catholic faith. He voted in the German/Austrian unification plebiscite but, unlike his countrymen, he voted “no,” rejecting the Nazis. Due to the subsequent German annexation of Austria, Jägerstätter became subject to the German military draft. Would he serve as a soldier in the Nazi army?

Jägerstätter was happily married and had young children. The last thing he wanted was to put himself or his family at risk.  But he carefully examined the morality of the German war. He witnessed the suppression of the church—the churches had to fly the swastika flag and pray for Hitler; priests were jailed. He saw the Germans take over other countries for no just reason. He heard reports of the beginning of the Nazi Jewish genocide program. For him, it all came down to this question: “Should I be a Nazi or a Catholic?” Jägerstätter recognized that to support the Nazi movement was to oppose Christ and his Church.

He met with his bishop to discuss what his response should be, but the bishop refused to discuss the matter with him. Several well-meaning priests tried to talk him into cooperating with the Germans. There was a great deal of discussion about the morality of a decision to refuse to serve as a combatant in the Nazi-led military. This decision was punishable by death; did it amount to suicide? Some questioned the morality of such a decision in light of his family responsibilities. But Jägerstätter wondered how good a husband and father he would be if he chose social conformity over obedience to Christ’s teaching.

Jägerstätter reasoned that, since God gives us free will and a conscience, God holds us responsible for what we do. He believed that people can’t escape personal responsibility for their actions simply by arguing that they were following the orders of their government.

When he was required to serve in the German army, Jägerstätter said a final good-bye to his wife and children and refused to serve as a combatant, offering instead to serve as a medic. He was promptly beheaded and forgotten.

In 1964, Gordon Zahn published a biography of Jägerstätter, In Solitary Witness. His story circulated among those participating in the Vatican II Council, which was in progress at the time. Jägerstätter’s life and writings made a significant impact on what the Catholic Church teaches today about war, peace, conscience and individual responsibility. His life had a significant impact on the 1965 Vatican II document entitled The Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World. Jägerstätter was declared a martyr in 2007 and beatified in the same year.

Looking back, we think everyone should have seen things the way Jägerstätter did. Why would anyone want to participate in the Nazi movement? But when you’re living in the middle of a national crisis, things get complicated fast. Really complicated. Even in our day, such complications can lead us to think and act based on fear, pride, confusion, fatigue, anxiety, and the desire to conform. Jägerstätter was able to see past all of that because his heart and conscience were fixed on Jesus Christ above all else. Naturally, such a path will not be taken by everyone; it takes conviction and courage to lay down your life for what you believe. Perhaps this is why Jesus said, “Do you think I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division” (Luke 12:51).

Today we face issues that will affect the lives of thousands of people in profound ways. We don’t respond out of mere human pragmatism, fear, pride, or a desire to conform. We’re not confused. Instead, we listen to our conscience, which is formed by the Gospel, and we face the current issues with our hearts firmly fixed on Jesus Christ above all else. As the Body of Christ, this is what we do.

Blessed Franz Jägerstätter, pray for us.

* * * * * * * * * *

There’s a movie out about the life of Franz Jägerstätter called “A Hidden Life.”
Here’s a preview:

Ancient God, How Young You Are

I can’t remember how or when I came across this poem written in 1983 by Jim Forest, legendary peace activist, biographer, and friend of Thomas Merton and Dorothy Day.  But I found it so kind and intimate in its portrayal of the loving relationship between creature and Creator. Jim has given me permission to share the poem, which was written while he was honeymooning with his wife Nancy in France. The poem was inspired by a sculpture at Chartres Cathedral (pictured below).

Ancient God, how young you are
I know your touch
It is in that motion of
your hands on my head
that I recognize you
and remember
that first day
when you called me Adam
and your knee
was my pillow
when I first opened
my eyes.

Jim’s most recent biography is At Play in the Lion’s Den: A Memoir and Biography of Daniel Berrigan. He is currently working on an autobiography. Visit Jim and Nancy at jimandnancyforest.com. And see Jim’s collection of Adam & Eve art at flickr.com.

Pictured from left to right: The sculpture at Chartres that inspired Jim’s poem; a copy of the original, hand-written poem; Go On, Adam by Jack Baumgartner, shared with permission (visit Jack’s website here); The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo.

A Noise Like a Strong Driving Wind?

This Sunday is Pentecost, the day when we recall the dramatic outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon the first followers of Jesus. This year as I reflected on the story from Acts, I was struck by the powerful images – the sights and sounds that accompanied this outpouring – especially how the Spirit is described as sounding like “a strong driving wind” (NABRE) or like “the rush of a violent wind” (NRSV; Acts 2:2).

We often experience the voice of God in our lives as a quiet thing – a still small voice, a whisper, a stirring of the heart, or the murmurings of conscience. And it is often a slow communication – a voice that speaks in layers as time passes, a message that takes hold slowly over the course of many years.

But the Pentecost story reminds us of other ways that God communicates. Sometimes the divine voice is loud, powerful, fast and laser-like in its precision. The NRSV’s word “violent” lingers here – not violence in the sense of harming anyone – but violent in the sense of strong enough to wreak havoc on our minds and hearts, wild enough to unsettle or even unseat us. Of course the goal of this unsettling is not ultimately turmoil but healing and life. God speaks in mysterious ways!

Will you share with me what the voice of God sounds like in your life? Is it a gentle whisper or a strong driving wind? Is there a metaphor that comes to mind to describe your own experience?

I’d love to hear from you – as a comment directly on the blog page, or as a reply to email if you receive the blog that way, or as a facebook comment if you are reading there.

Happy Pentecost!

The Sacred Art Pilgrim

As you all know, I choose the artwork that goes along with my blog posts very carefully and deliberately.  In fact, sometimes it takes me longer to find the art than to write the post!  It is my hope that the art I select resonates with the words you read and that your mind is filled with beauty, understanding and ideas.  Above all, I want to communicate to you in both word and image that there is something mysterious, powerful and transformative happening in our lives all the time.  I want to believe this myself, and art (like words) helps me believe it and, hopefully, communicate it. 

Last week I discovered a treasure trove of sacred art, and I thought many of you would like to explore this treasure for yourselves.  John Kohan, an international journalist by trade (over 20 years with TIME magazine) and a sacred artist by nature, has set out to gather and display – on his website – beautiful, modern, sacred art.  His collection includes religious art from all over the world in a variety of media and styles. 

You can visit John’s website here:  The Sacred Art Pilgrim.  If you click on “sacred art meditations” (at the top right of his homepage), you can select moments from the life of Christ, themes of faith, or other bible stories, and can view relevant art along with Bible readings, meditations and explanations.  Or you can click on “sacred artists” and view a variety of gorgeous art collected there, along with interesting information about the artists.

John’s own first piece of sacred art was a pencil drawing of the sower and the seed that he drew at six years old (which I would like to see, but it does not yet appear on the site!).  His lifelong journey through sacred art is ours to behold.