"Swift, Lord, You Are Not"

At the young age of seventy-five, Benedictine monk Kilian McDonnell began writing poetry.  His published work entitled, Swift, Lord, You Are Not, published by St. John's University Press (Collegeville, MN) in 2003 is a collection of his poetry.  I like McDonnell's style, it feels both raw and insightful.  At his age, the wisdom of the years have instilled a sense of the genuine, authentic, and true self.  The art of crafting poetry, so it seems to McDonnell, is truly incarnational.  Take, for example, this one poem that spoke to me.  I wondered what fires are best unremembered for this monk.    

Don't Look Too Carefully

"O search me God and know my heart" Psalm 39:23

by Kilian McDonnell, OSB

What sudden senile arrogance

provoked this bid to despair?

If you knock, God, be prepared

to see what stands behind the door:

unswept floors, unmade

beds, unwashed dishes

in sink, a lone Giotto

unhung against the wall.

(I, too, have been to the Uffizi,

read Dostoevski, Yeats.)

If you turn over a stone

on my beach, what creatures scurry.

Dig in my ruins, you sift

buried rags of intent.

Uproot my elm, you pulled up

forgotten teen-age tinsel.

Poke my cinders, you stir

fires best unremembered.

Search me not, test

no more.  Take me as I am.

Platefuls: A Poem

I like eggs on top of pancakes.  I know it's weird, but it is a choice.

I learned that from my Pappaw, he liked them that way.

I remember as a child watching him at breakfast,

and then I thought that I should try it too. 

If only life could be that straight forward, to the naïveté of most,

it is.  But those that know differently can see through it.

I'm sorry that you won't know my choices in life;

most are mistakes, and some even seem funny to me now. 

But there's just two that I am most proud of, to say the least.

My point is simply this: try and be. 

Try life out for what it is, and don't stop trying.  In fact,

don't give up.  Quitting only leaves open room for regret.

Be and be large.  You get many choices in life, platefuls

so it seems.  No matter what, integrity guides you, so be
who you were created to be.  Again, regrets. 

My choices are not yours.  Some aren't choices at all.  

Learn from me but know that you don't have to like my tastes.

If you ever want to know what goes with spaghetti,

well, just ask your mother.  

Anthonite Solidarity

This past weekend, several Anthonite brothers gathered in Fredericksburg, Virginia for the profession liturgy of our first ordained brother, Fr. Robert-James.  The brothers received black Tucuma rings from Father Robert-James as a gift, but most importantly as a tangible connection to the poor.  Here's a legend of the black Tucuma nut.

When the great god Tupa made the world, there was only day. In the beginning there was no night. The daughter of the great cobra, Cobra Grande, was concerned for her husband, the Caboclo. Mother Earth provided him with game, fish and rich soil, but he worked constantly. Since the night did not exist, he did not know when to rest.

One day, the Caboclo's wife asked his friends to search for her mother, Cobra Grande. She would know the secret of the night. They paddled their canoe a long distance and found the great cobra curled in the sun on the shore of a lake. The caboclos told her of her daughter's worry and of her request to learn the secret of the night.

The cobra slithered to the bottom of the lake. After a long time she surfaced with a nut – the fruit of the tucuma palm – in her mouth.

 "You must not open the nut. Only my daughter will have the power to open it so that the darkness, and nothing else, will escape from inside."

As the caboclos paddled home, they became very curious because of the strange sounds that came from the tucuma nut. Although the great cobra had warned them not to break it open, they were overcome by curiosity. Unable to resist the mysterious noises, they broke open the nut.

Darkness immediately fell on the world. Not only darkness, but also from inside the nut there emerged the night creatures, swooping bats and screeching owls, crawling creatures and wild forest cats. The great cobra did not know the secret of how to put the night creatures back inside the nut.

"Someday," she said, "the son of Tupa will come to visit us. Then all that our people fear will be hidden again in the tucuma nut."

translated by Bishop George Marskell, SFM 

Deep in the Amazon, the Tucuma palm tree produces a thick, black nut which is fashioned locally into jewelry as a poignant symbol of solidarity.  Roman Catholic Bishop George Marskell, SFM, a Scarboro Missioner from Canada, landed in Brazil in the 1960s and stayed until his death in 1998.  The bishop turned the black ring into a personal reminder for the preferential option for the poor.  There is a story that he traded in his gold episcopal ring for one of these simple black rings to make the point of his commitment to the poor.  He was the bishop serving the rural Amazon in Brazil for over 19 years.

Now, thanks to Fr. Robert-James, OPC, the Anthonite brothers are joining in solidarity for the Christian ethic of preferential option for the poor.  I wear my tucuma ring on my right hand, showing my love for God's poor and reminding me of my vows.      

Photos of our newest Anthonite

The Liturgy of Profession of Vows for The Rev. Robert-James Laws took place during the principal Eucharistic liturgy of Sunday, March 14th at Trinity Episcopal Church in Fredericksburg, Virginia.  Fr. Robert-James, OPC is our first ordained brother.  It was a great day!

Father Robert-James is prostrated before the altar and the Order's Icon of St. Anthony.  Abbot Kenneth is standing to the right.

The receiving of the Anthonite habit.  Yours truly is standing to the right.