Fire & Masses & Nuns! Oh my!

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written an update on here, but I suppose I can post a bit for those inquiring minds out there.

On October 18 I flew out to what is becoming my home away from home: Santa Rosa, California. I went to assist at the convent of the Marian Sisters of Santa Rosa while their chaplain was on pilgrimage in Rome and the Holy Land. The trip was full of surprises. While there I was able to add and check off an item to my bucket list: go to a rock concert with nuns! Well, I’m kinda fudging a bit on the details. The community was going to Chick-Fil-A to celebrate one of the Sister’s birthday and I invited me to join them. When we arrived there was a little parking lot concert happening next door. I had to laugh as they were playing ‘Living on a Prayer’ as we were walking up and the attention moved from the band to the line of 15 nuns walking by.

The other unexpected thing was the wildfire that started not far from us. I can handle hurricanes. But a wildfire? Nope. A long sleepless night of sirens, emergency warnings on the phone notifying of ever-growing evacuation areas, hurricane-force winds, and prepping for what seemed an imminent evacuation made for an experience that I’d be happy to never have again. Thankfully the cathedral and the convent didn’t have to evacuate, but many others did. The firefighters must have learned a bit from the fire two years ago or been better prepared because they did a great job of containing the fires and sparing many homes. It got smoky for a few days, but thankfully it was not nearly as bad as it could have been. God is good!

In addition those surprises, I also had the joy of doing things that were not surprises at all. I was able to offer Mass for the Sisters at the convent, hear LOTS of confessions at the cathedral, offer a couple of Extraordinary Form Sung Masses, spend some time with some old friends & make some new ones, do some manual work projects at the convent, and spend some quality time with the Sisters, especially my spiritual daughter Sister Philomena Marie. As I departed last night before their evening prayers, the Sisters gathered in front of their chapel and sang a beautiful hymn prayer about priests and the Sacred Heart of Jesus. It nearly brought me to tears. This morning I woke up to offer Mass and get to the airport before sunup. As I boarded the plane I was stopped in my tracks by the most beautiful sunrise. One final gift from Our Lord as I prepared for the next stop: Cincinnati.

This week I will finally get to spend some time with my family in Cinci without having to rush off within 24 hours. After this week I’ll hit the road again - Tuscaloosa first to see the Tigers play, then back to Cinci for a few days before heading to Brooklyn to visit another of my spiritual daughters, Sister Trône du Roi, at her monastery. And then I’ll hop in my car once more and head south to the beautiful village of Morganza.

The last couple of weeks have reminded me how much I enjoy parish ministry (not so much the admin, admittedly) and am ready to get back to it. Here’s to hoping the last few weeks of my sabbatical can continue to bear good fruit and that my parishioners will have the ‘Father Brent 2.0’ that I hoped would return with renewed fervor.

St. Philomena, pray for us.

St. Christopher, pray for us.

Our Lady of the Way, pray for us.

Blessed be God

I sat down last night to write a blog post and absolutely nothing would come to mind that didn’t just sound like a vague update. The reason is not because there hasn’t been anything happening. A great deal has been happening. I just haven’t been able to process it enough to put it into words. 

The days I had in Mugnano del Cardinale were absolutely incredible. Spending several hours a day in front of the relics of my patroness was like a dream. That dream led me to my next stop on the pilgrimage portion of my sabbatical: Ireland. 

The Sanctuary at Knock marking the place of the apparitions.

Arriving at the airport, I found my way to my rental car and mentally braced for what was to come: driving on the opposite side of the road, driving on the opposite side of the car, and driving a manual transmission for the first time in a few years...left handed. No pressure. I made it safely to my goal: Knock Shrine. I hadn’t heard a great deal about Knock until the last year or so. It’s a rather fascinating apparition. Most places, such as Fatima or Lourdes, have Our Lady appearing alone and giving some sort of message. At Knock, in 1879, there appeared outside the church an altar upon which stood a Cross and a young Lamb. Next to the altar stood the Blessed Mother, St. Joseph, and St. John the Apostle. They appeared there for two hours in silence. Not one word was said. While many focus immediately upon Our Lady, the central focus of the apparition it seems is in fact the Lamb. As one of the witnesses that night noted - the figures looked as if made by light, but the Lamb was the brightest. Many interpretations and reflections have been offered on this silent apparition full of signs and symbols, but the theme that has spoken to me most powerfully is that of a depending of love for the Mass and the Eucharist. Dom Mark Kirby, O.S.B. has written beautifully about this on his blog Vultus Christi. On account of my love for the Mass and a desire to grow in love for the Eucharistic Lord, I went to Knock. There were no spiritual fireworks. There was simply peace. But not a sort of generic peace or a peace only due to a lack of disturbances. It was a peace that was living, active. A peace with a name and a face. Jesus - my Lord, my God, my all. 

The cross constructed at Knock for the Papal Mass celebrated by Pope St. John Paul II.

That living peace is where I still find myself, but in a different location. I am currently at Silverstream Priory in Stamullen, Ireland - about half an hour north of Dublin. The day is consumed with liturgical prayer offered in a most beautiful and edifying manner. Mass today was an hour long... and that was just a regular Saturday Mass without a homily. For some people that would be torture. But for this little priest - a slice of heaven! That is why I decided to come here at the very end of this long pilgrimage. Here I knew I would be able to be consumed not with worries about parking or money or accommodations or schedules. Here, there is simply worship of the One True God. 

Long ago Psalm 116 was composed as a prayer of thanksgiving to God. In it the Psalmist cries out, “How can I repay the Lord for His goodness to me? The cup of salvation I will raise. I will call on the Lord’s Name.” I can think of no better way to conclude this pilgrimage than by saying and doing the same.

Blessed be God! 

A bit excessive

Many times over the past two months, as I’ve had time to sit and think about all that the Lord has done in my life, I have thought to myself, “It’s really a bit excessive.” And yet that is His love for me. And for you too. It is excessive.

While I was in Santiago de Compostela, I was able to take the bus trip that I spoke about in my previous post. It brought me to two places that are of particular importance to conclude the Camino. The first was Finisterre (translated means ‘the end of the earth’) on the Atlantic Coast. This is the place where pilgrims traditionally would walk after Santiago to burn their clothes as a sign of a new beginning. The burning of clothes is now greeted by hefty fines from the local police, but the visit alone was a time of mediation on beginning again. From the heights of the cliff, one gazes out over the wide open ocean. In a revelation to St. Faustina, Our Blessed Lord describes his mercy as like an ocean. Immense. Peaceful. Powerful. Beautiful. I was reduced to silence and a quiet gaze in the direction of home. A new beginning.

From Finisterre we travelled to Muxia. I heard it was beautiful but soon found out that it was much more than that. According to tradition, St. James has walked across Spain and had made only two disciples by the time he reached the coast at Muxia. It was there that the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to him and told him that his work there was completed and to return to The Holy Land to see her once more before she departed from earthly life. And so he returned. Before the days of planes, trains, and automobiles, when pilgrims reached Santiago de Compostela or Finisterre, they simply had to turn around and walk back home via the same route they took to arrive; the arrival in Santiago was the halfway point of their full pilgrimage. As I think about it, I realize the day I was in Muxia was the halfway point from the time I left home and the time I’ll return. Well played, Lord. Well played.

From Santiago I took a plane to Naples, Italy. I arrived there on Tuesday and on a Wednesday I got up and hopped on a train that would bring me close to my goal: the Shrine of St. Philomena in Mugnano del Cardinale. The train stops a mile or so away from the town, so I got to feel like a pilgrim for a little bit again as I walked to the Shrine. I’m blessed to stay here in their guesthouse and to spend five days here. I was able to offer Holy Mass on the ‘miracle altar’ on the day I arrived. It is called such because numerous miracles have taken place before that altar, indicated by the many ‘ex voto’ plaques there saying “Thank you Saint Philomena” in a variety of languages. The greater joy came yesterday when I was able to offer Holy Mass on the altar that actually contains her relics. Another bucket list item checked off, but it is much more than that. It is the fulfillment of a desire to visit her shrine that has resided in my heart for 14 years now and is finally fulfilled in dramatic fashion. It is one more sign of God’s providential care for me. His love is excessive, after all.

As I continue to sit before my dear patroness, know that all of you are in my prayers being lifted up through her intercession. May her prayers for us rain down an abundance of graces, she who is a great Wonder-Worker even in our day.

St. Philomena, pray for us!

I’m Starting My Camino.

It is finished. I started walking over 790 kilometers away from this place 31 days ago. Most days during the Camino it seemed like it would never end. And yet here I sit at a restaurant in Santiago de Compostela looking at a little checkmark next to “Walk the Camino” in the Bucket List section of my to do list.

A friend with whom I walked many miles in recent weeks asked me how I feel. I feel... everything. I feel victorious at the accomplishment, regret for the things I could have done better, grateful at the ability to do it and for the people I’ve met, sad that it is over, relieved that it is over, let down that there wasn’t a great spiritual experience at the end (the cathedral is being worked on and is mostly plastic and scaffolding), awe at how the Lord works in so many little details, peaceful because of God’s healing grace, overwhelmed because of the love and support poured out so generously by so many people who read this and comment/text/call, and much much more. Thankfully I have a few days to sit and process it all with the Lord. 

To recap the last few days - I arrived in Sarria on Sunday afternoon. Sarria is one of the big spot where many pilgrims start the Camino because it is just beyond the 100kilometer mark required to receive the Compostela paperwork. I knew it would get busier on the Camino and tried to prepare for it but struggled with the new reality. On Monday I was greeted on the trail by fresh-footed people with no backpacks basically skipping along. Some listened to music on their Bluetooth speakers connected to their phones, groups of school kids chanted and sang randomly, and clumps of people began to block the paths and fill up the roadside stops for food and drink and bathrooms. All of these things aggravated me. As I walked along fighting the superiority complex of a pilgrim having walked 25 days and having the limp to prove it, I reflected on Matthew 20:1-16 when Jesus tells the parable of the laborers being sent to labor in the vineyard at the start of the day, midday, mid afternoon, almost at the end of the day. There we were, pilgrims starting 800 away, pilgrims starting 112km, and others somewhere in between, yet at the end we all get the same piece of paper to say we walked the Camino. At first I felt angry that these new pilgrims get to say “I walked the Camino” when I had blisters for four times as long as they were on the trail. Then I began to reflect on how my superiority had its holes too - taxi rides are frowned upon by many a Camino purist and yet I’ve taken several along the way. Maybe they are tempted to think the same of me when I say i taxi’d past one of the major sites along the walk. Then I remembered what so many people discussed online and what the books all point to - each person’s Camino is their own. My Camino is mine. My experiences are mine. The Camino of other people is not mine to judge or critique. I knew that I could have done the 100km minimum trek myself, but I chose not to. I made my Camino and am grateful for the experiences along the way. Others have theirs and I Hope are equally grateful. That said, I think I got the better part because the time spent with the Lord and with others for the last month of this walk have been absolutely amazing. I don’t think I would have gotten nearly as much from the shortened timeline. 

One of the sayings on the Camino is that the Camino actually really begins when you get to Santiago. So, my new Camino begins tomorrow with a trip to Finisterre (a city on the coast whose names means ‘end of the earth’) and Muxia and a few other sites along the way. Finisterre is the pace where pilgrims traditionally would walk after Santiago and burn their clothes as a sign of starting a new way of life. While burning clothes isn’t permitted any longer, it is still a great symbolic gesture to make the trek, even if by bus. I’ll spend a few days here in Santiago and on Tuesday will fly to Naples, Italy, where I will be spending a week at the shrine of my favorite saint, Saint Philomena. Offering Mass at her shrine is another Bucket List item, so I might get two items checked off in one week! From there I will visit the Shrine of Our Lady of Knock in Ireland and spend some time with the Benedictine monks of Silverstream Priory. A good bit of traveling (not by foot!) still awaits me before my return to the U.S.A. I look forward to this time great anticipation because I have worked my body hard these recent weeks and now it is time for my soul. Know that you and your intentions will remain in my prayers before the tabernacle in the days ahead. May He hear and heed your cry. 

St. James, pray for us!

St. Philomena, pray for us!

Our Lady of Knock, pray for us!

Hello, Stage Three

Time seems to move at a much slower pace on the Camino, probably because I’m moving at a much slower pace too. The main reason I asked my bishop for this sabbatical was that I could see in very concrete ways how my fast paced, approach to life and ministry was killing me and my vocation. I could have gone for further studies or some academic program on this sabbatical but I knew that what I needed was a time to simply stop trying to meet another goal or complete another project. Granted, finishing the Camino is a big goal, but the day to day is rather simple: wake up, get ready to walk, walk, stop, rest, pray, eat & drink, sleep, repeat. Though the days are very demanding, the pace is exactly what my soul needs. A brother priest told me that his sabbatical was ‘healing’. I am starting to understand what he meant. Thanks be to God.

The past few days have been good ones. I have been able to get some good mileage on my feet with minimal problems and have enjoyed a change of scenery from the endless fields of the meseta to the rolling hills and greenery that mark the approach to Santiago. In addition this, one wonderful thing happened rather unexpectedly. A little over a week ago I thought I had lost my rosary that I’ve carried with me nearly everywhere for the last 14 years. I know I need to not be overly attached to earthly things, but this rosary had many prayers and memories wrapped up in it. After a few days of searching and searching again in the places it could be (there are few places when you literally have one bag and two pockets), I resigned myself to this reality and bought a new rosary at the Cathedral in Leon. The Lord gave me peace with it being gone and I continued on the trail with a new set of beads. A couple of days ago I reached opened a pocket on my bag that I rarely use because I only had a backup pen in it and as I reached in to grab the pen I felt that familiar feel of my rosary beads. I didn’t lose it! It brought a great smile to my face and my prayers were full of gratitude that evening.

The next day I walked to Astorga and was looking for a place to offer Holy Mass. the Cathedral only had morning Masses but I was told of a chapel nearby that had an evening Mass. I hobbled over to the chapel, which was merely a block away, and went inside. I turned to the sanctuary to find Eucharistic Adoration taking place! God’s Blessings continue to pour forth! And what’s more, it was a convent of cloistered Poor Clare Sisters and the Sisters were there and soon began praying the rosary with the community. The Mass itself was wonderful. The priest’s reverence was inspiring to behold and you could tell he was truly praying every word. The Sisters lifted up their voices to heaven and I couldn’t help but wonderful if the congregation knew how truly blessed they were. The Mass was offered for a new bishop for their diocese and my prayer was that this man or one who loved Our Lord like him might be named their shepherd. It was truly a night of grace beyond what I had hoped.

Yesterday and today brought us to the highest elevation on the Camino and to the famed Iron Cross. The climb and descent were difficult but made worth it by the views that surrounded us. The Iron Cross is a cross on a large pole surrounded by rocks. The rocks of varying sizes are typically carried by pilgrims representing the sins they want to repent of, the things they need to let go of, and burdens given to Christ to handle. I placed my (far too small) rock on the pile of rocks and offered Lauds (Morning Prayer). Today being an Ember Day, the first Psalm was Psalm 51 - the psalm of David’s repentance for his sins. Standing beside the pile of rocks I noted the breviary reflection that this psalm is recited at the foot of the cross in repentance for our own sins. What an appropriate place to pray it - at the foot of the Iron Cross, surrounded by signs of sin and repentance. Liturgical Providence found in moments like that continue to show me that Our Lord is mindful of us in small ways often beyond what we are mindful of. Today I knew for that moment that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Taxi rides, long days, short days, rest days. They were all taken into account, a sign of His infinite love for us.

They said that part three of the Camino is the spiritual part and that seems to be happening in rather impressive form. The Lord is not to be outdone! So, I continue to keep my eyes on Santiago. I am in the single digits as far as days before I conclude this pilgrimage. I don’t know how but I am grateful.