simple ... but not easy / semplice ... ma non facile

This is my homily for January 25. Ironically the English version is translated from the Italian (which is below) using Deepl. I present it here in outline form again, what I usually preach from.

 

                                    _____________________________________ 

 

Te indicates the powerful charism that emanates [from ideal sovereigns], the ascendancy that they spontaneously exercise over the people, from which it follows that they imposes themselves without any effort, without exercising any coercion, on those around them. It is, in essence, an irresistible and superhuman faculty to transform the human world without resorting to brute force or coercion, simply by radiating into it a model of harmony that is exemplarily embodied in the sovereign.

[Amina Crisma, Neiye: The Tao of Inner Harmony]

 

 

Yesterday, as we meditated on this Gospel (Mt 4: 12-23) during our communal lectio divina, some questions came to mind, which I wrote down on a piece of paper.

What does it mean for us today to follow Jesus?

How should we proclaim the Gospel in our time?

What does it look like to heal and shine a light where there is a shadow of death?

 

There is a quote from Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I of Constantinople, spiritual leader of Eastern Orthodox Christians worldwide, that I have been carrying with me for months, a beautiful summary of the Gospel:

"The truth [he says] is that the Gospel message is as simple as it is radical––

but as one of my teachers used to say, 'Simple but not easy!'—

we are called to stand with love where there is hatred,

[we are called] to preach compassion where there is injustice,

and [we are called] to insist on dialogue where there is division.

This is so, at least according to the teachings we have received,

and should be recognized by those who bear the title of Christian.

In reality, however, as simple and straightforward as it may seem,

such a gospel is remarkably difficult to live by.

It is much easier to proclaim a gospel of power and force."

 

In fact, Patriarch Bartholomew himself is strongly and often criticized, mainly by the Russian Orthodox Church, and also by other conservative factions because they think his approach is too open, too ecumenical.

 

Yet, from my point of view, he is absolutely right.

(He was a good friend of Pope Francis, as you may remember.)

What he says is what it means to proclaim the Gospel in our time,

Healing, in particular the wounds of sin and division,

and shining a light—of peace—where there is a shadow of death, that is, war.

 

From my point of view, the most important value for Jesus’ disciples at this moment is the seventh Beatitude: Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.

This too is an extremely difficult task and may even seem futile

when strong men seem to have the upper hand in so many regions of the world.

In fact, the Holy Father stated in his address to the diplomatic corps a month ago that

“making peace requires both humility and courage.”

 

There are people who distort this message and want to talk instead about “peace through force.”

However, peace through force is not true peace, not lasting peace,

but only a momentary ceasefire.

On the other hand, there is the famous phrase that Pope Leo has used several times in this context ––

even in his first speech from the loggia of St. Peter's on the day of his election ––

an “unarmed (or disarmed) and disarming” peace.

What do those words mean?

“Unarmed” means without physical weapons, of course,

but it also means without any means of defense, like the Lord Jesus before Pilate.

“Disarming” usually refers to something like a gesture or a smile,

but even more so it is an attitude, an attitude of simplicity and humility

that can neutralize hostility, that can appease any desire for conflict.

 

“Unarmed and disarming”: put these two concepts together and we have a peace that is not imposed, but which, thanks to its inner strength and humility, softens all resistance.

This is the way of Jesus. Simple but not easy, because it takes tremendous inner strength.

 

This applies not only to our actions, but also to our language.

And not only what we say but how we say it.

Even what we say and how we say it, we followers of Jesus, we Christians,

must always be disarmed and disarming,

using words that neutralize hostility

and finding ways of speaking that dampen the energy of conflict.

And this too will require humility and courage on our part,

the opposite attitude of that which many world leaders adopt as a way of behaving in public.

 

Even further than that, though we know that we Christians ourselves are sometimes the object of persecution in some places, we must also never demonize those with whom we have conflicts

and sometimes even violent disagreements, whether political or religious.

Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you: simple, but not easy.

 

In addition to being the third Sunday of the liturgical year, with its beautiful readings that call us to discipleship today, we have two other commemorations in the background.

One is the last day of Christian Unity Week, which has been a time of reflection, prayer, and encounters in union with Christians of all denominations.

The other is that if it had not been Sunday, we would have celebrated the feast of the conversion of St. Paul on January 25.

Christian Unity Week always ends with his feast day.

It is interesting to listen to/read today’s readings in this context, especially the second one from the First Letter to the Corinthians (1 Cor 1:10-13, 17):

 

I urge you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ,

to be of one mind in what you say, so that there may be no divisions among you,

but be perfectly united in mind and spirit.

And here too there is something simple but not easy around which we Christians can gather together: the teaching of Jesus and his Gospel,

as simple as it is radical, simple but not easy.

 

The heart of Paul’s message was always the crucified and risen Christ.

Later in the same chapter of the letter to the Corinthians, he says that

Christ did not send him to baptize, but to proclaim the Gospel,

and not with eloquent speech, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power.

And that cross? Indeed, it is foolishness to those who are perishing,

but for those who are being saved, that is, for us, it is the power of God.

This way is foolishness to strong men, dictators, and autocrats—

but this foolishness destroys the wisdom of the wise

and nullifies the intelligence of the intelligent.

 

The way of the strong men of this world seems to have the advantage at the moment,

and the way of humility and peace—that is, the way of the cross—seems foolish.

And in the eyes of the world, it is!

But let us pray that through this banquet of the Word and Sacrament

we may have the humility and courage to truly continue to follow Jesus,

proclaim his Gospel of peace, heal the wounds of sin and division,

and shine the light where there is the shadow of death.

 

                                                   * * * 

 

Questa è la mia omelia per 25 gennaio. Non posso garantire la correstezza dell'italiano, ma ho fatto del mio meglio. 

 

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Con de si indica il carisma possente che [dal sovrano ideale] promana, l’ascendente da lui spontaneamente esercitato sul popolo, da cui consegue che egli si impone senza alcuno sforzo, senza esercitare alcuna coazione, su coloro che lo circondano. Si tratta, in sostanze, di un’irresistibile e sovraumana facoltà di trasformare il mondo umano senza ricorrere alla forza bruta né alla costrizione, semplicemente irradiandovi un modello di armonia che nel sovrano è esemplarmente incarnato.

                                                [Amina Crisma, Neiye: Il Tao dell’armonia interiore]

 

Ieri, mentre meditavamo su questo vangelo  (Mt 4, 12-23)  durante la nostra lectio comune, mi sono venute in mente alcune domande che ho scritto su un pezzo di carta.

Cosa significa per noi oggi seguire Gesù?

Come dovremmo proclamare il Vangelo nella nostra epoca?

Che aspetto ha ‘guarire’ e ‘far risplendere una luce dove c’è un’ombra di morte’ per noi cristiani di oggi?

 

C’è una citazione del Patriarca ecumenico Bartolomeo I di Costantinopoli, guida spirituale dei cristiani ortodossi orientali in tutto il mondo, che porto con me da mesi, un bel riassunto del Vangelo:

 

“La verità [scrive] è che il messaggio evangelico è tanto semplice quanto radicale…”––

come una mia insegnante usava dire, “Semplice ma non facile!”––

“… siamo chiamati a schierarci con l’amore laddove vi è odio,

a predicare compassione laddove vi è ingiustizia,

e a insistere nel dialogo laddove vi è divisione.

È così, quanto meno secondo la parola degli insegnamenti che abbiamo ricevuto,

che andrebbero riconosciuti quanti si fregiano del titolo di cristiani.

In realtà, però, per quanto semplice e lineare possa sembrare,

un simile vangelo è notevolmente difficile da vivere.

È molto più agevole proclamare un vangelo del potere e della forza.”[v]

 

Infatti, Patriarca Bartolomeo stesso viene criticato fortemente e spesso, principalmente dalla Chiesa ortodossa russa e anche da altre fazioni conservatrici perché pensano che il suo approccio sia troppo aperto, troppo ecumenico.

 

Eppure, dal mio punto di vista, ha proprio ragione.

(Lui era un buon amico di Papa Francesco, forse ricordate.)

Quanto dice lui è cosa significa proclamare il Vangelo nella nostra epoca,

e guarire, particolarmente le ferite di peccati e divisione,

e far risplendere una luce––di pace––dove c’è un’ombra di morte, cioè guerra.

 

Dal mio punto di vista il valore più importante per i discepoli di Gesù, in questo momento,

è la settima Beatitudine: Beati gli operatori di pace: saranno chiamati figli di Dio.

Anche questo è un compito estremamente difficile e può persino sembrare futile

quando gli uomini forti sembrano avere il sopravvento in tante regioni del mondo.

Infatti, il Santo Padre ha affermato nel suo discorso al corpo diplomatico un mese fa che “fare la pace richiede sia umiltà che coraggio”.

 

Ci sono persone che distorcono questo messaggio e parlano invece di “pace con la forza”.

Tuttavia, la pace con la forza non è una vera pace, non una pace duratura,

ma solo un cessate il fuoco momentaneo.

Invece c’è la famosa frase che Papa Leone ha usato più volte in questo contesto –

anche nel suo primo discorso dalla loggia di San Pietro il giorno della sua elezione –

una pace “disarmato e disarmante”. 

Cosa significano queste parole?

“Disarmato” significa senza armi fisiche, naturalmente, ma significa anche senza alcun mezzo di difesa, proprio come il Signore Gesù davanti a Pilato.

“Disarmante” di solito si riferisce a qualcosa come un gesto o un sorriso,

ma ancora di più è un atteggiamento, un atteggiamento di semplicità e umiltà

che può neutralizzare l’ostilità, che può placare ogni desiderio di conflitto.

“Disarmato e disarmante”: mettete insieme questi due concetti

e abbiamo una pace che non si impone,

ma che, grazie alla sua forza interiore e alla sua umiltà,

ammorbidisce ogni resistenza.

Questa è la via di Gesù.

Semplice ma non facile,

perché richiede una forza interiore tremenda.

 

Questo vale non solo per le nostre azioni, ma anche per il nostro linguaggio,

Non solo cosa diciamo ma come lo proclamiamo.

Anche ciò che diciamo e come lo diciamo, noi seguaci di Gesù, noi cristiani,

deve essere sempre disarmato e disarmante, usando parole che neutralizzano l’ostilità

e trovando modi di parlare che smorzano l’energia del conflitto.

Ed anche questo richiederà da parte nostra umiltà e coraggio,

l’atteggiamento opposto a quello che molti leader mondiali adottano come modo di comportarsi in pubblico.

Anche pur sapendo che noi stessi cristiani siamo talvolta oggetto di persecuzioni in alcuni luoghi,

non dobbiamo mai demonizzare coloro con cui abbiamo conflitti

e talvolta anche violenti disaccordi, siano essi politici che religiosi.

L’insegnamento è stato chiaro chiaro: Amate i vostri nemici.

Semplice ma non a fatto facile.

 

Oltre ad essere la terza domenica dell’anno liturgico con le sue belle letture,

abbiamo altre due commemorazioni sullo sfondo questa domenica.

Uno è l’ultimo giorno della Settimana dell’Unità dei Cristiani.

È stato un momento di riflessione, preghiera e incontri

in unione con cristiani di tutte le confessioni.

L’altra è che se non fosse stata domenica avremmo celebrato la festa della conversione di San Paolo, il 25 gennaio.

La settimana dell’Unità dei Cristiani conclude sempre con quella festa.

È interessante ascoltare/leggere le letture di oggi in questo contesto

particolarmente la seconda lettura dalla lettera ai Corinzi (1 Cor 1,10-13. 17):

 

Vi esorto, fratelli e sorelle, per il nome del Signore nostro Gesù Cristo,

a essere tutti unanimi nel parlare, perché non vi siano divisioni tra voi,

ma siate perfetta unione di pensiero e di sentire.

 

E anche qui c’è una cosa semplice ma non facile attorno a quale possiamo radunare tutti insieme, noi cristiani: l’insegnamento di Gesù e il suo vangelo,

tanto semplice quanto radicale, semplice ma non facile.

 

Il cuore del messaggio di Paolo è stato sempre il cristo crocifisso e risorto.

Più tardi nello stesso capitolo della lettera ai Corinzi, lui dice che

Cristo non lo aveva mandato a battezzare, ma ad annunciare il Vangelo,

e non con sapienza di parola, perché non venga resa vana la croce di Cristo.

E quella croce? Infatti, è stoltezza per quelli che si perdono!

Ma per quelli che si salvano, ossia per noi, è potenza di Dio.

È stoltezza per uomini forti, dittatori e autocrati, questa via––

ma questa stoltezza (alla fine) distruggerà la sapienza dei sapienti

e annulla l’intelligenza degli intelligenti.

 

La via degli uomini forti di questo mondo sembra di avere il vantaggio in questo momento,

e la via di umiltà e pace––ovvero, la via della croce––sembra sciocchezza.

E negli occhi del mondo lo è!

Ma preghiamo che per via di questo banchetto della Parola e Sacramento

avremmo l’umiltà e coraggio di veramente continuare a seguire Gesù,

proclamare il suo Vangelo di pace,
guarire le ferite di peccato e divisione,

e brillare la luce dove c’è l’ombra di morte.

 

travelogue december 2025 part II: Oxford and Geneva

 January 5 

My next event was something that came up at the last minute, or at least only a few weeks before it took place. I met the rabbi (he doesn’t like going by a title) Alon Goshen-Gottstein at the event at the Greg in October. After a brief exchange he realized that Abbot Jeremias had tried to put him in touch with me early last year but somehow we had never connected, and Alon wondered if I might be able to come to a gathering at Oxford that he had wanted Jeremias to attend. Alon heads up the Elijah Interfaith Institute (https://elijah-interfaith.org/) a very serious organization that does scholarly work as well as organizes events, such as the one I was invited to participate in, the Meeting of the Elijah Board of World Religious Leaders, which was held December 1-4, just outside of Oxford. I really had little idea what I was getting into until a few days before the event when I started receiving email updates and some requests for my participation.

 

The theme of the meeting this time was “The Human Person: Religious Ideals and Contemporary Challenges” and we were sent a bundle of papers from their last conference to catch us up to speed, on what it means to be human from the perspective of Judaism, Buddhism, Islam, Christianity, Hinduism. If I had seriously pursued an academic path in theology further, it would have been in the area of theological or spiritual anthropology; that has been my fascination since I first heard Bede Griffiths talk in 1992. So the topics that we explored on this theme were right up my alley: the individual, the individual in society, the individual and the Cosmos, and then the dangers (and challenges) of AI. These are the fundamentals upon which all our other decisions are based––what is the human person and his or her relation to Absolute Reality, the Cosmos, to each other?

These sub-themes we discussed in the small group made up of eight or so people (folks were coming and going) that we met with each time. I was asked to lead the discussion about AI. It was kind of ironic because there have been three occasions recently when I have been asked to contribute something about AI and I have had the same response each time: it is not my area of expertise, and I am not really that interested in it. This time I did not feel as if I could refuse and so I set myself to do some homework. Fortuitously I had just read a fascinating article in the Italian magazine Internazionale that I like so much, and had just heard a brilliant interview by Russ Douthat with the English writer named Paul Kingsnorth that had really captivated me. Other than that all my opinions have been shaped by Ilia Delio and Federico Faggin. So I whipped some pages of notes together and did a respectable job, I think. One Teilhardian optimistic voice (Ilia, who quotes Antje Jacklen saying that “the development toward techno sapiens might well be regarded as a step toward the kingdom of God”), one pessimistic (Kingsnorth: “This is a war on human nature!”) and one moderate, Kwame Appiah, writing about the process of “de-skilling”, with Faggin in the background whispering, “AI will never have qualia––feelings! That’s the hard work of consciousness!”

There was a young Greek Orthodox bishop who was very articulate in the field, and he sort of dominated the conversation afterward. We all got a good education from him. His conclusion is that “It’s here. How are we going to live with it?” My conclusion was with Appiah: An ethical management of the technology today means to ensure ourselves that the capacities that make us human––judgement, imagination, understanding––remain alive in us. … This is the most urgent challenge: to be able to maintain intact our ability to make our mark on reality, remaining the authors of systems that are ready to take on much of our thinking. What are the spiritual traditions supposed to safeguard and how are we going to do that?

They were serious about these being world leaders. In attendance were esteemed representatives from Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity––Anglican, Orthodox and Roman Catholic. It was held at a grand location called the Global Retreat Center, an old manor home now run by the Brahma Kumaris (you ought to look that movement up too––https://www.brahmakumaris.com/ ). Everything about the place was pristine, from the furnishings to the towels and the food. Among the people I was excited to meet were Rowan Williams, former archbishop of Canterbury, Cardinal Cristoph Shoeborn of Vienna, and Rabbi Arthur Green whose book Ehyeh on Kabbalah was very important to me. Concerning those three: Rowan was late coming due to some health issue, but I caught up with him on the last day; he was very approachable and remembered San Gregorio al Celio well due to his meeting with Pope Benedict here. Cardinal Shoenborn: I don’t remember ever speaking to someone like this before; when I met him, I said, “It is an honor to meet you, sir.” He was a lovely man, now 80 years old, humble and erudite, and always introduced himself as “Cristoph”; he asked me the first day if I was planning on celebrating Eucharist, which I was hoping to, so we celebrated each evening in his little retreat room, he having brought all the necessaries with him. He also apologetically preached a little each time, explaining, “I am a Dominican, you know.” And Rabbi Green I impressed by reciting from memory of paragraph from his book that I loved so much that I use it as a regular part of my own litany to prepare for meditation each day, on the neshamah, the breath that God breathes into the clay in the second story of creation. I told Alon at the end that I know I was just filling in for Abbot Jeremias, but I would very much like to stay involved––and I don't’ say that often. Alon is also working hard to develop an interfaith center in Assisi, which is how I had first heard of him and his work.

 

On the last evening before flying home, I went into Oxford and had a great Mideastern dinner with my dear friend Aaron Maniam and two other members of my advisory board (The Peace Council) who are also there in Oxford, Arzoo and Lucas. A medical doctor friend of Arzoo’s came along who was a real pistol and we had a roaring good time eating and talking and laughing. I crashed at Aaron’s flat that night and took the airport shuttle from Oxford to Gatiwck and back to Rome.

 

With only a few days to catch my breath and attend to some business at my desk, my next stop was Geneva, Switzerland. As some of you may know, I was asked to be on the Board of Directors for the World Meditation Day Foundation, an organization founded by a Chinese Shaolin Buddhist monk who got the United Nations to officially declare a World Meditation Day (December 21^st, by the way). Our first official board meeting was in Verduz, Lichtenstein, because it was the then-Ambassador from Lichtenstein to the UN, Myriam Oheri, who had sponsored the resolution. We met there at that meeting, and she apparently liked what I had to offer and suggested to the organizers of an upcoming conference to invite me to be participate representing Christianity and World Meditation Day. The Conference was organized by the Human Rights Division of the UN entitled “United and Present: Global Solutions from Within,” basically about bringing the practice of meditation into diplomacy work. It was quite an august assembly that included the High Commissioner for Human Rights, Princess Noor bint Asem of Jordan, and Jon Kabat-Zinn, author of Wherever You Go, There You Are) and founder of MBPM (Mindfulness Based Pain Management), who as far as I am concerned is like a rock star to meditators.

 

My next-door neighbor here at San Gregorio had asked to go along with me for this, Francesco Romolini. He just graduated from the prestigious Luiss University here in Rome in International Studies and has been helping with some travel and other logistics, and so he went as my “assistant.” And he was great company, a perfect gentleman and very helpful––and very eager to experience the UN. He was even more starry-eyed than I was to get the chance to be there and experience the UN from the inside. The day before we also got to attend another hybrid meeting of a working group called “Faith for Rights,” which is an “informal network of faith-based actors across the globe for a cross-disciplinary reflection and action on the deep, and mutually enriching, connections between religions and human rights,” again through a connection I made at the event at the Greg.

 

As we walked into the assembly hall for the main conference, I wondered aloud to Francesco if we had assigned seats and he teased me saying, “Do you think you’re important enough to have an assigned seat?” Well, not only did I have assigned seat with a name plate––so did he! And his was at a table in front of mine! Whoever was guiding us to our seats apologized for the mistake (I thought it was funny given his ribbing me about it) and changed our places. But there we were along with the ambassador from here and Her Excellency from there.

 

Francesco was as pleasantly surprised as I was that everyone, and I mean everyone, was so approachable. I wound up having a wonderful connection with Professor Kabat-Zinn and Francesco made friends with the lovely Spanish woman, Cristina, who was accompanying the princess. (He was thoroughly enamored, and rightly so––she was an exquisite presence). I was asked to be a part of a panel discussion on the second day which included a Vietnamese Buddhist nun, a Tibetan monk, a Hindu monk, a rabbi, and an enchanting Sufi singer from Morocco. We were to talk about the universality of the practice of meditation all moderated by a professor from Oxford.

 

Why bring meditation into the work of diplomacy? I never want to get stuck on the practical benefits, physical or psychological/emotional, of meditation. That being said, what got brought up at the conference as to why these folks from the UN want their diplomats to involve themselves in meditative practices made a lot of sense.

 

·      Greater ability to manage conflict constructively

·      Clearer and more grounded decision making

·      Stronger emotional regulation and leadership presence

·      Better communication and relational awareness within teams

·      Increased collaboration and reduced defensiveness under pressure

·      Enhanced focus, concentration and strategic thinking

 

I also wound up singing at the reception on the first night. I had written a song based on a poem of the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish that I was proposing as a possible theme song for World Meditation Day. When the organizers found out about it that they suggested I sing it for this event. At first there was the idea that perhaps the UN choir would sing it with me and so I had Rick Modlin back in Oregon do a choral arrangement for me. But it wound being a much humbler venue––sitting on a folding chair in the reception salon. But it was still very much appreciated, and I was, as always, glad to get the chance to whip out the might mini-Taylor and sing.

 

The last official thing we did was do a “soft-opening” of a new meditation room there at the Geneva Headquarters with the High Commissioner. Each of us from the panel was asked to do something and for the most part we all chanted: the Sufi singer of course, the Tibetan monk, I sang my standard opening Gregorian chant Benedictus Es, etc.

 

We collected lots of memories and took lots of pictures in those two days as well as grabbed a handful of mementos, and sweetest of all the entire trip was covered by the UN. I also believe I made some wonderful connections, especially with Myriam, who has now stepped down as ambassador to give herself full time to this work, and Mara Arizaga, the main organizer of the event, who couldn’t have made me feel more welcome and was so happy to have a Christian, even a Catholic presence there. That of course is one of the things I think about a lot and am grateful for: I get to be, and want to be, in many places where there are not a lot of Christian monks/Catholic priests. What a privilege. I told young Francesco, who was feeling a bit blue the next day returning to his regular day job, that we had spent two days with people who had dedicated their lives not to career or money or power, but to something that they thought was going to make the world a better place. What an inspiration.

 

I don’t know how many people know this, but I worked on the school newspaper all through high school. My dad wanted me to have something to fall back on––he did not want me to be a professional musician!––in case religious life didn’t turn out. I forget how much that has stayed with me, the enjoyment I find in writing. In some ways these travelogues feel more like journalism, trying to share with you the highlights but still give you a sense of the event.

travelogue december 2025

 26 December, “… on the Feast of Stephen.”

I am up in Poppi with our nuns again, what I describe as my favorite place in the world for several reasons, but especially because of the location itself and being with these ladies themselves. We were a carload coming up from Rome, George and Genesio from San Gregorio with an old friend of the community named Adriana, and there were already two other guests here with the nuns eating pranzo when we arrived. There was a great spirit around the dinner table to which I think we added, holiday joy and familial bonds, old friendships and what by now feels like a coming home to me. I am leading a retreat here on music and meditation with my dear friend the amazing singer Gitanjali (Lori) Rivera from California starting Monday evening, but I came up early with the others because our young brother Adaikalam, who lives with us in Rome, is getting ordained deacon tomorrow at Camaldoli itself, 10k from here. And that was just too good an excuse to come up, get to see the brothers there at the mother house and have a little Christmas break with the sisters here before starting to work.

 

I’ve been wanting to record the events of these last months before they slip completely out of my short-term memory. All told I have been in eight countries in the last two months.

 

The first stop was Belgium. My destination was the Benedictine monastery at Maredsous, famous because it was the home of Columba Marmion, the well-known Irish priest who became a monk and future abbot of Maredsous and one of the most influential Catholic authors of the early 20^th century. Maybe it was because it was dark and blustery weather, but the whole place was quite imposing, huge and shadowy, in that neo-Gothic style that was so popular in the 19^th century monastic revival. And of course not at all without its own classic beauty and majesty. The reason for my being there was for the annual meeting of AIM, Alliance Inter Monasteres (or Alliance for International Monasticism in English), a post-conciliar organization that promotes and aids monastic foundations in developing countries. Our organization DIMMID was originally a sub-committee of AIM, and the head of AIM and the head of DIMMID serve on each other’s board ex-ufficio. This was my first time meeting the board in person. Last year I presented my report online. Abbot Bernard Laurent, the president of AIM and former abbot of Maredsous itself), was appointed at the same time as I was and is coming down to Rome in January for my first international board meeting. I was glad to meet the other members of the board, along them the abbot presidents of both branches of Cistercians, and two nuns which I know from other encounters.

 

In addition, I got to meet two storied elders. One was Fr. Pierre de Bethune, OSB, who was the very first Secretary General of DIMMID. He was prior of his community, St. Andrè de Clerlande, also in Belgium, for 16 years, and has also been steeped in the Zen tradition for decades now. He has two of his books in English on the theme “interreligious hospitality.”  We had exchanged a few emails, but this was to be our first face-to-face encounter. At 92 years old, it was a big deal for him to drive himself over the Maredsous, and as I arrived he was waiting for me, and we were able to spend a good hour or so together. He still has a lot to say and obviously rich wisdom to offer. When I took over the job Fr. William had urged me to try to get to meet Pierre while there was still a chance. I was on my way to France after that to meet the French speaking contingent of DIMMID, and since Pierre did not feel well enough to make the trip, he loaded me down with materials to take for the meeting there. The other person at the meeting who I did not expect was Fr. Armand Veilleux, OCSO. I was sitting next to Abbot Brendan of Belmont Abbey, England and suddenly I noticed a white beared Trappist across the table, and I whispered to him, “Is that Armand Veilleux?” And when he nodded yes, I said, “That’s like meeting God.” He is Canadian by birth, a well-known author, served as abbot of Holy Spirit Monastery in Georgia and Scourmont Abbey in Chimay, Belgium, as well as assistant to the Abbot General of the OCSOs in the 1990s. It was in that latter role that he had the awful task of identifying the bodies of his friends, the monks of Our Lady of Atlas in Tibhirine, Algeria who were kidnapped and martyred in 1996 during the Algerian civil war. Fr. Armand had given them their annual retreat just a few weeks before. Armand has been with AIM since its inception in 1966 (!) and this was was to be Armando’s last meeting, so I was very fortunate. (I wound up getting to spend more time with him since he did come to the DIM meeting in France the next week.) It was such a blessing to be in the presence of both of these elder monks, to get their darshan, you might say. And they could not have been more gracious with me. I was to get two more elders of that rank in the next few weeks.

 

I somehow missed the memo about them changing the dates of that AIM meeting and wound up getting there a day late and staying a day longer, after everyone else had left, and with very few people around who spoke English! But that afforded me a day and a half of free time to walk and read and write. The monks could not have been more gracious, and the monastic liturgies were very nourishing, aesthetically beautiful in every way (which I know is a reputation that the French-influenced monks carry) including very solid creative original, and sometimes quite sophisticated music for their chanting.

 

My next stop was Jouarre, just east of Paris. Because my train was rather early out of Namur, about an hour away, on Monday morning, I got a hotel room there for the night on Sunday and got to explore that town a little by night. I had a very complicated train trip to Paris Gare du Nord, because my train from Namur broke down and I missed a connection, and then had no idea how to get my ticket for the local train after walking to Paris Gare de l’Est, which everyone seemed to think was going to be easy, but I somehow made it to Le Fertè-sous-Jouarre Monday evening, where I was met by the lovely Yann Vagneux, who by now feels like an old friend. Yann is a French priest of the Congregation of the Foreign Missionaries of Paris, an expert in Hinduism who has lived in Benares for many years, and also the author of several books. And everyone I know seems to know him. We had only met online until we met in person in Rome during the Nostra Aetate gathering at the Greg, but now he always greets me with “My dear Cyprian.” He ushered me over the DIM France meeting at the Benedictine women’s abbey Notre Dame de Jouarre.

 

There I must say I was greeted like a visiting celebrity. I had met several of the organizing members of DIM France online during one planning meeting and had also corresponded with them numerous times as we planned this gathering. Sr. Cristine was especially helpful. She had been the secretary for AIM for years besides her involvement in DIM and was the main mover and shaker of this gathering. She also speaks pretty good English. Armand was there again, as was Frere Benoit Billot of Saint Benoît Priory in Etoilles, just south of Paris. Frere Benoit, at the ripe old age of 92, has been one of the pillars of monastic interreligious dialogue in France, with a particular specialty in Zen Buddhism, having studied with the famous German Jesuit Willigis Jaeger and founded a school of the spiritual life for lay people called La Maison Tobie. He also has an impressive list of books authored, co-authored or edited. He and I had also corresponded quite a bit and I was anxious to meet and spend some time with him. We got to do with the gracious aid of an American woman who was there for the meeting who married a Frenchman and has been living in France for decades serving as translator. Now in my late 60s I find it even more moving to meet the folks of a generation ahead of me and hear about all they went through as pioneers in the field. It’s the interreligious equivalent of getting to work with liturgists like Lucien Deiss and meet Joseph Gelineau. There were also two younger monks there from En Calcat in southern France, both of whom spoke pretty good English––how I was regretting I did not retain the French I studied for five years (over 40 years ago, alas). I had asked Br Matteo from Bose to join me for the meeting both for his capacity in French and just to make the connection between the French and the Italians, the latter of whom I think could be a real inspiration for the former. Actually there was a lot in common between that meeting and the one held in northern Italy because the folks from the other traditions––Buddhist, Hindu and Muslim––really felt as if they were also a part of DIM. This is a great model moving forward. There was a lot of lively conversation and friendship in this group as well and I felt right at home with them even if I didn’t follow the conversation always. We ended that meeting with some solid steps forward and having elected one of the monks from En Calcat as the new group leader. He (Colomba) and Nathaël, the other monk from En Calcat, Matteo and I went out for a walk together one afternoon, not realizing how small the village was. We wound up not walking very far but sat in a little patisserie and shared a voluptuous chocolate dessert and a lively conversation. 

In addition, I must add that the music there was extraordinary too. (This is now my positive prejudice about French Benedictines.) Much of the chanting was done in two and three-part harmony, I would estimate about 40 nuns in all, in a beautiful simple church.

I never finished this but I am working on the last part now (if anyone is interested) and hope to post before Epiphany...