The Celtic Monk

I opened my web browser the other morning to find a top story that originated in the financial section of Yahoo, entitled: "HOW TO HIDE FROM YOUR FRIENDS ON FACEBOOK." Where do I begin? The late night folks could have had a field day with this and perhaps they did; they begin their monologue way past my bedtime. I don't know if I'm more annoyed by the assumption that people as a matter of course "hide from their friends" or that anyone takes seriously the unfortunate moniker "friend" for the folks linked together on Facebook. Sorry to my 79 friends. We are among the fortunate if we have one or two good friends. We are blessed if we have a few. We are special if over a lifetime we need two hands to count them. When people fall within the parameters Yahoo cited, needing to be hidden from, they aren't friends, DUH. Perhaps we could pursue a class-action lawsuit against FACEBOOK for abuse of the word: friend. Our grounds could be that it'

There's a poem by Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven which was often quoted by Fr. Matthew in his talks after Compline at Gethsemani. It opens with these haunting lines: "down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind; and in the mist of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter. Up vistaed hopes I sped; And shot, precipitated, adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears, from those strong Feet that followed, followed after." The poem came to mind early this morning, as this past week I've been 'hounded' by thoughts of wisdom. What is it? Who has it? How does one aquire it? How does one recognize it? One thing fairly clear is that wisdom is not conterminous with knowledge or age - a mistaken idea held by many. Living long enough does not make someone wise. Neither does amassing an alphabet soup after your name. Political savvy is sometimes confused with wisdom. Most

It’s Sunday morning and I went to church with Jesus, just the two of us. I walked the 20 minutes of the wooded path following the signs carefully placed to let travelers know where He is. As always I first passed St. Francis, then Mary Jesus’ mother along the way. Finally in the clearing I saw the way to where the three disciples were sleeping and then just beyond them, there He was. Since I had my GPS phone I marked the location of where I found Him. Now I can send His co-ordinates to anyone who’s interested. And since I knew it would sound like a far-fetched tale to anyone who hasn’t also gone to see Him, I took pictures. One of Jesus Himself at prayer. One of the rock I sat on for worship. For music a male and female cardinal did a duet. They also added a visual reminder that the Spirit was near as they flashed their red-orange feathers amidst the 100 different greens of the forest. The sermon was quite good. I told Jesus I didn’t have anything prepared for worship and He t

SUNRISE OVER THE BELL TOWER AT THE ABBEY OF GETHSEMANE I'm aware that my last post "THE CONSOLATION OF GOD" was both vague and heavy - and I thank those of you who quickly and compassionately responded through emails, phone calls and visits. What a blessing to have love reflected back into one's life. What a blessing to sense the Spirit of God speaking through friends who I admire, trust and love. Just this week a colleague [who isn't on the blog roll] phoned me saying he just heard the news via the Presbytery Grapevine that my kids and grandkids were moving from down the street to 1,500 miles away. Yes, its true. But next he said the most remarkable thing. He said "I've called to cry with you" and he meant it. While the heaviness of their leaving does grip me, I've been blessed to allow my tears to come and to go. Pondering this new reality, I'm reminded of the little scripture phrase that says it this way: "It came to pass." I