Look Towards the Manger and Be Radiant With Joy

 

Look Towards Him And Be Radiant With Joy

Poetic Reflection based on Colossians 1:15-20 and Psalm 34:6

By Maximilian P. Buonocore, OSB

Through the eyes of faith, I look at the child in the manger and I see, the one who is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. Through the eyes of hope, I gaze at the infant in swaddling clothes, and I behold, the one in whom were created all things in heaven and on earth. Through the eyes of love, I look upon the babe that the Blessed Mother holds at her breast, and I see, the one who is before all things, and in whom all things hold together. By the light of faith, I see in that newborn, the one who is the head of the body, the church. By the power of hope, I behold in that little one lying in a manger, the one who is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead. And by the power of love, I come and bow down at that manger altar, and I worship that infant, in whom all the fullness of deity is pleased to dwell, and through whom the Father is to reconcile all things for himself, making peace by the blood of his cross.

For the child born today is the bearer of joy.
He is born from eternal love, this little boy.
Look towards him, and be radiant with joy.
Look into his eyes and see the light
The light of a Father’s gaze so bright
Who looks down to earth from heav’nly height.

Infinite and eternal is his gaze of love.
The generating light that begets a Son above
Who in turn generates with the Spirit a Dove
Generates us children as thanksgiving gifts
To the Father in heav’n whose wisdom lifts
Each one of us heav’nward upon the Swifts.
This infant in the manger a heav’n descent
In bodily form a divine advent
To regenerate man by God’s assent.
For the child born today is the bearer of joy.
He is born from eternal love, this little boy.
Look upon him, and be radiant with joy.

I followed the star to that manger bed
By the guiding light of wisdom led
I fall prostrate before like one who’s dead.
How could this be: A birth? A death?
A dying that yields the Spirit’s breath:
Death gives life, a child divine breath?
In an infant I found a love so great
Love surpassing life in this earthly state
Yes, dead am I before love so great.
I carry this death within my soul
A death, a longing with an endless goal
Unfathomably drawn to a celestial pole.
For the child in that manger is the bearer of joy.
He is born from eternal love, this little boy.
Look towards him, and be radiant with joy.

A royal son, anointed by chrism of myst’ry
An heir of humanity, a birth of divinity
Reborn in this birth, I find a vict’ry.
Look into the eyes of this babe agaze
Look into the eyes of heav’n ablaze
Look into the eyes of endless days.
A child is born the Angels sing
Glory in the highest with outstretched wing
Glad tidings to humankind they bring.
For the child in that manger is the bearer of joy.
He is born from eternal love, this little boy.
Look towards him, and be radiant with joy.

All for Jesus,

Fr. Max

The Manger of My Heart

 

Jesus Desires to be Born in the Lowly Stable of a Humble Soul

Christmas Reflection by Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

It was the night of the Christmas Nativity play. Johnny went to the auditions a few weeks earlier feeling very confident that he would get cast for the part of Joseph. He felt that he was best qualified for that major part. He was therefore very upset when he was, instead, cast for the minor part of the innkeeper. He was still feeling annoyed when the play started, and, as a result, when the time came, he didn’t remember his one line. When Joseph and Mary arrived at the inn and asked him, “Is there room in the inn?” Little Johnny, the innkeeper, quickly replied, “Sure, come on in!” The boy playing Joseph, knowing that he and Mary were not supposed to stay in the inn, but were supposed to end up in the stable, thinking quickly, looked around and said, "Nah. This place is a dump. I'd rather stay in the stable." Then turning to Mary he said, “Come on, Mary, let’s go to the stable.” Our soul can be like the inn where Jesus prefers not to stay. Jesus prefers not to stay in the inn adorned with vainglorious decorations of selfish ambition, and the comfortable bed of self-serving contentment; with a bar where one can consume the spirits of jealousy, envy and anger, then go to one’s room of isolating grudges to rest on one’s pillow of self-satisfying judgment and self-justification. Jesus prefers to stay in a soul that is a humble stable, in the manger of a pure heart.

THE MANGER OF MY HEART
Poem by Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

Behold, a star with heav’nly light
Shines forth from deep within me.
It beckons me to Bethlehem
The House of God within my soul;
To the Place of Incarnation
To the Place of Divine Begetting Love,
The Place of Creative Love, of Charity.

It’s light, now faint, now bright:
The goal of this alluring light,
The path to where it beckons,
Mountains and hills confront, oppose,
Rough streets and winding roads
Countervailing valleys to traverse.
Mountains of pride, hills of greed,
Valleys of sadness and of grief,
Anxiety winds the roads
Made rough by anger and offense.

But I travel defiantly on that opposing path
Eyes fixed in contemplation of alluring light,
The paternal light of Divine Remembrance,
Drawing me with Divine Compassion
An Infant to embrace: a King.
Alas, with lively prayer, I come!
Before the throne of a King I stand
With gold of humble self-sacrifice,
With the frankincense of praise,
Offering myrrh of deep compassion
Before a Newborn King’s throne:
The manger of my heart.

Behold!
Even those interior mountains and hills,
Once opposing, dance with joy!
Valleys of mourning and sadness shout
Their rejoicing at the sight,
Exulting in the presence,
In the Bethlehem, in the stable of my soul
The place where Incarnational Light
Conceives, gives birth, and rests a child,
A King, in the manger of my heart.

Come, O my dear Father, place
In the humble stable of my soul
The dearest infant Jesus
In the manger of my heart.
My Father looks forth from heaven
'Tis a wondrous sight to see,
He gazes upon his work of art
In the humble stable of my soul:
The place where baby Jesus rests,
The manger of my heart.

Come, O Holy Spirit, plant
The seed of life within my soul;
Come, O Holy Spirit, plant
The seed of love within my heart.
A flame descends from heaven
'Tis a wondrous vision to behold,
A seed of fire: a spark
In the humble seedground of my soul,
And a Mystical Child is conceived
In the womb of my heart:
The Child of Life, the Child of Love,
Infant wisdom: faith,
Filial reverence and expectation: hope,
Charity: the olive branch of divine love!

Yes, dear infant Jesus, rest
In the manger of my heart.
My soul is not a palace, blest
With gold and precious art.
It is a humble stable where
The beasts of burden dwell;
The beasts that bear the yoke so dear
Of meekness and humility, and till
The soil of the spirit for
The seeds of holiness to plant
On fertile ground so rich in grace
For Jesus’ love to grow, and grant
Fruit of kindness and of charity
To all the poor and needy, who
Are naked and cold, hungry and thirsty
Like you, O infant Jesus, too.
So feed ye beasts of burden
From the manger of my heart,
'Tis filled with grain of life, and in
Its depths the living waters start
To flow to life eternal;
For there lies the Child of Life
In the manger of my heart.

A star shines forth from heaven
'Tis a wondrous sight to see.
It shines upon this work of art.
The place where baby Jesus rests
In the humble stable of my soul:
The manger of my heart!

All for Jesus,

Fr. Max

Being Members of a Royal Family

 

We Are Members of the Extended Family of Christ

Reflection by Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

On this day when we commemorate the Holy Family of Christ, I think a lot about family life. I think of the monastic community as a family. It does function like a family - not always like a holy family - but always like a family. Let me give you an example of family life in the monastery at Newark Abbey. Decorating the church columns requires that I get on a high ladder. When I do that job, I like to have someone to assist me to do, among other things, hold the ladder so that it doesn’t slip and I do not lose my balance and fall as I am trying to secure the swags and bows. I was asking to see if anyone was available to assist me. Everyone had something to do, and making their apologies, told me that they were not available. Well, I wasn’t going to settle for no. So I said, for others to hear,” That’s OK, I’ll just work on that high ladder by myself. I’m not worried. If I fall, I am ready to meet the Lord.” Fr. Ed quickly said, “No! Don’t do that. That would ruin my weekend.” Then Br. Bruno spoke up, “I will come to help you. Heaven forbid you should ruin anyone’s weekend.” Well, I got the help I needed and I didn’t ruin anyone’s weekend. That is family life: your confreres are always ready to help you in time of need; and, if they're not, it is easy to persuade them to help you. It is about fraternal charity, even if it is imperfect charity.

I remember there was a period when a certain confrere would say, referring to our monastic community, “This is not a family. This is hard work.” I explained to him that he was half right. It is indeed hard work when it comes to loving one another. But the idea that we are a family is not only not excluded by the fact of the hard work, but being a family is fostered by the hard work. Our monastic community is indeed a family. That is why it is hard work. You’ve heard the old adage: a family that prays together stays together. Well, I would assert that the better adage would be: a family that prays and works together stays together. Ora et labora is in the DNA of a family in Christ, because the DNA of a family in Christ is love. Ora et lobora - prayer and service - is the double helix of coding for divine life.

Christ has two immediate families that he belongs to: his divine immediate family which is the Holy Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – and his human immediate family – Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. But he also has a vast extended family. Through the work of the Holy Spirit, brought to fruition in the Incarnation of the Son of God, the Lord’s extended family is engendered, and continues to grow. His human extended family is the Body of Christ. As members of the Body of Christ, as People of God and children of the Heavenly Father, we are members of Christ’s Holy Family – his extended holy family. Yes, we are members of the Holy Family: “My mother and my brothers and my sisters are those who hear the word of God and do it.” That is how we should see ourselves, whether with regard to our family of origin or our monastic family - these families, to which we belong, are an extension of the Holy Family of Christ. It is not just a question of following the example of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, but of allowing the reality of our kinship with them to govern our attitudes and behaviors as we interact with our sisters or brothers in Christ in our monastic or home family. The blood of kinship in us is the Spirit of Christ which is transmitted through his very blood that was shed on the Cross and which we receive daily at the Holy Eucharist.

Being a true member of the extended Holy Family of Christ means being able to respond to the Lord’s presence in my brothers and sisters with the self-sacrificial passion of love. Just like Mary, whose heart was pierced by the sword of immolating self-sacrificial love, and Joseph, who, after hearing the voice of the angel tell him about the divine origin of the child in Mary’s womb, took Mary under his roof, so I too must, hearing the voice of the Spirit, deep within me, telling me of the divine origin of that person who has hurt me, or annoys me, or challenges my patience - being, as she or he is, created in the image and likeness of God - fear not to take that sister or brother into the shelter of my heart, under the roof of compassion. I have to listen to the voice of the spirit of Christ in me, the voice of the angel of the Lord, saying to my heart that that person who has hurt me is a child of God. That person has within him or her Christ, who comes to me as a challenge to my growth in patience and charity. This is how I live as a true member of the Holy Family of Christ : always ready to meet the Lord when he comes to me in my brothers and sisters; ready to meet him when he comes to me through them with consolation and enjoyment, but also when he comes to me through them with challenges that may make me fume and challenge my growth in patience and charity. It is then that I, like Joseph did, take the mother of the Lord under the roof of my heart for her to bear Jesus in my soul as mercy and compassion for that child of God who is most challenging to me.

We should meditate upon this very carefully. A break in the bond of friendship between two members of the community constitutes a rupture in the Holy Family of Christ here on earth. Every division, every fracture, that happens in relationships, whether in the monastic community or in a home community of family of origin - whether it be because of anger, or envy, or jealousy, or unwillingness to forgive a hurt - constitutes a division or fracture in the extended Holy Family of Christ. We are called to live as true members of the household of Christ, with the very blood of Christ pulsing from the heart and coursing through our spiritual veins; with the very Spirit of Christ - the breath of love - breathing divine life through the spiritual lungs of our soul, making us sons and daughters of God in a divine family, living by the life-force of faith, hope and love. This is how we are called to live: Like Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, as members of the Holy Family of the Lord: A family of kings and priests - a royal Holy Family.

All for Jesus,

Fr. Max

Following the Star of Faith

 

Faith is taking a stab in the dark

Reflection by Fr. Maximilian Buonocore, OSB

"If a man wishes to be sure of the road he treads on, he must close his eyes and walk in the dark." (St. John of the Cross) Faith, I believe, is the ability to navigate through the darkness of mystery. As St. John of the Cross makes clear in his mystical works, the light of God is dark to our soul in its present state in our earthly life. His light is always there ready to prompt our hearts in the right direction on the spiritual journey to God, but we do not - at least not most of the time - experience divine light in the same way that we experience created light, that is, as an energy that stimulates the clear vision, not only of the path that we must follow to arrive at the object that we are pursuing, but also of the object itself that we are pursuing. This is not how the divine light in us works. The stimulus action occurs at a deeper place within us and its action is most of the time imperceptible and mysterious. I would like to offer an example of how this manifests itself. I have a student who has declared that he does not believe in God. One day, however, I got word that a young man, whom I was preparing, along with his fiance, for marriage, which was planned to take place in about 9 months, was in the hospital in critical condition because of COVID-19. I asked my students to pray for him. The student who doesn’t believe in God spoke up and said, “Fr. Max, I don’t believe in God, but I will pray for your friend just in case.” This sounds rather ironic. But I would say that this is actually a sign of divine light working mysteriously within that boy. He was willing to take a stab in the dark. I think that the first movements of faith are usually like taking a stab in the dark, like navigating through darkness, through the dark and often stormy seas of adversity and hardship toward the unknown. Although we cannot perceive it, the divine presence, the divine light, is always there with its mysterious impulse goading us toward the good, toward himself. It is like the star which, from afar, beckons, allures the Magi to venture through the unknown - to journey through darkness and rough ways toward a place unknown, in search of an unknown king. It is the distant light that helps us to navigate through spiritual darkness.

But navigating through spiritual darkness does not mean that we are free to ignore or disengage with the world around us. No, in fact, the very action of navigating the spiritual darkness will heighten our sensitivity to what is going on around us, especially our awareness of the needs of those around us who are suffering and in want. As a little example: Because of my OCD I can get very worked up when the students drop scraps of paper or other items on the floor. One day as I was walking toward the back of the class to help a student, I noticed scraps of paper and some food crumbs that had been dropped by students on the floor. I stopped and, with a tone of annoyance, said, “It really annoys me when I look and see all these scraps of paper food crumbs, and other items strewn about on the floor.” One of the students spoke up and said, “Fr. Max, just don’t look at it and then you won’t get annoyed.” What he said actually characterizes a defensive position that I am strongly tempted to take with regard to problems, issues and sinfulness in and around me. I am strongly tempted to just ignore them. But if I am being truly prayerful and truly spiritual, I will not only not be ignoring them, but my awareness of them will be even more heightened. The difference is that, if I am experienced at navigating the darkness of mystery spiritually, I will be able to engage more effectively, with more positive effect, responding with patience and compassion, as I navigate through the darkness of ignorance and sin in the challenging situations of daily life.

All for Jesus,

Fr. Max