If a man had no more to do with God than to be thankful, that would suffice (Meister Eckhart, the 14th-century Dominican preacher and mystic, Sermon 34.)
For several years, at the request of a number of readers, I wanted to collect and update various articles and lectures I have given on Meister Eckhart into a single volume as a follow-up to my older introductory work, Eckhart’s Way (1986), which itself was published in a revised edition by Veritas Publications, Dublin, in 2009. The collection, Meister Eckhart: Master of Mystics was published by Continuum (now Bloomsbury) in 2011.
If a man had no more to do with God than to be thankful, that would suffice (Meister Eckhart, the 14th-century Dominican preacher and mystic, Sermon 34.)
Conventionally, money can’t buy happiness. Today, apparently, it can buy elections. And now the hard part begins. Let the buyer beware…
Today the heads of state and representatives from the European nations who entered into the bloodiest conflict the world had ever seen one hundred years ago on this date gathered in Liege and other sites of early conflict to mark the occasion with ceremonies, speeches, and tributes. World War I was alleged to be the war to end war. Many expected the fighting to be over before Christmas. It would drag on in the trenches, forests, and towns of Europe and, indeed, the world, for four long, terrible years. Millions died as mechanized, industrial warfare transformed the scope and horrors of battle. It was the end of the old order but, equally or even more tragically, the herald of the new.
A century later, the world should be wiser, especially after a second World War which now seems more like a continuation of the first, and a Cold War that was its product, one that bankrupted nations morally and economically and brought the world to the edge of nuclear destruction. But as we scan the horizons of conflict from Syria, Gaza, and Iraq to Ukraine, Libya, central Africa, and the fraught zones of East Asia, it may be questioned if we have learned anything at all.
And yet, for all that, people still yearn for peace and those who work for peace shall be called the children of God.
…and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. [Isaiah 2:4]
In Ulster the marching season is officially over, and this summer it came off more peacefully than most. But on Saturday the largest parade of them all took place in Belfast – the Gay Pride parade. Or more accurately the LGBT Pride Parade, which is in fact the largest of such events in the British Isles. There was another in Stockholm, which was also huge and well-supported, but… Belfast? It’s hopefully reassuring that there can be a parade in that divided city that doesn’t involve shouting, Molotov cocktails, burning cars, tear gas, and rubber bullets.
Granted, a few staunch members of the Righteous Elect displayed banners condemning all and sundry to the fires of hell. One banner-bearing protester described the whole business as an abomination. That parades which extol bigotry, religious intolerance, cultural prejudice, and political suppression might be less than virtuous somehow escaped his notice.
But such expostulations were few and the raucous, colorful march was mercifully free of violence and vituperation. Unionists and Republicans appear to have more in common than one might suspect.
By tradition of a couple of centuries’ standing as such things go, mid-July marks the beginning of the “marching season” in Northern Ireland, when members of the Protestant Orange Order don sashes and bowlers and parade up and down the streets of Belfast, Bangor, Portadown, and other sites where by custom they flaunt their historical dominance over the Catholic population. Catholics (also known as Republicans, though the two are not coterminous) have often responded with bricks, bottles, Molotov cocktails, riot and mayhem. The exchange has become something of a national sport or at least evokes a sense of identity. It persists.
This summer, however, as the World Cup saga fades from the headlines and Europe gears up for more commemorations of the beginning of the catastrophic First World War, the marching season has been strangely peaceful. At least so far. There is plenty of violence elsewhere, however. And with the violence, recrimination. The blame game resumes.
Comrade Putin is wagging the finger of shame at Ukraine for causing the missile attack that brought down Malaysia Airlines Flight 17… Ukraine is blaming the Russians. Israeli politicians are blaming Hamas for the slaughter of Palestinian children, women, and elderly non-combatants for the lethal air assaults and ground invasion of Gaza… Hamas is blaming Israelis for provoking them to shoot rockets, mostly harmlessly, into southern Israel… In Iraq, Syria, and South Sudan, Christians, tribal minorities, and non-combatants are made to suffer by means of merciless slaughter and expulsions, voluntary and non-voluntary that have made the summer a record-breaker for political refugees, as if somehow it was their fault.
Blaming victims for atrocities is probably as old as humankind’s propensity for territorial expansion, ethnic superiority, and religious intolerance. At some point, can’t someone, somewhere stop the insanity?
Maybe it’s something about the family name, but rancher Cliven Bundy (no apparent relation to Ted) has succeeded in mesmerizing the nation (momentarily) with redneck bravado and now racism in his standoff with the federal government over unpaid rents for grazing his cattle on public (i.e., U.S. Government) land. Sean Hannity’s riposte to Jon Stewart about Bundy’s freeloading on government range was revealing – “cows eating free government grass” — sounds like food stamps for cattle to me. A pity, then, that Hannity doesn’t believe in food stamps for the poor. Poor people, that is. People that were allegedly, in Cliven Bundy’s not-so-well-chosen words, “better off as slaves picking cotton.”
The cattle stampede of formerly-ardent Republican fans away from Bundy is all-too-revealing. Even Hannity found Bundy’s remarks “beyond despicable… beyond ignorant.” Not the first time you bet on the wrong horse, Sean. Or in this case, jackass.
When I bring up the subject of plutocracy in my course on Plato’s Republic, most of my students seem to think I am talking about a dog. I might as well be, because the steady advance of the United States toward plutocracy appears to be proceeding invisibly and, well, doggedly. One way to look at it, as Plato did, is that when the outcome of national and regional elections are decided by a few extremely rich citizens, you have both an oligarchy and a plutocracy. “Pluto” is not merely the name of the Walt Disney dog character, or of the planetoid that was so rudely demoted because it was so small, or of the old Greek god. It means “wealth.”
I noticed this week that the media turned their eager attention to a fellow named Sheldon Adelson, a vastly wealthy Las Vegas casino-magnate who it appears is going to call the shots regarding the Republican Party nomination and perhaps decisively influence the outcome of the general election by pouring hundreds of millions of dollars into the war chests of his favored candidates. The Koch Brothers, Richard Vigurie, and a number of other members of the .01 percent club will also be on board that train. So far, Warren Buffett and Bill Gates have not shown their hand and may not. But the Democrats will not be lacking for support from the mega-rich. Needless to point out, perhaps, the citizens of this fair republic never elected any of these plutocrats to any state or federal office. It’s simpler to buy one than run for one. Or many.
With the infamous “Citizens United” decision, the United States Supreme court pretty well opened the flood gates of big money from corporations, while Pacs and Super-pacs favoring both sides of The Aisle have been a feature of American politics for a generation now. But the recent elevation of a tiny minority of multi-billionaires to the ranks of political king-makers is something of a novelty. That they have made the ascent so effortlessly is disturbing, to say the least. It could well sound the death knell of participatory, that is, truly popular, democracy.
In a mid-term election, voter turnout tends to be low, as this month’s primaries and local elections demonstrated all too well. Opening the electoral process to seventeen-year-olds only seems to have meant that there is now an ever larger percentage of non-voting citizens out there. When November rolls around at last, the fallout will be evident.
Politicians love to end speeches by reciting “God bless America.” Perhaps they should amend that to “God help America!” After all, we still put “In God We Trust” on our pennies, dimes, and bank notes (all of them: has anyone noticed recently?). But as that old curmudgeon Mark Twain observed about a century ago, it’s a lie. “If this nation ever trusted in God, that time has gone by; for nearly half a century its entire trust has been in the Republican Party and the dollar — mainly the dollar.”
It seems that the price has gone up substantially, and I’m sure Mark Twain would understand. Increasingly, to all appearances, the purpose of big money in US politics is to assure the .01 percenters that government of the rich, by the rich, and for the rich shall not perish from the earth. But maybe it should.
Diplomacy, like politics, may be the art of compromise, but so far it has not sped the Obama-Kerry plow very much in the Ukrainian crisis. Apart from some hand-wringing in London, Madrid, and Paris, not much is being done to persuade the Russian army to back off.
Angela Merkel has proved ‘reluctant’ to impose economic sanctions on Russia, as Germany and Russia have “deep economic ties.” As Harry S Truman might have said, “The buck stops her.” So far the other European states, including those that border Ukraine, are also showing themselves to be equally timorous in the face of naked aggression near their vulnerable frontiers.
For those with a sense of history, the whole business is starting to look a lot like the Sudetenland déjà vu all over again… With the leading nations of the EU playing the Neville Chamberlain role, Mr. Putin may get away with his land grab after all.
Sen. John McCain seems to be hell-bent for war, but that’s hardly likely. Sadly, neither are the economic sanctions that might move Putin to pull back. At least the United States has offered $1 billion and the EU 14 billion euro to Ukraine to help ease its economic plight. But that’s a long way from resolving the crisis.
So President Obama and John Kerry find themselves between the rock of Merkel and the hard place of McCain, trying to work out a negotiated solution. I suppose the job is not made easier with our troops still in Afghanistan, Guantanamo, Okinawa and other areas where hospitality has long since turned to animosity. There’s also Syria and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict to deal with. It’s not easy being a superpower. But people seem to expect us to do things, even if it is hardly any of our business.
The Bishops of the United States declared January 22nd a Day of Prayer for the Legal Protection of Unborn Children. It was, of course, the anniversary of Roe vs. Wade, the Supreme Court decision that has so far survived every effort to reverse it despite the largely empty promises of two generations of politicians.
I was struck initially by the euphemism of the title. All children are unborn at some point in their existence. The phrase refers rather obliquely to conceived embryos and fetuses that we call children by anticipation but who are in danger of death, presumably by abortion. But most conceptions, about 75%, are in fact prematurely terminated by miscarriage. About 30% of all pregnancies and 15 – 20% of confirmed pregnancies also end in miscarriage. Some babies are still born, and others die soon after birth. Surely they, too, must be included. Others die by accident, some by the death of the mother. Are these little creatures to be excluded from our concern? Hardly. But that, of course, is not the point. It’s about abortion, and specifically about Roe v. Wade.
Time has shown that the way to prevent abortion is not to criminalize those who resort to this awful procedure but to remove as far as possible the causes that lead to abortion, and not only abortion, but to all forms of harm that confront infants in the womb. Still paramount among them are poverty and ignorance and the remedy is at hand – social justice and education. But recent research has shown that while abortion rates have actually been declining along the truly poverty-stricken, they have been increasing along those who are relatively well off and well educated. Again, economics seems to be a major factor, but it involves a different approach to economics.
According to one report, “Abortion is most strongly associated with the fault-line of socio-economic class, across three key dimensions—income, education, and occupation. Abortion rates track closely with the wealth and affluence of states: the richer the location, the higher the rate of abortions. ‘The abortion rate is positively associated with the share of adults who are college graduates …. It’s also positively associated with the share of the workforce doing professional, technical, and creative work. … And abortion rates are negatively associated with the share of the labor force in blue-collar working class jobs…”
Nevertheless, it remains the case that “Today, … 42 percent of women having abortions live under the poverty line, and another 27 percent have incomes within 200 percent of the poverty line. Taken together, 69 percent of women who have abortions are economically disadvantaged.”
The issue, as Pope Francis has reminded is, is not simply abortion, but the devastation worked upon women especially who are constrained to live in poverty. The other face is that of those who are social and materially well-off but resort to abortion because of an unplanned or unwanted pregnancy. And that is a spiritual issue. Here, legislation is not the remedy. Conversion of heart is.
In the meantime, our focus should not be so narrow as to exclude from concern the life and welfare of living infants, of children who are deprived of adequate nutrition, health care, shelter, and the possibility of education. “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs,” Jesus said [Mt 19:14]. I think he meant all of them.
 Richard Florida, “The Geography of Abortion,” The Atlantic Cities. http://www.theatlanticcities.com/politics/2012/06/geography-abortion/1711/
1 Thess 5:16-24
Until about forty years ago, this was called Gaudete Sunday, from the first word in today’s entrance verse from St. Paul’s letter to Philippians: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice! The Lord is near” [Phil 4:4-5]. His words are echoed in the beginning of the second reading, “Rejoice always, never cease praying: render constant thanks.” [1 Thess. 5:16]. In the first reading Isaiah tells us: “I rejoice heartily in the Lord, in my God is the joy of my soul” [Is. 61: 10]. And the responsorial psalm comes from the wonderful hymn of Mary from St. Luke’s gospel: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior” [Luke 1: 46-47.
Traditionally, the violet vestments of Advent are also lightened today to rose, a forecast of the joyful feast that is just two weeks ahead. It is easy to see why the third Sunday got the nickname Gaudete. Call it “Rejoice Sunday.”
Even so, some people tend to get particularly grumpy, grouchy, and irritable at this time of year. Ebenezer Scrooge and the Grinch are very much with us. Of course there are always reasons to be unhappy and remorseful: war in the Middle East, the weather (though not here so much), injustice, racism, the flu, student loans and credit card debt — the price we pay for indulging in the commercial extravagance encouraged by what is now known as the shopping season. But there are much better reasons to be joyful. Let me suggest that one of them is not shopping till you drop.
The feast of Christmas itself certainly gives us cause to rejoice, especially those who are having a hard time of it. For if you recall, the first announcements of the coming of the Messiah were made to poor people — a young couple in a hick town in northern Galilee, some grimy shepherds, and if things haven’t changed a great deal, those wise men were academics rather than kings and weren’t paid enough. Teachers never are. But what brings joy is not power, fame, or wealth. Jesus made that clear enough. What do we celebrate, then? What gives us joy? To begin with, family.
In recent times some evangelical Christian churches, mainly the big warehouse churches, took a lot of heat because they decided not to have services on Christmas day, never mind the fact that they are having dozens of Advent services leading up to Christmas. But they felt that people (including the large staff at mega-churches) should be able to spend the day at home with their families. If that is how they wish to celebrate Christmas, what loss is that to us? Wish them well. And so far as I know, even Walmart will be closed on Christmas Day. It’s the only day of the year Walmart closes, so be strong.
As a Catholic, I rejoice in the gift of Advent itself. When I was a kid, we didn’t put up decorations or a tree until Christmas eve. Adevent was a time of waiting, of growing anticipation. We weren’t rich by any means, but decorating the tree became a party — we didn’t eat much, because it was also a day of fast and abstinence to prepare for the big feast the next day. But Mom always made tuna and pasta-shell salad, and that was enough. And we also knew that after Midnight Mass — and it was Midnight Mass in those days — brightly-wrapped gifts would mysteriously appear under the tree, and the next morning, we would open them before going to mass again, because my brother and I were altar boys and also in the choir. When we got older, we slipped gifts under the tree ourselves, just to give Santa a break. Socks and neckties and handerchiefs, plus a few toys when we were little.
Frankly, I think we celebrate Christmas too early now, and for the wrong reasons. We’re burned out on carols, cards, and decorations by December 17th — when, traditionally, the great “O Antiphons” were first sung — the origin of the hymn “O Come O Come Emmanuel.” We knew back when that Christmas was now just a week away! The excitement grew and grew. And the day itself was a magical time for celebrating and visiting and eating candy again.
In a word, Christmas was not developed to make the economy sound, or to pile up more unwanted and unneeded merchandise in the attic, basement, and garage. Christmas came into being way back in the fourth century to celebrate the gift of Jesus, our Savior, to recall the humble origins of our faith, to remind ourselves that the most needed and wanted presents anyone could want are peace on earth and good will among men and women who are not only God’s friends, but each other’s friends — God’s family, our true and real family. Not our customers or clients. It was a time to be especially generous to the poor, which is how the legend of St. Nicholas was born.
Getting back to Isaiah, who is so important in the liturgies of Advent, that old prophet understood not only why those who waited on God for help needed to be reminded to rejoice, but who they were likely to be. According to Luke’s Gospel, Jesus himself cited today’s reading from Isaiah 61 in his first sermon:
The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because God has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.
God has sent me to proclaim release to the captives,
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty those who are oppressed,
to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.
Then, putting down the scroll, he said, “today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
If we know who we really are, and what we truly need, our response to such a message can only be joy. And, like John the Baptist and Jesus, our task is to spread the good news especially to the poor, the sick, the marginalized, the world-weary, and prisoners of hopelessness. For if we don’t make the world a better and brighter place for those who really need it, we haven’t got the message yet.
We do it more by actions than by words, as both John the Baptist and St. Francis of Assisi told their followers. And believe me, that’s a lot harder.
May we grasp their message, and especially that of Jesus so that our Christmas – and everyone’s — may be truly joyful!
Is 40, 1-5, 9-11
2 Pt 3:8-14
Several years ago, I noticed that Advent was the first part of the word “adventure.” Something, I thought, worth pondering. Last week, I found myself pondering the hazardous adventure of Christmas shopping, which is a very strange kind of event when you stop to think about it. Physical combat doesn’t seem to be as common among Christmas shoppers today as it was a few years ago, but it still happens. Then there’s the struggle to see who in the neighborhood can get the most lights up on the trees and bushes and eaves and railings. There’s even a TV reality series about the competition. Not that it has much to do with the birth of the Messiah. The main thing still seems to be shopping.
A different kind of adventure is offered us in the readings for this second Sunday of Advent, which center on the power of repentance and forgiveness, the theme linking the three beautiful texts from today’s liturgy of the Word.
In the first reading, we encounter the passage from the fortieth chapter of Isaiah, perhaps most familiar to us in the King James version, which was so beautifully set to music by Handel at the beginning of the Messiah. What we hear these days is still powerful and slightly more accurate:
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her tribulation is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins [Isaiah 40: 2].
The Hebrew word for “pardon” here is ratsah, which basically means to be pleased with someone, especially because they have satisfied a debt, that they are reconciled, and therefore favored. It also means “pardon” and “please” as when we beg someone’s forgiveness for an offense or even ask for help, por favor. Here, it is God who is pardoning, but who had earlier doubled the penalty for Israel’s rejection of the path of justice. Now all that is past, wiped out, the slate cleaned, the debt paid.
The financial metaphor involved in the preaching of forgiveness carried over into Christian times. Jesus uses it frequently. We still echo it when we speak of our debts to God and each other. Bankers, lawyers, and mortgage companies still use the vocabulary of forgiveness when a loan is written off – except, it seems, for student loan debt, which is arguably the cruelest of all and constantly increasing. Debt forgiveness may not be the happiest simile, but it is a relevant one. When we injure one another by our sinfulness, we enter into debt, both to those we have hurt, and to God, who takes on the hurt of the world.
This has become terribly evident in the events of the last couple of weeks. Early on Saturday, two more hostages were killed for what are increasingly if wrongly identified as religious reasons. For days across this nation, protests filled the streets of major cities. We can understand when angry citizens protest manifest inequality and brutality in the execution of the law. Walter Brueggermann, the great scripture scholar, reminded us years ago that the role of the prophet is public lamentation in the face of injustice. But when a family finds it possible to speak of forgiveness in the face of the death of their loved ones at the hands of the police or foreign terrorists, I hear an echo of the Lord’s Prayer. I hear Jesus teaching.
Turning back to God, finding our way again, the great Advent theme and great adventure of our lives, requires a settling of debts. On God’s part, it is remarkably simple: forgiveness is there to be taken, abundantly, and completely. The only hitch is the condition that we be as willing to forgive each other, so that God’s forgiveness can take possession of us. Jesus never tires of repeating that our unwillingness to forgive each other limits the effectiveness of God’s forgiveness in our case.
It’s all too easy to forget the little commentary that follows the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew’s gospel:
…if you forgive people their transgressions, your heavenly Father also will forgive you; but if you do not forgive others their transgressions, neither will your Father forgive yours [Mat 6:14-15].
The second Letter of Peter seems to pass quickly over the theme of repentance and forgiveness in its enthusiasm for grand eschatological drama, but in fact, it lies at the heart of his message, too.
The Lord is not slow about his promise as some count slowness, but is forbearing toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance [2 Peter 3:9].
The word the author uses here is metanoia, one of the most important words the New Testament. It has nothing to do with punishment, penance, or penalty, like the Latin word paenitere. It means to change our way of thinking, to reverse a decision, to change direction. The richly metaphorical language of the Second Epistle of Peter evokes a certain feeling of dread anticipation, one not diminished by the imagery of the approach of a thief, a use so prevalent in New Testament texts that there is no reason to doubt that it came from Jesus himself. We have no time to waste. The need for a change of mind and heart is urgent now.
But it is the opening of the Gospel of Mark that returns us most forcefully to the theme of repentance and forgiveness, introducing the main character of the Advent readings, John the Baptizer, who came to prepare Christ’s way in the wilderness. John, too, preached metanoia. And of course, Jesus preached the same message, the urgent need for a whole new way of thinking, feeling, and acting grounded in love and expressed in forgiveness and reconciliation, which may be the greatest Christmas present of all.
Isaiah 63:16-17,19; 64:2-7
1 Cor 1 :3-9
I love this season – the Advent wreath, with its candles, the fragrance of fresh evergreen branches, the hymns, the readings, the expectant anticipation – the whole marvelous thing. However, it seems like every year Advent gets shorter. Christmas decorations took over the shelves at Menard’s right after Halloween. Santa Claus has already appeared in dozens of Thanksgiving Day Parades, and even at the university, the stable was set up last week with Mary and Joseph, the donkey, shepherds and wise men and the baby Jesus already in the manger. Our Christmas party is scheduled for Tuesday, right before the Lessons and Carols – the Episcopalian ceremony invented years back as an alternative to Midnight Mass. Archbishop Cupich blessed the manger scene down in Daley Plaza yesterday. What’s left to anticipate?
We’re just not very good at waiting any more. We want it all and we want it now. There’s hardly any surprise left, even when it comes to presents. Today children hand a list of expected toys to their parents, moving Santa Claus completely out of the picture. His letter bag has all but dried up. Kids now accompany their parents to big-box stores to pick out what they want or just order them on line. It seems like Advent, that beautiful, quiet, subdued period of joyful anticipation has been swallowed up at both ends by commercialism and the entertainment industry.
And in case it escaped notice, it isn’t even called Advent any more. It’s now the Holiday Season. Even Thanksgiving, once the favorite American holiday, is being engulfed by the rising tide of buying and selling. And fighting and shooting.
So here we are, increasingly out of the swirl of things, in the wake of Gray Thursday, Black Friday, Polka Dot Saturday, and Cyber Monday… trying to recall why we do what we do, we crazy Catholics.
Besides being the first Sunday of Advent, today is also World AIDS Day – as it has been since 1988 – a special day of remembrance and resolve. AIDS is still a world-wide affliction threatening millions of people here and especially in poorer nations – far worse than the Ebola virus.
Like cancer, the news that someone has the Ebola virus or AIDS is one of the most fright-ening things a person can ever hear. People often turn to God when they learn of it. Not in prayer, or in hope, but in disbelief and anger. I suppose we all have a tendency to hold God responsible when things go wrong. After all, isn’t God supposed to take care of us? Especially if we say our prayers and try to keep the Ten Commandments and put our envelopes in the collection every Sunday. We even hear Isaiah trying to lay the blame on God…. “Why do you let us wander from your ways and harden our hearts so that we fear you not?”
Whether it’s AIDS or an earthquake, a drive-by shooting or a terrorist attack, or even bad weather, we want protection and ultimately we want it from God. But if we think for a bit, the way Isaiah does, we begin to realize that the real question is not why God lets such awful things happen, but why and how we do. Something seems particularly wrong when senseless tragedies befall the innocent. But is it God’s fault that children are dying of hunger and disease in Syria and Iraq? Or that families are wiped out because of faulty gas pipes or improperly placed space heaters? Or terrorist attacks? Or AIDS?
If Isaiah seems to suggest that God lets such things happen because of our guilt, it is by way of saying that our thoughtless way of living brings such tragedies on ourselves and others, including the innocent –and if God does not prevent it, that is not because God wants it that way. St. Paul simply tells us that God will strengthen us to the end, so that we can be blameless on the day of Our Lord Jesus Christ. He does not say that God will miraculously protect us from the consequences of our sins—or even the sins of others. God will strengthen us. That is what he promises.
That is why it is important to pay attention to the theme that links today’s readings – waiting on God. Waiting for God. “No ear has ever heard,” Isaiah says, “no eye ever seen, any God but you doing such deeds for those who wait for you.” The word appears again in the second reading, from St. Paul’s letter to the Christian community at Corinth, that wild Greek port town. “He says, “the witness I bore to Christ has been so confirmed among you that you lack no spiritual gift as you wait for the revelation of our Lord Jesus.” The gospel from Mark does not mention waiting, but watching, although the connection here is important. What we do while we wait is watch. When I looked up the word “wait,” I found that it comes from an Old German root, wahta, which actually means “to watch.” Watching means to look for someone, keeping vigilant, staying awake, which is one of Mark’s favorite ways of saying “waiting.”
All the gospels warn us that unless we watch out, unless we stay awake, waiting for God, we will miss out. For Christ comes like a thief in the night. Jesus is telling us to be mindful, to pay attention to the presence of God hidden in the events of our daily lives, whether minor exasperations or major crises and real tragedies.
Such waiting demands patience, stamina, and courage. We may not tire of promoting justice, of making peace, of being merciful, of letting love guide our words and actions, no matter how long the wait. In Isaiah’s words, “Would that you might meet us doing right, that we were mindful of you in all our ways!”
And that is why we wait. And watch. As Advent begins, let us pray, then, that as we wait in joyful hope, we will also watch out for Christ in the person of the least and lowliest of those he calls his sisters and brothers.
Ezek 34:11-12, 15-17
1 Cor 15:20-26, 28
It’s that time of year when our thoughts turn liturgically to advent – that shrinking season that has been eroded into near non-significance by Halloween on one side and Christmas on the other, two commercial tsunamis with the shrinking island of Thanksgiving – or at least Black Friday — in the middle. Jesus once said that you can’t serve both God and mammon, and it looks like Mammon is winning.
In any case, next Sunday we begin that beautiful season of waiting and preparation for the coming of our Lord and Savior, and, in a slightly underplayed theme in scripture, our king. This Sunday we are celebrating the Feast of Christ the King. It’s something of a puzzle actually. It appeared in the Church’s calendar only in 1925, when Pope Pius XI instituted it as a rejoinder to what he correctly perceived as the advancing tide of secularism and atheism. But it didn’t do much for the kings of the earth themselves.
Only about a dozen real kings are still in evidence today. Plus two queens, a couple of Grand Dukes, a prince or two, and a smattering of sultans and the like who aren’t real kings although are still absolute monarchs. All the kings and queens, except one, King Mswati III of Swaziland, are constitutional monarchs, meaning they don’t have the kind of power and authority that once made the title feared and generally loathed. In the United States, France, Ireland, and other Republics, we simply got rid of kings one way or other. For democratic republicans or for that matter republican democrats, being called a king is not a compliment, which seems to be the bottom line in the recent display of annoyance expressed by Mr. Boehner and President Obama.
Still, even in the United States, we have a kind of nostalgic admiration for what might be called the true king, as seen in the popularity of stories and films such as The Lord of the Rings and King Arthur. We have fond memories of the Kennedy administration’s Camelot image, an echo of the affection we have for Arthur. These stories tend to turn on the quest for the true king, the real king, who will restore the rule of justice, love, and peace that false kings and queens have squelched. There’s a little of that in Game of Thrones, but not much. In that, as in the actual history of the world, kings tend to be bloody, violent, mean, and nasty. It’s helpful to recall that when the Israelites first demanded a king. The prophet Samuel took them to task and when they finally prevailed warned them that their kings would be tyrants, thugs, killers, and bullies. That included the best of them, David, whose moral compass got lost in the shuffle soon after he killed Goliath.
Years back, the novelist and scholar Robert Graves wrote a book called King Jesus which turned on the teachings of Jesus as a wise philosopher rather than a ruler, and the title was meant as a kind of gentle irony.
Jesus himself had some major reservations when the king business was brought up. When after the miracle of the loaves and fishes, his countrymen were about to come and take him by force to make him king, “he withdrew again to the mountain by himself” [John 6:15]. Even before Pilate, as we read in all the gospels, Jesus refused to acknowledge the accusation that he had made himself a king. John’s gospel has the longest account:
Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?”
Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?”
Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?”
Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”
Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”
Pilate asked him, “What is truth?” After he had said this, he went out to the Jews again and told them, “I find no case against him.” [John 18:33-38].
In today’s readings, we hear more about sheep and shepherds than we do about kings, and that tells us more about the kingship of Jesus than the shouts of the crowds on Palm Sunday and, not to be forgotten, Good Friday. For Jesus came preaching the Kingdom of God, the reign of God, a reign of truth, peace, love, and freedom, as the liturgy proclaims. As the human face of God, Jesus came to inaugurate that Kingdom, and he started it by preaching salvation to the poor, reconciling sinners, healing the sick, feeding the hungry, curing the blind, and welcoming outcasts, the wretched of the earth, and all the lost and lonely. Today’s gospel reading, the complement to the Beatitudes that Matthew places at the beginning of his gospel, tell us what our role must be to take our place in that kingdom.
Christ the President, or Christ the Prime Minister, Christ the Chairman, or even Christ the Queen hardly has the same impact as Christ the King. As Lord and sovereign, the human face of God for us, Jesus is likely to remain the King, but as always not the King of Infinite Space, but the King of Hearts. And so, in the weeks ahead, let’s get ready to meet the King by making sure our hearts are in the right place, not only at Christmas, but at all times. And let us pray that our actions will express our allegiance as they should so that at his coming we will hear “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world [Matt 25:34]…
Lessons from Iraq: Dominicans, Christians , and the Future of the Country
The Third Lund-Gill Lecture for 2009
7:00 p.m. April 15
Parmer Hall 108
Christianity is an Asian religion, born in the Middle East, developed in the Middle East, and present in what the world knows as Syria, Turkey, and Iraq two decades before St. Paul launched his mission to the European continent. We in the West are apt to forget that.
Iraq, which comprises most of what was once called Mesopotamia, the land between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, also known as the Cradle of Civilization and the Fertile Crescent, has within its borders over 10,000 primary archeological sites, many of which have yet to be excavated and have been exposed to extensive looting after the 2003 war. Some of these date back over 7,000 years, although strangely enough only three have been designated as World Heritage sites. Nine more are awaiting UNESCO approval, including the ancient city of Babylon, where the Hanging Gardens were considered one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. The art of writing, the first cultivation of wheat and rice, the birth of the biblical monotheism in Chaldea, near the city of Babylon – all began in Iraq. From archeological, historical, political, and theological perspectives Iraq is not only significant but profoundly important.
Early Aramaic texts affirm that the Apostles Thomas and Bartholomew first evangelized southern Iraq on their way to India. The existence of Christian communities there by the end of the first century support the claims of a very early foundation.
There has been a Dominican presence in the Near East since the middle of the 13th century. Italian friars were the first to reach Mesopotamia. The Dominican mission was authorized in 1245 by Pope Innocent IV. But there had been previous missions, even before the Franciscan and Dominican orders had been established and launched their efforts to win the East for Christ. At the end of the thirteenth century Marco Polo and his brothers would also journey there on their way to China. What all found is that there were already thriving Christian communities in Mesopotamia despite occasional and sometimes severe persecutions by the Persians, Parthians, Mongols, and occasionally Muslims.
When the Dominican friars arrived in Mosul and Baghdad in the mid-thirteenth century, there had been a Christian community there for over a thousand years. Or, I should say, communities. Not that they had always been thriving – intermittent persecutions on the part of Persians, Parthians, Muslims, and Mongols periodically decimated the Christian population, but it endured. And sometimes it also increased and multiplied.
The ancient Christian communities were distinguished by language and tradition. Almost all spoke Aramaic, as many do today, although it is usually referred to as “Syriac,” and communities were distinguished by dialects – West Syriac and East Syriac, sometimes referred to as Assyrian and Chaldean. The largest body of Christians were referred to as Nestorian, although this has proved to be incorrect. And in fact, since the sixteenth century, several of these ancient churches have been in full communion with Rome. But there are also other Christian churches in Iraq and other parts of the Near East which while having good relations with the Western or Latin Church remain distinct, principally the Syrian Orthodox Church.
The simplified map of the Christian presence looks like this: [map here]
If it is not easy to keep the differences and similarities of the Christian communities clear in our minds, that is hardly surprising, as Westerners generally and perhaps Americans in particular have very conflicting feelings about Arabs and Arab culture in general, and share both misinformation and ignorance about Arab Christianity and, of course, Islam.
Tonight, not least because of time constraints, it isn’t possible to touch even briefly on all these areas, or even a few of them. So I will limit my remarks to three areas of concern and interest – my own, and hopefully, yours.
I. THE DOMINICAN MISSION IN IRAQ – THEN AND NOW
II. INTO THE FIRE: IRAQ AFTER THE WAR
III. FACING FORWARD: RECONSTRUCTION AND THE PATH AHEAD
I. THE DOMINICAN MISSION IN IRAQ – THEN AND NOW
I will begin with a brief overview of the Dominican Mission in what we now call Iraq, but was usually referred to by the ancient title, Mesopotamia – the Land between the Rivers.
Western missionaries including Franciscans, Carmelites, and eventually Jesuits, all came to Mesopotamia and all began missions which lasted sometimes until the present. Other orders and congregations also came, as did Anglican and Protestant missionaries. The Dominicans are still there, although for several centuries our presence was greatly reduced.
In 1291, when the last priory in Palestine was overtaken in the fall of Acre, the thirty friars there were massacred. Their bloody habits were brought to the bazaar in Baghdad by travelers where they were seen by Friar Ricoldo of Montecroce who learned of the massacre from a monk or in some accounts a nun who may have been brought to Baghdad as a captive or a slave. But this is to get ahead of our story. A close contemporary of the great German Dominican mystic, Meister Eckhart, Ricoldo belonged to the third generation of early Dominicans. But as early as 1221, even before the death of St. Dominic, friars had turned their evangelical attention to the lands of the near and far East.
The Dominican Mission to Mesopotamia
From its earliest days, the Dominican Order was dedicated to the evangelization of pagans, Muslims, Jews, and non-Chalcedonian Christians in eastern Europe, central Asia, the Middle East, the Far East, and as far away as India and China. Language schools were founded by far-sighted Masters of the Order in the thirteenth century such as Raymond of Peñafort and Humbert of Romans.
In 1250 Pope Innocent V saluted “the Friars Preachers, who are missionaries among the Saracens, the Greeks, the Bulgarians, the Cumans and the Syrians, the Garithians, Goths, Lyconians, Ruthenians, Jacobites and Nubians, the Georgians and Armenians, Hindus and Masilitans, the Tartars and Hungarians and pagans of other countries of the East.”
The early Dominican travelers to the Near, Middle, and Far East were not tourists or gentle apostles of inter-faith camaraderie. Their objective was conversion, not only that of pagans but also of dissident Christians. Some, like William of Tripoli and Ricoldo of Montecroce were remarkably tolerant of the beliefs and customs of those they hoped to add to the Christian fold. Others, such as Raymond Etienne and the redoubtable William Adam, wrote more aggressive treatises, such as William’s unfortunately titled On a Method of Exterminating the Saracens. Even Ricoldo penned a Refutation of the Koran, a popular work at the time and for many years afterward. The humane and sensitive character of the man is more evident in the five letters he sent from Baghdad in 1291 after learning of the massacre of the friars in Acre.
The names are known to us of a number of friars who labored in Mesopotamia or sojourned there en route to Persia, India, and China. Several left accounts of their travels and activities.
There were three main missions of Dominicans to the Near and Far East, especially to engage the Tatars and Mongols, but involved some exposure to Palestine and Mesopotamia.
The first involved Ascelin of Cremona, who left for Persia in 1245 with Alberigo Alexander and Simon of San Quentin. The second, in 1249, took the brothers André and Guy Longimeau with Jean of Carcassonne on two missions to the Mongol Tatars. Well-acquainted with the Middle-East, André spoke both Arabic and Syriac. On the first mission he carried letters from Pope Innocent IV to the [Güyük ?]Khan and on the second he delivered gifts and letters from King Louis IX of France to Güyük Khan. André was later sent on a mission to fetch the Crown of Thorns from Constantinople, where it had been purchased by King Louis IX.
The third main mission was that of William of Tripoli (1220-c. 1280) and Nicholas of Vicenza, who after having succeeded in their work in the Holy Land set out for the court of the Great Khan with Marco Polo in 1271 with letters from Pope Gregory X. Unfortunately, on the way, as Jules Verne later narrated it, “they were made prisoners by the soldiers of the Mameluke Sultan Bibars, who was then ravaging Armenia. The two preaching friars were so discouraged at this outset of the expedition that they gave up all idea of going to China, and left the two Venetians and Marco Polo to prosecute the journey together as best they could.”
Although he may have forfeited his chance for undying fame, William’s career was hardly over. He is remembered for a number of works about Islam in particular. His tolerant and conciliatory approach may account for why he could claim having baptized more than 1,000 Muslims.
Other early Dominican missions followed. In 1290, John of Pistoia headed for China with the great Franciscan missionary, John of Montecorvino. He died two years into the journey, however. Another Friar, Giordano of Catalani traveled to India where he founded a church and became the first bishop of Quilon in 1329.
Ricoldo de Montecroce
One of the most engaging of these early Dominicans was Ricoldo of Montecroce, an Italian friar (c.1243 – 1320) who lived and worked in Mesopotamia and Syria for over twenty years. His later account simply called the Itinerary provided detailed information about Eastern Christians as well as pagan Tatars, Kurds, and Muslims. He also wrote a Refutation of the Koran. As Fr. Hinnebusch, the Dominican historian says, “His five letters sent after the fall of Acre in 1291 are a beautiful and unforgettable tribute to Dominican mission idealism.”
After a distinguished career as a lecturer in Tuscany, Ricoldo made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 1288 carrying a Papal bull. He arrived in Mosul in 1289 and attempted without success to convert the Syrian Christian mayor of the city to Latin Catholicism.
Moving on to Baghdad, Ricoldo engaged the local Assyrian Christians, preaching against them in their own cathedral. He was allowed to build a church, but prevented from preaching in public. When Ricoldo appealed to the Assyrian patriarch Mar Yaballaha, the old man agreed with him that the doctrine of Nestorius, namely the duality of Christ was heretical. The patriarch was rebuked by his followers, but within a few centuries the breach was healed and the Syrians have been in union with Rome ever since.
Ricoldo returned to Florence sometime before 1302, and after holding several important positions in the Order, died in Florence around 1320.
The Pilgrim Friars
The largely individual efforts of the friars were organized into a branch of the Order around the year 1304 under the title of the Society of Friars Traveling for the Sake of Christ, which was later mercifully shorted to the Congregation of Pilgrim Friars.
As Fr. Hinnebusch described it, the Pilgrim Friars were “governed by a vicar general under statutes given by Master General Berengar of Landorra (-).” More flexible than a province, they had no fixed territory and recruited their men from the rest of the Order. The Congregation reached the peak of its activities about 1330, when it had missions at Trebizond and Chins, Turkey, Georgia, Turkestan, Persia, and India.
The number of Pilgrim Friars was severely reduced by the Black Death in the middle of the century, although the Congregation continued to exist, it never regained the vigor of its early years.
Not all the friars were evangelists. The German Dominican Burchard of Mount Zion’s description of the Holy Land, where he stayed between 1274 and 1284 before moving on to Armenia, remained the classical manual of Palestinian and Near-Eastern geography for three centuries. The Itineraries of Felix Fabri, who went as a pilgrim twice to the Near East in the late fifteenth century, describe the Holy Land for “stay-at-homes” rather than missionaries.
The Dominicans in Iraq today
After the expulsion of Latin Christians from the Near East at the end of the Crusades, Dominicans did not return officially until 1750, when Pope Benedict XIV sent Italian friars to reestablish a church in Mosul. Friars continued to travel to and through Mesopotamia, however, as they pursued the missionary activities of the Order. The care of the church in Mosul was taken over by French Dominicans a century after its founding.
In order to commemorate its 250th anniversary in 2000, the church underwent extensive renovation. Ten Iraqi friars now work at parishes in Baghdad and Mosul, as well as the Center of Christian Formation in Baghdad, and publish an Arabic journal, Christian Thought. Several Dominican students are completing their studies there and in France. A new novitiate was being planned even as the War got under way.
Two congregations of Dominican sisters were founded in Iraq in the nineteenth century, the Dominican Sisters of the Presentation of Tours and the Sisters of St Catherine of Siena, whose motherhouse is in Mosul. Over 120 native Iraqi Sisters belong to the latter congregation. In addition to those in formation, the sisters engage in catechesis, education, pastoral work, and hospital ministry. Several sisters are presently studying in the United States. The Presentation Sisters were located in Mosul, Baghdad, and other areas and are mostly involved in health care.
The Sisters of the Presentation were founded in the seventeenth century by Marie Poussepin, who died in 1744. In 1897, the congregation was affiliated to the Dominican Order as the Dominican Sisters of Charity of the Presentation of the Most Blessed Virgin Mary of Tours. Mother Marie was beatified by Pope John Paul II on 20 November 1994.
[Photo: COMMEMORATIVE POSTAGE STAMP: In Colombia the Dominican sisters care for a colony of lepers in Aqua de Dios.]
The first sisters arrived at the Dominican mission in Mosul in 1873. The sisters opened several schools and eventually attracted a number of young women to the congregation. These eventually became the nucleus of a new Iraqi religious congregation formed in 1877 who are now known as the Dominican Sisters of St Catherine of Siena.
Among the first sisters of the new Congregation, there were martyrs. It was the time of Christian persecution in the Ottoman empire and several sisters witnessed heroically to Christ by undergoing harsh torture and, in 1915, some suffered martyrdom.
From the end of the first World War, the Congregation through the witness of its martyrs and the fidelity of the sisters who remained, grew rapidly (much to the great joy of their supporters) opening schools, orphanages and responding to parish needs.
In 1928, the Pope recognized the Congregation and, in 1936, the first Iraqi Superior General to take responsibility for the new Dominican sisters was Mother Marie Mossa Hendow.
Sr. Marie Therese Hanna, former prioress general of the Dominican Sisters of St. Catherine in Mosul, Iraq, recently described the toll of war on Iraqi sisters over the last 90 years. In World War I, 22 sisters were killed — seven were killed by Turks and another 15 simply “disappeared.” In World War II, many sisters perished because of a lack of food and medicine. One elderly sister died of a heart attack during the rocket attacks on Baghdad leading up to the Second Gulf War.
At the time of the U.S. invasion in 2003, the order had 30 members in Baghdad, 55 in Mosul. Today about 20 of the Iraqi nuns live in Italy, Lebanon, Jordan, Palestine and Sweden. Others are scattered in rural villages outside Mosul and the capital, where their lives are now endangered by extreme Muslim terrorists.
II. INTO THE FIRE: IRAQ AFTER THE WAR
There isn’t time here to give much than a brief synopsis of the Second Gulf War. I can recommend several books on the subject, the most recent of which that I have read is the disturbing account by Larry Diamond, Squandered Victory. A vast library on the subject is building up, however. For my purposes here, it is sufficient to note that, according to contemporary chroniclers, the war was unnecessary, unjust, and launched preemptively on the basis of faulty intelligence, erroneous assumptions, and what now appear to be outright lies developed to further a partisan political agenda. In the end, if that is not too polite a word, it cost the United States alone nearly 5,000 lives, and as much as twenty times that number of Iraqi civilians. It has absorbed three-quarters of a trillion dollars of our national treasure, which added to the cost of the war in Afghanistan, will exceed a trillion dollars within a year or two. In that respect, the Gulf War can be fairly said to have wrecked not only the U.S. economy, but a huge portion of the world economy as well.
Just as the Second World War was effectively a continuation of the First World War, the Second Gulf War took up where the First Gulf War halted.
Following a disastrous eight-year war with Iran, during which the United States actively supported Saddam Hussein’s regime, Iraq invaded Kuwait in August 1990 after negotiations failed over what Iraq claimed was illegal oil drilling into Iraqi fields. Without waiting for a negotiated withdrawal, the western Allies led by the United States and Great Britain launched the First Gulf War [Desert Storm] on 17 January 1991. It lasted until 28 February 1991.
Severe economic sanctions were imposed on Iraq from 6 August 1990 to 22 May 2003 which crippled the country and resulted in the death of many thousands of children from malnutrition, in addition to wrecking the educational system, the health care system, and social services. Saddam Hussein was also required to dismantle any weapons of mass destruction, which United Nations weapons inspectors were able to verify, contrary to U.S. claims.
After a build-up to war in the wake of the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, during which erroneous claims were made involving Al Qaeda, supposed efforts to purchase African uranium, and the hidden presence of weapons of mass destruction, the Second Gulf War was launched on 19 March 2003. It lasted until 1 May 2003, killing thousands of civilians and further destroying Iraq’s infrastructure.
[“Mission Accomplished” refers to a banner titled “Mission Accomplished” that was displayed on the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln during a televised address by United States President George W. Bush on May 1, 2003 and the controversy that followed.]
In the aftermath of the U.S.-led invasion, further extensive damage was perpetrated on Iraq’s social, cultural, and political structures. Retired General Jay Garner was placed in command of the occupational forces, but was prevented from entering Baghdad for two weeks, during which an upsurge of looting and a rampage of destruction ensured, including the (American) shelling and looting of the Museum of Antiquities and the burning of the National Library on 14 April 2003.
On 11 May Garner was removed from his position and replaced by L. Paul (“Jerry”) Bremer, a career diplomat without Middle Eastern field experience and no knowledge of Arabic. Bremer proceeded in one stroke to dismantle the political, juridical, and military structure of Iraq, throwing the country into a period of chaos from which it has not yet emerged. It was during this period that “insurgents” poured into the country across unguarded borders and began a sustained effort to disrupt the occupation and seize control of power. Even Al Qaeda successful infiltrated Iraq at this time.
I arrived back in Iraq on the 16th of May, 2003, and was an eye-witness to the first stages of the insurgency. I returned in January 2004 with several other Dominicans to attend the ordination of one of our young friars. By then, the insurgency has gained sufficient momentum so as to be virtually unstoppable. In any event, it was not stopped.
In his book Squandered Victory the situation in post-war Iraq was aptly epitomized by Larry Diamond, who had been a senior advisor to L. Paul Bremer in 2004 to assist in Iraq’s political transition to democracy:
Iraq’s economy and society had been devastated by forty-five years of authoritarian rule and, in particular, by the last twenty-four years of murder, plunder, and terror under Saddam Hussein. The dictator had plunged his country into two devastating, needless wars (with Iran in 1980-88, and with the United States in 1991), which had left some 150,000 Iraqis dead, a similar number captured, and more than a quarter of a million wounded. Dictatorship, war, international sanctions, and steady economic decline had driven millions of Iraqis into exile and had devastated the middle class; annual per capita income had fallen by well over half to about $1,000; educational and health levels had declined sharply; child mortality rates had increased several times over; infrastructure had deteriorated; and the country had piled up a staggering foreign debt, estimated at $200 billion. More than 40 percent of Iraqi adults were illiterate, and the population was very young (40 percent were under age fifteen) and growing rapidly. A young, burgeoning, increasingly urban population, in the context of pervasive joblessness and disruption of services, meant that postwar governance would confront a boiling cauldron of expectations that would be difficult to fulfill. [pp. 20-21]
Convinced that the project was marred and headed for disaster, Diamond resigned his post in April, 2004. His account is a thoroughly documented study of how in “Jerry” Bremer and his team, guided from Washington, effectively destroyed the possibility of a peaceful transition to democracy and in fact created the insurgency. For those who might prefer a faster and more visual less in nation destruction, let me recommend Charles Ferguson’s award-winning documentary No End in Sight.
Despite the “success” of the U.S. surge in 2008, the seemingly endless and bloody civil discord in Iraq has destabilized the Middle East, particularly by prolonging tensions with Iran, and embedded the image of the United States as anti-Arab and anti-Muslim in the minds of millions of people from Morocco to Pakistan and beyond. The death toll continues to rise, especially among civilians. Refugees fleeing from Iraq to Syria, Turkey, Iran, and Jordan, as well as the United States, Canada, and Australia, has further eroded the Christian population in particular, as persecution on the part of extremist groups has escalated over the past five years.
In his report, “Iraqi Christians under Fire,” Roger Stourton notes that
“About 200,000 Iraqi Christians have already fled the country; they once made up three per cent of its population, and they now account for half of its refugees.
“Erbil, in northern Iraq, has become a magnet for Christian refugees who are too poor to leave Iraq or do not want to abandon their country. It is the seat of the Kurdish Regional Government, which treats the Christians well; it is safe; and there is an established Christian community to welcome them. Many of them gravitate towards the traditionally Christian suburb of Ainkawa.”
According to the Catholic News Service of April 13, 2010,
Approximately 150,000 Iraqi Christian refugees live in Syria. Their circumstances are a microcosm of the approximately 250,000 Iraqi Christians who have fled their homes, settling also in Jordan and Lebanon. Nearly every family has experienced the terror of violence that has ensued since the 2003 U.S.-led military invasion.
Based on the experiences of their fellow Iraqi refugees, many displaced Iraqis realize that only a small number are likely to be resettled to other countries by the United Nations, and the wait for such a move can take years. In the meantime, with no legal status, they remain in limbo.
Just two days ago, a delegation of North American bishops representing the Catholic Near East Welfare Association gathered in Damascus at a center set up by the Melkite Archbishop Isidore Battikha to observe efforts being made to care for the tens of thousands of Iraqi refugees.
One of the refugees asked the church leaders, “What can be done for Christians who are being uprooted from Iraq?”
“I think the most important thing we can do, first of all, is to be here and to see you and to let you know that you are in our hearts,” said Msgr. Robert Stern, secretary-general of the Catholic Near East Welfare Association. He emphasized that although the visitors represented the Catholic Church and the Vatican, “We are not politicians.”
“Even though we live in Western countries, we cannot control the policies of the countries or the United Nations,” he added.
Given the failure of western politicians to achieve significant relief for refugees, that may not be as damning a statement as it first appears. But surely more can and hopefully will be done by the Church’s official Near-Eastern program.
III. FACING FORWARD: RECONSTRUCTION AND THE PATH AHEAD
I will begin the concluding portion of my talk with three points:
First, the elections of 2005 produced a huge and surprising turnout of Iraqis both within the country and throughout the diaspora, including the Chicago area – a 75% turnout, the likes of which has not been seen in a western democracy for generations. The percentage this last March 7 was lower, 62%, and that in the face of threats of violence and hundreds of killings aimed at discouraging participation. But the percentage of eligible voters who turned out in the 2008 U.S. presidential election was only 56.8%.
Second, President Obama has announced a major troop withdrawal beginning in August of this year and ending with a virtually complete evacuation of military personnel by August of 2012 – if all goes well.
In the meantime, third, the elections of 2010 are still being contested more than a month after the voting ceased and the toll of the dead and injured in sectarian and political violence continues to escalate.
The road ahead for the country of Iraq will not be the smooth transition to democracy that was the dream of the architects of the Second Gulf War and which provided the map for reconstructing what they had destroyed. Not least worrisome is the fact, as Larry Diamond has pointed out, that “The sixteen Arab states of the Middle East that surround Iraq constitute “the only major cultural and regional group in the world that [does] not have a single democratic government.”
There are at least three major possibilities for a reconfiguration of Iraq in the future:
1. A unified Republic composed of provinces – much like the present situation
2. A federal Republic of 3 or 4 semi-independent states, as under Ottoman Empire
3. Three or four countries divided accord to religion, ethnicity, and culture
How any of these will ultimately come to fruition is anyone’s guess. For the time being, Iraq will remain as is, a country struggling to be reborn.
The Future of the Church in Iraq
At the beginning of the first Gulf War, Iraqi Christians numbered about a million. The Catholic population was mainly concentrated in the northern area around Mosul, but many lived in Baghdad and Basra. After sanctions were imposed Christians were allowed to migrate, leaving about 750,000 at the time of the Second Gulf War. Subsequent emigration has reduced that number to approximately 500,000.
What of the Christian Churches?
As the insurgency grew and became more radical and violent after 2004, the situation of minorities grew increasingly desperate. Christian communities that had survived for almost two millennia were targeted for terror and eviction. Churches were bombed, priests were murdered, even little girls were brutally killed on their way home from school. Archbishop Georges Casmoussa, whom I had met in 2001 and again in 2004, when he ordained Hani Daniel, was kidnapped in January 2005 but mercifully released. Archbishop Faraj Rahho was less fortunate, and died in March 2008 as a result of mistreatment or even murder after he was kidnapped at the end of February.
In January 2005 a number of the Sisters of the Presentation left their house in Mosul and relocated to Syria and Jordan, although the community in Baghdad, where the novitiate and St. Raphael’s Hospital are located as well as a rehabilitation center for young people, has remained and the sisters plan to return to Mosul. I would be surprised if Sister Maryanne Pierre, the hospital administrator who never left her post during the War, would tolerate the thought of leaving Baghdad.
The Dominican congregation has seven communities in Iraq, with 40 sisters who work in education, in health care at St. Raphael’s Hospital in Baghdad, and in a rehabilitation center for young people.
The novitiate of the Dominican sisters of St. Catherine in Mosul was struck by rocket fire and car bombs. The Dominican priory was attacked several times. Attacks against Christian targets are often planned to coincide with religious holidays such as the Feast of the Assumption and Christmas. On Nov. 1, 2006, the Feast of All Saints, a large bomb explosion at 7 pm destroyed the exterior iron doors of the Dominican Church and flattened two sets of wood doors. The discharge shattered the beautiful windows of the chapel where the friars were holding evening prayer, but no one was harmed in the blast.
Miraculously, none of the Dominican sisters or friars were injured. Then situation in Baghdad was less threatening, but no less serious. Tens of thousands of Iraqi Christians have fled the country.
In the face of sustained persecution, it has been suggested that the ancient Christian Church in Iraq is in danger of disappearing in one generation. Although this would please the most extreme Islamists, I doubt that it will turn out that way, although the road ahead will be dark and perilous. According to Roger Stourton, Louis Sako, the Chaldean Archbishop of Kirkuk, “has been instrumental in persuading Pope Benedict to convene a special synod on the plight of Christians in the Middle East this October.”
I think I can say that the commitment of the Church to Iraq is solid after 1900 years. Yet I think three things can be predicted in this most unpredictable world:
1. The Christian presence in Iraq will undoubtedly be reduced.
2. Christians will one day be able to return to their homes as they desire.
3. In the future, the Christian community will again contribute constructively to both the rebuilding of Iraq as it always has.
What of the Future of the Dominicans in Iraq?
Where Catholics are found, Dominicans are found. And as Iraq is a young nation in terms of the population — almost half are under the age of 16 — Dominicans are also young and vital. Their presence will undoubtedly assist the Christian community and the country as a whole to recover from the years of political oppression, the suffering of the people under twelve years of sanctions, and the devastation of the recent war.
After 765 years, I suspect that the Dominican commitment to Iraq is still firm.
Let me conclude. Recently I came across something I wrote just before the beginning of the Second Gulf War:
After twelve years of crippling economic sanctions and constant bombardment, the people of Iraq will confront a host of challenges over the next twenty years at least as daunting as the disintegration of their society during and after the Gulf War. A UN or US-UK occupation following a successful military campaign against the Hussein regime will have to oversee the rebuilding of the already damaged material, social, economic, and political structures requisite for a minimally satisfactory life in the 21st century for 22.5 million people.
Imposing successful solutions on a society divided by long-standing religious, ethnic, and tribal conflicts is highly unlikely. But eliciting cooperation from competing factions is also prone to grave if not insurmountable difficulties. Will Iraq become a dependency of the US-UK alliance in exchange for access to oil? Can the international community devise a plan of reconstruction that will enable the people of Iraq to participate fully in the redevelopment of their country as partners in peace, sustainable technological progress, inclusive health care, educational opportunity, equitable trade, and cultural enrichment?
Seven years later, I find myself asking, Will Iraq survive? Yes, as it has survived for over seven millennia. But it will be a long, hard, bitter struggle, especially for the reduced Christian communities of Iraq.
Was it worth it? The wars, the bloodshed, the destruction of heritage – the looting of the Museum of Antiquities, the burning of the National Library, the continual terrorist attacks on civilians, the constant threat of civil war, the merciless ravaging of one of the oldest Christian communities in the world?
That is to ask, could the problem posed by an increasingly thwarted and still belligerent regime have been confronted in a way less destructive and problematic for the stability of the Near and Middle East? We now know, without doubt, that the answer is Yes.
It is far too late, however, to do much more than identify the mistakes and blunders that led the Coalition of the Willing into such a morass – the loss of human lives on all sides, the loss of international prestige, and the loss of national treasure, not least to the United States. Far from the few weeks and 75 billion dollars anticipated by those who launched the war, the 8 years’ war and the 700 billion dollar price tag surely played a large part in bringing the American economy to its knees. War is waste, as Isaac Asimov said so many years ago, the last recourse of incompetence. And, as the continuing tally of lost dollars is showing us month by month, the seedbed of vast corporate corruption.
We cannot undo the past, but it is not too late to learn from our mistakes. As Iraq struggles to become a nation once again, we in the United States also face a challenge: to assess and benefit from what we have learned. But, and I will leave you with this thought, what have we learned?
 See http://www.catholicnews.com/data/stories/cns/1001553.htm.
 Source of 2008 election results: http://elections.gmu.edu/Turnout_2008G.html.
 Diamond, Squandered Victory, p. 21.
The Order of Friars Preachers, popularly called the “Dominicans,” was founded by St. Dominic in 1216. I joined 746 years later. In 1966, I took solemn vows in the Order, and after three more years of study, I was ordained to the priesthood. Only a small percentage of Dominicans are priests, however.
An extended family of nuns, brothers(or “friars,” as the English pronounced the French frère ), sisters, lay women and men, and priests, the Dominican Order is found all over the world. Its headquarters is in Rome at the beautiful old church of Santa Sabina on the Aventine Hill. The main work of the members is preaching and teaching, which take many forms, from missionary work to teaching computer science.
From the beginning, the friars have been organized into provinces for administrative purposes. There are four provinces in the United States. I am a member of the Central or Midwestern Province , named in honor of St. Albert the Great, the thirteenth-century scientist, mystic, and philosopher who taught St. Thomas Aquinas and Meister Eckhart. I have also taught in Oxford for the English Province, at a house of studies called Blackfriars Hall , which is also a permanent private hall of the University. The present Master of the Order, Fr. Carlos Aspiroz Costa, is from Argentina.
This is Cairo the Cat, who adopted me from the Anti-Cruelty Society last March, when I was recuperating from heart surgery. He took it upon himself to make me laugh and helped get me well again. He’s a two-year-old half Maine Coon Cat, very bright, friendly, and affectionate. And sometimes too clever for his own good. Or mine, anyway. He celebrated his third birthday on Jan. 7.
My immediate family, even the extended version, was originally concentrated in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where I was born in 1941. We are pretty scattered now, literally from coast to coast, but manage to stay in touch by e-mail, letters, and gatherings when we can find a way to assemble as many as can travel.
My father, James Everett Woods, died in 1986, and my mother, Margaret Corcoran, followed him in 1989.
My older brother Jim and his wife, Pat, live in Maryland, and my nephew and nieces (Mike, Teresa, Catherine, and Shari) are located in Kansas, Washington, and Florida. Several of my cousins still live in Albuquerque, as well as outposts in Virginia, Nevada, Texas, Ohio, and Arizona. And probably a few other places. We spread out.
My nearest housemates, geographically speaking, have been Samantha, Pas de Chat, and Shane. During the night of June 23-24, 2000, Miss Sam, also known as Samantha and the Samcat, died of an apparent heart attack, passing peacefully into the great heart of the Cosmos.
Our great pal, Pas de Chat, the quintessential Kliban Kat (American short-hair, brindle), died on 9 August 1997. He was about 15 years old and, as I had written earlier, resembled a dignified potato on sticks wearing striped pajamas with four white socks that got him his name. (Imagine a chubby ballet dancer with four feet.)
Both felinities came to live with me by accident. My former collie, Heather, who was a pet psychotherapist (among other things), grew desperately ill back in 1978, and I was urged by the vet to find someone or something to keep her spirits up. A friend had a friend whose cat had had kittens, one of whom was declared the perfect solution.
So Sam was raised by a collie and thought she was a dog. Pas de Chat came to live with us when his former owners added a third child to the household and there wasn’t quite enough room for everyone. I tried to find him a good home, but he activated his allergy device and was, happily enough, returned. And stayed, even traveling with me to New Mexico for a while.
Shane came along in 1994 as the fourth collie in my career. I confess to partiality for the breed. I hope it is because our personalities match. But as he is young, intelligent, handsome, friendly, patient, playful, and loyal, I am probably projecting. Shane eventually went to live with a fine family in Skokie, a move that I certainly found difficult but necessary because I was away from home so much. Time caught up with him, too, however, and he died in 2007.
Animals (and plants, too) have always played a large role in my life. In larger Dominican priories, providing care can be a problem, but in smaller communities, they add a more than a touch of fun, beauty, and camaraderie. And even burglar prevention.
Most of my ancestors came from Ireland, even the Welsh great-grandmothers. The Woods family (who were Protestant) settled in Missouri, where my father, James Everett, was born on a farm near Neosho in 1908. His mother was Maud Stacey, but I never knew her because she died very young during the ‘flu epidemic of 1918. (Her mother’s family name was Mathis.) I knew my granddad, however. John Orville Woods became a rancher in Clayton, New Mexico, and was also the county agronomist as well as a Methodist lay preacher. I still have his well-worn old bible, which my father inherited when “John O” died in 1969, on the same day I was ordained to the priesthood.
My mother’s side of the family were mostly Corcorans and Powers and Brennans. “Papa Jim” Corcoran had been in the Union Army during the Civil War, family legend says as a drummer boy, because he was too young to be a regular soldier. I still have his discharge papers. He died before I was born, but I knew his wife, Olive, who remarried a Swede named Gus Thielen and became known as “Mom Thielen.” She was a real pioneer. After migrating in a covered wagon from Nebraska to Colorado well before the turn of the century, she worked as a milliner in Silverton and Leadville. Sometime around the turn of the century, she moved with the family down to New Mexico, where she ran a boarding house in Albuquerque and a small hotel in the little village of Jemez Springs in the north-central mountains. Her Sunday afternoon dinners were so famous, I am told, that people would come from hundreds of miles away to partake. Olive died when I was eighteen.
My other great-grandparents were from Ireland – John Powers and his wife, Elizabeth Robinson (one of the Welsh women). They came to New Mexico from the Old Country in 1884 with their thirteen children, including my grandmother, Angelus, who was born while the Angelus bells were ringing. (Conscientious clerks tried to correct that to “Angela” but she was able to keep her rightful name even through immigration.) Her father, who had been a game-keeper in Tyrrellspass, was an ardent Catholic. Family lore has it that when he heard the Angelus bells ringing, even in Albuquerque, he would stop, even in the middle of the street, pull off his hat, bow his head and recite the proper prayers. The local patrolmen (all Irish themselves) would simply direct traffic around him until he was finished.
John Powers (Nov. 24, 1837- Dec. 1, 1916) and several of his sons worked for the railroad, which came into Albuquerque in 1888. In 1910, he and Elizabeth were honored on their golden wedding anniversary by the people of Albuquerque, who had a gold medal struck in Rome with a portrait of Pope Pius X on one side and a tribute on the other.
Angelus, my “Nana,” (1884- Nov. 22, 1957) was brought to America on a clipper ship at the age of six months, married Edward Corcoran in 1908. Ed (or “Toby” as the family always called him), ran a plumbing business where at one time or another my dad and my uncles all worked as apprentices. The Corcoran house, known to us kids as “Nana’s and Toby’s,” was the fixed point around which the family turned in the ‘forties and ‘fifties. I still return there in my dreams, although the old house has been gone for over twenty years now.
My mother and father were both born in 1908. They met on the Fourth of July in 1933. The Corcorans were out for a picnic in the Jemez country, and as the mountains were very dry and fire was a constant hazard, the cars were being checked for fireworks by forest rangers. My future father was working that summer as a ranger with one of my mother’s brothers, Tom Corcoran, who (legend has it) arranged for everyone to be at the same place at the same time. Whatever fireworks were involved came later.
Marrying during the depression was a difficult choice, and my parents found themselves in a variety of jobs. Prior to their marriage my mother had been a secretary with Kansas City Life Insurance Co. (Michael Crichton’s father, Kyle, worked in the same office.) But because married women were not supposed to hold salaried positions, she was fired.
My father, who had worked as a hand at La Esperanza, a well-known dude ranch in the Jemez country, and flown a converted JN-9 bi-plane as a barnstormer, found work at a short-order café in Albuquerque and eventually as trail cook for the road crew who laid U.S. 66 across the Navajo reservation in Arizona. Later, he built the family house by himself. But just when starting up a plumbing shop in the garage, he was drafted with Toby and my uncles into the tech crew who built the secret labs at Los Alamos during World War II. My brother and I were on the scene by then. Later, Dad was drafted into the Army. Because his beloved house was “out in the country,” my parents had to sell it, and my mother, brother, and I moved into town to stay with my grandparents. The war ended before my father was shipped overseas, but we never got the house back.
It is interesting looking back at those years in the awesome light of the nuclear age. Some of my earliest memories are of the Quonset hut in Los Alamos where we lived for several months. Sometimes we were shaken out of bed in the middle of the night by the concussion of detonators being field-tested. I remember the adults making cigarettes with a hand-cranked rolling machine, and my age-mate cousin Pat describing being chased by a bear. As Los Alamos was high in the mountains between Santa Fe and Jemez, it was certainly possible. And still is, although Los Alamos is now a small city and brown bears generally stay out of town. One of my most indelible memories from that era is of my dad saying goodbye back in Albuquerque the night he left for Fort Bliss. He and Mom could only have been in their mid-thirties, and I was all of three-and-a-half. I recall him sitting on the edge of my brother’s bed, wearing his three-piece black suit, making shadow-grams of rabbits and turkeys on the wall with the aid of a goose-neck lamp. And my mother cried.
Later that spring, my uncle, Calvin Shepherd, worked on the high tower between Socorro and Alamogordo at a place called Trinity Flats. There on July 16, 1945, after he and the other workers had been driven away in curtained sedans, the nuclear age awoke the morning with a false dawn seen as far away as Albuquerque where I was sleeping snugly in my crib in the front bedroom of my grandparents’ house on Third Street. I remember all the bells ringing later that summer and being told by Nana that the war was over. I had heard the bells ring like that only once before. Everyone was crying, then, and I remember hearing that Mr. Roosevelt had died.
Twenty-five years later, on July 16, 1970, I offered a Mass for Peace overlooking the site where that first atomic bomb had so altered the course of world history.
Dragonthorn is the name of a 180-year-old cottage in Co. Wicklow, Ireland, where I retreat when I can in order to reflect, write, and unwind in a quiet, pastoral setting. Located a few miles west of the ancient fishing town of Arklow, this “home away from home” is near the Vale of Avoca [also known now as Ballykissangel!]- close to the Meeting of the Waters — the Avonmore and Avonbeg Rivers immortalized in the poetry of Thomas Moore; Avondale — the stately home of Charles Stewart Parnell; and about 20 miles from Glendalough — the exquisitely beautiful site of the Celtic monastery founded by St. Kevin in the seventh century.
Originally, the cottage was one of the farm buildings of Shelton Abbey, the manorial estate of the Earl of Wicklow. It was used for storing potatoes and equipment and also provided a haven for the farm hands’ afternoon tea. After the death of the last Earl in the mid-1950s, the farm came under government ownership and the old buildings were used for equipment storage by the Forestry Service. The barns and cottage were eventually put up for sale and were purchased by my friend the late Anne McCaffrey for development as a school for aspiring blacksmiths or farriers, as they are called in Ireland. Anne offered me the opportunity to redesign the cottage as a writer’s retreat. The name was the result of creative collaboration with my friends, the writer Elizabeth Ann Scarborough, and Mantas Adoménas, then a student of mine at Oxford from Lithuania. DRAGON linked it to Dragonhold Underhill, formerly Anne’s house near Newcastle, and the THORN to the brambles and briars that had grown up around the cottage in the years it stood idle. And still do!
Stop by for a cup of tea if you are in the area. For directions, drop me a note at my e-mail address -email@example.com . Cead Mile Failte!
A Diversity of Dragons , a partly-fictional history of dragons I co-authored with Anne McCaffrey has been lavishly illustrated by Canadian artist John Howe, and appeared in U.S. bookstores late last September from HarperPrism. ( The English edition is published by Simon and Schuster .) Illustrating the book added two years to the project, but John’s art is so compelling, I think you will agree that it was worth the wait. (It was released simultaneously in the U.S., England, and France.)
Diversity traces the origin and development of the myth and symbol of the dragon from its earliest manifestations to its latest appearance in recent fantasy literature and science fiction. The large-format book also explores a current manifestation as Anne herself, Sean Evans, and a diminutive Irish dracologist named Epiphanius Tighe set out to investigate some mysterious events in County Wicklow. It’s available from bookstores and from Amazon.com . (The sequel, Epiphanius Tighe and the Dragon of East South Water Street , is now available from IUniverse.com’s Writer’s Choice Press. See above! )
Since I was very young, I have been fascinated by harps and dragons. That may be because three of my great grandmothers were Welsh. (My ethnic ancestry is almost all Irish, however. My maternal grandmother was born in a village in County West Meath called Tyrrellspass, and all my other forebears were also from Ireland.) The Celtic harp is the national instrument of both Wales and Ireland, and the national emblem of Ireland. The dragon is the national emblem of Wales.
When my friend Richard Hutt and I began making folk harps in the mid-seventies, we decided to call our partnership Pendragon Harps , which seemed natural enough. Pendragon was an ancient British (i.e., Welsh) title given to military leaders who organized the Christian kingdoms against invasions by Irish pirates and land-hungry Saxons and Angles who had succeeded in occupying the southeastern coast. The most famous of the legendary Pendragons were Uther and his son Arthur, who lived in the fifth and sixth centuries. (For a fascinating account of the role played by horses and horseshoes in Arthur’s campaigns against the Saxons, see Anne McCaffrey’s prize-winning novel, Black Horses for the King, published by Harcourt Brace. Anne and I also collaborated on A Diversity of Dragons , which was published by HarperPrism in 1997.)
The Brian Boru
Smartpop Books has just published Dragonwriter, a collection of tributes to the late Anne McCaffrey edited by her son Todd McCaffrey. I contributed a chapter about the place of religion in the McCaffrey universe, the product of many years of spirited dialog with one of Science Fiction’s most beloved writers. Winner of the Hugo and Nebula awards and recognized by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America as a Grand Master, Anne was the first S-F writer to break into the New York Times best seller list. For more information about the book, click here Dragonwriter.
Religion on Pern? My Tribute to Anne McCaffrey
Smartpop Books has just published Dragonwriter, a collection of tributes to the late Anne McCaffrey edited by her son Todd McCaffrey. I contributed a chapter about the place of religion in the McCaffrey universe, the product of many years of spirited dialog with one of Science Fiction's most beloved writers. Winner of the Hugo and Nebula awards and recognized by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America as a Grand Master, Anne was the first S-F writer to break into the New York Times best seller list. For more information about the book, click here Dragonwriter.
The new Bloomsbury Guide to Christian Spirituality
In December, 2012, Bloomsbury Publishing released the American edition of The Guide to Christian Spirituality which I edited with Peter Tyler. Thirty-two outstanding authors present a wide array of essays on all aspects of Christian spirituality from its ancient origins to future trends. It can ordered on-line from Amazon.com or BarnesandNoble.com.
More on Meister Eckhart
For several years, at the request of a number of readers, I wanted to collect and update various articles and lectures I have given on Meister Eckhart into a single volume as a follow-up to my older introductory work, Eckhart’s Way (1986), which itself was published in a revised edition by Veritas Publications, Dublin, in 2009. The collection, Meister Eckhart: Master of Mystics was published by Continuum (now Bloomsbury) in 2011.
Wellness: Life, Health and Spirituality
In this book, I explore some of the important links between physical, emotional and mental health and spirituality, including longevity, resistance to disease and greater happiness. Wellness explores a number of areas in which a vibrant and healthy spirituality enables people to live longer, healthier lives, contribute to society and avoid many of the ‘discontents’ of our hectic technology-drive, commercialised, artificial and often lethal way of living in today’s world.
Eckhart's Way Now Available
Veritas Publications in Dublin has just released the newly revised edition of Eckhart’s Way, an exploration of the life, times, and spiritual doctrine of the great German Dominican mystic, Meister Eckhart. It is now available from Amazon.com in the US and in England.
Celtic Spirituality: Ancient Heritage and Living Legacy
Celtic Spirituality: Ancient Heritage and Living Legacy explores important aspects of the spiritualities that animated the lives of the Christian peoples of Ireland, Britain, Scotland and other regions that once covered most of northwestern Europe and continues today in a variety of forms in many parts of the world – wherever necessity or adventure led emigrants from their ancestral homelands. This 12 lecture set was recorded on CD for Now You Know Media, Inc., Chevy Chase, MD, in Nov. 2011.
More Tales of the Knights Templar
Following on the big success of Katherine Kurtz' first anthology, Tales of the Knights Templar , she rounded up the team and we put together a collection of new stories called On Crusade: More Tales of the Knights Templar. My contribution is called "The Treasure of the Temple," and takes up where the first story left off. On Crusade was published in June 1998 by Warner Books in New York. It's also available from Amazon.com . (A third volume of Tales will be in production shortly.)
A Diversity of Dragons
A Diversity of Dragons , a partly-fictional history of dragons I co-authored with Anne McCaffrey has been lavishly illustrated by Canadian artist John Howe, and appeared in U.S. bookstores late last September from HarperPrism. ( The English edition is published by Simon and Schuster .) Illustrating the book added two years to the project, but John's art is so compelling, I think you will agree that it was worth the wait. (It was released simultaneously in the U.S., England, and France.) Diversity traces the origin and development of the myth and symbol of the dragon from its earliest manifestations to its latest appearance in recent fantasy literature and science fiction. The large-format book also explores a current manifestation as Anne herself, Sean Evans, and a diminutive Irish dracologist named Epiphanius Tighe set out to investigate some mysterious events in County Wicklow. It's available from bookstores and from Amazon.com . (The sequel, Epiphanius Tighe and the Dragon of East South Water Street , is now available from IUniverse.com's Writer's Choice Press. See above! )
Angels: Faith, Theology, and Experience
A 3-hour tape cassette series, Angels: Faith, Theology, and Experience , originally recorded for Credence Cassettes, is now available directly from the Center for Religion and Society, 6418 N. Lakewood Ave., Chicago IL 60626, at $15.00 plus &3.00 for postage (within the continental U.S.). It takes a detailed look at the origin, history, and place of angels in Scripture, Christian traditions, and contemporary experience.
Meister Eckhart: The Gospel of Peace and Justice
Available from the Center for Religion and Society for $10.00 plus $3.00 for postage in the U.S. This 1993 tape series interprets Eckhart's extensive preaching on the importance of original justice in people's lives and the achievement of inner (and public) peace.
I was born and reared in New Mexico, pursued undergraduate studies in Washington, D.C., New Mexico, and Iowa before becoming a member of the Order of Preachers (Dominicans), a thirteenth-century Roman Catholic community of priests, brothers, sisters, and laypeople. I hold the PhD in the Philosophy of Religion (Loyola Chicago, 1978), MAs in systematic theology and scholastic philosophy, and the STM (Master of Sacred Theology) from the Dominican Order. Presently, I’m Professor of Theology at Dominican University in River Forest, Illinois. For thirty years, I taught on the graduate faculty in the Institute of Pastoral Studies at Loyola University Chicago, taught undergraduate theology and philosophy, and in 1981 became adjunct associate professor in the department of psychiatry at Loyola University Medical School. From 1991-99 I was also lecturer and tutor at Blackfriars Hall, Oxford University and held the Dominican lectureship at Emory University in 1999. In addition to work in medieval and contemporary spirituality, I continue research in contemporary religious experience. From 2005 to 2006 I was chair of the Eckhart Society. Presently I hold the Lund-Gill Chair at Dominican University.
On the literary front, I have written eleven non-fiction books, co-authored a fictional work on dragons with Anne McCaffrey, and published three novellas about the Knights Templar. At one time or other, I edited three anthologies in religious studies and have authored several dozen articles in spirituality, theology, sexuality, and Celtic studies. The third revised and expanded edition of Christian Spirituality: God’s Presence through the Ages , was published by Orbis in 2006. My most recent non-fiction book, Wellness: Life, Health and Spirituality, was published in 2008 by Veritas Publications in Dublin (Ireland). A revised edition of Eckhart’s Way, on the life, teaching, and spirituality of the great 14th-century Dominican mystic, was also published this autumn by Veritas. A novel, Epiphanius Tighe and the Dragon of East South Water Street , was published in October 2000 by Authors Choice – check it out at Amazon.com!
I spend a couple of months during the summer writing and gardening in Ireland, where my family has its roots and an old stone cottage. I like animals of all kinds, Mexican food, oil and water color painting, and enjoy making Irish harps when I can find the time. I am subject to change without notice and frequently do.