Container Grown

Hello, friends, and happy “octave” of the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes. February 11th is a special day for those of us from the Diocese of Spokane because Our Lady of Lourdes is the patroness of the diocese. That means for Spokanites, we celebrate it not as a mere feast, but as a solemnity, like Christ the King or Pentecost! Even though the patron of the Archdiocese of San Francisco is, you guessed it, St. Francis, the four of us Spokane boys living in exile down here found a way to celebrate Our Lady’s feast day to a degree befitting those who claim her as a patroness. We were able to serve Holy Mass at a local parish which has a French pastor, and we also treated ourselves to a nice dinner at a lovely, nearby Italian restaurant, financed by some of our benefactors back home (thank you!). Here we are during and after Holy Mass:

Getting to celebrate the feast as brothers was a great gift, the crowning moment of what have been some very blessed weeks here in California. A number of weeks ago, a “great host” of us drove into San Francisco for the West Coast Walk for Life. We were 30 seminarians who joined thousands of others from all across the western United States to bear witness to the intrinsic and measureless dignity of human life. What a truly American cause, for we have long declared the fundamental rights to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” and thank God for that! But as one of my professors put it, “What’s of the point of guaranteeing ‘liberty’ and ‘the pursuit of happiness’ if we can’t guarantee ‘life,’ the most the most fundamental right of all?” Pretty good point, I thought… This year’s Walk was the first one I’ve attended. I was glad to go. Here we are in downtown San Francisco.

I made another trip into the city a week or two later to meet up with a dear friend, a graduate from the seminary and now a deacon preparing for priestly ordination for the Diocese of Oakland in the East Bay. We went to Sunday Mass at the Cathedral in SF, and after catching up over a cup of coffee, I took off to go to the San Francisco Art Museum at the Legion of Honor. I’ve been meaning to go there since I arrived in the Bay Area. This museum is famous for its collection of sculptures by Auguste Rodin, whose claims to fame include such sculptures as “The Thinker,” “The Kiss,” and the stunning “John the Baptist Preaching.” Of the other works at the museum, I was captivated by this 17th c. painting by Pieter de Grebber entitled “Christ at the Pillar.”

A close up of his face…

I was very much moved by the painting. Not surprise there, given the subject matter. Additionally, I was moved because of the way the light was catching on the brushstrokes that make the Lord’s tears, sweat, and drops of blood. They seemed to sparkle as I moved, and this reminded me of a quasi-mystical experience (if I may call it that…) that happened to me when I was in college. I remember walking to the Marian grotto on the college campus late one night after a storm had blown through town. The wind had completely ceased, and darkness had enveloped the place, except for those parts of the grotto that were illuminated by a small lamp and the light of the votive candles, casting light on the statue of Our Lady, the kneelers, and the small park bench opposite her. The park bench was covered with heavy drops of rain, and as I walked by the bench to pray at one of the kneelers, the drops, which were catching the light from the lamp, began to wink at me with all the pure, striking colors of refracted light. Beads of ruby red, brilliant blues and greens flashing at me, blessing my eyes with their light. It took my breath away and brought time to a stand-still, and it emptied my mind of all my thoughts save for one: “God is in this place.” I’ve never forgotten that moment, when I could feel the eyes of God looking on me, loving me in the midst of that little garden dedicated to the woman He chose from all women to be His mother. Every once and a while, I’ll experience something that reminds me of that moment, and I’m once again transported to that grotto. No sooner that it moves my memory does it move my heart to prayer, just as it did back then. How vividly do those colors live in my mind! And how clearly the impression of God’s love.

Well, there’s more to say, but I have to go now. Maybe just one more photo… I laughed out loud when my friend sent this to me. I’ve been trying to think of an excuse to publish the photo with no luck. No matter; he’s too good to keep to myself.

I must go! Blessings.