Reflections from Spain: #1

With a little help from my friends…

To the day I now have lived three months away from home in the United States, and three months in the homes of Spanish Vincentian priests and brothers. I’ve lived mostly in Zaragoza, but also visited Madrid, Ávila, Valencia, and Lisbon (Portugal).  There were also those short stays in places not so well known, at least outside of Spain, such as Baracaldo, Pamplona, Teruel, and Valladolid. No matter where it's been, I’ve always felt welcome as a guest and often invited to help with the driving to get there, a real treat in itself.
Since this was my own homemade version of an overseas sabbatical it’s fair , at the end of its "first chapter," to ask, to what end?  What were the goals? Were my investments of time and resources, particularly those of the Congregation, productive?

Well...

1) I wanted to improve my Spanish skills (listening, reading, speaking and writing); there’s clearly some improvement, mostly in comprehension but also noticeably in the speaking and writing areas. Of course there's no more effective way than immersion to improve language skills -- even during those times when the experience might be a bit rattling and isolating;

2) I wanted to perceive the world and the church through the eyes of my Vincentian and Daughter of Charity friends, as well as those of the priests and seminarians at the Zaragoza Theology Center (CRETA).  They were very obliging with heartfelt opinions (just say the word "Zapatero" to any confrere and hear the fireworks!), good stories, examples of their own struggles and expression of their hopes.  Clearly, the Spanish Church is going through a unique period in its history as is all of 21st century Europe.  This is a painful and uncertain time, but there are promising signs of new life as well.

3) Given that much of my teaching and preaching ministry has been and hopefully will be with Spanish-speaking immigrants in my country, I hoped for an updating in theology and Sacred Scripture.  I was particularly interested in how to think, reflect, and formulate ideas in Spanish. For the most part I listened, which was work enough!  Thanks to the faculty and courses at CRETA, I have boxes of books and notes now on their way to Dallas, and lots of fresh insights dancing around in my head.  For all that am more than grateful.  It's safe to say that updating here was well worth the effort, even if, as an auditor, I was excused from exams(!).

I’ve also spent a lot of time by myself, doing what I explain to myself (and others) as resting, but I’d be more honest if I’d describe most of this “down time” as endlessly mulling over mixed feelings about the past and anxieties about the future. (The shadow side of life as an introvert).  In fact, were it not for the sincere interest of confreres, I may have remained more-or-less safe in my own little world but certainly would have learned little to nothing during these months. Once their provincial (Juan Julián) had invited me into their homes the members included me in their conversations and celebrations, and even on occasion in their ministry. Hospitality, a virtue as essential today as it was in Biblical times, is alive and well in the Congregation. The confreres who met me at the airport, who showed me how to use the Metro in Madrid and the bus system in Zaragoza, the men who made sure I didn’t miss a meal or a community event, the confreres and sisters who took the time to explain a joke (at great risk of ruining it, of course!) or coached me on the latest street expressions (modismos españoles), and even those who corrected my grammar and pronunciation, all of this took effort and interest in their guest. Indeed, I noticed moments when they quietly took pride in my progress, as well they should!  In the end. for me, simply having a place to stay and people with whom to share table and conversation, dissipated much of the strangeness of living in a strange land.

Some years ago the then Provincial Visitor of Zaragoza, Corpus Delgado, proactively campaigned to welcome any confrere who wanted to study Spanish, to know that he would be welcome here in the Zaragoza Province. He meant it and so does his successor, Juan Julián D. Catalán. Today, the province has confreres from places as far away as India and the United States, to Slovakia and Rumania, all here to study, to work for awhile, to earn a degree, to live in community. In this respect this province has become a marvelous example of a new and healthy internationalism in our Congregation.  I can only hope that more of us take advantage of their invitation. 

So I thank the men of the Zaragoza Province for taking me in and helping me feel welcome in their homes. Muchísimas gracias, mis cohermanos! Espero veros un día en mi país y alreadedor de mi mesa, donde mi casa también será vuestra casa!

DPB

The Mystery of Pentecost: being vulnerable?

Pentecost Sunday, May 23, 2010

The great feast of Pentecost, yes, it’s a mystery. So, what to do with it?

It seems to me that all great Christian feasts, those we really do try to celebrate, still tend to remain  "just a mystery" to us.  And if we are honest about it, a mystery will always tend to raise more questions than resolve doubts or silence debates. Sure, it's good to want to understand more, but a mystery is not that rational!  Not unlike the Mystery of our salvation (we proclaim it at every Eucharist-- Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again!).  Mysteries are both central to our faith journey and also really tough to explain, (perhaps to explain away?) even with nice, clearly stated dogmas.

I think that we are meant to soak up the mystery, to enter into it with trust and openness, to let the mysterious event grab hold of us…  The Virgin birth (Immaculate Conception), Christmas, Easter, the Ascension, and now Pentecost, each is such a mystery. With these we do better when we're able to sit with them, to be more contemplative, mystical about what they mean, no? 

So, what about this mystery, the feast of Pentecost, the birthday of Jesus’ Church? What are we celebrating, or at least wanting to celebrate?

Some may discount the Scriptural narrative or even dismiss it as “non-historical” (who knows exactly what happened, especially two millennia ago?) but that misses the point of mystery anyway. (Note:  their time is not chronological, not really.)  Like the other events we celebrate annually as Jesus’ disciples, Pentecost can provide a lens through which we might recognize God is working among us today, now. A great deal depends on how we interpret the narrative, of course.

Fr. Ron Rolheiser (in The Restless Heart, p. 78) says that Acts 2, the first reading today, parallels the story of the Tower of Babel, a wisdom story easily and often misinterpreted. Instead of being about sinful pride and its downfall, the Tower of Babel is a story about the causes of human loneliness. These people were not arrogantly defying or challenging God; they just wanted to make an impression on others – ‘let’s make a name for ourselves.’  The evil here is refusing to be vulnerable before others, and choosing instead to build an edifice to impress them. Rolheiser reminds us that it’s only when we are vulnerable with each other that we “provide space” for meeting each other and find ourselves "speaking the same language."  (Do not today’s twelve-step groups and some faith sharing groups already experience that very same intimacy and togetherness? ) 
In this case it is highly significant that Luke’s account in Acts 2 describes the reversal of the damage done at Babel:

They were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak foreign languages as the Spirit gave them the gift of speech.

It’s for this very reason that the Spirit came in the first place, to heal the chasm between us.

If living outside of my native country, and struggling to enter into another’s culture and learning a new language has taught me anything over the past years, it is that the Tower of Babel continues today.  It might well be considered today's context out of which the Church must spring to life.  Indeed, our so called Information Age has successfully facilitated the very things we are warned away from in that wisdom story:  appearances meant only to impress others and bring the individual advantage, our propensity to measure and rate ourselves economically and often at the expense of each other (or nation versus nation).  Such things must be important -- they always show up somewhere in our international headlines.  Meanwhile, in our busy societies, joy and gratitude are too often fleeting,  missed, or just not that interesting. 

Misunderstanding and loneliness are alive and well! Indeed, they are more common (perhaps more natural to us?) than vulnerability, mutual trust, and common understanding. These latter happen only if we are open to what has to be God’s grace, a gift. But then, why would we not be open to it?

Simon Peter, James, John and the rest of them -- they had learned much from Jesus.  They also  knew themselves to be sinners; weak, shadowy creatures who had always had Jesus around to pick them up, joke with them, forgive them, love them... and believe in them.  Now, facing deep longing and frightening emptiness,  a fearful condition that could have shut them down, they realized they could not long endure such a life after Jesus’ Ascension.  This was not what Jesus had promised them, but rather His mysterious Paraclete -- their Advocate and Consoler. 

And then something, Someone wonderful happened along, like a great wind and inexhaustible flames!

More to the point, had they not been healed of those things that drive people apart -- mistrust of self and each other, longing to deny and escape failures and sin, needing to make an impression -- well, these exceptionally ordinary men and women would never have been convincing evangelizers, i.e. Good-News-People.

So, the mystery of Pentecost, that event brought on by our very own Advocate, happened just when the early followers were most vulnerable; only then could they be enabled to celebrate and live as free men and women.  Now, that truly was a new day, a fresh beginning! 

Just as Pentecost gave birth to the living Body of Christ for our ancestors in faith some two millenia ago, may it be the same for us today! 

Veni, creator Spiritus!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R5b_BYA3P6U

DPB

Portugal: minha visita curta lá de 24 -- 29 abril

Well, I confess.  I kind of hate being a tourist.  A bit late to acknowledge this, thousands of miles away from home.  More precisely, I have grown very cautious about travel and touring. 

What? you ask.  Am I nuts? 

I know, I know -- a sabbatical is a great privilege, something few people get to enjoy, once or twice in their lifetime, if at all.  And I'm not complaining, well, not exactly, since I am also very grateful for these months, especially in Europe.  So, let me explain. 

Inevitably the first comment (and a very understandable response) from friends and family whenever the subject of my upcoming sabbatical came up was something like, "You lucky guy -- you get to travel!"   True, travel is a wonderful opportunity.  Flying today,  in a matter of a few hours places one in someone else's world and time.   What better way is there to break out of tiresome routines, to see exotic places and meet fascinating people? 

However, it's also true, that in our times of so much and such convenient travel, we now have to brace ourselves for its pitfalls such as endless "hurry-up-then-wait" airport routines that are neither enjoyable nor instructive.  Indeed, travelling outside one's own comfort zone can be as tiresome and dissipating as any other modern stressor.  I can understand why, perhaps both for self-protection and in order to feel more efficient at some tasks, many travelers choose simply to stay in their own cultural bubble while "away from home," actually seeing very little of another's world and understanding practically nothing except what is already familiar.

For me, the past eight years of Congregational leadership included more zipping about our country and around the globe than I could have ever imagined.  Gradually the travel itself began to get the better of me.  As a result, flying across time zones and between hemispheres now holds little appeal for me.  Perhaps for the same reason, neither does touring while traveling, especially where I don't speak the language at all.  In any case, during sabbatical, I have intentionally avoided seeing too much too quickly.  Until now.

Tossing all that reserve and caution to the wind, I joined up with Bill P -- Vincentian confrere, friend, and a seasoned, smart international traveler by the way -- in Madrid for a few days (that's himself on the right at the Zaragoza Province's guest house in central Madrid), and then for five very full days in Portugal.   We arranged our stay with our confreres there, the Padres Vicentinos of the Province of Portugal, who emailed us that they were delighted to have us as their guests. 

After our 50 minute EasyJet flight from Madrid to Lisboa, the first thing we learned about Lisboa is that practically no one speaks English or Spanish (tourist pamphlets notwithstanding), at least not our version of either!  The second thing was that one short city block in old Lisbon -- as well as in may other villages of Portugal -- can be either horizonal or vertical.   I suppose it did our hearts and legs good, all that climbing!  Arriving a Lisboa at around 715 in the morning (time-zone change) we immediately set about finding our confreres, since we knew they were somewhere nearby, only a few blocks away in fact, we had a map of sorts and four or five Portuguese phrases to help with directions.  The CM Provincial headquarters (Rua do Século, 152) are located in a multi-storied, rambling but nondescript residence well hidden in a historic Lisboa neighborhood, the Alto Barrio, "just a few blocks" from the even more historic city's market place.  It seemed simple enough.  About three hours later we succeeded, panting, drenched with sweat, and ready for the midday meal.  Nothing has ever tasted better.

Bill and I had earlier agreed to allow enough time apart on our own while sharing a few definite, limited goals in Portugal: for example, a visit to the shrine at Fatima, to spend some time with the confreres, to get a taste of life in this beautiful and historic country, to share suppers and impressions and so on.

We did our own exploring, particularly old, traditional Lísboa.  But even with locals helping us as much as they could (without English or Spanish, remember...) just finding our way to local must-sees, such as the Castehlo San Jorge (the city's oldest castle, just another few blocks away...) and for a Sunday mass were to be our most challenging adventures.  Two days later, of course, things got a lot easier.

Fatima, less than an hour away from the captal, would be packed in a week for Pope Benedict's visit, but was quiet and rather empty during our morning visit.  For us, the 90 minute pilgrimage was enough for quiet prayer and plenty of photos.  In fact, Fatima was only one stop in a trip that was well-planned, beginning and ending at old Lisboa's Plaça Restauradores.  Our tour-guide, John, spoke excellent English; much of our nine hours together had him narrating local history for us and pointing out notable places.  The day was filled with stop-and-go experiences:  magnificent Atlantic coastal vistas, the famous Batahla monastery (still unfinished), a fresh seafood lunch at Nazarét (a fishing village), an hour to explore Óbidos (an ancient, multi-cultural, walled city), and other nearby places popular with studients and tourists. 

Those five days were enjoyable, our time well spent whether together or apart.  Of course, each visitor will have his/her favorite things:  I became expert on the use of Lisboa's fabulous METRO, for instance and tried about four versions of Portugal''s most famous fish dish: Bacalao (Bak-a-LAH-oh -- dried, salted, rehydrated cod that's prepared usually with vegetables) is quite good.  Actually Portuguese beers and wines (and especially their portos) are great too, before, during and even in between luch and supper. 

I also heard, for the first time, a bit of Portugal's incomparable music, particularly the fado.  It's a form of ballad that is characteristically sad, filled with longing and feeling (matching my mood when traveling?).  One song, Coimbra, made popular in the last century by Amália Rodrigues (1920-1999), is still widely sung and will seem familiar from Hollywood movies past and tourism promotion.  The first link below is to a youtube recording of Amália singing about this ancient, mythical center of Portugal, Coimbra é uma lição, De sonho e tradição; (Coimbra is a lesson of dream and tradition...) along with some slides of the country:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmGDOTCYaIk&feature=related

 

A more contemporary artist of the fado, as well as of other Portuguese music,  is Mariza:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQrq7nLPHEw&feature=related

So, what will I remember and treasure from this "time away" from my studies in Zaragoza?  Great memories of our brother Vincentians' hospitality there (muitas gracias, obrigado!), good food and drink, a surprising introduction to pre-Iberian kingdom history of the peninsula, and music than can touch the heart, even that of a jaded tourist.  In the end I found that Portugal is not only worth another visit but maybe even worth the struggle to learn another lanugage. 

Yes, and life as a tourist can actually be wonderful!  (well, sometimes!)

DPB

CM History: to Whom It May Concern...

2010 Coloquio de historiadores en Zaragoza (Historian Colloquium in Zaragoza)

This weekend has been dedicated to a DC-CM historians’ colloquium sponsored by the Zaragoza Province. Normally a quiet, rather empty place, the Casa Provincial today resounds with conversation, laughter, friendly shouting matches, and life.  Juan Julian D. Catalán welcomes the steady stream of guests, Jaime Corera facilitates the sessions attended by some 17 or so historians, both CMs and DCs, many with presentations to deliver. It’s not a bad turnout from four Spanish CM provinces and nine DC provinces.

I asked to sit in on two afternoon sessions. There were three presentations, about an hour each: first from Teodoro Barquín, then John Rybolt, and  finally from (Sr.) Carmen Hernandez. The talks seemed  "compressed".  As more than one participant commented, the subject matter was vast,  although "limited" to Spanish CM and DC 19th century provincial history (ranging from suppression due to changing governments, to struggles between Spanish CMs/ DCs and Fr. Etienne's leadership, to the dynamic relationship between DCs and CMs, to spectacular growth in numbers and new houses..).  It could easily have filled a week-long colloquium (especially if it were not limited to what has actually been written and published!).

Now with two months of conversations and new friends here I know that our Spanish confreres (and sisters) feel as passionately about their history as about their futbol teams (well…close).  Although not a member of this club, I felt welcomed today and appreciated being able to listen in, which, even with my re-tuned Spanish, was not always easy! Within a couple hours, however, I could only marvel at the barely restrained energy in the room, especially after the heavy afternoon comida! Their enthusiasm and commitment during the sharing, exchanges and discussions (which could be arduous at times, needing Jaime Corera to referee), well, all that made sense to me. But what about the endless hours spent, (mostly alone) doing research and writing draft after draft in preparation for these few hours? 

More to the point, from a marketplace perspective (I'm a bit embarrassed to add), who reads this kind of stuff today?  How many of us – Daughters and CMs -- actually study these publications?

Is it – our history – really worth the effort?

For some the answer will be, of course, a resounding YES!  This colloquium overflows with believers in history who have spent their lives developing and perfecting the difficult, often lonely disciplines of writing, translating and commenting on others’ writing. In our two United States provinces we have our own dedicated and professional historians as well, happily more organized than ever.

But what about the rest of us? We who are the “field workers” such as pastors, preachers, seminary and university instructors, formators, administrators, the growing number of Vincentian Family collaborators... we people who already are busy enough, thank you very much?

Personally, I’m fascinated by history, especially that of our Congregation (although it’s taken me a few decades to develop a taste for it). But I’m also overwhelmed by the endlessly growing mountain of information that needs to be sorted out, interpreted, prioritized, contextualized, and – especially in our times, discarded.  Like any good research, such critical, tedious work is necessary to develop a narrative that is instructive, compelling, and in some real way worthwhile to the present generation and (hopefully) to those who follow us.  But there’s something more critical here particularly during times, like ours, of rapid, even violent change. Certainly (hopefully?) church leaders worldwide today are learning some valuable lessons from past mistakes:  whether remaining passive while ignoring events (both present and past), or reactive and just plain shoddy in our interpretation of these events is dangerously irresponsible and can lead to ruin.

Bob Maloney, one former Superior General, has said:

“Knowing its history enables a Congregation to understand who it is, what its mission in the Church is, what its strengths and weaknesses have been over the centuries, how it got where it is right now and where it might go in the future. A group that knows its history well knows, in seed, its future.”

The need is clear. Increasingly, the Congregation encourages us to develop into amateur historians (as well as theologians, mystics, and poets!) through programs such as CIF, seminars in or outside our community, prioritized values in provincial and house plans, on and on. (Not to mention, sabbaticals such as mine!) The invitation to know ourselves more deeply and responsibly is open and constant. For each of us, then, it’s a matter of choosing, of making time for history.

Or, as we Americans (famous for looking forward, rather than backward) might quip,

"history is, in the end, all about the future!"


DPB