Welcome to Sweden:  

I’m almost here

Yesterday, the Fourth of July, I left from San Francisco International Airport for the city of Visby, island of Gotland, country of Sweden.  I’m almost there.  After a long—a very long overnight flight from SFO to Copenhagen, things began to get a little complicated.  Connecting flight to Stockholm was delayed.  Domino effect:  missed the next one —Stockholm to Visby—by mere minutes.  Sigh.  Deep breath. Reroute mentally. The staff at SAS Airlines were more than helpful:  an overnight at the Radisson Blu, within the airport complex known as Sky City.  Minutes away from the gate.  A dinner voucher (read:  falafel-burger at O’Leary’s).  A comfortable room.  A decent half-night’s sleep.  Breakfast: gluten, but by no means glutton-free. Bags forwarded.  Boarding pass in hand.  Whatever in the world could or should I be worried about?

A wonderful surprise. During the two-hour layover at Copenhagen’s Kastrup Airport, I was able to experience the new terminal construction by the Danielsen architectural firm.  In Danish, it’s called a “forbindelsesfingeren”—literally “a connecting finger”—linking domestic and international connections.  At 1,000 feet in length, with 40-foot high ceiling, it is clearly cathedral-like feeling in its scale.  Yet it is neither sterile nor intimidating.  Artworks like the equestrian-themed frieze, Arcadia,  designed by Norwegian painter Frans Widerberg and Danish glass artist Per Steen Hebsgaard serve as a passionate counterpoint to the otherwise stark simplicity of the structure.

Later today, I hope to be standing before the congregation at Kristi-Lekamens /  Corpus Christi parish in Visby.  It’s been seven weeks since I’ve seen the parishioners—I had already been  here for a late winter/ early spring stay this year.  Just the thought of it feels . . .  underbart!  No translation needed.

California—9,000 miles and just $900 away, I tell folks—is now mostly behind. The brothers back in Danville have been more than kind to me during my packing, kvetching, and sighing (“Oy-yoy-yoy!”)  I’ll move here on a one-way ticket in September, so this isn’t the final step.  Almost, though.  The triennial provincial Chapter for us Franciscan friars—the culmination of more than a year’s preparation—concluded on June 28 in Scottsdale, Arizona.  I completed my work as Director of Communications for the Franciscan (OFM) Province of St. Barbara on June 30.  Ditto for supply work with the wonderful folks at  St. Perpetua Parish in Lafayette, California. The coast is now officially clear, except for some low-lying morning fog.

And Sweden?  I’m just here in order to be here.  No magic wand.  No extravagant plans.  A vision is not lacking, though.  I hope and pray for  a community that will grow a little bit closer the Lord,  to each other—and in service to the poor. I, we just show up. Do our best. Let the Lord take care of the rest.  And see what happens.

Gotland, here I come!

It’s Pentecost. 

Keep breathing.

Before we start.  Even before you read any further.  Let’s just take a nice, long, deep breath together.  That’s right. Breathe.  Breathe in the Spirit of God:  God’s light and life and peace and love.  Nice and slow, now. Good.

Now, let’s breatheout. Only this time, exhale —literally, “breath out” (ex +  halare, from the  Latin)—everything and, yes, even everyone-- that’s bothering you.  Everyone and everything that makes you worried, frightened, angry, or confused.

Take your good old time with this.   There’s no rush in heaven.

Now, do it all over again:  breathe in again. And then breathe outsome more.

Does it feel any better?  C’mon, even just a little bit better?

Admit it.  It does help, doesn’t it.  Doesn’t it?

When we do this consciously, conscientiously, we’re not just breathing, of course.  We are starting to pray:  we are actually and actively praying. With our body, our mind, our spirit.  When we do this together in prayer, we are “conspiring”.  (Again, another Latin reference:  “con + spire”:  cum + Spiritus”)—with our breath, with our spirit, we are “conspiring” with the Holy Spirit.  We are entering into a conspirancy with the Spirit as we permit the Spirit to enter into us. 

That’s what the first Pentecost was all about.  That’s what Pentecost is about for us right now. Breathing in in the Spirit.  And letting the Spirit breathe in us.  And through us, breathing new life for our healing and the healing of our precious, broken world.

Today, we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost at a particular place and at a particular moment in time.  That’s history. Today we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit into our lives and our world.  Right here, right now.  That’s mystery.

Breathing in and breathing out— inhaling and exhaling in the Spirit-- we  are celebrating both the history and  mystery of Pentecost at the same time.

In the Scriptures today, we have two separate accounts of the history of  Pentecost . They differ from one another in a number of details.  But at the same time, we actually have one  shared account of the spiritual truth and reality, the  mystery  of  Pentecost.

First, the history. In the Acts of the Apostles (2:1-11) — actually, Volume II of the Gospel of Luke--  the followers of Jesus, (as described in the closing pages of Luke’s gospel (24:49), have been told to return to Jerusalem to wait to “be clothed with power from on high.” This takes place, according to Luke, 50 days after Passover, 50 days after the Resurrection of the Lord.  A period during which Christ has appeared time and again to the disciples, breaking bread with them, teaching and encouraging them all along the way. Preparing them for his return to the Father and for his sending of the Spirit among them.

In the account from John’s Gospel (20:19-23) , however, the sending forth of the Spirit occurs on the evening of  the day of the Resurrection (Easter evening). The disciples are gathered in the upper room—presumably the same place where the Last Supper had taken place just a few days beforehand.  They are huddled together in mortal fear of being arrested, imprisoned, tortured and condemned by the authorities, just as Jesus had been.   The mood is anything but one of excitement and anticipation. On the contrary, it is an atmosphere of dread and fear.

Then, the  followers of Jesus receive the Spirit of Jesus.  Jesus literally “breathes” on and into them.  In Luke/Acts, it is that same Spirit, only this time, it  comes as a terrific noise, followed in the form of tongues of fire. That’s the history.

 In both accounts, the disciples are gathered.  They are in one place together.  They are vulnerable.  They are waiting.  In terms of the mystery, what happens to them next in both instances is something quite new, fresh, and completely unexpected.  

The Spirit of God, the Spirit of Jesus changes their lives, once and for always.

In the mystery  of Pentecost, people who were timid become emboldened.  People who were frightened become confident.  People who were reticent become  emboldened proclaimers of the Good News of Jesus.  People who were once dismissed and ignored now make a definite and lasting impression on all who encounter them.  People who were obsessed with themselves and their own ego needs become obsessed with and possessed by the spirit of service and selfless giving.

God decided to give a gift.   And for once, without questioning it, the disciples have accepted it.  They take a deep breath and allow it to enter into the deepest part of themselves, body and soul.  And it changes everything!  

How did that happen?  How does it continue to happen?  Well, that’s the mystery.

What about you, what about me? Discouraged by the way your life is going?  By the way that the world seems to be going?  Feeling helpless, powerless, confused, and frustrated?  Wishing someone would just come in and take charge and fix everything?  

The Scriptures and our tradition give us an important option. To step back, take a deep breath, enter into prayer, ask God for help, and listen to and for the Spirit—together.    It’s Pentecost:  keep breathing!

Images.  Graphic: St. John’s Uniting Church, Essendon, Australia. Icon:  Orthodox Christian Network.  Artwork:  The descent of the Holy Spirit on the apostles at Pentecost.  c. Elizabeth Wang, radiantlight.org.uk.

Why Sweden ?

Why not ?

Today, June 6, is Sweden’s National Day.   A day of quiet, typically understated celebration for most Swedes. Yet, a good time to reflect upon the enormous contribution, that relative to their small population (9 million), the people of Sweden have made to the world. They, along with their other Nordic neighbors, have proved that it is possible to create a prosperous society in which all of its citizens enjoy access to quality housing, health care, education, and transportation. The involvement of Swedes in humanitarian efforts internationally is estimable. They are by no means perfect, but they have shown the world that, with collective willingness, cooperation, and a sense of fairmindedness, significant improvements can be made in the quality of life for the people of this planet.  God bless ‘em.

From this side of the Atlantic, it is a good time for me personally to reflect upon my forthcoming move to the island of Gotland, where I will  serve as pastor of Kristi-Lekamens /Corpus Christi parish in the city of Visby. In July, I will return to the island to complete preparations for the work which will begin officially on October 1.  

Why Sweden? friends and friars ask.  Are you of Swedish descent?  No.  But I did the DNA test and discovered that 3% of me is, in fact, Swedish.  

Why would you go there as a missionary?  Isn’t Sweden already a Christian country?  True, the majority of Swedes—more than two-thirds of the population—are at least nominal members of the  (Evangelical Lutheran) Church of Sweden.  But weekly church attendance, at about 2%, is low even by European standards. Sweden is one of the most highly secularized societies in the world, and becoming even more so.

Are there many Catholics in Sweden?  

Yes, around 200,000 in a population of 9 million.  The Catholic population has doubled in the past three decades, due to both to the immigration of people from traditionally Catholic majority countries, as well as the conversion of native-born Swedes from other faiths, or even no faith at all. There is an emerging profile of the Catholic community in Sweden which is distinct.  The Catholic Church in Sweden is young. It is a “new” church. It doesn’t have a lot of the baggage that a faith community more deeply embedded in the culture would have. 

What is the attraction of Sweden for you?  On a deeply personal level, Sweden is the place where I reclaimed my Catholic identity.  I first visited Sweden on a study/research grant  in 1980, long before I joined religious life.  Absent the traditional props of identity-- family, culture, food, climate, profession—I discovered that what kept me going was my faith in God— hidden within, but quite real.  When, with the help of a trusted Jesuit spiritual director, I began to peel away the layers of many of my objections to Church and to faith in general, I discovered the core of my Catholic identity in a new way.  I also became aware of my call to community and ministry.  Sweden was not just the background for my conversion. It was the ground of my conversion in so many ways.

Why not just say “thank you” and let it go at that?  I believe that returning to Sweden offers an important way for me to express my gratitude for the tremendous friendship, warmth, encouragement, and hospitality I have received in my own journey of faith. On a personal level, I believe that I have been given the gifts of language and a degree of cultural “fluency” which I want to put to good use in very practical ways through ministry.  And let me be very clear, I believe that the Franciscan identity, culture, and spirituality have a lot to offer people.

I have come to have a deep respect for the Swedish people:  they are by and large intelligent, hardworking, and modest people.  They have committed themselves to the creation of a society which offers people a safe and healthy environment in which to realize their gifts and aspirations. They have a deep and abiding respect for creation which shows in their concern for the environment. 

So, Sweden is a paradise, then?  Not by any means. In some ways, it is every bit as turbulent as any other Western society at this moment in time.  But its core values, I believe, are making it possible for Swedes to navigate fairly well through the demands of  rapidly changing technology and forms of communication.  If anything is lacking, it is a direct and conscious sense and acceptance of the Christian faith--not just as history-- but essentially as mystery. The mystery of the ineffable presence and power of God, of Jesus, and in the Spirit.  This is the awareness and insight, joined to an ethical base,  that a secular, increasingly relativist environment cannot provide by itself.

What do you hope to gain from your experience in Sweden?  Selfishly speaking, I hope it will provide me with a rich opportunity for ongoing conversion.  Not for spiritual self-improvement. It’s not about achievement, but rather about an increasing surrender and abandonment to God’s will. My goal and aspiration is to be “present” to people as best I can.  To accompany them.  To celebrate the sacraments with them.  And to help them to see that God is alive and present in their lives.  I don’t have any big projects.  Just a firm desire to offer myself as I am, to love the people, and to accept their friendship and care in return.

What do you see as the possibilities for the local Catholic church?  They are endless.  The people are engaged, capable, and committed, with tremendous potential. With an increasing sense of shared identity—and pride in their Catholic roots—they could do almost anything.  The parish is small, but it is wonderfully diverse. What the people long for most now is continuity in leadership; they have been without a resident pastor for several years.  Many have expressed a craving for regular liturgical celebrations and sacramental life. The needs of faith formation at every level are enormous. There is also a marvelous initiative, still in its initial stages, called the Agnus Dei Project, which aims to create a center of spirituality and worship on Gotland—internationally focused, but rooted in the Baltic region.  Adoration, liturgies, lectures, retreats, pilgrimages are all possibilities to be explored.

Anything particularly special about Gotland?  The island is rich in culture.  Visby, its capital, was an important trading city in the Hanseatic League during the medieval era. The wealth generated from this activity enabled the construction of some 92 magnificent parish churches, all constructed between 1100-1500 AD! Count them:  92!  All of these churches have been restored, and many are still active worship sites. Along with the (Lutheran) Cathedral of St. Mary’s in Visby, they form a unique and irreplaceable spiritual, aesthetic, and cultural patrimony—one which fairly shouts of Gotland’s deep Catholic roots. It is also an impressive testimony to the immense pride and love the people have always had for their church buildings.

Anything else?  Together with some absolutely wonderful people from our parish, from the Red Cross, and from  the Salvation Army, I have become involved in a project called Vinternatt/ Winter Night, which assists the Roma people living on Gotland.  People who, as European citizens, have the right to live and work in the European Union, but who, for reasons of lack of education, opportunity, cultural disparity, and sometimes even discrimination do not have access to appropriate opportunities for employment and social services.  The group is not large—30 people at the most—but their needs are great and their generally unwelcome presence as beggars on the streets draws attention daily to the complications of their situation.

I think that’s enough for right now, don’t you.  Yep.

Memorial of Saint Boniface, Bishop and Martyr

Patron Saint of Germany

Acts 20: 28-38

John 17: 11B-19

 The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church.– Tertullian, 3c. 

Today, we celebrate St. Boniface, the  8^thcentury Englishman who travelled to Germany and the Netherlands to convert  pagan peoples and to restore a corrupted Church.  He went about to teach and preach. He famously chopped down a tree, a pagan shrine, in public, at the Winter Solstice!  He helped to heal the Church by reforming the clergy and establishing houses of prayer in the form of Benedictine monasteries.  For this and more, he was martyred. (Incidentally, he is buried at Fulda, not far from Frauenberg monastery, the site of our Franciscan “grandmother” province, which sent so many friars to the United States in the 19^thand 20^thcenturies).

The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church.

When I was a child, I really wanted to be a martyr.  Why not? It made for great drama.  You were menaced by evil people, but stood fast for the faith.  They killed you.  In a flash, you went to heaven, became famous ever afterwards.  Then, you got your own holy card and feast day.  Everyone in the Church would think about you at least once a year.  What could be better than that?

Then one day it occurred to me that martyrdom was a bit more complicated than I had imagined.

That martyrdom had to do with actual murder. And mayhem.  And chaos.  And the apparent power of Evil. Martyrs were hounded, persecuted, tortured.  Martyrs were often misunderstood by their own people:  rejected, abandoned, scorned. Martyrs frequently died alone, unheralded, forgotten. 

Martyrs, I learned, didn’t just include the holy card and feast day saints.  But literally countless numbers of women, men, children whose lives were needlessly, mindlessly extinguished.  Martyrs did not just include, in our own time, people like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Maximilian Kolbe, or Oscar Romero.  But more like the 6 million Jews and others who perished in the Holocaust.  Martyrdom includes Tiananmen Square,  Ground Zero on 9/11. Cambodia under Pol Pot; Syria under Assad.  Martyrdom meets us at the borders of our country.  In our prisons, in our streets and schools.  In a myriad of what have become shockingly routine mindless acts of death-charged violence.

I no longer want to be a martyr.

It’s a career that stopped before it even got started.

Literally a dead end.

But.

In today's reading, St. Paul (Acts 20: 28-38) reveals that he knew in advance of his impending martyrdom.  He had already had a taste of persecution, imprisonment, and the rest throughout his ministry. Here, he indicates that he knows that he is going to Jerusalem to be arrested, deported to Rome, and killed.  Yet. Paul also appears to be at peace with it all. How is that possible?

Paul's matryrdom, of course, is a mere shadow of that of the Lord's.  In today’s gospel from John (17: 11b-19-- in his beautiful prayer to the Father-- Jesus is clearly aware of His own approaching martyrdom.Yet he speaks in terms of his being raised up in glory to the Father. He sees his death not as a terminus, but as a passageway to light and life.  He never loses confidence in the Father's presence and love.

Our faith tells us that we are all called to be martyrs in one way or another. Literally speaking, to be "witnesses" to the Gospel. To be “white martyrs”, most of us, not suffering actual physical death, but nevertheless giving testimony to our faith in God in every manner of circumstance. Called to accept and embrace suffering and "death" on a daily basis. Internally, through the dying and death of our false selves, our overriding egos. Externally in our experiences of loss, including the loss of loved ones and the deprivation of status, honor, glory, health, and material security.

Jesus teaches and shows us that what gives our martyrdom meaning and purpsoe is its grounding in committed love.  That lives poured out in love, like the life and love of Jesus, are anything but wasted. We trust that this brings us deeper into the mystery of God’s love for us and in us.  And that through this martyrdom, we participate in the healing of our blessed, broken and bleeding world.

Tertullian was right. The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church.

 PS:  Today, we give God thanks in a particular for the people and parish of St. Boniface in San Francisco, California, staffed by the Franciscan friars.   Originally founded to serve German Catholic immigrants, it has continued in that caring tradition for more than a century.  Most especially, in the works of the St. Anthony Foundation next door to the church. Since 1950, the Foundation has been caring for the homeless, helpless, and hopeless of the city.  Today, its dining room serves up to 3,000 meals per day! The church building itself provides daytime respite space for homeless people through its Gubbio Project.

Finally, in terms of Sweden-- in regard to our beautiful faith community of Kristi-Lekamen (Corpus Christi) parish in the city of Visby (island of Gotland), where I will start to serve officially as pastor starting October 1.  

We give the Lord thanks for the tremendous support, both material and spiritual of the women and men of Bonifatiuswerk in Germany.  These wonderful people have enabled our parish to  complete long-needed repairs and restoration work to the parish buildings and grounds. As their website states "The Bonifatiuswerk of German Catholics helps wherever Catholic Christians live their faith in a minority situation in the diaspora."  For more information: https://www.bonifatiuswerk.de/english/

Photos: Saint Boniface. Engraving | H. Kipp after K. Clasen (Franciscan Media).  St. Boniface Church, SF/CA; Gubbio Project:  c. Peter Jordan.  K-L Church, Visby:  C. Talley ofm. Frauenberg monastery, Fulda. c. Leopold Röhrer. 

  

The Ascension of the Lord

June 2, 2019

Acts 1: 1-11

Ps 47:2-3, 6-7, 8-9

Eph 1: 17-23

Luke 24: 46-53

Today’s celebration of the Feast of the Ascension of the Lord calls us to imitate Jesus in His complete and utter trust in the Father.  What comes to my mind immediately is the expression:  “Let go and let God.”  Ever see that on a bumper sticker or hear about it through a 12-step recovery program, maybe?  It’s message is pretty clear and direct:  we need to let go of our tendency to want to control everything.  And to let God take charge of our lives.  Again.  Needless to say, it calls for a great deal of trust.

Today’s feast celebrates a moment in the life and ministry of Jesus.  But what a moment!  It is, at heart, a liminal experience.  “Liminal” is  from the Latin limin, which literally means “threshold.”  It is a threshold event.  Just like the graduations, First Communions, and weddings we celebrate at this time of the year.   We stand in the doorway, fully mindful of what we are leaving behind and poised, sometimes fearfully so, at the entrance of something new, something challenging, something not completely in our control.  A moment of thrust and of trust.

Did you ever learn how to ride a bicycle?  Do you still remember?  As far as I can tell, there are at least three ways to learn how to ride a bike. One, you can teach yourself: ride, fall, ride, fall.  Then:  ride, ride, fall; ride, ride, fall. Until you get it right.

The second way to learn how to ride a bike is to have someone teach you.  Preferably someone who, standing beside you, is holding onto the handlebars with one hand while holding onto you with the other.  Then, little by little, they let go until voilà!—you are launched and your own!

The third way I can think of is to have training wheels on your bike.  Something unobtrusive, nearly invisible to you the rider, which keeps you steady until that moment when you have the confidence and balance to kick them off and then just take off by yourself!

Liminal states, threshold moments. Leaving the known for the unknown.  Were you scared?  Thrilled? Curious?  No matter what, there’s no turning back.  It’s only forward….

That’s what’s happening in today’s Gospels. Note, I use the plural:  Gospels. The first reading (Acts 1:1-11) is gospel, too.  Volume II of the Gospel of Luke, as a matter of fact. A gospel which deals with the presence and ministry of Jesus afterHis Death and Resurrection.  And the second gospel read today (Luke 24:46-63) is the conclusionof the gospel of Luke.  The two readings dovetail, forming a “hinge” as some theologians call it, segueing from one kind of experience of the Lord to another.

In both readings, Jesus is at the threshold.  Poised to leave behind his physical presence in the world in order to return to the Father. Notice, He doesn’t leave the disciples orphaned, abandoned, or disinherited. He gives them his blessing and his promise.  And in the gospel of Luke, they are anything but distraught.  On the contrary, believing in Jesus and in His promise of the Spirit, they are pleased as punch: “They did him homage and then returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the temple praising God.”

What’s going on?  The disciples, finally, are ready to receive the Spirit. Jesus has taken off the traiing wheels. He himself passes through the threshold in order to fulfill his mission and destiny.  He is no longer confined to the limitations of his physical body: seeing, touching, healing small groups of people or even just one person at a time.  He is poised to send the Spirit and now, together with the Father and in the Spirit, Jesus becomes available to everyone everywhere. Including and especially us.  Right here, right now.  In his Living Word, the Scriptures.  In the assembly of the faithful.  And most poignantly for us in the Catholic Christian tradition, in the outpouring of His Presence and Love in the Eucharist we share and are called to become.

So, here we are at the threshold. Called by Jesus to “let go and let God” again—or perhaps for the very first time.  To leave behind our worries, frustrations, doubts and fears.  To cross the threshold into His Presence and Love no matter how often or how badly we have been stung, hurt, rejected, or ignored up until now.  Trusting in his care and guidance. 

Go ahead.  Look ahead.  Not behind. Cross the threshold and Let go and let God!

Photos:  (Top) paramenics.com  (Bottom)  beachbikes.com

Starting fresh-- again!

June 1, 2019

Feast of the Ascension

Danville, California

Hello Friends,

Peace and all good! It’s been a while—quite a while!—since I have written anything in this blog.  But I decided that today is as good a day as any to start again.  Besides, the Feast of the Ascension—this precious, liminal moment when Jesus lets go of the earth so as to embrace both heaven and earth more fully—seems like a propitious one.  

Today is also important to me in a personal way.  On June 1, 1980 I travelled from California to Sweden for the very first time.  This was before—long before—I became a friar or was ordained a priest.  I was 30. I had received a generous scholarship from the Swedish Institute to study and travel in the country for four months. Most especially, I was to study it’s textile traditions, visit with artists and craftmakers, and even take a short course in tapestry weaving.

It was four months that changed my life and which continue to affect and influence the course of my life, even today.  What a difference one simple, yet important decision can make, huh?  Go figure.  I never, ever thought in a thousand years that I would that I would fall in love with Sweden.  That I would end up living in Sweden (three years altogether from 1980-86).  That I would return to Sweden several times over the years to renew friendships and contacts.

Or that now, nearing my 70^thyear, that I would return once more to Sweden—only this time to live and work as a Franciscan friar and priest. Again: go figure.

Starting October 1, I will be serving as pastor at a small, but vibrant parish (see photo above)  in the city of Visby on the island of Gotland, smack dab in the middle of the Baltic Sea.  Three hours by boat from the Swedish mainland to the east.  About 90 sea miles from the coast of Latvia to the west.  Finland and Russia are to the north; Poland, to the south.  In the middle of everything and (to many people unfamiliar with the area) seemingly in the middle of nowhere at the same time.

The parish is called Kristi-Lekamens katolska församling/ Corpus Christi Catholic Parish.  Close to 200 registered adult members, with several hundred others who are not officially registered.  It is a small, but remarkably diverse community, with native-born Swedes (most of whom are converts to Catholicism) as well as individuals and families with roots in places as diverse as Burundi, Sri Lanka, Poland, and Spain.   The community is welcoming and wonderful.  At the same time, it is part and parcel of the Church universal, with all of the challenges and opportunities people of faith are facing everywhere these days.  That said, Välkommen!

I am not the first Franciscan to land on the island of Gotland.  And I sincerely hope I will not be the last.  The friars first arrived in the year 1233.  Considering that St. Francis of Assisi died in 1226, it is clear that they didn’t waste any time getting here! S:ta Katarina (officially St. Catherine of Alexandria Church, but lovingly referred to as “Sankta Karins” church), starting from the 13^thcentury but in ruins since the Reformation, still presides over the town square; the Franciscans’ convent next door has been restored.  I confess that every time I pass the church, I whisper:  “We’re back!!” And I pray that the spirit of Sts. Francis and Clare will continue to hover over and bless these wonderful people and this beautiful land.

For the present, I am engaged in all the necessary footwork of leave-taking, packing, and organizing. We all know how much fun that is.

Of course, it is difficult to leave friars, family, friends, and the work I have been doing in recent years.   I think anyone who has been through similar life changes can understand that readily.  But I believeGod continually challenges us to leave our comfort zones, to surrender,  and to trust.  Here goes!

Godbless,

Charles

Map of Sweden:  c. 2019 Newebcreations.   Photo of C. Talley:  c. Peter Jordan