Oakland's New Cathedral: Lightness & Being

Some years ago, when I was just starting to settle into religious life, a friend sent me a card with these words penned on the reverse: “Be sure to take a day off every week. And remember, a ‘day off’ is 24 hours away from where you live and work.’” Right. At the time I thought, well, she should know better. Everyone in this country gets two days off, not one. Wrong. In religious life and ordained ministry, I quickly discovered, a single free day each week is the norm; two would be a coveted exception. With that in mind, I decided to make the most of my one free day last week to get out of Dodge (aka Sacramento), take my bicycle, and head for the Bay Area on the Capitol Corridor commuter train.

I planned to start out with Oakland, California’s new Cathedral of Christ the Light, dedicated just a few weeks ago--on September 25--and then head on to San Francisco to have lunch and maybe take in a museum. But my scheduled, cycle-by photo shoot at the Cathedral stretched unexpectedly into a three-hour visit. My quick stopover had transformed into the makings of a pilgrimage. And my initial, casual interest moved into something like awe. What happened?



After I parked my bike, I proceeded up the ramp from street-level to the cathedral plaza above. The ramp is appropriately named the Pilgrim Pathway, and with good reason. The tall, glass and steel facade, topped by spiked finials is not particularly inviting. But as one approaches and then enters the structure, one has the sense of leaving things behind and entering into a physically and spiritually transforming space. One passes through wooden doors, warm to the eye and hand onto the vestibule passage to stop at the low, expansive baptismal font.



From there, the eye is guided, quite naturally, to the soaring sanctuary beyond. Opposite, directly above the simple main altar, forming the Omega window, is the image of Christ seated in judgment taken directly from the 12th century cathedral in Chartres.



The image is transposed via computering imaging pixel by pixel—93,000 in all—onto the perforated metal surface. The light of Christ, metaphorically and literally speaking, shining through the image and into the vast, vaulted space. Ribs of Douglas fir frame and soften the environment; a sanctuary space which holds 1300 people feels surprisingly warm and intimate.



The lozenge-shaped floor plan, created by the intersection of twin circles, is repeated and compressed in the ceiling.



That’s the Big Picture. What captured my interest and captivated me most, however, were all the small, simple yet engaging details. The main sanctuary, as in many traditional cathedrals, is encompassed by an ambulatory which invites one to stroll past and into a number of quite beautiful small side chapels. Here, the overall simplicity of the project is most pronounced: slits of natural light filtering into sparsely furnished settings. Here a candle; there, a copy of Scripture lying open on a stand. An icon. Or several paintings from colonial Mexico in honor of the Holy Family. Quiet and simplicity without sterility. That’s the secret of the place. And its’ genius. And perhaps part of its appeal to at least one Franciscan.





St. Francis himself, by the way, had a great love for the Church and for church buildings as well. He once said that “We must also frequently visit churches and venerate and revere the clergy….” In reference to the Eucharist, he wrote in his Testament that “I want to have these holy mysteries honored and venerated above all things and I want to reserve them in precious places.” And his biographers mention that Francis’s enthusiam for church restoration was so great that “ he would even purchase furnishings for adorning churches, and would secretly send them to poor priests.” Legend of the Three Companions.



And Francis has given us this very short and beautiful prayer, recited by Franciscans everywhere when we gather for worship. It is a reminder to all of us of the presence of Christ in our world—a presence reflected in a very special and intimate way in the very church buildings of the Christian tradition:

“We adore You, Most Holy Lord, Jesus Christ. And we bless You. Here and in all your churches throughout the world.
Because by Your Holy Cross You have redeemed the world.”



There are most definitely some "Franciscan" touches throughout the new Oakland Cathedral. The altar stone, for example, contains relics of St. Francis, as well as those of Blessed Junipero Serra (presidente of the California missions), as well as those of St. Colette of Corbi (1381-1447) a Poor Clare nun who established reform monasteries throughout Europe. Soil from the Auschwitz concentration camp was included into the stone, in commemoration of St. Maximilian Kolbe, the Conventual Franciscan who was martyred there—as well as all of the victims of Nazi terror, especially our Jewish brothers and sisters.



One of the devotional chapels (the Chapel of All Saints) contains an icon tripytich written by Brother William Woeger, SFC, who oversaw the design and placement of much of the Cathedral's artwork. One panel of the icon shows St. Joseph holding in his hands the Franciscan mission church of San Jose (c.1797)—the first church of what was to become the Diocese of Oakland in 1962. Another ‘moment’ in the Cathedral I found especially moving was the chapel of the Suffering Christ, which features the corpus of a 17th century Spanish colonial figure suspended from a contemporary ‘cross’ in the shape of the letter “T”—the Greek letter “ tau “ which Francis used for his personal signature and as the emblem of the penitential movement for laypeople and religious he founded.





Aesthetics aside, the new Cathedral campus offers two especially striking components to its witness. The first is a Healing Garden, part of its ministry to assist victims of clergy sexual abuse—inspired and designed by two recovering victims themselves. Another is a free medical clinic for the uninsured sponsored by the Knights of Malta housed in the adjacent chancery office building.



Franciscan presence is evident elsewhere in the Diocese through our ministry at St. Elizabeth & Mary Help of Christians parishes, as well as our Franciscan School of Theology in Berkeley and our student residence and other houses in the East Bay. In addition, our brothers in the Conventual and Capuchin traditions offer an important presence, as do the Franciscan sisters of Philadelphia and Redwood City, as well as our lay members in the Secular Franciscans. Retired bishop John Cummins has been honorarily received into our Province of St. Barbara in appreciation for his ministry.



Quoting “Lumen Gentium”/ “Light of the Peoples” a seminal document of Vatican II, Oakland’s present Bishop Allen H. Vigneron stressed that “ the Church should be a ….sacrament—a sign and instrument… of intimate union with God and of the unity of the whole human race.” That certainly is the hope of this new center of worship, already realized in part by its beauty and presence. I went to the Cathedral for twenty minutes and stayed for nearly three hours. I look forward to returning frequently to this beautiful new space, made holy by the faith and commitment of the people of the Diocese of Oakland.//

All photos by Charles Talley, ofm, except for the Healing Garden: Skidmore, Owings & Merrill. Printed in the NY Times.

Our Morning in Malibu

Welcome to our vocations day of recollection at the Serra Retreat Center in Malibu, California (Saturday, September 27). "Excuse me. Um. Malibu? You said the Franciscans are in Malibu? What's up with that?" Yes, the friars are definitely in Malibu and have been, fires notwithstanding, since 1943. In other words, we got there before all the celebrities did. Before Malibu was, well, Malibu.



That said, Father Warren, Father Mike, Father Philip and I were all ready to take bets on how many men would show up for the discernment experience. Three? Five? More? Imagine our delight and surprise as 12 men-- an even dozen-- made their way past the guardhouse and up the windy drive to Serra Retreat. Who were these young men, all of them willing to spend a Saturday morning to learn more about the Franciscans? Let me see: a graduate student, a social worker, a man who works in a jewelry store, an attendant in a convalescent hospital, a software whiz, a fella finishing up his Ph.D. who is absolutely in love with cycling, a translator in a hospital, a student at a community college.... In other words, a pretty decent cross-section of single young Catholic men in the Los Angeles who also, by the way, are willing to take their spiritual lives and dreams seriously. We had a great time together.

Fathers Warren, Mike, and Philip were our hosts-- all experienced retreat leaders-- all of them very interesting and accomplished men in their own right. But truth be known, this was only my second visit to Serra Center-- a 28-acre hilltop expanse with quite simple guest rooms, a dining room and chapel, and wonderful gardens overlooking the Pacific. A center of spiritual rest and renewal accessible to people throughout the LA area, its elegant surroundings notwithstanding.

I had never lived or worked much with any of these particular friars before. I was wondering what they would say in their talks, and whether or not they would 'click' with our inquirers. I shouldn't have wasted a moment in worry. I met our guests in the drive and showed them immediately to the dining room where some enjoyed a second (or third?) breakfast until everyone had arrived. Then we headed over to the Terrence Room (named after one of our much-loved confreres, Fr. Terrence Cronin) to sit for a morning session of conferences. Starting with Father Warren, each of the friars in turn came to the table to share his own vocation story and to give some insight into his particular involvement in retreat ministry.




It's not uncommon for someone who is first starting out on the spiritual journey to be a little bit romantic and starry-eyed. In fact, I contend that it is a natural stage in one's spiritual development overall. If we don't fall in love-- with God, with Jesus, with Francis, with the Franciscans-- then why the heck are we wasting our time? The romance-- and the memory of this 'first love' is so important in religious life. It's the spark that gets the fire, the passion going.

As each of the friars spoke, he shared something of the spark in his own life which kindled his particular vocational quest. For some friars it was an experience of literally 'falling in love' with God. For others, it was something more mundane and even superficial at first: the momentary romance of the habit, or, as in one case, the romance of coming to California and being close to the ocean! But the first love/romance quickly yields to the more challenging quest of digging in for the long run. Personally, I was very moved, listening to my brothers share about their lives. About the fulfillment they have found in ministry and community living. About their personal satisfaction with Franciscan life and gratitude for what it has given them. But they also spok about the thorns as well as the roses: periods of aridity, confusion, doubts, and detours. Difficulties and struggles along the way. The friars didn't try to paint a rosy picture of our lives. They try to express the reality of the joy and the pain-- and the ongoing call to conversion we experience throughout our lives.



Our guests were impressed. They asked good, direct questions: Did you ever doubt your vocation? Have you ever been in love? Did you ever think of leaving? What has kept you going in religious life? What has been most satisfying for you? Most difficult and challenging? What was the hardest thing to give up, or adjust to in community?

It was a good morning. Good, thoughtful questions. Good, honest answers. We concluded with prayer and lunch. As the men got to know each other a bit better, they shared stories and exchanged email addresses. There was a lot to talk about as well. Afterwards, the inquirers were welcome to spend time strolling the paths of the Center, or just sitting and enjoying the view. They did both.

So this is how we introduce men to our way of life. We invite them into our homes (friaries) and our ministries. We invite them to observe, reflect, share, respond. We invite, and then try to get out of the way so that the Spirit can move them to the next part of their spiritual journey. For some, it will be a journey that brings them 'home' to God through the Franciscan life and commitment. At least we hope so.

Enjoy YOUR morning, wherever you are. Even if it's not Malibu. And know that today, God's spirit is at work in your heart.//

The Feast of St. Francis of Assisi

Almighty, etrenal, just and merciful God, grant us in our distress that we may do for Your sake alone what we know You want us to do, and always want what pleases You; so that inwardly cleansed and enlightened and fired with the flame of the Holy Spirit, we may be able to follow in the footprints of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, and so make our way to You, Most High, by Your grace alone, You who live and rule in perfect Trinity and simple Unity, and are glorified God all-powerful, forever and ever. Amen.
-- Prayer for the Entire Order, St. Francis of Assisi, 1181-1226.

HAPPY FEASTDAY!
PAX ET BONUM

A Franciscan Novena: Day Nine, The Transitus of our Seraphic Father Francis

From: The Major Life of St. Francis by Brother Bonaventure

“When the hour of his passing was approaching, he had all the brothers staying in the place called to him and, comforting them about his death with words of consolation, he exhorted them to divine love with fatherly affection. He spoke at length about preserving poverty and patience and the faith of the holy Roman Church, placing the holy Gospel ahead of other observances.

"As all the brothers sat around him, he stretched his hand over them, crossing his arms in the form of a cross, for he always loved this sign. And he blessed all the brothers, both present and absent, in the name and power of the Crucified. Then he added: 'Goodbye, all my sons, in the fear of the Lord! Remain in Him always! Because a trial and tribulation is coming in the future, happy are thye who will persevere in those things they have begun. I am hurrying to God, to whose grace I entrust all of you.'

"When he finished this gentle admonition, the man most beloved of God ordered the Book of the Gospels brought to him and asked that the Gospel according to John be read to him from the place that begins: ‘Before the feast of Passover.’ He, as best he could, broke out in this psalm: ‘With my voice I cried to the Lord; With my voice I beseeched the Lord;’ and he finished it to the end. ‘The just,’ he said, ‘will await me until you have rewarded me.’” (Chap. XIV)

On the evening of October 3, 1226, Francis of Assisi died at the age of 44. After spending three days in the humble hut that his brothers had built as an infirmary, Francis had himself placed naked on the bare earth, and he died just as the friars were singing the verse of his "Canticle of the Creatures":

"Be praised, my Lord, for our sister Bodily Death, whom no living man can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin! Blessed are those whom she will find doing your holy will, for to them the second death will do no harm".

Each year, members of the Franciscan family around the world gather to remember the passing of Saint Francis: his transitus, into eternal life. This simple service of songs, readings, and prayers is a very poignant experience for all Franciscans. It is a time for all of us to remember our roots, to reflect upon our call, and to give thanks for the great gift of this extraordinary little poor man of Assisi (“Il Poverello”) , whose dream and struggle nearly 800 years ago to become a “living gospel” continue to inform and inspire people everywhere.

A Franciscan Novena: Day Eight

Saint Francis’ Salutation to the Blessed Virgin

Hail, Lady and Queen,
holy Mary, Mother of God,
Virgin who became the Church,
chosen by the Father in heaven,
consecrated by his beloved Son
and his Spirit, the Comforter:
in you was and remains,
the whole fullness of grace
and everything that is good.
Hail, his palace,
hail, his tabernacle,
hail, his dwelling,
hail, his robe,
hail, his handmaid,
hail, his mother!

O holy Mother,
sweet and fair to see,
for us beseech the King,
your dearest Son,
our Lord Jesus Christ,
to death for us delivered:
that in his pitying clemency,
and by virtue of his most holy incarnation
and bitter death,
he may pardon our sins.

Holy Virgin Mary,
among all the women of the world,
there is none like you.
You are the daughter and handmaid of the most high King,
Father of heaven.
You are the mother of our most holy Lord Jesus Christ.
You are the bride of the Holy Spirit.
Pray for us, with St. Michael the archangel,
and all the powers of heaven
and all the saints,
to your most holy and beloved Son,
our Lord and Master, Amen.

Franciscan spirituality is essentially incarnational—it focuses on the embodiment, or ‘enfleshment’ of God in our world in and through Jesus Christ. In his wonderful prayer to Mary, St. Francis calls her ‘the virgin made Church’. In doing so, he both reflects upon and enunciates the extraordinary mystery of her role in the unfolding and ongoing mystery of the Incarnation of Jesus in our lives and in our world.



This incarnational spirit is expressed most poignantly in a homily preached at Lourdes on September 24 by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Rowan Williams, at the inviation of Cardinal Walter Kasper. The liturgy was part of the 150th anniversary celebration of the apparition of Mary to Bernadette Soubirous at Lourdes, France. The homily is printed here in its entirety. Source: whispersintheloggia.blogspot.com.



'The babe in my womb leaped for joy.' (Luke 1.44)

Mary comes to visit Elizabeth, carrying Jesus in her womb. The Son of God is still invisible – not yet born, not even known about by Elizabeth; yet Elizabeth recognises Mary as bearing within her the hope and desire of all nations, and life stirs in the deep places of her own body. The one who will prepare the way for Jesus, John the Baptist, moves as if to greet the hope that is coming, even though it cannot yet be seen.

Mary appears to us here as the first missionary, 'the first messenger of the gospel' as Bishop Perrier of Lourdes has called her: the first human being to bring the good news of Jesus Christ to another; and she does it simply by carrying Christ within her. She reminds us that mission begins not in delivering a message in words but in the journey towards another person with Jesus in your heart. She testifies to the primary importance of simply carrying Jesus, even before there are words or deeds to show him and explain him. This story of Mary's visit to Elizabeth is in many ways a very strange one; it's not about the communication of rational information from one speaker to another, but a primitive current of spiritual electricity running from the unborn Christ to the unborn Baptist. But mission it undoubtedly is, because it evokes recognition and joy. Something happens that prepares the way for all the words that will be spoken and the deeds that will be done. The believer comes with Christ dwelling in them by faith, and God makes that current come alive, and a response begins, not yet in words or commitments, but simply in recognising that here is life.



When Mary came to Bernardette, she came at first as an anonymous figure, a beautiful lady, a mysterious 'thing', not yet identified as the Lord's spotless Mother. And Bernardette – uneducated, uninstructed in doctrine – leapt with joy, recognising that here was life, here was healing. Remember those accounts of her which speak of her graceful, gliding movements at the Lady's bidding; as if she, like John in Elizabeth's womb, begins to dance to the music of the Incarnate Word who is carried by his Mother. Only bit by bit does Bernardette find the words to let the world know; only bit by bit, we might say, does she discover how to listen to the Lady and echo what she has to tell us.





So there is good news for all of us who seek to follow Jesus' summons to mission in his Name; and good news too for all who find their efforts slow and apparently futile, and for all who still can't find their way to the 'right' words and the open commitment. Our first and overarching task is to carry Jesus, gratefully and faithfully, with us in all our doings: like St Teresa of Avila, we might do this quite prosaically by having with us always a little picture or a cross in our pockets, so that we constantly 'touch base' with the Lord. We can do it by following the guidance of the Orthodox spiritual tradition and repeating silently the Jesus Prayer, 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God have mercy on me, a sinner'. And if we are faithful in thus carrying Christ with us, something will happen, some current will stir and those we are with will feel, perhaps well below the conscious surface, a movement of life and joy which they may not understand at all. And we may never see it or know about it; people may not even connect it with us, yet it will be there – because Jesus speaks always to what is buried in the heart of men and women, the destiny they were made for. Whether they know it or not, there is that within them which is turned towards him. Keep on carrying Jesus and don't despair: mission will happen, in spite of all, because God in Christ has begun his journey into the heart.



And when we encounter those who say they would 'like to believe' but can't, who wonder how they will ever find their way to a commitment that seems both frightening and hard to understand, we may have something to say to them too: 'Don't give up; try and hold on to the moments of deep and mysterious joy; wait patiently for something to come to birth in you.' It certainly isn't for us as Christians to bully and cajole, and to try and force people into commitments they are not ready to make – but we can and should seek to be there, carrying Jesus, and letting his joy come through, waiting for the leap of recognition in someone's heart.



Of course, as often as not, we ourselves are the one who need to hear the good news; we need people around us who carry Jesus, because we who call ourselves believers all have our moments of confusion and loss of direction. Others fail us or hurt us; the Church itself may seem confused or weak or even unloving, and we don't feel we are being nourished as we need, and directed as we should be. Yet this story of Mary and Elizabeth tells us that the Incarnate Word of God is always already on the way to us, hidden in voices and faces and bodies familiar and unfamiliar. Silently, Jesus is constantly at work, and he is seeking out what is deepest in us, to touch the heart of our joy and hope.

Perhaps when we feel lost and disillusioned, he is gently drawing us away from a joy or a hope that is only human, limited to what we can cope with or what we think on the surface of our minds that we want. Perhaps it's part of a journey towards his truth, not just ours. We too need to look and listen for the moments of recognition and the leap of joy deep within. It may be when we encounter a person in whom we sense that the words we rather half-heartedly use about God are a living and actual reality. (That's why the lives of the saints, ancient and modern, matter so much.) It may be when a moment of stillness or wonder suddenly overtakes us in the middle of a familiar liturgy that we think we know backwards, and we have for a second the feeling that this is the clue to everything – if only we could put it into words. It may be when we come to a holy place, soaked in the hopes and prayers of millions, and suddenly see that, whatever we as individuals may be thinking or feeling, some great reality is moving all around and beneath and within us, whether we grasp it or not. These are our 'Elizabeth' moments – when life stirs inside, heralding some future with Christ that we can't yet get our minds around.

It's very tempting to think of mission as something to be done in the same way we do – or try to do – so much else, with everything depending on planning and assessments of how we're doing, and whether the results are coming out right. For that matter, it's tempting to think of the Church's whole life in these sorts of terms. Of course we need to use our intelligence, we need to be able to tell the difference between good and bad outcomes, we need to marshal all the skill and enthusiasm we can when we respond to God's call to share his work of transforming the world through Jesus and his Spirit. But Mary's mission tells us that there is always a deeper dimension, grounded in the Christ who is at work unknown and silent, reaching out to the deeply buried heart of each person and making the connection; living faithfully at the heart of the Church itself, in the middle of its disasters and betrayals and confusions, still giving himself without reserve. All that we call 'our' mission depends on this; and if we are wise, we know that we are always going to be surprised by the echoes and connections that come to life where we are not expecting it.

True mission is ready to be surprised by God – 'surprised by joy', in the lovely phrase of C. S. Lewis. Elizabeth knew the whole history of Israel and how it was preparing the way for God to come and visit his people – but she was still surprised into newness of life and understanding when the child leapt in her womb. Bernardette's neighbours and teachers and parish clergy knew all they thought they needed to know about the Mother of God – and they needed to be surprised by this inarticulate, powerless, marginal teenager who had leapt up in the joy of recognition to meet Mary as her mother, her sister, bearer of her Lord and Redeemer. Our prayer here must be that, renewed and surprised in this holy place, we may be given the overshadowing strength of the Spirit to carry Jesus wherever we go, in the hope that joy will leap from heart to heart in all our human encounters; and that we may also be given courage to look and listen for that joy in our own depths when the clarity of the good news seems far away and the sky is cloudy.

But here today, with Elizabeth and Bernardette, we say, in thankful amazement, 'Why am I so favoured, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?' And we recognise that our heart's desire is met and the very depth of our being stirred into new life.

A Franciscan Novena: Day Seven

A Litany of Praise
by Phillip Garcia, ofm

We praise you for rising sun and waning moon, for gently changing shades of coral and blue and gray--

We praise you for distant sound of ocean waves greeting dawn for the billionth time--

We praise you for glistening black-feathered crow, perched, surveying canyons-



We praise you for eucalyptus and pine and palm and for whispering branch symphonies played by wind--


We praise you for sound of frogs and owls and hawks filing air with morning songs--

We praise you for scurrying squirrel in search of food and for even quicker lizard basking slightly in sunlight warmth--



We praise you for butterflies and hummingbirds and bees on daily visitation of lilies and roses and geraniums--



We praise you for purring cat and friendly dog, ambassadors of original grace and love--



We praise you for sustaining all of creation in rightful posture and in holy relation--

We praise and thank you for creation's wisdom--



We praise and thank you for the life-lessons taught to us by all living beings--

We praise and thank you today and now and in all our days.

AMEN.

A Franciscan Novena: Day Six

The Canticle of Creation by St. Francis of Assisi

Most high, all powerful, good Lord, to You be praise, glory and honor and all blessing.
To You alone, Most High, do they belong, and there is no man worthy to name You.

Praise be to You, my Lord, with all Your creatures.
Chief of all is Sir Brother Sun, who is our day; through whom You give light. Beautiful is he, radiant, with great splendor. He is a true revealer of You, Most High.
Praise be to You, my Lord, for Sister Moon and for the stars. In heaven You have formed them, bright, precious and fair.


Praise be to You, my Lord, for Brother Wind, and for the air, and for the cloud, for clear sky and for all weathers, by which You give nourishment to all Your creatures.



Praise be to You, my Lord, for Sister Water. She is most useful and humble, precious and pure.



Praise be to You, my Lord, for Brother Fire, by whom You light up the night. Fair is he and merry, mighty and strong.
Praise be to You, my Lord, for our Sister, Mother Earth, who sustains and keeps us. She brings forth divers fruits, the many-hued flowers and grass.



You, my Lord, for those who grant pardon for love of You, and bear weakness and buffetings. Blessed are they who live in peace, for by You, Most High, shall they be crowned.



Praise be to You, my Lord, for our Sister, Bodily Death, From whom no living man can flee. Woe to them who die in mortal sin! But blessed they who shall find themselves in Your most holy will; to them the second death shall do no ill.//

Photos by: Friar Chuck Talley, ofm. Artwork (detail) Nevin Ford, ofm