Preparing for Solemn Profession with Samuel Mazzuchelli

"Let us wake up then, open our eyes in apostolic charity, and if we are called, set out for any place where the work is great and difficult, but where also, with the help of the One who sends us, we shall open the way to the Gospel."

Samuel Mazzuchelli, the great Italian missionary to the American Midwest and candidate for beatification, has been on my mind lately as I prepare to profess solemn vows with the Order of Preachers on June 8th--less than two weeks away. After being in the Order five years, I am about to make a life-long commitment through the ratification of my vows, this time giving my life over to the service of God and his Church through the Order of Preachers permanently.

As the above quote from Father Samuel illustrates, he had an amazing sense of what the life of an itinerant friar was all about. Indeed, he had only been in the Order as long as I have been, and was only 22 years old, when he heard the call for missionaries for the growing Church in the United States. Out of apostolic charity, he answered that call, loving the people he would serve (both European Americans and Native Americans) even before he met them. And he had the kind of willingness to work that would put most people to shame--undaunted by the difficulties entailed by the great amount of work to do. He left for the United States without any mastery of the English language, without a thorough knowledge of how to get where he was going, and without enough resources to get there; but he had faith, and sure enough, he made it safely to St. Rose, Kentucky, where he would continue his studies for the priesthood.

In 1830, he was ordained by the first bishop of Cincinnati, Edward Dominick Fenwick--a fellow Dominican friar and founder of the U.S. Province of St. Joseph. Father Samuel's first assignment was not to a single parish in Cincinnati, nor nearby Covington or Newport, Kentucky--it was the entire Northwest Territory. He would travel all over Michigan, Wisconsin, Iowa, Missouri, and more. By the time he died, he had designed more than 24 buildings, both churches and civic buildings, although there is no indication that he formally studied architecture. Some of these churches still stand today. Not only that, he published books in Winnebago and Chippewa, the better to serve the Native American Christians he encountered and cared for.

While his artistic skills are fascinating, and his organizational skills are extraordinary, it is his commitment to itinerancy and evangelization that impresses me most. When you read about him, you get the sense that Fr. Samuel knew the work was not about him, and its success was not dependent on him. He would organize a parish community, maybe design its building, but at a certain point, he knew it was time to move on. Other people needed him, and so he would pick up and go. This spirit of itineracy is truly apostolic, both in its spirit and in the practical reality that Fr. Samuel was true to the vow of poverty, and did not have possessions. He was not loyal to a house, nor did he have a whole library he had to tote around (like so many of us Dominicans). This, along with that untiring "Yes!" to change, allowed him to live like the Apostle Paul and St. Dominic, not to mention the Messiah himself. This model is important for me, because it reminds me not to put down roots in any place in such a way that I resist saying "yes!" to the call to serve some place else. It challenges me not to collect things, so that I can pick up and move without undue fuss. Fr. Samuel's model inspires me to be free, simply by living out the life of a friar the way it was intended to be lived.

As for evangelization, I marvel at Fr. Samuel's dedication to preaching the Gospel, whether convenient or inconvenient. Not only did he seek to learn the languages of the people he ministered to--English and various Native American languages--he sought to meet the challenge of the ecumenical competition of his day, as well. When he encountered a Protestant preacher who was anti-Catholic and preaching against the Church to gain converts, Fr. Samuel responded by attending the Protestant preacher's speeches, and then offering counter points at his own church. He offered to host the Protestant preacher, but that man declined. Fr. Samuel respected Protestants as Christians, but he was well prepared to counter the charges made by them against the Church. His Memoirs testify to the keenness of his arguments, and to his humor, as when he says: "It is only too true that Biblical fanaticism deprives man of his intelligence and throws him into a certain degree of dementia for which medical science has not yet found a remedy." In this way, Fr. Samuel reminds me that a preacher needs to be ready to serve the needs of everyone he or she encounters. A preacher feeds his or her hearers with the Gospel and with the apostolic tradition handed down in the Catholic Church. My study, therefore, of scripture and theology must be an ever on-going process, since new questions and new challenges to the faith arise everyday. My neighbors are hungry to know the truth, and it is my job to speak truth to them intelligently.

All of his energy, and all of his work, his preaching and teaching, came from the well of his prayer life. Complementing this prayer life, Fr. Samuel was a man of penance, wearing around his waist a chain to remind him of his sinfulness. Indeed, he knew the importance of knowing one's own sinfulness in order to understand God's great gift of mercy. He wrote: "How many are lost by denying to divine mercy that tiny sacrifice which often proves to be the invisible seed of a tree, which is to bear fruit of eternal life." He also wrote: "How foolish are those Christians who weep and lament over poverty, misfortunes, sickness, the death of kindred, and never think of sorrowing or sighing over their own sins and obstinate resistance to Divine Grace." The first quote reminds me of Jesus' own words to St. Maria Faustina, and the second quote is a succinct critique of the modern world that often pities itself in the aftermath of disasters and wars, but does nothing to convert from its sinfulness. The key to conversion, Fr. Samuel's example shows, is prayer. Thus, as I begin this new phase of my life as a Dominican friar, Fr. Samuel's life reminds me to remain true to prayer and penance. By staying close to God in prayer, the Christian sees better his or her own sinfulness, but also God's great compassion and patience. By embracing penance, he or she actively works against cycles of sinful habits, and follows after the Savior, who denied himself for the sake of others.

On February 23, 1864, Fr. Samuel died due to exposure to the cold. He had been out in the inclement whether answering the call to attend a dying man, administering to him the sacraments. This seems to me a fitting end to a life lived for others, a religious brotherhood that could refuse no one comfort and a priesthood dedicated to intercession and reconciliation. It is no wonder, then, that when I look to models of Dominican life, ways of walking the path of an itinerant preacher, I think of Venerable Samuel Mazzuchelli, my Dominican brother.

The image that stands out to me most at this time, the one I think that parallels my feelings best as I prepare for solemn vows, is the image of a young Italian man looking out across the sea as he stands on board the ship taking him away from his homeland, family and friends. He breathes in deeply the air blowing against him as his hair is tousled this way and that. His heart is full of emotion, and perhaps tears come to his eyes--but he prays with the Psalmist: "My heart is ready, O God! My heart is ready!" (57:8). These words are in my heart, as well, and I pray that God would bless me, as he did my brother Samuel, with a heart that will be always open and always ready, a heart like that of Jesus.
Br. Paul, OP

For more information on Venerable Father Samuel Mazzuchelli visit the website of the Sinsinawa Dominican Sisters (the congregation he founded) at: http://www.sinsinawa.org/08_Fr_Mazzuchelli/Fr_Mazzuchelli.htm

Read his memoirs: http://search.barnesandnoble.com/The-Missionary/Samuel-Mazzuchelli/e/9781932490107/?itm=2&USRI=samuel+mazzuchelli

Or go on pilgrimage to his grave in St. Patrick's Cemetery, Benton, Wisconsin, and to the Motherhouse of the Sinsinawa Dominicans where the relic of Ven. Mazzuchelli is kept.

The End of the World and a New False Prophet

The end of the world was supposed to come on May 21st, 2011 according to Harold Camping. It did not--at least not for most of us. For the 116 people killed in Joplin, MO from the deadliest tornado in the U.S. since 1953, the end came on May 22nd in that frighteningly horrible way that mother nature has of highlighting our vulnerability as humans. The end came for countless others due to disease, starvation, war, domestic violence, cruel crimes, and unfortunate accidents. The end did come for many people on May 21st, 22nd, and 23rd, but not in the cosmic and collective way that some expected or hoped it would. It came peacefully for some, tragically for others, expected or unexpected. It will come today for many more.

The "end of the world" or "judgement day" looms over the Christian imagination. To be honest, I had not heard anything about Mr. Camping's prediction until I returned to Kentucky, to my Protestant family. The Catholic circle I usually move in had been undisturbed by the prediction, and rightly so. I hope all Catholics know better than to listen to false prophecy. In truth, there are two important things Catholics should keep in mind at this time; two important points they can share with their Protestant neighbors:

1) We should always be living as if today is the last day. We should not wait until some prediction comes to "get right with God" and to share our resources with others. Waiting until someones says "it's May 21st" or "October 21st" to try and live as the Messiah instructed is the behavior of someone without faith, hope or charity. You certainly cannot claim to love God deeply and genuinely if you disregard what he has told you. And what did the Messiah say? He taught the parable of the Wise and the Foolish Virgins, the heart of which was his conclusion: "Therefore stay awake, for you know neither the day nor the hour" (Matthew 25:13). Any day could be the day, so we Christians must be ready.

2) We should not listen to anyone who claims to have knowledge of the Last Day. After all, the Messiah also said: "But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father" (Mark 13:32 & Matt 24:36). --If only the Father knows, how can Harold Camping or William Miller*, or anyone else, for that matter, know when the day will be? That it will remain a secret is also clear from scripture. St. Paul says, "Concerning times and seasons, brothers [and sisters], you have no need for anything to be written to you. For you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief at night" (1 Thessalonians 5:1-2). If it were otherwise there would not be such an emphasis on vigilance (Mark 13:33-36). Indeed, St. Paul further writes, "But you, brothers [and sisters], are not in darkness, for that day to overtake you like a thief. For all of you are children of the light and children of the day. We are not of the night or of darkness. Therefore, let us not sleep as the rest do, but let us stay alert and sober" (1 Thessalonians 5:4-6).

I believe that I have taken St. Paul's words to heart, because end-of-the-world-predictions do not disturb me spiritually, as they do others of my acquaintance. Since I believe that my whole life belongs to God and is about God, I could hardly wish to avoid the day that would bring me a better vision of him, even if descriptions of that day are fearful--as they seem to be in the Book of Revelation (which the Church has been reading for the past few weeks in the Office of Readings). If that day is great and terrible, it is great for those who love, hope, and believe in God's promises, and terrible for those who do not. A Christian has nothing to fear about that day, which is why we pray for its coming each time we pray the words of the Our Father "Thy kingdom come!" and when we pray "Come Lord Jesus, do not delay!" during Advent. We are a people who sees the Last Day as an act of God, a day of revelation--in other words, we see it as a good thing. I have confidence that it will be a day of mercy as well as a display of power. Mystery will be explained and encountered on a deeper level for "we will see him as he is" (1 John 3:2). And then the vision will be fulfilled:

"...They stand before God's throne
and worship him day and night in his temple.
The one who sits on the throne will shelter them.
They will not hunger or thirst anymore,
nor will the sun or any heat strike them.
For the Lamb who is in the center of the throne
will shepherd them
and lead them to springs of life-giving water,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes"
(Revelation 7:15-17).

Let us Catholic Christians, who enjoy the grace and blessings of the sacraments of the Messiah--especially baptism and Eucharist--be not afraid of the coming day. If we have died with him, we will also rise with him and reign with him (2 Timothy 2:11-12) so what should be be afraid of?

Or, if we were frightened by Mr. Camping's prediction, so much the better, because it shows us a need to reorient our lives on God, and to ponder our values. Are we Christians of faith, hope, and charity? Or are we Christians only in name, living as any of our neighbors might be living, asleep and unprepared for the Messiah's return--or worse, unwilling for the Messiah's return to come in our time?

As for Mr. Camping himself, I am not his judge--though I do believe he is guilty of false prophecy (which is a serious sin). Preaching the end times is the duty of all preachers, but predicting the date itself opens one up for ridicule and derision. The words of the Messiah already convict people. He said "If anyone says to you then, "look, here is the Messiah!' or 'There he is!' do not believe it" (Matt 24:23; Mark 13:21). Scripture also says "Know that, even though a prophet speaks in the name of the Lord, if his oracle is not fulfilled or verified, it is an oracle which the Lord did no speak. The prophet has spoken it presumptuously, and you shall have no fear of him" (Deuteronomy 18:22) [See also Jeremiah 28:9; Ezekiel 33:33.]

Declaring a false prophecy, as Mr. Camping has, ought to put people on their guard, as Jesus said "Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves" (Matthew 7:15). Unfortunately, some may be unperturbed by the fact that Mr. Camping "got it wrong" and some may be foolish enough to continue to follow him, just as some were foolish enough to follow William Miller, Joseph Smith, and others. These, I think, are those who will say on the actual last day, "'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name? Did we not drive out demons in your name? Did we not do mighty deeds in your name?'" They, and their followers who deserted the true Church and worked against it, will hear that frightening declaration from the Lord: "'I never knew you. Depart from me, you evildoers'" (Matthew 7:22-23).

Moral of the story: Stay awake, be on your guard--but most importantly, be in love with God and do not fear. Live as if today were the day--meaning, be merciful, charitable, quick to forgive, quick to seek forgiveness, be penitent, receive the sacraments, read scripture, do the works of mercy, and love the next life more than you love this one. Of course, this may require you to turn off the computer or television or cell phone or iPod and to sit still long enough to hear God again within you so that you can remember who it is that you exist for.
Br. Paul, OP

*William Miller started the Millerite Movement, from which the Seventh Day Adventist and Jehovah's Witness and other groups were formed. Miller wrongly predicted that the Second Coming of Christ would occur on October 22, 1844. Despite Miller's false prophesy, some followers continued the movement in the form of Adventist communities. (One reason I role my eyes at the claims of Seventh Day Adventist, a group I think should pay closer attention to Christian texts (since they claim to be Christian), in particular, the Letter to the Galatians (since they seem to want to be Jews and not Christians).

**Note, I don't mean to claim that end-of-the-world-predictions are Protestant events only. I mean to disparage merely the act itself as foolish. This is in contrast to preaching the Second Coming as imminent, which is a Christian duty and tradition. I also do not mean to disparage Mr. Camping's morality or spirituality as a whole, since I do not know him personally, rather, I am focusing on his claim to know when the Last Day is coming. I evaluate it as a fellow Christian in light of the scandal his behavior brings to Christianity as a result of his being wrong. His false prediction may lead some to reject Christianity or to laugh at the Gospel, which are serious matters for the Christian community.

Rolling in the Deep: A Reflection, Part II

As discussed in part one of this reflection, “Rolling in the Deep” is a song about anger and disappointment. In part two of this reflection, I want to discuss the application of this song to life and prayer.

A good place to begin is a quote from James Collins’ essay “Fanny was Right: Jane Austen as Moral Guide.” Collins writes, “How can morals, sentiments, and manners help me live in the world? What should my relations to the world be? Should I reject it entirely as corrupt and mercenary and spiteful and hypocritical and shallow? Or is there some other way, a way I can keep my integrity and sensitivity, but live in the world too?” (151). Collins offers a quote from W. H. Auden as a further explanation of his question, but before I cite that as well, I want to note the feeling behind the question Collins’ poses, because I think it would be an appropriate one for the speaker of Adele’s song to ask herself after having suffered such a betrayal and disappointment. For all of her threats and big talk, I think the speaker in “Rolling in the Deep” is spiritually and emotionally shattered. Her anger is taking over, and is preventing healing from happening. She is in danger of rejecting the “corrupt and mercenary and spiteful and hypocritical and shallow” world, because she has been in contact with one person who exhibited all of those traits. Unfortunately, that one person happened to be important to her. Unfortunately, she had given her heart to him. She needs—I could say “we need”— to know if there is a way to keep one’s “integrity and sensitivity, but live in the world too.”

W. H. Auden paints a powerful dichotomy for us when he writes:

“Does Life only offer two alternatives: ‘You shall be happy, healthy, attractive, a good mixer, a good lover and parent, but on the condition that you are not overcurious about life. On the other hand you shall be sensitive, conscious of what is happening round you, but in that case you must not expect to be happy, or successful in love or at home in any company. There are two worlds and you cannot belong to them both. If you belong to the second of these worlds you will be unhappy because you will always be in love with the first, while at the same time you will despise it. The first world on the other hand will not return your love because it is in its nature to love only itself,” (151).

Actually, this theory can be devastating. I could go on and talk about Collins’ theory that Jane Austen actually goes beyond Auden and says there is a better middle ground—but I’m not really interested in the answer. I love the truth found in the tension of the question. Perhaps I love Auden’s definition of the two worlds precisely because it obviously favors the second world described—superior, although unhappy, because it engages life and the world on a deeper level and finds out the frightening fact that the world is brutal in its power to betray. The people of the first world described know this too, but they opt out by living on some kind of superficial or safe level. Their guardedness protects them. These people would not appreciate “Rolling in the Deep,”—or if they did, they would blame the speaker for being so unwise.

I am interested in this, because I think I am a person who lives in the second type of world described by Auden. I agree that being sensitive and conscious of what is happening around you often leads to being unhappy, unsuccessful in love, and feeling out of place in company. But I am worried about this, because being disillusioned once, as the speaker of “Rolling in the Deep” has been, can make one see only the faults of others, or lose confidence in their ability to give joy or to convert. I have been tempted by this thought this week as I have wrestled with understanding encounters I have recently had with a few people of my acquaintance. I will not, of course, mention names or specifics; that would be inappropriate and unhelpful. It is enough to know that I have being experiencing the vicissitudes of disappointment and anger these past three weeks, and that this has overflowed into my prayer. Lines like “I have no love for half-hearted men” (Psalm 119:113) and “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit" (Psalm 34:18) have been helpful at this time, because they recognize the human experience of sorrow, anger, and disappointment—the elements of a broken heart.

While I sat with these lines from scripture I came to think that, indeed, the Lord is close to the brokenhearted, because God has had plenty of experiences with having his heart broken, so to speak. In fact, one way of interpreting the song that I find helpful (especially when viewing the music video) is to imagine that the singer is none other than God (in feminine form) singing to the world. This more angry and sorrowful image of God is familiar to us in the stories of the Great Flood, Sodom and Gomorrah, the Ten Plagues, the near-destruction of Nineveh, and Jesus ranting against Tyre and Sidon and other sinful groups who are to be harshly condemned. The images from the video of a ruined mansion, a huge pile of broken dishes, a model of a city skyline being torched—all symbolically externalize the singer's sorrow and anger, thereby playing similar roles as images of the empty Garden of Eden, the silent, inundated world during the Great Flood, the toppled Tower of Babel, the smoking, wasted mess of Sodom—images I wager people do not often sit with, since they can be horrifying.

Indeed, these images normally horrify me, but I was meditating on the God of the Great Flood this week as I sat with my anger and disappointment and I remember thinking as I prayed in my anger that I could finally relate to that image, because I realized the God of the Great Flood is not merely angry, but disappointed—even brokenhearted. We humans, after all, can be petty, selfish, disrespectful, stupid, vain, and oblivious little creatures. We betray all the time, and take advantage of mercy. The Flood was God’s great stand against that betrayal.

So often, I think Christians think that they have to reject their negative emotions, deny that they get angry, or are hurt beyond what a simple apology can mend. We get the idea that the Christian thing to do is to become a doormat for others to walk all over us. After all, did not Jesus say to Peter that he had to forgive not seven times, but seven times seventy? (Matt 18:22). This story, added to the long list of other citations I could make related to forgiveness and love, especially the forgiveness prayer Jesus prays while on cross, demand a taxing amount of virtue in the face of betrayal and sin.

But I don't think that the process of forgiveness and mercy is supposed to feel easy or nice. In fact, confronting the depth of the impact of another person's sinfulness on us can be a kind of psychic crucifixion. Mercy—the clemency we hope to show in imitation of the Messiah—hurts, too, because it can be a long process, a continuation of that psychic crucifixion, and one that opens you up to being hurt all over again. No wonder so many hold grudges and build emotional walls (the kind the people of the first world described by Auden construct to protect their neat and pretty lives).

But this is where I begin to disagree with Auden. That is, that the people of the second world must necessarily be unhappy because they are sensitive and aware. They will be unhappy at times, but if they are able to go through the crucifixions required of them by charity, they will find happiness--a lasting happiness--not due to the pain, but due to the radical option to love again, and again, and again, which frees them to experience the joy of the people they would ordinarily shut out of their lives.

Take the Parable of the Prodigal Son, as an example. Sure, the story ends seemingly on a good note, but, using creative license, I want to challenge the story teller (Jesus), and ask "But what happened next?" I'm not convinced that the younger son was completely reformed, nor do I believe the self-righteous older brother was changed by his father's words. They probably went on being two bratty ingrates who plagued their poor father's heart out--and yet, I am sure that the father never stopped choosing to love them. He suffered much from this love, but I am sure he had the reward of actually experiencing love and communion--something that people embittered with disappointment and twisted by anger cannot do in the isolation of their condition.

Am I saying that people should just "choose to be happy"? Well, that sounds incredibly naive. And am I saying the speaker of "Rolling in the Deep" should have forgiven her betrayer and taken him back? That sounds like a perpetuation of an abusive situation, which would be wrong. What I am saying is, as I think God has shown, true and lasting and life-changing love is rooted in vulnerability, and so it opens one up to pain. While we're enduring the pain--the real fire and fever of anger and disappointment, it may do us good to sit with the God of the Deluge, but we must remember that it was that same God who spared a family and allowed the human race to go on. He's more the God of the Ark than he is the God of the Flood. His willingness to suffer on our account in order to keep us in relationship with him is the greatest instruction to us on how we are to act if we hope to rise out of our disappointments and moments of anger and sorrow to experience love and happiness again.

Br. Paul, OP

Collins, James. "Fanny was Right: Jane Austen as Moral Guide," A Truth Universally Acknowledged: 33 Great Writers on Why We Read Jane Austen. Susannah Carson, ed. New York: Random House, 2009.

Rolling in the Deep:A Reflection, Part I

The image to the left is from the music video of "Rolling in the Deep" by Adele. I first heard this powerful song about a month ago, but was reminded of it on Tuesday evening when it was featured on the television sitcom Glee. I've been listening to the song all week, and so I thought I would do both a literary analysis of the lyrics and a theological reflection on it. Why? It has given me much food for thought in my prayer this week. If you would like to listen to the song, CLICK HERE for a link to the YouTube video.

Part I, Literary Analysis:
Literary analysis goes line by line, if not word by word, so I'll begin at the very beginning, which is, of course, the title.

1) "Rolling in the Deep"--to be honest, when I first learned what the words of the title were, I did not understand what they meant apart from the context of the rest of the song. In other words, "Rolling in the Deep" is not a common phrase for me, but given the images from the video, and other words in the song, I think the phrase is a way of saying "being well-off" or "affluent." If I'm wrong, please correct me.

2) "There's a fire starting in my heart/Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark"--so begins the song. At this point, it's too early to get the full import of these words. Nevertheless, we understand that emotion is escalating for the speaker, symbolized by the image of a "fire" "starting," but then "reaching a fever pitch." This fire is not just a symbol of emotion, as in the concept of "heat" or "fever" as a metaphor for "anger," because the fire also is bringing the speaker "out the dark." It is, therefore, a metaphor for enlightenment, also, if we take "darkness" as a metaphor for "ignorance."

3) "Finally, I can see you crystal clear,/Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your ship bare,/See how I'll leave with every piece of you,/Don't underestimate the things that I will do." In this stanza the speaker makes clear who her audience is--it's a particular subject (not herself, not the generic listeners, etc.) The "you" is someone specific, and we can take it to be a singular person. Again, the first line of this stanza, "Finally, I can see you crystal clear," is packed with meaning and metaphor. The word "finally" implies that this journey to her present enlightenment has been a long one--perhaps the consequence of a much longer period of deception (during the relationship) and a period of confusion and sorrow (initially after the break up). Now, however, the speaker can "see [her audience] crystal clear"--sight being another metaphor for enlightenment. What is the consequence of "seeing," that is "understanding"--disillusionment. She now understands her audience as an enemy threatening her, so she proceeds to threaten back, which is what the three last lines of this stanza are all about. The first, "Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your ship bare" is a tit for tat threat, which puts the blame on the person she is speaking to. The next "I'll leave with every piece of you" is a claim of power, the key words being "every piece of you"--"every" leaving nothing for her audience. The last line, "Don't underestimate the things that I will do," is chillingly ambiguous, but it is also revealing: ought the listener to the song suspect that the speaker's audience was in the habit of "underestimating" her? That their whole relationship dynamic was based on abusive manipulation from the audience against the speaker? If the speaker had been passive in the past, due to her ignorance of her former beloved's malice, she is passive no longer.

4) "There's a fire staring in my heart,/Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark"--a repeat of the first two lines. Now the listeners have a much better idea of what the speaker means by "fire," "fever pitch," and "dark." The speaker is evidently angry, and has made a resolution not to be a victim.

5) "The scars of your love remind me of us,/They keep me thinking that we almost had it all,/The scars of your love, they leave me breathless,/I can't help feeling..." This is the introduction to the climatic refrain of the song, and I think repetition is effectively used to build up to that climax. The metaphor of "scars" is a strong one, as it is jarringly applied to "your love." Someone whose love leaves scars is clearly an abusive lover. The use of the words "your," "me," "us" show the breakdown of the relationship. The speaker is recalling the days when she and her audience were one. She is sitting in the past, and what makes it hard for her is the realization that "we almost had it all." This past relationship was not completely bad, then. Her anger about the past seems to be based on the fact that things might have been very good--she thinks she nearly tasted perfect happiness--but it was all taken away. Disappointed hope, the result of something her audience did; the speaker is blaming him. "They leave me breathless,"--an ambiguous phrase, since being left "breathless" can be a positive experience. Still, "breathless" is extreme, showing that whatever she is feeling--a mix of good and bad, perhaps--she is feeling it to the utmost.

6) "We could have had it all,/(You're gonna wish you never had met me),/Rolling in the Deep,/(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep),/You had my heart inside of your hand, (You're gonna wish you never had met me),/And you played it to the beat,/(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)"--So goes the climatic refrain and hymn from a broken and angry heart. The speaker repeats her accusation to her audience that they "could have had it all...rolling in the deep," while a chorus of voices sings the ominous line "You're gonna wish you never had met me." The two levels of emotion are playing out at the same time: the bitterness over missed opportunity and the angry intent to get revenge. "You had my heart inside of your hand...and you played it to the beat." The speaker claims innocence in these lines. She had been generous and open with her heart, which she gave to her beloved, but the image of her heart in his hand being played to the beat indicates vulnerability and violation. He used her, thus the voices in the background sing "tears are gonna fall"--but not the speaker's. She has finished crying. It is her betrayer who is going to cry.

7) "Baby, I have no story to be told,/But I've heard one on you and I'm gonna make your head burn,/Think of me in the depths of your despair,/Make a home down there as mine sure won't be shared"--a new threat from the speaker against her audience. She has knowledge about something related to her former beloved which she can use against him. "I'm gonna make your head burn" and "depths of your despair" are images of pain that the speaker blatantly apply to her audience. There seems to be a shift from threat of potential action to one of promised action. "Make a home down there"--there being a negative place, perhaps an allusion to hell--"as mine sure won't be shared," the revelation that the speaker has barred her former beloved from her "home" forever, "home" being a metaphor for her life, for intimacy/communion. Loud and clear she is saying that she is done and over with him.

8) The intro to the refrain and the refrain are repeated, with one interesting change that may or may not have been intended. Instead of saying "But you played it with a beat" as earlier, the speaker says "But you played it with a beating." "Played it with a beat" is a music line with ambiguous negative connotations in the context of the song. When the word "beat" becomes "beating" there's a sharp escalation of violent imagery, another indicator that the lover has hurt the speaker greatly through betrayal.

9) "Throw your soul through every open door,/Count your blessings to find what you look for,/Turn my sorrow into treasured gold,/You'll pay me back in kind and reap just what you've sown." I confess that I find this stanza a little tricky. The lines are intriguing, but too ambiguous for me. "Throw your soul through every open door," may reference, generally, opportunity. I might even see it as a reference to demonic possession, given Jesus' use of the metaphor of "house" for the human person [in connection with demon possession](Luke 11:24-26). "Count your blessings to find what you look for" seems like an ancient riddle with a moral bent (to get what you want, realize what you have). "Turn my sorrow into treasured gold," is a fascinating ironic statement hinging on the callous spirit of the speaker's audience. It says that he is heartless enough to enjoy or benefit from her pain, but then the next line "You'll pay me back in kind and reap just what you've sown" turns the table. The speaker declares that just as her betrayer enjoyed her pain, she is going to enjoy his. The only difference is the betrayer is reaping what he sowed. Her voice is the voice of justice.

10) The introduction to the refrain and the refrain are repeated twice, the repetition emphasizing her anthem. The song concludes with the lines: "But you played it [her heart],/You played it,/You played it,/You played it to the beat." Again, repetition for dramatic effect.

In part two of this reflection on "Rolling in the Deep," I do a theological reflection of the song, connecting it with issues I have been sitting with in prayer.
Br. Paul, OP

CLICK HERE to watch the YouTube video of the song.

A Time of Transition

The shelves of the two bookcases in my room are nearly empty--save for the Summa in three volumes, the Jewish Study Bible, some folders, and a few holy relics. My pictures and flags are down from the walls, my novels are all stowed away...it's a time of transition...one of many in a number I have already experienced as a friar of the Order of Preachers. Our home is wherever we are--but we move around a lot.

Today in my class on the second part of the Summa, I will present my paper "'No Greater Love': Whether Friendship in Marriage is the Highest Form of Friendship," and with that complete my Masters in Theology degree program. On Friday, I will graduate from Aquinas Institute of Theology.

These past two semesters have been exciting and challenging ones. Applying for my next graduate program while trying to write a thesis and study for a comprehensive exam, on top of regular school work and community life, was a heavy load to bear. Not to mention the added stress of trying to maintain meaningful relationships with God and friends, as well as my relationship with myself. I find that now that I have a great deal of free time, I am lucky enough to do the things that I enjoy and that are good for me: namely, time spent outdoors in prayer and exercise, study and contemplation. I seem to pray much more easily when I am walking in nature--but that's true for most people, I suspect.

What am I reading these days, now that I can read what I want? An excellent collection of essays entitled: A Truth Universally Acknowledged: 33 Great Writers on Why We Read Jane Austen. Holy Father Dominic was known for either speaking to God or about God. Similarly, I am either reading the words of Jane Austen or reading about the words of Jane Austen.

...But back to my transition. On Friday I graduate, on Saturday I will witness the ordinations of three of my fellow friars, on Sunday I will celebrate with the other graduates, and on Tuesday, I will leave the House of Studies here in St. Louis and begin my life at St. Pius V Priory--the mother house for my province--in Chicago. There's more...on June 8th, I will profess solemn vows, making a lifelong commitment to God, to the Order of Preachers, to the friars of my province, and to myself. It is major event that has been five years in the making (nearly thirty, if you include everything up until now).

This is not a reflection post, however; I am writing just to share news...

In July, I will travel to Montreal, Quebec for a language immersion program for French at the University of Montreal. And, in September, I will begin a Masters in Writing and Publishing program at DePaul University. I will possibly begin teaching at Fenwick High School a year later--both English and theology.

Change. Transition. Not least of the transitions will be moving from my identity as a simply professed student brother to a solemnly professed cooperator brother done with initial formation. In other words, I'll be "all grow'd up!" in some ways, and can begin to see myself as a permanent member of my religious community, complete with voting powers.

Fortunately, I have the next few days of relative freedom ahead of me to continue my rest, my prayer, my exercise, and my greater availability to others around me. I can breathe a little more freely before plunging into the next phase of my Dominican life.
Please keep me in your payers,
Br. Paul, OP~

Be not afraid! Persuasion's surprising message

"Jesus said: Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to set out for Galilee; there they will see me, alleluia."

So runs the third antiphon for vespers these days. As I sang it with the brothers and our guests last Saturday evening, it hit me that this was the answer, albeit an unexpected one, to a question posed during this morning's book club meeting on Jane Austen's novel Persuasion. During that gathering one of the members of the group said something like, "I'm not sure what she [Austen] is trying to tell us." When he said this, I did not have an answer. Although I have read Persuasion at least three times now, I have not sat with it in the same way that I have Mansfield Park. Indeed, I admitted toward the end of the meeting that I do not particularly like this last of Austen's completed novels. I find the plot and its heroine uninspiring--granting, of course, that Anne is a saintly young lady, and Austen paints some of her most vivid pictures of family life in this story.

As I continued to sit with what was said at the meeting, reflecting on it in prayer, I came to the realization that Austen, like Jesus [and certainly Blessed John Paul II] was trying to convey the astounding message of "Be not afraid." I think this message is only discernible if readers of Persuasion are able to realize just how difficult and frightening life for Anne Elliot is at times. First, her beloved mother is dead. Second, her father is a idiotic dandy with no truth depth of feeling, and certainly no real paternal love for Anne. Third, Anne's eldest sister Elizabeth is a selfish, hateful, and proud young lady. Her sister Mary is equally selfish, with the added annoyance of being a hypochondriac. Although Anne has Lady Russell as her friend, the friendship cannot completely negate the message of hate sent to Anne by her relatives. Thus we read:

"She [Anne] played a great deal better than either of the Miss Musgroves, but having no voice, no knowledge of the harp, and no fond parents to sit by and fancy themselves delighted, her performance was little thought of, only out of civility, or to refresh the others, as she was well aware. She knew that when she played she was giving pleasure only to herself; but this was no new sensation. Excepting one short period of her life, she had never, since the age of fourteen, never since the loss of her dear mother, known the happiness of being listened to, or encouraged by any just appreciation or real taste. In music she had been always used to feel alone in the world..." (chapter six).

This is a frightening evaluation of Anne's family situation. It speaks to the feeling of neglect, alienation, underappreciation, and deep sadness. It says that, generally, Anne feels unloved and unnoticed. This is the great irony of the novel--considering Anne is shown to be the most loving and worthy of love of all of the Elliot family. Indeed, the novel is fairly divided between the people who understand Anne's worth and those who do not. But this sad situation is not Anne's fearful condition alone. Her sisters, Elizabeth and Mary, both also labor under the weight of this lack of love. Elizabeth copes with it through her vain efforts to maintain appearances and to gain a husband. Mary deals with it by trying to manipulate others into loving her by fancying herself sick all the time. In the end, neither Elizabeth nor Mary are lovable or really loved, because they never show genuine love toward others. The curse of the influence of their father is that they do not know how to love.

The main plot question related to the romance between Captain Wentworth and Anne ties into this greater problem perfectly. Anne is a good woman in a desperate situation. Doomed to live under the abusive eyes of her father and sister Elizabeth, or the obnoxious nagging and whining of her sister Mary, Anne has only one real hope of escape: marriage. Anne is not a marriage-at-any-cost kind of heroine, however; she is not foolish enough to leave one bad situation for a potentially worse one (marriage to a man who does not love her). Instead, she pines for the only man who has ever really loved her--Captain Wentworth.

Well...she does more than pine, and there is certainly more to Anne than just her lost love. In the face of grim disappointment, both in family and in romance, Anne is able to persevere in the virtuous life without becoming jaded or despairing. There is an unspoken source of grace for her (her Christian faith) that guides her forward, protecting her from the negative influence of those around her--and supporting her even while the people of her social circle continuously disappoint her.

I think, therefore, a high sense of Grace is active in Austen's last completed novel, along with Providence (which is mentioned directly in the text). This grace is not a source of easy fixes, but it does provide consolation in trials, and it guides the virtuous person onward, away from sin. I would argue that Anne is carried through the novel in the hands of God, which allows her to exemplify the three theological virtues (faith, hope, and love) so thoroughly. Be not afraid, God says to her, and one has a sense that she has assented to that command with all her heart and so has her reward in the end.
Br. Paul, OP