Abbot Austin G. Murphy, OSB, Lisle, IL (2026)

06/23/2026

THE PELAGIAN POISON OF DESPAIR OR PRIDE
Homily for Mon in 12th wk of Ord time, at St. Benedict's Abbey

I was once over a friend’s house for the memorial of St. Augustine, August 28th. My friend had a book that gave meditations based on the saints. For each day of the year, it noted a saint whose memorial was that day and it gave a meditation based on the life and/or teaching of that saint. So, during our gathering on Aug 28th, the memorial of St. Augustine, my friend brought this book out.

He wanted to point out the entry for August 28th. Instead of an entry for St. Augustine, it had one for Pelagius! The author thought that Augustine had unfairly criticized Pelagius. For this author, Pelagius was wrongly labeled a heretic by the Church thanks to Augustine’s criticisms of his ideas. Devoting August 28th to Pelagius was the author’s way of trying to correct this wrong.

My friend and all of us gathered at his house that day were fans of St. Augustine. He showed us the book to generate a laugh. And we did laugh, but we also groaned.

I would like to offer some thoughts on the heresy of Pelagianism. As we know, it is based on the idea that being good is up to oneself. Yes, God gives us teachings and examples to follow. But whether or not we follow them is up to us. So, if I am good and upright before God, it is thanks to my own efforts. And if I am not good and upright, it is thanks to my own failures. It is all up to me. If am a wicked, I have myself to blame. If I am upright, I have myself to thank.

Like all heresies or errors, there is a partial truth in this. We are responsible for our wicked deeds. But the framing of the issue is wrong. Framed this way, Pelagianism sets people up for either despair or pride.

Pelagianism sets people up for despair, because when you fail, there is no one to help you. Your will is too weak to do what is right and that’s that. God is not there to work within you; He is not there to heal and strengthen you interiorly, so that you can grow and become able to do what is right.

Now, thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord, this is not true! God is there to work within us, to heal and strengthen our wills. If I am stuck in a sin, I can and should cry out for help from God. Through Jesus Christ, God gives us the grace for our reform and transformation.

There is always hope—we are never hopelessly stuck in our sins. We can become good and upright before God. In the language of the Bible, we can be righteous and just. But it is only thanks to God at work in us. We cannot be righteous without God’s grace. In St. Paul’s words, true righteousness is a free gift from God, not something we earn.

But the other, alternative outcome of Pelagianism is pride. That is, if Pelagianism is not leading people to despair, it is leading them to pride. Again, if I am good and upright, I have myself to thank. My righteousness is not a free gift, but my own doing. This is a recipe for becoming puffed up.

When we get puffed up in this way, it leads to strife in a community. I think we see this in St. Paul’s letters. He is often telling his audience both to stop fighting with each other and to stop thinking their righteousness is their own doing. Rather, our righteousness is a free gift from God. Without God’s mercy, you would be the worst of sinners. So, stop judging others, seeing that you did not earn your righteousness.

Why am I mentioning all this? It is a rather long homily for a weekday! I'm saying these things because all good theology is a sort of commentary on Scripture. And there is the traditional idea that the New Testament letters are a commentary on the gospels. I believe that the teaching on why Pelagianism is wrong is a sort of commentary on Jesus’ words in the gospel today. It gives us some of what is behind or implied by Jesus’ few words in the gospel. He says: “Stop judging, that you may not be judged.”

This does not mean that we are to stop judging between what is right and wrong, and to stop striving to do what is right. But it does mean to stop condemning, for God’s mercy can raise up and restore even the worst sinner. And it means do not make judgments of comparison, for you do not know whether you or the other person is better before God.

Besides, those things do not matter. What matters is that we strive to do God’s will so as to enjoy friendship with Him, and that we seek to help others do the same.

06/21/2026

WANTING TO FIT IN
Homily for 12th Sun in Ord time, for BCYC Encounter

“Fear no one.” So says Jesus in today’s gospel. In fact, He literally says, “Do not fear them.” Before this selection from the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus is speaking about persecutions. He says that people will persecute those who preach His gospel. He notes that if people spoke evil about and persecuted the Master, Jesus Himself, then they will speak evil about and persecute His followers. So, when it happens, do not be surprised by this. And furthermore, do not fear them.

Jesus gives the reason why. It is that all will be revealed in the end. The truth will be made plain when Jesus returns to judge the world. Jesus is speaking about the final state of affairs, the way things will “shake out” in the end. In the end, people will be divided into two groups. There will be those who bore witness to Jesus by word and example, and there will be those who denied Jesus by word or example. He says: “Everyone who acknowledges me before others I will acknowledge before my heavenly Father. But whoever denies me before others, I will deny before my heavenly Father.” (Mt 10:33)

This division into two groups will last forever. Those who acknowledged Jesus will live forever in the kingdom of heaven. Those who denied Jesus will live forever in misery and regret. So, in the end we want to be found among those who bore witness to Jesus, those who acknowledged Him as the way, the truth, and the life.

What does bearing witness to Jesus look like? Well, let me give you an example of what it does NOT look like. I will use myself as the bad example—an example of failing to bear witness to Christ. Early on during my college years, I discerned that God was calling me to a religious vocation. In turn, I was trying to figure out which kind of religious vocation. That is, should I become a diocesan priest or should I be a priest in a religious order?

Now, when you are in college, people ask you, “What are you going to do after college?” They want to know what career plans are, what job you are going to pursue. How did I answer that question? At first, I would say, “I’m not sure,” or, “I don’t know yet.” But that was not true—it was a lie. I knew that I was looking into being a priest. But I was too embarrassed to say that. I was worried people would look at me as strange, think I was some religious fanatic. Where I grew up, many people around me were Catholic. But they did not think you should take your Catholicism too seriously. If you did, you would be one of those weirdos.

So, at first I denied Christ in this way. I did not acknowledge that He was calling me to a religious vocation. I wanted to remain in the good graces of the people around me. In other words, I wanted to fit in with them. As we know, the desire to fit in and belong is a very strong desire. Who wants to be the “odd ball,” that person who does not fit in?

Yet, in today’s gospel, Jesus is telling us that it’s not whether or not you will fit in. No, in the end we will fit in, we will belong to a group—but to which group will we belong? Will we fit into the group that acknowledges Jesus by word and deed? Or will we fit into the group that denies Jesus by word or deed? Again, we will fit in to one of these groups—and in the end, we will belong to that group forever. But to which group will it be?

Well, I have decided I want to belong to the group that acknowledges Jesus Christ. I want to be on the side of Jesus and His kingdom. I know that His way is the better way, the way of truth and of genuine love. It is the group that will have true peace and joy. And I have seen enough to know that the other group is not marked by true peace and joy. No, it ends up being superficial and even mean-spirited. It pretends to be virtuous, but it is a show.

Eventually during my college years, my conscience bothered me that I was lying about my future. I realized that I should not be ashamed of following Christ in a religious vocation. So, I resolved with God’s help to tell the truth. When people would ask me what I was going to do after college, I would say that I was thinking of being a priest. When I did that, how did people respond? Did they think that I was weird and out of my mind? Well, yeah, sometimes they did! And to tell the truth, sometimes it was awkward! But some people were encouraged by my witness. Also, I suspect that in some cases it gave people pause. It led them to think about their own faith-lives and their relationship with God. And that is a good thing. God can use that to rekindle the life of faith and discipleship in a person.

I can also say that down the years there have been other occasions to bear witness to Christ when it was not popular. And when I have done so, it has sometimes been difficult and painful, even while it also encouraged others and gave some people pause to reflect. Yet, even when it is painful, it is worth it. I want to fit in and to belong—but I want to belong to those who stand with Jesus. I want to enjoy their company, to enjoy the company of those who bore witness to Jesus in much greater ways than I have, such as by giving up their lives. I want to be with them, hear their stories, celebrate their stories, and ultimately celebrate the greatest witness of them all, that of Jesus Christ. In the end, I want to be found in that company of witnesses.

Fully aware of my weakness, I pray that God may give me and all of us the graces to bear witness to Jesus, even when it is difficult to do so.

Image: "The Noble Army of Martyrs" from Flickr account of Lawrence OP

06/19/2026

TAKING FLIGHT
Homily for Memorial of St. Romuald, at St. Benedict's Abbey

Around the turn of the first millennium there was a sort of monastic revolution. At this time, the number of monks and monasteries exploded across Europe. This was driven by the Cluniac reform, the Carthusians, and the Cistercians. It was also driven by the Camaldolese, whose founder we celebrate today, St. Romuald.

The Camaldolese emphasize the eremitical life, that is, the life of a hermit. Today there are two branches of the Camaldolese. The Camaldolese Benedictines have a mix of the common life and the eremitical life. The Camaldosese Hermits of Montecorona live exclusively as hermits. As was usually the case with the Egyptian monks of old, these hermits do not live in complete isolation, but with other hermits and they periodically meet and pray together.

One theme in monastic life is “flight from the world”—the ‘fuga mundi.’ And that theme definitely occurs in the life of St. Romuald. He grew up in a world that, although Christian, did not always practice true religion and promote virtue.

As a young man, he was plagued by sexual temptations. And to get his mind off these thoughts, he would go hunting. It was while hunting in the woods that he first felt a calling to solitude. (So, Br. Maximilian, Fr. Marion will be talking to you about incorporating hunting into the vocation work of the monastery!)

But the young Romuald was not ready to commit to monastic life. Instead, a series of events had to lead him to it. The first was a tragedy—a moral tragedy. His father got into a dispute with a relative over an estate. This resulted in a duel in which his father killed the relative. Horrified by this, Romuald went to a monastery to do a forty-days penance for his father. While living at the monastery, his vocation was nurtured. And he eventually accepted his calling to be a monk.

Yet, Romuald would eventually leave that particular monastery, to seek a stricter monastic life of solitude. In turn, he would gain followers. One of his first followers was the duke of Venice, the doge, Peter Urseolus. Urseolus became the duke by conspiring with others to have his predecessor killed. He eventually repented of this and fled the world to join Romuald. In fact, even Romuald’s father eventually repented and fled the world to become a monk.

So, we see this theme of fleeing the world. Often it was not simply fleeing a wicked world. It was also fleeing one’s own complicity with the wickedness of the world. The flight from the world had a note of repentance for one’s own sins in the world.

I think it fair to say that in the last 50 years monks are a bit uncomfortable with the idea of fleeing the world. It seems too negative a motive. The monastic life cannot be founded on avoidance or escaping. That’s true, and I think that the same can be said about any Christian vocation: it cannot ultimately be about escaping something, but it must be about embracing something, namely, embracing God.

Still, turning to God does involve turning away from the things that are not of God. The flight from the world has its place in the monastic vocation. And I would say that it has its place, all things being adjusted, in any Christian vocation. Sometimes we have to turn away and reject certain things in the world, lest we become complicit in them.

But yes, it cannot end with rejection. Whatever vocation one undertakes, it must be built on loving God and on loving our neighbor for God’s sake. It must be about truly seeking God, drawing ever closer to God in Christ. So it was for St. Romuald: he not only fled the world but he also found God in his solitude, and his vocation was sustained by his great intimacy with Christ.

Image: by Fra Angelico - Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork user:Sailko, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12178468

06/17/2026

MAKE A WISH
Homily for Tues in 11th wk of Ord time, at St. Benedict's Abbey

“If you wish upon a star...,” or, “Throw a coin in the fountain and make a wish.” We hear such ideas in movies and popular legends. Someone gets to make a wish and it is guaranteed to come true.

Now, if you had this opportunity, what would you wish for? I suspect you would wish for something good and praiseworthy. But what is the thing we should wish for above all? It is to be united to God in a loving relationship. That should be our greatest desire: to be in loving union with God, perfectly and forever.

To be in a perfect relationship with God, that does not take away from any other good thing we might wish for. Rather, God is the source of all that is genuinely good. So, being close to Him only helps us pursue genuine goods better. Indeed, in heaven, when we will be perfectly united to God, we will enjoy all good things in God.

Perhaps when I asked what you would wish for, you didn’t think of union with God. And that is understandable. It is usually an implicit rule in these “make a wish” scenarios, that you can only wish for an earthly good. Also, these scenarios picture you getting what you want in a sort of magical way. You make the wish, and p**f!, it comes about without you needing to do anything.

Today's gospel counters that. First, it speaks about wanting more than earthly goods. We are to want to be children of our heavenly Father. I take this to mean being in the loving relationship with God as I mentioned earlier. Second, the way to attain this wish for union with God is not magic. It does not come about without our doing anything. Rather, Jesus tells us what we must do to attain loving union with God. We must love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.

Jesus puts it this way: “love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust.” (Mt 5:44-45)

Being in a loving relationship with the heavenly Father, there is nothing more we could wish for. May He help us to be patient, forgiving, and generous beyond the usual measure—as He is—in order to attain this desire. Indeed, the Father does help us through the graces we receive in His Son, Jesus Christ.

Image attribution: From Flickr account of Simech (34448470@N04/4226917286/)" rel="ugc" target="_blank">https://www.flickr.com/photos/34448470@N04/4226917286/) under license:
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/

05/31/2026

HOW TO KNOW THE TRINITY
Homily for Trinity Sunday, at St. Benedict's Abbey

I am not a poet. And I do know it. But imagine a group of poets who gather together once or twice a year. When this society of poets comes together, they “talk shop”—that is, they talk about poetry. Yes, they read and write poems. But they also reflect on poetry itself. They discuss the nature of poetry, things such as what distinguishes poetry from elegant prose, or what makes a poem a good one rather than a bad one.

Why do these poets talk about poetry? Because they love poetry. When we love something, we talk about it, and find words to express it. That is a way of celebrating what we love. Just so, these poets talk about poetry as a way of celebrating what they love.

So, these poets have two ways of knowing poetry. They know it experientially when they practice poetry, when they read and write it. But when they reflect on poetry and discuss it, they know it in a different way. They have what might be called an articulated knowledge of poetry. They know it through expressions, definitions, and verbal formulas.

The experiential knowledge is the more regular and frequent way in which they know poetry. They have this throughout the year as they read, write, and listen to poetry. But now and again, such as when they gather, they indulge in the articulated knowledge. And as noted, one reason to do this is to celebrate poetry.

How does this apply to Trinity Sunday? Here is my application to the Most Holy Trinity. It has to do with these two ways of knowing something, with experiential knowledge and so-called articulated knowledge. Throughout the year, we Christians have experiential knowledge of the Trinity. We know God through a personal encounter; indeed, we know God experientially through sharing in His life.

This happens particularly through Jesus Christ. We live in Christ. By means of His humanity, we are united to Him through faith and love. And this union with Christ leads us into the Trinity. United to the Son of God, we know the Father as the one from whom Christ comes and to whom He returns. And in this relationship between the Father and the Son, we know the Spirit as the bond of peace and the joy of love. Life in Christ gives us experiential knowledge of the Trinity.

Let me quickly note three special ways in which we have this experiential knowledge of the Trinity, and in which we can grow in this experiential knowledge. One is through the liturgy, especially the sacraments and most especially the Mass—what we are doing right now. In the liturgy, we are united to the Son and in turn we enter into the Trinity.

Another special way is by loving our neighbor. When we love another, especially in a selfless, self-giving way, we are conformed to Jesus Christ. We live in His love and we thus experience closeness to the Trinity.

A final special way is by participation in the Church, in the community of believers. This happens by receiving from the Church and contributing back to the Church. As members of the Body of Christ, we are gathered into Christ, united by the Holy Spirit, and devoted to the Father.

So, we have this experiential knowledge of the Trinity all year round. Yet on days like today, Trinity Sunday, we also reflect on and articulate truths about the Trinity. We use worked-out expressions and definitions to think about the Trinity.

For example, with this articulated knowledge we say things such as: There is one God and yet three Persons in God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Each Person is fully God, each is fully divine. Still, all three Persons together are not three Gods but one God.

In this articulated knowledge, we also say that the Father is God. And that the Son is God: He is God from the Father—“God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God.” We also say that the Holy Spirit is God: God from the Father and the Son. He “proceeds from the Father and the Son,” or we can say, from the Father through the Son.

But why do we bother with these articulations? They can seem abstract and difficult to understand. Why not just stick to the experiential knowledge that comes from living in Christ? Isn’t that enough?

I think we can see three reasons why we have this articulated knowledge. They correspond to the reasons that a society of poets has articulated knowledge of poetry. As noted, one reason is that it is a way of joyfully celebrating what we love. We love God the Trinity and so we celebrate the Trinity by speaking about the Trinity.

Another reason is that the articulated knowledge serves a regulatory purpose. It helps us to see whether we are on the mark or off the mark. For poets, their articulated knowledge of poetry can help them see what counts as poetry and what does not. For us, our articulated knowledge of the Trinity helps us make sure we turn to the true God and not a false idea of God.

For example, we note that the three Persons are not parts of God, which is a common misunderstanding in my experience. The Persons are not parts, as though each were one-third of God. No, each Person is fully God, having all the divine power, wisdom, majesty. Each is fully God and together they are the one God.

A third reason for the articulated knowledge is explanatory. When the poets want to explain to a newcomer what poetry is, they can do so with their articulated knowledge. Likewise, when we want to explain what we believe to non-believers, we can use our articulated knowledge. We can use worked-out expressions and formulas. It is not that we are proving the Trinity to them, but inviting them to believe what we believe.

Much ink has been spilt—and is still spirt—over which to prefer, experiential knowledge or articulated knowledge. But both are indispensable and they go together. Of course, experiential knowledge is crucial. Through it we can develop articulated knowledge. Through their experiential knowledge of poetry, poets can articulate what it is. Through our experience of the Trinity, the Church has articulated what the Trinity is.

Yes, we can get too caught up in articulated knowledge and neglect the experiential knowledge. When this happens, we have those famous words from ‘The Imitation of Christ:’ “What good does it do to speak learnedly about the Trinity if, lacking humility, you displease the Trinity?”

But on the other hand, if people say—as they sometimes do—that we do not need an articulated knowledge of the Trinity, that is wrong. We have the witness of the Tradition. Many people, including saints, fought, suffered, and even died for the correct articulations of the Trinity. Let us be thankful for the correct expressions, definitions, and formulas that we have for knowing the Trinity. And to appreciate this articulated knowledge, I offer the three purposes already mentioned: that it is celebratory, regulatory, and explanatory.

05/28/2026

I found this an interesting article, in large part because I had not known there were different versions of Deism, some taking a harder line and some a lesser line on the idea of God as a watchmaker who leaves creation to run on its own after making it.

https://www.wordonfire.org/articles/deism-and-the-declaration/

05/27/2026

AMAZEMENT AND FEAR
Homily for Wed of 8th wk in Ord time, at St. Benedict's Abbey

“The disciples were on the way, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus went ahead of them. They were amazed, and those who followed were afraid.” (Mk 10:32) These lines from the gospel give two experiences within discipleship: amazement and fear. As disciples we are amazed—amazed that we are called to walk with Jesus, to work with Him in establishing the kingdom. But at times, we also are fearful—afraid of what lies ahead, of the difficulties that come with following Jesus. Both amazement and fear.

The Apostles experienced both: the amazement that drew them on and the fear that made them want to run. And notice how the resurrection is the turning point. Before the resurrection, fear won out and they ran away. After the resurrection, their amazement won out, and they persevered.

For example, think of the Apostle Peter. Before the resurrection, he had both amazement and fear. With this amazement, he wanted to follow the Lord and even die with Him. But fear had the upper hand and, when tested, he denied Christ. But after the resurrection, Peter says yes to serving Christ, though he knows he will be persecuted. And sure enough, he is faithful and courageous, even to martyrdom. Amazed at being a friend of Christ and partnering with Him, he is willing to suffer losing everything in order to stay close to Christ. The words of St. Paul applied to St. Peter: “For the sake of Christ I have accepted the loss of all things and I consider them so much rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him” (Phil 3:8-9).

As we follow Christ, we too have fear and amazement. Sometimes the fear wins out, and we run from following Christ. And sometimes the amazement wins out, and we do follow Christ and stay with Him. We pray that the amazement grow in us, so that we become better disciples.

Today’s saint, Augustine of Canterbury, must have experienced both the amazement and the fear. He must have been amazed to be called by Christ to spread the gospel in England. At the same time, he must have been afraid of what difficulties might await him. But by the grace of Christ the amazement won out and he persevered.

May it be so with us. In amazement, may we come to see that there is nothing more delightful than the voice of the Lord calling to us. Let us be amazed that we are journeying with Christ to the kingdom. The more we are amazed at this, the less we will be daunted by fear and run away from the road that leads to salvation. Rather, we will be willing to participate in the sufferings of Christ, since we want to be with Christ, to be partners in his kingdom.

05/20/2026

TAKEN UP INTO THE EXCHANGE OF GLORY
Homily for Tues. of 7th wk. of Easter, at St. Benedict's Abbey

In the gospel we hear about the exchange of glory. Jesus is praying to His Father. In the prayer He says that the Father has given Him glory. And Jesus also says that He has given glory back to the Father.

These are mysterious things that speak of the inner life of the Trinity. For all eternity there is, as it were, an exchange of gifts within the Trinity. First, the Father gives the glory He has to His Son. And the Son then gives the glory back to the Father. This exchange of glory does not happen in steps over time, but in a perfect, eternal way outside of time.

As we marvel over this, we then hear something shocking. We overhear the Son speaking about us! And we hear that we too are being exchanged. That is, Jesus says that the Father gave us to Him as His disciples. He speaks of His disciples as “those whom you gave me out of the world.” And He adds, “They belonged to you, and you gave them to me.” Jesus then goes on to indicate that He is giving us back to the Father. He says, “they are yours, and everything of mine is yours.”

Notice, then, that we have been taken up into the exchange of glory. In Jesus, the eternal Son of God, we participate in the exchange of glory with His Father. So, in Jesus we receive glory from the Father. This happens with all the good and glorious things we receive from the Father in the Son. They include wonderful natural goods and even more wonderful supernatural goods. We are to acknowledge and receive them in thanksgiving. Then, in the Son, we are to give all these glorious things back to the Father. That means making use of them and engaging them in ways that please the Father. For example, if I receive more earthly goods than I need, and share them with the poor, I have done this. I have then received glorious things from the Father and returned them to the Father in a way that glorifies the Father.

Jesus in His human life did this perfectly. He received everything from the Father and returned it perfectly to the Father. In His human life, He reflects what He as God is forever doing with the Father. His human life reflected the eternal exchange of glory. And in turn, He has taken His seat at the right hand of the Father. We are now called to follow Him, as members of His body. We are called to receive from the Father and give back to the Father in the Son.

We are, that is, called to live in the Trinity, to live in this exchange of glory with the Father in the Son. We receive wonderful things in the Son and give them back in the Son. And by giving them back, we do not lose them. No, in the Son we share them with the Father, while being wrapped in the love of the Holy Spirit.

05/14/2026

OUT OF PLACE
Homily for the feast of St. Matthias the Apostle, at St. Benedict's Abbey

There is a haunting phrase in the first reading. St. Peter and the apostles are praying that God show who should replace Judas. They say to God: “show [whom] you have chosen to take the place in this apostolic ministry from which Judas turned away to go to his own place.” The haunting phrase is “to his own place.”

Judas had a place in the apostolic ministry. The Lord gave him this place. But Judas turned away from it, in order “to go to his own place.” Now, to have your own place would seem to be nice. Wouldn’t we want to have a space all to ourselves? But to me this phrase speaks of isolation, all the more tragic because self-imposed.

In truth, we are called to live in a shared place, shared with God and His holy ones. Not to be with God and His people, now that is misery. With apologies to Jean-Paul Sartre, hell is not having other people.

The alternative is to occupy a place that is shared with God, and by extension with His people. What does occupying this shared place look like? The answer is found in what Judas rejects. He rejects a place in the apostolic ministry. As we know, to be an apostle is to be one who is sent. So, to occupy a shared space with God is to be sent by God. We may put it this way: to stay in the presence of God, you must go forth from God. You must accept being sent.

And if we ask, “What does it mean to be sent and to go forth from God?”, the answer is Jesus. He is the one that comes forth from the Father, the one who is sent by the Father. In Christ, we are sent to love as He loved, to serve as He served, to remain in His love.

So, let us not be out-of-place (ἄτοπος in Greek)—out of the place we belong. Let us be like Matthias, not Judas who refused a place with God for his own place. We want to accept, rather than reject, a place in this apostolic ministry. That means accepting being sent to love and serve as Christ did. And that is what we are doing in this Mass: here we enjoy a place with God and at the same time we are sent forth by God.

Image: St. Matthias, photo taken by Lawrence OP on Flickr

Abbot Austin G. Murphy, OSB

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