The Return of the Pen

 "The pen is mightier than the sword..." so said Shakespeare (and Sean Connery, if you remember the skit).  

Somehow another year has gone by without this sacred retreat into the written sphere.  

Don't get me wrong, though, I've been writing.  All of it in the old fashioned blue and black ink...blotted upon the page of my Moleskin journals.

I hope more follows.

- Ak

The Pen is still Alive!

To my surprise, more than a year has gone by since my last post.  To risk armchair philosophy, or worse, armchair psychology, allow me a vague explanation: a writer may abandon writing for a time because they are not feeling themselves...they are out of their rhythm.  Or, a writer may abstain from their craft because they are in good health and are concerned with other interests.  

 

Be that as it may, now that I have a post to share, I am unsure of how to proceed.  

Has the very art of blogging died a happy death in my absence?  Do people still read blogs? 

Unfortunately, in my absence I've lost whatever small following this outlet ever had.  So...how to regain an audience?  I nearly posted a link to Facebook...but drew back, conflicted.  

 

Would it be acceptable to write in the dark for a while…until the ink really starts flowing again…or proves to be the last dribble of reserve left?

My Grandfather is Alive

I went to the movie theatre a few months age, and sat in row H, seat 18.  At a given point in the film, I find myself speaking to my grandfather.  As this event unfolds, I close my eyes and can see him.  I share with him a recent sorrow. As tears stream down my face, there is stillness and a calm I've rarely known.  Then, just as quickly, the experience is over, dispersed like the mist on the Saint John harbour.

 
My grandfather died over five years ago.  For those few precious moments it felt so good to be sitting beside him again.  Since my earliest days I would say, "Let me sit beside Poppy, Dad."  It was the gleam in his eye, his impish laughter when teasing me and his inimitable storytelling (assisted, of course, by Nanny, filling in any missed details).
 
A few days after this encounter, I am celebrating Mass on a Saturday night at the French parish in Fredericton.  During communion the choir sings Les Mains Ouvertes Devant Toi, Seigneur (My Hands Are Open Before You, Lord).  It is the one French song my grandfather used to sing.  It is my first time hearing the song in church and I am distributing holy communion when they begin to sing.  Tears gently crest my cheek as I say the closing prayers of the Mass.  
 
There is one final experience.  I am dropping off documents to police headquarters in uptown Saint John. Parking is always a nightmare, so I pull in to a near-empty liquor store two blocks away from the station.  In my walk over, I pass an apartment building where two workers are replacing the building’s siding.  It is windy and they are several stories up.  Not wanting to get impaled by fallen siding, I make my way hurriedly.  I finish the necessary paperwork and return, passing gingerly underneath, glancing up uneasily, then back to the street.  As my eyes refocus, I casually note that there are some tourist-types walking by.  The cruise ships are in, I whisper to myself. 

I see an old man walking the sidewalk. Not a tourist, that much is clear; he has white hair, is thin and is dressed an ounce above shabby.  I am about to turn my attention away, when something in his  manner strikes me as very familiar.  In a flash, I see my grandfather crossing the street towards me, extending his hands.  I hear him utter my name clearly and distinctly, “Aaron.” Hearing my name spoken with warmth in his unmistakable cadence, my lungs immediately constrict and tears well up.  A moment later, the scene passes from my eyes.  I look back to see an old man shuffling down the street, his overcoat shrinking, as the distance between us widens. 

  

 

Daring to Pursue God despite the Darkness

Hi friends, 

The Gospel today (John 8:51-19)

contains this disarming phrase 

on Jesus' lips: 

“Before Abraham was, I am.”  

These troubling words Jesus dares to say.

 

With these words, Jesus crosses the threshold. 

He is now speaking recklessly.  

He is now revealing Himself.  

There will be consequences. 

There will be nails and spit.

There will be blood poured from His face and His side.

 

There is no turning back from these words.

There is no turning back from these claims.

 

When the time comes, 

will I be willing to speak words 

from which I cannot recover?

What would it be like to swept up 

in that kind of Love…

a love which does not flinch before the grave?  

We thirst for a power to overcome the physical grave…

but also the rejection and shame 

the world heaps upon us 

who do not mouth their narratives 

or mimic their conclusions.

 

What would it be like 

to be so caught up in His symphony 

that we do not count our missteps? 

What would it be like not to flinch before 

the cold glare of those whose perceptions 

matter overmuch?

When did we surrender our peace to projections bent on keeping them sated?  

I'm tired of chasing these projections.

Tired of living the lie. 

Tired of dancing like a puppet on the string.

 

I wanna walk in Your light, Lord.  

I wanna walk in Your light.

I want to walk free.

I want to pursue You again...

the darkness is so close, on my heels.

The Gospel of John says: 

“And the light shines in the darkness, 

and the darkness has not overcome it…”

Your days are numbered, O Prince of the darkness.

Your days are numbered.

Annunciation reflection...

 The Lord finds a way to get His work accomplished. 

We see Ahaz today.  

His heart is closed…his excuses, weak.

His heart, lukewarm.

Thinking that he is doing good, he refuses to listen to the prophet.

However, the prophet speaks the Word…

What I hear is: “Despite your unfaithfulness, I will be faithful”.

 

Today, as I am faced with the ways in which 

I have been unfaithful to the Lord…

in prayer, fasting, and almsgiving…

I also need to hear that God will accomplish His work…

despite my hard-headedness…despite my hard-heartedness.

Lord, please forgive my folly,

my self-preoccupation and indulgence.  

Help me to turn away from sin and to be faithful to the Gospel.  

Bring me a confessor!  

I need Your grace, for I have fallen away!

 

Let it be true once more as if I were a new Ahaz…

Lord, accomplish Your work in me, 

though I may be opposing it!  

 

Lord, find a way to get Your work done in me.  

Lord, I am afraid.  I lack courage. I lack trust. 

Be faithful despite my unfaithfulness. 

Be faithful…O Lord.

 

Set me free from my sin and I will do your will (Psalm refrain).

 

You send the angel Gabriel to announce words of amazing revelation.

His words rouse me from slumber, sadness and lukewarmness.

How could You be so good, O Lord…who can fathom Your goodness?

To the Virgin Mary, yes.  I can see that.  But to me – who art sinful and lowly?

I cannot fathom You, O Lord.  Your goodness exceeds all goodness!

 

You find a way to accomplish Your good work.  

You find a way where there was none.

- ak

Vespers for Advent: A New Season Awaits

On this the eve of Advent, the first Vespers, I come before You, Lord. The journey has wearied me. And this season of hope, renewed hope, stretches like a vast desert before me. I know You will provide water, for You are the Living Water, the Source of all good.

I share for your reflection from Pope Benedict’s Angelus from 2007 (Dec. 2nd) the following:

"This Sunday is therefore a day specially suited to offering the entire Church and to all men and women of good will my second Encyclical, which I wanted to dedicate precisely to the theme of Christian hope. It is entitled Spe Salvi, because it opens with the expression "Spe salvi facti sumus - in hope we were saved" (Rm 8: 24). In this, as in other passages of the New Testament, the word "hope" is strictly connected with the word "faith". It is a gift that changes the life of the one who receives it, as the experience of so many men and women saints demonstrates. In what does this hope consist, so great and so "trustworthy", to make us say that in it we have "salvation"? In essence it consists in the knowledge of God, in the discovery of the heart of the good and merciful Father. Jesus, with his death on the Cross and his Resurrection, has revealed his Face to us, the face of a God so great in love as to communicate to us an uncrushable hope that not even death can break, because the life of the one who entrusts himself to this Father opens itself to the prospect of eternal beatitude.

The development of modern science has always confined faith and hope to the private and individual sphere, so that today it appears in a clear and sometimes dramatic way that man and the world need God - the true God! - otherwise, they remain deprived of hope. Science contributes much to the good of humanity, but it is not able to redeem it. Man is redeemed by love, which makes one's personal and social life good and beautiful. This is why the great hope, the full and definitive one, is guaranteed by God who is love, by God who has visited us and has given us life in Jesus, and who will return at the end of time. We hope in Christ, we await him! With Mary, his Mother, the Church goes to meet her Spouse: she does so with works of charity, because hope, like faith, is demonstrated in love.

A good Advent to all!"

Blood shed for Him

"Life sometimes leads us down paths we haven't chosen but which we must consent to out of love. This consent then becomes a source of grace, a way of union with God (...) each time we accept the conflicts and difficulties of life with faith in Christ and love for Him, the Holy Spirit rests upon us." - father jacques philippe Fire and Light: Learning to Receive the Gift of God p.16 "Tempestuous times, periods of trouble and worry, are bound to come, but our perception of reality is so distorted by negative emotions that we must wait for peace to return before changing any fundamental resolutions." (ibid, p.18)

Is The Tide Turning...?

Hello friends...It has been a while! 

I am excited to write again. As with anyone who has a love affair with writing, you know the ups and downs, the torrential output and the great stretches of desert faced by those who endeavor to write. It would seem that, after a long hiatus, the tide is finally turning. Alleluia! 

This grace of writing came by virtue of going on retreat with the Franciscans of Halifax during the last week of July 2022. 

I was also encouraged to keep penning the virtual verses of my life by Mal and Kara, who noted my absence.  A little encouragement, as it turns out, goes a long way.

The healing grace extended to me by God on this retreat amounts to what I consider a defining moment, a game-changer, in the last 14 years of ordained priesthood. 

I look forward to sharing that blessing with you over the next few posts. 

Farewell to 2020

Refresh us with Your fire, O Lord.

Out with the old.  In with the new.  

Except let us not forget, the old vintage is best (Luke 5:39). 

December thoughts from a friendly wordsmith

I received this email from a good friend this week.  I always anticipate his reflections this time of year.  He has entitled this year's reflection "Muddling Through", which goes along nicely with the titles of my most recent posts.  I felt it was a sign, and asked my friend if I could post this year's sharing to my blog.  He graciously conceded to my request.  



to: knox_11@yahoo.com et al

Muddling Through


Hi Folks,


As part of my annual consultation with the muses of Christmas, I have been wondering recently what I might offer by way of a seasonal message that would be appropriate to the wholly unprecedented experience this year presents to all of us.



As always, the soundtrack for my journey through December includes The Sinatra Christmas Album. The songs in this collection, both sacred and secular, and ranging from silly to solemn, feature the trademark Sinatra vocalizations and outstanding arrangements and instrumentation from the great bands which backed him up during the ‘60s and ‘70s when these recordings were made. This album has been a staple of my holiday listening for 25 years.



Among the tunes featured is “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” originally written to be performed by Judy Garland in the 1944 film, Meet Me in St. Louis. Garland’s character sings to comfort her sister who is despondent on Christmas Eve over the family’s plans to relocate to New York.



The song’s lyrics address the melancholy that sometimes infects our holiday preparations and celebrations. Despite our best efforts to be merry and festive and because we want, so desperately, for the Christmas season to offer the rich emotional blessings of comfort and joy, any feelings of separation, anxiety or disquiet can be even more acute at this time of year.



So, if ever there were a time for music to come to our aid and offer some balm for the beleaguered soul, 2020 would be it. In this year of epochal pandemic upheaval and social unrest, with all the attendant uncertainties and distancing of varying degrees and type, we need to be consoled. We need to rely on memory, to believe in the power of hope and to accept the nourishment that can be derived from the timeless connections of the heart.



Some of you may think it’s unreasonable to expect a pop song to offer the antidote for these afflictions or to furnish the necessary consolation. You may be right. A pop song is not necessarily a work of philosophical or psychological import.



And yet, the offerings of the popular culture, especially those which worm their way into our ear year after year, can offer us inspiring insights into our journey through uncertain times. In a simple way, the song’s encouragement to “let your heart be light” and its prediction that “next year all our troubles will be out of sight” do allow us to realize that moments of melancholy must pass.



Even more poignantly, the song concludes with words that speak not only to the acute separation we feel in this moment, but also offer an intimation of eternity and a hope for the more permanent reunion, on that farther shore, with those who accompany us now in the mind’s eye and in the inner recesses of our hearts.



Someday soon we all will be together,

If the fates allow.

Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow

So, have yourself a merry little Christmas now.



This year, I expect many of us feel like we are “muddling through.” We are doing the best we can. And, of course, this sentiment speaks to the larger challenge we face through all of life to avoid letting loss or separation impair our capacity to experience joy, or hinder our efforts to celebrate.



Again this Christmas, as always, we need to revel in the moments of love and friendship which present themselves to us, accepting gratefully the reaffirmation they offer to us of the very truth of our existence.



I hope Frank’s singing (link below) offers you some of the consolation it has afforded me in these recent weeks, and in years gone by.




I hope as well that you have a safe, happy and holy Christmas.



+ a friendly wordsmith


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lnx7thMjYX4

Plodding (again)

SO...Advent started a couple weeks ago and I had firm faith that there would be great surprises within - a gift of faith and renewal. I'm disheartened as I see old patterns continue seemingly unabated. If there is growth it is in areas hidden from view. I continue to plod along. Not in the dark. Yet not fully in the Light.

Come, O Spirit, awaken new life in me. Save me from the endless me inside me. Turn my gaze to You!



In the meantime, from my Dad's prayer vigil...he writes the following:

The Gift
While praying the rosary this morning I had a moment...
I saw a gift being delivered. It was like an Amazon delivery. 

The one who delivered the package left it on the doorstep after knocking on the door/ringing the bell. 

I became aware of the passage from Revelation 3:20 “Behold I stand at the door and knock...” 

it was the gift of God‘s love!
The door was not answered, the gift was not received. 

The gift remained on the doorstep through all the seasons of the year 

- the blistering heat of summer soon to be covered in fallen leaves only to be buried 

under winter snow and ice. Year after year it waited. 

The package became weathered and decayed. The gift was the living Heart of Christ! 

Many, inconsequentially, passed by, not even casting a glance in His direction. 

Unbeknownst to them the scene was filled with adoration. 

Angels, saints and martyrs etc were adoring the Lord. 

A person came out from the house and kicked the package off the porch onto the muddy ground.

The place of adoration had changed. 

And now our Lady, experiencing the pain of unrequited love, 

now kneels in the mud adoring her Son, her Saviour and Lord...

“Do not be afraid. Open wide the doors for Christ...” (S Pope John Paul II). 

 

- Tom Knox, night vigil

Graves Into Gardens ft. Brandon Lake | Live | Elevation Worship

Graves into Gardens is a worship song that took a while to grow on me.  

However, the line "I'm not afraid/to show You my weakness/my failures and faults/Lord You see them all /yet You still call me friend" really hits home.  Friends, He knows it all.  He is the best of Lovers.  I don't know if you're down with watching a bunch of folks jump up and down and be expressive and stuff.  I get it.  There's a place of quiet and adoration that is lost when the camera is on.  But this song is ministering to me in the heart.  So, if you have Apple Music or the like...add it.  See if it grows on you.  

Plodding. Then Advent comes along...

So is it true that there is water in the desert?  I hope so.  Advent is a season of hope.  New hope.  More on that in posts to come.  Stay tuned.  

- Aaron

Bronx Priest Throws it Down with style for the Diocese of Saint John

This past Friday, May 29th at 10:30 a.m. I interviewed one of the most unique Catholics I've come across in my travels, Fr. Stan Fortuna. Fr. Stan is a founding member of the Franciscans of the Renewal in the Bronx, New York. The year I graduated high school, my Dad and Jim Burnham piled a bunch of Saint Johners into my blue Club Wagon 15 passenger van. We drove across the country to a youth conference taking place in Ohio at Franciscan University of Steubenville. The conference theme was, "Out of the Jungle and into the Life in the Holy Spirit" - I think the title was a riff on AC/DC's song 'Welcome to the Jungle'. In any case, we were treated to a weekend with several hundred other young people hosted by the rapping Franciscan Fr. Stan Fortuna. He was lively, outside-the-box, off-the-cuff and eminently quotable. He was straight outta the Bronx and had the attitude to match. He was authentically himself which was at once refreshing, surprising, and entertaining. Yet for all his fun, he made Jesus the unabashed center of all his presentations - even Church teaching on chastity. He had a message -he had an attitude - and it was hard to ignore. It certainly wasn't boring!


Fast forward twenty years and now I am a Catholic priest. I'm asked to interview Fr. Stan on a Zoom call for the group called Saints in Training. I'm like 'Ok' and I'm thinking, "This shouldn't be hard, Fr. Stan is one of the most spontaneous people on earth - so that means I don't have to prepare...so no sweat!" (I didn't start to panic until the night before!) I was nervous, but when Father Stan mentioned ice cream in his opening remarks I was like, "Thank you Jesus, that is confirmation!" Once I heard that my eyebrows shot up in the air and I was like, "Ok! Game on!" I was able to ask him about his love of ice cream then about more serious questions as the interview went on, and I think it went very well. Fr. Stan is unashamed of Jesus - that's one of the things that makes him really unique. He seems to have a fire within that is wild and yet contained. With his unconventional style and deep love of Catholic doctrine and the saints - Father Stan is certainly a sign and contradiction. He sees love as being the gift at the heart of the Church, the Mass and the adventure of sanctity, the pursuit of holiness - its about love. We hear that kind of thing regularly but it seems vapid most of the time. The call to love comes across differently with Fr. Stan. Perhaps that's because he's not trying to live at the center of his life - he's given that place to Someone else. He's given his heart to Someone else. Fr. Stan Fortuna claims that this has made all the difference. Who am I to argue with a New Yorker from the Bronx? 

- Father Aaron Knox

Mother's Day a la ZOOM

My brother Liam joined us on our Mother's day ZOOM call from his pad in Halifax.  He is as full of life as ever and looking trim.  

My brother Caleb (St. Stephen) pictured here rocking a do-rag and an Irish shirt with headphones...typical Caleb.  He's been learning how to bake bread recently.  He says it's adding to his waistline!  Hey Caleb, you got a long way to go before your waistline catches up with mine.  :(

Caleb Andrew Knox with
Ollie our Silky Terrier

Dad and Mom joined in the ZOOM call from their home in St. Stephen.  Ollie is asleep between them.  They are holding strong in the midst of all this.  Both are still working at the special care home with the disabled.  I'm not sure where they get the energy - except that it comes largely from their faith.  They are like, "Steady as she goes!" and get through it all somehow.  

ZOOM on Mother's day was the first time we all spoke together at the same time since the virus.  No telling how long that will be the norm, with borders closed between our provinces. 

So, what did we discuss?  Nothing too serious.  It was good to just be together. 

And, considering Mom's battle with cancer several years ago, we all feel blessed to have her with us.  

She's the glue.

Mothered

What is it to be mothered?  
To be mothered is to be held in the soul, to be caressed gently with the touch of the soul.  Being mothered changes you.  Being mothered softens the heart.  Being mothered brings peace.  

Cathy Knox, a.k.a. Mom, a.k.a. Momma Bear...thank you for supporting, loving, laughing and listening.  

Happy (belated) Mother's day!  Flowers?  ...maybe next year!

Is it just me...?

I'm prepared to go downstairs and have lunch when I'm struck by feelings of futility.  The run of the mill, the everyday, the routine...when do I break through and find my true self?  Peace that surpasses a troubled heart and mind, come find me. 

Give me courage to face my trials.

Saints in Training

Tomorrow I will speak with young families (virtually) on a Zoom call for a Facebook group called Saints in Training I will be sharing with them a little bit about Saint John Marie Vianney, patron saint of parish priests.  The age range birth to grade six.  That will require some thinking on my feet.  Saint John Marie Vianney, pray for us!

*P.S. the session went really, really well.  I got good feedback from several parents.  This was a blast and certainly a contender for highlight of the week.

Drink the Fire of God

Saint Catherine of Siena
drinking the Sacred Blood
from the side of Christ. 

O Sweet Fire!  

Fire of God come and enliven hearts.  

Lord we need You!  

Good Friday

And my face will hit the floor at the beginning of this holy celebration.  All else will be forgot.  And I will enter in to the sacred sufferings of Jesus, the holy passion of Christ. In the midst of a world in turmoil and a mind on fire - teetering with exhaustion - there I will find my peace. Dressed in red, kneeling beside the Cross of my Friend, there I will contemplate His wounds.