Dear Friends, Greetings! It is Friday evening, the 24th. For me this date brings to mind the death, the assassination of a man I have admired immensely: Oscar Romero, the archbishop of El Salvador from 1977-1980. 37 years ago this evening, while he was praying mass for a young man shot to death by the army, he was himself killed. I had read his biography and traveled with 12 others to El Salvador in March of 1998 to visit his gravesite and see the places where he rose to the challenge of his ministry to speak out for the people of the nation, mainly humble farmers, who were de facto slaves/farm workers for the few very well-to-do families who owned 60% of the land of the nation and needed the hands of these poor people to cut their sugar cane, pick the coffee berries and tend their animals. The economic structure was very similar to what prevailed in the southern states of the USA before the Civil War. That situation led to a civil war in El Salvador because the farmers were being squeezed with so much work and so little pay that they could not afford their own homes nor send their children to school much beyond the 4th, 5th or 6th grades because the children were needed in the fields. The people were desperate; they were "suffocating" socially and economically. Romero heard their cry and he voiced it over national radio each Sunday afternoon to give them courage and call the leaders of the nation to repentance, a change of heart. But this ended up as an assurance that someone from the government or hired by the government would kill him. He knew he was taking a huge risk but he could not live with his conscience if he did not speak up. How could he be the chief shepherd of the church and sit quietly, safely in his home when his people were so oppressed? And so, the fate of the people, so many of them already executed and dumped in the city's garbage dump, became his fate. He saw it coming: sharing in the crucifixion of his people. What was so moving for me during the one week visit to El Salvador was to see his residence, a humble chaplain's quarters at a nursing care center for terminally ill cancer patients. His bedroom was small but enough, and the hallway had a set of closets with glass doors. One could easily see what was inside. What the caretakers of the place had done is to put up front on a hanger the alb or white garment Romero wore under another garment when praying mass. There was one small hole in the alb just above the heart, and that side of the garment was completely covered with dried blood. Quite sobering! I will never forget that. It made it so real for me what a martyr does, witnessing courageously to Christ and the Gospel values. Everyone was in silence as our group walked very slowly through this small house. Then we walked over to the chapel, a two minute walk and again quietly took in the ambiance. I was taken by how small the chapel is. It might hold 200 people if jammed in. Our group had a photo of us all taken in front of the altar. Before we dispersed I took the opportunity to go behind the altar for just a moment and stand on the spot where Romero stood when he was shot. How awesome, and then to look out on the chapel and see how short was the distance from front to back. I then walked to the back and just outside to get a sense of how the assassin was driven up in a Volkswagen, got out, took out his rifle from a case that looked like a musical instrument case, assembled what was a two piece rifle, and walked into the back of the chapel, fired one shot that killed Romero instantly, and quickly got back into the car which someone else drove away. There were maybe 10-15 people at that mass, mostly nuns who worked at the home of the cancer patients. It was just shy of 7 PM in the evening with the evening shadows already settling in. Mr. Delgado is the name of the assassin and he was never brought to justice. I have often wondered whether the memory of this awful incident ever caught up with him and his conscience. A person has to be hardened to a lot of violence not to feel something like this in his or her memory and sleep. Still . . . People who survive combat still experience shock, flashbacks. The truth of our soul wells up from our depths sooner or later!! What I find so amazing about this man is how he met the challenge of his being archbishop in such a conflicted nation and among fellow bishops who were polarized among themselves and thought Romero could be easily co-opted to their side of their conflicts. Romero had been a seminary professor for many years before being named a bishop. He was a man of books as he described himself. He admits in his retreat journals to struggles with his own sinfulness. He was quite ordinary in many respects. But the situation made him become what it forced him to face and speak out about. In less than three years he was a changed man and became a martyr for Christ. His prayer greatly deepened. He suffered horrendously, especially in the last three weeks of his life. He could hardly sleep, thanks to nightmares of his being hounded and eventually murdered. He knew it was coming. He could not run away any more than Jesus could run out of the Garden of Gethsemane before the soldiers came to arrest him. To run away, to keep silent would be to betray his deepest truth, his true self. What an experience to be thrust into such a choice. Jesus sweat blood out of such great fear. Romero had nightmares and trembled with fear. Both felt abandoned by God, the Father. What moves anyone of us to choose death over betraying our soul, to trust God even when we cannot feel his presence? It has to be God. What else is left? There has to be a love for the One you have trusted all your life to be able, even if it involves terrible fear, to choose the relationship with God rather than betray God, your first love, and one's own self. Tomorrow is perhaps, along with Easter, the most awesome feast-day in the Christian calendar. I refer to the feast of Mary conceiving Jesus. That is, what is most amazing is that God became human. Eternity stepped into time and space, and if you really understand the essence of this mystery, God is still doing this inside us all who believe and trust and open the door to Him to come into our lives, to become human again in our lives. Humans don't expect God to do such. The gap between divinity and humanity is infinite. God would never lower himself to such, so we think. Yet, we Christians profess our faith in a God who does such, who is so humble to become one of us and share our lot, the joys and the pains of it all. So, I wish all you who read this a blessed Lent for what is left of it and a happy Easter. I am doing reasonably well at the same time sharing with the locals here in their exasperation over a drought that seems to never end. God help us and the farmers!! I am blessed with the stories and experiences of the retreatants who come here and I get to guide. God is very real. If only more would seek to get that close, to take the time to pray in a concentrated way and develop a close friendship with Jesus and the Father. I guess it is a call and a great gift for those who do respond and thirst for that deeper life. Bernie Owens

Dear Friends, I am writing on Monday evening, the 27th of February, a day and a half before Ash Wednesday. I don't have time to write a lot but want to pass on something that happened to me this morning that is so meaningful, and I hope it encourages you in your own faith walk. After breakfast each day I spend 45 minutes quietly in my room sitting in a chair while closing my eyes and trying to be quiet and attentive to the Lord in my depths. Some days I spend a fair amount of energy fending off distractions, some days a lot of distractions, but for most days my attention is in and out with my awareness of God, but on some rare occasions the attention is so steady and so rewarding. And that happened this morning. Why some days are one way and others the other way, I do not know. It is like in any long term relationship: some days are winners and many days are rather ordinary, and then some, thankfully few, are unpleasant or even bad. But this morning's was a winner. And I sensed the push of God to share something of it with you in hopes that this would encourage you in your own journey and search for a deeper, closer life with God. How fitting as we approach Lent.. . ............................................................................................................. So what happened? All I can say is that as I sat this morning in the quiet, having finished breakfast and smelling the cool air of the morning, I went down inside myself but then was taken deeper, very much inside myself to a great stillness and focus, and in this stillness I became oblivious of my body, of my room, totally unaware of everything around me except this very loving Presence deep inside. Is this what is meant by "tunnel vision" or tunnel awareness"? I witnessed no image, no picture, but at the same time I was quite aware of a Presence that was so real and attractive, so "sweet" to my spirit, so utterly beautiful and "right there," completely present to me. I knew it was very important not to speak but to be still, to be attentive, receptive, and to gaze steadily with all the love inside me at what was beyond words. The closeness with this loving Presence was beyond describing, so engaging, so capturing. I trust it was a brief taste of heaven. ......................................................................................................... As I came out of this, I had the sense that underneath all the pain that is going on now in our very polarized, conflicted world today, there is this loving Reality that is most reassuring, telling us that He is with us through it all; that deep down all is well. We are loved beyond our wildest hopes and expectations, and we only have to turn to this loving, completely welcoming Presence to gain perspective, balance, and hope, and claim this gift of His Peace and not let ourselves become afraid and then stumble into speaking with the same kind of contempt and disrespect that characterizes much of the public discourse going on today, especially in the political scene and, I notice, in some sports also (with what is called 'trash talk' that gets really demeaning and violent................................................................................................... So, that is all I have time for now. A blessed Lent to all of you. Please remember in your prayers the many poor people of this young nation who suffer so from a seemingly endless drought. So many animals, so many people are dying. These are some of those now nailed to the Cross of Christ and must feel like He did in his final hours, abandoned without any sense of the presence of His Father, our Father. Bernie Owens

Dear Friends, Friday night again, three weeks since my last post. We are having really summer-like weather here, but the drought continues except for one evening last week we had a four hour rain; it was glorious but too little. We could have non-stop rain for two weeks and then we would be back to normal. So many people in the desert-like northern part of this nation, cattle herders especially, are dying, their animals, the water sources drying up. It is quite serious and sad. In the meantime the government of Kenya is failing badly to provide basic services to its citizens (about 45 million people in this nation). The doctors' strike is still going on, two months now. The private hospitals are overwhelmed with many people rushing there to get some kind of help. Then teachers too are demanding pay when the last agreement between the teachers and government was defaulted on by the government. The government has borrowed so much money and has put the nation into tremendous debt. Tourism brings in a lot of money, but it gets siphoned off by people very high in the government. While many accusations are made, no convictions are made, no one "important" goes to prison. Until this stops, this nation will not be turned around. I am told this disaster is not unusual in most African nations. No wonder it is so difficult to build a middle class, to get basic services going and jobs being widespread. So many people are without work. It is really tough, and national elections are coming up in Kenya in early August. Much of the nation is getting desperate. There is some fear that there could be a lot of violence and some killings like 10 years ago during the national election of 2007 and the days following it. ........................................................................................................................................................................................................................... One of my retreatants from two weeks ago, an Irish laywoman volunteer for the last 19 years in a rural Kenyan hospital, told me the story of a 9 year old girl who stumbled into their emergency ward during a recent drought. She was scrawny, even starving and muttering, "give me bread, give me bread." The staff did so immediately, and for two days she kept saying this even after being fed bread and other food. But still she died. I am told that when parents from these very poor bush country parts of this section of the world are unable to get food for their children, they abandon them to fend on their own. Life is terribly brutal for some. I am stunned that this little girl was given one life, was born into a very poor family in the dry parts of rural Kenya, and ended her life in this very sad, painful way. How God must deeply love and show pity to children of His like these. I am sure she was given the warmest welcome and is in a joy that she could not find in this world. ............................................................................................................ Tomorrow is the feast day of Our Lady of Lourdes. Lourdes is a small village (15,000 people outside of high season of tourists) in the southern part of France, in the foothills of the Pyrenees Mountains shared by France and Spain. This day has come to mean very much to me. First, it became something of world significance when in 1858 Mother Mary appeared to a 14 year old girl who could hardly read: Bernadette Soubirous by name. On Feb. 11 of that year she, her sister and a girl friend of her age were walking around a pig sty, a cave area not far from a very good size river called the Gave (pronounced Gahv), looking to gather wood sticks for cooking purposes. In a moment in a crevice some 50 feet up, there appeared a beautiful woman in sparkling white with a bright blue band around her waist and a yellow rose on each of her feet. She was thumbing a rosary that was also yellow in color. After Bernadette came to and realized this was not an illusion, she got the courage to make the sign of the cross with the crucifix of her own rosary and started "Hail Mary." With that the Lady disappeared but reappeared some days later. The Lady asked Bernadette to ask the priests of the area to have a chapel built on that site. Over seven month the Lady appeared to Bernadette, 18 times in all she came. Not until the 16th appearance, on March 25, did the Lady say what her name is. Yo soy Immaculad Concepciou" she said, in a dialect mixing Spanish and French, the Lady said, "I am the Immaculate Conception." Bernadette had no idea what that meant. She walked more than a mile to the local pastor's parish house to report what had happened weeks before Mother Mary told her what her name/title is. Th pastor, gruff and abrupt, dismissed Bernadette as some impressionable religious wacko until one day she was able to repeat to the pastor what Mother Mary said who she is. Until then Her mother too thought she was making this up to get attention. The police too were threatening to lock her up. the local mayor, a professed atheist mocked her until he saw with his own eyes, while in a crowd of many citizens surrounding Bernadette, her kneeling in ecstatic prayer and someone holding her hand and passing one of her fingers through the flame of a candle. she was unharmed, completely, and the mayor was shaken to his soul and months later became a believer and one of the strongest apostles of Mary's message and visitation. ........................................................................................................... For many weeks Bernadette did not know the name of this Lady but kept returning at the request of Mother Mary to be present to whatever Mary asked of her. Besides the request to build a chapel there (later numerous churches, basilicas even have been built there) Mother Mary requested a number of times that Bernadette pray for and do penance for the conversion of sinners. In the meantime at Mary's direction Bernadette discovered in the mud of the cave a spring; it began to flow from the rocky cave site, this pig sty, a symbol of the human condition without God. The water is so abundant today and pure. So many bring home Lourdes water to bless themselves each day. From that water over 65 medically verified miracles of physical healings have happened to pilgrims there, Hundreds of other miraculous physical healings have also taken place since 1858. Each year over 5 million people come there. I have been so blessed to be there four times in my life, twice for a day and a half as part of pilgrimages I was leading. Two other times in 2005 and 2009, I went there to spend two weeks and help to hear confessions of pilgrims who could speak English and wanted the healing of that sacrament. ........................................................................................................... ON my last day there I was hearing the confession of a Gypsy, a mother of four children (she told me she had six children but two had died from miscarriages; I loved it that she still was conscious of those two children who did not make it but are so real and present to her and are with God!) Her youngest, a blond beautiful daughter of about 3.5 to 4 years old, wanted to come into the room to be with her mother when her mother was making her confession. The mother asked me whether I had a problem with the girl being in the confessional. I said 'no' and said as long as she was quiet and didn't disturb her mother, we would be fine. We were face to face. The mother assured me her little one would be just fine and quiet. So when we finished celebrating the sacrament I ask the mother, "Why did you and your husband with all your children come here?" She pointed to the little one standing between her legs, speaking no word. I said, "Tell me about it, please." She said, "a year ago we drove from England, took the boat across the Channel, and drove down here to Lourdes for this little one" (pointing to her daughter) She said her little one had been for more than a year wearing braces on both legs and had some crutches. (I am not sure whether her problem was polio or something else.) The mother said, "My husband and I took her to the grotto (where Mother Mary had appeared to Bernadette and where the never-ending spring of water flows.) She said we prayed and offered anew this precious child of ours to God through our Lady of Lourdes. Then we returned home to England and a few days later we took off the crutches (apparently at the child's request) and she walked free. (Of course I am not breathing as I listened to this.) Then she added, "We had to come back here this summer to return to the grotto and speak our deep thanks, to Mary and to God for this extraordinary gift." My friends, how does anyone forget a story like that??!! It is one of my prayers that before I die I may have one more opportunity to return to that very beautiful place and be part of the team of priests hearing confessions there. That place is so profound. The procession of the thousands of sick everyday at 5 PM, the Benediction following prayers and singing in most of the languages of the world, and then the rosary procession each evening once the sun goes down and hearing decades of the rosary in various languages of the world is so moving. Again, over 5 million people come there every year. ................................................................................................................... I need to add that on Feb 11 in 1981, 36 years ago, when my father was full of cancer and had nine more weeks to live, he was praying the rosary by himself. At 4 PM that afternoon he stunned my mother who was in another room but within hearing distance. He said with excitement, "Chum, Chum, come here. Come here quickly!" My mother came right away, and my father, a church going man but certainly not one to espouse the glories of Mary at all, said, "She was right here, right here!" It turned out that he was so comforted from her presence (no words at all) and from that day was able to die in peace over the remaining weeks. He had fought and was so restless about his cancer and discomfort up to then. He had often complained that too much attention is given to Mother Mary at the expense of Jesus. He said after this, apologetically, "I was wrong. Not enough attention is given to her." ................................................................................................................................................................. the message of Lourdes comes down to this: First, it is the gift of poverty--reflecting the manner of how God came to us in Jesus and keeps coming in the poor of our day and to our own self, not in spite of but precisely in and through our own experiences of human poverty, our own needs and powerlessness, our inability to control and with it a call to let go and let God. We are called to let go and let God provide, to lead and guide, to empower, to love us as we are, if only we will accept ourselves according to this truth and learn to receive. Lourdes is also the story of Bernadette and tens of thousands of cripples and sick who come there every year--a very special providence of God, showing what is involved in letting go and letting God. This day is a special day in the Church honoring the gift the sick are to us if we will look and receive them as gift. Their lives remind us on the Man-God who hangs on the Cross for us and blessed us beyond all blessings when He was so helpless and vulnerable. ............................................................................................................Second, we discover true, authentic prayer through the message of Lourdes. Bernadette's experience reveals a God of love and tenderness, a God searching to embrace and converse with us in a heart-to-heart encounter. True prayer is to go beyond the mere recitation of words and to discover the smile of God who loves us, to discover ourselves in loving company with a God of tenderness.................................................................................................. Third, Lourdes means the call to conversion, to realize the true nature of sin and the ugliness of evil and courageously seek a true conversion of heart and be more compassionate toward each other as we realize our common spiritual misery, our need for God, and that we are all loved sinners........................................................................................................ Last, Lourdes means we all together are a very human Church and each of us has a role to play in it, simply, bravely, and lovingly. We are never meant to be just spectators. And it was Mary as the Immaculate Conception who came to Lourdes to remind us all of the Gospel and of a new humanity being established through her Son, a new creation in the making that has already begun with the woman blessed among all others. ............................................................................................................ I close wishing you all a happy Valentine's Day and a strong sense of the gift and love of those you call friends and beloved in your life. May she who is the Immaculate Conception, the patroness of the USA to whom we were as a nation dedicated many years ago and placed under her protection, bless us with her prayers and friendship during this time when when we as a nation are very conflicted and troubled with a spirit of violence and disrespect coming from both the highest levels of government and from many members of the press and other media who cannot, who do not seem to want, to rise above such shameful, demeaning behavior. Bernie Owens

Dear Friends, It is Friday, January 20 here, the day the USA transfers power of its government to a business man who has had no previous political, elected experience. God help us. And yet the alternative in the election left me completely unmoved and unenthusiastic. I felt we Americans had no choice, so to speak. .......................................................................................................... I write on a beautiful sunny day, temperatures about 82 or so in the mid-afternoon sun, a gentle breeze passing through my room, low humidity . . . very comfortable. Yet there is reason for grave concern in this nation of Kenya. We are experiencing a rather serious drought. Fortunately, we Jesuits have a water well and plenty of water for our needs. But in the city there is already rationing of water going on. It is getting serious. Numerous people are having to receive government imported food. Many animals (goats especially) are dying. Some parts of the nation have received no rain since last April. The drought is also hitting the nation to our south, Tanzania. ................................................................................................................. What is much worse is a doctors' strike that has gone on for 47 days. Numerous people are dying because there is no professional to tend to them. It is a show-down between the government and the doctors. There is so much trouble with the government of this nation, so much embezzlement and stealing of public funds while hardly anyone is ever caught and prosecuted. Apparently a few at high levels of government have stolen over $50 million US meant for health care workers and this leaves the government unable to meet many of the just demands of the doctors. Can you imagine such a disaster??!! ............................................................................................................... After Obama left following his visit to Kenya about a year and a half ago, there was a visit from some US justices to offer counsel to their counterparts in this nation. Widespread corruption and stealing by high level officials seem to be at the basis of the nation's inability to establish a rule of law, of order and justice, and promote a culture that can effectively develop a middle class; there are many accusations of stealing, the newspapers are full of such stories, but there are no prosecutions and very few go to prison for their crimes. So many continue sucking off the limited money of the nation and leave the nation in terrible straights. Some people here, even church-going Christians, live in the heights of luxury, even by US standards. The formula seems to be: get a law degree, get elected to parliament or to a governorship in one of the main regions of the nation, and then steal, embezzle, and cook the books, so to speak. Just don't get caught. Buy off someone "important" if they catch you doing this and have power to get you in trouble. .................................................................................................................................................................................................................. I forgot to mention that there is also a long standing strike going on among university lecturers and workers. It has to be kept in mind that this is the year of a national election (coming in August) and these economic issues are pushed into public discourse so as to put pressure on the leaders of the political parties vying for votes. The disastrous election 10 years ago involved gang riots and even beheadings. Tribalism is so much the underlying issue. Tribes compete for economic gain through the government; their candidate getting elected means more government help for their people. To lose the election means your people have a much harder time for the following 5 years. It is somewhat like nationalistic rivalries that used to be big in the USA. .......................................................................................................................... I was told by one of my retreatants in the group of retreatants last week a story that moved me a lot. I pass it on to you. This retreatant, a mid-age nun, has been working in South Sudan with many very poor people fleeing to Uganda because of the endless war going on among tribes in South Sudan. She was living with a small community of other nuns where a married woman with a small child had been hired to do the community's cooking. While preparing the food and cooking, she could overhear a priest close by, in the next room, teaching children about Jesus and the Christian way of life. One day her husband who had gone away to find work and had been absent for three or four years returned to take her and the child with him. She learned that he had with him a second wife, a Muslim, that he too had become Muslim, and had with him two children born of the Muslim woman. This cook refused to comply. Her decision was met with major objections and threats of the village leaders (male and committed to Sharia law). They made it clear to her that she had two choices: either go with your husband or submit to a public flogging at which she would be lashed 138 times. There were strong objections from other women in the village but the will of the village "fathers" prevailed. So this woman opted for the flogging. She endure this horrible, vicious practice, the public shaming it involved as well, and survived. The women of the village immediately after it was over went into the bush area and found certain herbs to apply to her wounds; these would ease her terrible pain and cuts and, lo and behold, in a few weeks she completely healed without infection. Later she was asked what enabled her to go through with this ordeal. She replied that while she was cooking and could overhear the priest catechising some children she had learned about Jesus and was very taken by the experience He went through, that He too had been flogged, out of love for us all, and this gave her much courage and strength through Him to endure what she was subjected to and therefore not fall into a terrible family situation with a husband who had taken another wife and had changed his religious affiliation. I thought to myself when I heard this story: the mystery of Christ's passion and resurrection keeps showing up in today's world, in some of the most unlikely or unexpected places and with people who are so vulnerable, who have been given so little, yet the grace of God moves them to find an incredible strength and witness to Jesus in striking, unforgettable ways. What a manifestation of God's grace! And what a promise that God will be there for us in our moments of great trial, if only we will ask for help like this woman did.................................................................................................................................................................................................................... It is dinner time. I need to go. Donald Trump becomes president in 75 minutes from now. I suppose I will watch on TV his taking the oath of office and listen to his speech. I sense we all need to ask our God like rarely before to protect and care for the future of our nation. Our nation is dedicated to Mary under the title of her Immaculate Conception. It would be wise for us to invoke her prayers as well and maternal protection and guidance. God bless. Bernie Owens

Dear Friends, Today is December 27, Tuesday after Christmas Day, the feast day of St. John the Apostle of whom it is said was the closest friend of Jesus among the 12 apostles. . . . . I am now ready to write what I began more than two weeks ago, when I spent two hours typing and then lost it all. You might imagine the frustration and my need to postpone trying to write anything more after that very frustrating experience. Yesterday I wrote responses to 21 emails. About four of them were detailed and long. Together they took about four, maybe five hours to do. Skyping for nearly one hour with a great friend in Troy, Michigan was included in all of this. Then the day before, Christmas Day was a day to enjoy some very good food and good company. There were 27 of us for dinner starting around 1:30 PM, half of them guests. It was a happy time had by all. Having a 45 minutes social with drinks and snacks before the dinner started all of the celebration. I must admit I ate too much and I paid for it yesterday. Thankfully I am back to simpler food, less of it too, and am feeling almost normal again. Ha! Will I ever learn??!! (Did I just hear a strong 'No!" coming from the backseat??) . . . . . Our weather here is a little cool for this time of the year--usually in the low 70s; sometimes it gets to the high 70s around 3 PM--and most nights we have a wonderful sky and stunning views of stars and Venus and Jupiter. The pollen from all the flowers makes me itch a lot sometimes. It seems we never really find the perfect setting. I am trusting heaven will lift us above all of these imperfections! One blessing for me is how I almost never get a cold and in more than three years I have not had the usual sinus infection I would get about twice a year when back in Michigan. No antibiotics for me in over three years! . . . . . In the meantime I find my work very satisfying, sometimes deeply satisfying. It is a privilege to have work that you truly enjoy and often feel buoyed up by the promise of a deep exchange of meaning with people in and through the conversations that my kind of work affords me. I often get a "front row view" of the inner workings of God in the lives, in the souls of people who come here for silence and close, intimate exchange with God. How real and close God is. Many times I remark to myself how the world of the invisible is so much more real and satisfying than the visible world with its frequent emphasis on glitter and noise, on having a 'good time' and its offer of meaning through pleasure, but not very much underneath its noise and efforts to entertain and its claims to meaning. It soon wearies us and reminds me of the title of a 1960s British film that studied the empty life of a very self-centered man, Alfie by name. The movie's title and its background song said it all: "Is That All There Is, Alfie?" . . . I want to try to give you some sense of what was given to me during my retreat last November 30-December 7, concluding on the morning of the 8th. This is what I was in the middle of describing when I lost everything last December 10. I will be briefer now than I was intending to describe then. Right from the start of the retreat I was attracted to the bible's description of the piercing of the side of Christ. This moment is found in John's gospel, chapter 19, verse 34. The Roman soldier, doing his job, finishes the execution of Jesus who is nailed and breathing his last. The gospel writer focuses in on the immediate aftermath of the piercing: he says blood and water flow out of the cut made in Jesus's right side when the soldier shoves the spear through Jesus's chest over to the left side into his heart, piercing it and releasing the fluids of blood and lymph/water. That image, that scene held me for eight days. With varying clarity I spent my entire retreat right there, attracted back to it again and again, and seeing more and more deeply into it as the days passed by. I was drawn much beyond just the physical details of that scene and soon into the implications of it all; sometimes I was very aware of Jesus's mother standing there, sometimes quite aware of the gospel writer John who as a young man was witnessing this awful moment, the seeming end of a wonderful friendship he had with Jesus, yet he was being marked for the rest of his long life to be THE eyewitness of a world changing event when God was at His best in the face of the human race being engaged in its most awful, shameful moment. John would tell of this event and leave for all generations to ponder this ultimate expression of the outpouring of God who is Love and Mercy Itself. But I was especially drawn to be present to or aware of God, Jesus's Abba, as if He were standing in the background and sharing silently in this devastating moment, with this best gift He gave to the world spurned, rejected and crucified by a people gone mad. . . That scene, that image which carried something of an awareness deeper than any image of the depths of God kept me still, alert, present without words, amazed, moved, "captured", held with a sense of wonder and love and sometimes deep emotion. I am taking time here to describe something of what I was given because I hope it helps you the reader to notice and find your own way into this same mystery of love and get close to what is ultimately the indescribable goodness and lovableness of the Source of all Reality, the source and fullness of all Beauty and Truth. It is this encounter that heals all brokenness, that gives lasting hope, and makes any sacrifice totally worth it. It truly is a taste of heaven, a glimpse of what the soul of us all is searching for. This is "what it's all about, Alfie!" . . . . . Sometimes prayer is simply getting quiet enough and being attentive, staying steadily aware in the face of what is beyond all words, and then by a gift of God getting "grabbed", getting "pulled in" with awe and being moved with great joy and longing into adoration. You get pulled in and held by what is overwhelmingly meaningful, beautiful, and so good like nothing else in the entire world, and your spirit in its depths knows this, is irresistably drawn to this. You have found the center of your soul and the Source of all goodness and hope waiting there for you. To spend quality time, very attentive, before this Reality this way, just to be quiet and aware with love and awe will change a lot in how you look at yourself, at the world and other people. It leads you to value what God values and to see as empty what much of the noisy world thinks is so important. (What's It All About, Alfie?") In time what happens is a growing sensitivity at deeper and deeper levels of ourselves to this very attractive Reality. Like what St. Augustine says, the "eye of our heart" begins to open and we see what we have passed over many times and were blind to. But now, God has blessed us to see. The "scales have fallen from our eyes," as it did for Saul. This reminds me of the scene in Luke's Gospel with the blind man on the side of the road pleading twice for Jesus of Nazareth to heal him: "Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!" Jesus says, "what do you want me to do for you?" The man, Bartimeus says, "Master, help me to see. Let me see." And Jesus says, "Be healed. Your faith (in God) has made you whole." And the man then receives his sight and follows Jesus along the Way.) Really, everyone of us is that blind man on the side of the road. But many of us do not even know we are blind to this deeper Reality; no one ever tells us about it as something available to us; no one tells us that seeing much more deeply this One, the really Real, is a gift waiting for us to receive if only we become aware of this new possibility for ourselves and earnestly seek with the help of God to open to it, to ask for it. It is love for God and others that opens up the eye of our soul to the deeper levels of Reality . . . . We start noticing what our fears, worries and greed, our anxieties and lust, our resentment and jealousies make us blind to. . . . . . One theme related to this wound in Christ's side that came up in my retreat was the attraction to the other four wounds of Christ. I have been drawn for years to this theme. I was given a cross, Eastern church style, when I was ordained 44 years ago. It images the five wounds inflicted on Christ, to his hands and feet, his head too. Nearly ten years ago I found in a book we were discussing during the biweekly reading seminars at Manresa in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan a reference to the five wounds of Christ being something one could carry inside their spirit, in their soul, not just in one's body like the stigmatists but inside yourself. This drew me strongly. In this book, St. Gertrude, a 13th century German, wrote about her finding this prayer that expressed the desire to receive from God this "imprint" or mark of Christ's Passion, to carry in one's depths His five wounds, simply because Jesus means that much to you and His passion and death had deeply moved you to want to honor His love and live in His Spirit. Encouraged by what she writes, I began to pray that prayer, daily, but many times up to this recent retreat wondered whether God had answered this prayer for me or not. Then on the very first day of my retreat, it dawned on me during one of my meditations in a very meaningful way that I had been given this gift a long time ago, even before I started to pray that prayer, thanks to my carrying inside myself the wounds of Christ contained in the stories of good people who shared with me about their lives, especially about the wounds in their lives. This light or insight made even more meaningful what was given to me on the first day of my retreat last year when I was shown in a striking image a set of candles all close together and immediately understanding that each candle represented a man or woman friend in my life whom I cared about deeply, friends that I had known and cared about for years. So in this year's retreat I was shown a special feature about these friends: I carry within me with much reverence and sometimes significant emotion their stories with a particular emphasis on their being wounded, some of them terribly so. So I began to reminisce on how some of you have opened up to me about your lives and let me see and feel with you something of your share in the woundedness of Christ: your losing a father when so young and being so vulnerable and how it so affected you into your adult years; or losing tragically your only son, your only child in a soccer freak accident; or being gang-raped a number of times and suffering nightmares because of it and temptations to self-rejection, self-hatred; in being molested as a child and in turn struggling with sexual attractions that would land you in prison if you acted on them; discovering yourself to be addicted to one thing or another (alcohol, drugs, porn, etc), any substance that threatened to eat up your soul and make you seriously contemplate suicide; or being haunted with the memories of choosing to abort your child and then suffering to regain self-respect and trust in the mercy of God for you; or spending many years with a certain loneliness caring for a broken husband, a broken sister and a mother living so long and requiring but deserving so much close care. I cannot tell you how much meaning and consolation during my retreat I found in realizing this level of meaning gained from carrying many of you in my soul and then awakening to how this is really one way of understanding the fulfillment of my prayer over many years: to bear within my depths the wounds of Christ and to do whatever my priesthood calls me to do FROM THIS SACRED SPACE I HAD FRESHLY DISCOVERED INSIDE ME. . . . . Some may still wonder: why the wounds of Christ should be an object of so much attention and care, of so much love? Perhaps it will help to explain it--partially--this way. Really, one does not explain love but either understands it from experience or has not yet opened to real love in their lives. So here goes my attempt to shed some light on this mystery of loving Christ, especially by focusing with deep reverence on His five wounds. I recall my mother who for all her life suffered a lot from eczema to her fingers and into her hands. The skin of her fingers and hands dried out so easily, then cracked and bled thanks to the eczema because she cooked a lot, canned a lot of fruits and vegetables for our winter needs, sewed and crocheted a lot and so exposed herself to many chemicals, natural and synthetic, in her care for us four children. Even though she wore water-protecting rubber gloves, she still got affected by all of this and would often apply sauves of various kinds to gain some relief and hopefully healing of the eczema blisters and itching that went with it all. As I look back on that and remember growing up around her with this kind of dedication and loving care, I am quite moved and feel the desire, yes, to kiss her hands, to look deeply into her eyes and tell her how I will be eternally grateful for her love, a priceless gift. Her wounds were like that of Christ's wounds of love, an expression of everlasting commitment to the lives she and our father generated. I have experienced some of the same love, deeper of course, welling up in me as I pay attention to the wounds of Christ. I own them as the greatest of all gifts to me . . . and for everyone of us. How can I not be moved when I see something of what I have been allowed by God's Spirit to see in this Mystery of love?? How can I not kiss every morning the red stone on that cross given to me 44 years ago (the red stone representing the wound to Jesus's heart) and laying it on my bed to see during the day? Is there anything in the whole of the world's history like it? Absolutely not. I trust that each of us in thinking back to special friends in our life whose stories have touched us significantly we will see the same mystery inside ourselves and will suspect that much more of God's life and activity are going on in you than you ever suspected. A happy, healthy and blessed 2017 to all of you. Bernie Owens

Friends, I just stumbled back into my blogsite after having typed for two hours this afternoon part of a letter I was going to post regarding my recent retreat experience. It seems I have lost it all! I don't find it anywhere. I thought it would be worth sharing some of the retreat with you. I hit the SAVE button before going to dinner and assumed when I returned I would be able to continue. Then, I got locked out of my email and went round and round with Google to get a new password they would recognize. A wasted evening! A fresh experience of being tried in patience! I will give this a try tomorrow while having now to hurry up to some other work I have to deal with. Booo! Bernie Owens

Dear Friends, Here we are on Friday during Thanksgiving weekend. I know most of you who read this are living in the USA and so I wish you lots of relaxation and enjoyment of being with family and friends. Here in Kenya it is a regular week for work and the usual routine. But as an American I cannot help but be with all of you in spirit and wish you the best and the peace that only our good God in Jesus can give. Oh, how we and the USA needs this now at a time of such strife and disrespect from many voices around us. I am so struck by the disrespect and insulting manner reflected in and even fostered in the newspapers, the TV and internet news sources. I am saddened by all of this. We so need to make a choice for listening respectfully to each other, even when disagreeing. We need to calm down and reclaim our center in Him whose love makes all the difference. I am well overall, even though I have had three bouts of dysentery in the previous two weeks. The most recent week I have been normal and hope I have gotten through whatever it was that bothered me so much. Our neighborhood monkey is frequenting us again and makes loud noises when running across our roof tops during our breakfast time. Just imagine a medium sized dog with a long tail running around on top of your own house and looking for any open window to sneak in and steal food. That is what this character is like! He can even open our big sliding door from the veranda into our dining room if the door is slightly left open. About five days ago our monkey succeeded in getting into our dining room and stealing a cluster of bananas off our center table. I had had a banana from that cluster at breakfast the same day and found them too ripe for me. I ate about half of it and cut away the rest. So really, these bananas were ready to be put into banana bread. So this pest did not get the best in what he stole. I did spot him, however, soon after his theft nestled in the crotch of a nearby tree gorging himself on one banana after another. It is after all rather humorous! In the end one has to admit he is cute even though obnoxious at times! Our worry now is how he, and we think a second monkey, are beginning to steal our mangoes. We will have in January a bumper crop of mangoes. Our trees are loaded with them but need to have more time to have them fill out and be ready for picking. And when they are ripe, the eating is out of this world! I assure you, mangoes are on the menu for the eternal heavenly banquet!! In the meantime the damn monkey aims at beating us to them, even before they become ripe! We are planning to throw nets over these trees, which is not an easy task! I begin my own yearly 8-day retreat next Tuesday evening, the 29th, and finish on the morning of December 8, the feast day of Mary's Immaculate Conception. I would greatly appreciate your remembering me during that special time in your prayers. Thank you so much. By the way, do you who are US citizens know that the USA some years ago was put "under the protection of" and dedicated to Mary, under the title of her Immaculate Conception? The basilica or national shrine in Washington, DC, is dedicated to her under this title. The meaning of this title given her and its implications for us who aspire to follow Jesus closely are pretty awesome, something quite worth learning about and applying in one's own spiritual walk with God. It implies extraordinary blessings available to any follower of Jesus who is childlike enough to learn and be led by God's Spirit to new spiritual depths in Christ. It has struck me, and I included this in my book (More Than You Could Ever Imagine), that all the attention and honors given by Christians to the Mother of God are not attention for just her but also constitute wonderful good news for any of us who aspire to follow closely her Son. That is because she and all the blessings God gave her are a mirror and anticipation of the many blessings God has in store for each of us as we make our journey home to God. All that is honored in her is a hint of all the goodness and beauty of God being realized in us. Her story anticipates so much of our own story that is still in its early stages and is unfolding toward a fullness we get glimpses of when looking at her, if we will look! I will close with relating to you a very painful story I heard just last Tuesday. Some of you will most likely find this disturbing; it certainly was and still is disturbing to me, but it does give you the reader a hint of some of the monstrous evil I am learning about here in Kenya, evil going on in this young nation, among a fragile people who are for the most part terribly poor and susceptible to the forces of evil. It is a story of a family with the scourge of alcoholism in a number of members of the family, and I think mental illness too, accentuated by some members calling upon witch doctors and curses to get revenge on other members of the family. the family is said to have become Catholic Christian, baptized, but mixing with such polygamy, philandry, and the consulting of leaders of the occult. The story I tell climaxes in the death of a 39 year old daughter, dying I think from a heart attack, after she was found to be pregnant and got an abortion. Her father, who is mentally unstable and a micro-manager of the grown children he fathered from one or other of his wives, demanded that this daughter get an abortion, a late term abortion at that. So she did because the economic means for her was with her father. She was jobless and dirt poor and vulnerable to being left out on the streets if she refused. So I am told by the one who related this awful story ( half-sister of this woman!) that the baby during the abortion, bleeding and all, was crying when it was thrown into a nearby bucket and there it died. I have heard in my spirit this cry and it so upsets me. My faith in Christ tells me this is a moment in which He, who said that when you give a drink of water to one of the least of my brothers or sisters you do it to Me, is crucified again. The ultimate mystery and meaning of every human life is found in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. This is where we find the meaning and purpose of every human life, Christian and non-Christian. The only resolution to monstrous choices like this is found in His mercy spoken while He hung on the cross, "Father, forgive them, for they really don't realize what they are doing." May you and your families have a blessed Advent. Come, Lord Jesus, Prince of Peace. In You alone is our hope and lasting joy! Bernie Owens