~ ~ ~

 

As we gaze upon the beautiful buildings that have been built on the Mountain, let us remember that toward the end of Francis's life as he watched the Order of Friars Minor grow around him, he came down from the mountain with the stigmata of Christ and said, "Now we must start again." His trust in God's creative Love is an inspiration to all of us as we "start again" each day.

 

As we quiet ourselves and join our voices to those of our community members and those who are far away from us, we ask that you continue to pray and sing with us.

 

We can carry our songs to our cars, our churches, our kitchens and even to our pilgrimages in Assisi and thereby preserve our spirit of gentle hospitality within our hearts.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The Mountain has always been a place of renewal for me. Just knowing there is a special place of prayer and community available for all of us is a comfort to me. On Sunday morning, during a time of reflection, we discussed how scary it is for the students to go out into the world after living the Mountain spirit for four years. They fear not having the same support and sense of community they have had here. It's true that the Mountain isn't in the valley. But, to me, you never lose the Mountain, because it's in your heart waiting to be touched again, as well as waiting to be spread to others in your life. Even if you can't physically be there, it's a part of you because God is always there, waiting for us to ask for help, and then to go out and serve others again. How blessed the students are to have the opportunity to build a strong sense of faith, of serving, and of begging. And aren't we blessed to know they will be joining the rest of us on our faith and life journey in the "real world?"

 

~ ~ ~

 

When I was walking in solitude on the paths it reminded me of how, ever since I was 5 years old, I've been looking for the "perfect red leaf." Often I thought I found it, only to discover it played host to an insect or bird, or has a fungus. I finally realized I'll never find the "perfect red leaf," there are no perfect red leaves, just as there are no perfect people – we all have some scars or blemishes. Only God is perfect.

 

~ ~ ~

 

It is easy to come to a beautiful place like Mt. Irenaeus and fall "in tune" with nature. From the first time I came on retreat here, I intuitively felt the holy undercurrent. Of what? What is so special here? Or better, what is not here? Absence of judgment, evil, time, to name just a few. What I have found here is an instant connectedness with all our relations: sisters, mothers, fathers, brothers, daughters, sons, the two-legged and the four-legged.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Throughout my precious weekend stay in this sacred place so many of us call home, I came to a new understanding. Home is wherever and whenever God dwells within us. Home can be any place on Earth where we allow ourselves to be used as God's instrument. I now realize that I didn't need an airplane ride to bring me home. The Earth is my home and the wonderful feelings of warmth, love, and acceptance associated with home can be reached only through prayer. Mother Teresa once said, "Prayer makes your heart bigger, until it is capable of containing the gift of God himself."

 

The peaceful and prayerful life of our mountain home makes our hearts bigger so that we can then serve, love, give and bring "home" to others. In doing so, we are also called to care for the Earth, which is home to all. How different our lives would be if each of us, like St. Francis, cared for the Earth as our home and all God's creatures as our family. In 1850, Chief Seattle, a respected and peaceful leader of the Northwest Indian Nation understood the teachings of St. Francis. He said, "Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread in it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect." My prayer is that all who love the Mountain will help others understand the true meaning of "home."

 

~ ~ ~

 

Every so often, you come to a place that is smiled upon and touched specially by God. Riches fade in the golden glow of the wooden beams. This house is a holy place, made so by the love that infuses every rock, every stick of wood, every scrap of cloth, and every soul. Storms may batter it and wintery snows may blow, but inside is a heart's core of caring warmth, which the iciest mountain winter cannot dampen. God looks over this place and delights in it; for it helps one to realize that perhaps man is not as irredeemable or as incorrigible as we may sometimes think.

 

~ ~ ~

 

I came to the Mountain anxious and a bit fearful; but what I found was hope, understanding, tenderness and encouragement. I found Mt. Irenaeus much more than a place, than a way of living that looks not with the eyes of prejudice or judgment upon our world, but with attentiveness, respect and welcoming. Stereotype after stereotype fell inside me as I realized the spirit that makes the Mountain is one of acceptance and reverence: of who you are, and of the gifts you bring. Always room for one more whether at table or in the chapel, there is a warmth and generosity I felt here that echoes through the Rule of St. Francis for Hermitages: that those who choose to live in them be as "mothers and sons to each other."

 

I experienced encouragement and support at Mt. Irenaeus; and grew in my appreciation of all creation as gift – to be treated with reverence and gratitude. God is present on this holy and peaceful mountain, not only in the trees, plants and animals, but in the people who share willingly and unselfishly in its life. The only things "owned" at the Mountain are the graces which are distributed so freely to everyone who passes by.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The early 70s were times of anger and of war when authority was challenged on all of our campuses and at Bonas as well. The world seemed to be coming apart around us and within us. We began retreats with Bonaventure students in '71 when we began Campus Ministry and Fr. Gervase White helped staff these retreats. Returning from one of these "weekends of reconciliation" in a home up in the hills where our collegians found new personal peace and a reclaiming of their faith, I met Fr. Irenaeus in the friary dining room. I enthused with him about the retreats saying, "Wouldn't it be great to have a place where we could always take our students!" He chimed in, with a twinkle Merton saw in his eyes, saying that he had thought "wouldn't it be wonderful if the University could by Merton's Heart?" (That is the hill across the river behind our campus.) "This might be a place where students could get away and hike and think and pray." I walked away from that conversation convinced that something had begun.

 

In 1980, after years of sharing ideas and finding friends to take the risks to follow a dream, the Mountain was about to rise up some where ... we had not found the place. Following a conversation with one of the friars it became immediately clear that this place for peace should be named after Fr. Irenaeus.

 

A few months before he died I caught Fr. Irenaeus in the friary again following an evening meal. He was up from the table and moving toward the kitchen with his plate and cup and I said, "Father, we haven't yet found the place, but it now seems a sure thing that we are going to begin ... I would like to name our Franciscan mountain after you." I recall him pausing briefly, a gentle shy smile passed across his face as he glanced down through his thick glasses and up again, offering me a simple nod of his head and a thank you as he put his plate and cup away.

 

Merton's words in Seven Story Mountain, "I had discovered a place where I was going to find out something about happiness," captured for me the experience he had in the hospitality that Fr. Irenaeus offered him. In this simple "heart to heart," Merton began to open to Christ's call and from this place of hope began to speak to the hearts of many who wanted to "find out something about happiness," as well.

 

Mt. Irenaeus is an heir to Merton's great call for the renewal of our life with God into the wonderful truth that contemplation is a common heritage for us all.

 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Since 1983, I have been involved with Mt. Irenaeus. Since 1990, Mt. Irenaeus has been my home. What an extraordinary blessing this ministry has been. It seems to me that my experience at Mt. Irenaeus is a culmination of my life-long desire to be able to be with the Lord. I feel that I am with the Lord through the many, many people who "come to the Mountain." Many different people from different backgrounds and with different needs find their needs satisfied at the Mountain. I am delighted to be part of that experience. In my daily response to God, "Here I am, Lord," I recognize how God makes use of each of us to bring the message of His love to others. The Lord does use each of us for His purposes. I marvel at how the Lord has used me for His purposes, in ways that I never imagined. To say that the Lord "used me" is not a negative attitude. It is an expression of surprise. I never would have imagined the Lord using me to teach Philosophy, to teach History, to teach English, to be a procurator (business manager), to be a disciplinarian, to be an academic counselor. But that is what happened to my response, "Here I am, Lord." All these ways of serving young people are ways the Lord has "used me" to bring His love to others. And the Lord is still using me as an instrument of His love in my willingness to be available to those who come to Mt. Irenaeus.

 

The Lord uses all of us for His purposes. Recently, Linda English gave a presentation at Mt. Irenaeus on the place of lay women and lay men in the Church. As God has used me for His good purposes, He also uses all of us in one way or another for that same purpose.

 

My life story can be a source of encouragement for all who want to do God's will, all who are seeking happiness through the living of the Gospel. I firmly believe that I have lived and still live my life in response to a call from God. I further believe that everyone is called by God and that God helps everyone to discover what that call is. I believe that a willing response to that call guarantees God's help to be faithful to that response.