Month: August 2025

An Approach to a Bridge: Liturgical Coincidence 1

/ Donald Felipe

My wife and I serve at Saint John’s Catholic Church in Chico, California. We do just about everything at mass, or at least my wife does, lector, Eucharistic minister, sacristan duties, collection and other service.

On August 18 my wife was serving as lector and helping me with sacristan duties. I ended up with the privilege of serving at the mass–no altar servers on a summer Tuesday. My wife showed me the readings for the day. They meant something to her–the promise of peace, hope and aid for the people of God were main themes. But she sensed more than that in what she was reading; she was touched. At her prompting, I spent some time with the readings myself. Thinking about and rolling over some of the ideas and metaphors in these readings, like some of my experiences with Joe, seem to lead to hidden places, and, coincidentally, these places belong in an approach to the bridge at Beauraing.

Readings, August 19, 2025.

Here is the portion of Responsorial Psalm 85, (85:9-14) as it appears in the version of the New American Bible approved by the US Catholic Bishops, Daily Readings,

“R.   The Lord speaks of peace to his people.
I will hear what God proclaims;
    the LORD–for he proclaims peace
To his people, and to his faithful ones,
    and to those who put in him their hope.
R.    The Lord speaks of peace to his people.
Kindness and truth shall meet;
    justice and peace shall kiss.
Truth shall spring out of the earth,
    and justice shall look down from heaven.
R.    The Lord speaks of peace to his people.
The LORD himself will give his benefits;
    our land shall yield its increase.
Justice shall walk before him,
    and salvation, along the way of his steps.
R.    The Lord speaks of peace to his people.“

Here is the relevant text in the Hebrew, Psalm 85: 9-14:

“ט אֶשְׁמְעָה– מַה-יְדַבֵּר, הָאֵל יְהוָה:
כִּי יְדַבֵּר שָׁלוֹם, אֶל-עַמּוֹ וְאֶל-חֲסִידָיו; וְאַל-יָשׁוּבוּ, לְכִסְלָה.
חֶסֶד וֶאֱמֶת נִפְגָּשׁוּ; צֶדֶק וְשָׁלוֹם נָשָׁקוּ.
אֱמֶת, מֵאֶרֶץ תִּצְמָח; וְצֶדֶק, מִשָּׁמַיִם נִשְׁקָף.
גַּם-יְהוָה יִתֵּן הַטּוֹב; וְאַרְצֵנוּ, תִּתֵּן יְבוּלָהּ.
צֶדֶק, לְפָנָיו יְהַלֵּךְ; וְיָשֵׂם לְדֶרֶךְ פְּעָמָיו.“

Translations of the Torah in some Jewish sources and the version of in New American Bible in Bible Gateway, exhibit some differences (like the refrain “The Lord speaks peace to his people” in the Catholic version), but I think some of the main themes and metaphors of the text, and the questions they raise, may be fairly depicted irrespective of interpretive lenses.

The Psalm is a song about the Lord speaking of and promising peace to “his people” or “faithful ones” and the response of the faithful (which entails another promise) to listen (“I will”). These acts of divine ‘speech’ and human listening embrace one another and release prophecy, lyrical singing about what this peace is and will be, the realities of what the Lord’s peace will mean to those who are faithful, to those listening. In the Psalm the speech, promise and actions of God are interwoven with human initiative, one prompts the other and vice versa–the Psalm is about heaven touching earth and earth reaching up to heaven, a song of the vision of what that will mean and be. And that vision is beautiful.

Divine kindness and mercy, have come together with faithfulness, moral and ethical dependability and truth. Justice (sedeq) and peace (shalom) have kissed, an intimate embrace, a romantic unity of heavenly justice with human peace, earthly social and personal well being. These acts of meeting, joining, kissing are complete, timelessly, in the prophetic perfect, foundations for further prophecy about future human life.

Truth, the truth about us, ethical and moral truth, what we truly should be, shall sprout from the earth like a living organism, as divine justice, true justice, ‘looks down’ from heaven, above the earth, the realm of God beyond our reach. But the gaze of God is not passive. God is not a detached observer of human life. The gaze of God guides, informs, elicits faith and hope, growth, striving. We feel the eyes of God upon us, and as we experience his glance, listening, we naturally respond, the truth about us, buried underground, rises through the surface of the earth and strives toward its natural truth and end, perfect, divine justice above us.

The Psalm concludes with fantastic prophecy and metaphor of what is to come: God will give what is good for us, the land will yield harvests, and divine justice will go forth on the earth, walking among us, God with us, justice loosed on the earth in every step, saving us.

The Psalm sings a vision of what we cannot comprehend nor do we experience in any common way–the justice and goodness of God, the gentleness, mercy and justice of God for us, the realization of the touching of heaven and earth, the prophecy that all will be well; a song of hope and consolation, prayer and prophecy.

Songs, like the songs on this blog, do not strictly have literal, concrete meanings and aims. A good song inspires and enriches its singers and listeners–and that inspiration and enrichment is both specific to us and universal–we are touched each in our own way, but what we experience can be shared. And the song itself has notes and lyrics; we can question and examine the meanings of a song.

The Psalm uses metaphors to reach for meanings beyond the natural grasp of human beings. It is a commonplace truth that God does not speak to us in human words. Should someone say they ‘heard’ the words of God literally, we might think they are mentally ill, like my brother Joe. But if God does not commonly use human speech to speak to us, then when we sing of God’s ‘speech’ and our ‘listening’, what do we mean?

The vision of divine justice coming to the earth, from a God whose essence is perfected mercy, kindness and truth, is paradoxical, again beyond our grasp. True justice comes from heaven, above us, but our moral truth, what anchors us in what is good, sprouts and grows from the earth. The prophecy sings of that meeting and the providence of God and his creation, the justice beyond our reach, the truth rising from the earth itself and who we are–and what we should become. The vision, the imagining, the prophecy, the dream–what does this all mean?

Is it just that, a dream? Or is it something more? To traverse and experience the meanings of the song listening is required. In these providential days, I make my way again to the bridge in Beauraing, listening, praying and preparing.

An Approach to a Bridge: Broken Hopes of Brussels

/ Donald Felipe

I arrived in Brussels on April 8, 2019, after a long flight from San Francisco. I took the train to the city centre, and a taxi to my Airbnb, located near the station where my train would leave for Beauraing the next day. This was my first visit to Brussel, and as the taxi passed through the middle of city I noticed several EU flags hanging from buildings, twelve gold stars in a circle set against deep blue. It struck me that I was in the unofficial capital of the European Union. The Council of the European Union and the European Commission have their home in Brussels, as well as part of the European Parliament. It is a challenge for me to think of Brussels as a political home for a united Europe. I am a child of the cold war, and the Europe I am familiar with from my youth was different; the very idea of a united Europe might raise suspicion and fear in the 70s or 80s. Divided East and West, countries had their own currencies, economies, border controls, governments, as well as their distinctive languages and cultures. Prosperity was dramatically uneven, particularly in the impoverished, communist East. But in the 60s, 70s and early 80s, times were a changin’, rock and roll, sexual liberation, pop culture, women’s liberation, racial and social justice movements, to name a few, swept through America and every country in Europe in some form or other, including countries in the communist East. Memories of World War II were still alive. Upheavals of the Cold war inspired fear, wars around the world, big and small, Vietnam, Cambodia, the Middle East, Latin America, Africa, and unknown wars on the Russian-Chinese and Vietnamese-Chinese borders–war appeared to be everywhere and nowhere, until you found yourself in the middle of one. And for many of us consciousness and dread of a new, horrible World War was ever-present but restrained, shrouded in unthinkable thermo-nuclear terror.

The fall of Berlin Wall on November 9, 1989 and Maastricht Treat of November 1992 brought an end to many of those fears and created dreams of peace and promise for Europe and the world. These hopes were enormous–free and open commerce, freedom of movement, social and political stability, trust between nations, justice and freedom for Europe and beyond–trusting in peace, the new country of Ukraine freely gave up a nuclear arsenal in 1994. There was hope for the peaceful expansion of the EU, and there was even some talk, however short-lived, that Russia may one day join the EU or NATO.

In August of 2025, as war continues to rage in Ukraine, and mutate with ever more terrifying and unpredictable drone warfare and intelligent weapons systems, these hopes of the 90s, and their tragic ends, should be remembered.

Peace seemed at hand. And then, in the Balkans, it was not. And then, in other parts of the world, Rwanda, 9/11, the Middle East, Afghanistan, escalating fear, violence, war, uprisings, economic crisis, revolutions, failed trust, lost collaborations, disruptions, fragile and shifting alliances, pandemic, global militarization, and then…it starts.

In Ukraine, the Middle East, and Asia boundaries between peace and open global war constantly tested–will they hold?

It starts again. The great hopes for Brussels, a united, peaceful Europe, and a just, prosperous and peaceful world, have been broken.

I would venture a guess that very few, regardless of political beliefs, have confidence that governments, leaders, and current social, economic and global structures are truly up to the task of keeping the peace.

War and reckless conflict on some level seem real for each one of us, here and now. But it is the promise of new, unforeseeable conflicts, fought by nations, peoples, groups with machines, programs and weapons whose cleverness and destructive powers we cannot comprehend, that bring us to the precipice of wonder and despair.

‘Maybe we won’t make it.’

Who has not had that thought?