bible

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.

Return to Beauraing: An Approach to a Bridge

/ Donald Felipe

I could not, nor will I ever, be able to comprehend or imagine the voices, visions and dreams of my brother Joe. I had to nurture habits of listening to piece together something of his conscious and unconscious life. And I had to want to do it–the desire had to come first. That desire was fleeting but persistent. After thousands of hours and years of listening to him, I recall both exhaustion and sublime transformation. What I write about him took a great deal of effort, and I will never be satisfied with it.

My brother’s internal life belonged to him and no one else. It is the same for me and each one of us. What we make of the internal life of another, their thoughts, desires, intentions, ideas, and dreams seems to be up to us in many ways. In the beginning I was not comfortable with that when it came to Joe. How could I speak about him, tell others about him, if the meanings were fashioned by me?

But these meanings are not my own. I do not invent them. I choose to search for them. The search itself has pliable boundaries and rules threaded with qualities I feel and know. Faith and love are the best words I have to account for stuff of these rules. I love. Love requires faith. Faith requires truth. And when truth escapes my grasp, faith holds firm and will not turn back, even when I feel that it has left me. Love has no place to go. Faith resides and remains with love, underground if it must. But it will never retreat.

And I must push on.

Philosophers, and all of us, who deny the truth, deconstruct, play with ambiguity and uncertainty, or offer interpretations and dreams beyond our our knowledge, retain responsibility for what we say and do. Responsibility draped in love and rooted in faith. If there are starting points to what I am about to risk, these are what they are.

I return to Beauraing, to puzzles that intrigued me, puzzles about a bridge that seems out of place. Prayer, faith and some imagination keep my soul on this bridge and what it may mean for me, and perhaps for us all. I am on this bridge. I seem to live there. But the bridge is not a peaceful place. It is noisy, busy and surrounded with histories of violence and war. When I prayed at the Sanctuary I often wished it would go away. I would prefer transportation to the grotto in Lourdes, to quiet, to peaceful, spiritual serenity, but the rumble of cars and the noises of commerce, and the trains that passed at times, intruded on prayer in Beauraing. This town in the picturesque countryside of Belgium is not an inspiring locale, and I would not describe it as a beautiful place. It is common.

Sayings from Joe

/ Donald Felipe

Below are some memorable sayings from Joe. I wrote these down haphazardly over the years, usually during a lunch date. Some of these he repeated. Others he said only once.

“I don’t lead a normal life. I know God in person.”

“Every Friday is my birthday and every night is New Year’s Eve.”

“A doctor is a public servant with riches in heaven.”

“The best educator is loving people.”

“God gives intelligence and the ability to produce.”

“God’s pen is a red rose.”

“What we do we do for future generations.”

“You know a good way to count your blessings, look at everything around you and think what would I have to do to make everything myself.”

“Look at that menu. People do a great job of taking care of each other.”    

 “Don’t judge a book by its cover and everything will be just fine.”

“God’s table is pretty good today.”

“Breakfast, lunch and dinner. And they ship it all the way to Paradise. Anybody should appreciate this menu. People should appreciate this menu and what it took to put it together.”

“We are guests of God’s cuisine.”

“You should contact home builders and people in construction,” he says. “You should ask them to work on campus,” his voice rings with hope: “Tell them, we don’t build ourselves, we build a country. We don’t build ourselves, we build a country.”

“Be thankful for your teachers and where your wisdom came from. You should pray for them and where you wisdom came from.” 

“This is a meeting place for our brothers and sisters. They made everything possible. Everything was contributed by them.”

“I am sitting here and the world around me. And I am proud to know them all.”