travelogue december 2025 part II: Oxford and Geneva

 January 5 

My next event was something that came up at the last minute, or at least only a few weeks before it took place. I met the rabbi (he doesn’t like going by a title) Alon Goshen-Gottstein at the event at the Greg in October. After a brief exchange he realized that Abbot Jeremias had tried to put him in touch with me early last year but somehow we had never connected, and Alon wondered if I might be able to come to a gathering at Oxford that he had wanted Jeremias to attend. Alon heads up the Elijah Interfaith Institute (https://elijah-interfaith.org/) a very serious organization that does scholarly work as well as organizes events, such as the one I was invited to participate in, the Meeting of the Elijah Board of World Religious Leaders, which was held December 1-4, just outside of Oxford. I really had little idea what I was getting into until a few days before the event when I started receiving email updates and some requests for my participation.

 

The theme of the meeting this time was “The Human Person: Religious Ideals and Contemporary Challenges” and we were sent a bundle of papers from their last conference to catch us up to speed, on what it means to be human from the perspective of Judaism, Buddhism, Islam, Christianity, Hinduism. If I had seriously pursued an academic path in theology further, it would have been in the area of theological or spiritual anthropology; that has been my fascination since I first heard Bede Griffiths talk in 1992. So the topics that we explored on this theme were right up my alley: the individual, the individual in society, the individual and the Cosmos, and then the dangers (and challenges) of AI. These are the fundamentals upon which all our other decisions are based––what is the human person and his or her relation to Absolute Reality, the Cosmos, to each other?

These sub-themes we discussed in the small group made up of eight or so people (folks were coming and going) that we met with each time. I was asked to lead the discussion about AI. It was kind of ironic because there have been three occasions recently when I have been asked to contribute something about AI and I have had the same response each time: it is not my area of expertise, and I am not really that interested in it. This time I did not feel as if I could refuse and so I set myself to do some homework. Fortuitously I had just read a fascinating article in the Italian magazine Internazionale that I like so much, and had just heard a brilliant interview by Russ Douthat with the English writer named Paul Kingsnorth that had really captivated me. Other than that all my opinions have been shaped by Ilia Delio and Federico Faggin. So I whipped some pages of notes together and did a respectable job, I think. One Teilhardian optimistic voice (Ilia, who quotes Antje Jacklen saying that “the development toward techno sapiens might well be regarded as a step toward the kingdom of God”), one pessimistic (Kingsnorth: “This is a war on human nature!”) and one moderate, Kwame Appiah, writing about the process of “de-skilling”, with Faggin in the background whispering, “AI will never have qualia––feelings! That’s the hard work of consciousness!”

There was a young Greek Orthodox bishop who was very articulate in the field, and he sort of dominated the conversation afterward. We all got a good education from him. His conclusion is that “It’s here. How are we going to live with it?” My conclusion was with Appiah: An ethical management of the technology today means to ensure ourselves that the capacities that make us human––judgement, imagination, understanding––remain alive in us. … This is the most urgent challenge: to be able to maintain intact our ability to make our mark on reality, remaining the authors of systems that are ready to take on much of our thinking. What are the spiritual traditions supposed to safeguard and how are we going to do that?

They were serious about these being world leaders. In attendance were esteemed representatives from Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity––Anglican, Orthodox and Roman Catholic. It was held at a grand location called the Global Retreat Center, an old manor home now run by the Brahma Kumaris (you ought to look that movement up too––https://www.brahmakumaris.com/ ). Everything about the place was pristine, from the furnishings to the towels and the food. Among the people I was excited to meet were Rowan Williams, former archbishop of Canterbury, Cardinal Cristoph Shoeborn of Vienna, and Rabbi Arthur Green whose book Ehyeh on Kabbalah was very important to me. Concerning those three: Rowan was late coming due to some health issue, but I caught up with him on the last day; he was very approachable and remembered San Gregorio al Celio well due to his meeting with Pope Benedict here. Cardinal Shoenborn: I don’t remember ever speaking to someone like this before; when I met him, I said, “It is an honor to meet you, sir.” He was a lovely man, now 80 years old, humble and erudite, and always introduced himself as “Cristoph”; he asked me the first day if I was planning on celebrating Eucharist, which I was hoping to, so we celebrated each evening in his little retreat room, he having brought all the necessaries with him. He also apologetically preached a little each time, explaining, “I am a Dominican, you know.” And Rabbi Green I impressed by reciting from memory of paragraph from his book that I loved so much that I use it as a regular part of my own litany to prepare for meditation each day, on the neshamah, the breath that God breathes into the clay in the second story of creation. I told Alon at the end that I know I was just filling in for Abbot Jeremias, but I would very much like to stay involved––and I don't’ say that often. Alon is also working hard to develop an interfaith center in Assisi, which is how I had first heard of him and his work.

 

On the last evening before flying home, I went into Oxford and had a great Mideastern dinner with my dear friend Aaron Maniam and two other members of my advisory board (The Peace Council) who are also there in Oxford, Arzoo and Lucas. A medical doctor friend of Arzoo’s came along who was a real pistol and we had a roaring good time eating and talking and laughing. I crashed at Aaron’s flat that night and took the airport shuttle from Oxford to Gatiwck and back to Rome.

 

With only a few days to catch my breath and attend to some business at my desk, my next stop was Geneva, Switzerland. As some of you may know, I was asked to be on the Board of Directors for the World Meditation Day Foundation, an organization founded by a Chinese Shaolin Buddhist monk who got the United Nations to officially declare a World Meditation Day (December 21^st, by the way). Our first official board meeting was in Verduz, Lichtenstein, because it was the then-Ambassador from Lichtenstein to the UN, Myriam Oheri, who had sponsored the resolution. We met there at that meeting, and she apparently liked what I had to offer and suggested to the organizers of an upcoming conference to invite me to be participate representing Christianity and World Meditation Day. The Conference was organized by the Human Rights Division of the UN entitled “United and Present: Global Solutions from Within,” basically about bringing the practice of meditation into diplomacy work. It was quite an august assembly that included the High Commissioner for Human Rights, Princess Noor bint Asem of Jordan, and Jon Kabat-Zinn, author of Wherever You Go, There You Are) and founder of MBPM (Mindfulness Based Pain Management), who as far as I am concerned is like a rock star to meditators.

 

My next-door neighbor here at San Gregorio had asked to go along with me for this, Francesco Romolini. He just graduated from the prestigious Luiss University here in Rome in International Studies and has been helping with some travel and other logistics, and so he went as my “assistant.” And he was great company, a perfect gentleman and very helpful––and very eager to experience the UN. He was even more starry-eyed than I was to get the chance to be there and experience the UN from the inside. The day before we also got to attend another hybrid meeting of a working group called “Faith for Rights,” which is an “informal network of faith-based actors across the globe for a cross-disciplinary reflection and action on the deep, and mutually enriching, connections between religions and human rights,” again through a connection I made at the event at the Greg.

 

As we walked into the assembly hall for the main conference, I wondered aloud to Francesco if we had assigned seats and he teased me saying, “Do you think you’re important enough to have an assigned seat?” Well, not only did I have assigned seat with a name plate––so did he! And his was at a table in front of mine! Whoever was guiding us to our seats apologized for the mistake (I thought it was funny given his ribbing me about it) and changed our places. But there we were along with the ambassador from here and Her Excellency from there.

 

Francesco was as pleasantly surprised as I was that everyone, and I mean everyone, was so approachable. I wound up having a wonderful connection with Professor Kabat-Zinn and Francesco made friends with the lovely Spanish woman, Cristina, who was accompanying the princess. (He was thoroughly enamored, and rightly so––she was an exquisite presence). I was asked to be a part of a panel discussion on the second day which included a Vietnamese Buddhist nun, a Tibetan monk, a Hindu monk, a rabbi, and an enchanting Sufi singer from Morocco. We were to talk about the universality of the practice of meditation all moderated by a professor from Oxford.

 

Why bring meditation into the work of diplomacy? I never want to get stuck on the practical benefits, physical or psychological/emotional, of meditation. That being said, what got brought up at the conference as to why these folks from the UN want their diplomats to involve themselves in meditative practices made a lot of sense.

 

·      Greater ability to manage conflict constructively

·      Clearer and more grounded decision making

·      Stronger emotional regulation and leadership presence

·      Better communication and relational awareness within teams

·      Increased collaboration and reduced defensiveness under pressure

·      Enhanced focus, concentration and strategic thinking

 

I also wound up singing at the reception on the first night. I had written a song based on a poem of the Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish that I was proposing as a possible theme song for World Meditation Day. When the organizers found out about it that they suggested I sing it for this event. At first there was the idea that perhaps the UN choir would sing it with me and so I had Rick Modlin back in Oregon do a choral arrangement for me. But it wound being a much humbler venue––sitting on a folding chair in the reception salon. But it was still very much appreciated, and I was, as always, glad to get the chance to whip out the might mini-Taylor and sing.

 

The last official thing we did was do a “soft-opening” of a new meditation room there at the Geneva Headquarters with the High Commissioner. Each of us from the panel was asked to do something and for the most part we all chanted: the Sufi singer of course, the Tibetan monk, I sang my standard opening Gregorian chant Benedictus Es, etc.

 

We collected lots of memories and took lots of pictures in those two days as well as grabbed a handful of mementos, and sweetest of all the entire trip was covered by the UN. I also believe I made some wonderful connections, especially with Myriam, who has now stepped down as ambassador to give herself full time to this work, and Mara Arizaga, the main organizer of the event, who couldn’t have made me feel more welcome and was so happy to have a Christian, even a Catholic presence there. That of course is one of the things I think about a lot and am grateful for: I get to be, and want to be, in many places where there are not a lot of Christian monks/Catholic priests. What a privilege. I told young Francesco, who was feeling a bit blue the next day returning to his regular day job, that we had spent two days with people who had dedicated their lives not to career or money or power, but to something that they thought was going to make the world a better place. What an inspiration.

 

I don’t know how many people know this, but I worked on the school newspaper all through high school. My dad wanted me to have something to fall back on––he did not want me to be a professional musician!––in case religious life didn’t turn out. I forget how much that has stayed with me, the enjoyment I find in writing. In some ways these travelogues feel more like journalism, trying to share with you the highlights but still give you a sense of the event.

travelogue december 2025

 26 December, “… on the Feast of Stephen.”

I am up in Poppi with our nuns again, what I describe as my favorite place in the world for several reasons, but especially because of the location itself and being with these ladies themselves. We were a carload coming up from Rome, George and Genesio from San Gregorio with an old friend of the community named Adriana, and there were already two other guests here with the nuns eating pranzo when we arrived. There was a great spirit around the dinner table to which I think we added, holiday joy and familial bonds, old friendships and what by now feels like a coming home to me. I am leading a retreat here on music and meditation with my dear friend the amazing singer Gitanjali (Lori) Rivera from California starting Monday evening, but I came up early with the others because our young brother Adaikalam, who lives with us in Rome, is getting ordained deacon tomorrow at Camaldoli itself, 10k from here. And that was just too good an excuse to come up, get to see the brothers there at the mother house and have a little Christmas break with the sisters here before starting to work.

 

I’ve been wanting to record the events of these last months before they slip completely out of my short-term memory. All told I have been in eight countries in the last two months.

 

The first stop was Belgium. My destination was the Benedictine monastery at Maredsous, famous because it was the home of Columba Marmion, the well-known Irish priest who became a monk and future abbot of Maredsous and one of the most influential Catholic authors of the early 20^th century. Maybe it was because it was dark and blustery weather, but the whole place was quite imposing, huge and shadowy, in that neo-Gothic style that was so popular in the 19^th century monastic revival. And of course not at all without its own classic beauty and majesty. The reason for my being there was for the annual meeting of AIM, Alliance Inter Monasteres (or Alliance for International Monasticism in English), a post-conciliar organization that promotes and aids monastic foundations in developing countries. Our organization DIMMID was originally a sub-committee of AIM, and the head of AIM and the head of DIMMID serve on each other’s board ex-ufficio. This was my first time meeting the board in person. Last year I presented my report online. Abbot Bernard Laurent, the president of AIM and former abbot of Maredsous itself), was appointed at the same time as I was and is coming down to Rome in January for my first international board meeting. I was glad to meet the other members of the board, along them the abbot presidents of both branches of Cistercians, and two nuns which I know from other encounters.

 

In addition, I got to meet two storied elders. One was Fr. Pierre de Bethune, OSB, who was the very first Secretary General of DIMMID. He was prior of his community, St. Andrè de Clerlande, also in Belgium, for 16 years, and has also been steeped in the Zen tradition for decades now. He has two of his books in English on the theme “interreligious hospitality.”  We had exchanged a few emails, but this was to be our first face-to-face encounter. At 92 years old, it was a big deal for him to drive himself over the Maredsous, and as I arrived he was waiting for me, and we were able to spend a good hour or so together. He still has a lot to say and obviously rich wisdom to offer. When I took over the job Fr. William had urged me to try to get to meet Pierre while there was still a chance. I was on my way to France after that to meet the French speaking contingent of DIMMID, and since Pierre did not feel well enough to make the trip, he loaded me down with materials to take for the meeting there. The other person at the meeting who I did not expect was Fr. Armand Veilleux, OCSO. I was sitting next to Abbot Brendan of Belmont Abbey, England and suddenly I noticed a white beared Trappist across the table, and I whispered to him, “Is that Armand Veilleux?” And when he nodded yes, I said, “That’s like meeting God.” He is Canadian by birth, a well-known author, served as abbot of Holy Spirit Monastery in Georgia and Scourmont Abbey in Chimay, Belgium, as well as assistant to the Abbot General of the OCSOs in the 1990s. It was in that latter role that he had the awful task of identifying the bodies of his friends, the monks of Our Lady of Atlas in Tibhirine, Algeria who were kidnapped and martyred in 1996 during the Algerian civil war. Fr. Armand had given them their annual retreat just a few weeks before. Armand has been with AIM since its inception in 1966 (!) and this was was to be Armando’s last meeting, so I was very fortunate. (I wound up getting to spend more time with him since he did come to the DIM meeting in France the next week.) It was such a blessing to be in the presence of both of these elder monks, to get their darshan, you might say. And they could not have been more gracious with me. I was to get two more elders of that rank in the next few weeks.

 

I somehow missed the memo about them changing the dates of that AIM meeting and wound up getting there a day late and staying a day longer, after everyone else had left, and with very few people around who spoke English! But that afforded me a day and a half of free time to walk and read and write. The monks could not have been more gracious, and the monastic liturgies were very nourishing, aesthetically beautiful in every way (which I know is a reputation that the French-influenced monks carry) including very solid creative original, and sometimes quite sophisticated music for their chanting.

 

My next stop was Jouarre, just east of Paris. Because my train was rather early out of Namur, about an hour away, on Monday morning, I got a hotel room there for the night on Sunday and got to explore that town a little by night. I had a very complicated train trip to Paris Gare du Nord, because my train from Namur broke down and I missed a connection, and then had no idea how to get my ticket for the local train after walking to Paris Gare de l’Est, which everyone seemed to think was going to be easy, but I somehow made it to Le Fertè-sous-Jouarre Monday evening, where I was met by the lovely Yann Vagneux, who by now feels like an old friend. Yann is a French priest of the Congregation of the Foreign Missionaries of Paris, an expert in Hinduism who has lived in Benares for many years, and also the author of several books. And everyone I know seems to know him. We had only met online until we met in person in Rome during the Nostra Aetate gathering at the Greg, but now he always greets me with “My dear Cyprian.” He ushered me over the DIM France meeting at the Benedictine women’s abbey Notre Dame de Jouarre.

 

There I must say I was greeted like a visiting celebrity. I had met several of the organizing members of DIM France online during one planning meeting and had also corresponded with them numerous times as we planned this gathering. Sr. Cristine was especially helpful. She had been the secretary for AIM for years besides her involvement in DIM and was the main mover and shaker of this gathering. She also speaks pretty good English. Armand was there again, as was Frere Benoit Billot of Saint Benoît Priory in Etoilles, just south of Paris. Frere Benoit, at the ripe old age of 92, has been one of the pillars of monastic interreligious dialogue in France, with a particular specialty in Zen Buddhism, having studied with the famous German Jesuit Willigis Jaeger and founded a school of the spiritual life for lay people called La Maison Tobie. He also has an impressive list of books authored, co-authored or edited. He and I had also corresponded quite a bit and I was anxious to meet and spend some time with him. We got to do with the gracious aid of an American woman who was there for the meeting who married a Frenchman and has been living in France for decades serving as translator. Now in my late 60s I find it even more moving to meet the folks of a generation ahead of me and hear about all they went through as pioneers in the field. It’s the interreligious equivalent of getting to work with liturgists like Lucien Deiss and meet Joseph Gelineau. There were also two younger monks there from En Calcat in southern France, both of whom spoke pretty good English––how I was regretting I did not retain the French I studied for five years (over 40 years ago, alas). I had asked Br Matteo from Bose to join me for the meeting both for his capacity in French and just to make the connection between the French and the Italians, the latter of whom I think could be a real inspiration for the former. Actually there was a lot in common between that meeting and the one held in northern Italy because the folks from the other traditions––Buddhist, Hindu and Muslim––really felt as if they were also a part of DIM. This is a great model moving forward. There was a lot of lively conversation and friendship in this group as well and I felt right at home with them even if I didn’t follow the conversation always. We ended that meeting with some solid steps forward and having elected one of the monks from En Calcat as the new group leader. He (Colomba) and Nathaël, the other monk from En Calcat, Matteo and I went out for a walk together one afternoon, not realizing how small the village was. We wound up not walking very far but sat in a little patisserie and shared a voluptuous chocolate dessert and a lively conversation. 

In addition, I must add that the music there was extraordinary too. (This is now my positive prejudice about French Benedictines.) Much of the chanting was done in two and three-part harmony, I would estimate about 40 nuns in all, in a beautiful simple church.

I never finished this but I am working on the last part now (if anyone is interested) and hope to post before Epiphany...

on the evolution of consciousness

 My contribution to the UN “United and Present” Conference on Mindfulness and Public Policy, Geneva, December 9-10, 2025.

 

There is a piece of wisdom from the great scientist Albert Einstein that gets mentioned often these days. The exact quote is from 1946, as the human race entered the era after the first atomic bombs. He said:

 

Often in evolutionary processes a species must adapt to new conditions in order to survive. Today the atomic bomb has profoundly altered the nature of the world as we knew it, and the human race consequently finds itself in a new habitat to which it must adapt its thinking.

 

A simpler version of that might be: “The problems we face in our day and age are not going to be solved by the same consciousness that created those problems in the first place,” especially the poly-crisis which the UN says we are facing. And so––we need a new consciousness, what I would call a transformed consciousness or an evolved consciousness.

If the atomic bomb profoundly altered the nature of the world as we knew it in 1945, what is it that has further altered the world by the first quarter of the 21^st century? If we would substitute 9/11 and the rise of terrorism, or globalization and nationalism, or the worldwide web and the promise/threat of AI for Baby Boy and Fat Man––those cute nicknames for the two horrendous bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki––it seems obvious to me that “The problems we face in our times are not going to be solved by the same consciousness that created those problems in the first place.” Therefore, we need a new consciousness.

Speaking from my own tradition, in St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans, he writes a very strong line. He says, Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your…—the next word is usually weakly translated in English as “mind.” But the Greek word Paul uses is actually nous, which is something very specific. In the Aristotelian sense, our nous lies beyond our sense perception, beyond our memory and imagination. According to classical and medieval philosophy, the individual nous is connected to and stems from the divine-cosmic nous, the creator of order. You might say it’s the closest thing that human beings have to “the mind of God.” Of course, from both a Stoic and Christian perspective, this is also the broadest understanding of the logos, which is related to chit of Sanskrit and the tao of China. Since there is not an adequate satisfying translation for nous in European languages, I usually just translate it, “be transformed by the renewal of your consciousness.”

And what the spiritual traditions have shown, or at least what they have claimed, is, first of all, that it is at this depth level of our consciousness that the actual transformation of consciousness takes place. We need to be transformed by the renewal of our consciousness. And this happens at a depth we rarely access.

What the spiritual traditions have also claimed and shown is that, provoked by the deep work of spiritual practice, an actual transformation takes place at this deepest level of human consciousness––an evolution you might say. A contemplative or mystical experience can lead to a new way of understanding and articulating both the nature of human being––what we might call “spiritual anthropology,” and the nature of reality itself––what philosophy and theology refer to as ontology and cosmology,

Apropos the topic at hand, what I have found over and over again in studying the world’s authentic spiritual traditions, is that the enlightenment experience, if and when it is provoked by the deep work of spiritual practice, brings about an experience of the unity of all being as a collateral effect of this transformation of consciousness. And that in turn carries with it an aspiration for peace among people and peoples as an obvious and logical consequence. How Einstein articulated his solution was simply this: “Today we must abandon competition and secure cooperation.”

My conclusion for this august assembly is this: Those who are making policy decisions are in dire need of this transformation and evolution of consciousness that can only come about from this deep work if we are to not only thrive but even survive as a race. No government leader to the left or the right or in the center has adequate solutions to the problems that we face unless and until they are doing this work because… the problems we face are not going to be solved by the same consciousness that created those problems. Some kind of conversion-transformation-evolution has to take place in our collective consciousness. And I believe that the deep work of mindfulness and meditation is the surest time-tested engine of that transformation.

 

Cyprian Consiglio, OSB Cam.

 

it's not about a building/non si tratta di un edificio

 

[Anyone who knows me will know that what appears here below is a teaching I give over and over again, as an introduction to singing “Streams of Living Water” at concerts and a good section of a chapter in Rediscovering the Divine. So when Fr. George asked me at the last minute to preach on Sunday, my first reaction was “Sarà difficile––That will be difficult” without having much time to prepare (in Italian). But a moment later I remembered what the readings were, and I said, “Non c’è problema––No problem” and whipped this out. I also just discovered that I am paying for the DeepL translation program which can translate entire documents at a time, so I ran it through there for the English, and it’s pretty good. I decided to leave it in the form I preach from on paper––in sense lines––just for fun. And I stand by it: I think this is really the center of my message.]

 

Today, instead of Sunday, we celebrate the dedication of the Lateran Basilica,

the cathedral of Rome, the cathedral of the pope.

So there will be a big celebration right down the road from us.

St. John Lateran was built during the reign of Constantine

and consecrated in 324 by Pope Saint Sylvester.

But this feast is a universal celebration in honor of the fact that this basilica is considered omnium urbis et orbis ecclesiarum mater et caput ––

“mother and mistress of all churches in Rome and throughout the world” and ...

a “sign of love and union with the See of Peter.”

But what the readings for the feast emphasize is something a little different...

 

The first thing I want to say is that whoever chose the readings for this feast for the Universal Lectionary was brilliant.

It is an incredibly rich tapestry of images and symbols.

And the second thing I want to say is that this feast is not about a building!

The memorial of a building could never replace a Sunday—

even if that building is the pope's cathedral.

Every celebration of the dedication of a church––any church––

is truly a celebration of Christ,

indeed a celebration of the body of Christ.

 

For me, the key to this feast lies in the last line of the second reading:

... holy is the temple of God, which you are!

Please excuse me for relying once again on the English translation, which I know better;

the word order changes slightly:

the temple of God is holy—and you are that temple.

You are that temple! Indeed, we are that temple!

This is a celebration of the body of Christ that we are.

 

But now let's start from the beginning.

We have heard the reading from the prophet Ezekiel,

this powerful evocative image,

which becomes a very common antiphon during the Easter season:

I saw water flowing from the right side of the temple,

and that water brought God’s life and salvation.

The prophet has a vision of a new temple

that will rise in place of the first temple that was destroyed.

He is talking about a building that was the symbol of God's presence among his people.

And it is right in front of that new temple that Jesus stands in the Gospel.

 

There is a phrase I learned from an American theologian (James Allison):

in Jesus everything is “relocated”—even the temple is relocated.

 

First, in the Gospel story,

the people are shocked to see Jesus acting with such mastery of the place,

almost committing an act of civil disobedience

by evicting money changers and vendors from the courtyard—

thus purifying the house of God.

 

But then, it is even more shocking when Jesus says:

‘Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.’

However, John the Evangelist reveals the secret to us

and whispers to us: he was speaking of the temple of his body.

We must remember this later, again in the Gospel of John, during the crucifixion,

when a soldier pierces Jesus’ side with a spear

and blood and water flow out.

And once again we see water flowing from the right side of the temple ––

this time the temple of Jesus' body––

but now water mixed with blood, signs not only of life itself,

but also of baptism and the Eucharist.

 

But it does not end there either. In Jesus, everything is put back in its place.

Both St. Paul and St. Peter understand its meaning because Paul says

––as we have heard–– that the temple of God is holy ––and you are that temple.

And Peter will say later: as living stones

you too are being built as a spiritual house, for a holy priesthood.

 

The temple was a building; then it was the body of Jesus.

Then it becomes us—we are the body of Christ,

living stones built as a spiritual house.

We should remember all this when we hear Jesus say

––again in the Gospel of John, chapter 7:

‘Come to me, for whoever believes in me,

from out of the believer’s heart will flow rivers of living water’

my favorite line in all of Scripture.

[BTW: the Italian says “out of his belly”!]

 

The temple has been moved.

It was a building—then it was the physical body of Jesus.

Now we are the holy temple,

living stones built as a spiritual building.

The building, even this building, any church building,

no matter how beautiful it is,

is only a reminder of who we are—the body of Christ.

No building—not even St. Peter’s Basilica—

means anything without the People of God inside.

 

And now, from our body must flow the life and salvation of God,

the love of God that has been poured into our hearts

by the water of baptism and the blood of the Eucharist

must pour back out in love and service.

As the Eucharistic prayers say, so we pray today

that God would make the Church—us—

one body and one spirit in Christ,

and a sign of unity and an instrument of peace.

 

* * *

 

Oggi invece della domenica, celebriamo la dedicazione della Basilica Lateranense,

la cattedrale di Roma, la cattedrale del papa.

Quindi ci sarà una grande festa proprio lungo la strada da noi.

La chiesa di San Giovanni in Laterano è stata costruita durante il regno di Costantino e consacrata nel 324 da papa San Silvestro.

Ma questa festa è una celebrazione universale in onore del fatto che quella basilica è considerata omnium urbis et orbis ecclesiarum mater et caput ––

“madre e padrona di tutte le chiese di Roma e del mondo” e …

un “segno di amore e unione con la Sede di Pietro.”

Ma ciò che ci sottolineano le letture della festa è qualcosa un po’ diverso…

 

La prima cosa che voglio dire è che chiunque abbia scelto le letture per questa festa per il Lezionario Universale è stato brillante.

È un tessuto incredibilmente ricco di immagini e simboli.

E la seconda cosa che voglio dire è che questa festa non riguarda un edificio!

Il memoriale di un edificio non potrebbe mai sostituire una domenica––

anche se quell’edificio sia la cattedrale del papa.

Ogni celebrazione della dedicazione di una chiesa––qualsiasi chiesa––

è veramente una celebrazione di Cristo,

anzi una celebrazione del corpo di Cristo.

 

Per me la chiave di questa festa sta nell’ultimo versetto della seconda lettura:

... santo è il tempio di Dio, quello siete voi!

Mi scusate se mi affido di nuovo alla traduzione inglese che conosco meglio;

cambia un po’ l'ordine delle parole:

il tempio di Dio è santo ––e voi siete quel tempio.

Voi siete quel tempio! Anzi, noi siete quel tempio!

Questa è una festa del corpo di Cristo che siamo.

 

Ma ora cominciamo dall’inizio.

Abbiamo ascoltato la lettura del profeta Ezechiele,

questa potente immagine evocativa,

che diventa un’antifona molto comune durante il periodo pasquale:

Ho visto l’acqua scorrere dal lato destro del tempio,

e quell’acqua ha portato la vita e la salvezza di Dio.

Il profeta ha la visione di un nuovo tempio

che sorgerà al posto del primo tempio che fu distrutto.

Sta parlando di un edificio che era il simbolo della presenza di Dio nel mezzo del suo popolo.

Ed è proprio di fronte quel nuovo tempio che Gesù sta nel vangelo di oggi.

 

C’è una frase che ho imparato da un teologo americano:

in Gesù tutto viene “ricollocato” ––pure il tempio viene ricollocato.

 

In primo luogo, nel racconto nel vangelo,

il popolo rimane scioccato nel vedere Gesù agire con tale padronanza del luogo,

quasi commettendo un atto di disobbedienza civile

sfrattando cambiamonete e venditori dal cortile––

così purificando la casa di Dio.

 

Ma poi, è anche più scioccante quando Gesù dice:

‘Distruggete questo tempio e in tre giorni lo farò risorgere’.

Tuttavia, Giovanni, l’evangelista, ci svela il segreto

e ci sussurra di lato: parlava del tempio del suo corpo.

Dobbiamo ricordarlo più avanti, sempre nel Vangelo di Giovanni, durante la crocifissione,

quando un soldato conficca una lancia nel fianco di Gesù

e ne escono sangue e acqua.

E ancora una volta vediamo l’acqua scorrere dal lato destro del tempio ––

questa volta il tempio del corpo di Gesù––

ma ora acqua più sangue, simboli non solo della vita stessa,

ma del battesimo e dell’Eucaristia.

 

Ma non finisce nemmeno qui. In Gesù tutto è ricollocato.

Sia San Paolo che San Pietro ne comprendono il significato perché Paolo dice

––come abbiamo sentito–– che il tempio di Dio è santo ––e voi siete quel tempio.

E Pietro dirà più tardi: quali pietre vive

siete costruiti anche voi come edificio spirituale, per un sacerdozio santo.

 

Il tempio fu un edificio; poi è stato il corpo di Gesù.

Poi diventa noi––noi siamo il corpo di Cristo,

pietre vive costruiti come un edificio spirituale.

Dovremmo ricordare tutto questo quando sentiamo Gesù dire

––di nuovo nel vangelo di Giovanni, capitolo 7:

Vieni a me, perché chiunque crede in me,

dal suo grembo scorreranno fiumi di acqua viva,

il mio versetto preferito di tutta la Scrittura.

 

Il tempio è stato trasferito.

Era un edificio––poi era il corpo fisico di Gesù.

Ora siamo noi il tempio santo,

pietre vive costruite come un edificio spirituale.

L’edificio, anche questo edificio, qualsiasi edificio ecclesiastico, quanto bello sia,

è solo un promemoria di chi siamo ––il corpo di Cristo.

Nessun edificio ––neanche pure San Pietro–– 

non significa nulla senza il Popolo di Dio dentro.

 

E adesso la vita e la salvezza di Dio,

l’amore di Dio che è stato versato nei nostri cuori

dall’acqua del battesimo e dal sangue dell’Eucaristia,

deve fluire dal nostro corpo.

Come pregano le preghiere eucaristiche, ancora oggi preghiamo

che Dio fa’ della sua Chiesa ––noi––

un solo corpo e un solo spirito in Cristo,

uniti con Papa Leone e la Sede di Pietro,

un segno di unità e uno strumento della pace.

 

"In our day and age..."

 2 november, 2025

(I wanted to write up a paragraph or two to post on our DIMMID website but I wound up writing six pages! The old saying comes to mind, "If I had had more time I would have written less." Here is my reportage on the events in Rome around the 60th anniversary of Nostra Aetate, the Church's declaration concerning Non-Christian religions, of Vatican II.) 

After Hong Kong I returned to Rome with enough time to recuperate and ready myself for the very intense week that just ended. This past week we celebrated the 60^th anniversary of the promulgation of Nostra Aetate, the landmark groundbreaking (how many adjectives could we use?) Vatican II declaration on the Church’s relations with non-Christian religions, in various ways and locations. The main event for me was the conference held at the Gregorianum, “Re-Thinking Nostra Aetate,” headed up by Professor Ambrogio Bongiovanni, for which DIMMID was a happy co-sponsor. That covered most of Monday through Wednesday. All our sessions were held in the Aula Magna at “the Greg.” Prof. Bongiovanni seemed to be concerned that not enough people would come, but the hall was about three-quarters full most of the time. It was a highly academic affair as befits the setting, and most of the talks given will appear in a book later.

 

The days were packed with information! There were several opening greetings and introductions, the strongest one given by Prof. Elias El Halabi from the World Council of Churches, who has a very global view. He ended up by saying that in our time religion is being faced with so many struggles, but that he thought the worst were actually intra-religious not inter––ethnocentrism, political exclusivity and superiority which are using religion as a disguise for ultranationalism. He said specifically at one point that “the enemy of religion is from within.”

 

The inaugural lectures the first day were dedicated to history, an excellent presentation by Paolo Trianni followed up by a “theological understanding offered by Jesuit Fr. Imperatori who, unfortunately, sparked off a little firestorm. He decided to add in some criticism about the State of Israel that included comparing Israel’s actions in Gaza to the Shoah, something about false messianism, his interpretation of the Suffering Servant of Isaiah, and even a mention of something being “satanic.” There were several rabbis there besides other Jewish attendees, and some of the rabbis were actually from Jerusalem. They did not hesitate to express their consternation. One suggested that we had just set back Catholic Jewish relations decades, particularly with the mention of “satanic,” since that was one of the old descriptors used for Jews and Judaism in the past. One rabbi pointed out that Fr. Imperatori’s was also a Christological interpretation of the Suffering Servant which Jewish scholars do not agree with. It was not a good way to begin, and many of us all left the hall for lunch feeling very tense.

 

The afternoon was given to the dharmic religions. (I might have preferred to separate Hinduism from Buddhism and let each of them stand on their own instead of getting put together.) Another smaller fire was lit when the last speaker that day, who is listed as a professor of Sanskrit and Asian and North African Studies, kept referring to “so-called Hinduism” and “neo-Hinduism.”  This did not go over well with one of the Hindu scholars who was in the room who referred to it as a “typical colonialist misunderstanding of Hinduism” and further took exception to the fact that the professor had made an egregious error with one of the Sanskrit terms (using the masculine instead of the feminine form of the word). I ended the day thinking, “If these kinds of skirmishes and serious misunderstandings can break out in a room full of religious scholars who we can assume to be people of good will, is it any wonder that conflicts break out among people who do have the benefit of education in this field and who we cannot always assume are of good will?” On a positive note, Swami Sarvapriyananda, with whom I got to spend some time later, gave a delightful presentation based on five parables of Vivekananda; and Venerable Yon Seng Yeath, a Theravadan monk from Cambodia delivered a very nice paper in praise of Nostra Aetate, which he obviously knew well, as a model for interreligious dialogue for other traditions. This is a theme that came up often. I was thinking how the Roman Lectionary after the Council also became the standard for the mainline Christian denominations as well, after centuries of the Catholic Church lagging far behind in both areas, scripture, and dialogue.

 

There was a question-and-answer period at the end of each long section, and I was to be the moderator of the one on Tuesday, so I was watching carefully as to what kind of questions got raised and how they were dealt with after the issues that first day.

 

The second day went much better––and I was happy to see that the rabbis did not abandon ship! We spent the morning hearing about the traditions that Nostra Aetate did not deal with––Sikhism, Jainism, African traditional religions, Taoism, and then “new movements.” These presentations were for the most part pretty well timed and did not feel rushed. I was particularly happy to hear about Taoism as I have been reading so much about that tradition these last months and years. The afternoon was given totally to Islam, six different speakers. That session did feel a little rushed. And then I was the moderator for the Q&A period at the end of that session. My time was cut short as well because we were all going to the Vatican for an event that evening and Ambrogio said we had to be in the car by 5 PM. I ended it even a little earlier than Ambrogio wanted me to––people were pretty exhausted by then anyway––so that I could read a section of Stephen Mitchell’s version of Tao te Ching, which I have in Italian. (We were conducting the sessions in both languages, so I was happy to be able to read it in both.) I am glad I did because immediately the presenter to my left asked to take a photo of it, and then two people stopped me on the way out the door and asked for the reference. I really felt the need to “put your mind in your heart” by that point in the day. I made it a point to say it was a poem from Stephen Mitchell’s version of the Tao te Ching and not a “translation” to avoid any scholarly pushback since I my guess is that there’s a good chance it is nowhere near what the original Chinese says, though it still makes a nice poem.

 

I have only three things to teach:

simplicity, patience, compassion.

These are your three greatest treasures.

Simple in actions and thoughts,

you return to the source of being.

Patient with friends and with enemies,

you are in accord with the way things go.

Compassionate toward yourself,

you reconcile with all the beings in the world.

 

It’s the second half of #67, in case you’re wondering. But mind you, that is my translation back into English of somebody’s Italian translation of Mitchell’s English translation of the Chinese, if his version is actually a translation at all! That’s why I say, “a nice poem.”

 

That evening there was the big event in honor of Nostra Aetate’s 60^th anniversary at Paul VI Audience Hall at the Vatican organized by the Dicastery for Interreligious Dialogue. The hall was about half full and we were treated to a grand multicultural event that featured dancers from Sri Lanka and Indonesia, a guitar-violin-bass trio that played Jewish music from Yemen, three pop singers from India, and several pieces by a local children’s choir, such as John Lennon’s “Imagine” and Michael Jackson’s “We Are the World.” In front of the barriers were representatives of the world’s religions and right behind the barriers were other VIPs, cardinals and bishops and some political leaders, though not many. We had seats right behind them, thanks to the Dicastery. Of course, the highlight of the evening was Pope Leo coming in at the very end. He gave a short speech and took pictures with the children’s choir before greeting each one of the representatives. I would have liked for the event (and the music) to be a little more interreligious than intercultural, since that is my area of expertise, but I understand their caution. There was already a chorus of conservative Catholic voices berating the entire enterprise.

 

It had gotten brought up many times how Nostra Aetate, got started because of a meeting between a French Jewish scholar and Pope John XXIII. There is a long fascinating history. If I may summarize: There was supposed to be a document on ecumenism (relations with other Christian traditions) that was going to include a section on relations with the Jews. But when it was learned that the council was going to be convened, Jules Isaac was commissioned by the French president to have an audience with Pope John XXIII specifically to request that the Church take up certain anti-Semitic teachings that were prevalent in Catholic preaching. Remember this is not even 20 years after the Holocaust. It was after his meeting with Jules Isaac that John XXIII decided that there needed to be a separate document concerning relations with the Jews.

 

But there were three major problems with that, and this historical context is very important. First of all, some of the more conservative bishops from Latin America, Italy and Spain thought that the whole idea was simply against Church teaching and tradition. Secondly, the State of Israel had only been officially founded in 1947. When the Arab governments learned that there was a portfolio on “the Jewish question,” their diplomats rushed to the Vatican to find out what was going on. Many Arab countries have a large Christian/Catholic population, Syria, Lebanon, Egypt, Iraq, not to mention Palestine itself, but they were a minority in their countries, and the bishops thought that if they didn’t protest this document on the Jews, they would never have been able to return home and face their people. Arab governments still considered themselves at war with Israel so many of the bishops from Eastern Catholic churches in the Mideast thought they had to protest against anything that appeared to be special treatment of the Jews. On the other hand, the African bishops thought that it was not enough to only deal with Judaism, and so they wanted to include the other two-thirds of the world’s religious people who were not Christians or Jews, including, obviously, Islam. They were backed up by the folks from the churches in Asia who wanted Hinduism and Buddhism included as well. This was a watershed moment here in another way: Roman Catholic tradition is breaking out of its Eurocentric container and really becoming a world church.

 

This was what Venerable Yon Seng Yeath had said earlier in the week.

 

Nostra Aetate was not merely a statement of tolerance; it is an act of courageous spiritual curiosity and theological generosity. It acknowledges that within other religious traditions, there are “seeds of the Word,” “rays of truth,” and wisdom that merit reverence and respect.

 

The last day everyone was invited to the General Audience in St. Peter’s Square in the morning. At that General Audience the Holy Father dedicated to interreligious dialogue and specifically addressed the issue of anti-semitism.

 

In particular, it should not be forgotten that the first focus of Nostra Aetate was towards the Jewish world, with which Saint John XXIII intended to re-establish the original relationship. For the first time in the history of the Church, a doctrinal treatise on the Jewish roots of Christianity was to take shape, which on a biblical and theological level would represent a point of no return. A “bond … spiritually ties the people of the New Covenant to Abraham’s stock. Thus the Church of Christ acknowledges that, according to God’s saving design, the beginnings of her faith and her election are found already among the Patriarchs, Moses and the prophets”. In this way, the Church, “mindful of the patrimony she shares with the Jews and moved not by political reasons but by the Gospel’s spiritual love, decries hatred, persecutions, displays of anti-Semitism, directed against Jews at any time and by anyone”. Since then, all my predecessors have condemned anti-Semitism with clear words. And so I too confirm that the Church does not tolerate anti-Semitism and fights against it, on the basis of the Gospel itself.

 

The final conferences that afternoon were dedicated to Judaism, offered by both Jewish and Catholic scholars and they were excellent. And among the closing remarks was a very strong statement by Fr. Pino Di Luccio, SJ, the President of the Collegium Maximum at the Gregorianum, who, while acknowledging and thanking everyone involved, also added a very strong statement, circling back to the first day, that those who link the aftermath of the Hamas attack of October 2023 to the Shoah are over-stepping their bounds. And certainly, any mention of the Satanic or false messianism is to be rejected.

 

Anyway, these closing talks were among the best of the week. One last thought: one of the last speakers (I do not remember which) made a very strong statement, that does not strike me as always being true: “Dialogue is not about finding common ground: common ground is the starting point.” If that is true, then it seems to me that at times we have not yet even begun.

 

There was one other powerful meeting awaiting me that week. The Dicastery for Interreligious Dialogue is preparing a new document on “the Christian Spirituality of Interreligious Dialogue.” Both my predecessor, Fr. William Skudlarek, and I have been consulted on it this past year. I was invited by the DID to be a part of a meeting to discuss its final draft. Aside from a few meetings at their office on Via Conciliazione, this was my first official meeting with the Dicastery. They had brought in the drafting team of the document, who had for the most part met only online, and then several of us from around Rome. The drafters were from the USA, the Netherlands, Belgium, and Zimbabwe, and they all seemed to have flown in just for that meeting. In addition to the six of us from Rome, there was Cardinal Koovakad, the prefect, Monsignor Indunil the secretary, Fr. Markus who is the main person in charge of this process, and Bishop Curbeliè of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith. But even some of us “Romans” were from India, Hong Kong, and the USA. It was really a stimulating meeting and a scintillating conversation, much more than I was expecting. For the most part, of course, we were all people deeply involved in teaching interreligious dialogue and/or steeped in the work itself.

 

We had basically two and a half hours to discuss a 30-page document. Fr. Markus wanted to keep us on task and started with the first five pages. I had a question about something that was in a footnote on the first page, which also referred to an expression used throughout the document. Apparently, it was a good question because we spent the better part of the next hour discussing only that point. I got roundly but good-naturedly teased about that, wondering if we would ever get through the rest of the document in the remaining hour and a half. We did, but Fr. Markus really had to keep us on task. It was exciting to be in a room with minds like that, to hear views from different parts of the world as well as from the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, which obviously has its own perspective on theological accuracy. We ended with a celebratory lunch––and some work back on the desks of the main drafters.

 

Thus ends my report of this first season of the year––and we are only in November! Let’s pray together, “In a world torn by conflict and division, we know it is you, O Lord, who turn our minds to thoughts of peace. May this work we do in your name redound to your glory.”