by Fred Moleck
Brother Roger's Month's Mind
A lovely Catholic devotional practice is the celebration of a Mass four weeks after the death of a loved one. Its history goes back to medieval times when great care was taken that on that thirtieth day after the death, Mass would be offered for the repose of the soul of the deceased.
In fact, it was not unusual that in the last will and testament, funds were designated for the hiring of, clergy, singers, and other people to offer their prayers for the poor soul whom they were remembering at the “month’s mind.”
Month’s mind was part of everyday chitchat in the Catholic household.
“Tom, did you know that your poor mother’s month’s mind will be this Saturday’s 6:30 morning Mass? Father O’Shea will be saying it.”
“Bridget, I did,and I hope to God that your side of the family will show up. Remember, last week we and our thirteen children went to the 6:30 morning Mass for your great-aunt Mary. We were only the ones there with the organist.”
You see. It was a Catholic thing.
Well, the great hurricane that devastated the southern Gulf-of-Mexico states preempted this little remembrance piece of Brother Roger. The columns I wrote during those three weeks were only about the hurricane and its effect on all of our lives.
This column is not so much a month’s mind, but an almost-two-months’ mind, “don’t you know.”
In 1988, I was in Brother Roger’s presence with about three thousand other people.
One could barely see him. He was a man of small stature and unassuming presence.
At the same time, you were compelled to focus on him and be overcome by the radiance of his holy face and holy bearing.
The recognition of his face was universal, and the power of his quiet touch was felt by all.
His martyrdom on August 16 culminated a life of martyrdom—no, not in the sense of shedding blood for one’s faith, but martyrdom as witness.
His witness grew every year as more and more people would make a pilgrimage to Taizé to pray, to discern, and to go deeper in a personal quest for meaning in one’s life.
His community was founded to work at universal reconciliation during the years of World War II. It became the center for all who sought a quiet haven but with the shared companionship of others who were also searching. It quickly attracted hundreds and then thousands of pilgrims many who were teenagers or young adults.
Eventually, the church building had to be expanded to accommodate crowds of two to three thousand, all who traveled with great inconvenience to stay at Brother Roger’s oasis.
He and they witnessed. His life was ended when a deranged woman attending the prayer service that evening came from her place, approached Brother Roger at his chair, and proceeded to stab him and cut his throat.
He died shortly after.
His witnessing is felt every time one sings, “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom” or “Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.”
His memory is strongest for me when I sing the mantra ”Confitemini Domino, quoniam bonus. (Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good.) Alleluia.” (Psalm 136).
Every time I sing it, I feel a deep attachment to Brother Roger, the community, and all who worship with the music of Taizé, no matter where.
Yes. It transcends space and time. You also need to know that this mantra was sung at his interment rites.
For his living martyrdom and his martyrdom at death,
Confitemini Domino, quoniam bonus.
Confitemini Domino, Alleluia.
You can reach Fred Moleck via email at fmoleck@earthlink.net