Old families relish memories of past glory in their lineage; current members make much of history and somehow give the impression that they share eminence if only by inheritance. Yet, after all, my ancestors are as ancient as yours. And what mine did probably matters as little to me as what yours did matters to you.

But it is not quite that simple. We do inherit and we do pass on qualities and characteristics. If our sins are passed on to the next generation, so are our virtues. There are families of noble tradition. Like the Morganthaus, distinguished New York Jewish family of means and position whose patrician code disdains show, self-serving, is committed to high moral purpose in public service.

So there is a point in being proud of being Irish and an inheritor of the Celtic charism. There is honor in being Catholic and a member of Christ. We do sense glory in being Benedictine and in living a tradition 1400 years old. So too we share a certain aura in being Cistercian and members of an Order 900 years old, come one year more. Who live in a house where the praise of God has been chanted 7 times a day for one hundred and fifty years, come a year.

To be sure, our glory in all the above is as much gratitude to God as anything else for reason of our having had so little to do with it. And even the little we did do seems so modest that we'd hesitate to talk about it for sheer shame.

Comparing what you have and what I have, what connections are mine and what yours, is a risky business.

St. Bernard prepared who was to become Pope Eugene III for the monastic life, was a great figure in the Council of Etampes, was consulted by William of Aquitaine, by the Duchess of Lorraine, by the Countess of Britanny, by Henry, son of the King of France, by Peter, son of the King of Portugal, by Louis VI, by Louis VII, Conrad, Lothaire, the abbot of St. Dennis; he silenced Abelard at the Council of Laon, overwhelmed Arnold of Brescia and Peter de Bruys. And led a crusade against Islam. And founded in passing 160 monasteries. He died this day in 1153 at 62 years.

And left besides a treasure of writing that continues to nourish monks and others to this day, homilies to his monks.

A splendid achievement by any standard. To be sure, the record seems less impressive, say, beside that of John Paul II, who perhaps sees more significant people in a month than Bernard did in a lifetime; who makes Bernard's travels across Europe slight excursions.

Yet, take care. You are not judged by his time, but by yours. What John Paul does is what John Paul will be judged for. You and I will not be questioned on Citeaux and Clairvaux, but on Gethsemani. Not on the 12th century, but this one. It is not given Bernard to walk in our cloister, nor to us in his.

But we love the Lord he loved. And would be loved fain. Here is where we meet. Here all differences vanish. We center on what makes us who we are. What we are. So Bernard could stand at this altar and break the Bread and share the Cup. He could hear the Rule read, heed the abbot, sing along in choir.

Christ is really all that matters. Anything else is negotiable, of limited significance.

The glory of Biltmore looks a bit foolish today, if it didn't the day the Vanderbilts built it. Hurst's San Simeon even more absurd. As significant as Disneyland.

Not to disparage, not to belittle. But to put in perspective. Human life is not diminished by an immortal reference. But made ridiculous when that reference is lost. All ridicule soon turns to hate and hate to violence. You deny immortality at your own risk.

Hence a feast like today's is once again to touch base, to connect once more. And to take the long view, not from the bottom of the valley, but high on the slope where splendid vistas come into sight.

You are gifted, then use your gifts. Spend them freely and generously, but not for gain of any kind. To be the most impressive monk in the monastery has a certain absurdity about it when you think it means much. Not to say being least of all. For what has that to do with anything?

Christ, Son of the living God is in love with me. And I with Him. Nothing anywhere, anytime, here and for all eternity, can mean more than that. For you, for me, for all of us. Here is our glory. And Bernard's.   Amen.

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