Closing Down: The End O' the Blog?

"After wondering why I was writing this blog, and examining my reasons, I've decided to fold up the table, and head for the exit."

I've written and deleted that sentence, or one very much like it, at least four times. The question haunts me: why write a blog? Many pundits would say that it's just self-obsession, or the fooling of one's self by pretending to be a published writer, or ... or ... or ... in the end, who really cares?

Blogging is an outlet for untold millions of people to express themselves.

Journals used to fill that need. You can still buy bound journals, some have lovely bindings and clever fasteners, too. Bound journals are practically artifacts though, no longer viable tools for those who can type at the speed of thought. This need to write at top speed, with gluttonous usage of words reflect the lightening fast pace of our modern lives. Everything is done at top speed, no thought is allowed to develop over time, slowly nurtured by the laborious -- yes, time consuming -- process of writing those thoughts down on paper. Who needs a journal when you sometimes lose your thought due to having to write out the thought that came before it.

I suppose the question really is, are we bloggers just a bunch of exhibitionists? The only answer to that question is both yes, and no. Yes, some do write to pretend to be published, others to show it all to the world, others to gather money, or sell something, or just tell everyone that they are the greatest authority on any and all things.

There are bloggers who also write in order to journal, like me. I'm one of those and that does not make me happy. Why should I write a journal, a spiritual journal no less, as a blog? What kind of self centered foolishness did I think I was going to accomplish? In fact, my own blog entries gag me. Not the entries content, but the fact that I clog up the internet with my own drivel!

November's paucity of blog entries reflects my growing uncertainty that this blog is worth doing. Yet, I can't quite bring myself to close it down. That leaves only one thing for me to do, to change the entire thrust of Gethsemani Reflections. I'm not sure what this new direction is going to be. In time the Lord will help me to see the way. In the meantime, I ask for prayer and lots of it. In some way these quesitons are mixed in with my ongoing conversion of life.

Sacrament of Reconciliation

Today I made confession. A priest heard it, gave me a penance, and absolution. It was my second confession, the first was on the Eve of Pentecost, the day I was received in the Catholic Church. Clearly, I've not been beating pathways to do it -- yet I converted to the church that requires sacramental confession.

This morning I did it, and at this time there is nothing but thanksgiving in my soul. What had weighed me down, now is lifted. I started waking up at 3 this morning, dreading what I was about to do. Am I the most vile human on earth? Of course not, yet something was stalking me, not letting me have peace of mind. This began to worry me a bit, especially when I did get out of bed and every excuse in the book to not go this morning was trying to stop me from going . . .

Then I realized The sin I meant to confess was still in me, unwilling to leave! The sin was doing it, making me feel worse and worse. I was bearing the weight of that sin with me. Participating in the sacrament removed the weight. It didn't miraculously alter my mode or change my outlook, but it did create a larger space in my soul for light to fill.

RC Conversion Support

Today is the feast of the Founding of St. John Lateran, in Rome, by the Emperor Constantine. In 313 there was a Synod of Bishops at the Lateran, and Militades was Pope. What follows is a longish quote, but after you've read it I think you will understand what I want to say.

The Lateran Palace fell into the hands of the emperor when Constantine I married his second wife Fausta, sister of Maxentius. Known by that time as the "Domus Faustae" or "House of Fausta," the Lateran Palace was eventually given to the Bishop of Rome by Constantine. The actual date of the gift is unknown but scholars believe it had to have been during the pontificate of Pope Miltiades, in time to host a synod of bishops in 313 that was convened to challenge the Donatist schism, declaring Donatism as heresy. The palace basilica was converted and extended, eventually becoming the cathedral of Rome, the seat of the popes as bishops of Rome.

The official dedication of the Basilica and the adjacent Lateran Palace was presided over by Pope Sylvester I in 324, declaring both to be Domus Dei or "House of God." In its interior, the Papal Throne was placed, making it the Cathedral of the Bishop of Rome. In reflection of the basilica's primacy in the world as mother church, the words Sacrosancta Lateranensis ecclesia omnium urbis et orbis ecclesiarum mater et caput are incised in the main door, meaning "Most Holy Lateran Church, of all the churches in the city and the world, the mother and head."

History. I find it hard to express how exactly that fact has touched me today. The result is I feel edified, and reassured that my conversion was the right thing to do, even though that's not in question. I am choosing to view it as consolation.

The Balcony of the Heart

Yes, I sometimes go to the balcony to sit for the liturgy, and mass. Last week I was moaning about having to go to Walmart and wishing it had a balcony. I went, and it didn't. A discovery was made that's even better than a balcony. The balcony of the heart. Solitude must be an interior place before it can be exterior. After watching the movie Into Great Silence I am fairly certin that before any Carthusian enters a charterhouse, or a hermit moves to the woods, they have interior silence; already in possession of their solitude. All that lacks is the solitude of the body.

Friday's Walmart adventure was a breeze, even though there were hoards of people. So what appeared to be a problem turned out to be no problem at all. Even as busy as I was during the weekend, my inner quiet was easily restored. That is a blessing. Thank you, Lord.

The Thirty-First Wednesday in Ordinary Time

Today was Mass for the Departed Superiors of the Order, today. It is also Wednesday of the Thirty-First Week of Ordinary time. Having a mass for the departed superiors, made it a lot more interesting day, liturgically speaking. All the propers were from the mass for the dead. That means the In Paradisum was the entrance hymn. That hymn has a powerful impact at six-fifteen in the morning.

I am so blessed to be able to attend Gethsemani for morning mass, it can no longer be viewed as luck-of-the-draw that I live here. If I learned anything this weekend, it was to not interpret something before you've lived it. The temptation to jump to conclusions has to be avoided when dealing with the Holy Spirit. Time will tell. I am here for a reason. The best I can do is stay faithful.

Meeting at Gethsemani

The meeting is over, the delegates have gone home, everyone who worked to bring it off, have been at last relieved that things are finished . . . at least for now. In 2008 most of these people are going to meet in Huerta, Spain, with delegates from almost every Lay Cistercian community in the world. To me it represents important and exciting developments in the Church, and in the Order.

The process itself -- having meetings, arguing when it's called for, taking a stand when it's needed -- is the medium that the Holy Spirit uses to explicate the Charism. I certainly do not envy the efforts that will be expended by many people to bring this good work to fulfillment. It will call for gifts from every part of the spectrum of human expression. The movement of the Holy Spirit through creation is from top to bottom, it is a Tsunami of human gifts put to work representing every part of our skill. I'm going to support it by prayer. What else can I do?

Does Walmart have a Balcony?

It is still dark outside. Morning prayers have been said, Lectio is not yet done, but will be before the day revs up to full throttle. The meeting of the Lay Cistercian representatives of the groups in North America is at Gethsemani. Starts tomorrow and runs through Sunday. I am in charge of hospitality this weekend, so a trip to Walmart comes not too long after dawn. A van from the monastery is heading to Lexington today to pick up three representatives, I think from St. Joseph's Abbey. I want to go on that trip, if possible.

Essentially, I will be around people all day, and then for the weekend, too. Solitary life, at least a solitude that makes sense, must be one that obeys the promptings of the Holy Spirit. Sometimes the prompting is to serve the Church by being Mr. Hospitality for a group of monastics, and fellow Lay Cistercians. Solitude is not disturbed by this busy-ness. Being busy as a secular solitary often involves going to the Walmart and crossing things off that To-Do List.

I sure wish Walmart had a balcony, but that is just a dream. Reality is sweeter when we see it through the scope of rules, both Benedict's Rule, and the Plan of Life.