This is rather last minute, but does anyone know the guardian angel of root canals? There should be a patron at the very least of dental patients. You see, today at 11:15am I have a root canal on my missing front tooth. All the good things happening to me dental wise are due to a dentist that will take payments and work with me financially. You can't ask for better than that. The idea is after this root canal, I can get a tooth to turn my smile back into a smile and no longer a jack-o-lantern terror mouth.
I should have prepared a theological reflection for this, but my mother had knee surgery yesterday, and I've just been busy. So no deep thoughts.
However, there is always poetry.
THE CROSS.
by John Donne
SINCE Christ embraced the cross itself, dare I
His image, th' image of His cross, deny ?
Would I have profit by the sacrifice,
And dare the chosen altar to despise ?
It bore all other sins, but is it fit
That it should bear the sin of scorning it ?
Who from the picture would avert his eye,
How would he fly his pains, who there did die ?
From me no pulpit, nor misgrounded law,
Nor scandal taken, shall this cross withdraw,
It shall not, for it cannot ; for the loss
Of this cross were to me another cross.
Better were worse, for no affliction,
No cross is so extreme, as to have none.
Who can blot out the cross, with th' instrument
Of God dew'd on me in the Sacrament ?
Who can deny me power, and liberty
To stretch mine arms, and mine own cross to be ?
Swim, and at every stroke thou art thy cross ;
The mast and yard make one, where seas do toss ;
Look down, thou spiest out crosses in small things ;
Look up, thou seest birds raised on crossed wings ;
All the globe's frame, and spheres, is nothing else
But the meridians crossing parallels.
Material crosses then, good physic be,
But yet spiritual have chief dignity.
These for extracted chemic medicine serve,
And cure much better, and as well preserve.
Then are you your own physic, or need none,
When still'd or purged by tribulation ;
For when that cross ungrudged unto you sticks,
Then are you to yourself a crucifix.
As perchance carvers do not faces make,
But that away, which hid them there, do take ;
Let crosses, so, take what hid Christ in thee,
And be His image, or not His, but He.
But, as oft alchemists do coiners prove,
So may a self-despising get self-love ;
And then, as worst surfeits of best meats be,
So is pride, issued from humility,
For 'tis no child, but monster ; therefore cross
Your joy in crosses, else, 'tis double loss.
And cross thy senses, else both they and thou
Must perish soon, and to destruction bow.
For if the eye seek good objects, and will take
No cross from bad, we cannot 'scape a snake.
So with harsh, hard, sour, stinking ; cross the rest ;
Make them indifferent ; call, nothing best.
But most the eye needs crossing, that can roam,
And move ; to th' others th' objects must come home.
And cross thy heart ; for that in man alone
Pants downwards, and hath palpitation.
Cross those dejections, when it downward tends,
And when it to forbidden heights pretends.
And as the brain through bony walls doth vent
By sutures, which a cross's form present,
So when thy brain works, ere thou utter it,
Cross and correct concupiscence of wit.
Be covetous of crosses; let none fall ;
Cross no man else, but cross thyself in all.
Then doth the cross of Christ work faithfully
Within our hearts, when we love harmlessly
That cross's pictures much, and with more care
That cross's children, which our crosses are.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Blabber Mouth on Retreat
I'm sure thousands of people have been wondering where I have been. Last week I had the great fortune to have a full week of retreat at Gethsemani Abbey. The miraculous part is that I did it on Monday morning the 22nd. Such a quick reservation is nearly unheard of, I can only thank the egregious weather in the northeast, midwest, and northwest for my luck in getting not only a room, but a room in the Guesthouse itself!
Your intrepid blogger only made it to Vigils twice last week, but at 3:15am I dare you to do it everyday. (Watch, now I'll get email from those who say "I always go to Vigils.") But what a difference a 45 minutes Vigils can make in your Christmas eve, and, of course, the Feast of St. Stephen. By the time I got into bed on Friday night I felt like a martyr, a martyr to my desire to keep that Trappist schedule. On so many levels it is the desire of my life to live there, on just as many levels it's my great luck that I do not. I have learned to be thankful and realize that I am exactly where God wants me to be. My 4-5am rising is early enough for me to get my prayers said and Lectio Divina completed, before the day starts up with a bang.
So I missed haranguing you all with my blogish thoughts. Happy Fifth Day After Christmas, as the LOTH so commonly calls it. They could have said fifth day in the Octave of Christmas, but nooooooo.
And no, poetry I didn't write.
Holy Sonnet 19
by John Donne
Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one:
Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot
A constant habit; that when I would not
I change in vows, and in devotion.
As humorous is my contrition
As my profane love, and as soon forgot:
As riddlingly distempered, cold and hot,
As praying, as mute; as infinite, as none.
I durst not view heaven yesterday; and today
In prayers and flattering speeches I court God:
Tomorrow I quake with true fear of his rod.
So my devout fits come and go away
Like a fantastic ague; save that here
Those are my best days, when I shake with feare.
Your intrepid blogger only made it to Vigils twice last week, but at 3:15am I dare you to do it everyday. (Watch, now I'll get email from those who say "I always go to Vigils.") But what a difference a 45 minutes Vigils can make in your Christmas eve, and, of course, the Feast of St. Stephen. By the time I got into bed on Friday night I felt like a martyr, a martyr to my desire to keep that Trappist schedule. On so many levels it is the desire of my life to live there, on just as many levels it's my great luck that I do not. I have learned to be thankful and realize that I am exactly where God wants me to be. My 4-5am rising is early enough for me to get my prayers said and Lectio Divina completed, before the day starts up with a bang.
So I missed haranguing you all with my blogish thoughts. Happy Fifth Day After Christmas, as the LOTH so commonly calls it. They could have said fifth day in the Octave of Christmas, but nooooooo.
And no, poetry I didn't write.
Holy Sonnet 19
by John Donne
Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one:
Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot
A constant habit; that when I would not
I change in vows, and in devotion.
As humorous is my contrition
As my profane love, and as soon forgot:
As riddlingly distempered, cold and hot,
As praying, as mute; as infinite, as none.
I durst not view heaven yesterday; and today
In prayers and flattering speeches I court God:
Tomorrow I quake with true fear of his rod.
So my devout fits come and go away
Like a fantastic ague; save that here
Those are my best days, when I shake with feare.
Friday, December 19, 2008
The Formative in Writing About Formation
The more work I put into the sections for the formation program for the Lay Cistercians of Gethsemani the more formed I become. Does that even make sense? It must, because when writing about topics that are meant to help others be formed into a tradition that is more than nine hundred years old, the writer begins to realize just how deep, and wide, the subject really is. I'm not having trouble coming up with the sections, it's more a matter of what do I leave out of the sections?
Half a century ago monasteries like Gethsemani were literally bursting at the seams, now they have more choir stalls than monks to fill them. This isn't the fault of monks and nuns, it is the fault of a changing world view, societal upheavals that have all but left religion, and those who take it seriously, in the dust. And here we are, laity, forming into communities around them, and the monks/nuns must be wondering why don't the single folk just go ahead and join a monastic community? And, what do these people want with us?
It's neither the same calling, nor the same Charism. It drew the wounded of WWII into the silence and healed them, and then many of them left. Then the church made it clear that you didn't have to be a monk or a nun to go to heaven, so more left. But let's think more about the healing aspect of the Cistercian Charism. The world is wounded, we in the world are surrounded by the walking wounded every day. It's on tv, the radio, next door, in the hospitals, in the abusive homes, in the emotionally destroyed, etc., at. al., ad nauseum.
Perhaps the Charism has moved into the world to be a healing presence, in the persons of Lay Cistercians? Hoards of WWII veterans were healed in the monasteries, but that was a time when religion was big in American life. Evangelicals aside, monasticism was still big in the Catholic mind of the post WWII generation. The young today, the injured, they do not look to the monasteries for this healing. They seek out counselors, or Evangelical assurances, and fundamentalist certainties, not the vague healing that comes from confronting ones self in the solitude of the heart in the presence of God, and God alone. It is the job of the Lay Cistercian to be that healing presence to the world, that same healing presence we experience when we go to Gethsemani. It is not ours to hold as a private club, it is to be thrown to the winds with a prayer that healing will fall down like rain from above.
Now, how do I translate all of that into a few sections in outline, without doing grievous harm to the message?
Half a century ago monasteries like Gethsemani were literally bursting at the seams, now they have more choir stalls than monks to fill them. This isn't the fault of monks and nuns, it is the fault of a changing world view, societal upheavals that have all but left religion, and those who take it seriously, in the dust. And here we are, laity, forming into communities around them, and the monks/nuns must be wondering why don't the single folk just go ahead and join a monastic community? And, what do these people want with us?
It's neither the same calling, nor the same Charism. It drew the wounded of WWII into the silence and healed them, and then many of them left. Then the church made it clear that you didn't have to be a monk or a nun to go to heaven, so more left. But let's think more about the healing aspect of the Cistercian Charism. The world is wounded, we in the world are surrounded by the walking wounded every day. It's on tv, the radio, next door, in the hospitals, in the abusive homes, in the emotionally destroyed, etc., at. al., ad nauseum.
Perhaps the Charism has moved into the world to be a healing presence, in the persons of Lay Cistercians? Hoards of WWII veterans were healed in the monasteries, but that was a time when religion was big in American life. Evangelicals aside, monasticism was still big in the Catholic mind of the post WWII generation. The young today, the injured, they do not look to the monasteries for this healing. They seek out counselors, or Evangelical assurances, and fundamentalist certainties, not the vague healing that comes from confronting ones self in the solitude of the heart in the presence of God, and God alone. It is the job of the Lay Cistercian to be that healing presence to the world, that same healing presence we experience when we go to Gethsemani. It is not ours to hold as a private club, it is to be thrown to the winds with a prayer that healing will fall down like rain from above.
Now, how do I translate all of that into a few sections in outline, without doing grievous harm to the message?
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Anti-Pray-er
Lately I feel that if you want something terrible to happen to someone, ask me to pray for them. Of course, I only have one example of such a thing, but one is enough. I can almost hear a discussion among people "If you want something bad to happen to them, ask Steve to pray for them."
That is exaggeration, but the way I feel today, it hits very close to home. The situation with my niece is to a point where every word she says to us is in a nasty tone and loud -- oh, so loud -- and then when confronted with loudness, she says, "I'm frustrated." You see, I spent two weeks praying for a blessing for her and just four days ago a letter came in the mail smashing her hopes to smithereens. Now I know that God's timeline and my time line are not the same thing. And, that God does not show to us all that is in store, but it made me about half afraid to pray!
Poor me, pity me, blog entries make me sick to my stomach, so feel free to gag upon reading this piece of my daily tripe. However, I am determined to make something good not only of this day, but of this situation. St. Therese of Lisieux said
And bless her cotton picking heart, my niece does have her virtues. She has problems that would break most people, she can't count change, and can't tell time on a clock with hands, but sometimes she has the compassion of the angels. It's just that lately I can't see much of that, which is a clue to me that she is suffering. The problem is she won't hear anything anyone has to say to her in comfort or help.
Ad Magnif. Ant: O Sapiéntia, * quæ ex ore Altíssimi prodiísti, attíngens a fine usque ad finem, fórtiter suavitérque dispónens ómnia : veni ad docéndum nos viam prudéntiæ.
Ant. on Magnif: O Wisdom, * which camest out of the mouth of the Most High, and reachest from one end to another, mightily and sweetly ordering all things: Come and teach us the way of prudence.
That is exaggeration, but the way I feel today, it hits very close to home. The situation with my niece is to a point where every word she says to us is in a nasty tone and loud -- oh, so loud -- and then when confronted with loudness, she says, "I'm frustrated." You see, I spent two weeks praying for a blessing for her and just four days ago a letter came in the mail smashing her hopes to smithereens. Now I know that God's timeline and my time line are not the same thing. And, that God does not show to us all that is in store, but it made me about half afraid to pray!
Poor me, pity me, blog entries make me sick to my stomach, so feel free to gag upon reading this piece of my daily tripe. However, I am determined to make something good not only of this day, but of this situation. St. Therese of Lisieux said
And bless her cotton picking heart, my niece does have her virtues. She has problems that would break most people, she can't count change, and can't tell time on a clock with hands, but sometimes she has the compassion of the angels. It's just that lately I can't see much of that, which is a clue to me that she is suffering. The problem is she won't hear anything anyone has to say to her in comfort or help.
Ad Magnif. Ant: O Sapiéntia, * quæ ex ore Altíssimi prodiísti, attíngens a fine usque ad finem, fórtiter suavitérque dispónens ómnia : veni ad docéndum nos viam prudéntiæ.
Ant. on Magnif: O Wisdom, * which camest out of the mouth of the Most High, and reachest from one end to another, mightily and sweetly ordering all things: Come and teach us the way of prudence.
Monday, December 15, 2008
I Have a Cold
Funny, but when I have a cold my ability to think about spiritual matters plunges to near zero Kelvin. It's not I believe any less or pray any less, it's just that I could care less. Isn't that terrible to say? Yet, when you think of it, the mask of your face is worthless to you because it's involved with cold issues, and you feel like you're at least fifteen feet behind your eyes, looking out through a tunnel. I have a pious thought, but by the time it gets to my mouth or typing hands, it's turned into a sneeze.
I'm sure Merton had something profound to say about this, but personally, I have nothing profound to say, and less desire to hunt down Merton quotes since the LCG mailing list has been flooded with Merton quotes the last few days. I wonder sometimes if people come to the LCG because of Merton or because of the call of the Cistercian Charism? Or did Merton extend the Charism to them? Interesting thought, but again, on a day like today, I could care less.
And now for poetry I didn't write
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XVIII.
Show me, dear Christ, thy spouse so bright and clear.
What! is it she which on the other shore
Goes richly painted? or which, robbed and tore,
Laments and mourns in Germany and here?
Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps up one year?
Is she self-truth, and errs? now new, now outwore?
Doth she, and did she, and shall she evermore
On one, on seven, or on no hill appear?
Dwells she with us, or like adventuring knights
First travel we to seek, and then make love?
Betray, kind husband, thy spouse to our sights,
And let mine amorous soul court thy mild dove,
Who is most true and pleasing to thee then
When she is embraced and open to most men.
I'm sure Merton had something profound to say about this, but personally, I have nothing profound to say, and less desire to hunt down Merton quotes since the LCG mailing list has been flooded with Merton quotes the last few days. I wonder sometimes if people come to the LCG because of Merton or because of the call of the Cistercian Charism? Or did Merton extend the Charism to them? Interesting thought, but again, on a day like today, I could care less.
And now for poetry I didn't write
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XVIII.
Show me, dear Christ, thy spouse so bright and clear.
What! is it she which on the other shore
Goes richly painted? or which, robbed and tore,
Laments and mourns in Germany and here?
Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps up one year?
Is she self-truth, and errs? now new, now outwore?
Doth she, and did she, and shall she evermore
On one, on seven, or on no hill appear?
Dwells she with us, or like adventuring knights
First travel we to seek, and then make love?
Betray, kind husband, thy spouse to our sights,
And let mine amorous soul court thy mild dove,
Who is most true and pleasing to thee then
When she is embraced and open to most men.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Today is Part Four
Yesterday I spent about two hours praying before the Sacrament at St. Vincents, trying to understand what is wrong with me when it comes to pushing forward with writing the formation program. Yes, Jesus is everywhere, but in church where the Sacrament is reserved, I know He is there in a physical way. It's rather like hanging out with a friend.
What I came away with was the realization that my own lack of faith in myself has a lot to do with the trouble I'm having. Thirty years of "you are worthless" doesn't disappear in a heartbeat. Next, getting clear that just because I don't work in the fields, or carry hod, I no less work when I write -- from my unique perspective -- for the Lord. Also, I had to face, who am I trying to impress? It seems that unless there was someone to impress, then why bother? Jesus helped me to see that unless I impress Him, I'm hopeless.
So lacking faith in myself, and with no one to impress, I'm starting part four today when I return from Mass. No more denying of gifts. Music was not my only gift, God gave me a gift with words, and expects me to use it. Well, thanks be to God.
And now for poetry.
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XVII.
Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravishèd,
Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set.
Here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.
But why should I beg more love, whenas thou
Dost woo my soul, for hers offering all thine:
And dost not only fear lest I allow
My love to saints and angels, things divine,
But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt
Lest the world, flesh, yea, devil put thee out.
What I came away with was the realization that my own lack of faith in myself has a lot to do with the trouble I'm having. Thirty years of "you are worthless" doesn't disappear in a heartbeat. Next, getting clear that just because I don't work in the fields, or carry hod, I no less work when I write -- from my unique perspective -- for the Lord. Also, I had to face, who am I trying to impress? It seems that unless there was someone to impress, then why bother? Jesus helped me to see that unless I impress Him, I'm hopeless.
So lacking faith in myself, and with no one to impress, I'm starting part four today when I return from Mass. No more denying of gifts. Music was not my only gift, God gave me a gift with words, and expects me to use it. Well, thanks be to God.
And now for poetry.
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XVII.
Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravishèd,
Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set.
Here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.
But why should I beg more love, whenas thou
Dost woo my soul, for hers offering all thine:
And dost not only fear lest I allow
My love to saints and angels, things divine,
But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt
Lest the world, flesh, yea, devil put thee out.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Finishing Lectio Part III
Since taking on the task of writing the formation program I've noticed it's getting progressively harder. The section on Lectio Divina was finished today, and in some ways it was like pulling teeth. You wouldn't think it would be so hard to work out a semi-coherent section of study on Lectio, but you'd be wrong.
The problem is that writing about Lectio is writing about encounter with God. No one on earth can teach you how to encounter God. We can teach each other what method we use to get into our "sacred space" and how to select our passage, and how to recite it thus and so, but nothing, nothing, nothing, can tell us how to encounter God.
Why? Because the encounter isn't up to us. It is entirely up to God. All we can do is teach theory and mechanics, the reality has to be experienced. Experience comes from God. We can get you ready for it, but we can't give you the experience.
And now for poetry.
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XVI.
Father, part of His double interest
Unto Thy kingdom Thy Son gives to me ;
His jointure in the knotty Trinity
He keeps, and gives to me his death's conquest.
This Lamb, whose death with life the world hath blest,
Was from the world's beginning slain, and He
Hath made two wills, which with the legacy
Of His and Thy kingdom do thy sons invest.
Yet such are these laws, that men argue yet
Whether a man those statutes can fulfil.
None doth ; but thy all-healing grace and Spirit
Revive again what law and letter kill.
Thy law's abridgement, and Thy last command
Is all but love ; O let this last Will stand !
The problem is that writing about Lectio is writing about encounter with God. No one on earth can teach you how to encounter God. We can teach each other what method we use to get into our "sacred space" and how to select our passage, and how to recite it thus and so, but nothing, nothing, nothing, can tell us how to encounter God.
Why? Because the encounter isn't up to us. It is entirely up to God. All we can do is teach theory and mechanics, the reality has to be experienced. Experience comes from God. We can get you ready for it, but we can't give you the experience.
And now for poetry.
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XVI.
Father, part of His double interest
Unto Thy kingdom Thy Son gives to me ;
His jointure in the knotty Trinity
He keeps, and gives to me his death's conquest.
This Lamb, whose death with life the world hath blest,
Was from the world's beginning slain, and He
Hath made two wills, which with the legacy
Of His and Thy kingdom do thy sons invest.
Yet such are these laws, that men argue yet
Whether a man those statutes can fulfil.
None doth ; but thy all-healing grace and Spirit
Revive again what law and letter kill.
Thy law's abridgement, and Thy last command
Is all but love ; O let this last Will stand !
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
What I Want for Christmas
Well...yesterday I ended up at the dentist having a root canal at 5:30pm. Isn't that a joyous way to spend your early evening? Lucky for me Dirty Jobs was on later so I had something to look forward to. I should be in pain, right? Nope, zero on the pain. Also, this is a dentist who said we are going to fix up your mouth and you can make monthly payments as long as it takes!!!!
God provides.
Since I am doing formation for the LCG in Kentucky, at least writing the program, and since I promised to start doing the Rule again in January, I want the two big books, the RB 1980, the big one. AND the Terrence Kardong. You see, I may be good at making the Rule relevant to our lives today, but it never hurts to have some background and not be constantly reinventing the wheel.
So, the entire LCG can buy me those two books. hahahahahahahahahahhahaha There is this wonderful Dilbert panel that applies to this. I quote.
Dilbert to Carol, the Pointy Hair Boss Secretary: Now that the pointy haired boss is on vacation can you make copies of these and bind them for me?
Carol to Dilbert: I'll tell you what I'll do. I will create a widget for your desktop and hook it up to Satan's Fireplace, when the temperature reaches 32 F, come see me.
God provides.
Since I am doing formation for the LCG in Kentucky, at least writing the program, and since I promised to start doing the Rule again in January, I want the two big books, the RB 1980, the big one. AND the Terrence Kardong. You see, I may be good at making the Rule relevant to our lives today, but it never hurts to have some background and not be constantly reinventing the wheel.
So, the entire LCG can buy me those two books. hahahahahahahahahahhahaha There is this wonderful Dilbert panel that applies to this. I quote.
Dilbert to Carol, the Pointy Hair Boss Secretary: Now that the pointy haired boss is on vacation can you make copies of these and bind them for me?
Carol to Dilbert: I'll tell you what I'll do. I will create a widget for your desktop and hook it up to Satan's Fireplace, when the temperature reaches 32 F, come see me.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Praying For Other People
Last night I was talking to a friend about the boy who had been chained in the basement out in California, had his knees beat with baseball bats, etc., and he asked me "so the demons can come and do whatever they like, why doesn't God get involved?"
Well, on the face of it that seems a very irreverent question, yet it is not. It is the question that humanity has struggled with since Job. I don't have an answer, but I do have a possibility that might go toward an answer...there was no one to pray God into that boy's life!
That need repeating. There was no one to pray God into that boy's life. When you take the sheer weight of evil that is done, and put it on the scale with the weight of those who actually pray, then evil will win every time. There are more evil doers than there are pray-ers. People will write me and say, "but I pray every day." Yes, but do you pray for those other than your family? Do you pray for those held against their will? Do you pray for the abused? Do you try to place yourself in your heart in the dungeons where women and men who are kept as sex slaves, and beaten regularly?
Do you pray for those laying alone in their nursing home bed, with no visitors, lonely, sick, and afraid? Do you pray for a young father whose wife has just died, and now he must carry on with his life and raising his children, while dealing with all the grief he and his children have? Switch that to a young mother and pray for that? And I don't mean specific people in those situations that you know. You have to pray for ALL in that situation.
We must pray specifically for those things, not just in general and say, I've said all the prayers I need to say. It is up to those of us who pray to actually pray for God to enter into situations like those listed above, because, if not us, then who will?
Well, on the face of it that seems a very irreverent question, yet it is not. It is the question that humanity has struggled with since Job. I don't have an answer, but I do have a possibility that might go toward an answer...there was no one to pray God into that boy's life!
That need repeating. There was no one to pray God into that boy's life. When you take the sheer weight of evil that is done, and put it on the scale with the weight of those who actually pray, then evil will win every time. There are more evil doers than there are pray-ers. People will write me and say, "but I pray every day." Yes, but do you pray for those other than your family? Do you pray for those held against their will? Do you pray for the abused? Do you try to place yourself in your heart in the dungeons where women and men who are kept as sex slaves, and beaten regularly?
Do you pray for those laying alone in their nursing home bed, with no visitors, lonely, sick, and afraid? Do you pray for a young father whose wife has just died, and now he must carry on with his life and raising his children, while dealing with all the grief he and his children have? Switch that to a young mother and pray for that? And I don't mean specific people in those situations that you know. You have to pray for ALL in that situation.
We must pray specifically for those things, not just in general and say, I've said all the prayers I need to say. It is up to those of us who pray to actually pray for God to enter into situations like those listed above, because, if not us, then who will?
Monday, December 08, 2008
Immaculate Conception and Habits
I was all in a tither today because my mother had a doctor appointment at 9:15, and other things to do, which meant that I would not be able to attend my habitual Mass at Nazareth. Well! I mean really now, what good is it if I don't go? I fretted, tried to find someone to give me a ride, and was sure I'd end up having to confess that I'd missed the whole darn thing.
Then it dawned on me. My HABIT of going to Mass at Nazareth was destined to disruption, but it wasn't the only Mass in town. Now I don't like going to St. Joseph's because that building is set up so that every sound carries, and it's the noisiest place to try to get a grip on your prayer. That left St. Monica, a church that was formed by the African-American community when St. Joseph's back in the 50's said no black folk.
Since no one alive would call me a hard core traditionalist catholic, except in certain musical circles, St. Monica will work out perfectly. The point is that my habit of going to Nazareth for Mass nearly got in the way of the point of going to Mass in the first place. The Immaculate Conception is a Solemnity, so I take that seriously. The obligation will be fulfilled by going to a new place.
I believe there is a lesson here, about habits, and preconceived notions about how/where we do certain things. God is not limited by location, we all know that, yet, how many of us -- and it's more than a few -- try to do that very thing: limit God to a location. Or, limit God to a certain habit of Mass at a certain place. This has really pointed out to me how careful we must be to never become so attached to any place, person, thing, or way of doing things, that we forget our only home is God. Our only true location is in God. God is the center, the reason, and is above all locations.
And now for today's poetry.
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XV.
Wilt thou love God as he thee ? then digest,
My soul, this wholesome meditation,
How God the Spirit, by angels waited on
In heaven, doth make His temple in thy breast.
The Father having begot a Son most blest,
And still begetting—for he ne'er begun—
Hath deign'd to choose thee by adoption,
Co-heir to His glory, and Sabbath' endless rest.
And as a robb'd man, which by search doth find
His stolen stuff sold, must lose or buy it again,
The Sun of glory came down, and was slain,
Us whom He had made, and Satan stole, to unbind.
'Twas much, that man was made like God before,
But, that God should be made like man, much more.
Then it dawned on me. My HABIT of going to Mass at Nazareth was destined to disruption, but it wasn't the only Mass in town. Now I don't like going to St. Joseph's because that building is set up so that every sound carries, and it's the noisiest place to try to get a grip on your prayer. That left St. Monica, a church that was formed by the African-American community when St. Joseph's back in the 50's said no black folk.
Since no one alive would call me a hard core traditionalist catholic, except in certain musical circles, St. Monica will work out perfectly. The point is that my habit of going to Nazareth for Mass nearly got in the way of the point of going to Mass in the first place. The Immaculate Conception is a Solemnity, so I take that seriously. The obligation will be fulfilled by going to a new place.
I believe there is a lesson here, about habits, and preconceived notions about how/where we do certain things. God is not limited by location, we all know that, yet, how many of us -- and it's more than a few -- try to do that very thing: limit God to a location. Or, limit God to a certain habit of Mass at a certain place. This has really pointed out to me how careful we must be to never become so attached to any place, person, thing, or way of doing things, that we forget our only home is God. Our only true location is in God. God is the center, the reason, and is above all locations.
And now for today's poetry.
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XV.
Wilt thou love God as he thee ? then digest,
My soul, this wholesome meditation,
How God the Spirit, by angels waited on
In heaven, doth make His temple in thy breast.
The Father having begot a Son most blest,
And still begetting—for he ne'er begun—
Hath deign'd to choose thee by adoption,
Co-heir to His glory, and Sabbath' endless rest.
And as a robb'd man, which by search doth find
His stolen stuff sold, must lose or buy it again,
The Sun of glory came down, and was slain,
Us whom He had made, and Satan stole, to unbind.
'Twas much, that man was made like God before,
But, that God should be made like man, much more.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Advent II
I count off the Sunday's of Advent with the progressive reading of Isaiah in both Office of Readings and the Mass readings. To be honest I'm not sure if I'm comforted or scared. "The Lord dresses the wound of his people and heals the bruises his blows have left." Gary, over at the Hobo Journal finds comfort in this image. I do too, and am reminded of a friend of mine who once said "when we pray the cracks in us begin to glow." Gary says the wounds are just the byproduct of life. He's probably right, but I don't know.
Readings that confront me with conflicting images are the very best. When a reading conflicts with my image of God then I know that I'm the one that has to adjust, not God. Nothing so upsets a person than having to continually readjust their concept of God, but nothing is more important than to do just that. We must always be in dialogue with God as God is, not as we think or wish that God was/is/will be.
As I wrote a few posts back, Advent is the time I spend cleaning out the dark and stinky corners of my heart. Whoa! Are they ever dark and stinky. I found out that my reaction to pain is to get angry. Angry! Possibly it's a left over of when I tried to be athletic and they said get angry at the pain, still, it's not a workable solution for me at this time in my life. It also explains why I have in the past gotten so angry, so fast, about such small things...I was in pain!
The final thing has been something of a liberation. I realize that my personality is a little too much for some people. I've spent a lifetime beating myself up over that. Well, it's recently occurred to me that my Joy and my Happiness are not mine at all, but the Joy and Happiness that comes from God. Therefore I have decided to be civil and considerate of those whom I freak out, but no longer worry about the expression of my joy and happiness because they are not mine, the gifts belong to God. Even when I am sad, depressed, even in pain, I shall continue to express that Joy and Happiness which is a gift from God, and not something of my making.
And now, poetry.
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XIV.
Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
Readings that confront me with conflicting images are the very best. When a reading conflicts with my image of God then I know that I'm the one that has to adjust, not God. Nothing so upsets a person than having to continually readjust their concept of God, but nothing is more important than to do just that. We must always be in dialogue with God as God is, not as we think or wish that God was/is/will be.
As I wrote a few posts back, Advent is the time I spend cleaning out the dark and stinky corners of my heart. Whoa! Are they ever dark and stinky. I found out that my reaction to pain is to get angry. Angry! Possibly it's a left over of when I tried to be athletic and they said get angry at the pain, still, it's not a workable solution for me at this time in my life. It also explains why I have in the past gotten so angry, so fast, about such small things...I was in pain!
The final thing has been something of a liberation. I realize that my personality is a little too much for some people. I've spent a lifetime beating myself up over that. Well, it's recently occurred to me that my Joy and my Happiness are not mine at all, but the Joy and Happiness that comes from God. Therefore I have decided to be civil and considerate of those whom I freak out, but no longer worry about the expression of my joy and happiness because they are not mine, the gifts belong to God. Even when I am sad, depressed, even in pain, I shall continue to express that Joy and Happiness which is a gift from God, and not something of my making.
And now, poetry.
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XIV.
Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
A Crux
Things seem to stay interesting in my life, in spite of my best efforts otherwise. As you know, I am doing my utmost to follow a call to a more hermitic life. As you also know, my somewhat volatile niece has moved in with us, turning what was a quiet environment, into a sometimes explosively noisey place to be.
Having been displaced from my in home chapel so my niece, whom I admit I do dearly love, could have a place to sleep, I am now saying Office of Readings and Lauds at the kitchen table, with my fingers in my ears so my mother's blaring TV doesn't destroy what little concentration I can muster. Who do you blame? Who do you get mad at? God?
So, it is a cross. I accept that. Things have come to such a pass that I'm finding my vocation at risk by this cross. After speaking to my spiritual director, she suggested just continuing to leave it in the hands of God who will order things to the best advantage for everyone. The real question for me is this: at what point does one stop the breaking of a vocation? Or does one accept that perhaps the vocation is being actively broken?
There are no easy answers, and I expect none. All I can say with Bl Pope John XXIII, "I have absolute trust in all things concerning the present, and perfect tranquility regrading the future."
Amen
And now for Poetry
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XIII.
What if this present were the world's last night ?
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,
The picture of Christ crucified, and tell
Whether His countenance can thee affright.
Tears in His eyes quench the amazing light ;
Blood fills his frowns, which from His pierced head fell ;
And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell,
Which pray'd forgiveness for His foes' fierce spite ?
No, no ; but as in my idolatry
I said to all my profane mistresses,
Beauty of pity, foulness only is
A sign of rigour ; so I say to thee,
To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign'd ;
This beauteous form assures a piteous mind.
Having been displaced from my in home chapel so my niece, whom I admit I do dearly love, could have a place to sleep, I am now saying Office of Readings and Lauds at the kitchen table, with my fingers in my ears so my mother's blaring TV doesn't destroy what little concentration I can muster. Who do you blame? Who do you get mad at? God?
So, it is a cross. I accept that. Things have come to such a pass that I'm finding my vocation at risk by this cross. After speaking to my spiritual director, she suggested just continuing to leave it in the hands of God who will order things to the best advantage for everyone. The real question for me is this: at what point does one stop the breaking of a vocation? Or does one accept that perhaps the vocation is being actively broken?
There are no easy answers, and I expect none. All I can say with Bl Pope John XXIII, "I have absolute trust in all things concerning the present, and perfect tranquility regrading the future."
Amen
And now for Poetry
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS.
XIII.
What if this present were the world's last night ?
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,
The picture of Christ crucified, and tell
Whether His countenance can thee affright.
Tears in His eyes quench the amazing light ;
Blood fills his frowns, which from His pierced head fell ;
And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell,
Which pray'd forgiveness for His foes' fierce spite ?
No, no ; but as in my idolatry
I said to all my profane mistresses,
Beauty of pity, foulness only is
A sign of rigour ; so I say to thee,
To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign'd ;
This beauteous form assures a piteous mind.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Lay Cistercian Formation and Me
Some of you may be thinking, Oh Lord, don't tell me he's doing it. Well, I am. I am in the middle of putting together section two, of a five section formation program, that will take two years to complete as an inquirer. Each section will take roughly three months (or three meetings) to get through, and five of those makes 25. Each section is based on one of the section of the Rule of Life that the LCG lives by.
The very first thing to establish is that we will not be using monastic terminology to describe ourselves. Why? I'm glad you asked, because we are not monks or nuns. Inquirer will fill the void left by novice. Committed will fill the void left by professed. If we are to be a community ourselves, then we need to be a community with our own identity beyond that of our monastic brothers and sisters. We will never be part of their community, nor should we want to be, because that is an entirely different part of the charism. Our charism is to carry the Cistercian values and spirituality into the world. Yes, we can be part of the family, but not part of the individual communities, at least and certainly, not at the Abbey of Gethsemani.
At Mississippi Abbey I understand the nuns and Lay Cistercians all have a picnic together, well that's not the way things are at Gethsemani, and I am happy with that. Sure, I'd like to know some of the community better, but in Br. Cassian's words, "almost everything is none of my business."
So today I devote myself to finishing the section on Prayer, which has been very hard to do. At first I thought it would be like a hot knife through butter, but when you are tasked to lead people through an understanding of prayer, the task gets a wee bit more daunting. Still, it is a joy for me to do this. I love being a Lay Cistercian more than I loved all the bad habits which I cast off in order to be more truly the Christian I professed to be. Therefore, although unworthy of the task, I accept it knowing that God will provide that which I lack.
And now for poetry.
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS. (yes I skipped one, because I don't like anything disparaging Jews)
XII.
Why are we by all creatures waited on ?
Why do the prodigal elements supply
Life and food to me, being more pure than I,
Simpler and further from corruption ?
Why brook'st thou, ignorant horse, subjection ?
Why dost thou, bull and boar, so sillily
Dissemble weakness, and by one man's stroke die,
Whose whole kind you might swallow and feed upon ?
Weaker I am, woe's me, and worse than you ;
You have not sinn'd, nor need be timorous.
But wonder at a greater, for to us
Created nature doth these things subdue ;
But their Creator, whom sin, nor nature tied,
For us, His creatures, and His foes, hath died.
The very first thing to establish is that we will not be using monastic terminology to describe ourselves. Why? I'm glad you asked, because we are not monks or nuns. Inquirer will fill the void left by novice. Committed will fill the void left by professed. If we are to be a community ourselves, then we need to be a community with our own identity beyond that of our monastic brothers and sisters. We will never be part of their community, nor should we want to be, because that is an entirely different part of the charism. Our charism is to carry the Cistercian values and spirituality into the world. Yes, we can be part of the family, but not part of the individual communities, at least and certainly, not at the Abbey of Gethsemani.
At Mississippi Abbey I understand the nuns and Lay Cistercians all have a picnic together, well that's not the way things are at Gethsemani, and I am happy with that. Sure, I'd like to know some of the community better, but in Br. Cassian's words, "almost everything is none of my business."
So today I devote myself to finishing the section on Prayer, which has been very hard to do. At first I thought it would be like a hot knife through butter, but when you are tasked to lead people through an understanding of prayer, the task gets a wee bit more daunting. Still, it is a joy for me to do this. I love being a Lay Cistercian more than I loved all the bad habits which I cast off in order to be more truly the Christian I professed to be. Therefore, although unworthy of the task, I accept it knowing that God will provide that which I lack.
And now for poetry.
John Donne
HOLY SONNETS. (yes I skipped one, because I don't like anything disparaging Jews)
XII.
Why are we by all creatures waited on ?
Why do the prodigal elements supply
Life and food to me, being more pure than I,
Simpler and further from corruption ?
Why brook'st thou, ignorant horse, subjection ?
Why dost thou, bull and boar, so sillily
Dissemble weakness, and by one man's stroke die,
Whose whole kind you might swallow and feed upon ?
Weaker I am, woe's me, and worse than you ;
You have not sinn'd, nor need be timorous.
But wonder at a greater, for to us
Created nature doth these things subdue ;
But their Creator, whom sin, nor nature tied,
For us, His creatures, and His foes, hath died.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Advent 1: A Whopper of a Day
I mean whopper in the good sense. It was a huge day filled with wonderful things. First, confession with Fr. James, who is a good confessor, at least as far as I am concerned. That is probably because he knows my sins fairly well so making progress reports is easier then reexplaining sin and progress to whoever is hearing confessions out there on Saturdays. Also, I have this thing about confessing to priests I don't know. Not logical, but there you have it.
That was followed by a lovely, long and silent time in the church before Mass. There was enough time to say and entire rosary, and silent prayer afterward. What more could I ask for? Well, we won't get into that question here. Mass followed and was lovely, but I do miss the days when Fr. Timothy Kelly censed the gifts with his big swoops and circles. It's the kind of censing you think is going to send chalice flying, but he's far too skilled for that. Perhaps it came from his being a shortish man, and Abbot Elias is tall. Still, I miss a vigorous censing.
Then that quick run home to tell everyone, Ha! there is a Solemn Exposition and Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament today, then I'm staying for the Merton group and dinner, so ta ta and see ya later. After a short nap, back to the monastery. (P.S. Why say Blessed Sacrament? if it is a Sacrament it is already Blessed. Catholic overstatement?)
Now to the meat of the day. There is nothing I love more than a nice long sit and chat before the "blessed" sacrament. Sitting there and looking at it is nice, but that's just looking, I'm there to interact with Jesus, not stare at him. I said a silent rosary to get in the space, and then the chat. There are so many things in my life right now conflicting and causing paradox that it's enough to drive any sane person insane. Well, I am barely sane as it is, and really needed that time with Jesus to discuss it. Invariably there are other people around so I can't talk out loud, which is my preferred method, but I do move my lips without sound.
Then it struck me the ridiculousness of the whole thing. I thought, "what are you doing talking to a piece of bread?" Immediately I realized that was some evil thought passing through trying to distract me, so I did the staring routine again. This time a new sense began to develop, a sense of the Shekina hovering over the altar, just as it did over the Tent of the Presence in the desert. That this holy presence was Jesus, the same Jesus that Peter, Mark, Andrew, all of them knew. Christ is always with us, around us, within us; but we don't see him in the flesh. Well, yesterday, that Christ within me, and beside me, was visible in bread. Imagine, in bread!
I'm sure this will not strike anyone else as particularly miraculous or interesting, but it was nearly earth shattering for me, because as much as I love the Adoration, I've never fully entered into the fullness of it. I was drawn, pulled even, but never allowed to see clearly. Yesterday afternoon, I did.
That was followed by a lovely, long and silent time in the church before Mass. There was enough time to say and entire rosary, and silent prayer afterward. What more could I ask for? Well, we won't get into that question here. Mass followed and was lovely, but I do miss the days when Fr. Timothy Kelly censed the gifts with his big swoops and circles. It's the kind of censing you think is going to send chalice flying, but he's far too skilled for that. Perhaps it came from his being a shortish man, and Abbot Elias is tall. Still, I miss a vigorous censing.
Then that quick run home to tell everyone, Ha! there is a Solemn Exposition and Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament today, then I'm staying for the Merton group and dinner, so ta ta and see ya later. After a short nap, back to the monastery. (P.S. Why say Blessed Sacrament? if it is a Sacrament it is already Blessed. Catholic overstatement?)
Now to the meat of the day. There is nothing I love more than a nice long sit and chat before the "blessed" sacrament. Sitting there and looking at it is nice, but that's just looking, I'm there to interact with Jesus, not stare at him. I said a silent rosary to get in the space, and then the chat. There are so many things in my life right now conflicting and causing paradox that it's enough to drive any sane person insane. Well, I am barely sane as it is, and really needed that time with Jesus to discuss it. Invariably there are other people around so I can't talk out loud, which is my preferred method, but I do move my lips without sound.
Then it struck me the ridiculousness of the whole thing. I thought, "what are you doing talking to a piece of bread?" Immediately I realized that was some evil thought passing through trying to distract me, so I did the staring routine again. This time a new sense began to develop, a sense of the Shekina hovering over the altar, just as it did over the Tent of the Presence in the desert. That this holy presence was Jesus, the same Jesus that Peter, Mark, Andrew, all of them knew. Christ is always with us, around us, within us; but we don't see him in the flesh. Well, yesterday, that Christ within me, and beside me, was visible in bread. Imagine, in bread!I'm sure this will not strike anyone else as particularly miraculous or interesting, but it was nearly earth shattering for me, because as much as I love the Adoration, I've never fully entered into the fullness of it. I was drawn, pulled even, but never allowed to see clearly. Yesterday afternoon, I did.
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