True Self / False Self

I have learned a hard lesson about the spiritual life: you cannot live even partially in your false self, or it will cause no end of trouble for you. Details make good stories, but this is not a story blog, but a spiritual one. Bottom line is I created a false self to fit into a situation in which I really had no place. The situation did not represent me as who I truly am, it called forth the parts of my past which are better off asleep, unremembered, and long buried in the "cloud of forgetting."

Certainly, I'm not the only person in the spiritual life slips into the false self from time to time, but I realized last night how much power that false self had over me, what power it had to hurt me, and distract me from what is truly important in my life. Today is the feast of St. Ignatius, founder of the Jesuits, and he discovered that when he dwelt upon memories of his past, he was unhappy when he stopped thinking of them, but that when he dwelt upon thoughts of God, he was happy even when he stopped thinking of them.

I have taken that as a lesson. My challenge to you, my ten or so readers, is to beware of your false self. Do not let it have a chance to grow in you, or it will cause you harm.

Peace and Love
Steve

Post Disability Doctor Visit

I'm sorry for not updating before now, but my great nephew went into the hospital the next morning, so I have been rather busy with intercessory prayer. So far so good with him. May God protect him and keep it thus.

As to my doctor visit. First and foremost, NEVER trust Yahoo maps for directions. If we had made a right, gone five miles, made a left and gone three miles, we would have been there in no time. As it was, we made a left and a right and a left and a right, and ended up in a town that had nothing in it remotely like where I was to visit the doctor. From this day forward, I will use Google Maps, or just wing it.

The doctor was very kind, explained why I had to come see him after all the other doctors, asked me a long series of questions, and then made me squat down and stand up. That nearly killed me because it puts so much stress on the lower back. However, he merely nodded and apologized for making me do that. He read the MRI and bone scan reports. Then he sat down and said, I'm not the judge, but you have a serious degenerative disease with an arthritis that is only going to get worse--no titles given to either--and I am recommending in your favor for full disability.

He proceeded to say, there is no cure for this, and there is hardly adequate pain treatment. If you have the spinal blocks and they don't work, you have thrown hundreds of dollars out the window, the 800mg Ibuprofen, or the Arthrotec, will eat a hole in your stomach.

I said, so essentially, it's grin and bear it. He said, Yes but there will be good days, and bad days. He always jokingly suggested I might have a career in weather forecasting. I assured him my hips always knew what the weather was going to do next.

I'm sorry there is so little spiritual content in this post, but I wanted to let you all know what had gone on. The outlook for disability is good, the outlook for my pain is not good. Either way, I have God, and place my faith in God. If I have pain, then I offer than pain as a part of my intercessory prayer.

God bring us all to everlasting life.

Tomorrow

After waiting 22 months for some resolution to my disability claim, tomorrow I go to the doctor who will officially pronounce me disabled. Now, I've already been to the neurosurgeon, and radiologists, and my regular doctor, all of whom agree that the degree of degradation in my discs and the arthritis growing around my spine, makes it very painful for me to walk, means nothing. I have to go see a doctor who will say, oh, it's true.

There are times it feels as if God is taking away all the possible props and things I might cling to, just so I can fall flat onto grace. I have to believe that that is precisely what is going on, but my prayer is "I believe, help my unbelief." Jesus himself taught that faith the size of a mustard seed could do anything, but that is a great deal of faith. It's not how wide your faith is, but how deep it is. There is always doubt. Hence, "I believe, help my unbelief."

So, pray for me tomorrow, as I pray for you.

So Long Devoid of Feelings

I have plenty of feelings today...I'm mad. Why? You ask.

How should I know? I'm just mad. Oh, wait. Yeah, I remember.

YouTube, that evil memory box, lured me into listening to music I can no longer play with arthritis on instruments I no longer have access to, or own. That made me MAD. It all goes back to being a 13 year old boy on a tour of Europe with the high school band. Anyway, we made it Bastille Day Mass at Notre Dame, yeah, the one in Paris. The organist and the organ itself, BLEW ME AWAY. My life was CHANGED forever from one of "oh what nice piano music" to OH MY GOD DID YOU HEAR THAT!"

It reminded me of all that is gone in my life, past, over, done with, a puff of smoke that was a memory, and now just a piece of fluff blown out to sea. What once was me, is now gone.

What's left? Well that remains to be seen, and that is another reason I'm mad. I love God more and more, and I get more and more impatient with God to tell me SOMETHING about what do you WANT from ME.

Sound familiar? We want things on our schedule, not on the schedule of God. One voice trying to get me into seminary, another trying to get me into a diocesan educational program, and yet another saying just write that blasted formation program and shut the #@&& up.

Of course, on top of this is the constant pain, the pressure of the upcoming disability hearing, the slap to my pride by every mortgage type person I talk to about helping my mother do something about her 9.5% loan makes me feel guilty. "So you bring in nothing, and she spends on your medical?" It makes me want to say, "would you like to kick me in my 'nads with army boots? It would hurt less."

Oh forget it. I'm just bitching and moaning. God love you if you care. I pray for you all, now please pray for me too. Don't worry, I'll wait for God, because I know that God is good, it's the rest of us I'm not too sure about.

Devoid of Feelings

It has become apparent that lately I've been in something of an acedia slump. As the link to Hermitary.com so beautifully summarizes

Is not acedia the original perception of alienation and revolt against complacency and the burdens of culture? Is it the angst of Kierkegaard, the "nausea" of Sartre, the alienation and revolt of existentialists from Camus to Marcel? Acedia is never without a sense of guilt or complicity, not as sin but as complicity in the horrors of contemporary life. To the modern mind, acedia remains real and relevant. It is a personal statement against the contrivances of culture, the hypocrisy of public morality, alienation from the natural patterns of nature and simplicity.

Honestly, that is almost exactly how I feel. It's not a boredom, it's the constant press of horrors within the world, the church, and myself, that has brought this acedia into my life. The most tempting thing right now is to feel heartily sorry for myself -- and I have plenty of reason to do so -- yet, what does that accomplish except give the evil forces/spirits/influence a chance to get in and go to work on me with comic book superpowers!

That is the last thing I need.

One thing though is bothering me. Br. Stephen died and I am unable, physically to sit vigil with his body. That rips right down into the core of my being. Certainly, I'll be at his funeral tomorrow, but that is not the same thing as sitting vigil wish someone I have prayed for with some intensity for many months now. The truth is, if I go and sit the vigil, someone will have to carry me out to the car, because I will unable to walk.

Oh well. These are the facts of life. One cannot depend on anything but God. How many times must I learn that simple lesson...depend upon nothing but God.

Rest in peace, Br. Stephen.

Br. Stephen Has Died

God Gave Me A Gift Today

Even though I am at the point in the month where money is tight, and gas is precious, I went to Mass at Gethsemani. Usually, I go only on the first Sunday of the month, and then do all other Masses, except Solemnities, at Sisters of Charity at Nazareth. However, for the past two days I knew that I would be going to Gethsemani today, and it was beyond questioning, I just knew it was going to happen. Yes, it cost me in gas. Yes, it made no logical sense for me to do it, but I did.

As it turns out there was a reason for my going to Gethsemani, in some ways it is deeply personal, so I'm only going to share some highlights. Sunday Mass at Gethsemani is always crowded with retreatants, and with the locals who go to church there. I got there a half hour early to pray the rosary, collect my mind, and just be with God. As the place began to fill up I knew seats were getting harder and harder to find, but I didn't look around, as we're all there to pray, not spy on who is here today.

Then a young man sat down next to me wearing a shirt with an embroidered Ethiopian Cross on it. Now, many people have sat down next to me at Gethsemani, and I felt nothing more than body warmth, or smelled their cologne, this guy was different. There was no scent, but there was presence, and the presence was STRONG. I said, beautiful shirt. He said, it's Ethiopian.

Terce began and when it came time to go up front for Mass I picked up two of the booklets, handed him one, and said where do you want to sit. He said, second row.

That's as far as I'm going with the details, but what needs to be said is, God called me out to Gethsemani today so I could have an exchange of gifts with this young man. I had something he needed for his faith journey. He had something I needed for mine. He is a young mystic, with the confusion that comes with realizing one is a mystic. Pray for John, pray for his discernment. Pray for me, pray for my ability to remain open to the promptings of the Holy Spirit.

May God bless you all. Thank you young John Keeney.

Early Morning

Life only makes sense to me in the early morning hours. I like waking before dawn, watching the sun rise while saying my prayers and sipping coffee. Then those precious hours before others enter the day. My new favorite saying: "the predawn belongs to the Lord." It's true. Most people when awake in the predawn are beset with anxiety and nameless fear. Why that is I can't say, or imagine. For me, that is the most solitary time of day, and the time that my heart is most open to God.

The more comfortable I become as a solitary, the less I care what people think of me, my lifestyle, and honestly, my opinions. I have become quite clear in my own heart that there is no call to the priesthood in my life, and not a shred of guilt is attached to that knowledge. My vocation is to Intercede before God for those whom God puts before me. Some are obvious, some are less obvious. Just the same, we do not know for whom we pray, and in the case of spiritual bloggers, for whom we write.

It is unfortunate, but my best writing is never in this blog, because I don't try to make any money off of it, therefore I just let it flow out like some kind of mental waterfall. That doesn't mean I don't think about what I write here, or care about it, but I don't always clean it up with the BLUE PEN OF DEATH that a real editor would do. God has given me certain physical afflictions which limit my life in ways I don't like, even as a solitary, but so what? God is with me, who can be against me!

I have been accused of being "dramatic" and again I say so what? If it weren't for us who are dramatic, then the rest of you would all die from the severe boredom the emotional ennui that infects your lives. If you don't fully experience your ups and fully experience your downs, then how the hell do you know when your happy medium is in place?

So I'm going to keep plugging away at what vocation I have, being the dramatic person that I am, keeping my manners and civility in place because they are part of being a Christian, and just keep living my life. The Church can do whatever it likes, and honestly, I do not care. Bread and wine become Body and Blood of God! The rest I put up with.

Steve

Reflection Day

So much has been going on in my life lately that I decided today needed to be a day of reflection. I wrote a fan letter to Wil Wheaton, plan to go to mass, and then I'm going to make the most of the day by reading a mystery novel, and then reading parts of The Science of the Cross by Edith Stein, Sr. Benedicta of the Cross. For those who don't know, Edith Stein was born a Jew, had the misfortune to live in Germany, converted to Catholicism, because a Discalced Carmelite, was taken by the Nazi's from her convent, and died, I think, in Auschwitz.

Isn't that charming? So you might ask what has a saint to do with mystery novels. Don't ask, I'll just tell you.

Mystery help my sense of compassion. While that may seem contradictory, some people avoid mystery novels because the novels arouse compassion within them. Compassion is in short supply, as it always has been. There is some Irish visionary that says the world is in the worst shape it's ever been in...well, on the ecological level I would agree, but if they are referring to people being more violent than in the past, that's just a load of horse manure.

Violence is part of humanity as much as love is part of humanity. I shudder writing that, but somehow I believe it to be true. Were it not, then Zok the caveman wouldn't have picked up a tree limb and cracked open Klug's head like a melon. We think that our violence is under control, but I promise you, if someone breaks into your house and wants to hurt one of your children, you'll find out just how violent you can be without a second thought.

Mystery novels help me to reflect on the nature of violent acts; love, hate, revenge, greed, lust. Wait a minute, did I just state all the reasons we go to war? Now, Edith Stein was a brilliant woman who worked with the philosopher Husserl. The fact that she was Jewish by birth condemned her to death by a very violent regime who believed that all problems could be solved by scapegoating the Jews. My God, does it never end. Our nation scapegoats gays and lesbians, Hispanics, and God help you if you are an African American male!

Maybe I should just end this with a thought. Ahem. "Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you."

I Have Not Defected

Nope, I didn't fall off the face of the earth. The truth is much simpler: things have been just too complex to try to explain. Now, don't you feel better? No? Okay, I'll start from the beginning.

Just when I thought my sense of vocation as a religious recluse were falling into place, a priest, who is also a friend, and someone I trust, says to me, "Why aren't you in seminary? You are supposed to be a priest." I argued that I felt no calling whatsoever to the priesthood and he said, "I am issuing the call for the Holy Spirit, now think about it."

Needless to say I've thought of little else, since. The problem is, the idea of serving a parish is so unattractive to me that I'm tempted to pray against such a calling. Instead, I'm taking the approach that Gamaliel took in the book of Acts. "If this is of man, it will die out on its own. If it is of God, nothing will stop it." Yes, that's a paraphrase, but I have adopted that attitude.

To say that any number of blockages stand between me and ordination is to put it mildly; yet my friend said, "There is no wall God can't knock down." And honestly, the ferocity of his conviction is a first for me. No one has ever been so convinced about anything regarding a vocation of any sort for me. I am taken back by it.

Does theological education sound attractive? Yes. Does administering the Sacraments sound attractive? Yes. Does being the priest in a busy emergency room sound attractive? Yes. Does running a parish sound attractive? NOT IN THE LEAST. I think now you see why I'm so very hesitant to even admit the possibility of this call. Plus, I thought calls were supposed to come from within, not from without.

Or have I just been purposefully deaf? Help me by praying for discernment.

Peace to you all.

Confusion Abounds

I am always amazed at how fast and easy the ultra conservatives are ready to fight, and fight nasty, too. Why is that? Why are they so angry?

I don't care really because I have put that type of energy behind me. Christ has allowed me to not be hooked by their provocations any longer. I might feel the burn a moment, but then the reality comes through, God is in charge. Even for the most conservative and the most liberal, it is hard to come to the understanding that God is in charge. Not just some vague wish fulfillment without meaning, saying "Oh, God's in charge," but really, down deep, against all your stands, politics and even religion, to face the reality that God is in charge.

Oh, we all say it, but it's only applicable so long as things are going our way. It is much more difficult to say it when things are decidedly not going our way. When anger and defensiveness rise up in our hearts, that is when it is most important to say, and to MEAN that God is in charge.

Hooplas which must be left to God:

Gay genetically vs. Gay by choice.

Latin Mass/Revised Missal/ vs. Vatican II

Apostolic Visitation to the Female Religious Orders

The Pope honoring, and allowing to function, a Bishop already accused and confessed of molesting seminarians in Poland.

Those are matters than must be left in the hands of God. God is in charge. When people insult you -- "be angry, but do not sin." God is in charge.

Why is that so hard to understand and practice? Because we think we know best. We think we know the mind of God. We think that our special understand of the scriptures or the church or God, is the one, unique and only way to see it. Not so, and why? Because, God is in charge, and neither you, nor me, no any power on earth or in heaven knows the mind of God, except God.

First Sunday of the Month -- and a Surprise!

My regulars know that a Solemn Exposition and Adoration of the Sacrament is something I will not miss, under any circumstances, barring real illness. They are just excellent opportunities to sit with Jesus and just be with him. I enjoy the solemnity that is put into the taking out and exposing the sacrament, especially the swinging of incense, etc., but that's just the opening business. After that is all over you can go up front and sit for as long as you want.

Whenever I go there are people on their knees, or sitting facing the sacrament (Jesus hiding in the bread), with an overwhelming feeling of the awesomeness of the occasion pervading the entire room. Rosaries are often clicking, two monks kneel silently before the monstrance, some people read, others just stare silently. I tend more to the stare silently and open my mind, because if I try to pray it sounds very trite and made up, rather like most older Catholic prayerbooks with lots of pious sounding phrases that mean nothing at all.

After about half hour of that quietness then I can feel things starting to stir inside of me, and some real prayer begins. So it was today. After the praying part was done I settled back into silence, and then it hit me. We are all soooo very solemn about all this, the taking out of the sacrament, and the putting it back, as we should be, but for Jesus, it's a time for merriment!

Before you close the browser in disgust hear me out: how do you feel when someone goes out of their way to visit you? Are you not happy? I run to the store and buy food and beer, anything to show the visitor who went out of their way how much I welcome and appreciate them. So why should it be any different for Jesus? He was taken up into heaven in his human body, that is integral to the Christian faith, so that human part of him remembers what it's like to have a visit from friends.

I couldn't help but smile, because here we all were being oh so serious, and Jesus was enjoying it like a cookout or something. I am not trying to denigrate the seriousness of an Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, but I am trying to say that if it is to be more than an encounter with a monstrance with a piece of round host in it, then we must expect Jesus Christ to be present. If so, then what and where does it say that he was dour? Should we treat it as special? Oh yes. Should we treat is like it was an atom bomb? In no way.

Jesus is HAPPY and MERRY when we come to visit him in the adoration. We're the dour and serious ones. Did he not make jokes in his life that are recorded in the NT? After all, it's not what you put in your mouth it's what comes out the other end, if that isn't a joke what is? So the next time you are sitting all dour and serious before the Body of Christ in solemn exposition, remember it's not some ass-kicking, sin-counting king, but our loving savior who ate, drank, and yes, made merry!

Sadness and Joy

One of the features of attending daily Mass at Nazareth for the past two years has been Sister Angela Wethington. She sings in the choir, and sits almost directly opposite from where I sit. Every time she sees me, Sr. Angela waves, and gives a big smile. Even at the afternoon Rosaries she would come in and wave and smile. One time she asked, "What's your story?" So, I told her that I was a convert to Catholicism, and living life as a religious recluse. She liked that. "I approve of that, we need more of you."

Another time she stopped me and asked, "Were you an Anglican or a Baptist?" I said an Anglican, and she said, "I knew it, and I won the bet." I asked her how she knew it and she said "You cross yourself in the Sanctus at the words blessed is he who comes. Only Anglicans do that anymore."

About three weeks ago Sr. Angela, who is 88, fell in their dining room and broke most of the bone around her left eye, and her arm. It took some doing on my part to find out where she was, but eventually I did, and was told she was sitting up in the balcony now, and would likely never return to choir. I was sad, but glad she was okay.

Today I asked about her condition only to find out she was in the hospital. So I drove myself immediately to see her. It nearly broke my heart to see her eye which is not totally healed, and has extensive bruising. The doctors are trying to get her heart rate to slow down some. All she wants is to go back to Nazareth because "these beds are terrible."

During the visit she did not complain once, nor bemoan her being in the hospital, or show one ounce of self pity. I will end this entry by recording an important part of our conversation.

I walked into the room.

"How did you find me?"

"I asked where you were."

"Why have you tracked me down?"

"You were always so kind to me."

"I was? How?"

"You smiled at me, talked to me, asked me about myself, and waved every time you saw me."

"I did? Well, you were nice yourself. Will you pray for me?"

"I will sister, I already do."

Degenerate, as in Discs

I'm sure you were all hoping I was going to admit to being a degenerate. Sorry to disappoint, but not today. What is degenerating are my discs in the lumber, and cervical regions of my spine. The thoracic could be up to anything, but so far it hasn't hobbled me. All of the degeneration is accompanied by a lovely form of arthritis which I most likely inherited. My paternal grandfather did end his life in a wheelchair.

Thankfully, today is 2009, and not 1957. In a way I feel a sense of relief because I no longer have to wonder why is it I can't stand, sit, lay, walk, or roll over without misery. And before anyone says, "it's because you're so fat," I asked the doctor and he said this was going to happen no matter your weight, but fat doesn't help matters.

A surprising outcome is I've learned that spiritual events coincide with physical events. It's very difficult to explain, but my inner self has shifted in relation to God, in a good way, but a definite shift. This came about as I was reconciling myself, before the tests, to any possible outcome. In some way it has made my prayer life feel more real than ever before.

As I said it can't be explained in words. I just wanted to get an entry here so you, my faithful few (note the clever allusion to Shakespeare) would not think I had forgotten that it was up to me to update this blog from time to time. So, pray for me, as I pray for you. And more updates to come. There might even be a series on some saints, if you are good boys and girls. haha!