Exaltation of the Holy Cross

Psalm 57:1

Have mercy on me, God have mercy, for in you my soul has taken refuge. 

In the shadow of your wings I take refuge till the storms of destruction pass by.

What do you seek when you dream of happiness?

This is a repost from October 2007, something always fitting for Friday, for throughout the year, on every Friday, we especially recall the Passion of Our Lord.



It is Jesus in fact that you seek when you dream of happiness, he is waiting for you when nothing else you find satisfies you; he is the beauty to which you are so attracted; it is he who provokes you with that thirst for fullness that will not let you settle for compromise; it is he who urges you to shed the masks of a false life; it is he who reads in your hearts your most genuine choices, the choices that others try to stifle.

It is Jesus who stirs in you the desire to do something great with your lives, the will to follow an ideal, the refusal to allow yourselves to be grounded down by mediocrity, the courage to commit yourselves humbly and patiently to improving yourselves and society, making the world more human and more fraternal.

~ John Paul II, World Youth Day, 2000 (Rome)

I have said before that I realized my life makes no sense apart from the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ; as time goes on, this realization is coming to be ever more meaningful. When I look at a crucifix and see the sacrifice of my Savior, it is clear that there is nothing more important than that, anywhere. If I never read another word, if I never sleep another night, if I never see another day, it doesn't matter; because Jesus' death on the cross reveals everything. That very moment in time is the meaning of life and the answer to death. All I have to do, for the rest of my life, is to look upon that cross...and become so enamored and unified that I become a living reflection, and let no other worldly concern pull me away from that goal of the perfection of charity. To love as God loves, that completely self-giving and wholly-self-sacrificing love.

God has willed us into being, out of his perfect love, and he holds us in existance. His grace is everything yet he requires but one thing from us: our willingness to cooperate with His plan for our lives. God calls us, each and every one, by our names, quietly guiding us, revealing his plan step by step. Each moment, we have a choice; accept or reject God's plan? Every moment of every day, we live out our choices and consequences of those choices, and each one either leads us toward the cross and self-sacrificing love, or causes us to flee into the selfishness of our own desires. There is always an option; do we act out of love? Or do we flee from the shadow of the cross?

Ultimately we must make that choice; are we willing to be crucified alongside our Lord, our happiness aligned with the deepest gift of self in accordance with God's own plan for us? Are we willing to offer ourselves to God every moment of every day?

Our own greatness resides in our humble acquiescence to walk in accordance with God's holy designs upon our lives. We are called to be holy; we are created for love, and we are formed to love as God loves.

When we look upon the cross, we should understand that this suffering is in fact the perfection of charity to which we should all aspire. And there is no greater glory to offer to God than to abandon ourselves and our entire lives into His loving hands.

*

Embrace

It's been a long rough road, and the burden has been anything but light.

A year ago I had a "revelation" that I might be called to be a Passionist Nun. I went to my spiritual director, wrote to the Passionists in Kentucky for info. They responded via email, I responded in turn, then heard nothing more.Several weeks passed, and at the time I was having some technical problems with my email, so I re-sent my response and apologized if duplicate, explaining the email situation.Still nothing.

I realized it was a slammed door, and that slammed door was a bit devastating to me.Things worked out, though, and I went on other visits to other communities who invited me to visit even without my request.It was a good experience, if a hard one, and I returned home with much to ponder.

Then last fall, I entered a pretty deep "depression", so conflicted within myself, so confused as to what God was asking, certain He was calling me to religious life...but I didn't want to go. It was horrible; I wasn't certain of anything, but all I knew was that I was rejecting God, and I didn't know why. I was bitter, I was angry (bitter and angry are my default settings, as it seems), and couldn't seem to climb out of the pit from Hell I'd fallen into.

Slowly, though, the clouds cleared, I came back out by God's grace and went back into "I want to do God's will no matter how much I think it sucks" mode, which, in that case meant remaining single...or religious life. Whatever. Two sides of the same awful coin.  (And yes, I saw all my options as awful. I still do.)

Over Christmas break when I finally had time to read and pray for"fun", the contemplative life again tugged at my heart and soul. I couldn't ignore it. I've since written to a couple contemplative communities, one of them being the Passionists in St. Louis Missouri.

To my surprise, I received a wonderful, welcoming and joyful letter in return. Enthused by their response I wrote my own long letter...and couldn't seem to actually send it. I went back and edited, printed it, stuff  it in an envelope, addressed it...and it still sits on my kitchen table. Two months later.

I feel rude. Very rude. But...I can't pop a stamp on that thing and send it. I CAN'T.

Their reaction was so blessedly different than the canned response I got from Kentucky followed by a non-response, and here I am, NOW the one giving the non-response.

Eventually I need to respond and explain my delay, and I know they will understand. After all, they're in the business of discernment and don't want anyone there who doesn't belong there. And really...I don't belong there.

Today I was at a morning retreat and spent an hour praying a Passionist devotion; a Chaplet of the Wounds of Christ. Over and over again. It was in that repetition that I came to realize that, well...God wants me to embrace the Cross, but not in that particular way. It's time to close the door on my end and make it stop swinging this time.  I'm letting go of this particular idea. I am not called to be a Passionist Nun, so that particular romance is over.  That does not mean I don't love meditating on the Passion and the Cross. It means only that I am not called to reside in that terrible and joyful shadow.

Wounded Bride

In June, God willing, I'll be awarded my Master's degree, finally, if I can actually make it through or over this brutal wall of the last few months. As it is, every time I open one of my books I go cross-eyed and my brain goes into some kind of a coma. I am assured this is normal for last-semester graduate students at any level and in any degree field.

Still, the closer we get to our end date, the more I ponder why I am receiving this degree. I don't know what it's for. I don't know how I'm going to pay the loans, especially given that no one will hire me but the Church...and the Church isn't interested in paying my graduate school, or my undergrad loans, for that matter. In fact, the Church isn't interested in paying my mortgage or my electric bill or anything else.

So why have I spent three years elevating my debt?  Why? It sure doesn't help me enter religious life if that's what I'm called to.  I laugh to think of all the times people have queried either to me or to others, or just randomly about the idea in general, "Is this just an escape from real life?"

HA!

I've never seen religious life as an "escape" as much as the secularists love to offer that idea. Having explored religious life, it is ANYTHING but an "escape"!  Rather, it is life lived with far more intensity and  purity than anyone can find in the so-called "real world."

Even as I sense an attraction to the contemplative life, I am surrounded by the open wounds of the Mystical Body of Christ, and I find myself doing "damage control" here and there. I recall my training as an EMT and remember the chapter on Triage. Some days, I think that's all I'm doing.

Being Catholic is like an eternal September 11 (which as you may recall, I remember quite poignantly due to my Job at the time.)  Or maybe it's like being an army medic on the battlefield of a war with no end, in every time in history, all at once. The only thing the Faithful can do is to respond to the horrific wounds resulting to people who are victims of society and culture, even as so-called "friendly fire" continues to shell the city, and buildings continue to fall, and looters continue to take what isn't theirs until a building finally lands on them...and we are called to address their crushed limbs as well.

A friend of mine (CK) once advanced the question of how we would react if the wounds of the souls around us were visible as physical wounds; how would that change our reaction to them?

I go a step further...how would that change our understanding of the intent of Vatican II?

It's the difference between putting leeches on a man who is in hypovolemic shock and bleeding out (hello United Nations One World Government) or offering our own veins to be sapped of our blood to give to the wounded through IV's and personal treatment according to need...and Salvation.  And bringing them home to care for them ourselves. Bringing them into OUR Family...the Church.

There isn't anything in between.

Missionary

The Church is nothing if she does not live up to our Mission to the world.  This is the responsibility of all of us.

So often, this Missionary focus of Vatican II is interpreted solely as a response to physical need, but in our culture, in our politics, in our health care, the real need isn't physical; it's spiritual.

America isn't imploding and falling apart at the seams because of poverty; we are imploding because of a spiritual need that is not being fulfilled.

We have to remember that the works of mercy are both physical and spiritual, and right now, we have an overabundance of people wreaking havoc trying address physical needs of the world while they themselves are impoverished in their own spiritual deprivation.  Even as they seek to help the poor, they are limited and they are failing because they cannot give what they do not have:  spiritual health.

While praying today, I begged God to tell me what He wants me to do. Why am I getting this degree? To go into a cloister?

As I read the letter from the Passionists again, one of the things that unsettled me the most, I think, was Sister's comment about my education; great fruit for contemplation, but maybe a source of frustration for those who do not actually care about theological education.

I can't see God educating me to send me to a dead end where it will not be used (as dear Sister seemed to hint;  they aren't interested in theological studies in that particular monastery.) God MUST want this degree to go to some use, to build up His kingdom. Otherwise I'm nothing more than a welfare kid holding an expensive piece of paper with no actual value to anyone but me...and if it's just for me, it's of no value whatsoever.

We never really possess anything, and nothing has any value if it is not shared with another.
We can't give what we don't have, and we don't have anything until we can give it away.

I no longer have any passion at all. Not for religious life, not for anything.

I am at an impasse; I know I am called to respond to the spiritual deprivation in our society. I know that the best and most noble response is the contemplative life. I know I am not called to the physical missionary fields, yet, I am missionary for as a Catholic my mission is to all who are lost...and the lost are EVERYWHERE. Not thousands of miles away.

More and more, I think that maybe I am called to visit another monastery, but only so it can be put aside; I think God calls me to maintain a presence in the world, using what I've learned in practical ways, for there is a lot to be done, and few hands willing to do it.

I stand this Lent, at the foot of the Cross, in my arrogance telling Jesus what I will and what I will not do and He bears me in patience while He bleeds and gasps for air.

Yet my own hands still hold rocks and sand and gravel as I say to Jesus, "I can't do any more than this. I have to hold on to this stuff."

Then Jesus Crucified opens His own hands with great effort, in excruciating pain, struggling against the muscle spasms, and tells me, "If I can do this...you can drop what you hold...and embrace the same cross and the same nails I release right now."

No....I don't have any passion for anything at all.  Instead, Jesus has brought me into His own....and He will direct the outcome.

Thank you, Jesus.

Jesus, Take Me With You!

A few months ago, while praying during Mass, as I gazed upon the crucifix after Communion, I found myself asking Jesus to take me with Him.  This is a variation of an old prayer from a few years ago, one of those things that spontaneously comes upon us, and we pray it even if we really don't understand what we are really asking in that moment.

This morning while meditating on the mysteries of the rosary, I suddenly understood, at least to some degree, of what I was asking that day, and as I continued to pray, it all began to make sense.  As always, God's timing is impeccable.

Jesus answered my prayer long before I ever prayed it.

When Jesus went down into the Jordan river, He took on His mission, giving his formal fiat, taking us and the sins of the whole world upon His shoulders. His baptism is symbolic of his acceptance of death, through which we must all descend, and his rising from the waters points to the resurrection.  As He took us with Him into the river, so, too must we die so that we can rise again with Jesus in the resurrection. 

That means that when Jesus went into the Jordan to be Baptized....He took me with Him.

When Jesus preached His Sermon on the Mount, He was speaking directly to me and telling me not to live only according to the minimum requirements, but to go deeper, sacrifice more, and become more and more human. 

When Jesus healed the lepers, restored the sight of the blind man, and exorcised demons, he tooke me with him in tow to show me that it's not actually about physical healing, but spiritual, and that's what He REALLY wants to offer. And so I went with Him into the Confessional so that I, too, could become a sign to the world of His mercy and forgiveness. 

When Jesus broke bread and gave thanks, when He washed the feet of the Apostles, He brought me with Him there, too, to reveal the beginning of the Mass and the origins of the ordained Priesthood, so that not only would I recognize the fulfillment of the Covenant when he died on the Cross the next day, but I would recognize God's own authority in His ministers, and the ongoing presence of Christ in the Mass and in all the Sacraments, especially the Holy Eucharist.

When Jesus prayed and wept in the Garden of Gethsemane, He took me with Him for He was not just weeping over my sin and those of the whole world, but He was fully entering into and taking on our own suffering so that He could weep WITH us and not just FOR us. 

When Jesus went before Pilate, He took me with him so that I, too, could choose to either wash my hands and walk away, or instead, become docile to His love and become the Cross that He carried for my salvation.

When Jesus was scourged at the pillar, He took me with him so that I would know the selflessness of love and the sacrifice that restores true dignity.

When Jesus was crowned with thorns, He took me with Him so that in his degradation, I would be brought to my knees, desiring to offer mercy to Mercy Himself, reaching out to remove the thorns He wore to fulfill the punishment for sin, only to find them piercing my own hands, drawing my own blood, helping me to enter into the suffering of my Savior.

When Jesus walked the road to Calvary, He took me with Him upon His own back, and only fell because I did and the weight of my sin was so heavy he condescended to fall even lower than I so that I would not be lost forever. 

When Jesus was nailed to the Cross, He took me with Him so that I would recognize the impact of sin not just on myself, but upon the world, for which He was willingly being sent to His innocent death.

When Jesus was lifted up on the Cross, He brought me with Him for He drew me into His embrace and gave me rest under the shadow of His wings, where I begged to remain, for I recognized the Cross as my only defense.

Yes, Jesus HAS taken me with Him, every bloody, painful, wretched, agonizing step of the way.  In spite of my obstinance, in spite of my rebellion, in spite of my willful disobedience.  He has taken me with Him and has not let me out of His sight, even when I tried to hide from Him. 

The price He paid for my redemption was so great that He would not, could not, let me go.  He chose instead to suffer in patience, knowing that my hardened and fickle heart could be softened, that His love could overcome my rebellion, and that one day, I might still have a chance to return to Him with all my heart, all my soul, and give Him my whole life.

He asks for nothing less. And I ask for nothing more.
*

Take me with you, Jesus.  Always.

Amen.

Living the Paradox of the Cross

We can't get away from it. Even people who profess to be Catholic deny the glory of the Cross in favor of the gospel of "positive thinking".

There are some who still cannot, or simply refuse, to accept the paradox of folly and glory that belongs to our Redemption through the Cross of Christ.

Today at work, a co-worker popped into our office to indulge, as he always does, in a salty snack we keep in a cookie jar for visitors such as himself.  I was headed down the hallway at the same time as he, and commented that I can't have those fun snacks anymore. I wasn't lamenting, but rather recognizing the joy in choosing something greater than a pleasure of the flesh. (And believe me, I LOVE those salty snacks, which is why I'm giving them up for lent, and yes, it IS already a struggle!).  I thought nothing of my comments for, we are all Catholics and we are all quite familiar and often joke about our chosen lenten penances.

Apparently I was wrong to be so comfortable, for condemnation came quickly. 

The co-worker surprised me.  He accused me (yes, that's the right word), ACCUSED me of "taking a negative attitude."  I disagreed and explained that deprivation is a very important part of the theology of Lent. He insisted that it was "negative" and asked why I don't take up another practice (and here he surprised me) such as praying the Rosary every day, making it "positive"?

I explained that first of all, I ALREADY pray the Rosary every day, and secondly, that depriving ourselves of something is positive, for it enables a place for Christ to enter into our own deprivation and fulfill it in a new way.

And he walked away saying that he deprives himself of leisure time by praying the Rosary...yet somehow didn't seem to understand that my deprivation of salty foods is the same thing.  While he condemned my choice of phrase and focus, that of deprivation, he eventually admitted to doing the same thing in another way!

I understand that he's trying to be "positive" as a lot of modern "Catholic" theology exhorts one to be, and yes, I agree with the need to be positive, but with a caveat:  we can't forget the price of our ability to be positive!

Why do we deprive ourselves for Lent?

This gets to the heart of Lent, and the heart of misunderstanding that is often perpetuated during this very holy season.  While I agree it is important to maintain a joyful focus, we cannot forget the price in blood that paid for our salvation, and I advance that it is IMPORTANT to recall the suffering and death of our Lord, to enter into it as fully as possible so that we can more fully live out His life here on earth!

There are many ways to explain why we choose to give up something during Lent, so perhaps it's best to point out the historicity of the season as a starting point.

We begin Lent with a Gospel reading from Luke 4: 1-13, about the baptism of Jesus and His venture into the desert/wilderness to face temptation.  We enter this Gospel having already begun this season, having already taken stock of our own need to join Our Lord in this time of prayer and penance and sacrifice in preparation for what God has to offer us in 40 days.

During Lent, we are invited into the same deprivation faced by Jesus. Because we can't all flee our lives and populate the desert as hermits, we are instead called to fast, pray, and give alms.  In our fasting, we must fast from some legitimate good that is in our lives (or if it has become sinful, we are called to recognize that and seek to eradicate it). We are called to allow that deprivation to create a "hollow" place within us where Our Lord can enter the rot of our souls and purify it, becoming united to us through out weaknesses.  We are called to in turn, take that deprivation and turn it into a benefit for someone else, through time, through money saved, or through our own God-given abilities, to benefit and build the Kingdom of God.

If we truly love God, we will fruitfully love others and enable the ongoing live of the Church and the spread of Christianity.  None of this can be done without giving fully of ourselves in true charity, which at its heart requires us to be deprived of our worldly attachments in some way.

To say we are "giving something up" may seem in the parlance of the "Positive Thinker" cult to be "negative", but in reality, it is only a way to make room for something far greater!

Lent helps us to get rid of the clutter that serves only as a barrier to Christ in order to let Him in to order our lives more perfectly. It helps us, each year, to come closer and closer to Him, purifying ourselves to better receive Him, to conform to Him...and to better take Him into the world that so desperately needs Jesus and the message of the Gospel!

Oh, the Folly!

In my co-worker today, in our brief conversation, I recognized a ghost of the heresy of the early days that denied the triumph of the Cross, that sought to turn Jesus into a mere apparition, the Cross into a Broadway play even before Broadway was known.  In some of the early heresies, Christ was made into anything other than what He really was, for when we look upon the reality of God become Man, the God we killed and abandoned upon the Gibbet, the blood-stained Gibbet that both condemns and elevates us, well....it's not an easy reality.  It's much easier to deny Truth than to approach and embrace it.

It's much easier to seek any explanation OTHER than the real one, especially if the reality is folly to the comfortable beliefs of the majority of the world around us that refuses to believe.

And there, again, is the folly and the Glory of the Cross. 

We enter into Lent to become abandoned ourselves in the face of the world that ridicules our ashes, our practices, and our deprivations, exhorting us to "be positive!" even as we seek to enter into and become united not just with the shadow, but with the reality of the Cross itself!  We seek to abandon ourselves to God in a world that seeks to control us by demanding we "take control!" only in accordance with their arbitrary preferences.  We seek abandonment in a world that becomes more and more totalitarian, and less and less tolerant to any religion that professes the Cross of Christ.

We should not expect the world to understand, but rather to offer our sufferings and encounters for the salvation of souls...including our own.  When we are harshly judged, we must recall those times that we have harshly judged others, and seek absolution for ourselves while we in turn remember that we must live heroic forgiveness.

That's what I said:  Heroic Forgiveness.

What I find hardest to bear in this season isn't the denial and the ridicule of secularists and non-Catholics, but the outright denial and in-your-face hostility of those who claim the Catholic Faith.  I expect hostility from the world, and solidarity in my closest brothers and sisters.  Rather, I tend to experience the opposite, for the Catholic world has been so infected with the heresies of the ages that those who seek to embrace the Cross are denounced, called out as "antiquated" and directed to let go of "irrelevance".

I do not want to live in a world where the Cross is irrelevant. I do not want to embrace a world that denies the necessity of salvation while claiming the more attractive trappings for the purpose of personal self-seeking comfort.

And yet..it is just such a world that we are all called to embrace, for it is the same world into which God was born and redeemed through His Cross and Resurrection.

As I recall, Our Lord did not suffer mere comfort in serving to pay the Divine Justice through His Mercy for the sake of our eternal Redemption.

As I recall, the deprivations of Christ far surpassed any deprivations we might suffer as mere humans.

As I recall, there was nothing "fun" or "entertaining" but for the most bloodthirsty and evil in the Passion and Crucifixion of Our Lord.

As I recall, Jesus began the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass at the Last Supper where He instituted the Priesthood in the formal Ordination of the Apostles, and offered the first Homily in union with His Eternal Sacrifice as He died on the Cross.

In light of the holiness and solemnity of the Passion of Christ, the price paid for our Redemption, I don't see how my giving up salty foods or a few other things can be seen as a "negative" approach to Lent. Rather, I see it as being quite insufficient and am quite embarrassed at my own meager offering. What I give up, I give up with a sense of deprivation, but also in joy at the freedom to do so, looking towards the Joy of the Resurrection, for I do not see these present sufferings as anything other than the grace of God which allows me to participate more deeply into to the most important moment of human history.

If that is folly, then condemn me for my folly, for I'd rather be a Fool in the eyes of the world than Irrelevant in the eyes of God. Give me my deprivations, for they are greater gifts than the emptiness of the false happiness of the world.  And give me this ungrateful and hostile world to embrace, for if that is what Christ did...so must we all who profess to follow Him.

Please, Lord, give us the grace to LIVE the Paradox of the Cross! 

Thank You, Jesus

Entitled

I went to a Catholic College where, as at any college or university, there was a mix of students from several states, regions, and economic statuses.  As I recall, several of us used to comment on the sometimes shocking behavior or attitudes of those students that came from the wealthier suburbs of Chicago or other cities. We often snarked that they were always being bailed out by "Mommy and Daddy", and so never held to account for anything.

Truly there were some students who seemed to have no sense of the real world, so sheltered had they been by their parents' wealth.  One famous example from my class year came from a sociology class. A somewhat heated debate was raging with regard to male and female roles in the home, and there were passions on all sides. Finally one particular girl raised her hand and when given the opportunity, stated in honest astonishment, "I don't understand what the problem is! Why don't they just have the maid do it?"

The entire class fell silent in stunned disbelief. Was she SERIOUS?

Indeed, she was.  I do believe she learned a great deal during college and while completing her required internships, etc., about the plight of the everyday life of men and women everywhere, and that most people don't have maids. Anywhere.

I am ashamed to say, however, that even as I laugh at the incident now and even somewhat nostagically recall discussions with my friends on the "spoiled brats" at my college and everywhere...well, my house is made of glass, too.

Maybe it finally shattered today. At the very least, it cracked all over and will have to be replaced.

Sure, I grew up poor and "maid" was the word Mom used when establishing her role as Mother and not servant of we messy children. And sure, I had to work my butt off to pay for college (a debt that STILL has about $5,000 left to be paid off, but let's not discuss the grad school loans that will come due in 6 months on top of that...), but even so, I have just as big a sense of entitlement as those students did.

Oh, yes, my sense of entitlement is HUGE. I don't know where it came from, but have to admit it was in place even when I went to college.  I got financial aid and loans because I EXPECTED it and decided I DESERVED it. I decided I DESERVED to go to college, then DESERVED to get a good job with my degree...and on down the line.  Losing my "dream job" early on, the one I worked so hard for, was actually as devastating as it was because of my overdeveloped sense of entitlement.

The Human Plague of Hidden Hubris

If we all truly look at ourselves, we will recognize this same hubris. Maybe the rich kids in school had their entitlement influenced by their family's money or importance or other factor. But we poor kids, well, our likewise overdeveloped sense of entitlement (and the obvious superiority I described above) arose from knowing there was money for us because of our poverty, and the mistaken sense that we were "better" because we'd learned "values" and a "work ethic" from our working-class/ impoverished families.

Just last night, and a little today, some co-workers and I were speaking of this sense of entitlement we all have, how our pride gets in the way of all the different things we think we need to control. Not just out of a proper perspective of turning out a good product, doing good work, etc., but how the outcome reflects upon US in the eyes of OTHERS.

It's very easy to fall into the trap of doing some kind of good work or advancing some kind of program not for the good of the parish or the city or the school or other group, but out of a sense of misguided Pride in ourselves.  Although we may start out with the proper intent and ends in mind, it is very easy to lose focus and continually die to ourselves.  What may have started out as a meritorious thing can quickly descend into an occasion for Pride, in which we are seeking our own glory, instead of God's.

All of us seem to think we're actually entitled to a good reputation, respect and esteem of others! 

The last time I checked, though, holiness has NOTHING to do with how we appear in the eyes of others or what they think of us.  It has nothing to do with whether we have college degrees or a big house or even whether we live in an abandoned van down by the river with seven homeless cats and a wounded bird.

Perhaps one of the first things we need to really evaluate in ourselves is our sense of entitlement, and how ingrained it is in everything we think, how we live, what we do...in every moment.  Why do we get impatient when sitting in traffic?  Entitlement. Why do we get impatient when waiting for someone to call us back?  Entitlement. Why do we become put out when someone stops by our office without an appointment when the time might be inconvenient to us?  Entitlement.  Why do we become upset when someone else wants to use the computer or the phone or the TV?   Entitlement.

The Truth is this:  we have a lot more importance in our own eyes than we do in another person's estimation of us as they evaluate priorities in the circumstances of their own lives.  The unfortunate reality of human nature is that we ALL suffer from this plague of entitlement, and we feel put-out or put-upon when someone else's own sense of entitlement happens to collide with ours, literally or figuratively.  In our own tendency to be wrapped up in our own affairs and hubris, we actually forget the virtues of justice, mercy, and humility, all bound together by charity...which reminds us that true holiness is deferring to others and remembering we are called to serve, not to BE served.

NECESSARY ASIDE: 

Fr. S. at Clerical Reform has an INCREDIBLE post on this particular facet of Pride today.  Go read it!  I have to admit I  found his post to be timely given my ponderings and realizations of the last few days, am grateful for his commentary, and would love to sit down with a cup of coffee and discuss the theological implications of this very large topic with him.  Ah, the limitations of the internet:  often human interaction is limited. But then again, who ever said we were even entitled to the internet?  More on this in a moment....

Pride in Discernment 

As I wrote this post, another point hit me pretty hard, and because I know I am not alone in facing the difficulty of vocational discernment, I have decided to bring it up as well.

I've written before of the GIFT of Vocation, that it is something unmerited, and it's something I often forget to consider as I continually seek God's will for me.  I often complain about how hard it is, how exhausting, and how much I wish I could just put it aside and just "move on" with my life.  Never mind the fact that I can't "move on" if I don't know where I'm going!

Thus, in my prayers and thoughts this afternoon, I queried, "Why do some of us struggle so much with discovering our Vocation?"

The Answer:   Entitlement.

Ouch. Oh....ouch. Ow. Bleeding profusely now, and deservedly so.

When, exactly, did I get a sense of entitlement about such a great gift as a Vocation?  And when did I lose sight of the fact that the very SEARCH for it is a HUGE grace from God?

I've been realizing, more and more, how BIG my sense of entitlement is, and it's a painful process to evaluate everything in my life, taking a look in that mirror of my own estimation in my eyes, and recognizing I've been staring at my image in a distorted circus mirror for a very long time. 

The Remedy

Everything is Grace. Everything is a personal Gift from God.

There's nothing new here, nothing I haven't seen or read or heard, and it's nothing new to you, either. 

Maybe the problem is that even though it's not new, I've become so fascinated with the circus mirror that I  never put it aside long enough to actually embrace the reality of my own lack of importance in the face of God. Now that my perspective (again, by Grace) has been changed a little, now I can internalize, maybe, the Truth.

Yes, Jesus died for me, and my struggle with accepting that comes from the same pride that makes me depend too much on myself for everything. It's that sense of entitlement, that, at its core, is whispering, "You don't NEED a Savior...you're ENTITLED to one!"

Oh, it's painful to realize this, but necessary.

If we don't put this terrible, soul-killing, disordered sense of entitlement aside, we can't ever learn to depend on God. The loving God who knows our pride and our lack of humility, but STILL chose to die on the Cross especially in the face of our hostile lack of gratitude.

I'm going to continue pondering this, for as long as it takes. It will take YEARS to root out all the tendrils of entitlement that have taken over my life, but I'd rather spend the time NOW than have it burned away from me in the purifying fires of Purgatory. Which, by the way, is yet another Mercy of God's Justice that I don't deserve and to which I am not entitled.

Everything is a gift. Every moment. Every "inconvenience", every blessing.

Thank you, Jesus.  

Amen. 

Pondering the Wound of Charity

For a couple weeks now I've been thinking about love, and by that term, I mean Charity. This comes partially from my Moral Theology class regarding the Theological Virtue of Charity, and partially from my own musings over time on the Passion of Our Lord.

It should go without saying that when I look upon the Crucifix, I see love in its most pure form. There, in that moment, is contained....EVERYTHING. Even I, in my utter insignificance and desolation am caught up and drawn in to those Holy Wounds, becoming even less so that He can be revealed as more.

While attending a talk, some of the words of the priest who was speaking struck me and caused my "contemplative" side to make a connection. Nothing new or interesting, but only one of those little arrows from God that we all experience from time to time, when a teaching is suddenly internalized.

REAL Charity Wounds

I considered how real Charity creates a wound, a blessed wound that continually bleeds in such a way that it can't be staunched. This is not a "mushy" love, but rather, a type of pain not held inward, but expressed outwardly, like the very gush of arterial blood. It can't be contained. Yet the more it gushes, instead of causing mortal death, it rather is the very expression of the font of life.

Every so often I feel that blessed wound, and know that it has changed me. At times the bleeding is only a trickle. At times I staunch the wound myself with my sin, cutting myself off, refusing to serve the Lord. I let the blood flow clot, I wrap it up and I turn away.

It is only through the Sacrament of Confession that I bring that bandage in to be removed, for through God's grace, He reminds me of His own deep love for me, prompting me to realize that I cannot stop this flow and SHOULD not, for by bleeding, my own blood is united with that of Jesus.

I go to Confession and reveal this encrusted, infected bandage, this terrible blockage, this monstrous clot to the priest, who removes it gently and tells me how to let this blood of Charity flow more perfectly, how to, through this wonderful wound, unite myself to the eternal Word who waits only for me to stop placing obstacles in His way.

For when my blood, in this sense, flows, it is truly His, not mine. This wound that in life would be mortal death, in the Spirit, belongs to the mystical nature of our supernatural relationship with our Beloved Savior.

As He suffered and died, so are we all called to do, according to His Most Holy and Divine Will. Not on the natural plane, but the supernatural.

Purity of Love

I have been pondering my own dedication to Jesus, the purity of my love for Him. I have such a devotion to His Passion, and prefer to look upon the bloodiest of crucifixes to remind myself of the blood He shed...for me. I have a hard time accepting that very personal sacrifice, that it was done for ME.

In all honesty, I have a hard time considering that ANYONE would die for me, for I don't think I am worth such a sacrifice. I get caught up in looking at my nothingness, my sins of omission, my lack of importance in the world. Why would ANYONE think my life would be worth THAT sacrifice??? What a waste!

I find it hard to believe anyone would find ME worth dying for. If they were pondering it, I'd stop them and put my own head into the noose, or point the deadly scimitar to my own heart.

In my Pride, I wouldn't let anyone die for me so personally, for if I ever met someone so magnanimous, I would want them to live for they could contribute so much more to the world than me. Someone so brave is worth far more than me. It is I who should go...not them. In fact, I've experienced this, in part...a story for another post.

In any case, I didn't have a choice in the Sacrifice of Christ, did I? So I realize in that thought process that I think as Man thinks, not as God thinks. The God who called me out of eternity, through love and into being, continues to hold me in existence, and in fact, DIED for me on the Cross! In spite of who I am and who I am not.

The more I ponder the Cross, the more I love God, the more I understand the necessity of sacrifice, the more I expect the "curse" of suffering. For in order to be conformed to Christ, we have to suffer and become the Accursed ourselves.

Why Do I Love?

My own Love, my own Charity is imperfect.

The other night, while praying Compline before bed, I gazed upon the Crucifix and upon my picture of Jesus in His Agony. His love for US isn't in question. His very personal love for ME isn't put to the test; it has been clearly defined.

Rather, I considered the hierarchical nature of creation, of the Church, of love itself, and how God's own love begets love. We return to Him what He gives us, and the more we return, the more we grow. The more we allow to flow through us, the more we are given. The font of charity never decreases, but only becomes greater, even if it were to flood the world, it would not be enough.

I looked upon Our Lord and wondered: Do I love Him ONLY because of what He did for me? Is my love for Jesus dependent upon His Sacrifice on my behalf? If so, then it means I only love Him for what He has done for me. It means that my litmus test for God is, "What have you done for me lately"?

Do I love Jesus ONLY for what He did for my Benefit?

Can that be accurate? If so....how SELFISH!

I had to seriously consider that. Am I in love with Jesus just because He is the ONLY one who would ever die for me?

If so...my love is conditional. My love is based ONLY upon something that He DID...not who He IS.

That ISN'T love. Love isn't selfish.

I had to ask myself: if Jesus had NOT died upon the Cross for me, would I still love God? Or would I be selfishly looking for benefits of knowing Him?

Where is my focus? Am I just "receiving" or am I willing to GIVE?

Am I bleeding freely in union with Christ...or am I placing a barrier between my own personal sacrifice and anyone who might benefit from my immolation?

When I look back at the Prophets, at the great Women of Israel; they operated on Faith. They loved God not for what He DID for them, but for Who He IS. Even the Prophets, BEFORE they knew God, loved Him. Before they were privy to the Divine Processions...loved God in a particular purity of heart and intention. They knew the Mystery and loved because they recognized God was worthy of their Love...even before the Sacrifice.

The recognized God, they loved Him, and they poured their ENTIRE BEING out for Him on behalf of their people. It was THEIR sacrifice that preceeded HIS. It was THEIR Sacrifice that was proleptic of HIS and in fact, it was HIS Sacrifice that made theirs both meaningful and possible.

It was their FAITH expressed through WORKS that called down God's Justice. They raised their souls to Him and let their blood flow in a fountain we recognize even today. They sacrificed themselves in divine Charity, Hoping in what they could not see, having Faith in what they did not experience.

That wound of charity, that wound that comes only through the love of Christ Himself, binds mystically as it flows.

It is no wonder this doesn't make sense to the natural world, for it seems oppositional. Yet it is, as we read in the Gospels, that we lose what we try to gain and gain what we are willing to lose.

I realize that I do not love Jesus as I ought. I recognize that my love for Him is conditional, for my blood does not flow freely. I keep bandages on hand so I can stop the arterial rush when it becomes too much for me. I reserve that flow for my own desires, rather than trusting in God. In my imperfection, as that blood overflows, I don't recognize it as grace, but as my life leaving my control and so I grasp even at impure wrappings to slow it all down.

I do not love God as I ought. I have been deeply wounded by the Charity of Our Lord, but instead of letting the blood flow from me as it did from His wounds and His side, I bind it up in fear and trepidation.

Oh, that Jesus would rip those bandages away and force me to hold my hands outward so that His love could overflow!

Why, oh WHY can I not TRUST in His Divine Salvation?

Why, oh Why do I try to staunch the wound given to me through His Love?

Why, oh Why, can I not love as I ought, and why do I attach conditions upon what I am willing to give in spite of what has been so freely given?

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner!

Embraced by the Word

This evening I found myself at the Cathedral, not initially intending to attend Mass, but rather to just take a break and pray in silence. But I heard Mass begin and decided to leave the Chapel of Mary and enter into the Sacred Liturgy. As I listened to the readings and pondered them in the context of my surroundings, suddenly I was struck by the inherent symbolism of the Cathedral. With my Liturgy midterm exam so fresh in my mind, I considered all the important elements of the liturgy, to include the building itself, all pointing to a God that contains everything.

I regarded the four pillars that hold up the dome of the Cathedral, representing the 4 Gospels. I looked anew at the angels and the depictions of the Virtues. I could see the image of the Holy Spirit over the Baldacchin, and...oh, the Baldacchin! To consider that indeed we are present at the Wedding Feast of the Lamb of God! There, right there, we beheld Christ the King, held up, drawing us all to Him, as He promised!

Today, from my particular vantage point at the rear, I had an entirely different view of the altar and the Crucifix which seems somewhat obscured when sitting in the front section, was quite prominent, such that I could not take my eyes off of it. I know that to enter into the Wedding Feast, I must approach the Cross.

I pondered how often I have hurt Him, and how I don't deserve His love. And yet, being there in the Cathedral, I'd had a sense of the immensity of God. There, surrounded by all the signs and symbols of our Faith, in this incredible building consecrated to God, wherin His Glory rests there in the tabernacle, where we enter into His very Presence, I had a sense of being contained in the Word. Being in the Cathedral is like being WITHIN God, surrounded by Him, embraced by Him...contained there within His ever-present love.

The architecture helps us understand, in a sense His immensity in a way that is nearly tangible, and yet, we still understand that He is not contained there Himself, but far transcends it.

I was so touched by the sense of being contained by His Word that, for awhile, I had to fight back tears. It wasn't sadness or joy, but rather a reaction to a Truth about God that perhaps couldn't be expressed in any other way.

It was a moment of enlightenment, realizing my own nothingness in the face of God, the importance of the Sacrifice of Redemption, offered...even for me. Such a realization always inspires one to want to offer something back, even understanding that anything we can offer is insufficient.

All of this brought me into pondering the Cross most especially as I passed by one of the Stations. It stands out starkly on the marble pillar with nothing to distract from the reality of His Passion: Jesus Accepts His Cross.

There it was. Jesus Accepts His Cross.

The thought came to me, that still small voice that always seems to have far more impact than the loudest shouts: Do I accept my Cross, too?

I silently asked Our Lord how to accept my Cross just as he had accepted his own? I asked Him to explain it to me. How do I embrace it? How do I embrace HIM by embracing my Cross? How can my own acceptance of my Cross in any way repay what He has done for me?

I realized how often I had and continue to presume upon His mercy. I realize how often I REJECT his mercy, and in so doing, wound Him even further. I thought about all the times I had rejected Him, offended Him, and stomped on Him in some way, when all Jesus has ever done for me...was love me. Love me so much He DIED for me, a truly horrible death. I knew that I was Jesus' Cross to bear, and yet...He still bears me. He has not thrown me down and abandoned me to corruption.

Spontaneously a prayer came to me, and I bowed my head to offer it back to Him, knowing that if it was of any value at all, it came from the Holy Spirit within me and it was both wisdom for the benefit of my soul, and a sincere offer to Jesus from the depths of my sinful soul.

Dearest Jesus,

The next time someone presumes upon me in any way, help me to remember all the times I have presumed upon You. The next time someone directly insults me, help me to recall the times I have insulted You or blasphemed against You. The next time someone offends me in any way, help me to recall to mind the times I have willfully, obstinately, and grievously offended You with my deliberate sin. The next time I am tempted to be impatient with someone, help me to recall how often you have been patient with me and how long you have waited for me to return to you in contrition. The next time I move to place myself above another, help me to remember how many times you fell as you walked to Calvary. The next time someone attacks me for any reason, before I give in to anger, help me to remember how You bore Your agony in silence and forgave Your attackers, begging Your Father to forgive them for they knew not what they were doing. Help me to realize that when I offend you, I DO know what I am doing, and yet...you still forgive me, over and over again.

Help me, Jesus, to recall your last words as you hung upon the Cross, dying: "Father, into Your hands I commend my spirit".

Let me arise each morning with this prayer on my lips as a reminder to die to myself in every moment so that I may be free to live for You.

Amen.

The truth is that we embrace our own Crosses by accepting HIS; for they are one and the same. In embracing our Crosses, we recognize who we really are and how desperately we need Our Beloved Savior. The only way to live for Christ is to be willing to die to ourselves and unite our sinfulness with His Passion and Death; only there can we be redeemed.

Jesus, into Your Hands I commend my Spirit.

*

Participation in the Cross

Our Divine Savior has deposited His richest graces in the cross and He will impart them to us only through our particular participation in His cross and suffering. When Jesus desire to enter our souls and unite us to Himself, he accomplishes it only through the Cross. He permits exterior sufferings to come upon us to detach us from the world, from our conveniences and pleasure, and from all affection for creatures. He visits us with interior trials, to purify our desires and inclinations, to destroy self-love and so complete our unconditional surrender to God. The greater the favors which the Lord wills to confer upon souls, the greater the love with which He prepares them for these favors.

O my Savior, give me a love of the cross that all my sufferings may tend to more intimate union with thee.

~ Taken from Jesus, the Model of Religious Life

Friday 6th week after Pentecost

Kissing the Cross

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the convent; I got laryngitis. Actually, it hit me in the parlor while meeting with one of the Mothers just after my arrival. I'd been sick before I left and thought I was over it, but no, apparently not. And oddly enough, I didn't have a sore throat, I felt fine, just had a cough which wasn't even, at least initially, that bad!

Yes, yes, break out the jokes about how it was God's way of telling me to "shut up and listen", which really was an unnecessary message as I LOVED all the silences and sought them out whenever I could. As it was, though, that was the joke of the week with the Sisters and I was in on propagating it!

I think though, that God used it to impart to me a very different message. Not the harsh "shut up" but rather, a lesson in the Cross, in surrender, and embracing suffering.

Relics

The Novitiate at the convent had in their refrectory a relic of the True Cross, which I was invited to kiss while Mother K. was giving me the tour. At the time although my laryngitis hadn't fully manifested, I knew it was there and wasn't looking good. So my initial prayer as I kissed the Cross was that Our Lord, in His Mercy, would stave off this particular illness. I knew that the Sisters would be asking me questions, that I would have questions, and of course, I was mortified by the idea that upon my arrival in the convent I was sick! This was one of my nightmares!

I later learned there was another relic of the True Cross in a little shrine near the chapel, this one in a more ornate reliquary with a lit candle near it, and I often visited both relics and kissed them during my time there.

Yet it was on that first day and the following that, because of my unexpected and seeminly illogical illness, coupled with the grace of being able to kiss the Cross that made me meditate on that action, Our Lord's suffering...and what it meant.

A Kiss

What is a kiss but a sign of sincere love? It is intimate, it is intentional, it is physical, a motion that begins interiorly and is expressed exteriorly.

In kissing the relic of the True Cross, upon which Jesus hung in His act of Redemption, my kiss was intended to be an act of true love and devotion for Him, and in that, a recognition of His own love for me. I did not intend to be a Judas, offering a kiss in exchange for the blood money already held.

Later, in the chapel while I had some time to really meditate, I first spent some time praying that I wouldn't lose my voice, that God would remove this particular cross so that my week of discernment would be done in health and not this very inconvenient illness. And of course, my prayer was interrupted with a coughing jag. And even then I lamented my condition and begged even harder to be delivered from my suffering.

That's when it hit me; I had just kissed the Cross.

In contrition for my presumption, I gazed upon the crucifix that adorned the altar and took in our Savior twisted and contorted in torment, realizing that this is what He calls me to do as well. It is impossible to be united with Jesus without also being subject to suffering.

To kiss the Cross means that we love the Cross and we love Our Lord who died for us. To kiss the Cross is to love suffering. It is to love humility and mortification. The greatest act of love is imitation, therefore if we truly love Jesus, we must be willing to imitate Him...even unto His suffering and death.

My prayer then, was both arrogant and a betrayal. I kissed the Cross and asked for comfort. I made an act of love and then denied it by refusing to be conformed to the One I profess to love. Who am I to question the will of God, who cannot be taken by surprise and who KNEW I would suffer this illness through my retreat? I knew I should see it as a gift helping me to be more united to Him, and not an irritation that separated us.

It is my own actions, my own unwillingness to surrender to God's will that separates me from Him. Not a mere illness.

In fact, it was that illness that brought me face-to-face with Him and reminded me of the value and necessity of the Cross and the real meaning of love.

Upon this realization, I bowed my head, knowing God was with me, and said to Him, "Thy will be done. Not mine. Yours." In that moment, I embraced my suffering, which, as I've written, was not limited to the physical but became a spiritual struggle that never abated for a single moment.

From then on, each time I kissed the relics of the Cross, I made an act of surrender, resolving in my love of Jesus to also love the Cross and everything that comes with it. To embrace my sufferings if not in joy, then at least in acceptance and docility.

We are not given Crosses in order to chase us away from God, but rather to conform us more perfectly to Him, for we cannot find Him unless we are willing to be subject to His Passion.

We have to ask ourselves, each time we make the Sign of the Cross...do we mean what we pray? Do we understand what we are doing and how it must change us? Are we willing to imitate Christ only if it is comfortable to do so?

When we kiss the Cross, is our action a betrayal or a true act of devotion and love for Jesus?

*

Scandal

When people hear the word "scandal", they think of some bit of juicy titillating gossip about a political figure or celebrity, and enjoy the sense of feigned "shock" followed by the ripple effect of articles and photos and water cooler discussions brought up by the event which might not even be true.  

Our Canon Law professor told us last weekend that there are some canonists who don't understand the meaning of the word, and will argue that extramarital affairs and liturgical abuses don't cause scandal anymore becuase no one is surprised when those things happen.  In other words, those who are supposed to know better are defining "scandal" as "entertaining, exhilierating, titillating, shocking and newsworthy."  

What idiocy. 

Scandal is now, in the context of canon law and moral theology EXACTLY what it has ALWAYS been!  It is a stumbling block. 

Scandal is defined as something that leads others to sin.  That's why scandal itself is a sin. 

For example, if I take a youth group into a store and I steal a pack of gum, I've just caused scandal. Whether those kids know it or not, they've been scandalized because my action, coming from being a person who should be a moral leader, has now given legitimacy to the sin of theft. 

Does that mean they'll automatically go out and steal gum?  No. 

But I can think of times in my own life where people I looked to as a moral example did or said something wrong, and because they did so, it made me think the action was ok. And then I committed the same thing.  That doubles the sin;  not only did the person who gave example commit an objective sin, but by their example they led me to do the same.  That's scandal. 

Practical Application

I look around at certain "journalistic" rags (both religious and secular) and there, I read only scandal. Not because I'm tempted, but because others are. And THAT leads me to an entirely different sin of calumny and detraction against the reporters, the writers, the average uniformed "Catholics" writing letters fraught with heretical ideas. 

 Scandal. 

I look around at the blogosphere which at least is honest in that the individual authors tend to proclaim their bias and don't pretend to be "balanced" - but there is much scandal there as well. For there are more than a few blogs I can no longer follow because all I see there is pride, calumny, detraction, anger, attack...etc.  All things that are not properties belonging to holiness.  

If I can't look at someone or their writings and see holiness, then it's time to walk away. Because if I give in to taking up anger and detraction, well, that's a scandal. 

It means that the person writing those inflammatory words is causing scandal, because by his or her example, I am being led into the same sin they possess.  I've found over and over again that when I read snark, I become snarky, and if I get snarky and make it public, it makes other people snarky, too. 

That's scandal.  

Now, there is a line; we CAN be critical of things that are unjust or need to be corrected.  Pointing out a public wrong doesn't automatically mean the person commenting on it is causing scandal or adding to it. It's all in how it's done.

That's why truth in journalism is so important, why truth in blogging is so important.  We're human. We're going to be biased, we're going to have opinions, and often we are going to be quite passionate about those opinions. But that doesn't mean we have to cause scandal in our passion.  

I've had a lot of posts that have "magically" disappeared over the last few years, and I'll have more as I go through my archives, or as I write when maybe I'm a bit too inflamed to do so.  

The reason many of those posts disappear is because I judge them to be scandalous;  either because they contain misinformation which has come to my attention, they are uncharitable (thus scandalous), or maybe they are simply mean-spirited.  

The example we set as Christians makes a difference.  If X person who claims to be a good Christian has this biting, snarky commentary, it must be ok to respond in that manner and poke fun at someone who is ignorant of our beliefs.  If popular X person gives an example of ridicule, then it becomes ok for the rest of us to follow that example, because...hey!  X person is popular so his or her opinion must mean a great deal more and if they do it, then we can, too. 

False logic.

The fact is that someone who exhibits the above behaviors is causing scandal; they are leading others into sin. 

And yes, I've done it.  

I do it all the time, and I am sincerely sorry for leading others to enter with me into such sins.  I pray God have mercy on those I mislead and instead place their punishment upon my shoulders, which would be just.  If I have scandalized, it is I who should suffer for it, for I have a greater duty. 

Sometimes it's hard, though, to know when someone has caused scandal.  Snarky humor can be fun, and it can be innocent and poking humorous criticism at serious issues may be a good way to bring correction.  Yet, so often, there is a mean spirit involved.  We have to evaluate...are we making a personal attack?  Are we singling anyone out?  

Is the person we are reading being a jerk or is their humor honest and innocent of malicious intent? Are they leading us to denigrate something or someone in an unjust manner? In an unholy manner?  

What response does their example cause in us?  Does it incite us to our own rants, make us dredge up old offenses and anger...or do we simply laugh at truthful humor and move on? 

Is there darkness in our laughter or is there the guilty pleasure that comes with that which is illicit if not fatal?  

In looking at all this,  in pondering it, I consider my "ranting" posts, and I wonder at whether charity is present.  There are some rants I've written out of pure humor, albeit with a biting style.  And even though I don't feel anger or bitterness, often that does come through because it's truly the way, culturally, I've learned to express critical humor.  And that, even without intent, may be scandalous. 

I wonder at my previous posts, knowing that it's important to address what is problematic, but I knew that there would be those who might arrive and begin to air their own liturgical complaints.  That has happened...the keyword "liturgy" always attracts people with grievances.

Is that scandalous?  Am I responsible for the most bitter among us who are in need of healing but can't seem to find their way out of the darkness so that healing can take place?  Am I making their situation worse?  

These are things I consider. 

Recently, at Crescat's blog, I received a nomination for "Best Spiritual Treat Blog" and I wonder if I should decline the nomination itself.  

I love what she's doing, I love her blog, and I've recommended her to others.  I love her humor, her truthfulness of who she is and who  she claims to be, and totally identify with her.  

But...how can I be a spiritual treat if I'm as snarky as the next guy?  How does that lead others to holiness?

The reality is that here, I don't have a specific agenda.  Maybe evangelization, maybe just sharing my faith because I know there are others who need to know they are not alone.  Maybe revealing moments of piety juxtaposed with the majority moments of sin.  

I'm not a "Spiritual Treat".  You're not going to come to my blog and see a perfect exudation of holiness.  It simply isn't present.  I'm just a sinner in need of salvation. Awards won't change that fact.  If someone thinks I'm anything close to a Saint, well...they've never met one.  I spend most of my time causing scandal, actually. 

And if I could truly see the impact of my life on others, I'd drop in my tracks and die. For I've lead far more souls into sin than I have been able to point to salvation.  And as for myself...I wallow in sin.  It covers me. The second I leave the Confessional, I'm back to my regular charms, which aren't charming at all.  

My biggest hobby, truthfully speaking:  offending God. I go out of my way to offend Him, and then say to myself that it wasn't my intent, no matter how willful my act.  

Please don't load my combox with a bunch of platitudes of how great I art.  I don't need that nor want it. I NEED to understand the harm I've caused, I NEED to see very clearly the effects of sin, both in recognizing how others have lead ME to sin, and how I have lead others. That's important. 

We ALL cause scandal. All of us. We all lead others to sin. 

But my hope is here:  God NEVER reveals sin without revealing His mercy.  

I weep in gratitude that God can see my scandalous life and offer me His pierced hand anyway, so that when He is raised up, I am drawn to Him.  

Therin is the scandal of the Cross. The ultimate juxtaposition.  Such an event that makes us see how so great a fault that we possess can warrant us so great a Redeemer is beyond our comprehension.  

The fact is that Jesus Christ reaches His bloody hands out to us, in forgiveness and sacrificial love, bringing our scandalized souls into Him through scandal personified.  

Therin is His Glory. 

I have nothing to offer Him but scandal, for I not only sin, but lead others to do so as well. When I approach Him, I bring not only myself, but all those who have been wounded or killed by my actions.  

Scandal. 

And then He is so generous that at the very revelation of my sorrow, He erases my guilt and restores me to His side, hiding me within His Most Sacred Heart. 

And we are all scandalized by such great generosity. 

Truly...none of us understands scandal, for it is through scandal that we fall, and in gratitude of scandal that we might enjoy eternal life with Christ.  

I will go on, pondering scandal, for even now, I don't understand...

*

Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner....

 

Entering Into the Passion of Christ

From today's Office of Readings:

I will say more: we must sacrifice ourselves to God, each day and in everything we do, accepting all that happens to us for the sake of the Word, imitating his passion by our sufferings, and honoring his blood by shedding our own. We must be ready to be crucified. 

~ from a homily by St. Gregory Nazianzen, bishop

Making a Mockery of Christ

From the Divine Office today, from a sermon by St. Peter Chrysologus, bishop:

There are three things, my brethren, by which faith stands firm, devotion remains constant, and virtue endures. They are prayer, fasting, and mercy. Prayer knocks at the door, fasting obtains, mercy receives. Prayer, mercy and fasting: these three are one, and they give life to each other.

Fasting is the soul of prayer, mercy is the lifeblood of fasting. Let no one try to separate them; they cannot be separated. If you have only one of them or not all together, you have nothing. So if you pray, fast; if you fast, show mercy; if you want your petition to be heard, hear the petition of others. If you do not close your ear to others you open God's ear to yourself.

When you fast, see the fasting of others. If you want God to know that you are hungry, know that another is hungry. If you hope for mercy, show mercy. If you look for kindness, show kindness. If you want to receive, give. If you ask for yourself what you deny to others, your asking is a mockery.

These words condemn me, and it's excruciating. On every level, every word...I fall short.  

One of the things I'm trying to work on is forgiveness; more and more, I realize how much I hold on to grudges. I realize how much I complain about people who have wounded me, but forget how much I have wounded others.  I think of offenses both ancient and recent, and my self-righteous attitude towards those who have offended or injured me in some way, both big and small. 

And this runs the gamut;  serious offenses from childhood, things that have formed me through abuse and injury, and more recently, offenses that have simply wounded my pride. 

True holiness asks us to regard others as more important than ourselves, to defer to them even to our own detriment. And I've found myself having to do this, and it's not easy. Especially when I believe I'm right, and even more especially...when I KNOW I'm right!  But sometimes it's better to back off and acquiesce for the sake of the other;  if the lesson is important enough, we'll BOTH get the message God wants us to receive. And it is in those moments we need to sacrifice our own will and allow God to take the lead. 

But what really  convicts me is this:  "If you want to receive, give. If you ask for yourself what you deny to others, your asking is a mockery."

How often have my prayers been a mockery?  

How often have I harbored a grudge against another, while asking God for mercy for my own transgressions?  

How often have I approached the altar at Mass while feeling and resenting the sting of a rebuke of another, just or unjust?  

How often have I expected kindness, even if I have been unkind?  

How often have I held myself up as judge, jury, and executioner, and resented those SAME actions in another?

How often in the actions of others have I been shown a mirror of myself, and even though BOTH of us have been wrong, have I  held my own position up as the superior one? 

How often have I asked for mercy, even as I have refused mercy to another? 

How often have I pounded the nails into the hands and feet of Christ, even as I have condemned others, even to their faces, of doing the same thing? 

How often have I held both the hammer and the nail, failing to realize it was my own soul being pierced, and each action was to my own condemnation?  

How often have I looked into the loving eyes of Christ and directed my gaze from the wounds I have caused in order to avoid responsiblity for my own actions? 

How often have I directed my gaze away from others because, in my faulty judgment...they didn't look enough like Christ to satisfy me? 

How often have I condemned others, even though Jesus has done nothing but forgive me? 

How many times have I gone about my day, and my prayer and have done nothing but make a mockery of Christ?

How many times in my life have I struck the Rock and Crucified Christ because of my own unwillingness to kneel at His feet in humility?  

How many times, in a single day, have I made a mockery of Christ?

Ecce Homo!  

Behold the Man!

Behold the Man...

Passion

Have you ever climbed a mountain?  Or just a large hill or bluff?  What about a tower, one to which you had to travel?  Do you remember, during your ascent, looking behind you, and at first, you saw only the bare path over which you'd just crossed.  And after awhile, maybe a few switchbacks, you look back again, and you can see the treetops, but not much else, other than your car in the parking lot.  And so you give up, but then, some time later, as you climb higher and higher, you come to a lookout point.  And at that point, your trail guide says to you, "Look!"  And you look out over the valley, transfixed by the view, seeing the road, the other lookout points, the intersections, and the trail you've climbed.  In that view, you understand a lot more than you did as you traveled along it; the overhead view gives you an entirely different understanding both of where you've been...and where you're going. 

My vocational discernment has been a lot like that for me, only it looks, from my current vantage point, a lot like the exodus of the Israelites as they wandered the desert for 40 years.  Stumbling upon a mountain that has lead me to a vantage point has been pure Grace for me...on my own, I'd still be bumbling around and picking cactus spines out of myself.

Actually, I am. 

Over the last couple months, a great deal has been brought to my attention. First, the Cistercians, which I think now is not where God is drawing me;  rather, I think He has used them to get my attention. As of this point, I don't know if I'll be visiting them; in fact, I highly doubt it. 

In this ascent, the view has changed. I see something else, something I'd seen before, but disregarded because they didn't fit "my" definition of what "I" thought I wanted. 

I was asking the wrong questions.  I was still looking at religious life through the lens of my own will. 

The ONLY way to approach Vocation is through the view of God;  what does HE see?

So God invited me to ascend a bit further so that I could see the highways and valleys and mountains in a way closer to that of His view. 

As I have turned to look out over the valley in the company of Our Lord, I've not only seen where I've been, but the signs that have directed me to Him. I've seen more of who I am and where, from the very beginning, He has directed me to be.  Who He is directing me to become. 

At this time, I'm not going to go into the details, but a great deal has come into my understanding in recent weeks, and I've taken action to further where I believe God is drawing me. 

As of this point, I believe I was mistaken to think I was called to the Dominican Order.  While I'll always have a special place in my heart for the Dominicans, I now believe they have simply adopted me in order to guide me to my destination. 

One of my favorite works of art is Fra. Angelico's depiction of Father Dominic kneeling at the foot of the Cross, the blood of Christ dripping upon him, both in shared anguish.  

In fact...ALL of my favorite works of art involve an aspect of the Passion of Christ;  in my bedroom, each day I wake up and look upon the Agony in the Garden.  Each night I sleep under the icon of Our Mother of Perpetual Help, an icon that points to the Passion of Christ.  Every time I pass a crucifix, I cannot help but stop and stare at it, taken in, wanting to remain in its shadow. 

My spirituality isn't Dominican, or Fransciscan, Carmelite or Salesian. While I admire the Benedictines and embrace the Augustinians, in reality, none of them are home to me, although ALL, in a way contribute, and, in turn, my spirituality is a part of theirs as well. 

In looking over everything that surrounds me, everything that attracts me to Christ, I have to admit that one of the communities that first got my attention is back on the radar screen.  And I never thought I'd truly consider them; not because of who they are, but because of the discipline of their lives. 

I believe that I may be a Passionist.  

It's throughout my blog; woven into my writings, into what I think, how I think, how I pray.  

When I first saw the Passionists, I rejected them, thinking, "Oh, they're cloistered", and I didn't want  to be so. 

But a Vocation is not about "me". It's about God. As I have climbed this mountain, I've come to realize my only focus needs to be on Christ Himself. Nothing else. It doesn't matter what I think I want. I've done so much, and truly, nearly everything I've wanted to do. 

My only regret, if I were to go into an enclosure right now, is that I haven't had the opportunity to travel to the Holy Land.  I want to physically walk through the life of Christ, and to travel along the Via Dolorosa, and kneel at the site of His Crucifixion.  

Otherwise, this world has nothing for me.  This world has never loved me, nor do I want it to. 

The biggest question I've had to ask myself is this:  Where can I find Christ?  

At the Cross.  

And He bids me to follow Him. 

So be it, if this is truly what He wills.   

In the Shadow of Your Wings

Have mercy on me, God, have mercy
for in you my soul has taken refuge.
In the shadow of your wings I take refuge
till the storms of destruction pass by.

This morning I could not take my eyes off of these words from Psalm 57. Even when I tried, I was drawn back, especially to the phrase, "shadow of your wings". What did that really MEAN?

It wasn't long before the connection was made, for as I knelt in adoration of our Lord, my eyes were also drawn to the cross, where Christ was stretched upon it, His hands and feet nailed to the wood. His arms stretched out like...wings.

And there it was; under the shadow of His wings, I will take refuge. The only refuge in the storms of destruction that wail around us all is the folly of the Cross, in which we find the Glory of God in the redeeming sacrifice of His Son.

The shadow of the Cross and the shadow of His wings are one and the same. If we are truly seeking God, we would do well not to flee from the Cross, but rather to run towards it and embrace it with all our might, seeking to remain in its shadow for life.

You have kept an account of my wanderings;
you have kept a record of my tears;
are they not written in your book?
Then my foes will be put to flight
on the day that I call to you.
~ Psalm 56

The children of this world look upon the Cross now just as they did then, pointing and jeering, still seeing only folly. Even as they reject the suffering of Our Lord as "violent", they turn to their own infants and inflict the most terrible violence as they rend them to bits in the womb, or determine the aged or infirm no longer have a need or right to live. The children of this world cry out against the sacrificial violence that bears sin away, as they themselves gnash their teeth and riot in demonic anger at the Christians who have fled to the Cross and live peacefully beneath it, embracing life, bearing the storms that MUST come to anyone who truly seeks to be united to Christ.

In taking refuge at the foot of the Cross, we do not flee the world, but see it as it truly is, and see, in Christ who was lifted up and drawn us to Him, the glory of eternal life. The folly of the Cross is the redemption of sinners, and the Glory of God through the obedience of His Son.

My heart is ready, O God,
my heart is ready.
~Psalm 57

When the temptations encroach upon us, let us take refuge, then, in the shadow of the Cross and allow Jesus to fight the battles we cannot face on our own. Let us flee into the shadow of His wings and allow the Precious Blood of our Redeemer to cascade upon us in a flood of salvific love.

Psalm-prayer
Lord, send your mercy and your truth to rescue us from the snares of the devil, and we will praise you among the peoples and proclaim you to the nations, happy to be known as companions of your Son.

(all Psalms and prayer taken from March 12 Liturgy of the Hours, Daytime prayer)