Restored to Innocence

A couple days ago, I went to Confession, cringing once again at having the same laundry-list of sins. I'm the kind of person who could probably LIVE in a confessional and never run out of sins ot confess, but of course, if I were to never leave, I would never have a chance to try to overcome my numerous faults and weaknesses that lead me into sin.

Every now and then I long for the days of childhood innocence; back when I didn't understand real evil and even better, had never experienced it or had been the author of it.  Yet even this frivolous longing carries within it God's grace, for it makes me even more grateful for the Sacrament of Confession.

All of this was on my mind when I entered the tiny room and knelt down behind the screen, the priest already intoning the beginning of this most sacred rite. I listed my sins...as always...knowing that God already knew what I had done and had only been waiting for me to come to Him to take full responsiblity and ask for the grace to overcome them, to start anew. Once again.

I listened to the advice of the priest and when prompted, began my Act of Contrition, the very same one I learned back in First Grade when I received the Sacraments.

"Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you. I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell....

And then it happened. I can't properly explain it, but there, as I prayed the words, it was as if I was taken back in time to a confessional long long ago. I was again six years old, and, having confessed my little sins, things like fighting with my brother and disobeying my mother, was moving haltingly through the Act of Contrition. I could feel my page-boy style hair cut and in my mind's eye, see a little of the light of day peeking through the woven wicker-type screen, revealing the silhouette of Fr. W. as he waiting patiently for me to complete the prayer, his hand already raised in anticipation of absolution.

But most of all, because I offended You, O my God, who are all Good and deserving of all my love....

There I was, kneeling in the Confessional, an adult, having committed much greater sins, having now had a long life of having gravely, over and over again, severed my relationship with God in ways I couldn't even have imagined as a child. I knelt there and the tears came as I recalled that sweet, sweet innocence of childhood.
 

I firmly resolve, with the help of your grace, to confess my sins...

 
It truly was as though suddenly, I was a child again, kneeling humbly before my God, knowing His Mercy, and overwhelmed because I am also an adult, an adult who has been wounded by sin. As I said that ancient prayer, I knew without a doubt that in my sorrow, in my repentance, in my desire and will to lean on God in order to overcome my sin, in His Mercy He indeed restored me to that beautiful innocence of childhood.
 

...to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen.

 
Still experiencing the sense of timelessness, lost in the echoes of childhood, I bowed my head to receive Absolution, my tears turning to joy with the unmerited, undeserved gift of a greater knowledge of God's incredible love. 
 
As I stood to go, renewed, restored, I had come fully to myself again but could still turn to look at memory's image of me as a six year old, skipping gaily out of the confessional when only moments before I'd trudged in shyly and a bit guiltily, sent in to expose to the light the sins that could only exist under the cover of darkness.
 
I wiped the tears away as I returned to the chapel where I knelt once again to pray, this time to offer my assigned penance, raising my eyes to Jesus in thanksgiving, knowing His mercy is eternal and that in His eyes, I am once again a child of God.
 
Through the Sacrament of Confession, Jesus gave me glimpse through His own eyes; now I know that I need not long for that innocence of childhood, for it is but a mirror image of holiness, and through the grace of the Sacraments, we each can be that reflection for eternity. That is our Call.
 
The Sacrament of Confession restores us; no matter what we have done, by humbly accusing ourselves before God, through contrition for our sins, we open ourselves to His Grace. While we may still suffer the effects of sin, God remembers no more what He has forgiven. It doesn't matter if we are six or seven or eighty-one; once we have come to Jesus, it is, in His eyes, as though those things have never happened. We are, once again, a mere child He delights to indulge in His great love.
 
Thank you, Jesus.

Dappled Trails

It's no secret: I HATE the city. I hate the 'burbs. I hate the traffic, the sense of being crowded, and the fact that everywhere I go within the limits of the 'burbs, all I hear are engines and motors and flightpaths and construction.

Because I'm on vacation due to practical work reasons, I decided to try to get away within the [considerable] limits of my  bank account and surroundings. First I looked to Como Zoo, and one brief visit to their website eliminated it as a possibility.

Why?

The Enemy: TRAFFIC getting there, having to figure out where to park just to get the SHUTTLE, and being dependent upon the SHUTTLE just to get back to my car so I can deal with TRAFFIC again!

All the Regional parks in the world can't block out the noises of TRAFFIC, CONSTRUCTION, and FLIGHT PATHS, so I don't actually want to pay for a yearly pass to inhabit those trails nearest me, either.

The fact is this: I live in a 'burb and have to suck it up, no matter what. So today I hit a trail near the Mississippi, hoping to get lost in the sounds of solitude and nature, only to be plagued by dogs barking incessantly across the river (seriously, were ALL those people actually home and leaving their dogs to bark at each other all day long? REALLY?)

As is typical for July in Minnesota, it was hot and humid, although not nearly so bad as our 100+ extremes of earlier this week. Still, heat is what it is and as my dog and I walked the paved trail, I sought to escape, even more deeply, the sounds of urbania that refused to allow an oasis.

We came to a graveled trail and I decided to turn that way, thinking it probably would bring us full-circle back to the road. As my dog and I progressed, I looked longingly down shaded deer runs, wishing I could follow them,  fondly recalling the days of my youth when those trails had appeared as highways through the forest where we resided.

The heat and humidity, even mid-morning, was terrible, though, and I regretted what I was wearing. I glanced often at my dog, knowing that although her fur afforded a certain insulation, it was no match for the growing humidity and I hoped we would both make it to the car in time..especially given the fact we were padding along trails I did not know. Were we TRULY headed back to the road, or only deeper into the forest?

For a short time, my quest for silence was granted. I heard the songs of the birds, and even in the ever-oppressing heat and humidity, there was  joy in the silence and solitude of nature; a memory of the type of trails I'd grown up trekking.

Even the hot sunlight reminded me of childhood and I longed for those days, brought from my reverie only by the panting of my companion, knowing she was just as thirsty, or even more so, than I.

I didn't know where we were going or what it would take to get there, I only knew we had to get home, and this trail was the way. Relief could ONLY be found when we returned to our source.

Ah, the Epiphany

No matter what we do, there is a parallel to the spiritual life.

Today, walking the trails, I knew that my sense of suspension of time was locked in the objective reality of eternity. I led my dog through light and shadows and suffered the pain in my feet, my knees, my ankle, old injuries, exacerbated by time and the basic discomfort of our summer climate.

Even with the joy of walking through the woods, moments of time without the sound of urban noise, I suffered. I sweated, I wilted, I hated the heat and humidity. I worried about my dog, how she was doing, hoping we'd get back as I'd planned before it got to be too much for her.

The experience of growing in holiness is truly no different than a summer walk through the woods.

I loved our time today; it was beautiful, it was timeless, and it involved suffering; but because of the beauty and the joy, I would suffer the same way again and again, willingly, because the suffering is transient; the beauty is eternal.

There is another facet as well; my dog was also suffering the same heat, and my concern in our walk was for her. Although I would have liked to walk further, I knew that wouldn't be good for Her Fuzziness; it made me ponder.

As we grow in holiness, as we walk these dappled trails, more and more, we come to recognize and identify with, then join with the sufferings of others. While uniting my suffering to that with a dog is not redemptive, it DOES point to that which is, and reveals, ever more deeply, the mercy of God for all His creation.

Throughout life, we experience a dichotomy of suffering and joy, and as we progress, we find that no matter what we experience, we grow in concern for our neighbor. We can't always help them immediately, and often, we're aware that we need help, too, but that never stops us from sharing in the suffering, in sharing the joy of following Our Lord.

May our entire lives be an experience of the dappled trails of a Minnesota forest; holiness beckons.

Annoyance and the Saints

Hold onto your hats and your pews, friends! This post is going to be half rant half meditation!

Some days I just weep for the state of our parishes and the souls within them - and the very fact that our fallen nature has created our circumstances. Which, ironically, is why we go to Mass.

This morning I attended Mass, arrived early in order to pray. Several others arrived as well, as the church was relatively quiet. Then some families arrived with their fussy children, and more people arrived, and then came a couple who sat behind me, loudly talking to each other.

Recollection gone.  I tried to "offer it up" and be patient. I failed miserably.

They continued with mindless chit-chat, almost in my ear. Or both ears, as it were. I was resigned to the fact this is what Mass was going to be like, until I heard one of them comment, "I really don't like children."

To my surprise, rather than being angry, I was overwhelmed with sadness. Dislike children!? I realized many young ones were crying at that moment, and there was a child in front of me actively playing and talking to his mother. But they didn't bother me nearly so much as the couple behind me talking loudly and stating how much they dislike children.

I'll admit I used to get distracted by children, and quite annoyed by them. Over time, though, I have come to not really notice if they are crying, but rather, if they are silent. A parish devoid of children is a dying parish. I thank God my parish is vibrant and filled with the cries of children! Glory be to God! Alleluia!

And then comes this couple desiring to quash that, while their behavior was far, far worse.

Yes, I was annoyed.

I was annoyed by many things today, and struggled to pray. The music was so theologically bad that I missed the psalm and had to page through and read it for myself.  As the Feast of the Ascension is transferred to the 7th Sunday of Easter in my diocese, today's Gospel, MT 28:16-20 proclaims:  (say it with me!)

 Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations,

baptizing them in the name of the Father,

and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,

teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.

So, did you catch that? Jesus told us to GO FORTH AND MAKE DISCIPLES OF ALL NATIONS, BAPTIZING THEM AND TEACHING THEM TO OBSERVE ALL THAT JESUS HAS COMMANDED US.

Then our communion hymn sang about bread, and our closing hymn was "As A Fire is Meant for Burning", containing the words:

Not to preach our creeds or customs,

but to build a bridge of care,

UM, WHAT!? How in the world does that line up with the Gospel COMMAND to preach our creeds and customs?

How do we celebrate the Ascension, hear the command of Christ to go forth and evangelize, and then leave church having just sung that we just have to be nice to everybody, but for the love of God, don't, under any circumstances, preach our faith or baptize anyone!??????

Folks, it's no wonder Catholics aren't out there evangelizing and living out today's Gospel command: we undermine ourselves before we even leave the building.

Here's the danger in singing such bad music:  the Arian heresy spread by music. The Arians were great marketers and spread their bad theology through a catchy tune. That overcame the True teachings of the Faith, thus confusing people and leading them into heresy. The brain remembers and repeats music (ever got a bad earworm? Yeah, exactly).  So thousands of people are going to leave today singing all about how we should be nice but never evangelize.

Yes, that annoys me. And it SHOULD. It should annoy YOU, too. It explains a lot about the state of  many Catholics today, doesn't it?

Meditation on what it means to be annoyed

Today, as I fought those annoyances, as always, I tried to think about the Saints. People are people in every age, and Saints were  people, too.

It is a temptation in our age to glorify the Saints so much so that we forget their humanity. We read their writings and we are in awe of their holiness, seeking to learn from them how to follow Christ. If they can do it, WE can do it, right?

Unfortunately, we fall into this weird trap of thinking the Saints were somehow robotic and didn't get annoyed, or angry. We seem to think the Saints were nice to people all the time, and that's why they became Saints: that they learned not to "feel" anything.

Nothing could be further from the truth. The Saints were all human beings and you know what? They got ANNOYED with people and situations! And I'm really glad I don't have to hear what St. Padre Pio would be saying about the music we sing at Mass in our age! I'm glad I don't have to watch St. Thomas Aquinas roll in his grave. I'm glad I don't have to withstand the fiery preaching of St. Paul or the ranting of St. Jerome.

Did you know that St. Francis de Sales had such a massive temper that after his death, they found GROOVES under his writing desk, where he took out his frustrations by scratching the underside repeatedly in effort to control his anger?

And yet, we read his writings, all of which are so gentle and wise. We are led to believe that he was always calm, recollected, and no, not ever angry.

No, St. Francis de Sales was a human being like the rest of us, and he got annoyed.  Without looking at who he was as a human being, we divorce his writings from him as though they could stand alone and be enough. The truth is that St. Francis de Sales, as well as other Saints, wrote from experience, they wrote through their temptations, and they wrote in such a way so as to preach holiness to themselves as well as to others. They were not separate from their spiritual direction; they lived it, too.

It was actually a consolation to me today to reflect upon the humanity of the Saints.

Is Being Annoyed a Sin?

Often I read about liturgical abuses or other things that set people off, and there are always a few jokers in the various com-boxes who suggest there is something wrong with the person who is annoyed. Maybe that's true; we are all sinners, and we do often let our annoyances turn into some kind of personal sin.

I think more often, though, the opposite of that criticism is true:  there's something missing in a human who refuses to be annoyed, for they are repressing their own humanity in a false understanding of what it means to be holy.

It is not a sin to be annoyed or irritated. It would qualify as a passion, I think. It's not anger, but can lead to anger, and anger alone is not a sin. The emotion of annoyance or irritation is simply that: something that tells us something is wrong. Compare it to a bug bite: when we are bitten, we are tempted to scratch at it because it itches! It can be really awful, and so we think about that bite and ponder it and feel that itch and then scratch and scratch until it finally bleeds, and maybe we keep scratching even THEN. And then it might get infected.

Or... we could just feel the annoyance, realize it's there and there's nothing we can do about it, or maybe spray a little Benadryl on it to control the histamine reaction. The bug bite is still there, but we've chosen a different way to handle it.

See the difference? Annoyance is nothing more than a spiritual bug bite. We can zap it by embracing it with virtue or we can scratch at it and let it get infected. The latter is a sin. The former turns it into a path to holiness.

At Mass today,  I hold that I was right to be annoyed: by people talking loudly when they should have been observing silence out of respect to others, annoyed by people claiming they hate children (loudly), annoyed by bad theology. If we aren't annoyed by those things, then we are completely unaware of what Mass is about. That's a problem. Annoyance is actually a gift from God. It is what we DO with annoyance that makes a difference.

We will all struggle with that for our entire lives. Mass equips us through the Sacraments and through the experience of other people who are fallen just like us.

How did the Saints react?  

It is important to learn from the Saints: how did THEY handle things that bothered them, rightly or not?

When we take a look at their writings and biographies, we witness that they sought to overcome their annoyances through practicing the Virtues. They practiced patience by not turning around and slapping offenders who mouthed off in church. They practiced fortitude by being patient throughout the Mass. They considered how much God loves even the most annoying among us. They resolved to love children and their haters more in order to overcome hatred in themselves. When confronted with bad theology, they sought to educate others so that they would know the Truth about God.

 The Saints, when annoyed,  looked to God and said, "Dear God I am so annoyed right now I could spit! Most Adorable Jesus, please grant me peace so that I might love others as you love me in spite of my own faults!"   

The Saints struggled just as we do. That doesn't mean they weren't holy: it means they learned how to handle annoyance and not allow it to degenerate into sin.  They didn't entertain it, but tried to let it change their hearts, not to a position of denial, but as a revelation of Truth and Divine Charity.

St. Catherine of Siena wrote in her "Dialogue" that we obtain every virtue through other people. She knew this well: she was annoyed sometimes, too. She was highly annoyed by the Pope during the Avignon captivity and called him to conversion, and back to Rome in no uncertain terms.

Let us all learn to handle annoyance by following the example of the Saints. We should not fear annoyance, but embrace it and allow it to change our hearts so that we might grow in faith, hope, and charity.

May God grant us all the grace to become Saints through the annoyances in our lives.

Praying with A Broken Rosary

On Good Friday, my favorite rosary broke. This rosary is special to me for several reasons and I find the timing of its demise to be especially ironic. You see, this rosary is one that comes in the mail from this or that charity seeking donations. But it's important because it came into my hands a little over three years ago when I prayed to soon-to-be Blessed John Paul II for his intercession in a certain matter - and it happens to have the crucifix from his pontificate. It was also blessed by a friend of mine and is thus a reminder to always include that particular priest in my prayers.

And now, it is broken, and in fact, broke on the day we began the Divine Mercy novena; how apt a sign it is for the present condition of my spiritual life. How apt that this particular rosary would break, now, as we rejoice in a new Blessed, the one whose image is borne on one side of the medal of this rosary. Oh, yes, this is my JPII rosary all the way.

I have found, though, that the inconvenience of its broken chain in the middle of the 5th Mystery makes me ponder a bit more about the love of God for us, our own spiritual condition before Him, and the depths of His infinite mercy.

This rosary is not beyond repair by any means, but it is not something I can fix on my own. I need help to do it. I have to take it to someone else. Do you see the metaphor? So it is when we fall into sin, we cannot absolve ourselves; we must go to someone else in order to be reconciled to God. The rosary may still be prayed, and each time I encounter the premature end, I am reminded of the chasm that exists between God and me.  That break is a physical reminder that I must take my own broken soul to Our Lord, place it into His loving hands and allow Him to give it back to me, restored once again.

Even though we are all broken in some way, we must always pray. There is always hope, there is always God's mercy if we but ask in humility and sincerity.

Eternal Father, I offer you the body, blood, soul, and divinity, of your dearly beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world. For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have Mercy on us and on the whole world!

Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, have Mercy on us and on the whole world. 

Jesus I trust in Thee! 

Success To the Work of Your Hands

He is Risen! He is Risen INDEED!

Lent was difficult this year, and the Triduum was no exception, and although I had difficulty in prayer and was, for the first time in recent memory, tempted to NOT attend the Triduum liturgies, I went and worshiped as planned. Non-Catholic friends of mine sometimes question why we Catholics are so "ritualistic", and my answer is this: because our rituals do not let us fall into the dictatorship of emotions, but rather help us to honor God because He wills it, even though we may will the opposite.

I am grateful, therefore, for our Triduum "rituals", for they help to sanctify we weak souls who would prefer to flee and "do our own thing".

One of the blessed things about the Triduum, however, was time off from work and because I plan my life to avoid "errands" and other things, I was able to spend some time working on my Icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. During Lent I went on retreat and my wonderful teacher and friend, a dear, faithful Religious Sister looked at it with her discerning eye and explained to me some new techniques required by this particular Icon. So it was that during the Triduum, even though I had difficulty with mental prayer, God drew me into the Icon. Even though I am still a student and therefore still focus on technique, it was very prayerful for I was able to speak to our Blessed Mother, to Jesus, and to the Archangels Michael and Raphael.

They responded by guiding my clumsy hand that held the brush, and I was amazed at the effects. Although I continue to make mistakes and see them long after the paint has dried, more and more I am gaining confidence, wondering if, perhaps, one day, I will truly be able to call myself an Iconographer.

The Homily on Holy Thursday was given by a priest ordained only a year ago, and he revealed to us the Bible verse engraved upon his chalice, from Psalm 90, "..Give success to the work of our hands."

His homily struck a chord with me, for ever since, when I approach the Icon I have been praying those holy words. The Icon I write now is ultimately not for me. For whom do I write it, but for God? I write it to give Glory to Him, to ponder on His Incarnation, to meditate upon the Mystery of the Redemption. It is the most Sacred of arts, yet I do not know where it will end up. So it is that I pray it as I go, begging for intercession, praying for success to this work of my unworthy hands.

Who am I to open a window to Heaven? Who will gaze through this window? Who am I to co-create it with God?

Success. What is "Success"? 

In God's eyes, I do not know the definition of "Success".  When I was in high school and college, and in my young adult years, at the "threshold of the universe", I thought "success" was primarily defined by financial means, and the elevation of status within one's chosen field. These days, I see things differently and I have learned the hard way that "success" according to God may not be anything I envision in my fallen perception.

We have all come through Lent with varying levels of earthly "success". What does that mean?

Many of us think we have 'failed", but have we really? If our failures have brought us to the Throne of Mercy, they are not failures but successes in self-knowledge, a huge gift of Grace. If our "failures" have revealed to us something that keeps us from God, then we must recognize a gift given from God's heart to our own.

If our Lenten "failures" have reminded us that of ourselves, we can do nothing, and therefore we have NEED of a Savior...then we have not "failed" so much as been brought closer to Jesus through a breakdown of our Pride.

When we pray, therefore, for "Success", we have to recall that the ways in which we define that word may differ drastically from God's own definition.

As of now, as I pray for success for the work of my hands, specifically for my Icon, I don't know, exactly, what that means. In practice I am praying for my hand to be guided, for my intellect to be informed, for my will to be strengthened, for my Pride to be overcome; for I will and I MUST make mistakes and accept those as I go. It is the mistakes that teach us the most.

It is the mistakes we make, whether in Iconography or in other areas of life, that lead us to ask the most heartfelt and sincere questions.

Difficult Lent - Difficult Easter?

It doesn't matter if our Lent was a big Ol' "FAIL". It doesn't matter. It is behind us now. For those of us who got out of Lent with nothing but this lousy FAIL t-shirt, it is time to let it go and rejoice, not in ourselves, but in Our Lord who foresaw our big fat FAILS long before He was crucified for them.

It is time to celebrate, and if we have failed, then we have a great gift; that of being able to celebrate, purely, the Resurrection, for we can recognize it has nothing to do with our own merit, but Our Lord's. It is a great gift, and we should recognize it as such, for this gift is meant for our own humility. It is my untried theory that we who have difficulty in Lent both need to grow in holiness and need to grow, most specifically, in humility.

And yes, that hurts, and it hurts even more to admit it in public. But then again, for those who know us...is it any surprise that we need that lesson?

Is there, truly, anyone who WOULDN'T benefit from an increase in humility?

We have to remember that none are perfect, we are still being created, and like an Icon, are incomplete until we are with God for eternity. An Icon is not truly an Icon until it is Blessed in a special way, and that is what makes it worthy of veneration. So it is with the Saints - and we are ALL called to be Saints, should we choose to cooperate with that Divine Invitation.

Therefore, let us all pray together, with and for each other, to rejoice in the Resurrection of Christ, and for the blessing of success to the work of our hands...all for Him and for His Kingdom, unto Eternity with all the Blessed.

A Holy Easter to you all, and may God grant you all success to the work of your hands. Amen!

True Piety

One of the dangers of the spiritual life is to give in to the temptation to compare oneself with others, and that temptation may be especially prevalent during Lent.

Last week I heard an insightful homily regarding outward acts of piety. The priest observed that there are some who seem to have deep spiritual lives, but what they do outwardly is actually covering up for a very deep interior wound. To take it further, he observed that there are those who are ever-ready and ever-armed with liturgical, or other books, and prepared to leap upon the smallest error in the liturgy - yet this isn't really their issue. He surmises that there is something deeper there, covered by the outward anger and vigilance.

To be clear, he was not saying that outward piety was a bad thing or that we do not have a right to a properly celebrated liturgy. Rather, his point was very simple: do not look merely upon outward acts and assume that is the whole story.

All of us are carrying about deep wounds, some bleeding, some scars, and we do different things to cover them up so that others cannot see. This is why we need the Confessional, for there we can bare our souls to the Divine Physician. This is why we need prayer, for there we can bring our spiritual torments to the only One who understands how to make us complete.

It is a temptation to look at the lives of others, and their pious acts, and try to compare ourselves to them. In Lent, it is a temptation to compare our failings to the claimed or visible "successes" of others and conclude that for us, Lent has been a failure.

Do not give in to this temptation!

We cannot judge the souls of others, good or bad. We cannot see if their piety is only outward, hiding a seething mass of anxiety or sin. We cannot see if someone's anger, off-putting in appearance, may truly be fueled by a life of holiness.

It is said that Blessed Mother Teresa was a hard woman, yet there is no doubt about her holiness. They say the light of God just shone through her. Yet we also know how she struggled in years of spiritual darkness. Her outward smiles, her ability to care for and love others, her ability to pray, outwardly, told us only a little about her.

There are many Saints whose flaws were apparent to all, and yet, they lived lives of deep devotion and holiness. There's no such thing as a "cookie-cutter" saint, a Saint that ran around on tiptoes, hands open, floating along on clouds of devotion.

It may be tempting to look at this or that person who spends hours in the chapel and claims to fast and pray constantly, and seek to be like them, but this is one of the biggest spiritual mistakes anyone can make. Do not be "like someone else." Be who YOU are - fully - in the face of God.

During Lent we are called to acts of penance, abstinence, fasting, and alms, and each of us does this with some degree of success or failure. The litmus test before God is not one of comparison with others, but resides entirely in our own relationship with God - and with His Church.

Every Saint became a Saint simply because he or she knew him or herself in relation to God, and responded by being fully who they were called to be. They were all human and had human flaws, but in true piety, they never gave up seeking the face of God. They never gave up falling before His Throne in prayer, humility, and obedience. They did not try to copy someone else, or compare themselves to the Saints that had gone before them. Instead, they brought everything they were, from personality to temperament, to favorite sins and passions, to favorite devotions and, above all, their love for Christ - and they were transformed, little by little, so that they could become holy as their Father in heaven is Holy.

That's true piety. That is what makes a Saint.

Do not get caught up in the sin of spiritual comparison. In the spirit and advice of the Saints, assume the best of those you meet, look always to the example of Christ, and always continue onward, for it is He who awaits your love and devotion. It is He who thirsts for you. The world does not suffer from too many Saints; it suffers from not having enough.

Norbertine Fathers - Gregorian Chant

It has been my great pleasure this week to have received the honor of a reviewing Gregorian Chant - Requiem, sung by the Norbertine Fathers of the St. Michael's Abbey.  It is also a great pleasure to be able to review this incredible album on the 5th Sunday of Lent, in which we just heard the gospel account of the death and resurrection of Lazarus.

In this season of Lent in which we contemplate the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Our Lord, there is nothing better than a Requiem chant to aid in contemplation of His sacrifice. None of us are untouched by death, that terrible result of original sin; all of us need the reminder of our final ends, and the price paid for our salvation. All of us have experienced the death of a loved one at one point or another in our lives, an experience that is repeated more and more as we progress in years.

In Lent, as we approach Good Friday, we all share in the depths of grief of the Blessed Mother as we approach the shadow the Cross - it is on Holy Thursday that we enter, united through the Church, into a period of mourning and for those who have suffered loss, it may be all the more poignant, for inherent within that deep sense of grief remains an eternal hope.

A Requiem Mass, for those who are unfamiliar, is a Mass offered for one who has died. Those unfamiliar with it may find more information at the Catholic Encyclopedia entry on the subject.

The Norbertine Fathers have produced a hauntingly beautiful recording of the traditional prayers of the Requiem Mass, made even more so by the Providential weather on the day it was created. As the letter that accompanied the review copy stated,

The Old cliche' of a badly written novel beginning with the words: "It was a dark and stormy night..." could well apply to the recording of this album, as the date that worked for all the singers to record was the day of one of the longest and most violent tempests of 2010. The abbey's cantor, Fr. Chrysostom Baer, decided that, far from detracting from the quality of the recording,t he howling winds actually added to the haunting tones of chant. This is the reason for the atmospheric effects heard in the background of many of the recorded tracks.

Indeed, Father Baer is correct. I find the sound of wind to be especially proper to the music, for Gregorian Chant has long been referred to as "the breath of God", given its regular tones, rising and falling, natural pauses, all reminiscent and conducive to human need to breathe in order to sustain life. Chant is particularly profound, for it blends physical life with the spiritual need to breathe in communio with God, the author of all life, who created us as body and soul together. It is in this form of music that God is most profoundly glorified, for the theology of the body and the theology of the music, physically and spiritually, reveals the fullness of our Faith and has inherently within it a vivid, sung witness not just to the hope of eternal life, but also to the resurrection of the body.

I found the howling winds to be most prominent in the Kyrie, Dies Irae, and De Profundis, and rather than detracting from it, I was drawn even more deeply into the ancient tones of the chant, chilled to the soul, yet held within the protective warmth of the sacred prayers.

The CD comes with an insert containing the Latin words with English translation, so those who fear they won't understand the music have nothing to fear and can pray right along!

It should be noted that these chants are taken from the Norbertine Liturgy, with which many of us are probably very unfamiliar in name, although it followed very closely the Roman Canon of the Mass.

The chant most striking to me about it was the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God) for the Requiem:

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem sempiternam. 

Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant them rest.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant them rest.
Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant them eternal rest.

I don't want to spoil the CD for you so all I can tell you is this: it is available in Stores, physically and digitally, this Tuesday, April 12, 2011 and you really NEED to go out and get a copy so that it can aid your contemplation during Holy Week!

To purchase, go to www.jade-music.com.

As always, pray that more souls will answer God's call to serve Him in these holy Vocations of the Priesthood and Religious Life. 

The following information is provided by Jade Music:

GREGORIAN CHANT: REQUIEM BY THE NORBERTINE FATHERS OF ST. MICHAEL’S ABBEY
Available in Stores, physically and digitally, on April 12, 2011

This is the third Gregorian chant album by the Norbertine Fathers of St. Michael's Abbey in California. This is not an actual Mass, but the traditional Requiem music according to the ancient Norbertine Rite, a form of the liturgy similar to the ubiquitous Roman Rite but the exclusive patrimony of the Norbertine Fathers. The album is available in stores on April 12, 2011.

The Norbertine Fathers and the Pacific Symphony
Thanks to the buzz and press coverage surrounding the previous two album releases, Carl St. Clair, the music director of the Pacific Symphony Orchestra, invited the Norbertines to perform with the Orchestra. The three concerts, which took place in late February 2011 at the Segerstrom Center for the Arts in Costa Mesa, CA, were extremely popular and well received. 

The Expansion Project
St. Michael’s Abbey has been blessed with many vocations since its beginnings in the 1960s, and the boarding preparatory school consistently receives the highest ratings for its classical education and formation. Because of its growth, the community needs to expand its facilities. When the community began to consider expanding, it discovered that its current site is geologically unstable so the community will have to move to new land
Jade Music
Jade Music has a proven dedication to releasing quality classical and spiritual music for more than 20 years. It established itself as the premiere record label of the choir of the Abbey of Santo Domingo de Silos, Spain. Jade Music is distributed by ADA/Warner Music Group in the United States, Universal Music in France, JVC in Japan, and Warner Music International in the rest of the world.

GREGORIAN CHANT: REQUIEM (Tracklisting)
1. Rain and Bells  2. Introit: Requiem 3. Kyrie 4. Gradual: Requiem 5. Gradual: Si Ambulem 6. Prose: Dies Irae 7. Tract: De Profundis 8. Offertory: Domine Jesu Christe 9. Preface 10. Sanctus 11. Agnus Dei 12. Communion Antiphon: Lux Aeterna; Requiescant 13. Responsory for the Commendation of the Soul: Subvenite 14. Antiphon for the Procession of the Body: Suscipiat vos Christus 15. Antiphon for the Procession of the Body: Chorus Angelorum

Like A Queen Never Crowned

Recently I attended a talk, and the man (in formation) giving it spoke of his work in ministry, work that focused on women, specifically. He spoke about how women have been treated and continue to be treated; how we deserve to be treated as Queens, to be respected, and yet, that is not what happens in today's society.

I have to admit his talk brought tears to my eyes, because, of course, YES! That is what we not just want, but need. Sure, I've had boyfriends my friends said "treated me like a Queen", yet they weren't there behind closed doors to see what really happened and what was "expected" of me.

I still recall, back when I was 19 or or 20, going with my boyfriend at that time (he was 26, I think)  to his older sister's home. She was sweet and gracious and I liked her immediately, but it was a hot, humid day and although she and her husband grilled a lot of food, I simply couldn't eat much. Still I enjoyed what I had and thanked her for it, complimenting them on the meal.

My boyfriend, though, snapped at me, accusing me of eating more when we were out, suggesting, outrightly, that I "had a bigger appetite when he was paying for it."

I stared at him, shocked, and so did his sister, as I mumbled my embarrassed, self-conscious reply that it was good but I was full.  His sister, taking no slight, clearly insulted not by my behavior but by her brother's, said, "Well...she ate a full plate, and in a restaurant, that's what you eat...a plate."  I was grateful for her diplomacy and her commiseration, for I realized she saw and experienced what I did, and was trying to both make me feel better for the abuse and gently chastise her brother for dealing it out. I'm sure she was more direct when I wasn't there - she had the air of being a good older sister, and I'm sure that had he and I remained together, she and I would have been great friends.

That said...thank God that relationship ended. He didn't love or respect me, even if his family did.

Several years later, I got into a serious relationship with a guy I thought I wanted to marry and was convinced wanted to marry me...and sometimes, I still dream about him. I always wake up aching for what was lacking.

That guy is married now, and has children, and yes, I'm happy for him. I'm grateful not to be married to him, my own personal King Henry VIII, and I pray he raises his own daughter to be respected in a way he never learned; I pray fatherhood makes him vigilant, knowing that his baby is not a member of society's harem.

Society's Harem

Although I grew up Catholic and with a certain knowledge that sex and marriage are bonded and sacred, I also grew up in a society that expects women to be part of a cooperative harem and men to be members of a pool of donors.

So  it was that I gave in to the culture, desiring to be "treated like a Queen" yet having to give in to the expectation that I act as a member of the King-Of-The-Moment's harem, for really...that's all I was.

That guy I'd wanted to marry? Yeah....he would have assumed I wasn't "interested" if I hadn't been willing to offer him everything within a month.

That was his reality, his expectation, which he'd been conditioned to understand.

I remember being shocked, and I remember, over the term of our relationship, trying to describe the importance of....waiting. Yet....like every other guy I'd ever known, he wouldn't listen, he wouldn't hear, and he didn't care. If I wouldn't give it over, he'd find someone who would.

So much for being "Queen". Welcome to the Harem.

Just Another Member of the Rejected Harem

Sometimes I wonder if my struggle to know my Vocation is based not upon hope, but upon abuse. I honestly don't know what it's like to be treated well, to have a "healthy relationship", to know that being, and remaining  a Queen is not based in being lottery-winning member of a harem.

I honestly feel like my entire dating life was wasted, like a bug under glass, an experiment for some impersonal scientist who cared nothing for me as a person, but wanted me only for my pleasingness to his eye, my ability to satisfy baser "needs".

I don't know what it's like to receive flowers "Just because", or an invitation to dinner simply for my company. I don't know what it's like to have potential in the eyes of another, and I've long given up potential in the eyes of myself.

Yes, we women, we want to be treated like Queens so that we can treat the ones we love like Kings...but there are so few princes.The Princes of this world know only depravity, leaving us abandoned.

Sometimes I wonder if I only ponder a Vocation because Jesus is the only One who has not and will not abuse me. Do I suffer from not responding to a Vocation, or am I a Vocation rejected by my secularized peers?

I am not a Queen, and don't want to be so, but for the one to whom I am pledged. Life is short and my years are getting longer in the teeth...I am but a Queen never crowned, and I'd prefer to remain in this limbo rather than to give into the depravity of our society.

Indeed I am pursuing a Vocation, but I admit a huge obstacle is one of mistrust: who would EVER want me? The men I've met have rejected me, or wanted something I'm not willing to offer without eternal commitment.

They'd rather relegate me to their societal harem, along with the women who fought for freedom but found only sexual slavery in our culture of "tolerance" and "equality".

I wonder where I can find value as a human being in a society that relegates my value to be that which is contained by the pleasurable usefulness found in my chemically suppressed yet sexually enhanced reproductive organs.

How can I, as a woman, find value in a culture that pushes "female hormones" upon me to suppress life, tries to mindbend me into believing life is bad for society, and then tries to sell me on the idea that I should have self-esteem? How does THAT work?

How does ANY of that make me feel like a queen, to accept any type of crown?

I haven't been allowed to feel like a real  human in our society for a very long time.

It'a a good thing the pursuit of holiness isn't based upon mere "feeling", isn't it?

~ Comments Closed ~ 

Why is Prayer So Difficult?

In the previous post, How to Listen to God, Faith posits the question, "I understand that praying isn't easy. My question, is: Why is this so?"

Isn't that another great question???  Thanks, Faith.  :-)

Let's go back to the definition of prayer:  prayer is a conversation with God.

Conversations are easy, right?

Well...er...sure. Sometimes. Yes. No...well, maybe...or...not so much.  Hmmmm.

I think I'd answer it like this:  Prayer is easy.  WE are difficult!

When we look at Faith's question in light of the most basic definition of prayer, and recall that the other party in the conversation is God, the Creator of the Universe, our Father, our Beloved Savior, the Holy Spirit who groans on our behalf for the words we cannot speak., well, that can sometimes seem a bit overwhelming. Perhaps it challenges our faith to recognize that God truly wants this relationship with us and is inviting our participation.

Remember:  God is immutable. 

He does not change. He cannot change.

When we pray, therefore, we are forced to recognize who we are in the face of God, and sometimes He holds up a mirror, and the reflection there ain't so pretty, is it? Sometimes we get a good look at ourselves through His eyes because we've got a few flaws He wants to point out, and perhaps we don't want to see those flaws. Or perhaps we KNOW they are there but we don't really want to recognize them, or work on them. We'd rather just push past that mirror of self-knowledge and say, "Yeah, God, I know all that, but I really really really want to experience the heights of ecstasy like St. Teresa of Avila. Can't you make just one tiny exception...for me? Please? Pretty-pretty-please with sugar on top?"

And there God sits, immovable, loving us as we squirm under His directed, uncondemning gaze. We try to look away, but we just can't...and there we sit. That's kind of a prayer-killer, there, isn't it?

Think about it:  when we look away and refuse to take that mirror into our own hands, go to Confession, and own up to the fact we have a lot of sins holding us back from fulfilling our end of our relationship with God, we're the ones sticking a fork in prayer. We're the ones being difficult. The responsibility for that rests solely upon ourselves.

Sin isn't the only problem making prayer difficult, though, is it?

I don't know about you, but I have often found that, especially when I have sinned seriously, or maybe not mortally but enough to make me feel especially bad about something, my prayer life gets a bit wacky. Sometimes I'm almost afraid to pray, but always, always, if I take my sorry self to the chapel to pray, or open up the Liturgy of the Hours, God gives me certain consolations, and often those consolations are exactly what buoys me right into the line for Confession, even if I'm shaking in my shoes.  Then, the moment I'm out of Confession and offer my penance and pray a prayer of thanksgiving for God's mercy, BANG! I suddenly can't seem to pray anymore!

At times I've sat almost shell-shocked in the chapel, staring at the Blessed Sacrament, asking Jesus, "Hey! Where did You go? Come back!"

In that case, I've removed the obstacle of sin, but there I am, in the desert. Spiritually, that desert is stretching far in front of me...and even though Jesus is right there, I can't "feel" Him anymore. I know intellectually all the theological stuff that tells me He is right there and especially after Confession when I've managed not to sin for about 30 seconds or so, that the Holy Spirit burns within my soul...but Jesus just sits there and looks at me stoically, asking, "Are you still going to talk to me even when it's hard?"

Yes, Lord. Thy Will Be Done.  *ow*!

This is a lesson often spoken of through the Spiritual Masters:  dryness in prayer. 

When we first begin to pray, and we are falling in love with Jesus, there may be a certain spiritual high. We are doing something new and exciting, maybe we are reading about the great mystics and, their words for God and about God still burning on the pages of their journals, we, too are ignited and desire with all our hearts that same kind of love for God...and that knowledge of God's love for us.

So it is that we sometimes experience emotional "highs"; we may weep during prayer, we feel a deep emotional joy, we may look forward to any moment we can get to pray.

Over time, though, that tends to fade. Prayer isn't as pleasurable anymore. We haven't experienced the heights of mystical ecstasy, we haven't seen any apparitions or heard any Divine voices. Maybe we struggle just to pray a single Hail Mary or Our Father, and we feel guilty, for maybe we fear we have fallen out of love with God.

Maybe we even stop feeling pleasure at attending Mass; it becomes more of a drudgery than a joy, and we deeply feel a sense of guilt about t his, and perhaps don't even want to bring it up to anyone for fear they may point at us and scream HERETIC! YOU HATE GOD!

It's easy to romance the idea of the Saints at prayer, but the reality of their prayer lives was the daily drudgery of it. The constant conversation with God, the sheer tedium; that is what truly brought them to holiness. Not a single Saint was canonized because God granted them infused prayer; they were canonized because they persevered even when  or perhaps especially when prayer itself was a trial.

What is the Purpose of Prayer?

If you struggle with prayer, ask yourself what you're trying to get out of it. What are YOUR goals? WHY are you praying?

Then take a step back and look at God. Ask Him what He gets out of this relationship with us. Realize...nothing. God doesn't get ANYTHING out of it. He doesn't NEED us, but rather, WE need HIM! God created us entirely for Himself and wills our good - only our good! Our very ability to pray is in and of itself a pure gift from God.

Prayer is the way we come to know and love God, and through the Sacraments which lead us more deeply into prayer, we become sanctified.  The purpose, then, of prayer...is to make us Holy!

It's so easy to forget that. We all have long laundry lists of needs and wants. We have unrequited desires, deep wounds in need of healing, fears for loved ones...and a will that needs to be purified.

God Will Not Be Manipulated

In going back to the original question - why is prayer so difficult - I stated that prayer is not difficult:  We are!

We are fallen, and in our fallen nature we try to manipulate others to get what we want. We are selfish, self-centered, egotistical little worms and we usually do things because those things make us feel good or get us something that we want. We do good for others because it makes us feel good to do so; ergo, for a selfish reason. Over time this basic childish tendency can be tempered as we begin to do good things for others because it is RIGHT, even if at times we must suffer for doing the right thing.

In our relationships with others, using the office as an example, we tend to do good things for our co-workers because we know it might advance our careers. Certainly ethics are involved; I'm not saying we all go around trampling on others to get what we want, but rather, we look at the ends we desire and we do what we can in our current positions so as to advance over the guy in the next cube. "If I volunteer to take that overtime on July 4 that no one wants, that's a big star in my file and might be the thing to tip the next promotion in my favor...".  Sure, we might tell our teammates, or just let them think we're "taking at hit for the team" but no, we're just manipulating the team.

Even in the closest friendships, we do the same thing; we humans have a HUGE capacity for manipulation, and unfortunately, that sometimes transfers over into prayer.

All too often we go to prayer and tell God what WE want, and when the outcome is not what we dictate to Him, we become angry with God. We rail at Him, curse Jesus in taking His name in vain, stamp our little feet, cry, scream and say we're going to leave the Church unless He does what we tell Him to do.

If that kind of response to God's disobedience to us isn't part of our temperament, then maybe we delve into more passive-aggressive techniques designed to put Him in His place, such as using devotions in a superstitious or talismanic manner, or looking for "prayer" techniques that might get us what we want when we want it while bypassing the pesky necessity of God's Will.

(Are you squirming yet? I am. Aren't you glad God is merciful? I am.)

We forget that God is immutable; our temper tantrums and techniques are not part of His plan.  Certainly He may respond favorably to our prayers IN SPITE of ourselves, but we must remember:  God cannot be manipulated. He laughs at our attempts.

Sometimes we even delude ourselves, saying that this or that "technique" or even "devotion" is what got us something like a certain consolation. We forget that healthy skepticism is also important; we are not blind fools; to be so is an insult to God who created our intellects and will in His own image. We sometimes forget the lessons of self-knowledge, comforting ourselves by the delusion that our complicated techniques won for us a feeling of euphoria when in actuality, all we did was hyperventilate and get too much oxygen into our brains. Or maybe we just saw "signs" that weren't there but through our own wishful interpretation in ignorance of reality.

Here's the Final Blow - Brace Yourself:

Prayer really isn't so difficult. A simple conversation with God is the easiest thing in the world. God is not trying to trick us or trip us up. He loves us too much and honors the dignity He gave us too much to make building a relationship with him something akin to figuring out the geometry, physics, and mathematics of a house built by Frank Lloyd Wright.

Prayer is simplicity itself. What is difficult is letting go of ourselves and our own wills enough to let God decide what and when...or maybe never. We have to let go of pride and realize that we can't manipulate Him. We HAVE to become like little children, the children that we are, if we are to truly pray.

A toddler can pray just fine, and pray very effectively, for when they do so, they pray in innocent sincerity - completely unlike most adults!

The biggest comfort to me, believe it or not, is not when adults tell me they are praying for me, but when they tell me their 3-year-old child is praying for me!  I'll take the prayers of a toddler over that of the Holy Father himself ANY day! (No offense to our dear Pope Benedict XVI, whom I dearly love and believe to be a very holy man!)  

Prayer is difficult because we make it so, and of course, because at some point God has to wean us from the bottle of consolations He delights to pour out to encourage we children in the faith. At some point, though, we have to grow up and learn the sacrifices demanded by divine charity; difficulty and obstacles to prayer.

It is a greater sacrifice, of much greater merit, to pray when it is difficult, for in that sacrifice, we complete the task in spite of the fact we don't "feel" like it. When we go to Mass even if we don't "feel like it" or when we say we don't "get anything out of it anymore" but still go because we love God, that is an act of far greater love and holiness than going when it feels good to do so.

Why is prayer difficult?  Because through prayer, God is sanctifying us, is calling us to greater trials, conforming us to Himself, calling us to the Cross...all so that we might become Holy and spend eternity with Him. 

Thank you, Jesus. It really hurts to say it, and I don't know what's coming but....Thy will be done.

Amen.

**     **    ***

Thanks for your question, Faith (and by the way, I love your name!). You made me ponder and pray a lot over this one - sorry it turned into a book in and of itself!

Grace in Humiliation

I gotta admit it; I am terrified to pray for the virtue of humility.

Why?

Every time I made the attempt, I was knocked so hard on my backside that to THIS DAY I still have not been able to recover! Just mention "humility" and I begin to shake and shudder and drool then foam at the mouth in sheer terror in anticipation of what anvil is next to drop.

God, of course, cannot be taken by surprise and so, in seeing such sheer terror, He finds other ways to reveal to us the true nature of humility, and in fact, finds gentle humiliations in order to best reveal to us the divine Grace available through such abjection.

The Unwitting Act of Offense

Recently, in a conversation with others, something I said was misconstrued. I did not know at the time that what I was trying to convey was being taken into left field without my permission or intention, but there it was; that is the nature of human interaction. I remember catching the expressions on a couple of those present and wondered about what bad thing they were smelling, but as they never pulled me aside to explain that I was the source of their sour expressions, I ultimately thought nothing of it.

A few days later, a friend who had been absent that day left me a voice mail, asking for a call back, explaining that party A and B (the same ones who had housed sour expressions) had spoken with her and said that I had dropped her name a few times but not in a pleasant way.

Completely taken aback, I hung up the phone and prayed. I recalled mentioning her name, but NEVER in a derogatory way. I racked my memory, trying to ascertain what had gone so wrong for some people to have taken my intention so badly.

Of course, I immediately called her back to ask what she had heard, and I was thankful that she did not sound angry, only....questioning. In fact, her own tone was joyful, forgiving and welcoming, not contrived but in total sincerity.

It didn't take long to sort out the misunderstanding and as it turned out, she completely understood my original intention and, in fact, AGREED with me!  We had a wonderful conversation, and, a few days later when we met again, she made it a point to seek me out to thank me for calling her back to reconcile the issue.

Humiliation

When I'd first heard of what others I'd thought were friends had accused me of doing (behind my back) I had felt very betrayed.  I wondered...why hadn't they just come to me or called me out on the spot?

Why?  Why didn't they ask me to clarify or even, if they were such good friends to that person, "stood up" for her if they thought I was insulting her?

I was taken aback that they had instead chosen to be subversive, both assuming the worst of me and my intentions, then apparently through their own actions, making it worse through gossip?  And wasn't their own indignant refusal to engage with me, the offender, an outright betrayal to THEIR friend?

It was in speaking with the "allegedly offended" friend and the subsequent reconciliation that I realized the Grace God had provided to us both, especially when we were in each other's company again.

Real Grace

When I had time to reflect upon the events of the previous days, and the links and even disunity in our relationships, I knew that what we had experienced wasn't anything new or rare or novel; it went all the way back to Genesis.

Sin always drives a wedge in between relationships, and usually that wedge is quite self-righteous. It's very easy for us to justify our gossip to another person about someone else. We claim we are "clearing the air" or informing someone of something they need to know about. (In this case, that applied, although they went in the wrong direction with it and the "offended" is the one who set it right!).  Oh, yes, we just LOVE driving wedges around, we sorry, fallen children of God. It's our favorite hobby, such that we can say it is our second nature to do so!

Think about it, though....when one person starts with something... where does it stop?

Read the Bible: it didn't stop. Even after the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Christ, it didn't stop.  We were redeemed, but, well....the wound of sin continues even in those who try to be or believe they are holy.

We all struggle. We all fall. We all damage those we claim to love, and what is most horrible, we do so in the name of "Holiness" and "Truth"! What is often lacking there is "Prudence" and "Basic common sense", and actually, the Divine Virtue of, well.... CHARITY.

You know what really stopped me in my tracks, though, in this whole mess?  

The ONE friend, the one who was allegedly the "target" of whatever I had said, and thus the one offended, was the ONLY one to call me and ask for the truth.

No one from the gossipy peanut gallery who was offended FOR her called me out. THEY slunk away like Templeton and took their perceived but not edited-for-truth version to our mutual friend, telling her of my (apparently intended) insult to her.

Thankfully, that "offended" friend knew me well enough to question what she was hearing and was certain there had to be an explanation. Therefore, instead of wallowing in it as our other mutual friends had done, she picked up the phone and...[get this!]...CALLED me to ASK for my side of the story!

I was nearly in tears when I called her back, horrified that I had inadvertently done something to insult her in another's eyes. She didn't see those blinked-back tears, but I know she heard the horror in my voice and was nothing other than gracious.

I can't tell you how grateful I was for her understanding, and even the love apparent in her initial call. I can't tell you how grateful I was to have been forgiven the unintended offense.

The Heart of the Matter

It was beautiful to be forgiven, but what I really have had to take away from this experience was this:  I have to forgive, too. 

This is a message that came to me even in the middle of that mess, from another friend who knew NOTHING of the matter that so plagued me.

This other, unknowing, friend spoke of St. Therese' of Lisieux, who rejoiced upon learning her flaws, and spoke even more of the unexpected humiliations, of remaining silent in the face of unjust accusations and assumptions.

Ah, yes, she was speaking to me.

I was, even then, harboring resentment against those who had so dishonestly and subversively accused me of wrongdoing, assuming the worst of me, and taking that sordid tale to the friend who, according to them, I was TRYING to harm, and quite publicly at that.

It's hard NOT to harbor resentment when accused behind one's back.

Yet even in that initial conversation, it was clear my friend thought the best of them, and the best of me, and in so doing, was taking the advice of the Saints to heart:  to always think the best of others, and speak the best of them.

This is no easy thing to do, and yet, there I was, the offender (if without intent) yet still the recipient of such divine charity.

Who am I, then, to hold resentment against my own accusers?  Shouldn't I, then, think the best of them? Assume that their intent was not one of gossip but of charity, even if they, like me, carried it out imperfectly?

Should I not also be first in line to forgive an unintended offense?

Yet I didn't; I did to my accusers what they did to me, if in a different way.

And because our sins are hidden from each other, they can be reconciled at this point only through God, and healed only through God, and through our behavior towards each other, and our prayers for each other.

Perhaps I must go out of my way to ask them to pray for me; they are indeed prayerful people, good Catholics, people I want as my friends. I only hope they still want me as their friend as well.

Yes, there is grace in humiliation; were it not for this, I would not have recognized the strength of one friendship and the weakness in myself so clearly.

It really, truly takes only a simple act of friendship to save many relationships and to bring us all closer to Christ.

That's what holiness is all about.

I thank God for my friends every day. Whoever you are, wherever you are, please do the same. You never know who has your back until you are the one to be scourged.

Holiness and Humility

It's the right time of year for it, so today I watched "Charlotte's Web", one of my favorite stories.  In the more recent film version (2006), Wilbur questions Charlotte about the final word she wrote of him. He questioned whether it was the right word, for truth had always been an important definition within their friendship. In an important moment in the barn at the fair, Wilbur revealed that he didn't feel like he deserved ANY of the words Charlotte had written of him, and wanted this final testament to be, well....right.

"Then it's exactly the right word", Charlotte replied.

Although I've seen this movie more than once, today this scene really stood out to me.

I thought about the importance of humility in a life of holiness, and how few souls are truly humble. I certainly am not one of them!  I thought about my own ongoing pridefulness, my vainglory, if you will.

A spider would never call me humble. Even if said spider was the epitome of humility. (Charlotte herself).

In pondering further, though, I recalled the times I had asked for humility, and the painful experiences of humiliation that always followed. I recalled huge failures, true humiliations that occurred when I didn't even know about the virtue or that it would even apply!

I recalled how many times I have been knocked down, and I admit that when I think about "humiliations", I recall most often to mind the disasters in life, such as the day I turned in my badge and my gun and walked away from law enforcement forever.

It was a humiliation that sent me into a tailspin.

I recall the day I left the Fire Department, albeit with references, but it was still a humiliation as I had not been able to reach the goal I'd had since I was a little girl.

There are others, far more personal, that I have spoken of only to Confessors and Spiritual Directors and close friends.  Far too many others.

In meditating upon this, though, I realized something important:  the big humiliations are what pave the way for the little ones.

God knows us well, and He knows that when we built what we think is an impenetrable fortress, it must be demolished so that we can be dragged out from the rubble and our wounds tended to.

When the Saints speak of "humiliations", they are rarely speaking of something large, but rather, of those small moments of surrendering one's will in order that someone else might grow stronger.

We should not fear to ask for humility, for holiness is found in the small moments, the small humiliations that remain between the soul and God, and perhaps the soul's Confessor. The humiliations of the spiritual life that are truly part of a devout soul's journey in holiness are not the same as those that appear on CNN or the local news.

In looking back over my own life, it is clear that the very real and big humiliations I suffered were necessary only to create in me a wound that would allow the healing blood of Jesus to enter and bring me from death into life.  It was in suffering the most that I was finally brought to my knees, not in sorrow, but in love and devotion.

I need to thank God every day for those humiliations, for were it not for having been knocked down so hard, I would never have had the opportunity to even consider it possible to one day become truly holy and join my own blood with that of Jesus as we make our way, in this life, up to road to Calvary.

Thank you, Jesus.

Please give me the grace to sincerely pray for humility, and thank you still more when you answer the prayer, no matter what that answer may be. 

Amen.  

 

We Are Called to be Holy, not Happy.

Holiness is, quite simply, realizing that one's happiness is found ONLY in God.

This is going to be shocking to some people, but contrary to the popular philosophy of this age, God is NOT interested in our happiness on earth.

Is it nice if we are happy?

Certainly!

Does it please God if we go about seeking happiness legitimately and finding joy in the simple pleasures of life?

Certainly!  The entire Bible is FILLED with such examples!

However, it is important to understand that our happiness and comfort on earth is NOT why Jesus died for us.  He did not die to save us from earthly suffering.

Jesus suffered horribly and died for each and every one of us, personally, not so that we could sin in comfort, but so that we would choose to carry our own crosses of sorrow and suffering, unite ourselves to Him and understand that our life on earth is to prepare us for eternal life.

The only thing God cares about, the only reason Jesus ransomed us, was to sanctify us and call us to the path of holiness by cooperating with His Grace so that we can be happy in eternity.

Do you understand?

I'll say it again:  God is not calling us to be happy in this world! He is calling us to become HOLY so that we can find happiness in HIM for eternity.

That is all.

Monastic Life

"Lord, let my cry come to you; do not hide your face from me." 
Ant. 1, Morning Prayer

I really love the contemplative life.

I only arrived home on Saturday, and immediately missed the hours of community prayer, the chanted psalms, chanted prayers, and the flow of life in a religious community.

I loved the fact that no matter what we were doing, it was the ONLY thing I had to do at that given time. When we were praying, there was nothing else on my mind (except the icon, which, of course, was being prayed!). When we were at meals, I was content to be present there, and only there.

When I was working on my icon, I was wholly absorbed into the process, and pondering, as I wrote, the mystery of the Incarnation, the identity of Mary and of Christ. I was realizing my many faults and the very real process of trying to grow in holiness, yet constantly failing. I came to learn that even that is a work of beauty when touched by God's grace.

It seems to me that life was far more real, and more honest, than the life I am living now. I felt....free.

Even though I regularly pray the Liturgy of the Hours, I cannot do so at the same times every day, and so often when I go to pray my mind is on something I have to do next. I almost feel guilty for taking time out to pray and have to struggle hard against that temptation!

Last week, nearly every day it was my privilege to attend Mass in the Extraordinary Form. By the end of the week I was able to follow along, understood how to find my place in the missal, and found that I was far more focused and aware in that form of the Mass than I am when I attend Mass in the Ordinary Form (what many people call the "Novus Ordo" which is somewhat of a perjorative term.)

It was a bit jarring to go from a week of contemplative prayer, Latin chants, and the deep holiness of the Extraordinary Form to Mass in my home parish on Sunday complete with the narcissistic show tunes that tend to characterize (and wreck) the Ordinary Form. On Sunday I was distracted, I was irritated and found that I couldn't focus...because I didn't "have" to; I could understand everything clearly.

Last summer when I visited the Cistercians we talked about Latin; Sister observed that even though they often don't understand the words they are praying, they know the focus is God, and they realize that the Mass, and the prayers of the Liturgy of the Hours is so holy it has its own language. The Mass itself is so profound and mysterious that truly, on this side of the veil we are not MEANT to fully understand it.

We become sanctified by continually seeking the face of God, and, I have found, when things come too easily to us, it's very easy to think we understand everything, and therefore we stop seeking. So it is with Mass in the vernacular; I cannot focus because I have no REASON to focus. Nothing is mysterious; nothing draws me into the Mystery of Christ made present on the altar. I try to focus because I know what's going on, but in the Extraordinary Form, I am forced to look more deeply, to be more invested and in so being, to be more open to God.

I miss that.

I ache for that.

It was not a week of spiritual consolations by any means; most of my prayer life and Mass attendence is fairly dry. I desire to pray and I desire to attend Mass and enjoy doing so because I love God, but in all that I have written above, understand that none of it was about emotion or sentimentality.

Perhaps what I am trying to express is too far beyond words, although I suspect many of the faithful do understand and have the same interior sense.

Marriage to Christ

One of the things that came to me during prayer, and during Mass last week was, of course, the meaning of religious life. I considered the vows to be made, and how Our Lord courts his beloved, drawing her to Him in subtle ways. He is generous and does not withhold His generosity.

In prayer I pondered the vows of marriage, and the changes in life that must take place. If I were to marry, I would go to live with my husband, and his family would become my family. I would have a new circle of friends and acquaintances. I would have to get rid of many things, for they would not be needed or would be impractical in a new life. I would have to make sacrifices, and die to myself so as to offer myself more fully to the union to which I was called. My routine would change, my obligations would change.

So it is with religious life as well. All of that, and more.

I used to think about all the things I'd be "giving up", but in reflecting on the reality, it's not about giving anything up. It's about what is to be gained. If our hands are clinging to material things, they are not open  and able to cling to that which is eternal.

I want a life of prayer, a life of living intensely, a life of holiness.

I will never be satisfied with anything else.

"My heart is ready, O Lord, my heart is ready..." 

~ Ant. 1 Morning Prayer (Wednesday)

Gov'mint Cheese and Powdered Milk

On this Feast of St. Catherine of Siena, in the Year for Priests, I was going to post some more of her commentary on the Priesthood and the dignity of Priests. But I couldn't write that post today.

Instead, in her spirit, in honor of her life and her charism, I direct you, my readers, towards those she served most often, and to whom she dedicated her life:  The Unloved. The Forgotten. The Sick and Infirm.

Many think of the GREAT things St. Catherine did, including her role in ending the Avignon Captivity and the restoration of the true Pope.

Many try to misuse her name in favor of the laughable efforts of the "womynpryst" crowd in abusing her image for themselves with regard to their assessment of "speaking truth to power.".  Methinks St. Catherine would have something quite severe to say to such a crowd that does so much to taint the face of the Bride. Being a Catholic has nothing to do with "power": it has to do with service, and more importantly, our Vocation to Holiness.

The very moment "Power" enters into the conversation, holiness and salvation are no longer relevant. Oh, do I wish St. Catherine could speak today!

But, as usual, I digress.

Tonight....tonight, I speak to something dear to St. Catherine's heart. It has nothing to do with politics, and everything to do with humanity and God's holiness...and therefore, her holiness.

A Brief History

Many don't know that St. Catherine was cloistered in her own home for three years, serving as Anchoress to those who came to her for spiritual direction.  God Himself called her to this cloister, wherein He spoke to her through mystical experiences, but finally directed her Himself to leave the cloister to help her mother and to serve the poor.

St. Catherine was obedient, left the cloister of her room and like our modern Blessed Mother Teresa, went to serve the worst of the worst, and to great criticism.  She was never without both physical and personal persecution in her response to God's will.

She was not a feminist. She was not a politician. She was simply and purposefully a willing instrument of God in a world desperate for His Divine Love. As such, all she did was done according to God's will, and from what I know of her, she may well have been privy to the Divine Processions, and as such, to abuse her charism for political or ideological gain is an outright blasphemy. Let God be the Judge.

My Friends...St. Catherine is an EXAMPLE...stop trying to make her an exception to the rule! 

We are ALL called to holiness!

We are ALL called to grow  in holiness!

St. Catherine shows us all by her own example that before we can truly serve others and bring them to Christ, we must first be formed ourselves, and yes, that might be a very painful process!  For some (dense people like me) we need more advanced intellectual formation to feed our spiritual growth. Others are in more need of solid formation in prayer, which require, as a foundation, the basic tenants of our faith...such as the Catechism of the Catholic Church.  Unfortunately, for the last 50 years + (even beyond, far beyond the Second Vatican Council) that formation has been absent.  This is one of the reasons for the Council; to answer this deprivation of formation.

The fact is this:  If we go out to serve the poor and unfortunate out of a natural desire to help them, that is a good thing. But without a foundation in Christ, it is mere secular social work and has no eternal merit for either our spiritual growth or that of those we serve.

We are not called to be Government employees;  we are called to bring souls to Salvation in Christ!  

We can't give what we don't have, and if we don't take the time for supernatural formation, then all we have to offer is the spiritual equivalent of "Gov'mint cheese and powdered milk." **

This is one of the greatest messages of the life of St. Catherine;  like Christ, she lived by example. She spent time in deep prayer, and in her extraordinary case, was supernaturally formed by God Himself.

Most of us, no matter what our Vocation, don't have the benefit of such a grace of  mystical marriage with God, but that does not excuse us from our own foundational spiritual formation in accordance with our proper state in life. At a minimum, we MUST attend Mass every Sunday and Holy Day, we MUST, if we really want to serve God, attend more often as we are able, and seek to cultivate a life of prayer. The prayer of a wife or husband is not the same as a contemplative nun or monk, and the prayer life of a child usually doesn't match that of a priest. Yet we are all called to make Our Lord the center of our lives, through the Sacraments, thorough ongoing conversation with God...without which we can NEVER attain holiness and salvation.

We, all of us, as Catholics, are called to be formed, not just for ourselves, but to go out and form others. To serve others, to be Christ to others, leaven to the world, salt of the earth. To bring loved to those who are not loved.

There are no exceptions to this. There are different callings...but no exceptions.

Who Around You Subsists on Gov'ment Cheese & Powdered Milk?

Do you even know?

Who is your brother?  Who is your sister?

Many years ago, when I was a rookie police officer, still in Field Training, I was sent to my first Death Investigation.  We were called to "check the welfare" because the person's newspapers were piling up outside his door. The landlord was present with us when he keyed in and we discovered the resident of that apartment was dead.  He'd been there for a few days....and no one noticed.

Only the newspapers piling up outside his door gave a cue only the Landlord...that something was wrong.

No one else called. Not family. Not friends.

The Landlord. The guy he paid to live in that building, in that place. And when a payment wasn't due, he wasn't noticed. Think about it:  the only person who noticed something was the person being paid to notice, and he barely knew him.

We checked the dead man's phone. Nothing on the answering machine.

This guy was invisible to everyone but his landlord, who noticed his stack of unread newspapers.

This guy is your brother, and he died alone, and it took DAYS for someone to notice.

To St. Catherine, he would not have been invisible. To St. Catherine, he would have been noticed. He would not have died alone.

If we learn anything from St. Catherine it should be that our love for our neighbor flows from our love for God, and if we do not love God, we cannot properly love our neighbor.

Look around you. Take a hint from St. Catherine, and if there are any near you who are unloved, hard to love, or invisible, reach out to them.

Maybe your effort to reach out to one soul won't change the world, but it might save a soul, or at the very least, ensure that maybe that soul won't die alone and forgotten.

St. Catherine...pray for us!  

Footnotes:
Those of you who, like me,  grew up on Commodities will understand this reference to "Gob'ment cheese and powdered milk". Outside the US...leave a comment and one of us will define.) 

REALLY?

Here is your litmus test for anything you will ever do:

DOES IT GLORIFY GOD?

Seriously, look around you and consider all the petty "debates" (loosely defined) going on, everyone trying to get the fabled "upper hand."  Everything is rhetoric. Everything is "my opinion" versus "your opinion" but where in this is there room for GOD'S opinion?

Oy, what an archaic idea, that God would have something to say.  I'm not speaking in this posts to atheists. I'm speaking to declared Christians of all walks, and most particularly to practicing Catholics who are, presumably, seeking holiness. In other words...those who want to be Saints.

I am outright shocked at the number of "professed Catholics" who are jumping on the bandwagon in a protest that actually does nothing other than back up a controversy brought about by a couple anti-everything guys made popular by the irreverent to everything Comedy Central.

First...have you all lost your minds??

Second...what happened to your quest for holiness?

Can we just cut through the crap on this?  

Imagine yourself approaching the Pearly Gates, entering, and being brought to the Throne of Judgment. There you are, before God. You, and you alone. Ponder that now. All you have done wrong. All you have done right. It's all there; transparent, all interior motivations revealed in all the agonizing pridefulness and humiliation.  (It won't be a pleasant experience for anyone).

Now...do you REALLY think that drawing a picture of Mohammed in order to thumb your nose at extremists glorifies God?  Do you REALLY labor under the misapprehension that God is going to view that act of juvenile idiocy and say to you, "Oh, what a holy thing you did, how original, now take your place at my left hand"?

REALLY?

EVERYTHING we do as Catholics should be ordered to salvation; ours and that of others.

The second we lose that focus, we tend to buy into stupid stunts that just glorify ourselves and leave God in the dust.

To those of you who are buying into the "Let's draw a pic of Mohammed" idiocy, ponder, and maybe try to answer the following:  How, exactly, is ripping on the "holy objects/ persons" as defined by other religions making Catholicism more palatable?  How does it glorify God? How does such stupid "retaliation" make any kind of reparation to the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary? And to you in particular, how does drawing Mohammed save YOUR soul, and the souls of others?

Are you REALLY planning to stand before God with this plan, expecting a golden ticket?

REALLY?