Disfigured Bride

I'm completely at odds with myself, and even with God right now, and all evening I've been completely unsettled.

In hopes of finding SOMETHING to focus me, maybe in helping me to figure out some sort of "direction", I went to visit a particular blog, and to my surprise found that author had liked one of my comments and highlighted it in a post. I can't link to the post, as it's a "protected" blog, but here is what I said that day:

St. Catherine of Siena, in "Dialogue" wept about this very problem, and others, to God, and He responded, "It is by thy tears and thy sweat that the face of my Bride will be cleansed and restored."
Ow.
I keep trying to remember that, and then from moment to moment, I don't know if I'm the Disfigured one or the one weeping and sweating and bleeding...and find that it is all the same thing.
If I stop to ponder this too long, like Hamlet, I lose the name of action.

As I looked at my own forgotten words, I was stricken to my very soul.  I often meditate on that image from St. Catherine of Siena, and in fact, am using that quote (although the ACTUAL words!)  in one of my papers.

As I've gotten closer and closer to the end of my studies, as I've considered the change in my own attitudes over the years, the people I've met online and and in real life, the internet assumptions of what's going on in the Church versus the lived reality in the trenches, the reality not witnessed by the vast majority of the blogosphere....I have quite literally wept for the Church.

No, I haven't wept out of holy charity like St. Catherine of Siena, but out of frustration at the growing chasm between Faith and secular "life" and the indifference of those who are the most educated and yet...still the least willing to put knowledge into practice.

I have felt overwhelmed not just by reality, but but the formal realization that if I am called to obtain this education, then I am required to place it into use...and I'm terrified.  In Jesus' own words, "To whom much is given, much is expected."

I've been given so much, and while the financial debt of my education over the years has grown to impossibility, it's the spiritual debt that terrifies me the most.   It's the spiritual debt I know I can never pay, and am not sure I can shoulder, that perhaps is part of this "wall" I'm hitting in my studies right now.

When I look at my paraphrase of St. Catherine of Siena's words, knowing the context of it, I realize that I am at an impasse;  critical juncture transcending both my spiritual life and my physical life and all the details that follow along.

Oh, the great and unending irony! The more I consider the very deep wounds of the Mystical Body of Christ, how they reflect upon the wounds suffered by Our Lord Jesus, the more my studies force me to step back and take in the vast expanse that is the Church...and the more I see, both in the "big picture" and in the individual members...the more I recognize how great is the need for workers in the vineyard...including me.

It's like trying to focus my eyes on a subject both near and far...and even as the observer, I am the subject.

I can't even mention the harvest, for sometimes there don't seem to be enough workers who want to bother with planting....so never mind the harvest.

The more I recognize regarding the state of the Mystical Body as a whole and the individual state of souls, the more I realize that I am one of them, too, in just as much, if not more, need of grace and forgiveness.

Truly, I am at odds.  I don't know how it's possible for me, as fallen and Disfigured as I am, to be able to offer any tears and sweat to cleanse the face of the Bride.

It is in this seeming dichotomy that I am lost, and so, like Hamlet, in my studies and in my spiritual life I hit a wall and default to inaction.

The Lessons of Lent: Survival and Dependence on God are the Same Thing

If we come to the end of Lent and don't realize that we need a Savior, we have missed the point.

I've known for many years that when I am overwhelmed, in a sense I "shut down."  It can be a good thing in survival in certain cases, but it can also be deadly.

Perhaps what God is trying to reveal to me is to lean on Him more, to recognize in a very real way that I CAN'T do any of it....but He can. I still don't know how to "let go."  I still don't know how to let Him take the load.  I can "pray things away" to Him all the time, but if I don't open my own deathgrip so that He can take the burden, it is as if I chain Him in the prison of His Passion, refusing to allow the Resurrection.

I can't figure out in my own actual practice, the line between the heresy of Quietism and the grace Contemplative Action.  It's not something that can be taught, but rather, a swamp we must all find our way through at some point in our lives. Maybe several times.  It is in this muck that we finally find our way, if only we can focus on the Cross and Resurrection.

I think that what I said that night in my comment is true, but I'm going to have to really stop and consider my own words, knowing  even though I once "spoke" them, I've never had the courage to face them.  Maybe now it's time.

"From moment to moment, I don't know if I'm the Disfigured One or the One weeping and sweating and bleeding...and find that it is all the same thing."

Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.

I pray you are all having a blessed Lent. If you find that you are both the Bride and the Disfigured, you are not alone, but I leave it to you to decide whether you are in good company or not.



*** Theological Note: As human beings, we are ALL disfigured by sin. The word "disfigured" is used by God the Father in St. Catherine of Siena's "Dialogue" and speaks not just of the Mystical Body as a whole, but of individuals in need of conversion. That's all of us. We are ALL the "Disfigured Bride".  Only The Blessed Mother never matched that description. 

The Conversion Was Not the Call of St. Paul the Apostle

Today, the Apostle Paul himself tells us of his conversion, and the story is well known. There is a reason, though, that we celebrate it not as the Call of St. Paul, but rather his Conversion. I think that the reality is that the Call of the Apostle Paul happened many years prior, when he was still a young man.

A few months ago it was my privilege to attend a conference in which a priest offered a possible link between the man who went away sad and our beloved St. Paul.  In my opinion, this link is worth considering and I have pondered it often, for there is a great deal of truth in the idea, including something of human psychology we can observe in people around us who have missed their calling or have outright rejected Christ.

Let us review the relevant passages to this meditation:

Mark 10:17-31 The Man Who Went Away Sad

17As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up, knelt down before him, and asked him, "Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" 18 Jesus answered him, "Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. 19 You know the commandments: 'You shall not kill; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; you shall not defraud; honor your father and your mother.'" 20 He replied and said to him, "Teacher, all of these I have observed from my youth." 21 Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said to him, "You are lacking in one thing. Go, sell what you have, and give to (the) poor and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me." 22 At that statement his face fell, and he went away sad, for he had many possessions.

Now let us look to today's Feast and read part of what Paul has to say about his conversion in

Acts 22:36-11

“On that journey as I drew near to Damascus,about noon a great light from the sky suddenly shone around me. I fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to me,‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? I replied, ‘Who are you, sir?’And he said to me,‘I am Jesus the Nazorean whom you are persecuting.’ My companions saw the light but did not hear the voice of the one who spoke to me.I asked, ‘What shall I do, sir?’ The Lord answered me, ‘Get up and go into Damascus, and there you will be told about everything appointed for you to do.’

Do you see the link between the two?

The priest who made this connection advanced it carefully, not to be considered dogma but rather for a point of meditation. If you have not guessed, he advanced the idea that the young man who approached Jesus asking, "What must I do?" was Saul who became St. Paul the Apostle.

In that young man of the reading from Mark's gospel,  the priest saw Saul, who we know to have been a Pharisee, a privileged man, one who persecuted the Christians without mercy.  In the first passage from Mark, we observe a young man who is struck to his very being by what Jesus is saying, so much so that he RUNS to Him, falls on his very knees and asks what he can DO!

How does Jesus respond?  First he asks Saul to go deeper into the mystery.  He asks him, "Why do you call me good?  No one is good but God alone!"

In this question, imagine Jesus looking into Saul's eyes, perhaps putting His hand on Saul's shoulder to emphasize His words and express His goodwill.  "Why do YOU call ME 'good'?  NO one is 'good' but GOD ALONE'."   Jesus does not break eye contact.  He is asking Saul to go deeper into himself, and into HIM to see the Truth of His very being...and what He is really asking.

Imagine a moment of silence as Saul ponders this question. "What does Jesus mean?  What is he saying?  Is he...claiming what I THINK he is?  That HE is....GOD?!!!!!??????"

Jesus emphasizes the Ten Commandments...the Law of God HIMSELF.  It is God HIMSELF speaking here, the Word Incarnate giving spoken expression the Word that is HIM.

Saul has broken eye contact. He looks away and in meeting the gaze of Jesus again, he sees everything...he recognizes who he is in the face of God, who LOVES him.  God LOVES Saul, but still tells him what he is lacking...he is not free to follow Him. He must purge himself of his worldly attachments, give to the poor...and follow.

That's where Saul goes away sad. 

So often this scripture is interpreted in a way not supported by scripture itself.  I've heard many homilies and lectures giving rise to the idea that the young man went away sad because he didn't want to part with his belongings.  Maybe that's true, but where in scripture is that verified as reality?  I pondered this myself  years ago when teaching RCIA, and in light of what Father said, I ponder it even more.  It seems that the man who went away sad isn't actually the end of the story.

 It makes sense that we consider this testimony in the light of Paul's Conversion...and Apostleship.

Look seriously at and ponder the story the Apostle Paul tells us today. If we can assume the negative about the Gospel of Mark, can we not ponder it in light of Paul's testimony in ACTS?    What did he do?  He HEARD a voice...a voice he recognized especially when Christ Himself spoke.  The conversation is almost an echo of the first!.

 Saul has matured and asks, "Who ARE you?"

Jesus simply identifies Himself, knowing Saul will remember and BELIEVES that only God alone is Good.

Saul doesn't question the identification.  This good Pharisee who questions EVERYTHING and is ready to kill on contact lies there on the ground and recognizes the voice of the Good Teacher from his youth.  This time, instead of asking, "What must I do to inherit eternal life" he asks a more open-ended question, "What shall I do?"

Jesus, instead of giving him an open ended answer, gives him one far more specific...and tells him where to go, and to whom.

Saul goes.

The young man, maybe Saul, went away sad. He had many possessions.  Perhaps he was prideful and expected to be told how wonderful and holy he was.  Perhaps he expected the Teacher to  hold him up as a perfect example.  Perhaps it was a moment of humility that made him approach with such zeal,  but upon learning that the greatest possession he had, himself, was what he had to give up, he went away knowing he could not do so.

He is the epitome of the sin of Adam, juxtaposed with the New Adam

He goes away, and considers all he has, and most importantly, that he is being asked to die to himself.  In order to follow Christ, he has to give up EVERYTHING, perhaps not understanding that Jesus is the fulfillment of every belief he has ever held, and that his people have ever held.

Saul struggles and succumbs to the world and his own will, which, as St. Francis de Sales calls it, his self-love.   He becomes angry, and when his life doesn't pan out as he thinks it should, he becomes bitter. He recalls that intimate moment with Christ, where he knelt at His knee, made eye contact, and recognized...the Call.  Which he rejected.

Saul, in his battle with himself, expresses it as a battle towards the early Christians.  He persecutes them mercilessly. Instead of attacking his own sin, his own faults, he puts to death those who reveal the Truth Incarnate, the real love of Christ that would not abandon him to his own disorder, his own superficiality, but would call him out of it for the benefit of eternity.

Because he rejected such a gift, he must try to destroy it, knowing all the while that this war is futile...and it makes him that much more furious in his persecution.

It all makes sense. The Young Man is the Apostle Paul.

We who struggle to know our Vocation, especially we who are so LATE can find a friend in the Apostle Paul through this particular meditation.  Maybe we identify with an earlier Call...and we went away sad. Maybe we didn't trust, maybe we were hindered in some other way. Maybe it had nothing to do with us, but with legitimate worldly and holy obligations.

But we can't look at it without looking honestly at ourselves, considering our own unholy flaws.  I can see it clearly now that it  has been pointed out. I can understand some of my own anger and rejection of Our Lord over the years in light of this, and can more clearly understand others, even those who claim to be Catholic, who spout off so publicly in anger at Jesus, Christianity, and the Church.

I wonder if maybe they recognize that once they were LOVED...but either that love was distorted or because of their own Pride, they chose to run away...and try to kill that which loves them the most in hopes they will eliminate that terrible ache within that calls them onward..towards Christ.

It's easier to attack than it is to succumb to the sacrificial love of Christ. I know this from experience. And it's easier to run away.  

Maybe we can give up things, but are we ready to give up OURSELVES, to lose our own lives in order to partake in the life of Christ?  Are we willing to forego those things we "love" because we love God more?

Or will we reject a Call we sincerely hear, in favor of a few trivialities such as social status or education or...simple, pure...love?

Maybe the reason Saul was angry was because he rejected Christ and instead of pursuing him, focused on a lost Vocation he would prefer to destroy rather than pursue.  Maybe some of us who are miserable are clinging to who we think we are instead of accepting that we are to become who God created us to BE.

The good news is this:  maybe the Young Man came BACK...and leads us all still today.  Perhaps we who think it is too late, can find, in the Apostle Paul, a Patron Saint for Late and Lost Vocations.  Perhaps if anyone can understand...it is him.

St. Paul the Apostle...pray for us! 

Enclosure

I started a post earlier this evening, intending to write about the Call to contemplative life.

But I can't complete it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

For the last couple weeks, I have been pondering this a great deal and have been looking at contemplative communities, even some I "shunned" in the past.  Where they were "uninteresting" in the past, now they have taken on a new light, and in seriously taking a look at them, I find I am also looking deep into myself:  who I am, who I have always been....and that mysterious person God may be calling me to be, if only I would have the courage to follow Him.

For now, suffice to say I have much to ponder, I am treading slowly, even in my deep, deep weariness and even deeper trepidation.  All I know is that I have to continue upon this particular path for I cannot turn away.  As tired as I am of discernment, I am even more weary of the world that holds absolutely nothing for me.

I do not know where my true happiness lies, nor do even I know the truest desires of my heart; but if I don't follow my Lord, I will never find that answer. In the end, I am not important and I am not seeking my own glory...but His.

And so I follow in His bloody footsteps, adding my blood to His own as I tread, knowing it is a very long ways to Calvary, for I am only an infant. Even now...an infant, nothing more.  But He...Jesus...is everything. He is my past, my present, and...God willing in His Great Mercy...my eternity.

I want nothing more. And I have nothing more to say.
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Contemplation Via Horseback

I miss walking into the pasture holding a haltar and a rope. I miss the interested-yet-bored gazes of those pasture inhabitants for whom I was not searching. I miss the dew sparkling on the grass and wetting the bottoms of my jeans. I miss the winter snows coating the fuzzy coats of the horses meandering in their equine conversations as I crunched through the thin icy snows in my Thanksgiving Day approach.

I would walk that pasture through three seasons, and walk them back, willlingly, as the horses knew their grain would come to them as a reward. They'd eat as I groomed, and even somewhat cooperatively raise their hooves at my prompt, only occasionally nipping at me playfully or dropping their weight on me on a bad day, but never enough to harm or crush. And still, their hooves were cleaned in spite of themselves.

It was a lived dream for me that year as we explored the sparkling October trails, reveling in the freedom of a headlong gallop; and as for me, I knew I'd not experience this again. I'll pick the bugs out of my teeth for the rest of my life in fond memory of days I wish had never ended.

But alas...they did.

So it it has been that just as most of my life has been marked by a deprivation of horses, so I am now but for that short time of nearly perfect paradise.

It's been a rough go of it for me lately, first one intense discernment retreat only to return home to prepare for another. Maybe it's been the most difficult summer of my life thus far, even given what I've been through before.

The best things in life are never easy, but occasionally we're given a respite.

This afternoon, although I prefer the freedom I knew in the past, I bridled myself to what was available in order to be free to enjoy that very same gift if in a different package.

It's been a few years since I've gone horseback riding, for both the ridiculous expense and pendantic boredom of the average trail ride to be found in Minnesota has been a deterrant. I've always loved horses, but for a time several years ago I was so spoiled that I couldn't anymore appeciate the simplicity of the experience of a rented mount bonded to a life of perfect plodding.

Today, though, this afternoon, I finally gave in, knowing that what I needed was contact of the equine kind, the only "therapy" that could get through my own melancholy and even the spiritual warfare of the recent weeks. I needed the simplicity of the gait, the ambiance of the forest and plains, and the mindlessness of the trail ride to remind me that the core of what I loved is still the core of who I am.

The dappled forest trails always take my breath away. I love how the sun falls among the shivering leaves as their shadows paint patterns on the alternate mediums of sand, dirt and moss. The radiant beams shine forth in spite of the pines, catching their reflections from the constant dust kicked up by draft-mix hooves and it's a wonder we don't cough as we pass through harmlessly even as our mounts shake their heads to bid the flies adieu.

Horseback riding is a purely contemplative sport that, even done via the trail, involves intimate contact between the horse and rider. It mimics the motions of the human walk but is entirely different. It elevates the human even as it diminishes him or her for that person must respect the reality of the horse and its own deadly power.

But all that aside, it is contemplative.

This afternoon, late as the shadows began to fall, I even TRIED to think of my recent trials, but couldn't. It was more important to remember the shouts of Martha from my 13th year as she yelled at me to make sure my "butt bone" was properly in contact with the saddle, my stomach was pulled in, shoulders back, chest out. It was more important to feel the movement of the Draft that carried me and let his own movement become my own in perfect fusion coherent with those lessons from long ago.

It was more important to relax into the saddle, maintaining posture, and know that God was present with every breath, every recognition of creation, every step, every movement. It was more important to let everything go and think of nothing, only exist in this very moment, living in the present.

I tried to pray, and remembered parts of Psalms, repeating the "Glory Be" in chant tones as we ducked under branches or only beams of light finding their way through them. And that Glory Be lived in and through me, finding in the rhythm of the horse the perfect gait in which to sing the prayer from my very heart and soul.

The gentle rhythm of the walking horse brought a memory to my very bones, and I fell into it like a duck to water, wishing only for a faster rhythm.

It's impossible for me to ride a horse and not desire to post the trot which I learned so ponderously when I was only 13. I remember my first couple lessons, disappointed in them because we hadn't moved from a walk but for a couple times, and how hard it was to rise and fall to a walking rhythm. Yet when the movement made sense in proper context, it was far more than a dance; it was flying. And when we learned to canter, it was even better: it was a lesson, with all of them, that come to greater fruition in adulthood in the wild abandon of the Minnesota River trail.

Yet today, it didn't matter that we were simply plodding along. It was enough to feel the movement of the horse, to find my own center of balance, and, for awhile, to not have to think about anything but this perfect synthesis of creation. To ride, to glorify God in the most simple of activities, and to know that, at least for the moment, I was free.

It was a perfect respite.

Today I was free, if only for an hour, and now everything makes much more sense.

Praise God!

Convicted

How can one possibly ever confess all of one's sins in even ONE category? One of the readings from Morning Prayer today truly stood out to me and brought to mind my recent "series" on the topic of anger. And some will recall how I nearly quit blogging some time ago, tired of the snarkiness surrounding us all.

Ephesians 4:29-32

Never let evil talk pass your lips; say only the good things men need to hear, things that will really help them. Do nothing that will sadden the Holy Spirit with whom you were sealed against the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, all passion and anger, harsh words, slander, and malice of every kind. In place of these, be kind to one another, compassionate, and mutually forgiving, just as God has forgiven you in Christ.

Did you catch that line? "Do nothing that will sadden the Holy Spirit with whom you were sealed against the day of redemption."

Saddening the Holy Spirit...through our actions. How many times we do allow evil to pass through our lips? Do we repeat gossip we've heard without questioning the source or the veracity of it? And even if it IS true...is the knowledge something that builds up others, or tears them down? Do others have the RIGHT to that knowledge? Or should it end when it reaches us?

So often, the blogosphere becomes an "echo chamber" and bad news or evil talk passes from one blog to the next, sometimes triumphantly, as though we are reveling in the misfortune or disaster or another. We just LOVE to criticize the dissidents, often forgetting quite conveniently that we were once in that category. Was it ridicule that brought us back, or the love of Christ through the Mercy of God the Father?

Tonight's Evening Prayer carries on with this theme:

Romans 15:1-3

We who are strong in faith should be patient with the scruples of those whose faith is weak; we must not be selfish. Each should please his neighbor so as to do him good by building up his spirit. Thus, in accord with Scripture, Christ did not please himself: "The reproaches they uttered against you fell on me."


It is not that we do not have the right and duty to defend the Truth; it is that we need to be patient and loving towards those who have had no experience with the Truth. We cannot be selfish, as we often are when we are confronted with those who claim to be Catholic and yet attack the Church. They attack because they do not understand, and they fear what they do not understand. We have to remember the patience of Christ, we have to be willing to be villified and crucified with Him, and in so doing, finally open the channels of grace that will bear fruit with those who attack.

We have to suffer for what and WHOM we love. We don't have to be great debators, and in fact, being so can often contradict the goal we have in mind. Only God knows what is needed, and we must be like Christ in patience and charity when we are confronted with those who attack from within. Anger is not a weapon against them; it is a weapon OF them and serves only to manipulate and cripple us in our endeavors both towards personal holiness and in providing an example to others.

We don't have to be experts in anything in order to do God's work, and we have no right to be angry when what has happened from the beginning of time is continuing to happen even in our age. We are all fallen creatures; to think of ourselves as better or more enlightened in the face of dissidents is to be selfish; for in our self-love we so easily forget that we are even now, as we speak, completely lost.

The Church does not NEED us to defend Her...she has the Holy Spirit. It is that the Church CALLS us to unite our sufferings and loyalty with Christ, and in so doing, build the Kingdom which in turn naturally defends the Body in true Charity.

And yet, we get so caught up in "issues" and what others are doing. Yes, we need to speak out and we are called to act, if not for ourselves, then for the faith of the weak, but we are NOT called to debase ourselves through gossip, calumny, and detraction.

We may judge actions but not persons. We may condemn things that are happening, but we cannot condemn the souls behind the events. We cannot forget that we, too, are fallen beings and even as we point out the sins of another, we cannot hide our own.

It's all about humility and truth...what is true for one is true for another. Even as we call others to conversion, we must delve into our own souls and call ourselves into account; to do otherwise is selfish.

I know that God has given me much, and He has given me faith; that gift can be taken away at any moment; it is not the gift or any merit of mine that makes me better or holy; it is God Himself. On my own, I can do nothing and on my own, I am lost. We are all the same.

God is merciful; let us imitate Him and remember that we are dust and that this earth holds nothing for us.
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On Prayer

From today's Office of Readings:

From a treatise on the Lord's Prayer by Saint Cyprian, bishop and
martyr:

When we pray, our words should be calm, modest and disciplined. Let us reflect that we are standing before God. We should please him both by our bodily posture and the manner of our speech. It is characteristic of the vulgar to shout and make a noise, not those who are modest. On the contrary, they should employ a quiet tone in their prayer.

Moreover, in the course of his teaching, the Lord instructed us
to pray in secret. Hidden and secluded places, even our own rooms, give witness to our believe that God is present everywhere; that he sees and hears all; that in the fullness of his majesty, he penetrates hidden and secret places.

...For God hears our heart not our voice. He sees our thoughts;
he is not to be shouted at.

A few years ago, subsequent to attending a Life in the Spirit seminar (about 4 months subsequent), I began to attend the Charismatic group's prayer meetings, which I continued to do for about six months or so, I think. Maybe a bit longer. I never felt it was truly "my place", but at the time, it felt like I needed to be there for some reason. But over time I just stopped going; a need, whatever it was, had been filled.

The people were wonderful, most attended Daily Mass and I would see them in our Adoration chapel from time to time. It was and remains a good group of faithful Catholics. God bless them!

However, I continued to have an extreme discomfort with their style of worship. Charismatic Masses made me cringe, even as I tried not to. I didn't like having a band performing at Mass, I felt it was an abuse for people to be praying in tongues at the Elevation, and I've NEVER been given to waving my hands in the air - except in law enforcement training when I was the suspect.

But I sincerely tried out this particular spirituality. At the time, I worked into the evening so usually missed the first half hour of the meeting, which was just fine...because it was "praise and worship", which meant..yup...hand-waving, singing in tongues, etc. It all seemed so "1970's" to me, and I preferred, if I had the time, to spend it in the chapel in silence. I NEEDED that silence, and it was in that silence that the Lord spoke to me and I to Him. After a stressful day at work in a job I hated, I needed silence, not more noise.

Yes, I enjoy Contemporary Christian music and listen to it all the time. But my form of "praise and worship" actually resembles the description given by St. Cyprian above, as opposed to the innovations of the CCR and Protestant forms of worship.

I am NOT slamming the Catholic Charismatic Renewal! I'm only saying that it wasn't for me; it wasn't my style of worship and never would be. And perhaps that's why I was drawn to the group; to reveal to me what I was and what I was NOT called to do.

I have had some people suggest to me that God pushes us out of our comfort zone and maybe I'm supposed to be a Charismatic. I disagree; God does force us outside of our boxes, but that doesn't mean we are to constantly experience spiritual discomfort. What was I doing in a loud prayer meeting when I desperately needed to be silent at the feet of Jesus in the Adoration chapel? I can't enter into true prayer after a bunch of songs. I have learned through experience that the only way for me to really encounter God and enter into a conversation with Him is through being quiet. Even in Adoration, often that conversation can't even begin until my hour is nearly up.

On one occasion, when one of the people in the prayer group asked me why I was always late, I explained that before I came, I was spending time in the chapel with Jesus. That person asked me, "Don't you think Jesus would want you to be here with us praising and worshiping him?"

I wish I'd had a copy of St. Cyprian's treatise to hand that individual. What I was doing WAS praising and worshiping Jesus. Every time we act in accordance with God's will for us, it is an act of praise and worship.

Somehow, people have gotten the idea that "Praise and Worship" means screaming (sometimes) bad music at the top of one's lungs while waving one's hands in the air and speaking in babble. And for some people...well, maybe that's what God wants them to do. But that doesn't apply to all of us. Clearly, the Church Fathers would have something to say about the true meaning of praise and worship, and how it originates from within, from that interior connection to God. And St. Cyprian did say that very thing, using David and his psalms as an example.

Prayer doesn't have to be noisy. It shouldn't be noisy, as far as I'm concerned. We're standing before GOD...my guess is that if we TRULY realized what happens at the consecration, we'd all fall prone to the floor, in an awed silence.

Only a fool breaks the silence in the presence of a King. We are all fools...every one of us. We can't comprehend what is before us and Whose presence we are in. We have only a tenuous grasp on this mystery, even if we can argue and explain the theology. If we TRULY understood....

Please don't fill my combox with a defense of the CCR. I'm not attacking it. I'm only explaining my own spirituality, towards the silent, ordered, and contemplative versus the charismatic style of vocal prayer.

To each their own, and the Church is big enough to hold us all. But give me a few minutes in the chapel any day with Jesus and spare me from the contemporary definition of "praise and worship."

Solitude and Silence

I had things to do tonight. I was either going to go to Mass and Confession, or out with the local Frassati Society, as for the first Wednesday in MONTHS, I haven't had an evening obligation.

I came home with the full intention of going out...but it just seemed wrong. Going to Mass didn't seem right, either, because for some reason, all I wanted was silence and to not have to interact with people.

One of the fruits of my Lent this year was the gift of silence. Because of my class and the need to concentrate, I had everything turned off. I was always like this in college...the sound of the radio, even softly played music, grates on my nerves and distracts me when I am trying to grasp something deep and meaningful. This year, I even put on one of my Gregorian Chant CD's and had to turn it off. As soothing as it is, the sound has no place when I'm trying to understand God.

Although since Easter there has been more "noise" in my house, it is significantly less than before the penitenial season, and I'm finding more and more that, in order to refresh myself, I NEED to have that absolute silence. I'm even finding myself switching it off in my car, choosing to just be quiet, even if my mind is full. It's easier to sort things out when we have fewer distractions.

Tonight, then, I discerned, was one of those nights; the craving for solitude and silence was overwhelming. I've actually been feeling very pensive all day, if excited and nervous and anxious about whether I will be able to move on in the interview process for the job I want.

But I've realized that it's time to just let God work, and he does this on his schedule, not ours. Ironically, I lost my watch this week. I can't find it ANYWHERE and that thing is normall fully fused to my wrist, stays close by while I sleep in case the power goes out, and it remains with me as I walk my dogs in the morning so I know whether I'm on schedule or can maybe take a longer walk. Especially now that it's light out, our morning walks are the best part of the day!

It's much easier to praise God for his creation when the sun is peeking over the horizon in glorious colors, than it is when trudging through ice in pitch blackness before dawn.

So I'm without a watch, and it's like a piece of control has been forcefully taken away from me, and I really feel adrift for not having the ability to know for certain what time it is if I am not near a clock.

I realize this is a blessing, but that knowledge doesn't make it any easier to bear.

It's been a rough week in general; I recieved some wonderful graces the other night as I prepared to go to sleep, and then the night hours proceeded with spiritual attacks all night long. My dreams were vivid but disturbing, although I could not recall them upon waking, there were dark presences in my room and so I prayed and prayed all night long, never knowing how I managed to get to sleep time and time again, only to be awakened once again with my heart in my throat and facing the nearly-visible presences that surrounded me.

Finally after 2 am, I began a Divine Mercy chaplet, and after the first decade realized I was only saying the second half: "...have mercy on us and on the whole world. ....have mercy on us and on the whole world.....have mercy on us and on the whole world." I didn't know if perhaps a patron Saint was praying the first half or if I was just begging for mercy? But after that I fell into the longest interlude of sleep for the night, lasting around an hour and a half.

Then there was spiritual dryness which always seems to follow a period of consolations, even if there is also a period of attack, and in the dryness my faith is tested in the usual way. "Why are you studying something that doesn't exist?"

And then I find my faith in doubt...and somehow it is restored.

It's been an exhausting week. No wonder I need silence. No wonder I need solitude.

I haven't been able to read at all tonight although I have tried. I haven't been able to take what I know and advance my paper any further. But I did just sit in the darkening comfort of my livingroom and contemplate God and acknowledge His presence. It occurred to me that whenever I want to seek God, I go to Adoration, and who doesn't love to sit in the very presence of Jesus? But sometimes He finds it important to make "house calls", and help us to understand that he is knocking, always knocking, and that we have to be willing to sit in silence and just let HIM be present with US. Sometimes he calls us to take action and come to him in his True Presence...sometimes, he knows that we need to remain in solitude, he places us there and asks if he can come in.

So tonight, I let Him in, and although there were no real "words" exchanged, I have a clearer sense of his presence, a clearer understanding of the actions of the Holy Spirit, and a sense of tranquility I have not had for a few weeks. This silence may have been the best prayer I've "said" in ages.

I encourage everyone to take an evening and just be silent, turn everything off, go about whatever activities you must, and when you can, just find a comfortable place and sit...and let the Lord come to visit you.