In silence and quiet the devout soul becomes familiar with God.
Prayer is a plant the seed of which is sown in the heart of every Christian, but its growth entirely depends on the care we take to nourish it.
Two Venerable Mother Catherine McAuley quotes combined, the essence of a prayer life before the Eucharist.
Broke the retreat, driving to Temperance, Michigan to attend a mass of intention for my deceased father. The mass was held at Our Lady of Mount Carmel church, over sixty people in attendance, a sublime Rosary and Divine Mercy before mass. A half dozen young mothers with a plenitude of children, I speculate a home schooling group, amongst the gathered. The mass accented my retreat orantly. Severe traffic congestion at the junction of the turnpike and interstates two-eighty caused for an unexpected delay, frustration avoided through established disposition, back roads endeavored. I longed for the retreat, grateful to return after brunch with family and friends. Driving apprehension emerged as I realized the retreat would be ending Sunday. I refused the negativity, seizing the moment. I thought of yesterday’s fond reflection upon my days with Father David Mary, the religious life, set apart in contemplation, visits and stays at Trappist monasteries. The life appeals. This week has been splendid. I recall a friend from Toledo who could not understand what I would do during my monastic sojourns–also people during the tour of the Benedictine monastery, St Andrews, imploring what the brothers did with all their time. I know what they do, and I am jealous. Thinking of the matter, a simple hackneyed poem came to mind.
Satisfied, I will sit still.
Watching pine trees grow in the wind,
Smelling the pungent sweet scent of pine needles.
The dampness touching all things.
Feeling the sun warming my face.
Hearing song sparrows nervously whistle.
A crow aggressively cawing.
Squirrels wrestling and scattering.
Silence within.
Tasting my aging breath.
It is not a declaration.
It is not a concept.
It is not an assertion.
It is not a poetic expression.
It is a conscious act of formation.
A being with God.
To sit aware, opening the senses, is enough. It is the path less traveled, a path of one who is awake, knowing who he is and who God is. I am convinced I could become whole–full within the Trinity, the Church, and Mary–a life of prayer and refining awareness, settling on into death within such a life. All other appetites and affections have been properly silenced. Marriage appeals, yet I embrace this retreat, unwilling and unable to make definitive decisions or discern drastic changes regarding the future. A conviction is affirmed. The pursuit of faith, immersion within prayer, is my solace. There is no place to go. There is no place else I would rather be. I also received a foot and calf massage. A quality amiable massage therapist visiting today. That was nice.
That is it. No more to say or quote.
Our Lady of the Pines Lourdes grotto
Retreat center, my room far left, second floor bay windows.
Thursday morning, looks like another rainy day, loving everything. Splendor in ambiance, this room supplies space to contemplate and adore. The Our Lady of the Pines website identifies my room as the McAuley Room. No wonder I’m developing such an affection for the saint. There is a stairwell next to my room, mid-travel she waits, posed in a painting (same image posted). At the bottom of the stairs stands a superb St Joseph statue. I start my day with prayers to St Joseph, seeking guidance for manliness; the embodying of strength within wisdom, gentleness, and kindness. Ascending and descending to my room: Holy Water, sign of the cross, the chapel: kneeling in prayer and a greeting to the Eucharist reposed in the Tabernacle a part. The retreat center, a mansion, was constructed in 1874 by a wealthy local jeweler Lewis Leppleman as a single family dwelling.
Last night a unique communal prayer session occurred. I saw a posting, yet when I walked by I felt hesitant, abstaining. The chapel was filled with thirty sisters, no men. I walked away content not to take part. I spoke with the night front desk clerk, attaining a multi electrical outlet strip. Walking past one of the sisters smiled in a welcoming greeting. In my room, a sense I should go to the prayer group settled in. I responded, forcing myself to go. I am a coward in presenting myself. Down the steps, I suddenly decided to act like I had no intention of going into the chapel, walking to the front lobby. Once in the lobby, registering my cowardly behavior, I consoled myself with the thought that they could not have me arrested. Once at the chapel, I held my breath, spotting an open seat by the front door. I crossed myself with Holy Water, genuflected and sat myself as inconspicuously as one can be when one is blatantly conspicuous. I blocked everything out, going into meditation, prepared for one of the sisters to tell me it was for religious sisters only. None did. I opened my eyes, feeling really awkward being the only male, plus nonreligious. I noticed several chuckling, finding amusement in my distress. One warm smile forthrightly announced welcome before standing and leading the prayer session. It was interesting, a meditation upon our hands. The thought of my hands. Where my hands have been. What they have touched. What they have created. What they have destroyed. What they have loved. Through my hands many things have been done. My hands as a baby, soft and supple. The thought of the hands of my friend Janet, now ninety-six preparing for an end. The thought of the healing hands of Christ. ‘The Kingdom of God is at hand’.
There are intentional thoughts, arguments, I dismiss, refuse to address. The sisters are taking me in, having welcomed me spiritually. Deeply within their silence, I find peace. I am grateful and pleased. God is showing me something. I needed their maturity. Their refined formation. Their years of service. Their silence. See how nature–trees, flowers, grass–grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence…We need silence to be able to touch souls (Blessed Mother Teresa). It is not a concept, something to tell others. It is reality.
I thought of Father David Mary, my time with him in the friary, almost two years of acquaintance. Those who know me know I have whined about Father David Mary. Let’s be clear his community is authentic, mature formation. He is a priest of power and might, wielding an effective animated message, invigorating especially for young people. Young people adore him and his friars. Softball games breakout, heated dodgeball games are waged, and a Saturday evening Sunday vigil youth mass always resounds with praise–youthful hearts raised in beating. The friar’s daily experience possesses a level of religious devotion and daily living steadfast within the Holy Spirit. They are being formed through a devout pious superior process. Few will encounter such a life. Father David Mary, his friars, and sister community of Poor Clares are heavy hitters within the Catholic Church, functioning at a spiritual level few can comprehend. It is not superior skills or intellect that elevates their daily lives. It is community service, humble devotion, continual prayer-including two daily Holy Hours, transforming fun-loving camaraderie, living detached from worldly matters, an absolute dedication to the spiritual life consecrated to the Church, an unconditional obedience to Catholicism, a striving to grow in faith, hope, and charity. Apropos words from St John of the Cross: Charity, too, causes a void in the will regarding all things, since it obliges us to love God above everything. A man has to withdraw his affection from all in order to center it wholly upon God. Christ says through St Luke: “He who does not renounce all that he possesses with his will cannot be my disciple”. (Luke 14:33) Upon this retreat, watching rain once again pelt my tremendous bay window, I realize God has blessed me once again with people functioning on a high spiritual level.
I determined this post would be short, trying to hold to my conviction. Other writing calls. My spiritual director and I are bonding. Daily, I meet with her for an hour. She is affirming so much, providing inspiration and guiding, challenging yet broadening, assisting in disarming. Who am I? I am Catholic to become holy. I am not Catholic to determine and enforce dogma, to impose duelistic self-will. I am not Catholic through self-love, the need to be recognized as an authority or intellectual, a searcher of social worlds to dally within; sweet consolations, reputation, and the pursuit of accolades are rejected. Something deeper draws me inward. As Father Roger declares, ‘Are you truly being transformed through your faith?’ Does my conduct draw me closer to Christ? Defining the question by what it is not. It does not ask: Do you know more? Do you write poems? Do you have the right opinions? Do you go on retreats? Do you do more? Do you go to mass more? Father Roger simply asks: Am I being transformed? My spiritual director understands my concerns; my strengths and weaknesses. My interest in poetry, prompted the suggestion I employ myself in the effort of writing Haiku poetry. Simple three line poems: first line five syllables, second line seven, and third line five. Tears come to my eyes, I worked for hours producing fifty. She touched something dear and close to my inner most being. She opened me. Strangely a quote from Crane Hart, of all places, comes to my mind: ‘One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment’.
Faith in things unseen
Beyond intellect achieve
Within God center
Hope blank memory
Unpossessed beautiful things
Await gratefully
Love avert free will
Embrace brothers and sisters
God royally reigns
Wisdom clarity
Eternal uncreated
In love resound truth
Gentleness true strength
Reign in sensitivity
Jesus’ soft touch
Chastity Christ like.
Mother Mary obedient
Joseph most chaste spouse
Balanced vigilance
Eyes present gazing intent
A white owl aware
Unknown unnamed God.
Beware man wanders hunting
Empty the ocean
Prayerful tendering
Hollow gentle persuasion
Care full infusion
Grateful spacious room
Our Lady of the Pines shines
Loving light reveal
Understanding see
Revealed, discursive thinking
Biblical teaching
Self-control discipline
Charioteer cracks the whip
Appease strong horses
A vow, a life lived
A sister’s silent intent
Christ’s majestic hand
Scripture, Mercy Seat
Old and new softly alight
Cherubim, wings touch
Francis dreamed knightly
A poor lady came weeping
A leper kissing
NOTE: For the sake of phone app viewing I was forced to format as I did. My website building skills are limited. I find little pleasure in researching or expanding my skills. I stated last week I was going to organize and expand this website, however I feel God is taking me in another direction. I am trying to spend only relevant time upon the blog.
First morning, convictions are made, goals identified. I am here to fine tune my ability to hear God. I read an Our Lady of the Pines handout this morning stressing the importance of silence. Internally and externally, eliminating noise. I am here to listen. “I have calmed and quieted my soul…hope in the Lord from this time on and evermore”. A seeker of wisdom, I am. A fool wagging his tongue, an individual demanding attention, I am not. Authentically, to be or not to be. I know who I am and who I am not. My parents instilled a personality trait that I will also put into check. Being overly nice, presenting myself as a bit of a bumbling fool, self-deprecating in words and action, complimenting and praising others, seeking others approval by over-extending myself, clearly and loudly establishing the fact I am a humble, non-egotistical man. I will be serious and quiet, my eyes kept low or distant, avoiding even the demand of beaming God to others. Within silence, I will not petition for attention, imploring others to witness my Godly presence. I am quiet in mind, disposition, and presentation, allowing God to direct and command my activities. Last night I was informed I was assigned a spiritual director. Immediately, I refused, imposing self-will. If the sisters so deign a meeting with a spiritual director, so be it. I prayerfully participate.
The handout greeting retreatants upon entry is Songs of Taize. I have conducted research, discovering the subject of Taize draws a vast array of opinions. Conservative Church voices, as should be expected, express strong concern, fanatical voices declaring outright harsh opposition, due to the emphasis upon an ecumenical approach and the adoption of a New Age approach to prayer. They reason and argue in defense of what they identify as true Catholicism. Pope Francis opens the way to a new Catholicism, rejecting those who feel the need to declare who and what the Church is. Those with the strongest opinions, those clinging to conservative ways as being the only way, those establishing faith through reasoned righteousness and might are a bit left out in the cold. The Taize prayer, or song stems, from a French community in Taize joining Protestant and Cahtolic brothers. The founder Brother Roger Schutz, born in Switzerland in 1915, formed the community as a Protestant, eventually converting to Catholicism. He honors papal authority, a personal friend to all the popes during his life. Brother Roger passed away in 2005.
Jacques Berthier composed Taize song/prayer as it is being incorporated by select parishes throughout the world. The chanting prayer meditatively utilizes simple phrases, in four part harmony, repeating over and over rudimentary concepts. An example is the words of Dismas, the redeemed thief: Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom. Another is the Taize chant, Veni, Sancte Spiritus (Come, Holy Spirit). The Latin chant ubiquitous at Catholic ceremonies invoking the Holy Spirit.
Overall avoiding conflict, the imposing of self-will during a retreat of listening I embrace rather than judge, unafraid and unreserved. I know who I am and who I am not. I am a man of prayer, not a man seeking to rule. I am a human striking deeper into faith, a man of weakness attempting to build upon progress made, while recognizing the intense and difficult path ahead. I just came across words of a blogger describing his education, comments following the receiving of his doctorate. When I received my bachelor’s degree, I thought I was really smart. The world was mine for the conquering. When I received my Master’s, I felt humbled, wondering what ever gave me the courage to think I knew so much. When I received my Doctorate I honestly looked about confused, realizing I really possessed so little knowledge. In conclusion, I resort to a comment I made on a recent post. I am Catholic not to be self-righteously Catholic, a fanatical fan supporting his favorite team, collecting playing cards of favorite players, learning intricacies and canon law for the sake of being judgmentally and victoriously Catholic. I am not Catholic for the sake of being Catholic. I am not a student competing to graduate with the highest honors. I am a broken human being trying to get well. Catholicism authentically provides a path to perfection, the means to becoming a man of depth. Salvation, grace and mercy for family and loved ones is everything. Personal victories, the defeating of others, and accolades are not necessary. It is all a part of the quieting of myself. I am ceasing to fight all things.
Finally words of Pope John Paull II, friend to Brother Roger Schutz, both men intimately involved in the horrors of World War II. Brother Roger’s story is interesting. He rode his bicycle from Geneva to Taize, France. There in 1940, he and his sister purchased a home on the warring front, utilizing the home to hide refugees. There the spirit of the Taize community was born during World War II. Standing peacefully in the face of the Nazis, he subversively sheltered individuals. Eventually, he would be forced to abandon his efforts when the Gestapo became aware of his efforts. Understanding the roots of the community is essential in establishing permanency. Relevancy in regards to one’s birth provides a fruitful future; one must know how and where one arose. Organizations must also know who they are, as Pope Leo XIII states all organizations must return to that which gave them birth if they are to prosper, in monastic communities that process being recognized as reform. In faith as Christians that being known as Christ. A cleansing reform is not the embracing of new concepts, rather the return to that which gave something life. Foreseeing the complications the Taize community would confront, Pope John Paul II comments and encourages:
“I do not forget that in its unique, original and in a certain sense provisional vocation, your community can awaken astonishment and encounter incomprehension and suspicion. But because of your passion for the reconciliation of all Christians in a full communion, because of your love for the Church, you will be able to continue, I am sure, to be open to the will of the Lord. By listening to the criticisms or suggestions of Christians of different Churches and Christian communities and keeping what is good, by remaining in dialogue with all but not hesitating to express your expectations and your projects, you will not disappoint the young, and you will be instrumental in making sure that the effort desired by Christ to recover the visible unity of his Body in the full communion of one same faith never slackens.”
Brother Roger Schutz
We shall never succeed in knowing ourselves unless we seek to know God: let us think of his greatness and then come back to our own baseness; by looking at his purity we shall see our foulness; by meditating upon his humility, we shall see how far we are from being humble.
If we turn from self towards God, our understanding and our will become nobler and readier to embrace all that is good: if we never rise above the slough of our own miseries we do ourselves a great disservice. –Teresa of Avila ‘Interior Castle’
Getting to know myself, it is good to return to routine and schedule, allowing my focus to effectively return to God. Yesterday marvelous, extending myself socially exhausts me. A wonderful day, it is good to return to that which brings the greatest depth to life: the Eucharist, prayer and meditation, mass with the Poor Clares. Routine: morning coffee and today a cinnamon roll gifted from Carter’s girlfriend upon visiting a Toledo bakery we discussed; reflection upon my life, avoiding self-absorption, exercise—walk/jog in Cain Park and onto St Paul’s for mass and adoration. It is good to return to that which provides structure, the establishing of closure. Dr. Nichta defines my effective mode of living…primary mode of living is focused internally, where you take things in via your five senses in a literal, concrete fashion. Your secondary mode is external, where you deal with things rationally and logically.
The negative aspect of my personality must be realized. I am not naturally in tune with my feelings, nor the feelings of others. Too much social activity reinforces unconstructive tendencies. I lose a bit of focus upon propriety if I spend too much time with others. At St Paul’s, a celebration of baptism occurred after mass. There was a group of attractive proper young women attending, all in fine dresses, appearing exquisite. I was overwhelmed by the experience, distracted, uncomfortable, made weary by the women. Later at the Cathedral, a woman wearing yoga pants assisted the young man selling olive wood finery from Bethlehem. It took a serious effort not to stare at the assistant. For all the spiritual progress I make, concentrating my Lady Undoer of Knots novena upon loneliness and lust, a warfare still takes place. I should add these struggles occurred while thoroughly enjoying the companionship of Carol, whose trust, admiration, support and friendship grows with every encounter. Prayer, quiet time, reading, writing allows my natural tendencies to center myself upon God. There is a delicate balance establishing healthy mental effectiveness. I feel blessed to have discovered the retreat, a week focused upon reflection and prayer—religious pursuits; study, writing and prayer, while centered amidst a structured Catholic environment: scheduled meals, daily activities, mass with the sisters, overall a healthy large social gathering, including group meals. My expectations are low, demanding only seclusion and Catholic structure: a balancing between isolation and community. Anything beyond and above, I am considering a bonus.
The title Our Lady of the Pines originates from a fifteenth century Mary apparition on the Canary Islands, located between Morocco and Spain. A link to the Basilica del Pino official website.
Our Lady of the Pines from the basilica
Basilica del Pino
The victory of suffering from ‘All We Know of Heaven’, wisdom within bedtime reading—the ultimate story of the Son of God: the Triumph of Weakness, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. Antoine observes a visiting Tibetan abbess smash crabapples with her heel into the earth. She, the Venerable Cello–spiritual mother to over six thousand nuns, feeds herself with the dirty created mush. The simple religious woman entered the Cistercian monastery with a group of visiting Tibetan monks. The Trappist were unaware she was a woman until her nickname, Cello, was explained. The holy woman, saying over a thousand rosaries a day, is an immense survivor. When the Chinese occupied Tibet she fled through the Himalayas with thirty of her religious sisters. Only three would survive the mountainous trek. With respect to her gender, she was removed from the Catholic monastery, placed in the guesthouse. Antoine worried she would be insulted. The other Tibetan monks laughed at his concern, expressing the fact Cello would contently sleep upon the sidewalk if asked.
As sunlight drew away from the orchard, it came to him (Antoine), the thread that bound their lives together. Cello was abandoned by society. She was marginal. The abbess was as defenseless and as irrelevant to the world as an orphan. And as a monk, so was he.
The experience of many days clicked into a clear order in his head. Antoine saw before him a Cello who had survived immense suffering in the Himalayas to offer a living witness to anyone interested: nothing less than the reversal of world order. As weak as she was—as weak as all humans are—Cello was fully awake. The wisdom of peace was hers, an old woman grounded in “suchness,” her smile shining through all things and meeting no opposition.
He (Antoine) saw that his own behavior was to blame for his sour discontent. His growth as a monk had been checked by his own longing for a better place to live, better people to live with.
Marginalized, yet dignified–magnificence within poverty and worldly exile.
A session with Dr. Nichta today. Going in, I felt there was nothing of consequence to discuss. After what seemed like a couple breathes and a flood of words, the fifty minutes concluded. The overall message established: I am being moved into a new realm of maturity. Afterwards sitting in front of the Eucharist at St Paschal Baylon, a woman, Shirley, approached me asking if I would repose the Eucharist at nine. The person signed up to come in at eight texted her, informing her they could not make it. I was honored, truly humbled and touched. Shirley showed me the routine, proper placement within the Tabernacle, providing keys, showing me around the sacristy, how to extinguish candles and turn off lights. Once, she left me alone with the Eucharist tears burst forth, my heart beating with joy, adoration, and a sense of wonder. I feel God is trying to tell me something, yet I am not quite sure regarding details. Sitting for the final hour, I pleaded, praying, begging for understanding. To be made aware how He wanted me to serve Him. Abstinence and sobriety I am proud to offer, yet there is so much more I feel I have to give. I was not sure about time since I did not bring my telephone into the church, however bells at the half hour made me confident there would be hourly bells. Sure enough, a wonderful sounding occurred, before nine distinct individual tones announced the arrival of 9:00 PM. Reposing, positioning myself behind the monstrance and altar, kneeling, looking up at the Eucharist, I just felt an overwhelming love to serve. It was a marvelous way to end a day.
Driving home, listening to Pope Francis expound upon Mercy, a prayer concept was presented: the gaze of Jesus, allowing Jesus to look upon us:
“I found three different manners of Jesus’ gaze upon Peter”.
The first is found at the beginning of the Gospel according to John, when Andrew goes to his brother Peter and says to him: “We have found the Messiah”. And “he brings him to Jesus”, who “fixes his gaze on him and says: ‘You are Simon, son of John. You shall be called Peter”. This is “the first gaze, the gaze of the mission” which will be explained “further ahead in Caesarea Philippi”. There, Jesus says: “‘You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church’: this will be your mission”.
…in the meantime, Peter has become an enthusiast of Jesus: he follows Jesus…Gospel of John, chapter 6, Jesus speaks of eating his body and so many disciples say at that moment: ‘This is hard, this word is difficult’”. Thus, “they begin to withdraw”. Jesus then “looks at the disciples and says: ‘Do you want to leave too?’”. And it is “Peter who responds: ‘No! Where would we go? You alone have the words of eternal life!’”. This is “the enthusiasm of Peter”. This is the first gaze: the vocation and the first declaration of the mission”. And, “how is Peter’s spirit under that first gaze? Enthusiastic”.
The second gaze we find late at night on Holy Thursday, when Peter wants to follow Jesus and approaches where He is, in the house of the priest, in prison, but he is recognized: “‘No, I don’t know him!’”. He denies Him “three times”. Then “he hears the cock crow and remembers: he denied the Lord. He lost everything. He lost his love”. Precisely “in that moment, Jesus is led to another room, across the courtyard, and fixes his gaze on Peter”. The Gospel of Luke recounts that “Peter cried bitterly”. Thus, “that enthusiasm to follow Jesus has become remorse, for he has sinned, he has denied Jesus”. However, “that gaze transforms Peter’s heart, more than before”. Thus “the first transformation is the change of name and of vocation. Instead “the second gaze is a gaze that changes the heart and is a change of conversion to love”.
“We don’t know what the gaze (third) was like in that encounter, alone, after the Resurrection. We know that Jesus encountered Peter, the Gospel says, but we don’t know what they said. The third gaze is the confirmation of the mission; but also the gaze in which Jesus asks for confirmation of Peter’s love. Indeed Jesus ask three times—three times. Peter denied Him three times; and now the Lord for the third time asks him to show his love. Each time when Peter says yes, that he loves Him, he loves Him, He gives him the mission: ‘Feed my lambs, tend my sheep’”. Moreover, at the third question — “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” — Peter “was grieved, nearly weeping”. He was sorry because “for the third time” the Lord “asked him, ‘Do you love me?’”. And he answered Him: “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you”. And Jesus replied: “Feed my sheep”. This is “the third gaze: the gaze of the mission”.
Three gazes of Jesus upon Peter. The first is the gaze of the choice, with the enthusiasm to follow Jesus. The second is the gaze of remorse at the moment of that sin so great of having denied Jesus. The third gaze is the gaze of mission: ‘Feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep”. It doesn’t end there: ‘you did this for love and then? Will you receive a crown? No. I say to you, when you were younger, you girded yourself and walked where you would; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish to go”
Rembrandt and the face of Jesus
Lesson on St Paschal Baylon from Catholic online:
Franciscan lay brother and mystic. Born to a peasant family at Torre Hermosa, in Aragon, Spain on Whitsunday, he was christened Pascua in honor of the feast. According to accounts of his early life, Paschal labored as a shepherd for his father, performed miracles, and was distinguished for his austerity. He also taught himself to read. Receiving a vision which told him to enter a nearby Franciscan community, he became a Franciscan lay brother of the Alcantrine reform in 1564, and spent most of his life as a humble doorkeeper. He practiced rigorous asceticism and displayed a deep love for the Blessed Sacrament, so much so that while on a mission to France, he defended the doctrine of the Real Presence against a Calvinist preacher and in the face of threats from other irate Calvinists. Paschal died at a friary in Villareal, and was canonized in 1690. In 1897 Pope Leo XIII declared him patron of all eucharistic confratemities and congresses.
Recent Comments