Moments of understanding

The novel by Remy Rougeau ‘All We Know of Heaven’ swept softly upon a utilitarian path of perfection with the ending of a chapter in which the main character, Antoine, concludes his solemn vows. After six years as a Cistercian monk, a vow of permanency is performed. He chooses his mother’s birthday as the date of the ceremony. She never accepted his religious choice. Grandchildren her imagined perfection, emotionally, she suffered tremendous angst over her only child giving himself to the cloistered life. During celebrations, Antoine’s mother’s mother, his grandmother takes center stage,weeping in gratitude, endlessly praising and hugging Antoine, stating how she suffered since none of her numerous sons entered the priesthood. His mother makes a grand speech, expressing her displeasure within her acknowledgment she was proud of her son. Within her overwhelming sorrow, she identifies joy. Aunts and uncles, cousins, many attend the ceremony. Antoine’s quiet farming father loses himself during the boisterous gathering after formalities. Antoine finds him in an alcove under a stairway with one of his brothers, the monk in charge of the cattle. The two men are talking of cows as if they have known each other all of their life. Antoine realizes his father would be content within the monastery walls, and not as a slight to his mother. Everything comes together to allow God to grace him with the understanding his discernment is divinely pleasing.

He knew he was not responsible for the day; how could he accept credit for having come from a good French-Canadian family? And he knew that it was not for his intelligence or virtue that the Cistercian monks had taken him in. Even after he swallowed several times, his tears stubbornly flowed.

The emotion Antoine felt was broader than gratitude. He was appreciative, yes, but he also wanted to be better than he was: more virtuous, more sympathetic, more responsible to the world. He had an idea about what holiness meant–something the size and shape of Brother Bernard–and he struggled toward it. He wanted to make that shape his own somehow. He wanted to wish that shape upon the world.

Moving into a new way of being through proper self-awareness

I received a call from an AA gentleman, a good man, a devout authentic Catholic man. He honored me by asking me to lead a special Catholic recovery meeting at St Vincent’ Charity Medical Center, the hospital in downtown Cleveland Sister Ignatius performed her groundbreaking service work at. There are wonderful black and white photos outside the cafeteria documenting and defining the history of the recovery and healing institution. In the cell phone conversation, we determined I would not give the lead for the July meeting. An amicable and quality conversation, we both understood the necessity of the decision and action. I identify it as my final parting from the social life of Alcoholics Anonymous. Message infused, prayer litany increased, I define myself. Many people, places, and things edify through the clarity of determining who we are not. Understanding who I am is also understanding who I am not. Within the discernment, rebellion plays no part. I am not a man of dignity based upon the severe rejection, bitterness, or refuting of another. It is in the Catechism, a quote from a saint, I use it on this blog, regarding the proper vocation of being wedded, single or consecrated. Something good only based upon superiority or identified shortcomings of something else is truly not good. Being good, divine in making or formation, is not based upon the evil within other things for God created all things and nothing God created is evil. It is why when greeting others I pronounce a question, inquiring, ‘All is good?’–attempting to establish the other identifies all is truly good. I also relate the greeting to the Old Testament, second book of Kings and King Jehu. Riders from conflicting kings ride out ahead of their respective armies in order to parlay with Jehu. Reaching intimacy upon their horses, the riders, messengers, call out to Jehu, ‘All is good Jehu?’ They recognize the warrior, the man of might and justice, before them. They fear him. They want to know everything is alright between them. Within the interpretation, Jehu answers, ‘No all is not good. Many things have happened and people, namely Jezebel lives. There will be war before there is peace, and Jezebel will die’. St Francis embraced a humbler greeting: ‘May the Lord grant you His peace.” A final word on my decision to divorce myself from AA the social world, thoughts of Dr Nichta. Regarding all matters, I reach a mature adult decision through prayer, consolation, deep consideration, discerning a final decision, recognizing nothing is final. Within my determination is the honesty, openness, and willingness to be wrong, to allow God to manifest Divine Will even within my strongest convictions.

Regarding discernment, I reflect upon the movie ‘Ida’ touched upon yesterday, a scene that brings to the forefront being human, accepting and growing within the Universal Church of Christ. Catholic in heart, depth and soul the confrontational scene is not for those seeking a warm fuzzy blanket. It will be of an intense disquieting for those unable to truly know themselves, an affront to imaginary perfection. For those unable to conduct brutal honesty, interior reflection able to nurture the strength necessary to overcome obstacles of the greatest magnitude, for those on a path of comfort rather than perfection, the scene should not be witnessed.

Ida, within final discernment, knows the tragic history of her family. The unjust wartime murder of her father, mother, and siblings is personal knowledge. Her Jewish heritage is revealed. Her aunt, her lone surviving family member, the only family member she has known, has committed suicide. Her aunt an alcoholic lived with the torment of being a communist manipulator, ruthlessly inflicting brutish self-will upon the world, hurting others through communism, and ultimately abandoned by comunism. Away from the convent, Ida seeks comfort in the arms and bed of an intelligent, worldly, skilled Jazz musician, a saxophone player of good looks, compassion, gentleness, kindness, and care. The man wants to be with her. The seeds of genuine love are planted. Ida stares forth, being alive, thinking, feeling, figuring out who she is. She clothes herself in her nun’s habit. She walks away from the young man, moving out onto the street, the world alone, a car passes, brake lights coming on, a change in direction hinted at, uncertainty registers within Ida’s intelligent beautiful eyes. Finality and decisions of magnitude are not made from rebellion. A smile slightly blossoms, a hop comes to her step, confidence registers. She comprehends she is a consecrated woman, a bride of Christ. One thing I did not like in the review in Emmanuel was the excellent reviewer defined the ending as open to interpretation. I am convinced there is one ending. Ida returns to the convent, a religious woman of profound depth, aware, knowing herself, living a full life with, in, and through the Church.

Jul012015

Imaginary perfection

…take the time to think about the vanity of the human mind and how easily it becomes confused and wrapped up in itself. I’m sure you can readily see how the interior trials you have experienced were caused by the multiplicity of reflections and desires that came about in your great hurry to attain some imaginary perfection. By this I mean that your imagination had formed an ideal of absolute perfection which your will wanted to reach, but, frightened by the huge difficulty, or rather, impossibility of attaining it, remained, as it were, heavy with child, unable to give birth. On this occasion your will multiplied futile desires which, like bumblebees and hornets, devoured the honey in the hive, while the true and good desires remained starved of all consolation….

Know that patience is the one virtue which gives greatest assurance of our reaching perfection, and, while we must have patience with others, we must also have it with ourselves. Those who aspire to pure love of God need to be more patient with themselves than with others. We have to endure our own imperfections in order to attain perfection; I say ‘endure patiently’ not ‘love’ or ‘embrace’: humility is nurtured through such endurance. –St Francis de Sales in a letter oi spiritual direction to Mademoiselle de Soulfour.

St Francis de Sales

Jun302015

Rending garments

Jacob rending his garment at the news of Joseph’s demise, a portion of Joseph’s multicolored coat presented as proof.

After the death of Saul, when David had returned from the slaughter of the Amal’ekites, David remained two days in Ziklag; and on the third day, behold, a man came from Saul’s camp, with his clothes rent and earth upon his head. And when he came to David, he fell to the ground and did obeisance. David said to him, “Where do you come from?” And he said to him, “I have escaped from the camp of Israel.” And David said to him, “How did it go? Tell me.” And he answered, “The people have fled from the battle, and many of the people also have fallen and are dead; and Saul and his son Jonathan are also dead.” Then David said to the young man who told him, “How do you know that Saul and his son Jonathan are dead?” And the young man who told him said, “By chance I happened to be on Mount Gilbo’a; and there was Saul leaning upon his spear; and lo, the chariots and the horsemen were close upon him. And when he looked behind him, he saw me, and called to me. And I answered, ‘Here I am.’ And he said to me, ‘Who are you?’ I answered him, ‘I am an Amal’ekite.’ And he said to me, ‘Stand beside me and slay me; for anguish has seized me, and yet my life still lingers.’ So I stood beside him, and slew him, because I was sure that he could not live after he had fallen; and I took the crown which was on his head and the armlet which was on his arm, and I have brought them here to my lord.” Then David took hold of his clothes, and rent them; and so did all the men who were with him; and they mourned and wept and fasted until evening for Saul and for Jonathan his son and for the people of the LORD and for the house of Israel, because they had fallen by the sword. And David said to the young man who told him, “Where do you come from?” And he answered, “I am the son of a sojourner, an Amal’ekite.” David said to him, “How is it you were not afraid to put forth your hand to destroy the LORD’S anointed?” Then David called one of the young men and said, “Go, fall upon him.” And he smote him so that he died. And David said to him, “Your blood be upon your head; for your own mouth has testified against you, saying, ‘I have slain the LORD’S anointed.'” –2 Samuel 1

“I adjure you by the living God, tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God.” Jesus said to him, “You have said so. But I tell you, hereafter you will see the Son of man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming on the clouds of heaven.” Then the high priest tore his robes, and said, “He has uttered blasphemy. Why do we still need witnesses? You have now heard his blasphemy. What is your judgment?” They answered, “He deserves death.” –Matthew 26

As I was walking this morning the Biblical concept of rending garments played through my mind. I toss out scripture, allowing the word of God to work for itself. Pretending, portending nothing. The idea of extreme sorrow, a severe affront to truth, an ending, death, demanding the shredding of one’s clothing, stripping the body of what once brought warmth and shelter. It is a natural reaction I experience, mentally playing out the act in times of harsh consternation. Maybe it is instilled through teachings, yet when something is a horrible affront, I feel the need to rip my shirt from my chest. That which use to clothe is no longer appropriate. I must strip myself naked before God because the deepest truths, those things that mean everything to me, have been altered. I can no longer live the way I once did. Everything has changed. I stand exposed before God, pleading for assistance. During meditation before the Eucharist there are times, I will involuntarily and violently wrench my head, matters internally being ripped asunder, a tearing away at myself, cutting loose obstacles. I must be careful, weary of myself, allowing God to perform the extractions. Rebellion for the sake of rebelling is an affront. Typically rebellion is a knee jerk reaction arising from pride and stubbornness. Within purposeful rebellion, obedience must exist. It is a serious, grave, act to rend one’s garments. The last example witnesses the High Priest conducting the act in rejection of Christ, demonstrating the destructiveness such a serious act can declare within faulty discernment. In the face of truth, being alive, we cloth ourselves, sheltering our existence, moving forward in convictions. Rending our garments, rebelling in the face of Christ for the sake of establishing identity, can be conducted in a multitude of ways. Rebellion against spiritual growth, the rejecting of truth, is the negative aspect of the rending of garments. On the positive side, I am convinced, the rending of garments demonstrates growth. Maturing psychologically and spiritually, there are times we need to rend our garments, rip clean from our bodies that which use to clothe us, to mature and grow up. In the light of truth, under the protection of Mary, the saints abiding, the Church providing, Christ sanctifying: we must not fear, able to pass through and ascend while stripped bare; raw, sensitive, and vulnerable–understanding God will provide new clothes. The rending of one’s garment properly done is the shedding of an old skin, the tearing away from that which we have outgrown, advancing in the sunshine of the Holy Spirit. We must not fear detaching ourselves from that which no longer carries us toward Christ. May we aspire to one day be attired like Joseph of the Old Testament, to be so bold as to clothe ourselves in a multicolored brilliant coat of majesty provided by Our Lord.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O men of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek all these things; and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well. “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Let the day’s own trouble be sufficient for the day. –Matthew 6

The mind of a storyteller, I cannot help but marvel at the Old Testament. There are sections that right from the first reading amazed–the tale of the marauding avenging Jehu, riding hard upon horses, another. Befuddling, abandoned to scrambling for a clue, I acquiesce to mystery, convinced my conviction that prayer is my ultimate solace is an absolute. ‘Be still and know I am God’ is a reality, a daily practice, meaningless as a concept. Anyway, as a storyteller, admiring Homer, embracing the longer quote from the start of second Samuel, I love the humanness, the confounding ambiguity within Divine Word. The man who comes from Saul’s camp, a defeated Amalekite honoring his victors, is put to death by King David. In defeat, he comes across King Saul who begs him to kill him. He seems to be an obedient man, astoundingly a man of sorrowful destiny. Displaying proper signs of mourning, respectful, he brings ceremonial gifts and news to King David, honoring a king he was just warring against, a war commander who just slaughtered his people. The man seems virtuous extending himself heroically, humbly doing the right thing, in fact a difficult thing, one contrary to his core beliefs and inner most loyalties. His flexible, willing to accept defeat, servitude brings forth his demise. David puts him to the sword for his audacity to raise his hand against God’s anointed. Dying, the man must have been perplexed. Most likely, I am wrong. I adore mysteries, allowing them to humble, establishing the fact human reasoning are plain and simple not the path to enlightenment. Truth is complex, errors prone for those quick to take action, those willing to declare truth. Christ did not sacrifice himself on the cross so I could figure everything out and espouse my way into transformation. St Thomas Aquinas, the highest of intelligence, rejected the exercising of definitive written expression. It was more important to transform himself through contemplative prayer. Prayer, humility, and obedience, the practicing of faith, hope, and charity unromantically offer the keys to a higher state of being. I prefer the act of rending my garment, then saying or doing something that would irritate God, especially in regards to Ann. To know someone is so wrong, an abomination within every breath, is excruciating in demand, forcing a new way of being–silence and surrender. The fact the only recourse is continual growth in the face of obstinate immaturity, wisdom the only solution to ignorance, that to love God even more, to turn the shattered being of another into a process of fulfillment remains as the only source of consolation, is a hard pill to swallow. God provides the symbolic act of the rending of garments as a proper physical and mental release; tears a means of physical cleansing. When a priest captures my ear, for myself becoming an anointed one, I hear repeated messages in their tune. Father Roger possesses a reoccurring theme, the idea of prayers, holiness earned through prayer and virtue, as able to provide healing for others. Scripture is rampant with examples supporting the nourishing.

Jun292015

God’s Will: where I am, is exactly where I need to be.

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.

Jun282015

A day of worship

God is good and gracious, supplying fellowship and exhausting activity upon the eve of a celebratory retreat week God teach me to relish and live within the moment. A Slovakian Benedictine monastery, blessings, the companionship of those humble in faith, a significant sprouting, the abundance of splendor in simple refrain, a Cathedral, Coventry, Moroccan food, and always St Paul’s centering, the expression of faith, hope, and charity. Sometimes we are given approval for all that we are doing. The Eucharist again pronounced in proclaiming majestically its presence, carrying the offering in mass to a priest awaiting, a friend abiding, others watching, friends amassing, Benedictines offering salutatory words of honor and petitioning–the company of those focused in faith, a Friday date for adoration promised. Brother Mario serious and solid in direction. Brother Louis amiable, courteous and humorous in sharing. Rev. Michael Brunovsky, a Benedictine high school principal, well-versed, articulate, ora et labora, espousing history, a glowing. An abbot, Reverend Gary Hoover, knowing, guiding, smiling and shining brilliance with eyes. The Church is a wonder. Humble in servitude, quiet in preparing, knowing the subtlety of prayers being answered, happy to receive the fortunes of properly alms giving. Some days are better than others. Lord I have so much to offer, please use me. I am Yours, please receive me, gaze upon me, allow me to learn from those who give so much to Your glorious body here upon the earth. Hail to the Catholic Church.

Admirable Saint and Doctor of Humility, you practiced what you taught, assiduously praying for God’s glory and lovingly fulfilling all work for God and the benefit of all human beings. You know the many physical dangers that surround us today often caused or occasioned by human inventions. Guard us against poisoning of the body as well as of mind and soul, and thus be truly a “Blessed” one for us. Amen.

St Benedict medal

The splendors of a youthful Mary. The Pillar of Fire Tabernacle sitting aside, unseen, at St Andrew’s Benedictine monastery

A minimalist Benedictine house of worship, choir stalls a plenty at St Andrews.

St Andrew, a Slovakian saint, as well as his namesake the apostle, blesses the Benedictines.

The prettiest of Slovakian mannequins, history and culture preserved from the wrath of communism.

The most handsome of postulates, a day away from solemn vows. Good luck kind and wise black Irish brother. Carol, you are not still talking to him are you?

Overcoming ourselves to enjoy life and grow spiritually: Freedom over enslavement

The novel ‘All We Know of Heaven’ moved me. The young man, having entered the monastery, enjoying a solid novitiate, suddenly struggles mightily with lustful thoughts, bringing to a halt his ability to sleep and the endurance of inner turmoil. His days become drudgery and toil. Even more devastating is the fact his severe temptation is homosexual in nature, calling into question his very worth as a man. His fearful thoughts force him to nearly attempt self-castration, going as far as cutting himself before stopping himself. Within our personal struggles, battling our deepest demons, exist the greatest opportunity for grace, within our wounds Christ comes at us the strongest, within our brokenness is the greatest opportunity to know the love of God. “…where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord”. (Romans 5). An area Dr. Nichta and myself discussed in depth yesterday was the idea of self-knowledge elevating contemplative efforts. To know who I am is to become a more effective seeker of God. Brutal honesty is necessary in realizing my weaknesses, for within my weaknesses is the area for the greatest growth, and therefore the pouring down of the greatest graces. Ultimate victory must come through the defeating of that within us which is the furthest from God. Freedom comes from the expanding of faith, hope, and charity, opening ourselves to the gifts of the Holy Spirit, acquiring the understanding to know the things that take us away from God, the wisdom to to discern the difference between enslavement of the flesh and the freedom of spiritual expansion. Immediate sensual gratification, the indulgence of all our wants, desires, fantasies and worldly desires is placing ourselves in slavery to immaturity, an undisciplined childish approach to life, a diet of candy and sweets. Everlasting freedom is spiritual warfare, the task of doing the things in our heart we know are righteous. God’s ways are not foreign and unknowable. We are gifted with a conscious. It is the discipline, the accomplishing of the difficult that is our demanding task.

In the novel, contemplate this episode. After a community vote, the young man is accepted, personally by the abbot, to swear solemn vows. Previous to the scene, the young man sat outside the meeting, slightly able to hear, distinguishing a heated argument. The loud voice of Martin, the Irish monk the main character developed an infatuation with, experiencing an episode in which he expressed his feelings to Martin, became audible. They had not spoken since. Martin ignoring him intensely. Martin could be heard yelling and arguing with the abbot. Relying upon reason, self-conscious, the main character prepared to be rejected, dejectedly aware of his failings.

“This is the grand silence. Forgive me,” Dom Jacques (abbot) whispered as he sat down at his desk, “but I wanted you to know that the lengthy chapter had nothing to do with you. We took the vote before any shouting began. In five minutes, that was all over. We’ve accepted you. Congratulations.” He pointed to a chair, and Antoine (main character), shaking in the knees, went to sit. Relief washed over him so suddenly that he nearly missed the chair and fell on the floor.”

“You should know,” the Abbot continued, “that Brother Martin and I have been at odds.” His expression was sober. “An argument broke out between us over the possibility of his transfer to another abbey. I was thrown off balance. I’m afraid. Not prepared for an outburst in chapter, I lost my temper.” The Abbot folded his hands. “And as it stands, I think Martin is resolved to leave religious life altogether.”

Antoine’s mouth dropped. Though tension had melted when he learned of his acceptance, this was now checked in thinking that he might have had something to do with Martin’s leaving.

“Reverend Father,” he said, “There’s something you should know.” He blinked several times. Straightening his back, he stumbled on, hardly knowing what to say. “When I asked to be moved in the dormitory because of my mattress, I told you a lie. My request had nothing to do with a mattress. Truth is, I am strongly attracted to Brother Martin.”

“The matress?” Dom Jacques asked.

“Yes. I told you that my mattress was shaped for someone else and kept me from sleeping. But you see, it was really Martin who kept me awake.”

“Martin?”

Antoine closed his eyes for a moment and tried to rephrase his tumble of words. “Yes. Please understand I’m…I think I’m attracted to Martin. What I mean is…I think I’m a homosexual.”

The Abbot waited for more, but Antoine had nothing more to say. A moment went by and the Abbot looked at his watch.

“Yes,” he said. “Each of us has his burden to bear. Listen, Brother, it’s getting late. You’d best get to bed.”

Antoine stood and walked to the door on unsteady legs. He hesitated, thinking the Abbot had not heard correctly. Perhaps he should repeat the confession. The Abbot spoke again.

“Antoine,” he said. “Pray for Brother Martin. Pray for God’s blessing upon him. You of all people might be in the best position to do that.”

“Yes, Reverend Father.” Antoine stood at the door for a moment, then he left the office and made his way to bed. There it was, simple and straightforward: a request for prayers. Nothing more. His heart pounded as if it slipped into a higher gear. He felt winded. Even if the Abbot had completely misunderstood his confession, the deed was done. He had claimed something sexual about himself, and what was more, had announced it aloud. There was no going back. He did not want to go back. A new sense of identity had begun to bloom, and he felt he knew himself far better than before. The confession left him stronger.

That is a powerful scene. The young man’s anxiety was unfounded. His fears stronger than reality. He would come to terms with Martin, understanding Martin’s clashing with the Abbot had nothing to do with him. Even deeper the psychological healing of understanding himself, developing a profound sense of who he was allowed him to overcome his personal inclination toward sin. Ambiguities replaced with certainty, self-knowledge allows for personal growth upon a deeply spiritual level.

Other thoughts mingle, yet I want to leave everything. Let that resonate. An ending with something lighter. Now for something different. My secret garden, Cain Park provided mesmerizing, tantalizing meditation, exotic in nature as Chinese acrobats entertained, beauty displayed, the joy of life played out upon the stage. The Golden Dragon Acrobats. Here is a video clip. Wonderful night of observing physical grace refined. These remarkably athletic and skilled young men and women naturally put a smile upon the face. Spellbinding, this young lady was a personal favorite. I met her after the show. She was with a group selling memorabilia. Her beauty, exuberance, strength, joy, and innocence were captivating, disarming, invigorating and a blessing from God to encounter.

Golden Dragon Acrobats

Catholic Contemplative Life

A journey of recovery within Christ and His Church

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