Monthly Archives: October 2015

Reordering a personal and spiritual life

You know that, though your spiritual center of gravity has been displaced, in your new circumstances you have the same solid foundation.  There is a way of fusing contemplation and action so that all becomes contemplation, an awareness of the presence of God, strengthened by a ceaseless prayer of oblation.  To be at the Lord’s disposal, to surrender to Him, ready to do whatever He wants, to give oneself over and over again, and to be accepted by Him often for unrewarding work with people, this is no small thing and it throws one still more completely into Our Lord’s arms.

What an incentive this is to reduce our ego in order to let Christ grow and work in us.  People have, as it were, an antenna to pick up the waves of Christ in us.  But to be picked up, the waves must be there.  Yes, I will pray a great deal for the new apostolate to which you are called by the Church, that is, by Christ. 

…at last you have found Christ.  It is in the darkness, in the darkness of our whole selves—the night of St John of the Cross—that He wants to be sought and found.  But often we do not look for Him there, because it is ourselves that we are seeking in Him.

“Where were you, O Christ, while I was desperately struggling to hold on to you?”  “I was near you, my child.  If I had not helped you, you would have lost me, I would no longer be yours…”  This is a dialogue between Jesus and St Catherine of Siena.  She had lived through a temptation in which she felt that no trace of Christ remained in her.

–Random words from two letters of Father Albert Peyriguere in his book ‘Voice From the Desert’

I was thinking about the lack of reading, writing and time I am being allowed to dedicate to the contemplative life.  It has been seriously reduced.  I decipher it as the will of God.  I went to Father Peyriguere’s letters in regards to the fact he went off to the desert to follow Charles de Foucauld, desiring to live the life of a desert hermit, only to experience the life of a missionary caregiver to the local Berbers.  Daily, he was inundated with the poor, sick, and needy demanding his time and attention.  He found no time for the life of a desert hermit.  The way he wanted to approach God–good, moral, and righteous–was not what God asked from him.  I laughed during today’s Gospel reading.  Father Roger’s foreign tongue accenting perfectly the question posed by the Sons of Thunder, the blessed apostle brothers James and John, two of my favorites, the saint of my mother’s country Spain and the contemplative mystic.   Hearing their words to Our Lord, the way Father Roger read it, I laughed, thinking they did not really say that did they?  Here is the demand: “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”  It still makes me laugh.  Ohh, how we must make God laugh, and frustrate Him.  My reflections, during mass, moved to my encounter with Father Reymann, one of his parishioners, and his bulldog in Wellington, Ohio.  It dawned on me what an enlightening moment God presented.  The elder priest, the oldest in the Cleveland diocese, came at me in such a friendly, welcoming comical manner he disarmed me, allowing me to be a small little man of no consequence.  He just kept talking.  I did not have to be anything.  I did not have to act like a Church scholar, a writer, a contemplative, a man discerning a religious vocation, the possibilities existing through the Hospice, nothing.  I did not have to be anything special at all.  The reality struck me as we talked, and I found myself playing a little with the situation.  He showed me the small hidden chapel he created behind the main sanctuary.  I asked him if he celebrated daily mass here.  He said yes.  I then asked awkwardly, due to the fact there was very limited seating, if the public was invited.  He looked at me as if I was mentally deranged, remarking: ‘You ask some really odd questions.  Of course the public is invited.  What do you think I lock the doors, celebrate mass by myself, not allowing anyone else to join me?’  I could only laugh which in reflection was just about the first moment his bulldog took a running start before throwing himself into my back with both of his front paws.  Throughout the splendid fellowship, I made a vow to remain simple, not to convey in the slightest regard a position of being knowledgeable about faith, hope, or charity.  The reason I brought up the Shrine was the fact he asked me what parish I belonged to.  The overall message I am presenting is the living of a hidden life of smallness, the true being of who I am in the eyes of God, is not a clever option amongst many options chosen by a man of brilliance.  I do not become small through my magnificence.  I do not educate my way into spiritual poverty.  It is a ‘becoming’ through purification, illumination, and on into unification.  Mass and adoration has become the centering point of my efforts, the time of transformation.  Must run off to work, my time is limited.  It will be even more limited once the Hospice calls.  I eagerly wait upon the challenge.

Father Reymann J

spacer

Day-trip Wellington, Ohio

I posted a new page of photos from a pleasant daytrip to Wellington, Ohio, visiting an elk farm, concluding the day with a surprisingly hospitable priest, Father James Reymann, showing me around the local parish St Patrick. Father was quite the character declaring I Had the privilege of enjoying the company of the oldest priest in the Cleveland diocese. He spoke knowingly of St Paul Shrine, familiar with the Poor Clares and Franciscans, telling me of younger years teaching at the Cleveland seminary. He knew intimate details of Sister Mary Thomas’ artistic endeavors, informing me he knew the parish in Pittsburg she was performing her latest painting for. Father told me a charming story about the St Patrick statue carved on the stump of an ash tree that was overcome with disease on their property grounds. The artist is a local man, a high school dropout who struggled through life before finding his calling as a chainsaw sculptor. He now does statues throughout the United States, a local celebrity. Father possessed a wonderful sense of humor, truly a people loving eccentric. At least three times, he asked me ‘how long will you be staying, I am getting really tired’. I said father I have been heading for the door for quite a while, you are the one who keeps starting new stories’. He laughed often and from the depths of his soul. His bulldog (fitting matters after viewing the bull elks) continued the jovial camaraderie by running at me and striking me with his paws. The large bulldog was quite strong, and though friendly, his playfulness was a bit rough. Father only laughed, informing me how much his dog liked me. It was the fifth bulldog he owned.

spacer

Saturday morning laundry

A Saturday morning reflection doing laundry at a coin-op laundromat in Cleveland Heights on a day off from work, presents a calm disposition. The new employment is sound, pouring on a lot of information, occupying all of my time during work hours. I am told over and over it will take two years to settle soundly into my position. I respect the voices, admiring the fact the company is reliant upon a team approach, assisting one another, the company providing training, senior technicians asking little except not to do anything stupid, to please consult with them. Communication means everything. We wear radios so it is easy when handling calls to report what I am observing and doing. It is a system established for efficiency, deterring against individualism. The egotistical and psychologically disturbing need to subvert others, to present complications, interpretations, manipulations, and delusional drive to selfishly influence matters at work is closely monitored. The head of maintenance is strict in his position not to allow poison to infect his crew, on any and all shifts. He has taken a liking to me, allowing space, providing kindness and support. I approach simply, humble, learning from all, doing the best I can, while not underestimating nor overestimating my skills. I am content with myself, trusting in God. Last night, a Friday night, getting off work, there was an energy running through the locker room. Production, die-repair, machinist, warehouse, and maintenance workers removing work uniforms, dressing in street clothes, preparing for a weekend, shared a joy for the ending of the work week. I felt spiritually lifted, comprehending God was pleased with the simple endeavor of being a working man. Being the dramatic artistic trending individual I am, inwardly I smiled with the thought of Charles de Foucauld assuming such delight when he comically donned the disguise of a working man while finding employment with the Poor Clares of Nazareth. We are spiritual buffoons of the same making. My heart was overjoyed sharing the Friday night moment with coworkers. Driving away from work, I reflected upon how far I had come. I have known homelessness, hopelessness, despair, and brokenness to a severe degree; a life desperately collapsing into spirituality and artistic efforts. It was miserable; futile and suicidal. I am convinced distressing to my Holy Mother. During these times, our spiritual mother/son relationship was strong, the intimacy tangible. I am convinced Mary saw me through the worst of my alcoholic times. There were dreadful moments of tears, physical trauma, absolute insanity, in which the Blessed Virgin perceptibly assisted, her presence warming and overwhelming. She protected and carried me, throwing her mantle about me. Within the moment, underneath everything, a conviction only grows stronger that God loves me. I am special to Him. God would not allow me to get away from Him. There was a mission he was seeing through to the end. I relate everything to a peace this morning. There is an individual in my life that has been fueling my every breath since my move to Cleveland. The last six months my anger, frustration, absolute imbroglio of emotion, tenderness/brutality, care/detestation, concern/disregard—love/hate, induced such tremendous persuasion that it elevated my spiritual life to new heights. During the last week or so that robust emotion has been lifted. I miss the intensity of such a hurricane engulfing my life. Now the relentless passion is dissipated, a voice and voicing no longer devastating. The emptiness persisting longs for the drama, yet maturity comprehends the necessity of letting go of extremes. I surrender to peace, allowing the dependency and addiction to hysterics to fall away, allowing the Holy Spirit greater room for efficiency. I admire and praise God, marveling more and more at divine wisdom. I am going to jump around, centering not upon the idea everything is coming together contemplatively within bliss. The end of the week was difficult. I resorted to a pouting, awful in stating, that I was upset with God, questioning and at times becoming angry. I am convinced of a calling to work with the Hospice of the Western Reserve and I heard nothing, left in the dark regarding my involvement. They said it would be two to three weeks before I heard from them and at the end of two weeks I was already out of patience. It is good to state all of this, asking anyone reading to easily interpret my mindset, and mental conversations calling God into question, bemoaning and whining: ‘What are You doing? I am ready to serve You, ready to give everything I have to others and all You do is nothing, just making me wait over and over. Don’t you understand I am getting older? I cannot keep waiting all of the time. I wanted to go to the monastery and now it looks like you are subverting that, and for what? For nothing? If this call to work with the Hospice is so important why am I left in the dark? Not a call from anyone in two weeks? What in the world is going on?” Anyway I think the picture is clearly defined. It is easy to sit and reflect wondrously upon imaginary perfection (a St Francis de Sales term I adore). It is easy to type only focusing upon the good things, and there are good things, yet also there is so much room for growth. The thought was recently presented that it serves me spirituality stronger not to glorify in the good things God does for me, or for the self-knowledge I have attained, observing my life concentrating upon perceived graces. Rather it behooves matters to consider who I am not? Who have I still not become spiritually? What can I do to cleanse the vessel better, to keep scrubbing away at my subconscious, weakness, vanity, sloth, sensual and selfish nature. Let me know God: who I am not in equal proportion to who I am.

spacer

Header photo reflection

As a stag longs for flowing streams, so longs my soul for thee, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When shall I come and behold the face of God?

My tears have been my food day and night, while men say to me continually,
“Where is your God?”

These things I remember, as I pour out my soul:
How I went with the throng, and led them in procession to the house of God,
With glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival.
Why are you cast down, O my soul,
Why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.
My soul is cast down within me,
Therefore I remember thee from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar.
Deep calls to deep at the thunder of thy cataracts;
All thy waves and thy billows have gone over me.
By day the LORD commands his steadfast love;
And at night his song is with me,
A prayer to the God of my life.
I say to God, my rock:
“Why hast thou forgotten me?
Why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?”
As with a deadly wound in my body, my adversaries taunt me,
While they say to me continually,
“Where is your God?”
Why are you cast down, O my soul,
Why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.

Psalm 42

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.

— St. Teresa of Avila

spacer

Pushing matters over the top; or better still, able to present a pure vessel

And here it behooves us to note why it is that there are so few that attain to this lofty state. It must be known that this is not because God is pleased that there should be few raised to this high spiritual state—on the contrary, it would please Him if all were so raised—but rather because He finds few vessels in whom He can perform so high and lofty a work. For, when He proves them in small things and finds them weak and sees that they at once flee from labor, and desire not to submit to the least discomfort or mortification, or to work with solid patience, He finds that they are not strong enough to bear the favor which He was granting them when He began to purge them, and goes no further with their purification, neither does He lift them up from the dust of the earth, since for this they would need greater fortitude and constancy…..’If thou hast run with those who went on foot and hast labored, how canst thou contend with horses? And as thou hast had quietness in the land of peace, how wilt thou do in the pride of Jordan?’ (Jeremiah chapter 12) –St John of the Cross, ‘Living the Flame of Love’

The last thought from the Jeremiah quote implies the greatest danger to spiritual growth for many. The demand to stay simple, humble, malleable and prayerful, while advancing in effort and devotion to the spiritual life. Progress must center upon faith, hope, and charity. It must remain simple. It is enlightening to observe those concentrating upon the spiritual life and the fact so many fall victim to the temptation for power. The need to be right, a perceived authority, a voice of esteem within the Church, crushes good souls. Control, even amidst an authentic desire for humility, cannot be loosened. The need to dominate usurps the practicality of acquiescence. As knowledge, practice, years of serving the church accumulate, even moral behavior amassing, I am convinced, God is forced to forsake many do to their absolute insistence that they must wield control over others and within the church. The spiritual life is easy when things come easy, sweet consolations flowing, and one sees one’s self as wise. The opposite direction, trending toward littleness, is the proper path of self-knowledge. In the interior of our being, knowledge and wisdom dutifully attained can create an understanding lacking in spiritual growth. In our minds we become immense. In the interior of our being, morality, behaving according to all the laws and mandates of the church, subscribing slavishly and scrupulously to the finest details of the Church can create a disposition lacking in spiritual maturity. I heard it said once that the way of Christ is not for those convinced they are doing it right, rather it is for those intent upon doing it wrong. Beyond an intellectual rebellion, it is a commitment to follow God, rather than self-advancement—to follow God without defining and manipulating God. To go beyond the law and dogma, while abiding and obeying. ‘Think not that I have come to abolish the law and the prophets; I have come not to abolish them but to fulfil them.’

St John of the Cross Adoring

St John of the Cross Adoring

spacer

Subversion

I AM
Omnipotent being, existing,
EXISTENCE.
As it was in the beginning, it is now and forever shall be,
Eternal love, omnipresence,
Nothing more, nothing less,
Forget predilections,
Forget pretending,
Forget premeditation,
Undo the doing,
We are a part,
Image and likeness,
Revealing, unpeeling,
I stand, born anew within a moment,
Obliterating extravagant perception,
Firm footing,
Grounded,
Head in the clouds,
Sun setting,
Moon reflecting,
A distant star light reaching,
Moving through time,
Not looking back,
Not looking forward,
Still in breath,
While sinking beneath stillness,
Tired of attempts,
Wearied within strength,
Lower in being, opaque,
Mystical beyond teaching,
Mystical beyond empirical,
Mystical beyond morality,
Not to abolish the law,
Too fulfill, too satiate,
Quiet to being quiet,
Silent within my own silence,
Nearly asleep, awake,
Prayer not an event,
Being exsitence,
Alive to life within death, divine experience,
Mysteries playing far away from sense,
Knowing not who I am,
Knowing who I am not,
Patient to arrive,
Passive without regret,
Hints and whispers within an overwhelming longing,
A spiritual hunter and gatherer,
A survivor,
Knocked off my feet,
On to my knees,
Fortitude, perseverance,
A tear trailing joy,
Ideas immersed away from memory and imagination,
Unafraid, embracing bad poetry,
Needing poetry not, in jest,
Laughing at myself,
Laughing with a man leading a dog named Caesar,
Homer, Virgil, and Dante great men from the past,
Smiling upside down,
Content within littleness,
Spiritual poverty,
Riches enough.

spacer

The Mystical Body as a whole

However, we must note that in this privileged milieu (consecrated religious life), man does not have to practice exactly the same virtues, or in the same way….In the family, and still more in the city, he has to cultivate especially the great moral virtues…These compromise the four cardinal virtues of prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance, as has been noted, and the other moral virtues immediately related to them; in a word, all the virtues that develop man’s true human values and prepare him to perform his function in society. These are at once the great human virtues and the great social virtues.

…Gospel virtues: humility, patience, meekness, and so on….consecrate religious life….somewhat lacking in dignity and nobility, they are rightly called the “little” virtues….precisely because of their lowliness and poverty…they have a very close bond with the theological virtues. There is less danger in esteeming them for themselves and stopping at them….They add a tone of sweetness and humility to the moral virtues; they keep them from closing in on themselves and bring a sort of deep aspiration toward God and supernatural realities.

…live in the world but feel impelled to advance further, have an excellent practice…they select some monastery or convent…as a second home—a home for their spiritual life. A few days, or better still a week or more, once or twice a year, when the duties of their calling allow, they withdraw to their second home, their spiritual home, to live the spiritual live more fully and deeply…In short moments wrested from a life of work that is more and more engrossing and agitating, they go back in memory and imagination to that ideal setting of solitude and silence where the Heart of Jesus made itself felt so near, where they tasted the sweetness of His endearments, where Mary, his Mother, was so prodigal of her caresses. The memory of these Holy, familiar places, still perfumed with graces received, helps them to rise above their daily turmoil, to bring a little light and peace to their souls, to dispel the thousand distractions that almost inevitably assail those who can consecrate only a few moments each day to mental prayer.  –Father Thomas Philippe, ‘The Fire of Contemplation’

At night

spacer