When prayer seems most hopeless, it may well be most fruitful; when the search for God and the attempt to love God seem most futile and barren, they may well be most creative. Why? Because if then we turn to God in humility, knowing our failure, we make it possible for Him to work in us, and under His creative touch, the soul comes to life, the flame is kindled, even though we remain unconscious of it. At other times, our efforts may, in fact, be egotistic and self-reliant, or greedy of reward, and then we fail, however convinced we may be of our success.

“A man” writes Thomas Merton, “who is not stripped and poor and naked within his own soul will always unconsciously do the works he has to do for his own sake rather than for the glory of God. He will be virtuous not because he loves God’s will but because he wants to admire his own virtues. But every moment of the day will bring him some frustrations that will make him bitter and impatient, and in his impatience he will be discovered… -Father Gerald Vann ‘Mary’s Answer for Our Troubled Times’

The love of material things can be merely greed and possessiveness, the lust for pleasure, profit, or power; but the love of human beings can be these things also, and then it is not real love at all, although, we may deceive ourselves into thinking it to be. Because of our selfishness, to love in this real and deep sense is not an easy thing, not something given, but a hard thing, a thing that we have to learn, to create. First, to love God, then to love others as coming from Him; as given to us by Him, as His other children, this is what we must learn if we are really to love. Here more than anywhere, greed and possessiveness turn beauty into ugliness and light into darkness.

For a human being is more valuable than all the things that the world contains put together…We are like children stumbling in the dark, and if God in His tenderness gives us another of His children to accompany and comfort and help us, we must cherish the gift more than all riches, but we must know the heaviness of our responsibility; we must be always at pains to keep it in God’s sight and God’s care. –Father Gerald Vann ‘’Mary’s Answer for Our Troubled Times’

The Sicilian movie ‘Kaos’, by the Taviani brothers, I watched last night swept me away with the most breath taking scenery, capturing the grandeur of Sicily gorgeously. The aerial scenes, shot from a helicopter, must be witnessed to be believed. The five simple, often bewildering stories, involving the turn of the century Sicilians occur within the most majestic of natural settings: mountains, ancient ruins, sumptuous valleys and rocky peaks, gardens, animals: flying birds, cattle, horses, sheep, cats and dogs, the sea, the reflecting moon hovering, and the scene I posted yesterday: a pumice beach of white wonder all encapsulate the characters, who for the most part are so caught up in their personal dilemmas they seem oblivious to the splendors of God’s creation and existence. Although the children on the beach, amidst fleeing from revolutionaries with their mother, escape into the finery of the world—losing themselves to the mystery of the beach and sea, and also a baby lovingly captivated by the moon. For the most part, the adults never seem aware of their surrounding beauty. In fact, one of the stories involves the moon continuously driving a man crazy when it is full in appearance. The Sicilian adults trend toward insanity. In the quote above, Father Gerald Vann teaches that beyond creation brother and sister are to be cherished above all things, and that proper love is a difficult matter to accomplish. It coalesces with my disillusionment with Cleveland. Last night the experiencing of the wonderful Italian movie allows a clear demonstration of my feelings and the depth of Father Vann’s words, many things recently point in such a direction, making serious demands.

The Taviani brother’s movie was over three hours long. During the second and third story, the Cinematheque gave the audience an intermission, a chance to stretch your legs and use the restroom. There was a man sitting in front of me, to my left, about four or five rows toward the screen. I paid him no special attention. While relaxing in the lobby, observing information for upcoming films-in November they will be conducting a retrospective of a favorite German filmmaker Wim Wenders-the man captured my attention. Instantly, I knew there was something wrong with him. I wanted to go to him immediately, without registering facts. His walk was severely crippled. He seemed in pain, mentally deranged. Physically and mentally, the man suffered. I wondered what he was doing going out alone. As he awkwardly made his way past me, his white outfit made it obvious that he soiled himself. His pants were a mess. Troubled, I was heartbroken, not knowing what to do. The others standing around paid no attention. No one noticed. Panic struck a bit. I felt I must say something to someone, yet looking around I saw no one I felt could really be of service. The man in charge of the Cinematheque, I admire, distantly knowing he is Catholic, his wife a devout proponent of the Rosary. I wanted to speak to him, however he was not to be found. The crippled stained man emerged from the bathroom, making his way, back into the theater as if everything was fine. I observed him, trying to catch his eye, giving him all my attention, however he simply walked past me. I made my way to my seat, moving past the man, seating myself, a little startled to observe the man now move directly in front of me, approximately six seats to my left. The stunning epic film of natural beauty and human displaying continued, my viewing now deepened with the reality of the awful condition of the man closest to me. The theater is brand new, incredible in comfort and cost, and I could only feel disheartened, knowing I must make proper authorities aware of the need to give the seat attention. There was no one to speak to after the movie, and since I felt the need to follow the man to his car, unable to speak to him, his oblivious nature, his determination to make his way to his car kept me distant. I am not sure why, a fear, a lack of confidence, I could not find the wherewithal to inquire whether he was okay. Watching the cripple’s car drive away, I felt weak, wondering about the man: his life, his hopes, his dreams.

Concluding the weekend of concentrated personal time, something significant presented itself watching the movie with the cripple in his filthy condition. Just as the previous weekend, my time with the oldest priest in the Cleveland diocese, Father Reymann, established significance. God was showing me something on both occasions. The cripple represented a brokenness I am deeply sensing within Cleveland. I am convinced we cannot live in a major American city right now and not be overwhelmed by brokenness and violence. Forget urban renewal, these are truly troubled times. Recently, my bicycle was stolen. The violence and confrontational nature of the city cannot be denied. I live in an urban area diverse in culture and economic status. Walking in the park yesterday, three young black men stared me down while walking past me in an absolutely intentional effort to intimidate. Fearless, I could only feel pity faced with such uncalled for aggressiveness, the obvious imposition of violence, such a juvenile intentionally offensive mindset disheartened rather than angered.

Mixing in with all of this, during the fundraiser for St Paul Shrine, actually before the auction, music, and brunch, I learned that a man whose company I enjoy, a fellow electrician, is now apparently stricken with terminal cancer. I have missed him, asking others where he has been, only to be hit with the most solemn of news. I spoke to his wife, insisting she communicate to him that I want to visit with him, to speak with him. We talk sports, and share a bond as electrician. I feel troubled. The Hospice plays in within all this trouble I sense surrounding me within Cleveland, yet they are not communicating. Am I to interpret, God that you ask me to flee from the sickness and trouble existing within the city? If I hear nothing from the Hospice, should I flee to the innocence and wide open spaces of North Dakota? You, Most Holy of Fathers, are all-knowing, please be of service. I am not that strong, feeling the need to flee, feeling more than bit overwhelmed and harassed by the city lately. There are times-and if one does not perceive such agitation from a modern large American city, one is not properly perceiving or being honest with one’s self—anymore, the city seems to be closing in and collapsing upon me. God, should I flee to the sanctity, soundness, and security of Assumption Abbey?

Also yesterday, a gentleman I invited, hosting his appearance, at the St Paul Shrine fundraiser startled me, making me suffer intense compassion. He is a remarkable man in certain ways, yet also oddly different in a unique way. Wandering through the silent auction, excited with the social buzz of the event, I made my way to the restroom. Walking into the men’s restroom, there was the man standing with his pants to the floor, utilizing the urinal. I never witnessed anyone use the urinal in such a manner, internally question what in the world was he doing. I stopped myself from thinking, as he turned to me saying in the kindest manner, ‘Hello James’. I dismissed the awkwardness of the moment, trusting the righteousness of the man, not allowing my thoughts to speculate what he was doing, allowing him the privacy to depart unquestioned. There was another man attending. I am familiar with him through the monthly Rosary at the Berea bookstore Tilma. The man breaks my heart with his awkwardness. His overt shyness and feminine nature, a persona that others recoil from while he devoutly dedicates himself to the church, instantly makes me befriend him. The man is utterly lost amongst his brothers and sisters. My Filipino friend also attended, and her appearance always touches me deeply with compassion as her sanity borders. Another Filipino woman sitting at our table, I admire immensely for her prayer life also bewilders with talk of the supernatural and her strange relationship with a distinguished African American gentleman. None of these people know of this blog. I fear not intrusion upon their privacy, and everything I express is done with the love Father Vann writes of. This other Filipino woman confuses me with her relationship with this man. It is my speculation, none of my business, yet I sense-I know the man is in love with her. He wants to take care of her, to share in a loving Godly relationship with her. I am certain in my insight. Maintaining constant company with him, she seems oblivious to his authentic Godly intent. Yesterday, he was absent from the brunch and auction, while attending mass. I noticed him sitting alone after mass, appearing a bit lost. The woman sat in the brunch exchanging phone numbers with another man. I found everything troubling, especially while observing my Hungarian friend interact with a lady friend from Thailand, knowing he wants to marry her, and she is such a sweet woman, kind to the most giving degree, an absolute charm to be around, yet unresponsive to his intent of marital permanency, once threatening to call the police on him for trying to kiss her. All of this while, the other Filipino woman observes everything with a degree of jealousy and the fact when I first met her she was traveling around with the Hungarian gentlemen. There is something a bit unhealthy about the male/female relationships I am encountering in my personal life. I miss Ann immensely, desiring her companionship, her strength and support, knowing I can give the same in return. Good men and women, devout solid prayerful men and women, who truly seem unable to love on a deep Godly level, to come together in the ways God wills. Everything coalesces, culminating in the crippled man watching the stirring epic foreign film in the newly built expansive and elaborate Cleveland Cinematheque—the cripple captivatingly watching the movie while wearing his soaked and shit-stained pants. There seems to be a lunatic element to my existence in Cleveland. Craziness surrounds, individuals truly bordering upon insanity. I said good-bye to Carter this morning, watching him walk dazedly about before parting for South Carolina, seeking the solace and distance of a loving sister. God should I flee, seeking the comfort, sanity, and holiness of North Dakota? I am going to base my decision this week upon news from the Hospice of the Western Reserve. I humbly ask for strength and wisdom.

God enlighten the darkness of my heart. Grant me true faith, certain hope, and perfect charity. Lord grace me with wisdom and understanding so that I may carry out Thy holy and true commandments. Be with me Lord so that I may love others as You see proper.

Comprehend in this clip from the film, sung over by Sicilian singer Etta Scollo, the mother dictates a letter to her two sons now living far away in America. The young scribe scribbles upon the paper, the girl only acting as if she writes the woman’s well chosen heart pouring words. The story details the life of her other son, an unwanted bastard who obsessively stays by her side.

Father Gerald Vann has been a penetratingly insightful spiritual guide during a bit of a tumultuous time, a time of great worldly change. The reading of St Paul during mass also alights with relevancy. I have been putting a lot of stress upon myself regarding work and the Hospice, demanding upon myself at a time I am confident God simply asks for my attention. Perseverance, humility, and acceptance are all He ask as I settle into a demanding employment position, and while my time of Hospice activity approaches. It is a life lesson for myself that where there are no serious problems, life basically a challenge, solutions and peace do not arise within dramatics, imaginary perfection, and reasoning. The dependence upon faith, hope, and charity is applied to my worldly life, as well as my spiritual. Malleability, a passive mindset allowing God to lead—while strong and independent as an individual—a purposeful man, one who is willing to present solutions to others, while seeking no attention, accolades, or causing complications become my approach to worldly situations. I am not a man with an agenda, the ever-present need for personal justification, rather a human being caring and trying his best. Yet deeper than this, for I am satisfied with my worldly exterior life—the perception and treatment of others, my self-esteem and internal coping, my disposition, possesses the peace and tranquility God desires. I accept myself. I am not consumed by anxiety. Interiorly, within my core being, all that is me including my subconscious, I accept, trusting in God, coping with the complexities of life, allowing my humanity to heal and serve as a loving example of the presence of God. I have been listening to Father Thomas Keating, a Trappist proponent of centering prayer, praising the wonders of AA, remarking that in one regard if you are human you will become an addict. The presence of God within every human being is such an overwhelming reality, a demand and need calling forth such immense love, that a human being will become addicted to something as a consequence. It is inevitable. We must satisfy our condition of being human. Anyway, let’s allow Father Gerald Vann a voice in regards to dealing with times of difficulty, the times when God is not easily understood. He powerfully relates times of worldly trouble to the flight to Egypt by the holy family, a process in which defensive action, interior strengthening, is necessary. However most important through example, the time of interior strengthening is accomplished in order to return to the world, fortifying being human in order to return to humanity. The flight into Egypt precedes a return to the holy land and humanity for the holy family. I see my new employer and Hospice volunteer work as the exercising of the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth steps: my return from Egypt. No one ever said it would be easy. No one ever said it would be so hard. I remember reading once, I believe Teresa of Avila wrote it, that no matter how far we advance in the spiritual life, we will always feel like beginners, that we are continuously starting over. Lets go back to the start in order to get to the end.

Here then (troubled times), especially, we need to be prepared; but it is a preparation which must necessarily be a long process (St Francis de Sales spiritual direction—patience essential). We shall not become poor in spirit suddenly, when danger most acutely threatens. It is when God’s yoke seems light and His presence near that we need to school ourselves to meet the darkness; and to school ourselves, not by occasional dramatic renunciations but by constant daily attention to His will in tiny things “Seek ye first the kingdom of Heaven”: if at every moment, we consult His will for us, if when life’s gracious things come to us, we refer them back to Him in gratitude and love, and when difficulties arise, we turn to Him also in obedience and love, then we are learning how to see the material world as His world and not ours, and material things as His gifts and not our creatures. And so we can hope to be able to obey, even though it must be done instantly, even though it must be in darkness, when the times comes for us to flee into Egypt in our turn.

But when Herod was dead…again appeared an angel to Joseph in Egypt, saying “Arise, and take the Child and His mother and go into the land of Israel, for they are dead that sought the life of the Child.” There is a striking parallelism of circumstance. Again it is night, and Joseph asleep, and the words are almost identical, so that the similarity underlines the contrast: no longer a question of a flight, but of a glad return, and the reason given: they are dead that sough the life of the child.

Those who have learned how to love the harshness as well as the tenderness of Love, to greet with gratitude the buffetings of God, come in the end to a state in which poverty of spirit is perfect in them, and greed and possessiveness are dead in them: they are dead that sought the life of the child in them, the newborn of God, and so they are free to return. They are free to return to the world to love the world, to gather all God’s creatures into the embrace of their love, because God’s creatures can no longer endanger their love of God; they can only help express it.

…the land of darkness is a land of peril, filled with evil powers and presences who seek to destroy. Sometimes it seems relatively easy to love God and to do His will, but there are the black moods, the times when the dark waters seem to be closing over us, when we seem to turn inescapably to evil thoughts and things, when we have a devil, and when the evil powers are abroad in the darkness. It is then that, unless we have learned to be poor in spirit, the material world can turn on us and rend us, drag us down and humiliate us, and blot out altogether the presence of God. For the black moods are, in fact, an uprising which reduces—perhaps for a time almost to nothing—the presence of God…the material world can dominate and tyrannize…we can become the slaves of our flesh, and the loveliness of God’s earth can turn for us into an evil beauty like a lovely face ravaged by greed and cruelty and lust. –Father Gerald Vann ‘Mary’s Answer for Our Trouble Times’

Words from yesterday’s first mass reading struck me deeply: What then? Shall we sin because we are not under the law but under grace? Of course not! Paul spoke to me concretely, discernment identifying that living under grace, a call to the contemplative life, is a life beyond one of my doing. The moral virtues are of my doing: prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance. Responsibility exist, it seems ridiculous to state, yet necessary, that called to a deeper life, there must be accountability. I cannot dedicate my life to a devout living focused upon God, while succumbing to the world and myself; faith, hope, and charity expiring under tumultuous times as grosser and lesser ways of being are resorted to during times of distress. I place intense stress upon myself over work, and most recently the lack of communication from the Hospice. In all honesty, I begrudgingly accept challenges in my life, complaining to God, whining in the manner of the apostles James and John. ‘God please understand I am yours. I feel Your call to a deeper life, committing myself to Your love. However You have to start working with me. I am Yours, yet all I ask is that You allow me to have things my way. Please give me what I want and I will utilize the blessings into a celebration of You: God. Don’t You know and see my heart. I am an authentic follower, willing to go the extra miles for You. Please help me out at work. Do You realize I hardly slept the other night, I was so stressed out from work, and yesterday I almost puked from stress due to the fact I could not get a machine up and running. You need to help me out. Do You want me to get fired? Also, this Hospice crap, I am not understanding at all. This is insane making me wait so long when all I want to do is be of service to You. Please Lord start working with me better….’ On and on infinitum is the whining I will resort to when stressed out from life, the material world imposing challenges. Paul writes of possessing a thorn in his life: And to keep me from being too elated by the abundance of revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan, to harass me, to keep me from being too elated. Paul living under grace, struggles with a thorn, a distraction away from the love and solace of God. I relate strongly, humanly knowing the words of Paul, intimately harassed by my own demons, pricked by my own thorns. Seeking to exorcise, desiring to trust in God above all things, I recognize grace working in my life, yet my tendency to resort to my ways, to sink into the distractions of the thorn of fear and its consequences. Ugly distractions arise from despondency. In truth, my life is undergoing miraculous transformation. God is raining graces. Where I identify misery, allowing challenges, minor troubles in reality, phantoms of my imagination, to tyrannize my mind, there is a world of stability being established, surrounding and elevating through real world solutions. My work is pleased with me, granting me a thirty day review that surprised me in support. They like me. Again, the sense my boss, who keeps his distance, really wants me a part of his department, identifying a solid future for me with the company. There is no need to live in fear and stress when that is not reality. My insecurities and life of anticipating failure are not what God intends. The lead engineering tech on my crew I also sense has his eye on me, another one I catch staring at me. His constant advice is to settle down and relax, stressing I am a smart man, yet I get too wound up, ‘a bit crazy you are’ he says, laughing in a knowing way. I seriously become so upset and nervous when working on the machines, I feel like I am going to vomit. It is horrible the state I will reduce myself to. That is a thorn and a lack of trust in God, a fear of failure overriding the love of God. I fear failure more than I trust in God. In truth, I am a man who could live on the street. It is not the material possessions that tyrannize, rather it is the acceptance of failure and inadequacies that haunt and dominate. Then when left alone, knowing the love of God, hiding within anxiety, overwhelmed by the prospect of failure, keeping an eye upon Mary, knowing she knows where I will go, I seek not the love of God. Instead, I allow my thorns to prick, fear to spawn wicked offspring, experiencing and seeking solace in the comfort of thorns, becoming overwhelmed within lust. It is a distraction and a source of relief within the sickness. I know it is a distraction, horrible in shame and reduction of potentiality, yet it is my human nature and it hurts. Lust is not who I am, yet it is a part of me, a thorn in the regard Paul writes for it does stop me from being elevated and conceitful in my faith. It keeps me honest, realizing no matter how much I love and devout myself to God, I can just as easily become overcome by self-imposed darkness, not a darkness akin to St John of the Cross. A man drawn to holiness, I am also a man who could easily succumb to a hedonistic life. Within the fact is truth. Living under grace, I am still vulnerable; imaginary perfection does not work for me. Lord please do not give me everything I ask for, because I will destroy myself. Within destroying myself, with the potential of destroying myself while convinced of being righteous, I will only receive the graces with a negative mindset focused upon what is wrong, seeing within all the goodness the worst aspects. Focusing singularly and destructively upon what is not completely up to my liking, I will find fault in whatever You offer. I am not like my Holy Mother. I am a complainer, whiner, and begrudging one, begging that You please do not silence my tongue as You did to Zachariah. My human nature is frail and weak. My disgruntled state humbles and keeps me poor in spirit. The Hospice I will wait patiently upon, marveling at another grace You presented yesterday. My landlord/roommate, Carter returned from South Carolina. He has been visiting his sister, attending his nieces wedding, for the past several weeks. I sense a change in him, a deep unsettling after losing his Hospice chaplain position. He spoke to me confidentially, taking me out to the front porch for a serious private talk. He wants to spend the winter in South Carolina with his sister, caring for her severely autistic adult child. The young man is named Carter, named after him, and he feels drawn to help his sister as her professional life demands her time and energy. Carter feels he can help his sister, draw closer to his namesake, spending the winter amongst family, a change of scenery and escape from a Cleveland winter. He asked me if I could care for his home, receiving his mail, and staying in touch with him. In return, he would charge me $185 a month in rent, providing me with a checkbook to handle expenses for the home. I was startled and complimented by the offer. Within in all the good happening within my life, the minor difficulties and my thorns only draw me closer to Your love. Please forgive me and have mercy Lord. For the sake of His sorrowful passions, have mercy on us and all the whole world.