St. Teresa of Avila

Thy Will Be Done

…the Bride in the Songs says: “The King brought me” (or “put me”, I think the words are) “into the cellar of wine.” It does not say that she went. It also says that she was wandering about in all directions seeking her Beloved. This, as I understand it, is the cellar where the Lord is pleased to put us, when He wills and as He wills. But we cannot enter by any efforts of our own; His Majesty must put us right into the centre of our soul, and must enter there Himself; and, in order that He may the better show us His wonders, it is His pleasure that our will, which has entirely surrendered itself to Him, should have no part in this. Nor does He desire the door of the faculties and senses, which are all asleep, to be opened to Him; He will come into the centre of the soul without using a door, as He did when He came in to His disciples, and said Pax vobis,and when He left the sepulchre without removing the stone. –St Teresa of Avila ‘Interior Castle’

1308

 

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Pierced

Shepherd

“Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.”

Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dominus Deus Sabaoth. Pleni sunt caeli et terra gloria tua. Hosanna in excelsis. Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini. Hosanna in excelsis

“Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against–and a sword will pierce through your own soul also–that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed.”

Mary pierced

I saw an angel beside me toward the left side, in bodily form. He was not very large, but small, very beautiful, his face so blazing with light that he seemed to be one of the very highest angels, who appear all on fire. They must be those they call Cherubim. I saw in his hands a long dart of gold, and at the end of the iron there seemed to me to be a little fire. This I thought he thrust through my heart several times, and that it reached my very entrails. As he withdrew it, I thought it brought them with it, and left me all burning with a great love of God. So great was the pain, that it made me give those moans; and so utter the sweetness that this sharpest of pains gave me, that there was no wanting it to stop, nor is there any contenting of the soul with less than God. –St. Teresa, ‘Life of St Teresa of Avila’

Teresa pierced

Adrift in a nebulous void, an abyss undefined by darkness, sensing the quality of light beyond, I am aroused by a sensation below. Slothfully, I identify myself in a lucid dream. Looking downward, viewing my naked body, feeling nothing, I notice a chord emanating from my chest. A winding twining thing, comprised of two distinct strands bursting forward. From my heart, it advances.

Exiting, originating from my heart, the chord is constantly drawn from my body and consciousness. The force pulling the chord is consistent and firm. It does not move my body—the chord slides forth, not pulling my body. Gliding outward, the distinct chord is apart, something distinct and connecting. It touches, yet it is detached. It moves outward similar to a magician pulling a seemingly endless handkerchief from his pocket.

Visually, I follow the chord to its source, discovering two beings pulling forth. Their form is that of humans, however, their appearance is shrouded with a mysterious cloud of illusion. They move slow and surreal. I notice wings, tiny bodies: cherubs at work or play, filled with joy, laughing and singing. I cannot clearly focus upon the intriguing sweet tiny angels. They swim in and out of focus. I am able to distinguish both cherubs are absorbed in the effort of pulling at the chord, or rather pulling at individual ends. The twining strands couple to form the single chord passing from my heart.

At the point of contact with my flesh, the mystical chord creates friction, igniting a burning sensation throughout my body. Energy exchanged. Fear erupts. I panic, fighting against the heavenly exterior efforts. Opposition ingrained, I reach out to grasp the chord in order to strengthen my resistance. As I grab the chord, my perspective suddenly changes, my consciousness exits my body. I am now able to perceive, simultaneously, from the opposite originating points. I am looking back at myself, the pulling cherubs now my two eyes, two eyes seeing as one. I watch my body struggle as I sustain the effort of drawing the chord outward, from my current perspective inward.

Incredibly, my emotional state achieves an abnormal peace with the change of perception–the tension of my physical body assuaged. I acknowledge the serene state of being as a hand holding a dagger extends outward from my current position. The singular hand is huge in perception. Unemotionally, I realize the intention of the dagger. A driving force plunges the dagger directly into my heart. The moment the dagger penetrates my flesh, my perspective snaps back to my body.

An emotional upheaval erupts. I am pierced, overwhelmed, finding it difficult due to the flood of thoughts. Anxiety forces the desire to move. Deluged with fear, hysterical with the thought of death, I cry out to the surrounding emptiness.

Remarkably, I am stunned by an incredible lack of painful sensation within the overwhelming. The dagger does not pierce inflicting pain, rather it soothes, gratifies, burning with an extreme coldness, cauterizing. There is a joy to the happening. My chest is an infected, seriously abscessed wound now being relieved of its painful pressure. The supernatural relaxing sensation comforts, causing a complete inner collapse, or is it possibly a return to a natural unknown state? All my muscles release. Miraculously, physical tension is eliminated. I am shocked by the feeling of complete release. I never realized there was so much tension existing within my body.

As the dagger settles deeper, blood begins to pour out and over my body. Striking the center of my heart, the dagger produces a thick stream of dark red, almost black blood. Bathing my body, the blood stimulates a primordial warmth, blanketing innate fear and ignorance. The profoundness of the act advances to a practical awareness. This must be done. The subtle thought of a womb never completely develops as it is overwhelmed by the image of a red orchid blossoming upon my open chest amidst the pool of blood.

Slowly awakening, slothful and groggy, I emerge from the dream. Whispering. “Should have dug the dagger deeper.”

For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.

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Detachment from self on into passive activity

If we keep the vanity of all things constantly in our thoughts, we will be able to withdraw our affections from trivial things and fix them on eternal things….We must be very careful, for as soon as we begin to grow fond of small things we must withdraw our thoughts from them and turn our thoughts to God….we must become detached from ourselves. It is difficult to withdraw from ourselves and oppose ourselves, because we are very close to ourselves and love ourselves very dearly.

This is where true humility can enter. True humility and detachment from self always go together. You must embrace them, love them, and never be seen without them. –Teresa of Avila ‘The Way of Perfection’

Although I have encouraged you to set out in the contemplative way with simplicity and boldness, nevertheless I am certain, without doubt or fear of error, that Almighty God himself, independently of all techniques, must always be the chief worker in contemplation. It is he who must awaken this gift in you by His grace. And what you must do is make yourselves completely receptive, consenting, and suffering His divine action in the depths of your spirit. Yet the passive consent and endurance you bring to this work is really a distinctively active attitude; for by the singleness of your desire ever reaching up to your Lord, you continually open yourself to His action. –‘The Book of Privy Counseling’

This beautiful artwork by J. Tissot presents the Virgin Mary prayerfully kneeling on Mt. Calvary. She casts her eyes downward to the hole that held the Cross her Son died upon. She embodies the forsaking of self, allowing the ascendancy of God within one’s life

This beautiful artwork by J. Tissot shows the Virgin Mary kneeling on Mt. Calvary and praying. She looks down at the hole that held the Cross of her Son, Jesus Christ. She embodies the forsaking of self, allowing the personal ascendancy of God within one's life

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Images, memory, and a perceived insufficiency

Imagine that you are in an apartment–I fancy it is termed camarin (or private museum)–belonging to a king or a great nobleman, in which are placed numberless kinds of articles of glass, porcelain, and other things, so arranged that most of them are at once seen on entering the room.

While on a visit to the house of the Duchess of Alva (where at her request I was bidden by obedience to stay during a journey) 9 I was taken into such a room. I stood amazed on entering it and wondered what could be the use of such a jumble of knick-knacks; then I thought that the sight of so many different things should lead one to praise God. It is fortunate I saw them, for they offer me a suitable comparison in this case. Although I was in the room some time, there were so many objects in it that I forgot what I had seen and could no more remember each object, nor of what it was made, than if I had never seen it, though I recalled the sight of the whole collection.

Something of this sort occurs when the spirit is very closely united to God. It is introduced into this mansion of the empyrean heaven which must be in the centre of our souls for since God resides in them, He must own one of the mansions. While the soul is in ecstasy, our Lord does not appear to wish it to apprehend these mysteries and its inebriation of joy in Him suffices it. But sometimes He is pleased to withdraw it from this rapture when it at once perceives what the mansion contains. On returning to itself, the mind can recall what has been seen but is unable to describe it, nor can it, by its natural abilities, attain to see more of the supernatural than God has chosen to show it.  –St Teresa of Avila ‘Interior Castles’, sixth mansion, chapter 4.

I admire the passive, the silent observer, methodology the wise doctor of the Church expounds upon.  Allowing God sovereign majesty, free will acquiesces.  It is not my comprehending that is essential, rather the open and willing experiencing of that which God provides.  The attempt to grasp destroys, a slippery eel I believe St John of the Cross compares it to.  Joy, or infused graces are received, not earned or learned.  The revealing respects the mastery of the Holy Spirit.  That which I do not deserve can only be given as a gift when I humbly sit silent and still–the Eucharist adored.

On a natural level, I relate matters to acceptance, a willingness to allow details to become blurred within a greater reality.  Impressionistic, the beauty of a painting, transient in effect–matter transforming, usurps a dedication to detail.  That which is seen by the eye is not painted.  Impressions, subtle hints, and an overall softening of boundaries, objects fading into one another, replaces the stark reality of human understanding.  Black and white is replaced with otherworldly vibrant coloring.  And yet within truth, contradictions point toward progress, black and white photographs can also provide a glimpse of something greater–an interpretation of reality guiding beyond.  Images, that which is taken in by the eye, can also lead us away from the stagnating effect of images and memory, assisting in the creation of a divine reality of mystery and wonder.

Claude Monet

Claude Monet

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Counsel on into fortitude through Faith

The really essential thing, sisters, is that you should speak to your confessor very plainly and candidly — I do not mean here in confessing your sins, for of course you will do so then, but in describing your experiences in prayer. For unless you do this, I cannot assure you that you are proceeding as you should or that it is God Who is teaching you. God is very anxious for us to speak candidly and clearly to those who are in His place, and to desire them to be acquainted with all our thoughts, and still more with our actions, however trivial these may be. If you do this, you need not be disturbed, or worried, for, even if these things be not of God, they will do you no harm if you are humble and have a good conscience. His Majesty is able to bring good out of evil and you will gain by following the road by which the devil hoped to bring you to destruction. For, as you will suppose that it is God Who is granting you these great favors, you will strive to please Him better and keep His image ever in your mind. A very learned man used to say that the devil is a skilful painter, and that, if he were to show him an absolutely lifelike image of the Lord, it would not worry him, because it would quicken his devotion, and so he would be using the devil’s own wicked weapons to make war on him. However evil the painter be, one cannot fail to reverence the picture that he paints, if it is of Him Who is our only Good.  –St Teresa of Avila ‘Interior Castles’.  Sixth chapter 9.

Listening to ‘Interior Castles’ driving to Toledo, this section struck me.  I related the matter to brutal honesty.  Spiritual directors, confessors, are not just placed into my life to hear my sinful deeds, to work with what I perceive to be my imperfections.  I do not utilize a spiritual director or confessor to bewail myself.  False humility lurks within such one sided communication.  I must also relate my prayer life, including my spiritual aspects I perceive as positive.  In order to smash the work of Satan, in order to allow the works of God to shine, I must speak of those things I feel are my strongest spiritual assets.  Quite possibly, self-identified strengths could be the detriment of my spiritual life.  Nothing more than spiritual delusion.  If I see myself as a spiritual superior, someone advanced beyond those in my life, ministering to others as an authority, I must be reporting such thoughts and endeavors to my spiritual director.  If I am conducting self-prescribed heroic spiritual deeds I must present the fact to my spiritual director.  If I am hearing locutions, believing myself to be gifted in prayer, being graced with lofty wisdom, or other apparent spiritual blessings, I must be reporting the matters to my spiritual director.  I reflect upon good devout people I have encountered who believed marvelous things regarding their spiritual life: working with distinct souls in purgatory, receiving messages from deceased parents, visions of Mary, Jesus, and saints, locutions and divine dreams, constantly encountering miracles within their lives—photos placed upon their sleeping pillow at magical times, on and on infinitum.  All of these conditions must be discussed with a spiritual director.  Serious error, misinterpretation, devolves through repetition and time into the deconstruction of all spiritual aspirations to the good.  Subtler than mortal sin in its abrasive and distinct affront, a devout life of stealth misdirection inflicts the removal of God, and therefore grace, from one’s life.  The identification, through counsel, of who I truly am in the eyes of God is necessary to combat the desire to assign qualities to myself that are of not a part of God’s Will.  Unknowingly distancing myself from God creates distance from God.  Good intentions combined with tremendous effort do not bring about spiritual maturity.  The supernatural, the focus upon signs, the need for miracles, the dependence upon the sensational and extreme, the attachment to an elevated spiritual identity, must all be rejected.  I make the statement that the matter is so sublime in nature it can only be thoroughly rejected through counsel.  Growth demands fortitude through Faith most efficiently enacted through obedience, the dissolving of free will through brutal all-encompassing honesty with another.  I would venture to add surrendering, an acquiescing within prayer, comprehending my inability to truly rid myself of delusion.  Due to brokenness–acquired insecurities, I will intensely embrace matters magnifying self-esteem.  Being a sinner, truly a lowly being, struggling with life, it is only natural to seek recompense through perceived grandiose spiritual attributes.  I am wounded.  I must be careful in tendering merciful healing.  I cannot heal myself by becoming something I perceive as superior, or a receiver of supernatural gifts.

St John of the Cross elaborates in ‘Ascent of Mount Carmel’, taken from EWTN’s online edition, emphatically regarding the rejection of spiritual extremes.  Book Two chapter 11.

Regardless of the cause of these apprehensions, it is always good for people to reject them with closed eyes. If they fail to do so, they will make room for diabolical representations. And when the devil is given such a free hand, his representations multiply while God’s representations gradually cease, so that eventually all these apprehensions will come from the devil and none at all from God. This has happened with many incautious and uninstructed people who in their sureness concerning the reception of these communications met with real difficulty in returning to God through purity of faith. Many have been unable to return because of the deep roots the devil has taken in them. Consequently, it is expedient to be closed to these communications and to deny them all, for in this way diabolical errors coming from the bad apprehensions are eliminated, the hindrance to faith occasioned by the good communications is avoided, and the spirit gathers the fruit. 

If individuals remain both faithful and retiring in the midst of these favors, the Lord will not cease raising them degree by degree until they reach divine union and transformation. Our Lord proves and elevates the soul by first bestowing graces that are exterior, lowly, and proportioned to the small capacity of sense. If the person reacts well by taking these first morsels with moderation for strength and nourishment, God will bestow a more abundant and higher quality of food. If individuals are victorious over the devil in the first degree, they will pass on to the second; and if so in the second, they will go to the third; and likewise through all the seven mansions (the seven degrees of love) until the Bridegroom puts them in the wine cellar of perfect charity [Sg. 2:4]. 

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Saturday porch sitting

The pursuit of the religious life is a challenging endeavor. In reality, all of life challenges. This afternoon, speaking with my landlord/roommate, the Presbyterian minister, he informed me he was fired from his position as a Hospice chaplain. His only source of income. He is devastated. Putting aside personal opinions, offering compassion, I provided fellowship. He wanted to discuss details, telling me a family complained, feeling he overstepped boundaries. Their father was dying and he sat with them. They asked if they could be alone with their father.  He responded affirmatively, leaving the room. He could not recall exact details. The day of the event or other specifics, yet he thought he recalled reentering the room. His recollection was cloudy. He then proceeded to inform me he was on probation for complaints from nurses regarding personal conversations. The nurses were uncomfortable with his inquisitive nature. The stunning news only called forth a friendly nature. I halted imagination, not allowing the advancement of speculation.  I even stopped him in his exploration of details, stressing it was over. No dwelling. It was time to look ahead. I offered advice. Prayer, without a doubt, was called for; consolation with a spiritual director, a letter of apology to the Hospice.  The desolation he expressed could only be properly handled through a mature response. God was speaking.

Jogging and walking today, the maturity I have been centering upon came into finer definition. It is through knowing myself, the accepting of limitations, the recognizing of strengths, and the willingness to endure through vulnerability, weakness and humility. I know who I am and who I am not. Teresa of Avila stresses the determining factor of proper self-knowledge. We cannot mature if we do not see ourselves for who we truly are. In regards to the pursuit of the religious life, that can prove difficult. The majority of pursuers become convinced they can do nothing wrong as long as God is their aim.  Many of my quotes from saints touch upon the concept. Those mature in faith understand the intense responsibility and challenge before them. Even under the strictest and most devout pursuit they are on guard against selfish ambitions. They do everything to ensure depth, the avoidance of manipulating faith for self-love. Spiritual maturity is difficult since it is so easy to become self-righteous, self-promoting, constantly seeking those who support and nurture delusion. Water seeks its own level. There is an elderly gentleman at St Paul’s who often looks at me with scrutiny. I feel him questioning my efforts. I admire the man, respecting his humble mature behavior, absorbing his doubt, embracing it as a means of questioning myself, ensuring authenticity. I like the examination.

Reasoning, I determined, a consecrated religious has a greater chance of attaining maturity through the sacrifice and obedience to the Church.  They undergo formation through a spiritual director, superiors, education, and fellow religious brothers and sisters. They are forced to answer to those directed upon them. They are held accountable for their words and actions. Acquiescence is a way of life. Through formation a sound prayer life is established. Infusion imparted. God is active in the maturing. Retreats strengthen, alone time with God. The consecrated life is not just taking. It is sacrificing. Speak to consecrated people and most will agree it is belittling at times. They give their very life to the Church. Bishop Sheen has a widely read book amongst religious titled ‘A Priest is Not His Own’. Through such demands of vulnerability and surrendering maturity is achieved. I am convinced for similar reasons marriage offers maturity, while the single life, greater in potential, stagnates most in a life of immaturity. In marriage, one is no longer his or her own.

In regards to the spirituality of Teresa of Avila, advancement from the third room to the fourth, the first truly mystical room, is important to understand. The third room is the advancement of one past the stage of a beginner. However progress has been made through sheer free will, reasoning and conscience. The religious pursuer has done everything themselves. They still do not know themselves, able to identify their weaknesses, and tendencies of self-absorption. Delusion remains. Most will fall in love with looking about the third room. They become attached to socializing, dancing about, developing a reputation, becoming a noted identity, a self-perceived celebrity. Throughout Teresa’s writing she stresses the importance of not becoming enamored with a room, so caught up in looking around, one is never able to advance beyond. The third room most will never exit. Many will regress backwards. It is the room when self-love, the manipulating of faith, hope, and charity for self-aggrandizement becomes a reality. The fourth room is beautiful in being. Once maturing, developing in prayer and the virtues within the third room, one is lifted into the fourth room. Grace is received. Detachment from the world, freedom from the cravings of sin, a presence within the heart flowering; and above all of that, within the stillness and quietness of the inception is the awareness that it is nothing of one’s doing. It is all God. Infusion into a ready, weak, open, vulnerable, and willing individual of prayer and state of grace. A humble person who is truly advancing in self-knowledge.

Mass today brought greater clarity regarding maturity. What it is and what it is not. First, examination of mass preparation. I utilized the wonderful downtown library drive-thru window, picking up an amazing individual I am intrigued by Sister Hrosvitha (many spellings of her name). There will be more on her to come in the near future. An hour remaining to the start of mass, I decided to park my vehicle, enjoying a lake view for pleasantry and meditation. The immensity of Lake Erie, sailing boats decorating, quieted the mind. Walking into mass, a gentleman from early recovery, a kindly devout man, a fine artist, greeted me. I made a point of walking over to him shaking hands. He mentioned Calix would be the following morning, excited, encouraging me to attend. I smiled in reception of the words. Walking to my normal seat, hidden behind a column, I noticed another recovery gentleman, a clownish man, sitting in my row. I just did not feel like another recovery entanglement. I sat in an abnormal seat, feeling exposed throughout the mass. The presence of Ann haunting for usually I can feel her attendance. However within all of this chaos, all glory goes to God, I was able to center myself, focusing fixedly upon God. I felt unsteady, not having my column to my back, yet I honed in. I utilized the distractions to draw me closer to God.

That reminds me of the Homily and a friary incident. It was the feast day of St James, the Brother of Thunder with John of the Gospels, the apostle honored in Spain through the ancient tradition of the Santiago de Compostela. Father Sam designated James as the Greater, also mentioning the other apostle James the Lesser. During friary days, our meals could be raucous events, unless of course silence was ordered. Once the reading was concluded the floor was open to communal conversation. Brother Corey, a lovable Dow Syndrome young man joining the order, a postulant partner, began teasing me. One of my greatest thrills during friary days was Brother Corey searching me out because he missed an office and needed someone to pray with. What a blessing that was. During the teasing, the fun-loving, always ready to joke, Brother Corey kept calling me James the Lesser. His antics erupting great laughter from himself. I could only smile. Brother Pio, in my humble opinion the holiest, most mystical, of the brothers—a future priest who will massively strengthen the Church, striving to do no less than his namesake, Brother Pio sat next to me during Brother Corey’s amusement. He leaned over to me expounding. “It is good he calls you the Lesser.  Those who are the least will be first in heaven. James, a Thunder Brother, was greater in the eyes of the world. Who knows who is greater in the eyes of God? It is better for others to look at you as a lesser”. The thought of Brother Pio brings such joy. There is a mature soul, and understand I do not even think he is in his thirties yet. If a reader is curious in the recent photo posted, he is the brother in the third row whom the Bishop’s staff is photographically touching. There were stories that when he first joined, Father worried about him. His voice was so awful, he proved to be an intensely abrasive element during prayers. Another insight. While brother would pray he would lose himself in ecstasies, eyebrows twitching, absolutely lost. Brother Corey would stare, busting into laughter at times. Away from the chapel, you could catch him imitating the strange brow movements. Brother Pio would also position himself absurdly at times. Dramatically kneeling, hands held high in prayer, or clutching his heart with both hands for the entire hour. Never doubting, well to be honest–a statement about me–at times I did, his authenticity. I determined the acts were genuine, and if not his intent was to subject himself to ridicule, scrutiny, and attention in order to battle through them into clear concentration upon emptiness and the absolute reception of the Eucharist. I know attention meant nothing to him. During social events he was approachable, yet disappeared quickly, always opting out of casual socializing whenever nonattendance was offered as an option. I watched him closely, always aware of what he was doing. A man almost half my age, yet I never took my learning eye away from him. I noticed during communal conversation, whenever he determined a conversation devolved into superfluous banter, he politely, nonassertively, slipped away.

Anyway back to mass, this is becoming long, consuming more time then intended, God is good providing and giving to those humble in patience and simplicity. After mass, after the circus departed, in the absence of adoration and regular communal prayer due to a wedding, a handful of people sat in silence and prayer. There was God being revealed, the Eucharist consumed still freshly lingering. It reminds me of a popular child’s story by E.B. White: ‘Charlotte’s Web’. I always admired the beginning. The story starts at an end. A lively country fair is concluded. The remnants of festivities littered about. The fun-loving curiosity seekers parted. That is where the story begins. A Holy Hour before the Tabernacle, quenched through prayer, stillness, and silence. Invigoration ensued. Parting from the Church, the Philippine prayer leader Shirley called me over to her in the gathering room, desiring to know how my retreat went. Through flowing Holy Spirit inspired conversation, she told me something stimulating. During her ‘great conversion’ as she calls it, she spent a three day Eucharistic weekend retreat at St Paschal Baylon with the Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament. The weekend was essential in her formation, sprouting a tremendous devotion to the miracle of the Eucharist. She knew Father Paul Bernier, the fact he served in the Philippines for so many years. She knew his book on the Eucharist. Her mature advice impressed me, she encouraged me to pursue, praising the Third Order of the community, yet also understanding that most important I discern the call of God.   

I want to end with powerful words from a priest’s website. He covers Teresa of Avila’s thoughts with intelligence and depth. He is staunch in his reprimand of relying upon centering prayer, a prayer of quieting as an immature approach to faith. The words are Teresa’s. He quotes her several times in proof for his stance against the reliance upon centering prayer. So much other work needs to be done. I toss in the need to always beware of the Eucharist.  My quieting is done before the Eucharist, not emptying being filled, often while praying a Rosary or the Divine Office, at times simply talking to the Eucharist. Overall, St Teresa slams home the idea of proper prayer.

Firstly, he who reasons less and tries to do least, does most in spiritual matters. We should make our petitions like beggars before a powerful and rich Emperor; then, with downcast eyes, humbly wait. When He secretly shows us He hears our prayers, it is well to be silent, as He has drawn us into His presence; there would then be no harm in trying to keep our minds at rest (that is to say, if we can). If, however, the King makes no sign of listening or of seeing us, there is no need to stand inert, like a dolt, which the soul would resemble if it continued inactive. In this case its dryness would greatly increase, and the imagination would be made more restless than before by its very effort to think of nothing. Our Lord wishes us at such a time to offer Him our petitions and to place ourselves in His presence; He knows what is best for us. I believe that human efforts avail nothing in these matters.  –‘Interior Castle’

teresa_avila_gerard

 

 

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Inventory and some music

A birthday comes and years pass.  I feel my age, comfortable with life, interiorly reposing into a life of sobriety and the pursuit of God.  Many details demand further definition, yet I do not allow fear to command.  I know who I am and my self-knowledge penetrates further.  Gratitude, a sense of extreme blessing extended over a subtle time, the realization kisses on a birthday, following with the whispering: ‘you did not marvel that concupiscence has been lifted, the blinding of lust removed’.  The voice chuckling, continuing in the tone of Mary: ‘You have always been such an odd one.  Be happy.  You have been given a great grace.’  My spiritual exercises expand, settling into profound ritual, guided by the Eucharist.  On my birthday, I received an authoritative welcoming email from the Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament that intrigues.  The August 1st date is more than I anticipated.  There will be a continental breakfast followed by a full eight hour day of instruction, concluding with mass.  The curriculum is defined:

1. Eucharist as Nourishment and Reconciliation
2. Eucharist as Transformation
3. Eucharist as Abiding Presence Calling Us to Mission

I discern with respect and admiration the gradual process of the organization becoming a reality of worship and service.  My initial reaction that it is a group of mature pursuers of faith impassions, yet I temper, trusting in patience, allowing my imagination not to run away from God.  I think of the words of Teresa of Avila.

(If) this soul (a seasoned practitioner) invariably followed the will of God, it is clear that it would not be lost. But the devil comes with his artful wiles, and, under colour of doing good, sets about undermining it in trivial ways, and involving it in practices which, so he gives it to understand, are not wrong; little by little he darkens its understanding, and weakens its will, and causes its self-love to increase, until in one way and another he begins to withdraw it from the love of God and to persuade it to indulge its own wishes.  –Interior Castle

I visited with my friend, Jan Marie, owner of the Marian Catholic bookstore.  Her prayer room is a holy space, a Thin place.  A Thin Place is a space in which the veil between heaven and earth is greatly reduced, allowing the light of heaven to shine on through to the realm of time and space.  It is an Irish term, referring to the wonders of nature: mountaintops, waterfalls, an ocean with the sun rising or setting above, and sacred places.  St Paul’s Shrine is a Thin Place.

My friend gave me a packed envelope of things she gathered for me.  She collects Catholic antiquities and stuff of all kinds.  I do not know where she gets all the items.  She has quite a reputation.  People bring her stuff while closing estates, and in other such ways she comes across amazing stuff.  Within her offerings was a novena.  I liked its aged look.  I took it into St Paul’s for further inspection during mass.  Reading it before mass, I realized the totality of what it was.  It was a Perpetual Novena in honor of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal from 1936 as put together by the Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration at St Paul’s.  That would have been fifteen years after the Catholic diocese under Bishop Scremps, and the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration under Mother Mary Agnes Eichler purchased the church for the settlement of Poor Clares at Euclid and 40th Street.  During the Millionaire Row days of Euclid Avenue the church was an evangelical church.

I showed the precious Novena to an extern sister who immediately grasped it as hers, or more properly the convents, exclaiming Mother Agnes.  I laughed to myself thinking I was only showing it to her, however now it is obvious I am giving it to her.  I did not mind since there were two in the envelope.  I scolded myself a bit for not thinking of giving it to her in the first place.  I did have two of them why would I not share one.  In truth, beyond scolding, I was so stunned by the find I was just showing her out of amazement.  I never expected her to become so excited.  Pleasant experience.

On to the physical conditioning aspect, the natural arising to match the spiritual, I am in the tenth day of the Master Cleanse diet, determining I am going to continue.  I will cease the fast when deemed appropriate.  Right now all aspects appeal immensely.  I will be running a 5K August 8th, speaking of Millionaires Row.  The urban running course will start at Garden View Park passing through the historic Rockefeller Park and the Cleveland Cultural Gardens then through the historic East Boulevard neighborhood.  It should be a thrill.

While putting this together, I heard a song that captivated.  I watched the video amazed.  How can one watch the beginning and not be left spellbound by the wonder of God, the vigor and determination of life to be born.  Utterly astounding, the hairs on my neck stood in joy, my heart marveling at the sovereignty, grandeur, and majesty of God.

I recognized the song playing on Pandora to be a cover of this original by Iron and Wine, a Sam Beam song.  Listen to these words. A quaint cozy love song is something never to shirk away from.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCYWymG9fSs

 

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