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.

Jun262015

Gaze of Jesus

A session with Dr. Nichta today. Going in, I felt there was nothing of consequence to discuss. After what seemed like a couple breathes and a flood of words, the fifty minutes concluded. The overall message established: I am being moved into a new realm of maturity. Afterwards sitting in front of the Eucharist at St Paschal Baylon, a woman, Shirley, approached me asking if I would repose the Eucharist at nine. The person signed up to come in at eight texted her, informing her they could not make it. I was honored, truly humbled and touched. Shirley showed me the routine, proper placement within the Tabernacle, providing keys, showing me around the sacristy, how to extinguish candles and turn off lights. Once, she left me alone with the Eucharist tears burst forth, my heart beating with joy, adoration, and a sense of wonder. I feel God is trying to tell me something, yet I am not quite sure regarding details. Sitting for the final hour, I pleaded, praying, begging for understanding. To be made aware how He wanted me to serve Him. Abstinence and sobriety I am proud to offer, yet there is so much more I feel I have to give. I was not sure about time since I did not bring my telephone into the church, however bells at the half hour made me confident there would be hourly bells. Sure enough, a wonderful sounding occurred, before nine distinct individual tones announced the arrival of 9:00 PM. Reposing, positioning myself behind the monstrance and altar, kneeling, looking up at the Eucharist, I just felt an overwhelming love to serve. It was a marvelous way to end a day.

Driving home, listening to Pope Francis expound upon Mercy, a prayer concept was presented: the gaze of Jesus, allowing Jesus to look upon us:

“I found three different manners of Jesus’ gaze upon Peter”.

The first is found at the beginning of the Gospel according to John, when Andrew goes to his brother Peter and says to him: “We have found the Messiah”. And “he brings him to Jesus”, who “fixes his gaze on him and says: ‘You are Simon, son of John. You shall be called Peter”. This is “the first gaze, the gaze of the mission” which will be explained “further ahead in Caesarea Philippi”. There, Jesus says: “‘You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church’: this will be your mission”.

…in the meantime, Peter has become an enthusiast of Jesus: he follows Jesus…Gospel of John, chapter 6, Jesus speaks of eating his body and so many disciples say at that moment: ‘This is hard, this word is difficult’”. Thus, “they begin to withdraw”. Jesus then “looks at the disciples and says: ‘Do you want to leave too?’”. And it is “Peter who responds: ‘No! Where would we go? You alone have the words of eternal life!’”. This is “the enthusiasm of Peter”. This is the first gaze: the vocation and the first declaration of the mission”. And, “how is Peter’s spirit under that first gaze? Enthusiastic”.

The second gaze we find late at night on Holy Thursday, when Peter wants to follow Jesus and approaches where He is, in the house of the priest, in prison, but he is recognized: “‘No, I don’t know him!’”. He denies Him “three times”. Then “he hears the cock crow and remembers: he denied the Lord. He lost everything. He lost his love”. Precisely “in that moment, Jesus is led to another room, across the courtyard, and fixes his gaze on Peter”. The Gospel of Luke recounts that “Peter cried bitterly”. Thus, “that enthusiasm to follow Jesus has become remorse, for he has sinned, he has denied Jesus”. However, “that gaze transforms Peter’s heart, more than before”. Thus “the first transformation is the change of name and of vocation. Instead “the second gaze is a gaze that changes the heart and is a change of conversion to love”.

“We don’t know what the gaze (third) was like in that encounter, alone, after the Resurrection. We know that Jesus encountered Peter, the Gospel says, but we don’t know what they said. The third gaze is the confirmation of the mission; but also the gaze in which Jesus asks for confirmation of Peter’s love. Indeed Jesus ask three times—three times. Peter denied Him three times; and now the Lord for the third time asks him to show his love. Each time when Peter says yes, that he loves Him, he loves Him, He gives him the mission: ‘Feed my lambs, tend my sheep’”. Moreover, at the third question — “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” — Peter “was grieved, nearly weeping”. He was sorry because “for the third time” the Lord “asked him, ‘Do you love me?’”. And he answered Him: “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you”. And Jesus replied: “Feed my sheep”. This is “the third gaze: the gaze of the mission”.

Three gazes of Jesus upon Peter. The first is the gaze of the choice, with the enthusiasm to follow Jesus. The second is the gaze of remorse at the moment of that sin so great of having denied Jesus. The third gaze is the gaze of mission: ‘Feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep”. It doesn’t end there: ‘you did this for love and then? Will you receive a crown? No. I say to you, when you were younger, you girded yourself and walked where you would; but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish to go”

Rembrandt and the face of Jesus

Lesson on St Paschal Baylon from Catholic online:

Franciscan lay brother and mystic. Born to a peasant family at Torre Hermosa, in Aragon, Spain on Whitsunday, he was christened Pascua in honor of the feast. According to accounts of his early life, Paschal labored as a shepherd for his father, performed miracles, and was distinguished for his austerity. He also taught himself to read. Receiving a vision which told him to enter a nearby Franciscan community, he became a Franciscan lay brother of the Alcantrine reform in 1564, and spent most of his life as a humble doorkeeper. He practiced rigorous asceticism and displayed a deep love for the Blessed Sacrament, so much so that while on a mission to France, he defended the doctrine of the Real Presence against a Calvinist preacher and in the face of threats from other irate Calvinists. Paschal died at a friary in Villareal, and was canonized in 1690. In 1897 Pope Leo XIII declared him patron of all eucharistic confratemities and congresses.

Jun252015

Spiritual Direction

We read in the Chronicles of St Francis, that a secular asked a good religious, why St John Baptist, having been sanctified in his mother’s womb, should retire to the desert, and lead there such a penitential life as he did. The good religious answered him, by first asking this question: pray why do we throw salt upon meat that is fresh and good? To keep it the better, and to hinder it from corruption, replied the other. The very same answer I give you, says the religious, concerning the Baptist; he made use of penance as of salt, to preserve his sanctity from the least corruption of sin as holy Church sings of him, “that purity of his life might not be tarnished with the least breath.” Now, if in time of peace, and when we have no temptation to fight against, it is very useful to exercise our bodies by penance and mortification, with how much more reason ought we do so in time of war, when encompassed with enemies on all side? St Thomas, following Aristotle’s opinion, says that the word chastity is derived from “chastise,” inasmuch as by chastising the body we subdue the vice opposite to chastity; and also adds, that the vices of the flesh are like children, who must be whipped into their duty, since they cannot be led to it by reason. –St Alphonsus Rodriguez ‘The Practice of Christian and Religious Perfection’.

Chastise: 1. To discipline, especially by corporal punishment. 2. To criticize severely. 3. Archaic to restrain; chasten. 4. Archaic. To refine; purify.

St Alphonsus Rodriguez writes guidance for the religious, yet I find his harsh, demanding perspective practical in contemplative pursuits as a layperson, while also touching upon a consideration into living a fully consecrated life. We are either fully in, or we are out. No dabbling. This is not a game of casualness, times of allowing explorations into the secular and nonreligious without salting ourselves. If we are not fully in, we must respect those fully in. Consideration and kindness are deeper than being casual and brash. Defenses must be up, ramparts in place, when journeying through life. I am reading a novel, ‘All We Know of Heaven” by Remy Rougeau, a Canadian Benedictine monk writing about a nineteen year old entering a Cistercian monastery. The novel captures me with its concise matter-of-fact, drab delivery; a boringness to the entire endeavor that pleases. Brutally honest realism, I suppose, with respect to Thomas Merton’s ‘Seven Story Mountain’. Poignantly ironic, I find the work of fiction realistic, and the biography delusional. In the novel there is not an underlying need for the author to establish himself as a recognized intellectual, an academic authority, a pop culture religious/literary celebrity. This is simply a monk telling a simple story. There is no great exploration of larger than life ideals, no religious history, nor romanticizing through flowery language, no desiring to expose the mystical and supernatural (a criticism I should consider reflectively), no tendency toward psychological self-absorbing introspections, no exposing of one’s inner-most being, no long sentences—saying so many things in a quick spewing. It is a simple realistic view into the occurrences within the life of a young man entering a Canadian Trappist monastery. Ordinary, yet set apart, an original thing in the world. Things can be defined by what they are not. “He walked into the house (his parent’s home after a week at the monastery) and felt as though he had returned from a foreign country; the television seemed a very odd contraption.”

No time, and thoughts are not coming out. I was aiming for the idea that God did not sacrifice His Son over two thousand years ago, and aside from the Church, basically disappear from the ways of man accidently. A God of order, there is a divine plan in place. It is difficult, demanding penance, mortification, and dedication, obviously trust and confidence, as well as obedience and surrender, the following of the ways of the Church if serious depth is to be achieved. Within and through the ordinary, the boring and mundane, we come into actualization, yet the process is difficult, the ways of the saints rigorous, brutal, and nearly impossible in regards to application. Divine assistance please subtly abide. The extraordinary existing within the ordinary takes a fine process of revealing; romantic traps, emotional enticements, egotistical needs, the desire for intellectual gratification, artistic expression, boredom, and the flesh are always posed for a gradual or immediate devouring. Not sure I am pleased with this entry, struggling personally with respect to perfection and longing for Ann–some days are difficult, yet never will I fully concede defeat, for as St Liguori teaches, the greatest defeat is to lose hope. My friend with the Catholic bookstore has a sign above her front door, above a holy water dispenser, ‘All yee who enter, abandon despair’. Always through faith, hope, charity and GRADUALNESS within fortitude, perseverance, and understanding–‘gratefulness for progress achieved’ maintained as a driving force, I move forward. To dabble or sit casually still is to die. The sitting still must be done with precise purpose, adorably and prayerfully in the presence of the Eucharist. Dentist appointment this morning, natural world calls, salting performed.

Our Lady of the Pines retreat

Sometimes God is quick to the call. This morning amidst sunshine, my secret garden providing pleasure upon a walk, a call from Our Lady of Pines in Fremont, Ohio established a retreat for my off week following the celebration of a nation’s independence on July the 4^th. The conversation effused from surrounding ambiance, men thinning out neighboring trees–deconstructing a small forest, attention to individual trees fallen, a toddler following the example of his sister exploring spraying fountains of water wonder, dogs leashed and walking, children enjoying tennis lessons, and for me a religious sister edifying, informing me there was a week of spiritual direction scheduled for the week I inquired upon. I love when within conversation words pour forth. The task being the containing rather than the thinking. She tells she is going to set-up a special dormitory room for me. She promises I will love it. The week of spiritual direction has been planned for some time, all sisters conducting the directing. The week will be a focus upon individuals revealing God’s plans for them through silence, reflection, and counsel. There seems to be a concentration upon feminine spirituality, although the sister says not to fear, recognizing a difference between men and woman pursuing faith. We determined spiritual direction for me will be conducted upon exploration. The idea of me exploring a private retreat amongst the conductors of the spiritual directing week concretized. That week there is a priest conducting a private retreat. She is going to speak to him about spending time with me. Thy will be done. I am excited. Speculating, I anticipate a near dozen sisters with thirty-two retreatants. Walking at Cain Park, excitement blossomed. Hopefully sounding strange, an artist whose work I have been viewing online inspired a vision, a visualization, colorful flowers bursting forth in a river from my heart was the expression of joy I felt upon a week of spiritual concentration. The writing, ‘Man Tower’, picked up this morning. Possibly, properly, alignment allowing, serious work can be conducted during my week at Our Lady of the Pines. Some images I provide, allowing imaginative touching upon the story, black and whites from Ingmar Bergman’s ‘The Seventh Seal’, a cherished movie in my realm of influences. The photos of the traveling carnival family paying tribute to a vacationing Romanian family very dear and close to my heart.

The wonderful circus family, inspiration to Gabriel, Calin, and Lavinia. Acrobat Jof, holding his son, is a dreamer, a lover of life, a circus performer, a writer of songs and poems, a tumbler extraordinaire, a man who is so in love with the idea of visions he is continually making them up. The only problem is when he finally does have a vision of Our Holy Mother, his wife only laughs, loving him even more for all the visions he details. Acrobat Jof is not dismayed, only desiring to sing an unfinished song and enjoy his son. The world-weary squire, Jons, demonstrating his humor and penetrating insight, comments upon one who turned out to be a corpse. Antonius Block, the Templar Knight, chess combatant to the grim reaper, sent his quick-witted squire to question a man seated upon the beach. Encountering the seated one, the squire confronted a skeleton.
A wonderful medieval song and dance performance by Acrobat Jof and his wife Mia is interrupted in this video clip by a doomsday procession singing Dies Irea (coincidentally enough a poem credited to Thomas of Celano). In the opening of ‘Man Tower’, the procession following the debauchery of the child bishop being marched through the streets of Assisi, an actual medieval tradition of drunken excess the church would eventually ban, is based upon the procession in Bergman’s film. I wish there were subtitles for the fire and brimstone sermon–the fiery words point to the Black Plague as a curse from God for the wicked ways of man. Repent NOW the message. I am intrigued by Bergman’s cinematic effect of having the end times spiritual marauders vanishing from the earth, their chanting continuing.

Jun172015

An Act of Abandonment

0 sovereign goodness of the sovereign Providence of my God!
I abandon myself forever to Thy arms.
Whether gentle or severe,
lead me henceforth whither Thou wilt;
I will not regard the way through which Thou wilt have me pass,
but keep my eyes fixed upon Thee,
my God, who guidest me.
My soul finds no rest without the arms
and the bosom of this heavenly Providence,
my true Mother, my strength and my rampart.
Therefore I resolve with Thy Divine assistance,
0 my Saviour,
to follow Thy desires and Thy ordinances,
without regarding or examining why Thou dost this rather than that;
but I will blindly follow Thee
according to Thy Divine will,
without seeking my own inclinations.
Hence I am determined to leave all to Thee,
taking no part therein save by keeping myself in peace in Thy arms,
desiring nothing except as Thou incitest me to desire,
to will, to wish.
I offer Thee this desire, 0 my God,
beseeching Thee to bless it;
I undertake all it includes,
relying on Thy goodness,
liberality, and mercy,
with entire confidence in Thee,
distrust of myself,
and knowledge of my infinite misery and infirmity.
Amen!

St Jane Frances de Chantal

Patience, perseverance, prayer, a plea for mercy, and a recognition of love, the presence of Divine subsistence. Lord, You were there the whole time. Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. Matthew 7:7

“We should go to prayer with deep humility and an awareness of our nothingness. We must invoke the help of the Holy Spirit and that of our good angel, and then remain still in God’s presence, full of faith that He is more in us than we are in ourselves.” –St Jane Frances de Chantal

St Jane Frances de Chantal

Jun112015

Discernment

Discerning, slipping slowly into the ethereal, while my feet trudge drudgingly though the mud, the Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration waft through, with, and in sound, and vision, and yet something more. I am watching, waiting, praying, understanding there is no place else I would rather be, right now. The sisters have elevated their spiritual life to no compromise, beyond words, opinions and identity. There is a reason I have become focused upon them. Open minded, moving away from judgment, I take note of how they are doing day after day. What people think means nothing in the longevity of time and the continuing of days. Immediate community companionship, a threat, it still allows the opportunity for exercising love, while St Teresa of Avila and others exist to suppress and instruct. Everything centered in prayer. Life is truly religious. I watch, ruminating. Thy will be done. A life to be lived, yet like the single life, it is a dangerous life, even more, dangerous because it is more difficult. Marriage excites, properly holding to Tobaih and Sarah, to embrace the eternal with another, the reduction of immaturity and imperfections just really does not seem possible. Damage accumulates and surmounts within those faltering within broken single lives, children in the spiritual life, playing through selfishness, religion just a means of entertainment and the claiming of a superior identity. Patience and prayer, a struggle with my interior conflicts with my vicious inclinations and the performance of acts of the contrary virtues. To run away to the cloistered contemplative life improperly is a grave mistake. It will crush, induce insanity; sloth becoming a sin patiently, aggressively inducing a horrible death. Witnessing, there is a Trappist monastery, identity left alone, in which failure has become a way of life. God instructs through example. The vocational director, a friend I have not contacted in years, blunders deeper and deeper into insanity. My love for him is tremendous. My heartbreaks every time I speak to him. The communication becomes absurd at times. Matter of fact, I see him so clearly, the monastery will be a destination this weekend, the Ozarks always a sensation to encounter. A weekend retreat appears, becomes a reality, with the thought of ascending descending into the morning. Clearly, the need for reflection and peace manifests itself. God is good, giving, and instructing. The Trappist lifestyle lived to a struggling state of stagnation will be shared.

Ah, My child, aren’t you convinced yet that you can only take as much light, grace, variety and virtue as you know about? Of course there have been saints who have always done My Will, but they have taken from My Will only as much as they knew about. They knew that doing My Will was the greatest deed, the one that honored Me the most and which won sanctification. They acted with this intention and this they took, because there is no sanctity without My Will and no goodness or sanctity, great or small, can exist without It.

This Mary statue is from the Trappist home. It captures my fancy through the neglect shown to it. There are no Rosaries being prayed for Our Beloved Mother. The absence of prayer is tangible, knowing the situation I see it in the photo. Whenever I observe the photo, the thought is forefront of Our Holy Mother being neglected. I was with my familial mother this weekend, spending time at my father’s gravemarker with my mother and my son, sounding Hail Marys and a prayer to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The cemetery is holy, a place of prayer; peace and quiet warmly extended, a pond center, the presence of water present. My mother spoke excitedly to us about plans to install a sitting bench in front of my father’s gravemarker. It will be her seat for praying the Rosary. Places of prayer attain a presence easily to immerse ourselves within. St Paul’s Shrine is such a divine connecting space. Our Lady of Sorrows does not possess such warmth in this statue. Still, she radiates and calls forth.

Mary Assumption

Father,
I honor the Sacred Heart Of Your Son,
Brutalized by the corruption of my deeds,
Yet symbol of the triumph of love,
Pledge to all that I am called to be,
Teach me to see Christ in all the lives that I touch,
Allow my life to be a living worship to you My Lord
through love-filled service to my brothers and sisters,
Through the Sacred Heart of Jesus wash me from my iniquities,
Cleanse my heart,
so I can love greater,
Amen

Hidden Abode, an Ozark alcove.

May092015

Recovery reflection

Reflective day. I want to sort through my thoughts by writing them down. I was supposed to move today, yet I just simply did not have the physical or emotional energy. Work has been difficult the past week, hot and physically demanding—long hours and hard dirty work. I was exhausted punching out today. Adhering to routine, I headed for downtown: immediately to the Eucharist for adoration, then mass, and exploring Cleveland streets. During adoration, with no serious sadness, I erupted in tears before the Eucharist, crying whole hearted, contemplatively and cleansing. One of the Poor Clares was moving about as a ghost, passing between the order’s cloistered pews and into what I speculate is a private chapel for communal prayer. Father Roger, one of the extern sisters, along with a gentleman blossoming into a friend were speaking softly as I entered. All eyes cast my way. I said nothing. They said nothing. I nodded my head. Sister Clare Marie waved and Father Roger smiled. I commenced into prayer. I am not sure how and when, yet they all departed, leaving me alone with the Eucharist and one of the sisters stealthily moving about. The Poor Clares home has become my home, peace comes, and yet today so did strong tears. I am not sure if Dennis took note, yet after some time he came out casually making his way to me. Conversation with him is strenuous, awkward, due to his speech impediment. I know he finds it uncomfortable to speak, preferring silence. He wanted to discuss the offer I made to supply food for the after Sunday mass gathering, outlining possibilities, asking me not to bring anything this week as they had plenty, and the fact Father Sam had a birthday celebration the twenty-fourth. His suggestion was that would be a good day for something special. Earlier in the week, Sister Clare Marie touched me by the fact she has no knowledge of Brie cheese. Being from India, she never tried, nor even heard of the cheese. I want her to try the cheese with respect to its monastic origins, and association with the court of King Charlemagne. I am positive a well arraigned serving tray centered round French bread, brie cheese, assorted vegetables: English cucumbers, sliced avocadoes, red bell peppers, mini-carrots, and green onions; along with a quality pasta and potato salad would be proper and light fare for the fifteen or so people who gather, possibly more for Father Sam’s birthday. The conversation soothed my melancholy as the sisters launched into their mid-afternoon prayers behind sanctuary walls. On into mass at the cathedral, where something of note should be registered. During mass, melancholy returned. During the extending of peace, a stout teenage girl turned to shake my hand. Her family all turned to greet me, however once she faced me the twelve years old’s bright spirit and strong, serious, genuine square face caught me off guard. Rosy cheeked, she beamed, radiating sheer joy and enthusiasm, absolute beauty and innocence. Uncontrollably, yet subtly, I broke into tears, casting my eyes downward. Embarrassed, doing everything to avoid dramatics, knowing what was happening was authentic, I continued on, and gracefully everything surrounding advanced appropriately for me to gather myself and remain hidden. Moving on to Cleveland streets, the flocking crowd held nothing for me today. There were no clever words for the Romanian waitress working at the Vietnamese restaurant. I departed downtown quickly, heading for the suburbs and Mother’s Day shopping. Staying only two months at my latest residence, it is more difficult to leave than I anticipated. I know I am doing the right thing. Confidence and proper discretion guide, yet there are so many changes occurring. Turning the focus to recovery–recognizing a year of sobriety approaches, arriving in June—an integral part of the changes involves being asked to give a lead at a special monthly AA meeting, Calix, in July, the month of my birthday. Overall, the role of AA in my life is being examined. I have determined I will turn the offer to tell my story down. I will not share my experience, strength, and hope. I spoke with my therapist/spiritual director yesterday, and realized I should have discussed the matter with him. I will before officially negating the request. It is an honor to lead the meeting. I am surprised they asked, yet I am not comfortable with the spiritual aspects. I did discuss with my therapist the fact I will be curtailing my activities with AA. There are many reasons and it is well thought out. Everything written before points to this. I have been intimately involved with AA for over ten years, and I am, confident in comprehending, embracing, and admiring AA’s message. I will also make the statement, and I made it to my therapist who closely examined and questioned my words, that a concrete awareness has centered in my being that I will never drink again. I will never take another drink of alcohol. I cannot. It is a vow I extend to Christ, pleading with the Holy Spirit to guide, bowing to God the Father in silence, knowing under all circumstances Mary watches over me, guiding and instructing my guardian angel. The reality grows more acute daily. There is no need for justification, criticism, announcements, proclamations, or over-explanations. A huge part of the changes in my life will be breaking from the group of people I have worked with four times a week for well over six months. It is a wonderful locale, in the quaint small town of Olmsted Falls. This evening I even walked around the historic railroad depot, shopping, ice cream, and riverside park. Pleasant and quiet time of walking prayer. With thorough gratitude, it is time to move forward. I am conformable with my changing involvement in AA, discerning proper signs, lacking definitude. Yet I also felt the need to postpone the move for a week. I will board with a gentleman, and his future son-in-law, involved in the program for decades, intelligent and interesting, having giving up the insurance business in order to return to his call as a Presbyterian minister, employed with a local hospice. I will allow the Holy Spirit to guide regarding my new role in AA. My housing host supports me, also providing respectful space, while declaring that my living there is predicated upon absolute abstinence. I know exactly what I seek from AA: fellowship, a clear unadulterated message, and vivid reminders of the devastation alcohol plays in the lives of those unable to successfully imbibe. AA is practical, touching on the spiritual and psychological, while remaining distant from personal spiritual guidance. Friends are essential. My weekly basketball games are huge, vital to my sanity. My prayers are filled with hope for an expanding social life. Acquiescing to divine will, I allow patience to shape my coming days. I post the first reading from Sunday, the sixth Sunday of Easter. The words from Acts chapter 10 correlate to a discussion with a friend before the Eucharist at St Paul’s:

Then Peter (first Pope) proceeded to speak and said, “In truth, I see that God shows no partiality. Rather, in every nation whoever fears him and acts uprightly is acceptable to him.” While Peter was still speaking these things, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who were listening to the word. The circumcised believers who had accompanied Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit should have been poured out on the Gentiles also, for they could hear them speaking in tongues and glorifying God. Then Peter responded, “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people, who have received the Holy Spirit even as we have?” He ordered them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.

Catholic Contemplative Life

A journey of recovery within Christ and His Church

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