Parable of the Ten Virgins (Reprise)

(Posting in preparation for Friday's readings.) Friday's Gospel lection is the parable of the ten virgins waiting for the Bridegroom. Five are wise and five are foolish. While all of them fall asleep at some point after the bridegroom is delayed, half of them are still ready to greet him when he comes and also to serve him as they are meant to. Their lamps are full. The other half have not prepared so their lamps are either out or running out of oil. These latter virgins ask the "wise" virgins to share oil with them, but are told  that if they were to do that they too might run out. The "foolish virgins" are sent out to buy some oil (it is after midnight, remember). In the meantime, the Bridegroom comes, the doors are locked, the party begins, and the foolish virgins are left out in the cold with the Bridegroom declaring, "I never knew you!"

Parables have a unique capacity to take us where we are and lead us to Christ. It doesn't matter that we are all in different places. We enter the story and thus enter a sacred space where we can meet God in Christ ourselves. For this reason, although I have written about this parable before, it had a freshness for me this week. Themes may remain similar (waiting, covenant, consummation of a wedding, faithfulness, preparation, celebration, future fulfillment, foolishness, wisdom, etc) but what the parable calls for today will differ  from what it personally entailed for the hearer yesterday. It seems to me this parable describes and calls us each to a life of prayer, a life given over to another so that his own purposes may be fulfilled through our relationship. It is the story of a life given over to waiting; it is a waiting of disciplined preparation and attention, but it is also, for that very reason, waiting which is joyful and full of promise and hope. It is the kind of waiting which signals a life where, in terms of today's parable, one especially prepares oneself to be surprised by the Bridegroom's promised and inevitable coming and by all he has done to prepare for us as his bride.

Reminder: The Nature of Jewish Marriages in Jesus' Day

Jewish weddings took place in two stages. First came the betrothal in which the two were joined in a covenant of marriage. This was more than an engagement and if it was to be sundered it could only occur through processes called "divorce". After the betrothal the bridegroom went to his family home and began to prepare for his bride. He ordinarily began building an addition to the family home. It was understood that he would provide better accommodations than his bride had had until this point. (We should all be thinking of this situation when we hear Jesus say, "I go to my Father's house to prepare a place for you.) Meanwhile the bride also begins a period of preparation. There is sewing to do and lessons in being a wife. There is preparation for the day her bridegroom will come again to take her to his home where the two shall become one (in ritual marriage) and where the marriage will be consummated.

At the end of about a year (the groom's  Father makes sure his Son does not do a haphazard job on the new addition just so he can get to his bride sooner!), on a day and at an hour the bride does not know, the groom comes with his friends. They bear torches, blow the shofar, and announce, "The Bridegroom comes" --- just as we hear in Friday's Gospel. The bride's attendants come forth with their own lamps and, with the entire town, accompany her to her new home. The marriage of this bride and groom symbolizes (in the strongest sense of that term) the marriage of God to his people achieved on Sinai. Thus, the service the bridesmaids and groomsmen do for these friends is also a service they do for Israel and a witness to God's ineffable mercy and covenant faithfulness.

On Waiting and preparing to be Surprised: The Life of Prayer

We are each called to be spouses of Christ. Christ has gone to his Father's house to prepare a place for us and we are called to spend the time between our betrothal and the consummation of this marriage in joyful preparation and waiting for that day. In other words, everything we do and are is to be geared to that day. One response to this reality is to develop a prayer life and commit to a life of prayer. (I would argue we are all called to this but that a solid prayer life and even a life of prayer looks different depending on the context and our state of life. For instance, a life of prayer in a family looks differently than a life of prayer in a hermitage.) This parable describes very well for me the dynamics of a life of prayer. Simultaneously it describes the celebratory nature of genuine waiting because prayer implies both waiting for and waiting on.

We all know both kinds of waiting. Neither is always easy for us. We wait for our moment before the cashier in grocery stores lines and are unhappy we have to be there. We look at magazines in the nearby racks, shift restlessly from foot to foot,  fall prey to impulse buys of small items located in front of us for precisely this reason, and get more irritable by the moment. (Waiting is hard because it means some form of incompleteness and lack of control; thus we impulse buy to get a sense of completion, control, etc.) We tell ourselves we have better things to do, that our time is important -- often more important, we judge, than that of the person standing in front of (or behind!) us. (There's the specter of entitlement and narcissism that so plagues our culture. The whole dynamic of waiting reminds us we are not the center of the universe and it is not easy to take sometimes.) We fill our time, our minds and our hearts with all kinds of things to distract us from waiting; at the same time we thus prevent ourselves from being open to the new and unexpected.

Similarly waiting on others is not always easy either. Wait staff in restaurants sometimes resent the very guests they are meant to serve; work keeps them from their "real  lives".  And some of these wait staff take it out on those they are meant to serve. Whether this means allowing some to go unserved while waiters talk on cell phones, or arguing with and blaming customers, or actually doctoring the dishes served at the table, putting nasty comments on the bill, etc. waiting on others can be challenging and demanding; our own inability to wait on God is an important reason we fail to pray as we are called to. We may fail at this out of ignorance; we may not know prayer is about putting ourselves at God's disposal rather than expecting God to be at ours. We may be unwilling or resistant to putting ourselves at God's disposal or to order our lives around this relationship as fully as we know we ought.

Again, in prayer we both wait for and wait on God. We wait for God and allow him the space to love and touch us as he will. We wait in the sense of the bride, knowing both that she is betrothed and thus wed to her groom while recognizing and honoring as well that the consummation of this relationship (and the proleptic experiences we occasionally have while waiting) come to us inevitably but at moments when we do not expect them. The temptation of course is to do as we do in the Safeway checkout line: fill our time with unworthy activities, seek distractions which relieve the tension of waiting, allow entitlement and impulsivity to replace patience and perseverance. But when we do not succumb to temptation, in prayer we wait for God. We wait in the sense of those preparing for something greater which we cannot even imagine. In other words, we wait as persons of hope whose ultimate union with our beloved is already begun and remains promised and anticipated in everything we say and do. We wait to be surprised by the one we know will come. And when we do, everything and everyone entering our purview will fire us with anticipation, will look, at least for a moment as the one we are awaiting. Each one may be the bridegroom, or his messenger, or someone with word of him and his own preparations. Each one bears promise and becomes a symbol of our hope.

At the same time we wait for God in Christ, we wait on God. Our prayer is not merely a matter of seeking God, much less of asking God for favors --- though it will assuredly and rightly include pouring out our hearts to him. Still, we are called to leave behind the prayer that is self-centered and adopt that which is centered instead on God's own life and will. Mature prayer is first of all a matter of making ourselves available to serve God so that his own love may be fulfilled, God's own plans realized, the absolute future he summons all of creation to may culminate in him and the Reign of sovereignty he wills to share with us is perfected. Again, in prayer we prepare to be surprised by that which we already know most truly and desire most profoundly. As in the Transfiguration we prepare to be surprised by that which has been right in front of us all along.

In the life of prayer and discipleship both waiting for and waiting on God take commitment, diligence, and attentiveness. Both require patience and persistence.  It is to this we are each and every one of us called. No one can do this for us. The fuel and flame of our hearts and prayer lives is something only we can tend, only we can steward this fire in patient and joyful preparation for our Bridegroom's coming. It is in this that the foolish virgins failed and the wise virgins succeeded. The question Jesus' parable poses to us is which will we ourselves be, wise or foolish?

Prayers Requested for Dom Robert Hale, OSB Cam

     

I have not asked readers for prayers for Dom Robert Hale, OSB Cam but I am doing so now. Fr Robert took a bad fall a couple of months ago and sustained a serious head injury. Surgery was done and Fr Robert did well. However, there were complications and additional surgery was required. Again, Fr Robert did well. However, after this there were additional problems and despite a common surgical procedure, a little more than two weeks ago Fr Robert slipped into a coma. The doctors remained hopeful but early this week Fr Robert's community and family, in accord with Dom Robert's specified wishes weaned and then removed him entirely from the ventilator on which he was being sustained. And following this Fr Robert woke up! He was a bit confused and spoke Italian (not his first language --- though he is fluent and the Camaldolese Motherhouse is in Tuscany!). We recognize Fr Robert could slip back into a coma at any time, but for now everyone is grateful and hopeful!
 

When I was first becoming a diocesan hermit Father Robert read my proposed Rule and gave me suggestions --- mainly an encouragement that I build in enough time for rest. For those who have not already done so I recommend reading Dom Robert's, Love on the Mountain, the Chronicle Journal of a Camaldolese Monk. Written while Robert was Prior it is a touching, often humorous autobiographical account of his community's life as Camaldolese in Big Sur. I have mentioned this before but do so again since I am rereading it as part of keeping Dom Robert in prayer.

Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard (Reprise)

Today's Gospel is one of my all-time favorite parables, that of the laborers in the vineyard. The story is simple --- deceptively so in fact: workers come to work in the vineyard at various parts of the day all having contracted with the master of the vineyard to work for a day's wages. Some therefore work the whole day, some are brought in to work only half a day, and some are hired only when the master comes for them at the end of the day. When time comes to pay everyone what they are owed those who came in to work last are paid first and receive a full day's wages. Those who came in to work first expect to be paid more than these, but are disappointed and begin complaining when they are given the same wage as those paid first. The response of the master reminds them that he has paid them what they contracted for, nothing less, and then asks if they are envious that he is generous with his own money. A saying is added: [in the Kingdom of God] the first shall be last and the last first.

Now, it is important to remember what the word parable means in appreciating what Jesus is actually doing with this story and seeing how it challenges us today. The word parable, as I have written before, comes from two Greek words, para meaning alongside of and balein, meaning to throw down. What Jesus does is to throw down first one set of values -- one well-understood or common-perspective --- and allow people to get comfortable with that. (It is one they understand best so often Jesus merely needs to suggest it while his hearers fill in the rest. For instance he mentions a sower, or a vineyard and people fill in the details. Today he might well speak of a a CEO in an office, or a mother on a run to pick up kids from a swim meet or soccer practice.) Then, he throws down a second set of values or a second way of seeing reality which disorients and gets his hearers off-balance.

This second set of values or new perspective is that of the Kingdom of God. Those who listen have to make a decision. (The purpose of the parable is not only to present the choice, but to engage the reader/hearer and shake them up or disorient them a bit so that a choice for something new can (and hopefully will) be made.) Either Jesus' hearers will reaffirm the common values or perspective or they will choose the values and perspective of the Kingdom of God. The second perspective, that of the Kingdom is often counterintuitive, ostensibly foolish or offensive, and never a matter of "common sense". To choose it --- and therefore to choose Jesus and the God he reveals --- ordinarily puts one in a place which is countercultural and often apparently ridiculous.

So what happens in today's Gospel? Again, Jesus tells a story about a vineyard and a master hiring workers. His readers know this world well and despite Jesus stating specifically that each man hired contracts for the same wage, common sense says that is unfair and the master MUST pay the later workers less than he pays those who came early to the fields and worked through the heat of the noonday sun. And of course, this is precisely what the early workers complain about to the master. It is precisely what most of US would complain about in our own workplaces if someone hired after us got more money, for instance, or if someone with a high school diploma got the same pay and benefit package as someone with a doctorate --- never mind that we agreed to this package! The same is true in terms of religion: "I spent my WHOLE life serving the Lord. I was baptized as an infant and went to Catholic schools from grade school through college and this upstart convert who has never done anything at all at the parish gets the Pastoral Associate job? No Way!! No FAIR!!" From our everyday perspective this would be a cogent objection and Jesus' insistence that all receive the same wage, not to mention that he seems to rub it in by calling the last hired to be paid first (i.e., the normal order of the Kingdom), is simply shocking.

And yet the master brings up two points which turn everything around: 1) he has paid everyone exactly what they contracted for --- a point which stops the complaints for the time being, and 2) he asks if they are envious that he is generous with his own gifts or money. He then reminds his hearers that the first shall be last, and the last first in the Kingdom of God. If someone was making these remarks to you in response to cries of "unfair" it would bring you up short, wouldn't it? If you were already a bit disoriented by a pay master who changed the rules of commonsense this would no doubt underscore the situation. It might also cause you to take a long look at yourself and the values by which you live your life. You might ask yourself if the values and standards of the Kingdom are really SO different than those you operate by everyday of your life, not to mention, do you really want to "buy into" this Kingdom if the rewards are really parcelled out in this way, even for people less "gifted" and less "committed" than you consider yourself! Of course, you might not phrase things so bluntly. If you are honest, you will begin to see more than your own brilliance, giftedness, or commitedness; You might begin to see these along with a deep neediness, a persistent and genuine fear at the cost involved in accepting this "Kingdom" instead of the world you know and have accommodated yourself to so well.

You might consider too, and carefully, that the Kingdom is not an otherwordly heaven, but that it is the realm of God's sovereignty which, especially in Christ, interpenetrates this world, and is actually the goal and perfection of this world; when you do, the dilemma before you gets even sharper. There is no real room for opting for this world's values now in the hope that those "other Kingdomly values" only kick in after death! All that render to Caesar stuff is actually a bit of a joke if we think we can divvy things up neatly and comfortably (I am sure Jesus was asking for the gift of one's whole self and nothing less when he made this statement!), because after all, what REALLY belongs to Caesar and what belongs to God? No, no compromises are really allowed with today's parable, no easy blending of the vast discrepancy between the realm of God's sovereignty and the world which is ordered to greed, competition, self-aggrandizement and hypocrisy, nor therefore, to the choice Jesus puts before us.

So, what side will we come down on after all this disorientation and shaking up? I know that every time I hear this parable it touches a place in me (yet another one!!) that resents the values and standards of the Kingdom and that desires I measure things VERY differently indeed. (Today after Mass, one friend said he thought the reading was contrary to his sense of social justice, so I am not alone here!) It may be a part of me that resists the idea that everything I have and am is God's gift, even if I worked hard in cooperating with that (my very capacity and willingness to cooperate are ALSO gifts of God!). It may be a part of me that looks down my nose at this person or that and considers myself better in some way (smarter, more gifted, a harder worker, stronger, more faithful, born to a better class of parents, etc, etc). It may be part of me that resents another's wage or benefits despite the fact that I am not really in need of more myself. It may even be a part of me that resents my own weakness and inabilities, my own illness and incapacities which lead me to despise the preciousness and value of my life and his own way of valuing it which is God's gift to me and to the world. I am socialized in this first-world-culture and there is no doubt that it resides deeply and pervasively within me contending always for the Kingdom of God's sovereignty in my heart and living. I suspect this is true for most of us, and that today's Gospel challenges us to make a renewed choice for the Kingdom in yet another way or to another more profound or extensive degree.

For Christians every day is gift and we are given precisely what we need to live fully and with real integrity if only we will choose to accept it (and I say this as someone who has known certain kinds of severe deprivation as I grew up, it is not a naïve or Pollyannaish kind of statement but one rooted in faith in what God has revealed to me during the past years.). We are precious to God, and this is often hard to really accept, but neither more nor less precious than the person standing in the grocery store line ahead of us or folded dirty and disheveled behind a begging sign on the street corner near our bank or outside our favorite coffee shop. The wage we have agreed to (or been offered) is the gift of God's very self along with his judgment that we are indeed precious, and so, the free and abundant but cruciform life of a shared history and destiny with that same God whose characteristic way of being is kenotic. He pours himself out with equal abandon for each of us whether we have served him our whole lives or only just met him this afternoon. He does so whether we are well and whole, or broken and feeble. And he asks us to do the same, to pour ourselves out similarly both for his own sake and for the sake of his creation-made-to-be God's Kingdom.

To do so means to decide for his reign now and tomorrow and the day after that; it means to accept his gift of Self as fully as he wills to give it, and it therefore means to listen to him and his Word so that we MAY be able to decide and order our lives appropriately in his gratuitous love and mercy. The parable in today's Gospel is a gift which makes this possible --- if only we would allow it to work as Jesus empowers and wills it!

Questions on Catholic Hermit Blog and Blogger

[[Dear Sister Laurel, I was reading Catholic Hermit: Time to Praise among other related posts on this blog, and I wondered how a diocese could allow a hermit to live in substandard living conditions for years at a time. I also wondered how they could let a consecrated Catholic hermit spend the majority of her time re-habbing an old farmhouse to use as a hermitage and then to just move on to somewhere else (she says in another post that place may have to be a shelter!) when the rehab is finished. What raised questions for me is this hermit's description of living an essentially unbalanced eremitical life of physical labor she is ill-equipped for and which increased her own chronic pain, led to or worsened unnecessary injuries and unanticipated expenses --- all without assistance or support of any kind from her diocese. Is this typical? It seems unconscionable that a diocese could treat a hermit this way --- without guidance or assistance in housing even to the point of allowing the hermit to write about maybe needing to go to a shelter lest they be "homeless" and out on the streets. How could a diocese allow this? It all reflects badly on them -- the Church I mean. What am I missing?]]

Introduction, Continuing Questions Regarding the Blog/Blogger Cited

Thank you for your questions. I will not pull punches here. I am more than a little frustrated by similar questions and by the situation which prompts them because again and again this particular blogger is responsible for confusing those who come to her blog after googling, "Catholic hermit". How ever good her reasons or motivations are, she is misrepresenting a significant vocation with her own eccentric way of living and inaccurate way of describing herself. 

However, also according to her own blogging  she is not a consecrated Catholic hermit when these terms are used in the way the Roman Catholic Church uses them. So, before I answer the questions you have asked about hermits and the responsibility of dioceses let me say once again, the author of the blog you cited is a Catholic laywoman and hermit with private vows. Her lay vocation is to be esteemed but she is responsible for her life in the way any other lay person is; the Church has not initiated her into the consecrated state and for this reason the local Church/bishop, et al, are not responsible for her in the limited way the church/bishop would be for a publicly professed/consecrated hermit.

The Real Question: The Church's Exercise of Responsibility in Regard to Those She Consecrates

Your questions, while triggered by this person's situation, are more about the Church's exercise of responsibility in regard to those she consecrates as hermits, so let me speak more specifically to these. My own sense is a Catholic (specifically a c 603) hermit's living circumstances are overseen by her bishop and delegate. (Hermits who belong to canonical institutes live their lives under the supervision of leadership in that institute.) My own delegate, for instance, understands her role as helping ensure that the life I live is a healthy one, one leading to human wholeness, holiness, and representing the best eremitical life calls for and calls forth from me for the sake of the Church and world. I keep her apprised of my spiritual life, of course, but it also means that generally speaking she is aware of my physical health and the way I live my life both in this hermitage and in my parish. She is similarly aware of my significant relationships (friendships and professional), work, intellectual pursuits, the things I do for recreation or creative outlets, and the contents of the Rule by which I live my life. (All of these concerns are my own responsibility but my delegate assists me as needed both for my own sake, and for the sake of the vocation to eremitical life itself. She does this on my behalf as well as on behalf of the local and universal Church.)

Temporary situations may cause a certain imbalance in a hermit's life. Medical situations may mean she needs assistance with personal care, trips to the doctor's, etc, for a period of several weeks or even a few months. However, living situations which are substandard as described on the "Catholic Hermit" blog and cannot be rectified in a reasonable time (several months) at an expense the hermit can truly afford would not be allowed, not least because both the hermit's health and vocation are threatened by them. 

While a diocese does not subsidize any hermitage a diocesan hermit buys, the diocese does have the right to expect the canonical hermit to make prudent investments of time, money, and energy with the help of knowledgeable professionals (realtors, attorneys, bankers, etc).  Should the diocesan hermit make a bad financial investment and be caught in a situation like that described in the blog you cited (inadequate medical care, insufficient hygiene and access to personal necessities like toilets and showers, dangerous vermin-ridden living conditions, inadequate conditions for food preparation and storage, insufficient financial resources, etc.)  they would have the right to expect the hermit to find a way out of the situation within a reasonable period of time. If she needed assistance in this a diocese could be expected to try to find people (or help the hermit locate people) who can offer some assistance but the overall responsibility remains the hermit's own. However, let it be noted, a hermit's extended inability to live his/her Rule of life might well mean, for example, the diocese will eventually need to dispense the hermit's vows.

I don't believe any diocese would allow a publicly professed hermit to buy a house to fix up as a hermitage if that project was going to take five years and more of apparently full-time effort by the hermit herself; they would especially not allow it if the hermit was merely going to sell the property at the end of that time and had nowhere to go after this. (Dioceses of course can (and do) allow a hermit to build or remodel a hermitage, but they have a right and even an obligation to set limits in terms of finances, time frames, living conditions, and so forth. The life is a contemplative one, after all; it is a healthy one and needs to be stably established. A diocese might also put off admittance to new stages of the life until a person is finished with the project and can truly live their eremitical life consistently and fully. If such a project was approved or allowed and was projected to take a year or two, a diocese might wait until its completion to admit one to perpetual profession and consecration, for instance.)

A fulltime long-term building situation would become even more objectionable if those five years involved insufficient professional assistance (skilled carpenters, licensed plumbers, electricians, etc) or skill which led to numerous injuries linked to accidents with power tools the hermit was incompetent to wield skillfully. After all, the prudential witness value of such a life is dubious; going it entirely alone when this leads to personal harm is not really typical of eremitical life nor does it witness to a stable state of life lived under a vow of religious poverty. Moreover, since it means the long-term suspension of the hermit's Rule for insufficient reasons, it lacks integrity. While dioceses allow hermits to choose and finance their own living arrangements according to what is allowed by religious poverty and their own budgets, and while manual labor is certainly permissible and even essential to the life, that hermit must be able to live her Rule in the midst of any building and re-habilitating. Some temporary adjustments in this can be made, just as may occur in times of illness or injury, of course, but these are worked out under the supervision of directors, delegates, and (sometimes) the hermit's bishop.

Most of your questions about the diocese's behavior presume the author of the blog you cited is really a Catholic hermit who is publicly admitted to the consecrated state of life and all the rights and obligations thereto. Most of them also dissolve once it is made clear this person is NOT publicly professed or consecrated and has not been entrusted with nor accepted the rights and obligations of living eremitical life in the name of the Church. Still, no, this situation is not typical! 

To reiterate, while it is required that hermits be self-supporting in some sense (this can include disability and similar aid) and take on all the expenses associated with living this life, it is possible (though not required) for dioceses to assist the hermit temporarily should emergency medical or other expenses be necessary which are more than the hermit herself can manage. What is true for consecrated hermits is that when unexpected circumstances come up the hermit and those who assist her will generally work together to determine what solutions are possible which best preserve the hermit's commitments to the Rule she is morally and legally bound to live and to canon 603 under which she lives her Rule and which her Rule "unpacks". They will do this because they all have a commitment both to the hermit and to the solitary eremitical vocation itself which they will want to see protected, nurtured, and lived as the gift of God to the Church that it is.

I hope this is helpful.

Feast of Maximillian Kolbe (Reprise)

Please note, the readings referenced below differ from today's but I hope this reprise is still of value!

Today is the feast day of Maximillian Kolbe who died on this day in Auschwitz after two months there, and two weeks in the bunker of death-by-starvation. Kolbe had offered to take the place of a prisoner selected for starvation in reprisal when another prisoner was found missing and thought to have escaped. The Kommandant, taken aback by Kolbe's dignity, and perhaps by the unprecedented humanity being shown, stepped back and then granted the request. Father Maximillian sustained his fellow prisoners and assisted them in their dying. He was one of four remaining prisoners who were murdered by an injection of Carbolic Acid when the Nazi's deemed their death by starvation was taking too long. When the bunker was visited by a secretary-interpreter immediately after the injections, he found the three other prisoners lying on the ground, begrimed and showing the ravages of the suffering they had undergone. Maximillian Kolbe sat against the wall, his face serene and radiant. Unlike the others he was clean and bright.

The stories told about Maximillian Kolbe's presence and influence in Aushwitz all stress a couple of things: first, there was his great love of God, Mary the Imaculata, and his fellow man; secondly, it focused on the tremendous humanity he lived out and modelled in the midst of a hell designed in every detail to dehumanize and degrade. These two things are intimately interrelated of course, and they give us a picture of authentic holiness which, extraordinary as it might have seemed in Auschwitz, is nothing less and nothing more than the vocation we are each called to in Christ. Together, these two dimensions of true holiness/authentic humanity result in "a life lived for others," as a gift to them in many ways -- self-sacrifice, generosity, kindness, courage, etc. In particular, in Auschwitz it was Maximillian's profound and abiding humanity which allowed others to remember, reclaim, and live out their own humanity in the face of the Nazi's dehumanizing machine. No greater gift could have been imagined in such a hell.

I think it is easy to forget this fundamental vocation, or at least to underestimate its value and challenge. We sometimes think our humanity is a given, an accomplished fact rather than a task and call to be accomplished. We also may think that it is possible to be truly human in solitary splendor. But our humanity is our essential vocation and it is something we only achieve in relation to God, his call, his mercy and love, his companionship --- and his people! (And this is as true for hermits and recluses as it is true for anyone else.) Likewise, we may think of vocation as a call to religious life, priesthood, marriage, singleness, eremitism, etc, but always, these are "merely" the paths towards achieving our foundational vocation to authentic humanity. Of course, it is not that we do not need excellent priests, religious, husbands and wives, parents, and so forth, but what is more true is that we need excellent human beings --- people who take the call and challenge to be genuinely human with absolute seriousness and faithfulness.

Today's gospel confronts us with a person who failed at that vocation. Extended mercy and the complete forgiveness of an unpayable debt, this servant went out into his world and failed to extend even a fraction of the same mercy to one of his fellows. He was selfish, ungrateful, and unmindful of who he was in terms of his Master or the generosity which had been shown him. He failed to remain in touch with that mercy and likewise he refused to extend it to others as called upon to do. He failed in his essential humanity and in the process he degraded and punished a fellow servant as inferior to himself when he should have done the opposite. Contrasted with this, and forming the liturgical and theological context for hearing this reading today, is the life of Maximillian Kolbe. Loved with an everlasting love, touched by God's infinite mercy and grace, Father Maximillian knew and affirmed who he truly was. More, in a situation of abject poverty and ultimate weakness, he remained in contact with the Source of his own humanity as the infinite well from which he would draw strength, dignity, courage, forgiveness, and compassion when confronted with a reality wholly dedicated to shattering, degrading, and destroying the humanity of those who became its victims. In every way he was the embodiment of St Paul's citation, "My grace is sufficient for you; my power is made perfect in weakness!"

In Auschwitz it is true that some spoke of Kolbe as a saint, and many knew he was a priest, but in this world where all were stripped of names and social standing of any kind, what stood out to everyone was Maximillian Kolbe's love for God and his fellow man; what stood out was his humanity. Holiness for the Christian is defined in these terms. Authentic humanity and holiness are synonyms in Christianity, and both are marked by the capacity to love and be loved, first (by) God and then (by) all those he has dignified as his image and holds as precious. In a world too-often marked by mediocrity and even outright inhumanity, a world too frequently dominated by those structures, institutions, and dynamics which seem bigger than we are and incapable of being resisted or changed, we need to remember Maximillian Kolbe's example. Oftentimes we focus on serving others, feeding the poor, sheltering the homeless and the like, and these things are important. But in Kolbe's world when very little of this kind of service was possible (though Kolbe did what was possible and prudent here) what stood out was not only the crust of bread pressed into a younger priest's hands, the cup of soup given gladly to another, but the very great and deep dignity and impress of his humanity. And of course it stood out because beyond and beneath the need for food and shelter, what everyone was in terrible danger of losing was a sense of --- and capacity to act in terms of -- their own great dignity and humanity.

Marked above all as one loved by God, Father Maximillian lived out of that love and mercy. He extended it again and again to everyone he met, and in the end, he made the final sacrifice: he gave his own life so that another might live. An extraordinary vocation marked by extraordinary holiness? Yes. But also our OWN vocation, a vocation to "ordinary" and true holiness, genuine humanity. As I said above, "In particular, in Auschwitz it was Maximillian's profound and abiding humanity which allowed others to remember, reclaim, and live out their own humanity in the face of the Nazi's dehumanizing machine. No greater gift could have been imagined in such a hell." In many ways this is precisely the gift we are called upon in Christ to be for our own times. May Saint Kolbe's example inspire us to fulfill our vocations in exemplary ways.

Feast of the Transfiguration (Reprise with Tweaks)

Transfiguration by Lewis Bowman

Have you ever been walking along a well-known road and suddenly had a bed of flowers take on a vividness which takes your breath away? Similarly, have you ever been walking along or sitting quietly outside when a breeze rustles some leaves above your head and you were struck breathless by an image of the Spirit moving through the world? I have had both happen, and, in the face of God's constant presence, what is in some ways more striking is how infrequent such peak moments are.

Scientists tell us we see only a fraction of what goes on all around us. In part it depends upon our expectations. In an experiment with six volunteers divided into two teams in either white or black shirts, observers were asked to concentrate on the number of passes of a basketball that occurred as players wove in and out around one another. In the midst of this activity a woman in a gorilla suit strolls through, stands there for a moment, thumps her chest, and moves on. At the end of the experiment observers were asked two questions: 1) how many passes were there, and 2) did you see the gorilla? Fewer than 50% saw the gorilla. Expectations drive perception and can produce blindness. Even more shocking, these scientists tell us that even when we are confronted with the truth we are more likely to insist on our own "knowledge" and justify decisions we have made on the basis of blindness and ignorance. We routinely overestimate our own knowledge and fail to see how much we really do NOT know.

For the past two weeks we have been reading the central chapter of Matthew's Gospel --- the chapter that stands right smack in the middle of his version of the Good News. It is Matt's collection of Jesus' parables --- the stories Jesus tells to help break us open and free us from the common expectations, perspectives, and wisdom we hang onto so securely so that instead we might commit to the Kingdom of God and the vision of reality it involves. Throughout this collection of parables Jesus takes the common, too-well-known, often underestimated and unappreciated bits of reality which are right at the heart of his hearers' lives. He uses them to reveal the extraordinary God who is also right there in front of his hearers. Stories of tiny seeds, apparently completely invisible once they have been tossed about by a prodigal sower, clay made into works of great artistry and function, weeds and wheat which reveal a discerning love and judgment which involves the careful and sensitive harvesting of the true and genuine --- all of these and more have given us the space and time to suspend our usual ways of seeing and empower us to adopt the new eyes and hearts of those who dwell within the Kingdom of God.

Taking Offense at Jesus:

It was the recognition of the unique authority with which Jesus taught, the power of his parables in particular which shifted the focus from the stories to the storyteller in the Gospel passage we heard last Friday. Jesus' family and neighbors did not miss the unique nature of Jesus' parables; these parables differ in kind from anything in Jewish literature and had a singular power which went beyond the usual significant power of narrative. They saw this clearly. But they also refused to believe the God who revealed himself in the commonplace reality they saw right in front of them. Despite the authority they could not deny they chose to see only the one they expected to see; they decided they saw only the son of Mary, the son of Joseph and "took offense at him." Their minds and hearts were closed to who Jesus really was and to the God he revealed. Similarly, Jesus' disciples too could not really accept an anointed one who would have to suffer and die. Peter especially refuses to accept this.

It is in the face of these situations that we hear today's Gospel of the Transfiguration. Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up on a mountain apart. He takes them away from the world they know (or believe they know) so well, away from peers, away from their ordinary perspective, and he invites them to see who he really is. In the Gospel of Luke Jesus' is at prayer --- attending to the most fundamental relationship of his life --- when the Transfiguration occurs. Matthew does not structure his account in the same way. Instead he shows Jesus as the one whose life is a profound dialogue with God's law and prophets, who is in fact the culmination and fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, the culmination of the Divine-Human dialogue we call covenant. He is God-with-us in the unexpected and even unacceptable place. This is what the disciples see --- not so much a foretelling of Jesus' future glory as the reality which stands right in front of them --- if only they had the eyes to see.

Learning to See With New Eyes:

I watched a video today of a man who was given Enchroma glasses --- a form of sunglasses that allows colorblind persons to see color, often for the first time in their lives. By screening out certain wavelengths of light someone who has seen the world in shades of brown their whole lives are finally able to see things they have never seen before as browns are transformed into yellows and reds and purples, and suddenly trees look truly green and three-dimensional or the colorful pears no longer simply blend into the background. The man was overwhelmed and overcome by what he had been missing; he could not speak, did not really know what to do with his hands, was "reduced" to tears and eventually expressed it all as he hugged his wife in love and gratitude. Meanwhile, family members were struck with just how much they themselves may have taken for granted as everyday they moved through their own world of "ordinary" color and texture. The entire situation involved a Transfiguration almost as momentous as the one the disciples experienced in today's Gospel.

For most of us, such an event would overwhelm us with awe and gratitude as well. But not Peter --- at least it does not seem so to me! Instead he outlines a project to reprise the Feast of Tabernacles right here and now. In this story Peter reminds me some of those folks (myself included!) who want so desperately to hang onto and even control amazing prayer experiences --- immediately making them the basis for some ministerial project or other; unfortunately, in doing so, they, in acting too quickly and even precipitously, fail to appreciate these experiences fully or learn to live from them! He is, in some ways, a kind of lovable but misguided buffoon ready to similar build booths for Moses, Elijah and Jesus, consistent with his tradition while neglecting the qualitative newness and personal challenge of what has been revealed and needs to be processed in personal conversion. In some way Matt does not spell out explicitly, Peter has missed the point. And in the midst of Peter's well-meaning activism comes God's voice, "This is my beloved Son. Listen to him!" In my reflection on this reading this last weekend, I heard something more: "Peter! Sit down! Shut up! This is my beloved Son! Listen to him!!!"

Like Peter, and like the colorblind man who needed wear the glasses consistently enough to allow his brain to really begin to process colors in a new way, we must take the time to see what is right in front of us. We must see the sacred which is present and incarnated in ordinary reality. We must listen to the One who comes to us in the Scriptures and Sacraments, the One who speaks to us through every believer and the whole of creation. We must really be the People of God, the "hearers of the Word" who know how to listen and are obedient in the way God summons us to be. This is true whether we are God's lowliest hermit or one of the Vicars of Christ who govern our dioceses and college of Bishops. Genuine authority coupled with true obedience empowers new life, new vision, new perspectives and reverence for the ordinary reality God makes Sacramental. There is a humility involved in all of this. It is the humility of the truly wise, the truly knowing person. We must be able to recognize how very little we see, how unwilling or unable we often are to be converted to the perspective of the Kingdom, how easily we justify our blindness and deafness with our supposed knowledge, and how even our well-intentioned activism can prevent us from seeing and hearing the unexpected, sometimes scandalous God standing there right in the middle of our reality.

Parable of the Sower/Soils: Becoming Hearers of the Word

 On Friday we heard the parable of the sower/soils, at least the latter or "analogy portion" of the parable where Jesus explains the story's meaning. We all know it well; seed is sown broadcast-style over a wide swath of ground. Some falls on the path, some on rocky ground, some of thorny ground, and some on rich ground. Jesus makes analogies of the act of broadcasting seed on each of these types of ground. When seed falls on the path it represents the hearer of the Word who is without understanding and the Word sown in his/her heart is stolen away by "the Evil One"; when seed falls on rocky ground it represents the person who receives the Word with joy and grace, but who is "without root" (or fails to allow the Word to take root within her) and falls away from life in and from the Word. When seed falls on thorny ground we are given a picture of the person who hears the Word, allows it to take root, but then allows anxiety and a yearning for other forms of riches to choke the life of the word out; and finally Jesus portrays the person in whom the Word takes root and bears an enormously rich harvest, 30, 60, 100 fold.

In each image Jesus defines the human person as a hearer of the Word of God. Moreover he points out that the nature of one's personhood is a reflection of the priority, attention, and care given to this Word and to the human heart which receives it. To understand the parable is to allow oneself to "stand under" the promise and challenge of the Word of God --- to allow oneself to be literally inspired by it --- shaped, consoled, healed, and impelled by the Word of Love and mercy it always is. Parables are not understood in the way a mathematical or other problem might be; they are not understood even in the way some texts are. We do not understand them when we analyze them and determine what they say; we understand them when we enter into the story and become part of it --- when we allow it to make a new sense of our lives while calling and empowering us to embrace this with our whole heart and mind.

Several images came to mind when reflecting on this reading. For instance, I remembered a time several years ago my pastor asked the adults present in a weekday Mass to name their favorite Scripture story or share their favorite Scripture verse with students from our school who were attending Mass with us that day. Many of us quoted a verse that was personally significant. One after the other, verse after verse, people revealed themselves as "hearers of the Word" and alluded to the deep story of their own lives in relationship with God in Christ which was, to some extent, captured or mirrored in the verse they shared. Religious do this with the motto they choose for their rings, for instance. My own is, "God's power is perfected in weakness." It is the short version of Paul's, "My grace is sufficient for you; my power is perfected in weakness." Almost every moment or mood of my life as well as every dream and goal which shape my life and vocation is captured in this verse from 2 Corinthians.

My director/delegate recounts two Scriptures which have served similarly in her own life. At profession she heard, "I have raised you up to show my power through you"; when she began a retreat ministry which allowed her to practice PRH, a methodical approach to personal healing and growth, the first liturgy at the retreat center used a passage from Deuteronomy 31. Sister Marietta found herself personally addressed in the line where Moses commissions Joshua: "You must put them in possession of their heritage." In this context heritage meant that deep Self, that sacred well of potentiality which is both the eternal gift of God and our own truest reality. It is the Word of God spoken within us, the sacred "name" God calls us to embody as no one else can or will.  Throughout our lives, whether through choices we make or circumstances that befall us, our ability to attend to, embrace, and embody this heritage can be wounded and crippled. As a result our hearts will contain tamped down pathways, rocky and thorn-choked ground as well as deep layers of rich soil. But the injury done over the years can also be healed and some forms of pastoral ministry and the work associated with it as well as prayer, lectio divina, etc can greatly assist in this. Through these we can become the truly free persons we are called to be, unique articulations of the Word of God.

As I reflected on the parable this last week and thought on what it would mean to become the rich soil in which the Word of God comes to fruition I remembered the last scene from Ray Bradbury's short novel, Fahrenheit 451. In this dystopia where lives are empty and suicide is common, books are forbidden. Firemen no longer put out house fires; they locate houses in which owners have hidden books and douse them with kerosene, books and all, and set them ablaze. Sometimes they burn the owners as well. Montag, a fireman, steals some books and fails to turn them in. One of these is a Bible. Eventually Montag himself becomes the target of the government and the fire department comes to burn his house and the books hidden there; Montag is to be killed by lethal injection. But he escapes and runs to the forests outside the city. There he meets communities of human beings who have also escaped the empty, fruitless lives so common in that time.

Each member of these communities has given themselves over to a work of literature, and in the last scene we see an image of persons embodying a particular literary opus and "handing on" these works to others who will follow them in a similar embodiment. The work involved may be a book or chapter of a book, a passage or classic poem. If one wants to "read" Dante, or a play of Shakespeare, or the Gospel of Mark, for instance, one is sent to a particular person who will recite it for them -- as many times as one needs. Montag finds his own life of struggle, searching, loss and gain, reflected in Ecclesiastes: "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven." As in Fahrenheit 451, or the other examples cited above, the parable of the sower/soils challenges each of us to allow the Word of God to shape and condition us completely or exhaustively. It asks each of us to become an embodiment of that same Word. We are not merely to listen to or recite a piece of Scripture, but to give ourselves over to the Word of God and in some way to become its living presence in our world. May God bring to completion the work (He) has begun in each of us!

The Servant Song

This video is several years old but it matched my prayer last night; also, I like to hear James and Cyprian (OSB Cam) singing together so I thought I would share. May we each find the grace to serve and allow ourselves to be served.

Hermit Going to the Dogs?! A Bit of "Sabbath" Rest

Just sharing a rare picture of myself (the one in the cowl!). I had the service this morning and our business manager had brought her dogs to work; we stopped and a parishioner got a picture before we went in to pray. These dogs are HUGE! The one I am petting in this picture is deaf but what a love. A beautiful morning at St Perpetua's!!

The readings today are about the power of prayer and the need to learn the deeper, greater lesson of Sabbath rest in and with Christ in place of a life of slavish subjection to laws and rules. I am hoping to put up the reflection I gave this morning -- as soon as I have the time to type it up. In the meantime I put up a reprise of another post because it touches on the topic of mercy and the linkage of that to hospitality. The picture to the right is of our chapel altar.

On Being Called to Both Solitude and Hospitality (Reprise)

Last Monday's gospel lection was, I believe, one of the pivotal texts which explain and ground the hermit's esteem for and paradoxical sense of having a call to both solitude and hospitality. It also serves as an illustration of every Christian's need to ground ministry in prayer including solitary prayer and to allow prayer to overflow in active ministry which is a gift of self to all. The text was Matthew's story where Jesus, upon hearing of the death of John the Baptist, retires to the desert to be alone with God. He is pursued by hungry crowds --- hungry on so many levels; he is moved by pity for their needs and ministers to them. Eventually his disciples approach, remind him of the coming darkness and ask Jesus to "dismiss" the crowds so they may return to the village to obtain food for supper. Jesus says there is no need to dismiss them and asks his disciples to bring the scant provisions they have on hand to him. What follows is a Eucharistic meal. Christ feeds the crowds with bread and fishes he multiplies, but he also very clearly feeds them with himself --- abundantly; he pours himself out in this way and gives the gift of himself and the fruits of his relationship with God even when his own need for solitude (time with his Abba) may have been primary.

While Jesus' grief may have been a significant part of his turn to solitude (the texts don't actually indicate this) the evangelist clearly wants us to see this time as another instance in which Jesus' own call to minister --- to be emptied of self, to be broken open and to pour himself out for others as an expression of his unique relationship with his Father --- is discerned and acted out in the world without hesitation. For hermits for whom the demands of solitude and hospitality are inextricably wed, this lection is both encouraging and quite challenging; though they must both be observed and cannot easily be teased apart, in this lection hospitality (or active ministry) assumes apparent priority over solitude. What I think we must see, however, is that Jesus' solitary suffering (grief, loneliness) and relationship with his Father (prayer) together bring him to a compassion which is the basis of his entire ministry. It is the foundation of his complete gift of self to and for the world given without conditions or limits while it also defines the very character of this ministry. Matthew says Jesus is moved by pity for the needs of these others. At the heart of everything Jesus is and does is a compassionate, other-centered drive to mercy -- a mercy which is from and of God.

Solitude Empowers Our Paradoxical Gift of Self::

Authentic solitude empowers a kind of presence, an openness to others and their needs which our own needs do not impede much less dictate. In other words it empowers an other-centeredness which welcomes on their own terms those who come to us seeking "a word". Eremitical solitude is the context for listening and thus welcoming with one's heart. It empowers this and, at least for a time, allows one to set one's own needs and concerns aside in order to listen carefully to the mind and heart of the other who has sought us out. It is only when one has really heard these others that one can respond in a way which is truly inspired. More, really hearing the other IS the inspired response. In the literature of the Desert Fathers and Mothers hermits visited their elders in search of "a Word". What they were in search of though is not some abstract bit of eremitical wisdom, not necessarily what is most important to the elder, for instance, or the insight or principle s/he most treasures or is known for; instead they seek an answer to the questions or yearnings of their own hearts and the elder draws on his or her own experience to provide just the right "Word". "The Word" is a symbol of the seeker being truly heard.

But here is where is gets a little tricky too. Solitude prepares one to give oneself in an openness which is capable of embracing and holding the needs and even the very self of the other --- and quite often this embracing or holding (as noted with hearing above) IS the very thing the person seeking one out really needs. It is incredibly paradoxical that a hermit's solitude (time alone with God for the sake of others) prepares and even calls for hospitality --- especially such a radical hospitality --- but that is the truth which hermits have seen from the very first moment they sought God in the wilderness. When, for instance, we spend time in quiet prayer we open ourselves to God in a way which allows him free reign (and free rein!). In my own prayer I empty myself of discrete expectations, specific desires, wishes, and even hopes, and simply give over my heart and mind to God to dwell in (to know!) and to touch in whatever way God wills. This means he will plumb the depths of every thought, desire, wish, yearning, impulse, and hope I have, every potentiality, every fear and defense, every openness to life or obstacle to it. I pour out my mind and heart to God by emptying myself of these as things I ordinarily grasp so that God himself can explore and embrace them even more exhaustively with his love and mercy. I let go of these individual realities so that God may grasp and transform me. And so it is with hospitality.

When someone seeks me out they are rarely really looking for the "diocesan hermit" or the "theologian" or even the "spiritual director" --- though all of these dimensions of myself may be of help in one way and another and may also be the ostensible reason someone comes to me. Most fundamentally though they are looking for the person who may also BE these things. What I also mean in saying this is that they are not primarily seeking me out for MY sake --- so that I may BE a diocesan hermit or theologian or spiritual director, etc. They are seeking me out so that THEY may BE themselves. They are seeking a place, a sacred space created not only by the hermitage's silence but more especially by a heart and mind that are open to them and to all they need, yearn and hope for. They are seeking me out in the hope that I can truly set myself aside for the time being and make them "at home."  And some hermits or directors or other ministers may forget this; it is a tragic error when they do.

To the extent I can set myself aside so that those who seek me out may be at home, to the extent my time in solitude has prepared me rightly, to the extent I can become transparent to God rather than being about "being a hermit" or a "contemplative", or merely giving "spiritual advice" or instructing the person ABOUT God, to this extent they will be fed and nourished, held, healed, and freshly commissioned to transform the world with God's love far beyond anything I might be capable of empowering myself in any of my usual "roles" or "competencies". That is the hospitality hermits and contemplatives offer others: the hospitality of selflessness and an open heart and mind which are all transparent to God and are formed and nourished in eremitical solitude. Only then will our own competencies and specific gifts be really helpful and the specific "Words" we might be able to say to the person be truly helpful.

Monday's Gospel Text Again:

So Jesus went apart to spend time with his Abba and people sought him out; Jesus, moved with pity, ministered to them. These two impulses, to solitude and to hospitality are inextricably related in Jesus' life and in the life of contemporary hermits --- just as they are in the great commandment. Are there dangers to be avoided, confusions and misunderstandings which are common and must be corrected or avoided? Yes, absolutely --- and it is important for hermits to live disciplined lives while reflecting on and sometimes even writing about these. But solitude and hospitality are two sides of the same coin and we never have one without the other. Nor can one hand another person only one side of a coin. It is the whole coin or it is nothing at all.  Recently I read a blog post which said essentially: [[ If the folks who turn to me, even those who are concerned with how I myself am doing, don't want to hear a message from a hermit about Christianity or the spiritual insights I have gleaned from my mystical experiences, then let them leave me alone!]]

Additional comments gave me a sense that the blogger believed the people turning to Jesus were doing so for petty (merely "temporal") reasons and interrupting Jesus' prayer and solitude for a bit of trivial "conversation". In all of this I was reminded of some soup kitchens where people in real need and hungry on so many levels were  promised a meagre bowl of soup and sandwich only if they listened to a bad preacher with his pre-packaged spiel ABOUT (his version of) Jesus. And I wondered if those ministering to the folks in the soup kitchen realized what those folks really needed was a decent meal in which they encountered God in Christ as someone who shared their table and was truly vulnerable to them. Was there a minister present asking to eat with or have a cup of coffee with them in order to really be WITH and hear THEM? To make neighbors of them? To really love them as a revelation of God? Because of the soup kitchen's focus on pre-packaged messages ABOUT Jesus -- or the blogger's focus on her insights and spiritual "gifts"? I sincerely doubt it.

But the truth is if we are truly hermits (or contemplatives or Christians of whatever stripe or role) then, relatively rare though these encounters may be, it is in meeting us as persons healed and enlivened by a love which makes us truly open and vulnerable that another will meet and hear God in us, not in lectures, or "edifying accounts of mystical experiences" or a litany of spiritual principles and lessons gleaned in a selfish solitude. We meet God in the silence of solitude so that others may meet God in and through us. Even more, we meet God in the silence of solitude so that we may ALSO clearly recognize and reveal God in the other who needs us to do this. It is not the easy way; it is personally costly and thus it is neither bloodless nor without risk, but it is the way of Jesus, and the way of both monastic and eremitical solitude and hospitality.

O'Donohue, A Morning Offering

 A couple of readers have asked for the complete reference in the piece I wrote yesterday. It's a bit soon for another Contemplative Moment so I am just going to put the piece and related information up here. The book is To bless the Space Between Us by John O'Donohue. The "blessing" those 8 lines from the last post were taken from was called, "A Morning Offering". Here is the entire piece:

I bless the night that nourished my heart

To set the ghosts of longing free

Into the flow and figure of dream

That went to harvest from the dark

Bread for the hunger no one sees.

 

All that is eternal in me
Welcomes the wonder of this day,

The field of brightness it creates

Offering time for each thing

To arise and illuminate.

 

I place on the altar of dawn;

The quiet loyalty of breath,

The tent of thought where I shelter,

Waves of desire I am shore to

And all beauty drawn to the eye.

 

May my mind come alive today

To the invisible geography

That invites me to new frontiers,

To break the dead shell of yesterdays,

To risk being disturbed and changed.

 

May I have the courage today

To live the life that I would love,

To postpone my dream no longer

But to do at last what I came here for

And waste my heart on fear no more.

 



"The Word you are to speak will be given to you"

The Gospel for today is Matt 10:16-23. In it Jesus addresses Apostles being sent on mission set on destroying them; he gives them instructions on how to be effective in what they do, neither being swallowed up by the world they enter with the Gospel of the Kingdom nor offering a kind of domesticated Christianity without --- death notwithstanding --- the power to really change things. This is exactly the same ethic we see from Jesus again and again throughout the scriptures: he traps (or "catches" and stops) those trying to trap him in their own reality and then offers them something new and better in the present moment, all without aggression or hostility. In the language of today's Gospel Jesus acts with the shrewdness of a serpent and the gentleness --- or innocence and simplicity --- of a dove. For those thinking that Christianity offers us a kind of bloodless piety incapable of challenging or otherwise dealing with the world, a piety which makes doormats of disciples the examples Matt gives through the rest of the chapter belies that (cf other posts under the label "gentle as doves . . ." for the real meaning of turn the other cheek, walk the extra mile, give him your tunic too!).

If we pay attention to the tremendous inner drama involved within each disciple in order for Jesus' instructions or commission to be realized in a world which is seriously dangerous to Christians, we will see a little more clearly what today's Gospel asks for from us in the midst of a turbulent world --- and what the mercy of God promises as well. It is, after all, despite the vivid images of brother vs brother and Father vs Son, the inner drama of conversion and transformation that is the real story in today's Gospel.

All of this was brought home to me on Wednesday. I prayed in the morning as usual but after quiet prayer I opened a book by John O'Donohue and prayed his "Morning Offering". I had been doing a lot of personal work with my director, and I had been reflecting on bondage to fear (the result of past trauma), and on contemplative presence.  O'Donohue's "blessing"  (O'Donohue says "Morning Offering" is not a poem but a blessing) was something I took with me then as I travelled on the train to hand therapy in El Cerrito; I had just read the following again as I disembarked to make my way to the appointment:

May my mind come alive today

To the invisible geography

That invites me to new frontiers,
To break the dead shell of yesterdays,

To risk being disturbed and changed.
 

May I have the courage today

To live the life that I would love,

To postpone my dream no longer

But do at last what I came here for

And waste my heart on fear no more.

I moved to the elevator which would take me to the concourse level of the station and found myself waiting with a care-worn man with a mountain bike. He was older, salt and pepper hair which was also bright blue in the front; he looked like he had been through more than a little in his life and I gave a second thought and even a third to getting on a small and interminably slow elevator alone with him. Then, as we boarded the car two able-bodied men, physically imposing, pushed into the car behind us. Oh boy.

I decided simply, "I will put my fear behind me," and as I did I felt a kind of peace come within and fill me. In a second thought I decided, "I will just be myself and, whatever the situation is, maybe my presence will condition or change it some (not the habit --- which can make one a target --- but my personal presence!)." In any case, I knew I would be fine. The man with the bike greeted me first, "Hi Sister." I responded, "Hi, how goes it?" to which he quickly, even defensively, replied: "In comparison to what?" I thought for a second, (No comparisons here! Help him live in the present moment) and answered, "Just today. How are you?" My answer stopped him; he seemed surprised. Then, a slow shy smile crept over his face, and he said, "Good! I am really good. I have my faith in God!" Quickly he expanded his comment: "'Once things were really bad and a friend asked me to "Name just one positive thing, just one positive thing.' I told him, I have my faith in God. That's so important!"

 I agreed. and said so
 

I realized as we stood there and he told his story of faith and friendship, suffering and salvation, that my own vision was affected; I began to see someone else standing in front of me than a down and out man I might need to worry about. His own story had replaced the fearful one I had "told myself" about him. Perhaps this process began the moment I put fear behind me. A few seconds later the doors of the elevator car opened and we each went our own way. The two men in the car with us also went on and whether the encounter on the car affected them much I knew the man with the bike had been changed some by it. He had gotten in touch with a precious, empowering piece of his own story and shared it; he implicitly acknowledged the gift my own response had been in its likeness to his friend's demand to name "just one positive thing"; he had allowed himself to touch the treasure of love and friendship he carries within himself even when the darkness threatens to overwhelm; he had dwelt in the present moment with me and his (our) God, and he had been a gift to me in assisting me to do the same. This was the more significant inner drama the Spirit had involved us in.

All kinds of things can prevent us from living in the present moment: past traumata and the fear of repetition or just the triggering of painful memories, busyness and a sense of self-importance, disappointments that make risking ourselves or trusting difficult, the inability to truly entertain a meaningful dream in a way which lets us move forward in the present, the inability to trust in the grace of God that holds us securely no matter what, etc, etc. But Jesus sends us out, commissions us to be his presence in the world, to be shrewd as serpents and gentle as doves; he asks us to be wholly at the service of the Gospel of God and those to whom we are sent. He asks us to dwell in the present moment, to put fear behind us and trust that we will be given what we are to say. He asks us to be wholly present in Him and to the other. When we do that witness is no problem; ''the word we are to speak (the word we are called to be in fact) will be given to us," and the world will be transformed for the good. 

On Contemplative Prayer and Living



[[Dear Sister, hi there! Do you think of yourself as a contemplative? I wondered if there is a way to justify living as a contemplative. I grew up in a Protestant family and was taught to distrust contemplative prayer and maybe contemplative living too. This had something to do with distrusting prayer rooted in an inner and unverifiable mass of feelings. Too subjective I guess. Later I became a Catholic and more and more came to appreciate the accent it has on active ministry. But my pastor also talks about how important it is to cultivate a contemplative way of living and praying. He reads your blog by the way and suggested I look at it; he also said you might answer any questions I had. imagine my surprise to find you had written a piece called "A Contemplative Moment: How I become Myself"! So I was wondering how you can justify not working and being a contemplative. Can you answer this for me? Thank you.]]

Welcome to this blog! I realize you don't know me and I also understand something of where you are coming from when you say that you learned to distrust contemplative prayer and life. Despite what Catholics say "officially" I suspect many of them really don't trust contemplative life and think contemplative prayer itself is for an elitist few. Some Protestant ecclesial groups tend, as you say, to distrust the subjectivity of contemplative prayer. Some speak outright about the devil tricking folks to believe they are communing with God when really they are, at best, only navel gazing.

If you check under labels for my posts you will find a number dedicated to the heart. The way we conceive of the human heart is an important part of why we consider contemplative prayer a critical piece of Christian spirituality. For me and for other Christians the human heart is the center of the human being and the place "where God bears witness to Godself''. This idea or description of the human heart recognizes that the most central, sacred, and inalienable part of ourselves is an event rooted in the continuing gift/speech of God. We must learn to listen to and with our hearts and that is an essentially contemplative  thing. Our culture esteems rationality, thinking, busyness, but is not too comfortable with matters of the heart in this sense. Thus it takes real work to learn to listen to one's heart, and more, to listen with one's heart. Quiet or contemplative prayer is really about this. It allows us to truly be present to and for another --- something our world needs desparately.

I am reminded of a poem by Wendell Berry. Berry captures a sense of the work of contemplation and contemplative living. It is counterintuitive and contrary to our usual Enlightenment ways of approaching reality. Berry writes in Standing by Words:

The Real Work

 

It may be that when we no longer know what to do

we have come to our real work,

 

and that when we no longer know which way to go

we have come to our real journey.

 

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

 

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

 

 

So, what I can say to you now is that contemplative prayer and contemplative living are vastly different things than most people know or have experienced. I suppose I would be surprised that these are not distrusted by some, especially by those who cannot trust subjectivity, paradox, or who overestimate external authority. However, contemplatives tend to take our stand in discernment as Jesus described it: by their fruits you shall know them. That said, the folks I know who are contemplative value truth, are loving and compassionate, and are incredibly committed to personal integrity. Their way is non-violent and respectful of others and the whole of creation. They work quite hard pouring out their lives for others and exploring an inner landscape most may not even imagine exists. While contemplative living may be relatively rare today this does not mean such lives are elitist; no, the truth is all are called to this kind of living and prayer. It is a focused way of living, attentive, and care-full. There is nothing strange or unworthy of trust about it. It is, quite simply, authentically human.

 

In saying all of this please be aware I am not writing a justification of contemplation or contemplative living. I don't think I need to do that. Instead, I believe folks who distrust these things need to re-examine their objections. Eremitical life is fraught with stereotypes and sometimes authentic hermits suffer when otherwise intelligent folks hold such stereotypes. I guess the same is true with regard to contemplative prayer and life. Stereotypes get in the way of real understanding. Fortunately, your questions indicate you are not allowing that to occur here.

A Contemplative Moment: Now I Become Myself

 

 

Now I Become Myself

May Sarton, Collected Poems 1930-1993

 

Now I become myself. It's taken

Time, many years and places;

I have been dissolved and shaken,

Worn other people's faces,

Run madly, as if Time were there,

Terribly old, crying a warning,

'Hurry, you will be dead before --'

(What? Before you reach the morning?

Or the end of the poem is clear?

Or love safe in the walled city?)

Now to stand still, to be here,

Feel my own weight and density!

The black shadow on the paper

Is my hand; the shadow of a word

As thought shapes the shaper

Falls heavy on the page, is heard.

 

All fuses now, falls into place

From wish to action, word to silence,

Mark my word, my love, my time, my face

Gathered into one intense

Gesture of growing like a plant.

As slowly as a ripening fruit

Fertile, detached, and always spent,

Falls but does not exhaust the root,

Grows in me and becomes the song,

Made so and rooted by love.

Now there is time and Time is young.

O, in this single hour I live

All of myself and do not move.

I, the pursued, who madly ran,

Stand still, stand still, and stop the sun!