Catholicism, holiness and spirituality

Making the darkness a bit brighter

Reading the news at CNS I found the opening words of this story - a quote from Pope Benedict - to ring very true for me:

One's feelings of hatred must be washed away with forgiveness and humble service toward others -- they should never be left to linger long enough to poison the soul

It's short and sweet and simple - and often hard to do, and hard to do so consistently. When you take a look around the world at the war, the injustice, the crime and sin of the day, it seems to me that a lot of it comes from harboring and nurturing hatred towards others. And the same could apply to our personal sin - feelings of resentment and anger towards others that we allow to find a home inside us.

We have a natural tendency to feel anger, resentment and hatred. I'm not saying we shouldn't allow ourselves to feel those things; they are just feelings, after all. It's natural to have all sorts of feelings. The key is not letting those negative things find a home in our hearts - washing them away 'with forgiveness and humble service toward others' before they are there long enough to stick to our souls.

But you know, it's not always easy to forgive. And there is so much in this world, in our modern society, that pulls us towards selfishness and away from humility, towards narcissism and away from serving others.

I've found that as I help others, the darkness in my heart gets brighter. As the focus shifts from me and my selfishness towards the humanness of others and how I can be of service to them, there just isn't as much room for the anger and resentment.

Struggles and perseverance

This letter from Pierre Teilhard de Chardin to his cousin Mageurite really made me pause and reflect. Here are the parts of the letter that struck a chord in me:

[Hersin-Coupigny] 7th October 1915

... I made a tour of the trenches on the eve of the attack to people I knew and to give communion to  some (all to whom I offered it, accepted; I was limited by the smallness of my pyx). You can't imagine what emotions I then experienced, nor what one feels is conveyed in the clasp of a man who shakes one's hand, at a bend in a communications trench, after one has given him God – while the shells are going across, almost like a solid vault overhead, with a continual hum, on their way to demolish the trenches 200 metres further on, the trenches we'll have to move into as soon as the bombardment stops. There's no doubt about it: The only man who knows [who experiences] right in the innermost depths of his being the weight and grandeur of war, is the man who goes over the top with bayonet and grenade. In that moment training, of course, and a sort of intoxication play a large part; but even so it is still true that the infantryman leaving his trench for the attack is a man apart, a man who has lived a minute of life of which other men have simply no conception at all.

I am ashamed, as you may imagine, to think that I stayed in the communication trenches while my friends went out to their death. So many of them never came back – first among them, my best friend in the regiment, and the finest soldier I've yet known, poor Commandant Lefebvre ...

What is going to emerge from this ghastly struggle? It's more and more the crisis, the desperately slow evolution of a rebirth of Europe. Yet could things move any more quickly? ... We must offer our existence to God, who neither wastes nor spoils, but rather makes use, better than we could ever anticipate, of the struggles in which we are enveloped. If I said I didn't feel any weariness, I wouldn't be speaking the truth. As soon as the trenches lose the attraction of novelty, you easily become heartily sick of them – particularly, perhaps, when, like me, the work you've given yourself to involves witnessing all the miseries, one after another, without sharing in the battle or victory. Pray to God the he may give me the strength to hold out as long as he should wish me to. When the regiment, for the third time, fills up with new faces, it's hard work to start making friends again, to form relationships, in the hopes of being able to give someone words of advice or absolution when the next attack comes. God grant that we may remain his workers to the end. ...

This letter is set in the trenches of World War I, but couldn't it just as well apply to the wars of today? We can never really know what it's like to be a soldier on the front line, or on a patrol somewhere in a hostile, foreign land. As we sit back here in relative safety, people die in war. And what will emerge from this struggle? We are understandably impatient and weary; and perhaps we're hesitant to get too intimate with what's really going on.

It seems to me that Teilhard's experience here also applies to the 'wars' of poverty, HIV/AIDS and other diseases that decimate some countries, persecuted refugees, inner-city struggles, rural poverty and so on. Can we imagine the emotions we might feel from a close, spiritual connection with someone we know is facing persecution, chronic disease, hunger, street violence, or death? Would we feel shame for being close to them yet removed from that same danger? And what will emerge from these struggles around the world and in our own back yards? Maybe we get weary from constantly giving, or being called to give, of ourselves and our resources to causes that don't seem to get resolved. It can be hard to keep going in the midst of what seems to be constant struggle, constant misery.

As I read this letter from Teilhard, I was also reminded that there are plenty of Jesuits today who could probably relate to his experiences in the trenches of World War I. The front lines may be different, but the 'ghastly' struggles are just as real.

Action and Sanctification

As I was reading through 'The Making of a Mind' I came across a letter from Teilhard written while he was on a break from the front-lines, at a place named Zuydcoote in Northern France, on July 4, 1915. The first part of it was familiar, containing the prayer titled 'Patient Trust' that I first read in the little prayer book 'Hearts on Fire'. The second part of the letter contains another gem - Teilhard's description of true religion, one which spurs action that leads to sanctification:

One of the surest marks of the truth of religion, in itself and in an individual soul, is to note to what extent it brings into action, that is, causes to rise up from sources deep within each one of us, a certain maximum of energy and effort. Action and sanctification go hand in hand, each supporting the other. You want to feel yourself more balanced in the hurly-burly of a free life: strive to increase your own personal impetus, your thrust towards the good to be achieved in your own circle. When your moral 'vital force' has thus been increased, the contrary winds that might make you waver or hesitate if you were at rest will hardly divert you from your course, for you will be under way.

I like that - it makes sense to me, and I've found it to be true. When I am more or less standing still in my spiritual life, in my social-justice activities, or just feeling all-around insular, it is much easier for me to waver and hesitate to do the right thing, to live a holier life. But when I'm moving along, spiritually and in using my blessings to help others, I am much more centered and resolute. Action and sanctification do seem to go hand in hand, for me at least.

Pre-Lenten Festivities

As a kid, my family never did anything special in the run-up to Lent. No Mardi-Gras parties, no Carnival, no Shrove Tuesday - just business-as-usual until Ash Wednesday in my  German-American family; and then during Lent on Friday's we abstained from meat and went to the Stations of the Cross in the evening. Looking back, I missed out on a lot of fun.

So this year, in the few days before Lent, my wife and I are on vacation in Aruba... without the kids... so that feels like a bit of a pre-Lenten celebration. And, we got to see the 54th Grand Carnival Parade in downtown Oranjasted. It was something to see! I had always wanted to see a carnival parade, and this one was fun to watch even if it wasn't quite what I expected. The whole island pretty much shut-down on Sunday, and Monday turns out to be a national holiday; imagine that.

Tuesday night they will have another, smaller parade that culminates around midnight with the burning of King Momo - an effigy of a fat king that symbolizes the pleasures of the flesh. That sounds more fun than eating pancakes.

Parceled Out

Today's reading from Corinthians 1:10-17 had me nodding my head in agreement. It's not too long of a reading, so here it is:

I appeal to you, brothers, for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ, to make up the differences between you, and instead of disagreeing among yourselves, to be united again in your belief and practice. From what Chloe’s people have been telling me, my dear brothers, it is clear that there are serious differences among you. What I mean are all these slogans that you have, like: ‘I am for Paul’, ‘I am for Apollos’, ‘I am for Cephas’, ‘I am for Christ’. Has Christ been parcelled out? Was it Paul that was crucified for you? Were you baptised in the name of Paul? For Christ did not send me to baptise, but to preach the Good News, and not to preach that in the terms of philosophy in which the crucifixion of Christ cannot be expressed.

What struck me was just how much we tend to parcel-out Christ still to this day, even given Paul's warning and all the teachings through the years of the one-ness of Christ. In Catholicism it seems people can tend to over-focus on their affinity with the pope, the Jesuits, Opus Dei, orthodoxy, reform, or whatever movement of the year is going on. But the pope wasn't crucified for us and we're not baptized in the name of St Ignatius. Orthodoxy won't save us, neither will reform.

I do understand, though, that Christ's expression in this world takes different forms, and there are forms that appeal to one person that may not appeal to another. That's why we have the various religious orders, the Latin Mass and Novus Ordo, grand cathedrals and simple country churches, adoration and social justice. The danger is in over-identifying with one or another of these things to the point we start to believe that it is a superior expression of Christ in the world, that it is a superior way of salvation. We have to be careful, in my opinion, about crossing the line from favoring something to defining it as superior.

And just as we need to refrain from parceling out Christ, we need to refrain from parceling out ourselves to Christ. In over-identifying with one or another movement in the church, are we taking attention away from some other aspect of ourselves that may not be so pleasant to show Christ? People do it all the time – putting attention on their strengths to hide their weakness. It can be intimidating, can't it - to accept Christ in all his diversity, and to give ourselves, wholly and completely, in return?

The holiness of families

As I read today's scriptures, I identified mostly with Joseph. We're both fathers doing the best we can to take care of our families. And then I thought about how my wife's role in our family is so important, life-giving and vital. And then I remembered my sons - they are great kids and they bring much joy and optimism to our family.

Respect, honor, kindliness, sympathy, patience, forgiveness, humility, doing the right thing even when it's hard or hard to understand. All of that, wrapped up in love; that's family, and I think that's also a pathway to holiness. Families are meant to be holy, and to be a way towards holiness.

Some say the family is under attack these days, by some amorphous thing called 'the culture wars'. I will grant that it is not easy these days to keep a family together, to keep it healthy and loving. But then, every generation has its challenges. Our response to the world we live in, to its challenges and obstacles, is what makes the difference. As fathers and mothers, what is our response to the challenges facing our families?

Merry Christmas!

Phew! It has been a while since I last posted. This is a crazy time of year for me, and unfortunately a tough time of year. Not everyone relishes the build-up to Christmas.

Now, I love Advent – the waiting, the traditions and so on. Without Advent, Christmas day just wouldn't feel right. It's all the rest of the season that drags me down – Christmas cards and gifts for my customers (though this year I had help with that!), getting the tree and decorating it and the house, and the shopping for gifts.  All that happens at the same time as my busy-time at work, so it's sort of a double-whammy.

I did a lot of my shopping online this year – but there are those times I had to go out and spend a few hours in traffic to get an hour of shopping done. It was sad, really, to see how the hustle and bustle and traffic turned people into Grinches - honking horns, getting stuck in the intersection when the light changes, stalking shoppers to their car to get their parking space and so on. It's not all bad, I understand that; but for a busy introvert pulled between work, family, and tradition it sure can be overwhelming at times.

At times through the season, I took breaks and watched folks and considered the Christmas situation. And I had plenty of time to consider things while waiting in traffic. Often I simply wondered what God thought about all this; what did God think of what's become of the celebration of the Incarnation? Driven by love and a desire to be with us, God became human, born into poverty in a barn, or a cave depending on who you read. Now, that is something to celebrate once you think about it for a while. God with us – Emmanuel.

It wouldn't be fair to ask what God thought about all this and not put the question to myself: what do I think about this Christmas situation? Well, I find plenty of irony in the whole thing, and I don't claim to be free from it either. Jesus told disciples to sell what they had so they could better follow him, yet Christmas giving seems to have become fairly materialistic. We give to some people out of a sense of obligation just so they can be marked off the list, and that superficiality doesn't fit with the idea of giving gifts out of love. Some people, probably far too many, get stressed out with shopping or go into debt to buy the presents they think are required, and that doesn't sound like much of a celebration to me. And then there is the stress for many when too-distant family members clash during the many gatherings at or around Christmas.

But this is the season of love, when Love came down to dwell with us. I think we don't pay enough attention to that. So here's my Christmas wish for all – that we all listen a little closer to Love, feel a little closer to Love, and that we have the courage to let Love loose in our lives. Merry Christmas to all!

Charity and Compassion

Working my way through Paul Countinho's book 'How Big Is Your God', I've come to a place where he contrasts charity with compassion. Both are good, he says and I agree; but we ought to strive for compassion. And I agree; but it's hard to do.

Most people practice charity - I even stuffed a few dollars in the Salvation Army bucket the other day. And that's a good thing to do; but aren't we called to do more? As a Christian - a follower of Christ, someone who tries to be like Christ - am I not called to something deeper?

Coutinho talks about compassion as a sort of natural giving of oneself, without counting the cost or considering how good/bad this will look on us. In fact, it's more than a natural giving, it's a divine giving of oneself. It's a way of letting God's divine life flow through us and spread to others; it connects us all. I'm not really that good at explaining it all, but I can see how compassion is in line with being Christ-like. And in the season of Advent and Christmas, that is surely a good revelation.

Do not stop practicing your charity, but pray for the grace of being more and more compassionate. Because when you have a relationship with God, when you are compassionate, you will experience God everywhere. When you have a relationship with a compassionate God, good things happen, wonderful things happen. In compassion, I celebrate the good, because that good is also a part of me. When some person in the world does something extraordinary, I am drawn to that person, and I also feel extraordinary. I share in that experience because that person is part of me. If someone is celebrating, I celebrate with that person. If someone is hurting, I hurt with that person. So I am part of every person's life, and each person is part of my life. Experiencing that human interconnectedness through our divine connection is the transition from charity to compassion.

Ahh... refreshing

Refreshing - that's how it feels to find 'How Big Is Your God?' by Paul Coutinho, SJ. But in addition to refreshing, he also challenges readers to expand their view of God. I'll be reading and blogging about this book for a while, but here is a passage in one of the early chapters that caught my attention:

Meister Eckhart, the great medieval mystic, believed that everyone needs religion as a well to take them to the river of God's love and divine life. This is a wonderful analogy. Wells are fed by rivers of life-giving water, but how often the well - and not the water it can provide - becomes the goal of our lives. Since we are seeking a big God, let's ask ourselves: has the well become to goal of our lives?

We fortify our well; we decorate it and adorn it with with elaborate and beautiful liturgies; we say "Look at our well. Look at what we've done and how wonderful it is." And we are never taken to the river. The purpose of the well is to take us to the river. The river gives us freedom and salvation. Everyone needs religion, yes. Religion is a means to freedom, but not an end in itself. Religion helps us find the river of life and the river of freedom, and it's in the river that we experience the the love of God and divine life.

In Catholicism we can get overly focused on the well - on liturgy, canon law, the catechism, social teaching, this-or-that movement in the church, translations, liturgical music, and so on. I have a real concern that many people believe all this 'doing-right' is the goal of the church. People know, deep down inside they know there's more and they long for it. They long for the river that feeds the well. Yet, how prepared are we to go there? Well, it depends on how big you think your God is.

I'm not a good reviewer, but I can tell you what I like and don't like. And I like this book a lot, enough to add to my Recommend Reading list!

The Other 6

Loyola Communications has come up with a nice little web site called The Other 6 - www.other6.com; The Other 6, as in the other six days of the week aside from Sunday. Its aim is to give people a place to share their answers to two questions: Where have I found God today, and Where do I need to find God today? For those who do or have done the daily examen, these are familiar questions.

The messages appear as bubbles; light colored bubbles for those who respond with a need to find God in their day, and darker bubbles for those who are sharing where they found God in their day. The size of the bubble gives an indication to the number of comments and responses to a person's message. When you mouse-over the bubble, you can see the message; if you click on the bubble then you can add your response.

I like this site on two levels. First, it's visually appealing and fun to work with. Second, it gives people a place to reflect on God's work in their daily lives. So, as you reflect on your day, how would you answer those questions? Feel free to leave answers over at www.other6.com.