Sacrifice transforms love...

It was the only movie at the theater that did not include blood and gore, animation or violence. The tag line said it was based on a true story. So, I went. I saw. And I was inspired.

I hear it was the number one box office hit over the weekend. I can see why. It isn't just a love story. It is a story of sacrifice, of trial, of choices. It is love under fire. And the end result is made beautiful because of that struggle.

But this story, powerful because it is true, happens to each one of us. Life is a series of choices, of challenges, and of sacrifices. We know this. What we forget is, those struggles and challenges can also transform.

That is where the movie, The Vow, has a lot to teach us. It is a vivid reminder to you and me that trial need not be a kill joy. If we work with it, (which does not necessarily mean overcoming it), trial can yield surprising results. We just never know.

On a weekend full of news of Whitney Houston, with her signature song "I will always love you" playing over and over again, I found "The Vow" a solid example of what that looks like in real life.

I share this in the hope that you too will find your inspiration, one that keeps you going forward in the midst of whatever challenges you meet.

Monastic recipes

I've posted a number of recipes from a number of monasteries. If you are interested, go to

.http://www.examiner.com/spiritual-perspectives-in-baltimore/a-monastic-recipe-chocolate-chip-date-cake

It will give you the recipe I posted today, as well as a list of other recipes available.

Happy baking or cooking or whatever!

Increasing our longing.

Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee speaks to our masculine vs our feminine side. He notes that in our quests in life, we tend to focus on our masculine side, seeking goal-oriented ends. And, he says, masculine values even dominate our spiritual quest: we seek to be better, to improve our self, to get somewhere. We have forgotten the feminine qualities of waiting, listening, being empty (24). I find these words ring true for me.

Perhaps some of these problems stem from our concept of waiting. For us modern folks, waiting is more of a punishment, an inconvenience, a test. Waiting implies some sort of failure to arrive. Possession is seen as accomplishment. And not "to have" implies emptiness.

Yet, much happens in waiting. We do more self-reflection while waiting than in possession. We are more attentive, more alert, more filled with desire. Waiting also increases our yearning. Vaughan-Lee  says longing awakens us to our own need,a need which we can never satisfy...

To long, to wait. That is what the feminine qualities teach us. That is how we increase longing. And longing is not a bad thing...

Longing that transforms

This blog often speaks of longing and of seeking in our journey. For me, it is the difference between a spirituality of contentment (I say all my prayers and do all my duties, so therefore all is well) and a spirituality of never enough (when I go beyond obligation). But the "never enough" isn't helpful unless we realize where this discontentment comes from: our longing for the Ultimate.

Vaughan-Lee speaks to this in his book Love is a Fire: Just as Love is the Essence of the path, so is longing its agent of transformation. Vaughan-Lee reminds us that though we are born for God, we forget. We lose sight of our Ultimate; we get distracted. And then life gets messy. We get promptings of our loss: dissatisfaction with our job, our career, our present stature in life. Having all, but feeling empty. Wanting more, but not sure what "more" is. And, he says, sometimes people brush it aside; the last thing they want is to be distracted from their outer goals, their achievements, and to be taken into the vulnerability and need that are within them.

I suspect that that last part of his statement, to be taken into the vulnerability and need that are within really speaks to the problem. No one wants to be vulnerable, because to be vulnerable means, in some way, to be weak.

And yet, as in so many other areas, faith changes that. For in faith, to accept my vulnerability is to accept the truth about myself. And to do that, I must have a very strong belief in the power of the Divine One. It is only with the strength of that belief that I can journey into the interior and look honestly at the need within myself. It is only with a strong faith can I accept my mortality. Accepting these things opens the door to transformation.

Paul puts it another way: God chose what is weak in this world to shame the strong (1 Cor. 1:27). Because I discover my real strength when I believe in Someone stronger and more powerful than myself. And then, I can let go of the distractions, and journey inward. I can sit on the broken seat of my humanity and contemplate the Divine. I can enter into my vulnerability and know, I can be transformed.

There would be diminution...

Probably the question most common to all ages is the question of evil. I have my own theories, about the power of free will and its affects on others; God's ability to bring good from it all. So, I was intrigued when I read Anscar Vonier's words: It is a certain truth that if God in his providence exterminated every evil deed at once, killed every evil-doer, the final sum of goodness would be less. We have our Lord's own words for it; there would be diminution.

Vonier explain: when we who believe encounter evil, we draw more on faith, courage, and fortitude. He reminds us that we are a community; we are bound up with one another, we affect one another, not just for evil, but also for good. But there is the fact--an absolute certainty, goodness inevitably produces goodness; it is unconquerable, it cannot be stifled, it has greater ramifications than evil can ever have...

Perhaps we concentrate too much on the question of evil, and not enough on the power of goodness. Light means more when you have known darkness. Hope holds power when you've experienced the heaviness of despair. The list can go on...

Perhaps we should renew our faith in our own goodness. For when we have confidence in God's power to overcome evil in our own lives, we show others that no darkness can overtake the light.

Entering into mystery

Lately I have been reading a lot about mystery and how we mortal beings really like to know. We don't like being kept in the "dark" as it were.

John Shea has an interesting view on such things. In his book Story of God  he quotes Kazantzakis's description of mystery, which calls it the luminous interval between two darknesses. He then notes that when the reliability of all we have constructed is brought into question, we enter the dimension of Mystery (25).

In our desire to know, to be in the light, we forget that unknowing can contain something positive and fulfilling. This is the difference between faith, and having a vague spirituality with no particular beliefs.

But some say, are you just trying to put a good spin on pain and injustice? Are you making light of sickness or poverty or emotional distress? I don't think so. Science bears out the fact that having the ability to find something good in a bad situation actually speeds healing. But what Shea is speaking about is more. It is about discovery, and sometimes we don't really search until our world falls apart. Then we find that what has up till now proven good enough is no longer sufficient, and we seek something better.

Shea speaks at some length about the need for our ready answers and expectations to fail. He says Disenchantment is a traditional and well-established path to the awareness of Mystery...the beginning of mature religious consciousness (28-29). Shea's statement is obvious: I suspect every one of us can look back over the times in our lives when we entered into a new spiritual consciousness, and can track it to some form of  disenchantment we experienced.

Mystery. It is not something to be feared, but something that invites us to enter more deeply. And only after we enter, do we discover.

Experiencing the presence of God in silence

It happened in church. The baptism was finished, the families had stopped taking their pictures, one by the baptismal font, one in front of the altar, one with extended family, one with just the family, one with the godparents, one with the grandparents... I stayed in the sacristy keeping busy, waiting for them to finish up. The church was noisy as everyone talked quite loudly, catching up, I suppose on events and news. Fifteen minutes passed, and then thirty. I lowered the lights, hoping they would get the hint to move on out of the church with their conversations. They finally did.

I locked up the church and came back inside. And there it was, the silence, the presence, the atmosphere I so loved in the monastery. And I wondered: why do we prefer to talk in church, to visit, to catch up? Why do we not want to experience the presence of God in the silence? It is so powerful....or is it?

Perhaps I first have to find the Presence in silence before I can appreciate the places of silence. Perhaps I have to experience the uselessness of words, the pit of unanswered prayers, the inability to find words, before I realize, I don't really need them to experience the Presence of the Divine One. I have to sit with that stillness forced upon me before I begin to realize, it carries Gift, it holds a Presence.

When I walked down the aisle of the church, everyone gone and the place quiet and still, the sun streaming through the stain-glass windows, I knelt down on one knee and bowed my head. I knew God was in this place.

The power of being

Christ, by Mary Grace Thus, OP

I like words. But words hold no real power by themselves. Perhaps that is why Jesus never left us anything in writing. He knew that somehow, we would get stuck on the words, and miss the message.

Antonin Gilbert Sertillanges writes How did the Savior proceed in his preaching? He offers no text, no system, and nothing organized or presented according to any order whatsoever. He presents himself, and it is he who is the doctrine and the truth. He permits himself to be seen, and that is already teaching; he acts, and that is teaching; he speaks, and the teaching becomes more precise, but without being fitted into the adapted framework of a system. His message exposes itself to the apparent chance of circumstances, and it is the ordinary environment of Jewish life that will be that of his apostolate...

All of this speaks to the power of being. I find myself so persuaded by good words that I sometimes forget the real power comes only when I am convinced of their truth. Because words can do nothing for me by themselves. To go beyond, I must find the spirit and become transformed, enlightened, and inspired.

If I stay with words, I will get caught up in discrepancies, in accurate histories, in contradictions. If I look at the model, I will be able to bypass all of those cracks and see a person, one giving me an example. I am the Way, the Truth and the Life Jesus is quoted as saying in John 14:6. And Jesus' way is free-flowing, appropriate, and sustainable. He refused to be caught up with the politics of his times. Because he came that we might have life, and have it more abundantly (Jn. 10:10).

Facing the sun...

I watched a video of a political prisoner in Romania during the communist era, arrested because he had faith and refused to give it up. The prisoner describes his inhumane treatment, and then says he always remembered the line he had heard in a sermon: When you approach God, you have a shadow on your back. When you walk away from God, the shadow is on your face.

Listening to his story, I am reminded of the power of faith. Here was a man tortured in ways unimaginable, and yet through it all, he discovered and developed a deeper faith in God. The story is moving and inspiring, making the words powerful.

Let us face God, so that the shadows we have will always be on our back. For pain does not have the power to break us. You and I with God have the power to discover a deeper faith despite the pain.

I have plans for your future...

Continuing the thought from yesterday, that God finds me beautiful. I think we (or I) too often forget just how much I mean to God. I get so involved in trying to find God, please God, live for God, that I lose sight of how wonderfully made I am!

And yet, remember that I am precious to God, that God finds pleasure in me, that I am fearfully, wonderfully made, this remembrance brings such deep peace and joy. How can I forget that to God, I am unique? How can I fail to remember words of Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." 

We so often worry about how to approach God. And yet, according to scripture, God is already in our heart. As we read in Luke 17:21, Do you not know, the kingdom of God is within you?

And I would add, God wants us to believe, "you are so beautiful...to me."

You are so beautiful...

During a conversation yesterday with a good friend, we talked about trust in God, and how it seems that God does take care of us....but takes his time doing it. "If only God wouldn't drag his feet so," I complained to my friend. "If only God would take care of things sooner, without me having to wait and wait and wait!"

I think we all have experienced a trust that waited on God. And waited. And waited. Times when our hearts said, "God I only want to do your will....if only  you would let me know what that is!"

Today, I had an opportunity to make a small gift. It was a sacrifice, because it cost me. But as I started to brood over the offering, I stopped myself and made the gift an offering to God.

I barely did this when I got into my car to go home and prepare for this evening's class. I started up the car, and on the radio, the song by Joe Cocker began, "You are so beautiful....to me." As the song hit my ears, I experienced an overwhelming sense of the presence of God...and that it was not by chance that I got into the car at the exact moment this song started on the radio.

I began to drive away, and as I listened to the words, I thought of them as God singing them to me. The more I listened, the more a realization of what I mean to God overwhelmed me.

I encourage you to download the song for yourself. I encourage you to listen to the words, and hear them as God singing them to you. I think you will then understand how I felt....

A transformed person

Sometimes I re-read things I've written in the past and think, wow, I wrote that? Other times I say, wow, I thought like that?

I realize now that such reactions are part and parcel of "journey". If we are moving forward, we are changing. And this change, when it is determined and sought after, has long been termed "conversion."

Conversion makes me a different person. Not all at once. But one step at a time. And over time, I become a very different individual, one I can hardly recognize down the road. A person whose world has become different.

That change depends totally on how I am searching, seeking and discovering. If I go with the flow, my change will be out of my control. But if I am deciding what to read, what to listen to, who to follow; if I am pursuing God in an active and contemplative way, then my change will be deliberate. I will be deciding the direction I want to go and making choices that move me forward.

Because true conversion is, after all, transformation. And a transformed person is a wonderfully authentic, generous, revealed individual. A transformed person is one who remembers life is a journey, and I am not there yet. I have more to learn.

A new day...

Monastic life offers many insights. Like the value of sacrifice, the benefits of silence, and the comfort of community. It also taught me that each day is a new day, a chance to make another new beginning.

For many of us, new beginnings come with New Year's Day. A new calendar and a new number somehow sparks thoughts of turning over a new leaf. Resolutions are decided and commitments are made. But why do we limit ourselves to one day a year?

In the monastery, every day offered a new beginning. It came with the concept of metanoia, conversion, turning myself from what I am to what I desire to be. We focused on metanoia, which means literally turning around, moving from facing one direction into facing a different one. Metanoia is a concept that comes from the desert Ammas and Abbas. It taught me that every day I can begin again.

I continue the practice of Metanoia, because it teaches me that life need not be dull. I do not have to accomplish my desires and my dreams all in one day. I can work at it a little each day, in a natural and gentle way. For metanoia is organic, and speaks to the fact that life is a journey. And on a journey, each day offers new beginnings.

The benefits of forgiveness

Forgiveness allows tranquility to envelope the soul

I found it quite interesting that the article on forgiveness was not in a religious magazine. No, it was in Counseling Today, the ACA magazine for licensed, professional, clinical counselors. I'd like to quote a couple lines here.

What stands between many clients and a happy life is the often-elusive process of forgiveness.

Blockages people struggle with in their lives were linked to some sort of issue for which they needed to forgive someone.

Forgiveness isn't about the other person or about making someone else apologize or change--it is about setting yourself free.

Not forgiving creates an emotional prison, ties you to a person or an event that usually you would rather forget but are unable to.

I could go on. But I think the above quotes demonstrates quite well that forgiveness is about me, not about the other person. For when I failed to forgive, I become the prisoner, chained to the person or event I will not let go. Refusing to forgive keeps me very small, and small means many things: bitter, resentful, jealous, angry, hateful, stuck.

When Jesus said, forgive others as you want God to forgive you, he was in effect trying to remind me to keep balanced. Just as I do things that need forgiving, so too do others. Do not expect them to be something I cannot be.

Finding an article on forgiveness in a counseling magazine shows just how far reaching resentments can go. I do so much harm to myself when I refuse to forgive.

So the next time someone hurts or offends me, maybe my question should be, "Do I want to punish and damage myself over this?" If the answer is no, then it is time to let go.

 

Finding the balance between a monastic heart and life as it is

Inspiration often comes from outside of ourselves. Recently, reading another blog (Called Monks and Mermaids) I came across an interesting article that examines the Orthodox Church and the lessons it can teach us. In part, the article said: 

Orthodoxy is a monastic Church, a Church with a monastic heart where the monasteries provide the spiritual fathers and mothers...A Church without a flourishing monasticism, without the lived 'martyrdom' of an asceticism inspired by the Paschal Mystery of the Lord's Cross and Resurrection, could hardly be a Church according to the mind of the Christ of the Gospels, for monasticism, of all Christian life ways, is the one which most clearly and publicly leaves all things behind for the sake of the Kingdom...

As I read this, I thought of my own past monastic experience, one where the intense training I received brought me into a very different way of life, one so different that re-integrating into life outside the monastery has never ceased to be challenging. I thought of my constant struggle to identify with my fellow travelers along the way, my inability to communicate on deeper levels even with those of my own family, and how I have to constantly work to understand why certain things seem so important to those around me (such as name brands and name dropping and styles and all that stuff).

Monastic life does change a person. The question I have is, how does one change back? How far should one cling to the monastic persona, the monastic mindset, or the monastic heart?

For if I am really living out the challenge of Christ, I should be able to identify with all the people of God, and able to understand concerns and issues not my own. At least, that is my hope.

The Dreamer and the dream

Sometimes we go through many doorways before we reach our dreams!

Scripture depicts Joseph of the Old Testament as quite the dreamer. Joseph's dreams did not just humor him; they predicted his future. And Joseph went through trial and deportation, servitude and imprisonment before he saw the fulfillment of those dreams.

Joseph of the New Testament dreamed as well. His dreams often answered the nagging questions he held secretly in his heart. He listened to those dreams, and followed them.

Hans Selye is quoted as saying realistic people with practical aims are rarely as realistic and practical in the long run of things as the dreamers who pursue their dreams.

You and I have dreams. But what are we doing about them? Are we setting them aside so that we can be "practical"?  Or are we daring to reach out and do what we can to try and fulfill those dreams?

If the Gospels teach us anything, it is to believe. And part of believing is dreaming...of what could be, of what we are meant to be, of where life can take us. Dreams are doorways to destinies.

Today, let us think of our dreams. Then, let us set off to pursue them.

My image of God

The Trinity, by Mary Grace Thul, OP

I have often maintained that God is to us what we want God to be (see Road to Emmaus). So it was with interest that I read the following from Caryll Houselander:

There is a widespread idea today that it does not matter what our conception of God is like...but as our conception of God is, so we ourselves become. If we think God is hard, we grow hard; if we think God is a kill-joy, we become kill-joys; if we think of God as omnipotent secret police, all-present, all-seeing, all-terrible, we shrink from God, and the heart that shrinks from God shrinks to nothing. (From Lift Up Your Hearts)

Houselander's words do hold an important truth. Those whose God is severe do become severe and judgmental. Those whose God is kind and merciful are generous with mercy. And those whose God is vague and far away, well, they tend to flounder with no particular direction and no particular purpose.

In this light it is good to reflect on my image of God. Because it is the character I am taking on for myself.

Jonah, punishment, and me

I am like Jonah. As the story is told in Chapter 3 of scripture, Jonah went out to the city of Nineveh to announce that it was doomed. Only something unexpected happened. They repented, and then God repented of promising destruction. And Jonah? Well, he got mad that God did not destroy them. After all, Jonah went through quite a bit before making it to Nineveh. Jonah wanted God to fulfill the punishment Jonah had promised. Jonah wanted justice.

I cringe when I realize, I am like Jonah. When someone cuts me off on the highway, I say a prayer they will get caught by the cops. When someone insults me, I secretly hope for some mishap to come about, and convince myself that they deserve this. When bad things happen, I find a way to justify myself. Yes, I am like Jonah.

Being a Christian should make me different. I should be full of compassion and empathy. I should not look at people and hope they will get their due. So where have I gone wrong?

I put these tendencies to human nature and our natural response to danger.

And I admit, I am still on my journey. I have not yet arrived.

Living the questions...

In reading Clyde Crews book, Ultimate Questions, I like his statement No one escapes questioning; and in good measure we are defined in life and even in death by the nature of our own personal response (p. 3). I would go one step further and maintain that we cannot truly answer the question once and for all, that my personal response will change even as my life changes. That truly, no answer will satisfy me forever.

You know from your own experience even as I know from mine: answers never truly satisfy. What seemed right in one situation will not be so in another. Because answers are an attempt to make sense of it all, and sometime, life just doesn't make sense. 

But perhaps it is even more than that. Perhaps our dissatisfaction with former answers come because we have grown beyond that point. We know that the answer only half answered, and we need to find more. I think this is good, for it means we are seeking, and that is always a good thing

It also comes because, as we journey forward, we begin to look more to understand the questions than to need answers. In fact, the best answers come when we are seeking to unravel the question, to understand it fully, to see it from every side. Then our multifaceted question will challenge us immensely.

There is no getting around it. We all question. The important point is, do we live our questions? Do we sit with them and let them unfold before us?

Or do we grab for answers and run?

Learning to trust and surrender

Much of religious literature treats progress in the spiritual life as some sort of ladder, with each rung bringing us to a higher stage. It’s as though closeness to God can be earned like a college degree.

I recognize that yes, the spiritual life does unfold naturally, as we grow from the simple faith of a child to a more mature faith, like the adolescent, to a deep and mystical faith, like that of a mature adult. But I think real life is more obscure, meandering, and unpredictable.

In truth, I think of my spiritual journey not as climbing rungs of a ladder, but as deepening my soul and spirit. And I’ve learned that even when I am aware of Presence, I still have doubts, fears, and questions. I have learned to accept the very real fact that life has its ups and downs, and my vision need not be clear to believe or to love.

I think we tend to think of the spiritual life in this way because we want light to cast out all doubt, and moral courage to overcome all fears. I think such concepts come only from those who have not stayed on-board the sinking vessel of life, and searched for their own surviving hope and trust.
 
I say this because I see a danger in stages, in ascending, as though we can reach a plateau where we know better than others. I think this is a very dangerous kind of thinking. In some sense, we are all beginners, because we must be converted and turned to the Lord every waking moment of our lives. And in some sense we all have a part of heaven tucked into our heart and soul.

So, instead of seeking to climb to perfection, seek instead a greater openness to the spirit, an acceptance of who I am. And remember always the psalm, The Lord hears the cry of the poor. (Ps. 34)