Dispelling the Shadow

Our age has sought to bring equality to the fore as no age before it. We have sought out shadows and fought to bring light. We have set up models, glorified leaders, and proclaimed our heroes.

One shadow still remains; the shadow that covers every human soul and is in need of healing: the shadow of woundedness.

Woundedness doesn’t speak to glory, but rather to struggle. Yet, in all the ways that we are similar, nothing unites us more than that fact that each of us has been wounded.

But what are those wounds? For some of us, it is hurtful events in life, betrayals of those who should have loved us, forgetfulness of those who call themselves our friends. Unimaginable losses.

Those wounds are more able to heal than the ones we forget. We read  in Sirach 24:21 of those wounds, as it says You who eat of me will hunger still, you who drink of me will thirst for me. It is as if we are being told that no matter what we accomplish, we will still have needs, we will still have emptiness, we will still want. And in our attempts to satisfy those wants, we often compromise. We often settle for the lesser satisfaction rather than find the deeper fulfillment. I believe it is this compromise that makes up most of our woundedness.

Only when we remember our woundedness can we truly stand together. Because when I remember this wound within myself, caused by my own decisions, can I have the understanding and compassion that accepts another's wounds. Only then does tolerance turn into empathy and acceptance of another. Only when I am aware of my own fragility will I allow another to have theirs.

Darkness is not dark

Seeing and not seeing. It's often a topic here on Monastic Ponderings. We become conscious because we want to see. We practice compassion so that our hearts will respond better and know more. We meditate so that we are aware. It all implies a willingness to journey. But there is another aspect to our journey: a willingness to accept what that journey brings us.

It happens that sometimes I fail to see, not because I am spiritually blind, but because I don't like what I find. The product is not what I expected, I had hoped for more, or less, or better. I find myself in disbelief that after all I've done, this is the result? And so my journey has brought me to a point I do not want to be, with a decision I do not want to make, and a revelation I do not like. The resistance can be ever so slight, but resistance it is.

It just goes to show that no one ever "arrives" at a place where struggle ceases, despite rhetoric to the contrary. The journey will always have its challenges, and we will always have choices. Paul complained about his own battles, and the reply he received was "My grace is sufficient for you."(2 Cor. 12:9)

Perhaps this is the meaning of psalm 139:12 Darkness is not dark for you, and night will be light as the day. What I worry about is really of little importance, because I am prone to get it wrong. Knowing this should help. For revelation can be having our expectations thwarted so that what we think is replaced by what is. It's worth the thought. And isn't that what the journey is about anyway?

Remembering Frailty

We are to be like God. We like the sound of that. When I think of that statement, I think of power, divinity, wholeness. But it means more. As Jesus says in today's gospel Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. (Luke 6:36) Now that is a tall order...

Dom Anscar Vonier says Our whole Christian outlook should be an outlook of goodness.What a witness of Christianity that would be! But for some reason, Christians tend to be very critical of others, very much judging and often condemning. How come? The Jesus of the gospel is anything but.

I believe it has to do with fear. Perhaps seeing others stumble, fail, fall reminds us too much of our own weakness and darkness. And perhaps that is scary because we have not yet gone beyond the possibility of failure. We want to put such thoughts out of our mind. We want to live without the remembrance of our frailty.

But we need to remember, because remembering is part of reflecting God's goodness.

To be merciful to others really means to remember my own weakness. If I do, I will allow others to find their way. Because I will remember that we are all on a journey toward discovery. We each need time to reach enlightenment, which also means we need time to stumble, to grasp, to grope in the dark. Being merciful means remembering I don't have it all together either. And if I need time, I should also give time to others.