Death and Pain

Some years ago a book titled "Why bad things happen to good people" hit the market by storm. Recently, I looked up the book to see who wrote it and what it was about. And I was impressed to know the author wrote about his own pain and finding peace with his son's death at age 14. What struck me most in the preface was his statement that while watching his son deteriorate before his eyes (he'd known his son would die young since he was 3) many people gave him answers, but none of the answers addressed his own questions about God and the pain we are forced to endure.

We all know as followers of Jesus that pain and sorrow will come our way. It comes not because we are followers, but because we live in a human world. The  biggest mistake we make in pain is passing it off with phrases that sound holy, but do not help the heart. "Carry your cross" or "God will not give you more than you can bear" or "his grace is sufficient for you" do not answer the question Mary herself put to Jesus when she found him in the temple, My son, why have you done this to us?

Pain and sorrow sear the soul. It can devastate a person, but it also offers the opportunity for a stronger faith and hope. The answers best for us are the ones we find ourselves as we walk through the darkness and pain. Somehow, in the mists and agony, we can find answers to the questions that plague the heart. We must just be patient.

I once read in a conference by Frederick Faber's that said those souls most like God tend to suffer the most in this life. Such thoughts do not help much at the time of pain. But being there for a friend, letting them know wordlessly that we care, reaching out to comfort a heart; these things help such thoughts bear fruit.

Signs of God

The reading from Revelation today says a great sign appeared in the sky. Our lives are surrounded by signs, and the church uses signs as signals of grace. But how do we read signs, especially the everyday ones?

I've known people who like the extraordinary signs. They run to sights of alleged apparitions to see the wonders and miracles. I myself visited Lourdes, not so much to see signs, but to experience a place  renown for its miracles. It was beautiful, but it did not feed my soul as much as Lisieux.

I think that signs are sent by God to guide us along the way. The important thing is not looking for the signs...because that can lead us astray. The important thing is to look for God, and in our search, we will recognize those signs he sends to us directly.

The scribes and pharisees asked Jesus for a sign, and he told them none would be given. Looking for signs in a way is looking for answers. And God doesn't seem to like to give us answers. Rather, he prolongs the questions, as if we must understand the question before we can understand the answer.

One of the psalms says I lift up my eyes to the Lord, from whence shall come my help. Such sentiments should echo in our hearts. Signs and wonders belong to the unbeliever. Seeking God and his holiness belongs to the ardent soul searching for meaning. We all know in life that signs merely point a direction. If we haven't a destination, it will mean little.

Orthodoxy and Orthopraxy

Recently a wonderful conversation brought up the mention of orthodoxy and orthopraxy. The Christian religion, especially the Roman Catholic faith, stresses the need for orthodoxy. But some are calling on a need for orthopraxy to be at least as important, if not more important, than orthodoxy. The comment has given me much food for thought.

First, orthodoxy deals with what we believe. Literally translated, it means right thinking. Here we have the teaching of the church, its theology, it's laws, etc. We know that the Roman church is very given to explicit concepts, concepts it expects the faithful to accept.

Orthopraxy is right living. It deals with actions, with following a creed by your way of life, by example.

While thinking of these two concepts, it occurred to me that Jesus never said, "Obey me" but "follow me".

I'm not saying that both are not important. But it is always the tendency for us to give one thing too much importance and neglect the other.

And, you can see how the pounding of the need for orthodoxy tends to divide.

I'd be interested in your views.

Retreat--a time of reflection

Nothing is better (well, maybe I should say, few things are better) then to get away for a short retreat. Or a long one, when that is possible. It offers one a chance to step back, evaluate one's life, goals, processes. A retreat is even better than a vacation because one purposes to reflect, and at length.

I'm saying this because I am about to head off on a retreat. I will return on the 13th, and will commence with blogging then.

In the meantime, keep me in prayer!

Great Expectations

We've all heard it said, we've come to expect too much and so set ourselves up for disappointment. Usually this is said about our modern conveniences in a society that expects instant results.

But I think rather, we don't expect enough. I think we put our expectations in the wrong place. I think we look for fulfillment more in social achievements when we should look instead of personal goals. That's what I think.

Your typical person of today doesn't expect much of him or herself when it comes to faith. For some reason, our faith has become very passive. We are not required to face the lions, or hid for fear of our lives, or even stand on the street corner and argue for what we believe.

Yet, faith isn't just what we believe; it is how we live out that belief, making it a veritable door that opens up a different level of life. When our expectations are high regarding faith and all we can accomplish with it, we become boulders of strength and lights upon mountain tops.

History tells us of individuals whose living faith made them stand out through the vision they encompassed, a vision often ahead of their times. Sometimes the very people they represented misunderstood them. But that didn't deter them. Because they expected more--more of themselves and more of their fellows.

We need more visionaries today. We need more people willing to open the door into a higher level of life. We need greater expectations of what our faith can do for us.

Comments on The Self in Hiding

So many thoughts this morning. But in reading The Self in Hiding by Marianne Watts, OP, I can't help commenting on her insights.

Watts speaks of our desire to live a pleasant life, one sheltered from pain and suffering and hardships. I think she has got it right. Who doesn't want life to go smoothly, with as little travail as possible? A sentence in her essay catches my eye: When the dark side of human nature is denied, it is often compassion that dies.

Quite a statement. Watts believes we should not isolate ourselves in our pretty "gardens of ease" as she calls it, because such a way of life support structure for shallow lives and a stockade which distances the suffering not so far beyond... To live without darkness means to isolate oneself. And to live in isolation is to miss the beauty of community, sharing and assisting. It's no wonder Watts speaks repeatedly of compassion.

Giving many reasons to stay aware of the frailty, cruelty, and suffering of humankind, Watts again makes a startling statement; If we are human, we bear the legacy of humanity's wilderness within us where the beasts of potential cruelty pace and where compassion must grow strong. This statement is the strongest in her essay. For it challenges those of us who would absent ourselves from the pain of others. It suggests that by living apart from those who suffer, we do not live, we just pretend to. For, according to Watts, by denying the pain and suffering we see around us, we fail to see, let alone admit, to our own inner darkness. And our lives are not full unless we acknowledge both sides of our nature.

I tend to agree.

Sacred Space in the Balance

I'm reading an article by Christopher Kiesling, OP on the struggle for balance in our lives. He is speaking to a particular form of life, the Dominican life. But what he says holds true for all of us.

Dominicans are noted for combining what had previously been considered polar opposites: contemplation and apostolic work. The combination must work--Dominicans have been around now for 800 years, have never undergone any major reform, split, repression or inner strife, and continue to grow and expand.

This very charism of the Dominican Order also applies to all of us who seek to find time for God in our very busy lives. The secret is--how? I'm reminded of the multiple books I've read on writing. All say, if you wait for that perfect spot, time, condition to write, forget it. It will most likely never happen. Instead, they say you must make yourself write every day, even if what you write isn't Pultilzer material, or even publishable.

I think the same applies to contemplation. Kiesling notes that when speaking of contemplation, he means prayer, reflection, thoughtful reading of Scripture or other religious literature, retreats, and other practices in which a person quiets self...and allows affective responses to flow from thought, allowing oneself to savour the presence of God.

This requires, I think, making "sacred space" for oneself. Be it very early in the morning, on lunch break, late at night before tumbling into bed. One can and must make a place for quiet reflection.

I have a friend who put a chair, candle, incense and light in a corner of one of her rooms. This is her prayer corner, and she uses it daily. She has carved out for herself some "sacred space" that puts her in the mood for reflection and prayer.

All of us need sacred space. Giving ourselves over to quiet and reflection balances our busy lives. It helps put things in perspective, and deepens our understanding of the mysterious that surround us. It's no wonder meditation has become popular, even for medical purposes. It has a lot to offer us. We just need to carve out our space to take advantage of the practice.