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April 16, 2006
Jesus Christ is Risen Today, Alleluia
May God through the glorious mystery of His Risen Son grant each of us a blessed, holy, and joyous Easter season.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:21 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Easter Vigil
I have a great many reservations about some of the things that go on in my local parish Church. But about last night's vigil, none whatsoever. After years of going to Churches that truncate the readings (outside of the rubrics) or pick two or three of the OT readings, I have arrived at a parish that does all seven.
Now this does come with a "down side" sort of. Last might's service was bilingual, meaning that about half of the readings were in Spanish and about half of the prayers between the readings. Half of the Exultet was in Spanish and the Gospel was read twice in English and in Spanish. As people came forward for baptism (38 of them!) we alternately heard English and Spanish depending upon the person.
Now, I've indicated this as a "down side," but I have to be honest, I was riveted by it. I had a sense of the participation of the whole Church that I often don't get English-only. Admittedly, there were only two languages (three if you count some of the Latin responses), but still, it seemed to deepen the mystery of the involvement of the entire world in this event.
At first, I was frustrated, but it gradually turned to a deep awe. When the litany of the Saints occurred, I could almost see the "cloud of witnesses" gathering to welcome 38 new souls into the gates of heaven. Think about it! For a few moments at least, we had 38 souls that were completely clean of sin, newly baptised and rejoicing in their journey to the Church. 38 living saints in our midst, and the crowd of the Holy that pushed into the Church to help us celebrate. Amazing. Absolutely amazing.
I have much to be grateful this morning as I think on the events of last night. God is so good.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 12:13 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
April 17, 2006
Seniority at the Seminary
Reading The Collar by Jonathan Englert and found this rather interesting observation:
from The Collar Jonathan EnglertSeniority at the seminary was curious and certainly not the kind of thing found at schools with age-based grades. The diversity of ages and experiences at Sacred Heart turned this sense of the word "seniority" upside down. Nevertheless, a distinct sense of seniority existed at Sacred Heart. The men close to ordination tended to be looked up to and deferred to. More than that, they actually seemed to be more mature than the newer men. Indeed, some men who had been married and had children and grandchildren could seem younger than others who were decades their junior. It was as if upon entering the world of the seminary, bereft of the usual markers of a life, each man somehow betrayed his spiritual age and the distance he still had to go to become a parish priest. A man like Don Malin, a consummate example of the formation process, provided a yardstick again which these "younger" men could be measured and also could measure themselves.
Isn't this true of how many approach a priest in real life? Men who are decades or years younger than oneself are fonts of wisdom and those we go to to solve problems. From the description provided here it would seem that the formation process is a finishing school, a place where vocations are discerned and persons refined and "polished" to a high gloss. There are, of course, as many different kinds of priest as there are kinds of people, quiet, boisterous, wise, foolish, smart, and not-so-smart. From all of this one can discern what differentiates them all from everyone else--if properly formed, they have discerned and nurtured a vocation, a calling from God, in such a way as to prepare them (although I'm sure many would wish for even greater preparation) to support the people of God in all of their wanderings.
Or so it would seem from the course of the book. I don't know how many priests plan to read it. Although as professionals in their fields, I would suspect a great many would look at it as I would a book about palaeontologists--just to see if the author got the details right--whether or not it rings true. There are certainly things here that seem very sound and very well-grounded.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:59 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Lenten Joy/Easter Joy
This post might as easily have been entitled, "What Joy Means to Me."
Easter has come and marked a change in time. Were I to take this very fine post at Disputations at face value, I would be very much concerned. The deeper into penance one goes during Lent, the higher into joy one goes when Easter comes. And this seems very true. However, my Easter season is little different from my Lenten season--there is no profound surge of emotion, no exultation that was not already present in Lent. What there is instead is a quiet reassurance that what began in Lent will continue quietly through the Easter season and beyond. The changes that have started can take root and transform life. This quiet assurance that marked the whole of Lent, marks Easter as well. God is present. He conquered Death to be present to us.
Hence, a word of caution about what "joy" might mean. It may, in its popular understanding be mistaken for happiness; but, that is not the fullness of meaning, and certainly not the fullness Tom was aiming for when He wrote. The essence of Joy is living in the presence of the Lord. As proximity increases, so too does joy. When proximity is such that all that is present is the darkness that comes when God wishes to draw us into Himself, joy is still there in the clinging to faith and the standing firm on God. Easter joy may not come upon one as an emotion so much as a confirmed change in life, a determination to move ahead less full of oneself and more full of Christ.
Easter joy takes many forms, not all of which would be readily understood as such by everyone; however, this joy dwells in the heart and it may affect different people quite differently. As with the gathering at a charismatic prayer group, there will be those who are loud and express God's word in great joy, and those who quietly relish His presence among His people.
If your joy is not the shout out and dance experience, don't worry. Treasure what God has given you in the secret recesses of your heart and determine to take the small gift and make the most of it. Move closer to the Lord with each day, with each prayer. Turn the penance of Lent to good purpose by looking on the face of the Lord. Grow in love with Him--that is part of the season of Easter. The good work begun in you at your baptism is brought each year to this fullness and transformed in His light.
May we all continue to grow in His ways in fullness of heart and great joy at the assurance of His tender love for us.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:18 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
April 18, 2006
The Mysterious Wisdom of Contemplation
The wise man knows how to run his life so that contemplation is possible. Gabriel Marcel
Although the statement seems to beg a certain amount of chicken and egging, one wonders why it would be a wise person who would choose contemplation. After all, the wisdom of this world informs us that contemplation has nothing whatsoever to do with success. The wisdom of this world is inextricably bound up with notions of success. Resting on one's laurels, as contemplation is often seen, is hardly the road to advancement. And as far as worldly wisdom is concerned with respect to perceived advancement, the argument is essentially correct.
Contemplation does not get the housework done; it doesn't merit promotions in our jobs; it doesn't put food on the table; it doesn't buy a new car, truck, or boat; it doesn't pay for a vacation. Contemplation seems little more than a way to fill the idle hours that one has if one doesn't watch television.
Of course those who bother to read these words don't buy into any of these myths; however, many may not be aware of the true wisdom of seeking contemplation. It is wisdom because despite all the many ways of approaching God, the only real way to intimacy with God, in this life or the next, is through contemplation. We can study God's word, philosophize, theorize, synthezise, metabolize, internalize, externalize, realize, and irrealize, and never approach closer to God than when we take a cup of tea or a spare moment and simply spend time with Him. This can take any number of forms. Those of us with busy minds might like to have a short text in front of us to focus our attention and keep out some of the more distracting elements. Those inclined to a naturally serene modus vivendi may not require such external helps. However it is done, spending time with the beloved is a wise thing to do.
Study, analysis, and rigorous reasoning can bring one a great distance in understanding of God; however, they often don't help at all in understanding God. The only way to begin that is as with any object beloved--spend time. When a person spends the time with the beloved, things once very dark become lighter. Patterns only scarcely discernable in one's own life become marked as though with phosphorescent dye. Questions fade into realizations.
Wisdom comes not from knowing about but from knowing intimately, as intimately and more intimately than one knows one's spouse, because the God one wishes to know dwells inside us and waits only for a moment's turning to open a person up to His hospitality.
There comes a time when study must end and conversation must begin. Growth continues from the information in the mind to the formation of the Soul in the very image of Him who fashioned all creation.
God awaits a moment's opportunity. A moment that can become an eternity even now--timeless and beyond time--a period of intimacy with the Lord who is Love.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 3:07 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Coming Soon. . .
to a blogsite near you--the momentous, the stupendous, the calamitous, the outrageous, the truly astounding and wonderful Flos Carmeli meets the man behind Video meliora (stay tuned.)
Posted by Steven Riddle at 3:14 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
April 19, 2006
The Momentous Event: TSO
Monday I took a half-day off from work and drove over to the Space Coast with Linda and Samuel to spend a little time at KSC and the Astronaut Hall of Fame before meeting TSO and his lovely ladywife for dinner.
KSC and the Hall of Fame were, as usual, a revelation. Sam had a great time, going on the G simulator and the Mission to Mars rover, as well as meeting a real Space Shuttle Commander and Pilot.
We met at a very popular local eatery in Titusville called Dixie Crossroads. After wrangling with the menu and letting Sam spill over for a while the waitress came to take the order. Once she had described the differences between red shrimp, white shrimp, boat-run shrimp, and rock shrimp, everyone was set and knew what they wanted. Although one of us changed his mind frequently.
During and after these comestibles preparation proceedings, Linda took on the usual duty of the female spouse in this particular matrimonial situation, building the bridges of cordiality which her somewhat more reclusive spouse would normally cross. In this particular case, it wasn't at all necessary for her spouse, but it paved the way to a lovely evening.
I have given up trying to imagine what the various people on blogs look like. There is no conceivable way to do so absent a picture, and very often the picture are most deceiving.
The meeting was, as with all blogging meetings, a most delightful occasion. TSO and his lovely wife are delightful dinner companions, and we much regretted the end of dinner which meant our departure. Linda said over and over again how much she had enjoyed the occasion and had wished for a prolongation thereof. But alas, being unfamiliar with the surroundings, we could not come up with a place to retire to that might provide for such and with a little one in tow, it made for other difficulties (such as prolapsed bed times any way.)
As readers of this blog are aware TSO is among my very favorite blog-authors--he comes frequently mentioned. Meeting him in person, far from being a disappointment, was in fact an even greater delight. And so, as with each blogger I have met, reading the blog will now come with the enhanced pleasure of knowing the person behind the pixels.
At this point I've been able to meet with several bloggers and blog-associates--Tom of Disputations, Fr. Jim of Dappled things, The not-too-present Kathy of the late lamented Gospel Minefield, Therese of occasional visit to comment boxes, Peony of Pansy and Peony fame, the Summa Mamas, Julie D., and now TSO. I had a near miss with Dylan on a visit to Boston a few years back.
And my next major appearance will probably be in Sacramento this summer. I think there is a blogger or two in the area, but I'm a bit uncertain as to the geography and location of the two I think of most prominently in that part of California.
Curiously, although we live in the same city and even occasionally attend the same Church, I've yet to meet Mr. Luse. And I missed out on a meeting about two years ago with the redoubtable Alicia of Fructus Ventris.
Meeting favorite bloggers is a wonderful way to spend time when one is far from home without resources. The first opportunity to meet with TSO evaporated from a trip to his homeland due to complications from Hurricane Charlie--it's a very long story. So this oft-delayed meeting was a much-anticipated event and a delight in every way.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:10 AM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
Treading the Thin Line
I don't often think about how difficult the life of a priest can be, but they are constantly called to a certain balance and aplomb. This passage from The Collar makes a case-in-point.
from The Collar
Jonathan EnglertAs far as the magisterium went, Don's resistance had been in the area of sexual teaching. The Church clearly opposed birth control, but Don couldn't really accept the Church's position. Somewhere along the way, Don had read Pope John Paul II's Gospel of Life, and it had convinced him that birth control, abortion, euthanasia, and the death penalty are part of a continuum. The organizing principle is the sacredness of each human life. To be against one of these principles meant that a person was against all four. He had reflected on his own marriage in light of this and had become convinced that part of the reason for its failure had been that his wife had never been open to the prospect of children. They had used birth control from the start, and Don now believed that taking the procreative possibility out of the act of making love deprived it of a profound and holy dimension and risked reducing it to a selfish pleasure. Done knew how complicated this area was and how carefully one had to tread--especially as a pastor in a nation where a reported 75 percent of Catholics did not hold the Church's view. (p. 108)
The priest is in a teaching position, responsible for educating his flock in the truth of the Catholic faith. To do so he must, first of all, not alienate the majority of them. In addition, no matter how well formed, it is entirely possible that a priest may question the truth of some of these teachings himself.
Don's journey describes in part of its arc, my own journey into the truth of the Church, and I cannot but suspect that even for someone raised within the Church, the encounter with these truths often takes some time. I can conceive of a man called to the priesthood in all good conscience who might have some difficulty wrestling with this issue in view of all the problems in the world. Nevertheless, as a man of integrity and as a personal representative of the Church and as the local "official" spokesperson, it is necessary for the priest to try to teach the Catholic truth, even where his own convictions may differ. I know that there are a good many priests (probably all of them) who fail in this in one field or another. Where they are orthodox on sexual teachings, they may have problems on social teachings, or ecumenism, or any number of other areas. Nevertheless, the priest must teach.
Assume for a moment that the priest does hold to the truth of the sexual teachings of the Church. He could walk up to the ambo one day for the homily and harangue his congregation about the evils of birth control. In so doing, he might convince one and alienate a hundred. He must convey the truth, but he must do so in a way that can get through the defenses and bring the people he serves to their own knowledge of the truth. The messy fact about the truth is that it can only rarely be taught, often the best one can do is summon up the arguments and wait for the person one is speaking to to experience the truth. Because, after all, the truth is a person.
The priest finds himself in this delicate situation with regard to nearly every revealed truth the Church has to offer. As one obliged to lead his flock to the truth, it is a difficult responsibility. There is a passage in the book of the prophet Ezekiel (EZ 33:2--see extended entry) in which God says something like, "Woe to the watchman who does not keep his watch and whose people are destroyed because of it, for their sins shall be upon his head. But woe unto the people who do not attend the watchman. . ." You get the point. As appointed watchmen, it is incumbent upon the local priest to reveal the truth as taught by the Catholic Church. And as pastor of souls, it is his duty to try to capture the greatest number possible in the net--so a harangue from the ambo may not serve as the best means of convicting the majority.
I honestly don't often think about this. But in a microcosm, we are all in the same position. If you have a friend or friends who you know are practicing birth control, you can stop your conversation to inform them of the grave sinfulness of their practice. That will be received differently depending upon the degree of friendship, but it is likely to have a souring effect. One must be as "cunning as serpents and as innocent as a dove." Thus, we find ourselves addressing these wrongs in ways that can be heard by the people we love and hope to help. It may take months or years to convey what there is to know. That is the duty and responsibility of each person to the extent they are capable. Each person needs to stand for the fullness of the truth that resides in the Catholic Faith. My approach, more often than not, is not to attempt to correct the error directly, but to express my doubts about a given proposition and suggest where one might find some elucidation on the matter. If someone asks me questions indicating a certain affinity with a position of moral relativism, I might nudge them in the direction of Veratatis Splendor explaining that while I have not the intellectual wherewithal to engage in such a high-level discussion, here is one who has addressed it far better than I could. And so on. I suppose it is a way of copping out, but it is also a way of turning someone on to the truth as the Church teaches it.
Next time you're tempted to ask your priest why he doesn't produce thunderous sermons on the nature of sin and its punishments, pause and think about the make-up of your local Catholic community and imagine how it might be received. There was a time that such sermons were a mainstay of Church life, but today, there are any number of places a person can go, including merely to another parish, to escape the unpleasant reality of Church teaching. It is the job of the priest to convey those truths in such a way as to guide the greatest number of his entrusted soul on to glory--the rest he must trust to providence. At one time, no one would gainsay anything a priest might teach--sometimes this had disastrous consequences. Nowadays, it is not unusual to see a parishioner berating a priest in the Narthex after Mass. There are "champions of orthodoxy and purity in ritual" who don't think twice about upbraiding a priest in public for any abuse, liturgical or homiletical, real or imagined. Given these truths, it is not hard to conceive of why a priest might be somewhat more toned-down than we might consider right and proper. In truth, the position of a priest can be a most unenviable situation somewhere between a rock and a hard place.
Ezekiel 33:2-9
2 Son of man, speak to the children of thy people, and say unto them, When I bring the sword upon a land, if the people of the land take a man of their coasts, and set him for their watchman:
3 If when he seeth the sword come upon the land, he blow the trumpet, and warn the people;
4 Then whosoever heareth the sound of the trumpet, and taketh not warning; if the sword come, and take him away, his blood shall be upon his own head.
5 He heard the sound of the trumpet, and took not warning; his blood shall be upon him. But he that taketh warning shall deliver his soul.
6 But if the watchman see the sword come, and blow not the trumpet, and the people be not warned; if the sword come, and take any person from among them, he is taken away in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at the watchman's hand.
7 So thou, O son of man, I have set thee a watchman unto the house of Israel; therefore thou shalt hear the word at my mouth, and warn them from me.
8 When I say unto the wicked, O wicked man, thou shalt surely die; if thou dost not speak to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at thine hand.
9 Nevertheless, if thou warn the wicked of his way to turn from it; if he do not turn from his way, he shall die in his iniquity; but thou hast delivered thy soul.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:30 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
On Mary: from the Carmelite Constitutions
Mary, overshadowed by the Spirit of God,
is the Virgin of the new heart,
who gave a human face to the word made flesh.
She is the Virgin of wise and contemplative listening
who kept and pondered in her heart
the events and words of the Lord.
She is the faithful disciple of wisdom,
who sought Jesus--God's Wisdom--
and allowed herself to be formed and moulded by his Spirit,
so that in faith she might be conformed to his ways and choices.
Thus enlightened, Mary is present to us
as one able to read 'the great wonders'
which God accomplished in her
for the salvation of the humble and of the poor.Mary was not only the Mother of Our Lord;
she also became his perfect disciple, the woman of faith.
She followed Jesus, walking with the disciples,
sharing their demanding and wearisome journey
--a journey which required, above all, fraternal love
and mutual service.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 11:20 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Forget Everything You Think You Know About the Carmelites
(A personal reflection)
I was startled today to realize that for the better part of ten or eleven years of pursuing a Carmelite vocation I have really been pursuing an illusion conjured by my reading of St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Ã?vila--the dream of the mystic encased in God. But Carmel is really and substantively about total immersion in God's word with resultant service to His people as summarized by this reflection:
from At the Fountain of Elijah
Wilfrid McGrealTwo contemporary Carmelites, Kees Waaijman and John Welch, have reflected on the closing lines of the Rule and have something to say that may help us respond to today's needs. The concluding lines of the Rule are as follows; Here then are a few points I have written down to provide you with a standard of conduct to live up to: but Our Lord at his Second Coming will reward anyone who does more than he is obliged to.
According to Welch and Waaijman this passage seems to refer to the Parable of the Good Samaritan. The Carmelite is the Innkeeper and Christ has come bringing the sick and the wounded asking that they be cared for--that everything possible be done to help. Christ will return and then repay the Innkeeper. According to this interpretation the Carmelite has his or her world turned upside down by the visit of Christ. We are asked to care for people with all their needs and wounds. This request, which causes inconvenience, challenges the Carmelite out of any egocentricity and reminds him or her that life is a mess and unpredictable. Spirituality is not a cosy option but is the call to respond to the gift of God's love by our involvement in what is often a dark and difficult world. Waaijman suggests: 'Real giving is essentially dark, and this is 'the going beyond' of the Rule into a desert of love, a night of trust.'
We spend time in the Scriptures to learn how to serve the Lord of the Scriptures and by serving demonstrate what true love means. In this round of life we may taste of the delights that are described by the Mystics. But whether this happens or not what matters is complete obedience to what God asks of us through the rule. Our obedience is its own reward--nothing more need come from God to me save the grace to obey and so to serve and to love.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:45 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
April 20, 2006
At the Fountain of Elijah
There are several useful introductions to Carmelite Spirituality available today. One is by Father John Welch, who is the Prior Provincial of the Most Pure Heart of Mary Province of the Old Order Carmelites. At the Fountain of Elijah by Wilfrid McGReal is another.
If you are a frequent reader, you've already seen several excerpts from Father McGreal's work. It is short (about 130 pages), to the point and clear. There are excerpts of all the major Carmelite writers and they are placed within the traditions of the Carmelite family so that the relationship between the two branches of the Order are made more clear and comprehensible.
What is useful about these introductions is that while they introduce you to the major Carmelite Saints, they also introduce you to the essentials of Carmelite Spirituality--a point, as I wrote yesterday, that I seem to have been dodging until the last year or so when pieces began to fall into place. The "roots" of Carmelite spirituality go deep into scripture. It is from constant immersion in scripture that the Carmelite develops. One can read the complete works of all of the Carmelite Saints and seek to internalize all of the seeming teaching, but it one misses this essential point, one remains forever outside the fold. All of the great Saints of Carmel are overwhelmingly informed by Scripture, by lectio, and by spending time with the Word in the Word.
McGreal manages to nail this point several times in the course of the book. I think he may do a better job of it that Father Welch's book, but that is a subjective evaluation.
If you think you're called to be a Carmelite, or if you want to know more about what Carmelites are all about, At the Fountain of Elijah will provide you with a glimpse of the history, charism, and life of Carmel. It isn't the fullness of the Carmelite way, but it isn't meant to be--it is meant merely to introduce. And as an introduction, I would say that it is superb.
Highly recommended to those interested in the Carmelite way of life.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:30 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Growing with and toward the Church
There are literally thousands of different ways to be a Christian. I read somewhere that there are something on the order of 22,000 different Protestant Churches with new ones being founded every year. (From what a friend tells me regarding the coming Episcopalian convention, it would hardly be a surprise to find a new Church springing up in that confession in the near future.)
That is why conformity with the teachings of the Catholic Church is so important for me. I don't want to be overly-scrupulous--I want to exercise freedom where prudential judgment allows for variation of opinion; however, where the Church is definitive, I want to toe the lie of that definition insofar as I can understand it.
Why is this so important? As with many converts, I sensed something that drew me to the Church. Initially, it was the certainty that the Church was right about the real presence. When I joined the Church, I didn't accept much of Church teaching besides the elements of the Nicene Creed (which nearly every Christian can assent to) and the belief in the Real Presence. However, from the moment of my joining my prayer has constantly been, "Lord, lead me to where you want me to be. I don't want anything less than the Truth."
Now, I will admit, that I am remarkably adept at deceiving myself--thinking that I am following the truth while following something else. But I also am willing to rethink and abandon my errors for the truth when the truth can seep through the pores in my mostly adamantine skull. But, fortunately for me, God is a God of patience, generosity, and love. And when you ask for something as important as the truth God will give it to you. Once again, fortunately, He will give it to you only in the amount you can accept. So I have been extremely slow in my growth as a Catholic. I've come to recognize the pattern by which growth occurs--stubborn resistance transmutes to indifference on a given point transmutes to interest in the opposite view transmutes (often without my active participation) into acceptance of Church teaching. Usually resistance takes the form of asking why such and such a truth is the way it is, what sense does it make? Often at this stage I can't make out the sense--that may persist through the whole journey. The indifference stage (which comes ever faster) is typified by the attitude that "sometimes you have to give up the right to know." In other words the panic over the truth of the matter vanishes and leaves behind a residue of "Okay, it may be true, but I'll leave it alone until I'm certain." At this stage, usually, God sends someone to me who will touch on the matter in unexpected ways. It may be a long-term friend, it may just be someone I meet at a lecture, or perhaps even something I hear on television. Of recent years, it has often occurred in blogdom. I can recall several things said to me by Karen Marie Knapp, Tom of Disputations, TSO and others that have permanently altered my view of things. These are precious gems of consolation and love God sends out--often the sender is utterly unaware of his or her effect.
Encountering the truth is hard. It requires that one be ready to abandon cherished illusions and ways of life that flow from them. Accepting the truth can only be done in the light of grace. Without that grace, I would have arrived nowhere. With it, I hope to arrive at God's truth before I die. If not, I hope to have latched on to enough of it to make the journey afterwards.
But surrender to the truth requires giving up pride; one must be able to admit that one has been wrong on any given point. Abandonment to the truth can be frightening because it leads the seeker into new territory. The grounds of our illusions have been thoroughly tramped through; however, truth is always "the Undiscovered Country." Every step into is a step away from the familiar and comfortable.
And ultimately, as I am constantly reminded, Truth is a person. Getting to know this Person can be exhilarating and frightening. It requires giving up so much that has been cherished so long. It requires giving up small illicit pleasures. It requires giving up licit pleasures. It requires giving up the sense of self that has accreted over the years so that one can stand revealed as Christ sees one. There is an exquisite agony in these progressive stages of revelation--but that agony is the foreshadowing of the ecstasy of Union which may only be had when everything that separates one from God, most of all those cherished illusions of self, has been stripped away and one stands naked and unashamed before the living God, ready to serve without masks, without hiding--ready now to don the full Armor of God and become His work in the world.
That, ultimately, is why growing with and toward the Church is important. I have lived in deception long enough--it is time, Lord knows it is time, to come into the country of truth and freedom and to assume my place in the body of Christ. Heaven help the body if all of the liver cells have functioned as poorly as I have for so many years. Or heart cells, or brain cells, or muscle cells. I am only a small part of the body, but my proper functioning is critical to the health of the whole. By grace I will arrive at that place, by grace all who arrive will draw more to God. By grace, we will all come to know and, more importantly, live the truth.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:53 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Get Serious About Prayer
That's what I say to myself. Stop the endless fragmented, half-hearted, attempts at prayer and get serious.
Getting serious is, of course, only possible through the grace God gives me. I can't will myself to be serious about prayer, although I can conform my will to His desire for me to be serious about prayer. I can start doing things that would lead me deeper into a life of prayer.
"Such as?" I ask myself. (And I note, lest I be accused of semi-pelagianism, that even these things must start with, be fostered by, and culminate in Grace.)
Fostering an environment, internal and external, for prayer.
(1) The external is less important except as it eventually can help shape the interior space, but I must follow the chain of grace into the life of real prayer. I must fill the space with light from the wisdom of the Saints and from the scriptures. I must take off the shutters that I have long used to deny access to the delicate archive of false self. Let the strong rays burn away what is not of God.
(2) Controlling frivolous and detrimental speech. Too many words water down whatever there is of importance, even when these words are not directly involved in the action. More, overuse of words weakens their essential power to move us. And still more, we tend to start believing what we speak--it is part of the power of the words. That is why Jesus tells us that it is what comes out of a person that makes him or her unclean. When I speak ill of another, I begin to believe what I say and I condemn myself thought lack of charity. The fullness of my heart overflows into my words. So rather than speak every idle thought that enters my head, perhaps a span of time should be placed in front of whatever response I am to make, and in that short span, I should really search my heart for the Gem that I know lies under the ash and allow it to shine forth in whatever words I must use.
(3) Removal of all those things that keep me away from God in whatever way. And by removal, I don't mean mere physical disposal of these things, but true attention once more to God's grace and His call. I've already seen how mere will-power can be utterly ineffectual in weeding out those things that lead us astray. Only grace can allow us to leave all for All. However, grace doesn't work by itself. I mustn't lapse into quietism. My will and my desire is required. Without my consent, grace, unless prevenient is utterly ineffectual. God will not force me to Love, but He is constantly inviting me.
Getting serious about prayer is getting serious about the one thing that matters and the one thing that has any potential to help me and the world around me. So, why do I continue to waste valuable time?
Posted by Steven Riddle at 12:58 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
April 21, 2006
Psalm 51
This is the only Friday of the year on which we do not pray Psalm 51. And, frankly, I miss it. I know that we are in the season of light and joy; and yet, I find psalm 51, despite its penitential tone to be full of light and joy."O purify me, then I shall be clean;/O wash me, I shall be whiter than snow." And these lines are so perfectly consonant with the antiphon for the first psalm on Easter Sunday: "The splendor of Christ risen from the dead has shone on the people redeemed by his blood, alleluia."
In the before times--times before I had become Catholic, and times that were somewhat more conservative and more prone to the influence of traditional thought, there was much emphasis among the protestant crowd on being "washed in the blood of the lamb." I haven't heard this much among the Catholics I've associated with, but it has a long protestant tradition and stems directly from several passages in scripture. This is one of the holdovers I have from the before times, and I still think in these terms. I am redeemed by His blood and it has been placed on the doorpost and on the lintel of the door to my soul--I am marked by God by my confirmation, my baptism, and my reception of the sacraments. I am among His chosen people so long as I choose to be. The only thing my will can effect that is not inspired by grace is to reject this great gift. I can choose at any time to reject the Lord, to say no to His gift, to walk away from His people. This is a very real possibility, AND it is the only possibility that lies outside His grace; however, it does not lie outside of His permissive will. The Lord is not a rapist, He will not force His love on those who choose to reject it.
But in thinking through these things, I begin to understand where the "once saved, always saved" error intrudes into some Protestant thought. When one enters the Church and/or accepts Christ as one's savior (allies one's will to the will of God), the desire to continue in Church, to receive the sacraments, to discover more about this magnificent heritage, to worship the God who gave all this to us grows. Yes, it can be dimmed by our own sin, it can be rejected by pique or by rebellion. But the reality is that it is hard to reject these things once one has partaken of them and understands what one has tasted. They are extraordinary. How many of us converts would return to the fold from which we have come? I daresay, despite the many problems in the Church, it would be precious few. I know what I have found here and what I was never able to find elsewhere, and it is far too valuable to throw away no matter what the provocation. So, too, I suspect with any person who willingly embraces the faith and comes to love God. Salvation is not assured, but it becomes difficult to reject God. There is always the intent to follow. It can be suppressed and crushed, but Jesus is there to revive it, to seek out the one lost.
Truly, once marked by the blood of the Lamb, and accepting that mark ourselves and making it our own, I become one of the sheep of his flock. I grow in love for the Lord by His constant attention. Nevertheless, just as a man can walk away from a woman at any time, no matter how profoundly he has declared His love, it is entirely possible for me to walk away from the Lord. And though the mark is indelible, the gift that comes with it need not be accepted.
These are the thoughts that occur to me with the recitation of psalm 51. Wash me and I shall be white than snow. When I pray that line, I am renewing my humility, my willingness to be near and with the Lord. Each Friday is a day of joy because I can unload that sinfulness (in one sense--though not the sacramental sense) and dance once again in the presence of Him who washes me clean.
Another thought occurs as I write this. When I say "Wash me and I shall be clean," I am also becoming as one of the little ones. Few adults ask others to wash them; some are forced to accept the ordeal, but few take it upon themselves. Whereas we all know that small children are washed and cleaned by their parents. It is a moment of parent/child intimacy that will linger with the child throughout his or her life, even if it is unconscious rather than conscious. When we pray this way, we are admitting our littleness, our infancy in the face of the Lord; how can he help but react as every reasonable parent reacts and take us up in His arms, and hold us tight to Him.
"O wash me and I shall be whiter than snow."
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:19 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
The Dark Secret of Vocations
Everyone has one and each of them is unique. There, now you know. Now that it's out in the open, we can talk about it openly.
We are all aware of the "vocational sacraments'--ordination and marriage. However, a vocation does not need to be made manifest by a sacrament to nevertheless be a vocation and no two vocations conferred by ordination or matrimony are exactly the same in every particular.
This understanding of vocation was made clear by St. Thérèse when she wrote about her own discovery of vocation. She was a cloistered nun, which is a recognized vocation that is not conferred by a sacrament; but that was insufficient for her. She continued to think about and study vocation to the point where she concluded that her vocation was to become "love at the heart of the Church."
Each vocation is unique because each person is unique. No two cells in the body are identical in all respects. So in Christ's body there are no "carbon copy" saints. This is why it is important to realize where God is calling you personally. Some time back, Tom wrote about third order Dominicans who claimed the vocation of the cloistered nuns. The same happens with third order Carmelites. God does not need another St. Dominic or St. Teresa of Avila, He already has one of each, eternally. Hence, it is improper to attempt to be anything other than what God has made me to be. I cannot be a hermit or cloistered--I cannot pull myself away from the world articificially, and even if I could, it would not be serving God as I am, but as I insist upon being. This is rebellion as much as not doing His will at all though grace be there to support it.
But Lay Carmelites are not cloistered, they live in the world, and by living in the world send a message different from the cloistered nuns and unique to the third order. This is a message of hope to all of the Church--that life in the world does not exclude the possibility of intimacy through prayer--that contemplation and action are not either/or, but rather both/and. As a Lay Carmelite, contemplation that does not lead directly to prophetic and evangelical activity is a kind of illusion, a sort of spiritual pride.
But even identification as a Lay Carmelite does not encompass the definition of my vocation, because as a lay Carmelite I do live within a vocation conferred by a sacrament--marriage. And it is the balance between the callings that defines the tension of the life. But still, that doesn't define the fullness of the vocation. I have certain talents, gifts, and inclinations that are my own and not available to anyone else. It is in the blossoming of all of these gifts of God through His grace that my vocation is defined. Already I have an inkling of it--part of my given vocation is to encourage and to help direct insomuch as it is possible to do so. All Carmelites are called to spiritual direction--some formally, some more informally--perhaps only within the community meeting. But sometimes direction can be more of a group effort, or a general pointing of the way--less direction, more signpost.
Part of "working out my salvation in fear and trembling" is the discovery and proper execution of the details of my particular vocation. In Grace, God will tell me who I am and how I am to function for the greatest good of all. My job is to respond to the best of my ability--to seize the day.
Vocation really is about immolation in God's love--utter abandonment, total surrender, complete reliance on Him and His daily graces.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:12 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
April 22, 2006
Grand Opera--Tosca
Justly famous for the second act soprano aria Vissi d'Arte Tosca is a case in point of grand opera, and allows one to understand clearly the hidden reference of "soap opera."
From start to finish Tosca is melodrama. If one looks too closely at the plot it blows away into a billion pieces. By the end of the piece three major characters and the plot impetus (a relatively minor character) have died-one off-stage and three on-stage. However, this production was helped along by a soprano who had played the role both for the Met and for the San Francisco Opera Company (both redoubtable companies) and by excellent singers in all of the roles, major and minor.
What interests me about the Opera, seeing it for the first time and putting it into context, is the question of Puccini's view of the Church as expressed in the Opera. The first act takes palce entirely within a Church and begins with a Sacristan responding to the bell of the Angelus and ends with a Te Deum which is counterpointed by the villain of the piece Scarpia. The choral Te Deum is, also very discordant and very dark, incorporating into its music some of Scarpia's theme. In addition, just before Floria Tosca jumps from the parapet of the Castel Sant'Angelo at the end, she sings (in a melody reminiscent of the theme of her lover) to Scarpia that she will meet him before God--certainly an odd thing for a murderer/suicide to sing before leaping to her doom. (Samuel's reaction to this climactic scene was priceless, after the firing squad was done, he piped up with , "They shooted him!" I'm sure about half the theatre heard it.)
Tosca is filled with the lyrical, and perhaps occasionally overdone romantic melodies Puccini is famous for. The music is wonderful and contains some oddly "modern" elements in its discord and dissonance. The tenor aria of the final act E lucevan le stelle is another show-stopper with its transcendent melody and its underlying dark tones.
Samuel seemed to enjoy the experience, although he was a bit frightened at the firing squad scene and (fortunately) didn't seem to follow much of the plot line. He did however really go wild at the two major Arias and asked when we would go to the Opera again. So, this makes his third Opera and I'd say that overall the season was a success. I do have to say that of the performances he's seen this year--The Rockettes, Three Operas, and Lord of the Dance it is the last than made the biggest impression with him. And given that he is a somewhat kinetic little guy, that makes good sense.
Any way, I couldn't have been more pleased or impressed with this final show of the season. It certainly rang the curtain down on a resounding note. Orlando Opera may be a small company, but it is one that is well worth the time if you've any interest in Opera at all. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to discover it. Once again I succumb to the waywardness of cultural snobbery.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:59 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack