December 21, 2006
"Be faithful in little things. . ."
I don't know that Blessed Dom Columba was particularly influenced by St. Therese, although he did write a notice supporting the cause of her beatification; however, their messages converge at several points. And I must conclude from this convergence that God chose that particular time in history to clarify the path to Him. For what reason, I cannot say, but it appears that these two great directors of souls really found one very simple way which we still have not come to terms with.
from Union with God
Blessed Dom Columba MarmionBe faithful in little things, not out of meticulousness, but out of love. Do this to prove to Our Lord that you have the love of a spouse for HIm.
*******
It is a question of giving the first moments of the day to Our Lord or to His enemy, and the whole day bears the reflection of this first choice.
***********
Let us labor to give ourselves to Jesus in the person of others. That admits of much interior renunciation.
Although St. Therese remarked very little on the enemy of God, she certainly taught a lot about doing little things with great faithfulness. Extraordinary measures need not be taken--the ordinary round of life provides ample opportunity for holiness and sanctity. And one of our chief services may be a smile at someone who receives very few.
What these two great spiritual guides did was strip away prolixity, method, and the encrustation of routine. They demanded of themselves and of those who would accept the path they showed an authenticity and a presence that some prior spiritualities tended to obscure. These two stand as great servants of God in the present moment under the present circumstances in present company.
This is nothing new. Brother Lawrence taught sanctity among the pots and pans. St. Benedict's rule emphasizes the "ordinariness" of sanctifying the day.
But these two Saints expressed this simple truth in words for the time. Straightforward, direct, uncompromising--the two tell us in no uncertain terms that the path to holiness is not turning our steps a different direction as we go to market, but turning our hearts a different direction whichever way we go. A transformation of the heart and attentiveness to God in the details of the day is all the fuel we need to accept the Grace of God's omnipresence. We need do nothing extraordinary, we just need to be aware of how extraordinary every moment in His presence is; how every opportunity of the day is an opportunity for grace, peace, love, and security in His presence. He is in every second, every moment of every day. And every moment of every day is His special gift to us.
Generations of teachers have taught this, and still we go looking for the extraordinary. While it is exemplary practice to wake early and spend time in Eucharistic adoration, it is just as extraordinary to recognize Jesus in the presence of our coworkers and to greet Him.
Faithfulness in the small things--in preparing lunch for a hungry child, in taking time out to comfort a sorrowing friend, in smiling at a neighbor, in giving way in traffic although you have every right to continue, in letting God be present through you and in you in every encounter and interaction. Surrender, abandonment of self. And in this season, the abandonment of self to the hope of the Incarnation. We have the face of the baby Jesus to look upon and to delight in. We can join the chorus of the angels in His acclaim. We can sing,
"For unto us a son is given
and his name shall be called
wonderful, counselor, prince of peace, mighty god, holy one,
Emmanuel"
And it is on that last that we should spend a moment in mediation as we practice the direction of Blessed Columba and St. Therese. Emmanuel--"god with us." For indeed He is, in every moment, in every breath, in every person, in every event, in all that comes to us in the course of the day. Jesus, our Emmanuel, ever present, comforter, King and Brother. Come, Lord Jesus, do not delay, we await you moment by moment, let us see your face in each person who greets us, and more importantly let each person see your light shining out from us. Come, Lord Jesus.
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December 20, 2006
Two More Words, and then I'll Try to Shut Up About It
I can't help it. Two more words from Dom Columba, words that reflect the wisdom of all the Saints through the ages.
from Union with God
Blessed Dom Columba MarmionDo all things solely for love of Our Lord and, for love of HIm, accept all that He permits; give yourself up to love without looking either to the right or the left. Accept, without troubling yourself about them, the annoyances and difficulties through which you are passing at present. What you have to do by obedience, do as well as ever you can, but without being anxious whether others are pleased with you or blame you, whether they love you or don't love you. It ought to be enough for you to be loved by Our Lord.
**********
Try to smile lovingly at every manifestation of God's will.
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December 19, 2006
"When you feel invited. . ."
from Union with God
Dom Columba MarmionWhen you feel invited to remain in silence at Our Lord's feet like Magdalen just looking at Him with your heart without saying anything, don't cast about for any thoughts or reasonings, but just remain in loving adoration. Follow the whisperings of the Holy Ghost. If He invites you to beg, beg; if to be silent, remain silent; if to show you misery to God, just do so. Let Him play on the fibers of your heart like a harpist, and draw forth the melody He wishes for the Divine Spouse.
Souls like your, called to interior prayer, are often greatly tempted in all ways, by the sense; to blasphemy, pride, etc. Don't be afraid. You can't do anything more glorious to God or more useful to souls than to give yourself to Him. . .
In prayer, don't cast about for useful things to do, or things to occupy the mind while the prayer time continues. Do as God invites you to do; heed the Holy Spirit and you cannot go awry.
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Union with God
Before another moment passes, race over to Disputations and put your name in the lottery for this magnificent book.
This brief notice will not do it justice. I write in the fever of a quick review and hope to draw out from the book over the coming days and weeks some evidence of my enthusiasm.
Dom Columba Marmion's book, a publication of the really superlative Zaccheus Press, is a magnificent companion to and continuation of Jean Pierre de Caussade's Abandonment to Divine Providence. In saying that, I don't wish to diminish its unique qualities--they are many--the gentleness of the voice of Dom Columba, his erudition, and his careful tailoring of his teaching to the individual student, while never compromising the truth. Truly, this is an inspiring, hope-giving work. For those of us in the trenches, who seem like we never move forward, Dom Columba raises the battle cry that will jolt us out of complacency and send us forward.
A couple of examples at random:
from Union with God
Dom Columba MarmionFor you, it is not good to scrutinize the lowest depths of your soul. If during prayer, God throws His light into your soul and in this light reveals to you, your misery and baseness, it is a signal grace. But your are not in a state to examine and analyze your soul in a natural light.
*******You must be persuaded that your sinful past is in no way an obstacle to very close union with God. God forgives, and His forgiveness is Divine. With the Angels, God was not merciful because they had no miseries. With us, who are full of miseries, God is infinitely merciful. "The earth is full of the mercy of the Lord."
And what might appear astonishing, but is however very true, is that our miseries entitle us to God's mercy.
*******The little Infant Who is in our heart is gazing on the Face of His FAther. "In the presence of God for us." He sees in His Father's Eternal love the place you occupy, God's plan for you, a plan so minute that "not a hair of your head falls without Him." Give yourself up to Jesus, the Eternal Wisdom in order that He may lead you and guide you to the fulfillment of that ideal.
Each small section provides food for long and fruitful meditation. Magnificent and beautiful.
This year give the Christmas, New Year's, or Lenten gift of hope, love, and Eternal mercy. If you know someone who needs a good source of spiritual reading, this is the book for them. And while you're at it, drop a line to Mr. O'Leary to thank him for bringing these wonderful works back into print. We are truly blessed with our small Catholic Publishers. Let's support them.
Also, look here to see Vultus Christi's much more coherent, cogent review of the same work.
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November 26, 2006
What We Owe God, and Why
From Fr. Luis of Granada:
from The Sinner's Guide
Fr. Luis of GranadaThe design of this book being to win men to virtue, we shall begin by showing our obligation to practice virtue because of the duty we owe to God. God being essentially goodness and beauty, there is nothing more pleasing to Him than virtue, nothing He more earnestly requires. Let us first seriously consider upon what grounds God demands this tribute from us.
But as these are innumerable, we shall only treat of the six principal motives which claim for God all that man is or all that man can do. The first; the greatest, and the most inexplicable is the very essence of God, embracing His infinite majesty, goodness, mercy, justice, wisdom, omnipotence, excellence, beauty, fidelity, immutability, sweetness, truth, beatitude, and all the inexhaustible riches and perfections which are contained in the Divine Being.
This quotation came to me today in a time of struggling to focus, and it made sense for the day, this being Christ the King.
It's an odd thing but the through and through American Baptist Church always seemed to me to have a better sense of what this feast is about than does most of the Catholic Church. Baptists seem to understand the concept of absolute sovereignty with noblesse oblige. Protestants in general tend, if anything, to overemphasize the concept of sovereignty, neglecting the fact that we always have the right to reject His rule, possibly for eternity. Nevertheless, if there's anything a Calvinist knows and responds to it is the sovereignty of God. Catholics, oddly considering all their ritual, seem to be a more casual people God may be sovereign, but that doesn't really mean much of anything. We are more on the terms of the importunate widow--and as a general thing, that's probably a good thing because it is a closer and more reasonable approach to the God who loves us. But it is also good to have a day to remind us of His Kingship and what that means for us.
So I'm grateful today for Luis of Granada and his reminder that we should not sin firstly because it offends justice, the justice of the God he goes on to describe. Now, why in the world would we even consider such an offense?
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April 19, 2005
Another Evelyn Underhill Classic
The Life of the Spirit and the Life of To-Day
Excerpt:
This book has been called “The Life of the Spirit and the Life of To-day” in order to emphasize as much as possible the practical, here-and-now nature of its subject; and specially to combat the idea that the spiritual life—or the mystic life, as its more intense manifestations are sometimes called—is to be regarded as primarily a matter of history. It is not. It is a matter of biology. Though we cannot disregard history in our study of it, that history will only be valuable to us in so far as we keep tight hold on its direct connection with the present, its immediate bearing on our own lives: and this we shall do only in so far as we realize the unity of all the higher experiences of the race. In fact, were I called upon to choose a motto which should express the central notion of these chapters, that motto would be—“There are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit.” This declaration I would interpret in the widest possible sense; as suggesting the underlying harmony and single inspiration of all man's various and apparently conflicting expressions of his instinct for fullness of life. For we shall not be able to make order, in any hopeful sense, of the tangle of material which is before us, until we have subdued it to this ruling thought: seen one transcendent Object towards which all our twisting pathways run, and one impulsion pressing us towards it.
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October 15, 2003
For the Feast Day of La Madre
From The Autobiography (XXV: 22)
O my Lord, how true a friend art Thou! how powerful! Thou showest Thy power when Thou wilt; and Thou dost will it always, if only we will it also. Let the whole creation praise Thee, O Thou Lord of the world! Oh, that a voice might go forth over all the earth, proclaiming Thy faithfulness to those who love Thee! All things fail; but Thou, Lord of all, never failest! They who love Thee, oh, how little they have to suffer! oh, how gently, how tenderly, how sweetly Thou, O my Lord, dealest with them! Oh, that no one had ever been occupied with any other love than Thine! It seems as if Thou didst subject those who love Thee to a severe trial: but it is in order that they may learn, in the depths of that trial, the depths of Thy love. O my God, oh, that I had understanding and learning, and a new language, in order to magnify Thy works, according to the knowledge of them which my soul possesses! Everything fails me, O my Lord; but if Thou wilt not abandon me, I will never fail Thee. Let all the learned rise up against me,--let the whole creation persecute me,--let the evil spirits torment me,--but do Thou, O Lord, fail me not; for I know by experience now the blessedness of that deliverance which Thou dost effect for those who trust only in Thee. In this distress,--for then I had never had a single vision,--these Thy words alone were enough to remove it, and give me perfect peace: "Be not afraid, my daughter: it is I; and I will not abandon thee. Fear not."
And in a sense, this may be another response to Mr. O'Rama (see below)--that perhaps the ennui that sets in is a trial of sorts--bear up under it, offer it as a small sacrifice to God and make progress in the Little Way. All of our choices have echoes in eternity.
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October 13, 2003
On Father Dubay--Another from Ms. Knapp's Site
Ms. Knapp is really on a roll, but then I haven't known her to stop except for a brief, unavoidable spell away from the computer.
She reports this interview with father Thomas Dubay from one of the CIN Listservs. Well worth your time, as always.
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October 6, 2003
Unseen Warfare of Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain
Another excerpt from Ordinary Graces that spoke to me during reading time this morning:
from Ordinary Graces
compiled by Lorraine KislyThose who have realized how dangerous and evil is the life they lead, the devil succeeds in keeping in his power mainly by the following simple but all-powerful suggestion: "Later, later; tomorrow, tomorrow." And the poor sinner, deluded by the appearance of good intention accompanying this suggestion, decides, "Indeed, tomorrow; I shall finish what I have to do, and then, free of all care, will put myself in the hands of Divine grace. . . .
Nothing but negligence and blindness can explain why, when the whole of our salvation and all the glory of God are at stake, we fail to use immediately the most easy and simple and yet the most effective weapon, namely: to say to ourselves resolutely and energetically: "This moment! I shall start spiritual life at this moment and not later, I shall repent now, instead of tomorrow. Now , this moment is in my hands, tomorrow and after is in the hands of God. Even if God will grant me tomorrow and after, can I be sure that I shall have tomorrow the same good thought urging me to mend my ways? . . . Moreover how senseless it is when, for example, a sure remedy is offered for curing one's ills to say: "Wait, let me be sick a little longer."
Praise God in His saints and in His gifts to us through them. Now is the proper time, now is the expedient moment. Now is all there is--the past is gone, the future yet to come, we cannot know what is there--so now is the time for healing and for hope.
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October 1, 2003
Doctor of the Church
You all know by now that Thérèse is a doctor of the Church. As such the Church has declared that she has taught valuable doctrine concerning core church teachings. In particular, her "little way" is seen as a valuable contribution to the understanding of the Church.
However, the definition is that of a doctor of philosophy and the original meaning of Doctor. Thérèse is also a doctor in the modern sense. Through her deep understanding she corrects certain ailments in the church that come through exposure to the secular world.
from Spiritual Childhood: The Spirituality of St. Thérèse of Lisieux
Msgr. Vernon JohnsonThe word "love" is so often used for something merely emotional or sentimental that we hesitate to use it in connection with our religion. St. Thérèse rescues us from this false reserve and puts the word "love" again upon our lips in its true meaning.
In the midst of us cold and grown-up lovers, with our love hardened by the difficulty of life, dulled by its dreary routine, stilted by convention, and fettered by human respect, God has placed St. Thérèse to rescue us from all that is false in our concept of love and lead us back to that simple, direct, spontaneous love which, in the depths of our souls, we really long for.
As we enter the crypt of the basilica at Lisieux, we find ourselves beneath the great arch which spans the entrance to the nave. At the base of one side of the arch are written these words of scripture: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart and with thy whole soul and with thy whole mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. And the second is like to this: Thou shalt love thy neighour as thyself. On the other side are the words of St. Thérèse: "There is but one thing to be done here below: to love Jesus and to save souls for Him that He may be more loved." Thus does she make the words of Scripture live again, words which we have known from childhood, but whose meaning for that very reason has lost much of its significance.
It may be urged that a love of such simple directness as St. Thérèse's is possible only for special souls, gifted with extraordinary supernatural graces, and that therefore it is not within the compass of the ordinary person. But St. Thérèse's life was not distinguished by anything spectacular. Her way, as she used to say, was very ordinary, fashioned through the normal means of grace common to us all. The extraordinary thing in her life was her simple fidelity to those means of grace.
Thérèse is a gift to us from God. Through her, as through St. Bernadette, He once again showed us that ordinary people can achieve extraordinary sanctity through perfectly ordinary means. In short, He showed us that once again “His Grace is sufficient.”
Of ourselves we can do nothing but sin. But with God we are, each of us, a saint and a source of hope for the people we meet every day. Thérèse has pulled us out of a sense of love that grasps and seeks to fill a great emptiness and shown us a love that comes from a fullness and reaches out to others. More, because she was not extraordinarily gifted—she did not have the mind of a St. Thomas Aquinas, or the high teaching of St. Francis de Sales, St. Alphonsus, or St. John of the Cross—she is accessible to us. Moreover, she promised to make herself accessible. Her heaven would be spent doing good on Earth. The good she does begins with our choice to follow the little way and to show to all around us the loved she showed while on Earth. We will each do this in our own way; however, our best tribute to her today would be one small action, one little sacrifice that takes us away from ourselves and puts us squarely with God and with our neighbor. Thus we can spend our Earth building the Kingdom of Heaven through God’s grace.
St. Thérèse, Doctor and Daughter of the Most Holy Catholic Church, pray for us that we all burn with the fire that you had for God and for the salvation of souls.
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September 26, 2003
On Miracles and Simplicity
In this passage, Mr. Longenecker makes some incisive and interesting points:
from St. Benedict and St. Thérèse: The Little Rule and the Little Way
Dwight LongeneckerTo speak plainly, the main problem for sophisticated people is not that miracles are incredible, but that they are an error in taste. To profess belief in miracles takes one perilously close to faith healers, the souvenir stalls of Lourdes, and lurid pictures of Jesus with googly eyes. There is a breed of spiritually minded people who reduce Christianity to the highest form of aesthetics. Beauty us to Truth, but beauty without truth is false, and that which is false and beautiful does not remain beautiful for very long. If the faith is no more than a pretty face, then the aesthetes are also atheists. Since miracles are an error in taste, it is far more subversive and therefore far more Christian to accept the miracles. It's also much more fun--rather like wearing a hideous hat on purpose.
If Benedict's biography gives the sophisticated soul miracles to stumble over, Thérèse's story gives tasteful grown-ups an even bigger obstacle. To find Thérèse, the modern soul has to climb over the stumbling block of her style. We modern-day pilgrims are presented with a nineteenth-century teenage nun with a pretty smile and schoolgirl enthusiasms. She speaks in language that seems archaic and sickly sweet. Among other sentimental touches she calls herself a little flower of Jesus and a little ball for the child Jesus to play with. She thinks God is her "Papa" and likens herself to a bowl of milk that kittens come to drink from. It's easy to turn away such greeting-card spirituality in distaste, but this is precisely the first test. Thérèse swamps tasteful people with sentimentality and sweetness, and only when they survive the taste test can they begin to appreciate her wisdom. She is one of the best examples of the secret Catholic truth that says the tasteful cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. (p. 46-47)
There is so much more profound and interesting insight on these pages that I must encourage you all to get the book if you can. This passage continues and says many wonderful and remarkable things about the style and what Thérèse was and what she was trying to do.
I think style is the biggest complaint I hear about Thérèse; how people can't push themselves through the sticky images and the sweetness and light. And I sympathize--greatly. Up until the magisterial translation offered by the ICS, I had similar feelings. The Beevers translation and earlier works were just dreadful and incredibly off-putting. I couldn't find any spirituality for all the treacle. When the Carmelite Group proposed reading this piece of school-girl drivel I just about went mad (although, truth to tell, I was instrumental in proposing it.) But when I read it, and really searched it to find out what the Church saw here, I was truly astonished at the depths that opened up before me. What was school-girl drivel suddenly became something else entirely. I can't explain it. All I can say is that this person who prizes above much else elegance of language and expression, sophistication of writing and idea suddenly discovered the elegance of saying precisely what was right for the person who was writing. It opened a door to riches beyond imagination. From saccharine schoolgirl, my image of Thérèse transmuted into Great Saint, perhaps one of the very greatest of Saints--a true Doctor in the sense of conveying in language anyone who wished to could understand profound truths about prayer and our relationship with God.
And in fact, I think Longenecker has hit upon a key point. Entry to Thérèse means submitting with great humility to the fact that a teenaged "silly" schoolgirl has something profound and life-altering to teach those of us who have been in the world approaching twice as long. Surely this babe in the woods could not know anything we have not already learned. And the barrier that demonstrates approach with proper humility is the ability to get past the language and the image. Until then, you are not really permitted a glance at the profound wisdom and truth that is offered through the writings of this unlikely nun.
Thérèse presents more than anything else a challenge to our sensibilities and our aesthetics, a challenge that offers a small taste of the meaning of detachment. We must detach from our own preferences, our own sense of style, our own love of the high language and great art of many of the other saints, and accept a story-book saint--flat, wooden, and girlish. And as in some fairy-tale story, when we do so, she comes alive and tells us truths that will change our lives and our relationship with God.
(Oh--one additional tip for the hopelessly stymied--for whatever reason, all of this that is so off-putting in English, is greatly subdued if you read it in French--this discipline is finally what allowed me to enter the door and sit for a while at this great teacher's feet. Praise God!)
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September 25, 2003
From the Anchoresses Rule
from Ordinary Graces
edited by Lorraine KislyThe Anchoresses Rule--c. 1220, England
The swine of gluttony has piglets with these names. Too Early is the name of the first, the next Too Fastidiously, the third, Too Freely; the fourth is called Too Much, the fifth Too Often. These piglets are more often born through drink than food.
I talk about them only briefly, because I have no fear that you feed them.
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From St. John Climacus
The next couple of entries concern "the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak.
from Ordinary Graces
edited by Lorraine KislySt. John Climacus
When he is angry he gets bitter, and then his bitterness makes him angry, so having suffered one defeat he fails to notice that he has suffered another. He gorges himself, is sorry, and a little later is at it again. He blesses silence and cannot stop talking about it. He teaches meekness and frequently gets angry while he is taching it. Having come to his senses, he sighs and shaking his head embraces his passion once more. He denounces laughter and while lecturing on mourning is all smiles. In front of others he criticizes himself for being vainglorious, and in making the admission he is looking for glory.
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September 24, 2003
The Power of Words
In the Boltzmann entry below I mentioned the Tacoma Narrows Bridge disaster. Did I pause to mention it's cause?
Wind. Yes--one of the great structures of contrete and steel was laid low not by the powerful winds of a tornado or a hurricane, but by ordinary gusts channeled throught the neck of the narrows at the right frequency.
Wind--words. As the ordinary wind has this power, so too do the words we choose to say. We can "make" someone's day, equally we can "break" it simply by what we choose to let out of our mouths.
And the scariest part of all of this is that Jesus tells us that it isn't what goes into a person that makes him unclean, but what comes out of the fullness of his heart. And this is why words are so important, so powerful, and so much in need of careful examination and studious consideration. Nothing should leave our lips, ever, that we have cause to regret. If we are uncertain what to say, the best course is to say nothing at all. James warns us that we shall be called to account for every idle word. He does not say that we shall be called to account for those that grace has given us the strength not to say. Good to confess those, but they have not been unleashed in the whirlwind of words to damage others. We are accountable for the thoughts, but not if we don't brood on them. At most they are an imperfection of our nature--something to be weeded out.
But let's face it. Daily we let loose with a torrent of words that have varying purposes, meanings, and effects. We don't much think about the harm they can do when we make a cutting remark. We don't much consider how our spouses or children might consider not just the word but the tone of what we say.
Words are the human wind that can bring down the Tacoma Narrows bridge. We can choose to gossip and destroy a reputation. We can repeat things that have not been verified and tear a person apart. Because we do not know the strength of the bridge and because we can do nothing about it once the forces are in motion, perhaps we would do better to think carefully about what we have to say--and when it is hurtful to choose not to say it.
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Gross Incivility
I'm often stunned by the gross incivility displayed on both sides of any given debate. This was brought to mind this afternoon by the success of yet another ill-titled, conceivably ill-tempered Al Franken book, pumped up by various media interests to match the insidiously vitriolic and questionable accuracy of Ann Coulter. (She does not miraculously become correct if she happens to express many opinions with which I can agree. I have a bad track record as regards my opinions.) As much as I like to look at Ms. Coulter, I think that being in the same room with her (or with Mr. Franken) would likely be a most unpleasant experience.
Part of this is the human tendency to attribute only the most malign motives to anyone who opposes us. And I think this a mistake. For example, I think it a mistake to attribute malign motives to most people who support a limited right to abortion. They can be wrong and even wrong-headed without any intent to be malign.
It seems to me that the better part of any conversation would be to assume the motive of the conversant is basically driven by good-will. (Mr. da Fiesole has disagreed with me in the past on this, but his reasons did not persuade--it seems the better part of charity to start with the assumption that most people act out of good will or at least with no malignant motive until proven otherwise.) Only in this way may one truly address the issue at hand.
Now this leads to a second assumption, one in which I am more often than not truly disappointed. I assume that two disputants who are talking about a serious issue really seek the truth on the issue. That's not to say that anyone's mind will be changed in a sudden stroke, but rather both are seeking input to modify the worldview accordingly. It may not be input to modify the position they hold, but it may be a deeper understanding of why someone would hold the opposite opinion and what the implications of that may be. In many matters, it is unimportant ("Make it pink, Make it blue.) But in a great many issues to not seek the truth is great folly. However, many people see the ideas they hold as somehow personal possessions, and a challenge to those ideas is a personal affront--an attack on the integrity of the person. I recognize this tendency in myself, and often have to back away to consider what has been said and what it really means to the notions I hold. I take a great deal of time sometimes to assimilate new notions and change my mindset and behavior to accommodate them. It is better to take a short period to cool off and then realize that the idea is not part of the self--to relinquish a bad idea is to strengthen one's Christian armor. Truth is far more important than either my personal opinion or the possibility that I might seem foolish to some. Foolish or not, I need to listen and to try to understand, and to seek God's way--the truth in all things.
And so I know that neither Ms. Coulter (whose previous book I did read, and whose present book I made a stab at but found so full of the pestilence of ill-humor and self-righteousness, not to mention a generous dollop of vitriol, gossip, and acrimony) nor Mr. Franken (ditto, ditto, ditto--and add to it that like many for whom he writes toeing the party line is more important than truth) have much, if anything to say that will enlighten my perpetual darkness.
In fact, why should it surprise anyone that the Right lies or the left lies, or the news is slanted this way or that? It may be dismaying, but as we all learned long ago, every story is told from a point of view--there is no perfect objective point of view in the human realm. That, in part, is what the Fall is about. So why should we be surprised if we find that a reporter has obscured this point or that, or that they have told only half of the story. Anyone willing to believe anything printed in a newspaper or news magazine deserves the world view it is likely to give them.
If we seek the truth, then we should seek it in places where it dwells--in the heart of Jesus Christ, in the center of the Gospel, in the message of the ordinary and universal Magisterium, in the lives of the Saints, in prayer. Seeking the truth beyond these bounds is an endless, fruitless, and ultimately depressing, oppressing, and empty endeavor. Knowledge of truth apart from God is not knowledge at all, but opinion, for in Him resides the fullness of the truth, and all else is inconsequential.
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More from Longenecker's Remarkable Study
There are great insights within the book, so many it is impossible to share them all. I thought this excerpt regarding "ordinariness" was especially helpful for those seeking a way.
from St. Benedict and St Thérèse: The Little Rule and the Little Way
Dwight LongeneckerBenedict and Thérèse call ordinary Christians to extraordinary perfection--not by being extraordinarily perfect, but by being perfectly ordinary. Being ordinary means letting go every vestige of snobbery and learning that we are not special after all. Once we grasp this troublesome truth it is easy to make the mistake of thinking that "being ordinary" mean fitting in and becoming "one of the boys." While being ordinary had nothing to do with snobbery it also has nothing to do with being one of the crowd. Snobbery has destroyed many lives through its snooty pride, but the reverse snobbery that will do anything to "fit in" and be part of the hoi polloi is also destructive. It is just as artificial for the aristocrat to affect working-class manners as it is for the social climber to put on an upper-class accent. In that sense, being common is just as false as being uncommon. Being ordinary means being none other than who we are. As a result it is just as possible for a duchess to be as ordinary as a dustman.
Besides noting that Our Sunday Visitor needs a careful copyeditor--the insights to be gained from this passage are enormous. I particularly like the notion of being called to the extraordinary not by extraordinary endeavors but by the perfection of the ordinary. In other words, become who you REALLY are in Christ and you are more than halfway to your goal. Your responsibility is not to perfect the gifts given to others, but those given to you. While I might look on with admiration at some of my very favorites reasoners--John da Fiesole at Disputations, and Mark at Minute Particulars, or with a certain awe at Mothers who want to be and are extraordinary (as there tends to be a raft of blushing among this set, I will not venture names), or any number of other gifts I observe in all my blogland travels--humor, political insight, knowledge of the present state of the world, etc. --I am not called to perfect any of those remarkable talents or virtues. I am called only to recognize those gifts God gave me and to offer them back to Him, well cared for, polished, and in better condition than they came to me.
Too often we deride our own accomplishments and our own endeavors with some sort of apology--either looking for compliments or encouragement, or genuinely reflecting our puzzlement over our own unique constitution. We are, each of us, what we are and that is all we should be, in the sense that we are not called to be other than what we are in Christ. We are called to be perfected in Christ. Anything less does not honor God, it buries the talents He gave us to be returned without interest. However, when we follow our calling in constant prayer and devotion, seeking always to cleave to God's path and not our own, we will, through His grace, return a harvest of souls that we have not been privileged to see--saved and brought to God through our work. Nevertheless, the work of our own perfection must, of necessity affect those around us. In achieving perfection, we drag into the Torrent of His love countless souls whom we may simply have passed in a hallway and smiled at.
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St. Francis de Sales--From a Contemporary
Here's a biography/study of St. Francis de Sales from 1639, approximately 17 years after the Sainted Bishop's death. It looks like a wonderful précis of his thought and spirituality.
An excerpt drawn quickly, at random:
from The Spirit of St. Francis de Sales
Jean Pierre CamusDistrust of self and confidence in God are the two mystic wings of the dove; that is to say, of the soul which, having learnt to be simple, takes its flight and rests in God, the great and sovereign object of its love, of its flight, and of its repose.
The Spiritual Combat, which is an excellent epitome of the science of salvation and of heavenly teaching, makes these two things, distrust of self and confidence in God, to be, as it were, the introduction to true wisdom: they are, the author tells us, the two feet on which we walk towards it, the two arms with which we embrace it, and the two eyes with which we perceive it.
In proportion to the growth of one of these two in us is the increase of the other; the greater or the less the degree of our self-distrust, the greater or the less the degree of our confidence in God. But whence springs this salutary distrust of self? From the knowledge of our own misery and vileness, of our weakness and impotence, of our malice and levity. And whence proceeds confidence In God? From the knowledge which faith gives us of His infinite goodness, and from our assurance that He is rich in mercy to all those who call upon Him.
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September 23, 2003
From Kierkegaard--On the Fatherhood of God
"Who hates his neighbor has not the rights of a child." And not only has he no rights as a child, he has no "father". God is not my father in particular, or any man's father (horrible presumption and madness!); no, He is only father in the sense of father of all, and consequently only my father in so far as He is the father of all. When I hate someone or deny God is his father, it is not he who loses, but I: for then I have no father.... Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855)
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Ludwig Boltzmann
Ludwig Boltzmann needs no introduction, but I shall give one anyway. He is largely responsible for our theories of molecular motion and for the development of Boltzmann's Constant which helps us to calculate the kinetic energy of translation of gases. (I know, I hated that statics part of physics as well--bear with me, there is an interesting tale.)
Boltzmann was apparently a genius of the first water, and as with many geniuses, his discoveries went largely ignored until after his death. (Depressed by the lack of interaction and comment, he took his own life.)
To the story--it is said that Boltzmann invented a device that could find the harmonic frequency of any object to which it was attached. The story goes that Boltzmann decided to test the device on his own house.
Now for those who don't know, the harmonic frequency is the sound frequency which causes an object to vibrate. The classic example is the opera singer whose voice can shatter crystal. The other classic example with which everyone should become acquainted for its spectacular engineering failure is the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. (Link takes you to a short excerpt, find more here and here.)
Anyway, Boltzmann decided to test the device by placing it on his house. He set the device and left, returning several hours later to a pile of rubble and a device that had been destroyed in the test as well.
Though certainly apocryphal, I find something deeply resonant (pardon the pun) in this story. How many of us determine to test ultimately destructive things using ourselves, our loved ones, or our necessary things as test objects? We barrel headlong into spiritually questionable ventures without a thought as to the consequences. Some tinker with astrology, others with odd spiritualities, still others with "methods" of praying that appear to have little wrong with them, but are capable of spreading the infection of paganism and belief in sympathetic magic. Worse, we sometimes feel we can directly contravene divine will and thousands of years of teaching and put ourselves in the position of near occasions of sin. Humans being what they are, almost always a near occasion will preciptiate the sin itself. Not every time. But a near occasion of sin is a Boltzmann device, and when we choose to place ourselves in it, we set the device on our own houses. The oddest part is that we know full well what the consequences of that choice are likely to be, and yet we do it anyway, "just to see what might happen." Curiousity is a wonderful character trait, but we would do far better not to make a Tacoma-Narrows of our lives.
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September 19, 2003
More on St. Thérèse
Regarding the difficulties many have with reading the work of the Little Flower
from St. Benedict and St. Thérèse: The Little Rule and the Little Way
Dwight LongeneckerIf the first-time reader has to struggle with the mundane minutiae of sixth-century monastic life in Benedict, then in Thérèse he has to struggle with an even more difficult dose of "ordinariness." At least there is some historical interest in reading about the sleeping arrangements of sixth-century monks, but Thérèse takes us into the detailed life of the nineteenth century French bourgeoisie. Her writings are full of spiritual points made through the events of ordinary days. So we are plunged into the details of visits to relatives, a first train ride, trips to the seaside, and the traumas of a little girl's school days. We are told about playtime with her sisters, quarrels with the maid, and the joy of cuddle with Mommy and Daddy. Those who are looking for a lofty spiritual treatise will find in both Benedict and Thérèse a hefty does of ordinary life instead.
And doesn't this just make perfect, natural sense. Ordinary life is where our spirituality plays out. Even if are advanced contemplatives, we are not transported bodily from where we spend time sweeping the floors and caring for children. God speaks to us in the trauma of our children, in the difficulty of getting a stain out of the carpet, in the trials of cleaning baked-on cheese and who knows what-all off of the casserole. He speaks to us in the commute to work and in the trials of the day (getting enough paperclips--getting rid of too many paperclips, the copier is skipping pages--the copier is making two copies of every other page). Spirituality is not divorced from life, it is reinforced by life. Our reactions and our actions of each day are what come out of our hearts. They are where we are most real, where we have the least time to don a mask and put on the "company face." And so they are the best mirror of our spiritual life. Exalted states of prayer are, for most of us, the exception rather than the rule. As Longenecker says elsewhere in the book, "The divine is in the details." And the details are ordinary.
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September 17, 2003
From the Root to the Tree
Following on the post below, it occurs to me that if we accept God as Father, the next step stemming from the radical image is to truly regard each human being as brother and sister. Again, we're good at using the words, but for most of us that fact has no reality because it does not influence in the slightest the way we live. That is where the truth of our beliefs lay--if they shape what we do they are real. If they are silent and do not inform us, they are dead, beliefs in word only.
The reality of the human race as family escapes many of us. Perhaps it escapes most of us. Maybe only the great missionary saints really have any idea of what it meant. But it stems from the fact that God is our Father. He is our Father in more than a distant and fearsome way. He is our Father in a way that will transform and change us, if we allow it. More,
from Psalm 139:13-16
13 For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb.
14 I will praise thee; for I am fearfully [and] wonderfully made: marvellous [are] thy works; and [that] my soul knoweth right well.
15 My substance was not hid from Thee when I was made in secret, and intricately wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
16 Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being imperfect; and in Thy book all my members were written, which in continuity were fashioned, when as yet there were none of them.
(KJV)
He has thought us, each one, individually into being. He has guided our making with a tender hand. He is the founder and root of our being. Our parents conceived us, but He guarded us on the way to our birth, and He nurtured and knew us in the womb. How much more a Father then, than one who may only supply the genetic material.
We are family. We so often show it through sibling rivalry and our attempts to beat each other up. Perhaps it would be better if we thought of ourselves all sitting down to Thanksgiving Dinner after a pleasant day of preparation and reacquaintance. Perhaps we should try to be on our best behavior rather than parade our "us and them" attitude.
The logical consequence of truly believing that God is our Father is to believe that we are all brothers and sisters. If we do believe this then it is time to stop making excuses about why we cannot express it, or how we aren't called to this or that ministry, and make the attempt to treat the people we encounter each day more than civilly. We must learn to treat them with a deep-rooted love of a family with so loving a Father.
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September 16, 2003
Finding A Way
It occurred to me in the middle of reading Father Dubay's very fine Prayer Primer that I was once again on the wrong track. One of my tendencies is to derail so easily. Once again I was in my head looking for God. And He is there, as surely and as fully as He is anywhere. But it is harder for me to find Him in my head because there are so many distractions there.
Back to the heart. I am driven time and again away from the intellectual pursuit of God and back to the understanding that God is found through love. I do understand that you cannot love what you do not know. However, I also understand that if something becomes the object of study, the love you have for it is not the object itself, but the intellectual satisfaction of studying the object. That is where I often wind up when I pursue the path of the mind toward God. I do love Him, and it is a good thing, but what I really Love is the pursuit of knowledge of Him--not really Him at all.
God granted me the privilege of being a father so I could further learn to love without intellectualizing. I do love my wife in this way, but I needed to expand my repetoire. I needed to love someone who starts out utterly dependent and who grows into his own person. I needed to learn to love someone as a Father loves a Son, so that I could understand the family of the Trinity--not in the theoretical precision of love and procession, but in the intimate details of how a Father gives his whole heart to His Son, so at the merest slight the Father's heart aches and sorrows.
This is the purpose of all the mundane details of life. All of the things we are reluctant to share because they are too trivial. It is in this trivial realm that we become the real people that we are. Everything else is, to some extent, patina and pantomime--mere surface and sensation.
We become Holy by learning to love through all the lessons of life, difficult and easy. We do not learn this from a book or from study, although both of these things are very helpful along the path. We learn more from a Saint's life and actions, I believe, than we do from a Saint's words. Because as good as those words may be, they cannot convey the fullness of the experience of God in the way a Saint's life does. There is something about a life that allows no mask of misunderstanding to intrude and override. We do not need to interpret through the muddle of words, but are confronted with direct action.
Now, I also know that the inspiration of each person comes from different directions but always from the same source. So, while I say that I am more inspired by a life, others might be more inspired by writings, or a word, or some other aspect of encounter with God's grandeur. The important point is to know and to understand where you best meet Christ and to go there often, wherever it may be. If you find Him in the writing of Dorothy Day, then it would be well to spend time with the writing of Dorothy Day. If you find Him in great art and literature and music, so be it. Most importantly, be very honest about where you really encounter God. No matter how much I love literature, words, music, and art, it is in my interaction with my precious wife and son that I am made most aware of God's guiding hand. It is in the small kernel of the loving family that I become aware of what I am called to and God gives me the strength to answer the calling. Sometimes inspiration springs from other quarters but love stands naked and needy at the heart of the family, and it is there I am most likely to see Him, embrace Him, and welcome Him. It is in the detail of daily life that I become most aware of the action of God.
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September 15, 2003
While I'm In Embarrassment Mode
I thought I'd mention Davey's Mommy, who in several places about her blog wonders about the purpose of blogging on mundane matters and not talking about deeply personal, close-helf stuff. And I just have to interject that it is often though what others consider the mundane aspects of their every day lives, that I find new elements and moments of grace. Endless discussions of what the Bishops are doing wrong or right, or why these Catholics are bad Catholics and those are good ones, or why some foreign yahoo I don't even know is kindling for the fires of the Inferno, simply don't open me up to the workings of grace. But to hear the small triumphs of a day--building a castle with blocks, making dinner, just being who we are and living out our vocations--those things speak to me in a voice that demands change. They teach me things and they call me to be a better father, a more compassionate friend, and all round a better exemplar of Christ.
So to Davey's Mom and to all of those who wonder whether it is worthwhile to share what you do--the answer is YES. You do not know who you bless or how with what you choose to share. Even if you don't dive down into the muck and murk of your own souls and dredge up all manner of grisly objects to show the world, you bless us (come to think of it, perhaps more than if you ran an online confessional monologue). Don't worry about not being able to talk about deeply personal matters. You don't know how simply and mundane things transform your audiences bit by bit. You make all of us better people by simply living your lives and sharing what you choose to share with us. Thank you.
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What is Our Cross?
I read this and it completely changed my perspective on the day. Please read it before continuing, it is worthy and more than worthy of your attention.
On the feast of the exaltation of the Holy Cross, I did not ask myself what my cross was. Every day I have a new idea of what that might be. And I realized reading M'Lynn's entry, that my cross is myself. It isn't all those little things that burden me each day. It isn't someone else or something else. It is nothing other than myself and how I choose consciously or through habit, to react to what is happening around me.
I remember when Samuel was a little baby, he was as unlike other little babies as you can begin to imagine. Whereas other children would sleep through Mass, Samuel would fuss and then cry, every mass without fail. I'd go into the Church and he'd be practically asleep and when the entrance hymn started those eyes would fly open and the fussing would begin. It would, if untreated, quickly escalate into outright screaming. The only remedy for it was for me to get up and go back into the entrance hall and walk around through all of Mass. And I remember feeling sorry for myself and wondering why he couldn't be like all the other children who slumbered peacefully during Mass. At points I concluded that I had gotten the "Omen" baby. I don't know that I ever really got over it, but when it became clear that it would happen every week, I adjusted to the fact--not gladly.
That reaction is my cross. In fact my reaction to much of the world is my cross. It was these lines that made this so clear to me:
M. is not my cross--as my hubby said afterwards, she's just perched on top of our crosses, looking cheerful at being able to get a good view of everything, maybe jumping up and down a little. I wonder what the congregation is getting from watching me hustle my decidely odd child around the church.
And I'd like to share what I get when similar things happen in my own church. Though you may not believe it, I am blessed. I am blessed by a mother who is aware enough of her child to care, and who is aware enough of the people around her to try to do something. I am blessed by having someone else to pray for rather than being stuck in the rut of how everything isn't going precisely the way I would like it to. I am blessed by the knowledge that we are all "fearfully and wonderfully" made and all deserving of love.
And as I am blessed by all of those who struggle, and who should not be ashamed or embarassed at their burden, so too I've been blessed by what M'Lynn has written for us. She's made me aware that my greatest cross is me--not others, not the world, not my burdens, but my reactions to them.
M'Lynn has reminded me that every moment, no matter how difficult, every breath I draw is a gift, it is a moment that God is present to me, if I choose to make myself aware of it. Every moment is Divine, in the sense that He is Lord of all time and outside time. And now I feel called to return to Jean Pierre de Caussade Abandonment to Divine Providence. Perhaps one of the meanings of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross is that we are to see how relatively unburdened we are all compared to that Man who took all upon Himself and put an end to it once for all.
(Thanks M'Lynn for the reminder.)
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September 14, 2003
Quotable Samuel
This morning before we went into the Church for mass we heard the enormous ruckus of a pair of Sandhill cranes coming from points undisclosed in the parking lot. Samuel and I trekked through a couple of plant barriers that had narrow gaps to go and look at this truly remarkable and wonderful pair of birds. In the course of doing so Samuel got scratched on his lower leg. He noticed this at Mass and pointed it out to me.
Later in the car on the way home he said, "Some sticks are pointful, but many are not."
Isn't that a wonderful reflection for the Feast of the Triumph of the Cross, for our Lord has hurt by both those that are "pointful" and those that are not. Lord, forgive us our sins, may we triumph by the sign of the glorious Cross.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 11:32 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
September 12, 2003
Reflections on Faith
from Guigo the Carthusian.
Guigo the Carthusian quoted in Ordinary Graces
Lorraine Kisly, ed.We all live by the same bread, each of us receiving his own share. . . In this gift which I have received I possess the whole of Christ and Christ possesses the whole of me, just as the limb which is possessed by the body in its turn possesses the whole body. Therefore that portion of faith which has been distributed to you is the fragment put in your mouth; but unless you reflect, often and devoutly, on what you believe, unless you will as it were break it up into pieces with your teeth, that is, with your spiritual senses, chewing it and turning it over in your mouth, it will stick in your throat, that is, it will not go down into your understanding. . . . Faith offers to us things which we cannot see, and there must be great intellectual labor before such things are passed down into the mind. Unless this dry bread be moistened by the saliva of wisdom coming down "from the Father of light," you will labor in vain, for what you have gathered up by thinking does not penetrate to your understanding. . . Therefore your faith will be idle unless by often thinking about it "you earn your bread by the labor of your hands." And yet, you cannot think about all you believe, or understand at once all that you think, but only by degrees, and as it were in fragments; and so your food can be properly prepared only by great labor.
Further the deponent sayeth not.
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September 11, 2003
Simple Gifts
Simple Gifts
'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free.
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be.
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
Twill be in the valley of love and delight.When true simplicity is gained,
To bow and to bend we shall not be ashamed.
To turn, turn will be our delight,
'Till by turning, turning we come round right.
The Shakers were/are an interesting protestant contemplative/mystical order. They maintained celibacy for all members and gained members only by recruitment. Presently there is a small community of Shakers living at the ancient residence of Sabbathday Lake in Maine.
Theologically they were terribly wrong about a great many things, unless you slant and nuance them just right. But this song encapsulates a truth that can resonate through Christianity regardless of the denomination.
This page will tell you far more than you might ever care to know about the Simplicity of God. But let us just accept for the moment that God is simple, of single substance, indivisible, whole, and uniate. Then, it would seem, to best mirror Him, we should be likewise. We should not live with a divided heart. All that we have and all that we are should reflect God's glory.
But the reality is that we are a divided people. Our hearts rest only when they rest in God, and for most of us that means that our hearts rest only momentarily before skipping on to other concerns. God is a strong presence in our lives, but for many of us, the slightest breath of discontent or of pleasure, and God is wiped out of all consideration--suddenly we are on our own.
Jesus tells us, "Where your heart is, there your treasure shall be." He teaches simplicity, "You cannot serve God and Mammon." But we do not practice it. And we do not practice it because we convince ourselves that it isn't true. That we can do both--we are superpeople, capable of conquering the world and subduing it and rendering right sacrifice and duty to God.
For those who really think this, a newsflash--"We are more than conquerers through Him. . ." not through our own efforts, not through what we do, but through what He IS.
So, throughout the day, I find myself singing this song and recalling that indeed, it is a gift, perhaps in our language a Grace, to be simple. And in being simple, we become free. For the only freedom lies in service to God and to our fellow man.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 7:45 AM | TrackBack
September 9, 2003
On Vocations
Yesterday I received news that a good friend's daughter recently entered Mother Angelica's Poor Clare convent. After a moment of shock (I had never known anyone who actually took this step--so I was surprised) I warmly congratulated the very proud father who had shared this news.
I shared this news with a couple of other people and invariably I have gotten the same reaction from them, "Wasn't she kind of young to make such a decision?" Now, I'll admit the thought had flashed across the surface of my brain, but I rejected it remembered St Thérèse, St. Dominic Salvio, and St. Aloysius Gonzaga, all very young.
It seems that nowdays, a person of eighteen years or so is considered too young to make a lifetime decision. But I wonder--isn't it a bit presumptious on our part to preempt the action of God. It isn't as though a vocation is a choice in the ordinary sense of the word. Certainly one must ultimately choose to follow where the vocation leads, but if we understand vocation properly, isn't it the tender tug of the person toward God under God's aegis?
So then, who is too young to follow God? Medieval hagiographies had legends of children who from the womb were preaching the word of God, and while that may be more than a little odd, St. Thérèse spent much of her young life playing at "Nuns in the Convent" with her sister Celine.
No matter, I am truly delighted that this young woman is exploring the meaning and possibility of vocation. There is good reason for long internships in the course of joining an order. The discernment of vocation is no easy task. It is also no decision to undertake lightly. Please pray for this young woman as she begins the journey of discovery of vocation. Pray that if she has a vocation, it is made resoundingly clear to her and that she remain true to it despite the currents of the world.
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September 4, 2003
A Most Interesting Note from Thoreau
A Most Interesting Note from Thoreau
As ever I greatly lament the paucity and the weakness of my own writings when I compare them with even the hasty jottings of one like Thoreau. This excerpt had me completely spellbound and captive.
Journal of Thoreau excerpted in Ordinary Graces ed. Lorraine KislyIn youth, before I lost any of my senses, I can remember that I was all alive, and inhabited my body with inexpressible satisfaction; both its weariness and its refreshment were sweet to me. This earth was the most glorious musical instrument, and I was audience to its strains.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:51 PM
September 2, 2003
Witnessing Christ in Creation
Witnessing Christ in Creation
A superb slender book of excerpts regarding facets of the Christian Life, Ordinary Graces compiled by Lorraine Kisly presents a number of quotations regarding the Christian encounter with the natural world. I'll excerpt two.
from Ordinary Graces compiled by Lorraine Kislyfrom the work of Poet Christopher Smart
For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God, duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven time round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his fore-paws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the fore-paws extended.
For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.
For fifthly he washes himself.
For sixthly he rolls upon wash.
For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may not be interrupted upon the beat.
For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.
For ninthly he looks up for his instructions.
For tenthly he goes in quest of food.
For having considered God and himself he will consider his neighbor.
For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.
For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.
For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying. . .from The Grain of Wheat: Aphorisms
Hans Urs von Balthasar
Christ as recapitulation of creation: as new Adam he encompasses everything human, but he also incorporates the animal realm in himself, since he is lamb, scapegoat, sacrificial ox, ram, and lion of Judah. As bread and as vine he incorporates the vegetative. Finally, in the Passion, he became a mere thing and thus reached the very bottom of the world's structure. This reification is most evidenced in the sacraments and especially in Christ's quantification in Communion wafers and in his multilocation Christ as printing matrix, as generic article. Such reification has its cause not at all in a subsequent desacralization of the holy by the Church, but in an intensely profound personal decision of the Redeemer, and in the strongest possible effects of the redemption itself, whereby the Lord makes himself irrevocably a thing at the disposal of anyone who requests it.
One quick note--even in his aphorisms von Balthasar is incredibly long-winded.
I loved both of these excerpts because they gave points to ponder--a direction to look in order to see the sacred in the ordinary. To look at one's cat and see the mind of the maker is a cause for great joy--to see how perfectly attuned and constructed such an animal might be to the will of God is indeed an insight.
The second insight probes our understanding of Jesus. Again the notion of Jesus recapitulating all of creation is profound and thrilling. Paul hints around at it in Romans when he says that all creations groans awaiting the redemption--but this direct statement is gorgeous and a new way of thinking about the efficacy and sufficiency of God alone.
I hope the book continues to provide readings of such caliber. There will be much to be learned from it.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 7:59 AM
August 11, 2003
Spiritual Combat Revisited I have
Spiritual Combat Revisited
I have been reading the book with the title above on and off for a couple of month. Last night I finished a section that prompted some fairly serious thought.
from Spiritual Combat Revisited Jonathan Robinson of the OratoryThe good in us is God's and the evil in us is our own. However much this may go against contemporary modes of thought, this unpleasant truth is the lesson of Scripture and the teaching of the Church. But it is not just contemporary modes of thought that find the truth repellent--it is we ourselves. Somewhere, buried not all that deep in ourselves, is a conviction that we are not really all that bad. Here we have to learn to pray for the humility to see and accept this fundamental lesson of the Gospel about the human condition. (p. 56)
I wonder about this--not about the truth of it, but more the nuanced subtleties of it. Stated this boldly it begins to sound a bit Calvinist. One would expect the next words to be "utter depravity." But scripture and the Church both teach that mankind was created good as part of a good creation; this would seem to imply that there is something good. Now, as Mr. Robinson points out, that good comes from God, and yet we experience it and are part of it and are inseparable from it. Therefore, it should not come as a surprise that we tend to embrace the good as our own doing. But it is not, it is part of our being, but not something we have caused to be. Whereas everything that God made is beautiful and good; and yet, we see the tracery of destruction, unhappiness, and corruption throughout the human world. Why is this? Because we are, in fact responsible for all of that. Everything that is ugly, unwieldy and depraved is of human origin--perhaps promoted and encouraged by the Evil One, but willingly undertaken by people themselves.
Do we accept that all good is from God. Intellectually, every Christian acknowledges the truth encompassed in this passage; however, equally our emotional aspects resist it because it seem a vast abyss wherein we will become utterly lost. If we accept that we are capable only of evil (St. Thomas Aquinas points out that the only act a person is capable of without the assistance of grace is the rejection of God's will) then we might begin to think of ourselves in that fashion.
And yet, we are loved by God and we are loved for ourselves--corrupt, imperfect, and unloving. His Love makes us worthy of love. If we lean on that and rely upon His goodness to support us we will begin to understand to truth of the passage above without sinking into a mire of self-revulsion and hatred--hardly conducive to active Christian ministry and life.
So we must carefully tread the brink of an abyss--total self-involvement and self-assurance and total self revulsion. With the truths of the scripture and the teachings of the Church these two resolve quite readily and we needn't think about the act.
However, we do need to adjust ourselves to the fact that we are in need of transformation, and everything that is foul around us, is more than likely contributed to by us. Even if not, it is the product of human beings and not of God. We need to be very careful about taking credit for all the good that flows from our Gracious Lord and part of our examen should be to tease out those places where we continue to give ourselves credit for what we do not do ourselves.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:01 AM
August 7, 2003
We Are All Sinners
We Are All Sinners
And all subject to temptation.
We are not perfect nor do many of us wish to be.
The first step in conversion is to recognize Jesus Christ and know through Him the love God has for us.
The second is to desire to be all that we are in His eyes.
Sinners though we are, God does not look upon us as such. He looks upon us as children.
And children that we are, we need to strive to please Our Father, as all young children do.
My daily prayer, O Lord don't let me become a teenager in faith
or
if it is thy will, get me through adolescence quickly.
God loves us into eternity if we will stop our struggling to be free and remain free in His loving embrace.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 7:47 AM
August 5, 2003
Make Heaven Here on Earth
Make Heaven Here on Earth
Speak the truth in love.
That's it. When we speak the truth, we share Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ is the only solution to all that ails us. He is the Truth. He is the only light that matters. We count on Him for transformation. We count on Him to change the entire world. This is the Truth that sets us free--free for complete service to Him. Praise God and thank Him for all His holy works, by them we are transformed and made whole.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:10 AM
August 1, 2003
Humility
Humility
Mark at Minute Particulars had a particularly interesting post about humility. I excerpt part of it below to comment:
To a humble mind nothing is more astonishing than to hear its own excellence.caught my eye from the link in the post below. Sure it makes sense at first glance. As another translation has it, "nothing is stranger to a modest person than to hear about his own excellence." But just think about it for a moment. Are any of us really amazed to hear of our own excellence? How deep does humility have to go for one to be truly astonished that another person might find excellence in us?
And I have merely an anecdote to comment on this. Each year, I am taken into my boss' office for my annual review, and every year I come out astonished that I have once again fooled everyone and hidden my utter incompetence. I think it is quite easy to be astonished by hearing of our excellence in certain situations. I never fail to be astonished when someone writes to say that something here has been useful or helpful. Then I think, "Well, I must not have gotten in the way of the Holy Spirit so much that time."
No, astonishment at our own excellence I think is rather the norm for most of us. It is very satisfying and rewarding, of course, but unendingly surprising. And I certainly wouldn't rank my humility as being up their with the Blessed Mother's.
Oh, and here's my chance to astonish Mark if he happens by--his blog is always interesting, articulate, and wonderfully informative. If it isn't on your list of places often visited, you would do well to add it. I never fail to be edified by him or by Mr. da Fiesole at Disputations. There now, two people have a chance to gauge their astonishment. But I do say that I am always blessed when I make the attempt to engage and understand the discussion that comes from either of these two bloggers--at home or abroad.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:40 AM
July 31, 2003
Learning Humility through Blogging
Learning Humility through Blogging
One of the very best things I have gained through blogging is a better appreciate of the virtue of humility.
Let's face it--most of us have blogs because we think we have something to say that will be of interest to others. When I started, I thought that I was, perhaps, above average on both the writing curve and on the level-of-interest curve. Well, blogging has cut me down to size. There are a great many better writers--or perhaps writers who take more time with the material they place of the blogs--, a great many better thinkers, and a great many better Catholics than me. I learn from them all and am grateful. I am also grateful for the perspective.
I make my living in a writing-related field. I have always written--so much so that I have lit(t)erally reams of paper tied up in journals, drafts, sketches, and abortive attempts at various forms of writing. I had never disciplined myself to consider lengthy nonfiction writing. And as the results here show, I still have not disciplined myself to good lengthy nonfiction writing.
I am grateful to others who have shown me both different methods of reasoning and better ways to convey what needs to be said. But each day is an exercise in humility as I consider that a great many in the blog world are earning their livings in the field I would rather be in, but never figured out how to break into. Frankly, I can't do Catholic Journalism--I don't have the interest in the passing things of this world to devote energy to describing, exploiting, or announcing them. I could, with some additional work, do Catholic Cultural news--books, music, art. Things that matter in longer terms than the current events. And with some additional work I could do poetry (talk about your lucrative fields!) and fiction.
All of this I have learned from blogging. I have also learned that just about everyone I read could conceivably do the same. One is led to the overwhelming question--"oh do not ask what is it"--what really do I offer the writing community.
And for any of you who are asking the same question the answer is the same--a unique voice, a unique viewpoint. There is no other me (for which many breathe a great sigh of relief) and thus no one who sees as I see or who has been blessed in the way I have been blessed. I cannot tell you about the spiritual experiences of others except as they have been documented, but I can tell you about how I meet God and He meets me. I can tell you about what the view looks like from my perch.
So, if blogging gets you down ocassionally and you wonder what's the point--there are so many better, more talented, more polished, more intelligent, more (whatever) voices out there saying things that people really need to hear, remember that your voice is yours uniquely. Your trials are yours uniquely, and how you meet them, handle them, and share them is something no one else can really tell us about. We grow through this sharing.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:11 AM
July 30, 2003
Seeking the Truth
Seeking the Truth
Sometimes (or at least this morning) I wonder if there is any acitivity more rewarding, more invigorating, or more likely to assist in fostering a love of God than seeking the truth. I also wonder if there is any activity as potentially aggravating, blood-pressure raising, or alienating.
To seek the truth means striking a fine balance between being completely empty-headed and allowing every new thought to wash away an old one, and being a rigid defender of interior orthodoxies that may or may not bear any resemblance to the truth.
What is fascinating about seeking the truth is the enormous number of ways in which it can be done. One can study, relying upon the guidance of the Holy Spirit and previous Saints, and think one's way through a give question. One can pray, and largely ignore the presence of questions, waiting for God's will, his own Good Time, and a faithful Dominican or Jesuit (some would say that is an oxymoron) to advance the answer to a question you never knew existed. One can search the scripture with an open heart and look for the only Truth that matters. One can converse and commune with like or unlike-minded individuals and tease out points of agreement or disagreement. It is the points of disagreement that are more likely to be fruitful, as everyone might be mistaken in agreement. There's the potential in a disagreement that (1) either someone is correct or (2) using an Hegelian dialectic one might approach the truth more closely.
To my mind, no matter how it is pursued, there is little on Earth more rewarding that seeking the truth. If we do so, we will find it, or rather, for the faithful Christian, Him, and He will set us free from the burden of being correct, free from the burden of knowing better than anyone else, free from the burden of needing to be somehow superior. In short, He will give us His peace and understanding, which are sufficient and superabundant.
But receiving this gift does not mean that we should abandon the pursuit, for once we know Him, we seek to explore more fully the truth in all of its possible ramifications and meanings. Some are given the scholar's path, having minds hones to the winnowing of wheat and chaff when it comes to information. Others walk the path of prayer--not eschewing the richness of scholarship (just as scholar's do not neglect prayer) but prefering instead the gaze of love that so informs. Still others may walk any of a myriad of paths that the Lord has laid out for them. Each person tracing his own path shows all others the multiplicity of paths available to all. They become beacons and an invitation from the Lord to all the Earth. Each of the Saints walked in the way of truth and showed us how to do so. So now, our legacy, what we owe to the rest of humankind for all generations, is to follow those who came before us in walking the path Christ has laid out for us. We preach far better by what we are and what we do than by what we say.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:21 AM
July 24, 2003
Gratitude
Gratitude
My heart is so full of gratitude and a strong sense of the presence of God. The generosity of people discussing seemingly mundane and minor issues at Disputations has been so profound and moving. Each person actively seeking the truth, actively offering others the fruits of prayer and reflection--this is the very best of blogdom. The richness of charity has been monumental, and I have been blessed over and over again with insights, revelations, and clarity. Thanks to all who are so magnimous and kind in their sharing.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 4:13 PM
July 18, 2003
Sin and Freedom
Sin and Freedom
We stand at a greater or lesser approach to a vast anoxic mudflat, the stench of which is an assault on Heaven itself. Some stand at the very edge of this flat, constantly deciding not to step onto it. Others have already taken the first steps and are discovering the difficulty of a mud flat--once you step out into, the mud itself works to keep you there. Still others, through habitual sin have waded far out into the mudflat and discovered the unstable thixotropic center. (A brief digression--a thixotropic fluid is thick like a solid but flows when a lateral pressure is applied. These solids also have the property of liquefying when a sudden shock such as an earth tremor is applied. The most famous natural example is quicksand, but quickmud while less common is even more dead.)
Once we are entangled in that center, through habitual sin, we find ourselves gradually drawn down until we struggle to move even a little from the pattern. We find that the habit takes over and the motion of the will is at best feeble and weak--deprived of any intensity of purpose. We don't really want to leave the center of sin. It has grown comfortable and familiar.
Sin is paralyzing. This is one of the reasons, I suppose, that so much mention is made of Jesus healing those lame and paralyzed. Sometimes the physical paralysis was seen as punishment for personal or inherited sin. But the paralysis is also a metaphor for what sin does to us in a spiritual way. When Jesus heals a paralytic the injunction is to "go and sin no more." The paralysis has been lifted--it is possible to choose once again.
Many of us need this radical power of Jesus in our lives. Many of us are paralyzed by our sins. Worse, many do not even see that they sin, habitually, frequently, and in defiance of clear injunctions that tell us what we are doing is wrong. We are paralyzed and blind.
The amazing thing is that one simple turning to Jesus, one motion, one indication that we have come to realize our plight, and we can be healed. Admittedly, it is difficult, sin has so dulled our senses and so balked our motion that any turning, any recognition is a trial--but it is a trial that can be endured. More--looking at the face of Jesus, adoring Christ in the Eucharist, being present to Christ in the Scripture, taking one moment to serve Christ in the persons of our oppressed brothers and sisters, can burst all bonds asunder, can drive away all darkness, and can clear the way to making a good confession and being transformed from a paralytic to a functional member of the Kingdom of Heaven.
If you cannot pray, know that the Holy Spirit prays within you, and choose to act in a way that recognizes that God is sovereign and present. Then prayer can start. Look at Jesus, reach out to Him and say, "Lord, if thou willest, I shall be healed." And then be prepared to accept the healing and the joyful mission that comes with it. The Kingdom of Heaven is ever active--never passive. It strides forcefully, joyfully, powerfully out in to the world of men and transforms that world forever. It leaves in its wake powerful eddies and currents that draw many invisibly closer to God. They may not be aware of His presence, but they are subtly transformed and prepared to accept His existence and His glory as a reality. When we are freed from sin and declare that triumph to the world, the world responds joyfully. We may fall back--it is always possible, but we gradually learn through practice how to avoid those places that lead most directly into the center of sin. In each of us one of the seven capital sins tends to predominate, and provides the most direct path to the center of the mire. When Jesus frees us, we proclaim freedom to the world, we transcend the powers of this world and draw some part of it with us into redemption. This is part of what St. Paul meant when he talked of the fallen world groaning for release--when Jesus frees us, He frees us with the purpose of freeing all. We are to proclaim release to the captives with full knowledge that we once were one of them, and we know the shape and the smell of captivity. We also know that it is not our destiny, nor the destiny of any of God's people.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:01 AM
July 16, 2003
Two Parables of Grace from Sanibel
Two Parables of Grace from Sanibel
My trip to Sanibel brought some much needed relaxation and peace (much to my surprise). It also gave rise to some magnificent parables of human reaction to God's grace. So I offer a couple of them here.
I.
To what shall we liken man's reaction to divine grace. We are like the coquina, snugly secure beneath the dome of a beautiful orange-and-white cockle. A beachcomber removes the cockle exposing us to sunlight and we, with all our strength and speed burrow under the sand.
Or we are like the coquina in the shorebreak. The waves come and wash away the sand and we are exposed momentarily in the light. Realizing our danger, we burrow back into the sand. Only because we are so small, we cannot burrow far because we could not live, so the next wave exposes us once again. We exhaust ourselves in escaping from the light.
II
We are like the white crabs caught in the back tidal channel. We scurry about contentedly until one searching for shells walks through the channel. Then we raise our claws and wave them threateningly and back away or scurry away to the side.
III
We are like the great blue heron on the beach, waiting patiently for the fisherman to catch a fish and throw it to us. However, should that fisherman turn and approach us too closely, we back away. If he continues, we fly away entirely.
Thus, it seems to me, too often our approach to grace. We have a momentary experience of it and realize that the call may be too challenging, too "dangerous" to our integrity of the moment, so we flee it. Not in every case, and not entirely. We are probably more like the heron than the other examples, but we are wary of the fisherman who would offer us a meal for who knows what he might do if he were to turn his attention upon us--who know what he might ask of us?
Posted by Steven Riddle at 7:58 AM
July 8, 2003
Presumption
Presumption
Looking over the things I have written in the past couple of weeks, I realize that I might legitmately be accused of the grave character flaw of presumption. That is, who am I to be doling out advice or recommending a course of action. I know these things less well than many of my co-bloggers. And yet, even if I am not perfect (or even very good) in practicing most of what I recommend, I'm certain the advice is good, because it is not my own.
So when reading my posts, often addressed to "you" please recall that I am within that collective "you" and part of the purpose of writing is to continually reinforce what I know to be true and what I have experienced to be effective (when I was actually doing it). And please forgive me any presumption you may see here. It isn't intentional--it is an artifact of language and a tracing of personality.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:09 AM
July 2, 2003
Brief Reflection on a Line from a Hymn
Brief Reflection on a Line from a Hymn
At morning prayer a line from the suggested hymn stuck out in my mind and caused some rumination with respect to where we stand with Godl.
The particular line is:
"God's way is my way..."
I think all too often we think this line the other way round. "My way is God's way." That is certainly more convenient, as we do not have to alter our current orbits to adjust to such annoyances as the dictates of charity, the Great Commission, or other such things as might get in the way of leading a "normal" life in Millsian Materialist America.
But the truth is, regardless of what is convenient, we shou