Second-Guessing
In the news and on many blogs, people are questioning the reasons for entering the war with Iraq. Many are calling into question the "justness" of the war (at best, to my mind, a dubious concept). But to what point? What is done is done. Either it was just, or it was not. To spend time and energy fretting over why and when and where and what the reasoning might have been seems indulging in a futile endeavor. Worse, such hand-wringing tends to indict those who in conscience prosecuted the war. All of this is simply judging ex post facto what is really beyond the ability of any of us to judge while here on Earth.
Rather than rehash and rewarm and reargue the entire event or chain of events, it would seem better to learn from the experience, and perhaps to explore how one might achieve the famous Kollwitz Nie Weider Kreig. Now seems more a time of prayer and acts of reparation, because even if the war were just, innocent people died (admittedly fewer than had been expected, but nevertheless. . .), and injustices were committed. In prayer, we remand all of these things to God's care and we trust in His providence to make good what may have been less than good. We trust Him to protect and care for all of those away from home and still facing danger and we trust Him to protect the people of Iraq from future oppressors and from those who continue to struggle, perhaps only to rise again once a suppressing presence has left.
I suspect that the main cause of all the hand-wringing is the mercifcul absence of most other news of import. And thus, I suppose I am better off with the hand-wringing that with the news that is likely to drive this out of the headlines. Unfortunately, I know that if nothing else happens (God forbid), we will have to listen to this through the next election. Still and all, it gives us pause for deliberate and well-considered prayer.
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.
Another Carmelite Celebration
And a particularly important one for the times. Today is the commemoration (memorial) and Feast of the Carmelite Martyrs of Compiègne whose sacrifice is attributed with bringing to an end the French Revolution.
Their sacrifice is particularly relevant for those of us today because they lost their lives for simply existing and being members of a relgiious order. This is the fierce power that secular society can and does turn on those who accuse it simply by their way of living. These martyrs are glorious witnesses to God's truth, and I pray that if I am faced with the same decision these noble women faced, through their intercession and the intercession of the Holy Mother of God, I may have the strength to choose the difficult crown rather than the easy way.
For more about the Martyrs of Compiègne, see William Bush's magnificent study To Quell the Terror, or listen to François Poulenc's Dialogue of the Carmelites based on a libretto by Georges Bernanos. Also related, Gertrud von Le Fort's ficitionalized account Song at the Scaffold. The lives of these great martyrs is food for thought for this day and for many more.
Later this week--the Feast of St. Elijah--Father of Carmel.
Feast Day: Our Lady of Mount Carmel
Mother of Contemplatives, pray for us.
Mother of all who seek your Son, pray for us.
Gracious Lady, Mother of Our Order, Light and Guide, pray for us Carmelites, and all who seek a more profound union with your Son that we might find it.
A blessed day to you all. And to all Carmelites, a wonderful feastday, may it serve to bring us ever closer to living out our vocations in such a way as to draw people to Our Lord and Savior.
Sanibel Trip
As you can tell from the post below, the Sanibel trip was a wonderful and unexpected success. I have been blessed beyond words by it. I am also blessed by the realization that it was well that I was not brought up in such a place because I could not possibly be doing what I do now. The extraordinary beauty, charm, and peace of such a place is so strong a magnet that I honestly do not think I could ever voluntarily leave.
St. Isabel's church on Sanibel was a small but lovely building. I always evaluate a congregation by the prayers of the faithful. I listen for some reference to our leader and "respect for life." By this standard, I'm afraid St. Isabel's didn't pass muster--no mention whatsoever, which doesn't mean anyting for certain, but at least sets up the radar.
The beach is a magnificent place to experience God in all of His wonder and beauty. I am thankful for the momentary opportunity afforded by this break.
I hope all is well at St. Blog's and in my absence nothing self-destructed. Being one of the mainstays, I know that the equilibrium must have been threatened and thrown off--so even if everyone remains silent, i will be assured that everything has been restored to the way it should have been. (:D)
By the way, in mere days, I celebrate my first full year here. It has been a fantastic growing experience and I thank everyone of you who have made it so fulfilling a time. May we all continue in being blessings to one another.
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?