Giving myself timelessness

I do not ask you to forget the present and imagine that it is Holy Week. Rather, I invite you to be open to the thought that you are now calling the present is Holy Week, for all time was there, is there, at the cross. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I have previously blogged on this passage here, and given the subject matter I shouldn't be surprised that it still seems relevant as I start reading this book for the fifth or sixth time. I've reflected on it so often that I will probably often find, as I'm prompted to write again by this excellent read, that there are few passages I haven't already written about. Still, this is part of my enjoyment of this great book, and I am certain it will continue to be relevant to my faith journey. I will therefore share, probably with no audience, my thoughts as I progress through it again in the upcoming Lenten season. After all, I'm in a different place from where I've ever been before, so I can expect to have new insights. 

I have actually tried to pick this book up a couple times in more recent years, since my last total reading. But I've always concluded that I've waited too late into Lent or Holy Week to read the whole thing. I've therefore skipped over this beginning part, and as a result missed coming back to this central point that makes the entire rest of the book work for me, as I discussed in that previous post. Relationships deepen when the present obscures other urgencies. So this year I hope to give myself the gift of fully rediscovering this treasure as I take the time to reflect on Jesus' love as revealed in this defining purpose of His Incarnation. I hope to keep the demands of life from distracting me from reading and meditating until I find something I want to reflect on, perhaps for the second or third occasion. I hope to enter more deeply still the relationship to which my loving God always calls me, being drawn more fully into the unfathomable depths of boundless Love.

Thoughts on a pastoral letter by St. Charles Borromeo

Beloved, now is the acceptable time spoken of by the Spirit, the day of salvation, peace and reconciliation: the great season of Advent.

It feels like a time to acknowledge the ways that I grew as a disciple last year, and the ways that I did not. More importantly, it feels like an acceptable time to let the Lord turn some of the latter into the former. I don't know why I keep feeling like I'm missing out on something by denying what I've let myself think of as a part of myself. But I think it's time to trust that God provides for the things that really are needs, just as he has provided abundantly for us financially.

When I pray the fifth Sorrowful Mystery, I contemplate the Seven Last Words of Jesus on the cross, along with the last three Stations of the Cross. One of these is, This day, you will be with me in paradise. I'm reminded, too, of the words of Psalm 95: Today, hearken to the voice of the Lord. This day is the acceptable time, and while that is true of every day, it feels especially true of this wonderful season of Advent.

One day, though, we will find that all days are one this day.

When we remove all obstacles to his presence he will come, at any hour and moment, to dwell spiritually in our hearts, bringing with him the riches of his grace.

True, except. It makes it sound as if it's up to us to remove all obstacles, when the only obstacle we must - or can hope to - remove is our stubborn, selfish will. As soon as we submit that to him, humbly, even acknowledging when we can't accomplish it, but only want to, and recognizing that the wanting is a gift of the richness of his grace, too, we find him transforming our desert into an abundant garden of spiritual blessing. The more we cooperate with his grace, the more he blesses us, or rather, the more we can receive his blessings.

So this Advent season, the Church calls us to prepare for him the place that matters most.

Incarnation

6/8 Intro/Interlude: |D  A G  D|Bm  |D  A G  D  |F#m 
  A       |D        |A        |D  A   G  D  |(F#m) A     |
Imagine a time, one moment containing ev-ry mo  -  ment
D                        |A      |G          Em       |Bm     |
Poignant, mundane, breathtaking, heartrending  and sublime
     |Em     F#m   |Bm7         |Em       A    |Bm7sus4 Bm7  |
Each joy and every sorrow every heart has ever known
G        Em      |Asus4  A   
Touch upon God's timelessness

Interlude

Picture a |place so |open  it|reaches every |place
from vast |galaxies down to |leptons which our |senses can't per|ceive
|Mountaintops and deep |oceans, shining |stars and prison |cells
Im|merse in God's sacred |presence

Refrain:
     |G   Em     F#m         |Em   A/C#    Bm   |
O my God, You're beyond all imag  - in  -  ing
          Em           Gm          |Bm          
though we struggle and yearn to conceive
      |G   Em    F#m        |Em  A/C#   Bm  
You reveal yourself in your love for    us
        |G          A         |Interlude
Give us hearts that burn to believe

Con|ceive of every con|ception every |one has ever |fathomed
Phi|losophies and in|ventions, |plots, ideas and |schemes 
Each |wonder science dis|covers and |mysteries not yet re|vealed  |
Marvel at God's |boundless mind

Interlude

Consider a |love so |giving it |begs us all to |enter  |
Bearing each hurt and |betrayal, re|turning forgiveness and |peace   |
Shining great light in deep |darkness, bringing |hope to those in des|pair   |
Fall |into God's |loving arms

Refrain

Bridge:
G             Em              |G            A     |
  Since we're told that we're made in God's image
G        Em         |G       A     |
  We assign God our image as well
G          Em              |G            A        
  Bound by physics, space, time, and our feelings
    |G             Em    |G                 |Asus4   |A Tacet 
our minds cannot hope to grasp all that God is

But know this small |child, one |infant who |touches every |person For|saking the glory  of |heaven to be|come as one of |us     |
Born to deliver, by |dying and rising, |all people unto him|self
Come |enter God's |very life

Refrain

© 2015, LifeKnell Music Ministry; All rights reserved.

Incarnation

(edited 10/10)
At last I think I have finished this song about which I was so excited when I started it, nearly two years ago. It turns out that I needed time away from it to get out of my own way, to figure out how to rework the lyrics so that, while they may actually seem more awkward (at the end of each verse and the bridge) to read, the music and therefore the entire song now flow much better, and the parallelism between the verses is vastly improved. I also have a tentative title that I like at least a little.

I am highly indebted to the motivational influence of other wonderful songwriters. I was inspired to start this song after hearing the talented members of the Heider family share their music in a house concert. I was moved to revisit it after rehearsing for the first time with Keri Edwards, Kris Krumal and Nic Cardilino to accompany their wonderful songwriters' concert.

This is, of course, too long, and way heady, but there is a point to both of these shortcomings, as it's so broad in what it attempts to convey (which may literally be the understatement of all time and eternity).


Incarnation

Imagine a time: one moment containing every moment
Poignant, mundane, breathtaking, heartrending and sublime
Each joy and every sorrow every heart has ever known
Touch upon God's timelessness

Picture a place so open it reaches every place
from vast galaxies down to leptons which our senses can't perceive
Mountaintops and deep oceans, shining stars and prison cells
Immerse in God's sacred presence

Refrain:
O my God, you're beyond all imagining
though we struggle and yearn to conceive
You reveal yourself in your love for us
Give us hearts that burn to believe

Conceive of every conception everyone has ever fathomed
Philosophies and inventions, plots, ideas and schemes
Each wonder science discovers and mysteries not yet revealed
Marvel at God's boundless mind

Consider a love so giving it begs us all to enter
Bearing each hurt and betrayal, returning forgiveness and peace
Shining great light in deep darkness, bringing hope to those in despair
Fall into God's loving arms

Refrain

Bridge:
Since we're told that we're made in God's image
We assign God our image as well
Bound by physics, space, time and our feelings
Our minds cannot hope to grasp all that God is

But know this small child, one infant who touches every person
Forsaking the glory of heaven to become as one of us
Born to deliver, by dying and rising, all people unto himself
Come enter God's very life

Refrain

© 2014, 2015, LifeKnell Music Ministry; All rights reserved.

Confirming (phase 3), - Interrogated, denied, mocked, tortured and condemned . . . (step 25) - sessions 5 and 6

Back before Pilate and the episode with Barrabas; condemned by the people

Jn 18:28-40

Having omitted the council's trial and any mention of Herod, St. John gets down to the details of Jesus' condemnation. The council replies to Pilate's inquiry of charges with, basically, "He's a bad dude. You won't let us kill him, so you do it." But they must have said something about Jesus claiming to be a king, because of Pilate's next interrogation of Jesus.

Still, even when Jesus concedes his kingship, Pilate does not see it as any threat to peace in his region of responsibility. The greater threat is from the potential uprising that seems to be developing over his refusal to execute Jesus.

This ties right back in with thoughts over the last couple of weeks regarding how fear drives us to take actions that we would otherwise reject as clearly unjust. He mentions (another) possible way out, knowing that Jesus must have some popularity among the people or the council wouldn't be worried about him. But those supporters appear to be absent. From fear? By manipulation? Both?

At any rate, the crowd that is present asks for Barrabas, not "this one." Every time I read (or chant) this Passion, I want the crowd to spare him, even though it is only through his wrongful death that I have been delivered. It still seems to wrong. It violates me. More below.

Scourging, mockery and condemnation to crucifixion

Jn 19:1-16

Pilate hopes that his torturing and mocking of Jesus will appease the rabble clamoring for his death. By comparison I suppose it might seem an attempt at kindness. Again we see evil done because of fear. In the end it does nothing but cement their determination to have him killed.

Fr. Neuhaus points out how rather than condemn us as we deserve, God himself submits to our condemnation of him. (Really, if you haven't read Death on a Friday Afternoon, stop shortchanging yourself with my brief references to it!)

Pilate should not be misunderstood to be compassionate toward Jesus. He is being pragmatic, avoiding by the most expedient path the uprising that will surely cost him his governorship. Usually an unjust execution would be more likely to cause such a commotion than preventing it would, but it becomes apparent to him that this is not the case, and for this reason alone he acquiesces to the crowd.

I thank God for the great love he shows by his incredible sacrifice. He is never taken by surprise at anything we do, as he has seen us do it.

Confirming (phase 3), - The Last Supper – Second Part: The last discourses of Jesus (step 23) - session 3

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you

Jn 14:15-31

If you love me, you will keep my commandments. - (15)

Only if Jesus is really the Son of God are these not the words of a manipulative control freak! Because he is, we know that what underlies these words are a deep love and a knowledge that God only commands what is best for us and for all of his beloved children.

And I will pray the Father, and he will give you another Counselor, to be with you for ever, even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him; you know him, for he dwells with you, and will be in you. I will not leave you desolate; I will come to you. - (16-18)

We are never alone, and in particular, we are always in the presence of eternal God, not just in his general omnipresence, but also because we are specifically indwelt by the Holy Spirit. Many of us do not ask the Spirit to manifest his (her/its; I'll use the one with which I'm most comfortable and won't mind if you do the same) presence and power in our lives. We have this idea that because we have the Spirit we are free to go about our lives in the normal ways of the world, when the God's great desire for us is that we allow the Holy Spirit to move in us in ways that transform us. He wants to pour gifts through us that make all the difference in our faith walk and in the lives of our brothers and sisters. Okay, more on the Spirit as we approach Pentecost. But for now, even as we see our Savior walk to his death for us, we are not left desolate.

In that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. - (20)

The time I'm most aware of this truth is during Mass. I love that Fr. Dave invoked the Communion of Saints tonight at the Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper. At every Eucharist, we are united with God as we consume him, and are likewise united with everyone who ever has taken or ever will take part in this heavenly feast and sacrifice.

 Judas (not Iscariot) said to him, "Lord, how is it that you will manifest yourself to us, and not to the world?" 

Jesus answered him, "If a man loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him. He who does not love me does not keep my words; and the word which you hear is not mine but the Father's who sent me. These things I have spoken to you, while I am still with you.- (22-25)

Humility facilitates the movement of God in our lives. When we insist that we know best and ignore what God has revealed, or attempt to bend it to our own preconceptions of how life should be, we hinder the movement of God through our lives. It isn't that God is incapable of working in us by some limit of his omnipotence, but that he loves us too much to violate our free will. But when we humbly submit to his plan for us, he does more than we could ever dream of.

But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. - (26)

Again, I'm sure there will be later opportunity to consider the roles of the Holy Spirit, but I often find that he reminds me of a key scripture passage or prompts a deeper understanding of some aspect of our faith walk just when I need it most.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. - (27)

The world offers us the absence of conflict and sells it to us as peace. It insists that we compromise our integrity and stifle the gospel, and markets it as peace. It presents us with a tenuous ceasefire and trumpets it as peace. It uses fear to motivate us to sell ourselves short, to settle for less than we are in Christ, and when we do it rewards us for having accepted peace. But in the face of fear or of conflict, Jesus offers us the assurance that we are his for all eternity, that our foe is also beloved, and we have the confident assurance to be who he dreams for us to be in him. That is peaceful, right down to the core of our being.

If you loved me, you would have rejoiced, because I go to the Father; for the Father is greater than I. - (28b)

When we love another, we want what is best for our beloved. I think of the friends to whom I have bid farewell and as they have moved on, and of the family members who are walking in God's love for all eternity. I rejoice for their sake, and in our unity in the Holy Spirit (see above), even as I so wish that I could see them smile and hug them close once again.

I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of this world is coming. He has no power over me - (30)

And he has no power over us, either, for we have our eternal victory in Jesus Christ.

I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father. - (31b)

We talk all the time about how Jesus gave his life because he love us, but we don't much consider how Jesus himself kept the two greatest commandments in proper order in his own life. Yes, he loved us, as himself. But he loved the Father with all his heart, all his mind, all his soul and all his strength. The expression of his love for us on the cross is even more an expression of his love for the Father. Likewise, the saints' and martyrs' greatest sacrificial acts toward those around them have likewise always been inspired by the Spirit and rooted in the love of God.

Conforming (phase 2), God So Loved the World - The Birth of Jesus (step 9), session 5

In the beginning

This session uses my favorite Gospel from the different masses of the feast of Christmas.  The vigil mass calls for St. Matthew's account of the genealogy of Jesus and the events from St. Joseph's perspective. The midnight mass reading is the only one to use St. Luke's account of the angels and the shepherds and no room in the inn, and is the Gospel that our parish uses at every. Christmas. mass. for the last ten years, because "everybody wants to hear this one," I guess. The mass at dawn is supposed to use the aftermath of the shepherds' visit, still from St. Luke.

For me, the Gospel designated for the mass during the day is the one that best captures the magnitude and context of the events of which all the others are mere details.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God; all things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. - Jn 1, 1-5

It is as if God himself has delivered these words back to me today, when I have so desperately needed them to overcome my own darkness!

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came for testimony, to bear witness to the light, that all might believe through him.  He was not the light, but came to bear witness to the light.  The true light that enlightens every man was coming into the world.

He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world knew him not. He came to his own home, and his own people received him not. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God; who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God. - Jn 1, 6-13

This is the very point of the only-begotten, eternal son of God becoming a son of Adam: that we might be granted our place as children of God!

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth; we have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father.

(John bore witness to him, and cried, "This was he of whom I said, `He who comes after me ranks before me, for he was before me.'") And from his fullness have we all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God; the only Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, he has made him known. - Jn 1, 14-18

I love this gospel reading, and my determination to read it on my own on Christmas day faded away in the decompression of our dear grandchildren being gone and the decision to spend the evening with friends. I am so glad that I have now been brought back to a chance to reflect on it a bit (even if it does mean that I'm about two weeks behind where I should be in the Exercises).

The gift of grief

It occurs to me that heartrending grief is a gift by which God provides us the slightest glimpse of his love for each of his beloved sons and daughters. This should be the context in which we understand Jesus' entire human life and all of salvation history.

The fact is that God will never have the sort of need for us that we often have for our loved ones, which drives so much of our grief. God is complete without us. Yet God's love for us is somehow simultaneously infinitely more even in the absence of need than ours is as motivated by need. God's ache for us for our sake is somehow greater for us than our ache for our lost loved ones, which is so often for our own sake, and naturally and understandably so.

But our loss is compounded by not knowing - at best daring to believe - what our eternal destiny in relation to our loved ones might be. It seems to me that God's grief on our behalf must be even greater when he has seen that one of his beloved ones will choose to separate him- or herself from him for all eternity.

More on the axis mundi

continued . . .

every thought every feeling every motivation every failing every success every selfless act every crime each joy and every sorrow every heart has ever known, understanding each person's brokenness and loving them in it and knowing and embracing their healed soul

It's a thought that could be dreadfully frightening, actually, if not for the fact that it can only ever happen in the safety of our perfectly loving God, where no one will ever hurt us again.

The axis mundi

By these three days all the world is called to attention. Everything that is and ever was and ever will be, the macro and the micro, the galaxies beyond number and the microbes beyond notice -- everything is mysteriously entangled with what happened, with what happens, in these days. This is the axis mundi, the center upon which the cosmos turns. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I guess my song isn't so original as I thought. It has clearly been influenced by what I have read previously.

As wonderful and awesome a place as we keep discovering the universe to be, it is still less awesome than this!

I find that my conception of eternity expands a bit on Fr. Neuhaus', though. Imagine a time, one moment that captures every moment, all moments and all places present simultaneously, the creation the fall from grace the great flood the testing of Abraham Joseph in Egypt the great exodus the kingdom of Israel David the Babylonian every prophet every birth each heartbreak every triumph every death the manger the temple Jesus' ministry the First Supper the cross the empty tomb Emmaus Thomas blind Saul/Paul the martyrs and saints all in God for all eternity

Words cannot adequately convey the concept, nor can the finite mind fully grasp it.

A poor reason, and some good ones

Some scholars speculate that "Good Friday" comes from "God's Friday," as "good-bye" was originally "God be by you." But it is just as odd that it should be called God's Friday, when it is the day we say good-bye to the glory of God. Wherever its name comes from, let your present moment stay with this day. Stay a while in the eclipse of the light, stay a while with the conquered One. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I find myself referring to quotes I've referenced on previous readings of this magnificent book, but in new ways. I've reflected before on the first part of what I've quoted here, but am now really wanting to focus on this latter part; I've only included the first two sentences of this citation because the part I wanted to include refers back to them.

I've been told before by a Catholic adult catechist, almost dismissively, that Catholics do a great job of focusing on Good Friday and a terrible job of truly celebrating Easter. Honoring Fr. Neuhaus' invitation to not rush to the resurrection, I nonetheless find that I am utterly convinced that the reason we're so bad at rejoicing in Jesus' (our) victory is that we are, in fact, just awful at truly entering into all that Good Friday should mean for us. If it were primarily about making us wallow in our guilt then, yes, we would excel at it! If the purpose of our meditation on this day is to make us more neurotic about the terrible thing that we did to Jesus, many of us could stop right now because we have that part down pat! As Jesus told his disciples about being clean, though: But not all. There are definitely some who do not associate enough of their lives with sin that something must be done about. And when I enter into eternity, I pray that I don't find that I am one of them.

But there is so much more about Good Friday for us to enter into than just the surface ideas at which we often stop: that it was my sin and guilt that Jesus bore on the cross so that I could be free from it, that God's love for me is so great that Jesus was willing to do this for me. Please don't think I'm being dismissive of these great tenets of our faith! So many of us have failed to grasp even the surface implications of these glorious truths.

But because God is infinite and eternal and Jesus is God, there is so much more depth to enter into in our reflections on this holy day, more than we can get in a full human lifespan, let alone in the time that most of us spend at the foot of the cross. It will take eternity for us to know it fully, just as to know God fully, in the personal-relationship sense. The purpose of a redeemed soul's prayerful reflection on Good Friday is not to increase our sense of the guilt from which Jesus has set us free, but neither is knowing that we are free from our guilt a good reason to forsake any further reflection.

I find that learning more of the depth and details of this mystery into which we enter (by the Holy Spirit) fills my heart with a greater sense of awe at God's infinite glory as revealed incomparably on the cross. It strengthens my desire to share God's love with those around me who have not chosen (or been able) to immerse themselves in the unfathomable depths of this incomprehensible love. It causes me to marvel at my increased understanding of the infinite vastness and infinitesimal detail of this glorious love. It gets my eyes and thoughts and heart fixed on something - someOne - inexpressibly beyond the limits of my mind.

And it makes me more aware of the utter abandon with which I am called to lay down my own life.

Have a blessed Lent!

More from Augustine on what this feast means

What man knows all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge hidden in Christ, concealed in the poverty of his flesh? . . . How great are the blessings of his goodness which he reserves for those who fear him and shows to those who hope in him? Until he gives them to us in their plenitude, we can have only the faintest conception of them . . . from a sermon by St. Augustine, bishop

No matter how much we think we know God, on this earth we remain mortal, finite beings trying to understand the eternal, infinite maker of all things. We try to understand God's love and God's motives in terms of our own, because we have been told that we are made in his image and likeness, and yet our limited time, knowledge and power and our profound selfishness fundamentally distort our experience of love. Thus we reject God because he doesn't do what we think we would do if we were endowed with infinite love, knowledge and power, and if we were unbound by time as God is. If we consider more closely the things that we say we would do (better, of course) in God's place, our stated choices would invariably contravene the free will which he has bestowed on us, unhindered by any fear of us and motivated by a love for us which is greater than we can understand.

. . . but to enable us to receive them, he who in his divine is the equal of the Father assumed the condition of a slave and became like us, and so restored to us our likeness to God. The only Son of God became son of man to make many men sons of God.  

And, again, St. Augustine leads us to the true miracle of Christmas. Too often we focus on the manger, shepherd, angels and wise men, and fail to consider what it means for the eternal Son to become a mortal son. That may be best. Even the most faith-filled mind struggles to understand how such a thing can be. But let us not forget the reason: not just a baby born two thousand years ago, but our own adoption and transformation into what would otherwise always be beyond us.

St. John the Apostle

On this feast day, again so close to Christmas Day, we at least get a taste of the eternal perspective with which St. John begins both his gospel and his first epistle. Though I like the development and the context of the former more than the latter, I am happy that the first reading of the Office of Readings today is brings us a good chunk of the first chapter from this letter. For a moment I felt chagrined, as I misunderstood the beloved apostle as chastising me for still having emotional darkness, but then I saw that he was referring to the darkness of unacknowledged sin.

And I took great encouragement from St. Augustine's reflection on this epistle. What a great work God did in the conversion of this brilliant man's mind from lesser philosophical pursuits to the unfathomable depths of God in Christ Jesus!

     Someone might interpret the phrase the Word of life to mean a word about Christ, rather than Christ’s body itself which was touched by human hands. But consider what comes next: and life itself was revealed. Christ therefore is himself the Word of life.
     And how was this life revealed? It existed from the beginning, but was not revealed to men, only to angels, who looked upon it and feasted upon it as their own spiritual bread. But what does Scripture say? Mankind ate the bread of angels.
     Life itself was therefore revealed in the flesh. In this way what was visible to the heart alone could become visible also to the eye, and so heal men’s hearts. For the Word is visible to the heart alone, while flesh is visible to bodily eyes as well. We already possessed the means to see the flesh, but we had no means of seeing the Word. The Word was made flesh so that we could see it, to heal the part of us by which we could see the Word. - from a treatise by St. Augustine on the (first) epistle of St. John

Merry Christmas, 2013

Sadness should have no place on the birthday of life. The fear of death has been swallowed up; life brings us joy with the promise of eternal happiness. 

No one is shut out from that joy; all share the same reason for rejoicing. - from a sermon by St. Leo the Great, pope

Indeed, in these days when I have been missing my loved ones so much, I have also been feeling united with them in the one Hope that we share. I know others whose hearts are heavy this Christmas season, whose grief or fear is perhaps too fresh to be dismissed by today's glad tidings of great joy. I pray that you will touch their hearts anyway, Lord, and draw them into your presence in a way that transcends and includes their current feelings and circumstances.

May your heart too, dear reader, be flooded with a deep and abiding sense of God's loving presence, as we are united in him and all those we love in the eternal moment.

("Transcends and includes," in regard to God's work, seems to be my idea of the season. I just used it last week in a letter to a friend, too.)

Jealousy

You high mountains of Bashan, 
you rugged mountains of Bashan,
You rugged mountains, why look with envy 
at the mountain where God has chosen to dwell, 
where the LORD resides forever? - Ps 68: 16-17

I get one sense of these verses as a boast and a comfort: other mountains may be higher, but Zion will have the Lord's dwelling forever. While addressed to Bashan, these verses' target audience might well be the inhabitants of Mount Zion.

In these latter days, of course, the Lord has made his dwelling with each of us, and so there is no need for any of us to have envy of another. What more could a mere human want than for the eternal creator of the universe to make his home within our mortal flesh? Why then do we continue to long instead for the gifts that belong to our brother or our sister rather than appreciating those which are rightly ours?

And yet in love our heart often aches for the presence of those gone from us. It is hard for us to know at the depth of our being that we are united with them always, that God will never allow us to truly be separated from one another. The unity of the Holy Spirit may seem a more ephemeral thing than the physical space and time which separate us, can seem more myth than the ever-present pain in our heart, and yet I hope we discover it to be the more real and eternal truth.

More Good Friday thoughts

From separate sources, yet connected:

Lord Jesus, 
raise us from our own falls, 
lead our wandering spirit 
back to your Truth. 
Do not allow human reason, 
which you created for yourself, 
to be satisfied with the partial truths 
of science and technology 
without seeking to pose the fundamental questions 
of the meaning of our existence
(cf. Porta Fidei, 12).

as quoted in the Way of the Cross at the Colosseum, Stations of the Cross led by the Holy Father Pope Francis, Good Friday, The Passion of the Lord Meditations by Lebanese young people under the guidance of His Eminent Beatitude Cardinal Béchara Boutros Raï (as requested by His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI)

This resonated with me, for the exact reason that modern science uses to reject the role of faith. Scientists insist that clinging to the concept of a creator of our universe will suppress the discovery of all that science can learn. If we don't seek out answers because we simply attribute everything that exists to God, we can never discover in full the workings of this universe. And as much as I hate that science has concluded that there is no way to allow any room for God in any "scientific" answer or endeavor, I understand the logic of this concern.

But if we conclude that our existence is a cosmic accident with no greater meaning, we arrive at the same problem! If we assume that there is no fundamental meaning of our existence, we will never seek it, and therefore can never hope to find it.

These two endeavors need not be mutually exclusive, and I love how Pope Benedict in his papacy emphasized the need for each to embrace the other.

These pages are an exploration into mystery. The word "mystery" in this context doesn't mean a puzzle, as in a murder mystery. It is not a thing to be solved, but an adventure into wonder, with each wonder that we encounter leading on to the next and greater wonder. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I didn't read this book this Lent. I thought I might be "all reflected out" on it. But no, here within the few pages I read on Good Friday I find a thought connected to the one that struck me as I prayed the Stations earlier. We have become so arrogant as to conclude that if a thing appears insolvable, we must reject it rather than allow ourselves to "pointlessly" ponder a thing that we have firmly made up our minds about.

For instance, many have seen the truth that "there is great suffering in the world" as incontrovertible evidence that the idea that "God is perfect love" must be false. If we begin with the stance that there is no greater meaning to our existence, we will not allow ourselves to consider how we might be reaching a wrong conclusion.

After all, what sort of love is unwilling to suffer for our beloved?

So the idea that this world is not the be all and end all of our existence does indeed cost us experiences that we might embrace if it is not so, and it is impossible for us to solve the "puzzle" of how these two things could both be true if we are convinced that the invention of religion - and an afterlife in particular - serves the primary purpose of relieving us of the stark reality of our mortality. If we believe that, then there's no point in trying to make sense of the death of an (allegedly) good man 2000 years ago: it was simply the evil of religion rearing its ugly head again.

But if our existence indeed has a greater meaning - if the pain of this life serves some purpose, if sacrificial love matters in the cosmic scheme of things, if there is an eternity for us to enter into, if we're not just an accident of physics like countless others before us and countless more to come - we can only learn that by trying to plumb how it might be true rather than insisting that it can't be.

This takes a humility which is counter to our nature, and Christians are often as removed from it as atheists are.

Holy Thursday/Good Friday adoration reflection, 2013

(The time indicated below is for the benefit of one brother who might like to know a specific time that I was lifting him up in prayer, and others who are also praying for him. Also, this color text was in my mind but not on the paper.) 
With Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel at St. Helen Parish:

Usually, Lord, I am here at a later hour, and my meditations have moved on to the events of that holiest Friday when you finished pouring out your life for me. Perhaps I have given this time with you in the Garden short shrift, so maybe it is appropriate, Lord, that I am here earlier this year, at the conclusion of a Lent in which I have frequently fallen asleep, as (if I may be so bold) my fellow disciples are doing this night.  You have called us to keep watch, and though you have gone off to pray, Lord, where I can't see you, I will wait this night with Peter, James and John, and await in prayer what is to come.

After night prayer:

Fr. Satish, our associate pastor, has encouraged us to view the Triduum through the eyes/perspective of one of the witnesses of these events. I am finding myself drawn to Peter:

"I would go to jail or even die for you!"
"You will never wash my feet!"
"I do not know the man!" 

Lord, you know how like him I am anyway: rushing into commitments I don't understand; thinking I've "got it" in one moment only to have you remind me in the next that I will never in this life be able to fully "get" all of you there is to be gotten. And how many times have I denied you with my own decisions? You don't rebuke me harshly in any of this, Lord, unless I get stubborn about it.

Take this first Eucharist that you shared with us tonight, Lord. Even with two thousand years of perspective, even as deeply as I think I've entered into and experienced it, I know I have only begun to feast on your Presence. How much more confusing it must have been for Peter and the others who partook of this Paschal meal with you while your Passover was not yet complete! No wonder we celebrate these three days as one event of salvation. You give us your Body and Blood in the upper room, but the giving isn't finished until tomorrow when you die, or fulfilled until Sunday morning when you rise again, or completed until we are transformed in you. Just as each Passover your chosen people celebrate their own delivery from slavery, so at each Eucharist we are present with you in the upper room, and at Calvary, and at the heavenly banquet we will celebrate with you for all eternity. Then we will get it.

But now I just hunger for you, Lord, that the infinite, eternal, holy You which (whom) you give us will take hold of my limited, time-bound sinful self and transform me as you long to, for my sake.

And like Peter, Lord, I often don't fully get the fullness of this foot washing thing. I keep feeling as if being yours carries with it some sort of perquisite, some benefit that I can get puffed up about. I sometimes feel "above" being served and so miss the crux of really laying down my life and serving. Of course, tomorrow you're going to show what that really means, but we're still in the Garden, and I think I shouldn't rush ahead just yet. Let me realize for a while that I'm still confused, I still don't "get" all of it. And though I've fallen asleep at times this Lent, Lord, I know you're going to use even that for good, somehow.

How often, Lord, we eat of you without allowing you to fully transform us into you.

11:07 p.m. (which is 8:07 where a dear brother is who is on my heart:)

As I sit here in your Presence, keeping watch, I am reminded both of my unworthiness of you and of the wrong ideas I've had of my unworthiness. I've had the idea that it is either something that disqualifies me from you or something I must amend. I know that this thing you're doing for me, Jesus, is exactly to address the whole issue of my sin, to teach me the full extent of love. I'm so grateful to be here with you, and pray that my brother has a deep sense of being with you, too, this night in the Garden and throughout the sacred Triduum. Bless him, Lord, with a deep, peaceful awareness of being in your Presence, of being in You.

Has Simon Peter drawn his sword yet and cut off Malchus' ear? So many of us who follow you are trying to defend you rather than lay down our lives with you! We think we're doing right, but in getting militant we fail to love, fail to allow you to love through us. Help us instead drink the Cup you have given us, the cup of your Blood.

later:

As I sit and struggle for alertness, for focus, I'm struck by how judgmental we can be of others' shortcomings. How often I hear people put down the apostles for not quite "getting it," failing to see how inadequately we ourselves have gotten it so far. Likewise when we spout the phrase, "There but for the grace of God go I," we too often mean something more like a Pharisaic prayer: "Thank you, God, that I'm not like that wretch!" It is an odd and great blessing to know my own wretchedness and be transformed by Jesus out of it.

My Jesus, you're about to be betrayed by someone you love. Too often it has been me. I pray tonight that  instead of abandoning you, denying you, or betraying you, I might instead walk along your way.

Thought from retreat

Near the beginning of the day, our regional liaison for the charismatic renewal was sharing some thoughts from Pope Benedict's document on the current Year of Faith, and some other thoughts from the Holy Father's Ash Wednesday homily.  I'm not sure which of these was the source for the thought that caught my attention and resonated for me: the idea that the Eucharist is the summit of worship.  I know plenty of people who believe that social outreach ministry is a higher calling.

I'm sure I must have written before against a popular approach to our faith that has begun to dominate over the past century: that its chief value is in how it moves us to be a force for social change in the world.  In Catholic circles, the theology behind this thought is sometimes summed up very briefly in a very reasonable sounding idea, "The Eucharist is created for us, not vice versa." I had a former pastor,  whom I love dearly, who was fond of quoting this as he opposed any excesses, as he understood them, in Eucharistic adoration.  But there are a couple of truths which get mixed up in this misunderstanding, and of these, the first is probably the one that most gets at the root cause of the error.

It is the failure to fully understand that the Holy Eucharist is Jesus Christ.

Of course, it is ridiculous to suggest that any of us fully understands this.  Only when we participate fully in the heavenly banquet for all eternity will we begin to approach this level of knowledge of God.  Yet even understanding to the smallest extent that, in ways we do not fully understand, the Eucharist is Jesus Christ, leads us to understand that we were indeed created for the Eucharist - though not to meet His needs, for He has none.  And this is where those who use that phrase have it right, for indeed the Eucharist was instituted to meet our need for spiritual food.  Done right, worshiping the Lord in the Eucharist is a key element of eating his Body and drinking his Blood.  (More on which aspect of Christ's body was created/instituted for which in a bit.)

First, though, is the thing that this modern theology usually gets right when its adherents lament the practice of regular Eucharistic adoration (an objection which they have wrong, in most cases).  They point out that the traditionalists' emphasis on reverence for the consecrated elements in the context of the Mass often comes at the expense of a recognition that Christ is just as really present in the assembled Body as in the Eucharistic elements of the Body and the Blood.  They are often right about this, yet the one ought not come at the expense of the other.  In this sense, it is true that we and the Eucharist have indeed been created and instituted for each other.  According to God's plan for us, we do not become his Body - and individually parts of it - to the degree God intends unless we are fed by the spiritual food, in which Christ gives us himself as the nourishment we most need.

So my chief objection to the phrase as it seems (to me) to be misused is in its implication that the purpose of the Eucharist is to equip us for the social outreach that many mistakenly consider the "real purpose" of Christianity.   Indeed, this viewpoint holds that the chief purpose of our worship is to make us the best version of ourselves - itself a concept on which Matthew Kelly has written extensively that is worth investing our energy and effort into - so that we might go forth and do what we're really supposed to be about.  The truth of the matter is that we frequently put too little effort into the things that God might have us do, but the purpose of our relationship with God is not for us to do those things.  Rather, a relationship with God is the greatest good our lives will ever know, and inevitably when it is all that it should be it leads to our transformation - which is of course a good thing - and our social outreach - which is also a good thing.

And yet to say that our personal growth or our social ministry is the purpose of our relationship with God gets the two greatest commandments out of order.  Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love the Lord our God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength, and that the second is like it: to love our neighbor as ourselves.  Now, these two are inextricably linked for us, but their linking does not make the second commandment equal to the first.

Of course, God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and it is impossible to love God without loving our neighbor.  And if we love our neighbor rightly, we will enter more deeply into our relationship with God in the process.  So maybe this whole megapost is just an arguing of unimportant semantics.

And yet it seems to me that I see way more people lose their perspective on the truth by focusing on service of others and trying to let their spirituality flow from that than by focusing on worshiping God (though perhaps I've just been blessed by being around true believers).   Putting service ahead of worship puts us at risk of despairing over the injustice we perceive in our neighbors' suffering.  Worshiping first reminds us that God is God, and we, though his Body, are not God.  We are his presence in the world, yet in God's infinite eternity he remains greater than any finite collection of our finite minds can fathom. It is certainly possible to go through the rituals of worship without entering into a true relationship with God in the process, but then the lack of fruit - the absence of transformation and service - eventually becomes evident.

|:A reflection on :| prayer

The highest good is prayer and conversation with God, because it means that we are in God’s company and in union with him. When light enters our bodily eyes our eyesight is sharpened; when a soul is intent on God, God’s inextinguishable light shines into it and makes it bright and clear. I am talking, of course, of prayer that comes from the heart and not from routine: not the prayer that is assigned to particular days or particular moments in time, but the prayer that happens continuously by day and by night. - A homily of pseudo-Chrysostom

I rebel against this, at first reading.  Certainly, the deep prayer in the quiet time of day set aside for it does more to deepen my walk with the Lord, right?  And yet there is a truth here, that the continual awareness of and attentiveness to God's presence with us brings powerful transformation of our lives as we walk moment-by-moment.  And yet the first may be a prerequisite for the second.  How do I learn to hear the voice of God throughout my life?  Is it not only by listening, harkening to it in specific, designated times of prayer?  If I fail to train my ears to hear him by such practice, I might mistake any robber's voice for that of my Shepherd.

I'm reminded of an exchange I just had with a friend, and of a reflection by a renowned Protestant evangelist and teacher, Oswald Chambers.

First, my friend is trying to teach her son of the importance of doing his repetitive math homework, even though he thoroughly understands the concepts and aces the tests.  Beyond the issue of being evaluated on these assignments is the self-discipline he must develop to be prepared for the day when he needs such reinforcement to truly master a subject.  It's hard to convey this to a young person, but that term "discipline" is of course rooted in the idea of being a disciple, one who applies himself to the following of a person or a way.  There is, of course, no greater discipleship than to follow Christ, and all other self-discipline we learn serves us well in this greatest one.

In one of the daily reflections in My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers reflects on our expectation that we'll just somehow be ready to pray and make holy choices when the large matters come along. He says this is akin to an army trying to build its munitions in the trenches.  The disciplines of prayer and sanctified living must be developed before the battle, or the battle will be lost while we're building our weapons.

Indeed the soul should not only turn to God at times of explicit prayer. Whatever we are engaged in, whether it is care for the poor, or some other duty, or some act of generosity, we should remember God and long for God. The love of God will be as salt is to food, making our actions into a perfect dish to set before the Lord of all things. - ibid.

What a wonderful analogy.  It isn't just that our dedicated times of prayer and communion with God should direct our actions of social outreach.  Rather, an awareness of and focus on God's presence even during the labor will enrich what we strive to do, and make it even truer that our work is a matter of God working through us.

Prayer is the light of the soul, true knowledge of God, a mediator between God and men. Prayer lifts the soul into the heavens where it hugs God in an indescribable embrace. The soul seeks the milk of God like a baby crying for the breast. It fulfils its own vows and receives in exchange gifts better than anything that can be seen or imagined. - ibid.

We often think of prayer as a means to an end, that the purpose of communing with God in prayer is to change us, to motivate us to do what he asks of us, to make the world a better place as a result.  No, these things are but glorious side effects of the greatest good of God himself.  There is nothing greater that we can receive or achieve than God, and communing with God is its own end, which also and inevitably brings about these visible blessings that others see and are thereby brought to their own greatest good of encountering God for themselves.

I warn you, though: do not imagine that prayer is simply words. Prayer is the desire for God, an indescribable devotion, not given by man but brought about by God’s grace. - ibid.

And therefore by grace we are led to ask for grace.  It is the movement of the Holy Spirit - God - who draws us into Christ - God - to the glory of the Father - God.

If God gives to someone the gift of such prayer, it is a gift of imperishable riches, a heavenly food that satisfies the spirit. Whoever tastes that food catches fire and his soul burns for ever with desire for the Lord. - ibid.

"For ever," but only so long as we continue to desire this food rather than the lesser things that we mistake for it.  When we become content to satisfy ourselves with lesser nourishment, we atrophy for lack of the true nutrition our souls need.

To begin on this path, start by adorning your house with modesty and humility. Make it shine brightly with the light of justice. Decorate it with the gold leaf of good works, with the jewels of faithfulness and greatness of heart. Finally, to make the house perfect, raise a gable above it all, a gable of prayer. Thus you will have prepared a pure and sparkling house for the Lord. Receive the Lord into this royal and splendid dwelling — in other words: receive, by his grace, his image into the temple of your soul. - ibid.

My goodness.  What a tremendous reflection!  I've quoted nearly the whole of it, and want to just soak in it! I'd forgotten what riches were in the Hours during these early days of Lent!

A homily for me to be a little wary of

Fr. Dave's homily this morning was interesting.  I'm as skeptical of near-death experiences as the author of the article he read from used to be.  As encouraging as the overall message was, and even with the strength of its testimony boosted by the scientific support of the author's experience, I still have to really watch out for the third part of the message the author shared, this idea that we can do nothing wrong.  I think it's dangerous, especially in the context of the rest of the author's experience, both in general and for me specifically.

Because I still sometimes feel so daunted by the life I see ahead of me, it isn't healthy for me to think too much about how wonderful the next place is going to be without the corresponding understanding that my choices along the way have an effect on that.  It isn't that I have any illusion of having to pay my own fare, mind you, but I think I need to believe that my choices affect things beyond what I can see, including what my experience of eternity may prove to be.