An New Educational Adventure

Two days ago, on June 30th, Br. John ONeill and I arrived at Guatemala City for a few weeks of intense immersion Spanish classes. We had spoken about it a few months ago, found that a common time was available, discovered very reasonable air fares, and proceeded to make all the arrangements. Much to our advantage, of course, was the fact that the Brothers have places throughout Guatemala, including where we will be staying, Antigua.

Upon arrival, we were picked up by a driver from the Provincialate community in Guatemala City who has the uncanny ability (so we were told later) to pick Brothers out from a crowd simply by looking at their faces. Perhaps its that deer-in-the-headlights look that gives us away. In any case, before John could whip out his "La Salle" sign (red letters on the back of a manila folder and a pre-arranged signal), Marcelino, standing across the street in a mix of people greeting arrivals, took one look and had his sign up, smiling and staring right at us as we came through the glass doors beyond immigration.

A fast-paced, exciting drive through busy streets later, filled with smoke-belching buses and shops open for the evening, we arrived at the oasis of the Provincialate - a large set of buildings on a big piece of property in a gated-type community (guards at check-points with serious demeanors and real guns). The complex used to be the formation center of the District. Now, novices and scholastics go to the regional novitiate in Costa Rica while this place is used for retreats, meetings, and gatherings by outside groups. And the Provincialate and district offices are here. Its a very nice facility. (BTW, I cant figure out where the apostrophe key on this keyboard is, having tried all possibilities, so dont fault me for bad grammar.)

The four Brothers here greeted us very kindly and had dinner waiting. Brother Daniel knows English fairly well and was quite helpful in getting us settled. Toward the end of dinner, a number of young Brothers came into the dining room to say hello. They were here for their own retreat but staying in another part of the property. John was quite ingenious in communicating with all the Brothers, and soon we were laughing and relaxing as we might in any Brothers community in the world. Between halting, half-forgotten Spanish words, gestures, smiles, and guesses, we got along pretty well. In a few weeks, hopefully, our abilities will be much more improved.

Both of us slept like a log that night. Yesterday was a church holiday here - the solemnity of the Sacred Heart - and so we had a special schedule. After a breakfast that seems to simply appear in the morning from elsewhere on the property, both of us wandered around the property hunting for new birds to observe. John is quite the birder, and I am happy to tag along. We identified three new birds that neither of us had seen before, and then Br. Daniel came by to invite us join him for Mass next door with the Sisters of the Sacred Heart who were having a special Mass on their feast day.

We were placed in the front row of the small chapel, and I understood most of the Mass - in action if not in words. Being tall people compared to most Guatemalans, I felt bad about blocking all the people who sat behind us, but nobody seemed to mind. At the end of Mass, the monstrance came out and we had a procession to the inner court of the house, where a small shrine had been put up. The monstrance was placed there, many people knelt on the concrete, and a series of prayers were begun. After a while, Br. Daniel indicated that we should sneak away since this was likely to take a while; the group was scheduled to continue this prayer journey throughout the house.

This property had been sold to the Sisters by the Brothers some years ago. Several years after that, the Sisters sold a large portion of it to someone else. Without realizing it, they had sold it to very large evangelical church, which proceeded to construct a stadium church right next door, with enough room for at least 5,000 people. They fill it up every Sunday, too, which is a dramatic illustration of how active the evangelical Church is becoming here in Guatemala. On the plane ride here there was a large group of American evangelicals wearing T-shirts advertising the fact that they were service-bound missionaries for a few weeks.

Back at our place next door, the two of us continued our bird-watching adventures until lunch, which is their main meal. Again, the food mysteriously appeared out of nowhere. The food is good an plentiful, but the water has to be taken from bottles. Beer works too. A nice siesta later, and each of us did some futzing around in our rooms, reading, listening to the rain, and the like. There is a football (soccer) championship going on, called the Gold Cup, and it can be pretty exciting on the TV.

Today, after breakfast, Brother Alex took us to another location in Guatemala City where there is large complex of buildings that the Brothers run for the diocese. It consists of a school for indigenous people, a teachers college for teachers from indigenous tribes, all of whom live and learn here and support the whole operation with a large farm (vegetables, fruit, coffee, and animals). The Scholastic community for Brothers at study is also here, as is a set of buildings on the far end of the property housing 8 Postulants, 7 Pre-Novices, and three Brothers who oversee their combined 3-year program. They were all happy-go-lucky, enthusiastic, and hospitable. One of the postulants was painting a picture of De La Salle on the wall outside of their entry gate, and we all took several photographs to commemorate the event.

And so now it is towards evening on our second full day here. Its been raining on and off all afternoon, but somehow that seems appropriate. Tomorrow, we will be taken to Antigua and the rest of this little adventure commences. But I think it will be a bit more taxing on the brain.

A final note: Brother John wrote down a Spanish quotation that is posted inside each of the guest rooms. "Uno de los grandes signos que hoy puede ofrecer la vida consegrada como signo evangelico pobre y humilde, sea sencillamente la casa: que alli donde haya consagrados haya casa abierta, acogedora fraterna como signe de communion el la eglesia." (Ciro Garcia) The Brothers explained that it is a quotation from a Carmelite theologian who describes religious life as one of simplicity and humility. The way they interpret that is by trying to live as simply as possible in community (common TV, few possessions, shared cars, etc.).

This is evident in their lifestyle; nice but simple buildings, lots of responsibilities for each of the Brothers, good and hearty meals, and a palpable sense of community (care for others, much humor and teasing, dedicated to prayer times). It has given us a fine introduction of our likely experience during the next four weeks, for John, or six weeks, for me.

This last picture here is of the chapel in the Provincialate complex, used by larger groups since the Provincialate has its own small chapel. Brother Alex explained that the first time it was used was for the funeral of Br. James Miller. Another significant connection to the experience of the Brothers in this country.

More pictures at the following link:

2011.06.11 - First days in Guatemala

The Kairos Experience

I just returned from a "Kairos" retreat with Christian Brothers High School in Sacramento; a four-day retreat experience at Christ the King Retreat Center in Citrus Heights that involved 56 students and 9 adults.

This was the 37th Kairos retreat that the school has offered, and therefore was called K37. Many years ago, I was an adult leader for the very first such retreat at CHBS, called K1, and subsequently staffed a number of them over the years. It never fails that at first I'm reluctant to go - given the time commitment, sleep deprivation, and general "on call" status for the four days of retreat - but by the end of the retreat I'm energized, inspired, and very glad I went.

The retreat is an adaptation of the Cursillo retreats for high schools. There are a great number of very honest talks, by both student and adult leaders, and a variety of activities in small groups that gradually lead participants more deeply into the recesses of who they are. Within the growing trust of small groups, students are able to help one another deal with their blessings and their challenges, their relational lives and their faith lives, their joys and their hurts. What's discovered is a common human bond of care - even for those whom you wouldn't really have paid attention to beforehand - and a glimpse of what the roots of faith's foundations look like and feel like. They may not call it that, but that's what it is.

I am constantly amazed at the goodness that shines out of the students. Something like this helps me to appreciate anew what it means to see others as true “children of God”, as De La Salle did. A retreat such as this allows the best in our relational potential to come to the fore, provides a safe place for our dearest desires for community to rise to the surface. Yes, there is a deliberate process for doing that; there are steps along the way. But it’s neither forced nor obligatory. It’s all by invitation. And the results are a freedom and spontaneity (and happy silliness) and good will that for a brief moment are given free rein – just to know that that potential is possible – before being tamed into the larger social context again upon returning to the “real” world. Neither one is a bad thing, but it’s good to know that the first is really possible and in the right circumstances can be accessed or nurtured deliberately in the future. Christianity is first and foremost about God and Love (1 John 4:8).

Students and adult leaders are able to touch a small but significant signpost to where God’s presence is found. I know that I’m personally enriched by the experience every time that I participate. When those on retreat return to the school and to their families, they are on a "K-high" for a while. And while this may fade over days and weeks, the touchstone of the experience itself remains and one knows that some very deep part of oneself was found and made alive.

My student small group was called "G2" for Group Two, and over our time together we became a close-knit group of very unique individuals who grew to appreciate each one's gifts, challenges, and life situations. While group conversations remain confidential, virtually forever (with the normal exceptions for counseling situations and issues) this atmosphere allows for rich, caring conversations.

Prayer (genuine prayer) is another key element throughout the retreat. Both for the presenters and the participants, formal and informal prayer settings / opportunities become stepping-stones for the retreat process. There is a group Mass each day and a reconciliation service on one of the evenings. But what stands out is that the life of faith becomes a natural element that weaves its way through the activities; nothing is forced or abrupt. Individuals participate as they will and as is fitting with where their faith currently lives. Hopefully, by the end of the retreat they will come to see that a life with faith enriches, deepens, and brings greater life to what it means to be human (at least in all its important parts) and an active faith life takes nothing away. To be faithful, or faith-filled, is to be fully human, which in the end is God and other directed. As St. Irenaeus wrote: "The glory of God is the human person fully alive."

The whole thing reminded me of a wonderful quotation from Nicholas Lash in a book entitled "Easter in Ordinary" - "Other people become, in their measure, 'mysterious,' not insofar as we fail to understand them, but rather in so far as, in lovingly relating to them, we succeed in doing so."

These have been days of fine mystery, fed by grace and human encounter. It remains to live them forward in small, deliberate steps that deepen the benefit for all.

Photo Notes:

Top - Entire Group

Next - Adult Leaders

Next - K37 - G2

Below: All the student and adult male leaders posed for a "Summer Collection" photo during a section of the retreat when we were all formally dressed up and waiting for the next phase of the retreat to begin. Sort of a "GQ" look.

An Alternative to Pinball

How is it that some lives dash madly around in the public eye while others meander quietly among more local paths? Public figures, media favorites, and scandal-of-the-week personalities bounce about like so many balls in a pinball machine, vying for just a second of our attention. Most of us are drawn into the game – through magazines, online news, blogs, television, and the like – completely oblivious to the fact that in doing so we are bouncing to the same tune. And yet occasionally, when we take out attention away from that strange world of make-believe and take a long loving look around us, we realize that our real world is inhabited by individuals who are, in the final analysis and by slow increments, much more interesting and engaging.

Saints seem to share a characteristic deliberateness toward the more important things. They come to learn that virtues such as patience, perseverance, and true piety only grow as a complete package. One doesn’t happen without the others. Patience doesn’t come about unless your keep practicing it, unless you persevere. And piety – the kind where God’s presence seeps into all the nooks and crannies of your life – hasn’t got a chance without patient endurance and an ongoing practice that is quiet and humble. The fact is that truth and goodness seep into your life together. The important things can’t be split apart.

Saints also generally fall into the apparently boring, non-public category rather than into the public pinball one. Even the very public Mother Teresa often said that one of her greatest crosses was the fact that she was such a public figure; good for her work and her sisters, but trying on her soul. Most saints are ones that Catholics would never guess in a Jeopardy game, unless their parish or school was named for that saint. Yet their personal stories are fascinating, even appealing. For years, I would read a short bio of the saint of the day to my students. Some were fascinating (think St. Joseph of Cupertino, patron saint of pilots) and others were dramatic (martyrs, mystics, miracle-workers). Most were simple folks who became known for their piety and goodness; quite sufficient for sainthood. Students were drawn to these stories and would remind me if I’d forgotten to read one to them in class. Through these stories, they experienced, perhaps for the first time, a deep resonance with a mystery that lay beyond their ken, a connection with something vaguely but solidly true, even good perhaps. All they could tell at that point was that this was deeply appealing in a way that popular entertainment was not. The apparently boring had become both familiar and fascinating in the real stories of real people paying close attention to the really important things.

The reason for this reflection comes from thinking about St. John Baptist de La Salle and his life. Having just finished reading, along with most of the novices with whom I had a class this year, a heavy tome about De La Salle by Br. Alfred Calcutt, I’m left to wonder where his genius, his charism, his sainthood lay. Yes, he was a great organizer, a talented writer, a visionary, and a theologian with a practical streak. He seemed to require little sleep, virtually no ego stroking, and very few personal comforts; in fact, he seemed to relish the opposite. He was sometimes stubborn, often kind to a fault, and increasingly bore a radical trust in God’s Providence – dangerously so, in the estimation of many.

So why was he so loved by his Brothers and by many others? Why does he continue to fascinate us, inspire us, and draw us forward in our ministry? I can only conclude that his human adventure, as it is reflected in his story and in his written works, bears eloquent testimony to the important things that draw us all forward. It opens the curtain just a bit to that which lays behind the Gospel story, if we but pay attention and step into it, as he did. His story, boring in some parts and dramatic in others – as was that of Jesus – invites us to touch that same living mystery, to live in and towards the ongoing mystery of God's presence in our midst, to meander quietly among local paths and make the ever-pregnant mystery of God alive for others.

How can you play pinball when that adventure awaits?

A Lost/Last Brother in Florida

During this last week I've been in St. Augustine, Florida, where LASSCA (Lasallian Association of Secondary School Chief Administrators) and the RCCB (Regional Conference of Christian Brothers) had their meetings, which I attended to give a workshop, a short talk, and also a regional vocation ministry report to the Visitors. The place is a sort of Santa Fe / Carmel combination, with the Atlantic on one side and a whole lot of flat land, filled with tropical-like vegetation, on the other; plus the warm weather to match. During our time here and at this time of year, it was quite nice, especially when compared to other parts of the country. There even was a chance to take a walking tour of the city, primarily featuring the contributions to the city by one Henry Morrison Flagler, the Bill Gates of his day, whose fancy 19th century hotel is now Flagler College.

The thing that was really surprising and memorable, however, was the discovery that the Brothers had been here from 1859 until 1864, when the Civil War led to their departure. Plus, it was said, there was a Brother buried in the old Catholic cemetery somewhere around here. And so during a brief respite from our meetings, Br. Tim Coldwell, Br. Larry Schatz and I set out for a walk-about and eventually found the old Catholic cemetery, closed in 1884 and now called the Tolomato cemetery, because it was located on the site of the original Tolomato Indian village. It was surrounded by a significant fence topped by barbed wire. Apparently, the place had become quite the destination for an evening visit, perhaps by one of the many "ghost walks" that were advertised along the tourist lanes of the town, and so the cemetery was made inaccessible except for every 3rd Saturday when docents would be present.

While Larry was quite willing to jump the fence, we persuaded him to desist and instead stopped by the Catholic cathedral downtown. Walking into the small bookshop inside, we introduced ourselves as Christian Brothers to the ladies behind the counter, and one of them exclaimed: "I wrote you guys a couple of years ago!" She was one of the cemetery's docents and had written to tell us about the grave of the Brother who was buried there. Finding out that we would only be there another day, she contacted the lady with the key to the cemetery and a couple of hours later Tim and I were at the cemetery for a 45-minute tour of the place, complete with a full history. Of the 1000 of so people buried there, only 105 headstones remain, one of which is the one for Br. Louis Gonzaga, aged 35 years and 9 months, who died on July 17th, 1861, and whose headstone was "Erected by the Catholics of the city of St. Augustine as a Tribute of respect for the memory of" him.

Elizabeth, the cemetery guide, also told us about a Sister Thomas Joseph at the Sisters of Saint Joseph convent in town, who wrote a history about their order in the area and who had written about the Brothers who had been there as well. So on the following day, prior to our meetings, I wandered my way over to the convent, rang the bell at 8:15 AM, and ended up spending some 20 minutes with the 84-year-old nun. At the end of our visit, she provided me with a copy of her book. The information in it about the Brothers is sketchy but precious.

The Brothers' house was located on the edge of the Sisters' present property, "where the dumpsters are now", and the Sisters lived in that house for about ten years after the Brothers had left. Apparently there were three Brothers, thought to have come from New Orleans, although Br. Tim Coldwell (the Visitor of the NOSF District) can't quite figure out how that could have been possible, since the NOSF District was officially started later than 1859. Or perhaps they had come from Canada. Elizabeth and Sister Thomas Joseph couldn't understand why they hadn't gone to Savannah instead (a couple of hours away), but Tim and I think that it's because the bishop of the area had come from Le Puy in France, where both the Brothers and the Sisters of St. Joseph had been located. Certainly the bishop would have invited the orders he had known from his home town and located them in the place with the greatest concentration of Catholics.

Once the Civil War began, according to Elizabeth, the Brothers took their boarders to Jacksonville in order to put them on a train back to the Northeast, from whence they had come, and in Jacksonville they stayed with a gentleman "of the Protestant persuasion" - according to

the records, although which records I don't know - whom they impressed with their piety. There's precious little else that we know about it all. But I think it's all quite fascinating.

So consider this entry as a bit of history, boring or exciting depending on your point of view. Here we have a Brother who was relatively lost to history, except in the memory of those whose lives he had touched and who erected a headstone as a tribute of respect. A last and lasting memorial.

It seems that age brings a greater appreciation of history, especially when you find a little informational gem like this in an unexpected place like St. Augustine. Sort of makes you wonder what other gems are lying about in our lives, all within reach but for the want of curiosity. Reminds me of the title of a little favorite book of mine, the collected gems from the writings of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, entitled "I Asked for Wonder."

What more could you want?

Our Lady of Lourdes

Today the church celebrates Mary, the mother of Jesus, and her appearance to 14-year-old Bernadette Soubirous in Lourdes, France, on this day in 1858. Much has been written about these events, and like most publicly fantastic events there is a wide range of opinion as to the veracity of some or all of the details. But to my mind, little of that matters.

The point is not found in the details of the event but rather is to be found in the details of the reactions. The event is history, in the past, gone except for the memory. What remains - more clear to some and less clear to others - are the effects of the event, primarily found in such ephemeral things as recollection, imagination, attitude, context, faith, and feelings. Yet in many ways, such things are the more important pieces, if we really think about it for a minute. It's as if God trusts us to be able to respond in ways that will move us forward in our relationship with Him and with each other.

This idea is one that Anthony Bloom brilliantly explains in a short video (one of the only ones of him that I've found) where he answers a question about suffering for the BBC.

The point is that the same is true of Mary and her role in our life, our history, and the Church's history. In her, we have one who is like us in almost every way that we might imagine. And she is a wonderful model, in the details of what she did and how she did it, of how we might also respond to God's direction in our life. She was open to God's guidance, responded in the best way she knew how, and trusted that God would show her the way each day. Nobody told her that it was easy; but she knew that it was good.

De La Salle says that "she is indeed a star which enlightens, guides, and leads us to a harbor in the stormy sea of this world... She will enlighten you and help you know God's will for you because she shares in the light of Jesus Christ her son." (Med 164.1)

This morning, at Mass in the Provincialate Community, and during the Our Father, I looked up and was literally blinded by the sun streaming into the chapel window shown above, the one of the Annunciation. The sun was streaming in through her face and struck me full on. After being taken aback, I took out my iPhone and took a quick picture (below). I don't quite know what to make of it - the historical event - but I sure was touched by it and continue to reflect on its effects in me - like a seed in my soul.

No need to be overly dramatic about it. But there's a quiet depth here that won't easily or quickly go away. And I imagine that this is the case for many of God's actions in our lives: quiet, deep, and full of potential (by us).

Prayer & Stress Management

"What good does it do to pray?", people ask. "There's nothing practical that can come from it; you're just deceiving yourself." This must sound familiar to those among us who work with young adults, or high school kids, or who have friends that have lives filled with self, stuff, and stress.

And actually it's not a bad question. There are those who wouldn't even bother with the question, dismissing prayer and the spiritual life outright. As it is, the capacity to ask the question reveals a potential for hearing the answer. You can only "get" answers to the questions that you have, not to the questions that you don't have.

This afternoon I read an article on "Psychospiritual Stress Management." The key to dealing with stress, according to the author, is hardiness or resilience, defined as "Being committed to finding meaningful purpose in life, the belief that one can influence one's surroundings and the outcome of events, and the belief that one can learn and grow from both positive and negative life experiences." Such beliefs lead to active coping measures and the perception of difficult situations as less threatening, even as learning opportunities.

For those with belief, spirituality is part of the coping process. "As spiritual beings, the act of finding meaning in adversity, of facing difficulties with courage, becomes a spiritual endeavor." I can't help but to think of the saints, and especially St. John Baptist de La Salle, when I read those words. From the time that he made a commitment to the education of the young, especially the poor, stress flew at him from all directions - opposition, disappointment, lawsuits, failure, physical pains, abandonment, and so on. Yet despite all that, or perhaps because of and through it, he grew into a spiritual giant, with enough resilience for ten people, with enough resilience to lead his Brothers for some forty years. And at the end? As he lay dying and the Director asked him whether he accepted his sufferings, he said: "Yes, I adore God working through all the events and circumstances of my life." The more difficult things became, the more resilient De La Salle became. Not in a weird, self-deceptive, or pie-in-the-sky-when-I-die way. Just the opposite. As he engaged real life, dealt with the challenges, and responded as positively and faith-filled as he was able to, the depths of that life opened up to him in ways that most of us probably cannot fully appreciate. It's one of those things that you just have to do in order to understand - like getting married, or joining religious life, or even as simple as doing something good for the person in front of you. Jumping into something with faith, with others, with resilience, makes for a whole new definition of success. De La Salle is pretty good proof that a spiritual life context is transformative, really and practically.

Research seems to support this. Recently, a study of men over 55 who had heart surgery showed that 25 percent of them died in the six months following the surgery if they had no social support and no religious beliefs, as opposed to 4 percent of those who reported both social support and strength from religious belief. In addition, there was a 25 percent "reduction in mortality associated with church/service attendance after adjustment for established risk factors such as healthy lifestyle, social support and depression."

One only has to look to Viktor Frankl's observations during World War II for confirmation. He saw that survival in the concentration camps "was based on finding meaning in the suffering. He noted pointedly that, when a prisoner lost faith in his future, he seemed to lose his spiritual grip and to sink into a psychological and physical state of decompensation." Frankl wrote that "Among those who actually went through the experience of Auschwitz, the number of those whose religious life was deepened - in spite of, not because of, this experience - by far exceeds the number of those who gave up their belief."

Paying attention to one's inner life, to what's going on during the quiet times, is eminently practical, especially when things are tough. You have to feed the soul. Our grandparents could have probably told us that. But by the time you discover something like this, you also realize that people have to learn it for themselves, and the best thing you can do is to lovingly support them as they do so. Sounds like God work.

What good does it do to pray? More than we can possibly imagine.

Really!

One of the things we do well, as Brothers, is to have meetings. They're as common as meals and prayers, it seems. Not only do we meet about things we really care about, but we regularly meet about things others want us to care about. Meetings are just part of what we do, receiving more or less enthusiasm depending on the topic or occasion.

So it should come as no surprise that we scheduled the second session of our District Chapter (a legislative body of some 40 elected Brothers that convenes every four years) to meet during our Christmas break, from December 27th until December 31st, at the latest. Between plenary sessions and theme group meetings, we were able to indulge our full appetite for meeting. And while enjoying one another's company, as we always do, and having good discussions and deciding important things, we also know when enough is enough. So, somewhat to my surprise (as General Secretary, I did more than the usual running around) we finished our business earlier than expected, at noon on the 30th. Yet despite the change in plans, an hour after we adjourned virtually everyone had left the property and all had returned to their normal busy routines - in holiday mode.

One of the reasons this stood out is because less than 48 hours later I would be taking part in an entirely different kind of meeting. On the 31st, I drove to our camp at the Russian River where a group of us welcomed in the new year with relative peace and simplicity. The following day, without really planning it, I found myself walking slowly through the paths of Armstrong State Park, a wonderful park filled with redwoods. (The picture above is one that I took on one of the paths.) Some of the trees are over 300 feet tall. You can imagine how different this "meeting" was from what had gone on before.

Trees don't move much, and if they do, they do so very, very slowly. Their agenda is different. They get to know their neighbors very well over the years, and they work with them quite efficiently and harmoniously, even symbiotically. Anything less would help neither party. Their mission statement is pretty simple - move straight up toward the light, bring nourishment to all the parts, and keep everything in balance. If something goes wrong.... well, just work around it and move on. Don't make a fuss. The "meeting rules" are different, yet very much the same. That difference, it seems to me, lies in what you pay attention to, and what you do about it.

I found myself slowing down as I walked. Those visitors to the park who regularly passed me on the footpath at a "normal" pace struck me as missing the whole show, even the whole point. None of the the things that surrounded us moved very fast, and by all rights we should respect that a bit more. I'm no tree-hugger, but if you're going to go to a place where trees are the thing, at least look up every once in a while, preferably when your feet have stopped moving.

Eventually, I just stopped and stood and studied and then really stopped. This was very nice, but also much more. The more I began to see and notice, the more there was to see and notice. That went on for a while and things got a bit complicated in a peaceful sort of way. But gradually I realized that at a certain point the meeting rules are out of their league and you have to get beyond them. Finally, you just have to stop and let it all simply wash over you, without sound or fury or fuss. It's then that you can see, smile, sigh, and step forward.

It was a great way to welcome in the new year, ready to step forward.

A Christmas Meditation

Thankfully, there are those in the world who can say things much better than we might be able to say ourselves. It's as if they reach into the deeper parts of who we are and gradually draw into the open ideas and connections that shine and shout in the light of day. And reading their words is an experience akin to stepping outside of a small tent in the middle of night on a vast open plain and beholding the stars right there above you.... immediately accessible, mystifyingly silent, and all too real.

I think that this is why Christmas is so evocative for all of us. The small is really large, the humble is really great, and the child is really God.

Anthony Bloom is someone whose words often have this effect on me. While deceased, his sermons and talks continue to be available online. I really like what he has to say about Christmas and would like to share some of that with you today.

On the day when we remember the Nativity of Christ, the Incarnation of the Son of God, we can see that the beginning of a new time has come, that this world that had gone old because God was, as it were, far away from it - great, awe-inspiring but distant, had come to an end. GOD IS IN OUR MIDST: this is the meaning of the word ‘Emmanuel’; God with us - and the world is no longer the same. We live in a world into which God has come, in which He is the living power, the inspiration, Life itself, Eternity itself …

Yes, we are waiting for the day when God will come in glory, when all history will be up, when all things will be summed up, when God shall be all in all; but already now God is in our midst; already now we have a vision of what each of us is by vocation and can be by participation. But this is an offer; God gives His love, God gives Himself - not only in the Holy Gifts of Communion, but in all possible ways He is ready to enter into our lives, to fill our hearts, to be enthroned in our minds, to be the will of our will, but to do that, to allow Him to do that we must give ourselves to Him, we must respond to love by love, to faith - the faith which God has in us - by faith that is trust and faithfulness to Him. And then - then, we, each of us singly and all of us in our togetherness, will become God's Kingdom come with power, the beginning of the fullness of time, the beginning of the glorious victory!

Isn't that something which is worth struggling for? Isn't it worth turning away from everything that separates us from our own integrity, from one another, from God, and allow ourselves to become new creatures?

Let us now, now that the beginning has come, and in a way the end is already in our midst, let us do it: overcome all that is unworthy of ourselves and allow God victoriously to transfigure our lives!

Glory be to God for His love! Glory be to God for the faith He has in us, and for the hope He has put into us! Amen!

Words worth pondering.

On a more prosaic note, for those who would like to see my Christmas newsletter (text and pictures), I've uploaded it here.

May you have a wonderful holiday!

The Mary Connection

There is one person in the church's canopy of saints who continues to baffle me. This is not because this person is strange or odd, in the usual meaning of these words. Rather, it has more to do with wonder, invitation, and even personal challenge. The person, as you probably already guessed from the picture, is Mary, the mother of Jesus.

As we get closer to Christmas, not only do we celebrate significant Marian feasts (Immaculate Conception, Our Lady of Guadalupe, etc.), but we are inundated with images of Mary and Jesus as a child or baby; cards received in the mail, stamps on letters, programs on television, book covers, etc. The image of Mary is probably the second most prevalent one during this season, after Santa and the reindeer, and her story is just as murky and yet fascinating. The major difference is that one is a man who is the artificial, seasonal personification of goodness and grace (gift), and the other is a woman who is the real thing, the actual person whose goodness and grace opened the door for God's indwelling mystery.

Following up on my last blog entry about the "point" being the acquisition of the Spirit of God, Mary popped into my mind when I read a quotation related to that "point" from Meister Eckhart shortly thereafter, near the Feast of the Immaculate Conception: " If someone were to ask me: why do we pray, why do we fast, why do we perform our devotions and good works, why are we baptized, why did God, the All-Highest, take on our flesh? Then I would reply: in order that God may be born in the soul and the soul be born in God. That is why the whole of Scripture was written and why God created the whole world and all the orders of angels: so that God could be born in the soul and the soul in God."

That dynamic, of the soul being born in God and God in the soul, gives a hint as to what "The Immaculate Conception" might truly mean. The very popular misconception that the term refers to the fact that Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit and not through natural means is regrettable. It's got nothing to do with Jesus, yet. It has everything to do with Mary. God's "vessel" - and not just physically, or even primarily - would be suffused with God's presence, with the Holy Spirit. In order for God's life to be made real in our strange, often confusing, and certainly mysterious world, God's presence is first manifest in a woman's willingness to BE "the handmaid of the Lord." Hence the critical piece of the annunciation.

Fred Buechner in his book The Faces of Jesus really says it best for me:

The angel says, “Don’t be afraid, Mary.” He tells her not to be afraid because the floor has failed her and the sheltering wall no longer gives her shelter; not to be afraid because most of what is familiar to her has faded and flaked away like a painting. Heaven has flooded in. And heaven kneels before her now with outstretched wings. But she is not to be afraid. She is not to be afraid of all that lies beyond her: a lonely birth on a winter’s night, a child she was never to understand and who never had time to give her much understanding, the death she was to witness more lonely and more terrible than the birth. “Behold,” the angel says, “you will conceive in your womb and bear a son.” Behold. He is asking her to open her eyes. . . . Mary pondered these things in her heart, and countless generations have pondered them with her. Mary’s head is bowed, and she looks up at the angel through her lashes. There is possibly the faintest trace of a frown on her brow. “How shall this be, seeing that I know not a man?” she asks, and the angel, the whole Creation, even God himself, all hold their breath as they wait for what she will say next. “Be it unto me according to thy word,” she says, and jewels blossom like morning glories in the arch above them. Everything has turned to gold. A golden angel. A golden girl. They are caught up together in a stately, golden dance. Their faces are grave. From a golden cloud between them and above, the Leader of the dance looks on. The announcement has been made and heard. The world is with child.

Wonder, invitation, and personal challenge. All these are part of what I imagine Mary dealt with in her dance with God - her vocation, if you will. Fred's words highlight the fact that it was through her response that new life came to be, that God freely became human. I imagine that it is also through our responses, in normal daily circumstances, that God comes to dwell in our midst and that of others. The same dynamics of wonder, invitation, and personal challenge are at play.

Do I really understand it? No.

Do I need to fully need to understand it? No.

Does it invite me to wonder and personal challenge? Yes.

That's enough for now. I don't think I'm ready for anything else.

What's the Point?

What is the aim of our Christian life? Is it to do good works, to save ourselves, to reach “enlightenment” of some kind, or perhaps all three? Do we pray, go to church, follow the commandments and the like for our own benefit or for the benefit of others? It’s really too easy to say “both” isn’t it? Or shouldn’t we think too much about these things because the answers are beyond us?

I read an insightful and wise answer to this question recently, from an orthodox monk named Seraphim (1759-1833) who lived most of his life in seclusion. He told one pilgrim who came to him, “However prayer, fasting, vigil and all the other Christian practices may be, they do not constitute the aim of our Christian life. Although it is true that they serve as the indispensable means of reaching this end, the true aim of our Christian life consists of the acquisition of the Holy Spirit of God… [O]nly good deeds done for Christ’s sake bring us the fruits of the Holy Spirit. … Acquiring the Spirit of God is the true aim of our Christian life, while prayer, fasting, almsgiving and other good works done for Christ’s sake are merely means for acquiring the Spirit of God.” (On Acquisition of the Holy Spirit, by Saint Seraphim of Sarov)

Two clear distinctions seem to be made here, one between doing things for others and doing things for oneself (Why should I put acquiring the Holy Spirit above helping others?), and the other between doing things simply because they’re good and doing things because they are done for and in Christ (What difference does it make why I do something good?). In each case, the more challenging answer increasingly makes more sense to me.

Doing something for others depends almost entirely on who I am and how I have fed my soul. Many is the time when simple reluctance (the sin of omission?) has prevented me from doing a clear good for someone else. Those who spontaneously help others do so, it appears, because that’s who they are and that’s what they do, or that’s how they’ve shaped themselves to be. I remember a story about Dr. Albert Schweitzer arriving at a train station in Europe to give a talk, when he was elderly and famous. Coming out of the carriage, a welcoming crowd greeted him, a band played a tune, flowers were given, and he was escorted down the platform by an entourage. On the way, he spotted a woman with a heavy load of luggage getting off the train some distance away and struggling to get it all together. He immediately extricated himself from his entourage, much to their discomfort, rushed to the woman and helped carry her luggage to the street and one of the taxis there. When asked why he did this, he said: “I’m just having my daily fun.” He was the kind of person for whom helping others brought joy. He couldn’t not have done it; it was part of his vocation, who he was. And so doing certain things for oneself – training the self, as it were, towards virtue and justice and the doing of good things – is critical for the very possibility of actually and really doing good for others. Otherwise, it’s all just a head trip. When the two, “for self” and “for others”, are in right alignment, then both have a chance of really kicking in and moving forward.

I think that it’s a similar situation with doing good things for Christ’s sake instead of some other reason, only this one goes to a deeper and less obvious level. Doing something good for another is a fine thing, and that’s that. There’s certainly nothing wrong in it. The people that stand out – perhaps the Saints, one might say – are those for whom such actions are not only natural, as was the case for Dr. Schweitzer, but also those who are clearly tapping into a deeper, less obvious reality. They’re about “more” than simple humanitarian aid, and they don’t care who knows it, or who doesn't know it. It's part of an internal equation, not an external one. They don’t pay much attention to how others might react to their deeds of goodness, except perhaps insofar as others might be drawn to Christ. Witness the usual suspects (Saint Francis, Mother Teresa, MLK, JPII, DLS, etc.) and, more importantly, unknown others that have touched our lives, such as my great-aunt in Holland, whom I only knew as a child but who is still remembered for her kindness, her giving nature, her smile, and her uncomplicated and simple holiness, absolutely fitting to who she was. We all know such people, and they’ve burrowed into our souls. They’ve shown what “for Christ’s sake” really means for them, and by their very lives they invite us to consider what we might discover/reach for ourselves if we pay attention. Take the chance to start paying serious attention to Scripture readings in church and things will start bubbling all over. No wonder Annie Dillard recommended that Christian churches install seat belts in the pews.

John Main in Silence and Stillness in Every Season writes: “In our modern world we easily forget that we have a divine origin, a divine source, and that this unifying incandescent energy of our own spirit emanates from the Spirit of God.” The Kingdom of God is within you.

One last story; I can’t resist. For the Easter play at a kindergarten, all the costumes had been passed out (soldiers, disciples, crowd, etc.) and one little boy who wanted to be soldier had no costume at all. The clever teacher said: “I know, Johnny. You can be the boulder in front of the tomb. You stand in front of the tomb, and when Easter morning comes, you rooooll out of the way.” After practicing this for several days, the day of the play came and suddenly a soldier’s costume became available. The teacher hurried to Johnny and told him that he could now play a soldier. But Johnny said that he didn’t want to play a soldier anymore. He liked being the rock in front of the tomb. When the teacher asked him why, Johnny said, “Because it feels so good to let Jesus out.”

That’s the Holy Spirit for you. And that’s the point.