God in the Pond: On Half-Hearted Attempts at Knowing God

This work is on display at Mirarmar.  It was painted
by one of the Divine
Word Missionaries, named Carlos.
Reminds me of my childlike level of spiritual development
as well as God's tender care, playfulness and assistance.

There are so many excuses precluding quiet time with God.  It’s hard for me to unchain myself from my office desk, to get away from my mobile phone and my laptop and to just “let God do the work,” as my spiritual director said the other day.  On Sundays, I try -– almost never doing paid work, but frequently staying busy.  In an effort to extend this, for the third year in a row, I’ve gone on a weeklong retreat. I’ve joined mostly vowed nuns and priests, and a handful of retired laypeople.  For the second year, I’ve done this retreat at Miramar, which means “view of the sea.” It’s a beautiful old home in Massachusetts, very close to Cape Cod, owned and run by the Society of Divine Word Missionaries.  This year, I was on a directed retreat, which means there were no lecture-type conferences that are part of what are called “guided retreats.”  The directed retreat allows the retreatant to follow their own path.  The recommendation is four private prayer periods, in addition to attending Mass with the group.  Predictably, I found many things I felt I needed to do to take me away from the retreat.  Some I—and I’m sure you--will question as to the necessity.

I showed up without an empty journal, which is requisite on retreat (I’ve heard the recommendation to bring only your journal and a Bible).  So I went into town to scout for a notebook.  I also forgot a sun hat, which led me to the local thrift shop.  And then there were the two lobster lunches—hey, I’m not in Massachusetts that often, right, and there was a glut of lobster due to the high temperatures.  A dream about Willie Nelson led me to text some friends about going to see him perform at Farm Aid in Hershey, PA.  A concert that helps the stewards of the earth?  This is holy work, right?  Is it really any wonder that my director was expressing that I wasn’t going “deep enough” in my retreat?     

There were a number of moments that were more in keeping with the retreat.  Several times when I spent 20 minutes quietly in the meditation chapel practicing centering prayer or meditation.  Times when I consciously, slowly, ate my food, and stared out at the grounds of the retreat center silently. Occasions when I realized that even the wonders of the ocean didn’t really compare to the awesomeness and grandeur that you can tap into when your soul and God begin to meet. 

All week, I heard a delightful croaking of frogs outside my window from a pond on the Miramar property.  One of my last evenings there, I walked across the lawn to spot one of the little guys.  I slowly paced the perimeter of the water filled with lily pads, stopping whenever I heard a croak and trying to see where it came from.  And again: walking, stopping for a moment, looking, seeing nothing.  I realized I’d have to stop and be still for a very long time before a frog would make itself known to me.  And I thought that was kind of like God—that if I don’t stop for long enough, I’ll only hear enough to know that my Creator is out there, but will never be able to take in the full manifestation.  I think it’s a fairly simple conclusion from this year’s retreat, but one that’s seemed to touch several of the people with whom I’ve shared it.  I expect I’ll continue to struggle with unplugging and giving God enough of my time (and I question whether “enough” is the right word—God wants all of us).  But this morning I’ve got my votive burning and sat still for 20 minutes.  I suppose I’ll keep trying. 

On Experimenting with Obedience

As I discern about committing to a life of poverty, chastity and obedience, I wonder which might be hardest for me.  My guess: obedience.

My mom has described me as having been a willful child.  More recently I've been called a contrarian, and a person who delivers strong opinions about everything.  It seems innate.  Even when I don't make a conscious decision to change things to meet my needs, my mind/body seems to do it on its own.  Last week, I became suddenly convinced that an appointment was at 9 a.m., even though it's 8:30 every other week. Presumably my body had decided to sleep in.  This is not the first time I've done this sort of thing of unconscious rescheduling.

These days, to see how I'd handle obedience, I've been experimenting with it in minor ways.  Recently, during a work building remodeling/transition, a manager put a table in the middle of an open office space.  And left it there.  A permanent fixture for impromptu meetings.  I have a real, palpable dislike of blocked passageways--a Feng Shui hangup that makes me physically uncomfortable.  When I unconsciously spoke out in horror about the hurdle, this manager's manager said I should feel welcome to bring it up.  But I knew that the table-choosing manager really wanted this furniture and wasn't getting much else that she wanted in the transition.  So I decided to bite my tongue.  It mostly worked.  Other than now, as I write about the table and the thought of it makes my leg want to kick something, I usually don't think about it at all.  It's just another obstacle in life to step around.

Of course, I'm not sure how a lifetime of obedience would go for me.  Heck, I'm not even sure I did the right thing in biting my tongue, or that this is the kind of thing is what obedience is all about.  Earlier today I met with a vocation director and she talked to me about how the friction in community life is a path to holiness.  It reminded me of a quote in a book I'm reading about Thomas Merton: "The discipline [of writing] transformed him from a self-confessed middle-class prig into a struggling bohemian artist seek to forge in the smithy of his soul the uncreated conscience of his race" (editor Robert Inchausti). I can only suspect that what may be most difficult for me--community life and obedience--will be part of my spiritual path, the place where my soul is forged and formed.

Moving Toward The Light

Starting tomorrow, I'm doing the stereotypical and sometimes ridiculed ritual of giving up food for Lent.  But it's not just chocolate in particular or coffee or sweets that are on the chopping block.  It's all of those things, to some degree.  I'm uniting my recently faltering attempts to lose weight and to get more active and stronger, with Christ's Lenten journey.  When I think about the story of Jesus standing on the hillside with Satan, overlooking the shining city that he could have had, I think, "That must have looked awfully yummy."  It takes courage and discipline to take a deep breath and stand back and say, "I don't need this."   Overeating is something that I do to avoid boredom or a task that makes me nervous, or requires effort.  Or today, eating with family, I ate at a restaurant a meal that I later learned was unbelievably laden with carbs and fat. Recently I've been thinking about some of the costs of this food addiction, things that go far beyond how one looks.  In a previous post, I alluded to the idea that there's a real case to be made for maintaining a healthy weight to do my part in our nation's health care cost crisis.  We all know that a healthier body requires fewer doctor's visits and the cost therein.  Let's save those health care dollars for our brethren who really need them!  Last week, for the radio program I host, I interviewed a writer about the Endangered Species Act.  He mentioned that one of the ways to take care of our habitat for the animals God has created is to reduce consumption.  He didn't literally mean just food consumption.  But it's a good place to start.  When we reduce or eliminate our meat intake, we eat foods that are produced in a way that maintains habitat for animals, that require less energy than, say, the Cadillac of our food pyramid--beef.  When we eat less, we don't need as much fuel to haul ourselves and our groceries around, either.  So with these considerations in mind, I head off into the rest of Lent, without the constant presence of a plate in front of me.

Litany of Humility—A Tool on the Path to Peace and Joy

The bulk of today’s entry—the Litany of Humility-- is not something that I wrote, but is inspired by some recent happenings in my life.  First, I’ve embarked on a spiritual development program called “Just One Year” with the Humility of Mary sisters in Villa Maria, PA, in which a dozen female participants are getting together for three day weekends each quarter of one year.  The acronym for the program is JOY, and the Humility of Mary sisters exude it.  I’ve been thinking about the connection between humility and joy, and that when we release ourselves of attachments to honor, greater pay, vanity, and so on, we can more fully experience and express joy.  In the last several months, a period of great change at my office, I’ve struggled with wanting more at work—more input on decisions, more power to instruct others, and more rewards.  I had mentioned to my Tuesday night women’s prayer group that I wanted some kind of prayer for humility, and one of the women, Maria, suggested a Litany of Humility.  Ecatholic prefaces the prayer by saying that “His Eminence Cardinal Merry delVal was accustomed to recite daily after he celebrated the Holy Mass.” Praying for humility, I still find myself comparing how I stack up to others and getting frustrated about being fairly low on the totem pole. But my focus has changed.  I can be much more content when others have decision-making power that I do not.  I share the Litany of Humility with you so that you may find more contentment, peace, and joy.

O Jesus meek and humble of heart, hear me

From the desire of being esteemed…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being loved…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being extolled…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being honored…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being praised…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being preferred…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being consulted…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being approved…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being humiliated…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being despised…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of suffering rebukes…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being calumniated…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being forgotten……Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being ridiculed…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being wronged…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being suspected…Deliver me Jesus

That others may be loved more than I … Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it

That others may be esteemed more than I…Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it

That in the opinion of the world others may increase and I may decrease….Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should…Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.  Amen and Amen.

--ecatholic.com

Keepin' It Simple: I Love God, the Children Say

My 4-year-old Goddaughter, her 6-year-old sister, and their parents and baby brother and I were Mass companions today.  I’ve attended several of the girls birthday celebrations and have been included with the family in several celebrations, but I wanted to join them in a deeper way, in the greatest celebration of all—the Mass.  It was a while between this inspiration and suggesting it to the parents.  Perhaps I worried they’d reject my offer, or that I couldn’t really commit the time.  But the mom and dad, wonderful friends of mine, graciously allowed me to strengthen the Godmother relationship in this way.  They bought a few workbooks about the Mass, and today I joined their journey.  As I paged through the books with the girls, there were some tough questions.  Why are Jesus and God invisible, for example.  Why was Jesus all bloody on the cross?  I didn’t want to say too much, not knowing the extent of the parent’s previous lessons about torture, mortality and the hereafter.  I couldn’t help thinking of the time my friend’s daughter asked what a condom was and I rather directly told her how it was used.  That time, my friend lovingly reminded me that it was her role to do such teaching.  And although we’ve had many laughs over that conversation, it raised my awareness that some things are better left unsaid. Anyway, back to this morning.  The kids stuck with about half of a book I read them that detailed the happenings of the Mass.  They could only take so much being read to—they needed to take immediate action.  Both wrote cards to Jesus/God (Veggie Tales having previously explained they were the same) that said “I love God” or “I love you God.” And they signed their names. I loved the simplicity of their understanding of faith and church at this moment and what it calls for from them.  These kids are among the most joyful and affectionate whom I’ve ever met. They emanate love. So if they can know that the same actions they receive and give are connected with God, well I couldn’t have asked for better Sunday teachers.

Prayer for Healthy Living

I believe I will only be successful in my struggle with overeating and a tendency toward being sedentary with God's help.  I'm sharing a prayer I wrote to share with you what is on my heart, and with the idea that you might share it with others you know who need it.  

Dear Lord,

So many people, including me, are blessed with an abundance of access to food, the opportunity to eat just about whatever and whenever we want.  And I am blessed with the leisure of a job allowing me to sit in a comfortable chair for long hours in a climate-controlled environment.  I find it hard to be moderate in eating and diligent in exercise.  It is hard to take the long view of my behaviors, to eat less and exercise more.  And yet, I must take the long view because there are long-term costs of excess to my personal health, to my ability to serve others, to carry out the works of mercy toward your children.  I wish to be healthier also to conserve medical resources for those who need them most.  With all this in mind, I beg to be delivered from mindless eating and thoughtless grocery shopping.  Help me to deal with anxieties in ways other than consuming comfort foods.  Give me energy to take the time to plan meals and exercise carefully. I realize that exercise and fitness can bring competition and vanity, so as I move forward in my journey toward better health, I pray that I am supportive and loving of others at every stage of health, and ask that you keep my vanity in check. 

Jesus, from all the things that lead me to overeat and not exercise, and generally treat my body unlike the temple you have made it to be, please deliver me.

Amen.

Seek and Ye Shall Find, But it May Take a While

For about the last 15 years, I’ve made efforts to invite people into my life who’ll help nurture my spiritual journey.  I’ve yearned to have partners to discuss the faith, pray with me, and, often, just serve to remind me of the foundations of my faith (like simply “have faith” when I fall into worry and despair).  I’ve been inconsistent in my search, which is probably why results have been equally inconsistent.  Lately I’ve been more convicted and steadfast about the importance of tending to my spiritual life.  Part of the impetus was a dream I had last year.  In the dream, I frequently forgot my responsibility to care for a pet bird, often leaving it unfed.  And dream bird got pretty weak.  But anytime I did give it just a bit of nutrition, it grew in front of my eyes.  I felt strongly that the bird represented my spiritual self.  Thought oft neglected, the spirit in me has held on, and just a bit of attention reaps great rewards.  I think it takes a village to help grow one’s spiritual self.  So I was thrilled when Fr. Jonathan St. Andre, a Franciscan Friar friend living in Loretto, PA, told me about a group of women who meet in Pittsburgh to study and pray together.  On my first visit, one of the women had just returned from Rome, where she was present at the beatification of the late Pope John Paul II.  She joked about how she thought she annoyed a travel companion because she repeatedly stated “I can’t believe I’m here.”  At that moment, I knew just how she felt.  Though I wasn’t physically near the Vatican, the connection I was feeling with my Catholic sisters touched me deeply.  These beautiful, professional, smart women were expressing such a great desire to be with other women earnestly studying matters of faith, and holding each other in prayer for life events of celebration and trial, and ultimately be a little part of God’s kingdom.  Later, my contact with the group was out of town during the next meeting, and due to an email snafu, I didn’t hear from anyone else in the group.  All Sunday and Monday of Memorial Day weekend, I checked my e-mail hoping to hear which readings we would study.  I never got a message, but I showed up anyway, just in case.  And there were my new friends.  I often have had to use a serious measure of persistence and tenacity in my professional life, but I was reminded that in spiritual matters, I must seek repeatedly before I find.  I must demonstrate to God, to others, and to myself, that I really want the joy and peace and comfort that I find in my spiritual search.