Not Getting Caught up with Labels
My girlfriend and I recently got engaged. I’m not necessarily rushing to use the label “fiance” for myself or “fiancée” for her – Now there’s nothing wrong with such a title, unless it causes a couple to try and fit a mould of what they “think” an engaged couple “should be”—or what pop culture says they should be—rather than allowing themselves to be what they always have been: in love and in relationship. I was touched by a scene in Boston Med—a reality show a few years ago about the goings on in three Boston hospitals—where an elderly man was preparing to undergo surgery. His wife was by his side and she told the doctor to take good care of her boyfriend who she had been married to for 60 years. She still called him her boyfriend! Perhaps for them this captured the playful love that was still a part of their marriage so many decades later. While they may have called each other husband and wife, this scene showed that they didn’t necessarily get caught up with those labels. They just were what they had been from the beginning: boyfriend and girlfriend, in love, and best friends.

Messiah
In Jesus’ time, the Jews expected an all powerful messiah with political power and royal glory. This is what messiah meant to them. Imagine if Jesus had lived up to those expectations! Instead the messiah label lost that high-horse meaning and became one of redemption, inclusion, and gentle love. Jesus was just being himself, nothing more.

What labels are you trying to live up to? “Ph.D.”, “famous blogger”, “good Catholic”, “perfect husband”… Are they realistic or ego-boosting? Are they pulling you away from the natural beauty that you really are?: imperfect, loving, and uniquely talented. Labels are okay in and of themselves as long as they don’t detract from just being you. Jesus never tried to fulfil certain labels cast upon him, nor did he place them upon himself. He just lived and loved. And so should you.

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

This is the simple magic we see in a sunset or an ant crawling across the floor. They are the simple things of beauty that are outside our control yet they have an amazing life of their own. I’ll never forget an evening of Taize prayer I attended where the taper candle I was holding in my fist started moving on a rhythm. It was my pulse – the blood coursing through my arteries and veins that was causing the taper to move—pulse by pulse. I remember staring at it, knowing that it was not me consciously moving it but the blood that God was causing to rhythmically pulse through my hand.

So now, the simple act of lighting a candle becomes a prayer for me, initiating that flame which I’ve come to see so close to God’s essence of providing me light and comfort. And I suppose that magic, as I call it, is that life force beyond me, God sustaining and causing, creating beauty through a flickering flame and the pulse of my blood. These things can be explained through physics and biology but there is something there still hidden, which is why I can see God there.

I love C.S. Lewis’ use of the word magic in his book, Letters to Malcom: Chiefly on Prayer:

I should define magic in this sense as “objective efficacy which cannot be further analysed.”

Magic, in this sense, will always win a response from a normal imagination because it is in principle so “true to nature.” Mix these two powders and there will be an explosion. Eat a grain of this and you will die. Admittedly, the “magical” element in such truths can be got rid of by explanation; that is by seeing them to be instances or consequences of larger truths. Which larger truths remain “magical” till they also are, in the same way, explained. …

Now the value, for me, of the magical element of Christianity is this. It is a permanent witness that the heavenly realm, certainly no less than the natural universe and perhaps very much more, is a realm of objective facts… One cannot conceive a more completely “given,” or, if you like, a more “magical,” fact than the existence of god as causa sui.

Deep stuff. In essence, the “magic” of the universe, of the flame, the pulse, the sunset, and the ant are all witnesses to the existence of God. And the moment you explain them you find something else inexplicable (magical).

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

Reading:

I was struck a few weeks ago by a reading from the Acts of the Apostles on the Feast of St Matthias. Matthias was the one chosen to replace Judas Iscariot among the twelve apostles. The Eleven had gathered with about 120 others and Peter, being the leader, spoke to everyone about how Judas, who had ministered with them, was no longer numbered among them. The Psalms, Peter said, guided him to initiate the search for his replacement. He said:

Therefore, it is necessary that one of the men
who accompanied us the whole time
the Lord Jesus came and went among us,
beginning from the baptism of John
until the day on which he was taken up from us,
become with us a witness to his resurrection.

Matthias was one of two “finalists”, Barsabbas being the second. To decide between them they cast lots. I couldn’t believe this! They basically flipped a coin which decided that Matthias was the one who would take Judas’ empty seat. I couldn’t believe that for something so important to their ministry they would leave it to random chance. Could you imagine if they picked a pope that way?

The more I thought about it, I realised that the group that was assembled likely discussed and discerned well before deciding on Matthias and Barsabbas. In fact, they prayed before casting lots:

You, Lord, who know the hearts of all,
show which one of these two you have chosen
to take the place in this apostolic ministry
from which Judas turned away to go to his own place.

The group had two solid choices, two goods from which to choose. Now they simply needed to choose one, so they left it up to chance, trusting that God would work good through whomever was chosen. The method the apostles went through is very Ignatian. When making a decision, Ignatian spirituality tells us that we should only be deciding between two goods. Discernment should never be about deciding between good and evil. I wouldn’t want to employ Ignatian discernment if I’m unsure whether I should steal or not because in that case the answer is clear: don’t steal. Ignatian discernment should always be between two good choices.

When I was discerning to leave the Jesuits I was trying to decide between the vocation of religious life and the vocation of lay and married life. Both choices before me were good and I knew that whichever I decided, God would be delighted. And, like Peter and the gang, at some point, after a thorough discernment, you just have to make a decision. And for them all things were equal, so they flipped a coin. I certainly felt more drawn to the vocation or marriage so it wasn’t a coin flip for me, however it did take courage to make a firm decision and trust God with the rest.

This is the key. Whether you end up flipping a coin or going with your gut, getting there ought to be intentional and prayerful discernment between two goods. If all things are equal and you must decide, then flip a coin. God takes care of the rest.

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

Yesterday I found God in the rain chasing my dog. It was not at all what I had planned, and that is just how God found his way into my day.

Just like any other day, I walked through the door to my house and was greeted by my dog, anxious to be let outside after being cooped up in the house while my family was at work at school. Acting on “autopilot”, I grabbed my dog’s ball and threw it outside for her to chase. I had turned around and started going through the mail when I heard that familiar whining of the gate being swung open. I got to the window just in time to see my dog trot right out of the yard. She didn’t even have her collar on.

The Chase
Still dressed in my office clothes, I rushed out the door in full chase mode. It was raining. I was not impressed. After two years, our dog would still take her first chance to escape our family. Our dog doesn’t like us, I was thinking, after all we’ve done for her rescuing her from a shelter a couple of years ago. I caught sight of her a few houses down and she looked at me. I called to her and waved the treats. Much to my frustration, she then ran in the other direction with more energy than I’d seen from her in a while. She stopped again by a tree a few more houses down and waited until I saw her, then she hid behind a tree. I started toward the tree, and when I was within a few feet, calling her sweetly, she bolted off again. She played this game of run, wait, run, wait again until we were both thoroughly soaked. The game ended when I cornered her about two blocks from my house in another family’s back yard. When I finally got my dog back on her leash securely, I was wet, angry, cold and completely fed up with this dog of mine. My dog, on the other hand, was thrilled with the game she had just played, the great quality time she got with me, and with the treat she got for it all. She spent the next few hours wearing her goofy doggie grin non-stop. Clearly, she really enjoyed our little adventure.

Letting Go for Adventure
When I finally calmed down from the whole ordeal, I thought back to how my dog had other plans for how my day was going to go, how she led me down a path of her choice and not mine (as is the usual deal when I have her on her leash and I am in control) and she was always watching me. She never ran away from me, and she took me on that adventure with love. How like that little adventure is our life with Christ. He, too, leads us where we do not want to go – a path of His choosing and not ours. And on that journey, He is always watching us with love, encouraging us to keep going, despite the rain in our lives. “Follow me,” Jesus asks us. Yesterday, I followed, but grumbling all the way.

I do wish that I had found God on that chase while it was happening, realizing that God was asking me, though my dog, to act with love rather than exasperation, and to let go of my control just a little. I missed so much on that chase – I never stopped to smell the rain, look around at spring coming to life in our neighbourhood, or even to pet and play with my dog when she came back to me in all of her muddy, happy glory. Hopefully I’ll remember all of that next time I hear the creaky old gate swing open and I’m called to another adventure.

Cara Callbeck is a Human Resources professional who writes in her free time. She is a lover of Jane Austen, all things Ignatian, and travelling with her family. Cara lives in mid-Canada with the two greatest blessings in her life (her husband, Rudy, and daughter, Emma) and of course, the dog – a cocker spaniel named Brandy.

I recently had a dream that I visited a patient in hospital on my Catholic list. I went to pray with him and at first he gave a reluctant okay to prayer. Perhaps he was just a non-practising Catholic who felt obliged to say yes, I thought. After praying for God’s presence and blessing upon the man he told me that those were nice words but that he didn’t believe in God. He was an atheist. He could not see a hint of God around him in that hospital room, in his illness, or anywhere for that matter. Several of his family members were gathered around, quietly listening.

Typically, a chaplain might ask the patient open-ended questions to explore their feelings in the context of their beliefs and illness. The chaplain is not there to impose his or her beliefs on the patient. But in my dream I told the man that I could see God all around him. I could see God in his family gathered around him, in the gift of medicine, in our very conversation. I realised that for me, I would have to look very hard not to find God. God’s presence dwells in everything. God gives life and being and existence to everything, so finding God in all things is just a matter of opening your eyes!

Consider…
Perhaps you find this over-simplistic, but consider where you are right now, this place you’ve been given as shelter, the breakfast you had this morning. Notice your breath, the blinking of your eyes, your ability to read this. Consider the brain power you have which has given you reason to make decisions that have lead you up to this moment in your life. As you scroll this page notice the miracle of your fingers and the tiny muscle movements that make it happen. Consider the hundreds of processes going on inside of you. Who do you most care about? What are you good at? What are your talents?

God has given this all to you. God sustains all of this in existence. God is the life-giving Source. This truth does not negate suffering, but enriches it with a greater awareness of the goodness within it. This is finding God in all things.

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

This is Ignatian repetition. It’s a key part of Ignatian spirituality and prayer. Built into the Spiritual Exercises are repetitions of earlier meditations, some one right after another. One might meditate on the gospel passage where Jesus multiplies the loaves and fishes and find a great deal of fruit in that: seeing a God who gives lovingly and freely. But Ignatius says, pray with it again. Take yourself to that same scene and see what more might unfold; see if God might have more to tell you. Perhaps the second time you notice that God’s free giving is not just of bread and fish, but of the gift of community that formed in that shared meal together.

“The repetitions are efforts to engage mystery, to center on the depth of riches within revelation, and to discover how God specifically invites this particular man or woman to find the meaning of a gospel event for him or her.”

(Howard Gray, SJ)

In a Lived Experience
But can we take repetition outside the Gospel? One of my Jesuit friends, before entering the Society of Jesus, spent a year in Portland, Oregon working as a Jesuit Volunteer (JVC). He loved his work in a homeless outreach centre. This summer he requested to go back to Portland as a kind of real-life repetition. There was something that was drawing him back, a curiosity if God had something more to share with him there. He won’t be at the same ministry centre, but he’ll be in downtown Portland working at a parish, even having the chance to interact with the local JVC community.

In prayer, St Ignatius encourages us to re-visit an experience that we feel drawn to for one reason or another. In the Examen prayer, after you review the day, I tend recommend returning to an experience, a feeling, or an emotion that stuck with you, and pray with it. Relish it. Examine it. My Jesuit friend is doing this very thing in real life. He is responding to God’s subtle invitation to return Portland. There’s no doubt memories of his past experience will return, but new fruit will form as well. This is raw material for discernment and personal and spiritual growth.

Repetition offers a unique invitation to discover more about how God is actively touching our lives. When we discover deeper meaning in an experience, that discovery is an uncovering of the spirits, as Saint Ignatius calls them, those tensions that make up much of the spiritual life. We find where God is pulling us and where the “bad spirit” is pulling us. My friend has no idea of what he’ll discover on his next encounter with Portland. There may be a mix of good and bad tensions, but he will certainly deepen his understanding of his calling and who God is.

Related posts:

• More spiritual practices
• Playback Theatre
• Examen prayer
• Discernment resources

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

I was on a one-week retreat at the Jesuit Seven Fountains Spirituality Centre in Chiangmai, Thailand, in September of last year. It was not something I had long planned for or even thought about. Just a month before I made the decision I would make the retreat. It was a total coming-out-of-my-comfort-zone experience for me. I had never travelled on my own before and I was 52 years old then. Only in hindsight, do I know now that it was the Lord who orchestrated it. His timing, as always, was and is impeccable.

Ever since my retreat and the message of trust that I received there, I see more and more how I have begun to trust in the Lord. How it happened was so ordinary and mundane that I could easily have forgotten its lessons. But in the months afterwards I began to realise how those messages still stayed and resonated with me. It truly was something I needed to take away with me and to live. There was a lot going on in my life over the last three years, especially after the deaths of my dad in March 2009 and my mum in April 2011. Being a homemaker, without children of my own, I had spent much of my time with my parents and journeyed with them as secondary caregiver. With their passing, I found a very great vacuum in my life. I was close to God but I didn’t know and couldn’t understand what was happening in my life. I was also struggling with mid-life and the concerns and fears that came with it.

Enjoy
The first of the three much-needed messages I took away with me began as I was walking to the dining hall after Mass one evening. It was the wet season in Chiangmai (mid-May to October) and it rained almost continously during the time I was there. As I walked along the stone path to the dining hall with umbrella in hand, I saw a giant millepede making its way across the stone path. In spite of its many legs—and maybe because of its many legs—it walked very slowly. I became a little impatient but then heard this little voice say to me, “Take your time. Contemplate and enjoy the little creature.” So I stopped and stood there in the rain, contemplating the millipede as it made its way across the stone path.

Let Go
The second of the three messages came to me in the evening again when I walked the stone path to the dining hall for dinner. As I was about to reach the administrative building next to the dining hall, I saw a common garden snail trying to make its way across. The grounds of the Seven Fountains Spirituality Centre are filled with many beautiful trees, gardens and walking paths, and it was very common to find all kinds of bugs and insects everywhere. Not to mention a few cats, which take the liberty to come and go as they please. This little snail was taking its time, minding its own business. But I said to it, “You’re going to get yourself killed, you know.” So with the tip of my sandal I pushed it backwards. No sooner had I come out again after dinner when I saw the same little fellow trying to make its way across to the other side. Again, I sensed this little voice say to me, “Why are you being so controlling? The little snail is not bothered whether it will live or lie the next moment. Why are you?” I hadn’t realised my tendency to control, but there it was, right before my eyes.

Relax
Finally, on the last day of my retreat, this time in bright daylight, I took away the third message. As before, I headed to the dining hall, but this time for lunch. No, it wasn’t a bug that came to teach me its lesson. It was a cat with a cataract in one eye. On seeing me, it flipped over immediately, as if to say, “Please, come and rub my tummy.” As I bent down to stroke the cat, that same little voice said to me, “Relax. Look at this cat… He knows how to take it easy and he’s having a great time. He’s not too bothered with what’s happening around him. Learn from him.”

These three lessons stayed with me and have resonated with me even more strongly now. I know it was God’s own way of telling me, “Enjoy this one life you have; contemplate and rejoice in it. Let go of all that you try to control in your own life and in the life of those you love. And relax, I’ve got everything covered.” Although then I wasn’t so sure whether these indeed were messages from the Lord, I am now more than ever convinced that they were. I praise and thank God for loving me, for caring about me, and for his wonderous mercy. I have become more and more convinced that nothing ever depends on me. That God indeed has got everything covered. I just need to remember to enjoy, let go, relax.

Teresa Hogan lives in Singapore with her husband and belongs to a community of Catholic evangelizers called NET (New Evangelization Team), which is part of the missionary arm of the Catholic Church in Singapore. She is passionate about helping others find God in the ordinary as well as helping them become aware of the great treasure they hold within.

Saint Paul says, “I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some.” (1 Cor 9:22b) He alludes to the need for us, as people of God who serve and love and minister to others, to be adaptable enough so that we may be able to compassionately companion others. This means that we can be present for the single mother as much as the widowed man. We can be God’s loving presence as much for a starving orphan as we are for a co-worker. God’s limits know no bounds, which means that God’s reach manifests itself in us in a multitude of ways.

The Jesuits are a great example of the desire to be all things to all people. They not only reach the well-educated in universities but the poor in developing countries. They are scientists and scholars but they also bathe the sick and companion the homeless.

Same Mission, Many Ways
Saint Paul expands on how we can be all things to all people:

“There are different kinds of spiritual gifts, but the same Spirit gives them. There are different ways of serving, but the same Lord is served. There are different abilities to perform service, but the same God gives ability to all for their particular service. The Spirit’s presence is shown in some way in each person for the good of all.” (1 Corinthians 12:4-11)

The mission is the same: to serve God and serve our neighbour. But it is carried out in different ways and with different gifts. This way, that last verse can be fulfilled: “The Spirit’s presence is shown in some way in each person for the good of all.”

Day to day living reveals how God uses us in different ways. One day we may find ourselves being an ear for our co-worker. Another day we discover the need to empathise with a teenager’s struggles of puberty. Yet another day we find ourselves sitting with the dying. Each circumstance is very different and requires us to adapt, but each circumstance shows the same thing: that God can be found in us, that “all things” simply means we let God be present through us for whatever person or situation presents itself.

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

It’s our tendency to hold back the tears and just get angry. It was unfortunate that some reactions to the bombings were, “You messed with the wrong city.” This has retaliatory tones and being “strong” is not about revenge and getting even. True strength, even in Saint Ignatius’ terms, is to allow tears. He called this the “grace of tears” because it’s one way God touches our souls. Tears of joy or sorrow both give strength because it firmly puts us in contact with our emotions. We have a chance to stare them face to face and acknowledge them. And in the face of a tragedy it helps us grieve.

Perhaps those T-shirts ought to read, “Boston, grieve”. It’s a call to acknowledge the confusion, the sadness, and the need for peace. Have we given enough room for this? Strength only comes when we first acknowledge the reality and all the messiness that comes with it. Let us not use strength as an excuse to push away the tears and the grief.

Turning to the Psalms can be a great source of lamentation and hope:

“Be merciful to me, O God, because I am under attack; my enemies persecute me all the time. All day long my opponents attack me. There are so many who fight against me. When I am afraid, O Lord Almighty, I put my trust in you. I trust in God and am not afraid; I praise him for what he has promised. What can a mere human being do to me? My enemies make trouble for me all day long; they are always thinking up some way to hurt me! They gather in hiding places and watch everything I do, hoping to kill me. Punish them, O God, for their evil; defeat those people in your anger! You know how troubled I am; you have kept a record of my tears. Aren’t they listed in your book? The day I call to you, my enemies will be turned back. I know this: God is on my side – the Lord, whose promises I praise. In him I trust, and I will not be afraid. What can a mere human being do to me? O God, I will offer you what I have promised; I will give you my offering of thanksgiving, because you have rescued me from death and kept me from defeat. And so I walk in the presence of God, in the light that shines on the living.”

(Psalm 56)

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5)

Several months ago, I set up a bird feeder in our backyard. The tree was in the perfect location, right outside the glass doors to our backyard, and my daughters and I spent many wonderful mornings watching the varied and colorful birds eat their breakfast while we ate ours. Of course, since we live in a very rural area, the birds can tend for themselves, but how exciting it was to entice them closer: an easy meal for them, and a nature documentary in real life for us. Unfortunately, I soon learned that not only was I enticing the birds to an easy meal… I was enticing our barn cats to one, too. I was not ready for my preschoolers to learn this part of nature so “up close and personal”. I took the bird feeder down.

The next couple of mornings, over breakfast, the girls remarked how angry and disappointed the birds seemed, clamoring around the branch that until recently held the bird feeder. In an almost off-handed way, I commented that the birds may be angry and disappointed, but they don’t realize that I saved them from a terrible fate. Then it dawned on me… This may be what happens to us when we feel as though God isn’t answering our prayers. Only God knows His plans for us. Things that may seem like a huge disappointment on the surface are, in reality, a gift from God. It is up to us to trust in Him, because we mere mortals simply cannot understand all the wonderful things waiting for us.  We shared our stories, mine of a life lived fifty plus years, and theirs, all of five years so far, stories of times we felt let down, disappointed, only to experience real joy in the end. The opportunity to see God in a bird feeder what a gift that is in its own right.

Joanie Shook is a 51 year old Bronx Irish Catholic who now calls rural Scio, Oregon home. She is a stay-at-home mom to three daughters (13 year old and five year old twins), and feels very blessed to be the wife of her husband Greg.

The easy answer is “Yes!” But we can’t work from a narrow definition of friendship. I can understand this man’s hesitation. The buddies he’d go with to the bar gets a different kind of respect than he would give his Creator. After all, our God is the life force of the universe. Saint Ignatius could find no way to fully repay the love God has given. Indeed, Ignatius had great fear of God, that is, respect and reverence. Yet, he could still call God friend. Why?

Friendship is one of the most important relationships a person can have outside familial relations. Healthy friendship requires great respect and reverence. And friendship is a sign of God in this unique bond between two people. C.S. Lewis, in his great book The Four Loves, says, “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.” It is a critical relationship we all yearn for and need, and ought to respect. But respect and awe doesn’t negate the casualness of hanging back with a friend.

God’s friendship in prayer
In the Spiritual Exercises, Saint Ignatius suggests ending most prayer periods with a colloquy, or conversation between you and Jesus. He asks the person praying to speak to Jesus as to a friend. This allows the pray-er to relax into the conversation and not hold back.

Sometimes the “fear of God” turns from reverence into actual fear and we end up holding back in prayer. We fail to fully be open to God as we would with a friend. By imagining God or Jesus as a friend we let ourselves open up more and become vulnerable. When I engage in this kind of imaginative conversation called colloquy, I like to sit down with a cup of coffee and just imagine chatting with Jesus as if he were sitting across from me.

It goes without saying that all relationships whether with a friend, spouse, or family member, require respect. But if you can have more transparency with your spouse or a friend over a drink than with God, there’s a problem. God can be like parent or teacher—God has the qualities of both—but at the end of the day God desires your friendship and wishes you to be as open and comfortable as a friend would be.

Related posts:

• Jesus the Bartender
• Josh Radnor is not Jesus

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

It’s not a gentle image. It’s a strong one. Rocks are sturdy, they are used as foundation, for traction, and support. They stand the test of time. One patient called his wife “the Rock of Gibraltar”, a rock landmass off the coast of Spain that has the reputation of invincibility – nothing can destroy it. What a beautiful image of stability and endurance, especially in the context of a loving relationship. Support is something we all need. We need someone to count on.

The image of rock is throughout the Bible. Here are just a few examples:

• “The Rock, his work is perfect, and all his ways are just. A faithful God, without deceit, just and upright is he.” (Deuteronomy 32:4)
• “The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge…” (2 Samuel 22:2-3)
• “The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock.” (Matthew 7:25)
• “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” (Matthew 16:18)

In a world that is shaky, where our faith and emotions and certainties are shaky, God reveals a solid foundation in the rocks of our life: trusting and loving relationships, prayer, religious ritual, and forgiveness. We just have to seek them, because they’re everywhere.

Where are the God rocks in my life?

Rocks you can turn to:

• The Evening Examen
• The Mass
• Forgiveness
• See other prayer resources

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The four actors got up and began acting out my story in various scenes. One scene was of bricklayers, laying out a beautiful path. Another was of two people in a boat, rowing somewhere. One of the bricklayers began delicately placing bricks before her feet and carefully stepping on them, straying from the original path. “I’m going to go on this road…” she said with caution in her voice. Meanwhile her onlookers spoke encouragement. “Okay! Yes! There’s going to be someone at the end of that road, too!” Back in the boat the duo spotted the shore of an island. You could feel their excitement as they arrived to discover trees full of delicious coconuts and pineapples.

This was my first experience of non-comedic improv theatre called Playback. It had its genesis in 1975 when a theatre student and a musician came together to create a way for people to let their stories be heard. Each performance includes the actors, the audience, a teller from the audience who shares a story, and a conductor who listens and asks the teller clarifying questions. My experience as a teller was at a rehearsal of the Boston Playback Company, a troupe that has performed for churches, homeless shelters, schools, and at corporate events.

Playback’s core is empathy and honesty, and it has strong ties with fields like drama therapy. It has been found to act as a method of healing and community building, among its many benefits. Nancy Capaccio, a co-director of the troupe, says that Playback offers a chance for community building by the simple witness of stories of the human condition, stories they can relate to. “It is rare in our society to be heard with such compassion, and yet at the same time, without attempts to ‘make things better’,” she says.

As a Spiritual Practice
Julia Kennedy is a member of the Vineyard Living Stories, a Playback group of the Greater Boston Vineyard church that meets regularly with the mission to perform for groups among the homeless or the youth. “I want to be a tool in God’s hands,” she says. “Letting Him use my body, voice, mind, and emotions to serve others.” Playback has become, to some, a spiritual practice through the honouring of people’s stories. When a teller sees their real life story performed before their eyes they often discover new insights. “It is affirming for tellers to have a group of people hear, understand, and validate their personal life experiences,” says Michelle Mount, another Vineyard group member.

What touched me at the rehearsal was the care taken to understand my feelings and delve into it. It has a very sacramental nature. During one exercise the group was given various voting day stories along with their emotions. Standing tightly together the group as a whole cycled through each emotion with their words, actions, and expressions, giving a broad experience of voting day from several perspectives. Afterwards, one actor asked that the group not rush from one story to another. “Let’s dig deeper into the feeling,” he said. After each playback the conductor asks the teller if the playback matched their feelings and story. If not, the troupe re-does the scene as a way to complete the commitment to the teller’s story.

Sara Burd is a member of the Boston Playback Company and found that Playback has helped foster her gift of diving into the human experience with all its joys and discomforts. “In playing back someone’s story, you offer them a gift,” she says. “I strive to make the gift as honest and true as possible to support them in their spiritual journey.” This is not easy, but the actors have found astounding honesty among audiences they’ve performed for. Kennedy’s father shared a story at a Vineyard rehearsal about how God spoke to him during his wife’s cancer 15 years ago. He expressed that the experience had not transformed him, but after seeing the story played back he realized that he had indeed gone through a transformation. “It just wasn’t as sudden and dramatic as he had expected it to be,” Kennedy recounts. And another story that evening about sacrifice touched him. “It gave him a deep appreciation for a sacrifice someone else made, that otherwise may not have made an impression on him.”

Spiritual journeys are all about transformation and conversion. Playback offers a unique forum for this to occur in the midst of a community setting. When people hear others’ stories they may be transformed but also find themselves willing to stand up and share their story with strangers. “It is an integrity-based practice of compassionate listening and heartfelt connection,” says Mount. When someone becomes vulnerable through the telling of a deeply personal story the playback can often let the audience share in that person’s burdens whether it be pain, sadness, or guilt. There’s healing in this. And watchers come to know they’re not alone in their struggles, and that the human experience is varied. “It can help varying populations to understand one another,” says Teresa Dinaburg, another Company member who is pursuing a career in drama therapy and counseling. “I am continually reminded that we humans are more alike than different.”

All of the Playback performers I spoke with expressed some kind of personal or spiritual growth. It has allowed them to be better listeners, more empathetic and less quick to judge. “Its a brave and exciting way to communicate with others,” Dinaburg says. And like Kennedy, Burd feels Playback is a way to glorify God. “I view [the teller’s story] as an invitation from God to serve the teller with an authentic experience of their difficult emotions, to honor their story, and hopefully provide them with support to continue on with strength and wisdom.”

In the stories I shared that night during rehearsal, I was profoundly touched by the performers’ careful selection of metaphors, expression, and physical action to portray my feelings. I am reminded of Saint Ignatius who encourages Christians to explore those truths beneath our life’s stories and feelings. There’s a sense of sight being restored, even with a worn story you seem to know so well. Playback reminds us that our stories are never worn but contain truths that knit us all together.

Learn more about Playback:

• Boston Playback Company
• International Playback Theatre Network
• Playback Centre
• Playback North America

Look with kindness upon your people, O Lord,
and grant, we pray,
that those you were pleased to renew by eternal mysteries
may attain in their flesh
the incorruptible glory of the resurrection.

It takes a couple reads to fully get the meaning. But sometimes we try so hard to transcend this world that we don’t live in it. I often hear, in devotion, an overuse of religious words like  ”blessed”, “most holy”, or “venerable”. Religious language has its purpose, but at times it has the danger of becoming an escape from everyday ordinariness. That’s the ordinariness in which Pope Francis found God by celebrating Mass and washing the feet of prisoners.

The “dirt” of the here and now
In the desire to see something regal or hear something transcendent which “points” to God’s glory, we forget that God’s glory is pointing to the ordinary and the plain. For me there’s something more real of God in a prison with the marginalised than at a palatial church. If we truly believe God is in all things then we can find God not only in high liturgy and “transcendent” language, but just as much in a coffee table Mass and in the imperfect language of someone less educated, even in the feet of a prisoner.

It might seem offensive to talk about God being in the “dirt” of the here and now but is that not the sacramental life of Catholics? Stuff like bread and wine and fire and water and oil and palm leaves do not just point to God. The beauty of these things show us that God’s presence comes down into those things, making them holy. The Incarnation gave humanity itself a new holiness. It sanctified the “earthly” things of this world. Jesus spoke often about the Kingdom and what was beyond our world, but he most certainly showed people the holiness of the ordinary.

Building 429 in their song Where I Belong sings, “All I know is I’m not home yet / This is not where I belong / Take this world and give me Jesus / This is not where I belong.” Why do we forget that this is where God placed us for these 80 or so years? This is where we belong now and it’s where we can find God: in the here and now. We find God in the feet of prisoners, in simple language, and in the people around us. The pope’s simplicity and step back from pomp and circumstance (even avoidance of certain chanting at Mass) does not disregard the transcendent beauty of religious art, language, or liturgy. It simply reminds us that God’s spirit resides in the forgotten parts of the world like the marginalised, the oppressed, the poor, and in the plain and everyday circumstances of ordinary people. Just as the disciples were ordinary, Pope Francis is hoping to show that he too is ordinary, a human being made in the likeness of God, in the here and now.

Related posts:

• Earthly Concerns
• The Action of God
• “Doing” for a Cause
• And here’s a beautiful post on the sacred and the ordinary by Fran Rossi Szpylczyn

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

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I don’t doubt that the Christians who say such things are devout and convicted in their faith, but for me, something seems terribly wrong with a theology that measures our faithfulness by the amount we suffer, as if the two are perfectly correlated.

Indeed, sometimes following the faith and believing in God means persecution. But for the most part, following God means receiving a peace and consolation like no other. It’s the peace that comes in patient trust and the comfort that comes in healing. Suffering is a normal part of life, not a result of a strong faith. Jesus, in the Bible, removed the suffering from the afflicted. He told people to come to him who are weary and burdened and he would give them rest. No place in the scriptures does it say that suffering is the assurance of a strong faith. Rather, faith in God is shown to relieve suffering.

When the woman with the haemorrhage touches Jesus in hope to receive his healing power he tells her that it was her faith that healed her. Her faith relieved her suffering. Faith means that the trials of life are eased a bit because we’re looking through a lens of hope. When I pray in the midst of suffering I find consolation in the knowledge that God is along side me. The theology of suffering that man had doesn’t seem to leave much room for a compassionate God who suffers with, and at times, removes suffering, removes burdens, and fills emptiness with hope and light.

Asceticism only does so much. God does not desire suffering for us. Nor does God make suffering a “requirement” for the faith. Suffering is part of life, but having faith in God means we can look beyond that, into God’s comforting embrace.

Related posts:

• Finding God in Near-Food-Poisoning
• Grace from Suffering
• Guilt

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

I never wanted to be a secret agent.

In fact, I wanted to be a concert pianist. And a teacher. And an actress. And a philanthropist. (I had a very active imagination when I was growing up.) But a secret agent? Farthest thing from my mind. I knew that there was something different about me when I was growing up, but I couldn’t quite understand what it was or why it was. I just figured I’d be one of those things that I wanted to be (Perhaps a teacher who played the piano really well and did community theatre on the side?), and that would be the end of it.  I didn’t realize until now, well into my thirties, that the “something different” was God’s slow and steady work within me, molding me in preparation to do a special kind of work later in life that combined almost all of the things I originally wanted to be.

A Calling to Mission
In July of 2009, I was sitting in my office at the Catholic university where I work, and in a moment of complete and utter unproductivity, I started perusing the Internet (as those of us who are feeling particularly unproductive are wont to do). I checked my email, Googled some stuff I’d been interested in, and read some blogs. And that’s when I learned that a fellow blog friend was having a birthday. I wanted to send a present to her, so I emailed her and asked for her mailing address. She was touched, but suggested that instead of me sending her something, why don’t I got out and do a random act of kindness in her name? She said, “You can call yourself Secret Agent L, All-Around Swell Chick and Girl Spy.”

Brilliant, I thought. The actress in me immediately jumped at the chance to play a new character: Secret Agent L. And so I thought up an act of kindness that could be carried out anonymously, as if I truly were a secret agent. With the help of an office mate, my act of kindness ended up consisting of putting a flower on an unsuspecting person’s car, along with a calling card that contained the contact info for my new identity (that information being email and blog addresses). Afterward, we posted  some photos of the “mission” on the newly created Secret Agent L blog.

And the Secret Agent L Project was born.

Answered Prayers
For the next three and a half years, the Project grew from its roots in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, all the way to—are you sitting down?—Japan. There are now over 2,000 Affiliated Agents in 9 countries carrying out similar anonymous missions of kindness and sharing their reports on the Project’s website: SecretAgentL.com. Major media outlets, such as CNN, FOXNews, and the Huffington Post, have interviewed me and highlighted the Project. I’ve gotten emails from people all over the world wanting to be a part of this kindness movement.

And did I see any of this coming? Not at all. But it has become so very clear to me that this is my calling.

When I was in my teens, struggling with, well, those teen things, I did manage somehow to remember to pray. And my prayer was this: God, please use me for goodness. I’d grown up in a home with a family member who lives with a severe mental illness, and so I’d seen, experienced, and known quite deeply my fair sure of pain, of deep suffering, of suffering individuals. And it took a toll on my heart. But God, doing the slow, steady work He’d been doing for years, heard that daily—sometimes hourly—prayer. I simply wanted to be a force of good, to be a facilitator of peace and love and non-suffering.

And with the Secret Agent L Project, I am just that. God absolutely, 100% answered my prayer. And what’s equally amazing is that I see God in the Secret Agent L Project so clearly. When I receive emails from individuals who want to become Affiliated Agents, I see God working in their hearts, calling them to extend kindness to people they don’t know and will probably never even meet. When I am the featured speaker at events around the city, I see God in the attentive faces of the members of the audience who want to listen and experience kindness. When people approach me after speaking engagements and tell me how inspired they are by the Project, I see God moving through them and turning their hearts toward continued goodness and love and service to others.

When I advocate for mental illness awareness through the Secret Agent L Project, and people share their very personal and often extremely painful stories related to the disease, I see God so, so present in those moments. Suffering, which Christ knew so well, is one of the greatest gifts we as humans can experience, as it draws us closer to God and to one another.

When I’m tired, stressed, and feeling the deep, harsh realities of this life, I’ll see in my Secret Agent L Twitter timeline a tweet from someone I’ve never met who wishes me love and peace. I see God’s love for me through others, often strangers, in those moments. And because I am the facilitator of an international kindness project, I feel a tremendous amount of responsibility to continually and consistently live out one of the greatest commandments: love one another.

And God is most definitely present in that.

Laura Miller is the founder of The Secret Agent L Project, an international kindness movement with over 2,000 participants in 9 countries. By day, she works at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, PA.

Hubble telescope image of distant galaxies. (NASA)

I am convinced that there is intelligent life elsewhere in the universe. We are not alone. Statistically speaking, the chances of other intelligent life in the universe are quite high. The Drake Equation considers factors like the number of solar systems with planets with climates that could support life, star formation rate, as well as average lifetimes of civilizations. Estimates put the likelihood at a minimum of 1,000 intelligent and communication-capable civilisations in the Milky Way. Not much considering there are 200-400 billion planets in our galaxy. And the universe contains, by one estimate, 176 billion galaxies. Multiply it out and then consider the time horizon of the universe: 13.8 billion years. Given all the factors, there are pretty high chances intelligent life—beings like you and me—exist now or have existed at one time in the universe.

There is great beauty that exists outside our inch of the creation. It’s humbling to consider that God took as much creative care with those billions of other stars and planets and civilisations as with us. But this is beauty we’ll never see. It’s unlikely we would ever encounter another civilization given our limited technology and the distance of such a planet. But this doesn’t mean we cannot lift up our fellow universe citizens as part of God’s beauty.

I once saw an episode of the BBC series Planet Earth where submarines with cameras discovered the most beautiful and colourful rock formations deep in the recesses of the ocean, a place no human had ever seen before. I wondered why God created something so beautiful if human eyes might never see it. Perhaps that doesn’t matter so much to God. Perhaps God finds delight in beauty though there be no observer. The old translation of the Nicene Creed speaks of the God who creates both the “seen and unseen”. Those civilisations and galaxies and life-supporting planets may never be seen by us but they are as divine a creation as the sunset you will see this evening. They are as real as your heartbeat or the invisible energy that brings a smile. And all these things make up the fabric of God.

God finds joy in sharing Creation with us, even if it’s just our little corner of the universe. “What use is a universe with no one to give it to?” sings God in the Stephen Schwartz musical Children of Eden. Yet there is so much beyond the scope of our comprehension or vantage point! I think all we have to know is that the Creator created in love. The hidden rock formations beneath the ocean were crafted by a God of creative love. Each civilization, ours and the thousands we don’t know about, were formed in love. Seen and unseen, past and present, this galaxy or that, all creation, all evolution is an incarnation of God’s love. You and I are incarnations of God’s love. As Pierre Teilhard de Chardin once said, “The most telling and profound way of describing the evolution of the universe would undoubtedly be to trace the evolution of love.”

Related posts:

• Music, Photographs, and Stained Glass: Methods of Prayer
  
• God in the Sedona Vortexes
• A Childlike Pause

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

Who am I?
In Les Misérables, Jean Valjean escaped a life of slavery under the law and began anew as a mayor and owner of a factory. He even took on a new name, ridding himself of his former identity. But since Valjean had failed to appear at his mandated parole check-ins Javert, the antagonist policeman, tried to find him so he could arrest him. At one point Javert encountered Valjean in his factory, though since he had a new name and a cleaned up look Javert did not recognise him. In one scene Javert tells Valjean that the con he was looking for had been found and was being put to trial. Valjean, realising that another man was mistaken for him, begins asking one of the hardest questions we can ask ourselves: “Who am I?”

He knows that it is wrong to condemn an innocent man in his place, though he’s come so far in making his life new. He also knows that if he turned himself in he would be condemned and the hundreds of workers who work for him would be abandoned and out of a job. If he stayed silent (keeping his true identity hidden) his soul would be damned. In the end he makes the choice to turn himself in. He runs into the trial and proclaims that he is 24601, his prisoner ID number.

I wondered why Valjean made such a choice. He left hundreds of workers out of a job to save one man from prison. Wouldn’t it be better to sacrifice the freedom of one man, and even potentially Valjean’s soul, in order to maintain the livelihood of his hundreds of workers who would otherwise be on the streets begging and starving? This only makes sense when you see Valjean’s dedication to reality at all costs.

His song, “Who Am I?” ends with his proclamation that he is Jean Valjean, 24601, not his created identity. Throughout the story he struggles with his past and continuously tries to hide it from himself and his adopted daughter Cosette. Ultimately, he comes to realise that he cannot run away from his story and reality. It has made him who he is. [Listen to the full song here] Jesus lived his life never hiding the reality of himself and of God’s kingdom. Despite the suffering he would endure, the embarrassment the Pharisees might feel, or the pain of the truth that we’re all sinners, Jesus was dedicated to uncovering reality at all costs.

“If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” (Jesus, John 8:31-32)

Legitimate and Illegitimate Suffering
Being dedicated to reality does cause suffering, but it can be understood as “legitimate suffering”, suffering that needs to happen. It is the cost that comes from the dedication to reality. Why is reality so important in the spiritual life? Because reality is the only truth under God. Falsehoods and masks cover up the beauty, love, reconciliation, and potential healing that can only come from God. Legitimate suffering is the temporary suffering that occurs when truth is uncovered, when a lover uncovers unfaithfulness, when a scandal or addiction is brought into the open, or when past secrets are brought to light.

“Don’t be intimidated. Eventually everything is going to be out in the open, and everyone will know how things really are. So don’t hesitate to go public now. Don’t be bluffed into silence by the threats of bullies. There’s nothing they can do to your soul, your core being. Save your fear for God, who holds your entire life – body and soul – in his hands. What’s the price of a pet canary? Some loose change, right? And God cares what happens to it even more than you do. He pays even greater attention to you, down to the last detail – even numbering the hairs on your head!” (Jesus, The Message, Matthew 10:26-30)

There is also “illegitimate suffering”, which comes as a result of keeping reality hidden. It comes even as you try and avoid suffering. You can be sure that illegitimate suffering in the long run will be much worse than the legitimate suffering that comes from a dedication to uncovering reality here and now, without avoidance. In Les Misérables, Jean Valjean’s secret torments him throughout his life. When he finally acknowledges who he is, you can see a sense of relief and healing begin. Jesus not once experienced illegitimate suffering because he never let himself avoid the reality of pain, of human living, of struggle. You could say he lived into suffering when needed just as much as he lived into the joys of friendships and teaching.

Reality is always less painful than a reality that lives under a bushel basket. And the lesson, which comes from Jean Valjean, is that reality needs to be accepted and uncovered at all costs. Give yourself a long hard look and ask, Who am I? Claim your identity, your story, and your reality. It’s the only place God can enter.

Related posts:

• The Bishop with the Candlesticks (Les Misérables and redemption)
• Grace from Suffering
• Crying Out

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

When I go out to eat or drink with someone I care about my intent is to be fully with that person and share a meal or drink. Now TV is not bad in and of itself of course. But have you ever noticed yourself that in a moment of pause or silence in the conversation you or your companion’s eyes wander to the closest TV?

Is silence so difficult with others? What are we so afraid of? Despite my experience and comfort of silence as a hospital chaplain I still face challenges of silence in non-ministerial settings, especially with people I don’t know too well. Questions come up: Is the other judging me in the silence? Are they uncomfortable being with me? Should I fill the silence? Steve Stutz, in an excellent blog post about silence, talks about Una Agnew’s writings on the topic. Her and his words speak to that discomfort I and so many others feel:

Agnew points out that silence “is difficult, not only because in silence does the Spirit surface, but also my past surfaces in silence, especially the unresolved areas.” This mixture of God’s presence with one’s own history can prove to be an uncomfortable challenge. Some of the thoughts and emotions which tend to surface during these periods are things which she categories as “the things I can’t tell myself.” For example, the truth that one is lonely, afraid, or angry. These and other items which one has “pushed to the background” begin to surface as one descends into silence.

The point is, silence can be a great spiritual practice, revealing things in one’s own heart, spirituality, and relationships. The truth is, much of modern society—with so much attention-snatching stimulation—provides a way to drown out those “voices” in the silence. We damper those things by looking up at the TV or immediately checking our phone.

Have you considered that God speaks through the silence? In my post “A dial tone? What’s that?” I talk about the safe constancy of the dial tone. When we pick up the phone and hear nothing we feel the discomfort and think something’s wrong. Yet God is the constancy that lies within the silence. Music, liturgy, and speech all have “in-between” spaces of silence. It is necessary silence—necessary because it gives room for truths to emerge that otherwise would stay dormant beneath the guise of TV, noise, Facebook notifications, and fear.

This is why some religious orders eat meals in silence. Many retreat houses offer silent retreats as a counter-cultural opportunity for God to speak in the silence, for our fears and hesitations and secrets and questions to come up so we can address them in prayer. Stutz continues:

Agnew explains that “silence is a very sophisticated practice,” and how in her own life, sometimes her silence is “deep and quiet and tranquil” but at other times her silence is “noisy and full of little skeletons in the cupboard.”

But perhaps letting those things—good and bad—out of the cupboard in the silence is what is needed. Push your boundaries of comfort and let moments of silence happen as they come. Don’t go right for the TV.

Related posts:

• A 10-minute Retreat
• Distractions

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

It is Hank’s week in our house.  This is a Lenten tradition borrowed from a childhood friend.  Each member of her family got a week during the season where the others prayed for the week’s celebrity and practiced small acts of kindness towards him or her.  When I’d go over to play, the signs in their kitchen made me want my own week.  I was envious of the pieces of posterboard hanging around the room and the sentiment behind it all.  By the end of Lent, my friend’s small dark kitchen was a visual love fest between siblings who in real life stole each other’s candy and (probably) fought as much as the rest of us did.  My family was full of love but I still wanted an actual visual display of my name and all the adjectives that described my best qualities. When I had my own kids, I remembered the Kohler’s kitchen and pulled it out when Lent began.  Of course, I don’t know what will teach my children to be generous and loving people, but I trust those qualities will have something to do with how they treat one another.  This is my way of making Lent as personal as Christ’s love is for each of us.

Delight in Receiving and Giving
Hank, this week’s recipient, is three.  He doesn’t have to fast, he has no money to give and his prayers echo the things his brother and sister say.  Still, that it is “his week,” is not lost on him.  He’d be delighted if only by the declaration and a piece of candy.  But, last night his sister Jane set the table just for him and he found a new level of fondness for her.  She chose a dark blue tablecloth—the closest we have to black (his favorite)—and put him in the coveted middle seat of our breakfast nook.  He also received a bunny napkin and a blue plate and as a finishing touch, his siblings got the seats next to him.  You can imagine his delight in all of this.  It was as if he was seated on a throne.   And Jane was the happiest table setter I have ever seen; a five year old with a nearly undone ponytail upon her head with eyes that beamed with contented joy.

These are not always the eyes I have when I am almost throwing the silverware and plates on the table in the rush before dinner gets cold.  In many ways, I am living a life I never saw coming.  Laundry piles times six, more emails than I can manage about play dates and school e-blasts, and runny noses that don’t stop from November until March.  For now, I am doing the stay at home mom thing.   Every day I have moments when I fall deeper in love with life because I am so entrenched in the minutia of living it.  But, I also often have many moments of crazed boredom or gut clinching “is this my purpose” worry.  After five years of this, I know that I need real life antidotes so that the mommy doubt doesn’t entirely knock me down.

Service That’s Worth It
Jane’s set table will forever be one of these antidotes.  Unflinchingly, she gave Hank what she had to give.  Setting the table is her job, her very small domain.  It is her part in our busy family and also precisely how she made her little brother’s week even more special.  She had no idea that her tiny action would also soothe my continuing existential worries and remind me to engage in all of the acts of service that I can.  Jane’s action during Lent brings me back to Jesus’ profound moment in the desert during his 40 days. When the devil tempts him to abandon the task at hand and do something flashy Jesus stays steady and trusts that his path as it is, is the only path that will serve him and eventually all of mankind.  I imagine that the devil jumping up and down on the stone saying, “Change it, change it,” was as annoying as the voice in our own heads that says, “What are you doing that’s worth anything?”

When we are brave enough to live the path before us, much like Jesus in the final season of his life, the service that we will find will be exactly the service that will lead to our becoming.  And, eventually it will extend into the lives of others.  What is it for you? Who or how can you serve today with only exactly what you have?  Where is your domain and how can you influence it?  The rest of us will be better for what you find.

Catherine Brunell is a pastoral minister of the everyday, finding meaning in ordinary things. She recently published her first book, Becoming Catholic, Again. Catherine has a master’s degree in pastoral ministry and lives in Natick, Massachusetts, with her four children and husband. Follow her on Facebook.

Ignatian spirituality has this very foundation built right into it. It’s called magis, which is the Latin word for “more”. It comes from two places. First is the Latin phrase ad majorem Dei gloriam, which means “for the greater glory of God”. This phrase is a big part of the Jesuit charism and it inspires us to bring greater glory to God through all that we do. The second inspiration of magis is from the first meditation in the Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius, which is on our sin. After a retreatant reflects on her sin and its effects Ignatius says she should contemplate the following:

“… looking at myself, [I consider] what I have done for Christ, what I am doing for Christ, what I ought to do for Christ.” — Spiritual Exercises [53]

Restless desire
Magis is this desire to do more for Christ, more for the glory of God, more to grow into ourselves. The future for many of us can be daunting and frightening. It’s unknown and uncertain. But when you look at your future in the spirit of magis it becomes exciting. Magis carries with it the spirit of restless desire for greater things, a deeper attentiveness, a deeper spiritual life, and more meaningful relations. Sure, my future may be uncertain, but knowing that I have the chance to shape it in relation to my desires for greater things brings God into the picture.

In the Gospel of Matthew (7:7-11) Jesus says, “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find.” This is God telling us that our seeking will lead to finding. Magis is all about seeking, that seeking is part of human living. “To the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” Jesus assures his disciples that God will assist them in their search for greater things.

Applying magis
Our endeavours in all aspects of life—work, relationships, eating, personal health, intellectual stimulation, or entertainment—should live in the spirit of magis. In every decision you make you may ask yourself, “Is this choice bringing goodness to my life and greater glory to God?” And stepping further you can ask, “What more in my work or life or relationships can I do to bring greater good to my life? What more can I do to strengthen my spiritual life? What more can I do to love my neighbour? What might I need to remove from my life to strive for magis?” As I said before, magis is about a restless desire. The point is, you never reach some moment of perfection or finality. Magis is ongoing growth and questioning how we can live bolder, better, and more loving. It’s about greatness in its truest sense – not about personal success or fame. Ultimately, it involves God, that Power and Purpose and Presence beyond our self-contained selves. Magis lets go of fears and lives in freedom.

Related posts:

• Changing States
• All Else is BS (Choosing “the better part”)
• And here’s another blogger’s ponderings on magis

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

“Come, Momma! Come see what I did!” My child wrapped her hand around my pinky as I was washing up the last dish from breakfast. She pulled me toward the laundry room, and immediately the panic set in. I had put my delicate laundry in the dryer, just to kick start the drying process, before hanging them up. Sure enough, sweaters and blouses were “folded” and placed in piles according to their owners. All I saw were crumpled messes and yet another job that would need to be re-done. I could feel the frustration well up inside me.

And then, I looked down at the owner of the hand wrapped around my pinky, chocolate eyes beaming with pride. “I wanted to help you, Momma. You always help me”. At that moment, as if the Holy Spirit flew directly into my heart, I suddenly thought of the bible verse, “Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful”.

My daughter, barely three years old, had shown me in one small act so many things for which I should be thankful: She appreciated what Momma does to take care of her; and more importantly she wanted to reciprocate that care. She wanted to give back in a way that means love to her. In that one moment I had a choice. I could choose to scold, exasperated by one more thing to add back to my “to do” list, or I could reinforce and nurture in my daughter all the good that she is, that she gave by that one simple act of kindness. Good intentions: If you see with God in your eyes, they’ll pave the road to serenity.

Joanie Shook is a 51 year old Bronx Irish Catholic who now calls rural Scio, Oregon home. She is a stay-at-home mom to three daughters (13 year old and five year old twins), and feels very blessed to be the wife of her husband Greg.

Lent offers us a unique gift to view the Christian story in its deepest sense. For this year’s Fourth Sunday of Lent the lectionary presents readings that couldn’t be more Christian. In the Gospel reading from Luke 15 we witness a scene with Jesus where the Pharisees complain out loud to one another, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” (Luke 15:2) This rings true. Jesus spent time with the outcast, the unclean, the sinners. This is core of the Christian message: love your neighbour as yourself. And in doing so you love God.

Jesus sees the Pharisees’ hardness of hearts and goes on to tell the story of the prodigal son. Not read this Sunday are the two parables just before, of the lost sheep and the lost coin. He is telling us this: love and reconciliation is worth anything spent in the effort. A parable, Richard Rohr tells us, “doesn’t lead us to more and more mental analysis; it’s either a flashing insight or it’s nothing.” Les Misérables is this kind of parable that leads to flashing insight.

Nothing spared
Jean Valjean, after being freed from 19 years of hard labour for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s child, is taken in by a local bishop in Christian charity. For all intents and purposes, Valjean is a sinner according to the law. He is unfit to be welcomed. But the bishop knows that God’s law requires love, charity, and hospitality. “Though our lives are very humble, what we have we have to share,” the bishop says. And even when Valjean, in a hasty and thoughtless act, steals the bishop’s silver in the night and is caught the next morning, the bishop gives him more: two silver candlesticks. To some this may seem absurd, but in this act the bishop gives Valjean another chance in the name of God. “You must use this precious silver to become an honest man,” says the bishop. “God has raised you out of darkness, I have saved your soul for God!”

The bishop did not even spare a piece of silver to save the soul of Valjean! His discipleship was pure. As Jesus once said to his disciples in the Sermon on the Plain, “Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again.” (Luke 6:30) [Listen to the bishop scene]

That night Valjean finds himself in the bishop’s chapel before a crucifix, literally speaking to Jesus in prayer. He reflects on the misery of his crime and sin, and in a slow conversion, comes to see that through the bishop God is trying to take away his shame and reveal to him his worth.

Yet why did I allow that man, to touch my soul and teach me love?
He treated me like any other
He gave me his trust, he called me “brother”
My life he claims for God above. Can such things be?

Transformation
And this is where Saint Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians comes in. Saint Paul says, “Whoever is in Christ is a new creation: the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come.” (2 Cor 5:17) Before Christ, in faith, Valjean is freed of guilt, freed of bondage. See, the grace of Lent comes to its fullness in the newness of Easter. Without reflection on our bondage we cannot be freed from it. Without a will for conversion we will forever be chained by sin and darkness. Like Jean Valjean, Paul was also imprisoned, not just in jail but by the weight of his sin. For Valjean, the moment in the chapel was the moment Paul fell off his horse. A new light shone into both of their hearts, one of reconciliation. Because with reconciliation there is transformation.

In one of the most moving lyrics of the scene, Valjean reflects on the bishop’s love: “He told me that I had a soul. How does he know?” This, for him, is the key moment that revealed he has worth. He is no longer self-damned for his mistakes. He indeed has a soul and the bishop was God’s instrument of that revelation. “So we are ambassadors for Christ,” Saint Paul says. “As if God were appealing through us.” God entrusts the ministry of reconciliation to us. The bishop took this seriously. And Valjean took the bishop’s message seriously.

“My life he claims for God above. Can such things be?” (Jean Valjean, Les Misérables)

He ends the song seemingly with a new heart. “Another story must begin!” he proclaims. [Listen to Valjean's soliloquy] Jean Valjean was becoming a new creation before our eyes. Through the rest of the story we see him live this out through his own love of the poor and the outcast. And some may notice in the film that Valjean keeps near him always the symbol of his salvation: the candlesticks.

This is the Christian story found in Lent. For us, reflection on our sin, repentance and prayer, and the desire for newness leads us strongly toward Easter. This Easter, what will be the symbol of your salvation?

Related posts:

• Confession, Vulnerability, and Healing
• Out from the Dungeon
• Open up!
• Oops, I’m Human

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

God will be journeying with you today, and the best way to jump start things is with prayer.

Click here to download and listen to the Morning Examen.

Interestingly, Saint Ignatius’ Suscipe prayer asks God for the something of nothing:

Take, O Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding and my entire will. Whatsoever I have and hold, You have bestowed upon me as untold gift. To You, O Lord, I return it. I surrender all to be governed wholly according to Your will. Give me Your love and grace. With these alone I shall be rich enough and desire nothing more.

This is a prayer of emptying. The pray-er first asks God to empty him or herself so he or she can receive God’s love and grace — but then, at the end, is the request for “nothing more”, an emptiness. Why would someone ask God for nothing? Nothing is something that can be filled. The spiritual life in many ways is about an emptying that creates a space for God to fill. We empty ourselves of false desire, disordered attachments, and unhealthy ways in order to be filled with God’s love and grace. Our desire should be for “nothing more”. The more of this is the grace that comes in God’s time. And Saint Ignatius has no doubt that gifts from God are never far away. After all, God is constantly pouring them out onto us. How can they be poured into a cup that is full?

John of the Cross speaks about the nothingness of darkness, that which allows the light of the Creator to fill. Darkness, nothing, pain, desolation, are all—in a mathematical sense—negatives (-) that can be filled with the positives (+) that come from God: light, love, peace, consolation.

“He went out again to the marketplace at nine o’clock and saw some men standing there doing nothing.” (Matthew 20:3)

Nothingness can filled. The men standing in the marketplace did not seek to fill their time in unproductive and unhealthy ways. They desired work but in that moment their desire was emptiness so the gift of work could fill it. And perhaps in that moment it felt more of a void. Perhaps the men felt down on themselves for not having work, fearful of not being able to feed their families. But they had the courage to bring their nothingness out into the open, to let it be vulnerable for the chance of something. And then Jesus came along…

“… so he told them, ‘You also go and work in the vineyard, and I will pay you a fair wage.’” (Matthew 20:4)

Jesus saw the men’s emptiness and desired to fill it, to give them work. Nothing should not be an absence of God, but rather an inviting space for God to fill. That space can be filled with evil and bad, but only if we allow it. Instead we ought to remain in the freedom of the emptiness, the blank slate, the possibility. John of the Cross said, “Desolation is a file, and the endurance of darkness is preparation for great light.” We can only receive if we’re first emptied.

“Nothing” In Prayer
In the musical A Chorus Line, Diana Morales, one of the characters auditioning for the show, shares about an acting class she was in. The teacher tries to get the students to improvise and pretend they’re on a bobsled.

Ev’ry day for a week we would try to
Feel the motion, feel the motion
Down the hill.

Ev’ry day for a week we would try to
Hear the wind rush, hear the wind rush,
Feel the chill.

But for Diana, she felt nothing. The kind of exercise her acting teacher was putting them through was very much like Ignatian contemplation, getting in touch with the feelings and the senses as you imagine a scene. The second week Diana had to pretend to be a table, a sports car, and an ice cream cone. Again, she felt nothing. So she went to church and prayed to Mary asking her to help her feel it. Then a voice from within her soul came out and said:

This man is nothing!
This course is nothing!
If you want something,
Go find another class.

This song may not give much hope to imaginative prayer, but perhaps Mary was being to Diana what Ignatius would ask a spiritual director to be. It was clear for Diana that imagining her feelings and senses in a scene didn’t work for her. Ignatius instructs spiritual directors (and those praying) to use what prayer methods are helpful and to let go of what isn’t. The 17^th Annotation of the Spiritual Exercises says this:

It is very helpful that he who is giving the Exercises, without wanting to ask or know from him who is receiving them his personal thoughts or sins, should be faithfully informed of the various movements and thoughts which the different spirits put in him. For, according as is more or less useful for him, he can give him some spiritual Exercises suited and adapted to the need of such a soul so acted upon.

For Diana, feeling nothing after weeks of trying seemed to have been a clear sign that improv acting was not for her. In the spiritual life we also must use prayer methods or spiritual practices to the extent that they work for us. Nothing for Diana was a chance to discover another form of acting or another class. A prayer where we feel nothing can either be a time to sit with the nothingness and invite God to fill it as God pleases or it may also prompt us to try another method of prayer.

Nothing is unexpected. It’s exciting. It’s emptying, but it’s spacious and ready to be filled.

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

Had a good day? A tough day? Why not spend ten minutes this evening reflecting on your day with God at your side?

The Examen prayer is one of the foundations of Ignatian prayer. Saint Ignatius said if you prayed no other prayer, you should at least pray the Examen once a day. This 10-minute version of the Examen is to be prayed at the close of the day and can be downloaded to be used daily.

Click here to download and listen to the Evening Examen.

Our decision-making life offers various opportunities to test various scenarios:

• Ignatius gives us two. First is imagination, that through prayer and meditation we can imagine how a decision will play out. Dreams often do this but with our imaginations we can actively do this while we’re conscious. The second method is to “try on” a decision and live as if you have indeed made that decision. In both cases, note your feelings and see what they might indicate.
• In dating, we have chances to meet and go out with various people before making any commitment to them. This is a good opportunity for discernment and awareness. Without the commitment you can freely date without pressure and use that time for reflection, assessing what your desires and feelings are, what your needs for a relationship are, where your heart is, and what each person has to offer, practically, emotionally, and spiritually.
• It may be harder to “test out” a job or living situation, but nothing has to be permanent. After some time you may realise that you are meant for a different vocation or you’re better off living in a different city. This may lead you to leaving your situation after a year to seek something else. These kinds of long-term situations can be the hardest to discern but at some point taking action one way or another is the best way to move forward.
• Spiritual growth can also be had by experimenting with different ways of prayer, daily routines, and even sacrifices. I fasted from Facebook for a month and found I didn’t really miss it. In fact, I had more time for prayer, letter-writing, and connecting with others. The experiment had a positive result and now I need to discern how to keep my Facebook usage low. Or perhaps I choose to reduce coffee as an experiment to see if my physical well-being improves. It might even be a chance to grow in my ability to restrain from caffeine. Any kind of sacrifice may strengthen your spirit and will power.

Experimenting is part of life, at every step. It is and should be part of the way we discern and along with it comes mistakes that lead us back to the road we’re meant to be on. Albert Einstein once said, “Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.” So what new thing do you need to try? Is it something about your routine? Your spiritual life? The way you interact with others? A change in your diet?

God is with you through it all and guiding you through every experiment you take so that you can learn and grow more into your best you.

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

Divisive
It wasn’t just the television adverts, though those were the most visible. It was just everyday citizens who put aside normal decency to debate each other tooth and nail. Facebook was alight with passionate posts on the extremes—and I feel those more centre just weren’t as vocal. On debate nights I witnessed on Twitter, good people eat each other up with stabbing remarks—most which were not necessarily based in fact. Opinions were wielded as facts and some were blaming a candidate for something they themselves were guilty of. If you want to see the United States as its most divisive, pay attention during a presidential election.

One of my Facebook friends honestly posted one evening how sad and disturbed she was by the contention and bitterness toward fellow human beings. She called some of the things said “hateful”. Why is it that elections can bring out the worst in people? Or a better question: Why does that “worst” even exist in the first place?

I speak often about our brokenness. Brokenness is part of our human reality and our internal passions, when inflamed, can uncover that raw sin that seeps from that brokenness. The sin is the hateful words; the brokenness is the blindness to other positions. I myself was passionate about certain political and social issues on the table last year, and though it may have been hard, I tried to understand the opposing side. Now we see the issue of gun control resurfacing hardened passions and hateful words.

Brokenness or Wholeness?
Often we feel our way of seeing the world is the only right way. Our brokenness can be seen in how different we are, with different views and opinions—or our wholeness can be seen in those very differences. Those are the very things that can bind us together. Call it complementarity, diversity, constructiveness. Differences, even political ones, are what gives us a corporate balance. Being aware of them, respecting them, and further modifying our positions is what diversity is all about. I’m always inspired by Jesus. Though he may have disagreed with others he listened and treated them with respect whether it was with the Pharisees, an adulterous woman, someone of a different ethnicity like a Samaritan, or an outcast disabled person. All of these people came from different contexts and experiences, but Jesus knew they all had something to say and something to contribute.

Related posts:

• No one but Donald Duck!
• Why doesn’t God solve all our problems?
• Confession, Vulnerability, and Healing
• The Power of Political Catchphrases

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I was in Florida for a conference for work and one night I was in bed having just turned off the light to go to sleep when I began to notice a slight discomfort in my stomach. The minor ache slowly increased. I began rubbing my stomach but it got worse and worse. I switched on the light to have a drink of water. Nothing would help the pain go away. It got to the point where I felt throwing up is the next thing to come. What had I eaten? I had gotten food poisoning a few years ago so these feelings were familiar. Something wasn’t right. But I couldn’t throw up.

Feeling my feelings
I lay in my bed and closed my eyes. Something caused me to picture Jesus on the cross. There he hung looking at me with compassion. And then, he spoke and told me that he wanted to absorb my pain. As I lay there I imagined this pain almost visibly come out of me and be absorbed by Jesus. Slowly my intense pain reduced and after a few minutes, disappeared completely.

Someone once said that the best way to understand what Christ did on the cross was absorb our sin. In this case he absorbed my pain. Jesus feels our feelings. It’s a consolation to accept this, that our God who created human beings knows the pain human beings can suffer, their heartache—even their joys and triumphs.

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It seems that most of my prayer each day is a flat-out conversation with God – asking, thanking and sometimes being frustrated. It’s been a rough year with losing loved ones, so I know my prayer has definitely been affected by it – maybe I tend to say things more directly to my loved ones who are with God, asking for their help.

Yet I’m aware of at least three things that help me focus my prayer or be more in tune depending on the day. These things are music, photography and stained glass windows.

Prayer through Music
Music is often described as being a way of praying twice. I have participated in the choir in some capacity since I was grade school. I have played flute at mass for over 20 years and it is through the music that I have been able to pray. When I play the flute, many times I will read the words to the music as I’m playing the accompaniment. It helps me focus on what I’m doing and allows me to pray with the songs that others are singing and I can unite my prayer with others. I find the words to the songs comforting and let them say what I need to say for me—sometimes even better than I can say myself. I’ve even tried my hand at writing music and the songs have been used to assist the congregation with prayer on different occasions.

Prayer through Photography
I have always loved to take photographs. Ever since I was little, I would try to take pictures – some of them are more successful than others (with heads cut off if I didn’t have the camera in the right position!)

As I have gotten older though, the same photographs serve as reflection points for prayer. The prayers can be of gratitude for the opportunity to be in the places where I can take the photographs. It can also be a way to appreciate the beauty of flowers or of sunsets. I’ve taken several photographs of roses or tulips or of other flowers that I look back on and wonder how many different varieties of flowers there are! My favorite picture to take is of sunsets. I’ve always been amazed at the different colors God paints in the sky and taking photographs helps me hold on to that beauty just a little bit longer.

The photographs can be a good reminder of the gifts I’ve been given, especially if they are of family and friends. The photographs help me to recall all who have been placed in my life at different times and I try to find God in each of those experiences. Taking photographs helps to capture the life God has given me.

Prayer through Stained Glass Windows
Stained glass windows are so beautiful, especially when the sun shines just right through the glass and leaves the room so colorful. I appreciate how each one of them tells a story about the scriptures—and each brings a unique perspective to the same stories. These stained glass windows have helped in my prayer and I’m sure those of others throughout the years. Some windows even have dedications to people that sponsored them and it’s neat to wonder about those who have been honored in that way. It is interesting to me how one can look at the same windows—perhaps in your parish—so many times, yet it can strike you in a different way at certain times.

One of those experiences for me was looking at a particular section of stained glass at St. John’s on Creighton University’s campus. There are several windows that include verses of the Hail Mary. I’ve looked at these a million times. Yet one day, when I was particularly stressed about having to go into a meeting for a difficult conversation with someone, I stopped in the church to say a quick prayer to get me through the time. At that moment I happened to be standing in front of the part of the prayer that said “The Lord is with You,” and for some reason it felt like Mary was telling me that exact thing—as if it wasn’t her prayer that we say millions of times, but that I was supposed to know the Lord was with me, too. It was very powerful to think that maybe that prayer could have been for me. I think it gave me a bit of strength to continue on and have a conversation with someone.

Elizabeth Elliott is a freelance writer in Omaha, Neb., who majored in music and journalism at Creighton University. For over 20 years she has played flute for church-related events and can be heard on the recordings “Days of Yesteryear” by Patrick J. Cullen, and “Spirit & Life” by Tony Ward.

Who’s got the sweetest disposition? One guess — guess who! Who’d never, ever start an argument? Who never shows a bit of temperament? Who’s never wrong but always right? Who’d never dream of starting a fight? Who gets stuck with all the bad luck? No one… but Donald Duck! (Listen to the theme song here.)

So what can we take from this? I think Donald speaks to the reality of our brokenness and human reality in general.

Human Reality
Human reality, from a duck? Face it. Donald does some pretty human things. Frustration, error, and Murphy’s Law is as much a part of his life as it is of ours. One morning nothing seemed to be going right for me. The shower water suddenly got too hot and I nearly burned myself, I spilled my cup of orange juice all over the kitchen floor, and I nearly spilled coffee on myself. Then that evening I spent ten minutes trying to swat a pesky black fly in my room. I was just having one of those Donald Duck days…

Sometimes things just happen and this is where the Serenity Prayer comes in handy:

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

At home or at work—or anytime in life there are thousands of things that lie beyond our control. It’s our choice to not be bothered by it. Eckhart Tolle speaks of a monk whose line was “Is that so?” Whether “positive” or “negative” things happened he just accepted it. Why? Because it was outside his control.

Brokenness
We humans are like Donald in that we don’t always live up to our best intentions. Donald lets his frustration and anger get the best of him. Literally, the “best” of him—his chipper disposition and positive intentions—get snatched away by a building impatience. This is his brokenness. We share in this when we allow feelings like impatience or frustration control our actions. Donald needs to realise that those feelings he feels are simply reactions to his “bad luck”. He should take comfort in knowing that his misfortune doesn’t change his good intention.

And that’s where we can find God. It’s easy to see misfortune as an unfair action of God. But God’s not about causing bad luck or freeing up parking spaces for you. Instead, God exists inside those good things within you: the good intention, the self control, the desire to do good, to love another. Within that impatient duck is a heart that loves his Daisy, that wants to live an honest profession, and care for others. This is where God exists, in those things we can create and change, and in the goodness we always have inside.

Related posts:

• Impermanent Things
• Oops, I’m Human
• Perfection

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

Finding God in your surroundings and in your life can at times be a challenge. We know the Examen prayer is one of the best ways to find God in your everyday, but there are a few other ways to become aware of God. In fact, you’re empowered to let God into your life a bit more!

1. Micro-awareness
2. Journal
3. Do something the “old fashioned way”
4. Listen
5. Say “God is here”

For a full explanation of these five methods read my full post at Loyola Press’ dotMagis blog.

Sedona is filled with new age shops selling all kinds of things, primarily crystals, which are said to spin wildly at the vortexes when placed at the end of a string or chain. I didn’t buy any crystals but I figured I’d stop by one of these vortexes to see what the fuss was about, even if just to see more of the town.

One of the main sites was on the road to Sedona’s small airport. The elevation was about 4,500 feet and surrounded by the red rocked mountains that filled the area. We parked in a small parking area at the side of the road where other vortex seekers had parked as well. We walked over the red dirt, up a small hill and came to rest at the top. Around us 360 degrees were stunning views of red and orange rocks bathed in sunlight and shadows and in the distance snow-filled clouds settled on one jagged ridge. There was a slight breeze but otherwise it was quiet. Was there a stillness in my inner being? There sure was, but I think it was because of the beauty around me. My being felt the stillness of God’s beauty, in the sky, the snow, the rock and valleys carved into the landscape around me.

I think the peace and tranquility at the vortex was indeed caused by a special energy: God. While I don’t want to discount the authenticity of other visitors’ experiences, we can forget that even natural occurrences (as opposed to supernatural), such as beauty, has tremendous power over our souls. This is why I love making retreats at retreat houses in beautiful areas filled with nature, whether by the sea or in the woods.

And perhaps for you God’s power can be found in a small crystal or a massive red rock in the Arizona landscape. Perhaps it can be found in the majesty of a stunning view or in the peace of a moment of solitude. This is the sacramentality of everyday life: that the things themselves do not produce power but rather reveal to us the reality of God’s presence around us.

So if you ever go to Sedona, Arizona – stop by the vortexes. It’s beautiful.

Related posts:

• The God of the Land
• Inculturation: Can accommodation effectively evangelise?
• A Song and A Smell

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Every human has longings of the heart but doesn’t this perpetuate an unrealistic hope? The discovery of this oddly named Justin Bieber fragrance got me thinking about human longing and the desires of the heart.

Saint Ignatius encourages the exploration of the desires of the heart, those deep things that lead us to lives of joy and connect us more deeply with God. But we have to be discerning of which desires are genuine. Sadly, many people—including Bieber-loving tweens—mistake fantasies for true desires. Such fantasies can create false hopes and unrealistic expectations. Ignatius would say these things are “disordered” attachments, in that they are false desires that lead us away from God. He would say that the evil spirit uses such fantasies to dig you into a deep hole and your continued longing for them causes you to dig yourself deeper and deeper into despair and hopelessness.

Hope
Many religions offer hope including Judaism which waits for the hope of the messiah. Christians believe the messiah came as Jesus Christ and the Christ offers a message of hope for restoration at the end of days when all is complete. It is for a making right, a reconciliation. These basic hopes which all of us carry in one way or another, are part of the longings we have between now and the end of time. Perhaps the “someday” of Justin Bieber’s perfume alludes to this universal hope. Someday things will be made right…

But that someday can become a dissatisfaction with the now. “Someday I’ll be happy…” “Someday I’ll have enough money…” “Someday I could meet Justin Bieber…” “Someday my prince will come…”

Many a woman may imagine being Snow White meeting the perfect Prince Charming. But longings that fantasise beyond patient waiting, beyond trust in God, and beyond a joyful presence can be harmful. They can lead one into poor decisions and even deeper holes. This kind of someday is beyond your control. The key is finding the joy in the present moment and asking for the grace you need for the future because someday isn’t now.

Then you have someday statements that perhaps are more realistic and within your control. ”Someday I’ll do the travelling I’ve always wanted to do…” What’s stopping you? Life is short and if you find yourself using such someday statements as ways to put off a commitment or decision, then that could be the evil spirit causing you to be stagnant. Do that travel, start that book, call that friend. It’s only more likely you’ll continue putting it off. So do it if it is something that can bring deep joy and life to you.

I’m sure none of these questions are going through the minds of those marketing Bieber’s purfume, but it’s a reminder to us that while “someday” can allude to Christian hope and crooked paths being made straight, it can also delude us and remove us from the gifts of the present moment.

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Music by audionautix.com and Kevin MacLeod

Reading:

This coming Sunday marks the end of the Christmas season with the Baptism of the Lord (Yes, there’s actually one more week left of Christmas). Christ’s baptism marks the beginning of his public ministry, and a very public acknowledgement of God the Father’s confirmation of this. The lectionary offers a beautiful reading from Isaiah 42 that reveals this great trust God had in Jesus. It also foreshadows Jesus’ ministry and calls us similarly.

Isaiah prophesies the one to come, the Messiah. This is the one Christians have come to receive at Christmas and are still celebrating. And God rubber stamps this incarnation. Jesus’ 30 years were of discernment, preparation, and time for Jesus to learn the faith, grow into his vocation, and be ready to go out to the world and “bring justice to the nations,” as Isaiah says. Jesus’ growth is not too unlike our own. From birth through schooling, we learn about our gifts, the world, and how we can affect it. Some twist their talents and use them for evil. Jesus gives us an example of using his gifts for good. He was not about bringing justice to his local town only, but to the whole world. And in his short three years of public ministry he surely couldn’t reach the whole world. That’s why his mission has continued thousands of years later. We become disciples of Christ to dole out a justice of love and charity.

But how does he do it?

… not crying out, not shouting, not making his voice heard in the street. (Isaiah 42:2)

Jesus does not do it with trumpets sounding before him or shouting or mayhem. He does it slowly, changing hearts, going about transformation in a way that does not involve political power, and it begins with humbly being baptised. The people of Israel may be in doubt, their flames burning low. But the Christ does not wish to extinguish this light (“a smoldering wick he shall not quench”). Transformation will take time but, as Isaiah says, “the coastlands will wait for his teachings.”

The word of God, while referring to the messiah, seemingly speaks to us:

I have grasped you by the hand;
I formed you, and set you
as a covenant of the people,
a light for the nations,
to open the eyes of the blind,
to bring out prisoners from confinement,
and from the dungeon, those who live in darkness.

Our Call
Such an exhortation reminds us that the incarnation of Christmas continues into “ordinary” time, that the God who formed us set us to be a people of light, to heal and speak truth, to set free from those in the dungeon of darkness and despair. Sadly, too many of our sisters and brothers are in dungeon-like places, cold, dark, frightening. For them the dungeon can be torture without there seeming to be any escape. Imagine the relief felt when someone comes to set free and release the prisoners from confinement. This Isaiah passage is all about the importance of light, something not accessible to the blind or those in dungeons.

We are called to many of the same things the Christ is called to. Can we do it? We do it each in our own ways. But first, God comes to set us free from the dungeons of our life, telling us that “there are greater things than these.”

Related Posts:

• Darkness (Discerning Advent)
  
• Crying Out

Listen to an audio version of this post…

Music by Kevin MacLeod

Saint Ignatius
Ignatius says our purpose is this: “To praise, reverence, and serve God Our Lord, and by doing so, to save our souls.” This is his “Principle and Foundation” and it’s what animates any Christian. Everything from our major life choices down to the everyday little choices are ultimately for the service of God. Actions or decisions that don’t serve that end, St Ignatius might say, may be coming from the evil spirit which wants to pull you away from God—or in other words, pull you away from being fully yourself. Ignatius gives us this broad view of purpose which plays itself out in the tasks of everyday living. Our purpose is found in the discovery and fostering of our gifts and talents given to us by God. If I am a good writer than I ought to put that to use. If I am a good listener then perhaps I should focus on a ministry that requires good listening skills or be a support for friends in need.

Eckhart Tolle
Eckhart Tolle, who is not Christian, would call Ignatius’ understanding of purpose our “secondary purpose”. Our primary purpose, Tolle would say, is to simply be. It is to be fully engaged in the present moment, not living in the past or future, wondering what we’re supposed to accomplish down the road. Being fully present allows your consciousness to fully be alive. “This means there is a quality in what you do,” he says. He gives an example: If you’re turning the page of a phone book your primary purpose is turning the page; the secondary purpose is to find the phone number.

Whatever you do takes time, and yet it is always now. So while your inner purpose is to negate time, your outer purpose necessarily involves future and so could not exist without time. But it is always secondary. Whenever you become anxious or stressed, outer purpose has taken over, and you lost sight of your inner purpose. You have forgotten that your state of consciousness is primary, all else secondary.

(Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth)

I think Saint Ignatius would put value in the present moment in the way Eckhart Tolle does, though he may still call serving God our primary purpose. But Tolle says that happiness comes from that full consciousness in the present moment, our primary purpose. Unhappiness comes from letting our consciousness move into the future and trying to escape the present moment.

I have found that even in tasks I don’t enjoy, like screwing in a window shade bracket, can bring happiness when I tell myself that at that moment my primary purpose is screwing in the bracket. I find that when my consciousness is present to the task I desire to do a quality job. After all, why wouldn’t you want to do a good job in something you call your primary purpose? And because I’m not allowing my awareness to slip away into the future—when this “tedious” task is done—I actually find enjoyment in the task.

Try this while cooking or driving or something as simple as tying your shoes. Tying shoes may have the secondary purpose of being able to walk comfortably outside, but your primary purpose in that moment is simply tying them. Try it. You’ll find that when you have no concerns other than tying your shoes, a new level of consciousness arises along with joy. Why? Because you’re not living in something other than the now.

Tolle often refers to God as pure consciousness. And this lives in all of us. Ignatius tells us that our consciousness and internal feelings are indeed ways God speaks to us. Centering prayer brings this God-consciousness to the fore. We just are. We let ourselves exist and be in the immediate presence of God which exists in the now. The more we focus on our “primary purpose”, in Tolle’s philosophy, and let God into the now of our lives, the more we let it inform the rest of our lives and fulfil Ignatius’ Principle and Foundation of serving and loving God.

Related posts:

• What’s my purpose?
• Changing States
• Like a Purple Sea Urchin

Listen to an audio version of this post…

Music by Kevin MacLeod

“The gift of the Incarnation is that we have someone now
we can see, touch and love.” – Richard Rohr

On Christmas Day, God’s faithfulness shone through the darkness and has pierced through the veil, becoming human, with DNA that—along with all our ancestors—lives in us today. God becoming human in Jesus says that Creation is good because God wants to dwell here. The nativity means that our God is indeed native to the earth, just like you and me. As Mary gave birth, Jesus took his first breath. We do this in a way when we commit to a decision. There is still uncertainty about the future. Mary and Joseph knew there was much to come in Jesus’ life, but right now was time for joy and jubilation.

For the Ignatian decision-maker, all the prayer and information gathering hopefully leads one to a choice. And if one went into the discernment process properly and with freedom, the choices at hand are both good. Freedom is required at the time of making a decision, realising that either choice would be pleasing to God.

A primary reason for incarnation is that God wanted to reveal to us that everything God created in the universe—literally every thing and every process—is sacred and holy and lives in Christ.

(The New Spiritual Exercises, 87)

All things are good, including the process and fruits of discernment. It is now only a matter of deciding as best you can, using the information gathered through prayer, reflection, and reason. The nativity of Jesus can encourage us in our decision perhaps. We can trust what our heart is telling us because we can trust God’s faithfulness, on Christmas day and long after into our lives.

Still unsure about a decision? You may never have perfect clarity or 100% certainty. That’s rare. Jesus didn’t hold back from moving forward if the good spirit nudged him to do so. Much is out of our control, like the future, or how other people will play into the decision. All you have is right now. What is your discernment telling you right now? What’s Your Decision?, a book from Loyola Press gives good advice:

The rule of thumb in these situations is “If there’s no don’t, then do.” If there’s no red flag in your analysis, inclinations, and feelings, then go ahead. Decide—and trust in God. The decision, important as it is, is but a step on your journey. It’s means to an end; the end is God. If you keep the end in view, all will be well.

Living out our choice
Choosing to live one way or another or to do one thing or another is an incarnation of God. God’s will becomes present in a new way in our lives. Sometimes a decision gives a great feeling, that I am an instrument of God! This is consolation. But the process has not finished. Making a decision means we have to live it out. Jesus’ first breath was followed by about 277 million more and during that time Jesus had to continually discern the next steps to take. These are sometimes referred to as “calls within the call”. They are the tasks of everyday living, the choices within relationships, the choices to say one thing or another, to go this place or that. These little incarnations each day can be discerned through prayer and use of the examen.

Jesus had no particular attachment to one city or another. He was not clinging to a certain person or way of ministering. Living out a vocation (or a major decision) requires openness to flexibility, adaptation, and change. Jesus had to grow into his vocation and discern how to proceed with it. But he lived it fully.

For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

(Isaiah 9:6)

The God-made-flesh became all things to all people. And his incarnation means our very choices are made sacred. Discernment is a process of incarnation, a letting God in. The nativity reminded us that God has already been here, been involved intimately in our lives—and it wasn’t going to stop. Saint Ignatius offers the Contemplation to Attain Love. This meditation reminds us that God’s love flows endlessly like a fountain, constantly pouring out gifts to us. We can trust that that faithfulness will come no matter what decision we make. Every decision we make becomes an incarnation, a little Christmas through which God enters the world.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:5)

Music: For Unto Us a Child is Born, George Frederic Handel

Podcast music: Kevin MacLeod / “I Know” by The Brilliance (used by permission)

“Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.”
(Isaiah 40:4)

The Annunciation has happened and slowly word begins to spread. You can almost see the whispers in the night spreading out beyond Bethlehem town. The rumours are true. The wisemen, the magi, the sheep and the goats, all hear of the coming of the messiah. Things have begun looking clearer. The signs foretold have begun to appear. The scriptures, the history of the people, foretell Jesus’ incarnation. Hope fills hearts.

Over time one’s discernment gains clarity. The signs in our prayer, feelings, emotions, and experiences begin to solidify and point toward something. They prepare the way to a committed choice. But we may not know quite yet. As the prophet says, things are becoming more even. The rough places are becoming smoother. John the Baptist had the purpose of preparing the way for this hope that was the messiah. But John’s followers and those who heard about him were trying to discern whether he was the messiah. Can you blame them? They had yet to meet Jesus. What were the signs they saw? It was John who was preaching this good news of the messiah’s coming, the baptism of the Holy Spirit.

Making choices requires a weighing of the signs before us. Jesuits talk about tensions, in ministry, in the Church, in all kinds of situations. These tensions though are good, it means we are holding things at a balance, in freedom. We experience tensions in our discernment that pull one way or the other. The key is understanding what these things mean. First, consolation and desolation:

• Consolation – This can be described as a feeling of moving toward God. Our hearts are lifted and there are feelings of peace, goodness, and positive energy. Consolation does not always mean happiness. For example, if a loved one dies we may feel sorrow but experience consolation from the support of people around us. Consolation again is any feeling that helps us feel closer to God.
• Desolation - This can be described as a feeling of moving away from God. We move toward inward self-seeking behaviours. We may feel drained of energy, on edge, confused, and seemingly cut off from the love of God. These are times when our consciousness pings us that something’s not right.

When doing discernment exercises, as noted in last week’s post, it’s important to note feelings of consolation and desolation. Consolation is good.

And what about other things that sway us? The bible talks all about false gods. 1 John 4 says, “Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God; for many false prophets have gone out into the world.” Ignatius believes truly that good and evil are real forces that are continually acting on our lives. Our discernment of these “spirits” are a way of preparing us for coming to a decision. Here are a few examples of what Ignatius says about the good spirit and the evil spirit:

• If you’re moving away from God the good spirit will raise doubts and try to change your course. On the other hand, if you’re moving closer to God this spirit will give you peace and reassurance.
• The evil spirit can be disguised as the good spirit, trying to pull you further away from God.
• The evil spirit tries to justify keeping sin, fears, problems, and temptations a secret.
• The good spirit brings secrets into light and leaves nothing hidden.

John the Baptist kept nothing secret. He brought the good news out into the open, a clear sign of the good spirit at work. The Canticle of Zechariah calls this out about John, saying he will be bringing knowledge of salvation and that the dawn of God shall break upon us, “to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:79) In Matthew 11, Jesus speaks to the crowds about John. “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’” (Matthew 11:7-10)

John was a sign among signs, just like Mary’s angel, or the acts performed by Jesus. But they are just signs, not the truth. They point to the truth and prepare the way. “You will see greater things than these,” Jesus once said. Discernment is filled with signs, requiring us to note the consolation from the good spirit and the desolation from the evil spirit. We know which direction to follow, what is pulling us one way or another. This is what we have at our fingertips and in our hearts to make a choice. God has not abandoned us. The rough places are being made smooth before our eyes.

Music: Song of the Baptist, Francis Patrick O’Brien

Podcast music by Kevin MacLeod and audionautix.com

“Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.”
(Luke 1:28)

We know God desires to shine a light into our world and into our hearts. There’s hope, somewhere. Through the darkness a light begins to shine. Thomas Merton describes this glimmer of hope:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Discernment begins with this kind of trust. We trust that God will communicate to us those “deep-down things” in some way. Give me a sign! we may cry out. Signs are indeed ways God communicates with us, though they may not be angels or lightning bolts. Saint Paul makes the prayer “that your love may increase ever more and more in knowledge and every kind of perception, to discern what is of value…” (Philippians 1:9-10) For Mary, God’s sign is actually an angel. She is told that she will be an instrument in bringing this light of hope into the world. This is the good news we find in decision-making, that there is a choice in which God’s will is done. Her answer: Yes. She could have said no, but this one’s clear for her.

Good and Free
For the average God-follower who wishes to make a decision, they must first ensure the choices before them are for good. Saint Ignatius makes this clear to his followers. We have no point in deciding between good and evil choices because, obviously, we should choose what is good for God’s kingdom. Choices for good may be deciding between jobs, marriage and religious life, staying in this city or moving across country for school, pursuing a master’s degree or staying with your current job.

These choices ought to be placed before us in freedom. We should be at a sort of equilibrium when going into a discernment. For Ignatian spirituality this is key. I should be able to say, “I will be okay with either of these choices if God leads me to it.” We shouldn’t go into discernment with our mind made up. This is an un-freedom. Ignatius gives several exercises for making decisions. Here’s a sample:

• Logical: Draw up a list of pros and cons for each choice and see which one seems to make more sense logically.
• Imagine: Place yourself before God or Jesus and tell him you’ve made one decision over the other. How does he react? What does he say? Separately, do the same with the other choice.
• Gut: Picture yourself committing to one decision. What feelings arise? Make a note of these and then do the same with the other choice.
• Pretend: Try living with one of the choices for a few days, as if you’ve really committed to it mentally. Note in a journal how it was. Then go another few days as if you’ve committed to the other choice.

This is data that will lead you to a decision: your head, your heart, your feelings, your experiences. With patience and prayer, clarity will slowly form. Mary’s story doesn’t end at the Annunciation. No, she, like any good discerner and pray-er, ponders what just happened… Ignatius recommends you take all the things you experienced in your prayer and discernment time, even any kinds of decisions you’ve made (like Mary’s yes) and ponder them, relish them, reflect on them. Again, no rush. Mary had some months to ponder what her future would be like, about her pending marriage, and giving birth to and raising the God-child. Mary had more choices ahead of her. But she pondered all these things with freedom. Paul Coutinho, SJ says,

When good things happen in Mary’s life, she accepts the good and celebrates it without clinging to it. And during the painful times in life, she flows with the pain without clinging to either the good or the painful.

Mary’s kind of freedom, that is, not clinging, is a surrendering to God’s will. It exemplifies a true cooperation with the divine which leads to the incarnation of Jesus. By discovering this freedom within us, we can better cooperate with the divine through discernment. Putting aside our own expectations—though not dismissing our deep desires—will lead to a new incarnation in the form of a decision.

Music: Mother of God, The Brilliance

Podcast music by Kevin MacLeod

“Lord, it is nearly midnight and I am waiting for You
in the darkness and the great silence.” – Thomas Merton

Incarnation happens all around us. It happens when we see a rainbow; when we receive communion; when we make a decision. Incarnation is always evolving: God being made present in new ways. The divine permeates all things and even comes to expression in our choices. But it’s often far from easy. We may feel we’re in the dark like Thomas Merton, waiting for a sign or a flicker of light. We may, on the other hand, feel like we’re in a whirl of confusion, feelings, emotions, and choices. These things are the raw material of discernment. Advent is a time of patient waiting and pondering. Perhaps this prayer of Thomas Merton describes your feelings:

My God, I frankly do not understand Your ways with me. You fill me with desires that people have been canonized for having and for carrying out. Then You tell me not to carry them out, and You tell me in such a way that it would seem to be a sin if I carried them out. Then You make the desires grow more and more until they consume the very foundations of my life. Are You trying to kill me?

Such feelings can be frustrating! Saint Ignatius offers a meditation that begins the incarnation, ultimately leading to Jesus’ birth.

The universe booms into being. Earth forms and cools. Human beings inhabit the planet and evolve. The Trinity looks down upon the earth and observes life: the rich and the poor, the starving and the fed, the peace and the violence, the building and the division, the joy and the mourning, people giving birth, others murdering, some giving, others aimless and without direction, some laughing, others in despair, some praying, others cursing.

Peering through God’s eyes, make note of the situation before you in your life, the decisions, the feelings and fears and excitements, even if they’re conflicting. Dive into the messiness of your creation.

The Trinity simply observes creation for what it is. God continues loving the world despite any chaos. Finally, the Trinity decides to intervene and send the Second Person to be a beacon of hope, a light for the darkness. “The days are coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and Judah.” (Jeremiah 33:14) Creation is awaiting the Messiah. There is hope for an answer, a making right.

Whatever decision may be before you, you are likely in one of three states:

• The first is a time of absolute clarity where no doubt exists. It’s like when Paul fell off his horse or when Jesus approached Matthew and said, “You, come follow me.” If you’re in this state there is no need for discernment since you have absolute clarity. This is rare.
• The second state is a time where certainties and doubts abound encompassed with varying feelings and emotions, consolation and desolation. It’s the kind of confusion Thomas Merton felt in the prayer above and the kind of confusion you may have felt when viewing the world through the eyes of the Trinity. This is a good state for making discernment: full of raw material. The language of God lies within.
• The third state is a place of calm. We neither feel consolation and peace nor desolation and disquiet. Thinking is clear and without distraction. This is a good time for reasoning discernment. If you’re not in any of these three states, it might be best to wait out any pulls you feel toward one extreme. There’s no need to rush.

Sit with the rawness, without judgement. Observe. There is no need to jump to an answer. The beginning of discernment begins with observation, the collecting of all that is in your heart and mind. Place it before God in patient waiting.

Music: May You Find A Light, The Brilliance

Podcast Music by Kevin MacLeod

I pray this Advent is prayerful and reflective for you. As Mary awaited the birth of Jesus she pondered many things in her heart. May this be a time for God to shine light into the dark spaces in your life, uncover any questions, and address any uncertainties you may have. Open your heart in joyful hope for the goodness yet to come from God.

This is one of the ways I manage to make God a part of my day. It’s hard enough when I’m tired in the morning or busy at work. Finding time for prayer and acknowledging the holy is very important in the spiritual life. I’ve tried many things to focus myself back in on God during the day, including a daily 1pm alert on my computer that reminds me to pause, maybe say a quick prayer. Truth be told, I don’t always follow through because something else “seems” more important. Having to go to the bathroom, on the other hand, is something I can’t avoid. So I make the most of the forced pause and bring God into it.

See, sometimes you don’t even need to create pauses for yourself because they already exist throughout your day. You just have to notice them. There’s a pause when you’re driving in the car. There’s a pause when you take your dog for a walk, when you’re washing your hands, or tying your shoes. And of course, while you’re in the WC.

Where are those inevitable pause moments in your day? Use them for a quick prayer.

Listen to an audio version of this post…

Music by Kevin MacLeod

I used to work for a concierge service where people requested $80 Veuve Cliquot champagne, $6,000 Patek Philippe wristwatches, and $12,000+ Birkin bags. It’s not like those brands produce indestructible products. They may be good quality but they’re probably not worth those prices. But those prices make them exclusive. People who buy expensive handbags or expensive bottles of wine feel that they are in a club others are not. It adds to a perceived status and a sense of self-worth. Most people, religious or not, would tell you that this is a falsehood. Things don’t add to who you are.

What about pleasure? Shouldn’t we be able to buy things for the sake of pleasure? Absolutely. God, at least from the Christian perspective, would not be opposed to pleasure. It’s an authentic part of life. The Dalai Lama says that the purpose of life is happiness. We all strive to avoid suffering and seek to be happy. Material things can bring a happy pleasure to our lives. Saint Ignatius would agree but put the spin on it that says all things are good so long as they lead us closer to God. And perhaps a good bottle of wine lubricates a gathering of people whose friendships are important to each other (remember the wedding at Cana?).

But do I need to pay $100 for wine? Do I need a 15 year old vintage? Saint Ignatius might say that is bordering on a disordered attachment to a material thing for the purpose of upping my status or showing off. Using God’s gifts in a “disordered” excess is an attempt to create a false self that only deeper hides the genuine you.

Profundity from a wine steward
Back in June I was on a cruise and when the wine steward came to our table at dinner I asked him which wine would go well with the fish I was going to order. He asked whether I preferred white or red. Well, duh, I thought, you don’t have red wine with fish! “I can tell you which wine is supposed to go well with the fish,” he said. “But you should have what you like. That’s the most important thing.”

I found this absolutely profound. In a culture where we are ruled by certain rules and traditions and supposed-to’s, we often shy away from having what we actually will enjoy. It’s as if society is telling us to fit a plastic mould rather than letting us be truly authentic. We are dictated what we’re supposed to like. We give diamond engagement rings because we’re supposed to. We prefer thin over fat because we’re supposed to. We vote Democrat or Republican and not a third party because we’re told the status quo is what is best. I figured I “wanted” white wine since I was having fish, even though I might have preferred red in that moment.

The wine of life is what you make it. This is not to say we blindly and undiscerningly do what we want. This is about having a greater awareness of our desires and not just filling expectations that only make us less ourselves. Showing off a Louis Vuitton bag does not show others who I really am deep within, neither does being a snob about wine. I would rather be confident in my tastes and interests even if they rub against the grain of the expectations of the status quo. So if you have wine at your next meal, have what you want.

How often do I notice that I’m positioning myself to get a rise out of others? Can I be aware in the moment that these material things are not part of the identity God gave me? Can I enjoy material things with gratitude to God and without letting them become an excessive attachment?

Listen to an audio version of this post…

Music by Kevin MacLeod

The story of Martha and Mary has had many perspectives on the lesson from the story. We learn about the need for hospitality and true attention to the Guest. We also learn about one of the most glaring lessons: letting go of our distractions. “Martha, Martha,” Jesus says. “You are worried and distracted by many things.” But, how can Martha set aside the necessary housework and just sit with Jesus?

How many days we find that we put off time with friends or loved ones because we have things to do that we feel are absolutely necessary. Jesus nearly admonishes Martha by telling her that her sister Mary has chosen the “better part”. Distractions are the reality of every living person and so are things like housework. Like Martha, we have good intentions in that work, but so very often it removes us from an existence that is life giving. And who gives us that life but none other than God?

Sometimes saying no to busywork is the absolute necessity. We ultimately have need of only one thing: The God who gives life. All the rest, as Saint Paul would say, is “rubbish”. (Philippians 3:8) Jesus never denied to Martha that there was indeed busywork that had to be done. He was hoping to reframe her choice in the present, not the future dinner that she was likely working toward. What was the best choice in that moment? It was to sit with Jesus. Do we forget that the scripture says it was Martha who welcomed Jesus into her home? What kind of host welcomes someone and then disappears into the kitchen never to spend time with the guest?

Paul has a point calling anything not leading him to Christ as “rubbish”. The Greek word is σκύβαλον (skoo-balon) which literally means animal excrement. A modern translation that would fit well is, well, BS. All in all, whatever I do in my life that doesn’t involve God is gravy. It’s BS compared to what I gain by spending time with the Lord. The Lord instead calls us away from our busywork not for nothing, but to say that there is other work to be done: the work of the Kingdom.

Saint Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises tap into what this kind of work Jesus is calling us to will be like. Jesus would say something like:

I want to overcome all diseases, all poverty, all ignorance, all oppression and slavery—in short, all the evil which beset humankind. Whoever wishes to join me in this undertaking must be content with the same food, drink, clothing, and so on, that comes with following me. So, too, whoever is with me in the labor of the day’s work and with me in the loneliness of the night watches will likewise have a part with me in the final victory.

(Draw Me Into Your Friendship, David Fleming, SJ)

He’s saying that all else is pittance compared to this Kingdom work! We may have to say no at times to what might seem more important. We might find ourselves lonely or worn out. But we don’t have to do this. We have a choice to follow the Lord in this mission and it begins by sitting at his feet and listening. Because comparatively… All else is BS.

Related posts:

• Distractions
• Earthy Concerns
• What’s my purpose?
• The Power of No

Listen to an audio version of this post…

Music by Kevin MacLeod

I love the verse from the First Book of Samuel:

“The Spirit of the Lord will come upon you in power, and you will be changed into a different person.”

(1 Samuel 10:6)

The kinds of things learned in important periods of our life are things that form us more into the person we were made to be. It may seem like we change into a different person, but really we become more ourselves. We change states in a sense. I like the analogy of the states of materials. The metal and plastic in your car are in solid states, but they can be melted. Technically they’re frozen, which makes them a solid. If the temperature rises high enough the metal and plastic will become a liquid and can be formed into something else, like a tool or a bowl. Ice is frozen water. When the temperature is high enough it becomes a liquid and though it’s still water it has a different function. If another “changing” event occurs the water can become a gas and have yet another function like running the pistons in an engine. Cool it down again and the water can be formed into solid ice cubes to cool your drink or into a beautiful ice sculpture.

We’re not so different. We remain the same person, but our state changes from time to time based on various events in our lives. Right now I could be a business manager but something causes me to pursue cosmetology school. I could be one considering marriage but some spiritual event may cause me to pursue a celibate life. My state changes, but I don’t. Like the potter in Isaiah’s book, I am being formed like clay. Whether a cup or a vase I still am clay, I just have a different function.

The problem in our culture is that we often fail to discern our state of life. We enter marriage or a career or move across country without any real prayer or thought. Saint Ignatius sought to create a more prayerful way of making major decisions, one that allowed God to contribute a voice in the process.

>> For some practical advice on putting the Ignatian decision-making method to use, I recommend the book What’s Your Decision? by J. Michael Sparough, SJ, Jim Manney, and Tim Hipskind, SJ. It offers practical real-life examples and how to approach decision-making in the Ignatian way.

Related Posts:

• The Heart & The Gut
• What’s my purpose?
• Not Quite a Do-It-Yourself Spirituality

Listen to an audio version of this post…

Music by Kevin MacLeod

Perfection is careful but not cautious. She burned her hands too many times before she learned to pay attention. She says that hers is the most difficult job in the world. The post was vacant for nearly three years. Most people do not even make it past the first interview, and retirement is mandatory after nine years. About halfway through the fifth year Perfection started feeling like she was falling apart and dissolving into space. This recent episode humbled her. She had never realized how strongly we resist being broken open. She discovered that her greatest strengths grew out of her strongest weaknesses.

Perfection needs to keep moving. Otherwise she becomes swollen with her obsessions. She has learned to dance into the very center of her fears. She is not impressed by false modesty and the fronts we develop to hide our beauty. She is grieved by how fiercely we hate ourselves and yet refuse to change. She honors our flaws.

We can all relate to perfection from time to time, some more than others. Perfection can lead us to being broken open as we discover our weaknesses. This reminds me of Paul’s talk about weakness in scripture. He speaks of a figurative or literal “thorn” in his flesh given to him by God to humble him. He says,

Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.

(2 Corinthians 12:8-10, NRSV)

Like the story about Perfection says, Paul is practically dancing into the very center of his fears and flaws. How hard that is to do. Like Paul, Perfection realised that strength can be found in even the strongest weaknesses. Paul was probably a bit of a perfectionist in his missionary work, starting up churches, and spreading the new Christian faith. There was bound to be some hiccups and obstacles. He might even have had an inflated ego in his success that only a metaphorical thorn could puncture.

We can learn a lot from Paul and Perfection. We might find that they are mirrors of some of our broken and flawed parts.

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Music by Kevin MacLeod

Fine… It was kind of neat that the star of my favourite show acknowledged my existence in a less than 140 character communication to me. But then I thought about what might be cooler than that…

A tweet from Jesus! But gee, I’ve never gotten a tweet from Jesus.

Wait, am I dense? He tweets to me all the time! And he doesn’t have character restrictions. With all the hullabaloo of celebrities acknowledging our existence we forget that Jesus (the ultimate celebrity) actually deeply cares about my life. Josh Radnor, though he might be a good person, has already forgotten about @andyotto. And even when he was composing his tweet back to me he wasn’t concerned about who my friends were or how I loved or what direction my life took. But Jesus does. And he communicates with me all day long, through my feelings, my heart, my experiences, and the people I encounter. Jesus is always trying to speak to me. In fact, I wrote down some of his tweets:

10/11/12 7:19pm @JesusofNazareth: @andyotto What’d you do today?
10/11/12 11:13pm @JesusofNazareth: Good night! I’ll be up getting some work done.
10/12/12 3:40am @JesusofNazareth: @andyotto Thinking about the weekend… I was thinking we could grab a coffee downtown.
10/13/12 2:31pm @JesusofNazareth: Sick of all the election hoopla. How about following the better choice like @andyotto does! #VoteJC2012
10/14/12 9:48am @JesusofNazareth: @andyotto Sunday! It’s my day! Send me a text later and tell me how your relationship is going. #needtocatchup

So Jesus may not be communicating to me precisely by way of Twitter, but he does care about my relationships and about how I spend my time. He probably even wouldn’t mind if we shared a coffee.

See, Josh Radnor and Jesus might have have come things in common—good sense of humour and Jewish—but he and no other celebrity is quite like Jesus. No celebrity takes an interest in the mundane details of your life. And unlikes Jesus, no celebrity is going to read all your tweets and respond as meaningfully.

So what’s Jesus saying to you?

Don’t always get a tweet back? Perhaps you’re not tuned into all of Jesus’ channels, like prayer or silence or human conversation. Here are some other ways you can listen.

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Whatever your stand on gay rights, acknowledge that these feelings are real. They’re authentic. They’re human. Let Stephen’s reflection be yet another window into the human heart of someone who faithfully seeks God in all things.

Learning to find God in all things can be tricky, but it can get even more daunting to find God in the darkness of rejection, discrimination and prejudice.

Like many other gay men, I left the Catholic Church on a quest to find God and be the man He created me to be. It became increasingly clear that I could not do that and remain in a place that told me there was something wrong with the way that God made me. I was no longer accepted in my own home. I do want to make it clear that there are many wonderful people in the church who have shown me God’s love and acceptance. I was fortunate enough to find a supportive Catholic community near my home and I count it as a blessing, because such a community is truly uncommon today.

I didn’t have to grapple with my gay orientation for too long. I was accepting of who I was from the beginning, which was a blessing and a grace in many ways, though I did feel the sting of rejection from a place that was supposed to be my home. I consider my brothers and sisters who have not been as fortunate and I feel compassion for those men and women who struggle with self-hatred and condemn themselves to a life of secrecy, those who are constantly bombarded with messages telling them they are freaks. I think of the kids being bullied at school who then go to mass with their parents and hear anti-gay remarks. I wonder how many teenagers who kill themselves also went to church with their parents and heard those things. And mostly, I wonder where God is in the midst of all this.

“You are fine the way I made you”
I constantly struggle with the answer to that question, but I do know that who God made me to be has been a gift. I have learned that love has many faces and styles. I’ll never forget watching Chely Wright—the country singer who came out—describe her experience. She said she remembered praying to God to make her straight when she heard a still small voice saying, “You are fine the way I made you, proceed as you are.” Her words resonated deep within me. That is a powerful message for everyone, but especially today’s youth.

We find God in the diversity of creation and we find God in love – whatever form that takes. We can also find God when we are rejected and abandoned. Jesus was rejected because most narrow-minded people have little capacity to receive the all-encompassing love of Christ. Jesus preached of loving your neighbor and accepting everyone as brother and sister. Sadly, many Pharisees found this loving message absolutely appalling. Even more, Jesus made the human sacred. He blessed diversity. He associated with all types of people – some of whom were of questionable character.

Whenever we are being our authentic true selves—the selves that God created us to be—we will meet some level of rejection. But we can find God in the love within us and in communities that accept and affirm us. We can find God in people like Chely Wright who was a voice for all gay people who have no voice. God can be found in that still, small voice, “You are fine the way I made you, proceed as you are.”

The voice of Christ
And we also find God in hope. Hope for the future. That acceptance and change will happen. It already is. There are many voices speaking out in favor of that change. I believe there is hope that we will come together as one big human family and “love one another as Christ has loved us.” I pray that we will be a part of that change and play a part in ending teen suicide over one’s sexual orientation. I pray that all my brothers and sisters would know that they are loved and created in the image of God who has created diversity when it comes to love.

I believe that it will be the small communities that meet outside of the institutional church that will make the difference in this world; the lay people and the clergy who actually follow Christ that will make a difference by their efforts and sacrifices, people like Jeanine Grammick and the late Mychal Judge and many others who are standing up against injustice. It’s the quiet nuns that live in obscurity taking care of AIDS patients and the small welcoming communities who worship in the seclusion of their own home who are making the difference. The men and women who have the courage to be who they are in the face of rejection and ridicule and those who minister to the ones who cannot be themselves. These people are the true church and the face of Christ for me.

Related posts:

• Will I lose my dignity?
• Broken and Poured Out
• More Tough Questions

>> An interesting article on gay acceptance issues: Not In Spite of Being Catholic, But Because of Being Catholic

You’ll note that I wasn’t driving the limit on both those road stretches for safety’s sake. I cautiously stuck to the limit out of fear of getting another ticket. Perhaps that’s what the police intend in setting up speed traps and handing out fines. It’s a deterrent. We all know how easily human beings react to incentives. In this case the incentive to drive at the speed limit is not getting a ticket. But this bothers me because I don’t want to drive a certain way out of fear. I want to follow the rules out of a concern for safety, something good.

How often do we live out our life in certain ways as a result of fear? Do we avoid confronting an injustice out of fear rather than a desire for positive change? Do we stay in a relationship because we fear we’ll never find someone else if we ended it? Do we follow the commands of our faith out of fear of the consequences or out of a love of God?

Sometimes it’s hard to escape fear. Sometimes it dictates our actions or inactions. It drives us into madness or just despair. It can keep us from being fully ourselves. God does not want that.

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