Monday Morning Meditation #91: Look to God

This week I began reading the book of Lamentations. It is not a book that has had a strong impact on my life, except in the case of the story of Goliath, which I have related here below, when I asked God for verbal instruction and then opened the Bible to the Book of Lamentations where I did find some relevant verses. I suppose I could select nearly any verse for inclusion here since they all seem to be singularly focused on the pain felt by Israel after having been conquered, something which happened only because the majority of the population failed to heed the words of the prophet, Jeremiah, who gave the people of Israel warning and warning from God along with a description of what would happen to happen if they failed to follow God's words. Rather than focusing on God, however, they focused on themselves. Nowhere is the reason for their fate clearer than in chapter 4, verse 17:

"Moreover, our eyes failed,
looking in vain for help;
from our towers we watched
for a nation that could not save us."

Reading: Lamentations 4:17

Meditation: Of course, the nation could not save them. God could, though. But they did not look to God. They did not trust that God could or would save them. I wonder how often we try to save ourselves, waiting to turn to God until it becomes absolutely clear that we do not have the wisdom, strength, endurance, or forbearance to save ourselves. How many times do we give a problem to God and then worry about it? By worrying about it, we have essentially taken the problem back. As parents, we expect our children to grow up into full independence. At least, Western parents expect this. God, though, is a different kind of parent. God does not expect us to become independent as we mature in faith. In fact, the opposite is the case. God hopes that we will become more and more dependent as we learn that the only absolute source of safety and help is God. God is a parent like no other.

Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I now retire to private prayer to thank God for the all-the-time, no-matter-what help that is mine for the asking. I will praise God for the greatness of His love that accepts me with all my weaknesses and even loves my weaknesses for they bring me to Him. I will ask God for less independence for, if I am anything, I am an independent sort -- and have been so, according to my mother, from the age of two. Then I will move on to contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.

I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I think you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too, as do readers of this blog who have taken the stroll over to his blog.)

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Soft Addictions

Judith Wright has written a book, called There Must Be More Than This. In it, she describes some things one might not consider sins or addictions. She calls these "soft addictions." Examples include doing nearly anything to excess: shopping, FaceBooking, chat rooming, primping, game playing, and many more -- activities that become necessary to us and to which we lose control. For a more complete list, I recommend reading the book.



I do not have time for many of the things on Wright's list nor interest in most of the others. However, I had noticed that I had spent an increasing amount of time playing Farmville, a rather addictive game hosted on FaceBook. I had a large and beautiful American farm, which took considerable time to build, initially accomplished sitting in airport lounges while traveling (in lieu of reading, writing, or even simply praying). I had not noticed what Farmville was replacing in my life. That is the way it is with addictions. It soothed my mind, I justified to myself, and soon I had built an equally beautiful but quite different English farm. Now I had to tend my crops in both locations so that they did not die. I added buildings, built up a play-money cash reserve of millions, acquired two dogs, and was close to reaching Level 100, even sure what the significance of that might be. I barely noticed that my mind was not soothed but numbed. I reached Level 94 when I made a terrible mistake. Instead of clicking on "remove post," I clicked on "remove Farmville." I could not retrieve anything, no matter how I tried -- and I really did try.



Was it an accident? Or a Divine contrivance? I suppose I will never really know, but I am back to reading, writing, and especially praying in my "spare" time, of which I now have more. My mind is indeed soothed -- and no longer numb.

Of Gods and Men

My prayer group recently watched a movie that really inspired contemplation. In English (the movie is subtitled), the title is Of Gods and Men. (If you are interested, you can watch the trailer.) In French, the original language, which I read and understand, the title is "Des hommes et des dieux" (Of Men and Gods). For some reason, I like the original title better. It is one of those rare movies that when it is over, no one has anything to say. You simply sit, reflect, and then depart, left to your own contemplation. I met one member of our prayer group the following day at noon Mass (happened to have a day off for some reason I don't recall now), and she told me that she was still in contemplation as a result of the effect of the movie on her.



Here is the description of the movie from the Amazon website:

Loosely based on the life of the Cistercian monks of Tibhirine in Algeria, from 1993 until their kidnapping in 1996, Of Gods and Men tells a story of eight French Christian monks who live in harmony with their Muslim brothers. When a crew of foreign workers is massacred by an Islamic fundamentalist group, fear sweeps through the region. The army offers them protection, but the monks refuse. Should they leave? Despite the growing menace in their midst, they slowly realize that they have no choice but to stay... come what may.

And here is a review that pretty much says all that I would say.

The monks at the Trappist monastery in Algeria seem almost to exist outside of time, so it may be a while before we recognize the 1990s as the setting for Of Gods and Men. And old traditions cannot escape new warfare in this stirring movie, based on a true story that happened at a remote enclave of peaceful, studious priests. These Christian monks minister to the largely Muslim (and very poor) villagers in their vicinity, a balance that is threatened by Algeria's Civil War. When nearby radical-Islamist insurgents begin killing foreigners, the monks must face a choice. Will they flee to safety--a perfectly rational and understandable decision that will leave the villagers without their only source of health care--or will they stay on, secure in their spiritual calling despite the possibility of abduction or murder? Director Xavier Beauvois makes an absorbing film from this question, and it's not at all difficult to understand why it became an unexpected box-office smash in France (and ended up winning the Cesar award for best film of 2010). The film is beautifully cast, and sometimes Beauvois simply trains his camera on the lined, weathered faces of his priests, as though allowing those lines to tell the story. Heading the cast is Lambert Wilson (of Matrix fame), who leads his men with an almost regal bearing, and veteran actor Michael Lonsdale, who quietly inhabits the role of the physician in the group. The film takes time out for quiet contemplation, as though understanding that the priests' suspenseful situation is only half the story. The wordless climax, which allows the men to be animated by the earthly pleasures of wine and Tchaikovsky, is something of a spiritual journey of acceptance all on its own. It's a moment you'll find very difficult to forget. --Robert Horton

The title of this post is in my opinion the core of the film's message. If you watch the movie or have watched it, you will see (or already know) the source of that phrase. I won't spoil it for anyone through explanation.



Enjoy!



Posted a few days ago on Modern Mysticism.

Monday Morning Meditation #90: God's Love Is a Stern Love

Finishing Proverbs this week, I read through the entire book of Ecclesiastes. I did not stop there because I have written on many verses and chapters in that book in my book, Blest Atheist. So, I continued on to Song of Songs. During my conversion experience, I mistakenly looked into the Song of Songs when I was told to do some research about Solomon. (Yes, I know; Solomon did write Song of Songs, but it was not that information about Solomon that I was supposed to be checking out.) Quickly realizing that this was not the information I was seeking, I moved on to other books in the Bible, eventually finding what I was looking for in the book of Ecclesiastes. I had no further contact with the Song of Songs until this past weekend when my reading of it coincided with a retreat I attended on St. John of the Cross. At the retreat, I learned that St. John of the Cross was enamored with Bible was Song of Songs, and the priest who led it asked us to read this particular book as the basis for our lectio during one of our lectio divina sessions. From the entire book, the verse (or rather, portion thereof) that strikes me the most is Chapter 8, verse 8: "...for stern as death is love".



Reading: Song of Songs 8:8



Meditation: I had never conceived love as stern before, but thinking back on 41 years of marriage, I would have to conclude that I do not disagree. But this is not marital love. This is the love of God for His creation. If the Bible tells us nothing else, it tells us that God's love is stern. Not cruel. Not demanding. Not selfish. Just stern. God wants us to love Him so He can give us the expanseless love He has for us. It is the kind of stern love that a parent has for a child at varying stages of that child's development. Stern is good in my experience as a parent and as a recipient of God's love.



Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I now retire to private prayer to thank God for a love that is deep enough to be stern, repenting for any times I have chafed under the sternness. I will praise God for the greatness of His love. I will ask God for greater understanding and a willingness to comply with His stern love. Then I will move on to contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.



I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:



Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I think you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too, as do readers of this blog who have taken the stroll over to his blog.)



For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Monday Morning Meditation #89: Pride of Your Children

Many apologies for the late posting of MMM this week. I traveled all night, ending up on the East Coast this morning. Managed to get checked into a hotel at 6 AM, but could not manage to get the Internet operational until now. (At least, it is still morning on the West Coast, my home.) During this week, I continued to read further in the book of Proverbs. I continue to enjoy the reading very much, and I continue to find much worthy of attention. I did not get very far, though -- just into the next chapter -- before I found something that really touched the core of my being as a parent. Take a look and see what you think about this verse (17:6):

Children’s children are a crown to the aged,

and parents are the pride of their children.

Reading:Proverbs 17:6.



Meditation: Let me start with grandkids. Anyone who has grandchildren knows just how special they are. The relationship is different from the relationship with one's own children but equally bonding. I remember a friend telling me when my daughter-in-law was pregnant with our first grandchild that she loved being a grandparent because you were not 100% responsible for the grandkids; you can send them home when you are worn out. I found out something different, though. I love being a grandparent because it is heartwarming watching my son, Shane (the only producer of grandchildren for us to date), be a good parent!



Now, for the second part of that verse, about parents being the pride of their children. It was interesting to see that side of things emerge over time as the children grew older. When they were younger, they always tried to protect me -- I think that had a lot to do with my ineptness in areas in which they were competent. Come to think of it, they still do it! (I must be really inept!) But the pride part came along a little later. Maybe because once you become a growingly older adult, you understand better what it is your parents did for you and in life in general and what they had to go through to make that all happen successfully.



Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I now retire to private prayer to thank God for my children and grandchildren, repenting for all the mistakes (scads) I made with them over the year and expressing gratitude for coming out of each mistake wiser and without scars. I will praise God for designing a creation that keeps renewing itself. I will ask God to watch over my children, helping them be good parents and successful (or at least, happy) adults, and my grandchildren, keeping them safe. Then I will move on to contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.



I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:



Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I think you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too, as do readers of this blog who have taken the stroll over to his blog.)



For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Monday Morning Meditation #88: Pride Displeases God

During this week, I continued to read further in the book of Proverbs. I have started to run into some repetition among the verses. Nonetheless, I continue to enjoy the reading very much. Each pithy verse takes some time to process; so much is applicable to life today, well, to my life, for sure. In Chapter 6, I came across a short verse that deals with a problem I have been dealing with rather intensively these past two weeks and in general over the past two years. Verse 5 reads:

Every proud man is an abomination to the LORD; I assure you that he will not go unpunished.

Reading: Proverbs 16:5.



Meditation: The story is very long, but still, it is probably easier to include it in this post, as related in my forthcoming book rather than as related piecemeal over time on my Modern Mysticism blog, where I will continue with updates on the spiritual warfare saga of Goliath. I am sure, sigh, that it is far from over. In the interim, if you do not have time for a long story, skip on down to the "contemplation" section below. If you do, well, here is the story, so far:

At the time I met Goliath, I was volunteering at San Ignatio Shelter and Soup, often referred to as Triple S. Run by a Catholic non-profit foundation, Triple S provided beds and blankets to the homeless in San Ignatio, feeding them as well three simple meals each day.



Not long after I began volunteering at Triple S, Goliath came into power as my shift leader. I welcomed Goliath, hoping to learn much from him. We held, by organizational policy, informal semi-monthly meetings to discuss how we provided our services and to learn more about how others elsewhere ran shelters and food programs. I welcomed that opportunity, too. These meetings were also intended as opportunities for faith formation and confirmation; we were, after all, a religious foundation. Therefore, we always opened and closed our meetings with prayer and, considering that the nature of our work amounted to being God’s hands in that particular Salts neighborhood, often shared spiritual experiences arising from our work in addition to discussing the more mundane rules, changing city regulations, requirements imposed by our Board of Directors, and service improvements in general.



Since four of the six volunteers on our shift lived in San Ignatio, with the two others living in the next town over, I offered my modest home as a convenient meeting place. In the style into which the Russians and Arabs have trained me, I provided snacks for meetings and, I hoped, adequate hospitality.



Later, Goliath had found coming to San Ignatio on the extra occasions of the meetings to be inconvenient. Our meetings moved to his house 20 miles away in Salts. Once we were inside his spacious, rambling house, however, he oddly ushered us into a small, windowless, upstairs room for the entire meeting.



Goliath is soft-spoken and portrays himself as a good listener. In reality, he listens but does not hear. His cognitive deafness was less troublesome than his eyes. Whenever I would bring up a spiritual topic, he would look at me with vacant eyes. Later, others corroborated my experience with their own.



While the vacant eyes disturbed me on a subconscious level, I initially paid scant attention. After all, this was Goliath. He touted himself as spiritually mature and experienced. He was in training to be a deacon. Are not all such people the chosen of God? How can there be evil inside the Church, I wondered at that time. Now I have seen that where Good treads, there also hovers Evil. One may not sense the conjoining of Good and Evil because Evil cleverly and quietly awaits its opportunity.



After a number of meetings with Goliath, we volunteers started comparing notes. It seems that all of us had been perturbed by the same aspects of our meetings: formulaic prayer in limited amounts as if God's presence was not really wanted; a sense of God's absence; a feeling of uneasiness; a shared sense of Goliath as condescending and arrogant. Clearly, he did not like poor people, an attitude that extended to our entire shift since we came from a small and financially struggling Mexican-American town. In addition to volunteering at Triple S, many of our shift volunteers routinely emptied all the change from their shallow pockets into the coffers of the church or handed out their last dollar to someone on a street corner. None of this mattered to Goliath. He perhaps did not consider that the poor are also made in the image of God and that “whoever mocks the poor has contempt for their maker” (Proverbs 17:5). In fact, he seemed to despise the kinds of generosity that the spirituality of a mission town brings. All he could see was how shallow the pockets of some of our volunteers were. What oozed from deep inside him seemed to be hubris and ambition. (One is reminded of the secular ambition that confused St. Augustine, as he related in his Confessions, and kept him from God for many years.)



The travel to Goliath’s house for the team meeting strained the finances of some of our volunteers. Goliath, who could well afford to make the trip to San Ignatio, knew this but insisted that his own convenience took precedence over individual volunteers’ sacrifice. His complacent attitude, vacant eyes, and vacuous smile reminded me of the insensitive nurse in the movie, One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest.



At about this time, some of the volunteers began coming to me individually. Perhaps they sensed that as a manager in my professional life, I could provide some leadership skills they needed in dealing with Goliath. Perhaps it was because I drove them all to Salts. Perhaps it was all divinely motivated. I don't know. Knowing is not important.



The first to come was Eduardo. An emulatable example of humility, he scrambles to make a living. Taking time off for our distant meetings meant loss of pay, the greater distance to Goliath’s house adding up to more than an additional hour without pay. He accepted that sacrifice, but I felt it was unfair. His concern was the arrogant way in which Goliath interacted with us, as well as Goliath’s flippant remarks whenever Eduardo would relate a spiritual experience encountered while volunteering at Triple S. One can only guess at the reason for Goliath's condescension toward Eduardo—antipathy toward members of any but the upper socioeconomic classes, dislike of non-Caucasian ethnic groups, or simply discomfort with someone who is simple and close to God. The latter reason would get my vote, given Goliath’s shying away from spiritual discussions. Eduardo wanted me to go with him to talk to a priest we trusted. However, unfortunately, the priest ended up out of town for too long a period, and matters moved forward without what would surely have been a helpful consultation.



The next meeting Eduardo was unable to attend. Ditto for Nancy. So, of the four travelers from San Ignatio, Onyx and I were the only ones in the car. Onyx, also openly disdained by Goliath, likely because Onyx is a recovering alcoholic, unemployed, and still suffers from some aspects of a personality disorder, begged me to bring up the financial issues with Goliath and to ask him again to move the meetings back to San Ignatio. We all truly needed to attend team meetings and really wanted to do so, but the financial sacrifice was unbearable for most.



Unsure of how best to approach the situation, I pulled over and called my Bible Studies leader, who led a different Triple S shift. He, too, felt that I should raise the concerns to Goliath. He also felt that Goliath should be given the benefit of a doubt and a chance to rectify the problems. He offered to approach Goliath on our behalf, and in hindsight, perhaps I should have opted for that approach. However, at the time, I felt that Onyx and I could reason with Goliath. So, near the end of the meeting, I brought up our concerns.



The response shocked me. Goliath insisted that it was his right as the shift leader to have the meetings at a time and place that was convenient to him regardless of how difficult it was for others. He was the most important person in the group he repeatedly stated even though no one was challenging him over his importance. Then he suggested that if we did not like it, we could leave the foundation until we were ready to do things his way. He recommended that especially I leave. Well, there we had something to mull over.



A couple of days later, Nancy called me to find out what had happened at the meeting. Before I could tell her about the awkward discussion, she volunteered that she had not come with us because she was uneasy being around Goliath in his house. "Would you let your daughter go into his house?" she asked.



Practicing the presence of God in the vein of Brother Lawrence is something I do all the time. However, with Nancy’s question I realized the source of the uneasiness felt by all of us: God was not with us in Goliath's house. In fact, I lost the sense of God's presence when I opened the door to go into Goliath's house and regained it when I walked out of Goliath's house. What I was feeling while there, what Nancy did not want to expose her daughter to seemed to be a sense of Evil. I don't want to say that Goliath is evil since I doubt that it is so. Rather, his profound lack of humility, i.e. root sin of pride, may have allowed Evil to take up residence around him, if not within him, and lead him where otherwise he might know better than to go. Certainly, it seemed that Goliath was controlled by Evil: his spooky way of speaking in a soft, flat monotone, his empty eyes, and his avoidance of spiritual discussion (substituting for it discussions of "rules," "requirements," and his own worldly experiences). Nancy and I discussed whether or not to continue exposing ourselves to this unhealthy environment at the required team meetings.



Following this discussion with Nancy, I prayed for direction. I was puzzled by the response. A sharp image appeared before me: Jesus overturning the tables in the temple. What was that supposed to mean? I prayed again. The image repeated.



I left the question unresolved for several days, then once again turned to God for help. Again, that same image appeared. I did not know how to interpret it, and the priest to whom I would have turned was out of town. I shared it with our Bible Studies leader, but he did not know how to interpret the image, either.



That image brought not only puzzlement but also feelings of anger. They did not seem to be resident feelings but rather something that bubbled out of seeing that image. What I knew about anger did not seem to apply here. Rohrer and Sutherland in Facing Anger claim that anger represents a protestation against loss of self-esteem. Self-esteem was not at issue in the case of Goliath nor in the image of Jesus in the temple. Whitehead and Whitehead in Seasons of Strength define anger as both a feeling and a way of behaving. That latter attribute somewhat reflects the kind of anger that emanated from the temple image but still did not encompass a full explanation.



I continued to pray about the matter, and my next prayer brought another experience of the same image as well as something new: a sense of needing to do something. After all, the image and story were of Jesus doing something. So, I sent an e-note to Goliath, reiterating, perhaps too stridently—the influence of those feelings coming from the image—the requests that had been made of him at the previous meeting. He responded by phoning all the others in a divide-and-conquer, intimidate-where-possible, make-promises-in-other-cases power play that only drove them to me for help in combating what they had perceived as attempted manipulation. I wrote again and repeated, more stridently, my earlier requests and perhaps too forthrightly told him of our concerns—well, most of them: I hesitated to mention the sense I had of Evil surrounding him. Goliath continued to refuse to put anything into writing and asked for a phone call so that he could tell me how he expected me to behave. I countered by agreeing to discuss matters with him but only with all concerned present since his individual phone calls turned out, when we conferred with one another, to have relayed conflicting information. He demurred.



As a team, we decided to write a letter about our concerns to the Board of the Directors. I prayed about the letter. Again, I got the same image. Understanding by now that this was some kind of tasking being given to me but not understanding what the task was supposed to be considerably disconcerted me, and the priest to whom I would have turned was still out of town.



Nancy and I wrote the letter, trying to keep it objective, non-accusatory, and focused on resolution of the issues that were troubling us—all except the issue of evil, which probably was the core of the problem. We were hesitant to commit that to paper, but we knew we had to bring it up at some point. So, we asked for a meeting with the Board to discuss details more fully. Eduardo signed the letter but after overt intimidation from Goliath, retracted his signature.



Goliath knew about the letter to the Board because I had told him about it in an effort to be fair to him. Armed with this knowledge, he preempted action from his peers by going directly to the regional committee that provided oversight to our Board, presenting a biased case of what was going on, taking my emails but not the letter that requested a meeting with the Triple S Board of Directors and failing to disclose the content of his phone calls to others that prompted my emails. Of course, the regional committee knew nothing about the images I was receiving.



The regional committee wrote a letter to the local Board members with a cowardly cc to me, directing them to support Goliath and suggesting I be dropped from the rolls of volunteers, using a string of unflattering epithets to describe me even though they had never met me. They claim to have prayed about the matter before writing the letter, but the uncharitable words and lack of example-setting indicate to me that, like so many who ask God for help and then don’t listen for an answer, they went ahead with what they themselves wanted to do. Or, perhaps they were suffering from a form of illuminism: they considered that only they had a “special light” from the Holy Spirit and therefore they were right and I (and the other volunteers) wrong.



I assumed that deafness, arrogance, or illuminism, rather than the Holy Spirit, motivated them because it seems strange that God would have sanctioned such an ignorant and uncharitable response after having led me to do what I did. Even if I were mistaken in interpreting God’s will—which can always be the case, given that I am not capable of perfect discernment—their vicious response was not in keeping with anything biblical. As St. Paul cautioned the Ephesians, “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up as fits the occasion that it may give grace to those that hear” (Ephesians 4:29).



Perhaps God allowed them to proceed in this uncharitable manner because, in the words of C. J. Mahaney (Humility: True Greatness), “there’s truth to be gained from an enemy’s critique. Humility doesn’t demand mathematical precision from another’s input; humility postures itself to receive God’s grace from every avenue possible.” I am now willing to consider that God might have meant to teach me a lesson concurrently with sending Goliath a message, considering that I could have better heeded St. Paul’s words in my choice of words in my notes to Goliath. I can be satisfied with that possibility, even receiving the lesson with gratitude. Were I to question the value of God allowing what could be looked upon as humiliation, the words of deCaussade (The Joy of Full Surrender) would cause me to question my questioning:



Those who are enlightened by faith judge things in a very different way from those who have only their senses to guide them. . . . the soul that recognizes the will of God in even the smallest circumstances, even in those that are most distressing and fatal, receives them all with equal joy, pleasure, and respect. That soul throws open all its doors to receive with honor what others fear and fly from in horror. . . . Those who have this disposition adore God with redoubled love and respect, even in the greatest humiliation. The louder the senses exclaim, “this cannot be from God,” the closer they press this bundle of myrrh from the hand of the bridegroom.



At the time, though, when I received a copy of the letter from the regional committee, I threw I away without reaction. Not addressed to me, it proceeded from false assumptions, including the statement that I was unwilling to obey God. (In this case, I feared that they were equating Goliath with God.) I had no desire to take them to task for their harsh words or even to respond to the mean caricatures of me. Had they deigned to talk to me, however, we could perhaps have clarified this ironic misconception. I may have not done things as skillfully as someone else might have done them, but I had definitely tried to follow Meister Eckhart’s injunction that “you ought to go wholly out [away] from your own will.” Failing to put truth before convenient assumption, the regional committee lost an opportunity to demonstrate Christian charity or to engender a mathemagenic discussion on the often inscrutable will of God.



Somehow, in this tussle, the letter Nancy and I had written had become misplaced. So, there was no meeting with the Board. Nancy and I talked about walking away, but that action did not seem to be the kind of response the image I was receiving would prompt.



Then, Nancy ran into one of the Board members, Laura, in a bookstore in another city. (None of us can convince ourselves that this meeting was coincidental.) Out tumbled Nancy's concerns, to which Laura told Nancy the history: Goliath had not been their choice to be shift leader but had appropriated the position for himself in a bullying manner that left some of the Board members appalled but without recourse. At least some of the Board members were as uncomfortable in Goliath's presence as we were! Here was news!



Laura asked Nancy to convince me to call her. I called from Washington, where I happened to be at the time, and we talked for more than an hour. Encouraged, I told Laura everything up to that point, including the image of Jesus overturning tables in the temple, sharing that I just could not make any sense of the image other than the feeling that I was supposed to do something related to it. Laura had an interesting interpretation: "I think it means that God does not like evil infiltrating His organization." That was the first time that the word "evil" had been spoken. Before Laura hung up, I had promised to meet with the Board.



Long after the incident with Goliath had reached a zenith and subsided, someone pointed out to me that when Jesus called the temple a “den of thieves,” he was referring to two things. First, selling animals for sacrifices was a desecration of the Lord’s house. Second, the poor, loved by Jesus, were denigrated in the temple sales for they could not afford to buy the kinds of “nice” sacrifices that the wealthy could. The latter thought made sense when it came to the aptness of the image to Goliath: Goliath recoiled from the poor and volunteered at Triple S from a sense of duty, not from a feeling of love.



After I hung up with Laura, I complained to God: "Lord, You know that I am a verbal learner. I need words, not pictures, to understand. I will try to grow in the ways you seem to want me to, but in this case, I really need verbal input. I suppose You know that. I just want to mention it in case you might think that I am smarter than I really am."



Then I drew bath water, the remaining ritual of the day. As the water filled the tub, I debated whether to take into the tub with me a book that I was partway through reading or the Bible.



"My Word." Out of nowhere came the Voice, startling me as usual.



So, the Bible it was. I haphazardly opened the Bible and found myself staring at a passage I had never read before: Ezekial 30. As I read through the chapter, a lament for Egypt and God's threat of destruction, I saw many parallels to my own situation. Once again, a prayer had been answered. I had words, not an image—except, uh-oh, as I read, I became less certain of my interpretation. Here was a tale of arrogance punished. Certainly, Goliath's arrogance deserved to be punished, but the adjective used in the verse was "her," referring to a nation, Egypt. Now, Goliath was definitely a "he," and I am definitely a "she," but in most historical documents, nations are frequently referred to as “she.” So, confusion appeared anew.



Once again, I cried out for help in exasperation at myself for not being able to understand what was apparently supposed to be obvious. "So, Lord, whom do You see as arrogant? Me or Goliath?"



And then, once again, I heard that Voice, which I have come to love and trust, yet which causes me to jump out of my skin whenever I hear it and which almost always sets me scurrying off for help to confirm authenticity. Only this time, I was far away from home and from anyone who could help. I did, however, get an answer to my question.



The Voice said, "Let Goliath know he cannot treat My people this way." As with other locutions, every single word is seared into my memory forever.



Now that I had what seemed to be clarity, I definitely had to let Goliath know. Whatever were to happen to me or my reputation (people tend to think you are nuts if you tell them that you experience locutions), I would carry out any tasking that so much effort had gone into making clear. Although I sincerely wished I did not have to do this, it would be, as the Russians say, skazano, sdelano (literally, said-done, i.e. no sooner said than done.)



When I returned, Eduardo, laboring under the misassumption that I might stop volunteering at Triple S, asked to speak to me urgently. He told me that he had been praying about the situation and was certain that I was supposed to finish what I had started. For some reason, Eduardo thought it meant I should stay long-term at Triple S, but I understood it to mean that I was supposed to see the tasking through to its finish: discuss Goliath’s maltreatment of God’s people with the Board.



The morning of the meeting with the Board, to which Nancy, bless her soul, accompanied me, I was understandably nervous, knowing that I would have to talk about things mystical and not knowing whether the other Board members would be as accepting of them as Laura had been. Nancy and I attended the same Mass that morning. There, the person leading the choir made a mistake (or was it a mistake?) and gave the wrong page number for the last hymn we were to sing. The song we ended up singing was "Be Not Afraid." Several of the powerful images in that song brought a sense of strength, comfort, and, most important, confidence:



Be not afraid.

I go with you always.

Come, follow me.

And I will give you rest.



Nancy asked me after Mass if I had picked up on the mistake and its possible significance. Of course! I also was aware that in Biblical times a message or task sent from God was usually preceded by the words, “Be not afraid!” from the messenger. Obviously, I am not the only one to experience apprehension when greeted with divine intervention.



I found that once we were at the meeting, with Goliath present as well, I was not afraid. I did not feel alone. Of course, the support of Nancy and Laura helped, as did the clear willingness of the other Board members to listen to our concerns, especially Rebecca, who had learned in advance of our concerns through Laura. Laura and Rebecca controlled Goliath admirably during the meeting. Even more helpful, I also felt God's presence (for the first time in the same room with Goliath), and I find God’s presence an incredible comfort. I methodically explained everything that had occurred: the discussions among the volunteers, the purpose of the letters, and the image I had been seeing in response to prayers. I told the Board about my plea for clarification and God’s words to me. Then, I paused to take a breath, and looking Goliath in his vacant eyes, I said, "Goliath, you cannot treat God's people this way. God tasked me to tell you this." There, it was said!



In that moment, a strange thing happened. Goliath's face went through multiple distortions. I am not talking about him changing expressions. Rather, his physical face contorted in ways I had never seen before except in movies: fluid morphing. I wondered if I was nuts after all. However, afterward, Nancy confirmed that she had also seen the morphing of Goliath’s face. I took comfort in the fact that we both had observed this seemingly impossible phenomenon. Later, I wondered if perhaps these facial distortions were a reflection of a fight within Goliath’s soul, hopefully nothing more than a reflection of human pride and Goliath’s efforts to contain it.



The outcome was definitely worth completing the tasking. I realized that our Board of Directors does accept mystical experiences as one way God chooses to communicate with some people. Goliath began conducting meetings in San Ignatio, and another shift leader came to the meetings to mentor Goliath. The following year, Goliath decided to step down as shift leader.



Afterward, though, I questioned whether I was right in my interpretation, understanding of being tasked, and manner of accomplishing the task. I wished I had had the opportunity to take this to a spiritual advisor who could test the authenticity of what I saw, read, and heard. In the end, everything seemed compellingly clear, but I suppose that could be a deception. Others agreed with my interpretation, but that, too, could be a deception. At least, though, what I had done—properly or improperly—did lead to a good result.



There was another positive outcome: Laura, Rebecca, Nancy, and I became friends. We now meet periodically for dinner. I have been blessed with a friendship that would not have formed had I not been willing to let Goliath know he cannot treat God’s people this way.”



Just when I thought my task was complete, I realized that I had no idea how I should relate to Goliath from then on. So, I asked God what to do. In response, I heard two words that absolutely flabbergasted me: "Love him."



Thereupon popped out my usual incredulous response, “Lord, You want me to do what? You must be kidding!”



Forgive him? Certainly! But love him? After everything I had been through? Love him when I seem to have been tasked to de-claw him? Love him when he wanted me out of the way, completely gone, and referred to me only in the most scathing terms, deliberately pulling the regional committee into his camp through carefully manipulated information and Pharisaic posturing? Love him when I feel Evil pulling at him to the point that I recoil? Lord, You are indeed inscrutable! First, You tell me to take him to task, and now You tell me to love him!



If God said to love him, though, I realized I would have to learn to do that. I began to pray for Goliath. I began to hug him even though from his side the response was always a cold, mechanical, public gesture. I hope that what I give is not the same, but it is admittedly not yet some kind of passionate embrace. Lord, how do you define love?



Yes, I know, in part, the answer to this question—agape, i.e. the pure love of God for mankind, which we are called to emulate. I know, too, as St. Paul told believers in Corinth, “These three remain: faith, hope, and love; the greatest of these is love.” I know these things. Bringing them to pass within myself, however, is often beyond my capacity. For that, I have to lean on God.



What I do know for certain is that God loves Goliath, just as surely as God loves my mother, so succinctly expressed in the words, “she lives in grace.” I suppose that is part and parcel of the new covenant, a pact of love and forgiveness, embodied in the life of Jesus. While a part of me would like to judge the fairness of God’s love shining on all alike, I will not. God has not asked me to give anything that I have not received. I look forward to the day that I can enjoy the “delightful peace” that deCaussade asserts will ensue “when we have learned by faith to find God through all his creatures as through a transparent veil.”



If the purpose of the task was to change Goliath’s behavior, apparently, it has succeeded, no matter how poorly carried out. Eduardo, who continued to attend team meetings, told me that the meetings improved and that Goliath is not the same person. Praise be to God if that is true!



In hearing Eduardo’s words, I felt a rush of love for Goliath and a great gratitude to God. I can lean on God, and I can learn to love those for whom I feel no natural affinity. And even if I fumble a task, God will use my efforts somehow to bring it to the desired closure.



One underestimates the tenacity of Satan, however, at one’s own risk. Our organization recently had a change in leadership, and, apparently feeling emboldened, Goliath reverted to his old ways. Satan seems to have gifted Goliath with the charism of deception so that those who do not know him well gravitate toward his dissemblance of meekness, allowing Satan’s purposes to be accomplished. Finally, I understand, at least in greater part, what is happening in our organization and why God pitted me (and, thankfully, a few other volunteers) against Goliath. There is a serious spiritual battle going on, not only among our local volunteers but also at higher levels of leadership. Satan is using Goliath as his local champion. Why? Because he can. Just as God can use me and others like me to combat Goliath.



I also understand now why God wants me to love Goliath. Goliath is not the evil one. Rather, his overweaning pride allow him, likely unknowingly and, I would guess, not by desire, to be used by the Evil One. Clearly, loving Goliath and praying for him is critical to helping him loose himself from the bonds of Satan and to returning our organization to spiritual health.



I imagine our organization is not unique. Otherwise, I would have spent fewer words relating the story of Goliath.

Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I now retire to private prayer to thank God for trusting me with Goliath (likely along with others about whose efforts I do not know). I will praise God for all he has taught me about pride, humility, love, and sacrifice. I will ask God to teach me more for surely I will need more. Finally, I will repent of my own moments of pride, which have done no one much good, including me. Then I will move on to contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.



I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:



Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I think you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too, as do readers of this blog who have taken the stroll over to his blog.)



For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Spiritual Sunday #30: Stupor

For more Spiritual Sunday posts, I recommend that you wander over to the website of Charlotte and Ginger, who host the Spiritual Sunday meme.

Because I do not blog on Sundays -- keeping it as the sabbath, a practice started by Fr. Christian Mathis (Blessed Is the Kingdom) -- I use older posts (forgotten perhaps but hopefully still interesting) from one or another of my blogs that seem appropriate for this meme. It seems to work to bring out the older posts that many have not read before or ones from other blogs I maintain that readers of 100th Lamb may not know about.

This week I decided to post something from the early days of my Modern Mysticism site: Stupor.

Wishing you a peaceful Sunday!

Bear Witness to the Light

One of the blogs on my blogroll has disappeared. Well, disappeared may be the wrong word. The blog is still there, but no posts have been posted in nearly two months. Fr. John Sullivan, Springfield, Massachusetts, posted regularly on his blog, Bear Witness to the Light. He was a kindly priest as I found out in his responses to my occasional comments. After a full month of seeing nothing posted, I became concerned. It did not seem that someone who had posted regularly for seven years would close down a blog without a word. One would expect to at least a final, good-bye post, but Fr. John's last blog was simply a routine post in keeping with his other posts. Something seemed wrong. No matter how I added two and two, I was not getting close to four.

So, I did a little research. After all, in a former life (uh, career), I was a pretty good academic. Therefore, I know how to research. So, off I went in search of one missing priest. And I found him, well, sort of. It turns out that Fr. John was injured by the tornado that flattened Springfield in June. He suffered a separated shoulder and broken leg and required surgery. He will be in a rehabilitation facility for a while.

In addition, St. Michael's Retired Priest Residence, where Fr. John was living, was damaged by the tornado. In fact, a good part of it was reduced to rubble. So, even when Fr. John is released to another residence, there is a likelihood that he will not have a computer for a while. (Of course, this is quite secondary to his health.)

I also tracked down an address where cards can be sent:

Fr. John Sullivan
St Michaels Cathedral Rectory
86 Wendover Rd
Springfield, MA 01118

So, if you happen to also be a reader of Fr. John's blog, you might want to send a card to him! I am going to try to send this information to all his followers -- if I can track down their email addresses. I ask you to pass along the information to any of his blog followers you might know.

Whether or not you know Fr. John, have interacted with him in the blogosphere or not, I would ask you to pray for him. I am sure he can use our prayers!

posted on all Mahlou blogs

Pablo Ruiz Y Picasso

Pablo Ruiz y Picasso was born in 1881 in the city of Malaga, Spain. His father was an artist and art teacher. Pablo talent emerging in the very young age and he was a painter, leader of the teenage years. In 1904 he settled in Paris and for the next stay in France. Picasso really was a very productive artist. During his life as an artist was unusually long - about the time three
quarters of a century - he has created more than 20,000 art separate from each other, averaging more than five papers in a week that lasted for 75 years! The vast majority of that time, his work has always stood at the forefront in terms of high prices, because the Picasso became a very wealthy man. He died in the town of Mougins, France, 1973.

Anyway, Picasso no doubt a versatile artist who rarely standard appeal. Although primarily a painter's name, he also did a lot of sculptures. Plus, he's ballet stage designer; he struggled with the art of making pots, leaving a large number of works of lithography, painting over the lines using a pencil or chalk from many other branches of art.

But as a temporary artists, Picasso was also interested in earnest on political issues. In fact, masyhurnya painting "Guernica" (1937), inspired by the events in the Spanish civil war. Several other works also have political significance.

Many famous artists is marked by a range of basic styles. Picasso was not the case. He displays the vast spaces of various styles are astonishing. Art critics gave nicknames like "blue period," "pink period," "neo-classical period" and so on. He is one of the forerunner of "Cubism," He sometimes participating, sometimes oppose new developments in the world of painting, modern painting. Perhaps no artist in history who could do the work with quality so high with through so many styles and ways.

Not all of the schools of art have long-term effects. Although Picasso praised in the 20th century, be questioned whether in future Centuries later still honored it Could Happen, or whether its effect will soon disappear in the time soon. It was clear, there is no guarantee that convincing to answer such a question. However, a consensus of contemporary art critics say that the influence of Picasso will still have an important weight in the future. Though clearly, we can not ensure the continuation of critical weight as Pablo Picasso could we do with artists who have stood the test of the time.

Monday Morning Meditation #87: Love Correction

During this week, I continued to read further in the book of Proverbs. I continue to enjoy the reading very much, and I continue to find much worthy of attention. There have been so many proverbs worth sharing and discussing that it was hard to settle on one for this MMM. Chapter 12, Verse 1, though, really hit home because it is one of the two reasons that I think God pushed me in the door of the Catholic Church.

He who loves correction loves knowledge, but he who hates reproof is stupid.

Reading:Proverbs 12:1.

Meditation: Here is what I wrote about discipline in my forthcoming book, A Believer in Waiting's First Encounters with God:

Discipline has turned out to be as important as spirituality for this free spirit from the '60s. Although we may rebel against the catechesis of the Church where it does not match our own precepts or makes us uncomfortable about some aspects of our lives, we cannot but admit that the tenets are carefully considered, worked out by many faithful believers over many centuries and based on the principles that Jesus gave us at the beginning of the Common Era, the years which those of us schooled before the 21st century counted as anno domini. I am not talking about any decisions taken by the Vatican or local parishes of the “universal” church arising from political persuasions, fiscal desires, or culturally-based exclusionary practices but rather about the belief system that goes by the name of Catholicism. Over time, the Catholic Church has put an order to the days and to the hours of our spiritual lives that I find refreshing and comforting. It is indeed a healthy discipline. Would that I could find time to allow myself to be disciplined more often!

I know that there are those who chafe against this discipline of the Catholic Church and second-guess any spiritual authority that might be “over” them. Fr. Thomas Dubay (Faith and Certitude) describes them as follows:

One of the chief reasons some religiously minded people do not enter the Catholic Church is that they are not prepared to make the act of faith, that is, the act of submitting their judgment to a living authority. The problem is not that the evidences for a divine origin of the Church are lacking. On the contrary, they are clear and abundant. What is lacking is the attitude of a mind willing to accept what it does not see simply on the authority of a teacher. These people may profess a great appreciation for Scripture. They may see its beauty, but they are not ready to surrender their belief that their views are superior to another’s. They will not bring themselves to admit that a teacher who contradicts their ideas could be divinely authorized. This is why the root obstacle to faith is pride.

I have to admit that I could easily be one of those stubborn ones who would cling to my own ideas above those of others. What stops me is knowing that God did put me in the Catholic Church and, for that reason alone, I must accept the teaching of the Church.

There are those, too, who would chafe against the discipline of God for those whom God loves, God disciplines. To react in this way, though, works against our own self-interests and the wishes that God has for us. D. A. Carson (How Long, O Lord?), writes, “If he [God] disciplines those he loves and punishes those he accepts as his children, then to chafe unduly under such punishment is to betray our immaturity—or even, finally, to call into question our desire to grow in conformity to our heavenly Father.” Proverbs 13:18 states the importance of discipline even more strongly and succinctly: “Whoever disregards discipline comes to poverty and shame, but whoever heeds correction is honored.”

Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I now retire to private prayer to thank God for sending many people, especially priests and nuns, into my life to correct me. I will praise God for knowing just what I need and where I needed to find a religious home. I will ask God to increase my desire for discipline and will repent those times where I have chafed against it. Then I will move on to contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.

I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I think you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too, as do readers of this blog who have taken the stroll over to his blog.)

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.