Rapidity
08.29.08 (6:28 pm) [edit]
Rapidity
Each day a gift,
at times so easy to forget,
so I squander
as if I had forever to live,
not listening to times rapidity,
past years a faded memory.
Rooted
08.28.08 (10:25 am) [edit] | |
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Rooted
Large trees are deeply rooted. This rootedness takes time, it is very slow, can’t be sped up, so growth is slow, yet in the end you get a glorious tree with luxuriant foliage, giving shade and coolness in the summer, often living depending on the species for centuries.
I think people grow like trees when it comes to answering the call. It takes time for our true roots to grow deeply in the soil, with perhaps many mistakes and bad turns along the way. Yet the call felt deep within, still leads us onwards, zig- zagging perhaps, but not so far off the road that some direction can still be discerned.
The chaos along the way and yes the failures can be a help on our journey, if the enemy is not given into to. What is the enemy? It is despairing of ever making real progress. The problem with that kind of thinking is it is based on a lie. In the end progress is a mystery, for amidst the failures and chaos, if the heart is kept open, one day we seem to arrive at a ‘certain place’ that was thought impossible. So it is the hidden workings of grace, bringing order out of inner chaos and failures, were true progress is made.
It is love at work, we call it grace. All we need do is keep open, stay on the road, if abandoned, well to get back on again. The number of times one fails does not matter, for mercy, the kind of mercy that pursues us, is infinite. Our mishaps are woven in the tapestry of our lives, it is what gives it depth and beauty.
Joy comes from knowing that simple ‘thing’. We are loved, simple to say but hard to believe. The revelation of Jesus is true, yet the closer one comes to that mystery the harder it can be to believe. At least that is my experience. So I have to choose to believe and dive in deeper. My faith is a choice, though the roots are fed by the water of grace, the deep well of God with us.
God loves all. The mercy shown me is the same mercy that is shown to all. So an open heart, filled with joy and the love of others is our road and no amount of failure will change that. We are all called. Some answer early, others later much later. Yes we are loved, on a journey and united in ways that we can neither know nor understand at this time.
No strings
08.26.08 (6:11 pm) [edit] | |
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No strings
Love is given free,
no strings,
yet it cost everything.
The struggle with love is what gives life,
the pain is what opens the heart,
to draw back is death
into a heart fearful and frozen
leading to numbness beyond bearing.
I have no idea
08.25.08 (2:40 pm) [edit] | |
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I have no idea
I am not a very disciplined individual, I do not do well with set times for doing certain projects. I also tend to procrastinate; with different things, which is also not very helpful in my life. The aspects of my relationship with God suffer because of this. I keep dancing around difficulties. It is like there is this big ‘something’ in front of me, and I do a lot of stuff that is a waste of time in order to avoid it. At least I think so. I don’t know, I seem to be getting less sure of myself as time moves forward. At 60, I feel that I have not even begun to start on my inner path towards God. I just bump around a lot, going in an endless circle. Funny when young, I thought 60 was ancient, yet I still feel young inside and at times even more confused or perhaps conflicted is a better word, than when a youngster.
In November I am going to make a sabbatical so that I can focus on certain blocks in my life. It was two weeks ago that a decision was made and now things are starting to move, which is making me uncomfortable and mistrustful of myself; who I am and what I am about. It is not going to be easy, since for the first time in my life I am going to try to be open and honest, no cards played close to the chest, just being wide open and trusting with those who are there to help me. I have no idea what that will be like, though I am willing to go for it.
I suppose my writing for the last ten years has helped. Bill says that I am doing a life review with my poetry, essays, etc. That everything I write has to do with me, which of course I have always known. I just never thought of it as a life review. I feel like the ‘Velveteen Rabbit’ that has not yet become ‘real’, worn out, open to loving and being loved. Perhaps I am afraid of a certain species of pain that has to be encountered in order to become truly real.
It is just the way I am. I tend to over process, or so my friends often tell me. Yet I don’t know what else to do, I seem to be aware of a lot of inner voices seeking my attention, and they are getting louder and more strident. Inner images don’t frighten me, for I have learned that the stronger they are, the more important it is for me to deal with them at this time of my life. I do not fear inner chaos either, since from past experience I know that it is part of a very large cycle in my life, and probably in the life of others as well.
So I am positive about the outcome of it all. My life when I look back on it, seems to have some reason and rhyme, however the going through of the process makes one blind to that reality, at least on an emotional level, though my faith is intact, there is a path I am on though I can’t see it, feel it, and feel lost at this time.
I am responsible for much of my turmoil since I do not have the courage to simply deal directly with whatever it is I am supposed to deal with. I get shadows, outlines, some images more vague than others, yet I still hold back, it is like I prefer my present circumstance to a wider freedom. So I need help, which is why I am going in November.
I am of course not unique, which is why I am not afraid to write this. All of my life, at least the first 50 years, I tried to convince others how together I was; now I am trying to show that I am not. Why I am not sure, perhaps for the freedom that it is slowly giving me. Ann Marie told me that I am moving towards something different, better than what I have experienced in the past. I have no idea what that is, but from past experience I am willing to ‘keep on truck-en’ as the saying goes.
Divine mercy
08.23.08 (10:34 am) [edit] | |
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Divine mercy
It is easy to talk about the mercy of God, but difficult to understand the depth of the mystery that we are dealing with. The human understanding of justice has to do with righting of wrongs, bringing the scales back into balance, which of course is impossible. For justice and revenge are first cousins, often accompanying each other on the road, trying to right wrongs. Most humans have a strong sense of justice when it is applied to wrong doers, a natural desire that flows from wrongs committed against oneself or others.
Our legal system, which strives to bring justice to all, is often flawed, and in the end is not based on actual truth, but simply one proving someone guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, which of course leaves a wide margin for error, and in the end the innocent are more often than one would want to consider, punished for crimes that they did not commit.
In human understanding justice and mercy do not go together, though there are of course exceptions to that rule. Now it is a different story for the desire for revenge and its relationship with justice. They can become interchangeable, again with destructive outcomes that are often played out day by day. An eye for an eye mentality often leads to an unending cycle of destruction and suffering that can go on for generations; it is played out in the news everyday, with deadly fruit. Yet as a species we continue in this irrational behavior, knowing on some level that in the end it simply does not work.
Justice, if true, simply gives the one guilty what they have coming to them. In some cases even revenge can be perceived as something good, though that is an illusion at best and at its worst a true human tragedy. Justice is often flawed, corrupted by cultural influences, blinding those enclosed in its web to the actual truth of the matter. I guess we all have ‘good reasons' for whatever we do, perhaps that is the problem, the good reasons.
Justice is needed for the well running of culture, without it only chaos will ensure, yet if applied to rigidly it can lead to only further chaos. Justice without mercy in the end can lead to a system inhumane, cruel, those administering it worse than the perceived wrongdoers.
Mercy for many is something unknown and when experienced can be life changing. Like water in the desert, mercy can bring life and healing to many human situations, but it can be difficult to apply and in some instances impossible, for our human emotions can take over allowing the application of mercy impossible. So in the end cycles are often fed, growing strong and healthy, feeding on the pain and anger of those seeking justice, but in the end, is only another word for revenge. It is a serious human dilemma with severe consequences that seem to be growing, if what we see on the news is any indication.
When thinking of ‘Divine Mercy', it is something different, easy to apply to oneself but at times almost impossible to desire for others. For mercy, unlike justice, if applied correctly, is not something that can be earned, it is simply a gift bestowed on the other, without strings, something I am not sure humans are capable of. Divine mercy is another order entirely, something that can be experienced only as a gift, that can only be accepted, payment impossible.
Divine Mercy incarnate, Jesus, while hanging on the cross, forgave those who betrayed, tortured and crucified him, something if truly thought about and prayed over, can only be incomprehensible in its reality and staggering in its implication. Is anyone outside that mercy or forgiveness? It seems not.
In the parable of the ‘prodigal son' this reality is played out before our eyes, again staggering in its application, if pondered deep enough and prayed over. The prodigal son in asking for his inheritance was showing his father that he wished him dead, the son only wanted to be as far away as possible from his father's sight. So the father allowed his son to go his own way. What the son did was a capital offense, yet the father let him go, allowed him his freedom to do what he wanted. Just as we are all free to do whatever we want, that is what free will is all about.
When the party was over for the son and he was living in poverty, he decided to return to his father. Not with any real contrition, but only the desire to have a place to sleep and eat, he returned or so he thought as a slave. The father however was different. When he saw his son coming home he did something very strange, at least it was in Jesus' time. The father seeing the son far off lifted up his robes and ran to him, forgetting his dignity, perhaps making a fool of himself. Yet it did not matter, for mercy has only concern for the one in need, the desire to heal and reconcile, the only thought in mind.
So the son did not even have time to make his half hearted un-contrite contrition, his Father swooped him up in his arms, dressed him in the finest robes and killed the fatted calf. I am not sure even the most human of earthly fathers could be so free as to show that depth of mercy and compassion. It was given with no strings attached from the fathers perspective; there was only joy that his beloved son returned. Again when pondered, this story is also staggering. Mercy shown for what it truly is, something totally gratuitous, even unreasonable to many, yet that is its essence.
In the news, one will often see a mother, or a father, defending their son or daughter who has just been convicted of a heinous crime, or crimes. They will often plead for their children, stating that they are good boys or girls. What is it they are seeing? Is this another pointer to divine mercy? Human mercy is finite, even the best of it. Divine mercy is infinite, how can it be comprehended? Perhaps it can only be experienced, accepted and passed on.
I seek mercy for myself and often I want justice for others. This is because I don't see into the others heart, but often only into my own, and even then not deep enough. Excuses are often used and not truth about the depth of my own guilt, so even when asking for mercy I don't understand what it is I am truly receiving. Saints often call themselves great sinners, which is because they do understand. Something I am still no where near, lacking the insight and courage to truly see.
There are intimations in humans that can point in some way to divine mercy. For instance in children, we can often forgive many things because we know and understand that they lack the maturity to comprehend the true nature of their actions, that hopefully will come with aging and experience. Also those who are mentally ill, they are often forgiven the wrongs they have done, though perhaps they will need to be put somewhere for their own safety and others. So mercy comes from seeing deeply and understanding. God sees us as we truly are, hence mercy. To know all is to forgive all is something I once heard in a retreat many years ago. Then I did not understand; now it is beginning to register. Yet even then, divine mercy is a glorious mystery, one hopefully we all will embrace with joy at the sheer gift and grace that it is.
Hard to give
08.22.08 (3:38 pm) [edit] | |
Hard in the giving
Something easily accepted
since we are all boxed in,
trapped by the perspective of those around us,
both strangers and friends.
We are fitted and placed,
stored,
frozen as just one thing,
mostly bad;
even if not
it is smothering,
at times making one scream in deep inner frustration,
lingering rage it’s aftermath,
coiled and waiting.
Imprisoned,
though some boxes are better than others,
they are just that none the less;
containers that can become our final place of rest.
A death of sorts,
the heart growing cold,
feelings,
deep emotions,
deadened,
left as trash hidden in the corners,
refuse to be stepped on,
ignored.
So when the gift comes,
gentle in its offering,
it is usually embraced in wonder.
This jewel quiet in aspect,
is mercy unadorned,
given when underserved,
both in the eyes of others
and in the one receiving.
Yes easily received yet hard in the giving.
Fiat
08.21.08 (1:21 pm) [edit] | |
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Fiat
It is simple word, ‘fiat’, something I really no nothing about. That kind of freedom, to simply say a total ‘yes’, abandonment to such deep freedom, to hold nothing back.
Yet I hold much close to my chest, the many things that I cling to, afraid to let go, for who would I be if truly free, weightless with the saying of yes with my whole body, mind and soul?
I have no idea what that is like, ‘fiat’, the simple saying of it.
Such a simple story, pointing to a deep humanity with no constraints to bind or drag under; for with freedom one truly flies into what one deeply desires. Deep humility, which in truth, is total understanding of what it means to give ones will to the Beloved, the Eternal one without reserve; no holding back.
To see without all the haze projected outwards; complexes of the drunken monkey mind,
unending circles leading to nothing but the same, over and over again,
until the mind seems to scream for some peace,
yet that ‘fiat’ I have not the freedom to give,
nor do I want to, a distant dream perhaps one day realized,
but until then I am trapped with wandering in an endless desert,
tormented by the love that pursues me,
that I have not the freedom to embrace totally without reserve,
so I simply crawl over the dry sand,
seeking the oasis that eludes me, for only true freedom
allows one to enter;
the fruit of grace unearned.
Stretching
08.19.08 (10:21 am) [edit] | |
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Stretching
I suppose stretching is an important part of being human. Stepping over previous boundaries, reaching out, seeking to break away from confining reactions and perceptions about reality, others, and yes especially God. I have certain attitudes, or perhaps ways of being that cling to me, or is it I who cling to them. Afraid to let go, to experience whom I would be if I was suddenly freed of these self imposed restraints. Chains, heavy and constraining, life’s painful gifts, so freely given so it seems to all without charge, and no waiting, a number is not needed. Presented to me by the situations on my journey and deepened by my interpretation of them, for good or ill. Something that has to be done, it is what humans do; interrupt and evaluate. I think they are both a burden and gift, a cause of suffering and also seeds of future freedom, if paid attention to in a prayerful and faith filled manner.
This is not always easy for me. I so indentify with certain states of limited being, that the thought of those limitation being lessened even a little, can cause a certain anxiety. Yet I also desire to be unencumbered by the inner weight of these inner prison walls, invisible though they may be, yet perhaps more real than one made of concrete. Surrounded by razor wire, with windows barred and doors locked, for some a lifetime home. So I look out past my own species of wire and barred windows, wanting to be free, yet also seeking solace in the known, even if unsatisfactory.
Growth is slow, at least for me, for I seem to take one step forward, then two or three back, yet I guess progress is being made, slow as it is. Perhaps that is why I don’t mind getting older, for I am beginning to see the fruits of this snail paced movement forward, and also more aware of God’s deep, immanent, loving presence, that has never left me in my darkest moments.
We are all a ‘thou’ in God’s eyes, we are God’s ’thou’ and the Eternal is ours. This relationship is often hidden, yet I have slowly come to the realization, or perhaps I am at the beginning of this, that God is closer to us than our own soul. Love, keeping us each in existence, painful though it may be at times, and yes absurd, at least seemingly from the human perspective. Yet we are pilgrims after all. Something powerful, stronger than death is this love, though I often don’t understand many things, or the why, yet this mystery is slowly opening up for me. Perhaps an eternal process, for truly I am still an enfant, perhaps I will always be. For love makes us all children in the best sense of the word.
It is all grace and mercy, both for me, for all if truth be told. We are commanded not to judge for a reason. Each person is an icon of God’s presence in the world, often hidden yet true none the less, for we are made in God’s image.
To think that the ‘other’ is not some intellectual concept, or some impersonal force, but actually infinite love can be frightening. For if the power of finite love can be scary, what is one to do with something infinite, not just large and powerful but infinite. No words can even begin to understand this mystery of mysteries, yet we can dive in eternally, going ever deeper and deeper. What would it be like to love without fear, to trust without measure, to really believe that? I don’t know yet, but by grace I am slowly moving forward toward that, and I believe, so is everyone else.
Just because I need boundaries does not mean God does, perhaps that is the most wonderful freeing thing of all, and yes for a time the most fearful.
not real after all
08.16.08 (6:28 pm) [edit] | |
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not real after all
we live in them,
place others within their walls;
we need to.
yet best to understand,
or learn,
that they are only boxes after all,
not real,
necessary for placement,
yet,
when believed suffocate,
ourselves
and others.
rain in the desert
08.15.08 (4:31 pm) [edit] | |
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rain in the desert
emotions are so powerful,
like rain in the desert
bringing life to a heart dry and hard,
I often fear them
will my heart explode?
tenderness
it comes and then hides again
as if afraid,
of what?
I have anger,
rage,
lust in plenty;
it is the more gentle experiences
that scare me,
for they seem to make me lose control,
yet
I so desire them,
perhaps one day before I die
freedom will come,
some form of healing
so that I can be truly alive
and not so bound up
in chains of fear
keeping so much hidden
though there
buried.
Words from a much older friend
08.13.08 (3:01 pm) [edit] | |
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Don’t be afraid to push I was told by a much older friend,
just don’t be surprised when you get a shove back,
it is how you learn your strength and experience your weaknesses.
Speak up, and if you over do it, well, there is a next time,
apologies if need be, for in that you learn your own limits
and when you step over them, which will happen more often than you would wish,
you will not be afraid to admit fault.
Best to be assertive that drives less people crazy,
than passive aggression, a game from which no one wins,
best to stay away from those who have this trait strong,
for they often don’t know the games they play,
it will drive you crazy.
we each have a list,
and all of us or on one list or another.
Friends are rare,
fight for them,
for the hole left will never heal
if a rift occurs,
don’t let pride get in the way.
Play your music loud, move you body,
don’t be afraid to try something new on the menu,
you will not be disappointed.
And don’t believe gossip,
find out yourself about someone before judging,
even then keep it to yourself if possible,
if not only tell those who need to know,
for slander destroys and is the tool of cowards
If someone gossips to you
be aware that you are next in line,
for one knife fits all backs
none are safe are immune;
only a fool will believe than a gossiping friend
will soon not turn on them.
Just one look
08.12.08 (7:38 pm) [edit] | |
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Just one look
It was early morning when the day still fresh,
the air cool and hope was in the air,
before fatigue could set in
or disappointment change the days youthful texture,
that is when I saw him,
sitting
peacefully,
he was old, in his seventies I would say,
with a glorious beard golden in color
suffused with sunlight,
long,
well kempt,
just sitting on a bench,
so still,
quiet,
as I drove by I looked back,
he seemed to be so much at peace,
I envied him,
and then continue to drive,
but the image has stayed with me,
just one look
and I was touched,
strange we never know how we affect others,
he will never know his influence on me that fine morning,
who knows
for years to come.
Inner
08.10.08 (8:33 am) [edit]
Inner
Sometimes I think my inner world resembles a basement filled too overflowing with all kinds of things. Some new, others old and moldy; useful tools though they are often buried under layers of chaotic junk. I get lost sometimes, so many images floating to the surface; faces, scenes, emotions, rambling thoughts, and irrational episodes of anger coming from deep within. Really it is a miracle that I can walk at all without tripping.
When trying to fall asleep scores of faces or scenes come into focus, at other times I see vast fields of people standing shoulder to shoulder, images perhaps that come from books long forgotten or movies from the distant past. I don’t mind really, kind of interesting. Some faces turn demonic probably some manifestation of my deep interior where my rage lies, though as I get older it is weaker, but now in a tight black ball demanding that I finally deal with it and become free. If that is so I can understand why the faces are so distorted, for rage can do that at times. I am grateful that I have been able for the last 60 years to slowly deal with it without too many people being hurt.
I also have an inner world that I have created over the decades, it seems to grow as
For years I thought something was wrong with me, but after talking to some learned friends, they told me that this was a good way for me to process,
perhaps it is like writing,
what I am doing at this time in my life, or perhaps overdoing.
Dreams, I have too many, as soon as I fall asleep they come, though I am lucky that I don’t have many nightmares anymore. Well very rarely if truth be told. When young, before I was ten, I had them every night, with music, green fog, and zombies trying to get me. Perhaps zombies are citizens of our unconscious; fear of death or perhaps something else. In any case, when I saw the “The night of the living dead”, when I was 12 or 13, I thought, “Wow, they are just like my dreams”.
For me the outer world is painted with brush strokes from the inner, though in reality they are both one, I just need to use terms to get some kind of hold on them. My friends sometimes tell me to stop looking inside so much, but in reality I am not looking, it is all just there; not sure it is good to be the way I am, though I have yet to sink and not come out.
It is not the same for all, we each walk over an inner abyss
of memories, desires, joys and sufferings,
we all seek not to b e swallowed,
lost in an inner maze with no way out;
though a lucky few
seem oblivious to this reality,
at times I envy them their inner peace.
Of course I have always felt God’s immanent presence, pursuing me, perhaps that is what
keeps me and others sane, knowing that in the inner chaos
there is the Presence, eternal, loving healing, journeying with me. In any case, the reason that atheism has never made sense to meis my experience of the living God, for some an illusion, for me rock bottom reality.
“For in him we live and move and have our being.”
Assumption
08.09.08 (9:39 am) [edit]
Assumption
Often when I am saying the Glorious Mysteries’ of the Rosary, when I arrive at the “Assumption of Mary”, my mind often dwells on the mystery of the Holy Trinity dwelling in our souls. For the Christian, God is neither just transcendent nor immanent, but both. Some Christian writers will use the work “Panenthiesm” to combine both concepts.
Christ’s Resurrection and Mary’s Assumption tell us something of God’s plan for mankind. In Mary, by pure grace, she is the first fruit of Christ death and Resurrection. In her we see what God desires for us all. In her we see our own ultimate union with the deep mystery of the Holy Trinity, already dwelling within the heart, or one with our hearts.
There is only one “Body of Christ”, so to ask Mary to pray for us, is no different than asking our friends to do the same. Christ is the well from which all grace flows, but we are all channels of grace for one another. To pray for another is one such channel. It is too bad that many Christian use this as a way condemn us, our devotion to Mary, it is something I don’t understand. For if asking Mary to pray for me, or us, is in some way interfering with Jesus, then it holds true to ask anyone to pray for me or us is the same, which is absurd, for we are told to pray for one another. Why death would stop that is a mystery to me. For aren’t we surrounded by a crowd of witnesses.
For many death is the end, an entering into eternal nothingness, for the Christian it is an opening up into a larger world, perhaps one that expands for eternity, since the mystery of God is infinite, there will be no end to it. For the infinite cannot be reached, just a deeper entering into the Center.
God is often seen as just another ‘Person’, just bigger. God is not a person in that sense, to make God thus is just another idol that needs to be destroyed. For a bigger version of what it means to be human is something very scary and off putting, the darker aspects seem to take on a life of their own. God for many is nothing more than an abusive father with a bi-polar disorder, something understandable, finite, controllable, if certain actions or prayers or done, then perhaps the wrath will be forestalled. I think that is part of the path, to let go of one idol after another, until we come to ‘no-thing’, then the mystery and the road of infinite love can be taken. A joyful journey, even if often filled with the sufferings that simply comes with life.
In the Assumption we see God’s true intent for us all, life unending, ever expanding, and a dive into eternal mystery. We are after all seekers, digging for answers to all of life’s mysteries. The way is long or seems to be and difficult, so we should support each other on the journey. Perhaps not throwing stones and condemning is one way to do that. Not just for Christians but for all. For we are told not to judge for a reason; for to judge is to limit God’s work in the world, at least according to the judgment in our own hearts. We are all different, each on a path, some further along than others, though only God knows the depths of each heart.
God is not tame, not does he belong to anyone, and we are all God’s children, brought into existence out of love. Best to leave those loved infinitely in the mystery, and to stop judging.
at leaslt for a time
08.08.08 (7:43 pm) [edit] | |
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at least for a time
its rhythm brings joy to the soul,
the words speak deeply to the heart,
for a time the energy flows,
allowing emotions to be felt safely
no fear of being overwhelmed
or lost.
the body freed from its constraints,
moves as if flying,
the blood on fire with the beat unrelenting,
leading into freedom,
where once again youth felt
at least for a time.
Flew Speaks Out: Professor Antony Flew reviews The God Delusion
08.07.08 (7:07 pm) [edit]
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Throne
08.07.08 (10:11 am) [edit] | |
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Throne
Our fears can alter perception so much,
that what was abhorred deeply, comes into being,
plain for other to see how this comes about,
but for the one inprisoned,
impossible,
or so it seems from the one trapped in the self made spider web,
that no amount of twisting or turning will allow freedom.
So the throne made and has to be occupied,
a prisoner of their own personally created labyrinth,
a path twisting an turning, round and round,
though there is hope if the journey long enough
the center will one day be found.
My throne is also something I occupy,
at times I am swallowed by the inner turmoil,
blinding me,
so I wander the twisting path,
towards the center then away, so absurd,
yet for most,
of which I am one,
a path necessary to undertake,
for pain is our best teacher
“Deal with me!”
Pain screams,
the knife will twist until one day
perhaps understanding will rise like the sun
and for a time some peace,
until the next time.
Yet there is always hope that the center once reached will remain that;
One’s center.
Bright flame
08.05.08 (2:26 pm) [edit] | |
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Bright flame
Sometimes it can’t be helped, two world views collide, for many reasons, some too
deep to understand. Yet we still try, rifts come into play, words spoken,
emotions flare, and two people walk away from each other thinking the other wrong.
Sometimes the divide is simply so wide that no bridge can be built,
the reasons can be hidden, terms can be used,
mental illness, personality disorder, stubborn, thickheaded,
thought by both parties, sometimes true, though often not,
for labels are based on subjective experiences colored by the past,
so more often than not, the truth may never be found,
or perhaps no one is to blame, it is just life, when world views collide.
Sometimes they can’t, then others simply won’t, then again there are those who don’t care,
again for reasons often unknown, buried deep within the soul,
beyond finding like buried treasure in a sunken ship deep below in the depths of the ocean,
hidden beneath the silt and barnacles that cling for dear life.
Sometimes frustrations can be great, all parties enchained by anger and yes pride,
self induced blindness to protect weak egos too easily shattered,
when self aggrandizement is too painful to relinquish for naked truth,
for truth is a fire that cleanses everything to the bone,
all falsehood turned to ash after a bright flame of inner pain embraced.
Sometimes there are those who have the courage to embrace the truth
As for myself, well I have yet to do that,
don't know how or perhaps I simply fear the searing fire,
the smoke and ruin that must come
before new life is possible.
Something to think about
08.04.08 (10:40 am) [edit] | |
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Something to think about
I know that the "Near Death Experience" is something that brings out strong reactions in many as to the meaning of the experience. With many books pro and con being written on the subject, of which I have read the majority over the past 30 years or so. Also the NDE can be abused by those writing about it, acting as if it is some new revelation, or using their own religious bias to back up one certain interpretation. Which of course is normal, we do tend to incorporate information into our preconceive belief system and to reject what does not agree with it. Both believers and unbelievers do it; I do it, that I know for sure. So objectivity is not always easy, or perhaps impossible, would be the key word. So to look at a phenomenon and actually learn something new from it can be harder than expected.
There is however one aspect of the "Near Death Experience" that got my attention from the beginning, and has been something that has intrigued me ever since. It is not the tunnel of light, nor the so-called communication from dead relatives or other entities, as interesting as they are, nor the prophecies, some of which are, to put it bluntly ‘crazy'.
Also it is not the affect the NDE's have on those who experience them. Though all the above is interesting and worthy of study.
What drew my attention is the experience labeled "the life review". It is really quite fascinating and I guess depending on ones life, can be either terrifying or pleasant. I would imagine for most it would somewhere in the middle. What happens, is the one experiencing these phenomena, will relive his or her influence on those that they have come into contact with during their life. The ‘other' becomes ‘them'; what the other experienced; they also had to live through. Pain, pleasure, joy and sorrow, all were felt to the limit, everything they did to others had to be lived through as the first person. Truly an interesting part of the NDE, and perhaps the most important, at least for me, others may not think so at all.
What does this mean? About life, about how we live, justice and mercy and most importantly, what does it say about ‘all' the others in our lives? It certainly could point to some new understanding of what our boundaries are and our connection with others; perhaps something about the Mind itself. It also points to the reality of the importance that should be given in how we simply treat others, for in the end it says something about who we are, and also how on some deep level, how we actually relate to ourselves.
The wife beater will experience the pain, shame and psychological fragmentation of his victim. The rapist will experience the same from his victim or victims. Petty actions will be relived in the first person. Also the joy we give others will also be experienced, nothing perhaps is lost, and we each must experience all of our lives and the consequences of our actions. Why if this is true, must this be gotten through?
Perhaps the major source of pain in the world is our lack of understanding of the reality of others, that they are real, not just objects put here for ones personal enjoyment, or be used and then discarded. Why is it that injustices committed against others can be smiled at, or receive no reaction whatsoever, yet when it happens perhaps to us we become enraged? Is it because others are in reality not ‘real'? Perhaps not to understand the absolute reality of the other as another ‘Self" is a form of sleep walking through life and the NDE is a wake up call to understanding the essential unity that we all have. So what we do to others, we in reality also do to ourselves? For me the ‘life review' is not a punishment but a wake up call. Maybe because we really don't believe (if Christian) what Jesus really said: "Whatever you do to the least, you do to me". I wonder if that were really believed, studied, meditated upon and really believed, what would happen. I guess the "golden rule" would take on a whole new meaning: Treat others as you yourself would want to be treated, because it is really another ‘you' or ‘self' that you relate to". In the end it is Christ, and Christ is God (again if you are a Christian), and Christ relates to the least, so therefore you are Christ by participation in grace, a union profound, intimate beyond comprehension. Well, I think language breaks down when talking about the union we have with God, it can only be experienced not explained. It is also easy to be misinterpreted when trying to delve into this reality. So perhaps a deep look into what others tell us about the ‘life review' can be helpful.
The first step
08.03.08 (8:02 am) [edit] | |
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That first step
Corners can be a good place to be, yet mostly not. Backed into slowly over the years, with elbows hitting opposite walls, tight, a self created prison, with only one way out, yet often not seen. Looking out from one’s narrow perch, with no place to turn, unless one just wants to show their back; this can be done, easily. Turning, looking into the dust filled corner eternally gathering its nothingness, swallowed, devoured. I suppose it could become a grave of sorts, slowly being buried without knowing it, the corner taken for reality, when it is just a corner, a little one after all.
Yet it can be good, though often not. For the face not turned towards the intersecting walls, can often lead slowly, or with rapidity, to an ever deepening stance of defense taken; a common plight sad to say. The tighter the corner the more desperate the offensive towards those from the larger room, perhaps seeking to communicate, or even help, yet rebuffed with ever increasing ardor. All that can be done is to press ever harder into the rapidly shrinking space for maneuvering. With desperation giving new birth in an ever increasing scenario of darkness and isolation; the potential for self destruction almost infinite in its diminution, or so it seems from those apart, seeking understanding. Feeling misunderstood, incapable of comprehending others, and endless round of mirrors shattered only to be replaced by others is the hell created, isolated, alone, yet uncomprehending.
I know my corner is there waiting for me, if I so choose; though perhaps ‘choose’ is not the right word. Little choices, made from one day to the next, not to listen, to fight back, to allow the irrational to take root, so that my world can by inches become smaller and smaller. “My way or the highway” can be the beginning of a long lonely journey that may have no end. So while being backed into a corner can be good, it is only so if a stepping out occurs, which is difficult once the road is taken, this pilgrimage of death, masquerading as life, the fruit being sterile.
Perhaps we each have a corner waiting for us, if the small choices in our everyday lives are not taken seriously. For a road taken only needs that first step, reacting, unthinking, and leading into inner depths of coldness, darkness, isolation. This is the path ‘normal people’ can take; the mentally ill are something different altogether. Though perhaps some forms of mental illness can be simply walked into, by the road chosen, by taking that first step.
Outburst
08.02.08 (9:40 am) [edit]
Outburst
I suppose that many people at one time or another has trouble in dealing with very powerful emotions. They seem to have a life of their own these emotional reactions, coming to birth it seems explosively at times, or slowly building, until some form of expression must be articulated, often in destructive ways. I know I certainly struggle with certain emotions, powerful, demanding at times as if they are saying: “deal with me, now!”, with an intensity that seems earth shattering if not dealt with. Strong emotions overly focus, making the ability to be objective impossible; though the illusion is there that objectivity is being used. Others experience it as a rant, unless they are also sucked into this deep emotional episode and join in the irrational exchange.
Emotional outburst can take on an existence of their own, like another personality, evolving into a cyclic progression that is lived out over and over again; taking a toll on those who have to put up with it on a regular basis. The less responsibility is taken for the outburst, the more others have to be blamed, which can add to the frustration. Some people are aggressive in how they respond, others more passive, which can be even more enraging for the one trying to lay out blame.
If this happens enough times, then a corner is backed into, the repeat offender of the peace, labeled and eventfully not really listened to at all. Yelling, being belligerent, over reacting, then becomes after endless repetition, normal for others, expected, if unpleasant. Eventually the one doing it is slowly isolated or ostracized, left to their own devises. People yell because they want to be heard, but in the yelling they drown out any other voices that might help, and in the end the other voices simply stop.
I know I can get like that, if I start to believe everything that I tell myself about any given event in my life. This can lead to forgetfulness; the understanding or insight, that others have a say. But if shouted down, the very thing I want to do, communicate, is made impossible. Strong emotions give the lie that one is infallibility right in the judgment made, others see it as infantile, unstable and at times dangerous. A time out, getting away from the situation for a time, is for me the only way I can regain my sanity. Though anger is an important emotion, if used improperly, becomes a temporary form of insanity. Over time, this space or reality can become permanent, if some form of insight and control is not reached.
The shotgun approach to anger gives less relief the more it is used. Until there is an unending expression of rage without any relief at all, one becomes a rage addicted personality. Which for some leads to tragedy, imprisonment and even death; something more common than many believe. I would suppose the most common expression of this is the husband who beats his wife, a man who has lost control, and picks on someone weaker to pour out his frustration. A truly deadly cycle, since often the wife will not leave, believing that the husband’s sorrow is sincere, which is may be, but the wheel turns, and a new day of rage will dawn.
Emotional stability seems easy for some, until they are pushed too far and what was once passive can become overwhelming aggressive, both parties being surprised at its intensity. Lessons can be learned, or not, it is up to each to try to learn from their own cycles, take responsibility and hopefully do better next time. It is true that progress can be slow in coming, however if self knowledge is acquired, and victimhood let go of, slowly change will come. At least the possibility of giving an apology is possible and also very helpful on the road to greater freedom.
In the end, the asking for help can be the hardest thing to do, but is probably for many the best thing they can do for themselves and their loved ones. In the meantime, I keep striving, talking, writing and praying that my own inner demons will not devour me. We each have our path and I have yet to find anyone on an easy one. This knowledge made ones own, could be helpful in understanding those who have seemed to have lost their way.
Napoleon complex
08.01.08 (11:36 am) [edit]
Napoleon complex
I would think that most people have authority issues. Well I think I have meet one person who did not seem to have any, but even then I am not sure. Authority is either not trusted, feared or despised by most; usually one of the three being dominant. They can all surface from time to time and can cause trouble, since authority issues are irrational, though they came into being from experience usually from childhood, but not always. Some of my problems come from my stint in the military for instance, but the deeper root comes from when I was very little, about three years of age.
Of course authority needs to be challenged, but if it is based on a strong emotional reaction, then it becomes a transference, which in reality is an over reaction over some present situation, that is feed by unresolved issues from the past. I have been on both sides of the fence and so have tasted the frustration from each end.
Even though I know my issues, I can still be drowned by my irrational distrust of authority and have on any number of occasions, had to apologies for some over the top reaction. Also I have had to endure the same from some who have had to work for me and how difficult it can be to get through to them. To the actual present situation, and to try to get them so see the other side of the problem. Sometimes I have been able to do this, at others not. I have learned to let go when this happens, nothing can be done. I know that those I have worked under have had to do that with me.
To accept a position of authority, no matter how small will bring with it a host of problems, some severe. It is good to know if these kinds of things can be handled without going over into the deep end. Also it is helpful to understand ones weaknesses in this regard, since abuse of authority is common.
I have learned that the things I have trouble with in others who have authority are in fact the very weakness I have when I am put into a supervisory position. It is very helpful to know this, because it allows room to listen to what others have to say. Or to call a time out when things get to tense, I have done that also. Sometimes supervisors also have to admit when wrong, a very hard lesson to learn. When given a promotion, it is hard to know how one will react. Truth be told, there are some people who should never be put into any kind of position over others. Unless of course disaster wants to be courted, which often seems to be the case; the Napoleon complex is alive and well.
Contradiction
07.31.08 (11:53 am) [edit] | |
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Contradiction
I admire your faith that is so deep,
dedication is your natural way of being,
for all your life you have sought
and now in your latter years,
after much struggle
you have found peace.
You smile at my angst filled introspections
wishing I could just let go
and live in the moment,
“accept what is” you gently say,
and I sadly know that I cannot.
I believe and doubt,
love and hate,
seeking I also flee,
I am a living contradiction,
hardly knowing myself.
My heart a deep ocean of love
and a dry desert of nothingness,
deep wells of anger and rage
still demand my attention.
Then a numbness so deep
I cannot move but only call out,
yet I feel you pursuit.
I seem never to arrive
though I seem so close
yet I fall back to the inner wasteland
a place I know well,
my home.
My brokenness like glass scattered
bits and pieces of what is not yet,.
So I ask too many questions,
over think,
sink,
get stuck,
I think missing what is simply before me.
At times you think me a fool
and I think you are often right,
for my searching is a compulsion,
perhaps a shield,
keeping me from what I seek.
Yes I am a living contradiction.
Perhaps
07.28.08 (4:48 pm) [edit]
Perhaps
well perhaps I do,
then again;
oh the hell with it
let someone else,
brighter,
figure it out.
Concerning Eucharistic Desecration
07.28.08 (9:19 am) [edit]| Concerning Eucharistic Desecration |
| by Mark P. Shea |
| 7/23/08 |
For those who may have missed it, P. Z. Myers, a washed-up academic at a third-tier school who takes out his bitterness on Christians and calls it "science blogging," claimed that some human toothache named Webster Cook had received death threats for stealing a Eucharist and threatening to desecrate it. Reader John Farrell repeatedly tried to get Myers to verify the "death threat" bit but was shouted down by the throngs of Myers's cultists who took his claim on faith. Myers then decided to blow away the last shreds of pretense that his blog Pharyngula was about science and give full vent to his demented hatred of Jesus Christ by urging his throng of equally demented followers to steal some hosts so he could desecrate them and put the whole thing on his blog. The Catholic League got involved (rightly, in my view), and Catholics, as is our custom, have been arguing about it ever since, pursuing a range of responses from complete pacifism to some rather over-the-top reactions including (you guessed it) death threats against Myers. Myers, who seems to have been surprised by the response, has waffled between "I was just kidding" ("Like a madman who throws firebrands, arrows, and death, is the man who deceives his neighbor and says, 'I am only joking!'," Prv 26:18-19) and promising that he shall indeed carry through on his threat. One gets the impression that both he and his followers, having nothing but contempt for Catholics, have no real grasp of the interior contours of Catholic faith and belief, and therefore no grasp whatever of the hierarchy of values at work in Catholic life. A host is a statue is a banner is a rosary is a Bible is a scapular, as far as they can tell. You get the feeling that they are genuinely surprised to find that Catholics attach far more importance to the desecration of the Eucharist than, say, the desecration of a rosary. They seem to have reeled a bit at the volcanic response. Now they are getting their footing and realizing this really ticks off Catholics -- and so, like eight-year-olds, they are enjoying being in (they think) the position of saying, "Take one step closer and I'll torture your cat!" I won't mince words: Myers is an evil man. And as evil men -- particularly evil intellectuals -- tend to be, he is also a madman, as are most of his acolytes and followers. One need only read Pharyngula to know this. Not all atheists are driven mad by their atheism. Many are quite respectable human beings. But those who make it their raison d'être tend to be made crazy by it. That's the tragedy of sins of the intellect. They don't just make you stupid; if you persist in them, and particularly if you persist in them to this degree, they make you crazy. Now some forms of insanity are morally innocent due to organic troubles with the brain or body, or because of some sort of trauma. But others are chosen and willed. The choice to go out of one's way to blaspheme Jesus Christ, purely for hate's sake, is one of them. And, as with all sins, the sin itself is the punishment, because you then have to organize your life around defending the indefensible, and you become bricked round in the furnace of your own irrational hatred. The hatred breeds lies like, "I'm just exercising freedom of expression." No. You are committing theft, vandalism, and incitement. Or else you lie and say, "Unless Catholics can prove the Eucharist is actually the Body and Blood of Christ and not a worthless cracker, I'm just guilty of being rude." No. Catholics are under no obligation to prove that in order to show that you are guilty of theft, vandalism, and incitement. On my wall near my computer is a piece of paper with a crayon drawing on it. It's a self-portrait of my son Sean with a little heart and a poem in which he informs us he hearts us and we are good parents. Any art dealer in the world would appraise the value of the art at approximately nothing. Any literature scholar would tell you that the poem is very poor poetry. Likewise, the value of the paper is zero. To me, it's priceless. And if you send one of your blog readers into my house to take it, I would be quite justified in calling you a thief who has stolen something precious. I would also be quite justified in defending it and my house from your naked act of aggression. Yet another demented lie to cover up your naked act of aggression is to play the victim: I have to do something. I'm not going to just let this disappear. It's just so darned weird that they're demanding that I offer this respect to a symbol that means nothing to me. Something will be done. It won't be gross. It won't be totally tasteless, but yeah, I'll do something that shows this cracker has no power. This cracker is nothing. The answer to this lie is that nobody is demanding Myers offer respect to the Eucharist. He's blasphemed the Eucharist on his blog off and on since forever. Catholics are free to disagree with him, just as he is free to disagree with them. That's the first amendment in action and I, for one, am glad to live in the land where even demented professors can have a voice in the public square, if only to serve as a warning to normal people of what hatred of God can do to the human mind. No, what Catholics are demanding is not that Myers and his cultish followers respect the Eucharist. We are demanding that they not invade our religious services, steal what does not belong to them, and incite others to vandalize what is ours and not theirs. We are pointing out that thugs who do this are of precisely the same caliber and guilty of exactly the same crime as somebody who paints swastikas on a synagogue. (Notably, people who do that sort of stuff also claim to be victims when caught.) The most absurd thing about Myers's attempt to transmogrify his naked act of aggression, theft, vandalism, and incitement into victim status are the words "I have to do this" and his ridiculous contention that if he and his minions don't invade our sanctuaries and steal the Eucharist, they are "offering respect" to the Eucharist. He is basically saying that if we all are not going around the world desecrating whatever it is we don't believe in, we are ipso facto honoring same. So my failure to desecrate a Quran or the Satanic Bible means I am somehow respecting and honoring them. Crazy people talk that way. Myers and Co. are enmeshed in these lies because they have chosen evil. It is evil -- archetypally evil -- to desecrate the Eucharist. It's the sort of stuff archetypal bad guys in the movies do. And despite Myers's lies, it's completely unnecessary and gratuitous evil. Myers can do all the blasphemy he pleases on his blog (though not on the taxpayer's dime, as he often has, judging from the posting time and date of many of his entries). But the curious thing is that he cannot rest with mere verbal blasphemies. He has to get a host in his hands and destroy it with a savage glee that, curiously, places him not among scientists but among the most magical-thinking Bronze Age fanatics. He explains his action this way: "The point of desecrating the host isn't to make people angry -- it's to demystify and desanctify nonsense. It's how we wake people up -- by showing that their beliefs are powerless." Jeff Martin takes apart this notion of settling truth claims with trial by fire very bluntly: In this enlightened age, we do not settle religious and philosophical questions of inestimable importance by reasoning, examining the historical evidences, or any such recondite activity, but by subjecting the participants, or symbols dear to them, to the ordeal, to the end that Fate, the womb of possibility, the numinous power of whatever, might speak and deliver its verdict. We may as well bind the participants and cast them into a river, declaring the one, if any, who survives, the victor. Or, perhaps, we could emulate the Muslims, and associate the claimed veracity of the message with the world-conquering potency of its armies: it is true if it conquers. In fact, why don't we have a grand civilizational throwdown between the remnants of Christian reaction and the avatars of enlightened, secularist atheism -- it's not as though we've not already had one of those, you'll recall, with the Evil Empire, the Poles, the Pope . . . . Yes, but such an appeal to history, even recent history, by way of demonstrating the incompatibility of militant atheism with human dignity, would lie beyond Myers comprehension, presumably, as he would prefer to have the 'truth' established by means of his contrivance: let a singular communion wafer represent the entirety of the Christian claim, and let his sacrilege represent the claims of enlightenment, and if no bolt of lightning or pillar of fire descends from the heavens to smite him, Christianity stands exploded as rank superstition. Let us be forthright about what such presumption is: it is not merely indicative of a mental imbalance, an obsession or mania, but expressive of mental primitivism. Truth is established, not by reasoned discourse upon evidences and arguments, but by what amount to tests of strength, defiance, and pride. Might makes right, by the infernal glow of impudence. And mankind undergoes a spiritual and intellectual regression of some score of millennia. In short, Myers and Co. are not merely pre-scientific; they are pre-theological and pre-philosophic. And, of course, they are liars. Because it is manifestly obvious that they not only wish to make Christians angry but, as far as lies within their power, to get their hands on God and tear him to pieces, not just verbally but physically if possible. They are kith and kin to those who stood at the foot of the cross and sneered, "If you are the Son of God, come down." C. S. Lewis describes the curious itch that rankles in the shriveled soul of the God-hater in his Great Divorce. In that novella, the damned are offered a chance at heaven if they will only just get on a bus, go there, and stay. Instead, almost none of the damned do. They prefer to be what they are. And they love talking about hell and themselves (which really comes down to the same thing). Lewis continues: This curious wish to describe Hell turned out, however, to be only the mildest form of a desire very common among the Ghosts -- the desire to extend Hell, to bring it bodily, if they could, into Heaven. There were tub-thumping Ghosts who in thin, bat-like voices urged the blessed spirits [already in Heaven] to shake off their fetters, to escape from their imprisonment in happiness, to tear down the mountains with their hands, to seize Heaven "for their own good": Hell offered her co-operation. There were planning Ghosts who implored them to dam the river, cut down the trees, kill the animals, build a mountain railway, smooth out the horrible grass and moss and heather with asphalt. There were materialistic Ghosts who informed the immortals that they were deluded: there was no life after death, and this whole country was a hallucination. There were Ghosts, plain and simple: mere bogies, fully conscious of their own decay, who had accepted the traditional role of the spectre, and seemed to hope they could frighten someone. I had had no idea that this desire was possible. But my Teacher reminded me that the pleasure of frightening is by no means unknown on earth, and also of Tacitus' saying: "They terrify lest they should fear." When the debris of a decayed human soul finds itself crumbled into ghosthood and realises "I myself am now that which all humanity has feared, I am just that cold churchyard shadow, that horrible thing which cannot be, yet somehow is," then to terrify others appears to it an escape from the doom of being a Ghost yet still fearing Ghosts -- fearing even the Ghost it is. For to be afraid of oneself is the last horror. The thirsty cruelty and cowardice of Myers is manifest in this: Regardless of your views of the deity of Christ, to make oneself into a creature who deliberately desecrates the memory of an innocent Man who died in torments, solely for the purpose of spite, is an utterly pathetic and deeply evil thing. As all acts of blasphemy do, they serve only to destroy the image of God in the blasphemer. They do nothing whatever to harm Jesus (except in the sense that this sin too becomes one of the billions He bears in His body and soul on the Cross). But they do immeasurable harm to the soul of the blasphemer. What remains is for us Catholics to decide what to do. I think the first thing that needs to happen is, of course, prayer. Various folk in the blogosphere and elsewhere have mentioned acts of reparation. That's the right idea. Our first task is to forgive. And I mean forgive, not excuse. There is, literally, no excuse for this. None. If some clown sent Webster Cook or Myers a death threat, that does not justify their persecuting and insulting people who have done nothing wrong. Myers's logic is that of Kristallnacht: punish all Catholics everywhere with theft, vandalism, and incitement because of the (alleged) actions of one or two. The next thing to do is to fight. Forgiving and fighting not only may but must be done at the same time. If you doubt that, just look at Jesus: He forgave His impenitent killers at exactly the moment He was fighting (and winning) the most important battle ever fought against all the powers of hell. St. Paul likewise forgave his persecutors but was absolutely ingenious in making use of everything (including civil law) to fight them and advance the gospel. I have absolutely no problem with appeals to Caesar where it is appropriate, but we have to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. I think invocations of "hate crime" laws, for instance, are stupid, because I think the dumbest thing a Catholic can do is encourage the notion of ThoughtCrime or labor to make Caesar the arbiter of Allowable Speech. Canada is currently engaged in that social experiment, to catastrophic effect. So I think attempts to arraign Pharyngula as a "hate site" are deeply wrong-headed. Catholics need to cowboy up and face hatred like saints, not whine for Uncle Caesar to tell the Bad Man to stop saying mean things. On the other hand, I have no problem with Catholics pointing out that many a Pharyngula post has been made on the taxpayer's dime and that misuse of state monies should be punished. I likewise have no problem with Catholics lobbying the university to have this bigot canned as radically opposed to the university mission statement. I doubt it will happen, but they are welcome to try -- because Catholics have free speech, too. Similarly, just as St. Paul had no problem at all asking the civil power to protect him from persecution when some mob threatened him or one of his churches, I see nothing at all wrong -- if Myers and Co. carry out their threat -- with going to the civil authority and arraigning Myers et al. with theft, vandalism, destruction of property, and incitement, if the court system allows it. It is perfectly just to seek this, just as it is perfectly just for Jews to seek justice when some thug paints a swastika on a synagogue. Catholics rightly have hope of Myers's redemption. That's as it should be. But I also am mindful of Jesus' very solid counsel: "Do not give dogs what is holy; and do not throw your pearls before swine" (Mt 7:6). Myers et al. are precisely the sort of people Jesus has in mind here. If they are insulted by that, our first duty is to pray that they will somehow receive the grace to grasp how dire it is to be insulted by the Son of God, whose insults are, like everything else about Him, without any sin whatever. In short, they are people who deserve to be called swine, because they have made themselves swine by their actions. Our orders as Catholics are clear: Don't imagine that argument will do you any good when you are dealing with people who have lost the good of the intellect. Pray for them, certainly. But pray that they repent, not that they get clearer explanations of things they already know but refuse to admit -- such as, "You don't go around vandalizing what is not yours." It is right and just to be angered by Myers et al.'s assault on the Eucharist. Not all anger is sinful. But the purpose of anger is action, not desire for vengeance. Myers and Co. threaten violence against Him we hold most sacred. Catholics who threaten violence against Myers in return disgrace our Lord who forgave His murderers and, just as surely, extends forgiveness to Myers even as He fights him with the same goads with which He fought Saul of Tarsus. Our task is to realize that our principal audience is not Myers and his vicious crew, but all the onlookers in our culture, who want to know if there is any real difference between Catholics and Myers. Show them, by your actions, that there is. The world is watching. |
hope remains
07.27.08 (7:16 pm) [edit] | |
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hope remains
drinking deeply
my thirst still remains,
seeking,
I often still feel lost,
the finding?
well that is still to come,
in hope I wait,
though darkness
encroaches
No illusions
07.27.08 (8:21 am) [edit] | |
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No illusions
I had the honor of visiting a prison here in Atlanta, in order to give an informal talk. Marco, both a friend and a mentor was the go between. It was through him that I had the pleasure of meeting the Rev. John Smith, who was the one who extended the invitation. I met Marco off Old Peachtree Road, parked at the Publix parking lot, and drove with him the rest of the way.
Marco is a very intelligent, thoughtful and insightful man, whom I am grateful to have the honor of knowing. He is a true seeker and I have leaned a great deal from the times that I have been able to talk with him, which have unfortunately have been few and far between. He is also a mentor, for he is very encouraging and supportive in my fledging attempts at writing. He has been to the facility we were visiting a number of times, this was my first. In the past he was also one of the speakers. Over the years I have visited others prisons a number of times. Most of them were to visit an in-law who was incarcerated for transporting drugs across states lines. He was moved a couple of times, both within traveling distance, so I have had some limited exposure to that kind of environment He, his name was Ron, was in for three years, and believe me, three years in any kind of prison is a long time. He however deserved his punishment and served his time, and when he was released was never arrested again. So I had a little experience, though giving a talk was a first.
As we drove up the first thing I saw was the barbed wire that surrounded the facility. On top of the barbed wire was another kind of wire that was thicker and razor sharp, not sure what it is called, but no one was going to climb over that. The buildings reminded me of school, the lawns well manicured, the place had a feel of being very organized, clean, and yes somewhat new. We had to be searched before we went in, and the bars that opened up for us gave me the shivers.
When we finally got inside I could see that there were more prisoners than I thought would be present, but that was okay, the group was relaxed and it helped me to get over my speaking jitters, something I always have before I get in front of a group. They were all ages, the youngest, I found out later was 20 and was getting out soon, the oldest was probably in his sixties, though I am not sure.
As I looked out over the group I thought of the last judgment scene, were Jesus said: "I was in prison and you visited me". As I was thinking about that, the verse became alive, and I realized that the verse was not about me visiting, but about the prisoners themselves. The intimacy that God has with us is something that I have yet to comprehend, but the reality of Jesus the Christ being not merely present "within' those men, but actually was those men, went beyond any kind of mere intellectual formulation piously stated at times.
Jesus did say that he was found in the least, no he was the least, and I would imagine that at one time or another most of us would fall into the category for some. God became flesh, there are no boundaries with God, no one is outside that embrace; there is no outside. They, like me, are part of the body of Christ, for "whatever you do to the least, you do to me". It is often forgotten the revelation that Jesus brought, that intimacy that God has with us. On the cross he forgave those who tortured and killed him, so who is outside that forgiveness? Well we all have our list, but then those on the list, are in reality, the least, so Jesus indentifies with them. There is no escape from this lesson, a hard one indeed.
As I got up to speak, as they looked at me, they were just men, just like me. I was no different, for I know what is in my heart, and I also know what I am capable of, if pushed to an extreme. I am not saying that they do not deserve being there, it is just I am just like them. The saying often quoted "there but for the grace of God go I", is very true. Human dignity cannot be taken away, though we all are responsible for our actions, none are outside love's embrace or pursuit.
I could feel God's presence there in a powerful manner, it was a holy place, and the men there were seeking God, also they were leading lives of responsibility, seeking a better path. Christ is with them, one with them, walking with them, going before them, meeting them in their successes and failures, for God is all in all, and in Him we live and move and have our being.
There are levels of judgment, some are necessary, true, and at times we all benefit from the judgment of others. There are however other kinds of judgment that are destructive, to both the one receiving and also from the one bestowing. For we can close a person off, unable to see beyond whatever it is they have done, we brand them. This kind of judgment makes the other beyond redemption, marked, humanity taken away. Sort of what was done to Jesus; the ultimate scrape goat; it is this level of judgment that we are told not to do. Why? Well because I think we are lousy at it; at least I am, get it wrong, and in the end, a form of self judgment as well. So it is destructive all the way around.
It is possible to have no illusions about what we as a species are capable of and at the same time believe in the love God has for each of us. Especially the least, which at times we all are in someone's eyes, perhaps mostly in our own, for I think we are our own worst judge. Yet never in God's eyes, for the further away we feel, the closer Christ draws near. Just words, spatial images I know, which cannot even begin to express the mystery of God's love and presence within all that is; I find it frustrating. I just get glimpses and then it goes, so I struggle with this great mystery of "God with us", perhaps until the day I die.
"I was in prison and you visited me." Who is in prison, who is being visited, who are you and what am I?