by | Mar 11, 2013 | main
That’s funny title… and it is only a starting point for my thoughts.
This morning I was reading my friend Susan’s reflection, Home in the Heart of Jesus, on her blog, Creo en Dios. She reflected on how sad it made her to know that the place that represents her “spiritual home” will close it’s doors in June. But she ended with the vision given her by her former spiritual director that her home is not a place, but in the Heart of Jesus. (forgive me Susan, if I am slaughtering your reflection — people should just go read it for themselves!).
As I read the reflection, it gave me some insight… an epiphany of sorts. I have a real, chronic problem with practices like Adoration and Benedition. Just bugs me — at times it seems like folks got God all trapped in that bit of bread — all safe and sound, and controlled. On reading Susan’s reflection on sorrow at “losing your home” — the realization that your home (our home) is in the Heart of Jesus, gives me a way to look at Adoration and see that it can be a way of sitting with the understanding and appreciation of just that reality: home is in the heart of Jesus. To be there allows me to more consciously realize and appreciate that. There are many times when we really need the concrete to be able to sense the reality beyond.
I know I’ve tried to write this out many times before. Each time I grasp a bit of the truth. Each time the light fades and I find myself back in a cloud of unknowing, a fog of non-comprehension. We, as humans so need something concrete to hang on to. That special place, the cross or crucifix on a chain around the neck, the hug that comes when we most need it, the water of baptism and the oil of confirmation. The bread and wine on the altar at mass. Sacraments: those physical realities that make things real for us now. And we do that for one another: we become “God [Jesus] with skin on” for each other. So, yes, my home is in the Heart of Jesus, but, I so need some things to touch and know in order to understand that reality.
And so, next time I am invited to Adoration, I will try to dig up these reflections. I will try to allow the Blessed Sacrament to be Sacrament and lead me to the reality. I will try to be open and listen to all the hope and prayers and Love that come from the Reality behind the physical. I will try to be open to accepting and growing in that love.
At least, I hope I will.
by Liz | Oct 7, 2011 | main
I had a serendipitous conversation with a friend a couple of days ago that started with being tired of being angry. Anger is a very tiresome emotion. It can really suck the life out of a person, and it is pretty useless and non-productive. Oh, I know that there are times when Anger has seemed to energize me and moved me to action. But, even then, it is a very draining way of being moved to action.
My friend mentioned that she had in the not so distant past decided to pray for all the men she had dated over the past 20 years… I don’t know what the issues are/were, but, I could tell that that there had been much anger and frustration. I knew where she was coming from, since I once had a penance that involved offering every song I sung at mass for those that I felt persecuted me. (Music was one component of the persecution) Aaarrggghhh! I almost cried because I knew it was exactly what was needed.
Funny thing about this idea of praying for those who persecute you: Both of us reflected that we started slowly and begrudgingly to walk through the motions of praying for those we were angry with and had been deeply hurt by. We just said the words because it was the right thing to do. Slowly, it changed. Slowly, the process moved from saying prayers for them to praying for them. Then, to really praying for them. And one day you look up and realize that you are really praying for them, and Anger has given up trying to hold you in that place where you eat the rat poison and hope the rat dies.
Myself, I understood that when one of those who I felt persecuted me launched into something that would previously have angered me, hurt me, made me feel in danger. I realized that I was no longer angry, but very sad for this person. I was praying for him. I was asking God to bring healing and good things into his life. What a load I set down that day.
That’s not so say that these persecutions were not painful or that at some level I was not justified in my feelings of anger toward the other. And, in some cases, in many cases, you may not ever be close to the persecutor. It might be bad and downright dangerous. But, to move from a need for vengeance and anger to a place of letting go, stepping back from me and into a place of sincere concern for someone is one of those miracles we need in our daily lives.
by Liz | Jan 9, 2011 | main
Some days I really am bothered by the changes that God seems intent on making in my way of seeing. It is uncomfortable to say the least.
How so? Recently I posted on my FB a comment about the cost of the death penalty — not just in dollars but in other ways. One affirming respons. Good. And then came one tearful, pained, angry response from a friend who has had 2 family members murdered and is all for the death penalty. This response led to a series of posts, with both of us digging deep. I in no way seek to minimize the pain. I mean no disrespect. I hope she knows that I will stand with her in the pain. I cannot change my stance. Really uncomfortable.
And then yesterday I read about the stupid, senseless shootings in Arizona. Six people dead including a 9 years and a federal judge, and a sitting congresswoman shot in the head. My first reaction was almost nausea. I lit a candle on the TrueMajority website. I wrote a note. I read the AP article. I found myself praying not only for the victims and their families, but also for the young man who committed these heinous acts – praying for a healing of the hurt in him, and in others who are like him — healing before something similar and equally as painful and appalling happens again. I suspect that admission is not going to win me friends and help me influence people.
But, God has not yet met with 100% success. I still harbor anger toward those who foster hateful and divisive rhetoric to advance their politics (not just the real fringies, but the T-Party and way too many Republican politicians, and Ms. Palin, just to name a few.) These are the same folks who cry out for respect for officials while fostering campaigns that encourage folks to “take aim” at others, and do so with visualizations such as gun sights. I’m still having trouble praying for those folks… even though I suppose that come under that umbrella of healing things before another tragedy occurs.
Today’s 2nd reading at mass, reminds us that God is discriminates far less than we do… it reminds us that Jesus, after His baptism, when about healing ALL those oppressed by the devil… if He did that, then, I suppose I must be open to praying for those who perpetuate these senseless crimes and those who perpetuate the attitudes that encourage others to carry out these acts.
Note: the reading is from Acts of the Apostles 10:34-38.
Peter proceeded to speak and said: Rather, in every nation whoever fears him and acts uprightly is acceptable to him. You know the word (that) he sent to the Israelites as he proclaimed peace through Jesus Christ, who is Lord of all, what has happened all over Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism that John preached, how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the holy Spirit and power. He went about doing good and healing all those oppressed by the devil, for God was with him.
by Liz | Aug 2, 2010 | main
Last week I spent a couple of days where I had to just breathe and be in order maintain composure.
I wonder at some things — like what are folks who tend toward certain political stances afraid of? I hear the fear and self-defense of those who support the T-party. It seems that all one, with a different take on things, has to do is breathe in their presence and all of that emotion (which to me seem to be mostly fear and hatred) belch forth like a geyser.
I’m trying to comprehend a bit of this: A relative recently proclaimed that I wear blinders because I don’t willingly listen/watch Fox News. The fact that I strongly suspect that this relative hasn’t listened to/watched anything else in years, makes me wonder about the blinders. But, I digress… If I am in the same room with this person, and make the error of mentioning almost anything that could have political overtones, I see the claws and fangs come out. I see the defenses go up. I know, when I see that, that I am about to be called defensive.
Hmmm…. with my daughter, we seem to be able to talk a bit with one another. She actually makes statements and will listen to a response. She can articulate where we might disagree. She is open as well to hear that maybe her perception is a bit off. I find myself able to listen to her, and I think she can hear me. We come to different places, but, at least, with the 2 of us, we can have some sort of dialogue.
Not so, with some others.
And so, I breathe. In and out. Am I here? Now? Breathe. In and out. Let go. Pray for myself. Pray for those that you perceive as persecuting you. Pray for those that seem to think that you want to persecute them. Breathe. In and out. Let God be present. Breathe. In and out. Smile. Know that perhaps, it could be a positive sign — if your presence causes those who would divide instead of unite to put up defenses then you are doing something right. Breathe. In and out. Now.
by Liz | Jul 25, 2010 | main
I’m reading “Deeper Than Words: Living the Apostle’s Creed” by Br. David Stendl-Rast. Brother David takes me places that make me uncomfortable.
If I am honest, I have to admit that the majority of the time I define myself by how well I follow the rules — my goodness, or lovability is defined by how well I keep the rules. I suspect that I am not alone in this. Br. David always seems to challenge me to look beyond. His call is to reflect on times when I was aware of belonging. He challenges me to live in the now, and to find Me (well, to find “I”). The title of this blog reflects this: Journey to myself.
The problem or discomfort comes, not from the wonderful freedom and joy of belonging (being at one with all of creation), but the fact that the moments and events in my life that allow me to see/be this seem to be the times when I have let go of the rules and forgotten to measure myself by how well I follow the rules. Some of these moments have been when I truly let go of all that I hold to be right and proper and maybe sacred. How do I know how I am doing if I lose the measuring stick?
That seems to be so fundamental — to stop the self-judgment, to be, to love and be loved. And it is often so very difficult. I find that I am torn between the freedom and letting go, and the desire to be in control and measure things out. I desire the freedom and joy, and I’m terrified by the possibility that I might be able to live that way, at least some of the time. Deacon Sam often stresses that we are “human beings” not “human doings.” I want to believe him and understand, and at the same time it frightens me a bit.
I ask myself “Why does this frighten me?”
All I can come up with at this moment is that the letting go is what Jesus describes as dying to self. Yep. Nature is full of it: a seed falls to the ground dies to its existence as a seed — it grows into a plant. A caterpillar spins a cocoon, and ceases to the a caterpillar but emerges as a butterfly. The same DNA, the same being, but different. I know the rules of being a seed or a caterpillar. I may not like it, but it is familiar.
I’ll continue with the book. I’ll continue to work at releasing my grip on what I think I can control. I will breathe. I will rest in the present. I will be what I am. And, then, I will try to remember that it’s not about winning and losing, succeeding and failing, but about being here. Now.
Amen.
