At first, the holy fumes filled my mind with thoughts of God. And then my ears opened their gates to the sounds of doxology — the beautiful call to praise which reverberates in the hearts of the Faithful; the taste and touch would come later, at an minute gathering at the Table. And then, my eyes beheld the Lord.
The aisle, a veritable road to Damscus, and my eyes: blinded by glory; A Pauline moment of spiritual exhalation; knees ground in the carpet, behind the worn in drum set; a gaze, as much returned to me as given from me; with the zeal and humility, gathered with my brothers and sisters of all ages — we sat, the Church, adoring the God of Creation.
The words of the Evangelist echoed in our hearts the sounds of Incarnation; the Anglo-Saxon sense of courage and Lordship; the Impossible dwelling with the corrupted; the spirit and matter meeting and becoming the life and light of the human race. Our hearts and minds communed, alone and together, with our Lord.
The Adoration having drawn us into eternity, and time having only slowly regained its dominance, our Lord began to journey with us; feet shuffling, heads in prayer, the song of praise on our lips; we walked with our Lord.
And in this setting, God placed into me the faith and words necessary to handle the trial to come. He says that he wants faith, not rigor; he prays through me, and I pray these words: let me grow in faithfulness, not in rigor. And this particular week, he has shown me that such faithfulness cannot come by mere passivity — faithfulness is the red-glowing core of a steel body beat with trial and doubt, but refusing to bend; and so in the same way, my faithfulness grows and will continue to do so until the trial is over; until I am bathed in the soft bath of rest and Providence.
Lord, make us faithful — as adoration filled me, may it answer the prayers of others!
Filed under: The Faith
I’m about to be homeless, as of tomorrow, in the sense that I won’t have a place to call my own (I’ll become the recipient of charity from my family). Despite my best efforts and the prayers of my friends and family, nothing has arisen, and I’m essentially moved out of my former apartment.
God is still faithful, though. God, I still trust you.
Filed under: Uncategorized
An article by the Seattle Post-Intellegencer about tiny houses, namely Dee Williams and her neat little house:
Empty nesters, greens and first-time buyers are finding tiny houses a good fit
Kelli and I are tremendously interested in these tiny houses — perhaps more to come in the future!
Greetings and blessings all! This weekend was a phantasmagoria of experiences, and I’m trying my best to filter those which would be most appropriate to the purposes of this particular blog. There are blessings, praises, concerns, and the like. I’d like to make seperate posts of them, though, because they ought to be seen as unique events, and not a parade of things (despite my language about them).
To move chronologically, the first real event was the engagement party. Over several weeks after our engagement, we made the transition from no engagement party whatsoever to a somewhat extravagant occasion, however much to my chagrin. I’ve never been one for big fiascos, somewhat disliking what I perceive as inherent opulance or wastefulness that goes into them. This may have some to do with my relatively small family and the way we approached family events in my childhood: best described as get in, get out with an eye always out for an exit.
Add to my notions of events the ideas of Gospel poverty, and you’ve got my approach to parties: we should probably just invite the poor, or not have any parties at all (with only half a tongue in my cheek do I say this). Still, this was something I had to be gracious — read: non-self-righteous — about, and perhaps, even charitable in my spirit about. Kelli really wanted to do it, and since it was going to mean a lot to her, I knew I had to suck up whatever festive-vitriol I thought about and try to have a good time.
And as it turns out, I did.
We had the party in Kelli’s Aunt Barbara’s and Uncle Mickey’s house, which to understate it, is rather…refined. The house was quite a blessing, though, and the entire family was gracious in their help. After a lot of work by Kelli’s mom, aunts, and sister, and by Kelli herself, the party came together wonderfully: 7 (?) plates of the tastiest authentic Italian (eye-talian) lasanga on this side of the big pond; 4 families smashed into a single getting along; lots of friends, including my best man; did I mention the lasanga?
The most gratifying perk, of course, being that Kelli was gorgeous gawgeous (yes the distinction is significant). She donned a flowing pink dress and matching flip flops and a small pin of flowers in her hair; she was exuding beauty that evening, and believe me, it was not only her exterior but her form itself which seemed to be glowing with joy. Seeing her happy, admittedly revelling in the attention she was receiving, made me glad that I had given up pursuing my own will in this case and just went with the flow.
I know, I know — don’t interpret this as “Ryan says just go with the flow.” But, sometimes renunciation means more than just giving up your iPod or that extra popsicle. Sometimes God will bless you with an opportunity to see all your family, to build the love between yourself and your future family — and you ought not spurn that. Just go and have a good time.
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Next post: MP3 and a Pauline Adoration.
Filed under: The Faith
From the Z (zboardreborn.net):
Also, the verses Dustin posted** have great relevance to the current church, I believe. How many of us have no problems spending money on fashionable clothes, showy (and expensive) jewelry, gaudy shoes, expensive hair-cuts and dyes, and the like? Kelli told me recently that she knows many Christian women who spend hundreds of dollars on dying their hair — auspiciously to prevent anyone from knowing that they have grey hairs (oh the shame!). And all this while many in our own streets go without a room, a shower, without decent food (fruits and veggies), without healthcare, without friendship, etc.
As St. Chrysostom might say, we have golden jewelry and wooden hearts!
**I desire therefore that the men pray everywhere, lifting up holy hands, without wrath and doubting; in like manner also, that the women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with propriety and moderation, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or costly clothing, but, which is proper for women professing godliness, with good works. 1 Timothy 2:8-10
Do not let your adornment be merely outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel— rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God. 1 Peter 3:3-4
My brother, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don’t show favoritism. Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in shabby clothes also comes in. If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, “Here’s a good seat for you,” but say to the poor man, “You stand there” or “Sit on the floor by my feet,” have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thought?” James 2:1-4
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Adoration, MP3, and engagement party scribbles soon to come!
Apparently, the Vatican has approved an English translation of the Mass which more closely adheres to the original Latin. Here’s the article: http://www.cwnews.com/news/viewstory.cfm?recnum=59877
I’d be interested to know what you guys think on this issue. It’s a good thing, I think.
In Rerum Novarum, Pope Leo XIII claims that, sans the Church, a society will surely degenerate. The Church must be respected in all aspects of life — from economic, societal, political, etc. This is because the truth of Jesus Christ, of the Gospel, of the Incarnation, is vital to the growth of virtue in the individual, the family, and the state or society. With this, I have no contention.
Over the past 9 months or so, I’ve been mulling over the meaning of politics, and without dealing too heavily in theories and cases, I’ve mused upon the notion of some form of anarchism. Now, Ellul rightly points out that anarchism is an unreachable ideal, however desirable — what man would not want to be free from coercion? And yet, what society can exist without some sense of order? some recourse to law? I cannot, in bonum rationem, assent that there is not a natural essence to order and law, grounded deeply in the nature of man. Thus, I cannot assent to outright anarchism, or to the notion that each man ought to do as he sees fit in every respect, regardless of the commonweal and with invincible impunity.
Still, I sense a distinct problem with modern politics, which perhaps further study will ameliorate (as my understanding expands). I do not, at this time, find that the State is evil de facto, because as the Greeks said — it is natural for a man to seek order, and thus society, and therefore — Statehood. In this respect, I entirely concur with the most recent chain of Pontiffs. However, Leo XIII was emphatic on the point that the Church is part of any solution, as virtue is necessary, and Christ necessary for true virtue, id est love. It is the Church’s supreme charge to bring men to Christ, and for this subsequent transformation to radically alter the ways in which society functions.
The modern political sphere, via the State, has assumed a far greater role in society than it ought. And what’s worse, each party seeks to alleviate social ills by means of their own prescription, and not the will of the Almighty. Do I propose theocracy? No. It is my conviction which I glean from Peter’s Seat that any social solution which does not conform to the wisdom of God is not a true solution, but a bandage which will, before long, come undone. Still, it is not the place of the Church to rule in a temporal sense — they must work in conjunction with the State, but not be the State themselves. In this way, the Church works in union with the State to promote the common good of its citizens by promoting their virtue. The Church must have a disinterested relationship with the State in which they unflinchingly denounce whatever evil is found, i.e. imperialism, exploitation, immorality, hatred, et cetera.
Before any criticism comes across the tepid seas of the internet to deflate my idealism, I should also add that these thoughts are not concrete, not solidified — I am working through what has undoubtedly been worked through by countless others and in much better detail and understanding. I am especially eager to read “After Virtue,” as I too desire another Benedict; another man who, through Christ, deflates the bloated Empire in which we find ourselves. Not in a purely anarchistic and maliciously rebellious sense, but out of love for the people within the State and desire to see them grow in virtue. It is in this way that I oppose the State — not because I think it is, per se, wicked. I simply think it needs to be changes — it needs to more readily facilitate the good by becoming personal and honest. Will this ever occur? Will those in power ever relinquish their demagoguery? Probably not. This is probably why I tend to side with Brian in being moreapolitical than anarchistic. Nevertheless, as he rightly pointed out to me, that I must ascend from “mere liberalism” into a Gospel-centered notion of government; one in which virtue –faith, hope, and love– are pre-eminent.
On this journey, I continue. May the Holy Spirit guide me, and the prayers of the Saints strengthen me.
I’m going to speak on loneliness and God, but I ought to fully divulge my fascination with Br. Thomas Merton, so as to avoid any misconception. As I was drifting down the river of Faith toward Orthodoxy in the summer of 2006, through the Brook of Benedict and the Forest of Francis, I came across a Trappist whose words were so dense, profound, and illuminating that I spent the entire summer sitting directly at his feet. I soaked up every word; the landscape of my heart was then colored with broad and enlightened strokes. I had never read anything like this before, and I have read little like it since.
This Trappist happened to be Brother (or Dom, I suppose) Merton, also known as Fr. Louis. Fully Traditional, yet Fully Radical; Open-minded yet remarkably orthodox; liberal but not secular; a lover of poverty, yet rich in faith; a Catholic veritably entranced with Christ; yet, a mystic with a fascination for Buddhism. Merton has often been, in a completely humble and pure way, like an Alter Christus for me. Not in the sense of worshipping Merton, but rather as a novice sits before his master, or a son before his father. It was as though I was journeying towards Christ, and Merton offered to me a cup of soup, a place to sleep, and some friendly wisdom; I stayed with him, and was reluctantly sent upon my way towards the Catholic Faith, toward that frightening fides which fills my heart.
Merton illucidated truths long before I was ready to accept them – Merton tilled the soil of my heart for the Gospel and the Church, if you will, long before I was Catholic. Yet I have never once failed to benefit from the work Christ did in him. Merton, through his brilliant and effortless exegesis of the Gospel, showed me the meaning of charity, love, faith, poverty, humility, recollection, loneliness. May God rest the soul of Fr. Louis. May Br. Merton ora pro nobis.
On to loneliness, though. In “No Man is an Island,” Merton writes about cherishing loneliness. The fact of the matter is, we are always alone with God. God is perpetually with us, sensibly or not. For us Christians, God resides in the tabernacles of our hearts; He burns in us, through us, with us. He is always before us, always behind us (as the Psalms attest), always inside us, always outside us. The scrutinizing Thomist will be careful to note along with me that God in us does not suggest that we some how compose God; there are no pantheistic notions here. However, God is and will always be our principle, our source of movement, our end. As Merton notes, God is eternally present, although He is like a parade which is always coming and always going.
To be on the point, I’ve meditated on the notion that God and I are eternally alone. This doesn’t discount the communion of the saints, nor does it deny the Trinity. Still, as Lewis points out (citing Revelations), God and I cherish a communion which will never be replicated in all of Creation: why else would God create more than one man? No, God and I share a unique bond which is forever ours alone. In a strange way, I am alone with God, and yet, all are truly alone with Him. Perhaps it is only God who could make us feel like it was only He and I in the entire cosmos. Such is the case, though, and beautifully so.
But the wonder of this realization, of allowing ourselves to become mindful of our loneliness with God, is that the more our “soul remembers God,” the more we turn to Him mindfully, the more we become dreadfully aware of His presence. (it is also notable that this realization of God’s omnipresence is St. Benedict’s first step to humility) At any given time, in any situation, in every place, I can be alone with God. God alone can hear my thoughts; God alone can soothe my heart. What’s not to cherish in this blessèd loneliness? What child of God would not gladly sit with Him in the silence of their own heart? Let us pray that God bless us with stillness of heart, purity of intention, and a desire to be alone with Him.
May you come alone to God as He comes alone to you!
**This writing may be expanded in the near future, when I can reference Merton’s specific writings a little more closely.
Last night, as Kelli and I were cooking up some Squash Watchamacallit for dinner, we got a phone call from a friend of ours. Brad, a magnanimous seminarian from St. Joseph’s Abbey, was in town — we gladly invited him to eat dinner with us. He arrived while dinner was still underway, but the discussion of whatever-comes-to-mind began immediately, rapidly flowing from natural birth to that awkward scene in “Apocalypta” in which we see a baby shoot out into the water with a shocking “bloomp” to the Gospel and chaplaincy to breastfeeding in mass to farting in mass to aesthetic beauty…
The conversations always tend to be rather Socratic, as this is my absolute favorite way of handling any topic. Point in case, the aformentioned “natural” activities in mass — if breastfeeding is permissible, then is flatulance (I use that term to, if possible, lend a little credibility to this question)? Both are natural, it’s true — did God not making the gastro-intenstinal system, and is that creation not beautiful? Of course, we reached the conclusion that flatulance was distracting and indencent, but that approach is the most intellectually exciting for me. For every assertion, there must be a “right, but…” to make it more clear, more precise, more truthful.
One of the most interesting conversation topics of the night was the discussion on beauty. Brad rightly insisted on an objective rule of aesthetic beauty — in autre mots, this is why we can look at any particular woman and, without speaking a word to her, profess her beauty. Surely, there must be some standard by which we judge whether or not these women are beautiful, right? Although Brad was speaking in a Thomistic sense – we can percieve such beauty through our senses and that this form is present, to a certain degree, in each person — I disagreed with his definition. I don’t think true beauty can be assessed in purely aesthetical terms. When a man sees a “beautiful” woman, I’m not convinced that what he really sees isn’t symmetrical features, ample genitalia, and perhaps an inviting smile.
This is not to say that man can’t assess beauty in a woman; not at all! But the notion that we can sense beauty immediately in an individual, at least as a norm, is skewed. Beauty is by nature holistic, and not purely aesthetic (in the sense that one can immediately recognize a beautiful person). In the words of Keats, with which no discussion of beauty is complete, beauty is truth, and vice versa. The degree that a person is beautiful is the degree that they are in truth, i.e. in God. This explains not only human beauty but also the beauty of all creation. We can see beauty when we see into the nature of any particular thing, especially when that object is fulfilling its telos; the end for which God created it. One has only to see the beauty of a garden to see how much more beautiful a flower is than a desert; a garden than a dumpster!
Brad and I ultimately did converge on this topic. We both would define true beauty as more than aesthetic; it is, in fact, holistic. However, and Brad will correct me if my memory is fuzzy, we still disagreed on the nature of sense-perception and aesthetic. We both agreed that the pious woman, however physically plain, is a ray of beauty compared to the barren souls of even the most sexually attractive. Still, while we both can agree that farting in mass is a bad idea, aesthetics is not something we agree upon yet.
No worries, though — we moved on to bigger and better discussions, such as the supposed virtue of community showers and orders of naked martial artists. Don’t worry, I’ll save that discussion for another day. Strangely enough, this is a tangent which has consumed the entirety of this post; I’m okay with that, though. Say a prayer for Brad and all his brothers in the Seminary, if you’re the praying sort.
Peace
