Open ears, open heart

I don't have all the answers.  I know I'm not supposed to; that's fine.  My problem is not having the answers that can relieve someone's pain.

When my friends suffer, I suffer. What does one do when a young man dies at forty?  What does one do when someone says God's "plan" is flawed?  I guess the problem is not knowing the plan.  I don't even know if there IS a plan.  Maybe we just all follow our own journeys and somehow come to the end and stand before the Judgment Seat.  If there is a Judgment Seat.

A dear friend of mine recently learned of the death of his best friend from High School.  He said to me, "I texted him this morning, and he was already dead."  So many pious religious phrases come to my mind, but none of them seems adequate either to explain the death of this young man, or to assuage my friend's pain.  My friend also said to me, "He was younger than me....I'm the one who should be dead...."

Yes, if I were God, I would have done things a bit differently.  We all would.  But, only God got the job; there can be only one almighty, omniscient ruler.  And by the very fact of  Him being God, and not any of us, we can't change anything. We can't criticize.  We can ask questions.  We can discuss amongst ourselves.  But, what gets solved?  All of our discussions and arguments will not resurrect those we love.

As I sat with my friend, I was acutely aware that I was in the midst of a sacred, pastoral moment.  But, I was also acutely aware that I don't know shit.  My initial thought was, if I had the theological/pastoral education that many people keep encouraging me to finish, I might be able to help.  But then I thought maybe it would'nt even matter, because ultimately we're up against the inscrutable will of God.  And I am not God.  I didn't dare even try to assure my friend that God is real, or use any phrases like "we don't understand it now, but...."  I just kept my mouth shut and listened.  It's all I could do.

But, God was also listening.  What He'll do next, I do not know.  I continue to await my meeting with Him at the Judgment Seat.  Until then, I keep my ears open -- both to my friend, and to God.

Jesus the Beggar

I hardly slept at all last night.  I cried intermittently all night, and if I'm not careful, I might cry now.

This unusual experience started during Mass yesterday (but I can see precursors over the past few weeks.)  I believe I was in a state of true contemplation.  From the moment of Consecration I was drawn in by the mysteries of our Redemption.  I couldn't even move after Communion, and I was still kneeling about two minutes after the postlude ended.  It was one of those very rare times when I could leave myself behind and follow our Lord wherever He would lead.

This is what I take from the experience:

• Jesus humbled himself to the point of becoming a piece of bread and a cup of wine.  And, He was tortured and brutally murdered.  How could anything we mortals have to endure possibly be as difficult as that?
• If GOD can become bread, I surely ought to be able to walk into Dunkin Donuts and ask for an application.
• If I had to answer right now the question, "When did we see thee hungry...?" I would have to answer:  When I didn't give that lady a cigarette.  When I didn't give that guy so much as a quarter when I was outside the bar (never mind the fact that I didn't actually enter said bar.)  The instances are Legion, but you get the point.

How can I ever serve in persona Christi if I can't even look at the people around me and say, "I am one of you.  I don't just feel your pain; I experience your pain"?

This is the scary fact that makes me cry:

• I can say the Apostles' Creed without crossing my fingers.
• I go to Mass every Sunday and sometimes during the week.
• I serve at the altar frequently.

But, if I can't serve Jesus in the person sitting beside me, it means nothing.

One Day in Thy Courts

"For one day in Thy courts is better than a thousand.  I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord than to dwell in the tents of ungodliness."  Ps. 84:10

Amidst all the recent turmoils of my life, everything comes back to this.  There is NO place I would rather be.  Nothing takes my mind off of my troubles and makes me feel more alive than being in the Lord's house.  Whether I serve as thurifer, crucifer, MC, or merely sit in  a pew, I am filled with the consolation of the Holy Spirit, with a sense of complete belonging and purpose, which I struggle to find in the outside world.

I am ever mindful of the words of the Mother Abbess in "The Sound of Music:"  "These walls were not meant to shut out your problems.  You've got to face them." (cue "Climb Ev'ry Mountain.) Surely, I do sometimes seek refuge in the Church, but for me, the Church is much more than just "a shelter in time of storm."  One of the most ancient and fundamental questions of Man is, "Why am I here?"  I find this answer whenever I walk into a Church or perform some service in association with the Church.  I am normally inclined neither to manual labor or to customer service jobs (being a homosexual and an introvert,) but in service of God and His Church, I sometimes find myself doing (and enjoying) things I would not normally do.  Two particular instances spring immediately to mind (and on further reflection, several from years past, also):

On Saturday morning,  11/03/2012, we celebrated the Requiem Mass for a beloved member of our parish.  About four years ago, the first time I really met Richard was when I volunteered to help with some work being done at our recently adopted Mission Church of St. James the Less.  I spend a day on my knees pulling nails and staple from the floorboards in the old Sexton's Cottage, and I had a blast doing it, because the property was such an gem, and I was willing to help in any way possible to restore it to full functioning in service to God and His people.  Service and Fellowship made the day.  And I went on to do several more days of service there, raking leaves, cleaning pews in the old stone church, and working with youth at a summer camp.  What blessed times they were.

The other thing that comes to mind is a few months ago, when I dropped into the Church Office one morning for some brief business, and when I was done, volunteers wore beginning to set up for the Food Cupboard, a ministry providing food to the needy.  Having some time on my hands, I decided to stay and help.  Not once did I get farther than the Parish Hall, but being with fellow parishioners and helping the needy was enough.  There was no need for me to step into the Church -- just being present to help God's people and know their welfare was provided for was quite enough.  I enjoyed talking to some folks I hadn't much conversation with previously, and I received a blessing from being part of the community and serving those in need.

Of course, Worship and Prayer make me feel welcomed, loved, and cared for, but those are the obvious.  The full meaning of Psalm 84 doesn't come to understanding without remembering those simple things I've mentioned.  In these times of turmoil, it is important that I remember also the words of the General Thanksgiving, said at the conclusion of the Daily Offices:  "We bless thee for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life..."

God created me.  God has preserved me, despite my attempts by deliberation and recklessness at the contrary.  God has blessed me by putting many people into my life who care about and support me.  God has given us Jesus Christ, His only Son, who gave us the ability to literally kneel before His Throne of Grace and worship Him in the Blessed Sacrament (more on that in a future post).

So, I therefore give thanks on this anniversary of my birth.

(Apologies if some thoughts aren't completely fleshed out, but I thought it better to post something rather than my usual nomos of sitting on it until it was perfect...I'm sure my professors wish I had done the same in college!)