Nothing More Than Feelings

I have been up since before 3 AM listening to the rain softly falling outside. While it is a nice sound and the breeze was gently blowing in my bedroom window, I do wish I was able to go back to sleep. Prayer was difficult so I just decided to rest in the Lord until I decided to get out of bed at 4:30.  This is probably not good for facing a day of work.

I thought perhaps it is a good time to write a post.  I haven't done so in awhile. Call it writer's block. My journal entries are even brief as of late. I get all these ideas in my head about what to write about, but when it comes time to do it my mind goes blank. It is not that I don't reflect on things, for I do that a lot, but the words just don't make it onto paper, or the screen in this case.

For awhile I have been giving a lot of thought to the concept of feelings. Yesterday I viewed a post on Facebook that again got me reflecting on feelings. Thanks Karla for posting it. It expresses much of what I was thinking about.  I have heard it said, and have also come to the realization on my own, that we put too much emphasis on our feelings. Everything seems to be about how I feel or how I don't feel. Don't say this or that for it might hurt someone's feelings. Feelings are most important, never mind what is the truth. Even within my Catholic circles people are saying that it is all about feelings.  I don't believe that anymore.

I have discovered that feelings can be deceiving and can also keep me from discovering the reality about who I am. I feel hurt by someone, so I shut down, or start feeling sorry for myself. Yet I believe that feelings, positive or negative, can be a starting point for self reflection, for asking the big question, "why do I feel this way?"

When it comes to God, that's where feelings can really get in the way. We often think that God must make us feel good.  Well there are many times when I just don't feel good, when I just don't feel God's presence. This had happened more often in the past few years.  I could have just thought that God has abandoned me, although based on things that have happened in my life I know that He hasn't, but I just don't get those nice feelings with regard to God.  I have come to realize that that's OK. It all comes down to faith.

Faith is not a feeling. My friend Sandy has a favorite Bible quote; "Faith is the confidence in what is hoped for, and the assurance of things not seen." (Heb. 1:1). In 2 Corinthians 5:7, Paul writes, "we walk by faith and not by sight."  For me these passages confirm my thoughts that just as our senses can deceive us with regard to our faith, feelings can as well. Faith is a gift that is available to all who are open to receiving it. Faith gets us though the hard times, even when we feel like all is falling apart, even when our feelings are hurt, or when our feelings are saying that God has abandoned us.

Reading John of the Cross has helped me a lot with regard to relying on senses and feelings when it comes to faith and my relationship with God. When we let go of our desires to "feel good" or to "sense God" and to simply trust in His Love, knowing that He is always with us, that is when we can begin to attain true union with God. And the closer we get to union with God, the more our feelings do not dominate us and our relationships with others. I haven't arrived there yet, but I'm working on it.

Lift High the Cross

Christ of St. John of the Cross
by Salvator Dali

"When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all men to myself, says the Lord."

(Jn 12:32)

As we celebrate today's Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross I am reminded of how often I find myself gazing upon the images of the Cross, more specifically the Crucifix, that are found in church and on the walls of my office and the rooms of my home. My most favorite image is the one pictured above painted by Salvatore Dali.  It is his interpretaion of a drawing done by St. John of the Cross who drew the image of the crucified Christ from the vantage point of the Father in Heaven.

Dali paints from the same vantage point but with such exquisit detail. The Cross hovers over the earth bathed in light from Heaven. Below is pictured a lake with fishermen tending their boats.  We know from Scripture that Jesus used the image of fishing as a symbol for gathering in abundant souls to Himself.  It is also interesting to note that there are no nails in the hands and feet of Jesus in Dali's painting. Also absent is the crown of thorns.  Dali's depection is said to have been revealed to him in a dream and these things were missing. 

The Cross is not an easy thing to accept.  St. Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians: 1:23  that  Christ crucified is "a stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles."  Why do we make a gruesome symbol of death the primary symbol of our Catholic faith? As I look upon the Cross I reflect on what it is that the Cross represents.  Jesus' death upon the Cross shows us the depths that Jesus went to proove His Love for us.  His Cross also teaches us that in order to follow Jesus, we too must take up our crosses, knowing that if we bear them with the same Love and obedience as Jesus did, then we too will be glorified in Him. As we celebrate this Feast I thank the Lord for offering Himself upon the Cross for the salvation of all mankind. 

This morning at Mass, which was attended by our high school seniors, we sang this hymn.  I chose this version because of the beautiful art work but it is a wonderful hymn that unfortunatly we don't sing often enough in our parishes.

Guilty Pleasures

I have a confession.  I am a chocoholic!  I love everything about chocolate; its taste, its texture, the way it just melts in my mouth and the way it seems to bring about a feeling of euphoria.  One of my favorite movies is even titled "Chocolat,"and although I have been told that it is a hedonistic attack on the penitential season of Lent, I find it a film about uncovering hypocrisy and learning to love.  But that is for another post.

Yesterday I wrote about reading John of the Cross. In The Ascent of Mt. Carmel, John writes about purging of the senses, that is purging ourselves of all inordinate desires that bring pleasure to the senses. Uh oh, I have a problem here!  I don't seek out chocolate, but if it is in my house or at work and I have one bite, then that's the end. I keep eating until it is all gone.  My biggest problem is peanut M&Ms. This confectionary delight combines three great tastes and textures into one, candy, chocolate and peanuts. I can't resist these colorful spheres of pure pleasure.  The other night, feeling a bit low and stressed, I ate practically an entire party size package.  

Later, feeling particularly guilty over my gluttonous experience, I found myself confronted with the idea of purging myself of this guilty pleasure on several levels.  First, for health reasons I should be avoiding anything with high fat content.  Second, it is not doing my weight loss efforts any good.  Third, it is an avoidance of the real issues that are bothering me. And finally, as John writes "But anyone who fails to conquer the joy of appetite will fail to experience the serenity of habitual joy in God by means of His creatures and works." And here I thought gorging myself on chocolate would make things better.

I mentioned that reading John of the Cross has changed my life.  One of the ways that it has changed is that I have been examining the those things that I am attached to. I have been trying to simplify my life and detatch from dependence upon temporal goods, recognition, and even the desire for consolations from God. While these things may be good (and consolations from God are certainly good),  if I am truly going to "prefer nothing to the Love of Christ," then denying these goods can only bring me closer to my goal of union with my Beloved.

Does this mean I will never eat M&Ms again, or delight in a slice of double rich chocolate cake, or deny myself a smooth delectable piece of Godiva?  I don't think I would go that far.  What I do hope to do, by the Grace of God, is to recognize that my "need" for chocolate, or any other food or temporal desire, only keeps me from that which can truly satisfy and bring me joy.  

Two Years with St. John of the Cross

Two years ago this week, with much trepidation, I began reading John of the Cross. I say with trepidation because even though I was familiar with Carmelite spirituality with its focus on contemplation and union with God, I did not feel I was spiritually mature enough to delve into John's mystical theology.  I had read most of Teresa of Avila and Therese of Lisieux, but John still frightened me.  Years ago I discovered his poem "The Dark Night"" and I became enamored with it. "One dark night, fired with love's urgent longing...ahh, the sheer grace!"  The entire poem touched me, calling me into a deeper relationship with Jesus.  I knew that reading John would help me in this regard, yet I was avoiding it since I had heard that John was difficult to read, easily misunderstood, and that his writings could be frightening to one who was not ready to be purged and plunged into the Dark Night.

As a Benedictine, I follow a spiritual path of finding God in everyday life, in achieving balance between work and prayer, and in preferring nothing to the Love of Christ.  It is a very practical spirituality, and I tend to be a very practical person.  Carmelite spirituality seems to go a step beyond.  It takes preferring nothing to Christ to its highest level.  As I prayed my way through The Ascent of Mt. Carmel and The Dark Night of the Soul, John's two volume work commenting on his poem "The Dark Night," I found that while it was difficult to read, it was not frightening and it did challenge me to go beyond my own spiritual complacency.  Both volumes speak of the purgation one must go through in order to achieve mystical union or spiritual marriage with Christ.

This week, almost two years to the day when I first started delving into the works of St. John, I completed a third book, The Spiritual Canticle. It is John's commentary on his poem of the same name based on his favorite book of Scripture, The Song of Songs.  As with the Song of Songs, it follows a bride in search of her Bridegroom, and the consummation of their Love.  It naturally follows the sensual and spiritual purgation that John writes about in the previous two books.

Sometimes I ask myself why I waited so long to read these great classics of Catholic spirituality.  I now know that yes, I had to be ready.  I could have read them earlier and I probably would have quickly muddled my way through them taking in a bit of wisdom here and there.  But Sanjuanist mystical theology is meant be absorbed, not just read.  It is meant to lead us to a state of perfection in Christ by uncovering all that keeps us from Christ and seeking "nada," that is nothing but union with Him.