Climbing the Ladder

Jacob's Ladder by Marc Chagal

Yesterday in our thrice yearly reading of the Holy Rule we began Chapter 7, the chapter on Humility.  It is one of my most favorite chapters in the entire Rule and St. Benedict gives us twelve steps to achieve genuine humility.  In a previous post I quoted the section of this chapter where Holy Father Benedict compares the journey of our ascent to heaven to Jacob's Ladder (Gen. 28).  He says "we descend by exaltation and ascend by humility." I won't go into detail, but during my many hours alone at home following my surgery last Monday, the Lord made it clear to me that I need a good dose of humility before I can get a good footing on that ladder.

This realization did not occur overnight and it does not come easy for me to accept. I had to pray through it and am still praying through it.  The first step of humility is to "keep the fear of God always before our eyes."  God sees all and knows all and we simply can't ignore that.  If I am to climb that ladder, I have to be constantly aware of God's presence, His very intimate presence in my life each and every day. I have to put Him above everything else, and that means going beyond my own comfort level and fear so that I am being all that God wants me to be. It is not easy for me.

In the story of Jacob's Ladder, God promises Jacob something that He repeats and repeats throughout the scriptures and still makes clear today,  "Know that I am with you." (Gen 28:15)  God chastises us, and makes clear to us our faults and the areas of our lives where we keep Him out.   Here we have a choice.  We can accept the fact that God is calling us to change and out of genuine "fear of the Lord," that is fear of offending Him who has given us life and calls us to live that life in union with Him, or we can remain as we are.  The latter is the easiest course, but the question to ponder is where does it lead us in the end? Will the course I choose to follow lead me up the ladder, or will I be stuck on a rung somewhere in between because the climb seems to difficult?  The funny thing about this "ladder" is that just when I think I am reaching the heights of my ascent God shows me that there is still a long long way to go. The higher I go, the ladder grows more rungs. Sometimes it seems an impossibility to continue. Can I hold on, do I have the strength, will I ever reach the top, will I be able to continue after I fall a few rungs, or God forbid tumble down to the bottom? It all comes back to the promise, "I will will never leave you until I have done what I promised you." (Gen 28:15) On my part, I just have to keep climbing.

Of Folk Songs and Psalms

Convalescing from my very successful surgery with no pain and very little discomfort, I find it difficult to keep sitting quietly and letting my body heal.  Yet last night I found myself glued to the television watching a documentary on PBS about folk singer Pete Seeger.  Although I didn't know it at the time, the music of Pete Seeger had a tremendous influence  my own love of music.  

My earliest recollection of listening to music was my parents collection of Sinatra, Perry Como, Rosemary Clooney, and big bands.  Then in the summer of 1962 I began to attend CYO Day Camp in Coney Island, where I was introduced to folk music by a beautiful blond music and art counselor whose name I do not remember.  She played guitar and over the five summers I attended the camp, she taught us songs she heard in Greenwich Village by rising folk singers by Peter, Paul and Mary, Bob Dylan, and others.  I was immediately captivated by the songs, This Land is Your Land, If I Had a Hammer, This Little Light of Mine, Puff the Magic Dragon, Leaving on a Jet Plane and many more. 

Dad noticed my interest in folk music and bought me my first guitar. He loved to hear me sing and often asked me to sing for guests. His favorite request was Where Have All the Flower's Gone.  In retrospect I don't think he realized that it developed into a Viet Nam war protest song, and I was too young to even understand the conflict going on at the other end of the world from my innocent summers in Brooklyn and Long Island. But the music found its way into my soul and last evening's documentary brought back such wonderful memories that go beyond camp to 7th and 8th grade in Long Beach Catholic School and St. Agnes High School where my friends and I would play guitars and sing the songs that we grew up loving. By then we knew the importance of the words we were singing.  They evoked emotions, they made statements, and they defined a generation.

Folk music is still around, but it is not as popular as much of the noise that masquerades as music today.  Folk music had, has heart.  It speaks of the struggles of humanity, and it also speaks of hope and the perseverance of the human spirit.  It brings to my mind the Psalms of the ancient Israelites.  The longer I pray the Psalms, the more I come to appreciate their importance in the Judeo/Christian tradition  The Psalms are like folk songs. They come from the oral tradition of a people who were oppressed, who suffered, they are songs of lament and of sorrow. But they are also songs of joy and of hope in the Lord.  They speak of a common tradition, culture and history. They are songs that have endured by a people who have endured, and they will continue to be sung where and whenever there are men and women who have faith and a need for God. They are the songs who define the People of God.

I haven't played guitar in a long time, and my Guild twelve string is a ten string for the moment.  I haven't been singing much either, except as part of the assembly at Mass.  Yet the Psalms I pray several times a day. They bring to the forefront of my mind every human emotion, every fear, every joy, every desire. Like the folk songs I grew to love, they have become part of who I am as a Christian and as a Child of God. 

Patience and Healing

Healing the Bleeding Woman
Catacomb of St. Peter and St. Marcellinus

My surgery for tomorrow (Monday) has been delayed a few hours.  That's good and bad. The good news is I can sleep later and go to Mass in the morning. The bad news is that I still have to fast from 11:00 tonight.  I am usually asleep by 10 PM so that is not a problem, but if I don't have my coffee and at least something for breakfast then I get a headache and feel sick until I get the cup of java and some protein.  I can't even receive communion at Mass.  As the sisters would always say, "Offer it up."  I guess there is some wisdom there. So I will offer it for those who go hungry each and every day.

So the Lord is asking me to be a bit more patient.  I have been OK anticipating the surgery and it seems half the people I have asked to pray for me have had this surgery or knows someone in their family who has. I have received a lot of advice with regard to recovery, the most important being not to do much at all for the first three days or longer.  I am not the kind of person who could lay around all day doing nothing, but I am being forced to. I will have to have patience with the healing process.

It seems that it's important to be patient when seeking spiritual healing as well. For most of us, spiritual healing doesn't happen in a flash of a moment, but slowly after a period of time.  During this time we need to be open to the Spirit working in us and on us to bring about what we need to grow in our relationship with God, to heal from what ever it is that may keep us from being all that God wants us to be. But it takes faith and trust. Just as the woman who sought healing by touching the hem of Jesus' cloak, so too I must approach the Lord knowing that whatever I ask He will give me if it is in accord with His will for me. 

Perhaps during this time of physical healing, instead of spending hours watching HGTV and useless talk shows. I could spend time focusing on the Lord. I am sure He has a lot to say to me. Hopefully I will do some painting as I started a new canvas, and catch up on some reading and writing as well.  All these things are good for my spiritual well being. Maybe I will uncover something or grow in the creative gifts the Lord has given me...and that would be very good.

Learning about God

On Tuesday afternoon I heard a bit of a rukus coming from the hallway a few steps down from the parish office. I went to investigate and found a child of about six years old arguing with his mother who was registering him for faith formation classes.  "I don't want to learn about God," said the little born stubbornly. At first I chuckled and empathized with the mom. It is common for kids cry to their parents on the first day of school begging them not to make them go.  I can remember spending a morning sitting outside a kindergarten classroom struggling to get my son to go into the room (and this was after two years of pre-K). But last night, after speaking at a catechist meeting in another parish, I began to think how sad it really was. Here is a child who doesn't want to know God and who probably doesn't even have a sense who God is. Anyone who had taught faith formation has come across children like this who have no understanding of God, do not know what it is to pray, and have never set foot in a church.    One of our catechists tells the story of a first grader in a class she taught who when taken on a tour of the church said, "So this is what a church looks like."

I can relate to that in a way.  I don't remember ever being in a church until the summer before I began first grade in the local Catholic school. But, even though my parents didn't go to Mass when I was a young child, I was taught to pray and we did not go to sleep at night until we prayed the Guardian Angel prayer and go through a litany of people who we wanted God to bless. We had crucifixes, statues of Mary, the Infant of Prague, and a family Bible. I learned the Hail Mary and knew what a rosary was. My mom even had a subscription to a  children's bible monthly and would read us stories from the Old and New Testaments. By the time I started school, I wanted to learn about God, and religion was one of my favorite subjects, and I loved going to Mass, which by the way at the time was in Latin.

I think the scenario on the young boy's objection to learn about God reveals a deeper problem.  How often is this child's argument expressed (often not in words) by Catholic adults? DREs and catechists often bemoan that the biggest problem they face as catechists is not the children, but parents who do not reinforce or even at times work against what is being taught in the classroom. Many think of faith formation classes, and even religion, as a commodity and one that, to borrow a phrase from Burger King, they "want it their way."  The practice of religion isn't a part of their life, so they send their kids to us, but don't want to accept their responsibility to be the first and primary teachers of the faith for their children. Many of them do not have a relationship with God (although they will admit the are spiritual), so how can we expect their children to develop a relationship with God?

But the problem is not only among parents. The problem of "not wanting to learn about God," stretches across all ages. Some don't see the purpose of it, some want nothing to do with God, and some think that the education they received in eight years of religious education taught them all they need to know.  Then there are the people that may want to learn more but are just too busy.  How do we reach them all?  How do we convince them to come to know God? That is the million dollar question.

We have a mission as Catholics to share in Christ's mission to bring souls to God.  I need to ask myself regularly how well am I sharing in that mission? What am I doing to help others to understand that the one of the most important things we can do in life is come to know God, to learn about God and His plan for our lives.  After over a half century of learning about God (and with the degrees to prove it) I am still painfully aware of how little I know about God, and how much more I need to learn.  Christian formation is a life long endeavor that I hope I will continue until I finally meet Him who I desire most.

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.

God speaks

School is back in session here on Long Island and as the first full week of classes begin so does the parish ministry year. Starting last Wednesday and up until this Thursday I count 8 meetings that I have attended or am supposed to attend here in the parish and on the diocesan level and there are more meetings coming up. Since I will be missing two weeks of work due to my surgery this coming Monday, there are so many things that have to be done before my last day of work on Sunday.  Not a good time of year for it to be necessary to take time off.  I wish this surgery could have been done in the summer, but things being the way they are it just didn't work out that way.  I guess there really is no good time for this kind of thing but hopefully all will go well and it will only be two weeks.  If not, then I am looking at a six week recovery.

As I have said in previous posts, I am  not that nervous about it and I think I am well prepared, but just to be sure I have Confession and Anointing of the Sick on my "to do" list for the weekend. Pre-op testing was this morning and all I need now is clearance from my primary physician. I find it amazing how God speaks the words I need to hear, just when I need to hear them. On Friday night I was at a meeting and someone asked if I would proclaim the first reading.  This was it:

Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing what you have learned and received and heard and seen in me. Then the God of peace will be with  you. (Philippians 4:6-9)



Sunset in Assisi by Jo-Ann Metzdorff

Some people call these things coincidence, but for those of us who believe we know that there are no coincidences. The key is to recognize the voice of the Lord when He speaks. We don't need a mountain top experience or the sky to open up to hear His voice...we only need to be open to listening.  What I am hearing from this reading is that when we make prayer a priority in their life, when we dedicate our day to the Lord in praise and thanksgiving, then God will give us the peace that we seek and free us from anxiety.

There is another quote that I found for when things get a bit stressful and anxiety rears its ugly head. It is written by St.Teresa of Avila and is called her "bookmark."  I think this is going to go up on my wall, or at least I'll make my own bookmark.

Let nothing disturb thee; Let nothing dismay thee; All thing pass; God never changes. Patience attains all that it strives for. He who has God finds he lacks nothing: God alone suffices.

Keeping Silent

I find myself without words today so I decided to offer a quote that expresses my sentiments on this day:

Silence makes room for remembering. I don’t want to hear patriotic songs, jingoistic speeches, or even well-considered rehearsals of “what happened on that day.” I want to see no pictures of burning towers or flags waving. I wish for empty public space, a communal practice of quiet, to reflect on not only what happened on 9/11 but in the long, sad decade since. For just a brief time, I long for, in the words of an ancient hymn, “all mortal flesh keep silence,” in the face of the fear and trembling that gripped us one September day ten years ago.

I wonder what we would find there—of our selves, our neighbors, and God—in that void of words?

 It is from an blog entry written by Diana Butler Bass in her blog over at Pathos.