Every three weeks each of the postulants has a meeting, formally called a formation conference, with the postulant co-directors. During this meeting we have a conversation about the postulancy experience. Each postulant gets to speak about how they are doing physically, intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually. These are not occasions to evaluate the progress of the postulant or render criticism of his behavior, attitudes, etc. These are easygoing meetings whose purpose is to maintain clear communication between the postulant and the directors. The postulants should always feel free to seek out the directors as they find they need, and they do. Having the formation conferences ensures that the brother postulants and formation directors are at least looking together toward the same object.
Later this afternoon the postulants will gather with the postulant director to review the policies and procedures of the Province of St. Mary. Among the highlights we will discuss from the policy sourcebook:
Automobiles and driving privileges. How, you may ask, can friars have cars when they take vows of poverty? The answer is that all cars are owned, registered, and insured by the province; vehicles are maintained for ministerial and fraternal purposes only; and no purchase of a car can be made without permission from the provincial minister. The provincial minister can limit, suspend, or revoke a friar's driving privileges depending on the friar's physical condition or record of accidents, violations, and offenses.
Health care. The Rule of St. Francis and Capuchin Constitutions dictate that the brothers are to take care of each other when they are sick, ill, or diseased. One of the agreements the postulants sign is a contract stipulating their rights to medical care, the responsibilities of the Province concerning payments and other obligations, and waivers of liability. The policy handbook details how the province ensures comprehensive health care for all its brothers. It outlines the individual responsibilities of the friar for self-care; the communal responsibilities of the province, its brothers and staff; and addresses special situations like mental health, catastrophic illness, and extraordinary means and procedures for prolonging life, as well as advanced medical directives. There is a special section devoted to directives for the treatment of friars with HIV/AIDS.
Sexual misconduct. In 2003, the province revised its policies concerning response to allegations of sexual abuse of minors brought against friars. This was done to reflect and incorporate the norms approved by the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops in Dallas in December 2002 in the wake of the scandal of its sexually abusive priests. The province's policies mirror the Dallas Charter by providing for the removal of accused friars from public ministry; requiring the reporting of allegations of sexual abuse to civil authorities; and establishing a review board, with lay members and a lay chair, to ensure the safety of minors, assess the allegations it receives, make a final determination of abuse, and recommend removal from public ministry. The policies provide for pastoral care of the victims and their loved ones, as well as legal, canonical, psychological, and spiritual counsel for the accused friar. I look forward to a vigorous discussion of these policies, their meaning and application, and their strengths and weaknesses, with the brothers.
***
I am all but certain of the ministry I would like to do. The postulant co-directors have affirmed my choice and the way I arrived at it. Tomorrow the postulants will discuss and confirm their ministry selections with the director, and we will begin our assignments next week.
In the next few days each postulant will make contact with his spiritual director. The directors recommended a religious sister to me at our formation conference, and I will call her tomorrow or over the weekend. After our initial meeting, provided we feel comfortable with each other, we will make arrangements for monthly meetings for spiritual direction.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Reluctant Saint
It is critical, I think, to try to shed light on the humanity of Francis, who had little interest in becoming (much less being called) a saint. In fact, his life bears witness to the fact that holiness is not by necessity a denial of one's humanity, or something added on to it. Holiness may in fact be the deepest achievement of what is authentically human. Here we are close to the Christian mystery of the Incarnation.
Donald Spoto, Reluctant Saint: The Life of Francis of Assisi
It is possible to speak and act on behalf of God and still be separated from God. Therein lies tragedy. St. Paul gets at this when he writes to the Corinthian church, "And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing." Note what Paul says and what he does not say. He does not say that he does nothing if he does not have love. He says he is nothing if he does not have love. Without love, we have no being, because God, the ground of our being, is love.
It is not enough to offer the words and works of a prophet. God desires persons, not their deeds alone. We are not merely passive messengers or empty channels through which the will of God is communicated. The creature matters. The person is sacred.
Prophets seek to change the world in God's name. Saints seek, with God's help, to be changed themselves.
This week we are reflecting on the Franciscan path and the ideals of Franciscan prayer that lead to a Gospel way of life. Francis was a saint and a prophet, but he was a saint first because his life was consumed by God, and his vision was to become a person more and more deeply in union with God. He achieved this being-with-God, as much in spite of what he did as because of it. Donald Spoto writes, "Francis remains something of a wonderful embarrassment to the Church and the world. His life and example--and not, let it be stressed, anything specific he said or wrote--had an integrity that challenges our presumptions about what constitutes a good life, not to say a respectable approach to religion."
Over against the pursuit of superhuman feats of detachment, purportedly for Christ, that actually negate one's personhood, the Franciscan path to holiness has to do with finding God through an affirmative turn toward the inherent goodness of our created being. "Earlier concepts [of saintliness or holiness] have with time become too rarefied, linked to an almost absurd idea of perfection and a denial of humanity." [The letter of Paul to the Colossians cautions against this, too.] "Francis, in contrast, seems to me one of the most obviously human and necessary among saints. He was also one of the most reluctant to undertake a spiritual journey."
Many people will go to great lengths to do heroic and glorious things. Indeed, they may achieve the good, the just, and the righteous, and the world will be blessed for their struggle. But they remain the same or, worse, end up by becoming less than the sum of their deeds. Thus today's messiahs become tomorrow's false prophets. Fewer are the persons who are willing to go to the ends of the earth, and beyond its living bounds, to do no more than catch up with themselves. But these are the saints, and are they not themselves the words and works of Christ proclaimed by the prophets?
Donald Spoto, Reluctant Saint: The Life of Francis of Assisi
It is possible to speak and act on behalf of God and still be separated from God. Therein lies tragedy. St. Paul gets at this when he writes to the Corinthian church, "And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing." Note what Paul says and what he does not say. He does not say that he does nothing if he does not have love. He says he is nothing if he does not have love. Without love, we have no being, because God, the ground of our being, is love.
It is not enough to offer the words and works of a prophet. God desires persons, not their deeds alone. We are not merely passive messengers or empty channels through which the will of God is communicated. The creature matters. The person is sacred.
Prophets seek to change the world in God's name. Saints seek, with God's help, to be changed themselves.
This week we are reflecting on the Franciscan path and the ideals of Franciscan prayer that lead to a Gospel way of life. Francis was a saint and a prophet, but he was a saint first because his life was consumed by God, and his vision was to become a person more and more deeply in union with God. He achieved this being-with-God, as much in spite of what he did as because of it. Donald Spoto writes, "Francis remains something of a wonderful embarrassment to the Church and the world. His life and example--and not, let it be stressed, anything specific he said or wrote--had an integrity that challenges our presumptions about what constitutes a good life, not to say a respectable approach to religion."
Over against the pursuit of superhuman feats of detachment, purportedly for Christ, that actually negate one's personhood, the Franciscan path to holiness has to do with finding God through an affirmative turn toward the inherent goodness of our created being. "Earlier concepts [of saintliness or holiness] have with time become too rarefied, linked to an almost absurd idea of perfection and a denial of humanity." [The letter of Paul to the Colossians cautions against this, too.] "Francis, in contrast, seems to me one of the most obviously human and necessary among saints. He was also one of the most reluctant to undertake a spiritual journey."
Many people will go to great lengths to do heroic and glorious things. Indeed, they may achieve the good, the just, and the righteous, and the world will be blessed for their struggle. But they remain the same or, worse, end up by becoming less than the sum of their deeds. Thus today's messiahs become tomorrow's false prophets. Fewer are the persons who are willing to go to the ends of the earth, and beyond its living bounds, to do no more than catch up with themselves. But these are the saints, and are they not themselves the words and works of Christ proclaimed by the prophets?
Monday, September 5, 2011
What Do You Wish?
Dear brothers, what do you wish?
Brother Timothy, we ask to walk with you and the brothers of this community, in order to discern with you whether it is our vocation to follow the Lord Jesus Christ in the Franciscan Family. Teach us how to pray and undergo true conversion; show us how to live in fraternity with patience and joy.
In the words of Jesus, I say to you: "Come and see." We are happy to receive you into this house of formation for the period of postulancy. May you be able to discern clearly your vocation and experience our life of fraternity and minority in the service of the Church.
I now invite you to pray together the prayer our seraphic Father Francis prayed before the Holy Crucifix:
Most High,
glorious God,
enlighten the darkness
of my heart
and give me
true faith,
certain hope,
and perfect charity,
sense and knowledge,
Lord,
that I may carry out
your holy and true command.
Amen.
***
With this dialogue, the brothers and postulants made a covenant. Following this exchange, each of the postulants signed a contract that binds us, for the next year, to the program of initial formation in the Capuchin Province of St. Mary. As a symbol of the status conferred upon us, each postulant received a book of early documents of the life of St. Francis of Assisi.
***
The following is a reading given at the prayer service this afternoon. It comes from The Remembrance of the Desire of a Soul, the second of two biographies of St. Francis written by Brother Thomas of Celano.
With his heart already changed--soon his body was also to be changed--Francis was walking one day by the church of San Damiano, which was abandoned by everyone and almost in ruins. Led by the Spirit he went in to pray and knelt down devoutly before the crucifix. He was shaken by unusual experiences and discovered that he was different from when he had entered. As soon as he had this feeling, there occurred something unheard of in previous ages: with the lips of the painting, the image of Christ crucified spoke to him. "Francis," it said, calling him by name, "go rebuild My house; as you see, it is all being destroyed." Francis was more than a little stunned, trembling, and stuttering like a man out of his senses. He prepared himself to obey and pulled himself together to carry out the command. He felt this mysterious change in himself, but he could not describe it. So it is better for us to remain silent about it too. From that time on, compassion for the Crucified was impressed into his holy soul. And we honestly believe the wounds of the sacred Passion were impressed deep in his heart, though not yet on his flesh.
***
This has been a good day. It is right for me to be here with the brothers. This journey is going to take me places, to the high places, and to the holy Place beyond all places. But all the while on this Labor Day I have been longing to be with my sisters and brothers in Boston, proclaiming woe and weal like the Jewish and Christian prophets, marching like the saints.
One of the Capuchin friars, who plays guitar, brought an Industrial Workers of the World songbook to our barbecue. The two of us sang "Union Maid" and "No Nos Moveran (We Shall Not Be Moved)." Another friar asked me about the T-shirt I was wearing, which came from SEIU Local 615. These were little joys for me, clean and cheerful, and true and necessary.
And yet....
What I have gained in fraternity does not substitute for the solidarity I have felt with immigrants and workers on the streets. When once you've spoken in God's name and taken direct action to cast down the mighty from their thrones and lift up the lowly, you can't stop.
Unless God stops you. And I do believe the Paraclete is pressing down upon my brow to pause me.
Today I am the one cast down from my throne of self-righteousness. My scepter of self-reliance has been snapped in two. My cloak of false humility has been stripped. And I am being lifted up, not as a leader of ministers zealous for justice; not as a journeyman organizer of a nonviolent revolution; not as the first-born, first-ranked, or first among equals; but as the youngest of a family of brothers, even the runt of the litter. As the postulant director told us at the prayer service today, we will do marvelous things for God and the Church one day. And the brothers are perfectly confident that their faith in God's work through us will be proved abundantly. Today, however, is a time for setting foundations. It is a time for beginnings, small in scope, modest in reach. Before we show the world how it must live, we must learn how to live.
And though I am ending my 34th year of life with yet another starting over, I submit to it in a spirit of faith, hope, and charity. I am learning again how to live, in Christ, and this time for all time. It is what I have wished.
Dear brother, what do you wish? One of these years, friends, God willing, I shall be marching as a little brother of Francis and telling the principalities and powers of the world where they can get off. Those days will come again. I can feel it in the deepest parts of my soul. There will be grand things ahead and great feats, maybe even sublime ones. But not now. The labors of the day lie in the doing of many little things. Take the stones at your feet, pick them up, and put them into place. And when you have done that, bring more stones here. If you cannot find your own stones, beg the stones from others. And keep building, until your many stones can form an arch to heaven.
Brother Timothy, we ask to walk with you and the brothers of this community, in order to discern with you whether it is our vocation to follow the Lord Jesus Christ in the Franciscan Family. Teach us how to pray and undergo true conversion; show us how to live in fraternity with patience and joy.
In the words of Jesus, I say to you: "Come and see." We are happy to receive you into this house of formation for the period of postulancy. May you be able to discern clearly your vocation and experience our life of fraternity and minority in the service of the Church.
I now invite you to pray together the prayer our seraphic Father Francis prayed before the Holy Crucifix:
Most High,
glorious God,
enlighten the darkness
of my heart
and give me
true faith,
certain hope,
and perfect charity,
sense and knowledge,
Lord,
that I may carry out
your holy and true command.
Amen.
***
With this dialogue, the brothers and postulants made a covenant. Following this exchange, each of the postulants signed a contract that binds us, for the next year, to the program of initial formation in the Capuchin Province of St. Mary. As a symbol of the status conferred upon us, each postulant received a book of early documents of the life of St. Francis of Assisi.
***
The following is a reading given at the prayer service this afternoon. It comes from The Remembrance of the Desire of a Soul, the second of two biographies of St. Francis written by Brother Thomas of Celano.
With his heart already changed--soon his body was also to be changed--Francis was walking one day by the church of San Damiano, which was abandoned by everyone and almost in ruins. Led by the Spirit he went in to pray and knelt down devoutly before the crucifix. He was shaken by unusual experiences and discovered that he was different from when he had entered. As soon as he had this feeling, there occurred something unheard of in previous ages: with the lips of the painting, the image of Christ crucified spoke to him. "Francis," it said, calling him by name, "go rebuild My house; as you see, it is all being destroyed." Francis was more than a little stunned, trembling, and stuttering like a man out of his senses. He prepared himself to obey and pulled himself together to carry out the command. He felt this mysterious change in himself, but he could not describe it. So it is better for us to remain silent about it too. From that time on, compassion for the Crucified was impressed into his holy soul. And we honestly believe the wounds of the sacred Passion were impressed deep in his heart, though not yet on his flesh.
***
This has been a good day. It is right for me to be here with the brothers. This journey is going to take me places, to the high places, and to the holy Place beyond all places. But all the while on this Labor Day I have been longing to be with my sisters and brothers in Boston, proclaiming woe and weal like the Jewish and Christian prophets, marching like the saints.
One of the Capuchin friars, who plays guitar, brought an Industrial Workers of the World songbook to our barbecue. The two of us sang "Union Maid" and "No Nos Moveran (We Shall Not Be Moved)." Another friar asked me about the T-shirt I was wearing, which came from SEIU Local 615. These were little joys for me, clean and cheerful, and true and necessary.
And yet....
What I have gained in fraternity does not substitute for the solidarity I have felt with immigrants and workers on the streets. When once you've spoken in God's name and taken direct action to cast down the mighty from their thrones and lift up the lowly, you can't stop.
Unless God stops you. And I do believe the Paraclete is pressing down upon my brow to pause me.
Today I am the one cast down from my throne of self-righteousness. My scepter of self-reliance has been snapped in two. My cloak of false humility has been stripped. And I am being lifted up, not as a leader of ministers zealous for justice; not as a journeyman organizer of a nonviolent revolution; not as the first-born, first-ranked, or first among equals; but as the youngest of a family of brothers, even the runt of the litter. As the postulant director told us at the prayer service today, we will do marvelous things for God and the Church one day. And the brothers are perfectly confident that their faith in God's work through us will be proved abundantly. Today, however, is a time for setting foundations. It is a time for beginnings, small in scope, modest in reach. Before we show the world how it must live, we must learn how to live.
And though I am ending my 34th year of life with yet another starting over, I submit to it in a spirit of faith, hope, and charity. I am learning again how to live, in Christ, and this time for all time. It is what I have wished.
Dear brother, what do you wish? One of these years, friends, God willing, I shall be marching as a little brother of Francis and telling the principalities and powers of the world where they can get off. Those days will come again. I can feel it in the deepest parts of my soul. There will be grand things ahead and great feats, maybe even sublime ones. But not now. The labors of the day lie in the doing of many little things. Take the stones at your feet, pick them up, and put them into place. And when you have done that, bring more stones here. If you cannot find your own stones, beg the stones from others. And keep building, until your many stones can form an arch to heaven.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
A Bridge, A Dream
When I have free time, that almost always means time to cultivate solitude. Today I am reclining at home and reading Hard Times by Charles Dickens. Yesterday I rode the J train to Chambers Street in Manhattan and walked back to Brooklyn over the Brooklyn Bridge. Resting in the northern end of Cadman Plaza Park, in a scruffy little patch rounded by ring of trees, I prayed a rosary under the watchful gaze of William Jay Gaynor, mayor of New York at this time a century ago.
While meditating on the infancy narratives of Jesus, given to us in the Gospel of Luke, I prayed about my new "infancy" in religious life. I have been reborn into a dream, my dream. This dreamer announced his dream a long time ago. Many people have since offered salutations and blessings as the dreamer has awakened to the reality he conceived. Now the dream has left the womb and is alive in the world; it is being welcomed and tended with constant care. In a matter of time, it will be presented to the world and consecrated for the world we dream will come. As the dream matures, the dreamer hopes it will be found in the high places, in temples and in places where all that is holy is honored; but also in the sanctuary of every dreaming soul.
But today the dream is young and fragile. And this dreamer does not always know what he is saying or understand what he is doing.
Riding the rattling train with screaming babies and scheming panhandlers, I felt like I was a nobody and everybody else was a nobody. Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge with the crowds and arriving in the park with no one at my side, I felt like I had broken away from everyone. I had left the past for dead; I was present to none but myself, and only to my dependence and uselessness; to the future I was unalive.
Does the life I left behind live on in the dream? Who am I, the dreamer or the dream? Am I both? Are they two or one reality? Has the dreamer been consumed by the dream?
In the midst of these melancholic wanderings, the spirit of prayer warmed me through, and I felt the anchorage of conviction secure my straining soul. And all the souls I had condemned as nobodies were watching me. We are waiting for you. You must find us. The ones who found you and sent you here are counting on it.
A bridge is always a bridge between worlds. It does not separate worlds; it joins them. The bridge is like the dream.
This must be my faith: that the life I have lived gives rise to the dream I live today. This must be my life: to carry that life to the other side of the bridge. This must be my prayer: that the dream I live raises the life that I have lived and loved.
While meditating on the infancy narratives of Jesus, given to us in the Gospel of Luke, I prayed about my new "infancy" in religious life. I have been reborn into a dream, my dream. This dreamer announced his dream a long time ago. Many people have since offered salutations and blessings as the dreamer has awakened to the reality he conceived. Now the dream has left the womb and is alive in the world; it is being welcomed and tended with constant care. In a matter of time, it will be presented to the world and consecrated for the world we dream will come. As the dream matures, the dreamer hopes it will be found in the high places, in temples and in places where all that is holy is honored; but also in the sanctuary of every dreaming soul.
But today the dream is young and fragile. And this dreamer does not always know what he is saying or understand what he is doing.
Riding the rattling train with screaming babies and scheming panhandlers, I felt like I was a nobody and everybody else was a nobody. Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge with the crowds and arriving in the park with no one at my side, I felt like I had broken away from everyone. I had left the past for dead; I was present to none but myself, and only to my dependence and uselessness; to the future I was unalive.
Does the life I left behind live on in the dream? Who am I, the dreamer or the dream? Am I both? Are they two or one reality? Has the dreamer been consumed by the dream?
In the midst of these melancholic wanderings, the spirit of prayer warmed me through, and I felt the anchorage of conviction secure my straining soul. And all the souls I had condemned as nobodies were watching me. We are waiting for you. You must find us. The ones who found you and sent you here are counting on it.
A bridge is always a bridge between worlds. It does not separate worlds; it joins them. The bridge is like the dream.
This must be my faith: that the life I have lived gives rise to the dream I live today. This must be my life: to carry that life to the other side of the bridge. This must be my prayer: that the dream I live raises the life that I have lived and loved.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Midnight Run
Friars in formation who struggle to rise daily at 6:30 a.m. to prepare for morning prayer should not stay up late. The night owls must persist against their nature if they want to nest in the early birds' aviary. Nowadays, 10:30 p.m. is a good goal for bedtime. To stray too far into the eleventh hour, or close in to the edge of midnight, is to hazard weariness all the day after.
No matter. It is ridiculous and trivial to complain about sleepless weariness when you are commanded to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, and clothe the bare. If the occasion arises for you to perform a corporal work of mercy, you should do it, no matter when or where the occasion draws near. No matter!
An opportunity arose on Thursday afternoon in Coney Island, when J.R., a boardwalk beggar, approached the postulants for charity. We all hesitated, me first of all. For a moment, it seemed like we were going to send him along with a shrug and excuses too miserable to repeat. But, we did not do that. Instead, we forced ourselves to stand still, look at J.R. and keep talking. "What do you need? Are you hungry? Are you thirsty?" And from there we bought J.R. two slices of cheese pizza. I made some little paper flower of conversation and gave it awkwardly to J.R. before I begged off to fritter the rest of my ample leisure money on amusements.
You might say we did what we ought to have done, and it was good enough. But the hesitation hounds me. How disappointing, after all these years in study of Christian theology and ministry, and years of worship at an outdoor church with outdoor people, after a full term of reflection on ministry to the homeless, that the instincts of a fallen nature can still prevail in the split second before grace saves the day!
There is nothing so sharp as Catholic guilt to goad a penitent into action. The Coney Island encounter prompted me to accept an invitation from one of the friars to join him on his monthly delivery of food, drink, and clothing to the homeless in midtown Manhattan. The twist was that the delivery would be on Friday night around midnight. And so I was initiated into Midnight Run.
For a couple of hours six of us slapped ham on cheese, squirted mustard on turkey, and spread grape jelly on peanut butter; sorted socks, shirts, and stretch pants; and brewed the best free coffee you will find anywhere. For the next couple of hours we toured Manhattan from the FDR Drive north to Union Square and on up to Grand Central Terminal in search of the many who go wanting for the littlest share of sweet humanity. Because Midnight Run is not about an exchange of goods but an exchange of persons. The homeless would not suffer from persistent privations if they had been treated like human beings at the hour when they fell out of the good graces of society. They would not be where they are if they had been loved the way we want our neighbors to love us. The way we need our neighbors to love us. The way you need your neighbors to love you becomes obvious every time you give a brown bag lunch to someone who cannot pay for it.
The cool night glittered on, and Friday lurched forward into Saturday by the time we returned to St. Matthias Parish to drop off undelivered clothes and sandwiches. By then I was inebriated by drowsiness, slurry in speech, and stupid in tongue. Where, I wondered, could I drop off all the undelivered words of courage and hope that should have been given to the men and women I mutely met? Back at St. Michael Friary at 2 a.m., I pulled back the cover of my comforter knowing I did nothing to deserve this feast of sleep -- knowing that so many go hungry for a good rest.
Oh, for the courage to hazard weariness for only a day, so as to avoid the dread weariness of an icy eternity!
Today has been a heavy day. Not because I am tired -- I slept very well -- but because I can feel the world leaning on me. It usually does when I realize, with that slow dawning apprehension that comes like thunderclouds low on the horizon, that the world suffers for want of my compassion for it. "The beauty that saves the world is the love that shares the pain." Self-absorption is an ugly thing. God as my witness, I would rather look ugly fulfilling the works of love than to feel ugly wondering why I hesitated when the moment to love drew near. May the Spirit give these words the force and heat of life.
No matter. It is ridiculous and trivial to complain about sleepless weariness when you are commanded to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, and clothe the bare. If the occasion arises for you to perform a corporal work of mercy, you should do it, no matter when or where the occasion draws near. No matter!
An opportunity arose on Thursday afternoon in Coney Island, when J.R., a boardwalk beggar, approached the postulants for charity. We all hesitated, me first of all. For a moment, it seemed like we were going to send him along with a shrug and excuses too miserable to repeat. But, we did not do that. Instead, we forced ourselves to stand still, look at J.R. and keep talking. "What do you need? Are you hungry? Are you thirsty?" And from there we bought J.R. two slices of cheese pizza. I made some little paper flower of conversation and gave it awkwardly to J.R. before I begged off to fritter the rest of my ample leisure money on amusements.
You might say we did what we ought to have done, and it was good enough. But the hesitation hounds me. How disappointing, after all these years in study of Christian theology and ministry, and years of worship at an outdoor church with outdoor people, after a full term of reflection on ministry to the homeless, that the instincts of a fallen nature can still prevail in the split second before grace saves the day!
There is nothing so sharp as Catholic guilt to goad a penitent into action. The Coney Island encounter prompted me to accept an invitation from one of the friars to join him on his monthly delivery of food, drink, and clothing to the homeless in midtown Manhattan. The twist was that the delivery would be on Friday night around midnight. And so I was initiated into Midnight Run.
For a couple of hours six of us slapped ham on cheese, squirted mustard on turkey, and spread grape jelly on peanut butter; sorted socks, shirts, and stretch pants; and brewed the best free coffee you will find anywhere. For the next couple of hours we toured Manhattan from the FDR Drive north to Union Square and on up to Grand Central Terminal in search of the many who go wanting for the littlest share of sweet humanity. Because Midnight Run is not about an exchange of goods but an exchange of persons. The homeless would not suffer from persistent privations if they had been treated like human beings at the hour when they fell out of the good graces of society. They would not be where they are if they had been loved the way we want our neighbors to love us. The way we need our neighbors to love us. The way you need your neighbors to love you becomes obvious every time you give a brown bag lunch to someone who cannot pay for it.
The cool night glittered on, and Friday lurched forward into Saturday by the time we returned to St. Matthias Parish to drop off undelivered clothes and sandwiches. By then I was inebriated by drowsiness, slurry in speech, and stupid in tongue. Where, I wondered, could I drop off all the undelivered words of courage and hope that should have been given to the men and women I mutely met? Back at St. Michael Friary at 2 a.m., I pulled back the cover of my comforter knowing I did nothing to deserve this feast of sleep -- knowing that so many go hungry for a good rest.
Oh, for the courage to hazard weariness for only a day, so as to avoid the dread weariness of an icy eternity!
Today has been a heavy day. Not because I am tired -- I slept very well -- but because I can feel the world leaning on me. It usually does when I realize, with that slow dawning apprehension that comes like thunderclouds low on the horizon, that the world suffers for want of my compassion for it. "The beauty that saves the world is the love that shares the pain." Self-absorption is an ugly thing. God as my witness, I would rather look ugly fulfilling the works of love than to feel ugly wondering why I hesitated when the moment to love drew near. May the Spirit give these words the force and heat of life.
Friday, September 2, 2011
75 Years
Just as spouses celebrate the anniversary of their marriage, so does a friar celebrate the anniversary of his entering religious life. Just as you would expect a couple to celebrate their jubilee in a special way, so you should expect a friar to commemorate his jubilee with heightened festivity. And just as a 75th anniversary of marriage would be the cause of great rejoicing for a grateful family, so would the 75th anniversary of religious life for a grateful family of faith.
A sizable company of friars, friends, and relatives came to Queen of Peace, a Little Sisters of the Poor nursing home in Queens Village, to recognize Capuchin Fr. Charles Repole, who entered the fraternity on this day in 1936. He is 96 years of age, nearly as old as me and the three other postulants combined. He was a missionary in the Bluefields region of Nicaragua to the Miskito people. He wrote the first and, to anybody's knowledge, only Miskito-English dictionary. Later he was assigned to Riker's Island as chaplain to the women's correction unit. For many years he and his late brother, Celsus, who was also a Capuchin priest, were inseparable. It is customary for senior friars to live their retirement in community at St. Clare Friary in Yonkers, but Brother Charlie cannot be slowed down, so he has opted to live at Queen of Peace and serve as chaplain and pastoral minister at large to the retired clergy and religious who now reside there.
To honor God, who has accompanied Brother Charlie in every step of a life given in response to his vocation, the friars held a Mass of thanksgiving in the nursing home chapel, followed by a lunch and reception. We the postulants were calculating how old we would be if and when we reached our 75th anniversary of religious life and speculating who would be there to celebrate with us. Oh, blessed are the blithe in spirit! Honestly, we would flatter ourselves excessively to believe that we will endure faithfully in religious life even for a year. Let us pray for the spirit of perseverance that has enabled Brother Charlie to run the race for so long, and may God will to grant us many years to live faithfully the life to which we have been called, the life we gladly choose.
A sizable company of friars, friends, and relatives came to Queen of Peace, a Little Sisters of the Poor nursing home in Queens Village, to recognize Capuchin Fr. Charles Repole, who entered the fraternity on this day in 1936. He is 96 years of age, nearly as old as me and the three other postulants combined. He was a missionary in the Bluefields region of Nicaragua to the Miskito people. He wrote the first and, to anybody's knowledge, only Miskito-English dictionary. Later he was assigned to Riker's Island as chaplain to the women's correction unit. For many years he and his late brother, Celsus, who was also a Capuchin priest, were inseparable. It is customary for senior friars to live their retirement in community at St. Clare Friary in Yonkers, but Brother Charlie cannot be slowed down, so he has opted to live at Queen of Peace and serve as chaplain and pastoral minister at large to the retired clergy and religious who now reside there.
To honor God, who has accompanied Brother Charlie in every step of a life given in response to his vocation, the friars held a Mass of thanksgiving in the nursing home chapel, followed by a lunch and reception. We the postulants were calculating how old we would be if and when we reached our 75th anniversary of religious life and speculating who would be there to celebrate with us. Oh, blessed are the blithe in spirit! Honestly, we would flatter ourselves excessively to believe that we will endure faithfully in religious life even for a year. Let us pray for the spirit of perseverance that has enabled Brother Charlie to run the race for so long, and may God will to grant us many years to live faithfully the life to which we have been called, the life we gladly choose.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Spiritual Direction
You are a spiritual director.
I sit in my chair
you in yours.
I have come to see you
with a longing
that mystifies me.
You draw my attention
to the third chair
in the room:
You invite me to see
with the eye of my heart
the Source
of my longing:
the Eternal, invisible, loving, guiding,
challenging, insistent
Mystery
in the third chair.
Jennifer Jinks Hoffmann, "The Third Chair"
Every postulant will be meeting monthly with a spiritual director. Spiritual direction as practiced by Christians involves a series of conversations between a person seeking to deepen his or her spiritual life and a listener who guides and mentors the seeker into a more intimate relationship with God and with the godly kind of person one wants to be.
This morning, a Franciscan Sister of Peace gave a talk to introduce the postulants to the practice of spiritual direction: what it is, what it is not, how it has developed in the Christian tradition, and why it is important in formation into religious life. We discussed the roles of director and directee, how to determine who is the right spiritual director for you, and what to expect in meetings for direction.
I have benefited from spiritual direction in the past, most recently a couple of years ago at a time when I felt my spirit had become knotted up. My vision had not clouded over completely, nor did I fail entirely to hear what God required of me, but I was becoming an obstacle to myself, and I could not move forward on the path I knew must walk. Talking to a spiritual director helped me untangle the knots, remove the self-made impediments, and stride on again.
It will be a privilege to resume spiritual direction for what I hope will be a long and sustained term. In many ways I feel, more than ever, receptive to the kind of interactions these meetings make, and the holy encounters they call forth. I am comfortable enough in myself to sing my song to others. With trust in these listeners, they can even show to me the story it is mine to tell. God, bring me a companion who will give me her time and help recover me in your time beyond time. Bring me a companion who will give of herself and help me discover more of myself. Let me see you in everything, and in her let me see one of your beloved friends in the Spirit.
Here is a good website, from an interreligious association of professionals, about the practice of spiritual direction.
***
Today the postulants and friars hosted eight young adult volunteers working with the Capuchin Youth & Family Ministries in Garrison, NY. They, too, attended the talk on spiritual direction. After lunch together we traveled to Luna Park at Coney Island for a pleasant afternoon. This was my first trip ever to Coney Island and to Luna Park, the great-grandmother of all amusement parks in the United States. The first thing we did was ride the Cyclone. This wooden roller coaster was built in 1927 and rehabilitated in 1975 and is a New York City landmark and site in the National Register of Historic Places. I've been on a few roller coasters, and they've been engineered to make the drops and turns graceful, even gentle. But the Cyclone is neither graceful nor gentle! It is truly a force of nature.
I sit in my chair
you in yours.
I have come to see you
with a longing
that mystifies me.
You draw my attention
to the third chair
in the room:
You invite me to see
with the eye of my heart
the Source
of my longing:
the Eternal, invisible, loving, guiding,
challenging, insistent
Mystery
in the third chair.
Jennifer Jinks Hoffmann, "The Third Chair"
Every postulant will be meeting monthly with a spiritual director. Spiritual direction as practiced by Christians involves a series of conversations between a person seeking to deepen his or her spiritual life and a listener who guides and mentors the seeker into a more intimate relationship with God and with the godly kind of person one wants to be.
This morning, a Franciscan Sister of Peace gave a talk to introduce the postulants to the practice of spiritual direction: what it is, what it is not, how it has developed in the Christian tradition, and why it is important in formation into religious life. We discussed the roles of director and directee, how to determine who is the right spiritual director for you, and what to expect in meetings for direction.
I have benefited from spiritual direction in the past, most recently a couple of years ago at a time when I felt my spirit had become knotted up. My vision had not clouded over completely, nor did I fail entirely to hear what God required of me, but I was becoming an obstacle to myself, and I could not move forward on the path I knew must walk. Talking to a spiritual director helped me untangle the knots, remove the self-made impediments, and stride on again.
It will be a privilege to resume spiritual direction for what I hope will be a long and sustained term. In many ways I feel, more than ever, receptive to the kind of interactions these meetings make, and the holy encounters they call forth. I am comfortable enough in myself to sing my song to others. With trust in these listeners, they can even show to me the story it is mine to tell. God, bring me a companion who will give me her time and help recover me in your time beyond time. Bring me a companion who will give of herself and help me discover more of myself. Let me see you in everything, and in her let me see one of your beloved friends in the Spirit.
Here is a good website, from an interreligious association of professionals, about the practice of spiritual direction.
***
Today the postulants and friars hosted eight young adult volunteers working with the Capuchin Youth & Family Ministries in Garrison, NY. They, too, attended the talk on spiritual direction. After lunch together we traveled to Luna Park at Coney Island for a pleasant afternoon. This was my first trip ever to Coney Island and to Luna Park, the great-grandmother of all amusement parks in the United States. The first thing we did was ride the Cyclone. This wooden roller coaster was built in 1927 and rehabilitated in 1975 and is a New York City landmark and site in the National Register of Historic Places. I've been on a few roller coasters, and they've been engineered to make the drops and turns graceful, even gentle. But the Cyclone is neither graceful nor gentle! It is truly a force of nature.
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