Independencia

Happy Independence Day to all of the faithful readers who call the United States their homeland. For those of you who live in the United States while trying to follow Jesus Christ, I wish you grace and good luck as you strive to bring about a conversion of our country to a way of life centered more in the reign of God than in the reign of Caesar. Let us consider anew how to renounce our power, our possessions, our prestige, and our pride so that the poor may truly be blessed. I write these words with a nod to our dear departed Capuchin Fr. Michael Crosby, a true “patriot” of the reign of God and one of the finest religious brothers in Jesus and Francis I ever had the privilege to know. I am re-reading his book Spirituality of the Beatitudes: Matthew’s Challenge for First World Christians, and it both grounds me and challenges me … dares me, even, to be the friar and disciple people think that I am. 

But I have not felt too daring lately. Physically, I do not feel up to anything daring at this moment. All through Wednesday afternoon and evening and night I had chills in the body and general weakness, plus a bowel malfunction or two. And I had a terrible, terrible night of sleeplessness. I went to bed at nine o’clock and slept soundly until about midnight. Then for the next six and a half hours I lay half-awake, half-asleep, not knowing whether I was dreaming or not. But the dreams, whenever they came and however long they stayed, were weird and repetitive and thoroughly unpleasant. I rose at six-thirty feeling stiff and sore. And when I got to Maryknoll I realized how unrested I was. Oh, how long this morning was! It felt like the night was still with me. Classes felt interminable. If I thought I felt empty and brain-tired yesterday, that was nothing compared to today. Never have I been more listless in classes than I was today. No fight at all in me. 

Was it a 24-hour virus? The eclipse? The new moon? All of these things? None of them? I don’t know. I just want my energy back. I just want the fighting spirit to return to me. I want the strength to love those God sends me to love. Maybe my body is telling me it wants to go “home” to a place where it wants to resume the holy struggle. But after nearly five months in Bolivia, it does not want to struggle here anymore. Well, my soul shall overrule my body for a little while longer, about five fat weeks longer. No, body; we shall remain here until the end, like it or not. After all, someone has to remain to taunt and tease Carmelo!

All right. Off to an early evening meal, adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, Eucharist, and to try one of the apple pies Brother Scott is baking for the brothers.