Look at the beauty of the sunrise this morning.
I have often meditated on winter trees, how I wouldn’t be able to see the beauty of this sunrise unless the trees were completely stripped of their leaves. God is seen so much more clearly through us the more we are stripped of what impedes His Son.
May you take this poem as a personal blessing to you today:
Jesus’ arm beneath thy head,
Jesus’ love around thee shed,
Jesus’ light to cheer thy way,
Jesus’ ear to hear thee pray,
Jesus’ loving hand to bless
in this weary wilderness.
Jesus first and Jesus last
till earth’s storms are past.
And if aught forgotten be–
may he double it to thee.~unknown
I have been to Rome twice, and I would like to tell you a little story from each time. The most recent time was two weeks before John Paul the Great died. Another Sister and I were riding a bus with a seminarian from our diocese who was studying in Rome and was graciously helping us find our way around. We started talking about our favorite saints, and he told us that one of his professors told him that we do not choose our favorite saints, but that they, indeed, choose us. The ones we feel most drawn to are, in fact, drawing us to them. How theologically sound that is, I don’t know, but I like the sense of it!
The second story precedes this one by a few years, but is very related to it. It was my first visit to Rome and I was pretty much on my own. I had only three days, but was within walking distance of St. Peter’s. Since I didn’t really know how to get around well enough to see much else, I decided to just “do” St. Peter’s in depth. On one of my last visits–which happened to be on this very date, November 12–I roamed around inside and at some point got tired enough to look for a place to just sit down. If you’ve ever been to St. Peter’s, you know there aren’t many places to sit down. I finally found a side altar way back in a corner that had some chairs set up in front of it. As I sat there praying, I noticed a person up at the altar, praying before it. After he left, out of curiosity, I went up to the altar to see who was buried there. (Remember, I was “doing” St. Peter’s in depth, exploring all the nooks and crannies–and there are plenty of saints in those nooks and crannies!) Much to my surprise, I found that it was St. Josaphat, whose very feast day it was! Now I know that he was seeking me out, rather than vice versa. He has become a special friend since then, especially because of his great work for the unity of the Church.
Do you remember the first time you ever picked up a kaleidoscope and looked through it, the sheer delight you experienced? Here’s St. Thérèse’s thoughts on her experience:
This toy . . . intrigued me, and for a long time I kept wondering just what could produce so delightful a phenomenon. One day a careful examination revealed that the unusual effect was merely the result of a combination of tiny scraps of paper and wool scattered about inside. When on further scrutiny I discovered three looking-glasses inside the tube, the puzzle was solved. And this simple toy became for me the image of a great mystery . . .. So long as our actions, even the most trivial, remain within love’s kaleidoscope, the Blessed Trinity (which the three converging glasses represent) imparts to them a marvelous brightness and beauty . . . . The eye-piece of the spy-glass symbolizes the good God, who looking from the outside (but through Himself, as it were) into the kaleidoscope finds everything quite beautiful, even our miserable straws of effort and our most insignificant actions.
God, give us the ability to see ourselves–and others–as you see us.
Try this link for fun! And, if you want to try making your own, go here!
I have a small photo album, one of those cheap ones you can get at the dollar store that hold 4×6 inch pictures. A cheap photo album, but like any of yours, probably full of treasures. This particular one doesn’t hold photos of my family (although I do have a few of those). Instead I have collected art prints and words–poetry and prose–that inspire me. It does include one real photo–of my brother Tim’s grave. Otherwise, it’s simply, as I said, art work that inspires me, that speaks to me of the love of God and my love for Him. I use it in prayer regularly, opening it up to this or that page that may strike me at the time. On a couple of facing pages I have placed side by side two pieces of art that you wouldn’t normally place side by side, but doing so makes a strong spiritual point for me. I would like to share some of those with you in this blog, and hopefully doing so will pull you into the love of God. Look at the ones below, for instance. Can you what is similar in both of them . . . before reading what I’ve written below?
The one on the left is obviously of Jesus rescuing Peter as he sank beneath the waves. The one on the right may not be as obvious. This is an icon of Jesus’ descent into hell when He goes to release Adam and Eve. Did you notice in both how Jesus reaches out His hand in both situations to grasp the hand of the other? That is a window into His Heart for each of us. He is always reaching out His hand to each of us in our need, to strongly grasp ours as we reach out for Him.
Sr. Sarah, who is grieving the loss of her mother and whose father’s anniversary is coming soon, said something this morning that I think is worth repeating here. It went something like this: “I am experiencing sorrow tinged with hope, but I look forward to the future when it will turn into hope tinged with sorrow.” Think about that.
A wonderful set of lines from an old New England sampler:
God bless all those that I love;
God bless all those that love me;
God bless all those that love those that I love;
And all those that love those that love me.
A few weeks ago I posted a selection from Christopher de Vinck’s The Power of the Powerless. Since then I’ve been dipping into other books of his, including Finding Heaven, Stories of Going Home. Here’s a selection from that book:
A Prediction to Believe In
We are inundated with predictions these days. Political commentators predict the outcomes of elections before the final votes are tallied. Meteorologists predict snowstorms before even a single flake floats down from the mercurial sky. We rely on soothsayers and statisticians to determine the outcome of a football game and the behavior of the stock market. Some people in Japan claim that they can detect an illness before it strikes by scrutinizing the soles of people’s feet. There are those who fear that the world will end in 2012, because that’s when the Maya calendar runs out. People in India visit the town of Kanchipuram and pay to have their lives predicted by people who read palm leaves.
Sometimes it’s entertaining to see whether or not predictions come true. When I was fifteen years old, our black cat, Moses, deposited a wiggling, pink, four-legged newborn creature on the back porch. No one knew what type of animal it was, but everyone had an idea. My brother said it was a kitten. My sister said it would grow up to be a pig. “It’s a rat,” I announced with confidence. My mother looked down with concern. “Well, whatever it is,” she said, “it’s hungry.”
I quickly found a new eyedropper in the medicine cabinet, heated some milk on the stove, and tried feeding the mysterious animal. “Whatever it is,” I said, “it sure can drink.” We fed it day after day until, slowly, the hairless animal developed fur, wide eyes, and a long, full tail. A squirrel. Everyone’s guess was wrong.
Many predictions about the future are based on similar guesswork. We look at something, see some future shape in our imaginations, and confidently make a prediction. Often this imagined future is simply an extension of the past. The stock market will go up next month because it’s gone up for the last three. The Yankees will win the American League pennant because they’ve done so for th past three years. Our news agencies try to report stories before they happen.
It can be great fun when predictions fail. Schools in New Jersey were closed one recent winter day because meteorologists on television and on the radio predicted that we would experience one of the worst snowstorms in fifty years. They were wrong. Several inches of snow fell. I looked at my fifteen-year-old son as he entered the kitchen after sleeping until 8:30. “Why don’t you call some of your friends and go sledding? At least there is enough snow for that.”
Michael looked at me and said, “Hey, that’s a good idea.”
“I’ll pick everybody up,” I suggested, “and they can come back later for hot chocolate, and I’ll treat everyone to pizza.”
Michael logged on to AOL Instant Messenger and called friends on the phone at the same time. Within ten minutes, seven high school sophomores were all set to be picked up at 12:30. I predicted that they would have a great time. The prediction was correct.
The prediction of a catastrophic blizzard followed the pattern of many common prognostications. Something terrible is going to happen; evil will triumph as misfortune overtakes us. I think there’s a difference between predictions based on what has happened in the past or on pessimistic outlooks and predictions based on faith, hope, and goodness. I think predictions of evil are often wrong. Surely they are wrong in an ultimate sense.
I am a person of faith. My mother predicted that my brother Oliver would be the first person to greet me in heaven, and I can hold on to that prediction and believe in it because I have faith.
I say, listen carefully–and skeptically–to what the news organizations are telling you. Listen to CNN, and then look at your children being good. Read Newsweek, and then watch your loved ones live each day with stamina and courage. Don’t believe that news programs and newspapers always project what is really happening in the world, or what might happen. Do not be misled by their dire predictions. Understand that the media experts are trying to grab our attention. A fifteen year old who shoots thirteen people in a high school is terrible news. Goodness, like a rich autumn crop, is not news at all.
I liked watching that hairless animal develop into a fat, gray squirrel. I liked listening to my son’s teenage friends singing together over pizza and soda. I like thinking about dancing with my brother in heaven.
Should I listen to Dan Rather’s view of the world or my mother’s? That’s an easy choice.
Yesterday, All Soul’s Day, shortly after midnight Sr. Sarah’s mother went home to the Lord. She was able to be with her when she died. Just an hour or so ago Sr. Sarah shared with me this excerpt from a book of meditations based on St. Francis de Sales. It is a great comfort to her. May it be a comfort for all of you:
Death is a benefactor, who tears away the veil that separates us from God; it is the hand that closes our eyes to open to us the fatherland; it is the sunshine, the spring sunshine, which breaks the envelope of the humble chrysalis, to give it the wings and the flight of the butterfly; it is according to the expression of Holy Scripture and of the Church, the sleep which prepares us for an immortal awakening; it is the beginning of true life; it is the leap of the child into the arms of its Father. Let us then be consoled. (Lieutenant-Colonel M. De S., Draw Near to God)
For those of you who do not have access to the Office of Readings for today, All Saints Day–a magnificent reading from a sermon by St. Bernard:
Let us make haste to our brethren who are awaiting us
Why should our praise and glorification, or even the celebration of this feast day mean anything to the saints? What do they care about earthly honours when their heavenly Father honours them by fulfilling the faithful promise of the Son? What does our commendation mean to them? The saints have no need of honour from us; neither does our devotion add the slightest thing to what is theirs. Clearly, if we venerate their memory, it serves us, not them. But I tell you, when I think of them, I feel myself inflamed by a tremendous yearning.
Calling the saints to mind inspires, or rather arouses in us, above all else, a longing to enjoy their company, so desirable in itself. We long to share in the citizenship of heaven, to dwell with the spirits of the blessed, to join the assembly of patriarchs, the ranks of the prophets, the council of apostles, the great host of martyrs, the noble company of confessors and the choir of virgins. In short, we long to be united in happiness with all the saints. But our dispositions change. The Church of all the first followers of Christ awaits us, but we do nothing about it. The saints want us to be with them, and we are indifferent. The souls of the just await us, and we ignore them.Come, brothers, let us at length spur ourselves on. We must rise again with Christ, we must seek the world which is above and set our mind on the things of heaven. Let us long for those who are longing for us, hasten to those who are waiting for us, and ask those who look for our coming to intercede for us. We should not only want to be with the saints, we should also hope to possess their happiness. While we desire to be in their company, we must also earnestly seek to share in their glory. Do not imagine that there is anything harmful in such an ambition as this; there is no danger in setting our hearts on such glory.When we commemorate the saints we are inflamed with another yearning: that Christ our life may also appear to us as he appeared to them and that we may one day share in his glory. Until then we see him, not as he is, but as he became for our sake. He is our head, crowned, not with glory, but with the thorns of our sins. As members of that head, crowned with thorns, we should be ashamed to live in luxury; his purple robes are a mockery rather than an honour. When Christ comes again, his death shall no longer be proclaimed, and we shall know that we also have died, and that our life is hidden with him. The glorious head of the Church will appear and his glorified members will shine in splendour with him, when he forms this lowly body anew into such glory as belongs to himself, its head.Therefore, we should aim at attaining this glory with a wholehearted and prudent desire. That we may rightly hope and strive for such blessedness, we must above all seek the prayers of the saints. Thus, what is beyond our own powers to obtain will be granted through their intercession.
And one last short little word from St. Katharine Drexel:
We are called to be saints, all of us; do not forget that.
(The photo above is of a tapestry panel in Our Lady of the Angels Cathedral in Los Angeles. If you want to see more go here and click on the “Art” tab, then click on “Tapestries”, then “View North Tapestries” or “View South Tapestries.”)
Witnesses to Hope 