Today’s poem-for-Sunday is another by Luci Shaw:
A Song for Simplicity
There are some things that should be as they are:
plain, unadorned, common, and all-complete;
things not in a clutter, not in a clump,
unmuddled and unmeddled with;
the straight, the smooth, the salt, the sour, the sweet.
For all that’s timeless, untutored, untailored, and untooled;
for innocence unschooled,
for unplowed prairies, primal snow and sod,
water unmuddied, wind unruled,
for these, thank God . . .~Luci Shaw
If you have clicked on the “What I’m Reading” tab, you know that one of the books I’m currently reading is We, the Ordinary People of the Streets, the writings of Madeleine Delbrêl, a French woman who lived from 1904-1964. Similar to Dorothy Day, she converted from atheism to Catholicism which “led her to a life of social work in the atheistic, Communist-dominated city of Ivry-sur-Seine, France.” Many of her insights are applicable to us who live in a secular-dominated world. Here’s some of what I read this morning:
We, the ordinary people of the streets, are certain we can love God as much as he might desire to be loved by us.
We don’t regard love as something extraordinary but as something that consumes. We believe that doing little things for God is as much a way of loving him as doing great deeds. Besides, we’re not very well informed about the greatness of our acts. There are nevertheless two things we know for sure: first, whatever we do can’t help but be small; and second, whatever God does is great.
And so we go about our activities with a sense of great peace.
. . . .
Each tiny act is an extraordinary event, in which heaven is given to us, in which we are able to give heaven to others.
It makes no difference what we do, whether we take in hand a broom or a pen. Whether we speak or keep silent. Whether we are sewing or holding a meeting, caring for a sick person or tapping away at a typewriter.
Whatever it is, it’s just the outer shell of an amazing inner reality: the soul’s encounter, renewed at each moment, in which, at each moment, the soul grows in grace and becomes ever more beautiful for her God.
Is the doorbell ringing? Quick, open the door! It’s God coming to love us. Is someone asking us to do something? Here you are! . . . it’s God coming to love us. Is it time to sit down for lunch? Let’s go–it’s God coming to love us!Let’s let him.
Do you have times when you feel that no matter how well-intentioned you are, you still blow it? Here are St. Francis de Sales’ thoughts on the matter:
You should be like a little child who while it knows that its mother is holding its sleeve walks boldly and runs all round without being distressed at a little fall or stumble; after all, it is a s yet rather unsteady on its legs. In the same way, as long as you realize that God is holding on to you by your will and resolution to serve him, go on boldly and do not be upset by your little set-backs and falls; there is no need to be put out by this provided you throw yourselves into his arms from time to time and kiss him with the kiss of charity. Go on joyfully and with your heart as open and widely trustful as possible, and if you cannot always be joyful, at least by brave and confident. (Sellected Letters)
For a related post, see “Punishing with a kiss” 
In last Sunday’s gospel, Luke recounts the story of Jesus escaping those who were furious enough with him to want to throw him headlong off the brow of a hill. Luke simply states: “But Jesus passed through the midst of them and went away (Lk 4.30)”. An astonishing thing. Amy Carmichael applies this verse to our own lives:
Our new month will bring us joys, for the Lord of joy is with us; it will also bring us sorrows, for sorrows are part of life. It may bring things which would “throw us down” if they could. But they need not ever do that, for it is possible for us to do just what our Master did when, passing through the midst of them, He went His way.
As, by His grace, we go on in quietness, we shall find those words we know so well come true: “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest” (Ex 33.14). (Edges of His Ways, p. 18)
Today is simply a day when people must take precedence over posting. 🙂 Well, hopefully that’s true for every day, but today it’s absolutely the case. Have a blessed day–and may people take precedence in your life today as well.
A few weeks ago I wrote about the custom we have in our house of leaving our Christmas lights up until today, the Presentation of the Lord (Candlemas), and the reasons for doing so. (See “God loves to light little lights”) Well, today is the last day of our Christmas lights. Even as I write this, I am facing two candles alit in my office windows that won’t be there tomorrow. I was bemoaning all this to myself this morning until I read the Second Reading for the Office of Readings for today and realized anew that you and I are and will be the ongoing Christmas lights in this world, in season and out of season. (Note: the Eastern Church refers to this feast as The Meeting of the Lord.)
In honor of the divine mystery that we celebrate today, let us all hasten to meet Christ. Everyone should be eager to join the procession and to carry a light.
Our lighted candles are a sign of the divine splendor of the one who comes to expel the dark shadows of evil and to make the whole universe radiant with the brilliance of his eternal light. Our candles also show how bright our souls should be when we go to meet Christ.
The Mother of God, the most pure Virgin, carried the true light in her arms and brought him to those who lay in darkness. We too should carry a light for all to see and reflect the radiance of the true light as we hasten to meet him.
The light has come and has shone upon a world enveloped in shadows; the Dayspring from on high has visited us and given light to those who lived in darkness. This, then, is our feast, and we join in procession with lighted candles to reveal the light that has shone upon us and the glory that is yet to come to us through him. So let us hasten all together to meet our God.
The true light has come, the light that enlightens every man who is born into this world. Let all of us, brethren, be enlightened and made radiant by this light. Let all of us share in its splendor, and be so filled with it that no one remains in the darkness. Let us be shining ourselves as we go together to meet and to receive with the aged Simeon the light whose brilliance is eternal. (From a sermon by Saint Sophronius, bishop)
This evening we will begin Mass in our chapel with a procession, each of us carrying a lit candle. I’m praying it will remind me of the true Light that dwells in me. Tomorrow evening at Night Prayer when the lights are dimmed in our chapel for the singing of the Salve Regina, there will be only one lit candle (besides the sanctuary lamp) and that will be the one before the icon of the Mother of God. “The Mother of God, the most pure Virgin, carried the true light in her arms and brought him to those who lay in darkness. We too should carry a light for all to see and reflect the radiance of the true light as we hasten to meet him.” O sweet Mother of God, help us to do so.
When God created the world, Genesis says He “saw that it was good” which also means “beautiful.”
I’m back pondering “beauty”–partly because I’m reading an excellent article, “Tolkien and St. Thomas on Beauty” from the current issue of StAR. Lots to ponder there. Then this morning I stumbled on this post from Conversion Diary about music and beauty. Seems to be a theme for my day today. Actually, the upshot of my pondering this morning was to ask God for more of His eyes, to be able to see the beauty in every soul I encounter today (including my own). When God created the world, Genesis says He “saw that it was good” which also means “beautiful.” This is how God sees us:
The Creator, like a divine poet, in bringing the world into being out of nothingness, composed his “Symphony in Six Days,” the Hexameron. After each one of his creative acts, he “saw that it was beautiful.” The Greek text of the biblical story uses the word kalon–beautiful–and not agathon–good; the Hebrew word carries both meanings at the same time. (Paul Evdokimov, The Art of the Icon: a Theology of Beauty, p. 2)
Since Tuesday is the Feast of the Presentation (and the Purification), I thought I would share a hymn from the Byzantine rite for this day as my “Sunday-poem”.
Today Simeon takes in his arms the Lord of glory
whom Moses saw on Sinai, in a cloud,
when he received the Tablets of the Law.This is He whom the prophets spoke!
This is the Author of the Law!
This is He whom David long foretold, saying:
he is fearful in all things
and yet is rich in mercy beyond measure!He who rides upon the cherubim,
hymned in songs by seraphim,
is carried now in Mary’s arms–
God’s Virgin Mother from whom He was born.Him, Lawgiver who fulfills
the mandate of His Law,
she gives unto the aged priest
Who, clasping Life, prays to be loosed from life,
saying:
Now, O Lord, dismiss me
that I may tell to Adam
how I have seen the changeless God,
who is before all ages,
become a little child,
and Savior of the world.
So, as I said yesterday, for many of us, the most difficult love is to love ourselves, to love ourselves as Christ loves us. to let ourselves be loved by Christ. It is the easiest thing to do, but it is the hardest thing to do. It is the easiest because God always loves us no matter what, always, always. It is the hardest thing for us to do because we simply don’t believe it and always find excuses to not make ourselves vulnerable to Him. We think we need to prove ourselves, we’re afraid of being hurt and disappointed, we just don’t believe it. Some of the best things in life–in fact, the best thing–are free.
So, what to do? Just simply turn towards that Love. I know, easier said than done. He is always turned toward you and will never turn away. My prayer is that today, right at this moment, you can do this simple–but seeming difficult–thing.
Lastly, there is the difficulty of remembering that, in this necessarily interior language of self and heart, the first and last words are the God who loves us, ‘a Divine Love who is always seeking the human heart.’ It is easy to evade this, to transfer focus too quickly to what we think we must do next, to those obligations to others to which we never seem to measure up. And this is competing against a standard which surreptitiously we are in fact setting for ourselves. There may not be a malicious vanity here, but there is a vanity all the same. isn’t one of the big barriers to prayer our inhibition about accepting the love Jesus has for each one of us as we are? (Mark Allen, quoted in Ruth Burrows, Letters on Prayer, p. 21)
I want to propose to you that for many of you the “difficult love” is not so much loving those God has placed in your life (although they may indeed be difficult to love), but the “difficult love” is loving yourself. Christ’s new commandment is that we love others as He has loved us. If we don’t have that part straight–knowing His love for us–it is very, very difficult to love others. (Not that we can use that for an excuse for not loving others. It just makes it much more difficult.)
Deacon Steve and I were praying with a friend recently who experiences a tremendous amount of self-hatred. While we were praying, he shared this image that was coming to mind. He saw my friend in the midst of a crowd of people on a road. There was a person lying by the side of the road, and everyone was walking by her. (Sound familiar?) My friend went over to the person who was in such distress and pain and gently turned her over–only to discover that the person was herself. Her immediate response was to run away, but she overcame herself and picked “herself” up and cared for her with gentleness and mercy.”
I will leave you with that story to think upon.
More on this tomorrow.
Witnesses to Hope 