Tag Archives: Thoughts from the Quiet

Susan Boyle – Beauty Beyond Skin-deep

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The Anchoress writes: Why Susan Boyle matters so much.

I’ve given it is some thought, too.  My take goes like this.  We all feel at some level like nobodies in need of affirmation.  Some of us live our entire lives trying hard, but unsure even of our successes.  I know my strengths, but they are not necessarily in demand.  Sometimes, I’m the only one clapping, and then again, I wonder why I bother at all.  As long as we’re living, as long as we’re still trying, at least, we are in the game. We haven’t given up. Now, to me, Susan is like Judgment Day.  Finally, we find out Someone is aware; Someone notices; Someone is clapping loudly and eternally.

I hope and pray Susan doesn’t get messed up since she is so beautiful just as she  is.

Listen again

Prepared by Repentance -Enabled by Faith

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At Easter, we see the Resurrected Lord and are bathed in the Light of His conquering Love.  The Church places Jesus before the eyes of our hearts.  It is precisely because, only a few days ago, we beheld His pain and suffering, His Love unto Death, that we can grasp the triumph of His Love, this Agape.

Carmel is a reminder that Love  must be lived to be authentic.  Not that we can live it with perfection, though that is the Call, but that we try day by day in all humility.  For me, it is always beginning anew.  Repentance prepares us and faith enables us.

The Secular Carmelites share in Meditations from Carnel the words of  Pere Jacques:

“We are at Carmel only for this:  to love!
To love, of course, requires that we give proof of our love.  This love expresses itself in constant prayer.  I say “constant,” because this state of prayer must be our life not for only two hours a day, but all day long.  Our life must be a constant, silent prayer that rises unceasingly to God.  That is what constitutes our duty in life.
We must not confuse this state of prayer with religious sentimentality, or with pious feelings unrelated to authentic prayer, which can sometimes be piercingly painful.  That love, which is our life’s duty, must express itself in vibrant, zealous deeds, all aspects of which compel our careful consideration.
Only with deepest humility can we recognize how far we are from our goal.  Only those souls who have attained a lofty level of holiness can truly acknowledge how far they still are from their total fulfillment.  For example, the Cure of Ars considered himself more wretched than the notorious sinners to whom he ministered.  He realized that many of these fallen souls, had they received the same graces that he had received, would perhaps surpass him in holiness.  Only with humility can we recognize the torpor of our love.
Prayer is our primary duty.  Prayer is the reason why God has placed us on earth.  We learn truly to prayer, when we are in the presence and company of Christ.  Therefore, we must contemplate Christ for long periods of a time and seek him our persistently.  Consider those closest to Christ.  Saint John the Apostle grasped what was indispensable for a clear understanding of his master.  John never tired of probing and querying Christ.  We can see how John thus gained richer insights and fuller explanations, precisely because he went to the bother of approaching and asking Christ to clarify each day’s lesson.  I picture John, walking close behind Christ, as he made his way about the Holy Land.  Thus, John came to gain a wealth of intimate knowledge, which the other apostles did not acquire.  Herein lies the explanation for the special character of the fourth Gospel.  While the other apostles traveled across the then known world on their missionary journeys, John’s unique apostolate was to remain close to the Virgin Mary, whom Christ had entrusted to him.  Thus were these two great souls conjoined in love and prayer”.
In silent solitude, let us seek to realize that we truly can be in contact with God.  It is God whom we should aim to encounter in prayer.  It is God who is both the breath and the fulfillment of our life.  Amen.”

Holy Saturday – Ancient Homily

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From an Ancient Homily for Holy Saturday

The Lord’s descent into the underworld

Something strange is happening – there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear.
He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won him the victory. At the sight of him Adam, the first man he had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: “My Lord be with you all.” Christ answered him: “And with your spirit.” He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: “Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light.”
I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated. For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home is above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.
See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in my image. On my back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of sin that weighs upon your back. See my hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.
I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you.
Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you. I appointed cherubim to guard you as slaves are guarded, but now I make them worship you as God. The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers swift and eager. The bridal chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The kingdom of heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity.
Source Universalis

Console Jesus in the Garden

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From Story of a Soul by St. Therese of Lisieux:

How can a soul so imperfect as mine aspire to the plenitude of
Love? What is the key of this mystery? O my only Friend, why dost
Thou not reserve these infinite longings to lofty souls, to the
eagles that soar in the heights? Alas! I am but a poor little
unfledged bird. I am not an eagle, I have but the eagle's eyes and
heart! Yet, notwithstanding my exceeding littleness, I dare to
gaze upon the Divine Sun of Love, and I burn to dart upwards unto
Him! I would fly, I would imitate the eagles; but all that I can
do is to lift up my little wings--it is beyond my feeble power to
soar. What is to become of me? Must I die of sorrow because of my
helplessness? Oh, no! I will not even grieve. With daring
self-abandonment there will I remain until death, my gaze fixed
upon that Divine Sun. Nothing shall affright me, nor wind nor
rain. And should impenetrable clouds conceal the Orb of Love, and
should I seem to believe that beyond this life there is darkness
only, that would be the hour of perfect joy, the hour in which to
push my confidence to its uttermost bounds. I should not dare to
detach my gaze, well knowing that beyond the dark clouds the sweet
Sun still shines.

So far, O my God, I understand Thy Love for me. But Thou knowest
how often I forget this, my only care. I stray from Thy side, and
my scarcely fledged wings become draggled in the muddy pools of
earth; then I lament "like a young swallow,"and my lament
tells Thee all, and I remember, O Infinite Mercy! that "Thou didst
not come to call the just, but sinners."

Yet shouldst Thou still be deaf to the plaintive cries of Thy
feeble creature, shouldst Thou still be veiled, then I am content
to remain benumbed with cold, my wings bedraggled, and once more I
rejoice in this well-deserved suffering.

O Sun, my only Love, I am happy to feel myself so small, so frail
in Thy sunshine, and I am in peace . . . I know that all the
eagles of Thy Celestial Court have pity on me, they guard and
defend me, they put to flight the vultures--the demons that fain
would devour me. I fear them not, these demons, I am not destined
to be their prey, but the prey of the Divine Eagle.

O Eternal Word! O my Saviour! Thou art the Divine Eagle Whom I
love--Who lurest me. Thou Who, descending to this land of exile,
didst will to suffer and to die, in order to bear away the souls
of men and plunge them into the very heart of the Blessed
Trinity--Love's Eternal Home! Thou Who, reascending into
inaccessible light, dost still remain concealed here in our vale
of tears under the snow-white semblance of the Host, and this, to
nourish me with Thine own substance! O Jesus! forgive me if I tell
Thee that Thy Love reacheth even unto folly. And in face of this
folly, what wilt Thou, but that my heart leap up to Thee? How
could my trust have any limits?

I know that the Saints have made themselves as fools for Thy sake;
being 'eagles,' they have done great things. I am too little for
great things, and my folly it is to hope that Thy Love accepts me
as victim; my folly it is to count on the aid of Angels and
Saints, in order that I may fly unto Thee with thine own wings, O
my Divine Eagle! For as long a time as Thou willest I shall
remain--my eyes fixed upon Thee. I long to be allured by Thy
Divine Eyes; I would become Love's prey. I have the hope that Thou
wilt one day swoop down upon me, and, bearing me away to the
Source of all Love, Thou wilt plunge me at last into that glowing
abyss, that I may become for ever its happy Victim.

O Jesus! would that I could tell all _little souls_ of Thine
ineffable condescension! I feel that if by any possibility Thou
couldst find one weaker than my own, Thou wouldst take delight in
loading her with still greater favours, provided that she
abandoned herself with entire confidence to Thine Infinite Mercy.
But, O my Spouse, why these desires of mine to make known the
secrets of Thy Love? Is it not Thyself alone Who hast taught them
to me, and canst Thou not unveil them to others? Yea! I know it,
and this I implore Thee! . . .

I ENTREAT THEE TO LET THY DIVINE EYES REST UPON A VAST NUMBER OF
LITTLE SOULS, I ENTREAT THEE TO CHOOSE, IN THIS WORLD, A LEGION OF
LITTLE VICTIMS OF THY LOVE.
(The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of a Soul (L'Histoire d'une Ame)

Holy Thursday – Agony

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How are we to understand the Agony in the Garden?  Sweating drops of blood is beyond the ordinary experience of the sinner or saint.  Look at those who suffer well for a glimpse into the mystery.

St. Therese of Lisieux experienced her first hemorrhage on Holy Thursday 1896.  In her Story of a Soul we read something of her agony:

For several days, during the month of August, Therese remained, so to speak, beside herself, and implored that prayers might be offered for her. She had never before been seen in this state, and in her inexpressible anguish she kept repeating: “Oh! how necessary it is to pray for the agonising! If one only knew!” One night she entreated the Infirmarian to sprinkle her bed with Holy Water, saying: “I am besieged by the devil. I do not see him, but I feel him; he torments me and holds me with a grip of iron, that I may not find one crumb of comfort; he augments my woes, that I may be driven to despair. . . . And I cannot pray. I can only look at Our Blessed Lady and say: ‘Jesus!’ How needful is that prayer we use at Compline: ‘Procul recedant somnia et noctium phantasmata!’ (‘Free us from the phantoms of the night.’) Something mysterious is happening within me. I am not suffering for myself, but for some other soul, and satan is angry.” The Infirmarian, startled, lighted a blessed candle, and the spirit of darkness fled, never to return; but the sufferer remained to the end in a state of extreme anguish. One day, while she was contemplating the beautiful heavens, some one said to her: “soon your home will be there, beyond the blue sky. How lovingly you gaze at it!” She only smiled, but afterwards she said to the Mother Prioress: “Dear Mother, the Sisters do not realise my sufferings. Just now, when looking at the sky, I merely admired the beauty of the material heaven–the true Heaven seems more than ever closed against me. At first their words troubled me, but an interior voice whispered: ‘Yes, you were looking to Heaven out of love. Since your soul is entirely delivered up to love, all your actions, even the most indifferent, are marked with this divine seal.’ At once I was consoled.”

Wired for Sound & Listening

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There is no doing justice to one of Fr. Jeff’s homilies, but not to try is to leave you without the tickling touch of heaven.  He usually is very personal with bits and pieces from his life, this time as a national guard chaplain.  Last week brought the realities of the motor pool to bear on his celebration of the Mass.  He went head to head with the jet sounds of an air pump.  He eventually had to scrap a “really wonderful sermon” (laughing at his humility) in the loosing battle for volume dominance.

The experience was not without its reward.  Fr. Jeff came away thinking of the noisy society that clamors with sound bites and distraction for our conscious attention, while actually driving us to distraction and semi-consciousness.

Morning after morning
he opens my ear that I may hear;
And I have not rebelled, have not turned back. (Isaiah 50:4-5)

With the words from the scripture still echoing in our ears, Fr. Jeff reminded us of the still small voice that morning after morning speaks to us and the Lord who “opens my ear that I may hear.”

All this week, we will be hearing the salvation story retold once again. Will it be received as so much noise, something we’ve heard before with no special clarity of nuance or message.  Will we “hear the subtleties of the orchestra for the life of our soul and hearts.”

Here again, Fr. Jeff got personal.  This time it was the $40 ear buds he was coaxed to buy with promises of sounds he’d never heard before. “Sure”, he thought somewhat cynically, but took the bait, none-the-less.  He sprang for the pricey thingies.

Once wired for sound, Fr. Jeff listened to his music and heard sonorous sounds he’d never heard before, nuances and subtleties, tone and clarity.  He’d paid the price, and it was worth every penny !  For us in church this morning, it was a clarion call to listen again, to incline an an open ear.  I think of the young apostle John with his ear to our Lord’s heart at the Last Supper.

Jesus’ story is the same year after year but there are subtleties and an ever newness for us this brand new day.  Be conscious, by a prayer and an act of the will! “Morning after morning, he opens my ear that I may hear; And I have not rebelled, have not turned back”