Saturday, October 10, 2015


ON BECOMING A SAINT 

THE BASIC INGREDIENTS

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YOU
March 1981
by Andrew Costello
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PREDICTION


          In the next 10 years we will begin to notice a return to an emphasis on the Saints in the Catholic Church.

INTRODUCTION


          In this issue of YOU the focus will be on becoming a Saint. Part I will deal with various ideas about the Saints, the need for heroes, some reflections on why there was a de-emphasis of the Saints and why there will be a re-emphasis. Part II will zero in on 3 key ingredients that seem to be the basis for becoming a Saint.


PART I

BECOMING A SAINT



          Thomas Merton, Dorothy Day, Tom Dooley, Friedrich von Hugel, Marianne Cope of Molokai, Maximilian Kolbe, John Howard Griffin, Pope John XIII, Pope Paul VI, Charles de Foucauld, Mother Teresa, you, me? Who will have been the Saints of the 20th century?

          Based on past experiences we know that there will be many surprises -- unknown people who struggled to love God and neighbors in small corners and neighborhoods around the world.

          We also know that most saints are saints with a small “s”. In this issue of YOU I'll be looking at a phenomenon of Catholic tradition, the Saint with the capital “S”.

CATHOLIC HEROES


          The Saints are Catholic heroes: Francis of Assisi, Therese of Lisieux, Thomas More of Chelsea, Mary of Nazareth -- and a cast of thousands more. The Catholic Church has often proclaimed “heroic” certain people who led lives of love that are worthy of being imitated and venerated.

          And any of us who are over 40 and who have been brought up in the Catholic faith know all about the Saints. Names like Tammy, Jason, Todd, and Dawn were usually “no, no's” for our baptismal certificate. We were named Mary, Joseph, Anthony, and Barbara. At catechism and at church we were told about St. Martin of Tours and St. Monica. When we lost things we prayed to St. Anthony. If we had a hopeless case we prayed to St. Jude. And some even knew that St. Rita was “even better”: she was the Patroness of Impossible Cases.

WHAT HAPPENED?

          Suddenly (for most) St. Christopher and St. Philomena were off the list. Statues of Saints disappeared when church buildings were renovated for the “new liturgy”. Why? What happened to our long tradition of stress, devotion, “advertisements,” books, sermons, holy cards, and pictures of the Saints?

REASONS

          The most obvious answer would be the Second Vatican Council (1962 - 1965).

          On January 25, 1959, after being in office for only 90 days Pope John XXIII announced his plan for an ecumenical council. How's that for a surprise from a 78 year old man? After a lot of preparation he finally started the council in October of 1962. The council took 4 years and John's successor, Paul VI, brought it to completion (December 8, 1965).

          And all of us who have been to meetings know that what is prepared is only that: preparation. It helps. The real “action” takes place where people are away from their daily priorities and put in a room to consider different priorities. The Catholic Church put about 7,000 people in a room --2,300 who had a vote -- and obviously things began to happen. Lots of things were discussed and lots of things were changed.

          But it is after the meeting, after all the talk, after the paper chase and paper writing, that we find out if anything can be accomplished. History points out that it has been after an ecumenical council especially that the real dramatic changes take place  -- actions and reactions, changes in stress and the stress some people feel in change.

          And with the exception of St. Joseph's name being put into the canon of the Mass (a change made by John XXIII without consulting the council), the Saints got lost for the most part in this public re-evaluation by the Catholic Church on its contents.

          This is obvious. The Church from time to time decides to move. And when we move we can't take everything with us. Once this was brought out to me on a retreat. We were given the following Values Clarification Exercise: “If your house was on fire and you could save only 3 things, what would they be: 1) _____________, 2) __________ 3) ____________,?” Well, for any group that becomes sluggish, there are times when its members need to get together and list its values, priorities, and goals -- i.e., if it wants to catch fire. And one of the main roles of the church is the role of Christ, “I have come to light a fire on the earth” (Luke 12:49).

PRIORITIES


          What are the 3 most important values of the Catholic Church: 1) _____________, 2) __________ 3) ____________,? Certainly the Church's tradition about the Saints would not make this list.

          The image or metaphor that John XXIII used to describe his goal for the council was not that of a burning house. It was that of staying in the house and opening up the windows. Yet both wind and fire are symbols of the coming of a New Spirit (Cf. Acts 2: 2-3). Meriol Trevor in her biography of Pope John reports, “When someone asked him what he expected a Council to do, he flung open a window to let in the fresh air” (p. 254).

          The key word is “flung”. Did he? Some people at the grass roots level of the Church felt that the Saints and a lot of other Catholic values were “flung” out of their Church. Cardinal Gracias (Bombay) voiced what many of those uncomfortable with the changes in the Church felt, “Pope John opened the windows slightly to let in fresh air, illustrating thus his `aggiornamento'; others are letting in a hurricane, so that the interested Catholic finds himself at times not only hanging on to his hat, but to his head as well.”

          How loud was the wind at Pentecost?

QUESTION


          With hindsight, 16 years later, can we say that the Church opened up its windows so that the statues of the Saints would be knocked off their pedestals? Did the Church make a change in Catholic practice with regards the Saints?

          The answer is “No.” They were not even on the agenda. Other things were far more important. Christ is more important than St. Patrick or St. Joseph. We all know this. We all knew this. But amongst ourselves, we Catholics admit that many of our brothers and sisters had given up the practice of the faith -- appearing in church for weddings, funerals and to take pictures of kids at baptisms, first communions and confirmations. We all know the jokes about Palm Sunday, Christmas and Easter Catholics. And we knew that some Catholics dropped Christ, but hung onto some Saint (doing this of course not in word, but in practice). Superstition was a reality.

          The light of faith can go out. The fire can die. Ashes (Ash Wednesday) can become more important than the fire -- the burning Fire of the Spirit or the Bread of Life.

          Vatican II helped spark a long list of priorities for Catholics: a greater knowledge of Christ, Bible reading, an improved liturgy, a new attitude toward the world, the call to the laity to holiness and to use their powers and gifts to create a better world, a new attitude toward other Christians and non-Christians, renewal of the clergy and religious, etc. The Saints did not make the list!

          Moreover this ecumenical council had the added feature of trying to reach out to our separated Christian brothers and sisters and some of them did not have our tradition of Saints. Catholics look at Saints as 1) heroes to be imitated, and 2) people we can pray to for help. It was this second point that has often been protested. For example, a group on the 13th century called The Waldenses objected to the idea of praying to the Saints. And in the 16th century Luther, Zwingli, and Calvin also spoke out against this invoking the Saints for help.

          So instead of stressing what we disagree about, we stressed what we can agree upon -- especially our faith in Jesus Christ. Moreover, since the Bible is common to all of us Christians, the Catholic Church in the past 16 years has made an effort to get its members to become more familiar with the Scriptures. In its Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation it repeats St. Jerome's warning, “Ignorance of the Scriptures is ignorance of Christ.”

          As Andrew Greeley put it, the Church came up with a “New Agenda.”

PREDICTION


          In the next 10 years the Church will place on its practical agenda a return to an emphasis on the Saints.

          The reasons are obvious. We need heroes. We look up to people. We are interested in people more than we are interested in ideas. “Don't talk about love, show me!” The Catholic Church has known this all through its history. For a while, however, we lessened our stress on the Saints, and that includes Mary, to put greater stress on Christ. Some removed statues in hopes that people would focus better on the scripture readings and what was happening at the altar. The eye can only see so much. “Chase two wolves and you won't catch either,” as the Russian proverb goes. Our Church proclaims Christ (Cf. 1 John 1:1-3; Romans 1:1-4.)

          Some had turned from Christ to Mary or a Saint because they pictured Christ as a severe judge or inhuman. Some in practice denied the humanity of Jesus. The research, the books, the work in the field of Christology in this century has been enormous and we won't be receiving its full benefits in the area of popular sermons, literature, and even works of art, till well into the 21st century. But we're all well aware, hopefully, that Christianity is about Christ.

          And now that  we have dramatically re-stressed Christ, especially in his humanity, we will be hearing more about the Saints. They don't take away from Christ. They are ikons of Christ -- as all of us should be. They “endorse” Christ. They endorse the values and teachings of Christ by showing how his followers live the gospel message.

          Long before TV commercials showing famous stars and athletes walking into a tavern to endorse a certain brand of beer, I've heard in sermons many times the story of St. Clement Hofbauer and the day he walked into a tavern. It was in Warsaw and he was German. He went in and begged money for his orphans. The crowd made fun of him because he was a foreigner. In fact they accused him of being a German spy. A cobbler named Wilszek jumped up and said, “You want something for your orphans, do you? Here I'll give you an alms.” He took a big sip of beer and then spat it into the priest's face. For a moment Hofbauer flushed in anger. But he caught himself and wiping the beer from his face said, “That was for me. Now do you have something for my boys.” It worked. What a tremendous TV commercial it would make. It was a dramatic way of endorsing Christ's words about forgiveness which he uttered at the Sermon on the Mount and which he practiced on Mount Calvary.

          So if famous people can endorse beer and panty hose, why not have famous people endorsing forgiveness, care for the poor, and turning the other cheek? This has been the Church's tradition -- to show love in action -- to picture it -- to tell about the Saints.

          And it's the same with statues or pictures of Mary and the Saints. We walk into shopping centers and see al kinds of stores selling posters of Bo Derek, Loni Anderson, Robert Redford, W.C. Fields, etc. And people buy these pictures because they project onto some value.

          People are interested in people. We buy novels and the National Enquirer, watch the “soaps,” Dallas, and Mash. We gossip over the phone and over coffee. We talk inside our heads constantly about what? Most of the time it's not about the weather and sports. No, we spend our energies and money reading, talking, listening, admiring, envying, and thinking about other people. We love people. We hate people. We're jealous of people. We want to be like other people. It's people then, and stories about people, that take up much of our lives.

CHRISTIANITY


          And that's what Christianity is about -- a person and persons. It's not so much about words -- especially rules and regulations -- or teachings, abstractions, and dogmatics. They are important (as we saw dramatically in the stories about the personalities who were on stage at Vatican II). Words like faith, hope and charity need to become flesh. “Don't talk about love, show me” It is beautiful to read that God is love, but it's far more beautiful to see Jesus visiting, touching, healing, caring, feeding and reaching out to people, especially to children. His story showed that God knows about us and our story in particular.

          And that's what Vatican II tells us about becoming a saint (without worrying whether it's a big or a small “s”). All are called to be Jesus in our geography. All are called to holiness. A saint then is Christ, -- the Church, -- God, -- right here, right now. A saint is love present in the world to other people. I heard a sermon once where Chesterton was quoted as saying, “Men are the million masks of God.” Behind our mis, our persona, should be God's love, God. And those who do that, they are the saints, the heroes.

HEROES


          We are living in an age of the expose -- the taking off of masks. Our heroes are often caught in the wrong bedroom or with their hand in the wrong cookie jar. Behind the mask something was missing. And so we look back with nostalgia to the good old days when we had heroes -- people we could look up to without any fear of being disappointed. Willie Nelson sings, “All my heroes have been cowboys and clowns.” W.C. Fields, Laurel and Hardy, Abbot and Costello, Tom Mix, The Lone Ranger, have all left the scene. John Wayne is dead. Send in the Saints.

QUESTIONNAIRE


          In reality we still have heroes -- people we admire and look up to. And becoming aware of who our heroes are will help us become aware of who we are. They are Rorschach Blots. Show me your heroes and I'll tell you who you are.

          Who are the 5 people you admire the most: 1) _________,   2) __________, 3) __________,4) __________,5) __________? Who are the 5 most looked up to people in our world today:  1) _________,   2) __________, 3) __________,4) __________,5) __________? Were you surprised at the way and at the number of people who reacted to the death of Elvis Presley or to the murder of John Lennon? Reflect for a moment about the person you admire and look up to the most. What three qualities do you admire in that person the most:  1) _________,   2) __________, 3) _________ ? Rate yourself on a scare of 1 to 10 (the highest) on how strong each of these qualities are in you. Have any of your heroes ever disappointed you? Is there someone in your family that you look up to? Do you put yourself down as a result?

          What about the Saints in your life? Do you agree with my comments about Vatican II and the Saints? In the past 16 years did they all but disappear from your life? Have you gone totally secular when it comes to heroes? Who are/were your 5 favorite Saints:  1) _________,   2) __________, 3) __________,4) __________,5) __________? Put a quality down for each of the Saints that impress you. What does that say about you? Rate yourself once again on a scale of 1 to 10 regarding those qualities.

LIVES OF THE SAINTS


          One of the great needs in the library of spiritual reading is first rate lives of the Saints. Way before Vatican II we knew this. We moderns are more literate and want more exact research when it comes to biographies and psycho-historical lives of the Saints. Many of the pious and inspirational lives of the past are just that -- literature of the past. The new books will have to have the quality of Ida Friederike Gorres' classic book on St. Therese of Lisieux: The Hidden Face. Or they will have to be like Erik Erikson's book on Young Man Luther or his book about Gandhi, viz, Gandhi's Truth. Or they will have to be like the books that have come out about Dag Hammarskjold, e.g., Sven Stolpe's book, Dag Hammarskjold: A Spiritual Portrait or Gustav Aulen's, Dag Hammarskjold's White Book: The Meaning of Markings.

          Because of historical events like the Kennedy assassination, the Kent State killings, Watergate, etc., we are used to exact investigative reporting or the desire for it. The new lives of the Saints of the future will have to have the quality of good secular biographies or first rate historical novels. The time and work put in by Monica Furlong in her recent book on Merton: A Biography point out how difficult a task it is. The older books were often easier to put together being a different kind of literature.

          Hopefully, authors who make a living writing biographies, will move into this field and tell us more about the Saints. The Saints are unique, profound, strange, amazing, obsessive, real people. They can make excellent reading. And we hope that their sins and weaknesses will not be cut out. Sin sells. Augustine because of his sins and his struggle with a conversion impresses us far more than the story of some Saint being fed by a raven.

BECOMING A SAINT


          This leads us to the end of Part I of this consideration of the Saints. Vatican II and the Scriptures call out God's word to each of us to become a Saint. And the key word is “become”. It's a process, a journey, a pilgrimage, a passage, a step by step transformation, as all those other recent spiritual and secular words for growth bring out.

          Part II of this issue of YOU will bring out 3 main ingredients for becoming a Saint. What 3 ingredients do you think stand out in the lives of the Saints: 1) ___________, 2) ___________, 3) ___________?


PART II
BECOMING A SAINT


          I think that the basic ingredients for becoming a Saint are three: 1) Becoming a person who prays, 2) doing the will of God, and 3) serving the people of God. And psychologically they develop in that order.

1) PRAYER

          A Saint is a person who prays.

          In a recent article on Saints in U.S. Catholic, James Breig gives examples of how varied in personality the Saints have been -- noting some very odd and “mentally sick” characters. Father Thomas Legere in his column Crossfire recently made the point that many of the Saints would not be considered “well adjusted” personalities. To many of us moderns, being well adjusted and having a good self-image are most important values. They are. To the Saints, however, God comes first.

          And putting God first comes from prayer. God is a Saint's first concern -- their top value. In the past 10 years there has probably been more literature -- words -- communication -- books -- tapes -- about prayer than at any time in our Church's history.

          But that is not enough. More than the words about prayer is the need to pray and to make a choice about becoming a person who prays regularly. And that is what the Saints and all this literature and talk about prayer is saying. We need to take time out to pray. Sometimes the multitude of words about prayer can make us immune and “ho hum” about actually praying. We're smart. We know that at “The Other Side of Silence,” the other side of the light (or darkness) is God and God is the one we are scared of. We're scared of what He might ask us to give up. We're scared of what He might asks us to give. And so we avoid God by reading about Him or by saying a lot of words. The words, the books, the Bible, the mantras, the praise, the candles, the atmosphere, the music, all can be helpful, but the moment of Truth comes when we “shut up” and listen to God. Silence. We need silence in the presence (or felt absence) of God.

          And when we are silent before God, the first experience we often have is a recognition of our own sinfulness. It's the basic test of prayer and our basic reaction is either to run away or to ask God to run away from us. We're like Peter -- all mouth (especially in our prayers) -- and suddenly we realized the transcendence of Christ and we fall down saying, “Leave me, Lord. I am a sinful man” (Luke 5:8). If we can't understand why the Saints -- people we consider 1000 times better than ourselves -- are always seeing their sinfulness, then perhaps we never have gotten that close to God in prayer.

2) THE WILL OF GOD

          After that initial shock of our sinfulness God will give us a mission. Peter was called to be more than a fisher of fish. “With that they brought their boats to land, left everything, and became his followers” (Luke 5:11).

          It always happens. That's how God works. He has a will of His own. We know that. We know that -- but when we experience that -- we fall to our knees in awe and fear and a host of other emotions. Prayer for many is making requests of God. From the Saints we learn that prayer is usually God making requests of us. Prayer is more God asking us for help than we asking God for help.

          “The will of God.” I used to hate that phrase. It always sounded so cold -- so hard to take -- sort of as if the words were made of razor blades. It always seemed to appear along with news about suffering, cancer, or death. Or it was used in situations where people asked me to do things I felt were their will and not God's.

          Leo Dunn, a priest and good friend, with whom I have been giving retreats with for the past 4 years, mentioned once in a sermon something that destroyed my narrow understanding of the phrase, “The will of God.” Talking about Jesus and what motivated him, he mentioned the Datsun commercial: “We are driven!”

          All of us are driven people.

          The think that drove Jesus was the will of the Father. And the Father is driven! Jesus spent a lot of time alone in prayer and he came out of that inner room -- that desert -- a driven person. “Doing the will of him who sent me and bringing his work to completion is my food” (John 4: 34).

          In prayer, after being hit with the feeling of sinfulness, after the feeling of running away is felt, then suddenly we realize that God is a “person” and persons have a will of their own. Persons have dreams. Persons have hopes, visions, and an agenda. Martin Luther King Jr. screamed out in Washington D.C., “I have a dream.” He was dreaming the dream of Isaiah. He was dreaming the dream of God for us.

          Don't I? Billy Joel sings, “Everybody has a dream.” I have a dream of my own -- plans, hopes, ideas about what I want to do today, tomorrow, next week, this Lent, this year. I have priorities. They drive me. I vote with my feet. I vote with the way I spend my time. I spend my time doing what I want to do, what I like to do. And when I have to do things I don't like to do, I do them because of my own needs (to make others happy, to earn a living, to gain prestige, etc.). And often I wish and imagine I am elsewhere “doing my own thing.”

          There it was, -- a way to understand the meaning of the phrase, “The will of a person.” There it is, a way of understanding the great wrestling match that takes place in prayer. Christ wrestled with his will and the Father's will (The Way) all through his life -- in the temple, in the desert, in the mountains, in Jerusalem, in the garden, on the cross. The Saints did likewise.

          “The will of God.” The phrase sill sounds cold and sharp like a sword. But when I pray I won't hear the phrase, “The will of God”, specifically. No, I'll hear something else -- other words.

3) SERVICE

          When I pray, I'll hear the names of people. I'll become more aware of those around me -- especially the poor and the suffering. Prayer then is never an ego trip.

          A short time before his death, Abraham Joshua Heschel, a great modern rabbi and “descendent of the prophets”, made a remarkable autobiographical confession on The Eternal Light TV program. Before he began working on his profound book, The Prophets, he said he loved to spend his time thinking, meditating, reading, and being by himself in his study. But when he began to read the prophets he found out that God wanted him elsewhere -- in the streets, out there doing something about prejudice, war, peace, housing, jobs. These are the cries of the prophets. God takes life very seriously. God takes how we treat one another very seriously. We learn this from reading the prophets.

          We learn this from listening to the prophet, Jesus. When Jesus came out of the carpenter shop, and then out of the desert after his long prayer, he came back to Nazareth. He became a driven man. Luke tells us how he went to his own neighborhood synagogue, stood up, unrolled the book of the prophet Isaiah and found the passage where it was written,

                    “The spirit of the Lord is upon me;
                              therefore he has anointed me.
                    He has sent me to bring glad tidings
                              to the poor, to proclaim
                              liberty to captives,
                    Recovery of sight to the blind
                              and release to prisoners,
                    To announce a year of favor
                              from the Lord” (Luke 4:18-19)

          A phrase like “the will of God” might not get us out of our study -- or ourselves -- but those words of Isaiah, which announce a profound liberation theology, could drive a person to give one's life for others.

          And if we read the lives of the Saints, we'll see just that -- people deeply concerned about the poor -- people deeply driven by a dream -- people driven by love -- people who have come to serve and not to be served. (Cf. Luke 22: 25-27)

          Jesus washed feet. Francis kissed the leper. Jesus fed the hungry. Frances Cabrini took care of orphans in Cogogno, Italy and New York City. Jesus reached out to children. Benedict Joseph Labre, the beggar Saint, gave alms he received to those he felt were more needy. Jesus healed the possessed boy. Vincent de Paul freed slaves.

          Service. Isn't that what the Saints did? Isn't that what we all want -- from the person in the restaurant wondering where the waitress is to the uncomfortable and sometimes impatient patient in the hospital bed wondering where the nurse is. We all complain about our public servants: politicians, priests, teachers, doctors, people who repair cars and appliances, etc. We go to the public restroom hoping it will be clean. We want service. We like good service.

          God's will, dream, plan, way for the world is a Kingdom, a place, where all will be servants. If you can buy that then you're saying, “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done ....”

CONCLUSION


          Prayer then leads to service which is the will of God.

          In a talk at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, historian William Irwin Thompson, said that people in the 1960's, who were part of the Encounter Group scene, etc., were told to get in touch with their dark side. And when they told a group, “I have dreams of raping women and killing people,” the others would say, “Now you're really getting in touch with your basic human nature.” But if you said, “I have dreams about being a Saint,” the others would say, “You got a hang up. Why are you always holding onto this sense of perfection? Let it all hang out. Get in touch with your shadow.”

          Hopefully this issue of YOU about becoming a Saint stirred up in you a desire to approach God about what He wants of you. Hopefully, you will be part of the prediction I opened up this issue of YOU with: “In the next 10 years we will begin to notice a return to an emphasis on the Saints in the Catholic Church.”

THE JOURNEY 
THROUGH THE NIGHT 

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 YOU
February 1981 
by Andrew Costello
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This issue of YOU will present a meditation on the need for taking time out in the night for prayer—for reflection — for decision making — for conversion — for seeing where we are in the journey of life. It will be more poetic than analytical — in hopes that moments of prayer will arise in the night to the Father.

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THE MEDITATION

The night is still—dark.

There is still time in the night for prayer. There is still time for God. It’s never too late to enter the garden (Mt. 20; Jn. 18:1, 20:1-18: Gn. 2:8).

God is still “the still point of the turning world” (T.S. Eliot).

To know God I must be still (Ps. 46:11; 131:2). To be complete, whole and well rounded, I must be still. I must stop and see where I am.

I must tell all the voices, the noises, the tapes, the songs on my radio station, the distractions, that are riding along inside my car, inside my head, to “Shut up!” I must pull over to the side of the road and yell, “Be quiet! Let me look at a map for a moment.”

IN NEED OF PRAYER

Where am I?

There I am — still hiding — “among the trees of the garden”. The Lord God is calling, “Where are you?” (Gn. 3: 8-9).

Where am I? I’m in my womb, my own tomb. I ought to know. I built it myself. And I’m sick and tired of the life I’m living, the death I’m pursuing. I need to shape up. I need to wake up. I’m like Rip Van Winkle, asleep for too many years. I need to crack my egg shell and get out of myself. I need a rude awakening — a “Great Awakening” — a re-birth (Jn. 3:1-21).

I’ve been in my own orbit too long. I’ve been revolving, jogging around the track of myself. No wonder, I’m always so tired.

It takes a lot of energy to keep trying to float my balloon above the crowd — to be higher than the rest.

“Everyone who exalts himself shall be humbled” (Lk. 18:14).

I too must come down to earth. I have t let the air out of my ego. I need to stop wasting my breath on myself, blowing up my big plans, my big dreams. My  illusions are delusions. My balloon, my bubble needs to burst. I need to fall down on my knees in the night. I need to pray. I need to admit I need God. Like Christ I need others — to be with others — and not above them (Phil. 2:5-11).

In the still of the night I have to bring all this to God in prayer. I have to share my chalice with him. Later on I might even reach for his. But right now I need to realize I don’t have to be inflated. I don’t have to wear a mask and try to hide myself even from myself. I try to deny this all  the time, but when I am alone like this in the night, I can’t hide from myself any longer. Thank God.

Yes, it’s about time for another one of my conversions. Maybe this one will be the big one. I’ve been holding out and hiding in the garden of myself too long. It’s a garden of paradise and because I’m in the dark I don’t know it. I’ve been eating from the wrong tree. I’ve discovered my nakedness and I don’t like the looks of myself. Here I am God, over here, hiding in the dark. (Gn. 3:8-13)

Will God come to me or do I have to go to God? Is God on the other side of the dark waiting for me to come to him or do I grovel here and wait for God to come to me? Should I be active or passive? Martha or Mary? I’m confused. I’m in the dark.

The mysterious fifteenth chapter of Luke has three stories. In the first two stories God is “The Hound of Heaven” chasing after me. God is the Shepherd looking for his lost sheep. God is the Woman looking for her lost coin. But in the third story, God the Father waits at home, hoping each day for my return—the Prodigal Son.

Each person is different. Each day is different. Each night is different. God is different.

Perhaps the ever practical St. James gives us the best answer, “Draw close to God, and he will draw close to you” (Jas. 4:8). In human relationships, when there has been a rift or a fight, that is the way a reconciliation often takes place. Both make moves towards each other. Both give and take. We get tired of carrying around all these extra pounds of hurt and animosity. Grudges take up space. Resentments are heavy. They clutter up our garden.

Does God always make the first move?

The night is the time for still thinking, for praying, for asking big questions like that.

The night is the rest stop between two days: yesterday and tomorrow.

It is the time my eyes can rest from the stage lights of the day. It is the time I can rest and be with God and look back at the highlights of my day. It’s the time to look at the dark spots too—the shadows in my life. It’s the time I can be honest with God about the wheat and the weeds, the sheep and the goats in my life.

DARKNESS vs. LIGHT

But this kind of thinking is also so self-centered. It’s too much about me in the night. What about God? I need to be still, quiet and experience God’s presence—God’s love.

Where are you God?

What are you like?

Are you hiding in the dark too?

When am I aware of God more: in the darkness or in the light?

Darkness and light? Which is the better way to describe God? Which is the better symbol of God?

Or is God both? Is God both the Light and the Dark? Both are needed for everyday—for completeness—wholeness—roundness—fullness—the circle of life.

Day and night: while one half of the globe is sleeping, the other half is awake. And the great wheel of earth keeps spinning. The sun is always rising, always setting, at every moment somewhere around the globe. Death and resurrection are always happening all over the world.

The earth is spinning. Time is flying. A.M., P.M., and A.M. once again. The hands of the clocks keep turning, going around and around and around. The digital clocks and watches silently keep moving their numbers forward, only to start over and over again.

Day becomes night becomes day becomes night for billions and billions of years.

Creation.

Recreation.

And God said, “Let there be light!” (Gn. 1:3)

And Man said, “Let there be night!”

And why? We’re smart. We prefer ourselves to our neighbor. It’s as simple as that. It takes time to stop and help our brother  and sister who could use a little care—healing—listening—time (Lk. 10:29). We rather keep them in the dark and worry about our own barns (Lk. 12:16-21). And when we deny and cheat each other—even with a kiss—we do it in the night—to avoid the light of each other’s eyes (Lk. 22: 48,57; Mt. 6:22-24). And then we either commit suicide in various forms and at various speeds in hopes to hide in the ultimate darkness or we hide behind closed doors (Mt. 27:5; Jn. 20:19).

“I am the light of the world. No follower of mine shall ever walk in darkness; no he shall possess the light of life” (Jn. 8:12)

And yet Christ often spent time in the dark in prayer (Mt. 14:23; Mk. 1:35; Lk. 22:39).

And why?

The night is a great time for prayer. It’s a grace time to find a quiet place in our garden—our bedroom—our cellar—somewhere in our lives—where we can have communion with God.

Yes we need sleep. We need rest, just as we need work. And to be complete we need both and much more (and at times much less).

We need the night and we need the day—obviously. We need days on and days off.

We have these urges, these opposites, these pulls for stopping and going within us. And we know that activity and rest can yank us apart.

We can rush into over-activity and become workaholics. We cause our own stress. We pack our own suitcases. We determine our own weight. We can be trampled in our own rush to get ulcers. “What profit would a man show if he were to gain the whole world and destroy himself in the process?” (Mt. 16:12)

Yet we can also fall into our own hell because of inactivity. Other people can be the cause of hell for us. “I was hungry and you gave me no food. I was thirsty and you gave me no drink. I was away from home and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing. I was ill and in prison and you did not come to comfort me” (Mt. 25:42-43)

We need to rush to our brother’s aid. We need to rush to our sister’s call. We need also to rest, to sleep, to build up energy for the morning.

NEEDED CHANGES

We need variety. Too much light can cause blindness. Too much night and the world would die of coldness. We need the sun: the source of power and energy — on both sides of the globe. Everybody needs energy. Everybody needs rest.

We need change. The sea needs to be rough; it needs to be calm. We need the seasons: spring, summer, autumn and winter. We need the flow of the day: sunrise, the music of birds, alarm clocks, the bathroom, breakfast, traffic, punching clocks, work, coffee breaks, talk, production, results, traffic, home, shoes off, family, stories, supper, doing the dishes, newspapers, TELEVISION, card games, meetings, darkness, sleep, night, love.

But what about God in our day? What about God in our night before we fall asleep? Or are we always sleeping when it comes to God?

That’s how Paul and Augustine were till God’s light broke through their night, into their darkness, into their sleep. In the garden Augustine picked up the words of Paul and read, “It is now the hour for you to wake from sleep, for our salvation is closer than when we first accepted the faith. The night is far spent; the day draws near. Let us cast off deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light. Let us live honorably as in daylight; not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual excess and lust, not in quarreling and jealousy. Rather, put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provision for the desires of the flesh!” (Rom. 13:11-14)

Now that’s a conversion. It was a great awakening. In that garden Augustine saw his nakedness and instead of hiding and covering himself with a fig leaf, he covered himself with the garment of Light—the Lord Jesus Christ.

What happened to Paul and Augustine and so many others can happen to us. There is usually a dramatic day — a birth day — but there is also usually a difficult pregnancy.

CONVERSION

A conversion is a journey from the light to the darkness to the light. It begins with a hesitation, a dissatisfaction with ourselves, our home, our style, our everyday life. Then comes the crisis. Then comes the decision to stagnate or leave home. Then the journey begins. It’s a letting go, a going out, a movement through a dark night. Saul thought he had the light. It led him to do what he did to persecute the people of the early Church. Then his light went out. He fell to earth. He was humbled. He hit bottom. He lost his light, his sight, and became a little child once again. He had to be led by the hand into Damascus. And for 3 days he experienced the tomb, the womb, till he was born again into the New Light (Acts 9:1-19). That Light overcame his darkness (Jn. 1:5). He preached to himself the words of Isaiah that he would later preach to the Ephesians, “Awake O sleeper, arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light” (Eph. 5:14; Is. 60:1).

God made the move and came crashing into his life. Saul changed to Paul. The story of Abraham, Moses, Samuel, David, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezechiel, the Apostles, became his story.

He was converted. He converted. He changed in his relationship to God and to the Christians. Louis Bouyer described a conversion as a substitution of a living faith for a dead faith or no faith at all.

Do I want to change? Do I need a conversion? Is my faith dead? Am I satisfied with the lights I live by? Who are my heroes? What are my values? What are my beliefs? What are my attitudes? What are my driving forces? What motivates me? What is a good day for me? What is a bad day?

Am I ready for a conversion? Am I ready for a change in my life? What is God calling me towards tonight? Have I hit bottom yet? Am I in the dark when it comes to God? Is my faith living or dead?

Do I believe in the dawn — a new day — the resurrection of the light or do I prefer to stay in the dark?

MAKE A DECISION

I sit here tonight in my dark room and think about all this. It’s my life. It’s my choice. With or without God? “That is the question.” That’s the real question. What a choice. I’ve been avoiding that decision for years. The hands of the clock, the beat of my heart, the movement of the earth, life, keeps going forward whether I’m asleep or awake. The years of my life keep going on and on and on and God’s beat seems to become less and less and less.

Conversion. Change. Repentance. About face. Make a decision. Hear the word of the Lord.

Stop. It’s all rhetoric. I’m all words. Lord, story this merry-go-round. I need to get off by myself and do some deep thinking without words.

The night is still — dark — silent. It’s a still time for praying.

Pause.

Reflect.

Be quiet.

My life: I have a birthday and a deathday. Name ______________ (1939 - ?) The dash in between in my life. And at times it feels just like that—a dash—a run—a rush.  I need to stop and be still in the night.

“What do I want to do with the rest of my life?” I begin to laugh at myself. I’ve returned once again—full circle—to my regular self-centered type question. It should be (and I know it), “Lord, what is your will, your pleasure?” “Here I am Lord. Speak for your servant is listening” (1 Sam. 3).

“Abandon your boats, your nets, everyone and everything and come follow me” (Mk. 1:16-20)

The Lord is asking me to leave home, to leave my garden, to leave everything and search for a new tree of life. I hesitate. Everything? Everyone? The cross is a no frills tree. It sounds so harsh in the night to hear words like that. Yet I know from traveling and backpacking trips that it’s much easier to travel light. It’s much easier to climb stairs, mountains, the unknown, light, without baggage.

I begin to pray once again

I begin to listen for hints from God within, in the still of the night.

SOMETHING NEW

I’m 75 - well into the second half of my life. I’ve read Sheehy, Erikson, Gould, O’Collins, and Levinson. I’m up to date. I know all about Passages, stages, Transformations, The Second Journey, and The Seasons of a Man’s Life. But how come I’m standing still. Is there anything else? Is there anything new? I’m always looking for something new.

The night is quieter than the day. It’s a good time for thinking. There is less of everything: cars, lights, talk, music. There is less of everyone: people are sleeping.

I begin reflecting on John of the Cross, whom I’m finally getting to. I bought his book years ago, The Collected Works of John of the Cross, translated by Kavanaugh and Rodriguez, Complete in One Volume. The problem is I only made it to page 81. It was too dry. It was from another culture—another era. It wasn’t popular. It wasn’t “me”. And so I turned to other books.

But now that John of the Cross is “in”, typical me had to start reading him once again. He’s still dry, but I’ve worked my way through the dark night of the senses and I’m headed for the dark night of the soul—that is, in the book, not in my life.

I also sit here prejudiced against John of the Cross. I’m filled with preconceptions about him. That’s another thing I have to work on—another change  -- another conversion. I pictured John as a real “grunt”. Did people close their doors and hide their stereos when he walked by? Would he be a perfect character for a black and white Ingmar Bergman movie that takes place in December in some lonely bleak village in northern Sweden where the only news is a suicide now and then? Was he a character like those painted in the lonely paintings of Edward Hopper, or what’s worse, Edvard Munch?

Memories of hearing that John of the Cross was the one who always said, “Nothing, nothing, nothing, ... nada, nada, nada,” must have gave me these impressions about the man. But how do we really know another person? Reading Kavanaugh and Rodriguez’s description of this 4 foot 11 inch Spaniard helped change my mind about him. From letters and other evidence about John of the Cross they point out that he had a great sense of humor. He loved to make people laugh. People liked to have him around. And his great friend, Teresa of Avila, wrote to another nun, “You would not believe how lonely his absence makes me feel.”

That did it. He sounded real. I began reading a little bit of him every night. It sill sounded slow—but John of the Cross was not complicated. He’s simply telling his readers to let go and let God into their lives.

And maybe that’s the real reason I avoid someone like John of the Cross. He’s a radical like Christ. “Whoever wants to be my follower must deny his very self, take up his cross each day, and follow in my steps” (Lk. 9:23)

“One dark night,
fired with love’s urgent longings
- Ah, the sheer grace! --
I went out unseen,
My house being now all stilled;”

That’s how John of the Cross describes his departure on the journey through the night towards the dawn.

The words that hit me were, “I went out unseen.” Suddenly I realized how radical John of the Cross was. The best conversions take place within—no horns, no pulpit announcements, no notices in the local paper.

I am the problem—not John of the Cross.

THE BASIC PROBLEM

Spirituality doesn’t begin outside myself. It begins within. So what else is new? I had blocked out Jesus’ words, “Be on guard against performing religious acts for people to see .... Keep your deeds of mercy secret.... Whenever you pray, go to your room, close your door, and pray to your Father in private” (Mt. 6).

“The Kingdom of God is within.” The garden is within. The temple is within. The journey, the road, the mountain is within. And what I have to let go is within.

Like the inner life of Dag Hammarskjold and millions of saints whom nobody ever knew were saints, nobody should really know about our inner life with God except God and a spiritual director (if you can get a good one and John of the Cross is pretty tough on them).

I rejoiced. I can still go to McDonalds and watch Monday Night Football and make comments about the announcers. John of the Cross is interested in the Kingdom within. Yes he is from another era and another culture, but it’s a basic revolutionary idea to challenge a person who wants more (or less) our of life to read John of the Cross. He presents a liberation theology that is tough.

What he tells his readers is, “Let go. Let go of everything till  there is nothing else and then don’t get a big head out of that—that you are holy and better than the rest of the human race.”

He tells the beginner in the spiritual life to use some energy and effort and actively get rid of anything that he or she is attached to. Start with what you can see, taste, touch, smell and hear. He calls that the journey through the dark night of the senses. That should leave us with a lot of room for greater love of God and neighbor. Planned time for prayer and meditation is necessary. Read the Bible. It’s nothing new. It’s the old first stage of the spiritual life—the purgative state. Our life is like a field. It’s filled with lots of weeds and rocks and roots. The first step is to clean it out. It’s an emptying process—a kenosis. Sins must go. Faults must go. Laziness, gossip, possessiveness, and anything and everything that destroys family, community, everyday life, must go.

That’s the first step — the easiest step. We need God’s grace — but we are very much part of it. The second stage of the journey, the dark night of the soul, is deeper and harder for us and God to deal with. We let God take over. Our prayer life moves towards quiet contemplation. We shut up. We listen. We block out images and ideas from our intellect and memory and imagination. Here the struggle is with pride and spiritual delusions. We want the whole world to know that we are holy. We brag to ourselves. And John keeps telling us to strip ourselves of all those things that can keep us from God.

LETTING GO

We need less.

We need mortification

We need nothing.

We have to let go of all that holds us back from God. It’s as simple and as deep as that.

As John of the Cross said, “To have all (todo), you have to have nothing (nada).”

And like Augustine and Francis Thomson and everyone who goes through the conversion process we hesitate right there. We zero in on the nada and don’t look at the todo. We’re scared of what might happen to us when we have nothing left and don’t look at what we have created the vacuum for—the All—God.

And right there John is tough. We even have to let go of all our images of God. All impressions, all knowledge of God must go. We can’t nail down God. Yet like Christ we can let the Father nail us down on the cross. We will experience the darkness that Christ felt  that Good Friday afternoon near the end of his journey through the dark night towards the Father. Darkness will fill our world (Lk. 23:44), but because of Christ we know that there is a dawn, a resurrection, a Way out.

We need time.

We need rest.

We need to be still in the night to absorb what God is saying to us in the dark.

The conversion process is slow. “It’s like yeast which a woman took to knead into three measures of flour until the whole mass of dough began to rise” (Lk 13:21). “A man scatters seed on the ground. He goes to bed and gets up day after day. Through it all the seed sprouts and grows without his knowing how it happens. The soil produces of itself first the blade, then the ear, finally the ripe wheat in the ear. When the crop is ready he `wields the sickle, for the time is ripe for harvest’” (Mk. 4:26-29)

That’s the story of our life. It’s filled with days and nights and slowly we will become bread, the body of Christ, so that the people of our life can feed off us, so that Christ can lift us up and offer us to the Father.

St. John of the Cross, the scriptures, this issue of YOU urges that you spend a bit of time each night reflecting on the journey of life —the meaning of life — what the Father is calling you to be and to become.

The night is still — dark.

We need both prayer and rest in the night.

Contemplation, meditation, reflection, looking backwards and forwards is the gift of the night.

The night is still. There is silence in the sky along the black roads that stretch from star to star. The black holes in the universe look empty.

Where are you God? Are you out there in the dark — emptying yourself in the dark night — in the eternal emptying (kenosis) of yourself in Christ (Phil. 2:5-11)?


Or are you here in the dark of my room waiting and “hounding” me to let you overcome my darkness?



October 10, 2015



RENEWABLE  ENERGY


Paralyzed?  Energized?

It happens every day.

Sometimes it's an accident,
but 99 out of 100 times 
it's people -
people paralyze me -
people energize me.

Deep below the ground
of my being are these hidden
sources of energy - some
positive - some negative - memories
- half-remembered moments -
the good, the bad and the ugly -
triggers ... instigators ... connectors.


The bad and the ugly
are often comments or put downs
that poke and probe my psyche.
Sometimes they push me
over the edge and I crash
and I end up paralyzed.

Hopefully, luckily, blessed is
the ear of a friend or a word
from their heart that tells me 
they hear my words and worries
and I’m re-energized.

Paralyzed! Ugh. No!

Energized! Yes. Thank you!



© Andy Costello, Reflections 2015

Friday, October 9, 2015

October 9, 2015



CREDO
SONG FOR MYSELF

I believe every one has a creed -
like the creed we say at Sunday Mass.
However, I believe very few have 
spelled their beliefs out. They're
like thoughts and songs just 
blowing in the wind - scraping 
on the window of our minds. 
I got this thought when I heard 
Harry Chapin sing, "Song for Myself." 
It's one of his creeds. He had many.

Just listen to that song: "Song for

Myself." It's a very simple creed: 
The answer that is blowing in the 
wind - can't just be, "Let it be." 
No way. Harry Chapin's creed in this
song is, "I have to have a little more 
love if I want good times ahead. I have 
to be good to myself and I better 
be a little bit good to my friends."

Creeds like this and creeds from church - are succinct. They can be powerful - 
but they are just dead leaves blowing in the wind or empty songs we're really
not hearing till we live them out -
moving out or our heart into our eyes,
our words our actions like being good 
to myself - and being a little bit 
better with being good to my friends.


 © Andy Costello, Reflections 2015