Take Lord, and receive all my liberty,
my memory, understanding, my entire will and
all that I possess.
You have given all to me.
To You, O Lord, I return it.
All is yours; dispose of it wholly
according to your will.
Give me only your love and your grace,
for this is enough for me.

Every year, July 31 is a special day for me. St. Ignatius continues to play a very pivotal role in my life. What most captivated me as a young man, and still amazes me today, is his vision. His personal, intense love of God and a sense of the Divine Presence that is acutely close, warm, and reassuring all came to me in my journey through the Spiritual Exercises as a Jesuit novice.

I will never forget one of my first meetings with John D. McAnulty, my Master of Novices. He simply began by saying, “Let us place ourselves in the presence of God.” I had not been a stranger to priests or to spiritual direction, but this experience was completely different. The room and the atmosphere changed in an instant. There was a looming presence, an awesome profound silence, and a great peace.

I guess, that is why I tend to chuckle when people refer to the great learning of the Jesuits. It is not what they are about. I also laugh because that is what I thought until that first invitation to enter into the Presence. It was far from intellectual. It was very intense, very real, very soothing. St. Ignatius would say that our prayer can be marked by times of consolation and desolation. What has struck me over the years is that sometimes there are joyful fireworks when entering into the Mystery and sometimes there is a great zen of nothingness - but the Presence remains.

Happy Feast Day Fr. Ignatius.

For more background on the life St. Ignatius and his spirituality see my previous entry.

Benedict of Nursia is called the founder of Western Monasticism. He was born at Nursia around 480 AD to a noble family. According to tradition, his had a twin sister, Scholastica, who became the founder of a similar form of monasticism for women. As the son of a noble family, he was educated well and lived a comfortable life. The world and all its opportunities were open to him. Presumably he sampled some of its treats as a young man.

Around 500 AD, he decided to leave Rome for a quieter life in the country. He took his childhood nurse along as a servant and moved to a smaller town about 40 miles away. According to St. Gregory, who wrote the first biography of Benedict, his intention was to live a life more in tune with the Gospel than that of a typical young noble in Rome. He didn’t plan to become a hermit or to organize groups of men to live in religious communities or to develop a “Rule” for monastic orders. He simply wanted to have time for prayer and work and a life with a friends who shared the goal of living a Gospel centered life.

From a distance of hundreds of years, we see choices like the one he made as signs of holiness. Up close in our own lives, we often see them as somehow irresponsible or “crazy” - a judgement generally shared by the families of those, including Benedict, who made those choices in the past.

It’s easy to forget/overlook the fact that Benedict never set out to start a religious community. The rules he eventually developed and wrote down were ones that developed out of his experiences in living with other men and by himself. They were developed for lay people. Only later did his followers become priests.

So what were these rules about? They were about how to live a holy life in the world, as a person sharing life with other people. They were written not just for those who left family and jobs to live a life of prayer, but for anyone seeking holiness. They assumed that people would work. That a life of prayer without work is not healthy. And both work and prayer need to be undertaken with the support of other people in a community. We need friends and family to keep us going and to challenge us to continue when it would be easy to cut corners or take the easy way out of a tough situation. And - surprise - there must be time for fun and play in life!

For Benedict, balance was important. Work, prayer, play — all within the framework of a community/family. 

There is a saying from Buddhist tradition, “Before Enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After Enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.”  Benedict’s example and the rule he developed are very much in alignment with this wisdom. Prayer includes deep awareness of the presence of God in all things. So as we work, we pray if we are “present”  in what we are doing and aware of God’s presence in it. When we come together in community to pray, as monks do at regular times in the day and night, or as families do over meals or at bedtime, we pray most deeply when we are again “present” in the moment of prayer. When we have time by ourselves for personal, quiet prayer, and we find ourselves in the presence of God, we are to stay rooted in that experience too. The trick is to stay aware and present to the reality of what we are doing. “Chop wood, carry water.” And when we play, we are to play wholeheartedly as well - like happy children. Not worrying about how we look or who will win or what else we should be doing that would be “holier.”

Benedict’s life was not easy. The lessons he learned came through many twists and turns. He spent time living alone and time living in communities. He started some communities. Lived within others. Was rejected by some. One community even tried to poison him! But through it all he kept his eyes and ears open to God’s presence and call. And the witness of his life drew other people, men and women, who passed on what he learned down through the generations to us. How to find holiness in the balance of a life of work, prayer and play as individuals and as members of families and communities.

I like to take a walk in late morning each day. It helps clear my mind and stretch my muscles before I plunge into the work and activities of afternoon and evening. Living beside Monterey Bay, I never know what I’ll see on my outing.

Today, when I arrived at the water’s edge (actually at the cliff beside the water!), I got a wonderful surprise. I could see all of Monterey Bay - from the Lighthouse at Point Santa Cruz, around past Santa Cruz, Capitola, Aptos, Moss Landing, to the flatter lands where the Salinas River enters the Bay. Then the Big Sur mountains rise up behind Monterey and go out all the way to the ocean.  The water was calm - very few waves for the surfers. The kelp beds were spreading out to enjoy the sunshine. The sea lions on the rock were chatting among themselves. Sea gulls soared over the water. I could see it all.

In “the olden days,” when I was a girl, I would never have thought that seeing all the way around a bay was anything special. I grew up in Eastern Washington state. We had clouds or sunshine. Sometimes we had fog. But you could always see across the river! And normally, you could see the surrounding mountains too.

Living on the coast, we never know from day to day whether the fog will be in or not. Even on a sunny day, the fog often sits in the middle of the Bay, blocking the view of the other towns and the mountains. But today it is clear. The smoke from the Summit fire is gone from the sky. The clouds we have are high and moving inland. The fog is sitting way off the coast, barely visible from land. And the view is stunning.

It occurs to me that the spiritual life is something like our views of Monterey Bay. Like the Bay, God is always present here - within us, among us, around us. I exist only because God has imagined me, given me breath, breathes through me, loves me continually into being. Yet all too often I don’t notice. I don’t see the beauty all around me. I miss the “love notes” scattered all around me - the flowers, the birds, the native bees in the weeds, the smiles of young mothers and their babies, the laughter of teens and the comfortable togetherness of retired couples out for a walk. I don’t see them for what they are, or worse, I don’t see them at all. I move through my life’s conversation doing all the talking, forgetting to look and listen for the presence of the Divine.

Today I pray that I’ll remember to open my eyes, ears, heart, mind to notice God’s presence. I’ll remember to ask myself, “What keeps me from seeing today?” I’ll remember to be grateful. I invite you to do the same. And maybe while we’re at it, we could also stop gratefully for a moment and ask, “What keeps us as a people from seeing today?”

Stephen’s bright blue eyes smiled as we said, “Lamb of God, Give us Peace.” According to the rubrics we were now to show each other a sign of peace. Yet with Stephen’s attention deficit disorder, which had already taken him in and out the brief service at least twice, it seemed that a little catechesis might help him be a little more aware of what we were about to do. Stephen is not a little boy. He is a handsome man in his early 30s, with a number of tattoos poking out of the v-neck and short sleeves of his starched jail issued smock.

The readings had been those of Pentecost. The second reading was from First Corinthians 12. “No one can say Jesus is Lord except by the power of the Holy Spirit.” This had struck all four of the men, but had made a special impression on Stephen. “Does that mean that when I pray the Holy Spirit moves my heart?” Stephen had asked. When I answered “Yes” his eyes got wide and he said that since his attention came and went and his thoughts were often jumbled, he thought his prayers were more bothersome and must be irritating. The notion that he is a temple of the Holy Spirit was as novel to him as it was consoling.

Stephen was back now and I shared a few words on the Lamb of God, recounting the Last Supper and the passion, death, and resurrection of the Lord. We do this in His memory as He requested of us. We are invited to the Lord’s table. Stephen and his companions were not new to the faith, but this brief memorial of our Great Memorial brought a renewed awareness to the others and a slack jaw from Stephen. He did not doubt, but could not help but marvel at the wonder of it.

As we shared the wonder of the Blessed Sacrament, our communion was truly a sharing in the Body and Blood of Christ. Bread blessed and broken at the Eucharist, celebrated in the parish, given to all, shared with all, and sent to those in need and to those in prison. The Body of Christ - Corpus Christi - saving us all from our prison of loneliness, our hunger for love, and admitting us to the feast of heaven here and now.

Sunday we celebrated the Feast of Pentecost and the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise to send the Holy Spirit to His followers. Now we enter into a time called “Ordinary Time” — a name which suggests that nothing special is going on and nothing special is to be expected. That perception couldn’t be farther from the truth!

Ordinary Time is the time of the Holy Spirit in the Church. It’s a time for learning, growing, sharing, reaching out to each other and the world. It’s also a time for entering ever more deeply into the life of the Trinity, a reality we’ll celebrate this coming Sunday.

How do we recognize the coming of the Spirit? I’ve been reflecting on the symbols we use for the Spirit and the words of the songs we pray at this season of our liturgical year. There’s the dove, a symbol for gentleness and peace. The Spirit came upon Jesus like a dove when He was baptized (Jn 1:32). Then there are the mighty wind and tongues as of fire that marked the coming of the Spirit to those gathered in the Upper Room (Acts 2:2-3). In the Old Testament, the Lord came to Elijah in a gentle breeze as he waited by a cave on the mountainside (1 Kgs 19:12-13).

Each of those images tells us something important about the Spirit and what the coming of the Spirit into our lives might mean. The idea that the Lord doesn’t come in the form of earthquakes, wind storms, or the raging of nature is important. Destruction is not a characteristic result of the coming of our God. Peace and the time to live, breathe and grow are. And in times of destruction, God comes through the caring hands and presence of those who try to help alleviate the pain and suffering.

The dove is a bird that we associate with gentleness and a soft cooing call. I loved waking up to the sound of doves cooing when I was a child and visited my grandparents who lived in a warmer community, where there were doves. The dove is often a symbol of love and peace.

But then again, at Pentecost there’s wind and fire… Living in California, we’re very much aware of the power of wind and fire. In forested areas, as well as in the hills covered by chaparral (the native vegetation), fire can sweep across the land, driven by winds it creates itself, leaving a swath of seeming destruction behind it. Those who live outside of the cities and towns must be constantly vigilant to keep the underbrush back away from their homes, so there’s a chance of saving the home in a wild fire.

How does fire fit into the whole peace and love scene we associate with the Holy Spirit? The image of a forest full of brush, or the overgrown chaparral on the California hills gives a clue. Brush in a forest can become so dense that it begins to choke the life of the other plants and the animals living there. A healthy forest is one that is cleared out regularly. Nature does this with fire. The chaparral even has plants that ignite spontaneously when the temperature reaches a certain point. The whole area burns off and then new plants can grow. There are plants that depend on fire in order for new seedlings to sprout — in forests and in chaparral.

In a very real way, each of us needs cleansing fire sometimes too.  It’s not fun, but it clears the way for new growth and wondrous surprises.

Then there’s the other side of fire — the creative side. We speak of people being “fired by love” or “going like a house afire” into a new project or calling. Fire is powerful. Fire gives energy. Fire brings light. The Holy Spirit’s coming is to “light a fire” under each of us — to get us going as Christ’s body here on Earth. Hands, feet, voices, arms, legs, minds, hearts.

We sing, “Come, Lord Jesus, send us your Spirit, renew the face of the Earth.” And the Lord grants our request. The Spirit comes. And with the help and fire of the Spirit, we move forward to bring new life, to renew the face of the world around us - in our homes, our worksites, our communities, our world.

In the United States, we are used to hearing questions like, “Are you ready for Christmas yet?” or “Are you ready for Easter?” The assumption is not that we have been spending time in spiritual preparation for these wonderful feasts, but rather that we’ve done our shopping, wrapped our gifts, mailed surprises to our loved ones, sent the Christmas cards, and so on and on and on. There always seems to be one more thing that must be done to assure a perfect holiday experience for ourselves and our families. Spiritual preparation often takes a back seat in the excitement of getting ready for a holiday. Yet, if the holiday is all about the material gifts and the perfect meal and the family all being on best behavior, it is bound to be a disappointing experience. No matter how wonderful the toy looked in the catalog, or the meal looked in the recipe book, they cannot fill the empty spot in our hearts that is longing for the Divine. And certainly, no one can control the behavior of children, family or friends who may not always act in kind, loving, patient ways. If celebrating the feasts requires that all be perfect, the celebration will certainly not be joyful.

Pentecost is a different sort of holiday. It isn’t even seen as a holiday by the culture as a whole. We never see “Pentecost Sale” in the newspaper or on TV, for example. We don’t have special dishes we prepare for Pentecost. No candies are stacked by the check-out stands to tempt the unwary. No cards or wrapping paper displays vie for our attention. It is almost a secret festival - an un-event.

This year, Pentecost comes very early, because Easter was very early. Pentecost comes on the 50th day after Easter every year. It was originally a Jewish feast. It became a Christian feast because that was the day the Holy Spirit came to the Apostles and others who had been hiding out in the upper room, afraid of what would happen to them because they had been followers of Jesus. With the coming of the Holy Spirit, the fear that had bound them was dispelled. They went out and witnessed boldly to what they had seen and heard. That Jesus who had been crucified had been raised from the dead and, in Peter’s words, “… God has made him both Lord and Messiah…” (Acts 2:36)

Pentecost is the birthday of the Christian Church. If the Holy Spirit had not come, the followers of Jesus would never have found the courage to go out into the world and share the Good News. But as He promised, Jesus asked the Father and the Father sent the Advocate, the Paraclete, the Holy Spirit of Love to us. And so, two thousand years later, we can celebrate Pentecost, our birthday.

So how do we celebrate? Certainly with liturgy. Make time in your day to join with the larger community for Mass. Make a joyful noise, sing praise. Invite the Spirit to come into your life in a special way. Join often in that ancient prayer, “Come Holy Spirit,” both in the days leading up to Pentecost and on the feast itself. Be as open as you can be to the coming of the Spirit and you will receive wondrous gifts. Then, take time to enjoy nature. Spend time with your family and friends. Light a candle for dinner - maybe a red one. Use a table cloth - red any one? Bake a birthday cake. Wear a touch of red in your clothing or jewelry. Every reminder of the coming of the Spirit in “tongues as of fire” (Acts 2:3) is good.

And this year, when Pentecost and Mother’s Day fall on the same day in the United States, celebrate the love of your mother, and remember that although God is neither masculine nor feminine, the Holy Spirit of Love is often described in terms of qualities seen as feminine in our culture - loving, tender, wise, compassionate, patient.

So … are you ready for Pentecost yet?

There is only so much joy and sunshine the soul can take. There is a rhythmic moodiness to California’s central coast. Unlike the interior valleys and the Sierra, which have more constant moods in concert with the sun and stars, the ribbon world on the sands and coastal planes changes from delight to gloom overnight — or sometimes within the hour. On our street, the fog, known by its more fluffy image as “the marine layer,” sometimes tiptoes and sometimes billows through the cypresses on Lighthouse Field and blots out the sun, roiling half way down the block before stopping on a whim in an evanescent whirl.

The Resurrection blossoms and the fulgent greens are quickly muted in the filtered gray light of the salty chill. The natives, loath to give up their flip flops and shorts, shiver in their sweatshirts as they pull their hoods over their brows to the bridge of their sunglasses.

So where has the Son gone? Why do we stand here looking up in the chill? Who turned off the party? Just when we found Him, they took him away again. No that would have been easier. It would be renewed grief. He said that it was time for Him to return to the Father and that He would send the Advocate who would teach us all the things that He still had for us to learn. Left behind … our consolation turned to desolation.

… And what to do? According to Father Ignatius, it is time to discern, to prepare for the movements of the soul that eddy from the Paraclete, that ripple from the heart, and echo in the fountain drops of the barely conscious. What now? Be still and know that I am the Lord.

Theologian and storyteller Megan McKenna’s book, On Your Mark: Reading Mark in the Shadow of the Cross, is a powerful example of the contribution of theology and biblical research to our understanding of the Good News. When the gospels were written, nearly 2000 years ago, they were written for a specific audience, with certain shared beliefs and experiences. Each was written for a different audience, but each audience had much in common. They were written as teaching materials, to help new believers come to know about Jesus, become His faithful followers, and live according to His Way.

We live in a dramatically different world. Many things the ancients took for granted or understood to be significant, we don’t even notice in passing when reading Scripture.

In the past century, thanks to the work of theologians, biblical scholars, anthropologists, archeologists, linguists and many other professional researchers, we have gained a tremendous amount of knowledge about the world in which Christianity began and of the beliefs and life of the early Christian community. The Holy Spirit has worked through these people to bring the Word to us as excitingly fresh teaching. 

Megan McKenna’s presentation of Mark’s Gospel lays out the requirements of Christian discipleship through exploration of the meaning of the texts. She shows what their meaning might have been for the disciples and the early community - how they served as a roadmap for discipleship. Because she is also master storyteller, Megan presents other stories  as well that serve to reinforce the Gospel. And always, for Megan, the bottom line is, what this means for us today.

Take a look at her work. You won’t regret it!

A sign of a person’s true enlightenment is how he or she handles the gods of the internet. Kathy and I had a wonderful telephone visit with Terry Hershey and his webmaster, Todd Roseman. We gave Terry and Todd a tour of Theologika.net and began the process of setting up the TerryHershey directory, where you can find many of his recommended books, materials, and web content. Generally, setting up a directory - which you can do by registering at www.theologika.net/search  - only takes a few minutes.

As fate would have it, we ran into a snag. My many years of experience in business, working with VIPs, began to haunt me. The pressure started to build. Not to worry, though. As advertised, Terry Hershey, a minister with degrees in philosophy and theology, landscape architect, speaker and writer, was delightfully calm and soothing. Just the sort of balance he talks and writes about. Terry is very upfront about the challenges of his life, which makes it easier to see our own lives in a calm and honest manner that helps us stretch and grow.

Kathy and I are sure that you will enjoy Terry’s newsletters and other great items on his website. You can find them easily by typing “Terry Hershey” into Theologika.net’s discovery engine at www.Theologika.net/search. Click on the items and you will be transported to the very peaceful and inspiring dimension known as www.TerryHershey.com.

Enjoy!

I have been struck by the stories this Resurrection Season because for the first time, they strike me not as eye witness accounts of the Risen Christ, but as the challenge of faith for the disciples and us. The disciples on the way to Emmaus are leaving Jerusalem - returning home, perhaps, - grief stricken, but more importantly, disillusioned. The teacher has failed. The forces of evil have destroyed a very good and wonderful young man.

One way to see this story is to take it as another proof of the Risen Christ as encountered by his disciples. The story does convey this message. However, the story also tells us that we find the Risen Christ when He opens our minds to see the scriptures and when our hearts are opened at the Breaking of the Bread. Look for Him in the scriptures and invite Him in to dinner and your hospitality will be more than repaid.

There is just a glimpse - a flash of recognition and he disappears from our midst. The presence of the Risen Christ is a momentary and ongoing discovery. It is the result of searching, wandering, questing in grief and disillusionment and being open to the challenge of the Stranger.

All of us have moments, years, decades, in which everything we knew and had hoped for is swept away. The disciples had no clue of what was to become of their beloved teacher, but his torture and death threw them into utter grief and confusion. Yet their confusion only increased when they heard that other disciples had found the empty tomb and seen the angels. They were re-grouping, leaving town, trying to get some distance. A Stranger notices their grief and inquires. They listen and reflect on the scriptures and Break Bread.

This is the Christian life - the quest and the encounter in the village of Emmaus - continuing through all generations.