Hopefully Move Forward

The last year has been lovely.  God has shed His grace upon me.  Through His grace, He has empowered me to do His will.  I feel that I have done what He sent me here to do.  And so it seems that the time has come to move on from here.  

And so on January 1 I will move back to the hermitage.  I feel God is calling me back there. 

I imagine you are wondering how this conclusion intersects with my previous discernment to leave the hermitage.  

Although I did not explicitly say so, when I left the hermitage to serve poor persons, I was overwhelmingly focused on rejoining the Peace Corps.  I re-applied to the Peace Corps near the end of 2015, and in early 2016, Peace Corps informed me that they could not offer me a position.  

I applied or at least inquired with other organizations serving impoverished people abroad.  Either I didn't hear back at all, or at other times it didn't work out with those other organizations.  
Thus in time I came to realize that one reason I left the hermitage, to serve poor persons overseas, was not materializing.  I let it go, and so the path I thought I was following turned out to be taking me not as far away as I had envisioned.  

Since it started becoming clear I wouldn't be moving to another country again, I began to ponder serving poor folks here in the states.  Having been a Catholic Worker in San Jose before I moved into the hermitage,  I began to think about once again being a Catholic Worker.  

After a brief stint last summer filling in for my friends at Casa de Clara, the San Jose Catholic Worker House, I moved in here at the Redwood City Catholic Worker House.  After not too long, I began to get to know homeless folks here in Redwood City.  I came to witness the sense of community amongst those living on the streets here.  I became much closer with them than I had ever felt with homeless folks anywhere else.  And so I have felt much fulfillment as I have served people living on the streets here.  

And yet I have gradually, steadily, increasingly felt more and more spiritually malnourished despite how I have continued the spiritual practices I deepened at the hermitage.  I read Scripture.  I attend Mass.  Yet I have consistently felt that God has been calling me back into more solitude, more silence, more stillness, more contemplation.  I have felt that God has been calling me back into the deep prayer which monastic life fosters, and then will flow whatever service to poor folks naturally, organically arises out of monastic life.  

I feel too that God has given me the grace to make vows to Him.  I know that I can make vows of poverty, chastity and obedience to Him.  If I were not to do so, I would be wasting graces God has given to me.  If you know me well, you know well that I cannot stand wasting what God has given to us.  God has given us marvelous gifts: we should not only appreciate and use well His gifts, but thank and praise and adore and glorify God who gives us such magnificent gifts.  Out of gratitude to Him, I do not wish to be the servant who buries in the ground a coin or coins he has received from his Master.*  I do not wish to be the servant who wraps up in a cloth the coin He has received from His Master.**  

I used to think that God had not empowered me to make a vow of chastity.  Perhaps I was correct.  What I do know is that at times I have prayed to God for grace, and He has given it to me.  I have recalled how Our Blessed Mother Mary told Saint Catherine of Laboure that so many people do not receive certain graces because they do not ask for them.  I have seen for myself how it is true that you can receive a grace you have not had if you but ask for it.  

And so I will be moving on with a desire to use well what God has given to me.  I wish to invest well the talents God has given me, so that I may make more,*** just as Jesus teaches us to do.  

I look forward to trying to use well the gifts God has given to me.  I face forward into the future, though parting under these circumstances is bittersweet, and not just for me.  

I think of the homeless woman who once again I'll call "Kimberly."  She has shared her pain with me, and so she and I have come to appreciate each other.  Despite her sorrow, she has expressed to me that she wants to understand my reasons for leaving, and the goals I hope to reach, so that she can better support me in my decision to leave here.  

I think too of the homeless woman who again I'll call "Anna."  As she has been considering my moving away, in the context of how she has been well aware that she must repent and do her best to sin no more, she has confidently proclaimed that at the very least, she will see me again in eternity.  

I am greatly consoled by these mature words of faith, hope and love.  I am encouraged by the spiritual growth these words of sureness convey.  I am comforted as I adjust to leaving here, knowing that such faith resides amongst those who are homeless here.  

Thus I know that I am not deluding myself when I say that I have seen homeless persons rising up here.  I can move on since I have seen real growth and progress among them.  

I am reminded that recently a certain homeless woman who I'll once again call "Jane" showed up here at the Catholic Worker House.  She had rung the doorbell, and in speaking with a Catholic Worker here, she expressed gratitude, saying, "Thank you for helping me to rise up."  Jane too has been rising up from where she had been, to a better place, proven by the gratitude she has expressed.  

I have also seen with my own eyes how a certain woman, who I'll call "Helen," has also moved forward in her life.  Helen used to be homeless.  Now she lives in her own apartment, which I have seen.  I need not doubt her progress, which is evident.  

I hear and see all this proof of rising up with my own ears and with my own eyes.  As my time here draws to a close, I am encouraged by what I hear and see.  

And so, as night has fallen today, so too the twilight of my time here as a Catholic Worker is also upon me.  Yet as this night is upon us, I am not in despair, for a new dawn is rising up in homeless friends I have made here.  This dawn I have been seeing break open in them gives me hope, a hope which stretches beyond them, into the wide community of humanity.  This hope extends beyond this lifetime, into the limitless expanse of eternity.  The fruits of this faith, hope and love will be seen in eternity.  In eternity, we will see the consequences of our faith, hope and love.  

Let us move forward in faith, hope and love now, so that we may live in love for all eternity.  Amen.  

* Matthew 25:18,25 
** Luke 19:20 
*** Matthew 25:20,23 

Listen To Echoes

The truth of who we are echoes over our lives.  The persistent emergence of our identity resounds in our souls, a message which, in its recurrence, repeatedly encourages us to stay true to who God faithfully calls us to be, and to evermore become.  

During my present stay here at the hermitage, I have been witnessing how my life continues to unfold consistently in ways which reinforce how God calls me to be who He has always meant me to be.  In the midst of this stay here, I hear my life echoing who I am.  

These few days of retreat seem like they can be taken as a tiny version of the year and a half I lived here.  In the ebb and flow of my emotions now, and in the present stirrings in my soul, and in the current movements of the Holy Spirit within me, I am reminded of similar interior shifts when I resided here.  

Much like when I moved in a few years ago to live here, similarly a couple of nights ago I was filled with joy and excitement at the prospect of basking in the stillness and silence and solitude here, so conducive to prayer and meditation.  Upon both arrivals, I deeply breathed in this contemplative atmosphere.  

Both three years ago and two days ago, I calmed down soon after arriving.  I began to take stock of who I am, namely someone with monastic tendencies, yet also with great love of those who are poor.  Then I came to see myself, and now I view myself, as a servant of those who are impoverished, and as having an inner monk I am to nourish through spiritual disciplines I can follow even in the midst of whatever activity occupies me.  

I practiced such attention to the promptings of the Holy Spirit amidst busy days while I still lived here.  After I had lived here for about half a year, I started driving monks who couldn't drive, usually to their doctor appointments.  Today, about halfway through this visit, I drove to Carmel and picked up a monk; he was on his way back from monastic business with other Camaldolese monks in Italy.  After meeting him in Carmel, I brought him back here to the hermitage.  

As I progressed in my residence here, I concluded that it didn't seem that God was calling me to become a monk here, but that God had been calling me to be here so I could deepen my prayer life.  Similarly, while I have been deeply nourished during the last couple of days here, it seems clear to me that I am to ponder in my heart, as our Blessed Mother Mary did.*  I feel I am to retain and treasure what has so nurtured me and allow it to guide me and to empower me and to light my path** as I strive to serve my neighbors, many of whom are poor.  As the Trappist monk Thomas Merton noted, we are to bring the contemplative treasures we have been given and share those spiritual fruits out in the world.  We are to share with others the great love which God has bestowed upon us.  

To properly serve, we must show great love.  If we empty ourselves, God can fill us with His love.  Nourished by the presence of Jesus, especially felt in stillness and silence and solitude, we can help others to feel the presence of Jesus.  If we remain in Jesus, and Jesus in us,*** we can bear much fruit in His name; conversely, without Him, we can do nothing.****  If we are filled with the love of God,***** we can recognize Jesus in those who are the least among us,****** and we can welcome Jesus into our hearts.  

When we welcome Jesus into our hearts, we hear and welcome The Word which God has been speaking in eternity.  The Word, the love of God, has been echoing for all eternity.  We hear this echo calling to us in the depths of our souls.  When we hear, and listen to, and respond with open hearts to this repeating invitation, we become who God has always intended us to be.  

* Luke 2:19 
** Psalm 119:105 
*** John 15:4,5,6,7,9,10 
**** John 15:5 
***** Romans 5:5 
****** Matthew 25:40,45 

Lovingly Welcome Martyrdom

This afternoon I arrived back here at the hermitage for my first visit since I stopped living here at the beginning of last summer.  Being here again, I am reminded of why I entered formation here on the path to becoming a monk: the silence and solitude so conducive to prayer and meditation; the liturgical schedule which includes communal prayer three times a day, in addition to daily Mass; and the warm, welcoming hospitality of these gracious monks.  

Yet I recollect that while I felt that God called me to live at this hermitage for a time so I could learn to deepen my prayer life, I feel that it has been clear to me for quite some time now that God has not given me the grace to be a monk.  A while ago I also concluded that I have an inner monk, who I am to nurture consciously, deliberately and mindfully, through the spiritual disciplines of prayer, worship, celebration of God's blessings, silence, solitude, simplicity and service, among other spiritual practices.  

God has given me the wisdom to realize that these spiritual disciplines help me to turn my attention toward Him, to focus on Him, and to hear Him and to listen to Him.  God gives us what we need to do His will.  We might get caught up in craving something that we would like to do to try to serve Him, but while we have our own hopes of how to serve God, in insisting upon them, we might be clinging to ideas which are our own, and are not according to the plan God has in mind for us.  

Today at Mass here, in his sermon Father Cyprian recalled how both Saint Francis and Saint Romuald longed to die as martyrs for the sake of the Kingdom of God.  Yet, Father Cyprian explained to us, God had not given Saint Francis and Saint Romuald the grace to be martyrs.  Father Cyprian went on to note that dying as a martyr is not something we can reach out and grasp; we must be given the grace to die as a martyr.  God gives us the grace we need to do His will.  

However, Father Cyprian gave us hope as he continued his homily.  He instructed us that God calls all of us to be martyrs for love.  We are to die to our own desires, so that, having emptied ourselves, God can fill us with His grace so that, filled with His love,* we can serve as the conduits through which God sends His love to our neighbors, so that they may receive what they need.  

I was reminded of these truths this morning when I received a message from someone I'll call "Paul."  God has blessed both Paul and me with the same certain person in our lives, who I'll call "Lauren."  Lauren is homeless and she also suffers from a drug addiction.  Paul and I have discussed much how we might be able to help Lauren, who keeps making decisions which threaten her spiritual, psychological and physical health.  While we can see Lauren as disappointing us, and based on that dissatisfaction, we could choose to isolate her and shun her, if we were to do so, we would be deciding to allow our emotions to control us.  Or we can choose to let our irritation with her not dominate us, but instead die to our natural inclinations, instead letting love rule us.  

When we forgive, we die to our selfish instincts to cling to our pain of how we feel we have been hurt.  As we forgive, we selflessly love the other person.  When we forgive, we also love ourselves, since we free ourselves from the prison in which we had been enclosing ourselves: when we forgive our neighbor, we let go of the pain which had been enslaving us, through the torment we had been deciding to impose on both our neighbor and on ourselves by previously refusing to forgive our neighbor.  

When we allow ourselves to be humbled, then God gives us the grace** we need to forgive our neighbor.  If we forgive our neighbor, we treat our neighbor as we would like to be treated, since we too would like to be forgiven.  When we forgive our neighbor, we love our neighbor as ourselves*** as Jesus taught us to do.  When we die to our own pain, we become martyrs for love.  Having let go of our pain, God can fill us with His grace, so that, filled with His love, we can give others the love they need.  In loving through the free gift of the grace of God,**** we glorify God.  In dying to ourselves, and in forgiving our neighbor, and thus loving our neighbor, we become who God has always meant us to be.  Amen.  

* Romans 5:5 
** James 4:6; 1 Peter 5:5 
*** Matthew 22:39; Mark 12:31; Luke 10:27; Leviticus 19:18; Romans 13:9; Galatians 5:14  
**** Ephesians 2:8 

Littleness Can Teach

Usually once a week I take a day of silence.  On such a day, as much as work allows, I aim to speak as little as I can.  In deliberately being quiet on certain days, I aspire then on other days to fall silent more often than I used to be.  

I practice silence to help me discern and say and do what God wills.  I enter into silence to help me be attentive to the guidance of the Holy Spirit.  

I resort to silence to prevent me from sinning.    My Lord and my God, put a curb on my lips, so that I not sin with my tongue.*  

Last week, on my silent day, at one point I was in the kitchen when one of our current long-term guests entered the room.  She's an eight-year old who lives here at the Catholic Worker House with her mom.  She began making regular conversation with me, perhaps about how my day was going, or what food was on the counter, or something else which naturally came to mind.  After not too long as I continued to respond without words, she asked me why I was not speaking.  In such instances, when I can't respond by nodding or shaking my head, I write my response.  Yet in this particular case, almost immediately she began to think about a possible answer to her own query.  She asked, "Are you quiet so you can listen better to others?"  Frankly, I hadn't been consciously taking silent days as a means to help me to better listen.  Nevertheless, when she so inquired, I pondered her question and realized that through regularly falling silent, I can improve at listening to others, which I wish to do.  I nodded in reply.  

Our neighbor can teach us if we are willing to listen.  We can learn even from little children. If we let little children come to us, we can be led by them to the Kingdom of Heaven, for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as them.**  Amen.  

* Psalm 39:1; Psalm 141:3 
** Matthew 19:14; Mark 10:14; Luke 18:16 

Loving Is Becoming

I just got back from a memorial service for a dear friend.  I've told before about this friend I have cherished.  Years ago, after I had become friends with his daughters, he asked me to call him "Uncle."  

Uncle suffered a stroke nearly a year ago.  For almost a year, he was unable to speak, and could move much less than he used to be able.  He courageously endured these hardships while they were presented to him, and then a week ago, he passed from this life into the next.  

He lived his values, thus building a secure bridge from this life to the next.  In his tireless hope, in his tenacious faith, in his indefatigable love, he demonstrated to his youngest daughter the resilience she realized she wanted to study in her work as a psychologist.  In his eloquent musings he expressed in his poems, short stories and novel, he showed his eldest daughter the passion with which she realized she wanted to write.  In his silence, in his meditative pauses, in his carefully chosen words, speaking so mindfully that he seemed to be following a monastic practice, he implicitly and subtly encouraged me toward the monastic disciplines of silence and meditation which I have come to treasure.  

He showed us who we were to become.  He did not tell us who we were meant to be.  In being himself, he helped us to see who we were, and who we have been becoming.  

He loved himself, and so showed us how to love ourselves.  He loved himself, so he could love his neighbor as himself* as Jesus taught him to do.  

He could help others because he loved himself.  If we love ourselves, we can love our neighbor, and so we can become who God wants us to be.  Uncle loved himself, so he welcomed the invitation from God to become who God always meant him to be.  

In his life, he loved.  If we choose love, we welcome God into our hearts.  If we choose love, God welcomes us into Heaven.  

* Matthew 22:39; Mark 12:31; Luke 10:27; Leviticus 19:18; Romans 13:9; Galatians 5:14 

Emptying Ourselves Completely

Today is the feast day of Saint Romuald.  Today in the Catholic Church we commemorate the life of this saint who lived in the tenth and the eleventh centuries and who reformed Benedictine monasteries.  In time, his reforms were seen to have formed a new religious congregation of monks who came to be known as Camaldolese, named after their head monastery called Camaldoli, which is in Italy.  

After spending a year and a half living at New Camaldoli Hermitage on the Big Sur coast of California, I grew quite fond of the monks there, as well as the folks who work there too.  While I lived there, I came to realize better how and why we can be nourished deeply in the recesses of our souls by the spiritual disciplines of solitude, silence, prayer and meditation.  There in a dwelling space called a monastic cell, a monk lives as a solitary, assisted by these monastic spiritual practices as he strives to respond to God's call.  These spiritual disciplines position us so that, in opening our hearts to God, we consent to God loving our neighbor through us.  

I was significantly guided in my pursuit of these spiritual practices by the Rule of Saint Romuald.  He wrote it as a brief directive for men who came to monasteries to commune with God.  In his little rule, Saint Romuald counsels 

Sit in your cell as in Paradise.  Put the whole world behind you and forget it.  Watch your thoughts like a good fisherman watching for fish.  The path you must follow is in the Psalms--never leave it.  

If you have just come to the monastery, and in spite of your good will you cannot accomplish what you want, take every opportunity you can to sing the Psalms in your heart and to understand them with your mind.  

And if your mind wanders as you read, do not give up; hurry back and apply your mind to the words once more.  

Realize above all that you are in God's presence, and stand there with the attitude of one who stands before the emperor.  

Empty yourself completely and sit waiting, content with the grace of God, like the chick who tastes nothing and eats nothing but what his mother brings him.  

The Rule of Saint Romuald resonates with how I have sought to orient my life over the last half dozen years.  I do my best to take time to retreat and forget about the world for a time so as to be recollected in my soul.  I have also aimed to forget the false notions the world gives me.  I have been aspiring to forget the false self that the world has tried to convince me I am, as the Trappist monk Thomas Merton describes.  We can choose to reject the empty promises the world makes, vainly suggesting that we always need to be buying and possessing certain items in order to remain relevant in today's ever-changing material world.  Rather than consume our energies on fruitless pursuits, we can direct our focus elsewhere.  In still silent solitude, we are better positioned to listen to God so we can ever more discover our true selves.  

This rule directs us to take every opportunity we can to sing the Psalms in our hearts.  Insofar as we are to pray always,* again the Rule confirms my inclinations.  So often I find myself mindlessly wasting precious time on trivial concerns which ultimately do not matter.  Rather than burn up our energy on matters which are truly unimportant, instead we can strive to orient our hearts toward God in every instant.  

In his rule, Saint Romuald advises us not to feel discouraged when our minds wander from words of wisdom, which they certainly will.  Rather, we are once again to apply ourselves to The Word in front of us.  So often I find my mind straying off course.  Thus I so appreciate Saint Romuald's gentle encouragement, as a reminder to remain on course.  We should not feel downtrodden when we fall, since most certainly we shall fall; we must remain resolute and we must once again rise once we have fallen.  

Saint Romuald reminds us that we are in God's presence.  Jesus is with us always.**  We are to stand before God like a person standing before an emperor.  Seeing ourselves for what we truly are, nothing without the help of God, we are humbled.  Having been humbled, we are well-situated for God to work through the Holy Spirit in us.  

Realizing that we are nothing without the aid of God, we can empty ourselves.  Knowing that we can do nothing without God, we can wait for God to transform us.  Upon being humbled, we can receive the grace and strength from God we need, for God gives grace to the humble.***  

Seeing our true place, and humbled by the reality that we can do nothing without God, we can then open our hearts to God.  If we are silent and wait patiently upon God, we can be nourished by the presence of Jesus.  Our Lord Jesus empowers us to do the will of our Heavenly Father.  I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.****

By the grace of God, we can come to do what by human standards seems impossible.  For humans, to love like God loves is impossible.  For God, nothing is impossible.*****  

Through the grace of God, we become able to give to everyone who asks,****** as Jesus instructs us to do in today's Gospel reading.  Having sought the tender, warm, loving touch of Jesus in silence, stillness and solitude, we become empowered through the gentle strength of His presence to convey His love to others.  By opening our hearts to God, we welcome God into our hearts, so that Jesus abides in us,******* and loves others through us.  Opening our hearts to God, we allow God to love others through us.********  We can thus let the love of God be shown through us.  Let us let God love others through us.  Amen.  

* 1 Thessalonians 5:17 
** Matthew 28:20 
*** 1 Peter 5:5; James 4:6 
**** Philippians 4:13 
***** Matthew 19:26; Luke 1:37 
****** Matthew 5:42 
******* John 15:9 
******** Romans 5:5 

Giving Up Ourselves

We are to give of ourselves.  We are to pour ourselves out for our neighbor.  Out of love for our neighbor, we are to die to ourselves so our neighbor can more fully live.  We are reminded of how we are called to such death and rebirth through how Jesus lived, died and rose from the dead for us.  In emulating and following Jesus, we are to model such love for each other.  I have seen a dear friend live out this love, throughout the whole time I have known him, and especially over the past year.  

Yesterday I visited this dear friend.  Years ago he asked me to address him as "Uncle," so here in this blog post I'll call him "Uncle."  Uncle is much older than I am.  He's the father of two friends of mine who were in college with me; I've known them for over twenty years.  Since we've been good friends for so long, years ago they introduced me to their father, who is Uncle.  
About nine months ago Uncle had a stroke.  He has been slowly recovering from this stroke: he cannot speak; he can move much less than he used to move.  He has been recuperating in long-term care facilities.  I have been struck by his tenacity and his determination.  Although he has faced significant challenges as he tries to regain his functioning, he has not been deterred.  

He has not given up.  He has kept trying to get better.  Although his body is broken, still he gives of himself.  

Jesus' body was broken for us.  Jesus gave of Himself for our sakes.  

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ.  Today we especially honor how Jesus gave up His body and His blood for us.   

When Jesus celebrated the Last Supper with His disciples, He broke the bread and gave it to His disciples, telling them, "This is My Body, given for you."  With the cup of wine, He told them, "This is My Blood, poured out for you."  As He gave them the bread and the cup, He instructed His disciples, "Do this in memory of me."*  Thus we celebrate the Eucharist when we celebrate Mass.  

Jesus has told us to do as he has done.  Give yourself up for your neighbor.  

Uncle is still giving of himself for the sake of his children and grandchildren.  By facing physical pain and incapacitation with resolve and fortitude, he is showing his children and his grandchildren how to respond courageously to formidable challenges.  In how he stays his course as he bravely grapples with his physical challenges, he is continuing to teach his children and his grandchildren about persistence, a labor of love to be honored today on Father's Day, and everyday.  

Uncle is embracing the duty God has placed before him.  Yesterday when I saw Uncle, I read to him an excerpt from "The Sacrament of the Present Moment" by Jean-Pierre de Caussade, which I felt he would find inspiring.  In it, de Caussade asks us, 

Is not a picture painted on a canvas by the application of one stroke of the brush at a time?  Similarly the cruel chisel destroys a stone with each cut.  But what the stone suffers by repeated blows is no less the shape the mason is making of it.  And should a poor stone be asked, "What is happening to you?" it might reply, "Don't ask me.  All I know is that for my part there is nothing for me to know or do, only to remain steady under the hand of my Master and to love Him and suffer Him to work out my destiny.  It is for Him to know how to achieve this.  I know neither what is best and most perfect, and I suffer each cut of the chisel as though it were the best thing for me, even though, to tell the truth, each one is my idea of ruin, destruction and defacement.  But, ignoring all this, I rest contented with the present moment.  Thinking only of my duty to it, I submit to the work of this skillful Master without caring to know what it is."  

God calls us to the duty of the present moment.  God seeks to shape us through means we would not have chosen on our own.  God speaks to us in ways we don't expect.  

I think of Father Bruno, one of the Camaldolese monks I met at the hermitage in Big Sur, and how he found encouragement in his monastic vocation in a way some might see as unlikely, as described in the book "Adam: God's Beloved" by Henri Nouwen.  Once Father Bruno had stopped serving as prior, or head, of the monastic community in Big Sur, he took a sabbatical to help him to transition from holding authority to once again being a regular monk.  During his three months away from the hermitage, Father Bruno stayed at one of the L'Arche homes for disabled people founded by Jean Vanier.  While caring for a young intellectually disabled man named Adam at a L'Arche home, Father Bruno related how this disabled man, who essentially could not speak, was helping him to be a better monk.  Father Bruno explained that he had known that he "had to become empty for God, gradually letting go of thoughts, emotions, feelings and passions" that prevent deep communion with God.  Father Bruno described how silent Adam was helping him to delve into deeper solitude and thus deeper communion with God.  

We find encouragement in our relationship with God through people we don't expect, and through circumstances we don't expect.  God speaks to us both through pleasure and through pain, both of which can help us to welcome God into our hearts.  

When we encounter hardship, it might not seem like a blessing to us.  In the moment, all we see and feel is our own misery.  Yet we can come to realize that by pouring ourselves out for our neighbor, we can help our neighbor more fully live.  If we embrace our suffering, we are well-positioned to love our neighbor.  If we consciously embrace our afflictions so that others can live better, we can witness our pain being transformed into a sacrifice of love.  A sacrifice lovingly given can bear beautiful fruit, which can be seen in how others come to love better through the example provided to them.  

Once we see that our suffering can become an occasion for us to better love our neighbor, we come to see that God allows us to encounter adversity for our own good.  And of course God allows us pleasure for our comfort.  And so we can come to see God in all things.  We can come to welcome ordeals once we see that God is working all for our good, if we just love Him.**  

Realizing that God works all for the good of those who love Him, we come to thank God always.***  Seeing that God is always loving us, since God is love,**** we come to ever more open our hearts to God.  Welcoming God as love, we welcome whatever God sends to us.  Out of love, we welcome God into our hearts.  Amen.  

* Matthew 26:26-28; Mark 14:22-24; Luke 22:19-20; 
1 Corinthians 11:23-25 

** Romans 8:28 

*** 1 Thessalonians 5:18 

**** 1 John 4:8,16 

Catholic Worker Shenanigans

As I've mentioned in previous blog posts, here at the Redwood City Catholic Worker House, we extend hospitality to guests who stay with us for months.  We just had a new guest move in with us, a college student named Milagros who needed a place to stay for the summer.  We call her "Milo" for short.  

As part of our ministry of hospitality to our guests,  we help them get what they need.  Thus, if any of them needs a car, sometimes a car is donated which they can use.  Our donors know what our guests need, and so generous people often give what our guests need without our even asking.  At other times, we let our donors know that our guests have specific needs.  

One morning recently at the kitchen table, I said to my mentor Larry something like, "Larry, I know this hasn't been in the budget, but we need another set of wheels."  I paused for dramatic effect.  Then I explained, "Milo wants a skateboard."  

On another occasion, my fellow Catholic Worker Aida was frying an egg.  I cautioned her, "You know, Aida, you're going to be embarrassed if you get that egg on your face."  

At the silence which ensued, Larry, who was sitting at the kitchen table, explained, "It's a joke."  Then, after a brief pause, he added, "Aida, the yolk's on you."  

Belonging To Others

When we see how alike we are, we love each other.  We love each other when we remember that we belong to each other.  

As we see that we need others to forgive us, we forgive others.  We forgive others because we want to be forgiven.  As Jesus instructed us, if we forgive others their failings, God our Heavenly Father will forgive us.  Yet, as Jesus added, if you do not forgive others, your Heavenly Father will not forgive you.*  We are forgiven to the extent we forgive.  We determine our destinies in how forgiving we are of others, and so our fates and the fates of others are tied up in each others' hearts.  

We forgive each other because we realize we belong to each other.  We forgive one another because we do not want to try to separate ourselves from each other.  We forgive each other because we do not want to live under the illusion that we are apart from each other.  The reality is that we are a part of each other.  

Being part of one another, we see we must love one another.  Seeing we are intertwined with each other, we know we must forgive each other not only to love others, but also to love ourselves.  

Realizing we need to be forgiven too, we are realizing we need to be loved.  Forgiving each other, and thus loving each other, we love ourselves.  

I have seen these truths lived out amongst the homeless people here in Redwood City.  Although they have their disagreements, they forgive one another because they love one another.  

Recently I was in a parking lot with a couple of homeless people I know, who here I'll call "Kimberly" and "Benny."  Kimberly and Benny were arguing.  Although they were not yelling at each other, they clearly were not pleased with each other.  Even though I had already started driving away, I stopped.  I pleaded with them, "One thing."  They both stopped what they were doing and were totally intent on what I was about to say.  I implored them, "Please love one another."  

Kimberly immediately replied, "Anywhere other than Redwood City, it wouldn't be this hard."  

Having made my plea, I resumed driving away.  Often it's after the moment has passed that I think of what I would have said at the time.  

Had I thought of it at the time, I would have said to Kimberly, "Sister, stop making excuses.  You and I have the same bad habit: we need to stop making excuses."  

By coming up with excuses, we seek to absolve ourselves of responsibility.  As the French priest Jean-Pierre de Caussade noted, our duty to God rests in the present moment.  To embrace the present moment, we need to be accountable for our actions in the present moment.  We must admit where we have gone wrong and how we can improve.  I struggle with this call to accept what I have done and how I can better behave.  Typically I start to explain.  I begin supplying the context for my actions.  Often people need not know what else was going on when I did what I did. Rather, we can be silent and simply focus on what we are called to do in that moment, namely, examine our own actions and how we can conduct ourselves better next time.  

To help me better prepare for another opportunity to take responsibility for my own actions, I am encouraged by my sister Kimberly.  She reminds me that I am not the only one challenged by the need to acknowledge the shortcomings in our own behavior.  

I see this and other similarities between Kimberly and myself, since I know we are more alike than many people think.  I look past the differences between her and me, so she can help me to grow.  Someone once told me, "Kimberly does meth."  Were I to dismiss Kimberly because supposedly she is addicted to methamphetamines, I would lose the insights I gain about myself through her.  Welcoming her into my heart, I allow her to teach me about myself.  Seeing the commonalities between her and me, I realize that she and I are alike in important ways.  
The Dutch priest Henri Nouwen noted this truth, that we share more similarities than we initially think, during his time living with mentally disabled persons at one of the homes in the L'Arche movement founded by Jean Vanier.  Nouwen realized that living with mentally disabled persons brought him closer to his own vulnerabilities.  He explained that 

While at first it seemed quite obvious who was handicapped and who was not, living together day in and out made the boundaries less clear. . . . And when I had the courage to look deeper, to face my emotional neediness, my inability to pray, my impatience and restlessness, my many anxieties and fears, the word 'handicap' started to have a whole new meaning.  The fact that my handicaps were less visible . . . didn't make them less real.  

At first it may seem very clear who is the one with the problems.  We can easily conclude, "That drug addict is not like me."  We can quickly misapprehend ourselves and others, and mistakenly declare, "That person is messed up; I am fine."  Sooner or later we realize we share some of the same frailties that societally despised persons exhibit.  I have been told that Kimberly suffers from depression, and that she takes meth to cope with the depression she feels.  I suffer from depression if my blood sugar level drops too low, and so I cope with depression by consuming sugar.  Kimberly is addicted to meth, and I am addicted to sugar.  I deliberately use that word: if I do not get enough sugar, my mood not only plummets, but my perceptions become severely distorted.  Since the only chemical recourse I have to alleviate my depression is sugar, I am literally addicted to sugar.  While Kimberly has chosen a less healthy, less socially acceptable, and more disruptive way to cope with her depression, nevertheless the fact remains that she and I suffer from the same problem, that of depression.  

When we glance at someone, we may dismiss that person.  If we only get a glimpse of someone, we may think we have nothing in common with that person.  At first it may seem quite obvious who is disabled and who is not.  Initially it might seem apparent who is the one with problems and who is the one without problems.  Once we get to know people, and once we see how others are like us, it might become less clear who is who.  

Kimberly lives in a tent pitched behind some bushes.  I live in a Catholic Worker House.  Kimberly suffers from depression, and so do I.  Just because I cope with my mental disability in a more socially acceptable way, in a less unhealthy manner, and less disruptively than Kimberly deals with hers doesn't mean she and I don't share a mental disability.  Just because my mental disability is less evident than Kimberly's doesn't negate the fact that she and I suffer from the same condition.  

Kimberly and I share a common hardship.  Having seen that we both have the same deficiency, we are empowered to love one another.  In the past, it could have seemed only like a curse; now through the light of love, it is a blessing since it enables us to understand each other better and thus to love one another.  When we see why our neighbor acts the way she acts, we come to have compassion on her.  Realizing that we share much which is important, we come not only to respect our neighbor, but truly to love our neighbor.  We see that in loving our neighbor, we are loving ourselves.  We see that God calls us to love our neighbor as ourselves** since we belong to each other.  We see that to have peace, we must remember that we belong to each other, as Saint Teresa of Calcutta implicitly urged.  

It seems that those who are homeless here in Redwood City have realized these truths.  Weeks after Kimberly and Benny exchanged sharp words in that parking lot, I crossed paths with Benny.  As we were talking, I mentioned Kimberly.  He asked me, if I were to see her, to tell her that he had her bicycle.  I told him I would convey that message to her if I saw her.  

Then my tear ducts opened.  I added, "That's why I love you all so much, all of you who are homeless here in Redwood City.  Even if you're angry with each other, you still help each other."  
Benny, who already had been speaking in a low tone of voice, lowered his voice even further.  He replied softly, "Yeah... we look out for each other."  

We look past our differences because we know are similar.  We forgive when we realize how similar we are.  When we see our faults in others, we are led to forgive them, for both their sakes as well as ours.  We forgive because our hearts are tied up with each other.  

We forgive because we love.  We love because we belong to each other.  We love because we belong to God.  We are a part of each other because God made us to love Him and one another.  In forgiving, and thus in loving, we embrace not only each other, but also the truth that we belong to each other and to God, and thus become who God has always intended us to be.  

* Matthew 6:14-15; Mark 11:25-26 
** Matthew 22:39; Mark 12:31; Luke 10:27; Leviticus 19:18; Romans 13:9; Galatians 5:14 

Obediently Trusting God

Do we have ears to hear?  If we have ears to hear, let us use them to listen.*  If we listen, do we understand?  If we have the good sense to do our best to try to comprehend what is being told to us, let us do our best to fathom that God wants to meet us in bottomless depths, and that God wants to raise us to great heights, if we are but willing to allow ourselves to be humbled.**    

Let us not fear, but trust in God, remembering that God holds us in the palm of His hand, and that He has unimaginably fantastic rewards in store for us.  If we but open our eyes and use them to see, we will recognize the magnificent wonders that God has already shown us.  Thus we will be led to open our hearts to welcome all the marvels which God wishes to work through us and otherwise in our little lives.  He wishes that we give our consent to welcome His will, so that our souls may flourish like tiny mustard seeds, just as the Kingdom of God is sprouting from a mustard seed into an immense bush which will provide much shelter,*** comfort and repose for ourselves and others, and ultimately bringing us into peace and joy in his loving embrace.  

And so it was when the angel Gabriel announced to the Blessed Virgin Mary that she would conceive through the power of the Holy Spirit and give birth to Jesus.  Thus yesterday in our celebration of the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord, we heard that 

The angel Gabriel was sent from God
to a town of Galilee called Nazareth,
to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph,
of the house of David,
and the virgin's name was Mary.
And coming to her, he said,
"Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you."
But she was greatly troubled at what was said
and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.
Then the angel said to her,
"Do not be afraid, Mary,
for you have found favor with God.
Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son,
and you shall name him Jesus.
He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High,
and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father,
and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever,
and of his Kingdom there will be no end."
But Mary said to the angel,
"How can this be,
since I have no relations with a man?"
And the angel said to her in reply,
"The Holy Spirit will come upon you,
and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.
Therefore the child to be born
will be called holy, the Son of God.
And behold, Elizabeth, your relative,
has also conceived a son in her old age,
and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren;
for nothing will be impossible for God."
Mary said, "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.
May it be done to me according to your word."
Then the angel departed from her.****  

The angel Gabriel arrived and greeted Mary.  He acknowledged her as being full of grace, that God was with her.  Mary was troubled at this greeting; she wondered what type of salutation the angel could be offering to her.  

God is always wanting to talk with us.  God speaks to us.  Yet we don't understand what God is saying to us.  

The angel told Mary not to be afraid.  The angel assured her that she had found favor with God, so she had no reason to fear.  

When God speaks to us, how do we feel?  Do we worry when God addresses us?  Do we fear when God talks with us?  

In the midst of stressful circumstances in our lives, how do we react?  Do we panic?  Do we trust in God, or do we succumb to fear?  

When we fear, what does God have in store for us?  In times when we are scared of what is going to happen in our lives, is God trying to give us something we don't expect? 

The angel told Mary that she was going to conceive and bear a son, and that she must name Him Jesus, since He would save people from their sins.  Accordingly, He would be great.  He would not only sit upon the throne of His ancestor King David, but He would rule forever.  She was told that His Kingdom will have no end.  

When we are terrified, we must remember that God operates on a much grander scale than we do.  When we tremble, we must keep in mind that God holds us in the palm of His hand.   

When the angel told Mary that she was to give birth to Jesus, she asked, "How can this be?"  She so inquired because she had not had relations with a man.  

God works wonders.  We wonder how God works.  God unravels marvels in front of us.  We marvel at what transpires before us.  We wonder how all these wonders take place.  

The angel explained to Mary that the Holy Spirit would come upon her.  The angel revealed to her that God's power would overshadow her.  

We cannot see how God works through us.  We do not realize how God works wonders in our lives.  Through His mighty spirit, God transforms us, those around us and our lives.  God is infinitely greater than we are, and so God can transfigure us in ways and to extents we could never do without Him.  God reminds us of His great power to work amazing changes in us.  

The angel reminded Mary that her cousin Elizabeth had conceived in her old age.  People had called Elizabeth barren and unable to have a child, just as Sarah was thought to be unable to bear a child to Abraham since she too was elderly.  Yet angels also brought the glad tidings to Abraham and Sarah that soon they would have a son.*****  Thus the angel reminded Mary that nothing is impossible for God.******   

We are to look at what we have already seen.  We must look at the wonders which have already been shown to us.  In recalling these magnificent deeds God has already done for us, we are strengthened in our faith, and are emboldened in our quest to do His will.  

We have already seen the evidence of God's great power and His abounding love for us.  What more proof do we need of what He can do for us?  What more do we need to see to realize that He boundlessly loves us?  

In short, we are presented with a question which forces us to choose between fear and trust.  Do we trust God?  Do we believe that God wants to do great things for us?  

If we believe, then let us say with Mary that we too are servants of the Lord.  Trusting in God, let us say, "God, may it be done to me as you have said."  

How do we get to a point of such utter submissive abandonment, trusting in God so completely that we are totally obedient to God's will?  We use our ears to hear what God is saying to us.  If we remain silent and sit still, in solitude, we can listen to what God wants to tell us.  We look at the wonders God works around us.  We ponder these things in our hearts.*******  We open our hearts, and allow these marvels to permeate our souls and transform us.  Being attentive to the remarkable feats God performs in our lives, then we realize that we cannot rely on ourselves, and that we must depend on God.  When we allow ourselves to be humbled, then God will raise us up.  Then when we assent to His will, and agree to die to ourselves, then, being grains falling into the ground and dying, He will reap a rich harvest through us.********  Sure of this comfort, we rest secure in peace, and approach the joy that comes in eternal life.  Looking forward to this eternal bliss, we gladly offer our consent to our loving God.   

Thus confident that God will work wonders through us to His praise and glory and honor, let us courageously proclaim in bold prayer, "God, do what you want with me.  Here I am, ready to do Your will."   

* Matthew 11:15 
** Matthew 23:11-12; Matthew 20:26; Luke 14:11; Luke 18:14 
*** Matthew 13:32; Mark 4:31-32; Luke 13:19 
**** Luke 1:26-38 
***** Genesis 17:16, 19, 21; Genesis 18:14 
****** Genesis 18:14; Luke 1:37 
******* Luke 2:19 
******** John 12:24