The Future is Open

It has been said of St. Francis of Assisi that he looked at the world while standing on his head. Which is to say that his view of life and living was upside down to view of most of the rest of the world. I read a great book about five years ago given to me by a friar friend. It is called St Francis and the Foolishness of God. The book blew away many of my pre-conceived notions about the plight of many other citizens of our planet and like Francis it stood me on my head.

Soon after I began attending Mass at Mt. Irenaeus I began to volunteer to help Brother Joe with some of the upkeep of the place. I volunteered to weed gardens, split wood, mow lawns and even shovel manure. Brother Joe asked me what my family and friends thought of my regular visits to Mt. Irenaeus. I told him that many of them thought I was a little crazy traveling thirty miles every Sunday to attend Mass and the other liturgies. Through that conversation Brother Joe helped me to see that the nuns who had taught me as a small boy had helped to form in me a Franciscan heart. Maybe I already had a Franciscan heart and they provided the keys that opened it. Many times in my life, my views have run counter to the status quo and at those times I’ve wondered why. That day Brother Joe provided the answer or at least the affirmation of a life long journey. I didn’t know then that the journey would continue to lead me and that in time I would become a Secular Franciscan and that my life would continue to grow and change and that I would be drawn ever closer to the poor man of Assisi and Lady Poverty.

Peace.

This has been a very busy day with lots of thoughts. The Edith Stein book continues to ruminate. I donated it to the high school library where I work. I thought about the story a lot today and the similarities of what is going on in our country right now. I read in the paper today that in two years we must all have National IDs in order to visit Canada which is only 50 miles north of us. I love to visit Ontario. They have some of the most beautiful parks and flowers I’ve ever seen. There is a lot to like about Canada. I’ve encouraged my children to emigrate there. I don’t know if they will but I’ve encouraged them because Canada is lovely. The national ID thing got me to thinking of the serial numbers that were tattooed into the skin of Jewish people during the holocaust. How much will our IDs be like tattoos? It’s frightening that our government is branding us. A peaceful border for nearly two-hundred years is being closed off to us without an ID. Who would think of such things. An executive mandate. No options for us or our representatives. Wow!

Tonight I read a very moving article written by Ron Kovic, a brother indeed, a fellow veteran. Ron went to Vietnam. I didn’t. Some of the guys I went to high school with died there. One of the guys rode my bus the other was in a study hall. One was a helicopter pilot. The other was a grunt, an infantryman. I served as a Hospital Corpsman, but never got to ‘Nam. Nonetheless, whenever I hear chopper blades I think Medevac. It’s part of me. I get teary eyed when I think of Vietnam and that generation of Americans who fought and died there. I think too of the millions of Vietnamese who died there. A whole generation is missing on the streets of Vietnam. Maybe one our guys or one of theirs had the cure for cancer or aids in his head. I ate in a Vietnamese restaraunt a couple of months ago. Very good food. Thirty years ago they were the enemy. They were ‘charley’, ‘gook’ or simply ‘the enemy’. When I went through boot camp no one ever referred to them as “the Body of Christ”, but that’s what they are. Imagine that, killing the “Body of Christ.”

Today in the deserts of Iraq, in the shadow of the “Garden of Eden”, we kill our brothers and sisters and they kill us. Billions being made by the war merchants. Sixteen thousand crippled American soldiers, sailors, marines. Another 2,200 or so dead Americans. Tens of thousands of dead Iraqis. The Body of Christ being bombed, shot, strafed, burned, napalmed, and willy peted. St. Jude carried the Gospel into what is now Iraq. There are thousands of Iraqi Christians. Our brothers in Christ and we’re killing them.

I hope you take some time to read what Ron Kovic writes here, The Forgotten Wounded of Iraq.
I often wonder what can I do and all I can do is be peace. I run for peace. Today I ran 5 miles before the workday. In the still of the morning on a running track in our local gym. It’s a time to pray. My running is a prayer to end the madness of war and celebrate the peace of Christ.

One of my favorite authors is a survivor of the Vietnam war and a peace activist. He is a gentle Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh. He is nearly 80 years old. He has some very gentle words which give me hope in all the darkness.

“Our world is something like a small boat. Compared with the cosmos, our planet is a very small boat. We are about to panic because our situation is no better than the situation of the small boat in the sea. You know that we have more than 50,000 nuclear weapons. Humankind has become a very dangerous species. We need people who can sit still and be able to smile, who can walk peacefully. We need people like that in order to save us. “–from “Being Peace”–Thich Nhat Hanh.

Peace and all good.

I just finished reading a book I found difficult to put down. It’s the life and death of Edith Stein or Sister Teresa Benedicta of the Cross as she is also known. I had heard of her before and even been at Mass on her feast day, but knew nothing of her story. A very gripping story indeed of a mystical woman who was killed in a very frightening time. In some ways I think today is an equally frightening time. As a young boy I was confirmed by the bishop. In those days the bishop would slap us on the cheek with his gloved hand as a reminder that someday we might have to suffer for our faith. At the time I used to listen to the Allegany Franciscans who taught me speak of missionaries in far off places who had to suffer terrible fates, some almost worse than death. The thought of such ends frightened me as it would almost any child.

“Will you remain faithful to the Crucified?, she asked. ‘Consider carefully! The world is in flames the battle between Christ and the Antichrist has broken into the open. If you decide for Christ, it could cost you your life. Carefully consider what you promise. Taking and renewing vows is deadly serious business.”–St. Edith Stein–September 1939.

I recommend, Meet Edith Stein by Cynthia Cavnar

Peace.

I took a long drive today and along the way I stopped at Abbey of the Genesee in Piffard, New York. I spent some time in their chapel. It’s a beautiful and very quiet place. It’s one of my favorite haunts. I’ve only been there a few times in recent months. Some years I go more often. Today is of course a national holiday commemorating the life and work of Dr. King.

Outside the Abbey of the Genesee is a statue of Our Lady of the Genesee holding the infant Jesus, but it could easily be anyone including me. I often reflect on the image of the Lady holding me and us in her arms. Ave Maria.

Dr. King was a man of peace and in that spirit I’m offering the following prayer which is from a somewhat different tradition, but still within the spirit of his life.

Deep Peace of the Running Wave

Deep peace of the running wave to you
Deep peace of the flowing air to you
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you
Deep peace of the shining stars to you
Deep peace of the gentle night to you
Moon and stars pour their healing light on you
Deep peace of Christ, of Christ, the light of the world to you
Deep peace of Christ to you.

Peace.

“We adore you, most holy Lord Jesus Christ, here and in all your churches throughout the world, and we bless you because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world. “

I have the San Damiano Cross hanging in my prayer space. This crucifix has come to have a very special meaning for me in my Franciscan journey. Today following some morning prayers I reflected over and over again on the prayer at the top of this post. What does it mean to be redeemed? Who am I redeemed for? Following the readings this morning the parts of Psalm 34 came to me, “The Lord hears the cry of the poor.”

I went to Mass this morning at Mt. Irenaeus as is my habit on Sundays. It was a beautiful clear blue chilly morning. I enjoyed my drive down Route 16 and then onto Route 446 which would lead to the road to Friendship, New York then south on Route 275 to the bustling hamlet of Nile. Leaving Nile on Route 1 and then onto Hydetown Road and up to the Mountain. Listening to a Bill Douglas album and drinking in the sights and sounds of winter. On the way up Hydetown road I spied a beautiful little creek bubbling along in the chill morning air. I stopped the car, rolled down the window and got a picture take home with me.

Right turn followed right turn as up the hill my little PT Cruiser chugged. It was apparent from looking at the tracks that I was the first car up this morning. I wondered, “do I have the traction to make the hill?’ The little car made it and soon I was disembarking with a bag of groceries to be shared later at brunch. It’s always a relief to be at the Mountain and to share some quiet moments in the chapel with lots of other worshippers who have made the trip from all over.

The quiet beauty of the chapel against the picture perfect blue sky is breathtaking. Once inside I share the space with other members of the community today. We’ve come to this chapel at the end of a long road because we’re all looking for something that we can’t find easily elsewhere. We come here because we love the peace and hospitality which are so freely offered. We come because we are Gospel people hoping to hear a prophetic message, a message which challenges us to live the week differently and to join with Jesus Christ in making all things new.

Under the chapel in the library is a framed print that spoke volumes to me when I first made this trip six years ago. “If you are wondering what God may be, looking for a purpose in life, craving company, or seeking solitude, come to our meeting for worship. We shall not ask you to speak or sing, we shall not ask you what you believe, we shall simply offer you our friendship, and a chance to sit quietly and think, and perhaps somebody will speak, and perhaps somebody will read, and perhaps somebody will pray, and perhaps you will find here that which you are seeking. We are not saints, we are not cranks, we are not different –Except that we believe that God’s light is in everyone waiting to be discovered.”

Peace,

Monday we will officially celebrate the life of one of the greatest Americans of the twentieth century. Martin Luther King and Mahatma Gandhi used the principles of the Gospel to bring two nations to their knees and to their feet at the same time. The following quote is taken from a speech Dr. King gave in April 1967, “A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.” The speech was delivered at the Riverside Church in New York City.

Forty years later our nation still continues to spend more on war than we do on programs of social uplift. How much longer can Americans be deprived of adequate health care and basic necessities so we can continue to feed the military industrial complex? How much longer can these agents of death and destruction continue to wrap themselves in the American flag? Samuel Johnson wrote that, “patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.” Notice the smear of Rep. Murtha who has spoken truth to power.

I pray that our leaders will have a spiritual awakening and realize the folly of war. War is big business. We seem to invent enemies to create a need for the use of weapons systems that in reality are draining America and Americans of their greatest resources. What is the likelihood that the money being spent on the battlefield could have found a cure for AIDS or cancer? What is the likelihood that our weapons have killed the future scientist that finds these cures?

Whatever happened to the Peace Dividend? Can you imagine what good we could do and how much terror and terrorism we could thwart if we turned our swords into plowshares and used our wealth and might to end poverty and starvation worldwide. Gandhi said that, “poverty is the worst form of violence.” Until we end the terror of poverty we will never end terrorism.

Peace.

This looks like a good movie. I can’t believe it was actually produced in this country at this time.

Thomas Merton once said, “not all men are called to be hermits, but all men need enough silence and solitude in their lives to enable the deep inner voice of their own true self to be heard at least occasionally.” I can’t be a hermit although at times I feel called to it. I need silence and solitude and the older I get the more I realize I need it. Most of what passes as news is scripted to make one think that the most important things in life and in this country in particular is winning the war on terror. A war on terror. Think about it. War is terror. How can war rid of us of terror?

It’s all noise. Just noise and more noise. The truth only begins to emerge in silence and solitude. Living a contemplative life can be difficult. There are so many temptations to yield to cynicism, to give up hope. I do give up hope, probably several times a week. I also regain hope several times a week. It’s the ebb and flow of life and the encouragement of the people around me. I need people to sharpen me, to hone me and yes to drive me to solitude.

I’m sitting here now writing this journal, listening to the fire and fan of my pellet stove. I’m enjoying the return of snow to our lawn following several surreal 55 degree plus days in January. As long as it’s going to snow, I’ll just watch the snow.

Peace.

I was out riding around in my car tonight and listening to John Michael Talbot. He’s not the only musician I listen to. I enjoy a diversity of music including jazz, classical, new age, and Gregorian Chant. Nonetheless I got to thinking about my earlier post and I’ve forgotten that in the past several years I’ve come to know that I’m a mystic. I’m not a swami, but I am a mystical person. For a number of years I’d go to Mass and just feel lost. I couldn’t relate. I read Seven Storey Mountain, by Thomas Merton over 27 years ago. Ever since that time there had and has been an awareness of a longing for mystical union with Christ.

Soon after reading Seven Storey Mountain I visited a Trappist Monastery in Piffard, New York. I regularily visit there. In the ensuing twenty plus years I was searching and couldn’t put my finger on what was missing for me when I attended Mass. Then after a long absence I visited Mount Irenaeus, a Franciscan retreat about 30 miles from where I live. Soon after attending Mass and a Holy Week observance in 2000 I began to realize that I was finally home. Here was a group of Friars who lived and celebrated mysticism. I began an exploration of centering prayer, liturgy of the hours, stillness, quietness, reflection, contemplation and work.

I remember as a little boy how much I loved those times in our church that were mystical. Holy Thursday night and the adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. The smell of incense during Eucharistic Adoration on First Fridays. I used to just visit the church when there was nobody else there and sit quietly and listen. I felt a closeness and a peace that I could never really describe or replicate during other liturgical ceremonies and events.

In the last six years I’ve come to really find a home with other folks drawn to the intimacy of the Mystical presence of Christ in the Eucharist. To me the Eucharist is deeply personal and mystical. Because of this mystical presence my heart is softer, my eyes, ears and soul more attentive to the cry of the poor, the disenfranchised and the those who just hurt. I can’t watch movies like Patton anymore without wincing.

In my earlier post today I spoke of the fallacy of just war. My views on wars, violence and killing have been deeply steeped and strengthened by the recognition and acceptance of my mystical union with Christ. I am not a pious person. In fact I can be very profane, but I am also deeply mystical and religious.

Shalom, Pace, Pax et Bonum.