Tag Archives: Easter

Harshness and Mercy

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Where there is Mercy and Prudence, there is neither Excess nor Harshness.

St. Francis  (The Admonitions, XXVII)

[The Message of St. Francis; New York: Penguin Studio, 1999, p. 9]

Here’s another cross pattern, Prudence matching Excess and Mercy a foil for Harshness. One of these pairs is enough for today…

Years ago, I had a daily calendar/notepad – sticky notes with the date and a short saying. Most of them I’d use for this or that purpose, then toss them away. A few struck such a chord that I stuck them to my desk. One of these sayings:

There’s brutality and there’s honesty: there’s no such thing as brutally honest.

Words can be the an ocean wind in Winter – cutting, cold, penetrating muscle and bone. They whistle in our ears and bend our backs. We shrink before them, turning in upon ourselves to avoid exposure. Long after the words are spoken, our teeth still chatter and the shivers remain. In our frostbitten souls we hold a question and we fear its answer: Could such words be true?

In a small sense, cutting words shine a light. Faults and imperfections come with being human. A careless tongue or sharp wit can highlight such things. We are reduced to a collection of blemishes and incompetence. But this isn’t really the truth – it’s a keyhole version of reality, allowing only one small look at an unseen whole.

The big lie such words tell isn’t so much what is said but what is implied: if we aren’t perfect, we are worthless. The lie lies in believing the implication. Truth be told, the words would be something like this: You aren’t perfect, and you never will be. I’m not perfect, and I never will be. But we are precious, and a unique gift to this world. We are loved, and anyone who tells us different is sadly mistaken.

If I use words to cut down, I have a keyhole’s view; when I stand up and open the door, only words of love can describe what I see.

Love for the whole and mercy for the imperfections – true words always offer a glimpse of these.

My True Dwelling

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Where there is fear of God to guard the dwelling,

there no enemy can enter. St. Francis

Admonitions XXVII

[The Message of St. Francis, New York: Penguin Studio, 1999, p. 9]

I’ve never been a fan of the “fear of God” language. I think it’s too easy to mistake its true meaning for the false idea that God will harm anyone and everyone who makes a mistake or behaves in a less than morally perfect manner. My definition of the  “fear of God”:  Yikes! My life is laughably brief and limited compared to the age of the universe and scope of God’s creative action within it. Time didn’t begin with my birth and won’t end with my death. After all, I am a very small person in a very big cosmos. 

At the same time, knowing my relative size and duration within the universe is not a commentary on my value or significance. There is no such thing as an insignificant life. Every single one is unique, precious in the eyes of God. You and I may only take up a speck of space and moment of time, but such specks and moments change the very nature of this whole universe. 

When I accept my limited existence and my unique place in the grand scheme of things, then I claim the blessing of God’s love for me and every other being that ever has or ever will grace this vast universe. No one can take my place or steal God’s love from me. I dwell in God’s love, so do you, so does everyone else. Who can steal what is freely given? Where there is enough love for everyone, how can there be enemies? And with God, there is more than enough.

Peace is hard (non)work

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VIRTUE AND VICE 

Where there is Love and Wisdom, there is neither Fear nor Ignorance.

Where there is Patience and Humility, there is neither Anger nor Annoyance.

Where there is Poverty and Joy, there is neither Cupidity nor Avarice.

Where there is Peace and Contemplation, there is neither Care nor Restlessness.

Where there is the Fear of God to guard the dwelling, there no enemy can enter.

Where there is Mercy and Prudence, there is neither Excess nor Harshness.

St. Francis, The Admonitions, XXVII

[The Message of St. Francis, New York: Penguin Studios, 1999, p. 9]

Peace isn’t something that happens automatically, at least the inner kind. It isn’t mental numbness or the absence of conflict. For me, it’s recognizing my place in this beautiful, broken world – and knowing in my very bones that it’s a beautiful, holy life I’ve been given. Not a perfect life, and not a life lived perfectly; instead, an imperfect self in an imperfect world, perfectly loved by the one who created it all. But this awareness, and living at peace with the rest of the world in all circumstances, takes a kind of effort quite different from almost all of my other endeavors. That’s where Contemplation comes in…

Contemplation is practicing prayer by quieting my thoughts and resting in the truth that I’m not the center of the universe. It is also the experience and awareness of who is the center and boundary of creation. De-centering my small self – the one that insists on everything being about me, my wants, and my needs – is the only way to re-center on what is true and real: God’s sustaining presence. All the little annoyances and worries have no room in this most gracious and profound reality.

This letting go of my limited perspective and my small opinions isn’t easy, but it’s not something that comes from intense effort. It’s unclenching my fists and releasing the stranglehold I have on reality, because it’s not saving me from a tumble as much as it is choking the life out of me. It’s a spiritual truth and an ironic twist of fate that letting go is the hardest (non) work I could attempt. It’s such a simple thing, but it sure isn’t easy.

A de-centered and re-centered life isn’t without difficulties or challenges – they are part of the human condition. But fretful care and spiritual restlessness are things I lose when I no longer require the world to revolve around me.

 

There is neither Cupidity…

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Where there is Poverty and Joy,

there is neither Cupidity nor Avarice.

St. Francis, The Admonitions, XXVII

Merriam-Webster has one of my favorite websites – Word of the Day, language games, and access to a world class dictionary and thesaurus. There are also short essays so well written that just about any subject is made interesting. As an avid reader and habitual writer, www.merriam-webster.com is a verbal playground. So as I was pondering what to write about Cupidity, I took a look at Merriam-Webster’s definition. The first one: inordinate desire for wealth. The second: strong desire, lust.

When I first read Francis’ words, I paired poverty with avarice and cupidity with joy – an instance of chiasmus, with the word pairings making an “X” when connected by lines. In that case, it’s the second definition of Cupidity that serves as Joy’s opposite. Lust is desiring someone as an object for fulfilling sexual desires; it turns the desired person into a thing rather than honoring that person as a companion in an intimate physical expression of joy. God knows the news is full of cupidity these days – sad tales of women and men intimidated and threatened if they refused to submit to unwanted advances. Such actions are harmful, draining joy from future relationships as well as bringing pain in current circumstances.

I think that first impression is right, but incomplete: all four words relate, either as companions or as contrasting qualities. Merriam-Webster’s first definition of Cupidity is about seeking wealth without thought for its consequences or its true worth. With no thought to what is necessary and life-giving, cupidity is the absence of poverty just as surely as it is joy – and avarice is cupidity in action.

Why is it that sex and wealth, such powerful forces, can lead to a life in ruins or a taste of heaven on earth?

Poverty and Joy

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Where there is Poverty and Joy,

there is neither Cupidity nor Avarice.

St. Francis, Admonitions XXVII

I’ve never considered poverty and joy natural companions, but I can see how Poverty and Joy are. Poverty is the ability to separate what is necessary from what is not, and Joy is the gift that comes with choosing the necessary.

Why is it that I’m willing to spend so much time and energy chasing after the unnecessary things when they cost me Joy?

Dear Lord, give me the wisdom to know what is necessary and what is not – and the common sense to choose Joy over unnecessary things. Amen.

[For the complete prayer, click “Walking with Francis from Easter to Pentecost”]

Let’s take a walk…

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A few years back, I spent my Eastertide with Saint Francis, praying his most beloved prayer and writing about the experience. It was such a blessing that I decided to visit with Francis again, this time seeking him in his other writings. I look forward to conversing with him – new words, new thoughts, many blessings. I hope you come along with me; I’d surely appreciate the company…

Virtue and Vice

Where there is Love and Wisdom,

          there is neither Fear nor Ignorance.

Where there is Patience and Humility,

there is neither Anger nor Annoyance.

Where there is Poverty and Joy,

there is neither Cupidity nor Avarice,

Where there is Peace and Contemplation,

there is neither Care nor Restlessness.

Where there is the fear of God to guard the dwelling,

there no enemy can enter.

Where there is Mercy and Prudence,

there is neither Excess nor Harshness.

(St. Francis, The Admonitions, XXVII)

[Found in:  Sister Nan, extract selector,  introduction by Maximilian Mizzi, The Message of St. Francis, New York: Penguin Studio, 1999, p. 9]

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Be Brave!

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You can, you should – and it you’re brave enough to start, you will.

Stephen King

[Daily Peace, Washington, D.C.: National Geographic Society, 2015, April 4]

Stephen King has written dozens of books, some of which could be considered modern masterpieces. Two in particular come to my mind: The Green Mile and Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption. The first was written as a serial novel, with small sections released every few weeks until the whole story was told. The second was a short story. These are not horror stories, even though both deal with tragedy, inhumanity, and loss. Neither are typical of King’s usual writings – the scary books everyone has come to expect. Both were made into exceptional movies.

I wonder whether it was a difficult thing for King to write these particular tales. In addition to the usual pressure and difficulty of writing a book – creating characters and story lines, putting in enough description and action to keep the story moving, bringing the whole thing to a satisfying and fitting ending – is added the anxiety that comes from offering something unexpected to an audience that is used to the thrill of the macabre. It’s like offering a chocolate raspberry torte to a child expecting a chocolate chip cookie: who knows what the response might be, but disappointment and rejection are just as possible as delight and enthusiasm.

Perhaps the hardest part of trying something new isn’t dreaming it up or doing the research. Maybe the hardest part is putting pen to paper and writing the first word, sentence, paragraph, and page. Making the jump from going to to doing isn’t something that comes from knowing it’s possible to do or even knowing it ought to be done: it’s a leap of faith only the brave or the foolhardy can make.

Perhaps this is true in things beyond writing. Perhaps it’s true of any worthwhile endeavor.

May God grant us all the courage to take the first step.

New World(s)

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She knows she passed two of the exams and will find out about two more soon. The fifth will take some work. Her reward: a high school equivalency diploma. Such a small piece of paper, such a tremendous difference. Opportunities requiring that piece of paper open up for her; better jobs and possibilities for ongoing education are hers.

But something else is happening, something invisible to most of the world. Her internal script is being rewritten. The one that names her Drop-Out, Quitter, Incapable is discarded. Hard Worker, Graduate, Capable, and Dedicated are the new adjectives found in the new script. She is made new again.

I believe miracles happen every day, but I don’t notice most of them. But God has let me see this one, and my world is forever changed because I’ve beheld it.

 

Enter or Shelve?

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It’s a little over a week since Easter – the empty tomb, miraculous appearances, and disbelief transformed into abiding faith. Even Thomas finds his faith after touching the risen Jesus.

My faith starts in a stable, wades in the Jordan, hangs on a cross, and arrives by way of an empty tomb. Year after year, the same journey; every three years, even the same Bible passages. Why do I keep with it?

I don’t think faith can be solved, figured out, or understood enough to box up and store like off season clothes on a dusty closet shelf. It’s not a puzzle to solve or a formula to memorize. It’s not really an “it” at all, as far as I can tell. I can’t hold it in my hand or even see its edges because it holds me. I am living in it, held by it, defined by it. The seasons and scriptures aren’t pieces of a faith puzzle: they are what draws me into God’s embrace. There is no end to where they can take me in this Gospel world.

Faith is entering this God given world and knowing I belong here. Many and varied are the ways for me to find it. I just have to remember I seek to enter a holy world. It’s only when I try to make myself bigger than God’s world that my faith shrinks to something easily shelved with next winter’s clothes…

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