Traveling Our Way Home

There are a few things I dwell upon as we begin the Season of Advent. Much is still coming into focus, but on the trip back home this evening from visiting my family, I could sense the twilight of the past and the promise of future to come. It has made me very expectant for this December, and the reminders of the past—long trips to Texas to visit my extended family—a great joy from childhood. It was all triggered, oddly enough, from a faint familiar smell of driving through the Texas countryside... it was almost an earthy smell that within the instant connected me back to those childhood trips in the dead of night, traveling the way "home"... and family is always "home."

I have felt as though the explanation and the gift of remaining in Texas has come into distinct focus. There can be a false sense of nostalgia, distinct as one ages, but this shouldn't be confused with the cherishing of the past. No, the recollection of the past is for the benefit of the future, and even if everything cannot be recalled—nor should it in serious cases—the joy of the present is a future infused in the past, in tradition, and above all in a living with the past for the benefit of the future generations, such that, come what may, we may be able to pass on the joy of the Faith, of the truth, and ultimately the joy of life, replete with the everyday blessings we receive when traveling along the road of life with a song in our heart on our way to the town of Bethlehem and the infant child that awaits us.

The Question of Suffering & The Joy of Life

We ought to realize in the everyday the profound reality that we are faced with a choice of perspective and framing of mind: either God is keeping something from us, or else He is intending something else to transpire before the gift of the secondary comes. Both still must lead to Him in the telos of the endeavor, but we shouldn't discount the real possibility our desires do not have the fullness of His love in mind (thereby missing the mark) or lack the order found in Him who orders all things (timing).

We, especially in Western society, think of it as a zero-sum game. We either get what we desire or we don't. We lose sight of the value of prayer and of certitude with the end game. We try our damnedest to get what we want this moment, in a race of instant gratification, without realizing good things are good not because they are quick but, rather, because they are abiding. The good invariably comes in sequences. We can try to "game" the system, but virtue isn't a magical game. It requires hard work and dedication.

Dedication often takes doing things that aren't natural to our sensibilities or to our patience levels, but then how would virtue grow if not with a bit of resistance? Certainly the satisfaction of something doesn't come from its consumption, for it would mean we would wish to consume nothing more. No, satisfaction comes from the growth of spirit through the tedium and the lengthening of time between desire and its consummation. The larger fire isn't necessarily a flash explosion but a growing fire that burns but doesn't consume. Love, in its purest forms, does purify through this growing fire and not from the scorching explosion of a exploding blast, burning away the impurities but not pushing away the greatest richness found within. This nugget being refined within is the virtue and good works we seek and, in its deepest forms, the insatiable desire for love and to be in communion with the Other.

So it is, timing must come from the understanding that gratification and gift isn't predicated on our readiness of receipt but our willingness to give of ourselves in the service to the Good. Who is the greatest good but Him who made all things and did so in all knowledge of the good works He called us to labor in, under, and in response to His grace?

It is His grace that leads us on, whether it be in outward suffering or in joy contemplated. No matter, joy mustn't remain inward, self-effacing. Joy is always the outward expression of the inward ponderings of a God so great as to give us His Son for expiation of our sins... and for the fulfillment of our deepest longings for Him as One. It is the joy of being filled with His grace.

Ave Maria, gratia plena...

The Incarnation of Love

God has been with me through every love enkindled in my heart for another. He is the Beginning and the End, the Alpha and Omega. It pains me to remember my faults and choices away from such a deep, abiding, and consoling love. It is a frustration that can only be overcome by grace not of the self. Love must be shown; it must be incubated. It must be taught from youth, from birth. Love must be on the lips, selfless in its gift, at its own transmission. And when that offer of generosity is left on the doorstep and no one answers, remember it is not a gift wasted. For so it is, even those who roam the streets must eat. They must have their fill at Love's Banquet.

What greater image do we have of Heaven and the Church than the image of a wedding feast? There is none. Our minds are longing after a consummation that will last, that will be pervasive and fulfilling. What other consummation can there be besides the longing after the end to which one is made? This is the execution of virtue and, its waiting, the building of endurance.

What man will say one day this power is enough, this control of a moment? Will he reject another given? No! He will add power upon power, moment upon moment until he has day upon day and week upon week. He will always welcome, all other powers and gifts being equal, one day more.

So it is, the gift of Eternity. It is the Evergreen gift, the constant Advent for the next day, satiability without end and engagement without boredom.

As children we may have experienced terrible boredom to great lengths. More often than not, it is a lack of learning of the senses and of experience in creation. Creation itself is without tedium. There is always another gift to recreate.

The Creator, the Father Himself, is the example par excellence of this... He has made us in His own image: in the image of the Trinitarian love exhibited between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. He did not shrink from view but rather chose a people for His Himself and willed all may choose to be with Him, thus giving us His very son. This Incarnation is the nexus between every human heart's desire for the Divine to be enfleshed within. Love beckons to build a home sturdy enough to weather the storm and shelter this Incarnation of Love, the very start of an enkindled love that was made manifest over 2,000 years ago in the little town of Bethlehem. Let us never forget to welcome Him in.

May God bless you this Christmas season and continue to bless you with grace unbounded in the New Year to come. Merry Christmas, y'all!

O Lord of All Sweetness...

O Lord of all sweetness... O Lord of all joy...
Come now and enter, this our humble home...
Abode of simplicity, Place of grace and rest...
Take up thy home in hearts of those whom you have blessed.

"Ite Missa Est"

I haven't been able to make it daily Mass much these past two whirlwind weeks, but it is moments like these... these successive moments since... that have pressed me forward, have stretched me, have made me grow in ways not expressible. As I am wont to do, I analyze and theorize the eventual, the plausible, and the possible of the future. I see this as, in part, a dry run not only of future ails but also of future joys.

This is the "ite missa est" of the Mass. It is the going forth that cannot be ignored or encased in a shiny box and disregarded. It is integral to the Christian life.

I still cannot get over the spiritual and mental mementos given to me walking the halls and the streets since, especially on the long walks of the first visitation. It is a surreal state of things that makes me pause and wonder. It also brings me to the chapel and church (if it isn't locked). It makes me wonder and pause as I see the sight out of the window a stone's throw away—the iconic as well as the destitute, the chill of the morning, the dreariness of the fog or rain, the beauty of a bright, sunny day. All of it makes me pause, as though it is pregnant with possibility but also pain.

I suppose it is these moments, these lucid thoughts that are pondered, which in some small way reflect all the things Mary did as it was written that she "kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart" (cf. Luke 2:19). So it is, as with bated expectation, I must do. I must merely reflect His light, as though a lantern on a cold, dark night, and "with dawn there is rejoicing" (cf. Psalm 30:6).

“Frost and chill, bless the Lord;
praise and exalt him above all forever.

Nights and days, bless the Lord;
praise and exalt him above all forever.” - Daniel 3:69, 71

Love as Vocation

Vocation is an interesting topic. Much is often said about it in Catholic circles, especially for those of "religious" vocations, as though there only some specific religious vocation. Hardly is this the case, but it is quibble of the language to be sure.

Or is it only a failure of the language? Is it only an oddity of the English language as the word is? Is it shackled to conceptions that might be ill-formed or, perhaps, only under-formed? Could it be a lack of blossom in the modern conception of the word of "vocation?" Perhaps.

Vocationally, at least within some very reverent and holy groups of Catholics, the idea of the priesthood as the singular "holy" vocation—that is to say, in a way, religious—has historically been the priesthood or consecrated vocations. However, this might as well be a slighted perspective. Not always has this view been the case, but it has prevailed more often than perhaps is necessary. It belabors the earthly joys that the particular vocations offer up in one way or another. However, all authentic vocations do just this besides, in large or small ways, throughout the history of the Church. As it ought to be in the first case.

Nevertheless, we do hear prayers for the religious vocations to flourish. That those with these internal callings to be supported and rightly so. It is necessary, it is needed, and it is helpful. However, it could be say it is also a hindrance to the larger perspective.

How can we raise society merely from these—pardon the evocative language—"miracle cases?" Where are the ordinary cases of holiness? There lies the basis for each authentic vocation lived out as a testament to the Gospel preached. It is the Gospel preached without words but with actions.

God does work miracles, everyday miracles, and ones of intense conversions. Rightly and beautifully so, He does. However, He also works the smaller miracles, the ordinary miracles as well day in and day out within the Domestic Church. Building the Family into the Holy Family, in parcels or parts, raises the watermark for all subsequent actions. The holiness—the set-apart reality of grace—flows from this consecration of the ordinary, as Blessed John Paul the Great taught with his call for a "universal call to holiness" born out of the Second Vatican Council and one of its Apostolic Constitution, Lumen Gentium, as well as John Paul II's Apostolic Letter "Novo Millennio Ineunte" and his Apostolic Exhortation "Familiaris Consortio."

Certainly each vocation builds upon and supports the others, but it takes an initial spark of the Domestic Church, the "Holy Family," the hidden years of toil and work, to bring foundation for the work of the Vineyard at the summation of each person's vocation.

With regard to one's vocation, the heart should burn for consummation, which is to say: to consume and be consumed and yet remain as ever before, constant and unhindered for eternity, a burning bush that remains unburned as zeal presses on in beauty bright. One's vocation shouldn't be the path of least resistance, to the easy way out. It should be the innermost selfless desire wrapped in the greatest good with one's gift set—nothing more, nothing less. It should bear itself through trial and rejection. It should be peerless in its presence, open to questioning, yet receiving no doubt. In the end, the vocation is Love Itself, so in Love should one wait who is discouraged in the Vocation set, in its timing and its wait that Love so gently begets. Come, O Love Divine. Teach us thy ways to peace. Thy name be blessed.

"The Eucharist is the Sacrament of Love; It signifies Love, it produces Love." - St. Thomas Aquinas

It's been such a blessed time to spend so much of it in reflection at the Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham, which has a re-presentation of the Holy House that Lady Richeldis was instructed by Our Lady to build in model of the Holy House in Nazareth.

There is a great joy to be in the Holy House in Nazareth and contemplate God's inner wisdom, the beauty of Love come down. To be at the prime example of the Domestic Church and thus pray for the whole world.

I was given the view, the quiet peace at the Sunday Mass of the Feast of the Holy Family at Our Lady of Walsingham to see a young family, a young suited man with his wife and their young child who kept smiling through out the High Mass, peering back perhaps at the organist and the choir in the loft. Not a cry or frown came from her. I couldn't help but focus there as the readings went on, as it was the Feast Day of the Holy Family... and I was enthralled with the smile, with the image of them. They were among those who went for a wedding anniversary blessing, which I thought was fitting to the time. The joy and contentment of such an example to reverberate and echo the liveable example of the Holy Family.

It amplified to me such a wonderful reverberation of the following reflection:

"[From the family in Nazareth] we learn silence. If only we could once again appreciate its great value...the silence of Nazareth should teach us how to meditate in peace and quiet, to reflect on the deeply spiritual, and to be open to the voice of God's inner wisdom and the counsel of his true teachers. Nazareth can teach us the value of study and preparation, of meditation, of a well-ordered personal spiritual life, and of silent prayer that is known only to God." Pope Paul VI, 5 January 1964

Let us live these words with joy for the New Year ahead. Deo gratias, Anno Domini 2013!

A Shepherd's Chorus

On holy ground we trod...
Glory be to Him Who Is, to our living God.
Will His grace come down again this morn,
This day when He, the Christ child, was born?

Will His grace come to us and visit us this day?
Heaven come down upon us, descend down to us,
Cover us in the grace to stay
For us this Christmas Day.

Manger-born, lowly-lived,
More than this, more is He than this...

A King in squalor
Raised up with selfless valor
For Love, a babe, is born unto us,
Love, our Love, He—Christ Jesus!

Good Christian men, join in!
With all voices begin
The Chorus to end all choruses then...

Join with us, the Praises now;
Join with us, as zeal allows!
Christ is born, Christ the King!

All glory now be;
All glory now rest!
Christ is near; Christ is here!
Christ be forever blest!

Dedicated to Our Lady of Walsingham,
Houston, Texas, December 25, 2012.