Neither Love nor Truth Impose Themselves...

"He is Love and Truth, and neither love nor truth impose themselves; they knock at the door of the heart and mind and, where allowed in, they bring peace and joy." - Pope Benedict XVI

Yes, there is no imposition of love and of truth. It cannot be. And yet, this world is so devoid of both, love and truth—love in truth and truth in love—what beauty is there when beauty in the two together is not separated? It cannot be my question alone. One, two, hundreds, thousands—all of us—ask this question in our hearts and, whether or not we admit it—some do—to God. Simply a vocation of love is not enough. It must be rooted in the Truth. And, yet, I still wrestle with all of this. This rise, this fall.

How is it, this world with its unrest, its angst and hatred, cannot see its connectedness? We are all one! Why not the unity, the solidarity of hearts and minds? Why cannot we put down the differences, the hatreds, the bombs, the terrors? Cannot we live as one? This world is too much, too much to be itself alone. It cannot be all. Cruelty has its end. Hatred has its end. Death has its end. It is not all.

And this is where the testimony to Love and Truth—love in Truth and truth in Love—comes to pass. It comes to raise body and soul from the depths, from the deepest recesses of heart and mind. It comes to bind us to the vocation set. It comes to bind us to both truth and to love. It anchors hearts on the steadfast truth found in Christ; it gives the soul another way.

It gives the soul its invitation to do the same and to never look back. And this is grace, grace from God: to accept the invitation to love in truth.

Peace be with you.

Dear Woman

Dear woman,
Bring me home,
Bring me back,
Back to where I belong.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

Let me come in,
Out of the cold,
Out of the dark.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

I am not perfect,
I am not monumental,
No, I am poor.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

I cannot promise the world
Or all the riches in it,
Only the love needed,
Needed to say "Yes"
As you say "Yes."

Dear woman,
Let me in.

Let us serve Him,
Let us live with His Love,
Let us turn to His grace.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

I come not to conquer,
I come to live,
To win with you the blessed race.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

I will wait for you,
In the cold,
In the dark,
In the veiled courts,
I will wait for you.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

My song is not boastful,
My song is not conceited,
My song is not inflated,
My song goes out to you.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

My song is not my own,
For we see now in partial,
What will be later fully known,
Yet still this is my song for you:

Dear woman,
Let me in.

I know not why this chord
Replays itself, time eterne,
To bring Him ever near:

Dear woman,
Let me in.

It's the words that haunt me,
That tear from me a bone, a rib,
That makes each of us one, one flesh.

Dear woman,
Let me in.

When the perfect comes,
The imperfect will pass away,
Only these words to remain:

Dear woman,
Let me in.

Dear woman,
Bring me home,
Bring me back,
Back to where we belong.

Dear woman,
Let us love—
He will show the Way.

We Mustn't Fall in Love...

We mustn't fall in love, we must rise in it. Love is the search for truth and beauty. If it is indeed such a search, where else must we go than up, rising to the Heavens? Such things in time we learn do exist.

This world may give the appearance of running like clockwork, on its 24/7 rotation of endless schedules of always running, always on-time. However, this world runs not on the consistent humdrum of efficient interaction, but rather on everyday miracles of grace and moments of wonder and inspiration. For as the world cannot prosper without the drenching rains of doubt, it cannot blossom without the everlasting rays of Light and the roaring fires of Love, covering all of Creation. Life depends on both doubt—and through it, tested and enduring faith—as well as Love to carry on.

Life needs both the waters of doubt-tested faith to remove and the fires of Love to completely consume, not one thing or another in our lives or our world—but all! To cover all of it, the world over, in a mantle of love in an all-consuming fire... not of destruction but a mantle engulfing with a Passion, a love in its purest of forms, as gold tested in fire. So is love in its purest of forms. So the search continues for truth and beauty, for truth in beauty and beauty in truth, but the truth is it has already been found. We must only have the eyes to see it in the world in front of us. It is there. Always. Always, it is there.

Be fearless to spread this fire to the world. For in spreading this mantle, we rise in love. And this is the most beautiful thing we can do, to be fearless in the Love of Christ and to never, never turn back. To always do what most pleases Him, to do what best gives us greater intimacy with Him. We love the Other not because of vanity or self-preservation. No, we love the Other, whether in singularity of eros or magnanimity of philos and agape, because of the gift God has given to each of us, even when the road may be dry and distant and the journey seemingly lost. We love Him because he first loved us.

We must rise in love.

Confession

In my loneliness,
I have reached out.
In my pain,
I have sought dry wells of grace.

I have sought things,
Things that are not my own,
Things I should have not,
Things that do not satisfy the thirst.

In my loneliness,
I have have failed one; I have failed all.
In my pain,
I have sought an empty place.

In my sorrow,
I have run.
In my pain,
I have run from guideposts of grace.

I have run from hearts,
Hearts ready to love,
Hearts ready to give,
Hearts filled with good things.

In my sorrow,
I fall down.
In my pain,
I fall to my knees.

Forgive me, Lord:
It is You whom I seek.

At the Icy Gates

At the icy gates
There I stand
With thought and with prayer,
With heart and outstretched hands.

I think no better of myself
Than those behind these gates
Tempted by the same temptations,
Awash in my own fate.

At these gates I pray,
Pray for the little ones
And those who know not,
Who know not what they do,
Those who think themselves alone.

The darkness abounds;
The icy winds have their grip.
Prayers and presence melt not the ice
As the call leaves my chapped lips:
"You are not alone; His Love will suffice."

His Love will take us back;
His Love will melt that ice,
Tear us from our selfish pride;
His Love will suffice.

At the icy gates
There we will stand.
Won't you take my hand,
Dear woman,
Dear man...
His Love will suffice.

At the icy gates
His Love will prevail...
His Love will melt the ice...
His Love will melt the fear...
His Love will suffice.

At the icy gates
His Love will suffice.

A Thousand Sunsets

A thousand sunsets
Guide us to You,
To glory, to grace,
To mercy and joy in You.

Speak to us now,
In prayer and speech,
The words of the Past,
In the Word that You speak.

A heart meek and mild
Have You sought us to be;
My heart and hers, we pray:
Guide us, O Lord, to the Word that You teach.

Leave us not in darkness,
Out of touch, out of reach,
Guide each our hearts to You,
In both word and in deed.

Speak, O Lord, speak
To each of us in turn
Of the Glory You've done,
The Glory already given.

Turn our hearts toward
The Light You now give us;
Speak to us the Truth
That He shall never leave us.

Let our words be faithful,
Our actions ever true,
To center our hearts and minds
Forever and always on You.

Let our "Yes" never be hollow,
Empty, or ring untrue;
Let us forever say "Yes, Lord—
Yes, Lord, we do."

May each day remind us of this very Vow,
Not to each of us alone, but to You this moment now,
So that when we share the next thousand,
Its light may ever lead us to You—
Forever and always to You.

A thousand sunsets—
Binding and blinding—
Always shining—
Forever to You.

Home

Whether fractured or new,
What makes a home a home
Is the love found in you,
And what love is there in another!

Home, gift of place and of hearth—
Special memories, a family to start—
Yet not just family but self in other
And other in self.

Home, blessed home, where life starts,
Sacred space, sanctified with new life.
Life nurtured from womb to heart
And heart to vocation,
Nursery of the Faith of the Ages!

Blessings are found even if far,
Far from where the love starts,
Found in distance and nearness,
Found with love and generosity of self.

Gift of self gives a home its start,
But more is needed for the flame to keep its warmth,
Fuel for the sacrifice of self in other
And other in self, kindling for the beautiful warmth of the Light.

The Wood of the sacrifice must be center
For the blessings of joy and of mercy to enter,
But more—much more—burning hearts desire
Not of own but all of other than self,
Of other in Christ.

Love shapes the way
To heart and home,
To the warmth of the Light,
And guides one's way back home.

Within it though wistful,
Memory's joys play sight
And in them a warmth of heart
Brings back to mind Love Divine, our soul's delight.

Home finds its way,
To hearts our very own,
Not simply for a longing, of where we've been this day
And before—but for places where we yet go.

For even since our first day we have known
This place, our true place—
Heaven, this is our true Home.
Let us return Home.

Identity

Birth to breath,
Breath to voice,
Voice to Word,
Word to Love,
Love to Act,
Act to You.
Identity, birth anew.

How shall I pen
What wells forth,
From Creator to Creation,
The love that dwells within
Since my breath had begun?

Vision after vision, the Image–
The Gift that is His alone.
How can I not be impassioned–
To share with you as One?

He calls me; He tugs at me
To make anew a home,
To share with you a love,
One, in Him, that will never be undone.

This is what drives a man mad:
Not the image of the passing,
Of the imperfect lusts, the passing,
No, the vision, the beauty of the everlasting.

It sets in him a fire of devotion,
Turns his heart end over end in pure commotion,
Demands of him to turn over all,
To hold fast to what is true and what is beautiful.

The man loses not himself in this battle,
This battle of self and of love.
No, the man gains all
In this race of sacrificial love.

He conquers not; he fails not
In this battle to love.
He loses not his identity,
To love, with the Creator, the One.

It is in this very identity
That this man was once born,
But it is also the identity that, with the Other,
He shall pass to daughter and to son.

This is the identity that the Father gives the Son,
That I must do and I must follow,
To love You–only You–
With a heart made for One.

Such a Night to Believe

"For even they who were scornful on that day of small beginnings shall rejoice to see the select stone in the hands of Zerubbabel. These seven facets are the eyes of the LORD that range over the whole earth." - Zechariah 4:10

Christmas, of all the seasons and times of the year, proves to be a time of both the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. It was such at the time of the birth of Jesus and since that very time.

The beauty inspired by that singular birth has driven so many to the Greater Good, to our God of peace. How could such beauty be born in the meekest of means? How can such a night of darkness bear to birth such a glorious morn of Light?

It is the very same that brings forth new life in the face of the redeeming act in the Resurrection. This is why Mass is celebrated on Christmas Eve, on the cusp of Christmas Day—Christ's Mass. It is birth anew.

Birth is brought forth from the Virgin Mother and Breath gives way to Voice, and the Voice does not go unheard. His Voice takes form to give us the Word that has always been and always will be. And this Word is Love. This is why this Night of all nights goodwill among men is shown. Love has been born.

However, Love cannot be separated from the Act—or the lack thereof. The Act must be there. The Perfect Yes—such as the "Yes" of the Blessed Virgin Mother, Our Mother, Mary did at the Annunciation. Without the Annunciation there would be no Nativity and without the Nativity, no Calvary. And without Calvary there would be no "You." Our very life would be without order and without Love, Love Divine.

We must reach this Identity and pass this Identity to one another, to share this Identity to one and all but most especially in our vocation and station in life.

How can a heart not be impassioned this Night above all other nights? How can a heart and soul not believe in the Promise of God the Father for His children, lost and abandoned to a world lost in oppression, pain, and sorrow?

This is where the choruses raising this evening find voice to sing of this Holy Night, to sing of the Night when Christ was born.

This is the Night of our Identity, our birth anew. Rejoice! May glad tidings and goodwill be sought and found this day, but not just this day but every—that we may live our Identity each and every day—to be Love, to mirror God who is Love.

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.
All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be.
What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." - John 1:1-5

Reflections

Water's edge, faces are found
What one finds, not alone
Worthy wishes of want and desire,
Waiting on the time, Love Divine.

A hand reaches out, touching
The water's surface, unsettling
The image given of love, of other
And of other in self.

Water's edge, changing what was
Shows something even more,
Love in the other to be reflected,
Love once in glass, now shattered.

A tear falls down, sadness dropping
Water shakes, water roils from below
Ripples run, in all directions
The hearts fail to love as one.

Water's edge clears to a new scene,
One of searching hearts, one of longing:
Two faces, one place—both fighting—
Fighting for the safety of grace, of something more.

Reflections found, something more
Desires of heart, patience in heart.
Seeking hearts, one place
All in all, Truth in Love.

Reflections of love,
Truth in the flesh.

If I Could Dream a Dream

If I could dream a dream, I would dream one of you. We do these things and the other things not because they are easy, but because they are hard. If I could, I would right now, dream beyond this world and place, to another, to a far different place. If I could muster a voice strong enough, innovative enough, I would voice one strong enough for you.

If I could go to the Moon and snatch it, from the deepest reaches of the mind, and grab it, I would bring it to you— no different, no surprising than a smile before your face. If I could, I would fight the darkness that abounds, the battles that are found. I would fight them for you.

If I could do nothing more than love you, to bring everything before you, I would. I would bring every last morsel, every drop to drink. I would bring them to you. If I could gather all to you under the roof of love and sustain you because of this, I would. I would bear all things for you.

If I could be light for your light, to bring that light to this world of darkness, I would. I would carry it forward, to every crevasse, every valley, every pit of darkness. If I could, I would carry it for you. If I could in all I do, I would be light for you.

If I could be love for your love, a smiling face, a turn of grace—one to love in your very place—I would bring them all, all of them to love. If I could be love, then maybe I would understand. I would understand your plan. If I could be love, then I would understand.

If I could understand the world, its ways, its many shades of gray, what would I stand to lose in you? If I could stand beneath this waterfall of grace, would I not be washed from my pain? If I could stand with you, I would sing with a voice renewed, a voice in Truth.

If I could stand firm with your grace, I would spread your fragrance to every place. With every step, let me stay with you. If I could bring the world to you, I would. If I trust you in all steps lit by lamp, I would be secure in each step. If I would only trust, I would find the path to you.

If I could find that voice, one of love to give, one strong enough to live each day secure, I would be strong enough, strong enough for you. If I could dream the dream of love, I would dream one of you. I would dream a dream of you.

Always Breathe

Always breathe in the breath that God gave you...
Always breathe in the Life God intends for you...
Always give the breath of Life to others that God plans through you...
Always breathe in the Life, even if it's hard to remember to keep on breathing.


Poetry is nothing more than breathing put to words—the exhalations of thoughts put to rhythm and rhyme to exclaim the joys of the Divine.

The Vianney File

Below is what I've decided to call "The Vianney File." It's a series of four poems that I wrote during a visit to Houston for the dramatic performance Vianney about St. John Vianney. Sitting in the pew at the premiere, I wrote the following poems with my own voice but also with an attentive ear to St. John Vianney's life and his voice, specifically Vianney's love for the Eucharist and Confession.

In the first, Sanctus, I explore the timelessness of the Sacrifice and the words tied to it, specifically, "Sanctus." This one was written during the opening hymn before the performance. The sacred music did so much to raise my soul to write these words.

In the second, Moment of Grace, I have attempted to link the Eucharist and the necessary Reconciliation for that communion. I've also explored here some of the sacramental life in general that all Catholics are called to. This one came in rapid succession to the first. It also acts as a personal prayer of thanksgiving through the line "Soul rejoices over the Other." It is, in fact, a thanksgiving for the communion of persons shared that evening from the community of St. Mary's in College Station. The moments of grace and the moments of love are one in the same.

In the third, Weeping in Love, I explore a phrase used during the production by St. John Vianney: "Weeping in love." It's something Vianney did often, and through this poem I try to emulate with dignity. He did indeed find little rest, but it was because he emulated Jesus in giving of himself to his flock, to his loved ones. And so we must do, in our little ways, also.

The fourth, Faithful Families, is a poem of appeal. It is an appeal that was veiled in the historical nature of Vianney's time as well as ours today—the growing secularism of society and the general godlessness of today. This poem is meant as an arousal from the doldrums of our faith. It is a call to action.

If we do not rise to be of faithful families, how are we to go forth and positively change the world? Can it be done if we do not root ourselves first in the Faith? Love cannot be broached by lustful desire, and rightly so only the water He gives brings forth Eternal Life. His love does cover a multitude of sins, and, in this poem, the prayer goes forth for all to return to the fold.

The fourth poem took the longest to compose, seeing as the natural light in the Sanctuary disappeared as the performance continued on, but like ones before this one it was brought to fruition later before the Blessed Sacrament. Even so, I am nearly certain there will be more poems of the sort to fill this file, maybe some more trivial, but what matters most is not the secondary messenger but the Message itself. Here they are, as of yet...


Sanctus

What words to describe,
Life, love—timeless in sight...
What glory given—
Words, those words: Sanctus!

What joy in communion,
Faithful wonder and mystery,
Timeless joy in oneness—
Faithful communion, Sanctus!

What wonder in love,
Faceless and seen all the same,
What wonder in sight—
The moment becomes eternal, Sanctus!

What gift in love—
Blessed Communion in Spirit,
Blessed Communion in Host,
Blessed Communion in the Other,
Blessed Communion in Love!
Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus!


Moment of Grace

Moment of grace,
Moment of love—
Absolution from the Mark,
Communion face-to-face!

Spirit graces Soul,
Soul rejoices over the Other,
Spirit and Soul soar skyward—
Soul speaks His Glory.

What gift immeasurable, the Moment
No length of time can compare
Where love and grace meet—
The Soul that is spared.

What glory to speak, a mystery
Without fear, without worry—
Perfect love casts out fear,
Soul rejoices over the Other.

Moment of grace,
Moment Eternal,
What love to revere!
Soul speaks His Glory!

Movement of heart,
From stone to life,
Where grasp is turned to gift,
Gift of face-to-face.

Heart Afire, Heart of Glory,
Speak to us now,
Speak to us with gift of grace,
Communion face-to-face!

Moment upon moment,
United through the moments
To love in the Moment—
To see His Glory face-to-face.


Weeping in Love

Weeping in love,
Immeasurable grief,
Abandonment to God's will,
Dependence in His Providence.

Weeping in love,
Fighting the tears,
What of my direction?
Am I even near?

Weeping in love,
Turning all to Him,
Leaving all behind,
Turning to His Grace.

Weeping in love,
Finding no rest,
No rest for the weary,
Only rest in Him.

Weeping in love,
No conversion without price,
No victory without defeat,
No joy without grief.

Weeping in love,
God fills in the lacking,
The missing He restores;
God gives His Love Restored.

Weeping in love,
All hearts are to be,
Given to the Other
In perfect harmony.

Weeping in love,
That is who we are to be.


Faithful Families

Family of the living,
Family of the past,
What have you done,
Forsaking all the past?

Where is thy devotion,
Where is thy love?
Where are your hearts
That are supposed to be burning with love?

In the brothels,
In the dens—
With wanton looks,
With the multitude of sins!

What choice is there
When love is broached
By lustful desire to be filled
And yet never is fully filled?

No amount of water
Will slake your deadly thirst,
Unless you drink of His water,
Unless you let Him love you first.

His love covers the multitude of sins;
The many souls He saves.
His love does this all;
The whole world He saves.

Don't you get this,
The magnitude of this message?
Don't you understand it,
The Truth in this Age?

He covers all in His love.
Return O families to Him.
With all mercy He restores,
By the Father's right hand, it is Him.

Grace upon grace,
No matter the distress,
Build a Civilization of Love—
Build on Him, the Mighty Fortress.

Faithful families rise up,
Let us pray fervently—
Pray for those lost souls—
Pray for His love to forever take hold—
Pray for mercy, mercy to behold—
Pray that all may return to the fold.

An Addendum: Catholic Ethos

I've come across something more to add to the last posting and would like to offer an addendum and an expansion to further magnify what was already stated on a Catholic political ethos.

As it was read from the Gospel according to St. John this Sunday:

Jesus said to them, "Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died, whoever eats this bread will live forever." ( John 6:53-58)

To summarize and distill Jesus' words here and, as it were, also the call to all Christians in its very essence: "In brief, the Eucharist is the sum and summary of our faith: 'Our way of thinking is attuned to the Eucharist, and the Eucharist in turn confirms our way of thinking.'" (CCC 1327). These words, "Our way of thinking is attuned to the Eucharist, and the Eucharist in turn confirms our way of thinking," come to us from St. Irenaeus in the Second Century A.D.—before the Schism of East and West, before the Protestant Reformation. The question we must ask now is, why aren't we fully living it in every aspect of our lives? The Church is not stating in her teaching that it is merely our religious thinking or our political thinking. Her teaching states clearly our thinking ought to be attuned to the Eucharist, to His Sacrifice—where time and space are spanned.

This is the Catholic Ethos: the Eucharist.

In Response: A Catholic Political Ethos

I was sent a convincing collection of U.S. state constitution preambles in the context of questioning President Barack Obama's 2009 words in Turkey: "We do not consider ourselves a Christian nation or a Jewish nation or a Muslim nation. We consider ourselves a nation of citizens who are bound by ideals and a set of values."

The preambles of the constitutions use an explicit declaration of an "Almighty God" and even the Virginia Declaration of Rights states in its Article XVI: "That religion, or the duty which we owe to our Creator and the manner of discharging it, can be directed by reason and conviction, not by force or violence; and therefore, all men are equally entitled to the free exercise of religion, according to the dictates of conscience; and that it is the mutual duty of all to practice Christian forbearance, love, and charity towards each other."

I am neither going to agree or disagree with the President's words or those of the author of the e-mail I received regarding them. However, the Virginia Declaration of Right's words speak to the duty we have in our view of society and of government in general. I wish to claim it necessary, as such, to view—and thus to to judge—the whole of American society through this particular lens.

Whether or not we were, are, are going to be a Christian nation...the first thing that must be done and instilled in our civics classes is that we have the right as citizens to the exercise of our religious beliefs, which does not mean a shirking of religion from the public square. Rather, it is a healthy expression (not coercion) of religious belief. And, in that, we are to live out the free will we were given since the time of Creation and thus reiterated, time and time again, in the preambles of our state constitutions and echoed countless times through our country's existence—that a country's citizens have a right to not be coerced but to live with one's countrymen in peace and prosperity. That we are truly endowed with the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Freedom of religion (or more rightly stated as freedom from an established state religion) does not equate to freedom from the existence any religion in the public square of the State. If this were to be the case, then the citizen's liberty has been trampled upon and the citizen's pursuit of happiness been halted dead in its tracks.

All men practice religion, but only few actually know what or whom they worship. It's often money, fame, or simply the vain pursuits of life. However, the true virtue of man is to look beyond one's own happiness and see the common good, the common thread in his fellow man. The true practice of religion is to see God's graces in His humanity and His creation and see the Sacrifice He instituted, once and for all time, for the salvation of Man—for the life, the liberty, and the happiness all men deeply long for. It is because of this Sacrifice and the awe of one's gifted existence which flows from this Sacrifice that they are called to true worship, not because of coercion of belief or because of mere labels.

Only once our countrymen actually live up to this calling, to this rugged individualism balanced with a responsible love can we even dare to even call ourselves a "Christian" nation in both word and deed. Only then can we be fully proud to be Americans.

Listen to what Ronald Reagan has to say: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yS4yf723kmY

Patriotism is not meant to be blind. It must be informed, informed not just with thoughtfulness and knowledge but also compassion for one's fellow man. There is no freedom without sacrifice. Freedom exists because of sacrifice.

As Pope John Paul II once said: "As the family goes, so goes the nation and so goes the whole world in which we live." We must change this country not by political speeches but by change in one family at a time. We are called to be missionaries to the secular world. It is in this missionary work that true change can—and will occur. All we must do is put our Hope in the correct place and be the change through Him who sent us—and do all this with perfect confidence in His love.

------

In chapter three of the Georgetown University Press book by Charles E. Curran, Catholic Moral Theology in the United States: a History, pages 77 to 78, the censured Curran makes an interesting deduction: that American constitutionalism as found in the prevailing inalienable rights "is in continuity with medieval constitutionalism" (78).

All other questions of Curran the theologian aside, the first two paragraphs on American political consensus are a good read. As St. Paul said in 1 Thessalonians 5:21: "Test everything; retain what is good"!