Category — My Life

When my father passed away several years ago my mother took it upon herself to visit his grave as frequently as possible. It wasn’t out of a sense of duty or obligation. Having been his constant companion for over thirty years she felt a visceral desire to continue to remain as close to his side as was now possible. And so his grave was transformed to a garden. While others planted sod my mother planted tulips and marigolds. She even had a planter box custom built in the shape of a cross. When it didn’t rain she would transport gallons of water from our home in whatever water receptacle was available: pop bottles, buckets, watering cans. Invariably, more water would fall onto the floor in the back of our car than would water the flowers at Topsoil Cemetery. She spent countless hours caring for those plants. She spent many more crying and in prayer.

The loss of a loved one is a life-changing moment. Greater though are small events that bond us to them. I found myself in a cemetery this evening searching for a grave I had never visited belonging to a person I had never met. With only a rough idea of when he had passed on I knew the chances of finding his monument stone was slim. But I felt the need to search. I passed by the bodies of hundred of souls, none of whom had any connection to me. Yet as I read their names I couldn’t help but think how each person had meant the world to someone. Like the grave of my father, each of these plots had been watered by the tears of people whose lives were forever altered by the loss.

And I was filled with peace.

All who walk this earth are filled with struggle and anxiety. Lives are shattered and rebuilt, only to crash again. Tragedy assuages us and troubles are unrelenting. But there are joyous moments, too. Marriages and first born children. Friends and laughter. A quiet night by a fire or the beauty of a smile which stuns you more than the most glorious sunset ever could. How insignificant are the falls when compared to the miracle of the human experience!?

And so I searched for the grave of a person I had never met. But his life forever changed the life of someone who has brightened my life more than the sun that shone down upon me this evening. At the end all our worries and concerns will be for naught but love will endure. From ever tear that waters a grave life will spring and blossom and the world will be changed forever.

Stephanie Cranford, soprano, Robin Williams, piano, and Theodoric Nowak, reader, perform at St. Teresa’s Parish, St. John’s, Newfoundland.

His Grace, Archbishop Currie IS the Easter Bunny!

Oh, I couldn’t resist.

Happy Easter!

I had a feeling that some people would know precisely what I’m getting at here while others would be lost… I know there’s an interesting mixture of terms, but I think it’s the description of the emotive that some struggle to grasp. Let me know if you understand what I’m getting at. I’ve received a bunch of emails on this, but I’d like to get some comments in the comment section, please!

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Life can be tough when you’re an idealist driven by passion, especially when you hold an unrelenting commitment to rationality. The soul within you pines for purity while your mind reminds you that we’re all stained by original sin. Internally you are fed by hope and trust, but the outsiders inevitably inadvertently winnows your sustenance, claiming that you are uncompromising, that you are searching for something that does not exist. But the rational idealist does know compromise. What others may not see is that it must be negotiated between the head and the heart:

“I should like balls infinitely better,” said Caroline Bingley, “if they were carried on in a different manner … It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the day.”

“Much more rational, I dare say,” replied her brother, “but it would not be near so much like a Ball.” We are told that the lady was silenced: yet it could be maintained that Jane Austen has not allowed Bingley to put forward the full strength of his position. He ought to have replied with a distinguo. In one sense, conversation is more rational, for conversation may exercise the reason alone, dancing does not. But there is nothing irrational in exercising other powers than our reason. On certain occasions and for certain purposes the real irrationality is with those who will not do so. The man who would try to break a horse or write a poem or beget a child by pure syllogizing would be an irrational man; though at the same time syllogizing is in itself a more rational activity than the activities demanded by these achievements. It is rational not to reason, or not to limit oneself to reason, in the wrong place; and the more rational a man is the better he knows this. - C.S. Lewis, “Priestesses in the Church”

The reasoning idealist finds compromise challenging but attainable precisely because he knows that the incomprehensibility of passion and love can’t be grasped through reason. However, if his mind were to actively pursue this necessary compromise his idealist heart would shout of betrayal. Compromise without contradiction can only be attained when the rationality of the mind assents to the passionate pleading of the heart.

Kids can say and do the funniest things. These are my nieces and my nephew. When my sister told me this story in the car I CRACKED up! I had to share it… Notice how when I say the “Jesus Christ” line I blush…

For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
- T.S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”

This Sunday’s lighting of the first advent wreath candle accompanies the beginning of a new liturgical year. There won’t be a countdown or confetti, no parties or Champagne. Rather, we enter a solemn season. During this time the Church calls the faithful to prepare themselves to celebrate the anniversary of our Lord’s coming into the world. It is a time for each Catholic to resolve to make their souls fitting abodes for the coming of Christ in the Eucharist and through grace. It is a time for each to resolve to be ready for Christ’s coming as judge, both at death and at the end of the world. In essence, it is a time for the faithful to reflect on what is required to live a holy and saintly life and resolve to make the necessary changes.

Yet sanctity can not be found in recreating ourselves. We have been wonderfully made and our full potential can only be realized by reshaping ourselves to God’s image. As that image is Christ, who took on the form of man to heal it, we must embrace our individual God-given natures and strive to improve them. Thus, determining how to grow spiritually requires us to recognize and cultivate our unique strengths and characteristics.

When I first began law school I continuously found myself confessing the same type of sin to my spiritual director. When I queried him as to why he thought I was persistently facing this particular struggle he replied by asking me if I knew what the greatest saints have in common. When I stumbled to respond he looked at me and said: “The greatest saints are those that are most uniquely themselves.”

Both our greatest spiritual struggles and our paths to salvation lie in what makes us most uniquely ourselves. The challenge is for each of us is to recognize the passions which form the quintessence of our nature and then divert them away from sin and direct them towards God’s greater glory.

As God places unique passions within each one of us, your spiritual journey will not necessarily resemble that of your associates any more than St. Joseph’s resembled St. Peter’s or St. Pio of Pietrelcina’s resembled St. Bernadette’s. Each of us must walk a different path to the same destination:

A brother questioned an old man saying, “What good work should I do so that I may live?” The old man said, “God knows what is good. I have heard it said that one of the Fathers asked Abba Nisterus the Great, the friend of Abba Anthony, and said to him, “What good work is there that I could do?” He said to him, “Are not all actions equal? Scripture says that Abraham was hospitable and God was with him. David was humble, and God was with him. Elias loved interior peace and God was with him. So, do whatever you see your soul desires according to God and guard your heart.”

God has placed unique passions within your heart and given you a unique role to play in salvific history. May your new year’s resolution be to acknowledge those passions and gifts and ask Him to direct them toward His greater glory so that “He will make straight your paths.” Have a blessed and holy new year!

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I will begin praying a St. Jude Novena this Sunday (for a special intention, of course!). Please feel free to join me!: http://www.prayerbook.com/Novenas/judenove.htm

Can a city dweller hear God’s voice clearly or does the constant cacophony dull His diction? If St. John of the Cross is right in asserting that it is “great wisdom to know how to be silent” then is city living sane for the serious seeker of Christ?:

“We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence…we need silence to be able to touch souls.” – Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta

Yet there have always been holy souls who have preferred human nature to the other kind. The late Fr. Richard Neuhaus regarded New York City as “the prolepsis of the New Jerusalem”, facetiously questioning why someone would deliberately live anywhere else. Even Thomas Merton, who was later to become a renowned contemplative monk, found happiness and contentment at Columbia University. Neither confused the spiritual with the temporal - God’s call is heard in the depths of the heart and only incidentally anywhere else.

Nonetheless, the city does influence its inhabitants. Like the emmet - ant - which loses it’s way in Blake’s “Dream”, some lose Christ among the multitude of paths the city presents.

A few months ago I was at St. Pancras station in London, waiting for a train which would take me to Paris. I ventured down the street in hopes of providentially stumbling upon a Church where I could pray or even attend Mass. I walked for a good ten minutes, but soon became convinced that if there was a spire in the vicinity the looming masonry brick buildings which lined the street probably obscured it from view.

Just as I was committing to abandoning my search, I came across an advertisement for a cellular phone company. The large megacorporation ironically offered a lament of the impersonality associated with communications industry in England. The poster presented two men and a woman, each in an indignant posture and donning a scowl. Below the photograph the caption declared: “I am not a number”.

Not a number…. Looking at the countenance of each I recalled the prototype structures I had passed along the way. Aside from the number outside each door, there had been little to differentiate one from another. I recounted the expressionless glances of commuters on the subway. I recollected the swarms that had passed by on the street without any nod of acknowledgment whatsoever. I recalled the words of Byron: “and was Jerusalem builded here, amongst these dark satanic mills?”

“Not a number”? Not even a number.

The stark reality is that most of us are no ones to most everyone. None of us are likely to ever meet the people in that advertisement and even if we did we’d never know them. Their lives, their personal crises, their hopes and dreams, their disillusionments and tragedies - all of these are unknown to us. Even the most prominent of figures face a similar fate. And even if a person obtains global prominence their legacy will be factual and cold.

Fame

“Who was the most famous person
In the empire of Trebizond?”
Blank complete – no body knew that.
I asked: “does it really matter?”
“Uh no”, they answered quietly.
I said: “I do not know either;”
“nor do I really care so much!”
“Such is fame!” I told my class.

- Wieslaw Nowak, May 9, 1997

St. Francis was most blunt in expressing this reality of our temporal nothingness, a reality made obvious in the city. Having walked atop Mount Subiaso and gazed upon the vastness of Perugia, he memorably exclaimed that we are nothing but worms. Speaking at the turn of the century, he could scarcely have envisaged the literal significance his statement would attain for those that commute to work each morning by subway. Whether the analogy be to emmets or worms, there’s something unsettling about a life in which we find similarity with the subhuman.

As bleak as the metaphor may be, St. Francis found in it not despair but hope. Focusing on the transcendental rather than the temporal, he realized that it was only in God that he could find eternal meaning. Unconstrained by temporal limits, God was able to know him to the fullest extent and to the depths of his being. Moreover, He was able to love him both completely and eternally, across time and space. Only by placing his temporal condition juxtapose God’s eternal ambition for his soul was Francis able to obtain the strength and courage - the grace - to renounce this world completely and pursue a relationship with Jesus with such unprecedented vigour.

Although Francis’ eventually chose the green martyrdom of monastic life, it was his vocation rather than the intrinsic nature of cosmopolitan life which led to this decision. He renounced the world in his heart before he ever did so externally. What mattered to Francis was not where he was, but that he was where he was best able to separate the spiritual from the temporal and embrace Christ most fully. The challenge presented to the modern city-dweller is to see Christ within her neighbour and embrace Him fully in her vocation. The temporal reality of his namelessness stands juxtapose one of God’s greatest miracles: that Jesus invites every person into a personal relationship. Each is known, loved and called by name. Always and forever. Even in the city. To God no one is a number.

Mary, Queen of the World Parish in Mount Pearl hosted a series of retreats presented by young adults from St. Johns. Each night between November 17-20, 2009, a different young adult recounted their personal conversion story and then elaborated upon some of the themes that have been central to their faith experience. Each incorporated aspects of the parable of the Prodigal Son. The talks are available for you to listen to and download. To download the file in mp3 format, right-click on the respective link and select “Save link as…”.

Laura Cooper - Tuesday, November 17, 2009
After recounting her conversion story, which was influenced by a summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro, Laura discussed the importance of accepting God’s Mercy and surrendering our lives to God. Download or listen to Laura’s story HERE (approx. 31.5 MB)

Brad Glynn - Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Brad’s conversion involved a series of falls which brought about the realization that he was heading in the wrong direction. The majority of Brad’s retreat talk focuses on the parable of the Prodigal son. He carefully guides a reflection on all three of the main characters involved, both before and after the younger son’s conversion. Download or listen to Brad’s story HERE (approx. 28.2 MB)

Theodoric Nowak - Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Theodoric’s conversion occurred in Rome during World Youth Day in 2000. He looks at Chapter Six of the Gospel of John and the story of Jesus’ disciples on the road to Emmaus. The Eucharist was central to his experience and he suggests that it is the main source of strength for maintaining ardency after the epiphany of conversion. Download or listen to Theodoric’s story HERE (approx. 38.4 MB)

Growing up, my mother always insisted that tattoos were hideous. I was told that I could never get one. Of course, there’s a temporal limit to authority. If a man can wed another woman following the death o fhis former spouse, surely a son can get a tattoo once his formerly-unapproving mother has passed. All too aware of my stubbornness while on earth, from her current vantage she can only observe the full breadth of my resolve.

In the book of Jeremiah, the author laments the Israelites’ rejection of the Lord: “Of old time thou hast broken my yoke, thou hast burst my bands, and thou saidst: I will not serve.” (Jeremiah 2: 20 DRB) These last words, “non serviam“, have traditionally been ascribed to Satan in the story of the fall of the angels from heaven.

In Catechism on Pride, St. John Vianney elaborates: “Pride is that accursed sin which drove the angels out of paradise, and hurled them into Hell. This sin began with the world.”

If the sin of pride began with the world, it is in overcoming pride that we obtain God’s forgiveness and advance toward sanctity. The final sentence of Psalm 142, the last words of the seventh and final penitential psalm, proclaims: “Et perdes omnes qui tribulant animam meam, Quoniam ego servus tuus sum.” – “And Thou wilt cut off all that afflict my soul: for I am Thy servant.”

It is these words which I am planning on ascribing on the upper portion of arm, between my bicep and tricep and just below my shoulder. I’d like the words to be just below a circle of thorns circumscribing a monogram: perhaps the IHS, the “mirror of justice”, a Tau cross or a Pelican. The tattoo would be done just with black ink. I’d love to read your feedback.

This is my life at the moment