So today it arrives in print, a signed and official letter of obedience--I am going to be guardian of the friary. The guardian, our Constitutions say, is the local superior, that is, of a friary. It's kind of a curious thing. 'Local' is a good Franciscan word; the first friars simply had 'places' where they stayed. But 'superior' is a tough word in the Franciscan imagination. As Francis says in the earlier Rule: "Let no one be called 'prior,' but let everyone in general be called a lesser brother. Let one wash the feet of another."
I'm apprehensive about this new turn in my religious life, but I'm humbled by the trust of the brothers and I'm trying to trust God, who has given me thus far all of the graces I've needed to manage what I have tried to do in a sincere effort at living my vow of obedience.
I've tried to be attentive to my spiritual preparation since this first started to come into focus at the beginning of the summer. I've prayed over the Rule and Constitutions, reviewed some of the constitutional history of the Order, and I re-read Jacques Dalarun's wonderful book, Francis of Assisi and Power.
Sometimes it is said that 'guardian' is a translation of what Francis called a custos or custodian, but this isn't quite the same thing in the history of our governance. Francis talked about guardians, and one of the things I've done for myself in these days is to remind myself of all the times he speaks of this ministry in his own writings:
"And let all the brothers be bound to obey their guardians and to recite the Office according to the Rule." (Testament, 30)
"And I firmly wish to obey the general minister of this fraternity and the other guardian whom it pleases him to give me. And I so wish to be a captive in his hands that I cannot go anywhere or do anything beyond obedience and his will, for he is my master." (Testament, 27)
"I, Brother Francis, a useless man and unworthy creature of the Lord God, speak through the Lord Jesus Christ to Brother H., [i.e. Brother Elias] the General Minister of our entire Order and all the general ministers who will come after him, and to the other custodians and guardians of the brothers, who are and who will be, that they might keep this writing with them, put it into practice and eagerly preserve it." (Letter to the Entire Order, 47)
The letter concerns the devout celebration of Mass in our places, as well as devotion to Mary.
"If any one of the brothers, at the instigation of the enemy, shall have sinned mortally, let him be bound by obedience to have recourse to his guardian." (Letter to a Minister, 14)
"I wish to know in this way if you love the Lord and me, His servant and yours: that there is not any brother in world who has sinned--however much he could have sinned--who, after he has looked into your eyes, would ever depart without your mercy, if he is looking for mercy. And if he were not looking for mercy, you would ask him if he wants mercy. And if he would sin a thousand times before your eyes, love him more than me so that you may draw him to the Lord; and always be merciful with brother such as these. And you may announce this to the guardians, when you can, that, for your part, you are resolved to act in this way." (Letter to a Minister, 9-12)
Translations from Francis of Assisi: Early Documents vol. I: The Saint
July 22, 2011
July 21, 2011
Usus Contrarius
In religious life and the priesthood, to call someone 'rigid' is one of the gravest accusations. One can be called rigid when his idea of his privilege to be faithful to what the Church asks and expects is interpreted by someone else as not real faithfulness at all, but rather legalism, pharisaism, obsessive compulsion, mania for control, or the symptom of some other mental pathology.
This post is an example of how I am not rigid, just in case anybody ever thought or said so.
Believe it or not, for Mass at the Poor Clares today, despite the fact that it's not what we do in the Roman rite, messes up the logic of the vesting prayers, and does not make sense in what seems to me to be the theology of sacred vesture, I...wait for it...wore the stole over the chasuble.
As we read in Redemptionis sacramentum 123:
So why would I do such a thing? Because Sister Sacristan asked me nice, is very much my senior in religion, and because I new she had made the stole herself, complete with a lovely Franciscan coat of arms. So, because I'm not rigid, for the feast of St. Lawrence today, I wore Sister's Franciscan stole over the chasuble.
No doubt this post will be annoying to many readers. Some will be annoyed that I did such a thing, others that I'm bragging about it, and still others that I care about such things at all. But as one of my oldest friends in the Catholic journey used to say, "The devil is in the details, and I suspect God is to be found there too."
This post is an example of how I am not rigid, just in case anybody ever thought or said so.
Believe it or not, for Mass at the Poor Clares today, despite the fact that it's not what we do in the Roman rite, messes up the logic of the vesting prayers, and does not make sense in what seems to me to be the theology of sacred vesture, I...wait for it...wore the stole over the chasuble.
As we read in Redemptionis sacramentum 123:
"The vestment proper to the Priest celebrant at Mass, and in other sacred actions directly connected with Mass unless otherwise indicated, is the chasuble, worn over the alb and stole.” (GIRM 337) Likewise the Priest, in putting on the chasuble according to the rubrics, is not to omit the stole. All Ordinaries should be vigilant in order that all usage to the contrary be eradicated.
So why would I do such a thing? Because Sister Sacristan asked me nice, is very much my senior in religion, and because I new she had made the stole herself, complete with a lovely Franciscan coat of arms. So, because I'm not rigid, for the feast of St. Lawrence today, I wore Sister's Franciscan stole over the chasuble.
No doubt this post will be annoying to many readers. Some will be annoyed that I did such a thing, others that I'm bragging about it, and still others that I care about such things at all. But as one of my oldest friends in the Catholic journey used to say, "The devil is in the details, and I suspect God is to be found there too."
July 20, 2011
Ironing the Tabernacle
Many complaints can be made against religious life, but you can't say you don't get to do a lot of different things. You may recall how last month our vigil lamp decided to end it all. In the course of its demise, it left an unsightly mess of wax on top of the tabernacle. Cleaning it up has been one of many little things I've been wanting to do in these days, and today I finally got to it.
It's well known in sacristy lore that you can get candle wax out of fabric by ironing the wax into a brown paper bag. If it works with vestments, I thought, maybe I can do the same thing with the tabernacle.
And here's the procedure:
And here it is all clean:
Be assured that I removed and reposed the Blessed Sacrament elsewhere for the duration of this undignified procedure.
It's well known in sacristy lore that you can get candle wax out of fabric by ironing the wax into a brown paper bag. If it works with vestments, I thought, maybe I can do the same thing with the tabernacle.
So here's the mess:
And here's the procedure:
And here it is all clean:
Be assured that I removed and reposed the Blessed Sacrament elsewhere for the duration of this undignified procedure.
July 19, 2011
OFM CAP FTW
That's what I say, having heard the great news today of archbishop Charles Chaput being appointed to Philadelphia, I riff on my favorite title for a Franciscan blog.
Condolences to the church of Denver, and the beginnings of prayers for a new bishop for you.
Condolences to the church of Denver, and the beginnings of prayers for a new bishop for you.
Awe For The Journey
The bigger your world is, the more you will be in awe of it. The smaller you let your world get, the more little things will get to you.
In that spirit one of the little practices that helps me a lot is what I've come to call 'awe for the journey.' I cultivate moments when I can be overwhelmed by the journey as a whole. My life as a Christian has been full of surprising turns and misadventures that were only apparent detours. "God leads us, typically by the nose and often in spite of ourselves," said my first priest.
The other day I had one of those wonderful moments of awe for the journey. On Sunday I agreed to offer a Mass at a parish in order to save another friar from having double-booked himself. I got there early enough to spend some time alone in the church. As I prayed Mid-Morning Prayer and looked over the lovely remains of what must have been an impressive Art Deco-ish high altar, I was struck by a parallel. Twenty years ago this summer I was doing the same thing: sitting in new and mysterious churches and looking around, peering into the Mystery for what I thought in my arrogance was the first time. To think of how I got from sitting in the one church to the other over these past twenty years is absolutely overwhelming when I think about it like that.
That's an example of what I mean by taking time to sit with and be grateful for awe for the journey. It protects me from myself in all of the ways the flesh wants me to get worked up and distracted about little things.
In that spirit one of the little practices that helps me a lot is what I've come to call 'awe for the journey.' I cultivate moments when I can be overwhelmed by the journey as a whole. My life as a Christian has been full of surprising turns and misadventures that were only apparent detours. "God leads us, typically by the nose and often in spite of ourselves," said my first priest.
The other day I had one of those wonderful moments of awe for the journey. On Sunday I agreed to offer a Mass at a parish in order to save another friar from having double-booked himself. I got there early enough to spend some time alone in the church. As I prayed Mid-Morning Prayer and looked over the lovely remains of what must have been an impressive Art Deco-ish high altar, I was struck by a parallel. Twenty years ago this summer I was doing the same thing: sitting in new and mysterious churches and looking around, peering into the Mystery for what I thought in my arrogance was the first time. To think of how I got from sitting in the one church to the other over these past twenty years is absolutely overwhelming when I think about it like that.
That's an example of what I mean by taking time to sit with and be grateful for awe for the journey. It protects me from myself in all of the ways the flesh wants me to get worked up and distracted about little things.
July 18, 2011
Strategies for Stillness
Today's first reading contains one of my favorite verses in all of the scriptures, Exodus 14:14,"The LORD himself will fight for you; you have only to keep still."
A simple doctrine, but one of the hardest to put into practice. It's our interior distraction that keeps us simple prey for everything that makes us unhappy, with thoughts and feelings swirling around and darting about all over the place. We need some interior stillness if we are to surrender to the God who wants to fight for our freedom. Indeed, God has already won the victory over misery and sin; it is us who have not yet consented to receive it.
But we can't just decide to have interior stillness. We need to practice, and practice demands a plan, a strategy.
It seems to me that our lack of interior stillness comes from the afflictive emotions such as anxiety, fear, and anger. There are two standard ways of dealing with these emotions.
Some people turn afflictive emotions in on themselves and become anxious, afraid, self-hating, and depressed. Instead of taking responsibility for their feelings, they do violence to themselves instead.
Others attempt to export these feelings into others, usually by taking emotional advantage of loved ones or caregivers (including pastoral caregivers.) They might feel better themselves after raving or complaining, but the amount of affliction in the universe has not been reduced, only transferred from one heart to another.
Unfortunately, sometimes the sort of people who get into ministry suffer a double dose in this regard. They tend to be the sort of introverted people who turn feelings in on themselves and become anxious and depressed, and they are also often the sort of are just a little bit codependent on those who claim to be suffering, and become willing conspirators in the false compassion of letting someone export their pain into the consciousness of those they seek out for care.
So, back to strategies for fostering interior stillness.
1. The sort of person who violently turns her afflictive emotions back on herself needs to realize that such a thing is false responsibility and a failure to really believe that the soul is lovable before God and deserving of better treatment. We might not be able to believe that we are adorable just the way God made us, but we can consent to the truth that this is how God feels. That's the beginning of better self-care.
2. The sort of person who tries to feel better by exporting his anxieties needs to take responsibility for himself.
3. In all cases, we need some kind of prayer practice that helps us to dis-identify with our thoughts and feelings. After all, the things we think and the feelings we happen to have, both good and bad, hardly exhaust who we are as unique and unrepeatable creations of God. And yet, without any practice of letting go of conscious thoughts and feelings as they arise, we will simply act as though we are how we feel and what we think. Through contemplative prayer we can begin to touch the more interior person who is prior or superior (pick your metaphor) to our conscious selves, and thus we find that in the rest of our daily lives we are less bothered by the chaos of our minds, less thrown about by feelings and ideas as they arise.
4. Finally, something like 'guard of the heart' is very useful. We have to decide that nobody has the right to occupy our consciousness without our permission. So many times we continue a difficult conversation with someone in our mind, long after the real conversation over. Or we waste time rehearsing arguments or conversations that might happen. In all of this we are placing our attention into an unreality, and as long as we chase things that aren't real, we will find ourselves unhappy. When we practice guard of the heart, we consciously remind ourselves that others are not allowed to export their fears and anxieties in our hearts. To the person who is a little codependent, this seems cold and unfeeling, but in reality doing so will help us to see clearly how we can truly offer help to another.
A simple doctrine, but one of the hardest to put into practice. It's our interior distraction that keeps us simple prey for everything that makes us unhappy, with thoughts and feelings swirling around and darting about all over the place. We need some interior stillness if we are to surrender to the God who wants to fight for our freedom. Indeed, God has already won the victory over misery and sin; it is us who have not yet consented to receive it.
But we can't just decide to have interior stillness. We need to practice, and practice demands a plan, a strategy.
It seems to me that our lack of interior stillness comes from the afflictive emotions such as anxiety, fear, and anger. There are two standard ways of dealing with these emotions.
Some people turn afflictive emotions in on themselves and become anxious, afraid, self-hating, and depressed. Instead of taking responsibility for their feelings, they do violence to themselves instead.
Others attempt to export these feelings into others, usually by taking emotional advantage of loved ones or caregivers (including pastoral caregivers.) They might feel better themselves after raving or complaining, but the amount of affliction in the universe has not been reduced, only transferred from one heart to another.
Unfortunately, sometimes the sort of people who get into ministry suffer a double dose in this regard. They tend to be the sort of introverted people who turn feelings in on themselves and become anxious and depressed, and they are also often the sort of are just a little bit codependent on those who claim to be suffering, and become willing conspirators in the false compassion of letting someone export their pain into the consciousness of those they seek out for care.
So, back to strategies for fostering interior stillness.
1. The sort of person who violently turns her afflictive emotions back on herself needs to realize that such a thing is false responsibility and a failure to really believe that the soul is lovable before God and deserving of better treatment. We might not be able to believe that we are adorable just the way God made us, but we can consent to the truth that this is how God feels. That's the beginning of better self-care.
2. The sort of person who tries to feel better by exporting his anxieties needs to take responsibility for himself.
3. In all cases, we need some kind of prayer practice that helps us to dis-identify with our thoughts and feelings. After all, the things we think and the feelings we happen to have, both good and bad, hardly exhaust who we are as unique and unrepeatable creations of God. And yet, without any practice of letting go of conscious thoughts and feelings as they arise, we will simply act as though we are how we feel and what we think. Through contemplative prayer we can begin to touch the more interior person who is prior or superior (pick your metaphor) to our conscious selves, and thus we find that in the rest of our daily lives we are less bothered by the chaos of our minds, less thrown about by feelings and ideas as they arise.
4. Finally, something like 'guard of the heart' is very useful. We have to decide that nobody has the right to occupy our consciousness without our permission. So many times we continue a difficult conversation with someone in our mind, long after the real conversation over. Or we waste time rehearsing arguments or conversations that might happen. In all of this we are placing our attention into an unreality, and as long as we chase things that aren't real, we will find ourselves unhappy. When we practice guard of the heart, we consciously remind ourselves that others are not allowed to export their fears and anxieties in our hearts. To the person who is a little codependent, this seems cold and unfeeling, but in reality doing so will help us to see clearly how we can truly offer help to another.
July 15, 2011
St. Bonaventure and Ideas of Trees
It's kind of a corny story, but I remember one day when I was taking a walk in the Arnold Arboretum and all of a sudden some of St. Bonaventure became clear to me. For his feast day today, I was just thinking through that moment again, and thanking God for the Seraphic Doctor.
I was looking at a tree and I became aware that the tree had the power, through the use of my senses, to introduce an idea of itself into my mind. That the tree should have this power is a vestige of the generation of the Son from the Father.
God the Father, Who is the Fontal Fullness of being, eternally emanates a perfect Idea of Himself; this is the generation of the Son from the Father, the Eternal Word from the Source. According to different degrees of similarity, this primal dynamic of emanation comes to be embedded in everything else that has being. As rational creatures created in the image and likeness of God, we become aware of this in the capacity of existing things to 'process' an idea of themselves into our minds.
Among many other things, that's an insight for which I'm thanking St. Bonaventure today; that we can know and love other creatures precisely because we were created as a footprint of this Primal and Delighted Overflowing called the Blessed Trinity.
I was looking at a tree and I became aware that the tree had the power, through the use of my senses, to introduce an idea of itself into my mind. That the tree should have this power is a vestige of the generation of the Son from the Father.
God the Father, Who is the Fontal Fullness of being, eternally emanates a perfect Idea of Himself; this is the generation of the Son from the Father, the Eternal Word from the Source. According to different degrees of similarity, this primal dynamic of emanation comes to be embedded in everything else that has being. As rational creatures created in the image and likeness of God, we become aware of this in the capacity of existing things to 'process' an idea of themselves into our minds.
Among many other things, that's an insight for which I'm thanking St. Bonaventure today; that we can know and love other creatures precisely because we were created as a footprint of this Primal and Delighted Overflowing called the Blessed Trinity.
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