You Can Only Do What You Have Been Given Power To Do

You can only do what you have been given power to do.  I definitely do not have the grace to be celibate, so I am in the process of transitioning out of being a monk.  

I have been struggling with this question for years.  This is not a brash decision.  In consultation with my spiritual director I arrived at this point.  All things considered, it is not surprising to be leaving for this reason.  

In addition to spiritual direction, I've read quite a bit about celibacy and sexuality.  In that reading, I found the confirmation that celibacy is not something you can live if you don't have the grace for it.  

Consequently, after I move out of the hermitage, which will probably be in a few weeks, I expect to return to dating.  Someday I hope and pray that I'll get married.  

In the meantime, I have been well supported by my fellow monks who are wishing me well.  While they have said they're disappointed I'm leaving, they're supporting me in the discernment decision I've made.  

I've also been marvelously supported by the community of oblates.  These lay people who live out contemplative practices in their everyday lives are warmly encouraging me to become an oblate, which I plan to do.  

It's a tremendous help knowing I will be part of the extended spiritual community of the hermitage.  I had been dreading giving up so many of the benefits of living here, namely the spiritual community, the communal prayer, the silence, and the solitude, among so many other blessings.  However, now I realize that God still will be bestowing so many of these blessings on me, partly through the oblate community, and partly since I will be coming back to visit the hermitage.  

I'm also immensely comforted knowing, in the midst of my final discernment decision to stop being a monk, that God loves me after this decision I am making.  In today's Gospel, Jesus looked with love at the rich young man who told Jesus that he had kept all of the commandments and who asked what else he needed to do.  Then Jesus told him that he lacked one thing; He told the rich young man that if he wished to be perfect, to go and sell all he had and he would have treasure in Heaven.  Then Jesus told the rich young man to follow Him, but the rich young man went away sad.*  Yet Jesus still loved him.  And Jesus loves me after this decision I am making to stop being a monk.  

After the rich young man went away sad, Jesus remarked about how hard it was for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God.  Jesus noted that it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God.  Then Jesus explained that what is impossible for people, is possible for God.  What you can't do without grace, you can do with grace.  However, you have to be given that grace, and I have not been given the grace to be celibate, so it's impossible for me to be a monk.  However, I am still loved, by my fellow monks, by the extended spiritual community including the oblates, and most of all by God.  Therefore I will be leaving the hermitage full of love.  

* Mark 10:17-27 

Cut It Off

Earlier this week in the Gospel we heard Jesus urge us that if our hand is what ails, cut it off.  Similarly, He directs us if our foot is what would be our downfall, cut it off.  

I can boldly and brashly assert that I can do this or that, but at what cost?  Am I insisting on stretching myself to do something that I am not equipped to do, that is going to cause harm in the end?  

If my pride would result in my ruin, I need to have it ripped out of me.  In the end, it's not what we accomplish, but what we admit of the truth about ourselves and our limitations that matters.  

One Follows Another

Approaching the bookstore was a tall young monk in the garb of his full monastic habit.  Relaxed and quite sure of himself, moving slowly and smoothly, he glided gradually toward the store as he brought someone with him.  A little one decades younger than him, perhaps seven years old, the daughter of an employee of the hermitage, followed behind him.  Her hair tied up into a ponytail, she was sporting blue-rimmed sunglasses with the lenses shaped into exceptionally large hearts.  She walked along serene and self-assured, with poise surprising for one so young.  In her strikingly collected demeanor, she seemed to be saying, "Yeah, I'm rockin' these heart-rimmed sunglasses.  And I KNOW I'm rockin' them."  

These two individuals walked along one after the other, so far apart in age and yet so similar in their confident and calm composure.  They resembled each other.  They had found each other, and now one followed the other.  

As they entered the store, I noted the considerable resemblance in the comportment of each of them.  I remarked to the monk, "You see, this is an example of how two super-cool people are just naturally drawn to each other."  

Find Joy Now

We are called out of ourselves.  We are called into new life.  We are called to become our true selves.  When we step out of being the people we thought we were, as we become our true selves, we find a joy we find nowhere else.  We find such joy because we have found new life, since we have been born into true life.  Then we feel great joy because we've become who we've always been meant to be, opening our hearts to expand.  

If we're awake then we recognize new life walking right through the door.  Recently when I was working in the bookstore here at the hermitage, in walked someone who, I later learned, ventured out into the world to find her true self.  She traveled to another country where she learned the art and practice of yoga.  She returned to the states applying the new knowledge she learned as she became a yoga teacher.  

When we reach a certain point in life, we reach a crossroads.  At some moments we must admit that the life we have been living has not been feeding us with the sustenance we need for the journey we are making.  Although it might seem unthinkable to continue while malnourished, nevertheless at times we do so.  Sometimes the thought of making a change can produce such fear in us that we become paralyzed.  Yet we're called to have the courage to step out of ourselves.  

There's making the change so we can start being fed how we need to be.  For some of us, we hear a call to learn a new trade, or to hone a talent we've been given but not been using.  When we start risking for the sake of our development, and moreso when we do so with love of others, we grow into who we're meant to become.  If our lives are not about evolving, if our lives are not about becoming more than we have been, then our lives are about nothing at all.  

Then there's the question of whether we're making a change that will only benefit ourselves, or whether we're shifting in a way that helps others.  It's easy to run off to another country for pleasure; it's a very different matter to go abroad to learn, then return and apply the knowledge gained for the sake of others' health, as with the yoga teacher I mentioned.  We are called to develop ourselves not only for our own sakes, but also so that we can apply our skills with love of our neighbor.  

When we give while providing a service which helps others come to fuller health, we help others to live in the way we're meant to live.  When we're channels through which life flows, we find joy.  When we help bring new life, we find the joy we've been meant to have, since God made us to take care of each other.  We were made to show each other the love we would like to receive.  When we embrace this duty of love, we find joy.  

We find this joy here, right now, in this life.  In this life as a monk that I've been living, I was privileged to have the joy of having Brother Joshua as one of my brother monks.  Some of you know that Brother Joshua unexpectedly passed away last month.  He had stressed that whenever he passed away, he wanted the celebration of his passing away to be an occasion not of sorrow and tears but of joy and laughter.  

Given his spirituality and his enthusiasm and enjoyment of life, Brother Joshua viewed his passing out of this life as an opportunity to rejoice, to revel in the countless blessings he enjoyed while he was alive.  Accordingly, not only during the funeral Mass yesterday, but also during the remembrances of him we shared after Mass, we happily and joyously recalled fond memories of him.  We celebrated his life here and the new life into which he has just been born.  

When we die, we're born into new life, a life that never ends, a life of joy since we are born into the eternity of the love of God, Who we will then finally see face to Face.  Yet we get glimpses of that great love now, when we open our hearts to become who God made us to be, taking the risk to become our true selves, to become conduits of God's love, as God loves our neighbor through us with the love God pours into our hearts.*  

* Romans 5:5 

Call Of Joy

When God has our attention we are in a privileged moment.  Yet we panic since it might not seem clear to exactly what God is calling us.  Despite uncertainty about vocational specifics, we find comfort and joy knowing God is calling us.  

Recently I spoke with a retreatant who has been pursuing certain training in her field.  Yet now she is feeling a strong pull elsewhere.  She has been feeling consolation, warmth and support from other sources, causing her some anxiety.  

When we simply notice a call there is a tremendous blessing.  How many people trudge along with no inkling God is calling them elsewhere?  To hear, to listen, to respond are gifts.  So is going forward in faith, to which we are all called.  

Quite A Journey

In the bookstore, I was checking in some women who were about to share a room.  On one of our maps of the grounds here, I had circled their room to help them find it.  

They were standing in front of the counter in the bookstore.  Behind the counter, I took out the map, but I was covering their room when I showed the map to them.  

"Now," I remarked in a serious tone, the expression on my face falling, "you've got quite a journey ahead of you to get to your room, but I'm sure that if you pay close attention, you won't get lost."  Still covering their room on the map, I pointed to the store, noting, "We're here.  Go out the front door of the store," then, moving my finger, I continued, "Go two doors to the left, and you'll be at your room."  

Realizing how much less complicated it was than I had led them to believe, they burst out laughing.  Glad that my gag had gone so over so well, I started laughing too.  "Thanks," I explained, "I'll be here all week."  

We Were Born To Bear Witness To The Truth

We all face the choice whether or not we will speak up for the truth.  We are invited to defend the truth.  Like Jesus, we were born for this and came into the world for this purpose, to testify to the truth.*    

At His trial, Jesus told Pontius Pilate, "Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to My voice."**  We belong to the truth if we defend and respect the rights of all people.    

Once we die, some people who have not called themselves Christians may very well hear Jesus say to them, "You listened to My voice."  And then they may respond, "Lord, I was not a Christian.  When did I listen to Your voice?"  And then The King may reply, "When you fed those hungering for justice, by taking to the streets and protesting over the shootings of unarmed Black men, you defended the truth that their lives are valuable.  When you gently interacted with gays who had been assaulted, you gave refreshing drink to those who were thirsty for the truth that we all deserve to be treated with respect.  When you welcomed the immigrant into your community, you acknowledged the truth that we are all brothers and sisters.  When you empowered a woman, by helping her to become educated so she could support herself, so she could be clothed with dignity and strength,*** you testified to the truth that we are all entitled to the chance to become our best selves.  When you listened to the mentally ill homeless person, you bore witness to the truth that we all have a voice crying to be heard.  When you encouraged your neighbor who felt trapped in a challenging situation, you gave witness to the truth that we all need each other.  

* John 18:37 

** John 18:37 

*** Proverbs 31:25 

In A Moment

Flaming burning rock 

Racing across the night sky 

Leaving a streak in its wake 

A bold rash statement 

Not at all to be believed 

Due to its half life 

Quickly extinguished 

In a moment Not a match 

For Orion's sword 

Try Your Hardest To Enter By The Narrow Door

Recently in one of the Scripture readings at Mass, we heard someone ask Jesus if only a few people would go to Heaven.  In response, He tells us to try our hardest to enter by the narrow door.*  To love as best as we can, we have to fit through a narrow space, we must humble ourselves so we can love more.  We are to strip away all in ourselves that prevents us from loving God and our neighbor.  

We are called to shun anything that leads us to hate.  God calls us to uphold the dignity of our neighbor.  We all must respect our neighbor regardless of the race of our neighbor; to do otherwise is to be racist and reject God's law of love.  Racism reflects hate, and so we are called to be antiracist, working against racism.  I think of the Black Lives Matter sign that I saw in the window of a bookstore in San Jose last week.  

A sign is just a beginning.  Last month, on the feast day of Saint Peter Claver who ministered to slaves in the 1600s partly by bringing food and medicine to them, I heard someone say that Saint Peter Claver would have approved of the statement that Black lives matter.  While likely true, Saint Peter Claver showed that Black lives matter much more through how he treated them rather than what he said about them.  

What we do matters much more than what we say.  Black persons should not be subject to the discrimination which continues to be inflicted on them.  Black individuals should not be brutalized by police officers or anyone else because of their skin color.  While it is important to declare that Black lives matter, it is much more important that we show through our actions that we value the lives of our Black sisters and brothers.  

This particular bookstore I've mentioned prominently stocks books on racial justice.  They are encouraging their customers to be antiracist, to change not just what they say but also what they do.  

It is easier to change what we say than what we do.  Nevertheless, God has given us free will.  We can use our free will to work for racial justice.  We can decide to be in psychotherapy to address the psychological insecurities which drive us to degrade others, including on the basis of race.  We can get to know and become friends with others of various races, to demolish walls of prejudice.  We can read books on racial justice so we recognize how institutional racism breeds, in our voting laws, our criminal laws and our law enforcement policies, and in how these laws and policies are made, interpreted and implemented.  We can make the choice to pray, to ask God for grace.  Through grace, we can do what we would not otherwise be able to do.  If God pours His love into our hearts,** then we can love our neighbor as God does.  Amen.  

* Matthew 7:13; Luke 13:24 

** Romans 5:5 

How To Be What God Made Us To Be

The bell had rung this morning at 5:15 a.m.  I was sitting in my seat in the church waiting in silence for Vigils to begin at 5:30 a.m.  I looked to my right and saw a little toad hopping along next to the wall.  

Once we started singing, the little toad kept hopping parallel to the wall, but it kept brushing against the wall.  It turned the corner as soon as it could.  I think we were deafening its little ears with our singing.  

A thunderous offering of praise met its little ears.  Would that there was always roaring praise coming from us to the glory of God.  Then we would be what God made us to be, just like that toad is without trying.  

Always Remember Death

Memento Mori.  Always remember death.  Let this reality echo in your soul to remind you of your mortality.  You do not know the day or the hour.*  You do not know when your time will come.  

When you get to the end of your life, what do you most want your life to have represented and produced?  What will have been the meaning of your life?  How can you live your life now so that you end up where you want to be?  What can you keep telling yourself now so you come to the end you desire?  How will you make sure you are constantly reminding yourself?  

We see the seeds of such a practice, of such incessant remembering, planted millenia ago, as those journeying through the desert were told, "You shall love the Lord, your God, with your whole heart, and with your whole being, and with your whole strength.  Take to heart these words which I command you today.**  Bind them on your arm as a sign and let them be as a pendant on your forehead.***  

Once they emerged from the desert into Israel, they took this injunction literally, making phylacteries, that is, little black boxes containing these and other words from the Torah.  They began the practice of literally clothing themselves in these words since they so value these words.  One type of phylactery is worn on the arm, hand and fingers.  Another kind of phylactery is affixed to the forehead.  

To make sure your life ends the way you want it to be, what words will you constantly keep in mind?  How will you remind yourself of these words?  How will you bind to yourself these guiding words?  

With my own eyes, I saw such a guide earlier this week.  As I was working in the bookstore, a man stood before me who I know to be pious, who lives his faith through his work, and in his prayer.  As he waited for his transaction to complete, I looked down and saw on his finger a ring with a skull on it.  I asked him, "Memento mori?"  He replied, "Yes."  

* Matthew 25:13; Mark 13:33 

** Deuteronomy 6:5-6 

*** Deuteronomy 6:8 

Who Do You Say I Am?

In today's Gospel reading, Jesus asks His disciples, "Who do you say I am?"  Peter replies, "You Are The Messiah."*  Jesus keeps asking this question, even today.  All of us answer it, without exception.  

You might say, "No one has ever asked me this question."  Even when it's not directly asked, it's still asked.  This side of Heaven, it's not always clear when it's asked, but still it's being asked of each and every person.  

Once we get to the other side, it will become clear when we were asked who we say Jesus is.  We may find ourselves asking Jesus, "When did you ask me who You are, and when did I say who You are?"  

If we recognize someone and show that person the appropriate respect and honor, we're showing that we know who that person is.  Then we're showing what we believe, who we are, and who the other is.  

Regardless of our religion or lack thereof, anytime we stand up for the truth, we're respecting Jesus.  Anytime we love our neighbor, we're loving Jesus.  In such choices, we decide whether or not to honor Jesus.  

When we accord Jesus honor and respect by loving our neighbor, we're recognizing Him in our neighbor.  Through such living out love and truth, we're showing we know who truth and love is.  

* Luke 9:20 

Usually We Wait

Yesterday the bell rang at 5:15 a.m. as usual for Vigils which begins at 5:30 a.m.  Once I left my cell, I heard a chorus of crickets.  I imagined telling them, "Normally we don't start singing for another 15 minutes."  

Moment Of Surrender

Last week I was grateful to drive up to San Francisco and visit some of my family.  My brother Greg, my sister-in-law Dede, my nephew Julian and my niece Miriam were vacationing in San Francisco for a few days.  

Up there, I was happy also to stay with fellow monks who live in Berkeley at Incarnation Monastery, our Camaldolese monastery there.  I was glad to see my good friend Michael who lives in the East Bay.  

On the way back south, at the airport in San Jose, I picked up a young fellow named JP who is participating in the Ora et Labora program here at the hermitage.  He'd heard about the program from a friend.  

Word gets around.  Young men who are not asking to become monks but who want to experience monastic life may come work and pray with us for a couple of weeks as this particular man is doing.  

In the car on the way back here from San Jose to the hermitage, at one point we were listening to the song "Moment Of Surrender" by U2.  JP explained to me that the band recorded the song in a single take.  

The relevance to the spiritual life?  When we are in a moment of surrender to the grace of God, we are empowered to succeed at what we are doing in just a single try.  

We Are All Valuable And Loved

A place was to be filled.  One of us was all ready, was asked and accepted the invitation.  In the invitation was found affirmation of one's humanity and thus dignity.  

Every Sunday at the hermitage we ask a guest to read the second Scripture reading at the Mass.  We gladly welcome our brothers and sisters not only at the table where we all receive the Eucharist.  We invite them to recite The Word they are about to receive in the Eucharist.  They are welcome to receive Him on their lips and proclaim Him with their lips.  

This past Sunday a monk asked a retreatant who identifies as transgender to read the second Scripture reading.  Since I do not have that individual's permission, I will not use that person's name.  

In any event, that guest walked up to the ambo and in the reading, recited Saint Paul's directive.  I refrained from issuing any accusation, condemnation or excommunication against this person.  Instead, I let Saint Paul speak for me, as this guest read Saint Paul's words, urging us: Love your bodies, "for no one hates his own flesh but rather nourishes and cherishes it, even as Christ does the Church."*   

We ask the second reader to go with the monk who read the first reading to the altar: the guest who has read the second reading brings either the bread or the wine up to the altar along with the first reader.  

This past Sunday we asked our second reader to help bring the bread and wine to the altar.  As with any other guest, we included this person as one of our beloved siblings.  

Right after Mass, this retreatant who had served as second reader went into the bookstore.  This grateful servant explained to the monk in the store how different this particular Mass had just been from worship services in other places.  At other churches, this beloved child of God sadly was thrown out, ejected from church, discarded and disregarded, unheard and unappreciated, dehumanized and demoralized.  

Sharing this rejection, opening up wide, becoming so vulnerable, this valuable gem of a person was on the verge of tears.  The monk who had been listening tenderly encouraged the shedding of tears.  

Tears can express a dignity recovered.  Tears freely flowed as this precious, unique and exceptional human being, having been included, welcomed and encouraged to speak, felt respected, valued and loved.  

* Ephesians 5:28-29 

If We Can Laugh At Ourselves, We Can Learn

Usually every Friday at the hermitage lunch is silent.  As monks we sit in the refectory, that is, the monastic dining room, and eat and drink, as we abstain from speaking, as we listen to one of our fellow monks read to us.  The text read is sometimes spiritual autobiography, at times Papal guidance, at other times from another spiritual writer.  Then we hear a brief excerpt from the Rule of Saint Benedict before the closing prayer.  

For weeks now, we've been listening to one of our fellow monks read from the book "Alive in God: A Christian Imagination" by Timothy Radcliffe, a Roman Catholic priest who's also a Dominican friar.  Once he'd been diagnosed with cancer, he threw himself into writing the book, which he had been postponing.  In it he explores what it means to be alive in God, and how to live fully.  

Yesterday as Father Isaiah was reading "Alive in God," I finished eating.  Rather than wait until after the meal, I decided to bring my bowl and silverware to the cart where the used items are placed.  Once Father Isaiah had finished a sentence, I dropped the silverware into its basin, so as not to be making noise during the reading.  Then I knocked the bowl against the side of the cart, it fell to the floor and shattered.  

After my effort to be silent, I ended up making much noise.  On top of the crash, I made a further distraction as I swept up the pieces.  I was struck by the irony of how, despite my aiming to be as quiet as I could, I created a disturbance.  We have aims, we make our plans, and then sometimes we end up sabotaging ourselves.  Yet also in ourselves we find opportunities to recognize the irony and humor in life.  

I'm reminded of how someone recently told me that, as a postulant in a Buddhist monastic community, she was proceedingly slowly, and, she thought, carefully, into the sleeping quarters one night when she knocked over the wooden apparatus that was used to correct beginners.  As she tried to be quiet, she made noise.  As she knocked into something, she upset the very thing used to correct mistakes.  

Rather than wait to be corrected, as she was making her mistake, she corrected herself.  Years later, as she recalled the mishap, she was laughing.  If we can laugh at ourselves, we can step outside the immediate circumstances.  Then we can see what there is to learn.  If we are able to laugh at ourselves, we are able to see the correction being offered to us.  

May You Prepare For The Unexpected

While back east this summer, at one point when I was in someone's home, my host was gathering some snacks and bottled water to give away.  This individual explained that when bringing such nourishment, sometimes a needy person would not be standing by the side of the road asking for help.  However, not bringing along such sustenance, a homeless person often would be next to the street seeking assistance.  

Those people who are struggling, downtrodden and impoverished cross our paths when we don't expect them.  We find Jesus in those who are poor, in the people who are the least among us.  What we do to those who are the least in our midst, we do to Jesus.*  Jesus shows up when we least expect Him.  May He not come suddenly and find you unprepared.**  

* Matthew 25:40, 45 

* Mark 13:36

Give Some Thought

We're the authors of the stories of our lives.  In the words we use, in what we believe, we decide who we will become.  Our words play crucial roles in our lives.  

While I was back east in June, I happily went to four of my nephew's baseball games.  One of the players on his team said something like, "We haven't gotten blown out yet."  I suggested, "I'd delete that last word."  

One day a chef here was receiving compliments.  That person ventured, "Maybe I do know what I'm doing."  I recommended, "I'd delete that first word."  That person restated, "I do know what I'm doing!"  

We start to believe our own idea of ourselves.  Yet we can write our story so we succeed.  Our success begins with what we believe.  Give some thought to what you believe, since it will determine where you end up.  

On The Way Through The Love Of Our Neighbor

In the last week of June and the first week of July, I went back east to visit my family.  As a monk of the hermitage, I get to visit my family once a year.  However, due to the coronavirus, this visit was delayed.  I hadn't seen my parents in a couple years; it had been more than a couple years since I'd seen my sister, as well as my brother and sister-in-law with my niece and my nephew.  It was wonderful finally to see them again.  

The day I flew out of California, I met up with Karen and Maureen, former co-workers; we worked together when I was a attorney.  It was fun to catch up with them.  They both were raised Catholic, so they understand various aspects of life at the hermitage.  That day I took off from California, I also gladly got to see Susan and Aurora.  We lived together at the Catholic Worker House; they're still Catholic Workers.  

When I was planning the trip, it had seemed like a great idea to leave the hermitage early in the day so I could see friends I hadn't seen in years.  Finally when I was on the redeye flight from San Francisco to New York and was getting almost no sleep, I began to see the consequences of that itinerary.  Again on the subway from JFK to Penn Station, I kept nodding off, immediately waking up after a few seconds.  

Once I got into Penn Station, I happily got a cup of Blue Bottle Coffee.  I was also happy to pop into Magnolia Bakery and get a blueberry muffin.  With a little sustenance, I headed over to the Amtrak ticket counter.  I told the clerk I was booked on the 11:25 a.m. train to Albany.  He asked me where my ticket was.  I'm so used to showing up at an airport and entering my frequent flyer number that I told him I didn't have a ticket.  

He asked me if I had it on my phone.  I pulled out the flip phone I was borrowing from another monk.  He noted, "Well, you won't have it on there."  I admitted, "This isn't even my phone.  I'm borrowing this just so I'd have a phone on this trip."  He asked me, "How can you not have a phone?"  I explained, "I live in an area with no cell phone signal."  He asked, "Where's that?"  I told him, "Big Sur, on the California coast."  

He printed my ticket to Albany to see my brother and his family, and the ticket back to Manhattan.  As I struggled to arrange my coffee, muffin, train tickets, backpack and rolling luggage, he wondered aloud, "How will you manage all that?"  I was able to negotiate it all and navigate my way due to his merciful, kind, caring nature.  Before I walked off, I thanked him for being patient with me amidst my disorganization.  

Seeing God's Love In Each Other

Often our eyes need to be opened.  Sometimes it takes a crisis to get us to see.  A catastrophe can turn our world upside down, but it can also get us turned around back in the right direction.  When we get in a completely different place, we can see things from a fresh perspective.  Then we can recognize the light shining through our neighbor.  Upon such good fortune, we are brought back into right relation with each other.  

Last week other monks and I went on our monthly recreation day excursion.  We enjoyed coffee and pastries at the Big Sur Bakery.  We continued up Highway 1 and stopped in a park.  We set out on the hiking trail we had seen from the bakery.  We gained some elevation; we saw from a new vantage point the relatively new bridge constructed a few years ago when heavy rains destabilized the previous one.  

As we hiked, the other monks recalled how those torrential rains altered their routine.  They had to drive to where the old bridge had been, hike down below Highway 1 and back up to the far side of where the old bridge used to be.  There they would get into another car they kept there while the new bridge was being built, and they would drive that car into town.  

Proceeding into the wilderness on our hike, we saw a helicopter above us, suspecting it was bringing water to fight a fire.  The Willow Fire has burned over 2800 acres and is 19 percent contained.  It has headed north, away from the village of Big Sur; last year the Dolan Fire was further south in Big Sur.  Last year wildfire displaced us; this year it has returned.  Have we learned the lesson being presented to us?  

We're given chances to see anew not just what's happening, but also each other.  If we see rightly, we realize God's temple is not just a church; we too are God's temples, as we heard at Mass last week on the anniversary of the dedication of the hermitage church.  We behave appropriately in churches when we show we reverence Who is being worshipped there.  We respect each other when we recognize each other as God's temples.  

We're brought back in right relation when we see in our neighbors the love God pours into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.*  If we love God with all our heart, mind, soul and strength,** if we love our neighbors as ourselves,*** then we see God's Spirit in each other.  When we fall out of right relation with God and with each other, God invites us back, at times in trials; then we can see supposed misfortune as good fortune.  

* Romans 5:5 

** Deuteronomy 6:5; Deuteronomy 10:12; Matthew 22:37; Mark 12:30; Luke 10:27 

*** Leviticus 19:18; Matthew 22:39; Mark 12:31; Luke 10:27; Romans 13:9; Galatians 5:14