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.  

Out Of So Little, Much Good Can Come

A worm has been on my mind.  It's been crawling around in my head.  I can't get it out of my head.  We speak of earworms, songs that get stuck in your head.  In a similar sense, this worm has been on my mind, so perhaps it's a mindworm.  

Earlier this year I read about how scientists had determined that all animal life there has ever been on earth has been suspected to have been evolved from a certain species of worm that lived 555 million years ago.  Once I heard of this worm, it has seemed that the knowledge of this worm has been echoing, over hundreds of millions of years, after burrowing down into the earth, bringing forth to light the truth that much comes what seems to be so little.  

I imagine God saying to this worm, "I have great plans for you.  From you are going to come fish and lizards and elephants and giraffes and apes and all kinds of creatures that creep and crawl and swarm all over the earth."  

Of course the worm was not able to think as we think.  But if it could, and if this conversation were to occur, I would expect it would respond something like, "But I am nothing.  I am a nobody.  I can do next to nothing."  

In this littleness, in this next-to-nothingness, in this humility there is wisdom.  The worm would see itself as it is.  

The worm was also exactly what God called it to be.  It wasn't trying to be something else.  The worm was embracing what God made it to be.  When we are who and what God makes us to be, we give praise to God.  

In the question the worm would ask, there would be openness.  When we ask, we invite an answer.  When we ask, we are interested in finding out what we do not know, what we cannot see or find out on our own.  

An angel told Our Blessed Mother Mary that she would give birth to Jesus.  Our Blessed Mother Mary asked how this could be so, since she had not had relations with a man.  God, through the angel, told her what she could not know on her own, that the Holy Spirit would come upon her.*  

Having asked what we could not know through our own efforts, having been answered and empowered with the knowledge of who we can become, we are then faced with the choice of who we decide to become.  God invites us to become so much more than we have been.  God asks us if we would like Him to perform miracles through us.  For miracles, we need faith.  

Our Blessed Mother Mary embraced the message of the angel by going forward in faith.  She responded to the angel, "You see before you the handmaid of the Lord: let it be done to me according to Your Word."**  

And so a peasant girl, obscure, unknown, passed over, ignored by many around her, became much more.  In her lowliness, she was lifted up.  Having gone forward in faith, now hundreds of millions of people beseech her, that she may pray for them, and through her, God works countless miracles.  

God wants to work through us for the good of us, for those around us.  God invites us into much more than what we have seen.  We can be much more than we have been.  We are so much more than what our current circumstances show us.  

We are trudging along in what seems to us like drudgery.  In these days of the coronavirus which might seem to be moving along so slowly, we may feel like we are crawling through something like mud, through a murky, filthy slime, the challenging morass of a virus which seems to disable us in so many ways.  

In what seems meaningless, we might be situated very well to become so much more than we have been.  Rather than mislead ourselves into believing that we are doing nothing of much worth, instead if we ask and pray and remain open, God might work wonders through us, miracles that we never would have imagined, if we merely go forward in faith in Him.  

* Luke 1:31-35 

** Luke 1:38 

Enjoying The Lyrid Meteor Shower Under Humbling Monastic Skies

Last night the Lyrid meteor shower was expected to peak around 10:30 p.m.  A little after 10 p.m., I headed out of my cell to see if I could spot any shooting stars.  As I was closing the gate to the garden of my cell, I looked up and saw a meteor streaking across the sky.  Given the narrow bit of sky that's in range of sight from that path between the rows of monastic cells, I figured something like, "Wow, if I saw one right away, in that small bit of sky, maybe there are a lot of them."  

I continued and went off the path, and in the direction of the driveway.  After a couple hundred feet, I stopped and looked up.  The sky was quite clear.  As I was standing there facing the firmament, I considered that we're tiny human beings, on only one planet, orbiting a relatively small star amidst hundreds of billions of stars in our galaxy, amongst hundreds of billions of galaxies.  Recalling our insignificance, the challenges we face are brought into perspective.

Witnessing the unfathomably large expanse above, I witnessed a meteor racing through the darkness.  As is the case the vast majority of the time, it streaked out and disappeared.  However, it called to mind a previous instance when I was watching a meteor shower and a dot suddenly appeared, not moving, but getting much brighter, and then suddenly winking out.  Back then I realized that what I had seen was a meteor heading right at me.

Recalling that memory of merciful deliverance from utter annihilation, once again I received several nourishing reminders.  Whatever we are presently enduring, it could be worse.  Right now the coronavirus threatens our physical health, is killing some of us, putting others of us in intensive care units, depriving us of financial income, and restricting us from traveling.  Yet, thanks be to God, a giant meteor has not hurtled into our atmosphere and wreaked widespread carnage.  Earlier this year there were multiple instances when very large meteors came relatively close to us but sped by with no physical impacts.

However, if we so choose, we can let these reminders of our littleness, fragility and precariousness have significant spiritual impacts upon us.  We can welcome these messengers from the wider realm of the universe so that they may teach us humility.  If they help us to be humble, then we can take a further step and turn toward God.  If we meditate on these matters, we can come to find that, in the midst of what we currently see as misfortune, we have limitless reason to thank, adore and praise God.  Amen.  

In You Alone

Every other Thursday evening at Vespers, amongst other Scripture passages, we sing the first six verses of Psalm 137.  Psalm 137: 1-6 reads as follows:

By the rivers of Babylon there we sat and we wept
remembering Zion.

On the poplars that grew there
we hung up our harps.

For it was there that they asked us, our captors for songs,
our oppressors for joy.

"Sing to us," they said,
"one of Zion's songs."

O how could we sing the song of the Lord
on alien soil?

If I forget you, Jerusalem,
let my right hand wither!

O let my tongue cleave to my mouth
if I prize not Jerusalem above all my joys!

After each verse or so, we sing the refrain "In you alone, Jerusalem, my joy!"  The Psalmist wrote these verses from the perspective of the Israelites, as a lament of homesickness over their homeland, over Jerusalem, when they were in exile in Babylon.  When reciting these verses, one is recalling the angst which the Israelites seemed to have felt at having been forced to leave their homeland and at their having been involuntarily relocated to live in another land.  Written to particular notes which seem particularly evocative of the melancholy which they understandably seemed to have felt, I have often brooded that the tune we sing which is set to these verses is especially apropos in expressing the anguish which the Israelites seemed to have felt.

However, during the most recent instance when we sung these verses, I felt them.  No longer did I intellectually, dispassionately conclude that these particular notes fit the words we sung.  Rather, I felt their place in my heart.

Why did I feel the emotion inherent in these specific verses?  I felt the truth of these words because this truth, in a certain, related sense, has abided in my heart, and I have increasingly come to realize this truth.  I have come desperately to seek this truth, which I have felt especially reflected by particular experiences in my life.  

For two years I lived in Morocco while I served there as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer).  While I lived there, often I felt homesick.  I went to live in the desert there.  I lived in the desert in the literal sense.  I resided in the southeasternmost region of Morocco, in the Sahara Desert.  

However, I also lived in the desert in a figurative sense.  I was removed from much of what I knew, living in a culture significantly different from the one in which I had previously lived for decades.  Being presented daily with different customs and norms, I was constantly reminded that I was living in a foreign land.  

Not only was I always being reminded that I was away from home, I knew less of home while I was there.  I did not even hear the news as often or access the internet as much as I did when I had lived in the states.  Of course, while I lived there, I also saw less of, and heard less from, my family and friends in the states.  

Even amongst others living there who were also from my homeland, often I was isolated from other PCVs and other expats from the U.S. for much of the time I lived in Morocco.  During my Peace Corps service, at times other PCVs lived close to me.  However, during other periods, no other PCVs lived near me.  

Often it is during circumstances which we would not choose when God surprises us.  When we are deprived of what we expect, what we know, what is comfortable, often it is then that we learn, about ourselves, about what we can accomplish with God's help, who we are, and who God is calling us to be.  

When I was a PCV, I had a lot of time by myself.  I had much time which was not spent working.  I did my best to try to make good use of the solitude.  Being alone, consequently I also experienced much silence and stillness.  I spent much of my time in solitude reading.  As my service progressed, I read more and more spiritual writings.  Increasingly I sought God.  I strove consciously and deliberately to listen to God.  As I read the Bible, I began to crave reading The Word.  I felt God was drawing me closer.

While at times I felt like I was not being nourished, since I wanted to work more than I was working, simultaneously I felt nourished in the care and guidance I was receiving from God.  Despite my homesickness and solitude, I sought to embrace the circumstances in which I found myself.  I aspired to become who and what God was inviting me to be.

From this perspective, in hindsight, now I value and cherish this period in my life when I was faced with these challenging circumstances in Morocco.  Now when I consider this time of my life, which contained so much isolation and solitude, I see that through it God was drawing me closer, to become who and what God has meant me to be.  

Thus now when I think back to the day I arrived to start permanently living in the town in which I lived for two years, I understand how apropos the soundtrack was.  After I arrived in that town on the bus, I was carrying my duffel bag as I walked past a cafe.  In the cafe, through a stereo was playing the song "Sacrifice" by Elton John, which sounded all the way out to the street where I was walking.  As I heard the lyrics, "It's no sacrifice; it's no sacrifice at all," I thought, 'It's very appropriate that this song is playing as I walk by this cafe right now, but I can't articulate why it's so fitting right now.'  I suspected that with time, it would become clear why that song was so appropriate.  

Now I think, "Of course I went there.  Of course I moved to Morocco."  I went to live in the desert, yes, literally, but more importantly, figuratively.  Amidst the challenges of life there, I opened my heart to God.  I sought to listen to God, to follow The Way God set before me.  I have aspired to follow God's will for my life, yet submitting to God's will is much more of a joy than a burden.  

From this vantage point, presently I consider it to have been no sacrifice at all to have searched for my true identity, to become who God has always meant me to be.  It is no sacrifice at all to try to be true to myself and true to God: all of these endeavors are one and the same thing, if one is truly seeking God and is truly being honest with oneself.  I seek my right relationship with God, with who God wants me to become.  God wants me to be myself, since God wants me to be happy.  

Thus I truly feel it when I sing, "Let my tongue cleave to my mouth if I prize not Jerusalem, [my God, who loves me infinitely,] above all my joys."  I am so grateful to know of God's undying love for me, to know that God is calling me, that God wants me to be happy, that God is simply calling me to be myself.  

Knowing these truths, I pray, let me not speak unless I am, directly or indirectly, serving or praising God, or serving my neighbor.  I hope that all that I think, say and do is to the service and praise of God, and to the service of my neighbor.  To God be all glory, praise and honor, now and forever.  Amen.  

Give Thanks Always

Recently I was walking along a path here at the hermitage.  About one hundred feet ahead of me I saw a deer, who seemed to notice me at roughly the same time.  He pranced swiftly, yet apparently with little effort, for he was gracefully moving and smoothly advancing in his path.  After a moment I realized that he was heading toward a brick wall, about four feet high.  For a person running such a wall as this would be an obstacle.  Yet I knew this buck would have no trouble scaling this wall.  In light of how it would be so difficult for a human being, I knew it would be remarkable, this physical feat I was about to behold.  Without breaking its stride, the deer leapt in a single bound up onto the grassy ground which began at the top of the wall.  In this seamless motion he continued taking his flowing steps.  I was grateful to God for such beauty in his creatures.  

With a bit more time, however, I meditated further upon what we have from God, namely, everything that is, which consequently includes much which seems less pleasant.  We see creatures which we do not appreciate as much.  We hear how others suffer.  We ourselves feel pain.  Do we thank God when we look upon things which are not our favorites?  Are we thanking God when we are undergoing tribulations?  Everything we encounter and experience presents an opportunity to draw closer to God.  When we feel challenged, we are called to grow, to become more than we have been.  We may, indeed often we do, wish to avoid such challenges, but to do so is often to turn from the invitation to evolve and, with God's help, to become capable of more than we had thought possible.  

When we let God work through us, He displays marvelous creations through us... yet often we choose to remain in our suffering rather than embrace it so that through it God can transform us into something wonderful.  Even under excruciating conditions, we are offered chances in which we can choose to learn.  Lessons await us in circumstances which seem dark and pointless.  Although at such times in our lives, little seems to make sense, at such junctures, if we can recognize and embrace the invitations for growth, wondrous landscape lies ahead beyond what initially seems to be too much for us.  

If we take such leaps of faith in God, after a time, we come to realize that through the trials we have been enduring, and the attendant pain we have been feeling, God has been calling us to be more than we have been.  We rest in the comfort of this reassuring knowledge, having been helped to see that He loves us as a Father and as a Mother, blessing us at all times, displaying wonderful sights in front of us at certain points, and at others depriving us of comforts.  As a parent is at times tender and at other times stern, so God is with us, presenting us with circumstances which are all gifts, which are to be for our benefit.*

Once we realize that God not only is with us always, but ceaselessly waits for us, patiently, and guides us for our benefit, even when it does not seem at first to be so, with time we will come to be more and more grateful to Him.**  Knowing that He works all things for our good, we come to thank Him more and more often.***  Under more and more types of situations, we render Him more and more praise and thanksgiving.  Eventually we should be thanking Him always for everything.****  Thus rejoice always.*****  This is Heaven.  

* Hebrews 12:3-11.  
** Matthew 28:20.
*** Romans 8:28. 
**** Ephesians 5:20. 
***** Philippians 4:4.