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 

God Has Us In His Hands

In the last couple of weeks, I've gotten some schooling in moving from the idea to the reality.  A couple of friends of mine have been showing me how to approach adversity.  Truly they are living their faith.  They are putting into practice the words of Jesus that we hear today.  

In today's Gospel, the disciples are on the lake, but Jesus is asleep.  A storm is raging, threatening to sink the boat.  They frantically wake Jesus.  He rebukes the wind and the waves.  He says, "Be quiet and calm."  He tells the disciples they seem to have little faith.*  

I am imagining someone saying to me, "Sure, Martin, you're sitting around talking about faith when you're not going through anything challenging."  I would reply to such an objection, "OK, fine, I'll let those with faith speak who are facing great difficulties right now."   

An old friend I've known for nearly twenty years shared with me last week that his dear brother is in hospice.  At times my friend suddenly breaks into tears.  During this trial, my friend has simply said, "God has us in His hands."  That's not an idea of trust; that's real trust in God.  

Another dear friend, who I've also known for years, just found out he has cancer.  As he struggles with the implications of this serious diagnosis, he has related he is relying on God.  It's not a concept of turning to God.  He is choosing to depend on God amidst this major development.  

Both these friends truly trust God now at these critical junctures because for years they've watered the seeds of faith God planted in them.  Once the storms came, they knew faith isn't just a word.  Faith is the reality of the strength God gives us.  Through faith God empowers us to thrive.  

* Mark 4:35-41