4/19/15

I've been feeling really sad and angry the last couple of days. Not all the time, but every now and then it'll hit me pretty strongly. I'm not entirely sure why since the past month has actually been pretty good for me. Work has been relatively OK. I've hung out with a lot of friends this week. My spiritual life has been going well. I honestly can't complain. But for some reason, I've been feeling angry and sad and like I'm on the outside looking in.

Sometimes, I fall into a really dark place and I feel possessed by so much negativity that I can hardly bear it. It eats me up inside until it starts to spill out, impacting those closest to me. When I get like this, all I can really do is isolate myself from everyone as much as possible and wait it out. But in the meantime, I can be distant and unpleasant to be around, mostly because I just want (and maybe need) to be alone.

Most people think that solitude is bad, but I find that solitude is quite healthy, at least sometimes. In solitude, I can be honest and open with myself about the things I think and feel. As Fr. Michael often says, acceptance is the key to happiness; and accepting our suffering and discontent is the first step towards transforming it. But for me to do that, I need solitude. I need the time and space to probe my soul, to find and confront the causes of my suffering.

Today at mass, Fr. Bill talked about the transformative nature of Jesus' suffering on the cross in his homily, how "Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered" (Heb 5:8). But what does that mean? He mentioned that the word obedience comes from the Latin oboedire, which literally means 'to listen.' Jesus listened to his suffering, learned from it, and was transformed by it. It is through our suffering that we die, emptying ourselves of self only to be filled with something greater if we truly listen.

The lesson in many ways is one of surrender. We must surrender ourselves by emptying ourselves of self in order to be filled with the love of God and to share that love with one another. And as I knelt in the pews after communion, praying that this spiritual nourishment would give me the strength to battle my inner demons and exorcise them from my heart, part of me was able to let go, to surrender to the love of God, which I imagined as a pair of ethereal arms hugging all of humanity and gathering us into one spiritual body.

Although I wasn't able to let go completely, to the extent that I could I felt happier, as if some of the proverbial weight I'd been carrying had been lifted off my shoulders. And I thought of the passage in Matthew where Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light" (Mt 11:28-30). How light indeed!

It was definitely a healing moment, bringing to mind the numerous times Fr. Michael has said the Eucharist is the spiritual food that helps nourish us and heal our inner brokenness. It's hard to say if something within me was reaching out, or if something without was reaching in, but I felt something. It may just have been a psychosomatic reaction, but it felt like the door of my heart had been opened ever so slightly to the peace and love of God. Up to that point, I'd been in solitude, withdrawn into myself. But afterwards, I was awakened in a small way to the presence of Christ all around me.

A lot of that had to do with the readings and Fr. Bill. One line that caught my attention was, "The way we may be sure that we know [Jesus] is to keep his commandments" (1 John 2:3). And during his homily, Fr. Bill had us look at one another and say something to the effect of, "In your face I see the face of Jesus," evoking for me the words of Allah via Muhammad, "When I love him I become his ears by which he hears, and his eyes with which he sees, and his hands with which he grasps, and his feet with which he walks" (Hadith Qudsi 25). We know Jesus through loving God and loving our neighbour as our self, i.e., we know him through love and selflessness.

That's why his yoke is so light: Jesus doesn't ask us to pick up anything; he asks us to let go of everything, even ourselves, so that we may become truly free. And as we do, each one of us becomes like a lamp, illuminating the world through our good deeds. It's only difficult when we're unable to put down our psychological burdens, becoming like a fully-packed camel that has trouble trying to pass through a narrow gate. For most of us, however, that's easier said than done, and we need a constant reminder.

After mass, many of us met in Carvlin Hall for the monthly French toast breakfast, and I sat with Chris, John, Anne (John's sponsor), and Sr. Ida. It was nice to just be present in their company. (I also saw Dorothy, who had a bruise around her right eye from a biopsy she had Thursday. I hope everything is OK.) I left feeling refreshed and ready to go back out into the world, where the love of God is reflected in every act of kindness, no matter how small.