11/16/14

I've found myself in a bit of a conundrum this week. On the one hand, if things continue in the direction they are, I'll find myself being initiated into the Catholic Church on Holy Saturday, April 4th. It's kind of strange to think about it considering my past issues with the Church, as well as my current disagreements with a number of Church positions; but I can't deny that this path feels like the right one for me at the moment. It's been an unexpected journey, but it's also been a rewarding one.

I really enjoyed my time at mass today, for example. Fr. Charlie gave a nice homily on success and using our talents in the right way based on the day's Scripture readings, i.e., to utilize the skills and talents we have by sharing them with others, to give them as gifts as Jesus commanded his apostles to do. He ended with a story that reinforced St. Paul's exhortation to "stay alert and sober," the lesson being, "Don't go through life so fast that someone has to throw a brick at you to get your attention!" And after mass, I stayed for the monthly french toast breakfast and got to talk with a lot of nice people, like Fr. Michael, Fr. Charlie, a lady named Connie, and some of the people from the inquiry class.

On the other, I'm wondering if it's something I should actually pursue, and a number of questions are starting to arise as I take the idea seriously. One is, Should I do it even though I don't entirely agree with all of the official positions of the Church? Is there room for dissent? Another issue is that some of the ideas I find myself entertaining border on heresies found in Pelagianism (e.g., the possibility that one is capable of choosing good or evil without Divine aid), Origenism (e.g., the possible pre-existence of beings prior to this life and the possibility of universal salvation), Americanism (e.g., the desirability of separation of church and state and the need for Church doctrine to evolve along with society), etc.

There's a lot about Catholicism that I find appealing, especially the contemplative aspects and the spiritual nourishment I've been receiving at St. Philip. However, I disagree with the Church's positions on things like women priests, married clergy, same-sex marriage, birth control, etc., which gives me pause. I feel strongly about equality, and in turn, my image of God is a God of love and equality, so it's hard to accept people in positions of authority saying women shouldn't be priests, gay relationships are sinful and same-sex marriage should be illegal, women shouldn’t have control over their bodies and reproductive choices, etc. And admitting all of that, I wonder if there's a place for me in the Church as an institution. I don't want to be excommunicated as soon as I'm confirmed.

I know I could simply keep these things to myself, but that feels dishonest and I wouldn't feel right keeping many of them to myself. Some, like the role of grace in choosing good, aren't really that important, and I could keep quiet about them since they're just speculations and not why I'm attracted to the Church. Who cares how or why I choose to do good as long as I'm doing good? But others, like my support of same-sex couples, are important to me, and I won't stop supporting equal rights for all just because the prevailing attitude of the Church is that discrimination is justified. Even though it may put me into difficult positions, I'm always going to stand up for what I feel in my heart to be right.

But that leads me back to my conundrum. I feel like I'm on this path for a reason. Despite my past aversion to Christianity in general, and Catholicism in particular, I feel at home at St. Philip. I look forward to each Wednesday and Sunday there. I'm full of new appreciation for the Church and what it has to offer spiritually. I want to fully participate in mass; and at some point in the future, I'd really like to attend the monastic life retreat at Our Lady. I just wonder if I'm truly on the right track.

11/15/14

At work the other day, I was sitting and thinking about how people often want to see their own ideal of perfection in others, especially those who live a 'religious' life. They look at you and expect you to think and act a certain way; and if you don't, it upsets them. But I think that people often forget an important aspect of spirituality, which is the recognition of imperfection. In striving for holiness, we must also recognize imperfection in ourselves, which requires humility, as well as in others, which requires wisdom.

From the Buddhist perspective, I think this is reflected in the idea of the practice being "a gradual training, a gradual doing, a gradual practice in respect of this dhamma and discipline" (MN 107). Until we fully awaken, our actions are going to be coloured by greed, aversion, and delusion to some degree. And from the Christian standpoint, I think this is reflected in the Eucharist, which is ultimately a sacrament of reconciliation, reconciling us with both God/Dhamma and one another.

I may be wrong about this, of course, since I'm rather new to all of this; but to me, the act of communion is all about recognizing our imperfections and realizing that even in our imperfect state, we are one with God and each other. That unity may be obscured; but even in spite of our flaws and our ignorance and our weaknesses, we are all welcomed to the kingdom of heaven. Not in the sense of some mystical place in death, but right here, right now. We are God's building, no matter how dilapidated our 'temple' may be.

That's not to say this sort of recognition is easy to achieve, let alone sustain. We tend to create our own world of ideals and perceptions that takes time to deconstruct; and in that world, we have the habit of justifying our shortcomings and condemning those of others, sometimes quite unconsciously. That's what I think makes the rite of reconciliation so important, because it's constantly trying to remind us of our own imperfections as much as it is the potential for perfection and spiritual union that lies within.

11/11/14

Since I had the day off, I went to St. Philip for the 8am mass. It was a small, intimate service, the day commemorating the feast of St. Martin of Tours, which I thought was interesting because I was just reading about him and his contribution to Western monasticism in the introduction to The Rules of St. Benedict the other day. After mass, Fr. Bill asked if I'd like to join him for coffee, so we went across the street to New Seasons and talked for a while.

We talked a little about our pasts, as well as spirituality. He asked what brought me to Catholicism, and I attempted to give a summary of my roundabout journey. I mentioned that I wasn't raised in any religious tradition and that I was free to explore religion in a relaxed and natural way. I told him of my experience with paganism and Buddhism, about my stay at Our Lady, which really got me interested in the contemplative side of Catholicism, and about the list of coincidences that led me to where I am now.

It was nice talking to Fr. Bill, although I got the feeling that he partially wanted to get to know me better in order to gauge whether I could help him with his mission of getting young adults interested in the Church, which is definitely quite a challenge. Young adults are relatively complacent where they are in life, and the intoxication of youth and the joys of worldly life often overshadow spiritual concerns. But unlike a lot of people my age, I think, I'm drawn towards spiritual matters and really enjoy spending time with spiritual people and at spiritual places, and I'm becoming a regular face at St. Philip.

After that, I decided to finally visit the Grotto, even though it probably wasn't the best day weather-wise to go. The wind was fierce and cold and went right through my light jacket. I looked around, bought a small date-nut cake made by the monks at Our Lady from the gift shop, and attended their noon mass. There were quite a few people in the large chapel, and I rather enjoyed the homily, which was primarily about the importance of serving others.

11/9/14

I've been trying to practice with the St. Francis prayer this week with limited success. It's hard for me to maintain a prayerful attitude for long, and being an instrument of peace isn't particularly easy for me; but when I have, I notice a difference in myself and my interactions with people. I hope I can stick with it.

Yesterday, I wandered into the Powell's at Cedar Hills Crossing and picked up a copy of Anthony Meisel and M. L. del Mastro's translation of The Rules of St. Benedict. I've been looking at it for a while; and now that I'm almost to the end of The Sign of Jonas, it felt like a good time to familiarize myself with the foundation of Cistercian monasticism.

At mass today, the readings were about buildings, and specifically temples, it being the feast of the dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome. The first, from Ezekiel 47, contained the image of life-giving water flowing from under the threshold of the temple, which freshens the polluted waters of the sea. The second was from 1 Corinthians, where St. Paul talks about being temples of God in which the spirit of God dwells. And the third was the famous scene of Jesus overturning the money-changers' table, and where he says, "Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up."

Fr. Michael's homily started with reaffirming that we are a dwelling place of God, that the kingdom of heaven is within us. When Jesus said, "Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up," he wasn't referring to the temple of Jerusalem, but to himself. And in commemorating a physical building, Fr. Michael offered that it's not what goes into a building that's important, it's what comes out. We go in to celebrate and to be strengthened, and we come out to live what we celebrate within—love.

After the service, I talked to a number of people and was surprised by how many recognized me and knew my name. Most were from the B- group and the inquiry class, but a few were new. It was nice. It made me feel like part of the community. I've quickly grown to look forward to Wednesdays and Sundays.

11/7/14

I went to PFoD for their new Friday night program, Investigations. The night begins with some reflections, then a short 30min meditation session, and finishes with a discussion about the topic. The theme for the night was the place of joy in the practice. Many of the teachings in the Pali Canon talk about the dangers and drawbacks of joy and sensual pleasure because of our tendency to cling to them and take them as our refuge, investing our hope of lasting happiness in them despite their ephemeral nature. But joy and pleasure in and of themselves aren't unwholesome things, and the Pali Canon also talks about blameless forms of happiness and pleasure, as well as how to use them in one's practice. I spent most of the night meditating and reflecting on what everyone said, contemplating my own difficulties with seeking pleasure and taking refuge in delight. It reminded me that one of the first things that drew me towards ancient Greek philosophy was the idea that we can, and should, become masters of our passions rather than their servants.

11/6/14

The last couple of weeks have been kind of rough for me, and I don't have much energy or motivation lately. After my experience at PFoD Friday abd Saturday, I have a redoubled sense of needing to put more effort into my spiritual practice; but at the same time, I don't have much to give at the moment. On top of that, I'm not happy at my low-paying, unfulfilling job; and I don't have any confidence in myself or know my place in the world. I've been sad and angry and lonely, and unsure of what to do to make things better.

Last night at the B- meeting, however, Fr. Michael touched upon prayer, and what he said helped. He said that prayer is ultimately a transformative process, that it's about waking up: waking up to our sinfulness (unskillful behaviour), to our relationship with God (the absolute) and the people around us (interdependence), etc. He said that, in prayer, we need to slow down and become what we pray. It's not just about reciting the words ritualistically, it's a contemplative act. As an example, he handed out the prayer of St. Francis:

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is discord, harmony;
Where there is error, truth;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

Not only is the prayer itself beautifully worded and full of compassion, love, and selflessness/humility (all things that I need to strengthen in myself), but it's something to be put into practice, to become. Fr. Michael asked us to imagine the transformative potential of taking a line or two to work on for a whole day or even week—to mentally recite it throughout the day and try to really live it. And then just imagine if we did that for, say, the next 28 years, letting ourselves become immersed in prayer and allowing it to help change us. It's a contemplative approach to prayer, as well as a practical one.

After the meeting, he also gave me some encouraging words about my lack of confidence and not knowing my place in the world. He told me about the journey he took in becoming a priest, and said that I shouldn't feel like I have to have everything figured out right now. He said that the most important thing to do is to keep talking about these things because that's how opportunities (and discernment) arise. He also encouraged me to spend some more time at Our Lady of Guadalupe, which is definitely something I want to do.

11/2/14

I woke up today with a sore throat, but still felt good enough to go to mass. I made it a point to go since it's All Souls Day and I wanted to honour the people in my life who are no longer here. I was early, and so got to spend some time talking with Fr. Bill, which was nice. He asked me if I was going to become Catholic, and I answered honestly that it seems like I'm going in that direction, but we'll see. He's very easy to get along with, and I'd like to talk to him more in the future. His homily was a mixture of reflections on Pope Francis' words to go where it's difficult and listen, bringing up the Holy Faith Sisters' mission to the border area of Mexico to help provide spiritual and humanitarian aid to those in need, and the loss of loved ones. It was nice even though the topic was a rather solemn one.