The suffering increases; the weather has shifted some, and the lessening the dose of pain meds raises the nausea. When I can distract my mind from this temporal, physical body, I do not as much notice the constant burning in areas of the body--such as the abdomen always burns. But when the pain rises or not as well managed by meds, the pain disrupts, breaks through, distractions.
So it goes for being an immolation, of which the Lord has asked me in various ways and times. The most direct was a simple locution: Be an immolation! Being an immolation for and with the Lord is a type of irony. For while the mystical aspects and honor of the Lord Himself asking an ordinary human--directly reaching in to command directly, so powerfully and personally--in actuality the request is most humbling, lowering, debilitating.
The nausea and abdominal burning--radiating from the burning back--debase the ability to function other than to remain in bed and strive not to let the thoughts drop but to be the only aspect to be great, to be raised high in praise of God. But I struggle, Lord, and look to Thy Living Word for the way, the truth, the life on this path of suffering.
Thus in the Gospel of today's Mass Jesus refers to his kinsman, the great hermit saint: John the Baptist. Jesus speaks the truth of humanity's hypocrisy, of criticizing righteousness and holiness lived, regardless of what is said or done by Christ and His temporally unimportant disciples. Jesus spoke of this to the people gathered:
"For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they said, 'He is possessed by a demon.' The Son of Man came eating and drinking and they said, 'Look, he is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners'" (Matthew 11:18).
In our lives, and I can but honestly share of my own path in following Christ, even such as permanent, progressive suffering--foretold by the Lord, being asked by the Lord, and my agreement in participation of not only a Catholic hermit vocation but a vocation of suffering as a victim soul of Jesus--can seem to be at odds with itself.
A hypocrisy of pain and suffering, with the back and forth, the ups and downs, the knowns and unknowns, the doubting, the reality, the temporal losses, the spiritual combat of loss and gain, the persecution by those cannot begin to grasp the inner extent of suffering's alterations--whatever form, living for Christ, suffering for whatever it is that Christ desires of us in suffering, seems an uncertain, misunderstood: damned-if-you-do and damned-if you-don't proposition.
I don't even remember well the person I was before August 22, 1984 and the cataclysmic event of unfolding suffering in an 11:22 p.m. car accident. From that point, the lessons in being lessened commenced. Humility is a process as much or more as any aspect of our temporal and spiritual lives.
Others who look upon our lives, and sometimes we do it to ourselves, will never cease with complaints and criticism, especially of those striving in a path less travelled but yet very much alive in desiring Christ and to do His will. Of those who strive in Christ, the flaws and sins will be all the more noted and judged not by Jesus but by those in the "marketplace" of our relationships and environment--even and maybe especially within our congregations, our parishes.
I have at times been as a child calling out in the marketplace, observing and opining of others, assuming or doubting of their intentions, words, and actions. We Christians may be those in the marketplace as well as one who is striving with Christ, desiring to proclaim Christ, to live the Gospels, to do His will no matter what His will includes and asks of us. His Providence defies and soars beyond our temporal reason. Yet we know that His will is perfect and brings good for our souls and for the witness and glory of God for others.
But being least keeps us true to His will. For that, suffering is a blessed balm and gift in the humility of infinite facets. In my current situation, to date, the lessening is pervasive: less able to filter thoughts and words expressed, the lessening of being relatable in human interactions, lessening ties to this temporal world, less able to do, less able to focus in prayer, lessening of distraction from the suffering itself.
There are so many facets of being lessened, bit by bit, to evolving to being least, that I am too weary with suffering to write further of them.
Yet I want to share this excerpt by St. John Henry Newman on the wisdom of God.
"Saint John the Baptist was separated from the world. He was a Nazarite (Lk 1:15, Nb 6:2). He went out from the world, and placed himself over against it...and called it to repentance. Then went out all Jerusalem to him into the desert (Mk 3:5), and he confronted it face to face. But in his teaching he spoke of One who should come to them and speak to them in a far different way. he should not separate Himself from them, He should not display Himself as some higher being, but as their brother, as of their flesh and of their bones, as one among many brethren, as one of the multitude and amidst them; nay, He was among them already: 'There hath stood in the midst of you, whom you know not' (Jn 1:26)..."
While John the Baptist shows us the reality of a human learning to be least and becoming increasingly less with his life devoted and obedient to God's will and mission for him as one who came calling out as one in the desert, Christ's forerunner, proclaiming Christ is among us, Jesus the God-man, exemplifies to us perfect humility, of being least. For Jesus did not distinguish himself with any titles or position, no noble career or identifiable vocation--not even that of a hermit. Jesus is among us as one of us. He is the epitome of what it is to be least; his very heart and soul: humble.
His birth and his death--both humble. His relationships became least, dwindling down to a handful at the foot of His cross. Even then, Christ chose being least, flanked in final suffering and crucifixion death by two of the least of least of humankind: criminals.
I'm not fully least. I had a Christmas card from a friend who I thought I'd also offended and lost; the email had been hacked. In the message was a repeated request to email, and the new address. A young woman whom the Lord pointed out to me years ago, as she was but a child then, having come alone to Mass on a snowy, January, dark night, called with news of her engagement. I hear from her on rare occasion, this being a blessed one.
A most loved one continues no communication; I know not why, but am learning to be less in sorrow and more in praying. My very elderly aunt maintains her desire, expressed through her daughter, that she does not want a phone call. I accept that lessening as a final loss; my best purpose in this relationship now is to pray for her soul's effective preparation for death and passing. A granddaughter unexpectedly responded to my text asking if she has a Christmas gift list. Yes, I've become less, Lord, than a month ago; but I'm not least yet.
An aspect of being less and least, has not to do with the lack of others, but with a peaceful ebb and flow of others, of allowing however God wills in their lives and their needs, to be always accepted. Being least is allowing God to be all in Himself and in His creatures and creation, without the hermit being more or most, or expecting to be or need or demand more or most of God, of others, or things.
The more I've prayed (focus, I think far less, for pain is increasingly and maybe totally the means of prayer) at least with what is of my life now, that I might be least of all hermits but yet a best-possible, striving soul in my less. May I be least in this lesser of the vocations, and within the vehicle of this hermit vocation, may I be least through hiddenness, least in not asking to be approved in canon law or otherwise by anyone.
As Jesus says, not the least of His beauty, truth, and goodness: "Wisdom is vindicated by her works" (Matthew 11:19).
May I become less and less until least. May I desire less of this world. Lord, may I be least of persons--less until least in others' thoughts and remembrances, least in consideration, and least in self. May there be ever joy and unconditional love of God and for others, eternally, in being least. Being least, may I become less, even lost, in the silence, the solitude, the slowness, the suffering, the loss of self in nothingness.
God bless His Real Presence in us!
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