Catholic Hermit: A Hermit's Redemption

Today, being the Second Sunday in Advent and also December 8, is the vigil of the solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary.  It also is the day celebrating a hermit, new to me:  St. Patapios of 4th c. Thebes.  I'm asking intercessions of this hermit, and as ever, of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  They know my needs and the prayers of my heart, and I know their prayers already are helping.

Waking in the morning is increasingly difficult for me, with this amount of pain.  I also am grieving losses, and I recognize the emptying out as a needful aspect for my mind, heart, and soul; yet it feels as if being crushed and then also squeezed of whatever remnants remain of what was or is my self.  

As for the post I wrote yesterday, of the person who yet again derided in her blog post, and has been an on-going discrediting of my validity as a consecrated Catholic hermit, her action is not lost on me as a marvelous opportunity in penance.  I tell the Lord that I realize such a type of persecution is deserved for I had myself written of others, and described situations of which those persons could and did feel persecuted.  I suppose a difference is in my not revealing identifiable information; but of course the persons, if they located my site, could see themselves in my thoughts and feelings.   I also apologized, asked God's forgiveness, repented with remorse, and once more strive to do as Jesus says: "go and sin no more" (John 8:11).

Anyone of us could see aspects of ourselves in parts of what is shared; and I pray that even in this post, the sense of being crushed and then squeezed to the last bit of breath is also relatable, or might be at some point in some reader's temporal life.  And by sharing the depth of loss, of grieving that is intertwined with tremendous suffering of body and soul, perhaps the Lord will help me through writing and sharing, the way to keep going in what is an increasingly narrowed path and series of portals--each one smaller and more difficult to squeeze through other than by my very being needfully crushed and squeezed to a point of total insignificance.

In this wrung out nothingness, not only the mind and heart, but the very soul weeps.  So incredibly difficult it is to not reach out to those I've hurt and wronged in ways I don't even know what it is, or was, other than bits of this and that and intermingled with remnants of what I think it might be or had been.  How many times must one apologize and ask forgiveness?

Once is enough, although even if seventy-times-seven we offer our mea culpas, forgiveness is the Lord's to grant.  Once is enough for God.  And only God is sure to forgive in a way that forgets and continues to love and be with us, always.  And only saints--highly evolved souls--are able to forgive and forget and continue to love and be with others because such souls have accepted, have agreed to, being crushed and squeezed out enough to the nothingness that begets the indwelling and infilling of His Real Presence.

I pray this for my being, that the Lord crush and squeeze to whatever more extent needed and purposeful to my redemption in Christ.  In this process, I can rejoice in the losses which become praises; and I trust all the more in the Holy Trinity to shelter what is of nothing remaining other than breath and heartbeat.

I must simply keep going for the sake of His Real Presence in me and His allowing my soul to be in Him.  Only in Christ will I endure; only His Real Presence can encourage me by His love and forgiveness, in His reality of purpose and meaning.  

What brought my crushed soul through the waking darkness, yet again this morning, were the words of a saint of long ago, named Augustine.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church quotes what he wrote:  "Man is made to live in communion with God in whom he finds happiness:  When I am completely united to You, there will be no more sorrow or trials; entirely full of you, my life will be complete (St. Augustine, Confessions, 10, 28, 39: PL 32, 795).

Next I turn to Christ in His Living Word.  Another saint, a sinner, repentant, who kept going after being crushed and squeezed out, and fully forgiven by Christ writes of his thoughts and experiences and of the triumph of Christ.  Paul, whose words in the Letter to the Romans, 15:4-6, fill in what the losses could never begin to revive, offers these inspired thoughts to me, to each of us, bereft of all but His Real Presence:

"Brothers and sisters:
Whatever was written previously was written for our instruction,
that by endurance and by the encouragement of the Scriptures
we might have hope.
May the God of endurance and encouragement
grant you to think in harmony with one another,
in keeping with Christ Jesus,
that with one accord you may with one voice
glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

"Welcome one another, then, as Christ welcomed you,
for the glory of God...."

And who does such as a crushed and squeezed nothing soul living out what remains of temporal life--who does such as a nothingness welcome, in reality?  This nothing consecrated Catholic hermit welcomes and thinks in harmony, and with one accord with one silent voice, glorifies God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ:  all souls yet living on this earth and those living in the eternity of what is beyond temporal suffering and imperfection of mortal existence.

This nothing of my self welcomes all, despite those unwilling, unable, not tangibly present.  This nothing crushed and squeezed out, between worlds, aligns and is aware of other presences, such as John the Baptist who reminds me of his great warmth for me as one who is different and knows what it means to be different, yet to simply keep going. 

John, who cries out as one voice of those of us in the bewildering wilderness of our nothingness:

"Prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight his paths." (Mt. 1:3).

Or the voice of the prophet Isaiah who foretold John the Baptist's words to all those crushed and squeezed out--nothingness awaiting and desiring union in Christ:
"Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" (Mt. 1:2).

John, another nothingness as one who agreed to and accepted being crushed and squeezed out so as to be filled in with Christ, exemplifies the desert way of the hermit soul.  "John wore clothing made of camel's hair and had a leather belt around his waist.  His food was locusts and wild honey"  (Mt. 3:5). 

All the people of Jersusalem and all Judea and the entire area around the Jordan River were at that time were going out to seek John the Baptist, to be baptized by him in the river--"as they acknowledged their sins." (Mt. 3:6).

"'Even now the ax lies at the root of the trees.
Therefore every tree that does not bear good fruit
will be cut down and thrown into the fire.
I am baptizing you with water, for repentance,
but the one who is coming after me is mightier than I.
I am not worthy to carry his sandals.
He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.
His winnowing fan is in his hand.
He will clear His threshing floor
and gather His wheat into His barn,
but the chaff He will burn with unquenchable fire'" (Mt. 3:7-12).

Such is the way, the path present and forward, of the crushed and squeezed out, the nothing mind, heart, and soul.  While the bodily pains bearing the sorrows and sufferings of temporal life sins and imperfections, a cross of many crosses, the nothing mind, heart, and soul of this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit continues on, awaiting the indwelling of the Holy Trinity, of the mystical yet quite Real Presence of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

The one family member nearby in locale has called.  I could not answer for must prudently be in better custody of the bodily pain that riverlike overflows in emotional and mental tributaries.  What can I offer if am not in possession of my temporal thoughts and emotions, of prayerful custody over the pain?  My nothingness must be within Christ's holiness of loving listening and response in order to welcome in one accord of the holy, unseen others present: for the glory of God!

I praise God for the blessings of what temporal means of helping subdue pain, and of knowing that each moment is blessed with His love and companionship, and that the earthly seasons that seem to cause more pain will pass.  This is Advent, after all, and a time of great preparation and waiting with expectation of Christ's coming!

Await redemption of this nothing consecrated Catholic hermit, of a suffering human being, of a soul!

God bless His Real Presence in us!

Scent of Roses: Consolation

This morning a friend emailed one of Therese of Lisieux's letters.  She also sent along this morning's Mass readings, all of which were appropriate in marvelous message, on point, to what this Catholic hermit has been experiencing and trying to express.  The Lord hears the cries of His people, and He has heard this hermit's weariness and uncertainty in the trials and lowliness of physical existence.

Before reading what the friend sent, the hermit began to smell in the early dawn moments, a beautiful scent of roses. It pervaded the room.  There is absolutely nothing in this gutted room in this gutted, old house, that smells of roses.  No perfume about, no flowers, no sweetness, anywhere.  Then the hermit wondered if could be deodorant?  But alas, no.  There has not been bathing for two weeks.  (Yes, this hermit has to rough it in here, for now and forever how long.  Has to go to a doctor today and then on to daughter's for a much-needed shower in civilization!)

The hermit took some deep breaths, finally realizing it must be the Virgin Mary, through the numinous power of the Holy Spirit, to bless this worn out person here, with a consolation.  But then, when reading the email from the friend, saying she was sending wonderful message from St. Therese (aka The Little Flower), this hermit still did not make a connection.

It was only after reading the letter of Therese with it's appropriate message--just perfect for what this hermit needed to be reminded, as well as today's Mass Scripture readings--that the realization occurred that the Holy Spirit was sending through St. Therese, roses from heaven.  The scent remained strong for quite awhile and still is present, even though less potent.

Frankly, it is quite a consolation, as the hermit's hair has not been pleasant, nor the bedding all that fresh after being in bed quite a bit the past few days.

And, the words of Scripture from St. Paul and from Jesus, reminds to keep in the race, to work hard, and to finish what is started, as well as to reside in one's nothingness and lowliness, before His Real Presence in love and faith.  All of and in and about us must be a witness to the glory of God.

God bless His Real Presence in us!  Little children, let us love one another!  Remain in His Love!

This is the selection from St. Therese's letter, that the friend sent.

Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus (1873-1897), Carmelite, Doctor of the Church
Letter 197 of 17/09/1896 (©ICS publications)
"Everyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple"
"Dear Sister, how can you ask me if it is possible for you to love God as I love Him? ... My desires of martyrdom are nothing; they are not what give me the unlimited confidence that I feel in my heart. They are, to tell the truth, the spiritual riches that render one unjust, when one rests in them with complacence and when one believes they are something great... Ah! I really feel that... what pleases Him is that He sees me loving my littleness and my poverty, the blind hope that I have in His mercy.... That is my only treasure...
"Oh, dear Sister, I beg you... understand that to love Jesus... the weaker one is, without desires or virtues, the more suited one is for the workings of this consuming and transforming Love. The desire alone to be a victim suffices, but we must consent to remain always poor and without strength, and
this is the difficulty, for: "The truly poor in spirit, where do we find him? You must look for him from afar," said the psalmist. He does not say that you must look for him among great souls, but "from afar," that is to say in lowliness, in nothingness.
"Ah! let us remain then very far from all that sparkles, let us love our littleness, let us love to feel nothing, then we shall be poor in spirit, and Jesus will come to look for us, and however far we may be, He will transform us in flames of love. Oh! How I would like to be able to make you understand what I feel! It is confidence, and nothing but confidence that must lead us to Love. Does not fear lead to Justice? (To the severe justice that people show to sinners but not the justice Jesus will have for those who love him.) Since we see the way, let us run together. Yes, I feel it, Jesus wills to give us the same graces; he wills to give us his Heaven gratuitously."
 

Return to Nothing

The third "S" of my Nine S' of the hermit life is "slowness."

In some concrete aspects, my situation here in the past week or so has not been slow.  Had another horrendous pain siege so the work efforts on the fixer-upper hermitage had to go into more time spent on that and no time on reflective writing and sharing.  An electrician came twice, and the work required in order for him to proceed, kept me busy.

Plus, the amount of spiritual correspondence continues, with persons dotted about the country and one overseas who write; they do deserve responses.  Then there are the two people with whom I read a book and e-discuss or on occasion phone-discuss.  This is an excellent way to encourage one another in spiritual reading.  My young friend lives too far from her active parish to be able to participate in such.  This arrangement works for each of us. 

The latest book reading-discussion is Scupoli's The Spiritual Combat.  It is a re-read for me, but with all that has transpired since I read it five years ago, the advantage is good in reading it again!

So the manual labor aspect of my eremitic horarium has increased, and the pace not so slow other than when the body demands rest breaks.  The blog writing aspect has been more than slow--to the point of neglect.  The insights and spiritual thoughts, the ideas for writing continue within.  When the faster-paced work efforts can balance out more when electrician's work is completed, the balance will settle once again.

It seems as if I needed reminding that I am nothing and His Real Presence is ALL.  I used to refer to myself as "nothing" when I'd write, and the other day when in spiritual converse with someone across the miles, the topic arose that it might do well to return to this practice as a daily reminder of my nothingness.  Only through, with and in Him am I capable of anything or of existence at all.  Of course, this is truth for each and every one of us.

The deputy called the other day, and we discussed the parish that is closest in location, although even at that quite a distance from this hermitage.  He and his wife sense very much that His Real Presence is not in the Tabernacle at that parish.  Odd, as that is exactly my sense of it and probably why so few people attend, and why there is little to no spiritual involvement nor charitable outreach.  He and his wife have witnessed the priest lifting the Host to his lips but not consuming, and of lifting the chalice to his lips but not sipping.

Many such concerns and others were brought by them to the bishop with no resolution as of yet.  All I know is that the times I have been there, the inner sense and the state during Mass has been what I have come to term "a bad trip." My spiritual father repeats that I must lay low, stay clear, and wait.  We are praying for guidance from His Real Presence.  Once more "nothing" remains in prayer and praise, and am partaking of Communion and Mass spiritually, mystically.  There is peace in this, thankfully.

My nothingness is all the more accentuated and rightly so, in these details as well as in something as simple seeming as plumbing: under the house and screwing in a fixture to the refrigerator water line.  But try as I might, I could not get the fixture screwed to the refrigerator line faucet I had installed between some studs.  

I prayed and prayed--and struggled and struggled.  Not until I told Jesus that He knew I could not do this on my own, obviously, and that He would need to do it for me--that He had to be all and enough for me--did the fixture then go on quite effortlessly.

Nothing is nothing, and only His Real Presence is everything and all.  Nothing needs to more consciously practice this awareness, this truth.  Nothing will stop struggling, even with the parish situation.  His Real Presence has all as He wills, all in His omnipotence and omniscience.

Scupoli reminds that when discerning the spirits, God will in time unfold His will.  For now I pray and praise and wait and embrace slowly, again more fully, my nothingness and His All.