Cosmas or the Love of God

Usually the best books come from writers writing from their own personal experience. Usually religious vocations manifest themselves; if they don’t, the presumption is there never was one.

But what about the layman—grandfather and businessman—who writes a flawless classic on the monastic life? If I hadn’t just spilled the beans and you’d read Pierre De Calan’s Cosmas or the Love of God without reading my review or the book’s introduction, I promise, you’d think it had been written by someone who’d devoted his life to the Cistercian tradition. That the author was neither a Trappist, nor a priest, nor even a member of any religious order will surprise most readers, when you think about it—which you won’t do often as you're reading the book, I suspect.

So incredible books can come from those writing about subjects which presumably they have not experienced. Cosmas or the Love of God is a retrospective story about a young man who feels called to the Trappist way of life, enters the abbey and immediately begins to encounter problems. However, unlike most cases where pride or some other obvious sin or character defect make it easy for his superiors to send Cosmas on his way with the assurances that he was wrong, he does not in fact have a vocation, this case defies simple disposition. There's something else going on here, but what?

If books can be written under unusual circumstances by those we don’t normally expect to write on certain subjects, can’t vocations manifest themselves in ways not seen before? With God as Author, isn’t the realm of possibility bigger than we may have suspected?

Here is how the wise Father Abbot, Dom Philippe puts it near the end of the book:

“The vocation of a Bach or a Mozart seems to be beyond all question because of the wonderful music they produced. But in the sight of God, have they any more value than that of any other musician, without their talent and grace, who has heard the inner call and tried to answer it until death? Those who suffer from this gap between their aspirations and their attainments—and whom we cruelly call failures—are perhaps less deceived about their talent than we imagine. But in their eyes the sense of inadequacy, of getting nowhere, and their failures, do not relieve them of the responsibility to keep on trying, unweariedly though in vain ... Has not this kind of fidelity, sustained neither by dispositions nor success, an altogether special value—provided it really is fidelity to an inner voice and is not merely the result of pride or obstinacy? . . . Once more God reminds us that he knows infinitely more than we do … that he knows better than we do the way by which each one of us can find peace.” (pp.224-227)

A thoughtful and thought-provoking read—Cosmas or the Love of God is a quiet afternoon’s meditation on life and how to live well. A good gift for a young person discerning vocation!

The Edge of Sadness

My second installment in this trilogy devoted to Books About Priests, is Edwin O'Connor's, The Edge of Sadness. Even the title should warn you that this book is not for everyone. But if you are the type of reader who enjoys psychological mysteries, then I think you will find this study of the priesthood fascinating.

The Edge of Sadness is 646 pages of mostly thought and dialogue which spans the relatively brief time span of six months, occasionally taking retrospective forays back into the lifetime friendship of two middle-aged priests who grew up together.

The main character, Father Hugh Kennedy, a recovering alcoholic, is the pastor of the down-and-out—and going nowhere—Old St. Paul's, a conglomerate parish which has seen better days and probably won't see them again. Father John Carmody, son of the infamous Charlie Carmody, one of the most hated Irish business shysters of his generation is the type-A pastor of a type-A parish, St. Raymond's, a place which functioned much like a hospital emergency room—as did many a big Eastern city Catholic parish of the 1960's era—that is, always running, often at top speed, and never closing its doors.

But the parishes only provide a backdrop for the story which really centers on Father Hugh and his relationship with the Carmody family: Charlie, the formidable patriarch; Hugh's best friend, John; Helen, his married sister and her family; Dan, the other brother who never could get his act together and Mary, Charlie’s caretaker and housekeeper.

The overarching mystery of the novel is why does Charlie—who never does anything to no avail—suddenly decide to start calling on Father Hugh, reminiscing about his so-called friendship with Hugh's long-dead father, who in fact knew Charlie for exactly what he was, a shrewd and self-motivated businessman who never did an unselfish act in his life? What is Charlie's game now? Even his own children are at a loss to explain his seemingly motiveless nostalgia. But as the story unfolds and we go deeper and deeper into the Carmody family, we sense the damage old Charlie has been wreaking, not only on his four adult children but on ‘friends’, clients, business associates and the city as a whole.

Not that I did it, but if you’re one of those who do, even reading the last page and/or chapter won’t ‘solve’ the mystery, although it is solved, I promise. For all its length and leisurely pace, The Edge of Sadness is one of the most satisfying books I have read in a long time, also one of the most insightful and thought-provoking. The vocation of the priesthood is viewed from the inside, without glamour or sentiment but as Real Life, sometimes happy and enjoyable, other times as living on ‘the edge of sadness’. But then what life isn’t?

Here are some additional links to book reviews I've written during this Year For Priests: The Diary of a Country Priest, Silence, Priestblock 25487: A Memoir of Dachau, and Love In A Fearful Land. They are all books about priests; the first two are fiction and the last two are biographies.

Atticus

Atticus is both the book’s title and the name of the main character. Given the name’s connection to a famous novel, we are supposed to associate the ideal father in To Kill a Mockingbird with this father of two grown sons. Atticus is the modern day retelling of one of Jesus’ most beloved parables, The Prodigal Son, or as it is known in some circles today, The Loving Father. The focus of the first title being on the sins of younger son, whereas by changing the title the locus of the story shifts to that of the mercy shown by the all-compassionate father.

Without giving too much of the story away, Atticus is a widower with two sons. The older son, Frank, has obligingly remained close to his father, married, and produced grandchildren. The younger son, Scott, is a rebel. He comes home for a brief – but happy – visit at Christmas and then returns to Mexico where he lives his dissolute life. The next thing Atticus learns, Scott has committed suicide. Atticus flies south of the border to attend to his son’s personal affects and arrange to have his body returned to the United States. What he finds is nothing like what he expected.

I first encountered the author, Ron Hansen, in Mariette in Ecstasy and I was amazed by his insight and story-telling ability. Once again, he has produced a fine work of modern Christian fiction. Unfortunately it will fail to make many Christian book-of-the-month club selections due to some of the more unsavory aspects of human life which Mr. Hansen has chosen to portray. This is a loss, but only for those who refuse to read books because they are easily offended. I can assure sensitive readers that Mr. Hansen never goes out of his way to shock through excess, which is what I take exception to in so much of what masquerades as literature these days.

Although it could just be the locale, Atticus occasionally reminded me of Graham Greene’s 1940 novel, The Power and the Glory. I think it was a bit more than the sun-baked Mexican landscape that had me thinking of Greene’s whiskey priest, however. No doubt the younger son, Scott and his unsavory lifestyle, especially his unwillingness to give up his mistress, was reminiscent of Greene's character. Hansen’s writing, although not yet on par with Greene’s, is exquisite. His book goes down like a cool drink on a hot day.

I’ve always loved the Parable of the Prodigal Son, but then I expect most people do. It’s easy to see oneself and God in it, which is the purpose of all of Scripture. We are called to locate our sinful selves in the place of every sinner in the Bible. This parable has the redeeming quality of a visible, tangible, all-forgiving God who rushes out to meet us—despite what we actually deserve. In Hansen’s book, the father persists in loving his son despite circumstances and actions which seem to render him all but impossible to love. Oh but for such a father when we are similarly unlovable!

Here is a passage from Atticus which says it all:

‘She told him, "When I was in college I read a folktale about a father pursuing a son who'd run far away, from one world to the next. The father called to him, 'Please come back!' But his son looked across the great gulf between them and shouted to him, 'I can't go that far!' So his father yelled to his son, 'Then just come back halfway!' But his boy replied, I can't go back halfway!' And finally his father shouted, 'Walk back as far as you can! I'll go the rest of the way!'"’

Yes Lord, I’m walking … and looking for You! Please come the rest of the way!

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Viper's Tangle

“. . . Consider, O God, that we are without understanding of ourselves; that we do not know what we would have and set ourselves at an infinite distance from our desires.” ~St. Teresa of Avila

It isn’t often anymore I finish a book in a couple of days but today I was sick and the sickbed does have one advantage: you can’t do very much but sleep and lay around. In between sleeping, I read François Mauriac’s masterpiece, Viper’s Tangle. This is the fourth novel I’ve read from the Loyola Classics series, each one excellent, but this The Best by far. It opens with the quote by St. Teresa above.

Written in 1932, Viper’s Tangle is timeless and as relevant today as ever. It begins with a bitter, but wealthy, old man’s recriminating letter to his wife of forty years. His family is waiting on him to die; he wants to let them know a few things first. M. Louis has been writing this last ‘confession’ in his mind for much of his married life, almost from the beginning when his young bride told him of an indiscretion. In many ways, Mauriac is painting an Everyman who takes a wrong turn and then continues to compound his error with more bad choices all the while lost and estranged in the drama and tragedies of family life and allowing hate and greed to motivate him. As misunderstood by himself as by everyone else, he withdraws further, increasingly cynical, exacerbated by the pious practices of his Catholic wife and children whose religiosity doesn’t transcend and transform their lives.

The title of the book refers to M. Louis’s heart which he admits was a knot of vipers. Whether or not you ‘get’ Viper’s Tangle will depend on whether or not you believe in salvation and the power of God’s Grace to transform souls. Fortunately for us readers, Louis’s diatribe gets interrupted. Things happen which bring the plot of the story from past accusations to present actions.

It wouldn’t be a believable story if everyone just “lived happily ever after” and if this novel is anything (in my heart) it’s believable. So, no things don’t just get happy-happy all of sudden. But there is an awakening, transformation and redemption, for those willing to accept it.

There was so much insight in this book, I’d love to quote you all the beautiful passages I highlighted—especially those which made me cry—but that would make this post far too long. Instead I’ll just close with this:

‘Most men ape greatness or nobility. Though they do not know it, they conform to certain fixed types, literary or other. This the saints know, and they hate and despise themselves because they see themselves with unclouded eyes.’

Five for Sorrow, Ten for Joy

Five for Sorrow, Ten for Joy refers to the total number of decades in the complete rosary—fifteen ... as it used to be before the addition of the five Luminous Mysteries. It is also Rumer Godden’s title for an incredible book about the lives of women, real women—suffering, tainted, fallen women, modern-day Mary Magdalenes. It is fiction and yet it is set in a very real historical context and based on an actual society of sisters, the Sisters of Bethany, many of whom were former prostitutes and prisoners who through Grace and the ministry of other sisters, gave their lives over to God and ministering to the poor, the outcast and the imprisoned.

The story centers around Lise, or Elizabeth Fanshawe, an innocent, young British woman caught up in the liberation of Paris at the end of World War II. Swept away in the delirious debauchery of the time period, Lise finds herself far from home, and totally dependent on a man who runs a brothel when the post-war madness finally ebbs. Oh, and she has the bad fortune of being in love with him as well.

From the beginning of the story we know Lise has a deforming scar on her face and that she has gone from bordello, to years in prison, only to enter a third form of ‘bondage’, a convent. But why? And how is such a transition possible? Who is Vivi? Why has Lucette followed Lise? What is the significance of the rosary to the English Elizabeth, raised Protestant, turned prostitute, then prisoner, finally cloistered nun? These are some of the many questions the story confronts us with as we try to put all the pieces together.

Ms. Godden’s novel is intriguing from start to finish, both as a story and as a commentary on human weaknesses, the longing for God and the never-ending struggle to overcome the self. Two of my favorite passages are these:

'It was a revelation to the aspirants that the sisters, some of them elderly impressive nuns, filled with quiet holiness, should publicly admit their faults. Could Soeur Imelda de Notre Dame, the calm saintly person, really have snapped sharply at anyone? Could Soeur Marie Dominique have lost her temper? “Then do you go on being you until the end? they could have moaned. “Even after all this trying and training?” “Always,” Soeur Théodore would have told them. It was a good thing Compline finished with a prayer to Mary Magdalen: “Intercede and pray without ceasing for us, Marie Magdaleine, you who are most close to our Lord Jesus.”' (page 156)

'“I wish I had your imperturbability,” said Lise.
It was not just a shell; Lise herself could keep her face and voice in control when in reality she was in turnmoil; this was deeper—the nuns were not perturbed over things like this. “When you have seen as much of God’s providence as I have,” said Soeur Raymonde, as any of the nuns would have said, “seen the unfathomable ways in which He works, if you have any sense at all, you learn not to question or to judge—only to trust.”' (page 212)

Prayer and trust: two simple words, two powers actions.

For those familiar with Ms. Godden’s better known novel, In This House of Brede, Five For Sorrow picks up some of the same themes and re-examines them in a new light. However, although both books deal with convent life, they are totally different stories. Which is better? I’d be hard pressed to say. They are both excellent!

Theology For Beginners

This is my second reading of Theology For Beginners -- mostly because I can barely remember the first. What I do remember was at the time (probably sometime between '02-'04) it didn't seem a book 'for beginners'. This time, perhaps due to the reading I've done in the interim, it was much easier to understand. It's still very theoretical. Theology, after all, being 'the study of' God -- the most impenetrable mystery of all time -- it now amazes me Mr. Sheed has made this book as accessible as he has.

There were many things I liked about this book including the explanation of spirit/soul/body and their relationship(s) to each other. The whole spirit-soul 'thing' actually made sense after reading this explanation, spirit being not only a key word, but the key word. It 'is the element in us by which we know and love, by which we therefore decide.' Souls, on the other hand are marvellous and they animate the bodies, the life-principles, of all living things including plants and animals. So my cat has soul, but not a spirit, if I understand Mr. Sheed correctly. However, the human soul not only animates the body, it has powers of its own, powers utterly outside the possibilities of matter. (p. 62)

And then there were other pearls of Wisdom scattered throughout which I tried to collect (highlight) and add to memory, such as:

- . . . evolution and creation. These are answers to two totally different questions. Creation answers the question why does anything exist, why isn't there nothing? Evolution is a theory as to how the universe did develop once it existed. Upon how it came to exist, evolution sheds no light whatever. (p. 58)

- We are born without sanctifying grace. That is what is meant by being born in original sin, which is not to be thought of as a stain on the soul, but as the absence of that grace without which we cannot . . . reach the goal for which God destined man. (p. 80)

- It is by the saints, and not by the mediocre . . . that the Church is to be judged. A medicine must be judged not by those who buy it but by those who actually take it. (p. 116)

Theology For Beginners is really very basic theology. For some it will just whet the appetite. For others, it will saturate. Whichever is the case, as Mr Sheed says in his Foreword, 'you cannot love someone you do not know. You cannot love God well if you know Him poorly.'

"While it is obvious that an ignorant man can be virtuous, it is equally obvious that ignorance is no virtue." ~~Frank Sheed

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The Diary of a Country Priest

The Diary of a Country Priest by Georges Bernanos is a deceptively quiet book which starts off very slowly. Though I knew it had to be going somewhere, it is easy to see why some readers miss its depths—I stopped and started it several times myself. Lacking a clearly discernable plot, especially in the opening pages, I couldn't get into it.

I had even decided to put it on a backburner when a Goodreads friend, Fred, from Deep Furrows, commented on my update, 'Better to read sooner than later. Not a ponderous classic, but eavesdropping on great dialogue.' Well that was clear enough for me. I reopened 'Diary' and finished it in less than a week...with much appreciation.

The gist of the story is an inexperienced, young priest arrives at his first parish, a little place out in the country and begins to keep a diary. We also learn he is poor, devout, idealistic and ascetic. None of these traits particularly endear him to his parishioners. He seems to have but one fellow cleric friend, a worldly priest, de Torcy, who would have him ‘toughen up’ and stand up for himself. Sometimes, I confess I felt a little exasperated with our curé myself. Other times, his self-effacing meekness brought out my motherly instincts and I wanted to help this young clergyman—who so many seemed to despise or take advantage of. What makes the saga so compelling is the gentle, uncomplaining way the new priest tells about his many failures and humiliations. As his audience we see his kindnesses misunderstood and his simple mistakes turned against him. And yet he is determined to go out and visit all within his parish despite mounting health problems.

Most of the ‘action’ – if it can even be called that – in this novel occurs in the brilliantly constructed conversations between the curate and another character: a confused little girl, an atheist doctor, a long-grieving countess, her malicious teenage daughter, and a soldier of fortune to name a few. It is in these epic dialogues George Bernanos' reason for writing this testimony to faith is truly revealed.

It isn’t an action book. It’s much, much better than that! I can see why some – used to reading a different sort of literature – have discounted this book. It has to be read carefully, slowly and perceptively. Also, some background on the author, George Bernanos, and the French movement, positivism, would be extremely beneficial. The best review I've read on the book was this one written by Amy Welborn.

Highly recommended! One of the most faith-affirming books I’ve read this year! Thanks so much Fred for the gentle nudge.

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Poverty of Spirit

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 5:3

Poverty of Spirit by Johannes Baptist Metz seemed like such a simple book the first time I read it. Perhaps I was just so overwhelmed by everything else to do with Retreat in Daily Life -- the term given to St. Ignatian' Spiritual Exercises when they are conducted over a six month period verses the usual thirty day intensive seminar format. In 2004-2005 I participated in the program offered here in Oklahoma by the Benedictine Sisters at their Red Plains Spirituality Center in Piedmont.

However, the simplicity of Poverty of Spirit is comparable to that of the initial Beatitude which it expounds, the closer you look the deeper it goes. 'To become human means to become "poor," to have nothing that one might brag about before God.' (p.10) Nothing? Nothing! NOTHING! Let that sink in. Really and truly sink in. Poverty of spirit isn't about becoming poor but accepting that we already are poor, only most of the time we just don't know it, or get it. 'We are so poor, even our poverty isn't our own.' (p.51)

Ah, but this is a review and not a homily. Still, it is hard to write about this book without going into its spiritual teachings and mystery. Poverty of Spirit can be read in one sitting; it's only fifty-two pages. And yet probably a third of my copy is highlighted because of all the quotable sayings.

Jesus's poverty of spirit begins with His acceptance of His humanity, something we are so familiar with we usually fail to grasp the immense significance of God-become-man. It continues with His life of prayer, obedience, service, ultimately culminating in His sacrifice on the Cross, called the sacrament of poverty of spirit.

Cardinal Metz shows how we human beings are innately poor and the various shapes poverty takes: commonplace; misery and need; uniqueness and superiority; provisional nature; finiteness and death. Each distinct form is dealt with as both our chalice and our curse. And yet, those of us who would lay claim to the kingdom of God/heaven, know this to be blessed.

A spiritual classic worth reading . . . many times. For me, once every Lent. I re-read this again this year, as I've done every Lent since I first did the St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises-like many of the great works, it can be read in a short span of time, but probably never mastered.

One additional note about the author, which I just learned recently in reading, The End of Time?: The Provocation of Talking about God, Cardinal Metz is a fellow Bavarian and colleague of Pope Benedict XVI.

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Silence

I wrote the book review below just after I finished reading Silence. It was the end of a long and very fruitful Lent which culminated in the finishing of Father Neuhaus' great work, Death on a Friday Afternoon, our neighborhood fire and, most importantly, Holy Week leading up to the Easter Triduum. Bearing this in mind, this review seems a bit out of place now in the light of the Resurrection. And yet, in a recent discussion on the Via Dolorosa with my friend, Sharon*, she helped me to understand that 'sometimes when it seems that all around us are celebrating, this may not be true joy in the Lord.' Sharon referred me to a selection in Sister Faustina Kowalska's, Divine Mercy in My Soul, where that saint writes about the happiness of the crowd on Palm Sunday, 'But Jesus was very grave, and the Lord gave me to know how much He was suffering at the time. And at that moment, I saw nothing but only Jesus, whose heart was saturated with ingratitude.'

Here is my review:

Silence is a modern classic by Shusaku Endo. On the cover a crucified Jesus hangs from Japanese writing characters. My friend, Carol, recommended this book to me awhile back and I've had it sitting on my bookshelf. Then during Holy Week while I was finishing Fr. Neuhaus’ Death on a Friday Afternoon, he mentions the heroic struggles of the European missionaries who gave their all to travel around the world to share the Gospel message. Sometimes it just seems appropriate to leave off one book and seek out another, as if you are being led to it.

Silence tells a fictionalized story of what may have happened to two Portuguese priests who ventured onto mainland Japan during the persecution of the Christians around 1643. The story is told – brilliantly and poignantly – through the eyes of one Sebastian Rodrigues. The all important thing was to suffer and die a glorious martyr’s death. It was unthinkable that those who did not know Christ could devise any suffering, whether it be physical, mental, emotional or even spiritual which would lead the true believer to recant—but then this was before the days of Vietnam and the Japanese POW camps. Then it was believed no pain, deprivation, imprisonment, torture of oneself or one’s fellows—however prolonged, could ever be so bad it couldn’t be endured for love of God. It was simply a matter of one’s faith and will.

Silence is about the silence of God. I was 96 pages into the book before it occurred to me to keep track of all the times Shusaku Endo used the word, ‘silence’, ‘silent’ or ‘silently’, as well as words about sound. I had a feeling it was central to the story. From then until the end of the book (page 191) I counted fifty-one more times; I may have missed a few. It might have been a silly exercise—like something a high school English teacher would have you do—but I didn’t mind. And it focused my reading just when plot action came almost to a halt and most everything which was ‘happening’ was in the main character’s mind, or as experienced through his senses.

Silence is a powerful book. It seems to have as much to say about East meets West as it does about evangelization, martyrdom and the true voice of God. It is one Christian man’s search for the meaning of ‘the mud swamp Japanese in me’. ‘Japan is a mud swamp because it sucks up all sorts of ideologies, transforming them into itself and distorting them in the process.’ (p. xv) Sound like another country we all know and love?

Silence will leave you different than it found you. 'Be still (silent?) and know that I am God.' (Psalm 46:10)

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* Thank you Sharon!

The Shadow of the Bear

Thoroughly delightful, modern retelling of, Snow White and Rose Red, which I am bound to read next. The Shadow of the Bear is set in modern day New York City and "the Bear" wears dreadlocks. The two sisters, Blanche and Rose, recently displaced by their father's death are struggling to fit in at a new (to the girls) inner-city high school.

The best part of the book for me was the beginning because of all of the great quotes and intriguing ideas. It's been far too long since I've read any fairy tales and I'd forgotten the charm their gentle "spells' can weave in reminding us more is going on in Life than work, struggle and overcoming problems.

The author often speaks through her fanciful character, Rose. Here she is speaking to her sister, Blanche and Bear, "Have you ever felt there was something going on in life not everyone was aware of?" Pressed to explain herself, Rose continues, "As though there's a story going on that everyone is a part of, but not everybody knows about? Maybe 'story' isn't the right word--a sort of drama, a battle between what's peripheral and what's really important. As though the people you meet aren't just their plain, prosaic selves, but are actually princes and princesses, gods and goddesses, fairies, shepherds, all sorts of fantastic creatures who've chosen to hide their real shape for some reason or other. Have you ever thought that?" (p. 56)

I'll let you read the book for yourself to see how her audience responded. I know, however, what I think. I think she is on to something.

Although predictable and simplistic, it was good to be reminded by this sweet fairy tale that Good can triumph and there can be happy endings. A definite 'Feel Good' experience. Read and enjoy!

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An Unlikely Missionary

Fans of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice rejoice! You are in for treat. As we all know, there are sequels and there are sequels. And Pride and Prejudice just may be the most popular book for budding authors to attempt to reproduce in sequence. However, getting the follow-on to read true to the original isn't something just anyone can achieve. Skylar Hamilton Burris succeeds brilliantly!

In An Unlikely Missionary, Burris takes a road less traveled, in that she steers clear of the Darcys and Bennets and focuses her attention on the intriguing Charlotte Collins, who comes out of the shadows of being a minor character and into the limelight.*

As the heroine of An Unlikely Missionary, Charlotte, doesn't suffer comparison with other younger, prettier women. We get to know her better because the story unfolds from her perspective and - to this reader at least - I came to like her even more through the closer acquaintance.

An Unlikely Missionary picks up the story with Charlotte married to the insufferable Mr. Collins which our author uses to great advantage for our ironic amusement, revealing her talents in the true Austen-style.

The story moves at a fast pace. From the very first pages poor Charlotte's pragmatic reasons for marrying Collins are whisked out from under her and she find herself nursing him on a boatload of strangers bound for India. Immediately I was reminded of the observation made in the The Jane Austen Book Club that in Austen's novels we never learn what happens after the "...and they lived happily ever after!" because what if they didn't? But here, finally, we get to see - or read - the `rest of the story'.

And yet, there is nothing melancholy about An Unlikely Missionary. It evoked in me the full range of emotions--I smiled, cried, sighed, and laughed out loud, sometimes almost at once. The historical and religious research was impeccable so far as I am able to discern, but it only serves as the backdrop for the novel. It is a romantic comedy and belongs in the same class and genre with the rest of Miss Austen's novels; the romantic parts were . . . ah! sublime! Mostly, I enjoyed envisioning it made into a lavish BBC production.

And I don't care what anyone says, Charlotte is beautiful.

Thoroughly delightful book! Treat yourself!

*If you recall from P&P, Charlotte is described as `a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven'; given the time period, this description being tantamount to a kiss-of-death, as there is no mention of her beauty, yet she is still single at the advanced (gasp!) age of twenty-seven. Horrors!

*****

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Dereliction

'Early and often did the LORD, the God of their fathers, send his messengers to them, for he had compassion on his people and his dwelling place. But they mocked the messengers of God, despised his warnings, and scoffed at his prophets, until the anger of the LORD against his people was so inflamed that there was no remedy.' ~~selection from Reading 1, 2 Chr 36:14-16, 19-23, for Lætare Sunday, Fourth Sunday of Lent

As I was listening to those words read during Saturday evening Vigil Mass, I thought they are as true today as when they were written over two thousand years ago. It seems the more things change, the more they remain the same.

Our book group, Benedict's Book Club is currently reading Death on a Friday Afternoon, Chapter 4, Dereliction. Each chapter is devoted to one of the Seven Words of Jesus on the Cross:

1. "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do." Luke 23:34

2. "Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise." Luke 23:43

3. "Jesus said to his mother: "Woman, this is your son". Then he said to the disciple: "This is your mother." John 19:26-27

4. "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Matthew 27:46 & Mark 15:34

5. "I thirst." John 19:28

6. "It is finished." John 19:30

7. "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Luke 23:46

In Chapter 1, Coming To Our Senses, Father Neuhaus focuses on the gravity of our sinfulness and His great love for us which consequentially led to Good Friday, and hopefully will bring us 'to our senses'.

The second chapter, Judge Not, is long and complicated; reading it often seemed like following a rabbit trail. Eventually however, after several readings, what I took away from it was the following, ‘It would seem to be the unanimous experience of Christian thinkers and mystics that, the farther they travel on the roads of thought and contemplation, the more they know that they do not know. The most rigorous thought and the most exalted spiritual adventure bring us, again and again, to exclaim with St. Paul, “O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgements and how inscrutable his ways!” Therefore it is rightly said that all theology is finally doxology. That is to say, all analysis and explanation finally dissolves into wonder and praise.’

Chapter 3, A Strange Glory, reflects on Mary, Christ's gift of her to us from the cross and (what is often forgotten) our gift to her.

Which brings us to Chapter 4, Dereliction. A 'derelict' is someone deserted by an owner or keeper; abandoned and/or run-down; dilapidated. That certainly describes Our Lord. Does it also refer to us?

'And about three o'clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?" which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"' Matthew 27:46

Have you ever prayed like that? Have you ever felt so abandoned, so deserted, especially by the very one you look to for support? I know I have. There are many times I've cried out to God, with far less provocation than Jesus, but still with great anguish. I suspect most people have.

However, what I appreciated most in this chapter was Fr. Neuhaus’s treatment of the complexity of sin, the struggle we all face in trying to fight it, how often we fail, why we fail, the futility of the struggle when we 'go it alone', and most of all, the fact that he refuses to compromise to the triteness of 'just do it' or 'be good', as if those remedies haven't been thought of (and tried) by almost every human being who ever lived.

Whereas the rest of the book thus far has been more informative, this chapter, for me, has been the most helpful as a reflection on humanity’s hardhearted sinfulness, as well as its helplessness without God. His observations about dualism fit perfectly with this Sunday’s readings. In the first reading from Second Chronicles, we learn how God loved His people and how He tried to help them. He loved every person He created then as He loves each of us now, but humanity was as sinful in days gone by as in the present. And they had prophets then as we do now: our own dear Pope is a living, breathing prophet; so was Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta.

And then there is that scary mindset so popular today of “feel good” religion, sometimes called New Age religion, referred to by Father Neuhaus as, “spirituality”, in quotes. True spirituality doesn’t need to be put in quotes. The type of spirituality Father Neuhaus is talking about, however, is the type found and heard everywhere and really thinly veiled self-aggrandizement. As he puts it on pages 129 through 130, ‘…dualism is today's dirty word in the view of many people. Consult those hundreds of books under the category of “spirituality” in your local bookstore and you will discover the preferred language is all about wholeness, unity, coherence, harmony, synchronicity and the good feelings of being “at one with All.” By way of the sharpest contrast, Paul speaks of the Christian life in terms of conflict, tension, antagonism and jarring dissonance.’ He goes on to talk about who is the true self, the “I of myself”. Is it the “I” who serves the law of God with my mind, or the “I” of the flesh who serves the law of sin? Paul believes both are the “I” of him. ‘There is no deliverance from the intolerable contradiction of this conflicted “I” unless there is another “I”. Which brings us back to Galatians. There is another “I”. “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” The complexity on the far side of which such simplicity is found might be described as the transposition of the ego.’ (p. 130) We can’t do it alone. We can’t overcome sin, or anything else for that matter, without Him Who is all-in-all, the Alpha and Omega, without this Cross, this Death on a Friday Afternoon.

The exclamation Jesus cries out from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” is the opening words of the beautiful lamentation Psalm 22. Beautiful lament? Isn’t that a contradiction in terms? It would be if there was no one to hear, no one to answer, no one to respond. But just as everyone smiles at the first cries of a newborn, knowing that he (or she) lives, it truly is beautiful when we cry out to God, for only then do we truly LIVE in Him.

'God, who is rich in mercy, because of the great love he had for us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, brought us to life with Christ — by grace you have been saved —, raised us up with him, and seated us with him in the heavens in Christ Jesus, that in the ages to come He might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God.' ~~selection from Reading 2, Eph 2:4-10, for Lætare Sunday, Fourth Sunday of Lent

This is only the fourth chapter and the Fourth Sunday in Lent. Our journey continues...

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Descent Into Hell

One part horror, one part salvation and the rest the possibility for either, Descent Into Hell isn't all as ominous as the title sounds. Yes, there is at least one character who allows delusion to sweep away reason and reality. The reader watches in fearful fascination as the deadly descent begins and progresses.

This was my first ever book by Charles Williams, a friend of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis and a member of the famous Inklings, the literary pub group they belonged to. How I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at those meetings! I can just imagine Williams reading this book to his compatriots. No blood and gore thriller produced today, no matter how fiendish, can surpass the reality of an individual succumbing to evil without a fight; it is chilling.

If the book were only about darkness, however, I don't think I could have finished it. Instead, there is a parallel story about another character who is also haunted, disappointed and apparently even more justified in following a path of descent, who does not. Descent contains many beautiful passages, hidden or double meanings, places where you want to pause and reflect on the author's full intention. It is a book worth reading slowly. Williams believed that everything which happens has an underlying spiritual meaning. It was the spiritual side of things he was interested in--the physical world was -- is -- clothing so-to-speak to dress what is really happening. That belief is not too far from Lewis' own Shadowlands concept. Again, just imagine the great conversations they had!

Read Descent Into Hell but plan to take your time with it. It can be confusing in places. I admit that I did not understand all of it. I'd love to find a William's expert somewhere who could go over the book with me because there are confusing bits here and there. Check out "Lonely...I'm Mr. Lonely" by Roger R. at The Inklings for an excellent review of Descent. I wish I'd had it while I was still trying to read the book the first time, although I definitely plan to read it again and -- God willing -- I want to read the rest of his books too.

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Things Fall Apart

"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold” is from Yeats's poem "The Second Coming". Fifty years after Chinua Achebe wrote this deceptively simple Nigerian tragedy, Things Fall Apart has never been out of print. It's hailed as Africa's best known work of literature and I can easily see why.

At the heart of the story is a strong man, Okonkwo, with an overwhelming need to prove himself--to himself and his tribe; he must overcome the bad reputation of his drunkard ne'er-do-well father. Although Okonkwo can easily defeat enemies he can wrestle, chop or kill; his stubborn pride and anger collide with and fail to overcome those aspects of life which he cannot so readily tackle: providence, family and tribal laws.

So much of the appeal of Things -- for me at least -- is watching Okonkwo encounter a traditional village. I was fascinated (and repulsed) by its customs, mores, and overall precarious harmony. The appropriateness of the title is in the extreme delicacy of that tribal balance which is rocked to the core by the arrival of the English missionaries. All that was as Okonkwo understood the world to be, changes with the introduction of Christianity and Western civilization. It is both a clash of one individual against his own society and a foreign power, as well as the collision of two diametrically opposed cultures. You don't often find so much carefully-contained conflict in a book of this size. Truly incredible!

Chinua Achebe wrote this masterpiece before most of the African nations had declared their independence. Since that time, the Dark Continent has been washed in rivers of blood. One wonders when, and prays for an end to, all the suffering. Such a sacred place and beautiful people; in many ways so like the Garden of Eden. Long live Africa!

Thanks to Ginnie from Goodreads for this link from The Economist about A Golden Jubilee of Things Fall Apart.

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Jesus of Nazareth

Jesus of Nazareth is undoubtedly the most profound book I’ve read in 2008 and the best book on Jesus – outside of the Gospels – I’ve ever encountered. As such it seems an appropriate closing post for 2008. If you haven't read JoN yet, you owe it to yourself to make it a priority for 2009!

Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVI claims, “this book is . . . my personal search ‘for the face of the Lord.’” It can be yours too. It is alternately poetical, mystical, scholarly, exegetical and meditative. It is always erudite, challenging, thoughtful and catholic, i.e., universal. It is never preachy or pedantic.

Jesus of Nazareth is not for the faint-hearted, nor casual reader. I read every chapter except the last a minimum of three times, often more and mostly because it was necessary. On my first read throughs I found it impossible to take in the depth of his theology while keeping up with him. Paragraphs are packed with references. In order to do this book justice, you need to sit with a good bible translation beside you at all times. I only wish I’d had access to more of the books and authors the Pope quoted. He drew heavily from Holy Scripture, Scripture scholars (from different denominations), Church Fathers—east and west, saints and their writings and biographies, historical figures, philosophers, atheists, and numerous modern exegetes. In fact, it was the depth and breadth of the Holy Father’s sources which first surprised, then amazed and finally thrilled me; here was a true Shepherd for all of humanity. Any one human being who could command such a vast storehouse of the world’s knowledge is nothing short of a genius. And yet, it wasn’t his brilliance in the end that mattered, but his humility and simplicity.

Over and over again in Jesus of Nazareth, Pope Benedict XVI shows himself to be the world’s true Christian shepherd. He speaks of Jesus with such love, born of long years of relationship, which can never emerge from books, no matter how many, nor how well they are written. Joseph Ratzinger, the man, knows Jesus of Nazareth, Our Lord. It is He that this book is about. As an Evangelical Protestant pastor observes in this blog post, ‘whatever your image may be of Joseph Ratzinger, this book will change it. In it you see deeply into his own heart, and what is there is a humble and gentle spirit, and a deep godliness. He deals gently with those who object to the traditional view of Jesus, and his interaction with the arguments in Jewish scholar Jacob Neusner’s “A Rabbi Talks with Jesus” is worth the price of the book. It should be archetypal for how Christians should interact with their Jewish neighbors, and their Jewish critics.’ Read, Jesus of Nazareth by Pope Benedict XVI by Joel Gillespie, Tuesday, June 12, 2007

The book’s dust jacket claims that PBXVI is seeking to salvage the person of Jesus from recent “popular” depictions and restore Jesus’ true identity as discovered in the Gospels.’ As if Our Lord needs “salvaging” or “restoration”! If in fact that was his intention when he began the book, he surpassed that simple objective and left it far behind in what he ultimately created. However, since PBXVI does address recent ‘scholarship’ which seeks to quantify every aspect of faith, even this issue is dealt with in a straightforward and factual manner.

Each chapter in JoN is a scholarly, yet spiritual, treatment of one aspect of Jesus and/or His ministry. The book is ten chapters, begins with Our Lord’s Baptism and covers a number of significant events/issues relevant to the God-man Jesus Christ, concluding with the revelation of His identity. Tantalizingly – if you glean as much from the book as I did – the Holy Father promises a sequel, or rather, the second half of this book.

An important thing this book did for me was remind me how much there still is to learn about Jesus of Nazareth, and I don’t just mean facts, although there were plenty of those, but in terms of one’s personal relationship with Him—and how much spiritual ‘growing up’ I still have to do, or do I mean ‘growing down’? PBXVI gave me new perspectives on parables I thought I knew inside out. He connected symbols and figures from the Old and New Testaments – many of which I’d seen and heard before – but in ways stunningly innovative. He introduced me to numerous authors and scripture scholars completely unknown to me before. In the middle of a piece of text, there would be a sentence which would reach out and literally grab my attention like a hand jumping out at me from the page. My faith life has been re-energized by this book in ways I could never have dreamed possible. But mostly, I have come to see Him, Jesus, through the eyes of his servant, Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Pope Benedict XVI. I am in awe.

Our Goodreads group, Benedict's Book Club, spent over four months with this book and we barely scratched the surface in my humble opinion. Since then A Study Guide - depicted above has been published which should facilite an even deeper and more meaningful journey with this incredible book. May it bless your new year as it has blessed my past one!

May Our LORD Jesus Christ of Nazareth bless you and yours in 2009!

'Children and War' Books

When elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers. ~~African proverb

Children and war? Surely not?! Sadly, yes! When we think of war, we want to think of ‘over there’, men and machines, not children and certainly not our children. But the reality is just the opposite. Children are war’s first and most devastated victims. They are used as barter, soldiers, and human bombs. They are tortured, raped, killed, and left homeless, orphaned, and dead. Children are the greatest sufferers when adults ‘play’ war.

What can we do? Many things certainly, but most of them are beyond the scope of this blog article. Here I would just like to point out some excellent books I have recently run across which deal very sensitively and poignantly with the subject of children and war. By reading these books ourselves and to our children, we can raise the level of awareness of the destructiveness of war—what it does to individuals, families, communities and nations. We can educate our children about the seriousness and the reality of war. Wars are not just somewhere else, happening to people we don’t care about and will never meet. When people kill each other, it affects all of us. When whole cities are burned down and great works of art destroyed, all of humanity suffers the loss.

Also I would like to put out a call for others to let me know when they find other books about children dealing with the effects of war by posting comments here.

I will be listing the four books I have selected in age appropriate order.

The first book is The Librarian of Basra by Jeanette Winter. In this book – suitable for even the youngest child –a very enterprising librarian saved most of her city’s books from utter destruction when the invasion of Iraq reached Basra on April 6, 2003. This is a very gentle introduction to the realities of a current war which can be safely read to even toddlers without too much fear of nightmares. (Parental discretion still advised!) The pictures are bright and colorful and there is usually no more than a sentence or two per page. It teaches the lesson about respect for personal property, something every two year old is very interested in.



Silent Music, A story of Baghdad by James Rumford doesn’t seem at first glance to be a story about war and that may be the best approach to take in reading to our children about difficult subjects. In Silent Music, the little boy, Ali, who lives in Baghdad, loves to write his letters. He seems to love to write as much as yours truly likes to read. Perhaps my readers have some personal passion they can relate to? Ali describes the feel and beauty he experiences when he draws his Arabic script; sometimes the letters are flowing easily, other times they are stiff and awkward. But always, he has the sense that he is making ‘silent music’ with his letters. Then one night he uses his writing to get himself through the bombing of his city. He notes how easy it is to write the word ‘war’ and how difficult to write the word ‘peace’, shalom. How ironic.

The third book I chose, Aram’s Choice is a book for older children, due to its length and text; it is twelve chapters and sixty-nine pages. It deals with the aftermath of the World War I. Aram and his grandmother are the sole survivors from his family of the Armenian genocide by the Turks. The story begins in Corfu, Greece in 1923 and Aram is twelve; he and his grandmother have already fled Anatolia, Turkey and taken shelter here. Now Aram has been offered the opportunity for a new life in Canada, but he doesn’t want to leave his grandmother to go so far away. The book is about beginning again, but not forgetting, learning to let go, but to treasure what was good and is now good. It's a beautiful story—both in the text and the illustrations. Not many books that I'm familiar with have dealt with this first atrocity of the twentieth century and certainly there are few for children. Most highly recommended!

And now for my favorite! Even though I enjoyed the other three books very much, this last one touched me most deeply. Perhaps it is because it is set in my own country, I do not know. It could be that, but I think it is the book itself and the author’s mystical writing style. For one thing, the text is written as if it were verse, which gives it an almost poetical feel. You will see what I mean when you open the cover. And then there is Kek, himself, the little Sudanese refugee who has come to America on the ‘flying boat’ but finds living here ‘hard work’ due to cold ‘like claws on skin’, sun that ‘burns your eyes’, dead trees, and no cows. Poor Kek is a fish out of water in our technological civilization. He is used to green, warmth, livestock and free movement; he has come to white, cold, metal and confinement. But Kek is known as a boy who ‘finds sun when the sky is dark’ and indeed he does find and make his way in this strange new world. As the story progresses you see the beauty and perfection in Applegate’s title, Home of the Brave.

Please do check out these books. In the war for the safety of our children, these are winners. I owe thanks for finding all these marvelous books to my favorite librarian friend from goodreads, Krista the Krazy Kataloguer! Thanks a million, Krista—keep those recommendations coming!

P.S. It only just dawned on me that this might be taken as a 'political statement' rather than as a blog post offering excellent books which gently introduce and teach our children about a difficult and yet very important subject. I am not trying to say or even imply that wars are never necessary; I served in the United States Air Force from 1979-1991 achieving the rank of major before I took an early retirement to stay home with my children. I know the value of our military forces and that wars can be just, valid and essential to world stability and overall peace. But as a mother, I'm also mindful of what happens to children during wartime.

a classic 'classic'

When most readers hear the word 'classic' they are quick to stifle or hide a yawn.

Fortunately I never knew this.

I encountered Jane Eyre before I even knew what a 'classic' was. It was the summer before I was going into high school and my conscientious mother marched over to my new high school and asked the administrative staff for a summer reading list for me. In those long ago days, they might have been surprised by the request, but being the good school that they were, they recovered quickly and pulled together a quick list of suitable reading material for a young Catholic woman of the early 1970's. They didn't distinguish between classic or contemporary, young adult or youth, feminist or traditional. Books probably had labels even in those days, but I wasn't burdened with them.

To me they were just books. All I cared about was if I'd like them.

One I enjoyed above all the rest: Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Brontë.

It was set in 'olden times' (my term in those days). Nowadays it would be labeled as Gothic if it weren't already saddled with the more lugubrious epitaph, classic.

But to me, anything that happened back in 'olden times' had a magical, mystical quality. Ladies wore long skirts and swished when they walked. People lived in dark, musty tower-like buildings and talked in hushed whispers. Children, of course, were hopelessly misunderstood then as now. And low and behold! I discovered I was right! Jane was my kindred spirit. (I learned that term from Anne of Green Gables who was also kindred to both of us!) Jane was hopelessly misunderstood too!

Ah! It was a match made by a book! And in those long ago days of my delusional youth, it was the closest I came to heaven-on-earth.

From Jane's tortured girlhood, she moved into an unattractive and poverty-stricken womanhood. Well, I say, from that perspective, who wants looks and money after all anyway? Anyone can have those. Better suffering and drama, right? It's so much more, well, literary, right?! Ah! Books! If only real life were books.

And then there are the mysterious goings on in Thornfield Hall! Oh there is so much more I would say about Jane, her life, and her book, but I might spoil the story for those who have never had the first time pleasure.

So instead, I offer you this delicious invitation. Go back in time--both yours and the story's--to a simpler time when life moved at a slower pace. Enjoy the feel of those long ago days of innocence, wonder and swishing long-skirted women.

Lord of the Flies

by William Golding

Mr. Golding’s book is one of the most deeply disturbing books I’ve read in a long time. Here is a brief synopsis of the plot:

A group of young boys find themselves castaways on an uncharted tropical island either after or during a major war. Although initially the boys set up an orderly British society with rules and a just system of organization, Fear of the Unknown, turns into fear of an unknown beast and this quickly spreads and infects the group’s mindset. Eventually it takes on a symbolic as well as figurative "head", that of the decapitated head of a wild boar, slain by the boys and posted on a pike. Covered with flies, it becomes known as “The Lord of the Flies”, which is a literal translation of the name of the Hebrew Ba’ alzevuv (Beelzebub in Greek) a powerful demon in hell sometimes thought to be the devil himself.

As order breaks down, violence escalates and inevitably death ensues. How the boys deal with the decay of civilization and evolution of a true Darwinian ‘survival of the fittest’ form of existence is the remainder of the book. It’s a story of the Garden of Eden without any of the niceties of Scripture. Satan is there alright, but one wonders—where is the Lord God? And as the sins multiply, Eden just gets dirtier and yet there seems no escape but death.

So where was God on this non-Paradise island?

He was in the boy's original and pervading sense of order and decency.

He was in their undying desire to be rescued from themselves.

He was in the developing relationship of support and mutual affection which sprang up between Ralph and Piggy, but also extended to others in the original group; an unlikely, even impossible, friendship under circumstances less extreme than these.

He was in the moral outrage (and even the denial) after things began to break down.

He was in the loyalty of the twins, Samneric, or Sam 'n' Eric--so devoted to each other they were usually referred to by one name.

And ultimately, He was in the voluntary nature of the forces of Good.

Altruism can never be coerced, or it loses its very essence; the forces of tyranny which oppose it eventually have to resort to oppression and coercion tactics or lose their adherents.

In other words, God was everywhere and ever present . . . whereas the Lord of the Flies . . . well, you need to read the book to find out what happens to him.

Mr. Golding’s view of mankind is bleak—depressing even, but not unduly so. And yet in today’s world—where the concept of sin seems to have all but disappeared—maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be reminded of our inescapable, inexplicable darker side . . . and where real Good truly lies . . . in and through God alone.

The Church of Oprah Exposed is an eye-opener.

Thanks Mr. Golding! We need your book now as much as ever—maybe even more!

****1/2

The Practice of the Presence of God (RR)

by Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection

Started and Finished: 15 November 2007

"How can you read stuff like this?" asked my youngest daughter as she handed me the copy of Practice she'd found for me. I didn't reply. Nor did I bother reminding her she'd only just finished her own epic two year sojourn with the New Revised Standard Version of the Holy Bible. I knew she was only teasing me.

The Practice of the Presence of God is a book you have to be open to. Without the requisite receptivity, its pearls of wisdom would be wasted. But with the right frame of mind and heart, it is the perfect book.

Perfect in that while it can be read in one hour; mastery of its central concept requires a lifetime. Well, at least for this soul. And a very long lifetime at that. And I write that without the least trace of humility, remorse or even chagrin--as a simple statement of fact. Indeed, growth in virtue does require total commitment and extended preparation time.

Our humble author, Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection, assures us that his own journey along this path toward 'practicing the presence of God' took him many years as well. So, despair should not deter one's efforts.

I like that the word 'practice' is used in the title, and indeed throughout the book, because it recognizes the fallibility in human nature. We will have to creep, crawl, stumble and fall many times in this effort before we will ever be able to actually walk in God's presence. That is Brother Lawrence's goal -- and presumably the goal of any self-professed Christian: to actually walk hand-in-hand with Our LORD. In the meantime, He carries us.

Brother Lawrence and his solitary legacy bear much in common with Father De Caussade and his work, discussed in an earlier post.

Both men were post-Reformation, French religious, from rather obscure backgrounds, who left us one primary work of spiritual insight comprised of meditations and letters collected postmortem. Few hard facts can be substantiated about either man -- even such basic information as definitive dates of birth and death, although we do know approximate dates. Both were extremely humble men who -- given their own preference -- would have lived quiet lives far away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of society; but they were not given that chance. God had need of their services and so He called these two holy men out from their peaceful solitude to minister to their neighbors.

Brother Lawrence lived and worked most of his life at the monastery of the Discalced Carmelites on the rue de Vaugirard in Paris, where he spent many years working in the kitchen. He died in 1691 at around 80 years of age. A year later his Abbot collected what could be found from Brother Lawrence's letters, spiritual writings and recorded conversations, put them together and this comprises what we know today as The Practice of the Presence of God.

Unfortunately, upon publication, Practice became associated with the controversy of the day, the heresy then causing so much bitter debate, Quietism. Although it is beyond the scope of this article and the abilities of this writer to discuss the theological aspects of Quietism, it is important to understand that one tenet of this heresy bore a similarity to Brother Lawrence's principle theses, complete abandonment to the will of God, and therefore was used by advocates of the Quietist heresy to justify their position. As it would be some years before this struggle could be resolved, especially in France, Practice suffered the taint of guilt by association -- albeit a slim association at best -- and fell into disfavor in the country of its birth. Fortunately for us, our book was picked up by other Christian denominations and carried to other countries where it has spread around the world. Since its initial printing, Practice has been always been available in one form or another and now can even be found in many versions on-line.

The first section of the book consists of four dated conversations where Brother Lawrence describes what it is that led him to the realization that pursuing the 'Practice of the Presence of God' was the best way, indeed the only way, to follow Christ. These are not conversations as most Americans today would categorize conversations, but more like a Shakespearean soliloquy, with the little monk giving his thoughts on how he came to know that putting God first, last, and always, was the only way to live. And really that is Practice in a nutshell. I could stop writing here and you would have the book. Except that as simple as it is write -- or say -- such words, anyone who has really tried to live them knows, it is not that easy.

In the next section of the book, we are given sixteen of Brother Lawrence's letters--mostly written to a nun, but also one to a priest and several to a lay woman. All of these further elucidate how one is to advance along the path toward our ultimate goal, full and total communion with God. The book concludes with a group of Brother Lawrence's maxims.

What Brother Lawrence teaches through Practice is that no matter where we are, or what we are doing, we can and should be in God's presence at all times. But how to achieve this state, you may well ask? Although he answers this question in many different ways throughout the book, probably the most clear-cut answer lies here:

"Having found different methods of going to God and different practices to attain the spiritual life in several books, I decided that they would serve more to hinder than to facilitate me in what I was seeking--which was nothing other than a means to be wholly God's. This made me decide to give all to gain all; so after having given all to God in satisfaction for my sins, I began to live as if there were no one in the world but Him and me." (p73)

On the surface, such an approach sounds very simplistic, or even selfish. However, the same day I read those words of Brother Lawrence, I read almost the exact same idea expressed by another Carmelite from 200 years earlier. In describing the transforming union that a soul undergoes when it finally achieves oneness with God, St. John of the Cross writes, "And here lies the remarkable delight of this awakening: the soul knows creatures through God and not God through creatures." (p189, Fire Within, Thomas Dubay, S.M.)

Indeed the life of Brother Lawrence is testimony to his writings; his single-minded concern for God, far from leading him away from love of people, brought him closer to them. Only through a greater love of God, can we ever hope for a fuller love of all of His creation.

My first recorded acquaintance with Practice was May of 2004--at least according to the little bookmark card maintained inside the front cover of my ragged paperback copy. Recently I read and listened to the book again. I wish I could say that reading Practice was enough, or even writing about it. But they aren't. It takes much more than that. Nevertheless, I shall continue to do both, because I see great wisdom in this little book and at least reading it keeps the idea foremost in my mind.

'I must know, love and serve God in this world that I may gain the happiness of heaven.' (Baltimore Catechism)

But even more than that, to be happy in this life, Brother Lawrence tells us is only possible with God as our one and only purpose, end and goal.

*****



"That all things are possible to him who believes, more so to him who hopes [still more to him who loves], and most of all to him who perseveres in the practice of these three virtues. That the end we ought to propose for ourselves in this life is to become the most perfect adorers of God we possibly can, as we hope to be His perfect adorers through all eternity."

~~Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection from "The Practice of the Presence of God"

"All human suffering is an act of repentance."

"The Keys of the Kingdom" by A. J. Cronin

Started: 27 September 2007
Finished: 23 October 2007

Tears filled my eyes when I read that quote -- flying somewhere over Europe -- which I put in the title line. I prayed silently that it may be true. 'Dear God, please let it be the case! Let us be able to repent for our sins through what we suffer. Then human pain and misery will not be such a mystery and a seeming waste.'

I watched the sublimely exquisite movie, starring Gregory Peck, made from this book some years back. In it, he plays the gentle, unambitious, and frequently-misunderstood Scottish priest, Francis Chisholm. Well...perhaps to call Father Chisholm 'unambitious' is misleading; he does have his desires and goals, the same as any human being. He just doesn't have the usual ones for a priest. Not that he doesn't want to win souls to Christ. He does. But that's just it--that is his sole aspiration. He is not concerned with: rising in the Church, making money or influential friends, nor even converting at any cost, but only in genuinely changing minds and hearts. Therefore, he is constantly at odds with the world around him--even with those from inside his own Church.

But to speak of the movie again; it was delightful as I remember. I haven't watched it recently. Now that I've finished the book, I must watch it again. As I recall it, however, it is nowhere so complete as the book of course. Books, by their very nature, can go into so much more detail than movies--although movies have their place as well.

The Keys to the Kingdom is achingly beautiful, packed with lines like the one above which just pierce the heart with their Truth and Wisdom. I read the quote above to several individuals on my recent pilgrimage and it struck them as it did me. To put the quote in context makes it even more poignant. Fr. Chisholm's childhood best friend, Dr. Willie Tulloch, has journeyed from Scotland to China to visit, only to find the land in the midst of the plague. Dr. Tulloch, although raised in a devout Catholic home like his friend, Francis, has grown up to be an agnostic--or perhaps an atheist--it's not really clear. In any event, near the end of weeks working side-by-side, treating hundreds of Chinese with the plague, Willie finally succumbs and lays dying in Francis' arms. Here is their conversation.

(Willie) '..."ye'll write the old man and tell him that his son died game. Funny . . . I still can't believe in God."

"Does that matter now?" What was he saying? Francis did not know. He was crying and in the stupid humiliation of his weakness, the words came from him in blind confusion. "He believes in you."

"Don't delude yourself . . . I'm not repentant."

"All human suffering is an act of repentance."

There was a silence. The priest said no more. Weakly, Tulloch reached out his hand and let it fall on Francis' arm.

"Man I've never loved you so much as I do now . . . for not trying to bully me into heaven. You see-" His lids dropped wearily...'

There are many other quotes by and about the good priest which I'd like to share with you; here are just a sampling. Fr. Chisholm says to the gardener, after he complains all his plantings are lost and he must begin all over again. 'That is life . . . to begin again when everything is lost.'

Another time he writes in his journal, 'But the joy of knowing that to one person at least one is dear . . . indispensable . . . ' Yes! I can agree, that is Joy!

And this after he had been captured by bandits, held hostage, tortured and had his leg broken, 'Clumsily, a stiff ungainly figure, he knelt down, and begged God to judge him less by his deeds than by his intention.'

Keys is such a superb story--elegant in its exemplification of the simple. It will wrap itself around your heart, touch places deep inside and stay with you long after you close the cover. If all priests were like Fr. Chisholm, there would have been no need for the Reformation. He truly carried the love of Christ wherever he went.

God bless you!

*****