Mountain Top Suffering

This past weekend I had the opportunity to have an "intermission" in Munich while I take a break from the heavy contemplation that being on a pilgrimage seems to incur. During "intermission" I visited my brother and the lovely lady in his life. We ate together, drank together, and explored together. One place in particular that stretched me a bit (physically that is) was the top of Rotwand mountain, or in English "Red Wall" Mountain. This mountain rose more than 1,884 meters up (almost 6,200 feet) and required significant mental and physical focus to accomplish the task. 

Finding our trail, avoiding that fatal slip, and pushing the legs upward another step while the muscles seem to be on fire was par for this unique course. Considering myself to be relatively active, the work was hard and strenuous at times. Except when it wasn't, like arriving at the top and being rewarded with beautiful sky, good company, and then a great meal. This was exactly the kind of response one might receive (rather, should receive) after suffering through any difficult circumstances (mental note taken for future references).  Upon arrival, my humanity shifted into hyper sensitive mode: the locally brewed German Weiss beer, became the best beer I can ever remember tasting. The "average" dumplings, became the most savory meal On my pilgrimage so far. The air, seems to have taken on the newest and freshest aroma I've inhaled in a long time. The mountains looked majestic and everything down below became so simple. Heck, even my little brother seemed cool to hang out with....just kidding Sammy.

What struck me was that after experiencing this sort of physical distress and "suffering", the life around me seemed to have lit up. The difficulties weren't removed, rather priorities had shifted, and things that were important (like the food and drink for example) had a completely different flavor or experience than before. 

Keep that thought....

Returning back to my pilgrimage from this much needed "intermission" of sorts, I made my way into the medieval city of Assisi - home to a very special person I'm trying to learn about: Francis, or St Francis of Assisi. As I journeyed through his city surrounded by 1,000 year old walls and narrow roads, I spent significant time thinking about suffering. I know one individual specifically that is suffering from many physical afflictions right now and I have prayed for comfort and rest for them during my journey. But, on this suffering bit, I want to know what it is for. Why do we suffer? Isn't it better to not suffer? 

I sat and prayed quietly in the tiny chapel of San Damiano, where St Francis first heard Christ speak to him about rebuilding the Church. My head rested on the walls that he reconstructed eight centuries ago, and I looked at the cross placed there, a replica of the one that spoke to him, and I prayed "what is it about suffering, why do we do it?" As I sat there, I felt or perhaps thought of many words that seem to have come from outside me, so I began to write. Of the many things that came to mind, the first and most profound was "Suffering: may it not always be taken away, so that we might be healed".

Thinking through this thought, I have to wonder if suffering triggers healing. Through Christ. We've all been healed already - it's just a matter of activating the suffering component I think. Afterglow, suffering is inevitable - we all have it or receive it on some level. The healing part is where things get tricky. Some believe in the kind of miracles that take away suffering, some believe in science explaining anomalies. 

Perhaps, instead, suffering should be warmly embraced because it allows me (us) to center my (our) priorities and have what might be "hyper sensitive senses", which in fact might actually be (and supposed to be) what is supposed to be the norm. Tasting food and drink, breathing such fresh air, holding hands with that special loved one, smelling that aroma of life and hearing the songs of the heart is a healing I could use on a much more frequent basis. Oh how easy it is to plug those senses up with the clutter of synthesized and commercialized stimulants! And, how strange that suffering seems to unplug those pores, taste buds, and wax in my ears (figuratively speaking that is) to help me refocus on the elements of importance.

Certainly being free of affliction and distress is a miraculous thing - a good thing in fact because it testifies of the miracle of Grace available to us. However, I feel that when my journey becomes to difficult, I too often want to escape the hardship and be brought to my comfort zone of good beer, and good meal (figuratively speaking that is).  Perhaps, when suffering comes knocking, instead I need stop working so hard to alleviate it or remove it, and rather let the mystery of suffering unplug the soul and realign my focus.

Pilgrimage to Vatican

On Thursday this week, I had an opportunity to explore an extremely important and holy place for all of Christianity: Vatican City, Rome. Protestants, Orthodox and Catholics alike can point to the ancient city of Rome for the relics it holds, the early martyrs who've been killed here, the beginnings of the spread of Christianity and theology being discussed - past and present.

My time at the Vatican was especially rich because I was coming as a pilgrim, partly for  myself and partly for my brothers and sisters (Protestant, Orthodox and Catholic Christians). Not many of my friends have ever been to this beautiful "city of worship" (all of Vatican City really does declare the Glory of God - every fountain, walkway, structure, and of course the basilica, is focused on worship and the whole of it delivers theology in such a tangible way), thus the feeling of being here evoked something deep within me.  I really felt as if I was there, partly on the behalf of friends and family, sharing their prayers and sort of bringing them with me on this journey.  Some of my friends and relatives even commented how they are vicariously visiting with me. And, because of modern mobile technologies including them was very possible. 

I began by exploring the Vatican museum on a tour, becoming amazingly close to ancient marble sculptures created by cultures who, with their artwork, seem to be searching for wholeness either with the earth, crops, continued life (fertility) or even the afterlife. This certainly grabbed my attention, because these cultures were certainly not Christian. In fact some of these cultures tragically persecuted early Christian people in the first few centuries. So, I have to wonder, why would the Church go to such great lengths to salvage and then preserve such works of immense detail and talent, that are directly opposite of my understanding of Church teaching?

As I thought through this, I remember previous discussions by a couple "Heroes" of mine that suggests these cultures were truly looking for wholeness, or completion in something. They searched high and low - in fact we know a few of them even came to worship Christ because they found Him by way of using astrological practices. We celebrate the feast of Epiphany to mark this event; the 12th and final day of Christmas when the wise men found the infant Jesus and worshipped Him.

Wrapping this idea around the "seek and ye shall find" promise I wrote about in a previous post, what struck me was how these people were searching for something: they searched with their [gentile/pagan] ways that were familiar to them. In that search, (which is an action that resulted from some form of faith) the one true God meets them where they are. In the case of the statues and art works in the Vatican museum by pagan cultures, it became so evident to me that these cultures were trying to seek something deeper than what they knew.  It may have been a messy way of going about it in some cases, but in the end, God met them with himself as He so often does - beyond our own messy ways.  He was born of a virgin to destroy, once and for all, the separating boundary between God and man: Death. Even in pagan religions there are stories of a virgin woman giving birth to a son who went on to slay a dragon. How true and foretelling they are because this really did happen. The Blessed Virgin Mary, conceived through the Holy Spirt, bore Jesus the Son of God, who went on to overcome the dragon of death. 

Holding on to these sculptures and preserving them seems to weave a story together of how we as humanity were all so very lost, and then found.  At the basilica of St John Lateran (not inside the Vatican) there is an Egyptian obelisk commissioned by Pharaoh Thuthmos III, and completed by his grandson in the 15th century, B.C. This is the largest standing Egyptian obelisk in the world at 230 tons.  The Egyptian people were not Christians but we know they sought light, life and knowledge. And what a crowning achievement to not destroy this monument, but rather to take it, and redeem it by placing the truth at the top: the Cross of Christ. The message of Christianity is so well illustrated here: not to destroy the lost, but rather to redeem it. Over and over and over, throughout the museum are stories of redemption. The freedom from death has come. You need to do nothing but have faith enough to step out in action (seek!) - eventually it will come to you.

St Paul Outside the Walls

How intense it is to visit locations that are marked with hundreds, even thousands of years of history.  After spending a few days in Rome, I've had the opportunity to see these iconic places, and stare at the. In wonder. The beauty of what I am actually seeing is enhanced by the tangible nature of the Christian journey. A great example for me is that when I read ancient texts described by Paul in a variety of Epistles, and see him talk about his choice of being a slave to Christ, and then see the site of his grave, which includes a nine-linked chain that he was bound by for sharing Christ's message, the visual objects enhance the scripture in such a remarkable way. Having "things" to touch, see, smell, taste and hear completely enhance any message - thanks be to God for giving us "things" by which we can better hear His story.

Visiting the Basilica di San Paolo was rich in theology and awe inspiring beauty for me. After
descending the steps in the center of the cathedral, I was brought toward the actual grave of St Paul. The air was sobering, and I felt the depth and holiness that this site offered.  I sat on the cool marble floor against the wall and prayed. I journaled, and thought about the conversion that Paul underwent: persecuting individuals with the backing of religious authority and then having a revelation that destroyed his understanding by meeting this person that he was killing, Christ. Having left all that he knew, his conversion took him to great distances physically and spiritually.

 

My conversion to Catholicism is nothing near this dramatic, and I certainly do not have to work through persecution like he did. However, the humility sets in when I think about the negative things I've said in the past against the catholic church, the accusations of idolatry among other things. I think about the separation I felt between "us and them": Protestant and Catholic. I think about the effort I made to help them see my way of thinking. And then, to think about my own conversion and the embarrassment of my old ways. Humbling doesn't begin to describe the feeling. 

Learning from Paul and his great humility, I take my cue. Expressing words of compassion and love is far more convincing than arguing and attacking. While some may wonder why such a change in my life, when they knew me many moons ago, the strongest witness is shared with a smile - a genuine smile. Lord have mercy on me, a sinner. Christ have mercy on me a sinner. Lord have mercy on me a sinner.

A Heroic Prelude to Rome

Now, I know I'm not alone here...everyone has at least one hero. Some even have a literal hero that saved them from a dire circumstance. Well, over the last three days I had the chance to connect with a couple of my own heroes in a surprisingly short period of time. 

This past week I spent most of my time figuring our exchange rates, booking hostels, deciding which tours to take as well as finding the best international mobile phone plan. I pulled out my "experience bag" and examined the various travel methods/tools I've used many times before, and found myself right back in my old groove. For a [young?] guy a like me, I've been fortunate enough to visit Europe on more than one occasion, as well as travel throughout the states, and even vacationed in Mexico for a week once. So, traveling for me isn't all at intimidating.  However, pulling off a trip by myself where I don't know anyone, in a country that doesn't speak English, with temperatures very different than my native Michigan, currency that doesn't favor the dollar and then to explore it for two weeks, is a little new for me. Ah, but it is tis kind of challenge that makes me want to figure it out. 

On Thursday last week, it is fair to say that most of the details were decided upon and I was just waiting on a few things from the store and from Amazon.  So, taking a big portion of the day to reflect on my journey to Rome, Assisi, and Munich, I had the opportunity to attend the 7pm Mass at another parish in sub-urban Detroit: Our Lady of Good Counsel. The focus of last Thursday's Mass (Feast of The Assumption of Or Lady) was not totally clear to me, since about 99% of my religious life did not have much to do with Mary, and certainly the teaching of Her Assumption was never discussed, or believed to be authentic for that matter. However, as a converted Catholic I needed to reconcile this teaching of Mary and genuinely seek another vantage point.

Having arrived early for Mass, I was blessed to have my beautiful wife, Jennifer, three amazing kids, and my hero of a mother.  As I walked in, much to my surprise, I saw two people, pivotal in my life, right behind me: Uncle Jack and Aunt Maggie. These folks prayed for me, worshipped with me, and they knew my story since before I was born. They also guided me through the final RCIA stages (as caring sponsors ought to) and were there at one of the most crucial moments in my journey: Easter Vigil. With my whole family, my mother, my aunt and uncle and my cousin, we knelt together and we prayed.

As Mass begun, I was struck again watching another hero of mine, a priest, take his place for worship. Back around 2009-10 or so, some friends of mine introduced me to a series of podcasts by this same priest which could help answer some of my questions (well, issues really) about the Catholic Church. As I mentioned in my very first post on The Second Strait, I struggled with 4 specific topics, and I did not have a close relationship with any catholic that could help me with my questions.These podcasts arrived at a time in my life where a door was beginning to open on this journey. Through listening to the passionate explanation, scripture references, and ancient church practices, I "virtually" met Fr. John and it was this hero who opened the celebration of Mass. AND, I was somehow seated in a pew where he would also serve me the body of Christ during the liturgy of the Eucharist.

This whole experience created an overwhelming sense of embrace and I needed time to process it all. Embrace because I realized that, like Mary, I too will be assumed up to worship God, and also like Mary, given a new body. Embrace, because my beautiful family is worshipping with me. Embrace, because a godly man - a hero of mine - shared Christ's message with me. Thinking through this embrace, I see that God made mankind (me) in his image as a gift for Himself, and He made them (me) to be divinized! Following Mary's example of devoting her entire self to God on faith, I too am learning to do this. And, following Mary's lead again, I too will be assumed into heaven.

Digesting this experience into the next morning, I was able to have a breakfast with an Orthodox Christian friend and share what I was working through. He helped me process the ways I saw Mary as an example in the church, and then followed up with a connection to another hero of mine: Lay-speaker, Steve Ray. Not thinking much of it at the moment, we closed our time by scheduling a time to meet up again and a little later on I had lunch with another hero - Fr. Clore from my own parish. Since May 20, 2012, I have been slowly absorbing his wisdom on the ancient church, gentle redirections and kind encouraging words. As we sat and talked through another series of questions at a favorite Mexican diner, he too affirmed my path - learning about Mary and her example for the church.

By Saturday afternoon, I was basking in the timeliness of all this, when I received a call from another hero, Dorothy. I met Dorothy in 2009 by chance encounter because of a flight mishap I was experiencing. She is now 83, but as attentive as ever to the Holy Spirit. It was she who gave me my first rosary and it was her promise to pray for me as I undertook a spiritual journey. She calls semi-regularly usually around the times one of my children has a birthday, but this time she was calling to bless me and wish me safe travels to Rome. How timely again.

Now, as I sit at a somewhat empty international terminal this Sunday afternoon in Chicago and think through the experiences of the last few days, being alone is no where near my mind. How does one get the opportunity to connect with so many life shaping people - heroes - in an unplanned manner at the last minute?  That warm embrace never left me. The beautiful example of Mary still resonates in me - oh my Holy Queen, thank you.The taste of the Eucharist still jolts my taste buds - thanks Fr. John. Dorothy's laugh is still in sings in my ears. The contemplative responses still sits in my mind - thanks Fr. Clore. The hugs and prayers still keep my shoulders up - thanks Mom, Uncle Jack, and Aunt Maggie. The beautiful kiss from the lady who said yes to me more than 13 years ago, is still "sparking" its electric caress on my lips (I love you Jennifer).

And so with that, how does one not have a beautiful start to a life changing pilgrimage? To Rome...

VAC-101: Hide and Seek and Find

Arriving home from our final family summer vacation this past Saturday was a success on a couple fronts for me: 1) I reconnected with long-time friends 2) I had lots of beach time and 3) excellent “chair-sitting-feet-propped-up-campfire-staring” rest.  Of these fronts, the most important for me was that I found the rest I needed.  For men out there who are married and have three kids with varying interests, it can be challenging to plan a week of family time camping in the woods. Speaking for myself, I’d love to take a community college course on“How to take a family vacation”. I’d call it  VAC-101, and the class would benefit from my buddy Carl teaching it, whom I’ve taken many cues from on such a blessed topic.  Despite not having such a course, everything came together rather nicely.

My Beach Beauties

While sitting at our campsite in northern Michigan, I was thinking through a common scripture that most of Christianity could cite from memory (and many non-religious folks too): “Seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you”. Look for yourself in Matthew 7:7 - feel free to substitute the you’s for ye’s and will’s for shall’s if you desire it. Seeking peace and a true time of rest is something I’ve wanted for all of the family adventures this summer, but it was during this trip that rest arrived in a very real way. 

Pardon the wordy thoughts here....

What occurred to me as I thought about this scripture is that seeking and knocking is actual labor, or work.  And, this “work” is not exactly a cutesy religious formula that automatically results in gold coins, new cars, that certain relationship, a [better] job, warm/fuzzy feelings or a bigger house. Seeking something (in this example, peace and rest) means that I actually have to use my feet, hands, eyes, and mind to intentionally go and look for something.  This also means that I have some idea of what I want to find, while being open to what that “find” ends up being.  It then assumes I have a basic plan mapped out of where and how to actually do the seeking. Once these seeking VAC-101 pre-req’s are completed, then yes, I’ve learned that I will no doubt find “something”.  Here, in this example of vacation, I found peace! 

Finding the “thing” I am in need of has somehow been interwoven with the actual process of seeking. Thus, the “seek” is absolutely critical to the find.  For me, the “find” is something that comes unearthed or revealed while the process of seeking is taking place. For instance, I usually grab hold of a portion of the “find” somewhere during “mid-seek”. The interesting thing, though, is the seek never seems to really end and the “find” keeps being uncovered.  Rereading all this, I guess it’s a bit wordy and probably a bad use of quotation marks and grammar.....but my editor is not home right now.....so I’ll summarize like this: the seek is work and is also continual. The find isn’t necessarily limited to one object found through the process of seeking.

Saint Gregory: Worker of Impossible Causes

The peace I had this past week gave me the opportunity to sit in a comfortable chair and contemplate this life journey I have been given.  In doing so, I was grateful for meeting Father Wayne at St. Simon Parish this week, as well as another vacationer from Texas, Deacon Len. While attending Mass early each morning, I had some time to seek God with people I did not know, and with a community I was not directly part of.  The feeling of this experience was rich and collective. The entire audience was there to seek God first thing in the morning each day. To me, this is an aspect about the ancient Catholic church that is so remarkable: everywhere I go, I can put forth the effort of seeking God alongside a rich and collective group of people.  And, I can do this everyday - consuming the body of Christ (physical) and being the body of Christ (spiritual). My “find” then, is a different level of peace; the kind that bursts mundane understanding, and reveals something that was hidden from my sight. It is a little intimidating when I notice that things aren’t really as they seem; that there is something hidden just under the surface. I just need to seek.

Now that we are well into the month of August, I’m pretty far along into my fifth month of sabbatical.  I suppose I can begin to check off the “do-the-things-that-I-find-restful” box, and start working on the “become-a-different-person” box.  So, in an effort to do this I will be boarding a plane and headed to a place steeped in church history.  I welcome the reader of this blog to prayerfully join me as my next big journey (literal and figurative) takes me to Rome, Assisi, and Southern Bavaria (Germany).   The purpose of this pilgrimage is to “Seek God”.  During this pilgrimage, the Second Strait will continue to be published (provided an internet connection is available), however the entries may be shorter - but possibly more frequent. Please pray that all goes well with this rather intense “seek”.  Continue the pursuit! Find what is covered!

The sense of being stripped

The words “stripping down” came to mind this passed Thursday.  And, I mean this figuratively as well as spiritually - certainly not literally. I can assure you that this is a G-rated  post.  There is some context to this thought, so “bare” with me (pun intended) as I share a little background on the theme here.

In my very first post, I shared about my conversion to the Ancient Catholic Church at the  Easter Vigil this year.  The process leading up to that moment was lengthy and included many questions from this former charismatic evangelical protestant. However, one of the more simple decisions I had to make was the taking on of a new name.  For me it was a no-brainer: Francis, as in Saint Francis of Assisi.  

St Francis of Assisi

The name Francis seems to have grown in some popularity, with Cardinal Bergoglio’s announcement of his new name on March 16th - which was also Francis.  I have always had an affection toward Saint Francis and started to appreciate his ways of life back in the mid-late 1990‘s. I tease my kids that this is when I used to be cool. Grunge was in and I had the grunge “thing” nailed: long kinky/curly hair, battered corduroy pants and flannel shirts... I must have made my parents proud as an in-style 17-19 year old.  Suffice it to say, my parents actually were proud of me (despite my appearance of “cool”), because my close friends and I would frequent church young adult groups and often pray with people of need in Detroit and Royal Oak (BEFORE that community was so trendy).  These friends and I would routinely fellowship in people’s homes figuring out this Christian life, drink coffee, listen to Starflyer 59, have potluck meals and come up with ideas on how to help the poor. 

At one point while we were at my buddy Mike’s home, we gathered to watch a 1970‘s teary-doe-eyed movie about the life of Francis: “Brother Son, Sister Moon”.  I was really hooked by this.  Looking at this movie from hind-sight, it does have a “70’s cheesy” look to it, however, I didn’t catch that at the time.  The movie offered an unfolding of a story with significant depth and I wanted to learn more about this “Francis”.  Because of the clothing business that Francis’ father was in, his family was very wealthy.  As a result of this wealth, Francis had many friends and his ambitions seemed almost guaranteed - specifically his desire for glory as a noble knight.  However, as I began to learn about Francis’s life, a series of many events prompted him to give everything up.  In fact at one point, he literally strips himself bare of everything, including his own family name and thus any inheritance. 

As a result of this initial movie viewing, I had an indescribable interest in Francis.  His transition in mid-life, his yearning for deeper things, and his releasing of everything he could lay claim to, was stuck in my mind. Fast forward now to a conversation with my priest Around February this year, about adopting a new name during my conversion at the Easter Vigil. After understanding the basic process, I inform him that “Francis” will be my new name. How wonderful and poetic it was for me, when a few months later the humble Jesuit Cardinal, Jorge Bergoglio, became Pope Francis.  

Now, moving onward from this experience, I find myself in a difficult position.  Recently, I have watched some of the things in my life become stripped away without my choosing and definitely beyond my control.  In my last post, I summarized the experiences of a lost wallet, then a stolen bank card a few months later, and then a car accident that involved a dear friend of ours while borrowing our vehicle.  While these experiences are challenging me to work through them graciously, I am reminded of some vulnerable members of my community that could in no way recover from these kinds of blows as quickly as I could.  This makes it really difficult for me to complain. Despite my good habits, good planning, and good forecasting, these are things that I just didn’t plan for. 

Farewell, my Mercury

Alas, the story continues. The lost wallet was in fact found with no harm done.  The bank card was replaced, as was the nearly $2,000 in stolen funds.  The car? Well, I am working through this in an unexpected way.  The insurance company explained that the car I loved needed repairs that exceed its value. So, my attachment to this meticulously maintained Mercury, loaded with all sorts of goodies, designed by talent from Dearborn, MI (later orphaned by the same company in June 2010), and found by a friend who isn’t with us any longer, leaves me for the great race track in the sky. Yes, I know I’m a sap. I’ll be honest, I did like that car an awful lot. I’m a Detroiter. Cars are what we do and enjoy. Even if we don’t work for a car company, it is ingrained on the majority of us. 

Thus, the painful idea of being “stripped” of the things important to me (comfort, transportation, and money) has a little more context for me.  Being stripped of this vehicle is hard, as was being stripped (albeit temporarily) of bank funds.  However, as I think about the life of Francis and how much he stripped of himself, my losses don’t really match up to his.  I still have my family, my home, another car to drive, and a full pantry.  Although I wonder...did he consider them losses? Maybe instead it was a propellant for him.  After all, he chose to free himself of many things and then ended up starting a revolutionary order that offered a very compassionate way of thinking.

Maybe this stripping of a few of my luxury items shouldn’t come as a surprise to me. After all, I did take on the name of a man who stripped himself of everything, which would probably include (require?) me losing some things along the way as well...that is if I really do want to embrace the “Franciscan Way”: Poverty, Chastity and Obedience.  Perhaps the unseen gift from all this “stripping”, is that the truly important aspects found in the world around me, becomes even more vivid with color and context: the humble community I live with, my relationship with Christ, my warm parish family, my beautiful wife Jennifer, and my amazing three children.

Amidst all this stripping, may God have mercy on my soul - that my words, thoughts, and actions be clothed with compassion and Grace.