The Advent of Hope

In this Advent period we will once again experience the closeness of the One who created the world, who guides history and cared for us to the point of becoming a man.   - Pope Benedict XVI

A few weeks ago, I visited the local Science Center with another postulant from the Daughters of St. Paul. The exhibit that most impressed me was the timeline that illustrated the age of the universe and the evolution of man. 

Astronomers estimate the age of the universe to be around 13 billion years, give or take a billion or so. Scientists believe that life began on our planet between 3 to 4 billion years ago. It is estimated that the species to which we belong, Homo sapiens, has existed for only 100,000 years.

Just take a moment to think about that vast expanse of time and the extremely minuscule portion of it that contains human life.

Now think about this. We live in one galaxy that is only one among what scientists estimate to be hundreds of billions of galaxies in the entire universe.

At the Science Center, when I considered this historical time line and the vast expanse of physical space we live in, I have to be honest, I was shaken. In that moment, I understood why a lot of people can lose their sense of God when they study science. I cannot really describe the feeling except that it felt like an overwhelming despair, an understanding of how empty the world would be without God.

I think the enormity of the concepts were what caused the momentary crisis. Humans have a tendency to do this, at least I do. If my brain cannot wrap around something, it shakes my faith. I want answers the moment an idea or concept clashes in my mind and I cannot make sense of it. This is positive in the sense that if something does not make sense, I seek out answers and do not rest until I am satisfied. But unfortunately it reveals that I have an underlying assumption that my intellect has the capacity to understand anything that does not make sense in the world. This is not true for anyone, no matter how intelligent they are, and certainly is not true for me.

But faithful to my inquisitive personality, I returned home from the Science Center on a mission to understand more about evolution. The first thing I was relieved to find out was that the Catholic view of evolution and science in general is very reasonable: 

Methodical research in all branches of knowledge, provided it is carried out in a truly scientific manner and does not override moral laws, can never conflict with the faith, because the things of the world and the things of faith derive from the same God. (Catechism of the Catholic Church,159)

Thankfully, the Church does not automatically reject science that is contrary to the literal interpretation of the Bible. I can understand why atheists and agnostics are infuriated by this tendency in some Christian denominations. When we deny our reason, we are denying a fundamental aspect of our humanity.

But this preliminary foray into the issue of evolution left me with even more questions: "When did the human soul come on the scene? What about Adam and Eve, how do they fit into this? What about the dinosaurs, what were they all about? I continued my research into evolution and I have read online and listened to four podcasts so far and they have been helpful but I am not even close to having an understanding of this issue to write a blog about it, which was my original purpose.

However, recently I realized that this tangent that I have allowed myself to get lost in has been very fitting for the season of Advent.

During this blessed season we contemplate the mystery of the Incarnation. The idea that we as Christians profess: God Himself, the Creator of this vast and amazing universe entered human history and became a man named Jesus.

This idea is ludicrous. Really, if you are bored with Christianity, it is because you do not really let yourself absorb the insanity of what we believe. It is insane, so insane humans could not have made this up. God Himself became a zygote and then later a fetus and then a beautiful child who could not speak. God, the Creator of all, the Omnipotent, All-Knowing God, the force who created the entire universe with its billions of galaxies, became a little, helpless baby born into poverty to parents who were refugees.

Why did God do this? Because He is Love and He could not do anything else.

I encourage each one of you to take one hour (or more!) this Advent to contemplate this amazing mystery, perhaps before the Blessed Sacrament in adoration. It is a mystery that one hour will not exhaust and I am slowly realizing that my entire lifetime will never be enough to understand the height and breadth of God's love for us.

Blessed Advent my dear friends.

Free Your Mind

No, I am not going to encourage you to take drugs in this post despite what the post title may lead you to think.

There are many ways that we exercise what we think is freedom in this world. We choose what we want to do no matter what the consequences to ourselves and others and we call that freedom. And then when we are tired or hurt from exploring and crossing moral boundaries in the name of freedom, we begin to talk about the importance of inner freedom.

The idea is so often written and talked about (and taught in yoga classes) that it has become cliche. But what does it really mean to gain "inner freedom"?

My journey on this road of thought began a couple months ago when a friend wrote a note on Facebook putting forth the possibility that maybe it is better for a person to sin and learn from it than for a person to follow rules mindlessly without really understanding why something is forbidden. This hypothesis did not sit well with me but I let it simmer in the recesses of my mind for several weeks and eventually I found it helpful in understanding inner freedom.

When I first got to the convent several months ago I unconsciously began to try to be perfect. I could tell I was not being real with myself or others but I think I was somehow under the false impression that I could continue the charade indefinitely and convince my fellow postulants and myself that I had come to the convent free of problems and flaws.

Naturally, it did not take long for my flaws to begin to shine through. In one case, I voiced my opinion about not wanting to do something late at night in a rude, petulant way. I was the victor in that situation and everyone went to bed. As I headed to bed, I began to beat myself up, not really for being rude but for letting the cracks in my perfect facade show so obviously. But after lecturing myself I just felt relieved that I was going to bed after a long day.

A few days afterward, I joined the postulants on a trip to a retreat center in the black of morning before the sun had risen. We were instructed to walk around the grounds and pray as the dark of night changed to light.

I made my way to the labyrinth on the grounds and sat under a tree in the middle of it.  I immediately thought, "Bingo, this is the best place to be on the entire grounds. It is peaceful and other people have been here before - that is comforting. I am going to stay here until the sun rises."

I set about eating my breakfast, feeling very satisfied with myself. Several minutes later, however, I looked out into the darkness, into the unknown and I suddenly felt an urge to leave ground already tread. I felt a deep need to make my own path literally and figuratively and I suddenly knew that this is a deep and critical part of who I am. I left my safe spot beneath the tree and as I set out into the darkness I felt God say to me,

"Theresa, stop trying to be someone you are not. I made you to be honest, sometimes painfully so. I made you to voice your opinion with strength and without fear. I made you to be a trail-blazer, someone who should not be afraid of anything. I need you to BE YOURSELF. Try to do it nicely, but if you make more mistakes along the way it is better than if you keep trying to fit this mold of perfection that does not exist. I prefer that real Theresa to this faker I have on my hands right now. Make your own path."

As I came away from that experience, I felt a wide freedom inside of me like a child lifting her arms to heaven.

I have left behind the freedom of the world for the freedom of God - a freedom that does not lead me to crossing moral boundaries and hurting myself and others, a freedom that does not call me to be a perfect robot, but only perfectly WHO I AM. We are all called to embody and live out charity in our own unique way. We can only do this by being ourselves.

And we can only be truly ourselves by following God's will in our lives because He is the only one who knows who we truly are.

You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother's womb ... My very self you knew; my bones were not hidden from you, When I was being made in secret, fashioned as in the depths of the earth. Your eyes foresaw my actions; in your book all are written down; my days were shaped, before one came to be. - Psalm 139

May we have the courage and the strength to leave behind our own choices in life and follow the only path that leads to inner and outer freedom.

The Dead We Know

The other night I dreamed about Eric, a friend of mine who died several years ago. We were never that close but I had known him since middle school and I always saw him around until I left Oklahoma for college. When I saw him, I would always say hello and I can still remember his goofy, shy grin as he said, "Hi Theresa" and then looked quickly at the ground.

Eric was a dreamer. Most people thought he was slow but he had a huge heart and I think his naive kindness made people think he was not as intelligent as he was. He was easily led by other people and he got mixed up in things he shouldn't have, probably in part because of his laid back and simple nature.

One time in middle school a teacher asked him if he had a homework assignment and he started to dig in his backpack, throwing pieces of paper all over the floor. His book bag was literally crammed to the brim with wrinkled paper. We were all astounded. It was like Mary Poppin's bag, the crushed paper wads were never ending.  He slowly uncrumpled each piece, occasionally looking at my teacher with an amused and embarrassed smile that said, "I can tell you are annoyed and I am kind of enjoying this but please don't give me detention."

Eric died suddenly, he was shot by someone who was supposedly his close friend. I was told that it involved drugs. When I found out about his death I cried bitterly. He was innocent and simple and his life ended so savagely and in such a dark place. Even though I did not know him well, I had this irrational wish that I could have protected him somehow, sheltered him from the world.

Eric appeared in my dream the other night. He was the same - simple and kind. But he was also different. He was as child-like as ever but wise at the same time. He seemed to see everything, to be aware of everything, in a way he never was before. And his eyes told me that he knew true Love now, that he was in a place of rest.

As we enter November, the month where Catholics pray for all souls in the state of Purgatory (those souls being cleansed before they enter into full communion with God in Heaven), I am remembering the friends and family close to me who have died.

I remember Elinor and Charles Shea, the matriarch and patriarch of the Shea family who are looking down at all of us from heaven with a smile.

I remember Paul and Phil Noble, two men I wish I had known better.

I remember parents of friends - Gabe, Brooke, Anne, Marilene, Angela, Teresa and Lucie - who have died.

I remember Eddie and Caia, two people who died too soon. 

I remember Joe, my friend who also died too soon and whose death deeply affected me - it was one impetus that caused me to reevaluate my own life and eventually convert back to a faith in God.

I remember Stubby, another sweet and simple soul gone too soon who smiles down at me from heaven, healed and whole.

I remember everyone who has died and I hope that when I get to heaven, they all will be there to spend eternity with God.

If you would like me to include someone you love in my prayers this month, please comment on this post with their name or message me on Facebook.

The Illogic of God's Justice

The founder of the Daughters of St. Paul, James Alberione always emphasized an attitude of studiosita, that is, to learn from all experiences in life.

While some of Alberione's teachings are not intuitive to me, this is one that rings true immediately. This is an attitude that I have always had; I think about everything that I experience and try to integrate it into my ideas and thoughts. If an experience clashes with my currently held beliefs and ideas, I wrestle with it until it is more or less resolved in my mind. Some things I have never resolved and these questions reemerge in my mind throughout my life in the hope that one day they will be resolved by prayer, an experience, a person, or a book.  I know some of my questions will never be answered until I reach heaven, but I like to try to work out whatever I am capable of working out, which probably is not much.

One thing that I have been thinking about is justice and fairness. As I live in community, I have noticed how consumed I am by these concepts. It is a necessary part of community life to always split up things; chores, work time in the book center, food, gifts from others. And I have found myself obsessing when I feel like something is not fair, maybe one person has asserted her needs over the needs of others, or another person got to choose something first before anyone else got a chance. Sometimes I am at the winning end of the situation because I have asserted myself or by sheer luck I ended up with exactly what I wanted and other times I am at the losing end.

The other day I was at the losing end of one of these situations. But before I voiced my complaint I checked in with Jesus in my mind and He clearly told me to keep quiet so I did. I did not vocalize that I thought the situation was unfair but in my mind I threw a serious temper tantrum and later when I was in the chapel I let Him have it.

"Why do I have to keep quiet Jesus? I'm so tired of compromise! I want to go back to my old life where I could do exactly what I wanted, when I wanted! Am I going to constantly be giving up my needs and wants for other people. I HATE THIS, it is getting old."  

As I prayed in chapel, I felt Jesus' empathy and sweet love. Jesus does not react to our anger in the same way that people do. In fact, when I am honest with Him, I can tell that He appreciates it. He likes it when I am real with Him, because lets face it, He can already see our hearts.

As I prayed, I was staring at the outline of a cross that stands up on the bottom of our kneelers. When I closed my eyes, the shape of the cross was etched in my mind, outlined in light. Suddenly, I realized what Jesus was trying to say to me.

"Was it fair that I died on the cross? I am God, your Creator.  I was innocent and I died on a cross to save you, a sinner. Fairness is not what I am all about Theresa. I came to serve. If you are going to follow me, you need to do the same."

I suddenly thought of when I was a child and I would split a dessert with one of my siblings. We would make sure that each piece was exactly even, not even a centimeter different. I thought of our society, how we are obsessed with equality, sometimes at the expense of everyone's overall well being. I realized that I was giving into the ways of the world and Jesus was pulling me back to the illogic of the Christian message - it is not about perfect equality, it is about serving the other in love.

As I return to my life after this prayer experience I am honest with myself. I am still going to throw temper tantrums, in my mind and probably out loud, (I apologize in advance to the patient sisters I live with). I am still going to assert my needs and I hope that Jesus helps me to discern when it is necessary. But I hope that from now on I try to see situations that are not fair with the eyes of faith.

Jesus allows everything that happens to us to occur. I have to believe that when I am on the losing end of a situation that I really am on the winning end, because Jesus is using it to teach me something.

The Penance of Love

"So I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; hence, she has shown great love."      

Luke 7:47

Penance is an interesting word, it literally means the desire to be forgiven. Christians talk about it in the context of desiring to be forgiven by God for our many sins against Him and against others. 

But often, Catholics and other Christians use it as a verb as well as a noun. 

Please Note: I unwittingly began writing this post based on a thought that I had in prayer but as I familiarized myself with this topic, I realized that I was putting my little toe in the choppy waters of a pretty extensive and complicated theological battle between Protestants and non-Protestants. Please forgive this amateur's attempt to contribute a small thought to this discussion that involves far more complications than I can read and understand at this moment.

For those who do not know what I am talking about, I will summarize. Basically, the Reformers held that penance is a noun and there is no need for the verb or in other words, sorrow for one's sins is a necessary state of the mind and heart to be forgiven by God, but an act of penance is not required. Catholics hold that both are necessary, that we should act out our feelings of contrition in some way to demonstrate our sorrow for our sins but that we also must feel contrition in our hearts. Leave it to the Catholics to keep the suffering a part of their theology.

This whole difference of ideas hits on the old faith vs. works debate. I won't pretend to know a lot about this. But I will note that I am side-stepping the entire discussion as to whether or not acts of penance are necessary.  Ultimately I go with the idea that our thoughts and our mind and heart are inextricably connected with our actions. They must be bound together. Sometimes one acts without feeling or one feels without acting, but the ideal is that we do both, and that I think is something everyone can agree on. 

A New Idea of Penance

My ideas of penance are a mixture of the normal, the odd and the gruesome - fasting, self-flagellation, penitential self-discipline and wearing sackcloth and ashes. 

Fasting is a standard form of penance and one that all Catholics participate in during the season of Lent. I try to fast whenever I can. I have realized that it really is a powerful form of prayer that allows us to literally empty ourselves so that God can fill us. It is a way to grow closer to God and a very effective way to pray for our intentions and to fight evil.

But Jesus has been showing me something else about showing my sorrow for sin recently.

Every day the sisters at my convent meditate for a half hour on the Gospel reading of the day before we begin morning prayer. I have been very moved by how much more I get from the Gospel reading when I take the time to really think and pray about it, asking God what He has to say to me that day. 

A few weeks ago we read about the woman, traditionally believed to be Mary Magdalene, who goes to Jesus while He is at dinner and bathes His feet in perfumed oil and washes them with her tears. This reading has always stirred my heart. I recognize myself in that woman, someone who, in the face of the Divine presence of Jesus, sees her sins clearly and feels deep sorrow for them.

But when I meditated on this Gospel reading several weeks ago, Jesus' response to the woman snagged on the edges of my consciousness. His response literally means - "her many sins have been forgiven, seeing that she has loved much."

I was confused by this, what exactly did Jesus mean? It seems he is saying that she is forgiven because of her love. I was contemplating this when I noticed the words by the tabernacle in our chapel. 

In every Pauline chapel, the same words translated from Italian can be seen engraved - "Fear not, I am with you. From here I want to enlighten. Atone for sin." These are the words that our founder Blessed James Alberione heard Jesus say to him one day when he was praying before the tabernacle.

Suddenly the last phrase "Atone for sin" and my preconceived ideas of negative penance transformed in my mind.

The woman in the Gospel was forgiven because "she loved much." I realized at that moment that Jesus was telling me that I must show my love for Him and my thankfulness that He has forgiven me by doing my penance in love. 

We can practice aestheticism in our lives by fasting and doing penance "negatively" and these are effective ways to show God our remorse for our sins. But Jesus was showing me what my patron saint Therese of Lisieux knew long ago - that the fast that gets to the heart of who Jesus is and who He calls us to be is the fast of love.

Jesus is calling us to the penance of love.

He is calling us to love even when we do not want to, to love until it hurts, as Mother Teresa would say. He is calling us to love everyone including people who anger or hurt us deeply, people who are selfish, people who hurt those we love, people who have different ideologies than us, people who are our enemies and people who are enemies of God and the things in the world that are good. He is calling us to love in our thoughts, to never assume we know a person's motivations or the workings of their heart. No one is exempt from this fast. In fact, the people who we find it most difficult to love are often the people God is calling us to show love the most.

God is calling us to love others as He loves them in the hope and the knowledge that in seeing our love, God will forgive us for our many sins, those we know and those we do not know, and will love us in return.

Joy Rising from Pain

When people ask how I am doing in the first few months of postulancy, it is hard to respond with a one-word answer. The way I feel is very confusing and discordant. I want to say to them, "I feel a deeper joy than I have ever felt and an excruciating pain at the same time."

In fact, I am beginning to wonder if the pain I feel is the source of my joy. The two emotions seem so closely connected that it is as if they are layered over each other, snuggling against the other for warmth and the assurance that yes, I am still alive and perhaps more alive than I ever have been.

Maybe this is not exactly a ringing endorsement of my beginning to religious life but I can only be honest.

So, the question is - Where does this pain come from?

The life of a Christian is nothing but a perpetual struggle against self; there is no flowering of the soul to the beauty of its perfection except at the price of pain - Padre Pio

I am experiencing the pain of separation from both the concrete and the possible, the good and the bad.

I feel a deep tear in my heart when I consider all of the different possibilities that I am leaving by the wayside to follow a definite path. Marriage and family being the highest good that religious life calls me to leave behind.

There is also a hole in me that is left from the physical absence of my dear family and the friends I can no longer see and talk to with the freedom of my previous life.

This pain is real and cannot be denied. It is visceral and at times I wince from the way it can wind its way through my body like a serpent and lashes out when something reminds me of my sacrifice.

But my pain does not just come from giving up good things.

We all search for happiness in different ways. It is a part of the human condition that we often search for it in the wrong places and in the wrong ways.

We find happiness in control, in food, in the misuse of sex, in drugs, in alcohol, in lording over others, in misusing power, in basically becoming our own little gods. Without God, we find our own happiness in making our own choices. Like addicts we experience a short flood of happiness from these things that feels real but we have to continually search for our next fix because the things of the world can never lead us to true and lasting happiness.

It may be obvious that I already left this life behind when I converted to Christianity but many of you know what I mean when I say that this way of life always haunts you, beckoning you into the darkness with the idea that you haven't exhausted all the possibilities of sin, that you still don't know all that you are missing.

I have found that the strength of this haunting has become stronger in religious life, not weaker - at least in these first few months. So the pain is multi-layered. It is a pain that comes from many directions. From leaving behind the good, from past sin, from human concupiscence, or as our Catechism calls it "the tinder for sin," and from temptations from the Devil himself.

But, where does the joy come from?

God cannot fill what is full; he can fill only emptiness... It is not how much we really "have" to give, but how empty we are--so that we can receive fully in our life and let him live his life in us.  - Blessed Mother Teresa

The answer to this question is not so ready on my tongue and I think the answer will come over years, not months.

But so far in my journey with God, I  have learned this: He hands us all crosses, but only as a Father. He teaches us how to grow and often the only way to grow is through pain. In my case now, it is necessary to grow through the pain of separation from myself, my friends and family, from sin and from my own desires - the good and the bad.

Right now, by the grace of God I have the strength to say yes to this cross. I do now know if I can hold it for long; I do not know if I can hold it my whole life. This is the pain of my discernment at the moment. I do not trust myself and I must not trust God because I do not trust He will continue to sustain me.

And yet, despite the halfhearted commitment that I am able to make to God today, He is showing me that the fruit of this sacrifice is true and deep joy.  I am emptying the cup of my soul for Him and He is rewarding me with a taste of a joy that lasts longer than the things of the world. It is a joy that points to an eternal joy that we will all experience in Heaven. It is the intense, heated joy that can only come from following God and discovering what He made you to be in the world.

As I continue in the way of the Cross, I thank Jesus for the grace to experience at the same time a little sliver of the joy of the Resurrection. Thank you Jesus!

Knocked Off My Horse

On his journey, as he was nearing Damascus, a light from the sky suddenly flashed around him. He fell to the ground.  - Acts 9:3-4

I entered a week ago today as a postulant in the Daughters of St. Paul, and today was the first day that I could actually greet Jesus in the chapel with energy and light.

Almost immediately upon my entry I was struck down with a dizzying array of symptoms (literally) and spent most days in bed sleeping the day away and hoping for an end to the confusion and pain.

Things were so bad it crossed my mind that maybe I would not get better and it was the convent life that was making me sick. I imagined returning home, suitcase in hand, searching for Systems Analyst positions in Tulsa and settling in an apartment near Cherry Street, making my way to daily mass and recalling the time "I tried to become a nun" with fondness.

I was dizzy, exhausted, nauseous and had lost my balance, swaying from one side to another, often falling over on myself if I tried to genuflect or do some other necessary movement of the day.

Sr. Rebecca, our postulant formator, made the interesting connection between my symptoms and how Paul must have felt when he fell from his horse on the way to Damascus.  It truly was as if I had been knocked off my horse and could not recover my senses. I was not blind, like Paul was after his fall, but I did feel lost and confused as he must have, wondering when my life was going to begin again.

This connection to Paul made me reevaluate myself, how ready was I for this step in my life? It was not like I was completely off course, like Paul. It seemed like I was calm and collected, following God's will, but was I really?

As I lay in bed passing the hours, I realized one of the possible sources of this mystery illness. This summer, instead of dealing with the terror of entering postulancy I repressed it to maintain a calm exterior. I was not being realistic and facing the unfortunate fact that I was scared.

We all try to be "above" our human feelings at times in our lives. We really want to be ok with life, with another person, with changes and to follow our dreams with courage. But the truth is, we are not always ok. Life scares us. The future is unknown and that is always hard. We are not sure who is going to take care of us. We may be really angry with another person. We are not sure if we are going to be able to handle a situation. We are not sure if we really can forgive and continue to forgive or love someone and continue to love.  But, in the end, as I have learned, it is better to share your feelings with someone.

But first you have to face up to the basic fact that you feel them. I didn't even do that.

I truly was in denial of the fact that I was scared. I really did not want to deal with my fear this summer while I was enjoying time with my family so when feelings of anxiety cropped up I just neatly pressed them back down again.

"I can deal with this later, it's not that big of a deal," I reasoned.

Well, I guess it was. Or at least God thought so. At least it seems like He saw it necessary to put me in bed for a few days so I could deal with it whether I liked it or not.

So, now I return to life as normal and face up to the fact that I am SCARED! I admit it! I am human, I am weak. I cannot live this life without the grace of God and I am completely dependent on Him.

So please, as you go back to your lives today, take a little piece of advice with you. It is better to admit you feel something, than for your feelings to find another way out, morph into Muhammad Ali and knock you (or someone else) square in the face.