Looking at the stars

Not too long ago I placed an ad looking for a roommate. Of the many responses I received, some I asked to come for a showing and an interview, and others I merely thanked for their interest. Typically, half of the respondees are out-of-state young men or women who desire to move to the area. Although some have employment lined up, there are others who assure me that they'll figure something out after they arrive. They don't know exactly why they are drawn here, but deep down there's a hope, a longing, to fill the emptiness in their heart. It's admirable, taking that leap of faith, and much like Oscar Wilde's quip, "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." Perhaps I could be more trusting, but I prefer to have something a bit more reliable.

But I know what it's like. When I met Theophane the monk, it was love at first sight. Immediately I knew that I wanted to be a Religious. It took a few years of discernment before I embarked on the journey, but it was a purpose to which I was called. I thought my life issues were finally resolved, so I left everything to give everything that I had.

It was like that for Jesus. We read today that for some reason he leaves his home and makes his way to the Jordan River. He's baptized by John, and the Spirit propels him on his life-long mission. "The time is fulfilled," he tells us, and life - his, and ours - was never the same.

We recognize these times as life-changing events - a once-in-a-lifetime dream come true. But it's not like that at all. In reality, every moment is life-changing. I pondered this last night while on an evening's stroll. While looking at the waxing crescent moon in the western sky, I wondered about the planet that trailed closely by. Venus, the Roman god associated with love, shown ever-so brightly with Jupiter at a distance. Tonight, the planets reverse. Jupiter, the god of the sky, overtakes her. I then thought about the political world where Christ overtook Jupiter as the principal deity of the Imperial world. I was reminded how things change, and as such, we never live happily ever after. We my be lost. We figure it out and try our passion. Then change occurs and we must discern again. When I  got home, I watched a favorite movie, "The Singing Nun," and felt the yearning for the Convent overtake me once again.

When we give our lives fully to our purpose, just as the Christ gave his in every way and in every situation, this is a self-emptying kenosis. It is no longer I who live, says Paul to the Church in Galatia, but it is Christ who lives in me." This is the spirit of love that fills us. The divine love which we are ultimately called to be for others and for ourselves. Do we have a plan or are we going where the stars lead us? It's not always easy to discern, but if we follow the faint stirrings of our heart, we may find that we are inching closer and closer to god.

love, always,

pia

begin the begin

Before processing into the Church, the choir master asks, "All those who are not here, raise your hand." It always invokes a few smiles and more than a couple of hands waving from those willing to play along with the joke. But the meaning is serious: Are we really here, not just physically, but emotionally. Are we prepared to do the things that need to be done, to put our voice into our song, to lay life on the line.

That's what it's all about: The Hokey-Pokey trivialities that demand our awareness. Are we willing to take charge and claim responsibility for our actions, or do we persistently deflect accountability and acquiesce to circumstance. One thing is clear; the endless dance presents countless opportunities to put your left foot in, or out. We decide how to play the game.

We are forever being called to begin over and over. How will we respond? Are we ready to catch it or shall it pass without regard? In "Begin the Begin," rock icon, Michael Stipe of R.E.M., sang, "Birdie in the hand / for life's rich demand / The insurgency began / and you missed it."  We may not realize it, but every moment requires a response that is either life-affirming or -denying. The choice is ours. Shall we be mindful enough to take hold of life?

Perhaps this is what the gospel is exhorting us to this morning. Jesus is confronted with a solicitous invalid begging for a chance to begin again. The divine, recognizing his determination, scandalously reaches out to him. Because he denies his limitations and asks, he is given an opportunity.

As the choir lines up before the service we are given our chance. On the wall outside the choir master's office, there is a quote from Goethe which reads, "There is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: That the moment one definitely commits oneself, Providence moves too…Whatever you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now." There is no other time than now to change your life, and impact another's, forever.

love, always,

pia

bring help

Do you remember the movie "Walkabout"? I haven't seen it since it first came out 40 years ago, but recently I endeavored to watch it again. As a child it was profoundly stunning and at the same time, terrifying. Yet this time it was just as memorable although in a different manner.

The movie is about two children abandoned in the Australian outback and their eventual rescue by an Aborigine boy who is on his walkabout - his 6 month coming of age initiation into manhood, surviving, or not, by his own skills alone. It is a wonderful movie containing breathtaking landscapes with a deep sociological message as well - far beyond the theme of being lost and getting found.

The unnamed children - all the better to make this a universal epic - are twelve and five years of age. At first the young boy fails to grasp the seriousness of their plight. But after wandering helplessly in the desert, long days scrambling up craggy mountains and down sand dunes, enduring the brutal environment, his "are we there yet?" supplications overwhelm him. He soon tires and surrenders to the elements, only saved by his older sister who persuades him to press on. It is a metaphor for life - a spiritual journey of determination through predicament.

But there comes a point when adversity is too much. Life is arduous, and like the young boy, we desire a respite from its trials. The exhausted pair soon choose to prepare for their end beneath a solitary tree - they have done all they could on their own. They intend to let life take them instead of taking hold of life. It is then that a strange outsider comes to bring salvation.

In today's gospel, the Christ comes to the aid of Peter's mother-in-law in much the same fashion. She is lost in a sickness - perhaps desperately heartbroken for her daughter who has lost her husband to a disparaged, mendicant rabbi. She is healed by this strange outsider, and subsequently, so too are the countless others who are drawn by his magnificent powers. The story could end happily ever after here, but that's not the critical message being conveyed. For the gospel implies that the healing is not where salvation begins. Upon entering new life we are compelled to action. The cure to Peter's mother-in-law's ailment is to get up and serve the rabble who have gathered to gawk. Likewise, Jesus suggests there is more to do. He promptly leaves the scene of his glory, seeking to bring the neighboring towns the miracle cure of a new and better way of life.

He could have stayed in Capurnaum. He was a hero, worshipped and adored for his regenerative acts. But although it is nice to garner praise and admiration, there is no resting on where we've been - for we cannot live in the past - we must press on to the end. Taking Peter's mother-in-law as an example, the gospel tells us that we must get up and serve, continuing beyond the safety and security of our accomplishments. This is the epitome of the boddhisattva's vow.

Walkabout, however, concludes on a less then triumphal hope of salvation. Rather it is the nihilistic longing of a past that continues to dominate our lives. This is not the archetypical "hero's journey." The protagonists may have returned from their mythic adventure, but have failed to grasp, nor can share, the import. The children use the help given to them for their own purposes neglecting those around them - especially their savior - ignoring the larger social concern. It is a bleak commentary on the society at large. But neither can the Aboriginal boy return to his civilization. All remain forever lost in an alien world. In the end we learn that to find the help we need, we must bring it to others.

love, always,

pia