THE UNBROKEN WORD

In the Baltimore and Penny Catechism, there is a fundamental question asked. Where is God? The answer, of course, is God is Everywhere. As a child, precocious as I was, I asked for further explanation, as my inquiring mind wanted to know why I could not see Him then.

Sr. Rosario responded eventually, trying to shut me up with some theology inexplicable to a six-year-old. “God is omnipresent!” Even though I did not understand the response of my sometimes friend, sometimes adversary Dominican educator, it stuck with me.

Over the years, I have come to love this word. It means the same thing as the simple response in those few words in the catechism, but even more. My first stop was my parents on my return home from school that day. My mother did not know what it meant. If my mom did not know something which was in the order of schooling, then I would not even bother to ask my dad. Unless I was looking for a good joke which displayed his ignorance on the subject in a humorous manner. So omnipresence would have to wait another day.

I don’t recall how long it took me to find a dictionary which explained the meaning, it was probably the Collins one which still has the following definition.

Something that is omnipresent is present everywhere or seems to be always present.

A more modern definition of the omnipresence of God reads:

Omnipresence means all-present. This term means that God is capable of being everywhere at the same time. It means his divine presence encompasses the whole of the universe. There is no location where he does not inhabit.

In retrospect, the second definition would have been more useful to me. However, the search for God was set in my little life, I just had to start noticing Him and He was sure to pop up somewhere. In fact, in my small but incisive mind, He was already there. After all, God is everywhere.

The invitation of the nun and the catechism fueled a lifelong search for God in all things. Now, as a Franciscan, I can detect His presence in the smallest places; the watering of a lawn on a warm summer morning; the smile of a friend; a voice on the phone of a friend separated by distance; in breaking bread with others.

And of course, in the Eucharist, the booster meal of our spiritual faith. Where all batteries are recharged with grace to face another week where we Find God In All Things.

Because God is omnipresent.

And thank you Sr. Rosario.

The Days End at Mater Dolorosa, California; my new home.

Sometimes, not that often, we get to experience the feeling our life is drifting on. Not out of control, like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, but rather ebbing to and fro like the ocean tide.

I must admit not having experienced this feeling myself for very long. Personally, I am a bit of meddler, and even if things are going along smoothly, will always be seeking some new challenge, excitement or meaning in what is happening. Occasionally though, the wonder of just “being” comes over me in a daily routine and that wondrous drifting effect comes over me.

Moments and experiences like this are the downtime and peace we can enjoy merely resting in Christ. There are the reassurances we need when turmoil has been surrounding the hours and we are called to take a walk on the beach; metaphorically speaking at least.

These calming moments are often given to us as a gift, something occurs which causes us to move into “neutral” neither moving forward or backward, just sitting where we are. The references to these moments are multifold in scripture, as is the many times where God just calls us to do the same. To remain in Him.

I was talking to a friend this week about a contemplative retreat where they experienced centering prayer, then a silent walk in the gardens and a second silent centering prayer session to follow. This contemplative “sandwich” made me recognize how much a walk somewhere without agenda, purpose or even intention can be a wonderful way of experiencing a drifting prayer.

Where the encounter happens is timeless because we are not focused on timing the event. Just the desire to rest in Him.

Towards the Light

TOWARDS THE LIGHT

Moving from the gray to the light seemed inevitable;

As the darkness dissipates as if it was never there.

And eyes adjust to a new way of looking;

Squeezing the daylight out once more.

XXXXX 

Leaving the dark place behind.

THE UNBROKEN WORD

At times we are surprised by how others can shed light and illuminate the dark corners of our lives. A recent homily by a visiting priest at St. Andrews, Pasadena noted, “the shepherd shows up in unexpected places”.

As we often look to God to provide guidance in some direct way, we sometimes close ourselves off the messengers He sends in our everyday world. Our ears perk up at times of worship, solitude or reflection, but often the message comes in the everyday conversations if only we were listening more carefully.

My own spirituality, such as it is, was called into question on a recent conversation with my daughter Terri; a woman with a great desire to nurture the world, someone who really feels the pain of others. She also tries to do something about it, in both practical and prayerful ways. Generous would be an understatement in describing her actions in the world.

Our telephone conversation was focused on my recent move to California and specifically an almost four-hour visit to the DMV to obtain a state driving license. It’s been a while, 25 years since going through the process of changing a state license so the various levels of identification now required surprised me. Proof of domicile, proof of income, current driving license, pay stubs and four separate fingerprint recordings (thumbprint to be exact) ensured a lot of security in the process. I also noted, while preparing for the visit, there was a separate process for undocumented residents of California. It was here my daughter called me out, ever so gently.

In our conversation, I mentioned the words “illegal residents” for this process of obtaining a license for an undocumented resident in the state. She said to me “don’t use the word illegal dad”.

Suddenly, I realized that almost ten years of graduate studies in theology and pastoral formation had not stopped me using judgmental words when talking about my fellow man. It stuck like a sword in my heart and has caused me to write this reflection on the topic. We don’t call legal residents, “legals”, we call them citizens or permanent residents. Titles which bear some respect for their humanity. I recalled my own path to citizenship, which took a full seven years, two years for my green card, and other five then to obtain citizenship. I also had the support of two senators at the time, as my employer was keen to ensure my tenure in the USA; something of which I am eternally grateful. In retrospect, I was being prideful of my own journey, and dismissive of others; many still struggling on their own.

Thousands of Americans have shed their blood so we may all enjoy the freedom we do today. They have done so willingly, and while it may not compare to the sacrifice of Our Lord Jesus Christ, it is nonetheless the greatest act we can offer for another. This selflessness was one of the characteristics which made me want to become an American and something I am so grateful for today, almost 30 years after becoming a US citizen.

So, when I recall myself talking about another human in terms of their status in the world, with the word “illegal” in front of it, it makes me pause for the help received from those who facilitated our move here. And the need for me to treat everyone, regardless of their status in the world, with the same love as Jesus asks of us.

John 13:34-35

34 “I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. 35 This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Light on the Matter

UPON LEAVING THE CHURCH

When leaving the Church, the doors open a new vista.

One where my battery charge will have to last for at least a week,

Before I am once again.

Fully discharged.

Yet, the door is merely the portal to my real mission.

XXXX

To infect the lives of others with the living Christ.

Who lives in me.

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Without limits.