Why I Don't Worry about Pope Francis or the Synod

I got half way through a post, and thought it would need more research to even be set up.  I tried to tie in Pope Francis and the Synod on the Family and how God works by exploding into our very small lives, infusing our finite and limited vision of ourselves with His divine one, but honestly, I didn't feel up to the task. I couldn't quite pour out onto the page a way to convey that reality, from seed to tree, from one cell to fully formed human being, from the single atom, the explosion outward, all of those images revealed and yet obscured what I was trying to say.

Plus I wanted to discuss this insight I had this morning.  I woke thinking about Genesis and the fall, the rift created by original sin, between humanity and God, between man and woman, and between mankind and nature.   I thought about Pope Francis' ministry thus far and how he's worked on each of these rifts in reverse.  He started with Laudato Si, being stewards of the Earth and all creation, (Working to repair the damage done to the relationship we're supposed to have with all of God's gifts), and then the Synod on the Family, (which addresses the rift between man and woman which God said should not be), and finally, the upcoming Year of Mercy --which would ultimately involve reflecting on the nature of our relationship with God.  There isn't any more to my insight than this process backwards of trying to help reveal to all of us, through his ministry, the repairs and restorations we must be about if we want an authentic relationship with the world, each other, and God.  

But I didn't know how to explain, that if we give the slightest sliver of a yes, God will flood through that crack, and saturate our lives with grace except to say, I know it to be true.  So if you've watched Pope Francis or heard his teachings, and felt your heart flutter "Yes." at some point because of what he is doing, that's God courting your soul, seeking you in particular out, for something bigger than you imagined.  The seed cannot comprehend it will one day be a redwood, or the child, an adult, or the rain drop, one day, part of the ocean.  And we can't possibly get what God has in store prior to being in the midst of it, nor would we likely trust it if we knew prior.  It's why He doesn't give us the whole of it all at once, but builds up our capacity over time.

So to those who worry about this Pope or the Synod, don't.  For those who feel left out because they aren't singled out, don't.  Open the scripture for the day, steep in it and trust it to be true, trust that God speaks, and has a magnificent plan designed just for you, only for you whether or not you're singled out by the Pope and called on the phone, or your special interest group is focused on by the Synod or the next encyclical. Regardless of worldly acknowledgement, you are called by God.  Get to the business of being Catholic, of living out the Beatitudes, for lived out, that plan helps with the restoration of those three relationships on some level and will make you, feel very joyous and loved. You will be luminous if you allow yourself to stop worrying about the darkness, or about how you are not being singled out.  

Pensive Ramblings Today

Mother Teresa talked about loving Jesus in the dark night of her soul.  Those words tremble for me, as I spend much of my time seeking to be light, whether it is through humor or feasting or celebrating, playing and punning, praying and writing and dancing. I feel pulled to the luminous mysteries, to the Holy Spirit's fire, and to the beauty of the Catholic faith in my every day. 

It's not that I fear doubt or darkness or fail to notice the broken nature of this world.  But  beauty sometimes comes from the relief of things, when one who is suffering is given comfort, when forgiveness is accepted or asked for or embraced, when we reconcile, when we surrender our pride and our preconceptions in favor of humility and trust. Stars like the Saints, are easier to stare at than the sun, but stars like the Saints, are called to imitate the Son. We are small and far away from Christ, and being sinners, often we fail or fear or refuse to shine.

I hear Mother Theresa's longing for her Beloved and can only imagine that great thirst she had, knowing each time that even if she received silence in her prayers, she had already been blessed beyond count and it was her job to hold onto that experience and allow it to fill her lifetime. And I can sense the hardness of that blessed cross she took on and embraced, and how fiercely she loved.

Every once in a while, I get to a point and say, "What am I supposed to be doing? Is this it?"  because I spend a lot of time just triageing my life.  The laundry, the errands, the cooking and the cleaning, the reading to this one, diapering that one, pick up minutia can crowd the day to the point that I don't ever come up for air. 

Having had a week of air, it made me pensive as I returned to start back up again the familiar routines that had prior to vacation, been done reflexively.  It wasn't that things were done without love, but they were done mostly, without thought. Love unravels when it becomes thoughtless, so I asked the Holy Spirit, "What now?"

And I have been still, strangely still since.  I know this pause is important even as it vexes me.  I know that feasting daily leaves us bloated, there are fasting seasons in our lives for a reason, to make us better anticipate and appreciate all the times the table is set lavishly.  Loneliness makes us take in all the times we are surrounded with love.  Being sick makes us remember what a gift it is to be well.  Ten children is a sort of permanent feast, that can be like weeds, a source of riches that can choke off the devotion necessary with duty if one goes along too long thoughtlessly.  So God is demanding I be more awake, pay more attention, listen better. 

I know all these things in my head, but my heart still chaffes at having a time of dryness the same way my body hates when I put it on a diet.   It is better for me to have this stillness, to know it is working on me in ways I cannot comprehend and to pray through it, embrace it and accept that this is not endless, it just feels that way because I'm used to an easy prayer life.  It has always been a blessing, it has always been easy for me to pray.

When I have writer's block, it feels as if I will never write again, or that if I do, it will be junk and as I do not want to write junk, it makes me fearful to write. The only thing that cures it, is writing, even writing junk, writing hard stuff no one will read, writing anything that comes from my heart, even if it is fearful to reveal.

Spiritual writer's block is a temptation to stop listening, because I'm not feeling it.  It is the temptation of the age, if you are not having a  transcendent experience, you must shop through the various writers and preachers and churches and methods of meditation and whatnot until you find a way to obtain that feeling.  The relationship with God becomes the mental equivalent of a mood ring with an on-off switch.  God does not want us to be so shallow, so He keeps Himself mysterious and unobtainable by magic or physical means.  We cannot will or command God, we can only submit out of humility and embrace out of love.

So I have asked, "What now?" and I wait...wondering if I've received what is supposed to fill me for a lifetime, and being impatient, am an ungrateful peevish greedy child because I'm always asking for more. 
But the answer is in part, "Yes."  To do this, all of this but with more zeal, more love, more thought, to be the one preparing the feast, not supping, and to trust that Christ will fill me up beyond myself with love.

The theme this year is "to wait in joyful hope."
Thanks for waiting with me.