Thoughts Before Christmas
For pretty much the whole semester, I have been struggling with meditation during my allotted prayer time. This is a perfectly normal experience for anybody who has written on the spiritual life, so I have been focused on not worrying about it. However, when God decides to stop speaking through ordinary means of prayer, it likely means that He wants to speak in a different way. In my case, I think that this silence in prayer has prompted me to be much more aware of my relationship with my neighbor.For example, I find that I am actually quite self-seeking in my conversations with others. In our seminarian peer-evaluation benchmarks, there is a box under "needs improvement" that says that a man may be focused too much on himself by frequently using statements such as "I," "me," "mine," etc. This semester, I realized that I do this all of the time! (Sorry for anybody who has experienced this when talking to me). Whenever I ask others if it is annoying, they usually respond saying, "You used to be a lot worse." I can only imagine how bad I used to be, but at least I am aware of it more so now.
Another example has been my personal neglect of the poor. I always feel this weird tension when I pass a beggar on the street because they usually need clothing, food, and shelter, but I usually don't carry extra of any of those things in my pocket. There is debate over if it is good to give money to them since they likely need it for drugs, but I rarely carry cash either. Over the course of the past year or so, I have felt a yearning to love the poor better. I normally like to keep my distance from them since they are usually messy, awkward to talk to, and can easily be lying to my face. However, whenever I used to drive around the wealthy parts of town, I primarily enjoyed how nice and well kept they are. Now, I can't help but notice that those of lower income brackets likely have been pushed out of these neighborhoods by design. It can be a temptation to forget our responsilbity towards the poor, let alone their existence.
Anyways, while I was walking from the rectory to the church building for Mass recently, I was stopped by a stranger giving a homeless man a hitchhike ride. The man asked to be driven to the church because he felt that the Lord wanted to bless him. It was clear that the driver had no idea who this man was, but he was just trying to be nice. He asked me for some help, and luckily I was in a situation where I could easily grab him a hat, gloves, and a little bit of cash. Within the moment, I was finally able to see Our Lord's presence in the poor and not ignore him. After the man thanked me and left, all I could think to myself was, "Wow... I don't know if I would have done that two years ago..." If the Lord had decided to bless me with frequent consolation in prayer, would I have been able to descend down to meet this man in his poverty? I am not sure, but I am glad that my desolation has been another occasion for grace to pour into me. I encourage all of us to keep searching for Our Lord's presence no matter what our Holy Hour time may look like. I usually don't walk away with a palpable sensation of grace, but that doesn't mean that the divine physician isn't at work in my soul.
As I write this, I have been experiencing one of the lonelier days of celibate life. I just moved into a rectory at a parish where I don't know any of the families, so I don't get to have the classic "How are you! Oh my goodness, it is great to see you!" type of conversations. I served the vigil Mass last night and two Masses this morning, and I sat choir at a High Mass in town. Four Masses in 22 hours is a lot of liturgy. I have been keeping up with my breviary well too. When I got back from High Mass today, I was hit with the reality that I will likely return home from work most days to an empty house. Despite being tired, I will have to cook dinner for myself and try to not waste the evening away in a slothful manner like I have done for my entire life up to this point. It isn't like seminary, where food is provided and twenty of your brothers are always around to talk. I realize that this predicament I find myself in can lead me in two directions: sanctification or destruction.
We all know of the priests in the news who get themselves into trouble because they can't cope with this aspect of priestly life. They usually turn to some sort of sin of the flesh, and the enemy never lets go of them. However, we have many examples of saintly priests who take this experience and bring it to the altar of God in prayer. Oh, how often people cry out, "I wish I had more time to pray, read, and study!" Well, there have been priests who have seized this opportunity and formed an unbreakable bond with Our Lord; this has produced in them a supernatural zeal for the salvation of souls. I think of the example of St. John Vianney whom I was able to visit this summer. He worked tirelessly for the salvation of his flock; working in moderation was a foreign concept to him. I don't have anywhere near that level of virtue yet, but can I at least be daring enough to set that as a goal? Why stop at what is merely natural and practical for a vocation that is supernatural in essence? I realize that no modern psychologist would recommend this goal or expectation, but I can at least aim at the meek and humble response of Our Lady saying, "Be it done unto me according to thy word."