A couple of nights ago, I had a rather perplexing dream and am baffled as to its meaning. I dreamt I was at Mass at St. Teresa’s in which all four priests there presided. All four priests wore black, gold, violet and green palliums over their chasubles. My dream occurred during communion, I had noticed a woman getting in and out of line seemingly undecided whether or not to receive the Eucharist. When she decided to get back in line the last time, she put out her hand to get in front of a young girl in a white communion dress. The young girl began to cry and the priest refused the woman communion. The woman started to scream and cry hysterically, and then two priests took her each by the arm and dragged her out of the church.
I am rather upset by this dream and I find it disturbing. I have been unable to think about anything else. The only thing I could find on the internet was this…
“To dream of communion, symbolizes your conflict with the material world and the spiritual world. You are torn between your values and your feelings. Alternatively, the dream indicates a betrayal. You may also be seeking some form of acceptance”.
If anyone reads this, what are your thoughts?
Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Week One
I begin my course is Theological Studies next week…meaning a lot of reading for me to do. I have to re-evaluate some time management issues. At least I will have a few days next week to get myself on a more liveable schedule, I won’t be able to go to Mass as often as I have done this summer. I am also seeking direction with a Jesuit Priest, I am not sure if it will be fruitfull but I am going to see him for a few sessions and see how it works out. He loaned me a book called, “When the Well Runs Dry” and for the small amount of time I had to read it – I really like it. After speaking with him, I realize that just because I feel like I am walking in a desert; it doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s a bad thing. Jesus often retreated to the desert for days and days to pray and fast. The Jesuit said that the spiritual desert is where God purifies our souls, often providing us with an oasis here and there. In retrospect, I agree with that statement, this past few months have been like that for me, really dry but then at the most unsuspecting moments a glimmer of consolation and peace. On a happier note, my first spiritual director is visiting Newfoundland and I am excited to see him again, I am hoping for a really nice chat and to catch up. I came across this on The Deacon’s Bench and I meant to paste it here. It is about a woman’s decision to devote her life to God and it has resonated in me ever since. Enjoy.
I come to the door of the house, carrying my jar of ointment, still wondering what possessed me to come. As I bribe the doorkeeper — who knows me — to let me in, I wonder what He will do when I touch His feet. If He should kick at me, it is only what I deserve, but if He does before I can anoint Him, what then? What then? No answer comes. And now I am already inside, burning under the hostile gaze of everyone in the room. Oh, God, it is a regular dinner party! They all know, they all accuse, they all wonder how I gained entrance. Even the maidservants stare.But there He is, and he is not looking at me. He is attentive to a conversation which He has just begun with someone on the opposite side of the table — almost as though He is deliberately distracting attention from me — and others are joining in now, too. The oppressive, silent accusation is lifted, and I make my way to Him. As I remove His sandals, he doesn’t flinch, and I begin to weep. He is letting me touch Him! He is letting me touch Him without fuss or ceremony; I didn’t even have to ask! As my tears fall on His ankle accidentally, I realize how dirty these feet are. Whatever water I can, I use; my tears shall cleanse Him even as they cleanse my heart from so much worry, so much shame. All my memories of sin, I pour out of my eyes; all my wishes to begin again as a new woman, become tears to wash away the dust on these precious feet. But what shall I use to dry them? Even my clothes are tainted by my past life — I cannot dirty these feet anew by using defiled veil or dress. But my hair is mine; God-given from before I fell away from him. Pulling back my veil, I loosen its combs and let its coils tumble down. Gently, I dry away my tears and try to calm the tremors in my stomach and hands. How can He be allowing this? He still has not even looked at me!
Finally I reach for my jar. Though this ointment cost me nearly all my ill-gotten fortune, it now pales in the face of what this wandering prophet has given me. I no longer desire any vestige of my sinfulness, any remnant of this life, and I break the neck of the jar on the stone floor, emptying its entire contents on the feet before me. The noise and smell which soon overpowers the room immediately bring attention back on me, and I hide my scarlet face by bending and kissing once more His now-pungent feet.
Then I hear his voice and feel a gently hand on my head. “Simon, I have something to say.”
I come to the door of the house, carrying my jar of ointment, still wondering what possessed me to come. As I bribe the doorkeeper — who knows me — to let me in, I wonder what He will do when I touch His feet. If He should kick at me, it is only what I deserve, but if He does before I can anoint Him, what then? What then? No answer comes. And now I am already inside, burning under the hostile gaze of everyone in the room. Oh, God, it is a regular dinner party! They all know, they all accuse, they all wonder how I gained entrance. Even the maidservants stare.But there He is, and he is not looking at me. He is attentive to a conversation which He has just begun with someone on the opposite side of the table — almost as though He is deliberately distracting attention from me — and others are joining in now, too. The oppressive, silent accusation is lifted, and I make my way to Him. As I remove His sandals, he doesn’t flinch, and I begin to weep. He is letting me touch Him! He is letting me touch Him without fuss or ceremony; I didn’t even have to ask! As my tears fall on His ankle accidentally, I realize how dirty these feet are. Whatever water I can, I use; my tears shall cleanse Him even as they cleanse my heart from so much worry, so much shame. All my memories of sin, I pour out of my eyes; all my wishes to begin again as a new woman, become tears to wash away the dust on these precious feet. But what shall I use to dry them? Even my clothes are tainted by my past life — I cannot dirty these feet anew by using defiled veil or dress. But my hair is mine; God-given from before I fell away from him. Pulling back my veil, I loosen its combs and let its coils tumble down. Gently, I dry away my tears and try to calm the tremors in my stomach and hands. How can He be allowing this? He still has not even looked at me!
Finally I reach for my jar. Though this ointment cost me nearly all my ill-gotten fortune, it now pales in the face of what this wandering prophet has given me. I no longer desire any vestige of my sinfulness, any remnant of this life, and I break the neck of the jar on the stone floor, emptying its entire contents on the feet before me. The noise and smell which soon overpowers the room immediately bring attention back on me, and I hide my scarlet face by bending and kissing once more His now-pungent feet.
Then I hear his voice and feel a gently hand on my head. “Simon, I have something to say.”
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Truckling to God
As of Late, I have been struggling with where God calls me. Today I came across an interesting word: Truckle...whose meaning goes something like this -
1. To yield or bend obsequiously to the will of another; to act in a subservient manner.
2. A small wheel or roller; a caster.
As much as I try to do what He requires of me, I resist. Newton's Law of Motions states that, "To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction." As much as I pull back, He pursues me all the more. Adversely, when I become the pursuer, He fleetingly escapes me.
1. To yield or bend obsequiously to the will of another; to act in a subservient manner.
2. A small wheel or roller; a caster.
As much as I try to do what He requires of me, I resist. Newton's Law of Motions states that, "To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction." As much as I pull back, He pursues me all the more. Adversely, when I become the pursuer, He fleetingly escapes me.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Sorrow a Sin?
I found myself reflecting on the Seven Virtues and how they relate to the Seven Cardinal Sins. While reading I came across this tidbit…
“When Thomas Aquinas described acedia in his interpretation of the list, he described it as an uneasiness of the mind, being a progenitor for lesser sins such as restlessness and instability. Dante refined this definition further, describing acedia as the failure to love God with all one's heart, all one's mind and all one's soul; to him it was the middle sin, the only one characterized by an absence or insufficiency of love.
Despair describes a feeling of dissatisfaction or discontent, which causes unhappiness with one's current situation. Since unhappiness inherently results from the sin, the sin was sometimes referred to as sadness.”
I understand how sadness can interfere with one’s ability to connect with God in prayer, but is it really a sin? In my own experience sadness has brought me closer to God, that in those moments of lowliness, God is able to show himself to me. If someone were lost in the pits of despair, is it really their fault and can they just decide to not be sad anymore? The condition of a person’s soul is complex and being human, the hurtful things that we experience may take a while to heal. Someone who has experienced an unfortunate tragedy who finds themselves lost in grief and becomes depressed, is it a sin or is it an opportunity to invite God in? We should never have too much of one thing in our lives, and maybe the point that Thomas Aquinas was getting at is to not let sadness take over our lives. I believe we need sorrow in our lives to make us appreciate the joyful moments. Sorrow can be a blessing, not a sin. If life was full of happiness, why would we want to leave our earthly home for our eternal home? We need sorrow in order to draw ourselves into the arms of God.
“When Thomas Aquinas described acedia in his interpretation of the list, he described it as an uneasiness of the mind, being a progenitor for lesser sins such as restlessness and instability. Dante refined this definition further, describing acedia as the failure to love God with all one's heart, all one's mind and all one's soul; to him it was the middle sin, the only one characterized by an absence or insufficiency of love.
Despair describes a feeling of dissatisfaction or discontent, which causes unhappiness with one's current situation. Since unhappiness inherently results from the sin, the sin was sometimes referred to as sadness.”
I understand how sadness can interfere with one’s ability to connect with God in prayer, but is it really a sin? In my own experience sadness has brought me closer to God, that in those moments of lowliness, God is able to show himself to me. If someone were lost in the pits of despair, is it really their fault and can they just decide to not be sad anymore? The condition of a person’s soul is complex and being human, the hurtful things that we experience may take a while to heal. Someone who has experienced an unfortunate tragedy who finds themselves lost in grief and becomes depressed, is it a sin or is it an opportunity to invite God in? We should never have too much of one thing in our lives, and maybe the point that Thomas Aquinas was getting at is to not let sadness take over our lives. I believe we need sorrow in our lives to make us appreciate the joyful moments. Sorrow can be a blessing, not a sin. If life was full of happiness, why would we want to leave our earthly home for our eternal home? We need sorrow in order to draw ourselves into the arms of God.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
