"Chasing Francis" Part 5 - Poverty

 p. 164 - For him [Francis], it [poverty] was a way of completely identifying with Jesus. ... Francis believed that the Incarnation itself was Jesus way of embracing poverty--the Son of God coming to earth to be born in a stable and die on a cross. 

I found that amazing. Since last advent, I've thought more about the Incarnation and it continues to stagger me that the King of Glory (that we celebrated the week prior to advent on Christ the King Sunday), would come to earth, enter the womb of a virgin, be born in a stable, walk the earth to show us what God is like - love, love and more love - and die for us and be raised again to take away our fear of the future and our fear of death. How do I live that truth out?  What is God's plan for me to identify with Christ more and more? Although I'm sure the answer is on a minute to minute basis as God uses me; I think becoming a Tertiary Franciscan is a part of that movement toward God for me.

p. 167  Maggie once told me that when her drug problem had been at its worst, she and Iris [her 10 year old daughter] were homeless, ping-ponging from one shelter to another. It had never occurred to me that they had probably spent nights on the streets as well. Now she was holding a ghost, the memory of a daughter who had traveled the hardest road with her, only to die when the winds of fortune shifted in their favor. Grazie [a homeless street child] was a sacrament, a momentary point of contact with Iris. 

What hit me in that paragraph was "sacrament."  I want my life to be a sacrament. To be one way some people may be able to touch God at deeper levels. I don't know how to do it and I don't think my human mind can grasp things that deep - even if I was smarter or better educated in theology. For me, being a sacrament is mystery; because I know only God can do it and it has nothing to do with my do-ing or my be-ing. It is full gift. Father God, help me be open to being a sacrament when You need me to be Your hands on earth. Let it be done in secret so even I don't know it happens so I won't get prideful or unrealistic expectations about it. Amen.

p. 169  We're demonically possessed by materialism and hyper-consumption.  Unfortunately, Christians are as caught up in the system as everyone else.  The twenty-first century is perpetuating the lie that was popular in the thirteenth century: The more you have, the happier you'll be. 

I can speak to my own materialism. In the 90s, I had a rock ranch home that I loved, a hot tub in the back yard, a Miata with optional hardtop, a closet full of clothes including several dozen pair of shoes (I'm still a shoe-aholic), a job with prestige so even the General Managers would come out of their business meetings if they saw me walk down mahogany row, at church I taught children after I lead the praise and worship team. I was soooo visible; I was soooo full of myself and full of the materialistic trappings that go with that lifestyle.

But I knew I was empty inside; yearning for a filling of what I did not know but that I missed terribly - what I was missing was familiar but unknown. I eventually figured out that I'd been happier before materialism bit me; back when I knew how to take joy in the little things of life.  I think materialism can be part of the first half of life as Richard Rohr would call it.  The time when we come to realize all the stuff in the world isn't going to fill that Jesus shaped vacuum in our heart.  Yet, even when I was heavily materialistic, I knew Jesus was in my heart; but in hindsight, I was fighting being in His heart.

p. 169  We say we don't believe it [that Christians are materialistic], but our lives betray us. The church is a co-opted by money today as it was in the thirteenth century. Our next-door neighbors must look at us and think, You Christians say you're citizens of a different kingdom, yet you're just as consumed by malls, money, cars, clothes, vacations and homes as we are. What's the deal?  Why should anyone take our gospel seriously as long as we continue to serve two masters?  A faith that doesn't speak out against the sick assumptions of its culture is really no faith at all--it's just religion.

It is still a struggle to not look to materialism to make me feel whole; I've been indoctrinated by my culture.  I had a conversation with a friend a while back and we wondered just because we are thrifty and buy clothing at garage sales, thrift stores and on super-sales -- does that mean we're not materialistic, or is that a different way of self-deceiving. I'm beginning to see it as a new way to remain materialistic (thing oriented or stuff acquiring) while thinking I'm not being materialistic because the actual cost could be so much more if I'd buy things at the mall.

p. 172  There is a tensile surface on water that's always fascinated me. I've ruminated about that infinitesimally thin layer of resistance before when preparing for baptisms. Is the water giving the candidate one last chance to go back, a last-minute opportunity to pull away and say no to the intense yet life-giving drowning that lies ahead?  or is it a reminder that there really is a separation between this fallen world and the next.

Did Jesus walk on the tensile surface?  I'd never thought much about water, except how it could hold and gently rock the white puffs of a dandelion fuzz or cottonwood tree flluff. But then I moved to Labrador and a few days before the lake behind the house would freeze, the waves would change. Strong winds that would have beat the lake into white-capped waves, now barely made a ripple - yet the water was not frozen, just preparing for it's winter hibernation.

At this age of life, I especially like the second definition: tensile surface between this world and the next... when Jesus commended his spirit to the Father, he allowed himself to fall through the surface between this world and the next - knowing Abba Yhwh (Daddy God) would be there to catch him. It is truly a falling upward; maybe the ultimate falling upward. 

p. 172-173  [When asked to help bath a dying AIDS victim's genitals] As I pushed against my revulsion and plunged the rag beneath the water I thought of it again but refused its invitation to hold back. I'd passed through a border into the depths, and found I could still breathe there. My terror and embarrassment was replaced by peace, edging toward sublime joy.
"What happened there?" she asked.
"I think I became a Christian,"  I said.

I cried when I read that. From my religious background, it was permissible to go to prisons, to shelters, to daycare, to rest homes, to the street to minister to druggies and possibly to prostitutes; but people who ministered to homosexual or lesbians were shunned by the church. It was almost like it would be catching.

God had to take my journey through a women's shelter to teach me otherwise. I won't go into detail to protect the women's identities; but two of the women in the shelter were leaving abusive lesbian relationships. I wasn't sure how to respond when I found one of the most joyful, warm and compassionate women was a lesbian. She was my children's age and already a grandmother - we'd talk about our grandkids, about life, about abuse; we even talked about our sexual orientation. She had been a Christian before she came out of the closet and was asked to leave her church; and that caused her deep pain. I could see Christ in her and it puzzled and offended me. I invited her to my church because I knew she would be accepted; she wasn't willing to give it another try because she'd been rejected too many times.

One night during a group chat that had been very painful but healing for me, I gave her a big hug and told her I loved her. It was a sisterly love, not a sensual or sexual love. Something in me broke that night. I still know I'm hetro through and through; but I also know a chunk of hardness of my heart broke during that hug and God gave me the ability to love people who aren't homogenous to me. Thank God we're not all the same and we are all different. White, shashta daisies are my favorite flower; yet if all flowers were white shashta daisies, the garden would look very boring - the mixture of colors, textures and design is what gives the garden its beauty. My favorite daisy sticks out because of it's difference, not because of it's sameness.  We're all sinners saved by grace; yet it's our differences that bring beauty to the faith community - and give the talents to carry out the work of the ministry. We're all loved deeply by the same God; and as His ambassador on earth, my mandate is to love others like He did - unconditionally. I'm not perfect at it by a long shot, but at least I'm not fighting against it as stubbornly as I once did.

If God wants to change her; that is His work.  The work He has given me is to love others like Jesus loved me. I finally became okay with that.

For me, true poverty in one sense, is the inability to accept others. Matthew 5 says "Blessed are the poor in spirit for they will see God."  Had I stayed in my rich, fat-cat, know-it-all mindset, I would have missed the beautiful blessing of this woman's compassion and understanding. I could see God in her.  It amazes me what a better view life has when I'm not sitting on my high horse; but how tempting it is to climb back up there when faced with things that aren't comfortable for me.

p. 177-178 What happened next is difficult to explain and perhaps, as with all mysteries, it is unwise to try. All I know is that in the moment of reception [receiving the bread of communion] I was visited by God. Perhaps it was the goodness of the priest and his graciousness that silently opened a portal through which I momentarily made contact with the divine life.  Or maybe it was due to the Eucharist itself--the host mingling with my brokenness, dissolving in saliva, coming to rest in the shallows of my heart's confusion. Kneeling at the altar, I was overwhelmed by the sense that my fragmented and discontinuous life actually made sense. .... Every grief, every joy, every loss, every hope, every disappointment -- all the disparate pieces of my past, my present and even my uncharted future--were instantly joined together, and I saw it all for what it really was. Gift. The gratitude I felt was nearly unbearable.I began to weep quietly, sobbing with release, rocking gently back and forth, holding the communion rail to steady myself. I whispered over and over again the only prayer that really matters in this life: "Thank you, thank you, thank you." 

I feel like that most times I take communion. I don't know if it's possible to become addicted to the Eucharist; but I think I am.  I often try to look solemn as the line moves forward and finally it's my turn to raise my hands to receive the bread.  Normally I have a smile from ear to ear because I know what comes afterwards... that wonderful freedom of being joined deeper in Christ and recognizing others in Him - that universal love of God working within us to will and to do His good pleasure. How can I be solemn when I know that is what is about to happen. That beautiful, deep knowing; it's heady and addictive and I want more and more of Christ. I'm grateful I go to a church where at least part of the year I can partake of the Eucharistic feast TWICE a week.  Hallelujah!

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 Today I watched the 2004 youtube movie in English of St. John Bosco. Wow. I was very impressed with his spirituality and how he stood up for what he felt was right; and how eventually God brought him humbly to his knees to ask forgiveness of his superior and to state his desire to honor his vow of obedience - and how that all worked out. I'd never heard of the order he founded, Salesians; then I read they are the second largest Roman Catholic order. Impressive that in less then 2 centuries his ministry has had such an impact.

His earthly hero was St. Francis of Sales; so I read a bit about him and was, once again, impressed with his gentleness and spirituality. There was a quote on youtube that was how he kept his hot temper in check and it was something like - that this small event was not worth loosing his years of staying in gentleness. I'm sure that is not an accurate rendition but what I perceived.  I also liked this quote "The whole of Christian perfection consists in this: ask nothing from God, and refuse nothing from God." I am starting to see the wisdom in that.  I downloaded his "Introduction to the Devout Life" to possibly read later (is that materialism and/or unhealthy compulsive behavior -- since I have hundreds of free books I've downloaded to possibly read later). Since his ministry appears to be more lay-oriented, I'm quite pleased I've been lead in His direction.

I have loved hearing about living saints who have done exploits for God. I've never cared much for history, but now I enjoy being inspired by people who lived years or millenium ago - who are brothers and sisters in the Lord. That is very encouraging to me. It helps me understand that God has nurtured his church through many events; watched the church try to self-destruct; and yet I can see God's hand over and over as he used men and women who loved Him and would allow Him to use them. No wonder the Gaithers could write the lyrics to "The Church Triumphant."   
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I've been sick since Tuesday after work.  I have the icky chest and head cold with a temperature and muscle aches; it's  been going around here.  I may be weird, but I'm always grateful to have a cold. My MD in Tulsa said a cold is the body's way of cleaning at the cellular level and the best thing to do is let nature do it's cleaning and don't try to stop it.  He said people who let their body clean are less prone to cancer and other chronic illnesses. My body is chugging right along, cleaning away.   I am resting, drinking lots of orange juice with extra pulp, eating spicy food as it doesn't taste like cardboard and irrigating my nose with salt water. I have taken one spoon of Buckleys (tastes awful and it works) before bed so I slept well each night and taken several naps throughout both days. I said all that NOT as a pity party but as an excuse for not doing the office at all yesterday and only twice today. I am missing doing it - so that is progress and I'm happy about that. I am also happy I'm not beating myself up because I am gentle on myself during this time. But feeling I require an excuse to not do it instead of the freedom to learn how to incorporate it into my life just doesn't sit right. I trust God to instruct me and grow me.