There's more to becoming a Franciscan than I knew. Most of my friends confirm it. Even good Catholics with lots of experience don't seem to know much about Franciscans. We've had people ask questions like "Do Franciscans believe in God?" Some think we're a cult. Some think we live in monasteries. Being married and living in a house and going to work every day seems to throw them. How can you live in a religious order and still have a life? Maybe I'll spend my career in the SFO doing P.R. They could use it.
But I have to admit I was pretty much the same when I began. For instance, if you asked me to name a Franciscan saint, I could have told you one. Turns out there are lots of them. So many that there's a whole extra prayer book just to fit them in, and there seem to be new ones coming all the time. But that's not what today's blog is about. Today it's about the journey...
We bought a small TAO for our house. It's about eight inches tall and I put it on the wall over our mailbox, just outside the front door. I didn't want it to blow off the wall in a windstorm, so I used this white kind of glue that comes in a tube and you squeeze it out with a caulking gun. When I was finished JoAnne said, "Well, that's stuck on there. We're never selling this house...!"
And that seemed to sum up the changes that have been happening this summer. As soon as the TAO was up and the glue was set, our home became a Franciscan place, just like any Franciscan Mission or Retreat House or Church or any other place we've visited since our journey began. I was startled by the thought. I hadn't set out to do that; it wasn't my intent. But JoAnne was right as she always is about such things. Our house is changed. Through the Franciscan way, we have given it to God, as it should be.
How many Christians get this far? What can God do with a broken-down old joint like this? There was a big crane on the street last week. Our next-door neighbor was getting a new airconditioning unit. So of course I spent the night laying awake worrying about how long our unit will last. Tight times, you know. But we were watching the movie "Jesus of Nazareth" and there's a scene where he is teaching the disciples and he says "Don't worry about such things. Seek the things of the kingdom and everything you need will be given to you."
It's not easy, to trust I mean. Not like that. Not with full conviction of the Gospel. We start with longing to trust--we want to trust--long before we are peaceful about it. We long to walk with God, before we find peace in God. We long to turn away from sin long before we have either the strength or the courage to do so. We long to be free even before we embrace the Cross...
God knows all this. He knows the hardships of faith before he calls us to it. And one of Francis' closest companions, Saint Clare of Assissi, wrote that "God moves the soul gradually" until it wants nothing but the Lord, until it can surrender everything to have him.
We've been listening to Joyce Meyer on tapes. She's really helping us understand what boldness means in the life of faith. How boldness opens our lives up to the promises of Christ. We have to choose boldness before we feel brave. We have to throw our lives in with Christ like the apostles... before we really know him. Maybe that's why the Spirit had us put up the TAO. I was wiping the extra glue off with a wet rag when I looked at it and told JoAnne "I guess this means I'll have to be nice to salesmen from now on..."
The TAO is out in front now, like a lamp. It's easy to see from the street. People don't know what it means. It looks a little odd. But over the years I've had strangers come to the door on God's instruction, people with a message for us, people with gifts, even people with healing. Before I put up the TAO, God already knew where to find me. Before anything, before we make the first move toward Him, he has already taken us into his arms. It's time to put our faith out front...
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Just the All of Us
Years ago, when our house was full of children, JoAnne and I used to watch a television show called "Just the Ten of Us". It was a sit-com about a Catholic family with eight children. The stories were all about the craziness of trying to get things done in a crowd, with a string of kids all different ages, you know, sort of like home. One kid was a goody-two-shoes and the next was a bit of a devil and while the oldest was on her knees saying her Rosary the next would be climbing out the bedroom window to meet her boyfriend. Har, har. As you can imagine, the show didn't last long. But while it played we enjoyed having a laugh at that oddball family and their really strange habits. Like for instance, one night when the kids were causing trouble, Mom and Dad had to escape to their bedroom just to talk to each other. They sat down on their bed to figure out what they were going to do about the latest problem. I remember sitting beside JoAnne on the couch, pointing at all the props and laughing. I remember there was a small table in the corner, with a statue of Mary and a vigil candle glowing softly.
"Ha, ha!" I was laughing. "Look at that! NOBODY does THAT anymore...!" It was like looking at a Catholic family in the Fifties, not the Eighties. We began looking more closely at the props and settings in other scenes. We found a picture of the Sacred Heart in one scene. In the dining room there was a painting of the Last Supper. Somebody was using a Holy Card. Somebody else had Holy Water inside the door of her room. "Nobody DOES that any more. Nobody does that..."
I looked around the empty walls and tables of our home. Then I looked at JoAnne.
"Why doesn't anybody do that anymore?"
We were married about ten years at that time and in our closet we had a box filled with gifts people had given us for our wedding, for anniversaries, for days our children were born. And the box was full of Catholic things: a crucifix, a statue of a saint, a bottle of holy water, a blessed candle. We got the box out and went through it remembering all of the gifts, who had given them to us, the occasions they celebrated. It was like taking a walk outdoors, full of fresh air and the scent of the desert.
JoAnne took the little treasures and found places for everything, and the habit stuck. Over the years we kept on collecting artifacts of faith, signs and symbols of the journey we have been on together all of our adult lives. Today the house resembles a bit of a museum. We have the family china closet which is a shrine to people who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith. In the space where the glass and the doorframe meet JoAnne displays holy cards and pictures from funeral homes of (so many!) friends and family who live now in Christ. Just standing there for a moment is like going with them, if only for a little while. Next to that is the entertainment cabinet, which substitutes for a fireplace with a mantel (I've even gone so far as to put on a DVD with a recording of a fireplace). The top of that cabinet is where we have our best statue of the Blessed Mother, complete with candles, flowers, many pictures of our children at all ages and stages of life. I call it my "standing altar" because I love to stand there in her presence--the prayers that come are too deep for words.
Turning from there is the big front window that looks out on the street and the front door. There is a saying from Scripture on the outside of that door (which I really should remember when I jerk the door open to chase away salesmen...) but right inside is a cross with an image of Jesus resurrected. It has been in our family longer than I can remember, from the heyday of the Renewal years when Christ was often shown in glory.
The next wall as you enter has family pictures, my mother on her wedding day, and awards the kids earned in school and beyond. It is our "wall of pride" and there is an icon of Jesus looking somber and holding his hand in a certain way as if he is saying "Remember that all victories come through faith..." The fourth wall of that family room has a bookcase, but there are no books. It is filled with family photos from generations, grandparents and great-grandparents, babies and cousins. There are little carved angels, statues from other places in the world, and a picture of Mary holding Baby Jesus. They are arranged with the oldest pictures of great-grandparents at the bottom and the news pictures of angels and babies at the top as if Family is a tree that grows from ancient roots. This is the closest thing we have to a family altar and it reminds us that we are a family in Christ, always growing, always moving toward the day where all will be gathered in Him, into his Family in Heaven. That's just the Family Room!
Other rooms are much the same. Our latest creation is the one we longed for most of our lives. It is our family chapel, inspired by other families who invited us into their homes. For years we never had the space, but recently, after clearing out boxes, we realized there was no one hanging around who needed a bed and a little privacy. The room became the place where we gather twice a day--morning and evening--to say our prayers. Like every other place in the house, the chapel must serve double and triple duty... but first and foremost it is our prayer place. In fact, the whole house has become a place of prayer.
The hallway leading down to the bedrooms is lined on both sides with icons, pictures, placques and displays of faith; images of saints and angels, collections of family pictures all jumbled together and inextricable. We walk as a family in two worlds. Our bedrooms have more signs and icons. There is a statue of Saint Francis on the bureau on our own room. Crosses or crucifixes in every room of the house. In a corner where I get out of bed there are more icons of Saints and under my pillow, a holy card. I wear the Tao around my neck. I even long to eat Christ, and so we go to Mass and join with the Eucharistic Community... sharing the Meal Christ established. Living the life. Praying. Growing. Seeking. If Jesus came to our house, would he recognize us as Believers...?
"Take all away," Emily Dickenson once wrote, "and the only thing worth larceny is left--the Immortality!"
Joyce Myers writes that there is an important difference between what we do and who we are as Christians. Our "do" is about following Jesus and living the Gospel life. It is important, yes. But our "who" is about what God has done freely, without our effort or action. The decorations, signs, symbols, memories, artifacts of faith that fill our home fill us with joyful hope while we wait for the coming of God's kingdom. But take all that away and the really important thing, the infinite and eternal thing, remains. He has already made us His Family. Nobody can take that away. Our own weakness and failure can't change it. Wherever we go, he is there ahead of us, and we celebrate what he has done by surrounding ourselves with signs and pictures and memorials.
And then we walk amid this sacred space which is our home, moving from prayer to prayer, remembering the Grace that saves us, offering ourselves in the hope of the Resurrection to the ongoing work of salvation. As weird as we may appear, people who come to our home say they can feel it: we are all God's Family...
"Ha, ha!" I was laughing. "Look at that! NOBODY does THAT anymore...!" It was like looking at a Catholic family in the Fifties, not the Eighties. We began looking more closely at the props and settings in other scenes. We found a picture of the Sacred Heart in one scene. In the dining room there was a painting of the Last Supper. Somebody was using a Holy Card. Somebody else had Holy Water inside the door of her room. "Nobody DOES that any more. Nobody does that..."
I looked around the empty walls and tables of our home. Then I looked at JoAnne.
"Why doesn't anybody do that anymore?"
We were married about ten years at that time and in our closet we had a box filled with gifts people had given us for our wedding, for anniversaries, for days our children were born. And the box was full of Catholic things: a crucifix, a statue of a saint, a bottle of holy water, a blessed candle. We got the box out and went through it remembering all of the gifts, who had given them to us, the occasions they celebrated. It was like taking a walk outdoors, full of fresh air and the scent of the desert.
JoAnne took the little treasures and found places for everything, and the habit stuck. Over the years we kept on collecting artifacts of faith, signs and symbols of the journey we have been on together all of our adult lives. Today the house resembles a bit of a museum. We have the family china closet which is a shrine to people who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith. In the space where the glass and the doorframe meet JoAnne displays holy cards and pictures from funeral homes of (so many!) friends and family who live now in Christ. Just standing there for a moment is like going with them, if only for a little while. Next to that is the entertainment cabinet, which substitutes for a fireplace with a mantel (I've even gone so far as to put on a DVD with a recording of a fireplace). The top of that cabinet is where we have our best statue of the Blessed Mother, complete with candles, flowers, many pictures of our children at all ages and stages of life. I call it my "standing altar" because I love to stand there in her presence--the prayers that come are too deep for words.
Turning from there is the big front window that looks out on the street and the front door. There is a saying from Scripture on the outside of that door (which I really should remember when I jerk the door open to chase away salesmen...) but right inside is a cross with an image of Jesus resurrected. It has been in our family longer than I can remember, from the heyday of the Renewal years when Christ was often shown in glory.
The next wall as you enter has family pictures, my mother on her wedding day, and awards the kids earned in school and beyond. It is our "wall of pride" and there is an icon of Jesus looking somber and holding his hand in a certain way as if he is saying "Remember that all victories come through faith..." The fourth wall of that family room has a bookcase, but there are no books. It is filled with family photos from generations, grandparents and great-grandparents, babies and cousins. There are little carved angels, statues from other places in the world, and a picture of Mary holding Baby Jesus. They are arranged with the oldest pictures of great-grandparents at the bottom and the news pictures of angels and babies at the top as if Family is a tree that grows from ancient roots. This is the closest thing we have to a family altar and it reminds us that we are a family in Christ, always growing, always moving toward the day where all will be gathered in Him, into his Family in Heaven. That's just the Family Room!
Other rooms are much the same. Our latest creation is the one we longed for most of our lives. It is our family chapel, inspired by other families who invited us into their homes. For years we never had the space, but recently, after clearing out boxes, we realized there was no one hanging around who needed a bed and a little privacy. The room became the place where we gather twice a day--morning and evening--to say our prayers. Like every other place in the house, the chapel must serve double and triple duty... but first and foremost it is our prayer place. In fact, the whole house has become a place of prayer.
The hallway leading down to the bedrooms is lined on both sides with icons, pictures, placques and displays of faith; images of saints and angels, collections of family pictures all jumbled together and inextricable. We walk as a family in two worlds. Our bedrooms have more signs and icons. There is a statue of Saint Francis on the bureau on our own room. Crosses or crucifixes in every room of the house. In a corner where I get out of bed there are more icons of Saints and under my pillow, a holy card. I wear the Tao around my neck. I even long to eat Christ, and so we go to Mass and join with the Eucharistic Community... sharing the Meal Christ established. Living the life. Praying. Growing. Seeking. If Jesus came to our house, would he recognize us as Believers...?
"Take all away," Emily Dickenson once wrote, "and the only thing worth larceny is left--the Immortality!"
Joyce Myers writes that there is an important difference between what we do and who we are as Christians. Our "do" is about following Jesus and living the Gospel life. It is important, yes. But our "who" is about what God has done freely, without our effort or action. The decorations, signs, symbols, memories, artifacts of faith that fill our home fill us with joyful hope while we wait for the coming of God's kingdom. But take all that away and the really important thing, the infinite and eternal thing, remains. He has already made us His Family. Nobody can take that away. Our own weakness and failure can't change it. Wherever we go, he is there ahead of us, and we celebrate what he has done by surrounding ourselves with signs and pictures and memorials.
And then we walk amid this sacred space which is our home, moving from prayer to prayer, remembering the Grace that saves us, offering ourselves in the hope of the Resurrection to the ongoing work of salvation. As weird as we may appear, people who come to our home say they can feel it: we are all God's Family...
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