Happy returns...

We celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary on June 11th. On the 13th we made our profession as Secular Franciscans. On the 15th we went to the hospital where JoAnne underwent a total of 3 operations spread over a month, then a long, slow recover until we finally learned that she has diabetes. We're in the process of learning how to manage that right now. Not so difficult. Lots of common sense.

But that means it's been about 16 weeks since I last made an entry. In that time I lost my job, retired from teaching and found a new job doing Guest Services at the Franciscan Renwal Center. A wonderful place if you haven't heard of it.
     The real news, however, is the Franciscan journey which is both a call and a path to increasing simplicity. For example, we are having the first cool weather of fall tonight. I sat on the patio working on some notes but found myself staring off to where the sunset vanished, just me, the sky and an old tree west of our yard. Trinity. Simplicity. Full of God...
     JoAnne says I should write stories and I agree. But before I even begin, I wanted to reconnect here. Whoever you are who will read these "little stories" I thank you. Every writer needs an audience. Otherwise it just doesn't make sense.

     Oh, and that Franciscan journey? It's also about conversion, which is a journey of discovery that may very well become eternal.

God bless you,

Tom

Profession Day

June 13, 2011

This is it, the last day. We will make our Profession tonight around six o'clock. I woke up thinking about this blog.

I started it to share the journey of a Candidate. I'm not sure if I succeeded because toward the end I couldn't seem to find words to say. Also, what I wrote sounds stiff and uncertain--maybe too heady, always looking for answers, meaning and maybe not always finding any. Right now, looking at the words feels like looking at the surface of a pool, transparent, the top layer of something endlessly deep. As if I might fall in through the words and go... where? I've never had this feeling before.

I don't know if anyone read anything I wrote for a long time, except JoAnne, who likes to read my stuff. Our journey is still together, as it should be. I certainly didn't draw a crowd--probably what I was after but not necessary. I know that God reads all the words. Maybe that's the real reason for writing. Maybe God wants to know what's on my mind. Anyway, I'm no Thomas Merton.

So, the words are here, for what they're worth. The journey is complete. Step One. Today we become Franciscans and we will be Franciscans forever. I really believe Mary was behind this, since yesterday, standing in Saint Mary's for our rehearsal I realized where we ended up. She's a really cool person, still working for Jesus, still bringing people in.

How have I changed?

I'm not sure. More peaceful about stuff, certainly. More sure about God and his plan. More committed. More willing to listen to other people and find out what they need, as opposed to rushing in and dumping on them what I think they need. More willing to wait before I judge. More willing, overall. Willing to let the Holy Spirit come in and... do what the Holy Spirit does. I'm still just learning about that. More willing to share, to participate, to work as a team, to be part of other people's lives. Whatever it is God wants, whatever he is trying to accomplish by helping me to be Franciscan, that's what I'm more willing to embrace. I hope sharing words helps.

A lot happened in the days when I was quiet that will probably come out in words later. I don't know. It's not like somebody is out there beating a drum to announce me. I don't mind. I hope I am becoming like the Franciscans I've come to know. I hope that wherever I go, whatever I do, people know that I'm different. I hope they see the Franciscan things, and overlook whatever doesn't measure up.

Most of all, I hope that I will be helpful wherever I go and whatever I do. Making a difference means a lot. So it's not surprising that I keep falling in with people and groups who are doing just that, or at least trying. I've been busy, though I haven't written about it. And I'm wondering this morning what to do with this blog. Will I begin a new one, something with a different name? Or will this one become the cover for a new story, a new journey?

We took three years to get to this point. I can't remember at the moment when I began writing about it. Somewhere in the middle, I think. Whether I'll find anything to say after today I can't even guess. I'm going to spend the hours being quiet. It's like we're holding our breath until this evening. We want this so much, we can't even say...

I think most about the people we've met along the way...

Rosmarie, who took the job walking with me during candidacy and became Director of our Fraternity just last month. I'm betting I keep working for her now, whatever she asks. I'm betting she keeps walking with me forever...

Father Joe, who said to me at the very beginning when I told him we were discerning about becoming Seculars, "Why are you discerning? Just do it!" (Always with a big grin...)

Lynn, who told us at the Easter Vigil that she is entering the Franciscan convent. I don't know why it touched me so strongly, but I know it was a mighty important moment, and it has shaped my journey like nothing else. GO FOR IT, LYNN! We're with you all the way.

There is a Franciscan Secular I sat down and talked to just a week ago last Sunday. I won't mention her name because she is elderly now and her thoughts are beginning to slip into the repeating circles of old age. Most of the time she sits alone, perhaps by her own choice. All I know is how real she is, how she always smiles and is happy, how it feels to sit with her and listen as she says the same things over and over, as if they are really important, as if the most important thing is to make certain someone hears. I want to be the person who hears such words. To me they are Gospel...

There are also people we've met who are not Seculars, but they seemed to know what it means. A doctor last Sunday who is third-order Carmelite and told us if not for her Community she wouldn't have gotten through the hard times. That was important to hear.

Brother Damian, my friend from high school who is a Benedictine Monk at his home in Shawnee. He was there more years ago to introduce us to the Holy Spirit at Saint Gregory's and to share a bit of his life, long before we ever knew there was anything like the Seculars... of anything.

Brother Bob, our friend up in Santa Barbara province who knew us even before that, when we were making the first Engaged Encounter ever held in Arizona. He was working at the Franciscan Renewal Center in 1975 and had that same Franciscan wit, that same grin and same openness we meet everywhere, even then. He's always been part of the journey, in that way that can't be explained.

It all says to me that the journey will go on. We will meet new people--we ARE meeting new people, all the time, everywhere we go. The diffence is, we've got a lot we can share now, like planting seeds. Through us, God will light lamps in other people's lives, as we journey toward that "unity among all believers" that is in our prayers.

May God take the good work he has begun in our lives, and bring it to completion.

Peace and Good!

Tom

16 Days to Profession

My silence over the last several weeks was necessary, owing to the fact that I found no words. But the lessons continued.

I found quotes from both Francis and Clare in which they each speak of their "conversion". They were both Catholic at the time they embraced their vocation. How is it then that they needed to be converted...?

As we began our Franciscan journey, I was pretty well set. I thought I knew about all there was to know about being Catholic. But in these days I have experienced conversion--a deeply felt response to all the teachings of my life, and a recognition of how much more I need to learn. Becoming Franciscan is all about conversion, not from Catholic to some other faith, but from quiet waiting to life, life in abundance.

Joyce Meyers teaches that this life is approached via obedience, so obedience is a main feature of conversion. You might say we are converted to a life of obedience. And all of this preparation has been packing and saying goodbye.

We pack only what is worth taking. We learn to say goodbye to everything else. And that is what's been happening, what's kept me occupied, what's taken my voice. In some ways, conversion is as personal as the most intimate relationship. To discuss it diminishes the joy. And I think I've come to understand why Mary "treasured all these things in her heart"... She was being converted.

I know now that this is how God works, not in sweeping world-action, but one heart at a time. Because the conversion of a single heart truly is the awakening of a whole world.

Pax y Bene

Tom McNamara

It is the Third Sunday of Lent, 2011 and the story of Jesus and the Woman at the Well is a love story. "To all who did accept him he gave power to become children of God to all who believe..." Jn1:12

We all have a share in this story. It begins with a word; the news of Christ, arriving in our lives from any of countless pathways. Hearing about him we look for him. We listen to his stories, his teachings, his word and something happens; a spark in the heart, a light in the darkness. What we receive, we want more. Looking for him turns into a search, and searching for him we learn to watch, wait and listen--because he comes in the spirit, like wind that we can't trace. Suddenly, he is with us.

That's how life has been over the weeks while I've been silent. He comes unexpectedly. I crave him, yes. I am reduced some days to near-begging. Sometimes all I want is to beg: please, please, please come to me. But he comes when I'm not expecting it.

Today, he came at Mass (yeah, go figure!) After a slow start we had a lot of people. The church of Our Lady was filled, and the overflow in the lobby was full too. We didn't need the chairs outdoors, though, and that was just as well because the morning dawned cold. But I went to my station to greet people on their way in and it was a sweet balm. Though I've been very sad at home, that feeling left the way clouds lift from the mountains. Since church was full I stood in the back, in the entry beside the Font, handing song-sheets to people as they came in. There is a candle stand there, with a picture on the wall that changes from season to season. Today it was an icon of Jesus, severe (icons never smile) and suitable for Lent as we seek the Lord who judges all our deeds. Since my deeds haven't been all that saintly lately I stood quietly under his gaze, feeling not sorrowful but filled with tears, almost weeping. I thought I would have to leave, walk in the quite grounds, get myself together, but since I had no Kleenex I told myself not to cry. It was a struggle.

The other ministers handled the Communion line, so I slipped in among the others and received the Bread and Wine. This is sweet for me and nearly always peaceful, the grace of Communion flowing in like warm, calm waters. To stand then, in my own quiet company with the Lord, is my favorite time of all. I notice around me how so many more people do the same, some of them walking outside of the small church while the congregation receives. Some stand on the lawn, gazing at the mountains, others walk beneath the trees. It is a very holy place, like Lourdes. You can feel the companionship of the saints and angels there.

Then the community regathers to sing and offer praise, there are last blessings, invitations to fellowship, a final song. I get an armfull of bulletins from behind the reception desk and take my place outside the north door.

All my regular friends come out directly to the plaza for donuts and coffee and they all say hello. I give them a smile, a greeting, a good wish or a blessing, as my heart leads me, but it's good just to see them, to be there, with my family, praising and celebrating God's great gift.

"To all who did accept him he gave power to become children of God to all who believe..."

We have the power to become God's children. All he asks is that we believe. But it means a complete change of our lives. We cannot keep the things that are not proper for his children. The process of changing is called conversion and it is the birthright of every Christian. Someone told me recently (during the silence) that when a person makes this commitment they should expect the devil to redouble his efforts to distrupt, delay and deny. However, I was also told that when we pray the Rosary, the demons in hell cringe in terror. Evidently, they recognize the power of God.

I think that part of the journey to become Franciscan means facing God's power. The same power that devils fear is our great hope and consolation, for God who has all power is our Father and he loves us. That means that in times of trial we have a great strength. And nobody denies God.

So... there have been difficulties, and through these gifts I am learning to trust my Father. It's a wonderful thing and I am grateful to learn--though too many times I doubt I'm a good student. I wonder if that isn't the hardest thing for me--my own self-doubt.

But as each day passes I recognize what he is doing for me and I realize at the same time that he wants to do it for everyone. This thought helps me to be happy when there sometimes doesn't seem to be another reason. Jesus gave the woman at the well the gift of revelation. He told her who he was and what he came to do. She was so excited she left her life standing by the well and ran to gather others. I'm hoping that our profession will feel like that, and that it will work the same transformation.

Once we claim God, who else is there to follow?

Twelve Days

Twelve days, many miles. So much to say, so few words. It seems at this time when so much is happening my job is to remain quiet, or to say little. Sometimes words create a fog that makes it hard to see. Sometimes fog is good. Except when you're trying to get somewhere.

     The lessons are about trust, and I'm about as good at it as I am at ice-skating. Fortunately in Phoenix there isn't a lot of ice to deal with. Spiritually, I'm not sure what I'm dealing with. As far as we can tell, out of our original group of almost fourteen Inquirers, we are down to three remaining Candidates, and I admit I feel disappointed. It's like starting out walking to a great celebration, but day-by-day the group gets smaller until there are only a few. It seems harder to celebrate when your companions are gone. I wish everyone had kept a journal. Then we could compare notes and get a better picture of the journey. But all we have is this, and I've been distracted.
     Our daily prayer is so important. When we miss--being to busy or otherwise interrupted--I miss it. Praying is like taking a trip, a vacation. It relaxes me. Meditation comes in the evening, or in the night. We've been teaching on weekends, that's keeping us pretty busy with the planning and communicating, more to worry about. I've been changing my diet and exercising, more adjustments. It's like springtime and the garden is being overturned. I think that's God's doing as he prepares to plant new things. It makes me wonder if a garden feels naked, this time of year. I do. And as the Franciscan world opens up before us, it just keeps getting bigger and bigger, and we crave a good guide.
     So we try to support each other, our little community here at home, try to listen to the others. Our Fraternity is organizing for elections this Spring and that's distracting, everyone running around with so much to do and it's like "Waiter! Oh Waiter...!" We're not the Princesses in this story. Nobody expects us to stand in the limelight. Rather, it's time for us to take up a dishtowel and pitch in. Plenty of work for everybody.

     I've been thinking of Brother Damian lately (Benedictine Abbey, Shawnee) and how he goes to a place in the church where there is a cabinet filled with relics. He prays there, in the candelight, in the company of our family, in the quiet and peace. I guess I can be a little jealous. I have a corner in our bedroom, an old chair, and a picture of Saint Theresa. Same family...
     Peace eludes me today. There is a storm in the distance, moving away, like a trainload of sweetness that won't be stopping. Our depot is small, rarely noticed. And I'm never quite certain whether I should be grateful... I suppose it's best to keep praying. Waiting, and writing, are part of the journey too.

     I've placed it in His hands. The results will appear in their time... Still, I feel the Saints so close around me. Perhaps I have lost my eyes to see them and it is time to be led, in love. Does the Lord know that his bride is blind now, and helpless?

     There are, of course, many things God wants to give us. I've heard at least one writer describe grace as "infinite piles" largely unused. So when a person gives their heart to God, is it reasonable to expect perhaps overwhelming abundance? My favorite so far is the abundance of mercy. Only God can truly sort out our tangled hearts, and he is willing to do it. But we... oh my! The process can be overwhelming as we realize the truth in everything we've heard. I don't know which stories I prefer, but it boils down something like this...
    At about the end of the First Millenium, the identity of our Church was solidifying, emerging from the military dominance of the Roman Empire and it's necessary aftermath. There were two "schools" of theology, one in the urban centers and one in the country. Saint Augustine appealed to the urban sense of order and design. His theology was similarly ordered, with faith growing in steps and stages, largely through superhuman efforts aimed at mastering the "base urges" of our nature. The other school emerged from many sources almost simultaneously. Saint Patrick epitomizes this other perspective by rejecting his own identity as Roman and embracing the identity of the Irish, who were rooted in Celtic nature-mysticism. This second school was very human and by association saw in most human experiences a natural grace and dignity. The two schools, of course, did not integrate well and as Patrician teaching spread through the world, it came into conflict with Augustinian definitions. A choice had to be made, and the Partrician school bowed to the wishes of Roman law and order. Augustine and thinkers like him became the "rule" of Catholicism and we spent the Second Milennium under the constraints of crime and punishment, with God as the High Judge. Meanwhile, Patrician sensitivities were sublimated, imitating the relationship between male and female thinking in so many other arenas. Patrician openness and acceptance was tolerated as necessary to the promotion of the species, but expected to be burned away in the high fires of spritual perfection. This, of course, did not happen.
     It seems to me that if Augustine was black and white about faith, Patrick allowed for many shades of gray. But now we are walking into our Third Millennium, ante Deum, and what we are looking at is something like what my computer calls "millions of colors". Right now we are seeing in Egypt a rebellion driven by the desire to be truly free. That same desire, expressed with infinitely more power and urgency, will drive us beyond the artificial boundaries we have erected in the name of preserving faith. Real faith needs no such attention from us, for it originates from and is preserved by the very nature of God. What we are expecting now is the unification of millions of expressions of faith around a few key concepts. Two of these keys are found in Franciscan life: we are to live the Gospel. Consider it carefully. We are to LIVE and we are to GOSPEL.
    To live our human nature and all of it's expressions is well-within the life of Christ, for he is human! The meaning and potential of human life will find its fullest expression in Christ. United in Christ, we will finally understand the unity of our human experience. 
   To Gospel, (think of it as a verb)is also the life of Christ. For as John Paul II said, "Christ is equally present in the Gospel as in the Eucharist." That means that as we receive the life of Christ when we eat the bread he has given (eucharist) so we receive his life when we read and do his word (gospel). Every way we turn, it's about receiving and living the life of Christ--not just the saint-heros, but all of us, every day!
     The trick is to understand that none of what we do in faith is done on our sole initiative, but every act of faith is first inspired and consequently empowered by grace. And this without cost to our freedom!
    Our hope, then, and our great treasure, is that every act of human love in every expression is a sharing in the nature of God. In this way all of human life is affirmed, and no one can be diminished.
     We need, of course, to grow in our understanding. This too is a work of grace and will be accomplished in God's time. But as he said through his prophets "if today you hear his voice, harden not your heart". It makes no sense to go back to the past. God has moved forward and wants us to come with him.
     We need each other. We need each other's kindness and faith. It is our history as Church to share the Good News. We must continue in this path, but it is time to recognize that God calls his servants and witnesses from all places and times. Nobody has ownership of the Holy Spirit. We must acknowledge that "God's mind is not our mind". But we can know for certain that he loves us, and I don't know about you, but I'm beginning to understand that if he loves me, he can love anybody.

Peace and Good.

Freedom

"To live will be a great adventure..." Peter Banning in Hook.

The greatest life of all is the life God offers through Jesus Christ. So it's no surprise to understand that this life is the greatest adventure.

He has given me the means to go, and the will to do it--that is, a truly free will. Often, either from passion or from desire, we wish to fling this one gift away--what good is a will when it so often betrays us? But there is no other way across the sea that separates man from God. I am told, quite rightly, that no effort can apprehend God. There is only his will, which is to give us grace freely, and our will, which he has commanded shall be free. The trial of the waters is nothing to fear nomatter how they rage. Free will is seaworthy, it can take us home.

We go, then, by raising sail into the wind of the Spirit, not by lowering. We go by taking the helm in hand--this, which he has called "the Bread that comes down from heaven" is given to us to be taken hold of, that we might live. Acts of free will can be good, worthy and liberating, as well as false. We learn by doing.

We are meant to captain our own ships. It is God's will that we have free wills, and Jesus, our Teacher, has given us example. As he has lived, so we can live.

Someone once said, "It seems we just been dropped down in this world between good and evil, and don't none of us know why." But I know why. We are here to be truly free. We have often been, and often called ourselves, slaves to sin. But this isn't the case. Our Liberation came, and he is here now, with us. And he will be with us forever. No longer slaves, we are made free, and it is this freedom that tells us who we are, and where we belong. None of the evil matters to those who are free. To use our will--to choose life--is the greatest honor we can offer. He has given us grace to be our guarantee, and his Spirit to companion us. We accept our freedom, and we are given everything...

Stats

I just noticed. Looking over last year I averaged just a little more than one post a week. I need to do better than that. It's a far cry from one post each day. So, to make it up to you, I'll tell you about my favorite prayer place.

We have a statue of Mary on top of the television cabinet in our Family Room. It's just tall enough for me to stand with my elbows on the shelf and my face in my hands. Mary stands over me and listens. If I stand there long enough, something happens in my heart. It isn't words, only longing. And the longing grows and grows until it's almost more than I can bear. But when it comes my prayer is both simple and sincere. "I want you, God. Only you."

That's about it. But there's so much inside of such a prayer. All the possibilities of God. And though I feel too small to open up and receive almost any of it, grace is real and will get the job done. The feeling slowly ebbs--not without tears--and it's handy to have a box of tissues. I don't know what this kind of praying is called, but I think it's familiar to those who sail the sea of the Spirit. They will know, and someday one of them will tell me about it.

But for today, I will remember that I can pray there whenever the house is quiet. And I can write here, whenever the house is quiet. For these are my most quiet thoughts and they shun the ordinary noise that I surround myself with. Building time and space for being quiet into my day will be a good resolution. Hopefully, if it's built inside my heart, I can carry it with me wherever I go. That would be something.

January

It's been very busy, not all of it productive. The thing about blogging is that it's not as romantic as the movies. There aren't people "out there" holding their breaths waiting to hear the next wonderful thing you have to say.
It's more like life. You have to get people's attention, but you need a good reason because there's so much competition. And if you're a person who doesn't really know why, then what you say doesn't have much presence.

I sort of hoped there would be something in the words that meant something to somebody, but then I've always hoped that about my writing. I've hoped that all my life and I hope I'll go on hoping it. But really, when all you have to talk about is the struggles at work, the struggles at church, or the struggles at home... where's the story? Where's Jesus in all of it?

Well, I promised myself I would blog the journey at least until I get professed. That way there will be a record. But I sort of feel like the old sailor who was asked to make a map of his journies, and found out there was a lot of blank space on the paper even after he'd done his best, wrote down all he could remember. What does one do with the blank spaces? What do you say to people who might try to follow? Beyond this point, will there be monsters...?

I think the blank spaces are where you will write your stories...