Aloneness, Solitude, and Community

I often struggle with loneliness.  Despite the fact that I have lived alone for the past ten years, the solitariness of being single is at times overwhelming.  In his meditation for January 22 in Bread for the Journey: A Daybook of Wisdom and Faith, the late Henry Nouwen has this to offer:

Community Supported by Solitude

Solitude greeting solitude, that’s what community is all about. Community is not the place where we are no longer alone but the place where we respect, protect and reverently greet one another’s aloneness.  When we allow our aloneness to lead us into solitude, our solitude will enable us to rejoice in the solitude of others. Our solitude roots us in our own hearts.  Instead of making us yearn for company that will offer us immediate satisfaction, solitude makes us claim our center and empowers us to call others to claim theirs. Our various solitudes are like strong, straight pillars that hold up the roof of our communal house. Thus, solitude always strengthens community.

I venture that Nouwen would also say the layer between solitude and community — relationship with another — is likewise nurtured by the fruits of allowing our aloneness to lead us into solitude.  When we know and are at home at that center where we can breathe deeply and profoundly and simply be who we are — it is then that we are best able to move beyond our center and relate with the “other.”

And in this relating, Love lives most fully.

 

 

All Images © 2012 Timothy MacGeorge

TFTD – Christ our Hero

From Richard Rohr’s, On the Threshold of Transformation: Daily Meditations for Men:

Day 4: The Holy Grail

In culture after culture, much has been written about blood.  It holds deep, archetypal meanings in all storytelling, both as the ultimate energy of life and the ultimate symbol of death.  The Eucharist speaks to this dramatically; we are taking in the essence of another, and it speaks on a cellular, physical level. This is deeply transformative if we allow it to be. Quite simply, we become what we eat and drink.

This experience has lost some of its power. In ancient rites, men sometimes drank the blood of their elders and heroes. The Eucharist has at times become an antiseptic caricature of the original Supper, complete with lace on the altar and priests dressed in silk. This distracts us from the graphic symbol:  we are drinking the blood of our hero — Christ — and are now one with him.

Love and Humor in the Face of Rejection

The young man described in today’s Caroly Hax column (in the Washington Post) does sound like quite an “impressive human being.”

As his sister describes him, he clearly knows his own truth so deeply that he is able to see beyond his mother’s rejection and not be controlled by her attempts to control. Perhaps he knows well the source of her non-maternal behavior — fear? ignorance? having been rejected or hurt herself? Whatever the reason, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all find ways lovingly to stand our ground, speak truth to untruth — all with open arms and gentle humor!

A God for All People – Homily for the Epiphany of the Lord

Homily for the Feast of the Epiphany of the Lord – January 7/8, 2012

For the communities of Dignity/NoVA at Emmanuel Church-on-the-Hill in Arlington, VA and Dignity/Washington at St. Margaret’s Episcopal Church, Washington, DC.

Readings

Today the Church invites us to continue reflecting on the Mystery of the Christmas message as we celebrate the Feast of Epiphany of the Lord.  The traditional day for this celebration is January 6, and in some cultures it’s commonly referred to as Little Christmas. The word “Epiphany” means a “manifestation” or a “showing forth” and it commemorates the visit to the infant Jesus by the “astrologers” from the east, the Magi of whom Matthew speaks in today’s gospel.  When we examine this passage along with the other Scriptures that are before us, we see that the theme and message of this feast is really very simple. Essentially, this day reminds us that the salvation which is to be bestowed on the House of Israel is not restricted to the House of Israel – that the gift of God’s very self is intended for all nations and all peoples.  I suppose the message can be summed up quite easily in that one line from Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians, which he describes as his “insight into the mystery of Christ.” Paul tells us “… that the Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body, and copartners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.”

The dawn of a new day and a new year – sunrise at Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, January 1, 2012.

“So what?” you might ask.  “What is so new about that? After all, our tradition for over two thousand years has acknowledged that the message of the Gospel is to be shared with all people.”   The answer for us today, I think, can be found when we really reflect on the question, “What does it mean to be ‘members of the same body’ and ‘copartners of the promise’?”

The people of Jesus’ day believed that God would one day save his people – and so they looked forward with hopeful expectation to the coming of the Messiah.  But for many the Messiah for whom they looked was not the apparently powerless infant of Bethlehem, but rather they awaited the coming of a powerful descendant of the House of David who would free his people from the oppression of foreign domination, bringing judgment and condemnation to those who were not of the Chosen People.

This feast we celebrate today reminds us that such a limited hope was misguided.  It reminds us that the great gift of God in the person of God’s Son is not given merely to a single person, a single family, a single town, a single culture, a single nation, a single religion, or a single Church.  No one – no priest or pope; no president, politician or presidential candidate; no bishop or pastor; no woman or man has a monopoly on that presence of God now Incarnate in the world.  Epiphany reminds us that all peoples are the intended recipients of God’s gift of self and all that flows from this connection with the Divine.  At is core, the message of the Lord’s Epiphany reminds us that the Gospel is characterized by inclusion, not exclusion; letting us not forget that there is more than enough room for all at the Lord’s Table and in God’s Kingdom.

Such a realization has great implications for those of us whom Paul refers to as “copartners,” or sharers, in the promise of the Gospel.  We believe that we do indeed share in the gift of God’s promise to Israel and that the blessings of new life in Christ are ours. But there are two dimensions to that sharing. We are not only sharers in that we have received this gift in the passive sense; but we are also called to be sharers in the more active sense, being called to share this great gift of faith and of life with one another.  We are called to share our gifts and our talents, to share all that we have and all that we are, to open the doors of our hearts and our lives to be a people who welcome and embrace others.

That’s not always an easy thing to do.  One thing that can help us live up to that call is to develop a keener sense of being able to see – as did the Magi – the presence of God Incarnate in our world.  Yes, it’s very, very easy to see situations in which God seems to be absent … but can we develop our senses of the soul so that we see and hear and touch the Divine so very present in the world all around us?

I don’t profess to be any better at this than anyone else, but here are just two examples from this past week in which I recognized God’s presence.   I was fortunate enough to get away for a couple days last weekend and see the beauty of the dawn on New Year’s Day as the sun rose over the horizon.  That sunrise – including time spent with a few special friends – was clearly painted by the hand of God, and for it I am very thankful.  More recently I think we need to recognize the presence of God as seen in the very public apology delivered by a Cardinal of the Church, something that doesn’t happen very often.  Chicago’s archbishop Cardinal Francis George publicly recognized the harm and hurt his words had done a week before in comparing the LGBT community to the Ku Klux Klan.  Just as I had been shocked by his initial comparison, I never expected that he would apologize has he has done. The cardinal said:

“I am truly sorry for the hurt my remarks have caused. Particularly because we all have friends or family members who are gay and lesbian. This has evidently wounded a good number of people. I have family members myself who are gay and lesbian, so it’s part of our lives. So I’m sorry for the hurt.”

May our prayer this Epiphany day be that we are a not only able to see and name God in our midst, but that we may also be more faithful copartners in the promise of the Gospel by sharing God’s love, hope, presence and peace with everyone we meet every day of our lives.

Thank you, Cardinal George

Most of us are pretty good at calling someone out when they say mean, untruthful, or outrageous things.  Thus, it was no surprise that recent remarks made by Chicago’s Catholic archbishop, Cardinal Francis George, comparing the gay rights movement to the Ku Klux Klan were met with justified outcry and condemnation.

Cardinal Francis George

Cardinal Francis George, Archbishop of Chicago

The Chicago Tribune is reporting today that His Eminence has publicly apologized, stating that he is “…truly sorry for the hurt my remarks have caused.”

Just as quickly as we stand up against that which is wrong, we must also stand up quickly in support of that which is right.

Cardinal George deserves to be thanked for recognizing the real impact of his words and the potential harm they could have done, had they been left as is. He should also be thanked for providing the example of what any Christian should do whenever he recognizes he has made a mistake. The simple word “sin” has many variations in our Hebrew and Greek patrimony. Among these various terms are words that mean “missing the mark” or suggest that a relationship has been harmed or broken. Cardinal George’s apology publicly recognizes that whatever point he was trying to make, his comparison to the KKK was way off the mark. He also recognizes that words are powerful — they can both build up and tear down. While they can never be unspoken, they can and must be corrected whenever we realize that something we have said has done harm to others. This, Cardinal George has done. And for that, he should be thanked.

My prayer this Saturday morning is that the Cardinal’s apology will be welcomed and met with forgiveness. Perhaps this will be the dawn of a new day in the Church, and I pray that a spirit of reconciliation will help create an atmosphere of openness and dialogue between Church authorities and those of us who seek a deeper and richer theology of sexuality in light of the lived experience of God’s LGBT children.

What’s the difference, really??

Here are two current stories about two very similar men whom the Catholic Church treats very differently.

The first is a man who followed a call to ministry, was ordained a priest within his church, and eventually became a bishop. Because that church allows priests to be married, Jeffrey Steenson also has a wife, three children, and even a grandchild.  Steenson, the former bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of the Rio Grande, Albuquerque, NM has since left the Anglican Communion, been welcomed into the Catholic Church and ordained a Catholic priest.  Most recently he was appointed head of a new Ordinariate intended to smooth the transition to the Catholic Church for Episcopalians who, for whatever reason, feel called to swim the Tiber. Although Fr. Steenson will not be permitted to become a bishop, his new position essentially gives him all the administrative authority of a bishop and he will even be a voting member of the US Conference of Catholic Bishops.

The second man also followed a call to ministry within his church, and was similarly ordained both a priest and a bishop.  Though I don’t presume to know anything other than what is being reported today, Gabino Zavala apparently also felt called to the intimacy of a marital relationship and family life, and recently revealed that he is the father of two teenage children.  In the current structures of Catholicism, however, the requirement of mandatory celibacy makes all this a big “no, no.” And so, today’s big news is that the Pope has accepted Zavala’s resignation as an auxiliary bishop of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. The Vatican announcement of this news cites that part of Canon Law (can. 401§2) which allows for the resignation of a bishop prior to the established retirement age of 75 due to ill health or “some other grave cause.”

Putting aside the fact that Bishop Zavala did not live up to the imposed requirement in the Western Church that priests and bishops be celibate, the question remains:  At a substantive, material level, how are these two men really different, and why does the Catholic Church treat them so differently?