Who are you, O Mystery of mysteries,
God of immensity and light
of atoms and unfathomable dark spaces?
You, the Unknown, radically Other,
yet never alien.
As close as the blood in my veins,
as distant as the vast unknown,
almost perceived when beauty is revealed.

You who, when I cry out, “Fix it!”
whisper, “My grace is sufficient for you.”
Who are you, who preside over my unmaking
and my reshaping.

You in whom I am immersed,
Loveliest of the lovely,
crucified, risen, sanctifying,
filling the universe.

Yet when I labor to discern your paths
under leaves and ferns,
through sandy berm or swamp,
or in the wisdom of the ages,
if I seek you in solitude
or plunge into the crowd,
if I grope in darkness
or stand dazzled in the light,
I find myself…

I find myself in You.

Blessed may you be,
O Mystery of mysteries,
O Heart of my deepest heart.

]]> http://www.vocationquest.org/cenaclearchives/2011/01/who-are-you-o-mystery/feed/ 0 http://www.vocationquest.org/cenaclearchives/2010/09/never-separated-from-thee/ http://www.vocationquest.org/cenaclearchives/2010/09/never-separated-from-thee/#comments Mon, 27 Sep 2010 19:52:31 +0000 Cybernun http://www.vocationquest.org/cenaclearchives/?p=849 “Anima Christi” – 7

(1. Soul of Christ, sanctify me.)

(2. Body of Christ, save me.)

(3. Blood of Christ, inebriate me.)

(4. Water from the side of Christ, wash me.)

(5. Passion of Christ, strengthen me.)

(6. Within thy Wounds, hide me.)

- – - – -

Let me never be separated from thee.
Ne permittas me separari a te.

There’s a deep sense in which we are never, ever separated from God, for if we were not in God, and God in us, we would not exist.

But on another level, we can separate ourselves from God, when our lives are not in harmony with God’s love.  Or we can feel separated from God by simply not being mindful of God’s presence, by not reminding ourselves throughout the day of the love God has for us and for every person.

Or sometimes it happens that God seems to hide the divine face from us.  Then we feel ourselves in darkness; or as if all the road signs have suddenly disappeared from our path.  In reality God may be working in us in a quiet, unseen way that we can’t comprehend.

But not being able to see what God is doing may drive me absolutely crazy, or at the very least make me think I’ve forgotten how to pray.  In this holy wilderness, the Spirit of God can work unhampered by what I think I understand and by what I think I need for my own sanctity. And because I can’t see what God is doing, there is probably less chance that I will get in the way.

Then I need to pray (although I may not feel inclined to pray) and to remember that I am not really separated from God who is still with me and in me and guiding me.

So I cry out to God:

In you, O God, I live and move and have my being, but the least distraction seems to separate me from you.
Without you, I would not be, but I often try to go my own way.
You hold me in the everlasting arms, but still I am afraid in the darkness.
Remind me once again, O God, for I am weak and forgetful, of your abiding love and faithfulness.

Let me never be separated from thee.
Ne permittas me separari a te.

- – - – -

Presence in Darkness image by Rose Hoover, rc

Am I the only one who has had this experience?  I wondered: Do my glasses need changing?  No. Was the sharpness set too high on the television?  I don’t think so.

I think the problem is that real life just doesn’t happen in high definition.

Part of the beauty of the world around us is that human faces do not reveal every flaw to the casual glance, and objects are not always distinct from each other.

Outside my window right now I see live oak branches covered with resurrection ferns and draped with Spanish moss.  The whole effect is one of graceful softness, highlighted and sharpened here and there by splotches of sunlight that make leaves, fronds, and moss glow.  In spots, the details are completely overwhelmed by the brilliance of light.

If every green frond were distinct from the other and from the branch, if each gray strand of moss in shadow appeared just as clearly defined as the ones in gentle sunlight, much of the beauty would be lost.

In our own lives as well, we move from day to day in a state of blessed blurriness, though we may often long for a higher resolution monitor, so to speak.

• The future is unknown in its details – though we know, through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, that there is a happy ending to the human story.
• In many cases, it is not even clear to us what our next step should be – we have to trust in the guidance and good will of God as we navigate the ambiguities of life.
• The deepest truths of human existence are in the form of paradox and mystery – and when we try to codify them in high-definition propositions, we may take pride in our certainty and forget the mystery inherent in what we were attempting to clarify.

I find this quotation from Gerald May helpful:

When we were children, most of us were good friends with mystery.  The world was full of it and we loved it.  Then as we grew older, we slowly accepted the indoctrination that mystery exists only to be solved.  For many of us, mystery became an adversary; unknowing became a weakness.  The contemplative spiritual life is an ongoing reversal of this adjustment.  It is a slow and sometimes painful process of becoming “as little children” again, in which we first make friends with mystery and finally fall in love again with it.  And in that love we find an ever increasing freedom to be who we really are in an identity that is continually emerging and never defined.  We are freed to join the dance of life in fullness without having a clue about what the steps are.

Gerald G. May, M.D., The Dark Night of the Soul (New York: Harper, 2003), 132-3.

The obscurity is blessed, because we are indeed dwelling in divine Mystery, and that is where we are meant to be.  It is there that we find goodness, love, mercy, and peace.  It is there that we “join the dance of life in fullness without having a clue about what the steps are.”

It portrays Saul, the future Paul, at the moment described in the book of Acts:

“While I was on my way and approaching Damascus, about noon a great light from heaven suddenly shone about me. I fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to me, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’ I answered, ‘Who are you, Lord?’ Then he said to me, ‘I am Jesus of Nazareth whom you are persecuting.’” (Acts 22:6-8)

Persecuting Jesus? How can you persecute someone who is dead? Saul has only been trying to wipe out a dangerous and heretical sect. And why would this Jesus come to a person who has no use for him?

So here is Saul, wrapped in Light, dazzled, blinded by this Mystery which is too much for him.

Within a fraction of a second he will land in the dirt — but not yet. For this life-changing instant he seems suspended in the Mystery. Once so sure of himself and of what to believe, now his world is upside down, and it will never go back to what it was. He doesn’t know which way is up, which way is the solid ground, where to put his feet.

But this Mystery — this Christ, this Love — has not only knocked Saul off his feet. As of now and forever, this is all he will ever want in life or in death.

Yet whatever gains I had,
these I have come to regard as loss
because of Christ.
More than that, I regard everything as loss
because of the surpassing value
of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.
(Philippians 3:7-8a)