In my last post in English, "A Hard Trek to Perfection,"
I suggested that Christianity is about reaching the highest standard: "You,
therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." Perfection sounds like an impossibly tall
order, yet the Teacher made allowance for it.
Perhaps becoming "perfect" is a question of getting completely
aligned with goodness. Nurturing and
supporting the spirit as much or more than the body, perhaps, is the same as walking
the straight and narrow path. Jesus also
said, "For the gate is narrow and
the way is hard, that leads to 
life, and those who find it are few." Perhaps what we need to do, if we're
determined to reach and pass through the narrow gate, is to stop feeling hopeless
and start eliminating obstacles. What blocks
our path to perfection? Vanity? Worry? Self-loathing? Ill will towards others? Some time ago, most of us chose a worldly
approach to life, one which does not necessarily keep us in touch with spirit. It's been extremely easy for most of us to
get completely lost at some time in our lives.
Yet all around us, there are those who have deliberately chosen to go
through life equipped with some kind of spiritual GPS unit that has kept them
moving in one direction. Who are these
people? Saints? Yes, but not only. I am thinking of the many orders of monks and
nuns that exist among the world's religions, the people who decided at some
point that getting completely lost was not an option. After years of deliberation, they made a firm
commitment to seek God on a daily basis, often within a supportive community, and
to let life's other considerations simply fall into place. That's exactly what Jesus asks us to do: Put God first. But few people are willing to give up what
they assume is "freedom" in order to dedicate themselves to godliness
in such a way; most of us can not even begin to imagine a lifestyle that is not
based on a regular job, social networking, and creature comforts. This is our great loss. We assume that being a Zen Buddhist monk, or
a Catholic nun, or even a sadhu meditating
in solitude near the source of the Ganges, means a hard, brittle life with no
fun and no future. We think that
stopping to pray and contemplate throughout the day for the rest of one's life
would be as boring as studying indoors on a gorgeous afternoon. The people who have chosen a contemplative
approach 
to life know otherwise. Unless
we have walked for years along the straight and narrow path, we have not experienced
the kind of peace, joy and purpose born of a life that is about listening to
the still small voice in order to become who we really are. We are all made in the image of God. We contain the spark of divinity. That's basically what the religious life is
about: lifting the bushel and letting
the candle flame dance. Perhaps that's what
being perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect really means. Interestingly, soon after I wrote "A
Hard Trek to Perfection," I came into contact with the strict Rule of
Benedict. Saint Benedict was the Italian-born
father of Western monasticism. "Ora et labora," he said. "Pray and work." The Benedictines live in beautiful natural
settings all over the world where they work the land and also welcome guests
who are willing to get up at dawn and stop their labors several times a day in
order to sing and pray. Recently, I was
happy to meet an American Benedictine prioress, Mother Miriam, who came to
Italy on May 14, 1990 to reopen an abbey whose history goes back to 703 AD. Now that I've become aware of the
Benedictines, whose lives involve loving and caring for souls and creation, it
does my heart good just to picture them doing their work. Regular people, Catholic or not, are welcome
to join them for a short while, long enough to get a feel for what it means to
nurture spirit. Who knows, maybe a stay
among monastics is the kick start some of us have been needing for so long, and
the perfect chance to reset our interior GPS units. Before I close, I'd like to say, "Happy
24th Anniversary!" to Mother Miriam and the Benedictine community,
including sheep dog pups, at San Vincenzo Abbey in Molise. UN'AMERICANA A VENEZIA
Post Script: Unfortunately, in the time since this article was written, one of the very few nuns working at the Abbey of Saint Vincent on the Volturno has died. Then in February, 2016, Mother Miriam and Sister Filippa were transferred to another convent. The ancient Benedictine abbey is now closed. Apparently, this decision was made by the new abbot of Montecassino. The Friends of Saint Vincent are currently mobilizing to formally request that that the abbey be reopened and that the Crypt of Epifanio be made available to visitors once again. Un'Americana a Venezia
life, and those who find it are few." Perhaps what we need to do, if we're
determined to reach and pass through the narrow gate, is to stop feeling hopeless
and start eliminating obstacles. What blocks
our path to perfection? Vanity? Worry? Self-loathing? Ill will towards others? Some time ago, most of us chose a worldly
approach to life, one which does not necessarily keep us in touch with spirit. It's been extremely easy for most of us to
get completely lost at some time in our lives.
Yet all around us, there are those who have deliberately chosen to go
through life equipped with some kind of spiritual GPS unit that has kept them
moving in one direction. Who are these
people? Saints? Yes, but not only. I am thinking of the many orders of monks and
nuns that exist among the world's religions, the people who decided at some
point that getting completely lost was not an option. After years of deliberation, they made a firm
commitment to seek God on a daily basis, often within a supportive community, and
to let life's other considerations simply fall into place. That's exactly what Jesus asks us to do: Put God first. But few people are willing to give up what
they assume is "freedom" in order to dedicate themselves to godliness
in such a way; most of us can not even begin to imagine a lifestyle that is not
based on a regular job, social networking, and creature comforts. This is our great loss. We assume that being a Zen Buddhist monk, or
a Catholic nun, or even a sadhu meditating
in solitude near the source of the Ganges, means a hard, brittle life with no
fun and no future. We think that
stopping to pray and contemplate throughout the day for the rest of one's life
would be as boring as studying indoors on a gorgeous afternoon. The people who have chosen a contemplative
approach to life know otherwise. Unless
we have walked for years along the straight and narrow path, we have not experienced
the kind of peace, joy and purpose born of a life that is about listening to
the still small voice in order to become who we really are. We are all made in the image of God. We contain the spark of divinity. That's basically what the religious life is
about: lifting the bushel and letting
the candle flame dance. Perhaps that's what
being perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect really means. Interestingly, soon after I wrote "A
Hard Trek to Perfection," I came into contact with the strict Rule of
Benedict. Saint Benedict was the Italian-born
father of Western monasticism. "Ora et labora," he said. "Pray and work." The Benedictines live in beautiful natural
settings all over the world where they work the land and also welcome guests
who are willing to get up at dawn and stop their labors several times a day in
order to sing and pray. Recently, I was
happy to meet an American Benedictine prioress, Mother Miriam, who came to
Italy on May 14, 1990 to reopen an abbey whose history goes back to 703 AD. Now that I've become aware of the
Benedictines, whose lives involve loving and caring for souls and creation, it
does my heart good just to picture them doing their work. Regular people, Catholic or not, are welcome
to join them for a short while, long enough to get a feel for what it means to
nurture spirit. Who knows, maybe a stay
among monastics is the kick start some of us have been needing for so long, and
the perfect chance to reset our interior GPS units. Before I close, I'd like to say, "Happy
24th Anniversary!" to Mother Miriam and the Benedictine community,
including sheep dog pups, at San Vincenzo Abbey in Molise. UN'AMERICANA A VENEZIA Post Script: Unfortunately, in the time since this article was written, one of the very few nuns working at the Abbey of Saint Vincent on the Volturno has died. Then in February, 2016, Mother Miriam and Sister Filippa were transferred to another convent. The ancient Benedictine abbey is now closed. Apparently, this decision was made by the new abbot of Montecassino. The Friends of Saint Vincent are currently mobilizing to formally request that that the abbey be reopened and that the Crypt of Epifanio be made available to visitors once again. Un'Americana a Venezia
Nessun commento:
Posta un commento