Showing posts with label Healing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Healing. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
1:35 PM
There is a certain condition in human nature that is familiar to every experienced human being across the boundaries of nations or time. It is that of a relationship grown cold due to a rift--an argument or an act that causes two people once deeply engaged in one another to grow apart. This is never so evident as when it occurs in marriage, where the two are still obliged to remain together. One has no difficulty in conjuring the image of a man and woman moving laconically past one another, each in his and her own shadowy world. They do not speak; the situation has grown comfortable. Maybe they have some notion of doing something in the future to rekindle the joy they felt as they began their lives together, but that must wait for the appropriate time. They have their personal plans, and day in, day out, they move steadily and solitarily towards different goals, though to all appearances, they stay together.
In the Renaissance, thinkers posited the idea that motion itself may be dubbed 'inert' as aptly as stillness is. It logically followed that sluggishness is found in actuality as well as in potency. Not yet abandoning the link between pure reason and reality, these philosopher scientists realized that such an idea would nullify any difference between rest and motion, and so to uphold the truth that our sensory experience indeed reflects reality, many nodded as Newton posited the notions of 'absolute motion' and 'absolute place.' Those scientists, so wanting man to be the measure of all things, likely mopped their brows with relief at such a solution. Somewhere there was an eternal standard to measure individual phenomena against, thus vouchsafing˜ the credibility of man's reason.
However, the realm of human relations differs entirely. As each man is an individual endowed with sentient thought of the highest order, his personal course of action need not arise from a relation with any eternal measure. Determinists may say otherwise, but personal experience tells us that man does what he does out of free choice, and that this freedom is only lessened by the sleepy influence of inertia (for even acting on the compulsion of another implies that we choose compliance over the alternative of not complying). Whether it is true for physical objects or not, man is indeed capable of resting even as he acts, mindlessly following the course of habit.
'Heaven gives us habit instead of happiness' is the proverb stoically intoned at the beginning of Tchaikovsky's luscious opera, Onegin. As it is shown that story's prelude, the strength of habit is enough to conquer individual impulses, and in this story's case, it is for the better. The security of a repeating cycle helps one to heal after the bruises of disappointed romance.
One may say the same to be the case with the Church and the Society of Saint Pius X. The initial sunderance with Rome must have shook the earth under the bishops' feet, even as they were convinced that Canon Law ultimately justified them, even as it appeared to condemn them. The stigma branded upon them by the mainstream currents in the Church may have at first spurred them on, but after all this time, this condition has very likely become mundane.
Just as with the married couple mentioned before, there was an argument. It was an ugly argument--the sort that shatters lives and even worlds. Yet, the presence of mind in both parties allows the marriage to remain in existence, and the two decide to go seperate ways under the same roof, trusting in some misty future date for a true reconciliation. Habit reigns in place of happiness, and husband and wife are content with their domestic routines, superficial conversation, and nights of regular sleep. This life does not feed their desires. It is not a fulfillment of their vocation. It is an insult against the potential grandeur of their souls. Yet, it is also the easier thing to do. Habit is easier than happiness; routine is easier than romance. Inertia always has that upperhand over the practice of virtue.
That is why it would come as a shock to the wife, if as she prepares supper in the kitchen, or as she returns home from work herself, to suddenly come face to face with her husband and see that he is looking at her. He does not give way for her to continue what she was doing. He does not even follow his own routine. He says decisively: 'Things cannot go on as they have.' She finds now she will have to make a choice. To live with him as his wife, or not to live with him at all, because he will no longer stand for only receiving a part of her or for merely giving a part of himself.
The SSPX expected the barque of St. Peter to take a century or so to right its course, at the which time, they would seek a more visible reunion. Much like a practical wife, the Fraternity was ready to bide its time and wait for the situation to evolve. Romance however kindles revolution; it does not wait for evolution.
Yet, this sort of passion and deliberate way of thinking may end in either triumph or tragedy. The husband's confrontation with his wife could bring about a wider rift rather than a reconciliation. As Archbishop Fellay himself has said:
One must not think that things will be easy afterwards. To use the words of the Pope that describe the situation quite well: 'I know,' he said, 'that it would be easier both for the Society and for myself to leave the situation as it currently is.' This describes very well the situation, and also that the Pope himself knows that he, when he does it, will be attacked. And also that the situation will not be easy for us. That which will arise out of this situation will be with Rome or against it. Both of which will be difficult.
'Difficult'? A very diplomatic term. The enemies of this reunion want to wreck it completely. They are ready to split the Church over it. The heretics that once accused the SSPX of schism, are now entering into formal schism (to add to their heresy):
A schismatic pope loses his position according to that same teaching of the constitution of the Church. At least, he cannot expect obedience...Instead of reconciling with the ultra-conservative, anti-democratic, and anti-Semitic SSPX, the Pope should rather care about the majority of reform-minded Catholics and reconcile with the churches of the Reformation and the entire ecumenical movement. Thus he would unite, and not divide. _Hans Küng (http://rorate-caeli.blogspot.com/2012/05/freak-extremes-meet-hans-kung-becomes.html)
Ultimately, those engaged in a romance must be willing to ask themselves if the other is enough. If their relationship is a great enough good to place above all other goods and all other relations. The Pope has decided that justice to the Fraternity is above the politics of diplomacy and that open arms to those outside the Church is a lie if those already within Her are not also embraced in love. His Holiness has decided to put his own house in order first, whatever the cost.
And how shall it end? That depends on whether one's trust in the good God is well-founded. Those with faith already have their answer.
However, the realm of human relations differs entirely. As each man is an individual endowed with sentient thought of the highest order, his personal course of action need not arise from a relation with any eternal measure. Determinists may say otherwise, but personal experience tells us that man does what he does out of free choice, and that this freedom is only lessened by the sleepy influence of inertia (for even acting on the compulsion of another implies that we choose compliance over the alternative of not complying). Whether it is true for physical objects or not, man is indeed capable of resting even as he acts, mindlessly following the course of habit.
'Heaven gives us habit instead of happiness' is the proverb stoically intoned at the beginning of Tchaikovsky's luscious opera, Onegin. As it is shown that story's prelude, the strength of habit is enough to conquer individual impulses, and in this story's case, it is for the better. The security of a repeating cycle helps one to heal after the bruises of disappointed romance.
One may say the same to be the case with the Church and the Society of Saint Pius X. The initial sunderance with Rome must have shook the earth under the bishops' feet, even as they were convinced that Canon Law ultimately justified them, even as it appeared to condemn them. The stigma branded upon them by the mainstream currents in the Church may have at first spurred them on, but after all this time, this condition has very likely become mundane.
Just as with the married couple mentioned before, there was an argument. It was an ugly argument--the sort that shatters lives and even worlds. Yet, the presence of mind in both parties allows the marriage to remain in existence, and the two decide to go seperate ways under the same roof, trusting in some misty future date for a true reconciliation. Habit reigns in place of happiness, and husband and wife are content with their domestic routines, superficial conversation, and nights of regular sleep. This life does not feed their desires. It is not a fulfillment of their vocation. It is an insult against the potential grandeur of their souls. Yet, it is also the easier thing to do. Habit is easier than happiness; routine is easier than romance. Inertia always has that upperhand over the practice of virtue.
That is why it would come as a shock to the wife, if as she prepares supper in the kitchen, or as she returns home from work herself, to suddenly come face to face with her husband and see that he is looking at her. He does not give way for her to continue what she was doing. He does not even follow his own routine. He says decisively: 'Things cannot go on as they have.' She finds now she will have to make a choice. To live with him as his wife, or not to live with him at all, because he will no longer stand for only receiving a part of her or for merely giving a part of himself.
The SSPX expected the barque of St. Peter to take a century or so to right its course, at the which time, they would seek a more visible reunion. Much like a practical wife, the Fraternity was ready to bide its time and wait for the situation to evolve. Romance however kindles revolution; it does not wait for evolution.
Yet, this sort of passion and deliberate way of thinking may end in either triumph or tragedy. The husband's confrontation with his wife could bring about a wider rift rather than a reconciliation. As Archbishop Fellay himself has said:
One must not think that things will be easy afterwards. To use the words of the Pope that describe the situation quite well: 'I know,' he said, 'that it would be easier both for the Society and for myself to leave the situation as it currently is.' This describes very well the situation, and also that the Pope himself knows that he, when he does it, will be attacked. And also that the situation will not be easy for us. That which will arise out of this situation will be with Rome or against it. Both of which will be difficult.
(http://rorate-caeli.blogspot.com/2012/05/rome-sspx-fellay-speaks-in-vienna-words.html)
'Difficult'? A very diplomatic term. The enemies of this reunion want to wreck it completely. They are ready to split the Church over it. The heretics that once accused the SSPX of schism, are now entering into formal schism (to add to their heresy):
A schismatic pope loses his position according to that same teaching of the constitution of the Church. At least, he cannot expect obedience...Instead of reconciling with the ultra-conservative, anti-democratic, and anti-Semitic SSPX, the Pope should rather care about the majority of reform-minded Catholics and reconcile with the churches of the Reformation and the entire ecumenical movement. Thus he would unite, and not divide. _Hans Küng (http://rorate-caeli.blogspot.com/2012/05/freak-extremes-meet-hans-kung-becomes.html)
Ultimately, those engaged in a romance must be willing to ask themselves if the other is enough. If their relationship is a great enough good to place above all other goods and all other relations. The Pope has decided that justice to the Fraternity is above the politics of diplomacy and that open arms to those outside the Church is a lie if those already within Her are not also embraced in love. His Holiness has decided to put his own house in order first, whatever the cost.
And how shall it end? That depends on whether one's trust in the good God is well-founded. Those with faith already have their answer.
Labels:
Actuality,
Appeal,
Church Suffering,
Concessions,
Courage,
Desire,
Happiness,
Healing,
Love,
Passion,
Pope Benedict XVI,
Society of Pius X,
Tradition
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Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Wounded bodies retreat. The natural reaction of one who is in pain is to curl up, not to sprawl. An affectionate dog becomes an aggressive mongrel when it hurts; snails pull into their shells at the approach of a finger, and all injured animals flee into their hovels, regardless of whom or what is approaching.
Man however is both matter and spirit. As an animal, he keeps his broken arm protectively pinned to his breast. As he is rational, he stretches it vulnerably forth for a physician to examine it. His reason triumphs over his flesh with ease regarding physical pain. It is a much greater challenge for the wisdom of man's soul to counsel the pains of his heart or the worries of his mind. Worst of all is when that wisdom faulters in itself, and he is plagued by doubts.
No doctor can heal a man, and no teacher can enlighten him. What a doctor can do is remove the splinter, set the limb, or kill the germ. Then the body must reknit its flesh, reunite its bone, or rebuild after the devastation of disease. The medic removes impediments, so the body may heal itself. A teacher may debunk error, construct syllogisms, and demonstrate facts. The student must be attentive and willing for his own reason to truly imbibe the lesson. Man then can only help man by prompting; he can never reach into his brother and assist him directly. That must be a thing his brother does for himself.
This truth applies to the healing properties of the rest of creation. As I look out at a clear sky with the bright hue of a robin's egg, at the silvery green of trees just budding forth, feel the warmth of the sun through my window and the crisp breeze wisping through the room, I am thoroughly aware of the fact that were I miserable, these things would be give me no delight.
I may offer a piece of cake to a man grouchy about the traffic, not to a man whose car has been stolen. Sunshine gladdens the heart after winter, not after the destruction of one's home. The sudden appearance of a Mandarin Duck beneath the bushes by the canal is uplifting on a dull day, not after the death of a loved one. In fact, wed with grief, these erstwhile joyous things but exacerbate pain. A tragedy occurring in the Christmas season is worse for that fact.
Yet, when pain so engulfed me last autumn that I felt my soul had been cloven in two from crown to toe, I found myself inexplicably soothed as I lay on the stiff mattress of a hostel in Kraków. The trumpet rang out from the basilica, at first melodiously intoning the Marian hymn and then dying abruptly. I breathed out a sigh and went gladly to sleep.
The next day found me on my knees in the Adoration Chapel of the Franciscan Church--the chapel of Our Lady of Sorrows. It glowed from the light of the arched windows, glaringly white and opaque but for a colourful image set in the middle, each one depicting one of the Seven Sorrows of Our Lady. The walls by contrast were comfortingly dark and lushly decorated. Skies of midnight blue and studded with gold stars spread across the low, vaulted ceiling. Vines of flowers and ivy crept up the walls in deep shades of green, purple, and red. One might have been in the Garden of Gethsemane.
And behind the resplendent, gold monstrance, was an image of the Virgin Mother. Her posture was neither straight, nor bending. Her form leaned away as if startled or repelled. The spirit, however, rejected the instinct of the flesh, and so her neck remained submissively bent. Her eyes were as red as blood, and two inexhaustible streams of tears poured forth from those swollen orbs. Her hands were in prayer, though barely pressed together, the fingers hardly touching one another, as if it exhausted her strength to raise her arms but that high.
I had hoped for an answer in that chapel. I received none, and like a surly child, I attempted to resist consolation. No, I would sorrow if I could not have what I asked for, and guidance did not seem like such a great boon to crave anyhow. Yet, as I gazed at her, and then at the Host, I felt my burdens ease, even against my will. For all things in this passing life give us but transient joys and pains. The sheep may desire the Shepherd to fill their trough with water, to be comforted by its steady supply, but if He comes to them one by one with nothing but a cup in His hand, this must be accepted.
Yet, I felt urged again to rebel.
'O Lord, give me enough to be satiated!'
'Nay, you shall have but enough to go on.'
Yet, I did not wish to go on feeling as I did. The self within me wanted to dash that insulting little cup to earth. Give me a stream of life, not a thimble! But I looked at her again. Emptied of strength and being emptied further still, she stood in a posture of prayer.
She opened not her mouth to curse nor to sob, but with pressed lips and pressed palms, wept before the Passion of Our Lord.
I heard the congregation rising in the main body of the church, and the Communion hymn was intoned. I wrung my hands and wondered if should I receive the Body and Blood. I felt devastated, frustrated, and indignant. But I did not feel alone. And like most sulky children, all I truly wanted was for my parents to come find me in my shadowy corner and plead with me to come out. But they could only beg me; they could not make me open my arms to them like and automaton and spring forth from my gloom. I could drink the cup the Shepherd offered and trudge further up the mount, hoping for more draughts along the way, or I could perish of thirst in the barren ravine with only my pride for company.
Communion would be over soon if I did not hurry, so with the embarrassment of a difficult relative who at last decides to attend the party, I hurried out to receive my Lover in the guise of Bread.
Since that painful episode I have received my answer, though it was an arduous journey to attain it. As the Triduum approaches, those of us who are happy must prepare to reflect on pain. Those of us who are miserable must strive to unite our woes with those of God. Easter is not a holiday that rushes on us, attempting to twist our hearts and minds to adjust to its mood. This solemn occasion bends the whole of the earth unto itself, drawing us out of our personal lives into its mysteries. Its commerical delights are not strong enough or distracting enough to drown its importance as, alas, is the case with many souls concerning Christmas. Easter's plunge into the abyss of misery is deep enough to pull any soul out of its gloom and into the light of the Resurrection.
On the Great Night forthcoming, the true Healer and the true Teacher is yearning to right your soul. If the day itself is the only consolation offered, do not resist, weary pilgrim. Do not curl up your limbs and hide your wounded self. Quench the cup, and march onward. If you do not find your answer, you will always have the Answer.
Man however is both matter and spirit. As an animal, he keeps his broken arm protectively pinned to his breast. As he is rational, he stretches it vulnerably forth for a physician to examine it. His reason triumphs over his flesh with ease regarding physical pain. It is a much greater challenge for the wisdom of man's soul to counsel the pains of his heart or the worries of his mind. Worst of all is when that wisdom faulters in itself, and he is plagued by doubts.
No doctor can heal a man, and no teacher can enlighten him. What a doctor can do is remove the splinter, set the limb, or kill the germ. Then the body must reknit its flesh, reunite its bone, or rebuild after the devastation of disease. The medic removes impediments, so the body may heal itself. A teacher may debunk error, construct syllogisms, and demonstrate facts. The student must be attentive and willing for his own reason to truly imbibe the lesson. Man then can only help man by prompting; he can never reach into his brother and assist him directly. That must be a thing his brother does for himself.
This truth applies to the healing properties of the rest of creation. As I look out at a clear sky with the bright hue of a robin's egg, at the silvery green of trees just budding forth, feel the warmth of the sun through my window and the crisp breeze wisping through the room, I am thoroughly aware of the fact that were I miserable, these things would be give me no delight.
I may offer a piece of cake to a man grouchy about the traffic, not to a man whose car has been stolen. Sunshine gladdens the heart after winter, not after the destruction of one's home. The sudden appearance of a Mandarin Duck beneath the bushes by the canal is uplifting on a dull day, not after the death of a loved one. In fact, wed with grief, these erstwhile joyous things but exacerbate pain. A tragedy occurring in the Christmas season is worse for that fact.
Yet, when pain so engulfed me last autumn that I felt my soul had been cloven in two from crown to toe, I found myself inexplicably soothed as I lay on the stiff mattress of a hostel in Kraków. The trumpet rang out from the basilica, at first melodiously intoning the Marian hymn and then dying abruptly. I breathed out a sigh and went gladly to sleep.
The next day found me on my knees in the Adoration Chapel of the Franciscan Church--the chapel of Our Lady of Sorrows. It glowed from the light of the arched windows, glaringly white and opaque but for a colourful image set in the middle, each one depicting one of the Seven Sorrows of Our Lady. The walls by contrast were comfortingly dark and lushly decorated. Skies of midnight blue and studded with gold stars spread across the low, vaulted ceiling. Vines of flowers and ivy crept up the walls in deep shades of green, purple, and red. One might have been in the Garden of Gethsemane.
And behind the resplendent, gold monstrance, was an image of the Virgin Mother. Her posture was neither straight, nor bending. Her form leaned away as if startled or repelled. The spirit, however, rejected the instinct of the flesh, and so her neck remained submissively bent. Her eyes were as red as blood, and two inexhaustible streams of tears poured forth from those swollen orbs. Her hands were in prayer, though barely pressed together, the fingers hardly touching one another, as if it exhausted her strength to raise her arms but that high. I had hoped for an answer in that chapel. I received none, and like a surly child, I attempted to resist consolation. No, I would sorrow if I could not have what I asked for, and guidance did not seem like such a great boon to crave anyhow. Yet, as I gazed at her, and then at the Host, I felt my burdens ease, even against my will. For all things in this passing life give us but transient joys and pains. The sheep may desire the Shepherd to fill their trough with water, to be comforted by its steady supply, but if He comes to them one by one with nothing but a cup in His hand, this must be accepted.
Yet, I felt urged again to rebel.
'O Lord, give me enough to be satiated!'
'Nay, you shall have but enough to go on.'
Yet, I did not wish to go on feeling as I did. The self within me wanted to dash that insulting little cup to earth. Give me a stream of life, not a thimble! But I looked at her again. Emptied of strength and being emptied further still, she stood in a posture of prayer.
She opened not her mouth to curse nor to sob, but with pressed lips and pressed palms, wept before the Passion of Our Lord.I heard the congregation rising in the main body of the church, and the Communion hymn was intoned. I wrung my hands and wondered if should I receive the Body and Blood. I felt devastated, frustrated, and indignant. But I did not feel alone. And like most sulky children, all I truly wanted was for my parents to come find me in my shadowy corner and plead with me to come out. But they could only beg me; they could not make me open my arms to them like and automaton and spring forth from my gloom. I could drink the cup the Shepherd offered and trudge further up the mount, hoping for more draughts along the way, or I could perish of thirst in the barren ravine with only my pride for company.
Communion would be over soon if I did not hurry, so with the embarrassment of a difficult relative who at last decides to attend the party, I hurried out to receive my Lover in the guise of Bread.
Since that painful episode I have received my answer, though it was an arduous journey to attain it. As the Triduum approaches, those of us who are happy must prepare to reflect on pain. Those of us who are miserable must strive to unite our woes with those of God. Easter is not a holiday that rushes on us, attempting to twist our hearts and minds to adjust to its mood. This solemn occasion bends the whole of the earth unto itself, drawing us out of our personal lives into its mysteries. Its commerical delights are not strong enough or distracting enough to drown its importance as, alas, is the case with many souls concerning Christmas. Easter's plunge into the abyss of misery is deep enough to pull any soul out of its gloom and into the light of the Resurrection.
On the Great Night forthcoming, the true Healer and the true Teacher is yearning to right your soul. If the day itself is the only consolation offered, do not resist, weary pilgrim. Do not curl up your limbs and hide your wounded self. Quench the cup, and march onward. If you do not find your answer, you will always have the Answer.
Regina coeli, laetare, alleluia: Quia quem meruisti portare, alleluia. Resurrexit sicut dixit, alleluia. Ora pro nobis Deum, alleluia.
V. Gaude et laetare, Virgo Maria, Alleluia,
R. Quia surrexit Dominus vere, alleluia.
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About Me
- Jacobitess
- Warsaw, Poland
- Domine, spero quia mundum vicisti. Lord, I trust that Thou hast overcome the world. Panie, ufam, żeś pokonał świat.