Caterina Benincasa Dominican Monastery

Peace. It is considered a element worthy and even necessary in our lives. Yet, peace is hard to contain, eluding our grasp when we need it most, slipping through our fingers when we try to hold on to it. Jesus first words to his disciples on the day of Resurrection was, “Peace. Fear not. It is I.”

Peace comes at a price. For the deeply spiritual peace of soul, I believe that that price is the ability to let go of those things that disturb us. As each temperament is different, what disturbs will vary. But it is true, as long as we cling to things, we will continually be discontented. Nothing every goes entirely our way.

So what is letting go? We all must have values, or we are nothing but sheets flying in the wind. How can we avoid confusing our value system with our control issues? First is to realize that the need to control comes from lack of trust and faith. There is a reason Jesus said, “Fear not.” when he offered peace. For the need to control is a sign of fear. And trust cast out all fear.

I suggest the best way to peace is to live a reflective life. I encourage reading the psalms daily, taking passages that speak to the heart and spending time with those words, letting them seep into the depths of one’s soul. Only a reflective life can discern the difference between holding on to values and trying to control our life. And once you can distinguish between the two, you can make the choice that brings an ever deepening peace to your soul

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Francios-Louis de Blois writes [everyone] can attain to the very highest wisdom of mystical theology and union. For this matter no unusual powers of mind are required, but purity and humility of heart, liberty and detachment of mind, with fervent love, are the only qualities necessary.

Purity of heart. It’s why men and women of every class left high society and made for the desert cell. Its why men and women of means and learning left the universities to enter monasteries. It’s why you and I continually seek to know God better–because only through a purified heart can we see God.

Theresa of Avila wrote a whole treatise on the journey to the inner sanctum of the heart. I contend that we don’t have to understand these “stages” necessarily, just be willing to continue that journey come what may. In my life time, I have met wonderful men and women who started out on the journey toward developing a greater consciousness of God, made impressive and sometimes heoric changes in their lives, and then, somehow, got stuck. Perhaps it was disappointment in those they set so much store in, perhaps it was a crisis of faith, or perhaps they hit a pot hole and decided to just stay down and indulge in self-pity. Whatever the reason, they gave up the journey and became content with the rest stop, became satisfied to remain “stuck” and look at the destination from a distance, no longer ardently seeking the forward momentum. Memories were enough, memories of better days and more satisfying lives, as they sat around the fire of discontent and passed around the drink of self-pity or defeat. And while they thought they were cherishing their memories of better days, they were losing it, losing it in the drink of self-pity, which always taints the truth of the story.

Purity of heart isn’t something we acheive. It is an ongoing act, one that comes with the journey. If we show good will, ardent desire and pure honesty, we can keep from staying down after stumbling. And each effort toward good or desire for God or act of rising makes the heart a bit cleaner and the vision closer to the Truth. And what is light, after all, but the product of a burning fire, a fire burning within, that purifies, enlightens, and guides?

Purity of heart. It is not automatic. But if you are sincere, you will surely possess it, as surely as the sun will shine or the moon will rise. As surely as God is good. As surely as Truth is Truth.

Our last community Lectio discussed the Gospel about Jesus casting out devils, and we got into a discussion on just what are the demons in our lives? We all know the big demons: addiction, abuse, sin. But what about the daily demons? And we came to the thought that one daily demon that infects our lives is dishonesty. That led to a whole new direction in our discussion.

Honesty isn’t much thought of in this day and age of political correctness and saving face. Yet, for a sincere follower of Jesus, honesty is paramount. You cannot have a true spiritual life without sincerity, which leads to honesty.

Think of Jesus. He didn’t come to bring the kind of kingdom his people expected, even his disciples. Are you going to return the kingdom of Israel now? they asked him after his resurrection, after they had seen him suffer rejection, disgrace, and die on the cross.

“My kingdom is not of this world.” he told them over and over again. He didn’t come as a band aid for all our ailments, but to show us good can come from even the worst kinds of evil. And that suffering evil, weakness, being vulnerable aren’t the worst aspects of our lives. Dishonesty and insincerity is.

Honesty starts with ourselves. It begins by stripping away what we want to be for what we are. St. Catherine, our patron, tells us true love can only come after we have received light in the cell of self-knowledge. This is the goal, and the demon to be cast out is all falseness, even to ourselves.

Mind and heart. Flesh and spirit. Seen and unseen. Natural and spiritual. It would seem we are always dealing with dualities in this life of ours. Perhaps that is why Jesus gave himself to us in both bread and wine, his body and blood.

St. Thomas tells us that the spiritual food of communion is given to us to make us divine. A mere mortal is capable of divinity! It’s no wonder devotion to the Eucharist has spread throughout the church down through the centuries. What greater calling can we have than divinity? Yet, after years of receiving, why are we still so terribly mortal, fallible, sinful?

Divinization requires purification and a total surrender to Jesus. It is not so hard as it is constant. Once we become habitually conscious of Jesus, we enter into a realm of union with him we never dreamt possible. And that is when heaven begins here on earth.

Silence. It is an essential monastic observance. Monasteries are houses of silence. Why?

Silence makes you deal with yourself, without distractions or interruptions. When you are silent, your thoughts and emotions are more perceptible. You have an opportunity to address those things that need to be changed in yourself, to take stock of your actions, to reflect on your life.

Silence is also necessary to find God. He dwells in the silence of your heart. You can find him in that silence; in fact, it is almost impossible to find him otherwise.

Monastic silence is not a lack of sound; monastic silence is an exterior manifestation of interior reflection, meditation, examine, and prayer.

If you would be a monastic, wherever you are or whatever your life style, you need monastic silence. Be still, without a prayer book open in front of you, or earplugs jammed into your ears, and sit quietly. Learn to listen to that silence. Learn to open your heart to that silence. It takes time. But you reap rich rewards from the lesson, learning to perceive a world that is neither tangible nor common.

Ever think you knew what God’s plan was for your life, gone forward with assurance, seen signs of God’s approval, had doors opened, wonderful events happen, and then have everything fall apart? That’s good. Because such is the stuff of learning discernment.

Discernment is not a sure or hard science. It’s an intuition. It is hearing that small whisper within the heart, and translating what it is saying. It is stepping out when you think you understand. But most of all, it is taking a chance at being wrong. You cannot learn discernment without a willingness to make a mistake.

Each baptized individual has the spirit within, through the powerful presence of God that dwells in the soul. Discernment requires an awareness of that spirit, with sensitivity to its inspirations and enlightenment. Discernment is not hearing a voice or seeing a vision; it is recognizing a Way. The first step toward that recognition requires knowledge of our own frailty. Going forward means you are searching, not that you are succeeding. In fact, acknowledging a mistake and turning again to discernment is a sure signal you are learning to listen. Only those who listen carefully can discern better.

Life is a journey. One’s path can lead in convoluted directions. Yet, as sure as God is God, each of us has a destiny to fulfill. Precisely because each person’s destiny is different, he or she will find fulfillment only through learning careful discernment. Because no one knows where God wants you or what His plans are for you. Only he can tell you that, in the deep recesses of your heart.

Funny how society judges your success by your lack of failures, problems, or difficulties. “That person is well-balanced” they’ll say of someone who has known few if any difficulties.

And yet, Pentecost is all about receiving the Spirit of Truth. Our culture often echos those words spoken by Pilot, “What is truth?” When we are open to the Spirit of Truth, life ceases to be “normal” or even “balanced”. We find ourselves faced with all sorts of challenges, and at crossroads which demands us to choose: truth or convenience.

Many spiritual writers compare life to two paths: the visible, tangible, and tactile road, often superficial, often empty, with success, money, fame as its goal; and the spiritual, often elusive, intuitive, less trod road, that isn’t sure of itself, so is always seeking and therefore deeply reflective. Sometimes we try to combine the two, looking for a spirituality that is romantic, “good feeling”, and esoteric. Often we too judge spiritual progress by its lack of difficulties, as if obstacles signaled insincerity or lack of dedication.

Yet, the Spirit of Truth isn’t seeking that which is calm, but “troubled waters.” Sometimes, an abundance of trials are sure signs of a soul’s dedication, not vice versa.

In a day and age where appearances and visual images control, even within the Church, living from the Spirit of Truth poses quite a challenge. Still, only by remaining true to yourself, will you find the Light which enlightens all.

Daily mysticism. How do we get it? Is it even possible? Yes, says renown author Robert Wicks. He maintains that how we accept life’s lessons directly affects our own ability to live life at that deeply spiritual level. For it is all too easy to let life become habitual and to live on autopilot. Jesus says he came not only to give us life, but to give it to us “in abundance.”

Robert Wicks book Seeds of Sensitivity investigates his own ability to learn the mystical way of life, and he concludes it starts with unlearning and relearning. To demonstrate by example, he first describes his visit to Cambodia and the pain and suffering he witnessed in that country. His reflection on this experience is too profound to do anything but quote here:

The little girl whose home was burned down also had a lesson to teach–the
fresh continuance of hope. Would I accept this, learn from it, and be able
to maintain perspective in my life as well? Would I continue to be
sensitive to the people and lessons that each day held for me, or
would I try to run away, psychologically and spiritually, in search
of security and comfort and then call it peace? [36]

It is all too easy to run from experiences that makes us uncomfortable in search of a more comfortable and secure place. Yet, Wick challenges us to be open to our experience, because such experience holds a wealth of opportunities to change ourselves. And it is precisely such changes that open the door to new opportunities to life, the mystical experiences. Again:

We no longer need be on a seesaw of comfortable complacency balanced
by occasional, abrupt, rash acts of desperation because we fear that life is
slipping through our hands. With this new interest in unlearning, relearning,
and responding to life in a new way, it may become really possible to grasp
something that may have been elusive or incomprehensible to us up to this
point. When sensitivity is pure and real it can actually open us up to life
in a way that daily mysticism can become a natural way of living rather
than merely a subject of occasional fantasy. [37]