Years ago I sprinkled my little bed room ceiling with little luminous stars and moons so as gaze up to it it looks exactly like some wonderful country night time sky. As I looked at it last night I though how far away God is, millions and millions of miles away, way up in the sky. But on the other hand closer to me than myself, nestling like a little baby in my own heart. The long loneliness of the night when I constantly wake up and try to find sleep are its own pilgrimage to God. I have a brass crucifix which I hold in my hands to draw Him close, to pull Him from the sky. For meditation my favourite has always been taken from the lives of the saints. For the last few weeks it has been the wonderful Cure of Ars. I journey in my mind and heart to the little village of Ars and sit in the Church. There thousands and thousands of people from all over France and the world sit and wait for the old saint to hear their confessions in that tiny little wooden box he had come to call his home. Through his holiness he had become a light to the world, grant oh Lord that I may become at least a little light. I try my best to get confession every week at the moment. Padre Pio advised that we should use weekly confession. He said even if we had nothing big to confess it is like someone dusting the house to keep it clean. Even after all these years I find confession a real struggle. But the Good Lord comforts me by saying that a confession that is good has for a good sign this struggle. A humbling experience. But which if us does not need humbling? “The good Lord, at the moment of absolution, throws our sins behind his shoulders, that is to say, he forgets them, he annihilates them: they will never appear again. “There will be no more talk of forgiven sins. They have been erased, they no longer exist!” The Cure of Ars.
The Spiritual Life is a real struggle, a battle. I am so reminded of this when I wake in the Night to the Dark, Cross in hand my heart trying to stretch its little wings to fly to God. That the Spiritual Path is hard and requires real suffering and commitment should not surprise me. Scripture and the lives of the saints constantly remind us of this. Yet I am always am surprised. Somewhere ,deep in my heart I am always thinking it should be easy; but it never is. On the other hand the Spiritual Life , like the Irish Weather is full of great surprises. Some days the clouds move , the rain stops and the sun shines and all around is peace and joy and beauty. But overall I would say I am the perhaps the happiest , most joyful and most peaceful man on this entire little island. Struggles yes. BUt buried in graces, full of joy.
It's never easy! How true - it isn't easy being human. I envy the angels that way - how easy it must be to be an angel - they had to make one decisive choice to be always oriented and permanently fixated on God.
Sometimes I think about the martyrdom of Saint Stephen, the first martyr of the Church. Heaven opened so that his last vision could be the glory of God the Father and God the Son—something that transcends the notion of distance or the existence of an atmospheric sky. I imagine how comforting it must be to have a beatific vision in one's final breaths, as most people who are saved probably go through purgatory, making such an experience rare. A few years ago, I read the testimony of an American actor who had the opportunity to experience a "flight in Earth’s orbit" and said that all he saw in outer space was darkness and death. I think it must be disheartening and sad for atheist astronauts working on space stations to gaze upon the vast darkness and emptiness of outer space. Acts 7:54-60 54 When the members of the Sanhedrin heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him. 55 But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 56 “Look,” he said, “I see heaven open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.” 57 At this they covered their ears and, yelling at the top of their voices, they all rushed at him, 58 dragged him out of the city and began to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. 59 While they were stoning him, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” 60 Then he fell on his knees and cried out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he fell asleep.
When my mother was dying of cancer we talked about heaven and what it might be like. Scripture informs us that it is a place, 'Where every tear will be wiped away'. We both admitted we could not imagine such a thing, a place of no suffering and pain , just endless joy. The closest we could get to it would be to imagine a place where we simply ceased to exist. Which is why , perhaps, when St Paul describes it he says, 'Eye has not seen nor tongue told'.
They say that the reason why the Transfiguration took place may have been to prepare the Apostles for the Passion. Kind of lightening from heaven to light up the dark. I think everyone has had their own lightening from heaven moments. I recall reports of Soviet Cosmonauts seeing angels up in space and getting into trouble for reporting it.
St Teresa of Avila said that when we die and go to heaven we will look back on this life like a night in a bad hotel.
I love the prayer composed by Blessed Herman, the little German, Cistercian hunchbacked monk, 'Salve Regina'. The older I get the more that part that reads, 'Mourning and weeping in this valley of tears', rings truer and truer and truer. Poor Herman, I think, knew this better than anyone.
How about that! Blessed Herman composed Hail Holy Queen (my favorite Marian hymn!). Right before closing up St. Ann, Mother of Mary Church on Tuesday nights after 10 pm Benediction (Adoration from 4pm-10pm), I sing that hymn to Our Lady when I'm all alone. And like him I have cerebral palsy. A good reason to become friends! Thanks, padraig!
It is simply the loveliest Latin hymn there is. Salve Regina Mater misericordia. In those few opening words lie all the comfort possible in this world. Our Mother and our Queen.
