disembark

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I've lost the key
Somewhere - forswear,
Out there -  and in the dark;
The time and space of what's unknown -
A plight to disembark

What if - perchance -
The key was found,
Unbound, and never lost?
You had it all this time, my dear,
Within the sphere of fear,
Yet clear - cohere at such a cost.

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On Time

How,
Can it be?

But it is,
And it remains so.

Some live longer,
Some not so long,
Some "just right,"
Some "too soon".

All are on time -
in Your time, Lord;
Your time.

Time is telling the story,
in a particular way.

And so the heart,
 With all its scars,
And through all it has been through,
Is ever renewed to receive what gifts have been prepared for it.
And the heart receives them on time.
Your time, Lord;
Your time.

come quickly

Hello, Lord.
Here I am.

Do I feel my heart dilated, Lord, when you come near to me?

Thank you, Lord, for your sweet consolations, for which I let you bate me.
Yet even I fight these at times, Lord.
Still, you send them, and I cannot help but be aware of them.

But what of your Cross, Lord?
"This, too, is a form of consolation.  A suffering that is an experience of Love."

And the dark nights, Lord?
"This is a preparation for the Cross, the true union with Myself.  Come quickly, and do not hinder the night.  I myself will lead you.
Come... come... come...."

Oh Lord, how good and merciful you are.  You are so patient with me.

I want to be closer to you.

In all things, You are mine

To bleed
 To have loved, and lost

To have nothing
 Yet, to possess all

To suffer
 To have lost, and loved

To be nowhere
 Yet, to passover

To live
 To have wounds, and scars

To be Yours
 Yet, You are also mine

To bleed; to suffer; to live
 For You
In all things: I am Yours, and You are mine

Forgotten among the lilies

Dear Lord,

Here I am, gingerly; per usual.  And here you are, Lord, as always.
(Always... always... always).

The coursework is daunting and rigorous, Lord; and I feel there is more I could be doing, that is, dedicating more time to my studies.  A lot of the material - perhaps most - is overwhelming, to say the least.  In this world of seemingly unending paradoxes and mysteries; yes, Lord - it is indeed overwhelming.

But I know you are here, that I don't doubt it; how can I doubt you, or your words to me, which have pierced me through and through?  I can't.  I know I am guilty of not always listening, Lord; I know I have brought deafness to my soul.  Yet you are always speaking, Lord.  Thank you... for being patient with me.

I must be honest:
I wish we would spend more time with you, more time dialoguing with you in our classroom.  In a word: I wish we prayed more.  The so-called artificial separation between "spirituality" and "academia" in the "work" of theology - per the words of von Balthasar, a favorite of the Institute - is still very much perpetuated in our atmosphere.  I sense it is somewhat unavoidable, Lord, given the state of our system of academics.  Well, in all things: your will be done, Lord.  ייעשה אלוהים.

As of late, I have been nostalgic for my love of John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila.  These beautiful saints, with whom I feel a deep kinship, have been a source, a reservoir, for truly coming to know God's "nuptial love" for us.  The nights of John, the transverberations of Teresa - these are the doctors of nuptial love!  I feel them to be - perhaps especially John - indispensable for our knowledge of you and your love, Lord - especially in light of the dramatic mission of the Institute.
(Of your Institute, blessed John Paul II, our "Father in faith").

With your help, I hope to abandon myself to You.  You who allow us to share in your creation, in words and in art, in poetry and in music.  How tempting it can be at times to stoop towards the Earth with your gifts, while forgetting the Giver!  Lord, have mercy; let me not forget You.

While I am here at the Institute - in this surreal reality - help me to draw closer to You, as one whom John writes about:

I abandoned and forgot myself,
laying my face on my Beloved;
all things ceased; I went out from myself,
leaving my cares
forgotten among the lilies.

Holy Thursday again

This is taken from my journal, written on Holy Thursday while in the crypt of the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., 8:30pm, April 5th, 2012:

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"How intimate do you desire to be with us, Lord?  What a scandal I feel it to be.  Perhaps for some - or for many - they desire you to be no more than friend; perhaps even a distant friend.  They call you when they feel they need you, or maybe they call just to say hello.  But when the day is done, they go home, and let you go to your home - and you remain for them a mere friend.

Yet I find it doubtful that when they die, a mere friendship with you would satisfy them.  At least I can't imagine being satisfied with only a friendship.  Even the best of all friendships would not be enough; even a mere friendship would not be a problem, a scandal, for many, or most.

Yet I feel your desire for greater intimacy, Lord.  Certainly you are a friend, Lord - but more than that; much more.  You desire to be a Spouse, and what is more: you desire to consummate this desire in the most intimate union with us.  It is a desire that, if I am honest with myself, bares the only satisfaction my soul longs for."
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~Brian Hanson

the scandal

Our bodies are a curious thing.  We live "through them", even with all of their limitations, their ailments, their weaknesses - until their death.

It is tempting to want to imagine a life without our bodies.  Perhaps then we could imagine a world without suffering, without all the pain, induced by the ailments and diseases our bodies are prone to inherit; and all this before finally dying.

The temptation of this kind of escapism is fierce, and is lived out in cultures and societies that produce victims of a dualistic philosophy of human life: that is, a dualism between the body and the spirit, or the soul, of the human person.  A dualism that places these two components - the body and the spirit, the soul - at odds with each other.  In this dualistic mentality, death is viewed as a liberation of the soul from the body - an "escape" from the body that proved to be corruptible, finally to the point of being buried in a grave.  This escapism was perhaps first articulated by Plato; it is an idea that still holds sway today.

Perhaps this is why it has become difficult for men and women to meet God, who became man.  It is a scandal, even to well-meaning Christians, that God is also a human being.  The dualism and escapism held by many has made it near impossible to behold a God who has a body, who suffered in his body, who lived in his body - and who does so still.

We should learn from this.  Perhaps God is telling us something about what it means to be human.  Perhaps we should learn that the meaning of human life is not to escape from the body.  If the body was not an important part of the meaning of human life, but was something to be liberated from, then it would be incomprehensible that God should ever want to live in and through a human body.

But He did; and He does.

And this truth is, indeed, incomprehensible for many.  We would indeed do well to learn from this.  If we want to know what it means to be human, whom else should we look to than the One who not only created human nature, but lived in and through it as well?

Hopefully we can encounter the God who is human before we give into a temptation to escape our humanity.

Perhaps more scandalous than the fact that God is also a man is the fact that, in spite our experience with the weaknesses and ailments of our bodies, we should hope to have them restored to a superior degree in the future.  And if this sounds especially peculiar or odd, let is not forget that the Man who once died was also raised from the dead in glorious fashion; a man, a human being, like us.