Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

I used to hate the word repent. It made my skin crawl. Such negativity I thought. It struck me as a throwback to the sin-obsessed Victorian era when the ultimate goal of Christianity was to overcome one’s humanity. I happen to like my humanity. What kind of a twisted god, I thought, would create us to be flawed humans and then expect us to be perfect angels? It struck me as rather cruel.

Rationally, my logic seemed rock solid. This left me boldly, arrogantly and quite ignorantly confident in the notion that the world around me, but certainly not I, needed to change. Spiritually, my logic left a lot to be desired. My struggle with the concept of repentance was rooted in the simple fact that I was approaching it with a narrow mind rather than with a broad heart.

Our brains have been programmed to see things in duality and opposition. If something is A, it cannot be B. What is black cannot be white; what is up cannot be down; what is right cannot be left; and what is human cannot be divine. From this perspective, repentance means overcoming our human nature in order to be more Christ-like. But Jesus, the God-Man, changes this, tossing aside this notion of duality and showing us that it is not only possible to be both human and divine, it is in fact our true nature.

Unlike our brains, our hearts understand this. Thus, opposites attract. My wife and I, for example, have very little in common. She is a woman; I am a man. She is a pragmatist; I am a dreamer. She is a morning person; I am a night person. She is a down-to-earth gardener; I am a head-in-the-clouds philosopher. And yet we love each other with such great energy it is life-giving, life-creating. Even more so, this heartfelt love has unified our opposites. I have grown to love that which is down to earth, and she has grown to love that which is in the clouds.

When it comes from the heart, repentance doesn’t mean change, it means growth. It means discovery. It means letting go of the narrow mind and opening up the broad heart. By releasing ourselves from the false premise of our duality, we are able to enter the true nature of our Holy Oneness. Thus are we able to forgive those who have wronged us and love our enemies. This is why Paul writes that in Christ there is no rich and poor, no man and woman, no slave and free. There is no duality, only the unity we celebrate in Holy Communion.

So join me in joyful repentance this Lent! Join me in living with a broad heart!

Journey well.
Peace,
Deacon Steve Meyer

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

I just read an article entitled 5 Reasons the Star Wars Space Ships Don’t Make Any Sense. I followed the author’s arguments against Tie fighters, Star Destroyers and even Snow Speeders, but when he attacked the control systems of X-Wing fighters I had to stop reading.

I have loved X-Wings since I was thirteen years old and first watched Luke Skywalker blow up the Death Star after entrusting control of his X-Wing to the Force. It was the ultimate triumph of good over evil, of faith over fear. Even now I have a Lego X-Wing model perched on a shelf in my office. So if you want to get all logical about the technical specifications of an X-Wing fighter, you’ll have to take your arguments into someone else’s neighborhood. I’m not interested.

Each year at this time, people also get all technical about Christmas. They’ll write articles challenging the historic validity of the biblical nativity narrative, dispute the science of the star, question the claim of a Roman census and so forth. Are their arguments valid? Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not interested.

We absolutely need to do a better job of discerning the difference between fact and Truth. Here is an example of a scientific fact: the control systems of an X-Wing fighter are not consistent with the physics of space. Here is an example of a Truth: when guided by faith, the forces of good defeat the power of evil. See the difference? Here is another set of examples: fact – Matthew and Luke’s gospels give contradictory accounts of the location of Jesus’ birth; Truth – through the birth of Jesus, the gap between God and humans has been erased and we can all be part of Holy Oneness.

All the good stuff in life, such as love, faith, joy, laughter, mercy, happiness, Christmas and Jedi, are based on Truth, not fact. Now, please understand that I’m a bit of a science nerd. I love the pursuit of knowledge and would never dispute the value of chemistry, physics, math, history, biology and so forth. But I also love the pursuit of wisdom. I’ll soak up all the philosophy and theology I can get. The only time science and faith come into conflict for me is when I confuse facts with Truths.

Fact focuses on what we see; Truth focuses on how we see it. Fact leads to knowledge; Truth leads to wisdom. So I’m really not interested in reducing Christmas (or Star Wars) to mere issues of fact. That would really miss the point. The gift of Christmas is the gift of Truth. Soak it up and let it make you wise!

True mercy is rooted on a plane far above the whole power equation. It is about respect and dignity. It lovingly honors the inherent sacred value of each person.  Click here to read the rest of the story . . .

Article published in the December 11, 2015, edition of The Compass.

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

From Moses confronting Pharaoh to Jesus hanging on the cross, much of our scriptures speak of the triumph of faith over fear. Throw in David staring down Goliath, John the Baptist in the wilderness, and Mary saying “yes” to Gabriel, and you notice a bona fide theme. In fact, time and again across both the Old and New Testaments, we are given stories of ordinary people who confront gut-wrenching decisions over whether to believe in fear and anxiety or believe in the love that is God. The heroes, of course, always find the courage to set fear aside and trust God.

Even now, thousands of years later, our heroes are those who put their own lives on the line, trusting love over fear. From the abolitionist Harriet Tubman to St. Maximilian Kolbe, from Blessed Oscar Romero to Dorothy Day, we choose to honor and pay tribute to the men and women who find the faith within to stand against fear. Why? Because deep within our souls we recognize this as right and good. This, we believe and profess, is how we are all called to live.

At some point in our lives, we each come face-to-face with this same soul-defining question: do I place more trust in my faith or in my fear? Oh, it is easy to say, “God is love,” “I believe in Jesus Christ” and “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.” But what wins the day when our own security is on the line? On a macro level, we are confronted with this question in public debates regarding Syrian refugees, immigrants, and gun control. Do we, as a community, truly have the courage to trust this God of love and life? Or do we ultimately succumb to our fears and anxieties? Will we courageously take the risks needed to live lovingly? Or will we submit to our insecurities and live fearfully?

Setting aside the uncomfortable communal issues, we face this same question within our personal spiritual lives.
~To live lovingly is to share our gifts with others; to live fearfully is to mask our vulnerabilities.
~To live lovingly is to become a servant of those on the margins; to live fearfully is to seek protection from those who are unlike us.
~In all cases, to live lovingly involves embracing our Holy Oneness with all humanity, whereas to live fearfully involves dividing people by nations, ethnicities, religions, and/or social economics.

It’s a tough challenge, this Daniel-facing-down-the-lion business. All around us we smell the scent of hatred and hear the growl of violence. Ten minutes with the news will leave any of us quivering like rabbits stalked by wolves. Vulnerability is inevitable. Fear is natural. Faith seems almost counterintuitive, perhaps even naive. And yet, brave and courageous love is our only true hope.

It would sure be a lot easier if faith made fear go away. But it doesn’t work that way. Even Jesus in his hour of distress was sweating blood. The choice isn’t about having one or the other; it is about trusting one over the other. There is no evidence on earth to believe love makes our world safer, but there is all the evidence in heaven to believe love makes our world more peaceful. Blessed are the peacemakers.

Journey well.

Peace,
Deacon Steve Meyer

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

The first time someone told me I was destined for hell – I mean, actually declaring it as a forgone conclusion, not ruefully suggesting I should take the trip – I was taken aback by the presumptuousness. How dare he, I thought, declare himself the arbiter of eternal justice! So I pushed him on the point. His reasoning had nothing to do with justice; it was simple math.

He pointed to the Bible – Revelation, Chapter 7, Verses 2-4 – only one hundred forty-four thousand shall receive the seal on their foreheads as the servants of our God.

One hundred forty-four thousand. That’s it. Considering that over 100 billion people have lived on earth so far, he reckoned this select group had already been chosen. Even if a few spots remained, he argued, what chance did I have at scoring one of them? Really, who did I think I was?

If you’ve ever found yourself cornered by a fundamentalist Christian, you’ve probably had this magic number (144,000) thrown in your face as well. There won’t be a single Catholic among them, I was told.

When we read scriptures literally, we miss the true spiritual richness of the message. Let’s take a look. For the ancient Hebrews, numbers were symbolic; they represented concepts more often than quantities. The number twelve, specifically, was considered the perfect number. It represented wholeness – twelve tribes of Israel, twelve apostles, etc. Twelve multiplied twelve thousand times equals one hundred forty-four thousand. Thus, the reference in Revelation means so much more than a mere number or quantity; it means the wholeness of God’s creation twelve thousand times over – the complete and perfect wholeness of “Wholeness.” This is who receives the seal as God’s servants: all who are part of the wholeness of God, all who live in the completeness of God’s infinite love.

Looking outwardly, this is about our oneness and wholeness with Creator and creation. Looking inwardly, it is about being whole, about having a deep, rooted spiritual practice that aligns mind, body and soul so we live in peaceful unity. So much of the conflict in our homes, communities and world is the inevitable projection of the conflicts we carry within ourselves. When the soul yearns to love but the heart doesn’t follow, when faith calls us to generosity but ego calls us to self-interest, we live with internal conflict. We cannot fully enter into the Wholeness of God until we find wholeness within. Such is the pilgrim’s quest; such is the spiritual path.

Much current psychology, holistic medicine and even many forms of new age spirituality speak of wholeness of mind, body and spirit as though it is some sort of enlightened discovery. Balderdash! It has been at the center of Christian spiritual practice since the very beginning. It is expressed in our sign of the cross; it is shared in Holy Communion. Many parts, one body. Wholeness.

Journey well.

Peace,
Deacon Steve

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

There was a time when I believed our Christian mission was to transform the world, whether the world wanted it or not. By doing so, I thought we could transform the hearts of people. If we make people live in a loving world, I quasi-reasoned, it will rub off and they will learn to love. I have since grown to recognize the backwards logic in this. After all, you can’t codify the law of love; you can only practice it. Only by transforming hearts, starting with our own, will we effectively work toward transforming the world.

For inspiration on how to transform my own heart, I look to the spiritual heroes who have influenced my own life, a few directly, but most through their writings and legacies. Each has a unique story, but I have identified five themes:

1. Deeply spiritual people find great comfort in their faith. This is perhaps the easiest and most accessible spiritual theme for many of us. We all like being comforted when we’re afflicted. Still, though, how often do we choose anxiety over inner peace? How often do we worry things won’t be ok, even though our faith tells us to place all our trust in God’s goodness? The most deeply spiritual people have a calming presence because the world, even as it spins around them, cannot knock them from their center.

2. The most spiritual people are endless seekers. So many religious people I’ve known have stopped seeking. With a false confidence, they believe they have found the Truth, as though any of us could possibly know the whole Truth in one lifetime. Many (we’ve all met them) even become aggressively defensive when their understanding of “truth” is challenged. In contrast, deeply spiritual people welcome and even embrace the challenges. This is how their understanding grows deeper and stronger. They recognize that their understanding of Divine Truth is partial at best, so they eagerly and continuously seek.

3. Those who are most spiritual are open and accepting, never judging others or giving up on anyone. It is as though the most profoundly spiritual operate on a different plane with a more comprehensive view of human nature. They respect the journey others are on, recognizing that today’s sin is the seed of tomorrow’s redemption. They know that the person struggling with alcoholism today may very well become the compassionate and understanding AODA counselor who touches lives tomorrow. The deeply spiritual have an intuitive perspective on the mysterious way God often calls the most unlikely people for the most amazing work.

4. The most profoundly spiritual are in constant dialog with God. They pray continuously, not episodically. Many struggle to describe when and how they pray because every step and every breath is prayerful. They walk in an awareness of God’s immediate presence. As a result, they see God in the rain and the sun, in the flowers and the snow, and in the smiles and tears of every single person. When they participate in structured prayer, they bring this holy presence with them and share it with the gathered community.

5. Deeply spiritual people live in a state of gratitude and joy. I’ve never met a deeply spiritual person who did not laugh often and love always. They have managed to transcend the ego that seeks to make the individual great. In doing so, they have transcended the notions, expectations and self-interest that trick us into believing petty things matter. They are free to live in the abundance of God’s creation, rather than to live burdened with the preoccupations of man’s creation.

Peace,
Deacon Steve

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

There comes a tug. From time to time we feel it, a nudge drawing us to a deeper spirituality. We’ve all experienced this, perhaps several times, but we have to be paying attention.

It’s a soft breath of wind at first, a whisper. Then we start feeling a little restless. Something is happening. The universe is conspiring (or the angels are aligning, depending on our perspective) to coax us deeper into our relationship with the Divine.

With life swirling around us, it can be difficult to see the signs. They tend to be subtle amidst a world that is so noisy. So here, to help us along, are five indicators that you’re ready to journey into a deeper, richer and more profound spirituality.

1. You have an urge to simplify. Our lives are filled with clutter, much of it material, but some of it emotional. When we’re ready to dive into a deeper spirituality, we sense a need to make room, to unload the baggage we’ve been carrying with us.

2. You want something more from religion. You’re restless and dissatisfied when you leave church. We have a tendency to see this as a negative, but in reality it is a beautiful thing! When hundreds of people gather together for Mass, we all come from different places on our journeys. It is ridiculous to think we’re all seeking the same thing at the same time. Unfortunately, many give up and leave the faith when they start feeling empty or frustrated. We fail to see how our faith has brought us to this point of hunger! This is the time to dig deeper and wrestle with tougher questions, not to give up!

3. You start to value stories that aren’t your own. We spend much of our lives rather enamored with our own life story. We orchestrate the characters, plan the plot and work to move the narrative forward to our own liking. When we’re ready for a more meaningful connection with the Divine, we find ourselves less interested in our own story and more interested in the stories of others. We see how their lives contain valuable lessons and perspectives from which we can grow in wisdom and understanding.

4. You become aware of coincidences. Things start popping up. When we’re ready for another level of spiritual growth, we notice coincidences such as the same message coming from different sources two, three or even four times within a couple of weeks. We run into people we haven’t seen for a long time and they say something that draws us back to our center.

5. You dare to question things you were taught are true. This can be anything from Christ’s real presence in Eucharist to the very existence of God. Everything we were taught to believe was handed to us from someone else. We yearn to make it our own, to believe it not because we were told to, but because we choose to. This cannot happen without questions and doubt. The most holy among us always grapple with the most serious doubts. This is how they came to believe at a more profound level. When you start to doubt, don’t dismiss your questions. Chase them. They are inviting you into a deeper understanding.

Peace,
Dcn. Steve

Dear Fellow Pilgrims,

I’ve learned a bit. Ok, more than a bit. I’ve learned a great deal actually from the time I’ve shared talking and walking with homeless persons in our community. Prone to bouts of arrogance at times, I once believed I had the solutions and they had the problems; I had the insights and they had the shortcomings. Boy, was I in need of an education, and, thankfully, they had the gentle wisdom to teach me.

Here, for your own reflection, I offer the top five lessons I’ve learned from people who have hit rock bottom, lost everything and lived on the streets.

1. You can always laugh. No matter how much you have lost, hurt or suffered, God still gives us plenty of opportunities to lift our spirits with smiles, joy and humor. It is a gift of great value.

2. We really don’t need much, hardly anything really. So many of the things we think we want or need have little or no true value. They do not bring meaning or happiness to our lives, and losing them does not inhibit meaning or happiness.

3. Other people pay the price for our sins. This is a hard one. We don’t like to admit it. Almost every homeless person I’ve met has been a victim of abuse, often, but not always, during childhood. Additionally, they are hurt by social callousness, an absence of love, exclusion from health-care and education systems, and economic injustice. Their lives are the price paid for others’ sins, including our own.

4. Authentic love is always welcome. Sometimes we hold back a bit, not quite willing to risk an investment of our compassion and affection. Are we over-stepping a boundary? What if our love is not appreciated or is rejected? Nonsense! And so what? All people, even if they seem too strong or aloof to admit it, want, need and crave the genuine love of other people. Share it with reckless abandon!

5. True sacred communion happens when we strip away everything else. I have been moved to the brink of tears by the connection, concern and compassion demonstrated by many of the homeless people I’ve met. When you take away the pretenses, posturing and image-guarding, all you’re left with is pure, vulnerable humanity. And that’s where you get a glimpse of the divine.

Peace,
Deacon Steve