More Thoughts on Catholicism

There is a thing which I've been discovering...well, all my life, really; but at an exponentially accelerating rate and to an awe-inspiring depth and breadth over the last decade or so. That thing is God's Created Order in the universe.

I think it started in earnest with my discovery of the works of Tolkien, at around age 12. Tolkien's secondary world reflects with captivating beauty and majesty the true created order, and is fascinating in the same way that an exquisitely executed miniature is, like a scale model of a countryside, or a ceiling painted with the stars. The reduced scale of it allows us to grasp it, to own it, in a way shutting out the overwhelming vastness and incomprehensibility of the original. This is what C.S. Lewis expressed in his anecdote of the awakening of the Inconsolable Longing when his brother made a crude landscape of the hills near their house in the lid of a tin.

As I've grown and learned, I've discovered increasingly that this order, and the truth and beauty in that order, is the thing for which my soul most deeply longs. This is what draws me so profoundly not only to Middle-Earth and Narnia, but to Bach and Handel, Biber and Buxtehude; why I adore both Raphael and the pre-Raphaelites and loathe Picasso and Pollack. Why I'm fascinated by Mediaeval culture, history, and literature. Why my ideal life would be that of a rural gentleman on a farm-manor like in one of Austen's or Hardy's stories. It's why I love femininity and hate feminism; why I love marriage and hate adultery. And it's why I'm drawn to catholicism--because that is where that order, as it can be comprehended from our mortal vantage point, is most fully explored and expressed.

Catholicism is obviously imperfect. Very imperfect. But so is everything else. The difference is that catholicism is at least in intent and ideal far less imperfect than most everything else in the world as it now is. In execution it is quite a bit further from perfection than its ideal, but that is not an argument against it; it is a reason to do it better. Whereas the more perfectly you do modernism, the worse a thing you become. And Protestantism, though not wholly without merit, is a flawed and very limited vessel, which will not hold the vastness and complexity of the truth. Meaning proper Protestantism, not so much the Anglo-Catholicism which I've practised up until now. You can't fit God in a box made of human reason. Protestantism, and any philosophy based on rationalism, is rigid, and will break if forced too far out of its original parameters. Catholicism--and by that I mean catholicism in all its forms, not only Roman, but Orthodox, Eastern, Anglican, whatever--embraces not only order and complexity, but mystery, and that is the thing which gives it its great capacity to hold truth. Mystery makes it flexible and expandable, so that however much of God and His Order is revealed, the container expands and reshapes itself to fit it.

**edit: I initially wrote "post-Raphaelites" when I meant "pre-Raphaelites". Don't know why: I know better.

Direction

Several weeks ago, just after this, I decided to become Roman Catholic.

Decided is probably the wrong word. What happened is that I awoke one morning with the idea and the intention fully-formed in my mind. I have learned when this happens to go with it, because I am being Directed. I also knew, upon that waking, what parish I was going to go to, which mass I would be attending, and which priest I would talk to about being confirmed.

I had considered, years ago, becoming Catholic, and had even begun catechism, meeting with a French priest named Fr. Dupré (no relation), and attending the Tridentine, or traditional Latin, mass in Phoenix where I was living at the time. But I ended up taking another turn and becoming confirmed as an Anglican instead. I had put a lot of thought and prayer into it back then. But it wasn't something I had really thought about or seriously considered in a long time. I hadn't been considering going back to any church at all for the last several years, except for the thing I mentioned a couple of months ago. That having failed, I had decided not to pursue any further avenues. But upon waking that morning, after the...what to call it? healing? deliverance? epiphany? breakthrough? whatever it was, of a few weeks ago, it just felt like time to move forward.

So I obeyed the prompting, and met with the priest. I made a list of all the books I've read which I thought would be relevant to Catholic catechism (which ended up comprising four pages), and we discussed my theology, my spirituality, my prayer life, my mysticism, etc. He had me meet with the director of religious education, also, and they both decided I did not need any further catechism or instruction, and asked when I wanted to be confirmed. I said Easter, because I would like the Lenten season for preparation and penitence, and so we scheduled it. The first official rite of the process, the Rite of Welcome, was last Sunday.

Why Catholic, you may ask. So far most of the Protestant friends and acquaintances I've told have immediately launched into a litany of their reasons why God and I are wrong about this. In which I am supremely uninterested.

The simple answer is, 'Because God led me to.' That prompting I had has been further confirmed by prayer and by signs.

The more complex answer is that I have already been catholic for a long time, just not Catholic. This is not, for me, a conversion; it is an expansion. I had a dream some time back, in which I was at a church altar rail, being served Eucharist by three priests: one Anglican (representing Protestants), one Catholic, and one Orthodox. I see, and have long seen, myself as being in full fellowship with all orthodox, biblical, trinitarian Christians, whether Anglican, Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, Pentecostal, Charismatic, Mennonite, Adventist, Indian Mar Thoma, Ethiopian Tewahedo, non-denominational, inter-denominational, trans-denominational, or whatever. If you truly believe in and follow the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, take scripture seriously, and try to follow Christ's teachings, you are my brother or sister. Some churches have requirements in order to be received into full communion with them, meaning being able to partake of the sacraments and the full life of the church. I am submitting to that, so that I can worship and fellowship fully with Roman Catholics. I would actually like to be confirmed in an Orthodox church too, at some point, so that I can commune with them as well. And I am not becoming not-Anglican in order to become Catholic: I will now be both.

My theology hasn't changed and isn't changing, nor is my prayer life and private spirituality. Except that I will be adding frequent confession and the Sacrament of Reconciliation, which I see as a very good thing. I already pray the Hail Mary three times a day, and have done for years, ever since the Lord spoke to me during a time of prayer, and said that if I would take His mother as my mother, He would use her to heal my relationship with women, which had been troubled since I was a small child. I accepted, and He has kept that promise.

Like I said, I'm already catholic, so there's no real change here for me. The main thing is to have somewhere to start going to church again. It is time. Also, it is time to have a pastor and spiritual director in my life again, something that I did not have even when attending my old church. I loved our priests there, and I loved the teaching and preaching. But there was a total lack of pastoral care in that church, which I was definitely not the only one to feel and note. Also, my very active spiritual and mystical life was not well-received there, as there was prejudice against such things in favor of mainline Protestant rationalism (they had all come from Episcopalian, Methodist, and Presbyterian backgrounds). Whereas this priest to whom I was directed is a mystic himself, and said to me that he believes all Christians are called to be mystics, which I believe also. He is from Africa, where there is a much more active spirituality than in the West; I find, the further I go into my spiritual life, the more I have in common in many ways with people from places like Africa and India and the less with typical Americans and Europeans. This is the first time I've had a spiritual father figure in my life since before moving to Virginia, almost ten years ago now.

One of the signs I alluded to above was that, Sunday before last, the first time I attended mass since leaving the old church, I was kneeling in prayer during the liturgy, and out of nowhere I saw how to write the story about which I had been blocked for a very long time. I went home later and it just started flowing. Also, taking this positive and tangible step out and forward has helped me to shake off that inertia which had been keeping me bound with my fitness, and I am finally moving forward there as well.

So, to sum up, I feel very positive about this move, and I am fully confident that this is the direction the Lord would have me take in this season of my life.

"I will promise you this: Your favorite story, whatever it might be, was written for One Reader."

 -- Victor Levin

"He loved her without reservation, without hope, unconditionally."

-- Gustav Flaubert

"It is said of her beauty that no man of flesh and blood had ever gazed at her with enamoured eyes, and not loved woman and noble qualities ever after."

-- ibid 

"He that never had sorrow of love never had joy of it either."

-- Gottfried von Strassburg, Tristan 

"Then he found himself in a hall, which had an iron door at one end. This door he unlocked with his golden key, and he passed through into a vast chamber which had a roof of blue sprinkled with golden stars, and a carpet of green silk soft as turf. Twelve windows framed in gold let in the light of the sun, and on every window was painted the figure of a young girl, each more beautiful than the last. While the prince gazed at them in surprise, not knowing which he liked best, the girls began to lift their eyes and smile at him. He waited, expecting them to speak, but no sound came.

Suddenly he noticed that one of the windows was covered by a curtain of white silk.

He lifted it, and saw before him the image of a maiden beautiful as the day and sad as the tomb, clothed in a white robe, having a girdle of silver and a crown of pearls. The prince stood and gazed at her, as if he had been turned into stone, but as he looked the sadness which was on her face seemed to pass into his heart, and he cried out:

'This one shall be my wife. This one and no other.'"

-- Long, Broad, and Quickeye, Bohemian Fairytale

"Sir," said Sir Bors, "for all a man stems from an evil stock, namely from wicked parents, this gall is changed to sweetness the moment he is anointed with the holy chrism; therefore it seems to me that it is not fathers and mothers that determine whether a man be bad or good, but his own inclinations. A man's heart is the helm of his ship and steers it where he lists, to harbour or to hazard." -- anonymous, The Quest of the Holy Grail 

"Yvain was so distressed at departing from his beloved that his heart did not leave. The king could lead the body, but not the heart, which attached itself so strongly to the heart of the lady left behind that he had not the power to draw it away. The body cannot possibly live without the heart, yet this wonder did happen. The body still held on to life without the heart, which, though accustomed to lodging there, had no desire to follow the body farther. The heart found a good home, and the body lived in hope of returning to its heart. In place of the heart, the body had, in a strange manner, created a substitute out of hope." -- Chretien de Troyes, The Knight with the Lion

Liszt, Liebestraum--Khatia Buniatishvlili

Magical. I've never heard this performed with such sensitivity, color, expression, and beauty. It makes me feel warm inside, like hot chocolate on a cold, snowy day.

Here's another for good measure. Breathtaking. Liebe, komme zu mir.

"If we purify ourselves of wickedness, then we will come to see invisible realities. But there is no point, while we are still blind, in asking why it is we cannot see the light, no point in stuffing our ears and then asking why it is we cannot hear anything." -- John of Apamea

"The joy of late love is like green firewood when set aflame, for the longer the wait in lighting, the greater heat it yields and the longer its force lasts." -- Chretien de Troyes

"Whoever sits in solitude and is quiet
has escaped from three wars:
those of hearing, speaking, and seeing.
Then there is only one war left in which to fight, and that is the battle for your own heart. -- Abba Anthony

"Like one powerless and defenseless against Love's control, the knight of the cart fell into such thoughts that he lost thought of himself. He did not know if he was alive or dead, did not remember his own name, did not know whether he was armed or not, did not know where he was going or whence he was coming. He remembered nothing but one person, and for her he put everyone else out of his mind. He thought so much about her alone that he heard, saw, understood nothing." -- Chretien de Troyes, The Knight of the Cart

For My Friend

Why did we become friends?
Why were we immediately drawn to each other?
Was it because you'd never known a father's love
and attention?
And because I lacked everything feminine?

Or was it just because you were wearing that straw hat
and that pretty summer dress
And I was standing in the courtyard, alone in a crowd
holding a scotch and soda in one hand
and a gin and tonic in the other?

I told you that you looked 'vintage'
and you told me that there was something sexy
about a hard-drinking sort of old-fashioned man

Whatever it was, it was one of the best things I ever did
We could have been lovers
But instead we became friends

I was jealous, one time
because you had a crush on someone else
because you were paying attention to someone else
But it passed, and I saw that that was not who we were

When everyone else turned on me
You were still there
And when everyone else turned on me again
You were still there

And all these years later, you are still here

When I'm feeling lost, and down,
and like there's no one in the world who loves me
who gets me
who thinks well of me
I can write to you, and you'll be there
When you're at the end of your tether
and feel like you can't endure another second on this earth
You call me, and know that I will understand

And so, this is to say Thank You
and that I Love You
my dear, sweet, special friend

A Christmas Poem for You

I think I know now,
why I think of you at Christmas
Why, to me, Christmas means you

Christmas is
the most beautiful time of the year
And to me,
you are the most beautiful of women
To me, looking at your face
is like looking at a Christmas tree;
shining, sparkling, glowing, enchanting

Christmas means
a home full of love
the lights of tree and candles
the warmth of the fire
the glow of food and wine
the joy of giving and receiving
the peace of belonging
And those are all the same things
that you make me feel

At Christmas
there is that indefinable spirit in the air
That sense of hope, of excitement, of expectation
Of goodness, love, and deep and lasting joy
And those are the things I feel
when I think of you
when I am around you
when I just remember that you are in the world

Christmas is all these things;
sublimely beautiful, profoundly joyful
because at Christmas, we savor the sweet presence of Christ

And you are all these things to me
because in you, I also taste His presence
In loving you, I abide in His love

I received these pictures this morning, from one of the outreaches I sponsor in India. They are celebrating my birthday (which I am not, although that cake looks delicious enough to make me re-think it). I found it touching and sweet (and humbling), so I thought you might enjoy them too.

It makes me unspeakably happy that these hungry children are eating, and eating my birthday cake. Since I was a child, when my mother used to say "Eat, there are starving children in...", I have often wished that I could send what I was eating just then to those starving children. This is like that actually happened.

He could not look at her enough; the more he gazed at her, the more she pleased him...looking at her restored and delighted him."

-- Chretien de Troyes, Erec et Enide

"The maiden was very beautiful, for Nature in making her had turned all her attentions to the task. Nature herself had marveled more than five hundred times at how she had been able to make such a beautiful thing just once, for since then, strive as she might, she had never been able to duplicate in any way her original model. Nature bears witness to this: never was such a beautiful creature seen in the whole world. In truth I tell you that Isolde the Blonde had not such shining golden hair, for compared to this maiden she was nothing. Her face and forehead were fairer and brighter than the lily-flower; contrasting marvelously with the whiteness, her face was illuminated by a fresh, glowing color that Nature had given her. Her eyes glowed with such brightness that they resembled two stars; never had God made finer nose, mouth, nor eyes. What should I say of her beauty? She was truly one who was made to be looked at, for one might gaze at her just as one gazes into a glass."

"Indeed  though beautiful  her good sense is worth even more than her beauty. God never made such a wise creature, nor one so noble in spirit."

"When I have (her) near me, I would not give a marble for the whole world: she is my delight, she is my diversion, she is my solace and my comfort, she is my wealth and my treasure. I love nothing else as much as her."

 -- Chretien de Troyes, Erec and Enide