This past week has been rather horrendous spiritually and physically. The pain climbed high, bore deep.
A couple of nights ago, at the seeming end of the rope, I called out begging, "Send help!" I asked for anyone "out there" to help me, that Jesus would send help. Shortly after, I got up from bed and went to the bookcase and pulled out a book a seminarian friend had e-mailed he was reading. I had read it, or parts of it, several years ago when a newer Catholic. Just reading a couple chapters in the wee hours brought peace.
The next afternoon before the Blessed Sacrament, I re-read the book. It was a book about Elizabeth of the Trinity. This young woman's struggles to attain the peak of her mission helped me so much in the reading. Particularly, her struggle and torments just before she was to make her profession in Carmel, after having been so sure of herself and joyful with the vocation, helped me realize that I am not alone in the torments and struggles--even some fears.
The next afternoon, after having read a chapter in Pope Benedict's book Jesus of Nazareth, the Holy Father's treatment of Jesus' tempations in the desert as being part and parcel of the trials of His mission and the means to focus and strengthen to that mission, made me realize that the Lord was using the Pope to help me, also. For what greater earthly, spiritual authority could one ask?
Pope Benedict writes:
"Matthew and Luke recount three temptations of Jesus that reflect the inner struggle over his own particular mission, and, at the same time, address the question as to what truly matters in human life" (p. 28).
Then, "Listening to God becomes living with God, and leads from faith to love, to discovery of the other" (p. 32).
While one should not reduce the writing to extracted thoughts, these thoughts speak clearly to the life a hermit with inner sturggles over her own particular mission!
As for Bl. Elizabeth of the Trinity, I am now reading another book I'd purchased, not comprehending who this "Elizabeth of Dijon" is until the clues arrived. Here is a book by von Balthasar, and it deals with Elizabeth of the Trinity's journey to live her mission by the doctrine which evolved slowly but yet in rapid succession in her young life. She listened, she lived, and was lead from faith to love and discovery of the other. She suffered and died young.
Elizabeth of the Trinity refocused me, thankfully. Last night at Mass I had an interior vision of being at a large table, and of God saying, "Ante up". Before me were piles of round chips, like Hosts. I leaned forward and swept them all out to the center of the table and said, "Take them all. I'm IN. I'm in with whatever it takes and is taken from me, for I give it all." Then I sat back and continued, aware, participating in the Mass at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception.
This was a turning point, another one. After Mass a couple included me in a fine dinner out with a priest. I would never eat in such an expensive place, but it seemed a celebration of the giving out to God, deeply, everything. I considered my own three temptations ever since I became quite aware that the Lord chose for me the hermit life. The first, shortly after, was the attentions of a very kind and devout widow. But I swept him aside for Jesus is my Spouse. Then came the offer to write a newsletter for a Catholic group dedicated to vocations; but I found it necessary to refuse. Now, recently, has come the withdrawal of a very good friend, and that has been a painful letting go. But I had decided at Adoration the other day, to let go, for a consecrated eremitic must not have particular friendships, hard as that is in some cases.
All three of these temptations for me might be quite easy for someone else to avoid. They each had a certain irony for my particular life, for they represent aspects of my life that I had so desired along the way: a man's companionship and support, a job to do, and a close Catholic friend.
Perhaps the realities of Carmel and of her life of silence and suffering and a kind of solitude, transversed into silence with God, suffering with God, and solitude with God--are what Elizabeth of the Trinity faced just before she made her profession at Carmel. While she knew what it was to be a Carmelite, the stark reality when in the present moment, can suck the breath.
Such has been the case with me in the past week or so, with the breathing quite difficult, physically, and the realities of what it means to give all to Christ facing me squarely.
But I am IN, and I told God that not only in words but in action, and I sealed it with a kind of last supper.
This morning, the Vicar General spoke meaningfully and meekly about the Holy Trinity, and emphasized that we are all children of the Father and have Jesus so close to us through the love of the Holy Spirit. After Mass, I mentioned to him how God had sent help through Elizabeth of the Trinity, that Jesus is my best friend, and that I had ante'd up and had told Jesus I am IN. He smiled and said we must do that daily.
How could he comprehend? No one can, for I cannot fully comprehend other than God sent help. About an hour ago I realized the impact all the more in my new friend's name: Elizabeth of the Trinity. It is a Holy Trinity Sunday moment of grace. Thanks be to God for sending me help in sending His little Praise of Glory to be quite some good friend.
