My heart first opened when I heard the great “Yes” sung to the mystical body of Christ present in the Eucharist. I joined my “Yes” to that of the rest of the congregation, and before my mind understood what my heart was saying I was converted -- out of the wilderness and into the Catholic Church. I have never regretted that moment of enthusiastic assent. Since that moment I have trusted my heart to make the right choice. The image of my heart is of a place where the bird of faith flew in to rest and found a home. I protect the little bird of my vocation from storms and nurture it with bits of grainy food and wriggling things. The heart is a hearth, a warm place that glows and welcomes and invites the truth to come and be safe.
My spiritual director has a loving wide-open theology and a passion for good preaching mixed with contemporary wisdom and truth stories from real life. His self-deprecating humor about his vanity and blatant need to be appreciated make me feel comfortable in his presence. I trust him as a friend and guide because he is without pretense. He listens to my heart and speaks truth to me in a simple ordinary way. I have other mentors, but I consider him the one I turn to with the most difficult things. Others have the skill to direct, but it feels as if they have their own best interest rather than mine at heart sometimes, or as if they really don’t care that much to hear what I have to say. i see that Father Joe is this kind of man as well and think St. Louis will be glad to have him there. Our loss, their gain. I find hope in my relationship with my director, and in my friendships with other priests and religious men. They prove to me that healing can take place in the Church and in society if men and women are able to grow in honest understanding and admiration for one another without any exterior motives or needs.
The four steps for centering prayer outlined by Thomas Keating are a guide for listening to one another. We hold the Word sacred and are not afraid to tell each other the truth. The Word plants seeds in our hearts that invoke stories whose messages are unknown to us until we tell them to a friend. These stories are not carefully constructed homilies with all the parts woven together neatly to make a point. They are stories that emerge from the depths of an honest striving to love and be loved by another. Telling them is a trust walk. I know that when I stumble in the telling of a story my director will catch me and fill in the places I don’t see, move the twigs that might trip me up and hold back the branches that might snap back so I can move forward in my narrative with confidence. We consent to the Word God gives us to share and are comfortable in each other’s presence. We return gently to what has already passed between us, our dreams, our visions, our hopes for a new church, a better society, a new life – and we are grateful for God’s indwelling spirit among us. We are centering prayer for one another.
Robert Gass tells us to live in the present moment, not in planning for the future, responding to the present, and not in dwelling upon a past that can’t be changed. Mindfulness is embracing our vulnerability without becoming paralyzed by the pain of the past. As Timothy Radcliffe says, we are not human beings we are human becomings. We cultivate human connections and become hope for each other by being truthful and knowing the power of life triumphant over death, hope becomes new life for us in this moment and for all eternity.
