The light shines in the darkness... and the darkness does not comprehend it

I've just come home from another day at Carmel with the secular discalced carmelites in Raleigh. Wayne dropped me off at St Ann's in the morning for the 8:30 mass. He was excited and apprehensive, I think, about having the kids all day long (usually he only has them from noon onwards, but this time the Carmelite who usually picks me up was out of town and I hitched a ride with another one who wanted to meet me at 11 at St Ann's.)
He had them all afternoon yesterday while I was at confession and mass and it didn't go very well-- Ishod had been grumpy and Wayne hadn't really known what to do to soothe him. He was frustrated.

I went to confession yesterday determined to be extra thorough, to share some things that I have previously had a hard time vocalizing. One of the reasons is that my confessor is a friend-- and a dear one at that. It's VERY difficult to admit a wrong doing to your priest when you hang out with him on a regular basis.

One of the biggest things I learned from the whole Ted Haggard fiasco last year is that God loves to do a sifting work in us. He loves to make the dark places light. And people can SEE in that light! Before the brightness of the fire of God's love purifies our dark corners in a flash of light, it simply begins by illuminating them-- and that process only works if we let Him. We have to be honest with ourselves, honest with others. It's easy to stand here and say that hipocrisy is the number one problem in the church today. It's not easy, though, to stand here and look you square in the face and tell you that I have been tempted to look at porn this month, or that I have, for the first time in my life, lost my temper with my children, or that I nearly ate an entire batch of fudge in one sitting.
It's not easy to say these things because while I know the interior work that God is doing in me-- and I judge myself by my motives, YOU will only judge me by my behavior. The other members of the body of Christ don't read my journals, they don't see my soul, they don't know that I ate a ridiculous amount of fudge because I was sad and lonely and feeling unloved, or that I lost my temper with my children because a living hell was coming at me from all directions, or that I was tempted to look at pornography because I've been addicted to pornography since the tender age of seven when I discovered someone's stash in my house.
They don't know my whole story-- and they never will. They will only look at whatever sin I have and tisk tisk me, or inwardly say "I am so glad I'm holier than her." And so I cover it, shamelessly, because I know that I am NOT my sin. I am, in fact, repulsed by my sin, and I know the work God is doing in me. I want God to continue that work in me, but above all, I want truth.

We meditated on the Beatitudes today, as a part of our formation as Carmelites. And of course, we sought the opinions of some of the Church's masters of theology and best teachers to talk to us about today's topic: Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall SEE GOD.
Purity is something Carmelites seek after because as we know, from Carmelite saints, it is possible to see God even in this lifetime. To commune with Him in such a way that we achieve union and a kind of heaven on earth. It's the only beatitude that promises us that we will see God, which is the whole point.

Of course, there are many things to think on as far as purity goes. But the thing that stuck with me the most was wrapped up in St Teresa's life mission: to know God, and to know herself. How can we do either if we are not committed to absolute truth! I have to look at myself as I am and to say..... this is the truth about me. Sometimes that's a very hard thing to do. It's particularly difficult to do at confession, because it's not just YOU and JESUS in the confessional. It's you, and Jesus, and in my case, a representative of Jesus who happens to be a good friend. My priest's very humanity is humbling--- how sad that I'm more afraid to tell a HUMAN BEING about my sin than I am to tell the Lord God! I've always been that way.... I was more afraid to tell Liza I still smoked cigarettes than I was to tell the Lord, because I figured that the Lord would forgive me, but Liza's perception of me would be changed forever. I had my priorities skewed, and I still do, since confession often takes this tug-of-war place in my heart--- "Do I tell him ALL of it? Or no?"
What I forget, though, is that it doesn't matter what a human being thinks of what is happening in my life. It doesn't matter if I am judged my entire life. My vocation is still to holiness-- to repent, accept God's forgiveness, to grow, to change. To love my neighbor and my enemy.

I had gone to confession yesterday resolved, absolutely, to tell all. Only to discover that since his confessional was totally full of plastic bags of garbage, Father was holding confession in the pews near the back of the church. TOTALLY within earshot of pretty much anyone around. Naturally, they weren't supposed to be listening.... but Yeek! It was a perfect challenge to me. Was I willing to be completely transparent not just to the Lord, but to my priest and friend, to the members of the Body of Christ present at the time? To really empty myself and give a complete confession, holding nothing back. To live out my authentic love for God by presenting Him with the absolute, ugly, heinous truth about myself, and to recieve His amazing mercy and grace? I was. But what a lesson!

During mass at the rectory the other day, Father told me a great story. (He knows about my absolute devotion to the Eucharist and my yearning for the moment of communion constantly, and reminded me of something awesome. )Saint Teresa was so vain at one point, that she used to insist on receiving the largest host. Seriously. Even though one particle is enough to spiritually nourish us, She insisted that she deserved the largest host. How wonderful that she was on the Carmelite journey to Know God and Know Herself! Through it, she was able to know her need for confession and through it-- God gave her enough graces to seemingly give her the largest Host in the world if that had made a difference-- she was blessed because she searched for truth, for authentic Christianity and no imitation. She wanted to see God-- not a fabricated idea of God that existed in her mind. Him. The Source. May we all seek after the truth, and be open to the cleansing work He must do in us to find it.

Anyways, after mass this morning, I had a couple hours to kill before my ride arrived so I went to the grotto and prayed a rosary. It was raining outside and Our Lady was literally sheltering me. It was very moving, being alone in the midst with this beautiful statue which perfectly depicted the gentle, motherly love of Mary for her children, her eyes fixed always heavenward over the enormously populated graveyard across the street, reminding us of her devotion to Christ and her response to His mission for her: to save souls. (and no, for the protestants reading, I'm not saying that Mary literally saves souls. She saves them by leading them to Jesus, who is the One who intercedes before the Father for us. Just in case you had a panic attack when reading that paragraph. :P)

My Carmelite sister Kathy arrived and we drove down (up? I never know) to Raleigh for the meeting. The more time passes, the more in love I am with this community. I haven't talked a ton about Carmelite spirituality, but as I grow and learn more I certainly will. For now, let's just say that I find absolute peace on my monthly day at Carmel... I pray like I've never prayed.....finally able to find stillness in my soul and achieving silence which allows me to observe the needs around me and bring them to the Cross in a way I just have never been able to do before. Silence is important to Carmelites. We begin our community prayer by spending a half hour in silent contemplation in the Church together, and those who happen to walk in or out of the Church during this time tend to get uncomfortable. You can see when there are people there who do not share in the Carmelite charism. But it's in this silence that I come face to face with the Jesus I met that Christmas Eve in a Calvary Chapel--- the One who changed everything about the way I looked at life-- the One who promised me eternal life.



There is something absolutely magical about praying the Liturgy of the Hours with the OCDS community, too. It's as if time stands still, and in the moment I am surrounded by the voices of the people of God... ones who call Him friend, and it shows. When I think about the entire church praying the LOH, constantly lifting their voices towards heaven, unending praise and peacemaking and seeking the face of God for the people of the world, for the salvation of sinners and mercy on the whole earth--- wow. But doing so with Carmelites is a truly mystical experience, one I still don't have the words for.




It's so mystical that some of my friends think it's creepy--- it's almost too intimate, too in tune with the cycle of life, too deep. I dont think many people are ready to appreciate the beauty of it. It's like the Theology of the Body (my second passion!) in that it's so powerful it really freaks people out, and every reaction a person has towards it is strong-- whether it be a positive or negative response. To me, Carmel is life-giving, but to many people it can seem stifling, overwhelming, possibly even dark. The idea of being cloistered, I've noticed, really makes people flip, too. In my previous blog, I showed a clip of Danielle Rose saying goodbye before entering a cloistered convent. She expressed fear and nervousness about not being able to have contact with her friends she had come to love. One girl commented on that video that she found it sad that she had to say goodbye--- she couldn't understand how that could be scriptural,. why God might require that type of life from some people. To those people I would ask that they look at the spiritual fruit of Carmel-- the amazing conversion stories that happen solely by prayer. It's prayer of the Carmelite kind that can move mountains.

I got to sit in on the professed group's ongoing formation class today, thankfully, because they are still discussing the historical account of the 16 martyrs at Compiegne, which I find fascinating. 16 carmelite nuns gave their lives as an act of reparation to end the Satanic French Revolution... And changed the face of the world. Reading their story, particularly in this book, William Bush's "To Quell the Terror," gives us a whole new perspective on a seemingly unspiritual historic event. I had never thought of the French Revolution as a chapter in the History of the Church on earth before. Suddenly, I see the spiritual impact of it even today-- as we surround ourselves with the god of Reason rather than the Lord of Hosts.
It was a very moving read.

Anyways, lots of amazing stuff to digest, too much for me to blog about since this is rapidly turning into a novel. I came home to be assaulted by absolute chaos which I expect I needed to bring me back to reality and remind me that the mountain of Carmel is high and I am at the bottom, looking up.

One thing that was really driven home to me today is that as my Carmelite formation proceeds, I am undertaking something positively life changing. This is no small commitment. This is not something I can do casually. The choice I am making to answer this call from God means that I will be SO MUCH a part of His World that I might seem strange to the rest of the world. In the same way that nuns get stared at in the street, I imagine I will be perpetually faced with shock and awe from the world at the choice I've made to BE a Carmelite. ANd because of that, I have to make absolutely certain that it's GOD who is calling me here and not just ME who wants to be here. So far, I feel as though all that seeking and yearning has finally come down to me fitting perfectly in like a puzzle piece. But that's MY perception, and only time will tell if the community feels the same way about me. In the meantime, I am in prayerful, constant discernment, and that's the best place I can be. Our Lady of Mount Carmel, pray for us.