Nov. 1, 2010 Monday: All Saints
Click to hear Audio Homily given at St. Michaels' High School
From "Context of Holiness" by Marc Foley, OCD p32-35
Therese believed that a mindful remembrance of death is a powerful antidote to not becoming absorbed in the passing things of the world. "I love to return in spirit to the enchanting places they [the friends of the Martin family at Alcenon] loved, wondering where these people are, what became of their houses and gardens where I saw them enjoy life's luxuries? And I see that all is vanity and vexation of spirit under the sun" (Sirach 73). Therese is looking back at herself over the distance of a decade upon the person she might have become if she had stayed in Alcenon. Such a realization was a moment of grace.
When we cast a glance upon our past with the haunting question, "What might have been?" we can feel regret and remorse, but we can also experience gratitude and a deep sigh of relief, for each of us has our personal Alcenon. Where would I be now if I had not extricated myself from that situation? What would have happened to me if I hadn't had the courage to break off that relationship? How would my life be different if...?
In Charles Dickens' novel Great Expectations, after Pip had made a seemingly small decision that eventually changed the whole course of his life, he invites the reader to reflect with him. "That was a memorable day for me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the one memorable day."
Therese paused and meditated upon her life. She knew that it could have turned out far differently than it had, and it could have happened very easily. All she had to do was to take a wrong turn on the road of life and continue to travel down that path. As social reformer Samuel Smiles once said, "Sow a thought and reap an act. Sow an act and reap a habit. Sow a habit and and reap a character. Sow a character and reap a destiny." The author of the "little way" who understood that our path leading up to God is paved with little acts of love was also keenly aware of how little acts of self indulgence can imperceptibly lead us away from God.
Meditating upon death helps us to see what is truly important in life and provides perspective that in turn restores a proportionate emotional response to the events of daily life. When we see rightly, we respond reasonably. However, when we are in the grip of either an irresistible impulse or an intense emotion we cease to live in the present moment because we are absorbed in it. Paradoxically, we can only live in the present moment if we are conscious of the future, for the things of time can only be clearly seen against the horizon of Eternity. Death, seen in the light of Eternity, illumined all things for Therese. "I understand all... All passes away...Death will pass also, and then we shall enjoy life not for centuries, but millions of years will pass for us like a day, and other millions of years will follow them filled with repose and peace."
In the same way, we become illuminated when we realize that all things pass away.
Seeing beyond the faults of others is not turning a blind eye to them; it is allowing the faults to recede into the background and the goodness to come the fore. One way to do this is to bathe our neighbor in mortality, for "Death is the mother of beauty." Walter de la Mare bids us to "Look thy last on all things lovely every hour." To do so, we need to look at others as if we were seeing them for the last time.
From "Context of Holiness" by Marc Foley, OCD p32-35
Therese believed that a mindful remembrance of death is a powerful antidote to not becoming absorbed in the passing things of the world. "I love to return in spirit to the enchanting places they [the friends of the Martin family at Alcenon] loved, wondering where these people are, what became of their houses and gardens where I saw them enjoy life's luxuries? And I see that all is vanity and vexation of spirit under the sun" (Sirach 73). Therese is looking back at herself over the distance of a decade upon the person she might have become if she had stayed in Alcenon. Such a realization was a moment of grace.
When we cast a glance upon our past with the haunting question, "What might have been?" we can feel regret and remorse, but we can also experience gratitude and a deep sigh of relief, for each of us has our personal Alcenon. Where would I be now if I had not extricated myself from that situation? What would have happened to me if I hadn't had the courage to break off that relationship? How would my life be different if...?
In Charles Dickens' novel Great Expectations, after Pip had made a seemingly small decision that eventually changed the whole course of his life, he invites the reader to reflect with him. "That was a memorable day for me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the one memorable day."
Therese paused and meditated upon her life. She knew that it could have turned out far differently than it had, and it could have happened very easily. All she had to do was to take a wrong turn on the road of life and continue to travel down that path. As social reformer Samuel Smiles once said, "Sow a thought and reap an act. Sow an act and reap a habit. Sow a habit and and reap a character. Sow a character and reap a destiny." The author of the "little way" who understood that our path leading up to God is paved with little acts of love was also keenly aware of how little acts of self indulgence can imperceptibly lead us away from God.
Meditating upon death helps us to see what is truly important in life and provides perspective that in turn restores a proportionate emotional response to the events of daily life. When we see rightly, we respond reasonably. However, when we are in the grip of either an irresistible impulse or an intense emotion we cease to live in the present moment because we are absorbed in it. Paradoxically, we can only live in the present moment if we are conscious of the future, for the things of time can only be clearly seen against the horizon of Eternity. Death, seen in the light of Eternity, illumined all things for Therese. "I understand all... All passes away...Death will pass also, and then we shall enjoy life not for centuries, but millions of years will pass for us like a day, and other millions of years will follow them filled with repose and peace."
In the same way, we become illuminated when we realize that all things pass away.
Seeing beyond the faults of others is not turning a blind eye to them; it is allowing the faults to recede into the background and the goodness to come the fore. One way to do this is to bathe our neighbor in mortality, for "Death is the mother of beauty." Walter de la Mare bids us to "Look thy last on all things lovely every hour." To do so, we need to look at others as if we were seeing them for the last time.