The Celtic Monk

Let me begin by saying that I am truly thankful for each of you who faithfully read what I can't help but writing and how you've encouraged me along the way with your comments. You are a blessing in my life and this Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful to you and for you. And while I can be cynical about how impersonal "social networking" and other technologies are; last night I was thankful for Skype. Lauren (alomst 5 years old) who knows the story of "Beauty and the Beast" [but had never seen the Disney movie] and I could watch together while 1100 miles apart. It was delightful watching her face as she saw the animated images for the first time. So thankful. This past year I've been especially thankful for the opportunity to walk with folks through the ministry of spiritual direction and how God always shows up. Such a ministry was only a dream for years. Then, in what Scripture would call 'the fullness of time' - at a kairos moment - the pieces...

It's a sign of the times. I mean the times since the financial market went south and everyone became afraid. It's a sign of the times. I mean the last few years when a lot of otherwise sane people became paranoid of a lot of things that before this time they didn't have the time to be afraid of. It's a sign of the times. When otherwise good and decent people act less than goodly and decently believing they are somehow entitled or even 'called' to act that way. It's worth the effort to stop every once in a while to examine who we are and the choices we make. Not so much to look at what we are doing but why; and to test the 'why' with reality and not merely wild imaginings. For instance, is what we're doing and what we're choosing, based on facts, on reality, on truth so well worn that it's become durable yet soft like tumbled leather... or is what we're choosing and what we're doing based on fear, on 'what if's' ...

The Peace River Spirituality Center's book group studied Joan Chittister's Called to Question this year. It's a book for grown-ups. It deals with a life of losses both run-of-the-mill and cataclysmic. Mostly however,its a diary of disappointments that touch each of our lives at the hands of parents, chilldren, friends, institutions, beliefs, The Church, God. We can add our own personal pain to to the list. But it's not Joan's ability to be in touch with disappointment that makes it a good study. It's not even how she faced into or made her way through the circumstances of her life. What makes it worth reading is the clarity with which she sees all of life (hers and ours). In her stories I learned that a worthy goal for this season of my life ought to be an honest assessing of who I am, where I am and where I am going. Time is too short for regrets or what if's that keep us in the past. I found it stunning when in one of the final chapters Chittister ...

On even the most mundane of days, we make thousands of decisions. Some are inconsequential, many are not. We might decide to drink tea or coffee, in the scheme of things, an inconsequential decision. Or we may be deciding whether to drink water or coffee which raises the stakes a little. We may decide to catch up on some work we've been meaning do - or use the spare moments to feed our soul. Our life is made up of such decisions. But there are other decisions that for better or worse plot the course of our well-being and that of those around us. In those moments, what is it that helps us make good decisions rather than poor ones? Why do some people's lives seem to clip along on an even keel while other's seem to shipwreck on some regular basis? On Wednesday while preparing to lead a class at Moorings Park, I ran across a piece from Chip Ingram on decision making. Chip offers that there are three elements needed to make good decisions: truth/wisdom - we kn...

I opened my web browser the other morning to find a top story that originated in the financial section of Yahoo, entitled: "HOW TO HIDE FROM YOUR FRIENDS ON FACEBOOK." Where do I begin? The late night folks could have had a field day with this and perhaps they did; they begin their monologue way past my bedtime. I don't know if I'm more annoyed by the assumption that people as a matter of course "hide from their friends" or that anyone takes seriously the unfortunate moniker "friend" for the folks linked together on Facebook. Sorry to my 79 friends. We are among the fortunate if we have one or two good friends. We are blessed if we have a few. We are special if over a lifetime we need two hands to count them. When people fall within the parameters Yahoo cited, needing to be hidden from, they aren't friends, DUH. Perhaps we could pursue a class-action lawsuit against FACEBOOK for abuse of the word: friend. Our grounds could be that it'...

There's a poem by Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven which was often quoted by Fr. Matthew in his talks after Compline at Gethsemani. It opens with these haunting lines: "down the nights and down the days; I fled Him, down the arches of the years; I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind; and in the mist of tears I hid from Him, and under running laughter. Up vistaed hopes I sped; And shot, precipitated, adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears, from those strong Feet that followed, followed after." The poem came to mind early this morning, as this past week I've been 'hounded' by thoughts of wisdom. What is it? Who has it? How does one aquire it? How does one recognize it? One thing fairly clear is that wisdom is not conterminous with knowledge or age - a mistaken idea held by many. Living long enough does not make someone wise. Neither does amassing an alphabet soup after your name. Political savvy is sometimes confused with wisdom. Most...

It’s Sunday morning and I went to church with Jesus, just the two of us. I walked the 20 minutes of the wooded path following the signs carefully placed to let travelers know where He is. As always I first passed St. Francis, then Mary Jesus’ mother along the way. Finally in the clearing I saw the way to where the three disciples were sleeping and then just beyond them, there He was. Since I had my GPS phone I marked the location of where I found Him. Now I can send His co-ordinates to anyone who’s interested. And since I knew it would sound like a far-fetched tale to anyone who hasn’t also gone to see Him, I took pictures. One of Jesus Himself at prayer. One of the rock I sat on for worship. For music a male and female cardinal did a duet. They also added a visual reminder that the Spirit was near as they flashed their red-orange feathers amidst the 100 different greens of the forest. The sermon was quite good. I told Jesus I didn’t have anything prepared for worship and He t...