I was pondering this wonderful prayer often attributed to St. Francis of Assisi. May it be the prayer of all of us.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace Where there is hatred, let me sow love Where there is injury, pardon Where there is doubt, faith Where there is despair, hope Where there is darkness, light And where there is sadness, joy
O Divine Master, grant that I may Not so much seek to be consoled as to console To be understood, as to understand To be loved, as to love For it is in giving that we receive And it’s in pardoning that we are pardoned And it’s in dying that we are born to Eternal Life Amen
Do you still need a New Year’s resolution? Let me offer a suggestion. Listen with generosity and curiosity to those who think and believe differently than you do. Read and listen to things “outside of your camp.” Do not pass along angry, hate filled rhetoric. In fact, when you find yourself drawn in to it, turn away to something whole and beautiful. Build others up. Seek to be an agent of reconciliation where it is possible, and a person of peace where it feels impossible. Each and every one of us can choose to pursue wholeness or disintegration in how we live and relate with others. Which will you choose in 2020?
And so you have a life that you are living only now, now and now and now, gone before you can speak of it, and you must be thankful for living day by day, moment by moment, in this presence.
But you have a life too that you remember. It stays with you. You have lived a life in the breath and pulse and living light of the present, and your memories of it, remembered now, are of a different life in a different world and time. When you remember the past, you are not remembering it as it was. You are remembering it as it is. It is a vision or a dream, present with you in the present, alive with you in the only time you are alive.
For a while, the reshuffling of normalcy may leave us out of center, askew. You may find yourself a man or woman without a country. That’s where I want you to be so that you can find the country of God. Our old “country” doesn’t make sense; we can’t buy it anymore. We really can’t believe it. We can’t worship it as we were trained to do. Actually, this pattern of falling apart precedes every transition to a new level of faith. If one is not prepared to live in that temporary chaos, to hold the necessary anxiety that chaos entails, one never moves to deeper levels of faith or prayer or relationship with God. Notice again that almost every theophany (revelation of God) in the Bible begins with the warning not to be afraid. The fear is totally predictable; but if we give in to our fear, we will never be able to move to the next level.
Whenever we’re led out of normalcy into sacred space, it’s going to feel like suffering. It’s letting go of what we’re used to. That causes suffering. But part of us always has to die.
Powerful others will try to make me conform and live up to their expectations. I may have to run the risk of being defiant, of standing up to, and of going against powerful others. I am called to stand on my own 2 feet and to develop the ability to say yes or no in making decisions for the emergence of my life. To be seduced from following my path is to be controlled by others, to become a people pleaser, and to be ruled by the tyrannical demands of others. Failure to stand up to others and to assume responsibility for the direction of my life and the promotion of love and light of God’s design for me should engender healthy guilt.–Vincent Bilotta III