“The Kingdom of Heaven,” said the Lord Christ, “is among you.” But what, precisely, is the Kingdom of Heaven? You cannot point to existing specimens, saying, “Lo, here!” or “Lo, there!” You can only experience it. But what is it like, so that when we experience it we may recognize it? Well, it is a change, like being born again and relearning everything from the start. It is secret, living power—like yeast. It is something that grows, like seed. It is precious like buried treasure, like a rich pearl, and you have to pay for it. It is a sharp cleavage through the rich jumble of things which life presents: like fish and rubbish in a draw-net, like wheat and tares; like wisdom and folly; and it carries with it a kind of menacing finality; it is new, yet in a sense it was always there—like turning out a cupboard and finding there your own childhood as well as your present self; it makes demands, it is like an invitation to a royal banquet—gratifying, but not to be disregarded, and you have to live up to it; where it is equal, it seems unjust; where it is just it is clearly not equal—as with the single pound, the diverse talents, the labourers in the vineyard, you have what you bargained for; it knows no compromise between an uncalculating mercy and a terrible justice—like the unmerciful servant, you get what you give; it is helpless in your hands like the King’s Son, but if you slay it, it will judge you; it was from the foundations of the world; it is to come; it is here and now; it is within you. It is recorded that the multitudes sometimes failed to understand.
–Dorothy L Sayers, from The Poetry of Search and the Poetry of Statement
Things have been pretty quiet around my little hermit hut, and that is just the way I like them.
One of my greastest joys consists in the birds and birdsong with which I’m surrounded.
My ideal day equals morning prayer, a little house and yard work, a little admin, a little writing, a little reading and puttering, maybe an afternoon nap, coffee at 3 pm, then set out on foot for the Newman Center by 4 for time in the Blessed Sacrament chapel before Evening Prayer and Mass. No errands, no driving, very little talking.
Of course our “ideal” days are few and far between. “As the Master desires,” said St. Josephine Bakhita.
Also of course it’s pretty easy to say, “As the Master desires” when our lives aren’t too hard.
It’s probably a matter of age more than anything else, but as the world seems to get ever louder, my impulse–at the moment, anyway, is to get every quieter. One thing age brings is a keen cognizance of timed–how precious it is; how easy it is to squander.
In a chapter entitled “Priests: A Need for Interior Conversion,” Fr. Donald Haggerty notes in his book Conversion: “For prayer requires sacrificial choices and a sacrificial life-style. Only a man truly seeking God and the good of souls will treat this commitment with a sacred sense. More appealing activities can be pursued in work, and then of course there are recreations.”
Oh, aren’t there, though! Mine might be more along the lines of word games, reading newspapers and magazines, and watching Werner Hergoz movies and film noir–but still, those are recreations. And those are some of the more high-toned ones: there are others, less redeeming.
Either you believe Christ is who he said he was, or you don’t. Either you believe prayer helps all the world, or you don’t. If you do, either you set aside the time, energy, and effort to prayer, or you don’t. Why do I do the thing I don’t want to do, and don’t do the thing I want to do?
I know I mention Fr. Haggery a lot and it’s mainly because his voice and thought strike me as authentic in a sea of celebrity priests who seem so profoundly enamored of seeing their faces on camera and hearing their voices deliver more trendy “messages.” They have huge followings, these priests which, rightly or wrongly, makes me immediately distrustful. Fr. Haggery you can barely find. He has no social media presence whatever, nor even any contact info on the St. Patrick’s Cathedral website where he’s assigned and I assume lives. He’s ministering to the people of his archdiocese. He’s writing incredibly profound, useful and challenging books (which you easily can find). And guaranteed, he’s praying.
Anyway, the sun is shining (it has been in the 70s here in Arizona), the birds are singing, I just received a book I ordered, Cold Kitchen A Year of Culinary Travels, by Caroline Eden, and there have been all kinds of exciting upsets at the WTA Qatar Open in Doha.
“Home is not where you were born; home is where all your attempts to escape cease.”
—Naguib Mahfouz, Egyptian writer
Leave a Reply