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It’s easy to be caught up in the ordinary and lose sight of purpose. Donna reminds us why we should hold on.
I used to think that if ever I made a serious spiritual commitment and embarked on a discerned path toward holiness, every day would be filled with holy moments, and everything I encountered, ‘even adversities, would be considered all joy.’ (James 1:2) But the spiritual life, indeed, life in general, isn’t quite like that.
About ten years ago, I became an oblate of Saint Benedict. At the outset of my oblation, as my prayer life deepened, and my ministries became more fruitful, the possibilities of Christian perfection seemed endless.
But the temptation to judge others unfavorably by comparison began to nip at my heels. When family members outrightly rejected some of the fundamental teachings of the Catholic Church, I felt rejected by extension. When a fellow oblate questioned my public witness in support of the sanctity of life—didn’t I know that hearts and minds have only ever been changed through unconditional love, not veiled criticism?—I felt like a Pharisee holding my sign.
Alas, while I never doubted my decision to become an oblate, the realization of my basic unworthiness deflated my spirits. How I longed to rediscover that heady sense of interior freedom and joyful buoyancy, arising from the belief that my Catholic faith, lived out under the guidance of the Rule of Saint Benedict, could move mountains. Ironically, the wisdom of a 20th-century rabbi helped me find the way by pointing to the time-tested directive: “Remember why you started!”
In Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity, Jewish pastor Abraham J. Heschel suggests that faith is not some constant state of fervent belief, but rather a loyalty to the moments when we had such ardent faith. In effect, ‘I believe’ means ‘I remember.’
Likening holy moments to ‘meteors’ that flare up quickly and then disappear from sight, yet “ignite a light which will never be extinguished,” Heschel exhorts believers “to guard forever the echo which once burst upon the deep recesses of your soul.” Most of us can recall experiencing these ‘shooting stars’ at significant moments in our faith life, when we felt high and lifted up, touched by God’s glory.
My first such memory occurred at age seven when I saw Michelangelo’s Pieta at the New York World’s Fair. Though I had made my first Holy Communion earlier that year, the beauty of the white marble sculpture of the Blessed Virgin with the lifeless body of Jesus in her lap, set against a celestial backdrop of midnight blue, struck me with a deeper awareness of His—and Mary’s—profound sacrifice and love for me than reciting the catechism ever had. The next time I received Jesus in the Eucharist, I did so with greater understanding and reverence.
Another transformative moment happened at a ballroom dance class! Christ, after all, is Lord of the Dance in the hymn of the same name. In the writings of Catholic monastic Thomas Merton, God is the ‘Dancer’ who invites each of us to join Him in a ‘cosmic dance’ to achieve true union. (The Modern Spirituality Series). When the instructor partnered with me to demonstrate the foxtrot, I nervously joked that I had two left feet, yet he simply said: “Follow me.” After my initial stumble, he immediately pulled me in so that I didn’t have the space to falter. For the next few minutes, as I was effortlessly gliding throughout the room in his wake, swinging and swaying to Frank Sinatra singing Fly Me To The Moon, I implicitly knew what it would be like to be in step with God’s will– exhilarating!
In Scripture, God clearly creates moments of transcendence to strengthen our faith in times of trial—the Transfiguration of the Lord is a prime example. The memory of Christ manifested in all His dazzling glory certainly provided the disciples with a necessary contrast to the horror and shame of His ignominious death on the Cross. It also imparts a hopeful vision of our future glory ‘come what may.’ Surely the memory of His Father’s words: “This is my Beloved Son; with Him I am well pleased; listen to Him!” (Matthew 17:5) sustained and comforted the human Jesus from Gethsemane to Calvary.
Indeed, ‘Remembrance’ is a preeminent theme in the Passion narrative. When Jesus instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper, He established the most consequential Memorial of all time and eternity—the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. When Jesus on the Cross promised to remember in Paradise, the good thief who validated Him on earth, the world sighed with relief. That is why Saint Benedict’s reminder to ‘Never despair of God’s mercy’ is his Rule’s final and most fundamental spiritual tool. For though we, like the good thief, know ourselves to be deeply flawed, still we can be confident that Christ will remember us because we remember Him—in other words, we believe!
For a perfect life on earth does not exist. Yet there are perfect, glowing moments, set among ordinary—often trying—moments, that illuminate our path, ‘gliding’ our steps to Heaven, where we will ‘play among the stars.’
Until then, let us love in remembrance of Him!
Donna Marie Klein is a freelance writer. She is an oblate of St. Benedict (St. Anselm’s Abbey, Washington, D.C.).
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