A Retiring Temperament at Adoration

The monastery across the street from where I work has Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament daily.  I went over today for my lunch, and knelt in contemplation until the noon Angelus bells.  I had the public side of the chapel to myself, with the monstrance up in a special opening above the alter.

Whenever I spend time before the Blessed Sacrament, I struggle to have the appropriate thoughts or feelings or attitude.  I try to make myself feel prayerfully aware that God, in the Person of Jesus, is there before me.  It seldom works. For one thing, I have difficulty simply conceptualizing One God With Three Persons.  He became man and told us directly who He is; clearly He knows how difficult it is to understand all this! Then, in an incredible, fourth-dimension sort of way, He made bread and wine into Himself, and that's Him there before me. No, I can't know it, not the way He made us to know Him originally.

I have found a few works that help me get closer to knowing, though.  C.S. Lewis, for one.  But today St. Francis de Sales had the right words.  In "Introduction to the Devout Life" he advises one keep in mind that the Lord is present always, and provides the image of a great lord's huge hall, with the full court present.  The lord may not address himself to a particular person the whole of the day, but that person is none-the-less aware of the noble presence.

Were I in such a place, I mused today, I would not want to be sitting in front of the throne, or even within a direct line of sight.  I am more comfortable behind the great ones, better yet standing on the sidelines.

I then looked at the monstrance and thought of it as "facing" the other side of the chapel, where the sisters sit.  That helped.  He is always here, but at that moment I was sitting behind Him, a little to the right.

I remember when I was very young my parents would have grownup parties, with people talking and eating and drinking.  Nothing untoward, just grownups.  Perhaps with records playing.  I learned that if I sat in a corner, down low and out of the way, I could remain for well past my bedtime.  I had a perfect spot, just inside the door to the living room, where I could sit on a heater vent, partially hidden by a low chair. Sometimes a guest would notice me, but as long as I was quiet I could remain.  If I ever spoke, the spell was broken and my parents would realize I was there and send me to bed.

So today, I thought of our Lord present at the front of the chapel, facing away from me. If it were a party at my parents' house, I thought, He would of course be one of the guests, one would hope even the Guest of Honor.  He would move around, talking to people, sharing food, telling stories.  And occasionally He would glance down, and a little to the right, and make eye contact.  Maybe wink. But that would be it - He would understand me, recognize me, and even while aware of me protect my presence with His silence.


Thank you, Lord, for helping me understand a little better.

Vocations

Bishop stayed with us last week.  I had the opportunity to chat with him between sessions one morning.  I've been thinking about vocations versus careers lately, and asked him about discernment.

I've heard priests say they didn't set out to be priests, some even struggled against it, yet ultimately they gave in. In America today we tell our children to follow their hearts, pursue a career, do something they love.  We take aptitude tests to determine what career fields match our abilities, or what fields we would be happiest in.  My oldest daughter is preparing for college, deciding on a major and anticipating a career, so I am immersed in the world of modern discernment.


And "vocation" as we use it is never mentioned.

Catholics usually recognize the word as referring to the priesthood.  But every individual has a vocation: it means doing what God created you to do.  Priesthood or religious life is one vocation, but so is the married life, or the chaste single life.  A vocation can overlap with a specific career: my husband's vocation is to be a teacher as well as a father and husband.  He teaches chemistry now, but has always been teaching, even when he was trying very hard to be a doctor: God always placed him in situations with students needing instruction of one kind or another.

A vocation is difficult to discern because it is so contrary to our modern concept of self-actualization.  I've heard priests describe struggling with, even resisting, then finally surrendering to this thing.  A vocation seems often to be something un-desirable, perhaps even distasteful. And so I wondered how on earth does one recognize this thing, and come to accept it?

Fortunately God takes care of the first part.  He never stops, never gives up on us.  My husband did many things with moderate success, but once he decided to consider teaching doors were flung open before him.  So one part may be simply recognizing the unlikely opportunity and giving it consideration.

Very well, that helps identify the "career path" type of vocation: priesthood, teaching, nursing. Maybe even Captain of Industry.  But what then, if the vocation seems unpleasant or undesirable?  or simply too unfamiliar to make a rational or emotional evaluation?

I put that question to the Bishop, and he gave me a simple answer.  "I guess what it comes to is, what gives you a sense of peace." He remembered quite clearly when it came, after long effort and worry about his choice: he suddenly felt, simply, a profound sense of peace at the thought of being a priest.

Difficulties? Sorrows? Even simple aggravation? Yes, because those are part of every life.  But they are easier to accept when you know that you are doing what you are supposed to be doing.

I recognized an echo of what my mother-in-law had told me, a very wise saying, and I shared it with him.  She told me, "Marry the faults you can live with." And he laughed with me when I added, "of course she told me that after I was married!"