OFFERING THE PAIN OF DISEASE AS AN ASCETIC PRACTICE

 

Part of a Christian's spiritual program has, for centuries, usually included the imposition of some sort of painful, uncomfortable or inconvenient practice that imitates the suffering of Christ and thereby draws us closer to Him. Christ's pains were taken on purposely, willfully, in reparation for the sins of the world. He certainly did not merit the terrible punishments he received. He offered them to the Father in order to atone for our sorry selves.

Also, to the Catholic mind, humans are body and mind BOTH. We are not spirits who occupy a body for a time and then dispose of it when we die. IN FACT, we are promised that we will rise in our glorified bodies at the second coming of Christ. Our bodies are not awful things. We were all made in the likeness and image of our beautiful Lord but, due to the fall of mankind, the body's demands have become disordered and require tempering and balance.

Thus, part of the purpose of penitential practices is to gain control over the selfish and pleasure-loving body and ego and keep it in proper balance with our spiritual selves. Ascetic practices require and build the discipline necessary to the task. In fact, the instrument with which one whips oneself with cords, made from leather or rope, that is still used in some monastic communities, is itself called "the discipline."  Also a "scourge." 

John the Baptist wearing a garment of camel hair.

In the Middle Ages, pious people might wear a hair shirt under their clothes so that all the day long their skin would be pricked and irritated by it. Some of the saints recommend praying for hours with arms outstretched, in imitation of that agonizing position that Christ was made to take while nailed to the cross.

If one does not know the purpose of these practices and instruments of penance, it can seem odd to the modern mind, but I am not prepared to launch into a detailed explanation of the need for ascetic practice because I am usually writing for a community of people who are generally aware of the basics of Catholicism and monastic life. If you have stumbled across my blog, however, and you are not familiar, I will be happy to refer you to some excellent articles that explain these things. Just send me a comment here or find me on Facebook and I will be happy to speak with you. It need not be a public conversation, as I do not publish the comments I receive.

All sorts of things are considered penitential. Giving alms to the poor, for instance, is considered a penitential practice. Any time we give of ourselves, it involves some sacrifice on our part, and it can be considered to be a penance, especially if done intentionally.

20 years ago, when I became so disabled that I was no longer physically able to work outside the home, I decided to live as an independent monastic, in the tradition of a hermit, since my circumstances forced me into a semi-solitary state. My hermitage has to be located in a fairly urban area because my disabilities require medical supervision and care. The situation of an "urban hermit" is not the traditional setup, obviously, but the location of my apartment is somewhat rural, and it works for me.

Being physically disabled is not considered to be an ideal state in which to embark upon monastic life. It is a difficult life that requires a lot of discipline and a degree of penance, depending on the order one joins. I would never be accepted into a monastic institution in my current state or age of life, as I would be an increasingly inconvenient member of the community. 

In fact, 40 years ago, before I converted to Christianity, I was already beginning to experience some physical problems when I was a nun in a Hindu convent. Even then, I found it extremely difficult to carry out the many daily hours of physical labor that were required. I was often on the cooking schedule, for instance, making the one daily meal for the community of 12, with little or no help, and I remember having to endure quite a lot of physical pain because of all the standing. In fact, it injured me, and I spent a few weeks in a wheel chair, simply from the stress of it, as the disabilities from which I currently suffer were making themselves known at that time. This was inconvenient to the community and caused some of the women to become irate. It was a distressing situation that most monastic institutions are careful to avoid, when they can. 

Me, on the left, when I was in the Hindu Convent,

sitting with friends and the swami

If I had not left to get baptized and convert to Catholicism, I do not know how long they would have allowed me to stay, considering my poor physical condition. My intellectual and spiritual gifts were not in high demand. Half of the nuns were already seniors who were occupying the few jobs that were primarily of an intellectual nature. Their need was for young, physically able people who could keep us fed and the house clean and everything in good working order. This is not an unusual state of affairs for a monastic institution of any religion.

The nuns, eating our main meal of the day

(with the swami visiting)

We meditated a minimum of 3 hours per day, which was a delight, but the newer nuns were also required to do all the menial labor jobs, such as house cleaning, cooking, and that sort of thing. We also performed the daily worship services, which involved some gardening, hiking, and flower preparation. These positions were avoided by the senior members, but I enjoyed the quiet physicality, even if it did hurt my body.

I have always been a voracious reader, and while I was in that convent, I read all the books that were sold in the book store and our catalog by mail. The books by and about the  Catholic mystics and contemplatives, such as St. Teresa of Avilla and St. John of the Cross, Jane de Chantal and St. Francis de Sales tugged at my heart strings.

Saint Jane de Chantal

I read the Desert "fathers" and "mothers," as well as the modern writers, such as Thomas Merton. I couldn't get enough of the mystics! I realized that Catholicism had struck my heart in a way that Vedanta never could. So I left the convent, became Christian, and went back to work in a secular job as a legal secretary. But I always missed monastic life.

Therefore, when I had to retire early, it quickly occurred to me that I could replicate convent life for myself in my little urban apartment and live as an urban hermit, dedicated to God, and live a contemplative life, similar to what I had experienced in the Hindu convent, the schedule and setup of which had been modeled on Catholic contemplative orders. I missed monastic life very much and was thrilled at the idea that I might return to it, in my own fashion.

Saint Anthony the Great - Hermit

My inability to do physical labor would not inconvenience anyone but myself. Keeping a monastic schedule would prove to be difficult, of course. The older I became, the worse the illnesses grew. My Rule of Life had to adhere to the spiritual principles and aims of a monastic hermit life while at the same time accommodating my increasingly inconvenient physical condition. It took some time to come to grips with my limitations and to accept the fact that, like Brother Lawrence, who practiced the presence of God, I am not one of those "high class" monastics whose practice appears to be perfectly regulated to the typical standard.

With regard to my prayer schedule, I adjusted that to accommodate the fact that simply caring for oneself, without help, takes a terribly long time. My solution for that was to be flexible about the timing of my formal prayers and to "pray without ceasing" at all times of the day, through various methods. (I have dealt with this in my blog post about MY RULE OF LIFE, which you may find HERE)

The Jesus Prayer is dear to my heart, and I pray it throughout the day:

"Lord, 

Jesus Christ,

Son of God,

Have mercy upon me,

a poor sinner."

In the early stages of organizing my hermitage, I realized that, rather than having to artificially create pain or inconvenience to fulfill the penitential aspect of the life, I could simply make use of the terrible chronic pain and disfunction which I suffer naturally. I offer it to God in reparation for my own sins and the sins of the world. 

Since I live in an urban setting, albeit close to a rural area and the Rio Grande River, I do have neighbors and, although I do not seek them out for entertainment, I work hard to be helpful to them, when needed. These are small offerings, but they are intentional. 

In these ways, I have transformed, in my mind, what could be considered a personal disaster into a blessed life for which I am grateful. I am a living offering to the Lord, even though my living space has few of the accoutrements enjoyed by monastics living in traditional monastic quarters.

In the beginning of my hermit life, I was more physically able, and I regularly attended mass, but I am not longer able to do that, so I stream the Mass from various providers on the internet. I have no real spiritual support from my parish. I was finally able to get someone to bring me the eucharist at home, but it took a couple years of calling them and begging for it. 

UPDATE (5/26/25): Receiving the Eucharist at home did not last long. A few months into reception of the Eucharist, the woman who brought the Eucharist turned out to be suffering from something which caused her to experience bouts of terrifyingly violent explosions of anger. While driving back from an errand one day, with me in the car with her, instead of talking to me, she screamed and yelled and "talked to" other drivers on the road. She was irate at the way everyone else was driving. 

Suddenly, she stopped the car - in the middle of the street, with me in it - so that she could walk to the car behind us, stand outside it and yell at the driver of that vehicle! It was nerve-wracking for me, especially since I am particularly sensitive to unrestrained or savage scenes.

At my home, she set in on me with that same anger. I was sitting in my recliner, and she loomed above me - standing over me and yelling at me. I was afraid she was going to hit me or do something else violent. I did not allow her to return after that.

When I told the Deacon manager of homebound ministry what had happened, he told me he did not believe me because he knew she would never do something like that and that he would not be sending anyone else. His manner was cold and unfeeling. 

Telling me that I am a liar does not seem like a wise or Christian thing to do. It demonstrated to me that he is yet another person who is faking his religious sentiments. There is a lot of that sort of thing in America at this time. For some people, religion is a social construct and/or a manner in which some people find a position of power or prestige. Others find social connections by which they telegraph legitimacy and respectability. The love of Christ is absent.

The hard-bitten and cruel attitudes of Donald Trump and his minions are reflected in the attitudes and behavior of these people. If you are poor with no family and have nothing to bring to the parish, or if you are not a devotee of Trump, you are shunned.

But the more I am mistreated by these people, the kinder The Lord is to me. The vast lacuna of Christian friendship that the parish leaves behind is filled to overflowing with God, the Blessed Mother, the angels and the saints. I am especially blessed with many sainted ancestors in my family tree, such as Saint Margaret of Scotland and Saint Olga of Kiev "Equal to the Apostles."

Not all parishes are cold and hostile places - but enough are there to present a challenge when trying to make a connection with The Church when one is disabled and homebound.

"Anger is a kind of temporary madness"

~ St. Basil the Great ~

Some Catholic parishes shun and mistreat the poor and needy, disabled and senior who reach out to them, while at the same time they express wonder at why their membership is dwindling.

At any rate, you cannot live this life and be emotionally needy. As a modern-day hermit, one has to be confident in one's connection with The Lord and His love for you because the parish will not likely reach out to you unless you were well known to them prior to becoming disabled and/or you have a lot of family that belongs to the parish. Every community has its own personality, of course. I am just saying that lack of spiritual support from your church family may be one of those painful things you will have to offer up, if you embark on this life, and, even if you have no interest in becoming a hermit, disability and isolation may force you into that position, so you might as well find a way to enjoy it and embrace the vocation that has been thrust on you. God brings all things to the good for those who believe.

Saint Melania the Elder

as a Hermit

Another challenging situation to offer up is that growing disabilities make it more and more difficult to make one's hermitage look like a place of prayer. I have no help at home, even though approved for 28 hours of housekeeping services a week by Medicaid because there are simply not enough people available to do this kind of work. Every once in a while, someone is offered by the agency, but I have had to eventually reject these people, as most of them have had domestic problems that interfere or they were drug addicts, alcoholics, or generally unreliable.

I am learning to accept things as they are and to be grateful for everything, even though there are dishes piled up in the sink. Art projects and rosary makings, meant to supplement the income, present a colorful, happy mess on the art table. The mail has piled up because I am now blind in one eye, and it takes a long time to slog through it. The floor needs sweeping. But, in my mind and heart, I am in Heaven with God, our Blessed Mother, and all the saints and angels.  I am surrounded by the entire Heavenly Court, singing the Lord's praises and enjoying the consolations that being near The Lord bestows.

I predict that we are going to have a growing number of senior Catholics turning to this kind of life, as they grow older. Baby boomers are retiring at the rate of about 10,000 people PER DAY, many of them in fragile or ill health, and it has occurred to me that all of those who are Catholic could do the same as what I am doing. There are SO MANY resources in the forms of books and videos, YouTube talks, and  streaming mass that the guidance is available, even if you do not have a single human person leading you down this path. The ascetic practices become a natural outgrowth of one's normal life as a senior person.

Living as a hermitess is also considered to be, in itself, a penitential type of life. Many baby boomers find themselves alone at the end of their lives. Perhaps this vocation is meant to be.

Saint Marina

as a Hermit

Whether you construct your life as an "urban hermit" or a wife and mother, or a single working person, the method of adopting the intentional offering of life's sufferings as a spiritual practice can be used by anyone. You don't need a hair shirt or a scourge. Offer up all of the naturally occurring sufferings! In this way, all of it becomes spiritual currency. 

The emptiness of your life will be filled by Christ, His Blessed Mother, the angels and the saints, as it is mine.

God bless us all. 

Silver Rose

SUFFERING AND SO-CALLED "POSITIVE THINKING"

 

Our Lady of Sorrows

I recently turned 70, which seemed a rather monumental birth day, as birthdays go, and it has made me think about death and suffering and the transit of my life on this planet thus far. Also, today is the Marian feast day for Our Lady of Sorrows.

Every generation, IF we are lucky enough to reach old age, is going to have the honor of being ABLE to look back on the progression of their lives and see some remarkable twists and turns of history, due to advancements in science and politics and even natural disasters, such as the Covid pandemic, earthquakes, floods, and the like. We have NO way of knowing how things would have differed for us, had our circumstances been other than what they were.

(This year, I have been telling everyone that my birthday present is the birthday itself. 70.  It's amazed me.)

We will, at times, wonder if things might have turned out better for us if we had been born to better people. By the time I was 5, my father had left our home to chase starlets, spending money on them that he should have spent on his children, who never went to a dentist, nor had proper shoes or clothing to wear, while he was buying boats, airplanes, and loose women. Meanwhile, his wife, our mother, was ill with multiple sclerosis and lupus and rheumatoid arthritis from her early 20's, waking up paralyzed on several occasions. 

But my father's ill treatment of my mother did not endow her with sympathy for her children, however, and she treated me, in particular, as the scape goat, tormenting me with ruthless emotional abuse and giving me not a single shred of love my entire time with her, causing me to take my junior and senior classes in one year of high school and graduating a year early, just so I could leave home as soon as possible, walking out the door with nothing but the clothes on my back, shortly after I turned 17.

Is it legitimate to wonder what my life would have looked like, had I been raised with love by either parent, instead of the two narcissistic and utterly selfish people I was given? Of course, it is natural that this thought would blow across the sere landscape of my childhood memories.

Somehow, however, I am at peace with the idea that God had me born to the people and in the way he wanted me to. His reasons are his own, and I will never fault him for it, because I am not privy to the thoughts of Our Lord, and it is not my business to second guess Him because, if one actually believes in God, who is all good, one HAS to assume that "something good is going on," (as my old Hindu teacher used to say), no matter WHAT the circumstances of one's life. We are not entitled to know the reasons of God.

I make the best of my circumstances and usually experience great serenity of soul, despite the suffering. I know it does not seem possible and, indeed, many people have made assumptions about me, that if I have so many sufferings, then I must be miserable, but it isn't true. How suffering and blessedness can exist, side by side, at the same time and in the same person, is incomprehensible to many people but it is the spiritual version of walking and chewing gum at the same time. More than one layer of reality exists in our consciousness at the same time. 

This does not mean that I do not suffer. Yes, I certainly suffer EXCEPT that, no matter how bad it gets, I have avoided feeling sorry for myself, and I think that this has made me, in general, happier than I have a right to be. I am quite sure I have not met my Lord's hopes for me and His standards, so I must not withdraw into self-pity, in case he decides to treat me as I really deserve to be treated. It is nothing but his generosity of grace that preserves us all from the fate we have earned, no matter how much we delude ourselves about how holy we are.

When I encounter the frustrations of life, I do feel those frustrations. But the drama is playing itself out on a blessed field. We are not expected to just lay down and say, "oh well, it's God's will. I will do nothing." That is not what we are called to do. We must fight it. If we have needs that are not being met, we must do what we can to ensure our survival and get those needs met. We do the best we can, make the calculations of action that we believe will bring the best result, but not grieve too much if we have miscalculated and the result is not what was desired.

I have been seeing a lot of very selfish and self-satisfied memes on social media lately. What most of my Catholic friends do not realize is that these are toxic message from the "New Age" philosophies which are the opposite of our Catholic faith. Each of these memes is some version of the admonition to shut up if you are suffering, don't tell anyone about it, and "be grateful" instead. This seems cruel to me for, if our neighbor is suffering and there may be something we can do to alleviate it, we will not know how we might do so, if they are under orders to keep a scarf stuffed in their mouth!

This offal sandwich is breaded, on the one side, with the writer's claim that they deserve to be friends with people who bring them only joy, and on the other side, with the instruction that anyone who is suffering should not only refrain from mentioning it, but should only talk about how grateful they are instead!

The fact is that we are all suffering, and when we love our neighbor, it is one sufferer healing another. The lacuna in my life matches an embarrassment of riches in the life of another person, and vice versa, and this is how we are all meant to get through life - helping one another, each in our own way. 

I have had many opportunities to help other folks, even though my finances and physical condition are not good, because (like most people) I have other talents and treasures than the obvious. I try not to talk about my own "talents and treasures" unless it is necessary to the topic of a conversation. But it occurs to me that, if I am not allowed to discuss how I have helped someone, and it is not allowed for me to discuss the help that I myself need, and it is terrible to brag about my good fortune (which some people do to excess on social media, in my opinion) and many folks object to being forced to hear religious dissertations, then what exactly must I discuss?  "Small talk" is very difficult for me, as it is for other Aspergerish folk and, while I can do it, exhaustion often results. 

I have very few conversations, one-on-one, in my daily life, but with all the restrictions, I struggle to know what to say. I may try to touch on art or literature but, unless the other person has the same interests, it lands with a sodden thud in the middle of the discussion.

All of this makes for a recommendation to the solitary religious life for me and, although it is not understood very well by anyone else, it is perhaps what God had in mind for me all along, because nothing has worked so well, and I have also had many unpleasant pressures pushing me in that direction. Everything that has happened to me has contributed to the direction of my life which I believe is something close to what God had planned. I was not intelligent enough to figure it out for myself, so He had to close off all the other avenues to make sure I understood His meaning.

Every once in a while, though, I have a message that I need to give because THIS, this writing thing, is one of the "talents and treasures" with which The Lord has gifted me, and I think he expects me to exercise it, every now and then.

So, I think the message for today is simply this: Stop telling people to shut up and save you from having to listen to their pain. If there are some people who you think may harp on it a bit much, I will suggest that it is their effort to be HEARD in a sea of people who refuse to hear them that is causing them to repeat themselves. Maybe if just one person would do a splendid job of actually hearing that person, in a calm, patient, and nonjudgmental fashion, the sufferer may talk about it less than otherwise. It is in that hearing that the sufferer will find some relief.

God bless us all.

Silver Rose

GOD BRINGS ALL THINGS TO THE GOOD FOR THOSE THAT BELIEVE

About halfway through the month, I typically run low on food. There are things to eat in the cupboard, but I have to be creative sometimes, and I often have to eat things I'm not particularly keen to have at that moment. I liken it to a type of perpetual fasting and, in that light, it becomes a blessing. Fasting as a method of sacrificing the ego, its will, and its constant need to be fed, enables one to grow closer to God. It has been continually advocated in the Judeo Christian world, as well as in other religions, for thousands of years. God brings all things to the good for those that believe - even when something looks bad at the outset  - even when something is uncomfortable or downright painful.

Tonight I was pondering dinner, when I noticed that I have a lot of half-and-half leftover, as I have reduced my consumption of tea over the last few months. Calculating that the half-and-half was going to go bad before I could use it all if I only used it for tea, I realized that I also had the other items necessary to make alfredo sauce with chopped walnuts. Sunday dinner was delicious. Another thing brought to the good that, on the outset, appeared to be somewhat sad.

If I stop to complain about whatever is going wrong, I may miss the good that the Lord wants to bring out of it and into my life. If I look at the deceptively empty refrigerator and become focused on THAT, it may never occur to me to become creative and make a masterpiece.

The last five years or so have been rough and getting rougher. Someone had me written out of my father's will after he got Alzheimer's. My father died, my uncle died, my son died, my dog died, my cat died. My relationship to the church I loved was destroyed by a callow young priest who ridiculed my weight in front of a group of people, pantomiming how funny it would be if he couldn't pull me out of a chair because my bottom is so big. He disparaged my disability status. He went on to harass me every time he got me alone, and I had to leave the church - the only Byzantine Church in New Mexico. My health has gotten worse and my illnesses have multiplied. Among other things, I am going blind, very slowly, from macular degeneration. My inability to find an appropriate place to live has been documented in other blog posts.

When I became disabled, friends of many years dropped me immediately. The few family who had the resources to help me picked a fight or found some bogus "reason" to be angry with me, giving themselves an excuse not to behave like the Christians they claim to be. They say that family is all one can count on, but but some families are not good. Some families hate God and goodness, living only for their own comfort.

It may never become apparent to me exactly what sort of good the Lord plans to bring out of all this pain. The good may not be realized during my lifetime. It may never make sense to me. It may never make sense to you, but sometime before my story comes to a close, I need to send out a reassuring message, and that is simply this: The Lord is bringing all these things to the good - for me and for others.

This is the blessing of living the Catholic faith, being a member of the church founded by Jesus - even if some of the priests are horridly broken and cruel people - even though I cannot get anyone from the bishop's office to return my phone calls about my vocation - even though our dear Papa is sometimes hard to understand - even though family and friends have left me twisting, by myself, at the end of a short rope - even though I have been suffering continuous pain FOR YEARS. I am being blessed.

Some people mistakenly believe that if we live the Christian faith well, Jesus will reward us with a comfortable life. That is not what he promised. This is what He said:

"Do not think that I came to send peace upon earth:

I came not to send peace, but the sword.

For I came to set a man at variance against his father,

and the daughter against her mother,

and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.

And a man's enemies are they of his own household.

He that loveth father or mother more than me, 

is not worthy of me;

and he that loveth son or daughter more than me,

is not worthy of me.

And he that taketh not up his cross, and followeth

me, is not worthy of me."

Matthew 10: 34-38

Christianity is the hardest gig you will ever do. It isn't rainbows, lollipops and unicorns, as some people believe. It isn't warm and cuddly. It isn't about prosperity. It is the sword and the cross, just as Jesus promised.

May we all be blessed.

Silver Rose Parnell

Copyright (c) 2017

All rights reserved.

SATAN ATTACKS THE HOLY

Saint Marina, whacking one of 

Satan's demons

I LOVE the icon that I have featured on this blog post.  It is an excellent inspiration to remember to defend myself against the demons that Satan sends out to torment the holy.  Every Christian who struggles to reach perfection in spiritual life is, to one degree or another, a holy person.  Every moment in which our minds are immersed in the Divine, is a moment of holiness, and the more holy moments we can string together, the more it infuriates Satan.

1Peter 4:12-16

(New International Version)

"Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has

come on you to test you, as though something strange were 

happening to you.  But rejoice inasmuch as you participate 

in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed 

when his glory is revealed.  If you are insulted because of 

the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory 

and of God rests on you.  If you suffer, it should not be as 

a murderer or thief or any other kind of criminal, or even 

as a meddler.  However, if you suffer as a Christian, do not 

be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name."

Satan will tempt a deranged neighbor to harass us.  He will lead an acquaintance to lure us into unholy pursuits.  He will send demons to visit our dreams and tear down our confidence in the Lord.  He will do anything to weaken our devotion.

Satan does not have to prompt people who are devoted to sinful habits because they are already his minions on earth.  If a person devoted to sin learns that we are Christian, they will persecute us because our quest for holiness insults them.  They are taking a road that leads in the opposite direction, and they wish to justify their journey by taking as many people along with them as they can.

When we examine the lives of the saints, it becomes obvious that there is no earthly reward for being holy.  In fact, just the opposite is true.  Most saints had terrible sufferings.  Asking God to make us saints carries with it a great deal of suffering.  He is all too familiar with suffering, if you will remember, and we have to learn to link our sufferings with His.

Yes, we are all sinners.  I am not saying that all religious people are holy, but I am saying that we aspire to holiness.  We have our eyes on the Lord and we are straining toward him.  Our mind is inclined toward His point of view, His values, and His teachings.  Every step toward the Lord is a slap in the face to evil.

The last few weeks have been a suffering to me.  Nearly everything has gone wrong, with one notable exception, and I am slogging through persecutions.  Persecutions and sufferings are a distraction from my primary mission, which is to pray for the world and to spend time with the Lord in contemplation. Sometimes it is a struggle to tear myself away from thoughts of the persecutions to thoughts of our wonderful Lord.  I have to force myself to let go of the distractions and tune into the presence of God.  Having PTSD makes it much harder.

Reminding myself that Satan attacks the holy is somehow very calming, however.  Things are going wrong, therefore everything is right in my life!  It is an odd contradiction, but I know it is true.  If everything was comfortable, all my needs were easily met, and no one was screaming and yelling at me, gossiping about me and working against me, I would suspect that something was wrong with my spiritual life.

I just thought I would put this note of encouragement "out there" for all my contemplative friends whose lives sometimes look more like a demented circus than a spiritual wonderland.  You're doing alright.

God bless you all.

Silver Rose Parnell