One winter day, St. Francis of Assisi (Feast Day, October 4) was traveling to the Basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli (St. Mary of the Angels) in Perugia, Italy, with Brother Leo. The bitter cold made them both suffer keenly.  St. Francis called to Brother Leo, who was walking ahead of him a bit: “Brother Leo, even if the Friars Minor in every country give a great example, and integrity, and good edification, nevertheless, write down and note carefully that perfect joy is not in that.”

When he had walked on a bit, St. Francis called him again, saying: “Brother Leo, even if a Friar Minor gives sight to the blind, heals the paralyzed, drives out devils, gives hearing back to the deaf, makes the lame walk, and restores speech to the dumb and, what is more, brings back to life a man who had been dead for four days, write that perfect joy is not in that.”

Going on further, St. Francis called out again in a strong voice: “Brother Leo, if a Friar Minor knew all languages, and all sciences, and Scripture, if he also knew how to prophesy, and to reveal, not only the future, but also the secrets of consciences and minds of others, write down and note carefully that perfect joy is not in that.”

As they continued to walk for a while, St. Francis called Leo again forcefully: “Brother Leo, Little Lamb of God, even if a Friar Minor could speak with the voice of an angel, and knew the courses of the stars, and the powers of herbs, and knew all about the treasures in the earth, and if he knew the qualities of birds and fishes, animals, humans, roots, trees, rocks, and waters, write down and note carefully that perfect joy is not in that.”

Going on a bit farther, St. Francis called again strongly: “Brother Leo, even if a Friar Minor could preach so well that he should convert all infidels to the faith of Christ, write that perfect joy is not there.”

Now, when he had been talking this way for a distance of two miles, Brother Leo, in great amazement, finally asked him: “Father, I beg you, in God’s name, to tell me where perfect joy is.”

St. Francis replied: “When we come to St. Mary of the Angels, soaked by the rain and frozen by the cold, all soiled with mud, and suffering from hunger, and we ring at the gate of the place and the brother porter comes and says angrily: “Who are you?”  And we say: “We are two of your brothers.”  And he contradicts us, saying: “You are not telling the truth.  Rather, you are two rascals who go around deceiving people, and stealing what they give to the poor.  Go away!”  And he does not open for us, but makes us stand outside in the snow and rain, cold and hungry, until night falls—then if we endure all those insults and cruel rebuffs patiently, without being troubled, and without complaining, and if we reflect humbly and charitably that the porter really knows us, and that God makes him speak against us, oh, Brother Leo, write that perfect joy is there.”

“And if we continue to know, and the porter comes out in anger, and drives us away with curses and hard blows like bothersome scoundrels, saying, ‘Get away from here, you dirty thieves—go to the hospital!  Who do you think you are?  You certainly won’t eat or sleep here’—and if we bear it patiently, and take the insults with joy and love in our hearts, Oh, Brother Leo, write that this is perfect joy!”

“And if later, suffering intensely from hunger and painful cold, with night falling, we still knock and call, and crying loudly beg him to open for us and let us come in for the love of God, and he grows still more angry and says: ‘Those fellows are bold and shameless ruffians.  I’ll give them what they deserve.’  And he comes out with a knotty club, and grasping us by the cowl throws us onto the ground, rolling us in the mud and snow, and beats us with that club so much that he covers our bodies with wounds—if we endure all those evils and insults with joy and patience, reflecting that we must accept and bear the sufferings of the Blessed Christ patiently for love of him, Oh, Brother Leo, write: that is perfect joy!”

“And now hear the conclusion, Brother Leo.  Above all the graces and gifts of the Holy Spirit which Christ gives to his friends, is that of conquering oneself, and willingly enduring sufferings, insults, humiliations, and hardships for the love of Christ.  For we cannot glory in all those other marvelous gifts of God, as they are not ours but God’s, as the Apostle says: ‘What have you that you have not received?’  But we can glory in the cross of tribulations and afflictions because that is ours, and so the Apostle says: ‘I will not glory save in the Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ.’”

Francis accepted suffering in the way of the Beatitudes.  In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus explained how the poor, hungry, mourning and suffering people are tenderly loved by God, blessed by God, because they hope despite overwhelming circumstances.  St. Francis makes very real that perfect joy does not come from many talents and abilities, since these are never ultimately ours, but are gifts from God.  Francis, therefore, believed that the only really true gifts we can give to God, which are not originally from God, are our sufferings.

On the natural level, we, of course, do not want suffering in our life, but having reached the state described in the Beatitudes, we can accept suffering with joy.  Instead of trying to avoid pain and trials, we can accept them in a spirit that would allow us to offer this rarely-appreciated human gift back to God.  This is the cause of St. Francis’ perfect joy: he found the only thing that he had which he could give back to the Lord.  This is how to live the Beatitudes, how to live on a supernatural level, able to say, “I will not glory, save in the Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ.”  Perfect joy is found in fidelity and in constant prayer, patiently enduring all the gifts we give to God.  Joy is an interior state, independent from that which affects us externally.  For beneath all the hardships is the fundamental reality of joy.  The background to all suffering is total faith in the ultimate triumph of the Cross of Christ.

Hymn to Joy

Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love;
Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, opening to the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day!

All Thy works with joy surround Thee, earth and heaven reflect Thy rays,
Stars and angels sing around Thee, center of unbroken praise.
Field and forest, vale and mountain, flowery meadow, flashing sea,
Singing bird and flowing fountain call us to rejoice in Thee.

Thou art giving and forgiving, ever blessing, ever blessed, Wellspring of the joy of living, ocean depth of happy rest!
Thou our Father, Christ our Brother, all who live in love are Thine;
Teach us how to love each other, lift us to the joy divine.

Mortals, join the happy chorus, which the morning stars began;
Father love is reigning o’er us, brother love binds man to man.
Ever singing, march we onward, victors in the midst of strife,
Joyful music leads us Sunward in the triumph song of life.

(Text: Henry Van Dyke; Music: Ludwig van Beethoven; Arr. by Edward Hodges; Tune: HYMN TO JOY.)

About Carolyn Humphreys, OCDS
Carolyn Humphreys, OCDS, OTR, is a Discalced Carmelite Secular, and a registered occupational therapist. She is the author of the books: From Ash to Fire: A Contemporary Journey through the Interior Castle of Teresa of Avila, Carmel Land of the Soul: Living Contemplatively in Today’s World, Mystics in the Making: Lay Women in Today’s Church, and Living Through Cancer, A Practical Guide to Cancer Related Concerns. Her latest book is Everyday Holiness: A Guide to Living Here and Getting to Eternity. You can find her reflections online at contemplativechristianityorg.wordpress.com.

Zion

In having breathed in the dust of the Holy Lands
Where my Lord once taught, healed, bled–and died,
He who loved me first and has loved me eternally –was resurrected
In the landscape of my soul, the New Jerusalem.

Adoration

I only have now and in this moment,
The prayers of the Church,
All the hosts of angels and saints,
And creation from the beginning of time, until the end of time,
Are united with mine.

The Promise

Deep calls to deep,
Where all time and all space,
Are all in the Almighty,
The Word of God,
Made Flesh by the power of the Spirit
Who dwelt among us, who dwells within us

The Mystical Chase

When it is dark, and the last rays of the day
Dip into the horizon and inflame the blue ocean of sky,
I run to catch a glimpse of You, my Beloved

Matthew 2:13-18
13 After they had left, suddenly the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother with you, and escape into Egypt, and stay there until I tell you, because Herod intends to search for the child and do away with him.’
14 So Joseph got up and, taking the child and his mother with him, left that night for Egypt,
15 where he stayed until Herod was dead. This was to fulfill what the Lord had spoken through the prophet: I called my son out of Egypt.
16 Herod was furious on realising that he had been fooled by the wise men, and in Bethlehem and its surrounding district he had all the male children killed who were two years old or less, reckoning by the date he had been careful to ask the wise men.
17 Then were fulfilled the words spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:
18 A voice is heard in Ramah, lamenting and weeping bitterly: it is Rachel weeping for her children, refusing to be comforted because they are no more.

During a recent retreat, I met a woman who was a parishioner in the church that welcomed and walked my whole family back to the Catholic Church. It was a non-silent retreat, so over lunch, I shared my experiences of the Holy Land, and she spoke to me about a trip she and her husband had taken to the Middle East.

Before the Syrian War had started in 2012, she asked a reluctant cabbie to drive them from Lebanon through the desert, to a monument in Syria along the Euphrates River, which marked the Armenian genocide by Turkish forces. The monument, as with many other Syrian institutions, has since been destroyed by ISIS and military conflict.

And as she recounted how the Armenian mothers, rather than have their daughters succumb to the enemy, would throw their daughters into the Euphrates, more than one-hundred years ago, we looked into each other’s eyes knowingly.

Such agonizing separations were more than likely still happening today due to the sectarian conflicts in the region. It is easy to look at the darkness of such atrocities with despair, but the birth of Jesus has already won the victory over death, for “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Isaiah 9:2).

The gospel accounts focus on the Holy Family’s narrow escape from Herod. After having received a vision from an angel in the middle of the night, Joseph immediately gathers the Virgin Mary and the child Jesus, to begin a journey of over 400 miles from Bethlehem to Egypt, mostly on foot.

There is only a brief mention of the suffering of the families in the surrounding districts of Jerusalem when all the male children two years and under were put to death, and only through the words of the Prophet Jeremiah, written around 600 BC, before the 586 BC Babylonian captivity of Jerusalem: “A voice is heard in Ramah [Ramallah today, near Bethlehem] lamenting and weeping bitterly: it is Rachel weeping for her children, refusing to be comforted because they are no more.”

Zechariah, written around 500 BC, after both the Babylonian captivity and the Israelites’ return to Jerusalem through the Great King Cyrus  of Greece (538 BC), foretells this same event.

Zechariah 12: 8-14. On that day the LORD will shield the inhabitants of Jerusalem, so that the weakest among them will be like David on that day; and the house of David will be like God, like the angel of the LORD before them.

9 On that day I will seek the destruction of all nations that come against Jerusalem 10 I will pour out on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of mercy and supplication, so that when they look on him whom they have thrust through, they will mourn for him as one mourns for an only child, and they will grieve for him as one grieves over a firstborn^.

11 On that day the mourning in Jerusalem will be as great as the mourning for Hadadrimmon in the plain of Megiddo^. 12 And the land shall mourn, each family apart: the family of the house of David, and their women; the family of the house of Nathan, and their women; 13 the family of the house of Levi, and their women; the family of Shimei, and their women; 14 and all the rest of the families, each family apart, and the women apart.

The prophet Zechariah vividly captures the intense pain that the families must suffer alone, particularly the mothers of the children who have been massacred, for the mourning in Jerusalem happens ‘each family apart, and the women apart.’ I could not help but think about the countless mothers today, who must grieve in the silence of their hearts, the children they have lost through violence.

Yet hope comes in the most unlikely form.

Through Zechariah’s prophesy, the Lord promises that ‘the weakest among them will be like David.’ How could it be, that the most feeble could be as powerful as one of the greatest Kings of Judah? History bears out that the drops of blood shed by the most helpless, the innocent infants of Jerusalem, would be the seeds to the flourishing kingdom of Christ.

Zechariah also points to the connection between Jesus as among the children in the ‘House of David…who will be like God’ and Jesus, ‘the firstborn’ and ‘only child’ whom Jerusalem will recognize as ‘him whom they have thrust through.’ The great I am, the Word made flesh is the Lamb of God who comes to take away the sins – and all forms of captivity  – of the world.

This recognition of faith and love does not happen automatically. It requires the human willingness of heart, a prayer of desire and ‘supplication,’ on our part to recognize who we are without God’s grace – coupled with the ‘mercy’ of God, who is always God with us – which results in genuine repentance and the healing of all wounds: war, death, scandal, evil, addictions, pain.

I will pour out on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of mercy and supplication.

LEBANON

Between miles of half-constructed phantom buildings
Along steep-mountain climbs hugged by rocky cliffs and the Mediterranean Sea,
Lebanese men smoke from hookahs and drink Turkish coffee
Over a small table of friends – Where are the women?
One boy watches intently as our bus passes by
Soldiers, holding machine guns wave us on into Holy Christian sites.

A country torn by a history of wars and conflict
Multiple attempted annihilation of both Christians and Muslims.
A land artificially pieced together by neighboring Arab countries
A refuge for Palestinians, exiled from their countries,

As we pass by each building, each olive grove, each turn
The story of this land changes.
But one thing is certain.
She cries inside while smiling with radiant beauty.

“If there is anything that Lebanon does not have a shortage of, it’s rocks,’ says our guide to humor us as we round a sharp curve along a thick wall of limestone. It is past 6:00 pm, and the sun has already set, but our bus continues to make its way through a precipitous mountain climb downhill, with dangerous cliff drops just inches from our windows.

I close my eyes and recall the majestic tranquility of our earlier walk through the forest of the Cedars of Lebanon in the Beqaa Valley. In ancient times, these trees once thrived in Mount Lebanon, and are called ‘Cedars of God’ because they are said to have been planted by God.

“The trees of the Lord are watered abundantly, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted,” says the psalmist (Psalm 104). Though we are far enough from what remains of the cedar forest, I inhale its woody evergreen scent in my imagination to keep myself calm.

The tour group is on our way to the Monastery of Saint Anthony the Great of Qozhaya in the Quadisha Valley. Finally, we pull up to what looks like a dead end, with a small number of seemingly abandoned cars parked alongside the street.

“What are we doing at this forgotten place at the bottom of a deep valley, in the pitch black night?” I wonder.

“Get out, get out the bus now,” our tour guide encourages us on.

And with very little to go by, we all walk toward a small gleam of light further ahead, which then opens up into a spectacular spiritual haven. Shadows of worshippers, walking with deep reverence, seem to come out from the walls.

“You must know, that to understand Lebanon, you must understand the conflict of our multiple confessions,” explained our guide earlier. “Lebanon consists of Muslim Shias and Sunnis. The country also has twelve Christian confessions: Maronite Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Melkite, Armenian Orthodox, Armenian Catholic, Syriac Orthodox, Syriac Catholic…” he continued to list them but I couldn’t keep up.

According to recent statistics, Lebanon is 54% Muslim, 41% Christian, and 5.5% Druze, along with a small number of other faiths. The most recent Civil War, from 1975-2000, mostly between Christian Maronites and Palestinian Muslims, involving shifting international alliances, has resulted in a Lebanese society whose faith lives have been tested and strengthened by the crucible of conflict and death.

Most Lebanese Christian families (as with Muslims) know someone who has died as a result of one war or another, or has fought in the Civil War. No wonder then that they cling to their faiths as young children who have been hurt clasp onto their mother’s hem – most with great love and forgiveness, but some with terrified hatred.

Almost immediately, I am drawn to the Grotto of Saint Anthony, a natural cave dedicated to the saint. At the altar in front of the cave, a young couple both hold onto a grey, oblong, smooth stone with a hole at each end. They are praying quietly, he in Arabic and she in French, their lowered dark lashes veiling their eyes, as the candle smoke cuts through the cave’s mustiness. They are probably praying for a child, as this grotto is known for such miracles.

Countless supernatural phenomenon are attributed to Lebanese saints, most of whom are unknown to much of the world, like Saint Charbel, whose intercessions after death have healed many.

For me, the saint who most embodies the country of Lebanon itself is Saint Rafqa (1832-1914), a Maronite nun who, despite her intense share of Christ’s suffering through blindness and paralysis, continually gave praise to God, and maintained her peace and joy. And she used her hands, the only part of her body she could move, to weave beautiful patterns displayed throughout one museum.

Saint Rafqa is very much like Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity, whose feast day Carmelites celebrate today; she continued to sing in her heart and offer herself as God’s praise of glory through her painful death brought on by Addison’s disease.

“I think that in Heaven my mission will be to draw souls by helping them to go out of themselves in order to cling to God by a wholly simple and loving movement, and to keep them in this great silence within which will allow God to communicate Himself to them and to transform them into Himself,” said Saint Elizabeth.

That is the way of the Lebanese Christians I encountered. Their witness , I believe, is one of the most accurate modern day examples of faithfully living out the Carmelite spirit in the secular world.

Without a doubt, every Lebanese I saw, personally knew the pain of crucifixion in one way or another. Yet rather than giving visitors bitter gall, they offered – without cost – golden wax candles, scented frankincense oil, and incense of myrrh.

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding (our interpretations and imaginings).  This is one of Scripture’s most frequent imperatives.

“In all your ways submit to him (Thy will be done), and he will make your paths straight.” (Prv.3:5) This is the Good News, the Gospel of Jesus Christ! How many times and in how many different ways does it need to be expressed before we embrace it with our whole heart, trusting with complete confidence that, “…all things work for good for those who love God”. (Rom.8:28) If we believe it from the bottom of our heart, what is there to fear?

Out of all the situations we face, are any of them legitimate for worry? Saint Matthew describes the Apostles on the brink of death. They cry out in terror, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!” (Matt. 8:25)

Jesus had been asleep as the boat became overwhelmed by the wind and waves. His response is crucial to our understanding. Does he exclaim, “Close call, why did you wait so long?” Rather, He admonishes their fear calling out their lack of virtue. “Why are you terrified, O you of little faith?” (Matt. 8:26)

I repeat the above scripture for emphasis, “Lean not on your own understanding!” With our faith, hope, and love securely grounded in Jesus Christ, “the way and the truth and the life” (Jn.14:6), we will never be threatened by loss, because we possess the real treasure. We will not be disturbed or fearful because nothing can separate us from what we truly care about, God Himself.

Saint Paul confirms, “What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword? No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us.” (Rom.8:35,37)

By this line of her poem, “Let nothing frighten you”, Saint Teresa is encouraging us to grow in the theological virtues. Much of what we fear are mere shadows, figments of our imagination that will never be realized. They are self-created speculations stemming from some form of non-acceptance, some form of unconscious resistance to the present moment.

Usually it is not even the present moment that we fear, but a snap-shot of what was the present moment which has now become the past but we still cling to it. We have a propensity to avoid the present moment and dwell through memory and imagination. What could be more futile, or more insane, than to create inner resistance to something that already “IS”?

In the Chinese language the character for “crisis” is the same character for “opportunity”. It is all how you perceive a situation. That perception will derive from our faith, hope, and love or lack thereof. Most “problems” cannot survive in the reality of God and the present moment. When one of life’s situations goes awry we have an opportunity to demonstrate our faith, in an all-powerful, all-knowing and all-loving God and our hope in his will for our future as we embrace what seems unacceptable with love, peace, and joy.

Fear is a poison that stunts and cripples our spiritual growth. The antidote is what the OCDS Provincial Statues advise, “strive to make prayer penetrate our entire existence, in order to walk in the presence of the living God, through the constant exercise of faith, hope and love….” We must learn to recognize God’s presence in the simple details of everyday life, for He is everywhere, manifest at every moment for those who desire him. He is ever whispering to our heart, “Do not fear nor be dismayed, for the LORD, your God, is with you wherever you go.” (Jos 1:9)

Elizabeth Barrett Browning expressed this reality in a most beautiful way in her poem Aurora Leigh.

Earth’s crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

― Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Anybody can believe in God, even demons believe He exists. It is trusting in God that takes faith. Faith is based on the knowledge that the Creator of the universe, possesses a power beyond our imagining, as well as an intelligence that we cannot begin to comprehend or fathom, and a love that surpasses all knowledge (cf. Eph.3:17).

When an attachment overpowers our virtues causing them to waver, we succumb to fear. In this way fear is very much a temptation. It arises from doubts in our heart that oppose the corresponding virtue. We are tempted against faith that God exists at all, or against hope that He is powerful enough to grant our desire, or wise enough to know what is actually best for us, or tempted against charity that He is loving enough to care.

To assuage our doubts, Saint Paul reminds us that, “Ever since the creation of the world [God’s] invisible nature of eternal power and deity, has been clearly perceived in the things that have been made.” (Rom. 1:20)

God is all powerful, all knowing, and all good and loving. The Archangel assures us, “Nothing is impossible for God.” (cf. Lk.1:37) Our faith based on this knowledge establishes trust and our trust gives way to surrender, “Thy will be done.” (Mt.6:10)

It is essential that we recognize and have full confidence in God’s will as our greatest good. This is what Jesus taught and what we request every time we pray the “Our Father”. We must also realize the importance of the “present moment” as the expression of God’s will for us (permissive if not perfect).

It is in this context that Saint Teresa proclaimed, “To have courage for whatever comes in life — everything lies in that.” We should always interpret life according to our faith. When we suffer loss in the present moment we should proclaim the words of our holy mother, “Our greatest gain is to lose the wealth that is of such brief duration and, by comparison with eternal things, of such little worth.” She is well acquainted with human nature and quickly adds the lament, “yet we get upset about it and our gain turns to loss.”  

Our being “upset” takes many forms: unease, anxiety, tension, distress, nervousness, boredom, doubt, worry, and despair. They are all forms of fear caused by compulsively interpreting the present moment through thoughts of a dismally imagined hopeless future – worst case scenario, or you could say Godless scenario.

When we succumb to this temptation, we allow fear to dominate our consciousness pondering over and over an imagined list of miseries. The present moment where God dwells, is distorted into a fearful situation that we need to flee and reject. In this way fear separates us from God and thus is a precursor to sin. Imprisoned in an imagined Godless future we act accordingly to obtain our desires.

The anatomy of a sin begins with desire, is exacerbated through fear of non-fulfillment, and culminates in pride; My will be done.

Over and over in the scripture God entreats us not to fear. The phrases “do not be afraid”, “be not afraid”, “do not fear”, and “fear not” appear over 110 times.

If we include God in our imagined future there should be no reason for fear. There are only situations that need to be dealt with or accepted. It is vital that we always embrace the present moment with absolute faith and hope in God’s love for us.

We need to be vigilant that fear is a temptation against our virtues as Jesus’ explains, “…do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’” (Matt. 6:30)

Jesus’ instruction extends even to legitimate needs for bodily sustenance and clothing. The natural or ordinate desires that our without sin. He continues, “…your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well. (Matt. 6:30-33)

Do we believe this?

All of us, to one degree or another, are spiritually broken, “If we say, ‘We are without sin,’ we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we acknowledge our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from every wrongdoing.” (1Jn.1:8-9)

When we use our fears to identify and acknowledge our attachments and weaknesses, then God cleanses the residual “stains” of “every wrong doing” on our spiritual faculties; of understanding, memory, and will that we discussed above.

The theological virtues heal and purify our spiritual faculties through the active dark night of spirit. They involve our own efforts supported by God’s grace. The spiritual faculty of human understanding, the assumptions and interpretations we derive, are purified by supernatural faith. Human memory, the storage of those perceptions, is purified by supernatural hope. And the human will which is our response to those perceptions is purified by supernatural charity.

An example will help to illustrate this idea. Imagine a beautiful spring morning, the sun is shining, the sky is blue as you drive down a street lined with majestic oak trees. You notice every tree as you pass under and are taken by the diversity. Each one is a little different – its shape or color or foliage, and each adds to the beauty of the overall tapestry. In awe of the splendor of the moment you effusively praise God as it unfolds before you.

This is the way we are meant to journey through life; acknowledging the grandeur of each moment and praising the glory of God.

Then something happens.

Out of the corner of your eye your attention is drawn to a car going the opposite direction. You look just as it has passed by and quickly notice from the back that it resembles your husband’s car. You were not able to make out the driver, but you know that the passenger was a woman.

Immediately, you begin to cling to that one moment, replaying it over and over in your head. Could that have been his car – isn’t he supposed to be at work? Why would he be with another woman? Fear begins to take over, “Is he cheating on me?” And anger, “I do so much for him and he is never grateful!”

Obviously, this is a silly exaggerated example, but let’s use it to examine what happened to the beautiful day and our communion with God. The beautiful day is still there and God is still with us, but we are no longer present. We have become blinded, clinging to a memory we created, trapped in the past by shackles forged from our own ego.

How would greater faith have changed our interpretation of this event? What really happened? The event itself was harmless and should not have sustained our attention. We saw the back of a car driving down a street. We could have chosen to stop following the distraction and returned our mind and heart to God. Everything beyond that point is our embellished interpretation of the event, which not only violates our faith in God, but also violates faith in our spouse.

We defy the virtue of hope when we refuse to let go of the event and begin making the worst assumptions and jumping to the worst conclusions. Our response undermines the virtue of charity when we take the event personally making it about ourselves. “…cheating on me”, “…I do so much for him”, “he is never grateful (to me)”.

Whenever we take something personally we are serving our ego not God. The same is true when we cling to the past or some imagined future, when we make uncharitable assumptions, judgements, and conclusions, and when we attempt to control others. These actions all deny God and build up our ego.

Let nothing frighten you:

When we are frightened it is all too often due to a defect or weakness in our possession and practice of the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love. Provincial Statute I.2 expresses that, “Secular Carmelites are called to strive to make prayer penetrate their entire existence, in order to walk in the presence of the living God [cf. 1K 17:1], through the constant exercise of faith, hope and love….”

The theological virtues are dispositions infused by God into the souls of the faithful adapting them to participate in the divine nature. (2 Pet 1:4) These virtues nourish and enhance the human soul enabling it to embrace a loving relationship with the Holy Trinity as dear children and capable of inheriting eternal life. (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church #1812 – #1813)

Scripture confirms, “We are in fact God’s offspring.” (Acts 2:39) The divine essence that is within Jesus is also in us through Baptism, “For in him dwells the whole fullness of the deity bodily, and you share in this fullness in him.” (Col 2:9-10).

Saint Paul explains, “Those who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, ‘Abba, Father!’” (Rom 8:14-16) Do we hear that cry, “Father!”, within our own heart? Or is it muted by the anguish of worldly fears?

The great commandment is proof that God’s desire is to be loved. He wants true love, authentic love, the type of “perfect love” that casts out all fear. “There is no fear in love …one who fears is not yet perfect in love.” (1Jn.4:18) The same is true of the theological virtues of faith and hope. There is no fear in the fullness of faith or in the fullness of hope.

When people and situations frighten us, they indicate wanting and misdirection of our virtues. Instead of our faith, hope, and love being committed entirely to God, they are invested in earthly things. Money in the bank is a good example. Doesn’t it feel good to have money in our savings account? It can make us feel safe and secure against the unexpected? It may be prudent to have a savings account, but how do we feel when the unexpected happens and the money is taken away?

If we feel vulnerable and insecure then there has been a shift in our heart’s desire from Thy will be done to My will be done. Two considerations we should know about fear is it is always based on an imagined future and is concerned with some perceived loss or not realizing a desired expectation (an attachment).

As we examine what frightens us we recognize that the threat is based upon a perceived separation or loss from people or things that we inordinately made the objects of our faith, hope, and love, rather than God.

In this way, just like with attachments, being aware of our fears can help identify to what degree we are children of God or children of the world. God is Spirit. His children are made in His image and will resemble His nature of Love.

Do we recognize our self as Spirit and know, “it is not by bread alone that people live, but by all that comes forth from the mouth of the LORD?” (Deut. 8:3)

Or, do our fears betray hearts longing for what the world has to offer, “…sensual lust, enticement for the eyes, and a pretentious life?” (1Jn.2:17)