But far be it from me to glory except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. (Galatians 6:14)
Increasingly I have been drawn to examples of monks and saints who gave up everything for Christ, that is, they died (or are dying) to the world. I read the words of Saint Paul above and I think, “I, and nearly every Christian I’ve ever known personally, have never taken those words seriously.”
I have written a lot on this site about my journey of faith from Protestantism to the Catholic Church. I have covered topics about tradition and liturgy, politics and culture, scripture and prayer, and a lot of other things of interest to me. I regularly read the Bible and pray, I go to confession and I go to Mass/Divine Liturgy, I even sang in the church choir for a while, but I feel as though I’m always standing at a threshold looking in the direction of some deeper desire that I am perpetually unwilling to fully acknowledge and embrace.
For if I do embrace it… I know I shall die.
And he said to all, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23)
Slowly, every so slowly, I’ve been coming to the realization that the answer to LIFE is DEATH.
Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. (John 12:24-25)
Can I truly fully acknowledge and embrace these words of Christ, words that, having read many times over, I rationalized and never accepted their clear demands? Am I willing to die, to give up my passions, to die to the world? Am I willing, even able, to hate my life? And if I am, what will that look like, what will be asked of me? What are the actions, the tasks, the daily choices I must make? How do I commit to such an endeavor? This, I believe, is that threshold before me.
Beneath the brittle surface,
The vain, self-interested, clinging love,
The maddening longing,
Which only obscures what lies below,
There is a silently flowing river:
A river of compassion, bowels of mercy,
A feeling of the other’s pain,
Flowing into a vast, vast ocean of sorrow.
It is the sorrow of a great funeral:
The death of sensual self-love.
Although it is a sorrow,
One enters it willingly, with joy,
For there is such tenderness in its pain.
And at last, in this sorrow,
There is perfect freedom.
This is the love that never dies, never fails:
A proof of immortality.
This is the pain that the everlasting Way
Embraced willingly, sharing our pain.
This is the cross that He asks us to bear.
This is the death that He asks us to die.
And at last, in this death,
There is perfect peace.
(from Christ the Eternal Tao, chapter 39, by Hieromonk Damascene)
pilgrimakimbo 