(disclaimer: If I start to get really mushy and emotional at any point, please understand that this project is also REALLY making me miss Austria and I cannot contain the emotions it may stir up.)
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| This is how I feel some days. |
1. Greet Christ in every person you meet. He is there.
This seemingly very obvious advice was given to me by Sr. Miriam, T.O.R., towards the beginning of the semester before my travels had even really begun. It's one of those things we all know, "Christ is in each one of us" or "Let's see Christ in others," but when we see him or recognize His presence in those around us, how often do we greet Him there? It almost sounds a little awkward, to be honest. But I greet Him in the Eucharist and I greet Him when I see His hand in my day to day life, so why not in other people, whether I like them or not. That was perhaps the hardest part for me to get my mind around, that I had to greet Christ even in the people where it was hardest to recognize His face. Praise God, there are many, many people in my life that show Christ to me every day, but there are also those in whom I struggle to even remember to look for Him. For example, STRANGERS. When traveling across Europe, your one or two companions may be the only non-strangers you see for days. You have no choice but to take a running start and leap full-throttle out of your comfort zone and into the great wilderness beyond. From the Spar (grocery store) lady to the creepy guy in the Florence train station to your five new friends that you share a train car bed with for the next 7 hours, there are strangers running around like they own the place or they live there or something. It's madness. Here's where my lesson came in. Unfortunately, I naturally normally avoid talking to strangers if at all possible without being rude. However, when you first greet Christ in a person, they become like a familiar friend and you can easily engage. [I did this in my head of course, I'm laughing now because I'm picturing walking up to someone and being like "Hey, God, good to see you again so soon!" and then running away.] So I decided to start practicing this, because I ultimately wanted to make it a habit. Turns out it's actually pretty fun! I started in the hallways of the Kartause and pretty soon I was greeting Christ in the eyes of homeless people, businessmen, gypsies, young people, and even drunk people all across central Europe! He's everywhere! Even in the most dispairing places, He is there. Trust me, I spoke to Him myself.
This seemingly very obvious advice was given to me by Sr. Miriam, T.O.R., towards the beginning of the semester before my travels had even really begun. It's one of those things we all know, "Christ is in each one of us" or "Let's see Christ in others," but when we see him or recognize His presence in those around us, how often do we greet Him there? It almost sounds a little awkward, to be honest. But I greet Him in the Eucharist and I greet Him when I see His hand in my day to day life, so why not in other people, whether I like them or not. That was perhaps the hardest part for me to get my mind around, that I had to greet Christ even in the people where it was hardest to recognize His face. Praise God, there are many, many people in my life that show Christ to me every day, but there are also those in whom I struggle to even remember to look for Him. For example, STRANGERS. When traveling across Europe, your one or two companions may be the only non-strangers you see for days. You have no choice but to take a running start and leap full-throttle out of your comfort zone and into the great wilderness beyond. From the Spar (grocery store) lady to the creepy guy in the Florence train station to your five new friends that you share a train car bed with for the next 7 hours, there are strangers running around like they own the place or they live there or something. It's madness. Here's where my lesson came in. Unfortunately, I naturally normally avoid talking to strangers if at all possible without being rude. However, when you first greet Christ in a person, they become like a familiar friend and you can easily engage. [I did this in my head of course, I'm laughing now because I'm picturing walking up to someone and being like "Hey, God, good to see you again so soon!" and then running away.] So I decided to start practicing this, because I ultimately wanted to make it a habit. Turns out it's actually pretty fun! I started in the hallways of the Kartause and pretty soon I was greeting Christ in the eyes of homeless people, businessmen, gypsies, young people, and even drunk people all across central Europe! He's everywhere! Even in the most dispairing places, He is there. Trust me, I spoke to Him myself.
2. Mercy is real and overflowing.
I will write more on how I actually learned the meaning of mercy later, but I believe this "thing" came from a mental image, if you will, that I experienced just before I left for Austria, and that I carried with me through the countless churches and cathedrals and little chapels in my travels. One day during Mass, I was walking up the aisle for communion, eyes glued to Christ's side where His love and mercy very literally poured out. I had this overwhelming sense that that mercy was not trickling, not even spilling, but WASHING down the crucifix, past the altar and down the aisle like a whitewater river. I was wading waist deep in the flow, pushing my way to the front of the church where my Lord was waiting to touch me. I would have been content to drown in that gift of undeserved mercy. He doesn't just give the expected, He offers more than we can even fathom possible. This imagery has helped me immensely to focus on the massiveness of Who I am about to receive, rather than which eucharistic minister I go to or the person's cool braid in front of me in line. More to come on this from Poland...
I will write more on how I actually learned the meaning of mercy later, but I believe this "thing" came from a mental image, if you will, that I experienced just before I left for Austria, and that I carried with me through the countless churches and cathedrals and little chapels in my travels. One day during Mass, I was walking up the aisle for communion, eyes glued to Christ's side where His love and mercy very literally poured out. I had this overwhelming sense that that mercy was not trickling, not even spilling, but WASHING down the crucifix, past the altar and down the aisle like a whitewater river. I was wading waist deep in the flow, pushing my way to the front of the church where my Lord was waiting to touch me. I would have been content to drown in that gift of undeserved mercy. He doesn't just give the expected, He offers more than we can even fathom possible. This imagery has helped me immensely to focus on the massiveness of Who I am about to receive, rather than which eucharistic minister I go to or the person's cool braid in front of me in line. More to come on this from Poland...
3. Make time to listen to God instead of your own thoughts.
I have found no better way to listen to God than in the silence of the dead of night. Over the course of the semester, I snagged a few 4AM holy hours. Sounds good until you have seen the Kartause in the dead of night in mid February. I'm talking pitch dark hallways, creaking windows, flickering lights, blinding snowfall, not a soul awake...you get the picture. If you know me, then you know that my sleep would not be interrupted by a freight train in the room, let alone a walk in the snow with the high potential for monsters joining me. But at 4AM your brain is sluggish and your judgment is hazy and you make rash decisions to go anyway. My brain was also too sleepy to try to argue with God or even have its own thoughts, so all I could do was stand there (I often had to stand to stay awake) and listen. Those were precious hours and much was heard, since my own babbling was temporarily switched off. I was able to really meet Him in that stillness and solitude.
I wouldn't normally recommend praying half-asleep, but it was an unexplainable phenomenon that you just have to try to believe!
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| The walk to the Chapel at night. Scary, right? |
I have found no better way to listen to God than in the silence of the dead of night. Over the course of the semester, I snagged a few 4AM holy hours. Sounds good until you have seen the Kartause in the dead of night in mid February. I'm talking pitch dark hallways, creaking windows, flickering lights, blinding snowfall, not a soul awake...you get the picture. If you know me, then you know that my sleep would not be interrupted by a freight train in the room, let alone a walk in the snow with the high potential for monsters joining me. But at 4AM your brain is sluggish and your judgment is hazy and you make rash decisions to go anyway. My brain was also too sleepy to try to argue with God or even have its own thoughts, so all I could do was stand there (I often had to stand to stay awake) and listen. Those were precious hours and much was heard, since my own babbling was temporarily switched off. I was able to really meet Him in that stillness and solitude.
I wouldn't normally recommend praying half-asleep, but it was an unexplainable phenomenon that you just have to try to believe!
great stuff. Keep posting these Corinne!
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