divine will, my will, or both?

By wanderlust in celibacy 0 Comment
This entry is part 3 of 3 in the series the practice of celibacy

Reflecting on how the will of Jesus is at the heart of his disciple, (“If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? Follow me!””) I see once again how I’ve always been intrigued by the interplay between God’s will and my own.

– Should I strive to do God’s will alone? If so, to what extent? Is his will meant to annihilate my will, even in humble obedience? Does his will extend to what kind of butter to add to my bread or is it limited to serving others when the need spontaneously calls?
– Is God’s will fixed or does it have a dynamic interplay with my own freedom?
– Perhaps God’s will is something you suffer, more than enact.

Just asking myself these questions out loud brings an answer of peace: yes, to all my questions.
Discernment is important, crucial, even.
But the passage of following Jesus (Jn 21,15-24]] ) is said in the context of loving Jesus,  not in one of compliance or emulation. Three times the Lord asks Peter if he love’s him. Three times the Lord emphasizes what must be the focus of the disciple. Only then, does He command to the one that has already been following to follow Him.
After the Lord asserts that it is His will that sustains life in his disciples, his command is not to  do my will. His command is follow me.

Do you agape me more than these?
Do you agape me more than these?
Do you phileo me more than these?
Another will gird and take you where you do not want to go – do not resist his will
Follow me!
If it is my will he remain until I come, what is that to you?
Follow me!

Three elements: Love Jesus, be sustained by his will, follow him.

It’s essential to know the heart of Jesus before obedience comes to play, to know the heart of the lawgiver before the law. THAT’s why he asks Peter whether he loves Him before he calls him to feed His flock, to stretch his hands, and to follow His will.

This passage speaks of the the interplay in the heart of the disciple of one’s personal will and the will of his Lord. It almost seems like the will of his Master will be done regardless. Christ seems to only ask that Peter follow with his heart.

Let’s talk about what following with one’s heart mean, let’s talk about love.

Love begins and grows with an act of faith in the goodness of the other’s existence. Love for Christ involves a commitment to the goodness of the person of Jesus and the goodness of His Will in my life.
Celibacy grows in the context of this conviction of Christ’s goodness and extends to the goodness of my own flesh, and even the goodness of my struggle and the goodness of experiencing myself as as a sexual being.
But, how does faith in the goodness of someone grow? How does love grow? How does love for Christ, love fore His will, love for my own flesh, and love for my struggle grow? Quite simply through constant contemplation we arrive to the ‘goodness’ of something, as the creation story in Genesis says.

The “flesh” is not something I have to put with as physical creature, rather “the flesh is the hinge of salvation,” as Tertulian would say. If my gaze is fixed on my Lord, my sexual experience and sexual desire is a way of loving him. If I focus on the moral imperative, the psychological resolve, or pride, then, in seeking my life, I have already lost it.

There is not a soul that can at all procure salvation, except it believe whilst it is in the flesh, so true is it that the flesh is the very condition on which salvation hinges. And since the soul is, in consequence of its salvation, chosen to the service of God, it is the flesh which actually renders it capable of such service. – Tertulian.

Perhaps love is as much a matter of attention (keeping my gaze in Christ asking me “Do you love me more than you love these?”) as much as it is an action (“then, follow me!”).
Could temptation be that moment of Jesus asking me, “Do you love me more than you love this?” – I could only find the strength, like Peter, to answer his question as I look into his eyes, as I keep my attention in the goodness and beauty of the One asking. He is there. Within me. Suffering with me.

It is essential that love be the motor to celibacy.

So if, by love and right living, you wash off the filth that has become stuck to your heart, the divine beauty will shine forth in you. Think of iron, which at one moment is dark and tarnished and the next, once the rust has been scraped off, shines and glistens brightly in the sun. It is the same with the inner core of man, which the Lord calls the heart.It has been in damp and foul places and is covered in patches of rust; but once the rust has been scraped off, it will recover itself and once more resemble its archetype. And so it will be good, since what resembles the good must be good itself.

Therefore, whoever looks at himself sees in himself what he desires. And whoever is pure in heart is blessed because, seeing his own purity, he sees the archetype reflected in the image. If you see the sun in a mirror then you are not looking directly at the sky, but still you are seeing the sun just as much as someone who looks directly at it. In the same way, the Lord is saying, although you do not have the strength to withstand the direct sight of the great and inaccessible light of God, if you look within yourselves once you have returned to the grace of the image that was placed in you from the beginning, you will find in yourselves all that you seek. – homily on the Beatitudes by St Gregory of Nyssa

 

To become one’s own man

By wanderlust in Uncategorized 0 Comment
This entry is part 2 of 3 in the series the practice of celibacy

 

Richard Sipe, the ex-benedictine monk-priest who dedicated his career of psychotherapy to research clerical abuse in the Catholic Church and celibacy, says that

 

The successful celibate has become his own man, in spite of a system that reinforces and rewards the opposite type of consciousness and behavior.

 

 

Sipe links celibacy with an identity so individualized, so concrete, that the journey is not (cannot be?) institutionally instructed. What does it mean to be “one’s own”? It is a journey of assimilating one’s own nature, but even more than one’s nature: How precisely that nature is individualized in one’s being, one’s haecceity [1]haecceity (from the Latin haecceitas, which translates as “thisness”) is a term from medieval scholastic philosophy, first coined by followers of Duns Scotus to denote a concept that he … Continue reading

In a way, I am called to take possession of this promised land which is my individualized nature, to take possession of what has been given to me. Like the Jewish people, I cannot do it on my own, but I know I am called to do it. I prayer for the wisdom, the courage, and the perseverance to be able to receive this gift of being my own man.

However, I begin to realize that taking possession will not be effective if it is down as an act of the will. Or rather, that this act of the will must have a greater object to pursue beyond conquering of self – after all, the conquering of self would only represent a triumph of a pride. Rather, this movement of conquering must be born of and done out of love for the Lover. Even more, it must be done as gift to the Lover, not even as a way of manipulating Him to give us that which we desire. In other words, I must love with such a detached love that if I’m not given what I pray, I may end up loving even more.

All things were given to me from the moment when I no longer sought them. [2]St John of the Cross

 

What does this speak to me of?
That celibacy is about loving, actionable renunciation. Emphasis on the first word: loving; without it, celibacy is just ego-based ego-seeking asceticism. And part of love entails not just action, but has an element of affect, of heartfelt delight.

References

References
↑1 haecceity (from the Latin haecceitas, which translates as “thisness”) is a term from medieval scholastic philosophy, first coined by followers of Duns Scotus to denote a concept that he seems to have originated: the irreducible determination of a thing that makes it this particular thing. Haecceity is a person’s or object’s thisness, the individualising difference between the concept “a man” and the concept “Socrates” (i.e., a specific person). In modern philosophy of physics, it is sometimes referred to as primitive thisness.
↑2 St John of the Cross

to be one

By wanderlust in poem 0 Comment

to be one

i can feel the power of seeing, of truth
and the boil of blood
that negates nothing of the real,
as it presents itself just

so to feel the strength of the emotions accepted,
at a distance sustained, and spoken truth to
by this governing mind.

to be a master of self,
to be One, with might
to be closer to true Self
and to see it in delight

the tension, the music, of what is to become one
from the passions many,
from the multiple selves
governed by, becoming: One.

little thing I am,
but by this I am hurled:
when i’m master of my self
i’m master of the world

celibacy, gift or practice?

By wanderlust in celibacy 0 Comment
This entry is part 1 of 3 in the series the practice of celibacy

Is celibacy a gift or a practice?

Mt 19:12 teaches that some are *born* eunuchs, others are *made* so, and still others *choose* to live as such for the sake of the kingdom of heaven.

Sexuality has always played a powerful role in my life. I have approached this mystery at times with disgust in my childhood, at others with obsession in my teenage years, later with fear of bondage and despair. And, of course, as a Millennial, with the Internet. Always. The Internet.
I was exposed to sexual images in Middle School and, since then, I’ve been hooked – my drug of choice. Throughout the years, I’ve moved through different genres and media: from pictures and videos to webcams.

Now, sexual desire for me has also always been a deeply spiritual force, one that has, of course, related to sin, but also with spiritual ecstasy. The idea of celibacy started appealing to me. I knew that sex could not satisfy the deepest cravings of my sexual desires. I read the mystics. And I envied them.

I believe that celibacy is a practice. And I believe that it’s also the most sexually rewarding way to live one’s spiritual life. But I have also been in sexual bondage for the most part of my life.

With this series I would like to accomplish one thing: to focus my attention on the practice of celibacy in my daily life., i.e., how I choose to live this life, in the hopes that the Giver of All Gifts will, in his heart, bless me with this gift. Just like a marriage requires special attentions for healthy communication, expression of affections, education of children, and moments of grief and healing; likewise, I believe that a life of celibacy also requires deliberate attention, especially in these times of technocracy and self-referential nihilism.

For the above reasons, I will write one blog entry a day for the next six months. I will write daily posts in the form of a reflection of the day and a weekly post as a reflection on concepts that I can apply to my life of celibacy.

caressing i knows

By wanderlust in poem 0 Comment

caressing i knows

i witnessed this week a sort of great battle
a serpent and the woman, and a child in between

with tensed and curled tendons
the child was seduced
his neck in full bondage
and nose to some shit

she whispered through some memory
of sweet power anew
“one that’s so distant,
it only lies in you”

and i contemplated,
detached and deranged
this one sweet battle
not wanting to want
but tequila in my veins

for seventy one hours the struggle ensued
the fake freedom of the spectator,
with cowardice imbued

the child and the man
each other’s power invoking
to be one with the other

yet desiring another

the tail in his neck
curled oh so sweetly
inviting it further to lose itself
finally surrender, completely

her aroma enveloped
created before all things
as when she had taken flesh to give life
she sweetened the grip, an offer

breath of suggestion
and terrible freedom

choose me,
the man cries out
with Her sun in his heart

look at me
i will hold you
i know who you are

to see you and feel you
your bitter pain past
choose me come to me
i’ll be your home at last

i know your true name

amidst sobs of loss
the pain that just flows
father holding son
in caressing iknows

logic of life

By wanderlust in poem 0 Comment

Unblossomed

the only logic in life is dance,

.

to protest against the monochromatic life of grace
.
where the psyche is seduced by truth,
.
from where everything beautiful in life comes.
.
writing is just another form of vomiting,
.
that anxious thought of dying unbloomed.

Foto here

born

By wanderlust in reflections 0 Comment

Born

Every man is born into specific social-cultural circumstances. Capitalism, rationalism, idealism, scientificism, individualism, freedom, democracy, Christianity, Islam, all different approaches to answer the same question: what is man?

We are all defined from birth. We did not choose to be born into this conditioning space, but we were. We are so determined by these circumstances in that it affects everything from the way we speak and our social conventions to our worldview and how we see life and existence itself.

So, if I was born in the Western world, I lead my life by values inherited by Christianity—e.g. though I may consider myself the most atheist of post-modern post-Christianity, I can still be guided by an inherent Christian belief that every individual human being is endowed with a dignity, which I call person). I carry with me my family’s preconceptions, my home city’s idioms and its sociolect; and, if English were my native tongue the verb “to be” would determine my thought patterns, whereas if Spanish were my mother tongue, my worldview would be inherently colored by my differentiating between “ser” and “estar.”

Sexuality, country of origin, height, education level, history, psycho-sociological wounds, family background, father and mother “figures,” all define my experience of life in some way. But, at at the end of each day I am confronted, in the silence of my pillow, with the same ineludible fact: I am. Each  of these two words a mystery and a cause of anxious thought for the apprehensive mind. Now, I can—in a more or less conscious manner—choose to alleviate the sting of the question by trying to respond by pointing to possessions, a credo, accomplishments, my memory (or the story I tell myself about my past), a specific physical, intellectual, or sexual attribute, or any other existential palliative; but the fact remains: I am; and how I answer to this statement will dictate every word and action of who is “me”.

Now, some choose to answer to this statement in a univalent way: I am my religion; I am my sexuality; I am my past or my future; I am my illness; I am my professional prestige or my social recognition. I am Christian. I am bi. I am a cancer survivor. I am an entrepreneur. I am poor. I am successful. The danger of this lies in that it is always a reductionist view not only of man, but of being itself. And the truth, as always, is found in the tension; like music is found dormant on the stretching of the strings of the violin. Truth is much more mystery than it is factuality. To “be” is to lay open to mystery, and not try bastardize what “is” to our little boxes of understanding. The Truth of I am is… I. Am.

Photo: Sculpture by Antony Gormley

 

faith in meaning

By wanderlust in reflections 0 Comment

to_completely_dissolve_by_deadendsoul-d5ypfsc

Why do we smile when someone takes a picture of us? Something happens when a person sees a photograph of himself, a certain relationship develops between the present version of himself and the past one, a dialogue is born. It is in the fog of memory where we seek the hope that our life has had direction and meaning—where it tries to explain and convince herself, a solace where the mind projects, that the life it has led has value in how it has responded to the vicissitudes of Being.
Maybe that’s why we smile; so that, when we see the photograph, we let our past presence convince us that it has purpose.
The enterprise of professional funeral photographer has not yet germinated. That person would surely seek to capture the full ethos of the moment: individual photographs, now just the siblings, now a group shot. He would zoom-in at  the long faces, letting the tears swell. “Everybody say cheese!” Tag. #MissYouBert.
We feel the need to justify ourselves, to tell ourselves that life has been good and relevant and happy. No regrets. After all, that is the thelos of all human life.
The deep, resounding bells arrive, those constant, existential caresses that remind us that life—that which we call “life”—will end; sowing in our spirit the memory that we will have but one last conscious thought, and then, our vision will blacken. Every cell of our body will stay quiet, and our presence will be immobile; and our body shall be received by the darkness of the earth.
Perhaps, in those moments we will ask ourselves the important questions, those which we passed our entire life avoiding. And we will bring to our mind the good things, everything we have valued until then—our loved ones, possessions, resentments; and we will try to respond with our old molds, our smiling photographs. But, In the face of imminent silence, they would, too, prove ineffective. As our heart begins to languish, those questions pick up force. What am I? What is to become of me? What purpose did my life have? We will possibly think of a god—that self-forged image we called god, to whom we rendered tribute. If not by our good actions we will seek to numb the questions with the belief that our intentions were noble; but even that idea would seem to not console at the sound of the aborning death rattle. The heart squeezes one last time. Our mind begins to cool; and, with a light taste of vomit at the mouth, with a tear drying on cheek, and the questions lingering still, we will sigh one final time. And the memory of our life will live through a couple of dissolving prayers.
Ultimately, death is an act of faith.
Picture: To comlpetely dissolve, by deadendsoul

yours is the earth

By wanderlust in poem 0 Comment

Milky Way

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son.

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son.

“If,” poem by Rudyard Kipling, 1895

Photo: Milky Way, by Mihoko Ogaki