A
AlanFromWichita
Guest
You know, after all of this, and reflecting on Romans 8, it seems a rude priest wouldn’t even scratch the surface of our peace, but then it occurred to me. I am quite a person to lecture on rude priests, as once I was so angry with one that for several years I was hoping he would die so I could desecrate his grave. Eventually I one-upped myself and started telling myself he wasn’t worth it, and I wouldn’t desecrate his grave if it required walking more than 20 feet out of my way. That was my pride, knowing I didn’t want to do such a thing, and coming up with an excuse to back off my threat without losing that good ol’ pride.
Note that this is from a man who lost his sanity and career, and raised six children in poverty because at a very delicate time in my life, a priest was so mean to me (a priest who is well known across the diocese for his meanness and for breaking promises he makes to people) that right after he screamed at me to get out and stay out I ran out of the cathedral so fast I was literally tripping over my own feet. On the way out I spat upon the cornerstone, saying, “I will shake the dust off my feet.” By the time I got to the car about 60 feet away I repented and drove directly to my ex-pastor’s retirement apartment, got on my knees on his living room floor, and asked if I had excommunicated myself and he said I did not. I asked if he would forgive me for spitting on the cathedral, and he said he could not – because I had not sinned. I am SOOO glad that I went to him because within a few hours I was captured and locked up against my will in a psychiatric ward. That was on June 8, 2001. First I heard of the “spiritual journey” was on July 11, 2001, when I first met with a spiritual director and began this ten year road to sanity, the Lord having seen fit to restore my mind better than before. It seemed like hell at first, then purgatory for almost 10 years, and now it’s nothing but peace, joy, and a sensation of profound freedom of mind and heart. And guess who I have to thank for it? That mean priest. For the first time since 6/8/01, I think I can honestly say, “Thank you, Father C. You will never know how much you’ve done for me.” Oh, and get this: a couple months after my lockup, just before he retired, the outgoing bishop promoted Father C to monsignor because the bishop liked his writing. Who says God doesn’t have a sense of humor? Actually he does write well, and now he’s retired but I still read his column in the weekly diocese newspaper about the week’s scriptures.
Wow. Wow. All of a sudden I don’t want him to die any more. Plus I feel a call to do something kind for him or for someone else on his behalf. Maybe I just did.
“Lord, thank you for Father C. I pray that he lives in ever increasing peace, both now and after he dies. I am sorry for what I have thought about him, but You knew what was to come and I didn’t and now I see how silly I was being. Now that you’ve revealed your plan for me, to me, I am absolutely in awe of Your power and mercy. I thank you for my life as well as that of everyone else in the creation, for this beautiful garden of life that you have given us.”
I wonder if the Tree of Knowledge was actually a manifestation of Christ? It was like in the matrix, take the blue pill or the red pill. Adam chose the “red pill,” just as I hope I would opt for Truth over Comfort.
Along those same lines, consider what is “real” and what isn’t. Our minds can make all the difference in how the world appears to us, even though the appearance doesn’t always change for others when it changes for us. I have a great deal of experience at my mind looking at the same world as others, or the same world I’d seen before, but it looks, sounds, smells, and feels totally different. (There are some advantages to having been psychotic.) I feel very strongly that our reality is what we make it – and at some level what our mind chooses that reality to be.
Alan
Note that this is from a man who lost his sanity and career, and raised six children in poverty because at a very delicate time in my life, a priest was so mean to me (a priest who is well known across the diocese for his meanness and for breaking promises he makes to people) that right after he screamed at me to get out and stay out I ran out of the cathedral so fast I was literally tripping over my own feet. On the way out I spat upon the cornerstone, saying, “I will shake the dust off my feet.” By the time I got to the car about 60 feet away I repented and drove directly to my ex-pastor’s retirement apartment, got on my knees on his living room floor, and asked if I had excommunicated myself and he said I did not. I asked if he would forgive me for spitting on the cathedral, and he said he could not – because I had not sinned. I am SOOO glad that I went to him because within a few hours I was captured and locked up against my will in a psychiatric ward. That was on June 8, 2001. First I heard of the “spiritual journey” was on July 11, 2001, when I first met with a spiritual director and began this ten year road to sanity, the Lord having seen fit to restore my mind better than before. It seemed like hell at first, then purgatory for almost 10 years, and now it’s nothing but peace, joy, and a sensation of profound freedom of mind and heart. And guess who I have to thank for it? That mean priest. For the first time since 6/8/01, I think I can honestly say, “Thank you, Father C. You will never know how much you’ve done for me.” Oh, and get this: a couple months after my lockup, just before he retired, the outgoing bishop promoted Father C to monsignor because the bishop liked his writing. Who says God doesn’t have a sense of humor? Actually he does write well, and now he’s retired but I still read his column in the weekly diocese newspaper about the week’s scriptures.
Wow. Wow. All of a sudden I don’t want him to die any more. Plus I feel a call to do something kind for him or for someone else on his behalf. Maybe I just did.
“Lord, thank you for Father C. I pray that he lives in ever increasing peace, both now and after he dies. I am sorry for what I have thought about him, but You knew what was to come and I didn’t and now I see how silly I was being. Now that you’ve revealed your plan for me, to me, I am absolutely in awe of Your power and mercy. I thank you for my life as well as that of everyone else in the creation, for this beautiful garden of life that you have given us.”
I wonder if the Tree of Knowledge was actually a manifestation of Christ? It was like in the matrix, take the blue pill or the red pill. Adam chose the “red pill,” just as I hope I would opt for Truth over Comfort.
Along those same lines, consider what is “real” and what isn’t. Our minds can make all the difference in how the world appears to us, even though the appearance doesn’t always change for others when it changes for us. I have a great deal of experience at my mind looking at the same world as others, or the same world I’d seen before, but it looks, sounds, smells, and feels totally different. (There are some advantages to having been psychotic.) I feel very strongly that our reality is what we make it – and at some level what our mind chooses that reality to be.
Alan
