Father Alexander Men teaches that God has given us two books: the book of nature and the book of the Bible. That is to say, hidden within nature there is something of God's knowledge, presence, pointing or creative imagination to be discovered.
At least in the northern hemisphere it's the season of autumn. We call it the fall as we watch the leaves, having completed the hard work of providing oxygen, shade and air purification, now drop or fall from the trees.
So what's the book of nature teaching us now - in October? I might ask of myself or of my family, "What do I need to drop in order to become a healthier or more evolved and whole human person?" "What resistance do we need to drop as a family (or as a couple) in order to possess more fully human hearts?"
It is very wonderful to note that behind every dropped leaf there's next year's leaf bud. Very small and brown with a hardened shell to protect from the winter's cold, there it is - a tiny promise of hope, growth, joy and possibility.
Some leaves hold on tighter than others. The dead leaves of an oak tree hang on even through the winter and won't drop until the spring. So, in my inner life, my emotional or behavioral life, what am I holding on to so tightly because I don't yet trust there is the little bud of promise behind the surrender?
The folks who try to live by the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous understand this. Their meetings are often held in church basements. And so it's sometimes said that there's more spirituality going on in the downstairs church than the upstairs church. Downstairs, people are wrestling mightily with these issues of surrender and letting go, to be more human, healed and whole persons, while upstairs, (perhaps), the sermon is half-baked, the one verse of the hymn is sung without luster, the scriptures are read without reflection and the prayers recited from monotonous memory. No questions asked.
Maybe we could all find a particularly beautiful fallen leaf this year and take it with us to church - contemplating it before Mass begins: asking ourselves about the letting go and belief in the promise-of-life-bud right behind.
So what's the book of nature teaching us now - in October? I might ask of myself or of my family, "What do I need to drop in order to become a healthier or more evolved and whole human person?" "What resistance do we need to drop as a family (or as a couple) in order to possess more fully human hearts?"
It is very wonderful to note that behind every dropped leaf there's next year's leaf bud. Very small and brown with a hardened shell to protect from the winter's cold, there it is - a tiny promise of hope, growth, joy and possibility.
Some leaves hold on tighter than others. The dead leaves of an oak tree hang on even through the winter and won't drop until the spring. So, in my inner life, my emotional or behavioral life, what am I holding on to so tightly because I don't yet trust there is the little bud of promise behind the surrender?
The folks who try to live by the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous understand this. Their meetings are often held in church basements. And so it's sometimes said that there's more spirituality going on in the downstairs church than the upstairs church. Downstairs, people are wrestling mightily with these issues of surrender and letting go, to be more human, healed and whole persons, while upstairs, (perhaps), the sermon is half-baked, the one verse of the hymn is sung without luster, the scriptures are read without reflection and the prayers recited from monotonous memory. No questions asked.
Maybe we could all find a particularly beautiful fallen leaf this year and take it with us to church - contemplating it before Mass begins: asking ourselves about the letting go and belief in the promise-of-life-bud right behind.
