
Solitude
Feast of the Holy Trinity
Deuteronomy 4:32-34, 39-40; Romans 8:14-17; Matthew 28:16-20
We often think of “solitude” as a time of being alone, meditating, “but that is not the solitude of St. John the Baptist, of St. Anthony or St. Benedict, of Charles de Foucault or the brothers of Taize. For them solitude is not a private therapeutic place. Rather, it is a place of conversion, the place where the old self dies and the new self is born, the place where the emergence of the new man and the new woman occurs (Nouwen).”
Through the past months of the pandemic, as death has been near, on the streets and in the hospital, seeing people suffer, die alone, and homeless, I have become more and more “professional”-[-distant, closing the door of my heart to prevent pain.
And suddenly on March 26, talking to a young man on zoom, his blood covers the screen as he dies, and the words of Rabindranath Tagore’s describe my response: “Within me there is a great disturbance/that has broken down all bars and doors.” Suddenly as Neil Douglas-Klotz notes “You thought you were going in one direction and toward a specific goal, but a mysterious doorway has appeared that seems to lead in a new direction.”
I was startled awake this morning by a nightmare of being covered in blood, seeing all the ways in which I have hurt people through the years, and of complicity in hurting people:
“The door swings open,
you look in:
It’s dark in there,
most likely spiders,
nothing you want.
You feel scared.
The door swings closed.
(Margaret Atwood).
The door swings shut when I let “self-pity” enter into my soul–but in opening the door, having the willingness to go within, inviting faith into that solitude, finding inner strength growth will come, finding conversion within.
In the painting above we find a picture of all of us, we are a mixture of grey–good and bad, for as “sinners” we hurt ourselves through the hurting of our community.
I am getting a tattoo tomorrow of a red rose, to remind me of the Crucifixion Christ which cleanses us of our “sin”, by entering into our humanity in his fullness, giving us a new chance every day.
Thomas Merton offers of confidence about the inward journey, on which we can find strength for the days ahead, and a time of seeing the redeeming power of Christ in our lives, and our lives being surrounding by the Creator, Redeemer, and the Holy Spirit:
The Christ we seek is within us, in our inmost self, is our inmost self, and yet infinitely transcends ourselves. This is the very root of our being. Therefore, what are we called to do is to live as habitually and constantly as possible with great simplicity on this level of love which proceeds from the depth of our own being where Christ reigns and loves. This is a dimension of love which no one can take away unless we close the door ourselves and no one can bring it in unless we open the door to Christ, opening our hearts to Christ dwelling there.
Let us stand before the door of our hearts and open them. Remember Revelation 3:21: “Anyone who proves victorious I will allow to share my throne, just as I have myself overcome and have taken my seat with my Father on his throne. Let anyone who can hear, listen to what the Spirit is saving to the churches.”
In solitude, the Holy One stands at the door we are to open. Do not be afraid. Love in the fullest form accompanies us. Take a deep breath. Unlock the door. Reach slowly for the handle, and swing wide the door of your heart. In opening the door of our heart we find our hearts being converted into love. We move out to love our neighbor. Change only comes when hearts are converted. No law brings lasting change, but only in our hearts changing to love, seeing our neighbor as ourselves. for in the words of Fred Rogers: Love isn’t a state of perfect caring. It is an active noun like “struggle.” In the Name of the Creator,
Redeemer,
and Sustainer.
Amen.
—————-
Fr. River Damien Sims, sfw, D.Min., D.S.T.
P.O. Bos 642656
San Francisco, CA 94164
415-305-2124