: Albert Haase, Albert Haase, OFM
: Becoming an Ordinary Mystic Spirituality for the Rest of Us
: IVP Formatio
: 9780830870578
: 1
: CHF 14.00
:
: Religion/Theologie
: English
: 176
: Wasserzeichen
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
I should be further along on the spiritual journey. Why don't I see any progress? What am I doing wrong? Do you ever feel like you are walking in spiritual circles? While we might think it would be different for a Franciscan priest, Father Albert Haase shares the same struggles. And yet he also affirms that we are all called to be ordinary mystics, who, in the words of his own spiritual director, are 'ordinary Christians who do what we are all called to do: respond to grace.'Learning to be a mystic is about cultivating a life with God in which we draw close, listen, and respond moment to moment. We know we will fail at times, but we can also be certain that we follow a God who never stops reaching out to us. This book offers a daily path to making the connection.

Albert Haase, O.F.M. (Ph.D., Fordham University), is adjunct professor of spirituality at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago, Illinois. He is also director of the School of Spirituality at Mayslake Ministries in Westmont, Illinois. A former missionary to mainland China for over a decade, he is the coauthor of Enkindled and the author of Instruments of Christ (both published by St. Anthony Messenger Press).

Chapter 1


RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW


MINDFULNESS BREEDS MYSTICISM


I had just flown back to Texas the night before, and here I was again at the Dallas–Ft. Worth International Airport, preparing to fly to San Diego where I would preach for five days. Having been on the road preaching and teaching for three consecutive weeks, I was weary. Luckily, because I am a Premier 1K frequent flyer on United Airlines, I received a free upgrade to first class.

I boarded the plane, settled into my seat, and searched the free television shows on the screen in front of me. I also sipped some orange juice, stretched my legs, and looked forward to some rest during the three-hour flight to California.

Once we reached our cruising attitude of thirty-seven thousand feet, the pilot welcomed us and turned off the “Fasten Seat Belts” sign. By this time, I was thoroughly engrossed in a movie and enjoying myself. Suddenly a question came out of nowhere.Did I lock my car before leaving the airport parking lot? I became distracted and unsettled. The question niggled at the back of my mind. I shifted in my seat and asked myself again,Did I ordidn’t I lock the car? I couldn’t remember hearing the car beep, indicating it had been locked. Before long, I was beating myself up.How could I have been so foolish and irresponsible? What if someone breaks into my car?

Though physically I was in the first-class cabin thirty-seven thousand feet in the sky, mentally I was still on the ground, stuck in the DFW airport parking lot with guilt from the past and worry about the future. I was again in two places at once.

STUCK IN THE AIRPORT PARKING LOT


Many of us experience this divisive bilocation. Some of us are here and yet we live in the past, beating ourselves up with guilt for something we did days, months, or even years ago. Kieran lives with the daily guilt that his drinking has destroyed his family. Jason bitterly regrets waiting a day before returning to his mother’s bedside; she died early that morning. Marge wishes she could erase last year’s act of infidelity. The Chinese say, “Don’t let yesterday use up too much of today,” but some people allow it to do just that. Guilt drains us emotionally, keeping us morosely self-absorbed and unable to be present to the moment at hand.

Others are like Marc. “I’m a worry wart,” he confessed. “I fret over whether I’ll have enough money saved for my retirement. I lose sleep over my children and the choices they are making. I stew over tomorrow’s staff meeting and agonize,Do I have everything prepared that my boss wants?” People like Marc bite their fingernails and obsess over things they cannot control. A Chinese proverb says, “That the birds of worry and care fly over your head, this you cannot change; but that they build nests in your hair, this you can prevent.”

A newborn baby, on the other hand, doesn’t know the past or future. An infant lives in the present moment. When she is hungry, she cries. When he sees something pleasurable, he smiles. An infant demonstrates that guilt, worry, and anxiety are not natural. These responses arelearned as we grow up and mature: “Just wait until your father gets home!” teaches the young boy to feel guilty; ov