Beauty in All Things

This article ran previously on Catholic.mom.com.

"The beauty of Creation reflects the infinite Beauty of the Creator."(Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraph 341)

I live in New England--the quintessential capital of stunningly beautiful fall foliage. These cool, brisk days bring my sweaters out of hiding and a fondness for taking works breaks in the great outdoors just to drink in the beauty of my neighborhood. It renews me. I feel closer to God somehow in the midst of the majesty of creation. Watching falling leaves inspires me. I see the Artist's hand in their form and function. They speak to me in a rather mystical way.

By looking more closely at my surroundings, I see anew the ordinary objects in my daily life. They, too, preach a sermon and have a hidden beauty that only the eyes of love can see. Dishes in the sink reflect that we are eating well. Shoes piled up at the front door tell the story of family homecomings after the day's events. The indentations of sofa pillows hint at favorite gathering places.

Just as all creation echoes God's glory, and the love in family does indeed do the same, the creative acts of men and women are capable of revealing beauty. I've heard it said that beauty is truth reflected. The Catechism echoes this regarding art, music and the written word:

"Created "in the image of God," man also expresses the truth of his relationship with God the Creator by the beauty of his artistic works. Indeed, art is a distinctively human form of expression; beyond the search for the necessities of life which is common to all living creatures, art is a freely given superabundance of the human being's inner riches. Arising from talent given by the Creator and from man's own effort, art is a form of practical wisdom, uniting knowledge and skill, to give form to the truth of reality in a language accessible to sight or hearing. To the extent that itis inspired by truth and love of beings, art bears a certain likeness toGod's activity in what he has created. Like any other human activity, art is not an absolute end in itself, but is ordered to and ennobled by theultimate end of man. (CCC #2501)

And...

The fine arts, but above all sacred art, "of their nature are directedtoward expressing in some way the infinite beauty of God in works made byhuman hands. Their dedication to the increase of God's praise and of his gloryis more complete, the more exclusively they are devoted to turning men's mindsdevoutly toward God." (CCC #2513)

This brings me to my current musings regarding the sacred art and liturgical vessels that I see week to week at church. These days I am looking more closely for meaning in their form and function, trying to uncover the truth revealed by their beauty.

I regularly visit the adoration chapel in my parish church. The chapel's focus is the exposed presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist. And recently, as I sat praying alone with Christ present in the Blessed Sacrament, I noticed the flickering flame sanctuary candle's light. It's beauty was in its simplicity. Made by human hands, its gives witness to Who and What is present. And it "spoke" to me, much in the same way I described the autumn leaves and household objects. The sculptured art of the monstrance (the vessel that contains the exposed Holy Eucharist) drew me in even more. It too had "a voice," and it had a deeper message than the lamp. And so, allow me to conclude with some poetry that I have written about the light and the monstrance.

It is my hope that you will take a look around you and reflect on where you find beauty and why. But more important, I pray that you will reflect True Beauty in a life well-lived. For while the objects the poetry describes are inanimate, your life in Christ is animated by the life of the Spirit.

***

Sanctuary Lamp

I stand here straight and tall
A silent gentle flicker.
A reminder:"The light is on, come on in."
Someone is home.
I illuminate the way
But I am not the Way.

I point to the One who made me.
He is here in this place,in this moment.
I only hope to be a light
In His Presence which isAll Light, All Holiness;
To be aflame in this sanctuary
Burning until I am consumed.

***

Monstrance

Look straight to my center.
Hidden treasure awaits you,
So do not distract your gaze.
I may be golden, ornate, and bejeweled--
Not for my own beauty,
But to show Beauty.

Let me catch your eye
That you might see something more.
I am elevated that you might
See the Eye of Him who beholds you now.
He is my center--my reason to be.
My form is but a delicate embrace
To bear this Treasure within.

Look straight to my center.
Be drawn in.
Be with the Holy Presence.
Be.
And then, become.
Become one who beholds True Beauty.
Become one who bears this Treasure within.


Copyright 2006 Patricia W. Gohn

The Father who sees in secret-- and the Mother who cleans up the mess

This article appeared previously at CatholicMom.com.


True confession: I hate housework, but I’m learning to make peace with it. For years, I failed to embrace all things domestic. Of course, my family would never have survived this long without some household routines, but suffice to say, the discipline of keeping house was slow to develop in me.

I loved raising my children--all that nurturing and caring was very satisfying --but it's all rather messy. I never liked all the chores that went with the role. I failed to see housework connected to my vocation, and did not attach any meaning to it. In fact, I found it “kept me” from all the “other stuff” I wanted to do.

Looking back to my early mothering years, I most definitely suffered from "comparativitis." I was in awe of neighbors who grew vegetable gardens so their children could enjoy organic foods. Women who had time and skill to sew or crochet amazed me. I admired women who cooked with the zeal of Julia Child, others whose flair (and budgets) for interior design rivaled House Beautiful. I once met a delightful gal who LOVED to clean her house--really; vacuuming was "her thing." I was definitely out of their league. When my kids were small, most days my goal was to cook dinner each night, make the bed, and clear a path from the front door to the living room so my husband could walk in after work and not trip over anything!

It took me a while to realize that my gifts were elsewhere. But still, I was self-conscious about the inertia and drain I faced regarding housekeeping. Friends started noticing this shortcoming. They delighted in presenting me housewarming gifts--like plaques that read: Dull Women have Immaculate Homes, or, Feel free to write in my dust --just don't date it!

Over time I learned that my lacking domesticity was a latent rebellion of sorts to being the oldest child growing up. Being the oldest, naturally, my chore list always seemed the longest. I also got in trouble the most, and--you guessed it--got the extra chores. Chores kept me from the “other stuff” I so desperately wanted to do. So, for me, domestic chores were somehow linked with punishment or poor performance. Somewhere along the way, I missed the vital connection between loving your family by serving their temporal needs. It took me years to understand that my relationship with housework was dysfunctional.

Funny how we carry this baggage around without ever noticing it piled up in the various corners of our lives.

With the increasing clutter from years of marriage and three kids, I had to get better organized. Or at least, cultivate a better attitude. My servitude needed to become servanthood, (and my attitude needed a gratitude make-over.) This flaw was, in truth, selfishness. Frequently, I just did the minimum to get by. I needed to lay hold of a new image for myself as a woman who, among the other hats she wore, was the keeper of the house. I found it in the virtuous woman of Proverbs 31:27. “She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.” Now here’s a woman who understands the busyness of family life!

How could I “look well” over my household? First, I had to humble myself. If I was going to surrender my life totally to Christ, I had to give up the messy parts too. (Spiritual life isn’t just about interior life; it's about the exterior life too.) I really wanted to be a loving wife and mom AND keep a decent house that honored the Lord who lived there as well. I had to find ways to see that household chores really could be beneficial for my soul and vocation. In short, the path to humility started with my kitchen floor. I had to choose to walk that path, even when sticky. This was a fundamental shift in my thinking. The little mortifications of housework and family care were meant to sanctify me, to do the work on my soul that God intended. The ways of my household should reflect the ways of the Lord in my life: doing chores lovingly allowed me to touch the face of Jesus in those I served. More important, it found me on my knees as I searched to find him even amidst the crumbs, spills, stains, and messes in our home.

Second, choosing to change meant replacing the old tapes that played in my head about chores and hearing a new song playing (which literally means, when I’m cleaning, there’s loud praise music playing!) But it also meant I needed help for my household ways. (For those needing housekeeping encouragement and helpful tips, I recommend professionals like The Fly Lady and Messies Anonymous.

And so, armed with nothing more than my own chore list and a little bit of Scripture memory, I began to enlist mental prayers to find the blessing of chore time. I also applied scriptures, like Colossians 3:23: Whatever your task, work heartily, as serving the Lord and not men. This was especially helpful when I was doing the menial tasks--you know, the kind that every mother does--the ones that no one ever thanks you for, or sees you do? I discovered that these chores--especially the unnoticed, unseen, loving gestures that care for family and home--are much like the spiritual disciplines of fasting, prayer and almsgiving--only "your Father who sees in secret will reward you. " (Matthew 6:6)

Finally, transforming my household ways into prayers and mortifications allows me to make peace with housework and maintain my sanity. It provides the proper context I need to approach tasks sacrificially and willingly. It also helps me lead my family with a better attitude as we share household duties and my children work through their own age-appropriate chores. I still fight selfish urges to ignore it all, or to procrastinate, but as a recovering housework hater, taking these thoughts captive to Christ helps a lot.

I’m no expert, and I’m still “under construction,” but here are a few examples from my typical day, using scripture as a springboard for my mental energies as I clean.

I sit down on the potty for a few moments peace, and the toilet paper roll is empty. (I'm sure this only happens in my home.) Of course, the old roll must be replaced. But when you give... do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. (Matthew 6:3)

Now, after I've had my moment, I rise to discover that the toilet bowl needs scrubbing. (Five people over the age of 13 share this bathroom, but only my eyes notice this pressing need?) I can do all things in him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:13)

Moving from the bathroom to the family room, I spy dirty dishes left behind from junior's movie night with his pals. Naturally, I collect them, add them to the dishwasher without a word since he has already left for "work." (By the way, at work he serves and clears tables in a dining hall.) For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father also will forgive you. (Matthew 6: 14)

In so doing, I walk past the indoor plants wilting from neglect, so I load them up into the sink for a drink. Let every one who thirsts, come to the waters. (Isaiah 55: 1: 1)

I pass the ironing pile. I switch on the iron with this thought: …the sun shall not strike them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water. (Revelation 7: 16b- 17a).

In the distance, I hear the washing machine timer go off. The next load awaits my attention. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! (Psalm 51: 2)

I take my lunch break out on the porch where I am the only one who seems to have noticed that that the dog peed on the porch again. She said, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." (Matthew 15:27)

I take the dog out for a walk passing the perennial garden where I see weeds encroaching the phlox and day lilies. I kneel down to the rescue. Just as the weeds are gathered and burned with fire, so will it be at the close of the age. (Matthew 13:40)

I prepare dinner observing the fading light of day through my window. Outside I spy Mary’s statue in my yard. She is “Our Lady of Grace”--The Virtuous Woman—whose example gently reminds me that “prayer and work” has been a model for domestic life for generations.

Indeed, for we are “created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” (Ephesians 2:10.)



Copyright 2006 Patricia W. Gohn