Ona Kiser

explorations in Christianity


All in

Several recent conversations made me think again about how we relate to religion, religious traditions and spiritual practice. The theme in the conversations was around the fairly widespread idea – in some circles, anyway – that religious traditions are a sort of aesthetic preference. One can find various useful teachings or exercises in them; sometimes one finds oneself drawn to the look and feel of one tradition over another, and thus might really like Zen Buddhism or Quaker thought better than Tibetan Buddhism or Taoism or whatever. One might, indeed, drift from one kind of practice to another, or mix a bit of this or that, depending on ones needs or mood. One of the friends jokingly compared it to polyamorous relationships, where each of several lovers offers different qualities or benefits, with the implication, perhaps, that dedicating oneself to one sole partner would be limiting in some way, or perhaps a bit dull.

It highlighted for me again how little this approach makes sense, though I think it was probably my attitude in the past. I don’t know when things changed, really, as I didn’t notice except in hindsight. It would make more sense, sticking with that analogy, to describe my relationship to God, and to the Catholic tradition, as one of a sacramental, til-death-do-us-part marriage. Both feet in the water. All in.  Continue reading


Little things learned here and there

Sister Anna twisted my ear this morning. It was in response to some smart remark I made, but was half a joke, since we’d discussed the meaning of the term the previous week. To “pull someone’s ear” in Brazilian Portuguese means you are annoyed enough with someone that you’d like to reach out and wring their earlobe hard enough to make them squawk.

I thought later about how many, many little things I learn every day, and how vividly I sometimes remember learning very little things. Here are some that come to mind:

I’ve learned from the sisters that in the small chapel, where there is only one kneeler, to get up if someone new enters the chapel to give them a turn kneeling. You can always kneel on the floor instead.

I’ve learned from the adorable servers at the Traditional Latin Masses how to do a nice genuflexion, back straight, knee hitting the ground, done with poise and grace. There’s less poise and grace if I’m having a creaky knees day. The altar servers also taught me how to flip ones skirt around when one has just knelt, so that it isn’t hung up on ones dress-shoe heel (which is a hem-ripper if one tries to stand up without having freed it first; done that).

I’ve learned from the birds the joy of prayer at dawn.

I’ve learned from pretty much everyone that it’s inappropriate for me to ever lift anything heavier than a book or shoe. This in stark contrast to my northern upbringing where the heavier the things I could lift, the more impressed people were. I don’t have a problem following the local custom. I do forget sometimes, which horrifies people. I’m sorry.

I’ve learned from Sister E- how to graciously let others go first. I don’t always remember to, but her example always comes to mind if I forget.

I’ve learned from myriad Brazilians how to serve coffee and biscuits and sit and talk when there’s talking to be done or a visitor comes by. And how to dawdle through pleasant conversation when stopping in here or there, even if one is just there to get some quick business done. I’m sure I still fail on many of the finer points, but I really appreciate that custom and will strive to improve.

I’ve learned from my music teacher’s daughter the joy of drawing with gel pens, especially the kind with glitter in the ink. Sometimes I even write my grocery lists in gel pen. Yay! Thank you, sweetie.

I’ve learned from my confessor a whole lot about forgiveness and about meeting people where they are.

I’ve learned from many friends and acquaintances the incredible power of God to transform and heal us, even when our faith seems far too feeble. Sometimes I myself was the one whose faith was feeble, watching the painful struggles of a friend. Lesson learned.

I’ve learned from my husband the virtue of generosity (and he is much better at it than me, so I can continue learning this!).

There are thousands more, but I’ll save them for another post.


And then what happened?

cover soulA Soul, Suspended: Adventures with God

by Ona Kiser

A radical spiritual awakening seems like the happy conclusion to an arduous quest. It turns out to be the beginning of a far more disorienting journey. Immersed in an eclectic blend of Western Magick, Buddhism, and African-Diasporic religions, Ona Kiser engages with angels and demons as she tries to orient herself in a strange new reality. Instead she loses everything she relies on: her guiding spirits, her magick, her visions, her home, her pride, her will.

An encounter with a demon leads to an unanticipated request to be baptized in the Catholic Church. Yet this conclusion, too, is upended. With passion and raw honesty, Ona recounts a growing intimacy with God that slowly overwhelms her struggles between love and fear, until she finally gives up her heart entirely to the sweet embrace of her Beloved.

+++

Years ago I wrote a book about my weird spiritual adventures…. It was called A Little Death.

A couple years later – shortly after my baptism in the Catholic Church – I wrote a sequel (with the working title A Little More Death) since the spiritual journey I had written about in the first book had continued to develop in unexpected and interesting ways.

As I edited the draft, however, it became less and less clear where to go with the story. My baptism had felt like a good grande finale, but instead the strange and supernatural adventures had gotten even more interesting, rather than coming to a neat and tidy end. The story desperately needed a focused dramatic arc, which life was not providing. I left the draft on the back burner for nearly two more years before the endless nagging of my tiny fan club and my dislike of unfinished projects drove me to try again. Continue reading


Pray more!!

Reginald II

Reginald II at prayer, by The medieval artist from Glasgow [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

You’d think prayer wouldn’t be that hard. It’s just talking to God. It’s not rocket science, as they say. And yet it is amazingly difficult. One of the things I have discovered myself and see many others deal with is a lack of comprehension of just how much one can and should pray. Are you praying a lot? Pray more. How much more? Until there’s nothing else but prayer. Trust me, it may not make any sense, but if you simply pray without ceasing, to the extent you are able, you will discover just how astonishingly far and wide prayer can grow. Continue reading


There’s a song for that

The past two weeks I’ve been on a “learn to sight sing already!” kick. Sight sing chant notation, that is. I practice by flipping through the Liber Usualis and singing random chants. Point being to pick a random chant, use iChant for the starting tone, and use iChant to double check if I am not sure about an interval. Then I just sing. Hours and hours of paging through the book, singing whatever catches my eye.

I’m really delighted with the unstoppable sequence of holidays, saints days, commemorations of all kinds. I don’t think there exists a day that isn’t made more holy by the commemoration of someone or some event. And for every one of these events there are chants! One could spend ones entire life chanting, as I suppose some monks and nuns do. There are hymns or other chants for Mary Magdalen, the Seven Sorrows, the Guardian Angel, St. Michael, St. Alphonso de Ligouri, the day St. Francis got stigmata, St. John the Baptist’s birth and beheading and hundreds of other occasions.

Sung prayer still seems miles more fun and lovely than spoken, though I do that, too.

I find it funny that Gregorian Chant is sometimes marketed as “relaxing music,” next to the whale songs and sounds of a stream burbling through a forest glade. I suppose in our noise-oriented culture music that isn’t fast and loud tends to get tossed in that box. In it’s own context, Chant is sung prayer and worship. The lyrics are often quite intense, and the melodies can be dissonant and strange when unfamiliar.

Here’s a long sequence for those who enjoy it:


Fragments of Homilies

Isus
I keep a notebook in my purse and sometimes dig it out during the homily at Mass and take a few notes. Here are some things jotted down over the past several months. I don’t note the date or location, so these are from several countries and various parishes. I kind of like the game of flipping back through an old notebook and reading these scrawled fragments free of their original contexts.

-Our path to God is fundamentally about God, not about us. Selflessness is pervasive in Jesus’ teachings: it’s what makes them so transformative. In vain is my faith if it is in my own experiences.

-In preaching, teaching, service of any kind you give Christ to the needy, not yourself. You can’t do anything. It’s Christ who does it.

-The eyes of the soul see different things than the corporeal eyes.

-Notice how often the saints talk of feeling smaller. Even as Jesus called John the Baptist the greatest, John the Baptist said of himself he was not worthy to untie Christ’s sandals.

-Jesus as light of the world: this light must consume us. Our purpose in life is to be consumed by it. Prayer keeps the candle lit.

-Say “heal me” to God and He always says “Yes.”

-Confession is like saying “Now I realize what I was chasing was not satisfying. I was running in circles after useless things. Forgive me.” One gives away the mistakes, takes a fresh start. The door to transformation opens when people have exhausted their running around. When they realize they can’t find satisfaction in the things of this world. Sometimes that doesn’t happen without a crisis.

-God draws people. They don’t need to know anything (from books or lectures) to feel that drawing.

-To think that lucky people are loved by God and unlucky ones are hated by God is to make idols of our own feelings.

-The seed of salvation in our hearts can be buried deep, far from light and water. We must begin to discern what nourishes it and what prevents it from growing.

 


All the blessings I can get

Lucas Cranach the Younger, Christ blessing the Children, Erfurt Angermuseum

From quite early on in my involvement with the Church I’ve enjoyed taking full advantage of all the available services, so to speak. Take, for instance, getting myself and various things blessed.  There are all sorts of handy ways to top up on blessings. Every time I see a priest, I say “Your blessing, Father” and they are obliged to at least say “be blessed” in return. One can more formally ask for a blessing and get a nice imposition of hands or cross traced on your forehead while a lengthier blessing is said. The nuns I know can apparently do similar sorts of blessings, so on a recent visit I asked all three of them to bless me (so no one would feel left out). I had a priest come to our new apartment last year and bless every last sacred image and square foot. He even blessed the hall closet. Continue reading

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 63 other followers