So today is the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary, and it is the one I was aiming for at the end of the Montfortian consecration. Tomorrow's the day I can get to Mass and confession, though, so even though St. Louis says "Make it a feast day," the Saturday after will have to do.
This week seems not to have gone well on the preparation front. I missed several days of the recommended prayers, and am behind on the readings. As for the readings, I guess I will shrug and make them up next week. As for the prayers, well, a missed opportunity is just that.
You will remember that (after days 1-12) the first week is meant to increase knowledge of the self, the second to increase knowledge of the Virgin, and the third to "apply themselves in the study of Jesus Christ." I wasn't surprised that I learned a few things about myself during the first week. I knew I had plenty of material to chew on for the second week, what with only recently digging into that whole "co-Redemptrix" thing. But I entered the third week with some curiosity and not a little disbelief – disbelief that I would be able to grow "in knowledge of Jesus Christ" in any significant way over the course of the week. It isn't that I don't have a lot to learn; it's more that, since I have a grasp of the basics (more, apparently, than I did about the Blessed Mother) it wasn't obvious where to start studying, and it seemed presumptuous to think that I would certainly be able to command some insight to enter my mind about it. If there is obviously something new to learn, and you know what it is, you can seek it out, and chances are good that it will give you something new to think about. But it wasn't obvious which aspect of Jesus I had to consider for the week.
So I just went with the recommended readings, most of them from the Imitation of Christ, and waited for something to strike a chord.
Only one aspect did strongly. It has to do with the command "Deny thyself, take up thy cross, and follow Jesus."
The citation is from the Imitation, Book II, Chapter 12: Of the Royal Way of the Holy Cross.
"Take up, therefore, thy cross and follow Jesus, and thou shalt go into life everlasting.
He has gone before thee carrying his own cross; and he died for thee upon the cross that thou mayest also bear thy cross and love to die upon the cross.
Because if thou die with him thou shalt also live with him, and if thou art his companion in suffering thou shalt also partake in his glory."
I am familiar with this language. But as I have written before (the exact links escape me for now), it troubles me, because, well, I don't get much in the way of crosses around here. I am living a life that is comfortable and happy (although I still find things to complain about, or at least to make snarky Facebook vents about). I have no physical disabilities, nor am I currently bereaved, nor struggling to feed, clothe, and educate my family. I am surrounded by my loved ones and other friendly people most of the time. I cannot imagine a marriage partner better-suited to me than my husband.
Sometimes when I am laughing with friends, or lazy and content with my husband, or solitary and sensing the first surge of well-being and energy from my morning coffee, I think to myself: Where is this cross I am supposed to be carrying? Is there even a cross here in this moment? Because I can't see it.
I am afraid that there must be some cross lying around that I have failed to pick up because I have not recognized it, or maybe have refused to consider it. Being a control freak, I think I understand why people used to go in for self-flagellation: it lets you create a cross to bear, on your own schedule.
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Sometimes I tell myself that this is the fulfillment of "My yoke is easy and my burden light." I must be bearing my cross, see, because here I am doing pretty much everything I am supposed to do. I got married and devoted myself to raising children, and gave up my career (not that I was exactly headed for greatness) because I could tell it was the right thing for our family, and here I am doing the homeschooling thing and getting to Sunday Mass every week and stuff like that, and it has all turned out to feel pretty good. The reason the cross doesn't feel like a cross must be that I got used to it (because I admit that it didn't look like it was going to be quite so fun at first, and it was definitely difficult to fully commit, back in the beginning).
Of course, that is the easy way out. My burdens are light, and Jesus says his burdens are light, therefore my burdens must be his burdens? I think I know my logic better than that.
Still, let's say that you are carrying your cross, whatever it is, and with time it really does get easier to carry, so that after a while it is hardly difficult at all. Does it still count as a cross then?
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Here is the Imitation again.
"Dispose and order all things according as thou wilt and as seems best to thee, and thou wilt still find something to suffer, either willingly or unwillingly; and so thou shalt still find the cross."
Even if I manage to make everything go the way I plan it?
"For either thou shalt find pain in the body, or sustain in thy soul tribulation of spirit."
"Sometimes thou shalt be left by God, other time thou shalt be afflicted by thy neighbor, and what is more, thou shalt often be a trouble to thyself."
Ouch. That last bit. Yes, I believe that I might be my own cross. I certainly don't have any trouble believing that I am a cross for other people. No wonder it is so hard to see sometimes; got to look in the mirror.
"Neither canst thou be delivered or eased by any remedy or comfort, but as long as it shall please God thou must bear it."
"For God would have thee learn to suffer tribulation without comfort, and wholly to submit thyself to Him, and to become more humble by tribulation."
"…Thou canst not escape it, whithersoever thou runnest; for whithersoever thou goest thou carriest thyself with thee and shalt always find thyself."
Well, it's kind of sobering when you put it that way.
This strikes a chord with me because I frequently wish I could ditch myself, or at least get away from the sound of my own voice. That is one of the reasons why I need to escape into solitude for a little while every week or two: I don't have to talk to anyone, and that means I don't have to listen to myself anymore.
Probably by even writing this it means I am failing to bear the darn thing, shoving it off onto somebody else, you poor sods who only happened to be stopping by. But hey, there is some precedent for that too, so I am hoping it is okay.
The Imitation makes it sound as if we can't really leave the cross lying around, as I sometimes wonder if I do when there seems to be nothing to suffer. There is always a cross of some kind, and we must bear it. Therefore we are bearing it. The only choice, it seems, is between bearing it willingly or unwillingly.
How odd to think of willingly bearing myself as a significant portion of my cross.
bearing blog 