Little Messengers

March 10, 2025

In the corner of the room we have a houseguest, a pholcidae spider, sometimes called daddy longlegs, who hangs on invisible silk threads waiting for tiny bugs to wander past. Wikipedia says her web isn't sticky, but she can use it like a net or a lasso. She seems to be quite good at it, and she doesn't bother anyone, so we pretty much leave each other alone. I figure as long as she's happy and busy, I don't need to use bug-spray in the house.

I bring it up because I'm one of those who let dandelions grow until they bloom. Pigeons roost in my rafters, cats hunt in my garden, and in the dry season, wild javalina eat the fruit from my cactus. I watch birds come and build their nests, each in their own season. The most common flowers here are the natives, durable, short-lived, making whole lives in a matter of days between the last rains and the start of long stretches of cloudless days. Life flows in, around and through my house—and I've developed a sort of consciousness of it, like the sound of a radio all the way down at the end of the street.

I think that this awareness of life is an attribute of the human soul which, in the rightful order of Creation, set humans on a special level. We seem poor by comparison with other heavenly creatures, but from the start, the Divine gift of a soul made us capable of participating in God's own life. The soul cares for and directs the body in its natural created life, it is part of who we are.

And it is damaged. The original sin of our ancestors knocked our souls loose, in a sense, like a disconnected wire. The full power of our relationship with God—our life, through him, with him and in him—was inhibited and our souls came to exist in a state of greatly reduced power. The body with its passions assumed an authority that was not its birthright and we've been struggling ever since.

The work of conversion is a journey to awaken and restore the unhindered flow of life between God and people. Jesus, the Christ, by taking on the form and substance of humanity, restored us to full life in God.

But we still struggle. Because our awareness is weak and imperfect. We journey in an arid climate of sin and suffering. We get bits and glimpses of glory, then settle back into a stupor, wondering if we imagined the whole thing.

 Until a little spider shakes her web as if to say “You are not alone.”

Ours is a God who has made himself knowable.

 

People Who Know...

If you've never seen it before, the photo is a vigil light at Our Lady of the Angels church, 5802 East Lincoln Drive, Scottsdale, AZ

It's a Franciscan "convent" church, meaning it belongs to and is staffed by Franciscan friars, with the blessing of our local Bishop. The community (known informally as The Casa) has been there since the 1950s, serving Catholics of every place and bent. JoAnne and I joined more than a dozen years ago, seeking a community that was forward thinking, progressive... and kind. As Catholic communities go, I'd say Our Lady's is a good example of what laypeople can do when they embrace their vocation. Paired with Franciscan values, it means there is a lot of opportunity and support for growth, both in spirit and in understanding. If you come for anything, come to sample Franciscan preaching. And stay for donuts and coffee...

What makes a viable community? Different people look for different things. I mentioned the sermons. I like to be challenged, but even more, I like when someone can open the Scriptures and help me find my place in them, my own "narrow path". I like good community prayer experiences, both traditional and new. I don't mind modern music, though I sometimes hunger for old hymns. I don't mind laypeople serving. After all, we are the Church too. I don't like harsh judgement, but I often need to be told where the boundaries are... and what to do when the Spirit leads me into the wilderness. I've learned a lot at the Casa, and most importantly, I've learned that there is so much more to know!

I've belonged to several communities in my life. It's been like paddling a canoe on a river, going from village to village and island to island. I'm not sure we're meant to spend our lives in just one place, though that can be fruitful too. But I recognize when I need to move. If I find myself sitting in a church and gazing out the door, it's time to go...

And this is how I grow, by following the call of the Holy Spirit. "Come and see!" she says. "Come and see where I live...!" The Spirit moves. We hear its sound and follow.

I don't like the divisions that crop up in our Church these days. But division seems to be everywhere, like the shadow of a cloud. The trick is to not get sucked into arguments, working instead to prevent division from creeping into your own heart. "The best medicine," my parents used to say, handing me a rake, "is to stay busy." 

In a Church devoted to uniting the world, divisions mark where the ground is breaking, places where new things can grow. Is God doing new things in the world? Every day! This is why, even now, I can get up in the morning eager to see what's happening. In all the fuss and turmoil, God is working out his plan for us, drawing us all to himself, in perfect peace.