Words and Actions that Heal the Soul

I mentioned in the previous post that I have received a number of requests for the reflection I shared called Words and Actions that Heal the Soul. It consists of a basic account of the nature of the soul and human sinfulness/brokenness. The heart of the reflection is my experience of the Mass and how active and purposeful participation in the Mass is an invitation to God's healing ministry and a reality that empowers us for the work of Christian mission in this fallen world.

This reflection may be downloaded and used to further the work of Catholic mission and evangelism - I just ask that the content not be changed in any way.

In the Love of our Lord Jesus,
- Jacques Rothmann

A Love Affair - 4 Years Later

My wife and I, together with our two sons, came into the Church in 2013. It was, and continues to be, one of the pivotal life experiences for myself, and our family. The thought that comes to mind when I think back on that first year is that it was a love affair with Jesus in the Eucharist.

I remember talking to a non-Catholic friend about our conversion and our experience of Christianity since becoming Catholic. I was sharing about how special the Eucharist had become to my wife and I. When I was done he kinda shook his head and said, 'you know, you sound like you're in love with Communion'. And I simply replied, 'I am'.

Over the course of that first year I decided I really wanted to write about my experience of  being Catholic. This desire resulted in the creation of this blog and around Easter of the following year I posted my first 2-part reflection on becoming Catholic.

What was supposed to be the first of many, ended up being the first and last. I haven't posted anything online in 4 years. The truth is, I've been so busy living Catholic that I haven't really had time to write about living Catholic.

My wife and I have found rewarding ways to give of ourselves in various ministries run through our parish. I help teach the RCIA class, my wife facilitates the Woman's Fellowship group, and we share our experience of Catholic Sexual Ethics and the Theology of the Body as part of the parish's Marriage Prep Course.

The busyness has also included the addition of another little Rothmann baby, who is now already eighteen months old.

Writing has however been on my heart and mind a lot lately, so I'm taking an opportunity God brought across my path to start writing again.

During the Lenten Program at our Parish I was asked to share about Words and Actions that Heal the Soul. I was quite humbled and encouraged when my priest suggested that the wider community may benefit from hearing my reflection. As the request of my priest I spent last weekend sharing my experience with the rest of the community. The response was again very humbling and I've received a number of requests to make the reflection available. I'll do so in the post following this one.

As I now contemplate the future of this blog I pray that God may inspire me to continue writing. My hope is that as I do so, my thoughts and words may be an inspiration to others seeking deeper contact and intimacy with the God who pours out His Love on us and beckons us to Come and be His Bride.

There and Back Again – A Catholic Story

Part 2 – Back Again.

Through the ups and the downs of the years that followed, Christ was my Anchor and Guide. From island to island we went, traversing the great Ocean of God. Together we travelled across time and space, searching for the Mysterion. The Body of Christ.

Like a city on a hill the Mystery glowed in the darkness of my mind, compelling me forward in search of its’ Light. “In this world you will have trouble.” Standing in the valley of the shadow of death my eyes caught hold of a terrible sight; the Seven Story Mountain. Purgatorium. “But do not fear, I have overcome the world.”

It loomed over me. Its’ peaks of sin and self-will blocking out the Sun of Righteousness, obscuring the light and seeking to lead me astray. I began to climb, but struggled to keep my footing, stumbling often as I searched for the way back to Eden. At the darkest times, I looked down to find a Lamp at my feet, guiding me along the narrow way, drawing me up to the summit; the New Jerusalem. 

To my left and right were many relics, splinters of light that drew me upward. Near the peak my eye caught hold of a beautiful icon of Saint Hesychast. The man’s body was glowing with the Light of Tabor as he stood praying in the silence of his heart. “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, Have Mercy on me a sinner.” My lips mouthed the fruitful words and my soul gave voice within me; immediately I was caught up in mystical ecstasy. The saint wove light and love – tales of Ekklesia, our Mother.

I learnt of liturgy, history, beauty, and Mary. We spoke of Luther, Calvin and Catholicism; of Incarnation, Eucharist, and Theosis. I liked the man very much. His heart was ancient and his spirit pure. He made me glory in the past and I felt as though I finally stood on the brink. But as I turned to the future the man disappeared…lost in the noise of the modern world. 
I found myself alone again, never fully, and yet, unsatisfied. Still searching for the bond of unity and the Fellowship of the Just.

Though I had left the man behind, I remembered him fondly and spoke of him gladly. A sudden descent brought me down onto a pass between peaks. As I walked I found myself on a plateau of peace, the saddle of Shalom. Here I met a man from the west who spoke like the east. I shouted to him of the shining man, he whispered back that the man had a brother; that the two had been quarreling for a thousand years. 

During those many years both brothers had sinned against each other, in their thoughts and in their words, in what they had done and in what they had failed to do. I had heard of the other brother, but never met him. I had been told he was a bad man, corrupt and full of sin. “Oh no”, said the man of peace, “that is simply the voice of the quarrel. The shining man is the younger, and somewhat wayward. The elder is the child of promise and a point of contention for his brothers.”

“But if you listen he is calling. Calling his brother to come home. It is the elder brother who watches over the Household of God. He who secures the bond of unity in the Fellowship of the Just. It is he who holds the Key to the Kingdom. Who unlocks the Gate of the New Jerusalem. If you are looking for the Body of Christ, look for the Rock on which it is built. The Mystery is hidden in plain sight.” 

“Here all generations call her blessed. Here we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses. Here the faithful are called to the wedding supper of the Lamb. “Take this all of you and eat of it: for this is my Body, which will be given up for you. Take this, all of you, and drink from it: for this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins. Do this in memory of me.””

As the morning broke I reached the tableland and found myself standing in St. Peter’s square. Looking up I saw the Holy City, the New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a Bride beautifully dressed for her Husband. Peace radiated from within me, expelling the weariness in my soul. The anguish of the years melted in the Light of Christ’s nuptial love. 

“Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the LORD.”

The gates of the City were open, and the Spirit and the Bride say “Come”. 

I crossed the threshold and entered in. 

I was Home.

There and Back Again – A Catholic Story

Part 1 - There

“My prayer is that when the morning breaks God will bless me with a new perspective on His Beautiful Bride and my heart can finally find some peace in a Christian Body”.

Just over four years ago I started writing a blog in the hope of sorting through my thoughts, concerns and struggles with the Church. The quote above comes from the last sentence of my first post. 

I had been lamenting my turbulent journey with the body of Christ. Complaining that I just couldn’t seem to find, in the plethora of religious options, a community in which I felt at home. But something inside me refused to let go. I would not give up the quest. Hope still dwelled within me. 

Inspiration, perhaps the Spirit, led me to the prayerful conclusion of that post. Help me Lord, to see your Church the way you see her. To find you in a Body, the way I find you in my heart. To feel the same peace and unity that I experience in private prayer, when I gather to pray and worship with others.

It had been ten long years of struggle and deepening disillusionment that had led me to start that blog. What had begun a decade earlier with the joy of sight had slowly degenerated into a plethora of questions without answers. Desires without fulfilment.

At the turn of the millennium Christ had found me, lost in a world of dreams and shadows. Confused and alone I searched for the divine, from Jamaica to India, Nepal to Atlantis…I wandered off the path. Pursuing the mystical east I had found a psychedelic nightmare that nearly cost me my mind. 

And then, as if out of nowhere, the Son of David passed by and offered sight to this blind Bartimaeus. In that moment I understood that the answers I sought, the life I desired, and the connection I craved, would only be found by following Jesus. Christ had called me back to my roots and offered me mercy. I responded with an unplanned, but undeniable, turnaround – pursuing Jesus on The Way. 

So struck by this vision of the Son of God, I registered to study theology and pursue a life of service to the Lord. I was happy, at peace, and at rest, but while I slept an enemy came and sowed weeds amongst the wheat. I awoke to find that all was not well in the household of God. 

In many ways it was the waking of a child when tragedy hits for the first time. The loss of innocence that marks the transition from infancy to adolescence. I felt like God had saved me; only to abandon me again in a sea of contradiction and contest. Unable to shake the feeling that all was not well I let the hope of ministry slip between my fingers. All I could do was simply hold onto the hand of Jesus as my feet slipped beneath the waves.