Parish Pools: Answers in Avila?

This post is of little interest to those wanting travel description. It has nothing to do with Avila except that it has everything to do with the real reason I'm in Avila. The images and answers are welling up and need overflow from my mind. If you are in deep waters already, you will understand and take pity on my plight. You might even pray for my courage and motivation to proceed in joining you in deep waters.

One of the reasons for my coming to Avila--or anywhere--is to seek answers from God as to where and what He expects of me in what surely is the final phase of my earthly existence. The ascent to union is one expectation, as He desires this of every soul, and I desire this, also. The problem is that many souls do not know this expectation of God, or do not want union with Him even if they do know His desire. Or, they are afraid, or have no guide to help them to begin or to persevere to the end. God sent His Son to show us the Way, yet we either fear, resist, or don't believe it to be the true Way to rich, meaningful, true Life.

I had become increasingly frustrated, even angry, in my city and parish of residence. Others were frustrated with me, understandably. I recognized I wanted to run away, and I took jaunts to several abbeys in this effort. Next I began acting out and rebelling, struggling to find God's will one way or another, through trial and error. This precipitated buying a Von Maur Department Store outfit and borrowing a friend's make-up to see if God would use me better in traditional, worldly garb. The answer was "NO." It was a worthwhile but expensive experiment. I began to vent my frustrations and word-slash at those around me. I complained to the priest of being shut down, stifled, suffocated, and buried alive from using talents and career experience. I applied for degree programs and gave out my resume for a "real" job in the "real" world. Of course, nothing has come of any of these attempts to force my way back into the world of beautiful earthly responsibility and productivity.

Here, in the fresh Spanish air, amidst the strength of granite structures, vast landscapes, brilliant sun, anonymity, deafness to the local language, and earth of so many holy Spanish mystics, I am seeing why I am not called to the other--good as it is (and necessary for a certain period of my life). Remaining in that world does not assist the soul in the ascent to union with God, a union which is truly the soul's heart's desire.

I emphasize remaining. This is explained to me in images that repeat themselves and increase and grow in comprehension over a period of many days and weeks. I see a pool. It is compared to a parish. I see a wading pool or shallow end. In this shallow end are entirely too many people. They are good people, faithful people, daily Mass attendees of all ages. Some are not people of faith, also. They have fallen away but are in the wading pool or nearby or far off. I see the lifeguard in black whose eyes and ears strain in guarding all those people in the wading pool; he has time for little else because it is packed with bodies. I see older people sitting in the shallow water, knees up and chatting with one another, wearing large sunhats and sunglasses, spraying water on their sun-lotioned arms and shoulders. I see middle-aged couples standing by the edges, waist-deep, visiting and occasionally dipping to shoulders to wet themselves. I see young adults sunbathing outside the wading pool, wetting themselves when hot but not too interested in getting in at all. Teenagers are in the wading pool but "horse-play" and cause much attention to be drawn by the lifeguard away from the others. I see adolescents trying to dog-paddle, and some older folk attempt this, also, under too-tight circumstances. With eyes squeezed shut and arms splashing about, they bump into the other bathers.

None can be described in the wading pool as swimmers, for they are too many in number and not of the inclination to actually swim or they would seek further. I see tentative, spluttering pre-schoolers and toddlers with their mothers and fathers who wade them about and try to teach them to float and learn basic swimming strokes--with barely space to succeed. On occasion the lifeguard says, "Out of the water for ten minutes, everyone, for a pool check!" or sidelines some of the youth who are trying to water-bomb in too shallow conditions. Who would be surprised if there were bodies lying face-down and airless in the wading pool?

The scene is perverse and humorous and futile and frustrating--all in one glance.

Then the scene expands, and a deep end of the pool appears. It extends eternally into the horizon. I see some divers and lap swimmers: fresh, free, motivated, skilled, exercised, focused. Some are old, middle-aged, and some quite young. There are diving docks and rafts for those who need rest in their efforts. But mostly they glide and swim smoothly, seemingly effortlessly and skillfully, even faithfully in strong movements. There is purpose and joy and freedom here.
The waters refresh in open invitation, but why so few here?

This totality, I am shown, is the parish pool. The lifeguard has little time if any to lap swim or dive in the deep end, which represents that which Jesus teaches and the saints such as John of the Cross describe, of movement necessary for drawing closer to God. No, the lifeguard is consumed with watching the crowded shallow end. Perhaps he has not even been trained in diving or deep-water swimming, or if so, has not had or allowed the time to exercise in the deep end.

The beginning swimmers (the toddlers and infants) and their sponsors are barely able to find space in the wading pool. Why is it filled with so many who don't need to remain in such shallow water? For, virtually anyone is able to learn to swim. And, in progressing with practice, these beginning swimmers can also learn to swim in deep water, to dive into the depths without fear and with faith.

As St. John of the Cross expresses in his writing, many souls fear the effort necessary to progress in the spiritual life; they do not want to strip themselves of that which hinders them which is of the world. It's not easy. It is not comfortable. Others are not aware of the value and accessibility of union with God, of spiritual progression in this life. Others do not have any teacher to instruct them or do not want to find an instructor, even if it means reading a book and putting what is explained into practice. Others totally ignore God and suffocate inner calls by exterior, sensual distractions or vices. Others want to go deeper but fear what seems the unknown of the potential death involved. They don't believe that God provides and protects.

I am shown that this is the reason for my frustrations and confusion. I am capable of swimming in the deep, I am not overly afraid of drowning, I have heard about the diving docks and resting rafts so know that if I go too deep, God (or His earthly representatives) will pull me up for air. I am lazy, yes, and don't want to expend a lot of effort, but I am assured that with some effort but much desire, graces will be given to help me become a strong, successful, deep-end swimmer. I have read books written by and about successful, deep-end divers and swimmers, and these saints relay the same, common-thread instructions.

Swimming in the deep end means not chatting so much, not being distracted from lessons, not sitting nor sunning except for brief periods of rest. It means proceeding in faith and hope that the effort will culminate in the glory to which St. Paul says will be revealed to us. Swimming and diving in the deep end requires not only listening to the instructions of Jesus who could walk on the water, but to also practice and do what He says. It means risk, and sore muscles, and potential exhaustion. It means taking the time for prayer. It means taking in the nourishment of body and soul, the manna which Jesus Himself provides in the Eucharist. It means stripping oneself down to the minimal in order to have minimal obstruction for gliding through water. It means literally stepping out of the shallow end and walking to the deep end, sliding in, jumping in, or diving in. The lifeguard isn't allowed to shove anyone, nor are others allowed to push.

I must get out of the wading pool and not return except perhaps, if God wills that I encourage others or teach them to not fear the deep. But first I must become proficient in the deep end, and also be obedient to remain there if God so desires. This is why I was frustrated in the wading pool: there wasn't room for me; I didn't fit in, as it isn't a pool for those who, God knows, should be swimming in deeper waters. Why have I taken so long to see this? Why did I persist in trying to splash around with those who also could have been deep-end swimming for years but remain unmoved?

When I became a Catholic nearly ten years ago, I jumped into the Church with nose pinched and arm out. This approach was perhaps ridiculous but the only way I had the courage. True, I sputtered and choked and perhaps got in the way of proficient swimmers. But my attempts to exist in the shallow end have been foolish, as I am in the way there and unchallenged. In attempts to demonstrate deep-end inclinations, others have splashed me in the face. For, God has not chosen me to be a swimming instructor to those who do not desire instruction, nor have achieved instructor status. Far from it. Instructor status is not to be gained from university professors but from the Three Persons of the Trinity and the saints within the school of Holy Mother Church. If I foolishly try once more to jump into the shallow end, I will break my neck and irritate--possibly injure--others.

Stay out of the shallow end, now, and leave it for the infants who truly need to learn the beginning strokes. Stay away from those who remain there yet who do not belong; they are too heavy and resistant for me to pull them out of what has become hot, stagnant water. If I tell them that I am going to the deep end, they may not listen, but I might tell them all the same. If they see that I am gone, they may not miss me, but they might ask the lifeguard, "Where did she go?" Or, others might be curious and spot me, yes, struggling but free and learning and happy in the deep end. Who am I to get others to go where I have faltered many times in going, and, more critically, in remaining? When I learn to be a successful diver and swimmer in the deep end, only then will I perhaps be allowed to help in the shallow end--those who need or desire. But I am open to the possibility that I may never return; this may not be God's will for me. I am willing to drown in the deep end rather than return to the crowded futility of the wading pool.

Avila is my tenth-year-anniversary baptism into deep waters. Pray for me, please.