The Cheese Stands Alone

Yesterday at Bible Study the priest commented about some aspect of the Gospel of Mark--when John the Baptist was arrested and the scene was cleared for Jesus' public ministry to begin. Three elements preceeded: His baptism, His temptations in the desert, and the arrest of John. The priest reminded us of the old nursery rhyme, "The Farmer in the Dell". It is a child's game. The farmer takes a wife, the wife takes a child, the child takes a cow, and so forth. Finally, after the cat takes the mouse, the "cheese stands alone."

Hi-ho the derry-o, the cheese stands alone.

Last week I tried to run away and distract myself. I was having such fun, being my perfectionistic and creative self. Bossy, too, offering opinions and decorating advice. Great exercise, too, and so much company being with people I love.

Yet, I was becoming a little too useful in some ways, which is bad for a good useless person. God called me home--this home of exile and strife. Driving to the rental house at night, I looked out over what flat emptiness of March fields I could perceive from interstate and car lights. The stark reality of my attempt to be not alone and to have the joy of earthly distraction hit my heart.

There was a temptation to cry. I stuffed that as being uncharitable if I'd not drive safely for other travelers. Instead, I do what is more destructive and imagined what it would be like to just drive off into the fields full speed. But I begged God's forgiveness for this thought, knowing I was feeling sorry for myself and being a coward in having to face what God wants of me, which is to exist in ontological aloneness.

My tears must be offered for Jesus and kept pretty much private from others. My tears must be for Jesus, for others, not for myself. The motive must not be of self, not for sympathy, not for attention.

In the morning the priest spoke of detachment. He spoke of Abraham taking Isaac up the mountain with the intent of sacrificing his only son, as proof that he would be all for God. Abraham felt God desired this sacrifice, and he intended to be obedient. At the crucial moment, an angel of the Lord stayed Abraham's raised knife-in-hand. God wanted to know if Abraham would do anything for Him, anything at all. God found out what was in Abraham's heart.

Well, He really knew already, as God knows behind and ahead of us as well as in the present moment. But from this Abraham was made to know, also. He could thus see what was in his own heart, and he knew for sure he was willing to do anything for God. Yes, he was; by this extreme willingness to sacrifice he knew for sure how he'd react for God.

How thankful he must have been to not have to sacrifice his son!

How did God feel when He chose to sacrifice his Son?

How did Jesus feel when He agreed to be sacrificed?

We sort of know. I think I know a little more than I did a couple of days ago. While the priest was talking about all this and about detachment, I thought of how easily I became attached to the recent distractions of manual labor. Then I looked up at the huge, white stone crucifix above the altar, and the white immolated corpus of Our Lord hanging there, and I felt a touch for the first time, really, how Jesus must have felt about having to leave the work He had been doing. He had to drop His mission here on earth and be sacrificed. This was the greater mission. How it must have hurt, though, inside and out!

Maybe He felt like he was yanked off the job before He was finished. Of course, Jesus knew all this was going to happen, so maybe it would not be quite like how a sinner like me would feel.

Recently I took a son up the mountain and sacrificed him. Already there are varying opinions. Like how people judge Abraham's action and motive, people think it is either right or wrong or motivated by selfish motives or whatever kind of motives, anger, vengeance, or righteous judging. No angel staid my hand. The son is wounded and limping; the sacrifice was not culminated in one blow. It is a slow, agonizing death. Like Jesus hanging there, pulled off His earthly mission.

I asked God to tell me what He wants of me next. I did this while driving home that night. I sensed I was not going to be a manual laborer. Too useful. Too much a distraction for me. Blessed, selfish distraction from the arduous spiritual climb.

During the night I had an experience. I've had them before. Not that often, but enough. In the daytime, I had a sense that this was God's answer. He gave me night work to accomplish, and I think it went fairly well. Those things do because the soul is not hindered with the body, and the mind is more free for God alone, and the breath of the Holy Spirit moves free. I suppose God knows in advance that the soul is willing for the night work. Well, yes, it told Him it was ready for whatever next.

Then in the day, the soul is more encumbered. Should it offer communions for the situation? And this after it ponders the night work and the legitimacy and goes over with some scrutiny. Then, the soul wonders if it should tell the confessor. And for what purpose? What is the motive? For attention? For some reaction? No, the soul thinks not. The soul wants to be free and to get some of these strange things out on the table for dissection.

The confessor listens and makes a couple of comments. They are left hooks, but not unexpected. The soul has been through it before. God wants to make sure the soul is not proud. And, really, of what difference does any of it make? Yet, the soul wanted to know if this is the work ahead, the work to be done. It is a niche? A ledge to grab hold for security while still existing in ontological aloneness in this more than lonely world?

The soul demurs--expresses that it does not think it of a "select group." But even that--is that a defense mechanism or is it the truth? Ah, these discernments are going so deep that the murk prevents clarity. The soul thinks it is being honest; the soul doesn't think it was trying to do other than express something rather unreal yet very real. The soul perhaps, also, was trying to grab for that ledgehold and desire a hand to pull it up. A hand to lead it and assure it of the path, narrow, rocky, and mysteriously winding that it may be.

A path of ontological aloneness.

Instead, the hand seemed more (and yet kindly so) a couple of left hooks. Not clinched fist left hooks but gentle slaps.

Yes, the cheese stands alone. This is surely how God wants it. The other world and the night work are uniquely one-person experiences and jobs to be done. Who can relate, and why should they?

In my attempt to respond, I said that surely God has many out there doing these jobs, but they just can't talk about it any more than I can. The confessor isn't so sure about that. But I think so. He says that God can do what He wants, and who knows why He utilizes souls in this way? I guess it doesn't matter.

What matters is motivation and why I have done things the way I have. Has my motivation been a see-sawing of biting into ontological aloneness, then panic and spitting out the solitary piece? And the result of having tried to share left unrest. This does not necessarily mean the devil is trying to discourage me. It can also mean that when the cheese is asked to stand alone, it is to learn a bit of humility. Herein speaks the lines from the Litany of Humility.

"From the desire of being approved...from the fear of being humiliated...from the fear of suffering rebukes...from the fear of being suspected...deliver me, Jesus." And I add the line, "From the desire of being understood, deliver me, Jesus." And I add the sentiment, "That others be consoled and I be ontologically alone and unpitied in my piteous cowardice, Jesus grant me the grace to desire it."

And this can bring peace, and wisdom, humility can-- if I would but embrace the ontological aloneness and be pleased and honored to cling to the Hand (and whole immolated Body) of the Big Cheese Who stands alone. And don't anyone feel sorry for me, please. I do not desire that, as best my soul can discern my heart.