The natural beauty of the autumn season on a warm, sunny day can hardly be surpassed. Today is such a day, and I am filled with gratitude for the Beauty I have discovered in the Catholic Church. I remember as an English major in college studying the poetry of the Romantics, who capitalized words such as Truth and Beauty. Perhaps this capitalizing of ideals was working in my subconscious and then began to surface as I searched for the right church home for me and my family. I suspected that the secular idea of finding one's own, personal truth was faulty. "I have to speak my truth," people will say. And even in the sphere of religion this is true, for as Protestant denominations first broke from the Catholic faith, so they have continued to splinter amongst themselves, being defined more by the nature of protest from which the name of Protestant springs, than they are as a beacon of the light of Christ. Even among professing Catholics there is division, as some wish to join the secular parade of self-defined truth. Yet the Church herself cannot error in her official teachings, and she is indeed the last Christian bastion of Truth.
12 Step groups by their nature contain only a portion of the truth, as they by necessity must refrain from proclamations of absolute, God-given Truths. And so while spiritually based, these groups remain secular, and the fullness of healing cannot be found. Help can be found, yes, and there are those wise souls who speak the Truth for others to hear. They are models of faith and charity, and they selflessly share their experience, strength and hope. But perhaps the 12 step groups are like those places in the world that do not know the season of autumn, who have not lived through the physical transformation of color, smell, texture, and sound, the migratory flight of birds, the last call before what looks like death but is only dormancy. Winter is but a dark night of the soul, a waiting place before new life bursts forth from black soil into the light.
Some misunderstand the Truth of Catholicism as a starkness of black and white. They do not understand the both/and nature of the Church; they do not see the in between places where faith grows in stages, where the soul is transformed into a harmony of dazzling color and ineffable Beauty. They ignore the poetry because it is too subtle, too simple, too ordinary to sense the profound depths of the underground river of Life.
Lady Wisdom can be apprehended in the patterns and changing colors of autumn, in the fragrance of burning wood and the crisp air breathed on the night of the harvest moon. She invites us to wake up and taste the cider, put on a costume and dream of who we might be if we only had the courage, if only the wizard really could put valor into our cold, frightened hearts. Imagine for a moment that Beauty is real, and that she can lead you by the hand to Truth. Right here, right now, Love is ours for the asking. Knock, and it will be opened unto you.
