I’ve been gone from Texas for a long time—and in thirty years one forgets some things. I forgot the heat. My cool, breezy home on the California beach, like the mythical sirens that seduced Odysseus’ men, erased from my memories of Texas a fact living here won’t let you forget—it’s hot as the hinges of hell in the summer. And like those hinges, the heat is unremitting: day and night, rain and wind notwithstanding. Siestas aren’t options for a lazy afternoon. Here, they’re a necessary tool for survival.
“To everything there is a season,” writes the Preacher in Ecclesiastes, “and a time for every purpose under heaven.” Summer in this part of the world is a time for us to slow down. The constant heat is an ever-present reality, ignored only to our peril. When I was a Boy Scout, I spent many a summer in a camp outside Wimberly, with a few hundred other excited boys. One of my memories is assembling every morning for prayers and the Pledge of Allegiance (are they still allowed to do that?). And every morning we’d have a casualty or two—one of us would literally collapse to the ground of heatstroke.
We’re sacramental creatures. God made all of us that way. That means what affects our bodies also affects our souls, our spirits; equally, what affects our spirits affects our bodies. The heat of summer has a spiritual impact (just look at how many people are “too tuckered” to come to Mass in the morning but manage to make it to a Sunday afternoon barbeque!).
Most churches here cut back their programs during the summer. I understand why. At St Joseph’s, I’ve bowed—albeit reluctantly—to common sense and we’ve cut back some weekday activities for the summer.
“To everything there is a season.” For us, as sacramental beings, that means every season has its time and purpose. Spring, with its rebirth, is particularly in evidence where I live: the brown fields burst green; the long row of trees that line both sides of the road from my gate within a few weeks provide a shaded canopy of sheer delight. Fall’s cooling breezes and soft evenings, winter’s cold chill that drives us inside to find the warmth of human companionship. “To everything there is a season.”
So what about the sizzle of summer?
Here’s my suggestion: find a good book, a comfortable chair and an afternoon fan. Take a spiritual siesta. We need to refresh and nourish both body and soul. We nourish our souls when we feed on the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar. How about taking a few afternoons during the summer to refresh our minds and hearts too?
We call it “spiritual reading.” Find a good book—there are many great Christian classics written on the spiritual life, from the Confessions of St Augustine to the novels of C S Lewis. Choose a book of the Bible—say, one of the Gospels or the Book of Genesis. You might be surprised at what you find. Or, if you want a book to lull you into a summer’s nap, open the Book of Leviticus! Any of our parish clergy would be happy to make a suggestion—no doubt each of us has his favorite. Every week on this site, I post a chapter from one of mine—Tito Colliander’s work on the spiritual life.
A small little book, like The Practice of the Presence of God, by Brother Lawrence, with its short, pithy selections or something a bit longer—St Teresa of Avila’s Way of Perfection (not as terrifying as it sounds—she originally wrote it for young women just entering a convent to explain some of the bald facts of living as a Christian with other people)—find something which suits you, something which will turn your mind, three or four times a week for ten or fifteen minutes, to those things which are eternal, which will outlast the summer’s heat! –Fr Gregory Wilcox
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