Vision for Sight, Presence for Passing

What I see is not what I know, except for those things that anyone can see.

What I know is nothing that can be seen.

The Catholic life is rife with a profusion of spirits, angels and saints, and the Lord, eternal and yet present in the here and now, even within ourselves, as we await eternal life.

These postings attest to visions of saints, and mission. Last night, my wife (who is wonderful) asked if I had heard recently from St. Petronius. I replied, no. No, I have had no specific communications or visions in the past few months, this is true. I said, I take that as a sign that I have been granted what I needed. And, perhaps, that I am doing okay with what I have been given.

I thank the Lord, of course, and also my church, especially our priest, Father Petrus, and our pastoral minister, Janis Roise, for giving me the opportunity to participate and serve, reading at service, leading the rosary, for being present in the life of a Christian. I feel radically connected to the Lord. Regular prayer helps too, and, obviously, Communion.

But I will say, that when the spirit is upon me, I feel that I sense and almost see spirits about me. Not for me personally, not inclined toward me in particular, but in the air, everywhere. Or, I know they are there, that God is with us, that the Blessed Virgin is at hand for our intentions.

What I see is the life of a world, blessed, coming and going, passing, succeeding other versions of itself, giving birth to new incarnations. My vision though is something more certain. It is sight from out of consciousness.

The only limiter in perception is me, the state of my soul, or my capabilities, as proscribed by the Lord. My human vision is not merely what an optical instrument might record in this place and time. It is attuned by an awareness of realities that supports the here and now.

I wonder, is this statement unique only to a Catholic, or religious sensibility?

I think perhaps not. We are all, as we should be willing to concede, pre-loaded, to see what we are prepared to see - or at least, one might say it this way, to acknowledge what we are trained to see. That is, we are capable of putting words only to that to which such words as we have at hand apply.

Then there is the much-lauded practice of seeing what is there, apart from one's preconceptions. Many people would say that this approach is concretely anti-religious. I disagree. What I know to see does not occur to me as a preconception. In fact, there is no reason any Catholic should see anything different from what a non-Catholic sees.

But, in the matter of visions, of receipts, of love and constancy, we are slaves. I would know nothing, see and know nothing, without having consigned my life and all its facilities to one source, one creator of the here and now, the then and there.

This is a point of understanding, hard-earned, not of preconception.

Such being the case - the lens cover of self having been discarded - what's to wonder, that as I work or ride the bus, and yes, at church, I might occasionally perceive at the edge of my vision movement, a figure passing beyond cognitive range, like a physical emotion, like a present recollection, but responsive, alive.

What I see even in passing - the world as it is - is ever so much more alive to me, now, than before I came into the church. The world's passing, my own aging and passing, strikes me as cause for joy.

This is not the cause of sight, but of vision, being open to what is seen from the perspective of a self-aware being.

It should be obvious that I claim no credit. It should be clear, there is no credit to claim.