Signs of Contradiction

I was thinking of St Augustine's description of our human state of understanding of what's good for us; and of Vergil's description of Aeneas' bearing of Anchises. Both really reflect the Cross as Signs of Contradiction.

St Augustine's Letter to Proba (in OOR) is where he says that our state is one of "enlightened ignorance." Isn't that exactly right? Start with the fact that I know nothing: ignorance. But I am, purely by God's Grace, enlightened enough to know a bit of what I am to do and what I am to pray for. Just a bit though: for all knowledge is vouchesafed by God on a "need to know basis." Enlightened ignorance, though, is my state and the basis for everything I think, say, and do.

Vergil's Aeneid, Book II, is where he describes Aeneas' carrying his aged father, Anchises, on his shoulders as they flee a Troy that is burning behind them. As Aeneas bears his father on his shoulders, he describes this as a "welcome burden." Sure it's a burden; but one he wouldn't give up for anything. As with Mom. I actually miss taking her to the restroom and changing her Depends. This wasn't always, at one level, the most pleasant duty in the world. At another level, though, it was a sheer privilege. It was part of my intimacy with my Mother in her final year of life. And it was a very, very "welcome burden" indeed. Just as I, as a baby, mewling for food or change of diaper, was, I guess, a "welcome burden" to my dear Mother.

Likewise O Lord I do not understand ... O I simply cannot understand ... why oh why oh why my dear Mother is no longer here with me. But I know that in my barely enlightened ignorance that You know what I don't know; and that You know what is best for her, and for me. Likewise too, O Lord, I do not understand why this life ... and why life even can be, with a family that can be wrenched away so quickly; why I am vouchesafed a life that turns to dust and ashes as my life is now. Yet it is a welcome burden, even as my mother was a welcome burden to me, even as I was a welcome burden to my mother. The way of life is the Way of the Cross after all. A cross is in a way a burden to heavy to bear and too horrid to want to bear. At another level, it is a participation in Your Way of the Cross, Dear Love of my Life, O Christ. Your Cross itself is a welcome burden to you as my Cross is a welcome burden to me.

And O Lord what am I but, it seems, a welcome burden to You.

As indeed O Lord You are Yourself a welcome burden to Me.

I love you Lord. Please take good care of my Momma.

Charles Delacroix
Saturday of Week 29 in Ordinary Time