Catholic Life Ministries

By Robert Fontana

I was raised in a conventional Catholic family. Faith in God was tied to being part of a community of people that shared a culture based on specific practices: Mass on Sunday and holy days; praying the rosary, abstaining from meat on Fridays, etc. We were raised like the comedian Kathleen Madigan, who remembers how the nuns taught her,

“DON’T BOTHER JESUS! You have a guardian angel who’s with you 24/7; go to your him if you have a problem. You can turn to one of the saints; there’s one responsible for every facet of life. You can try Jesus’ mother – ask her for help. But DON’T BOTHER JESUS.”

Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration.

We had a family Bible but never read it. Our only family review of Scripture was while praying the “mysteries” of the rosary which focused on Jesus’ birth, death, and resurrection. His life and teachings were assumed, I suppose, to be part of cultural Catholicism.

That all changed for my parents when, after 20 years of marriage, they weren’t getting along. Rather than going to a divorce court, they went to a Catholic Charismatic prayer meeting. Their lives were turned upside down. They met Jesus and the Holy Spirit in a surprising and beautiful way. They discovered God’s love for them and God’s will for them: to love one another. Their transformation became my transformation.

Throughout high school I struggled with all the things teenagers struggle with but what helped me to cope was daily Bible readings, prayer, and a desire to do God’s will. By the time I was a high school senior, I started hearing an inner voice that said, “Why don’t you become a priest?” I remember fighting it. “NO! I DON’T WANT THAT! I want to go to college, to watch football games, to date girls.”  

God won that argument. I went to a college seminary situated on acres of pine woods north of New Orleans. It was my first experience of being in such a quiet environment with all boys and with NO GIRLS! I hated it.

It took me a good month to transition to the rhythm of life offered by the Benedictine monks at St. Joseph Seminary. That life began with sung prayer of the Psalms at 6:15 in the morning, class beginning at 8:30 or 9 am, Mass at 11:15, more class, free time, and work study in the afternoon, evening prayer with the monks at 5:30 pm and night prayer with the seminarians at 9:30. I was being disciplined into a new way of being a Catholic follower of Jesus.

During a fall day of prayer, the retreat director, Fr. Ambrose, said something that seems simple and “duh” now, but at the time was very new to me. He suggested that we spend a lot of time outdoors and listen to “nature.” Many of my classmates laughed at his suggestion. Fr. Ambrose was a man who would not swat a mosquito sucking blood out of his arm because he wanted to learn something from the insect. Yet, for me, what he said struck me as truth.

I tried to tune in to nature during the day. The beautiful, natural surroundings touched me, had a calming effect on me. I would occasionally get up early before morning prayer and spend time alone at the nearby river.

When Lent came around the following Spring, Fr. Ambrose again gave us students a recommendation that I took to heart. He suggested that during these 40 days we remove one item from our room as an outward sign of removing an attachment in our heart that might be keeping us from loving God and loving my neighbor. That very night I resolved for Lent I would remove one item each day from my room, and I would begin each day with a half hour of silence at the river before morning prayer.

Something very profound began to happen to me. I became aware of the beauty, peace, and healing balm that nature had to offer me. By the time Holy Week came, my room was completely emptied of all items on my wall, bed, and bookshelf. My heart had become still, quieted by nature’s touch. I felt so close to God, at peace with myself and the world around me.

I learned from that Lenten journey what Moses, the prophets from the Hebrew Scriptures, Jesus, and the saints all knew from their life with God: nature is a primary place of encounter between God and humans.

In Catholic language, nature is a “Sacrament.” It is an “outward sign, something one can experience through the senses – seen, touched, and heard – instituted by God, that gives grace.” In fact, it is the original “Sacrament” upon which all other Sacraments are built. Without nature, there is no “burning bush” before Moses, no “cloud by day” leading the Hebrews from Egypt, and no Word of God becoming “flesh” in baby Jesus.

Once while praying in a nearby park whose trees and shrubs were left to grow wild and free, I felt like I was in the womb of love. I wrote a poem about my relationship with the Sacrament of Nature inspired by the words of St. Augustine and an old Catholic hymn. I share it with you below. May you take time this Lent to cultivate a deeper life with God by allowing nature that you have access to – from your garden or nearby park to a mountain stream or the vast ocean – quiet your soul and draw you into a beautiful encounter with God.

“How late have I loved thee, O Nature, ever ancient and ever new.

O Sacrament most holy, O Sacrament divine, how late have I reverenced you, bowed before your beauty, knelt before your mystery like Moses before the burning bush.

You give life and death. You water, plant seeds, grow forests, birth creatures, including me, and receive us in death.

I played in your fields, ate from your fruits, stole from your treasures, always thinking you and I are different, separate. I had forgotten that I came from you, and I will return to you. As the Scriptures write, “For you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” (Gen 3:19) Clearly, I am nature too.

Forgive me, O sacred friend, forgive me for loving you too late, way too late, and having caused you so much harm. Late have I loved thee, O Beauty ever ancient and ever new, but it is not too late for me to change.