by Fr. Tom Zelinski, OFM Cap.
We are well into autumn. It seems to me that, among the seasons, autumn has the most to say about beginning something. And perhaps that feeling connects not so much with calendar autumn, but with September and Labor Day. But it is all about generally that time of year. In many places, school begins around that time, as well as various programs in churches and congregations. Over many years, my experience in retreat centers was to begin our new “season” soon after Labor Day. Trees change their colors as the new season begins. Of course, nature doesn’t pay attention to calendars, but rather to whatever goes on inside roots and trunks and leaves. Also, at this time of year, theaters and concert halls begin their fall and winter series of programs. And then there is football. For many, this becomes an important focus, especially here in Packerland, with the excitement of “opening day” and the first game of the season. The deeper human value of that interest could be debated, but it does take up a lot of energy and attention.
I have been through this cycle of seasons about 80 times, but there still seems something new about each season, and especially autumn. Perhaps this is because I have gone through another year and things have happened to me since the last experience of any particular season. But with the theme of new beginnings at the season, I am reminded that we are also invited to see that some things which seem routine can be given new life with some thought and intention.
Consider the life of prayer and spirituality. Each time we come to a moment of prayer, we can see it as a new beginning, a new encounter. This can be true of each Eucharist, each time of adoration, each time of other personal prayer. It is always a new encounter with God, who fills the universe and yet who desires an intimate relationship with us. That thought ought to stagger us once in a while, as it did St. Francis, or St. Therese, or Blessed Solanus, or Thomas Merton. Perhaps we can let the changing leaves speak to us of seeing ordinary practices as somehow new each time we come to them. I suppose this is an ideal, but maybe a practice we can experience if we only let it happen. As we make the sign of the cross, maybe with holy water, as we say “God, come to my assistance,” can we begin again with a moment that is new?