A Moment of Eternity

Today I had to run some errands that took me into a suburb in which I worked for five years. As I passed the familiar exits and mused on new construction since I had last driven that route, one particular sign gave me pause.

I knew where it led and suddenly, I knew that I had to go there before I continued on. There was time and, well...I couldn't say "no" to this particular clarion call.

When I worked in that city, I had a very stressful, demanding job, and one awful summer I had to do the work of three people as the others on my team had either been promoted or had left the company. Instead of taking lunch, I had begun going to Adoration.

Starving for Home

The first chapel I found near my work was still quite a drive and it was so comfortable and I was so emotionally exhausted that when I arrived there I'd almost immediately fall asleep, only to have to rush back, addled, to work. "Something" goaded me to look further, and indeed, I'd found a chapel closer to work. Each day, perhaps nearly every day that terrible summer, I looked forward to my break so that I could steal away to the chapel.

I didn't each lunch at all. I knew what I needed:  My Lord.

I remember the first time I arrived and crept up the stairs to the chapel, careful not to disturb any of those who were there praying. I didn't like the fact that I had to enter the chapel from the front, but just the same, I was grateful to be able to go and sank down in a pew like an exhausted swimmer collapsing upon the sand.

The chapel was like one from an old convent (which may be what that building once was); the altar is in the front surrounded by stained glass windows set into an arched outer wall. the pews line up precisely with heavy wooden kneelers and the scent of the old building is so permeated with ancient incense and...well...that indescribably sweet but nostalgic pungence one often finds in old buildings.

I was always comforted from the moment I entered the chapel and it became an oasis of peace that kept me sane in a very difficult time of my life.

Today, although I was happy to be able leave the office to run my work errands on a nice fall afternoon, and I was thrilled with what I was going to pick up, I knew that I had to take this detour and visit Jesus as a perfect balm for my harried soul.

I could not disobey the invitation that came to me today on the freeway and it was like stepping back in time as I parked my car and once again approached the chapel door, climbed the steps, and entered into the presence of the King.

As I knelt before Our Lord, deeply taking in the familiar aromas, I was taken back in time, thanking Jesus over and over again for this refuge He so freely offers us. Thanking Him for allowing me to come into His Presence.

Although I've fallen away some from praying the Liturgy of the Hours, it continues to go with me everywhere I go and today I was not surprised to open it and find us amidst the story of Esther. Her prayer is never far from my lips:  "Help me Lord, for I am all alone and I have no one but Thee."

 The Psalms spoke to me so deeply today that I nearly wept in gratitude as well as sorrow.

I could not help but marvel at how far God has taken me with Him in these last several years. Even as I prayed the Psalms, the memories of the place played in the background of my intellect.  I recalled that the last time I'd been there in that particular chapel, I barely knew my faith and was eagerly absorbing all I could. There were days I would go there and would just weep from stress and anxiety because of my job. There were days I would arrive and, in spite of the hardness of the pews, fall asleep out of pure exhaustion, unable to speak or absorb. All I could do was BE. And there, in that chapel, Our Lord allowed me to simply....be.  I could do that in His company, where He, simply...IS.

My mother was always a very devoted Catholic and our homes always housed the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Immaculate Heart of Mary.  Although I was familiar with and loved that image of Christ and His mother, it was there, in that particular chapel, that I re-discovered the devotion, learned about it, and made it my own. I absorbed into my very being the spirituality of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and began learning how to entrust myself and my prayers to the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

I sat there today, realizing that God has given me SO MUCH, and has and is taking me along with Him on a long walk to Calvary. It becomes so apparent, for the last time I was there, I was asking to know Him more deeply, praying about a religious Vocation, knowing that what I was doing was not what He intended to be my life's work.

I returned today, this time with a Masters in Theological Studies, with the Liturgy of the Hours, and with an entirely different type of burden. 

But still...it was all the same. Jesus is the same, everywhere, every day, in every age, from today to tomorrow, from the past we can't fathom and into a future we'll not see with earthly eyes. HE IS, quite simply. He IS. Eternally.

There I knelt, and although I did not really pray in words today, I prayed wordlessly, staring at Jesus as He looked back at me. And in that passive activity, time stopped and there was nothing but eternity in the gaze of Christ.

Earthly life continues and I had to break that incredible gaze, so I  invited Jesus to join me as I ran my errands. I knelt and left the silent endlessness of the blessed chapel and continued in silence to the next task.

Pondering my brief visit to the chapel, I realized that it was exactly what I needed. God knows us all so well and although we can encounter Him anywhere, at any Catholic parish, whether hidden in the tabernacle or exposed in the monstrance, He continues to use ALL of our senses when we seem to have lost our way in the darkness of this world. Jesus brought me into that suburb today not simply to complete an errand, but to visit HIM in a place special in my own memory of Him.

You see, I realized  that it was in that very chapel that I fell in love with Jesus. 

I needed to go there today. I needed it because I needed the sensory reminders of my passion for Him and His life-giving Passion for me. I NEEDED that.

Today, in that all-too-brief interlude, God did not speak to me of the Cross or of deep theological explanations. He spoke to me of eternity with Him. There, in that place where I first discovered the meaning of real, sacrificial love, He gave me a moment of loving eternity. And that description contains no paradox.

+Sacred Heart of Jesus, be my salvation!+

+Sacred Heart of Jesus, ThyKingdom come!+

+Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on me!+

Immaculate Heart of Mary...Pray for me! 

Dear Sacred Heart of Jesus...

I recently found this prayer, written on an index card, and set it aside, recognizing my mother's handwriting. I think it was in a stack of holy cards or a book she had given me.Mom had written at the bottom, "from a 1956 holy card". Some of her own prayer intentions were scripted on the back, but I won't share those here. This prayer is simple and invites us directly into the heart of Christ himself, in childlike simplicity.
 

Dear Sacred Heart of Jesus, 

I have asked for many favors, ____________, but I plead for this one. Take it, place it in your Open Broken Heart, and when the Eternal Father sees it covered with the Mantle of Your Most Precious Blood, He cannot refuse it, for then it is your prayer, not mine. 

Dear Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place my trust in Thee.

You know, they just don't write prayers like that anymore.

Sacred Heart of Jesus, be my salvation!
Sacred Heart of Jesus, Thy kingdom come!
Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on me!
Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in Thee.
Amen

Sacred Heart of Jesus

June is the month dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Therefore, in honor of His Most Sacred Heart, I am posting a prayer of consecration and the litany to the Sacred Heart.

Sacred Heart Act of Consecration Prayer
~ by Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque

I, ( your name. . .), give myself and consecrate to the Sacred Heart of our Lord Jesus Christ my person and my life, my actions, pains, and sufferings, so that I may be unwilling to make use of any part of my being save to honor, love, and glorify the Sacred Heart.

This is my unchanging purpose, namely, to be all His, and to do all things for the love of Him, at the same time renouncing with all my heart whatever is displeasing to Him.

I therefore take Thee, O Sacred Heart, to be the only object of my love, the guardian of my life, my assurance of salvation, the remedy of my weakness and inconstancy, the atonement for all the faults of my life and my sure refuge at the hour of death.

Be then, O Heart of goodness, my justification before God Thy Father, and turn away from me the strokes of His righteous anger. O Heart of love, I put all my confidence in Thee, for I fear everything from my own wickedness and frailty; but I hope for all things from Thy goodness and bounty.

Do Thou consume in me all that can displease Thee or resist Thy holy will. Let Thy pure love imprint Thee so deeply upon my heart that I shall nevermore be able to forget Thee or to be separated from Thee. May I obtain from all Thy loving kindness the grace of having my name written in Thee, for in Thee I desire to place all my happiness and all my glory, living and dying in true bondage to Thee

The Litany of the Sacred Heart of Jesus

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
Christ, graciously hear us.
God, the Father of Heaven, have mercy on us.
God, the Son, Redeemer of the World, have mercy on us.
God, the Holy Ghost, have mercy on us.
Holy Trinity, one God, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, Son of the Eternal Father, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, formed in the womb of the Virgin Mother by the Holy Ghost, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, united substantially with the word of God, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, of infinite majesty, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, holy temple of God, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, tabernacle of the Most High, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, house of God and gate of heaven, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, glowing furnace of charity, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, vessel of justice and love, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, full of goodness and love, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, abyss of all virtues, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, most worthy of all praise, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, king and center of all hearts, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, in whom are all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, in whom dwelleth all the fullness of the Divinity, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, in whom the Father is well pleased, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, of whose fullness we have all received, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, desire of the everlasting hills, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, patient and rich in mercy, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, rich to all who invoke Thee, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, fount of life and holiness, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, propitiation for our sins, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, saturated with revilings, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, crushed for our iniquities, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, made obedient unto death, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, pierced with a lance, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, source of all consolation, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, our life and resurrection, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, our peace and reconciliation, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, victim for our sins, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, salvation of those who hope in Thee, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, hope of those who die in Thee, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, delight of all saints, have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world, spare us, O Lord.
Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world, graciously hear us, O Lord,
Lamb of God who takest away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.
V. Jesus, meek and humble of Heart.
R. Make our hearts like unto Thine.

Let us pray

Almighty and everlasting God, look upon the Heart of Thy well-beloved Son and upon the acts of praise and satisfaction which He renders unto Thee in the name of sinners; and do Thou, in Thy great goodness, grant pardon to them who seek Thy mercy, in the name of the same Thy Son, Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth with Thee, world without end.

Amen

**

O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us!

O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us!

O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus...be our salvation!

Immaculate Heart of Mary....pray for us!

Amen

Clavis Corde Jesu

Today at work, shortly after I arrived and while my computer was booting up, I *knew* I needed to head down to the chapel...or at least in that direction.  Surely enough, I saw in the copy room nearby a volunteer with whom I needed to speak, we had a wonderful conversation, and then, finally, I headed in to pray. Instead of going to the chapel, though, I stayed in the Church, opting to remain in the presence of Our Lord, enclosed in the tabernacle.

After praying Morning Prayer, as I stood and genuflected to say goodbye to Jesus, something about the tabernacle caught my attention. I stopped to look more closely and realized that the key had been left in the lock!

Knowing that it should not be there, I stood and carefully removed the key, then took it to the office as I wasn't exactly sure WHERE in the sacristy it belonged.  I had a guess but wanted to be certain so that the next time it was needed Father didn't have to tear the place apart looking for it!

After verifying the proper place for the key, I headed to the sacristy, where I found Father himself, who apparently needed it and before I arrived, did not know that it was "missing"! Happily I handed it over and verified where it should go should I ever find it in the same way ever again.

Key to God's House....and His Heart

I don't normally have the tabernacle key in my hand, I don't normally approach the residence of Our Lord, and today sensed it to be a great privilege to hold something so important. I realized that perhaps the desire to head to the chapel to pray in EXACTLY that time was in order to offer this exact service for Jesus and His entire Body, to defend against sacrilege.

And maybe something more.

The "feeling" of the key in my hand wouldn't leave me today; I knew the true weight of the key itself as being far more than its mere mass would indicate, and there is no way to explain this seeming dichotomy.

Today is a First Friday, a day set aside each month to honor the Sacred Heart of Jesus. As I went about my work I pondered His Most Sacred Heart and how He offers Himself so freely, and with such vulnerability to us in the Holy Eucharist.  I recalled the Miracle of Lanciano and the evidence that revealed it as heart tissue.  When we receive Holy Communion, we receive the very heart of Christ!  He gives us that great symbol, and more importantly, the REALITY of His own love and life, without which NONE of us could ever exist!

I recalled my plaintive prayer to Jesus from last summer as my plane landed in Hartford, CT. I had to wipe tears from my eyes again as I seem to continue to pray that same prayer to Him, one I can't seem to stop praying:  "Jesus, please don't break my heart."

He never has and never will, but I, of course, have broken His over and over again.  I can't seem to stop doing so, either. It becomes clear that even as I desire to offer everything, I still hold much in reserve, even as He quite literally offers His own Sacred Heart to me especially through the Most Blessed Sacrament!

Today, in an unexpected blessing, He entrusted me with the physical key to His heart.  Not just with Himself...but with the highly guarded key to that which we hold most Sacred.Even the Angels who adore Him and are always in His Presence are not given such an honor.

I can still feel the weight of that key in my palm and hear the echo of Jesus' own plea back to me:

"I trust you with MY heart....won't you trust Me with yours?"
*

Contemplate the Cross

WHEN you are alone in your room, take your crucifix, kiss its five wounds reverently - tell it to preach you a little sermon and then listen to the words of eternal life that it speaks to your heart; listen to the pleading of the thorns, the nails, the precious Blood. Oh what an eloquent sermon!

~ St. Paul of the Cross, Flowers of the Passion

Today is the Memorial of St. Paul of the Cross, priest and founder of the Passionists. I have a special devotion to him for many reasons, although I am only now beginning to discover his writings. Devotion to the Passion of Our Lord is a rare thing, especially in today's culture that seeks to escape suffering...never to embrace it. Yet in contemplation of Jesus, how can anyone expect to really know and love Him without that perfect unitive love that comes ONLY through suffering?

It is ONLY through suffering that we can know Christ with any real intimacy. He invites us into His Passion, to contemplate His wounds, suffered for love of us. He gave all. The Father looks at us through the wounds of Our Lord, and through those same wounds, we are absorbed into Him and given the grace to rest, completely, within His Most Sacred Heart.

"Love is a unitive virtue which appropriates the sufferings of the Beloved."

Spend some time each day contemplating the Cross, seeking to unite yourself with the Passion of Our Lord. Recall that each time you attend Mass, you are kneeling at the very foot of the Cross, the one and only Sacrifice of Calvary, having just offered yourself as a holocaust in union with

Him. Know what you are seeking, know what is being made present to you, and know that it is possible to be completely lost within the wounds that bring us all to salvation...if we are only willing to drink deeply of that cup so freely offered for our sins.

"Would that I could set the whole world on fire with love of God!"

St. Paul of the Cross....PRAY FOR US!

How Long Must I Wait?

Love is so hard to comprehend. I don't understand it it all.

Yes, I've written about it theologically, and I believe that God's love is personal, but for some reason, I can't internalize the depth and witdth and breadth of Our Lord's love.

Growing up, I heard over and over how God the Father loves us, how the Holy Spirit loves us, and how Jesus loves us. We sang about it in songs. Yet, the words and chintzy tunes weren't enough. They revealed...nothing. God always seemed in some sense, impersonal and aloof. Certainly I agreed that His Sacrifice on the Cross was personal, but in my mind, it was personal to us collectively and He didn't really know me. He was like a celebrity, one who might be very kind to me if he met me, but would recognize me no more than would, say, David Hasselhoff. I was just one of millions saying, "I love you Jesus!"

Even as an adult, it's hard to grasp such deep, personal, and truly passionate love. Even though I have the theology and can express Thomistically and in Augustinian language the fact that Christ's Sacrifice was personal in the most intimate sense, this truth is something that hasn't yet truly brought me to my knees.

I've experienced bona fide miracles, and all the time I witness answers to prayers, both of mine and those of my friends. Little prayers are often answered in big, obvious ways. Even so, I simply can't grasp that God's love for us is truly tangible and real.

Honestly, I can barely even write about how personal is His love. Over and over, when I've written on this topic, I tend to make it impersonal, using terms like "we" and "us". Certainly that IS true, and in using those terms I do want to help others understand that this love is for them, maybe if I was being honest I'd have to say that the personal pronouns are too difficult. I need to "diffuse" this love of God to spread it out, because it's so strong that to understand it would bowl me over.

As it stands, I have a hard time truly accepting God's love for...me.

My response to such a revelation has always been, and remains even now, "How can this be?!?"

Lately, when looking at different pictures of Jesus, what has stood out the most has been the wounds on His hands. No matter how sterile and bloodless the picture, the artist has always taken care to portray the wounds left by the nails that pierced Jesus' hands. Every time I see these pictures, I want to stop and lose myself in that image, hide within those wounds. Even as I flinch back in guilt at what I've done, I am drawn forward with a love I cannot deny or refuse.

How dare I write about this love? How can I write about loving Jesus if I struggle so hard to accept His love for me?

This evening before Mass I was musing about this and wonder if perhaps the reason for this dichotomy is actually very simple: we don't know what love really is. In our puny, imperfect human love, we set boundaries, restrictions and conditions, even disorder. Then, when we are confronted with the perfect, personal, unconditional and unrelenting love of Jesus, we realize immeditely that we must accept it on His terms

I was almost overcome in that moment of prayer, still not understanding, but coming a little closer to His Most Sacred Heart. His Heart, the source of all love, that teaches me I don't have to understand in order to accept, that He is only asking me to trust.

Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us.

Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us.

Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us.

Immaculate Heart of Mary....pray for us!

Feast of the Sacred Heart

Today is the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and the day the Church begins the Year for Priests.

Everyone, get to Mass today and pray for priests!

Prayer to the Sacred Heart for Priests

Remember, 0 most loving Heart of Jesus, that they for whom I pray are those for whom You prayed so earnestly the night before Your death. These are they to whom You look to continue with You in Your sorrows when others forsake You, who share Your griefs and have inherited your persecutions, according to Your word: That the servant is not greater than his Lord. Remember, O Heart of Jesus, that they are the objects of the world's hatred and Satan's deadliest snares. Keep them then, 0 Jesus, in the safe citadel of Your Sacred Heart and there let them be sanctified in truth. May they be one with you and one among themselves, and grant that multitudes may be brought through their word to believe in You and love You.

In Hoc Signo Vinces

So...the big "O" has wrecked a perfectly good month by declaring it to be "LBGT Pride" or whatever the order of the letters month. Whatever. Seriously, is anyone really surprised?

The last time I checked, though Pride went before a fall. Batten down the hatches...when this culture falls, it's going to have a ripple effect throughout the world and throughout history.

Of course, for we Catholics, who are actually not part of the world, but just passing through it for a time, this really means nothing to us. This month, we celebrate the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and next month, July, we'll celebrate the Precious Blood of Christ. It doesn't matter that our country is being run by a marxist who has no morals. He isn't the first in history, nor will he be the last. It doesn't matter that these groups who are trying to force everyone to accept their brand of immorality in order to "normalize" it are intolerant fascists doing everything they can to silence anyone who disagrees with them.

Our eyes are on Christ. Our eyes are on the Cross. Our suffering is united with His. Our hopes are in the Resurrection.

It doesn't matter how many knives are stabbed into our backs by the "tolerant" folks.

We aren't defined by this culture, and we needn't be disturbed by the "pride" going on all around us.

Rather, we need to take care that we do not become prideful, and fall just as hard.

The reality is that a fall is coming; when there's that much pride and arrogance going on, you know that the pressure can only get so high before the bubble bursts.

In the words of St. Terese of Avila... " let nothing disturb you."

Focus on God alone. When you are overwhelmed by the political and immoral climate that rages, remember that it is going to rage even more against those who refuse to participate in it. But don't let it disrupt your own calm. Keep your interior gaze on Our Lord, go to Confession often, go to Mass often, pray unceasingly.

The Month of June belongs to the Sacred Heart. Consecrate yourself, consecrate your family, consecrate everything and everyone you can. Pray Divine Mercies for those who rage against you.

We know how this battle ends. We must be willing to suffer the Cross in order to pass through it.

Just because a politician dedicates a month to some stupid thing doesn't mean we need to recognize it. It DOES mean we need to pray for those who do. That's our role.

I find Evening Prayer tonight to be especially meaningful to us:

Psalm 20

May the Lord answer in time of trial;

may the name Jacob's God protect you.

May we ring out our joy at your victory

and rejoice in the name of our God.

May the Lord grant all your prayers.

I am sure now that the Lord

will give victory to his anointed,

will reply from his holy heaven

with the mighty victory of his hand.

Some trust in chariots or horses,

but we in the name of the Lord.

They will collapse and fall,

but we shall hold and stand firm.

Give victory to the king, O Lord

give answer on the day we call.

Psalm-prayer

Lord, you accepted the perfect sacrifice of your Son upon the cross. Hear us during times of trouble and protect us by the power of his name, that we who share his struggle on earth may merit a share in his victory.

Ant. God has crowned his Christ with victory.

Ant. 2 We celebrate your mighty works with songs of praise, O Lord.

Keep your eyes on Our Lord, take refuge under the shadow of His wings, and know that in your trust Jesus will hold you within His Most Sacred Heart.

Sacred Heart of Jesus....have mercy on us.

Sacred Heart of Jesus....have mercy on us.

Sacred Heart of Jesus....be our salvation!

Immaculate Heart of Mary... pray for us!

In Hoc Signo Vinces, my friends. In Hoc Signo Vinces!

Grateful

This afternoon I had a meeting with my spiritual director, and I'll admit, I wasn't looking forward to the meeting. I wasn't sure how I was going to approach what I had to say, or how he would react, what he would say, etc.

While still at home, I mused that I had looked and prayed so hard for an SD, finally found one...and didn't want to go. I also knew that I would never cancel such an appointment, because sometimes the most difficult things can be the most rewarding.

I spent some time in the adoration chapel beforehand, praying. I realized that a few things were converging today: As the first of May, it is the month of Mary. It is the Feast of St. Joseph the Worker, and as a First Friday, it is a day dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Even further, my meeting was at 3 pm, the Hour of Mercy. Having long known our Blessed Mother, having long had St. Joseph as a special patron, having forever had the Sacred Heart of Jesus as a primary devotion in my life...well, let's just say I could not ignore the fact that God is and remains present in my life and orchestrated both the day and the time of this meeting.

So I prayed, not just for me, but for my SD, for us, for our meeting, and for trust in God.

My friends, God is good. God is faithful. God is loyal.

Our meeting went well, and as always, I find Father to be very easy to talk to. He is understanding, sympathetic, and objective. And in the course of our meeting, he managed to point out two major issues I need to deal with: control and trust.

They seem so opposed to each other, yet, each has a balance.

I'm not a "controlling" person per se, as I tend to actually let a lot of things go. But that doesn't mean I trust. In fact, I have a very difficult time trusting God and trusting others. I have a hard time letting God take over, and I know WHY this is, but the knowing doesn't help me give God the reins.

It comes down to such simplicity; finding trust in God such that I can let Him take control.  

As my SD pointed out, what's going on right now is learning that trust.  God is doing something major in my life. 

I won't give a rehash of our conversation, but I will say this:  I feel like my life is falling apart. I can watch the threads that hold it all together fading, fraying, and separating.  I'm terrified. I know I'm going to lose everything, and not on my timing and in my way.  I'm still trying to be in control, tie knots to hold things together that maybe NEED to fall to pieces, for they are not useful anymore.  

I told Father of my crisis of last weekend, of wanting to give up, of being so tired.  I also explained that I realize I've lost my focus on God, and need to spend more time with Him, letting HIM decide where I should go and when. 

There is no doubt in my mind that the Holy Spirit guided our conversation, for he used phrases and words that have been in my mind all week.  And he refuses to give up on me. 

There are many in my life who have given up on me, and maybe they were right to do so. But Father won't.  I realize this is part of learning to trust in God, and to let God work as He desires.  

Perhaps it's appropriate that I found, as a spiritual director, one of Christ's own chosen sons;  for I must learn to trust God in conjunction with one who represents Him very directly.  And just as it is the Holy Spirit who acts to bring Christ to His people through the hands of the priests, so it is, in spiritual direction, that the Holy Spirit will bring the voice of My Lord into the depths of my soul through one vowed to serve in His place. 

The mercy of God is endless. 

I hope my depth of gratitude will rise as a font to meet the pefect depths of mercy of Jesus so that there I may be drowned in true life and real sacrificial love as I continue to seek to give myself, without reserve, to Our Lord for eternity.  

Scandal

When people hear the word "scandal", they think of some bit of juicy titillating gossip about a political figure or celebrity, and enjoy the sense of feigned "shock" followed by the ripple effect of articles and photos and water cooler discussions brought up by the event which might not even be true.  

Our Canon Law professor told us last weekend that there are some canonists who don't understand the meaning of the word, and will argue that extramarital affairs and liturgical abuses don't cause scandal anymore becuase no one is surprised when those things happen.  In other words, those who are supposed to know better are defining "scandal" as "entertaining, exhilierating, titillating, shocking and newsworthy."  

What idiocy. 

Scandal is now, in the context of canon law and moral theology EXACTLY what it has ALWAYS been!  It is a stumbling block. 

Scandal is defined as something that leads others to sin.  That's why scandal itself is a sin. 

For example, if I take a youth group into a store and I steal a pack of gum, I've just caused scandal. Whether those kids know it or not, they've been scandalized because my action, coming from being a person who should be a moral leader, has now given legitimacy to the sin of theft. 

Does that mean they'll automatically go out and steal gum?  No. 

But I can think of times in my own life where people I looked to as a moral example did or said something wrong, and because they did so, it made me think the action was ok. And then I committed the same thing.  That doubles the sin;  not only did the person who gave example commit an objective sin, but by their example they led me to do the same.  That's scandal. 

Practical Application

I look around at certain "journalistic" rags (both religious and secular) and there, I read only scandal. Not because I'm tempted, but because others are. And THAT leads me to an entirely different sin of calumny and detraction against the reporters, the writers, the average uniformed "Catholics" writing letters fraught with heretical ideas. 

 Scandal. 

I look around at the blogosphere which at least is honest in that the individual authors tend to proclaim their bias and don't pretend to be "balanced" - but there is much scandal there as well. For there are more than a few blogs I can no longer follow because all I see there is pride, calumny, detraction, anger, attack...etc.  All things that are not properties belonging to holiness.  

If I can't look at someone or their writings and see holiness, then it's time to walk away. Because if I give in to taking up anger and detraction, well, that's a scandal. 

It means that the person writing those inflammatory words is causing scandal, because by his or her example, I am being led into the same sin they possess.  I've found over and over again that when I read snark, I become snarky, and if I get snarky and make it public, it makes other people snarky, too. 

That's scandal.  

Now, there is a line; we CAN be critical of things that are unjust or need to be corrected.  Pointing out a public wrong doesn't automatically mean the person commenting on it is causing scandal or adding to it. It's all in how it's done.

That's why truth in journalism is so important, why truth in blogging is so important.  We're human. We're going to be biased, we're going to have opinions, and often we are going to be quite passionate about those opinions. But that doesn't mean we have to cause scandal in our passion.  

I've had a lot of posts that have "magically" disappeared over the last few years, and I'll have more as I go through my archives, or as I write when maybe I'm a bit too inflamed to do so.  

The reason many of those posts disappear is because I judge them to be scandalous;  either because they contain misinformation which has come to my attention, they are uncharitable (thus scandalous), or maybe they are simply mean-spirited.  

The example we set as Christians makes a difference.  If X person who claims to be a good Christian has this biting, snarky commentary, it must be ok to respond in that manner and poke fun at someone who is ignorant of our beliefs.  If popular X person gives an example of ridicule, then it becomes ok for the rest of us to follow that example, because...hey!  X person is popular so his or her opinion must mean a great deal more and if they do it, then we can, too. 

False logic.

The fact is that someone who exhibits the above behaviors is causing scandal; they are leading others into sin. 

And yes, I've done it.  

I do it all the time, and I am sincerely sorry for leading others to enter with me into such sins.  I pray God have mercy on those I mislead and instead place their punishment upon my shoulders, which would be just.  If I have scandalized, it is I who should suffer for it, for I have a greater duty. 

Sometimes it's hard, though, to know when someone has caused scandal.  Snarky humor can be fun, and it can be innocent and poking humorous criticism at serious issues may be a good way to bring correction.  Yet, so often, there is a mean spirit involved.  We have to evaluate...are we making a personal attack?  Are we singling anyone out?  

Is the person we are reading being a jerk or is their humor honest and innocent of malicious intent? Are they leading us to denigrate something or someone in an unjust manner? In an unholy manner?  

What response does their example cause in us?  Does it incite us to our own rants, make us dredge up old offenses and anger...or do we simply laugh at truthful humor and move on? 

Is there darkness in our laughter or is there the guilty pleasure that comes with that which is illicit if not fatal?  

In looking at all this,  in pondering it, I consider my "ranting" posts, and I wonder at whether charity is present.  There are some rants I've written out of pure humor, albeit with a biting style.  And even though I don't feel anger or bitterness, often that does come through because it's truly the way, culturally, I've learned to express critical humor.  And that, even without intent, may be scandalous. 

I wonder at my previous posts, knowing that it's important to address what is problematic, but I knew that there would be those who might arrive and begin to air their own liturgical complaints.  That has happened...the keyword "liturgy" always attracts people with grievances.

Is that scandalous?  Am I responsible for the most bitter among us who are in need of healing but can't seem to find their way out of the darkness so that healing can take place?  Am I making their situation worse?  

These are things I consider. 

Recently, at Crescat's blog, I received a nomination for "Best Spiritual Treat Blog" and I wonder if I should decline the nomination itself.  

I love what she's doing, I love her blog, and I've recommended her to others.  I love her humor, her truthfulness of who she is and who  she claims to be, and totally identify with her.  

But...how can I be a spiritual treat if I'm as snarky as the next guy?  How does that lead others to holiness?

The reality is that here, I don't have a specific agenda.  Maybe evangelization, maybe just sharing my faith because I know there are others who need to know they are not alone.  Maybe revealing moments of piety juxtaposed with the majority moments of sin.  

I'm not a "Spiritual Treat".  You're not going to come to my blog and see a perfect exudation of holiness.  It simply isn't present.  I'm just a sinner in need of salvation. Awards won't change that fact.  If someone thinks I'm anything close to a Saint, well...they've never met one.  I spend most of my time causing scandal, actually. 

And if I could truly see the impact of my life on others, I'd drop in my tracks and die. For I've lead far more souls into sin than I have been able to point to salvation.  And as for myself...I wallow in sin.  It covers me. The second I leave the Confessional, I'm back to my regular charms, which aren't charming at all.  

My biggest hobby, truthfully speaking:  offending God. I go out of my way to offend Him, and then say to myself that it wasn't my intent, no matter how willful my act.  

Please don't load my combox with a bunch of platitudes of how great I art.  I don't need that nor want it. I NEED to understand the harm I've caused, I NEED to see very clearly the effects of sin, both in recognizing how others have lead ME to sin, and how I have lead others. That's important. 

We ALL cause scandal. All of us. We all lead others to sin. 

But my hope is here:  God NEVER reveals sin without revealing His mercy.  

I weep in gratitude that God can see my scandalous life and offer me His pierced hand anyway, so that when He is raised up, I am drawn to Him.  

Therin is the scandal of the Cross. The ultimate juxtaposition.  Such an event that makes us see how so great a fault that we possess can warrant us so great a Redeemer is beyond our comprehension.  

The fact is that Jesus Christ reaches His bloody hands out to us, in forgiveness and sacrificial love, bringing our scandalized souls into Him through scandal personified.  

Therin is His Glory. 

I have nothing to offer Him but scandal, for I not only sin, but lead others to do so as well. When I approach Him, I bring not only myself, but all those who have been wounded or killed by my actions.  

Scandal. 

And then He is so generous that at the very revelation of my sorrow, He erases my guilt and restores me to His side, hiding me within His Most Sacred Heart. 

And we are all scandalized by such great generosity. 

Truly...none of us understands scandal, for it is through scandal that we fall, and in gratitude of scandal that we might enjoy eternal life with Christ.  

I will go on, pondering scandal, for even now, I don't understand...

*

Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner....

 

Bittersweet Agony

Today I took the day off work and drove down to my hometown to honor the life and memory and offer prayers for a man who was a father figure for me in some very difficult years.  

The other night at my brother's house, we discussed our memories of our friend and near-relative, realizing together how like a father he was to us.  He had no children of his own, but was one of those people who was often called upon for help...and he was always there.  He taught me to drive, he taught me how to shoot and handle weapons, and he taught me how to Polka. He and my brother had a special connection through their love of music and the guitar.

Dancing the Polka

Oh, yes.  I still remember the evening P.  taught me to dance.  

I grew up in a town that contained three Catholic churches, all within walking distance, and that evening Mom and I went to the Saturday vigil Mass at St. Lawrence, then attended the parish festival afterwards.  A polka band played loudly, we could smell hamburgers and popcorn, barbecue sandwiches and cole slaw....all to the lively rhythm of polka.  

I remember that he invited me to dance, and I didn't know how. His wife told me to go...she loved dancing, said he could show me how. And indeed, he did. He loved to dance, he loved music, he loved people, and in between our convesations about guns and law enforcement, we hit the pavement of the parking lot and danced a lively jig while others walked the cakewalk or tipped back a brew in the beer tent.  

He and Mom had grown up together, and he was a natural part of our family. Even though he wasn't really a cousin to me, he was so for Mom. Today Mom told us how he helped to tear down the barn at the old family farm when she was a child, and I remember from years ago her confession that he taught her how to smoke after he came back from the Vietnam War.  

She doesn't smoke anymore.  

Today was hard.  I walked into the Church of the Immaculate Conception, not realizing how small it really was. The last time I'd been there, it was the largest parish in our town, and it's where the "rich people" attended Mass.  But it was a beautiful Church, constructed of grey stone, the sanctuary was a a perfect grotto, with a couple small rose windows.  I took in the beautiful stained glass, wishing that, as a teen, I'd understood what was there.  With no surprise, after we were seated in a pew, I looked up at a wonderful window depicting Christ in His Agony.  How appropriate.  

One of my greatest devotions is  to Jesus in His Agony in the Garden. 

The funeral was quite dignified, the deacon who gave the homily was family to our beloved deceased, and spoke clearly and accurately, in both a rememberance and an exhortation to exemplify Christ.  

But it was hard to believe who we were sending off.  I still can't quite grasp that he's gone.  

I guess I'm still in the agony.  

Clustering

This was the last time I'll be in that church.  It seems that Immaculate Conception is scheduled to be razed at some point in the near future.  This town that used to have three Catholic churches has only one now, spread in between different properties. They are building another one on the outskirts of the city, and once I saw the model, I wept. It is the typical modern design. Typical lateral theology. I understand building a new church...I don't understand why modern architects can't honor the sacred architecture that draws us uncompromisingly towards Christ and takes us out of ourselves.  

I took a few photos before I left, quite conscious of the fact that our departed friend would have been doing the same, as the holder of the office of picture-taking.  

En route out of town, I stopped at my home parish, where I'd been Confirmed when I was fifteen. The funeral reception was supposed to be there, although the guests were still at the cemetary.  In the solitude, I went inside and into the sanctuary where I'd spent so many hours of my life as a teenager.  

The church was dark, but Christ was still present, evidenced by the flickering red candle on the right side altar, just as He'd always been.  This house of God wasn't the same, but at least it wasn't vacant.  

The white marble altar on the right that held the tabernacle was so familiar, and so was the matching one on the left, sporting the Risen Christ.

The church was too dark to take photographs, but it was perfect for prayer.  I walked up the aisle on the right, passing the detailed stained glass windows. Remembering the same walk every Sunday, remembering Confessions made in this very space.  Remembering...

 Nearing the front, I knelt, right in the side aisle, knowing I had to apologize.  For all the years I entered the Presence of Christ...and did not acknowledge Him.  For all the years I cantored, not even understanding the meaning of that candle.  I knelt there, on the same thin, tan carpet, remembering all the years spent in that church.  But not knowing what it was all about.  Still understanding that in my ignorance, Jesus had taken over, and I am only alive because of that time spent at His feet.  

It's still home.  Jesus is still there. He always was, even though I didn't understand.  Even though I didn't know Him...He knew me.  

I'll never forget the arching supports, I'll never forget that side altar, I'll never forget standing in the choir, singing for Jesus, playing my flute for Jesus.  

It used to be so big, and now....it seems so small. 

Sacred Heart has already been partially stripped.  The big crucifix is gone, moved to the new construction. I hear they've taken the tabernacle from St. Lawrence, and I pray they save the stained glass from ALL the churches. That is art that cannot be reproduced.  It's our history. Our patrimony.  The white cloth that represents the resurrection in the place of the absent Cross does nothing other than emphasize the impending demolition of the buliding. 

Today has been such a strange day. It's been a trip through my pre-teen through graduation years. Our old house is still there, but painted, and somewhat run down.  Our our church...losing ground.  It's not the vibrant place it was when we arrived. I'll never forget Father P. who made us so welcome, whose big hands were always read to grasp ours. He died of cancer only a few years after we moved to that town.  But our parish embraced us. It became home.  

I prayed to Father today, asking for his intercession.  The hall below is named for him...and now that hall will be sold.  Where does his memory go?  We are his children...where do we go?

The bell towers are silent, the bells having been moved to the new contraption they call a "church".  

I wished I had more time today. I wished I could stay in the shadows of the Sacred Heart, reaching for the elusive light cast by the flickering candle.  But I couldn't. 

I did kneel before the sacred shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe, a shrine I've twice visited in Mexico. That wasn't there in my teen years, although our hispanic population was growing.  It is clear they found a home at Sacred Heart, too. It's so sad; those who found a home away from their own country are having to flee again.    

In my life as a suburban Catholic, I've congratulated myself and my diocese of avoiding the heartache that has attacked so many others around the country.  And meanwhile, back home, still in the same diocese,  my own home is being lost.  One church has already been sold, the tabernacle take away.  Today when I  drove past, I crossed myself, thinking Christ was there. He wasn't.  Jesus has left the building...and it's no longer a church. Just a bunch of stones, heaped one upon another. Once a witness to God's glory, now...just a shell of memories to be razed or remodeled according to the whim of the buyer.  

What a gift to enter Sacred Heart.  Jesus was waiting.  There I was, how many years later?  Coming home.  Kneeling in adoration.  Remembering the liturgies, the choir rehearsals...my first Christmas as a flautist.  My first experience, at Christmas, as a Cantor. The book thrust into my hands with the command from the choir director:  "Sing this!" as she took off to assist where help was needed. 

What child is this, who laid to rest, in Mary's lap is sleeping?  

The shadows spoke to me.  The glow from the windows.  The flicker of the presence of Christ.  

Surely it is God who saves me, I will trust in Him and not be afraid...  ~ 1st Song of Isaiah

It wasn't an elaborate church, but it was welcoming. It was reverent.  It made sense. It draws one to Christ.  

When I turned to go, in the back stood my brother, who had arrived with Mom, and waited for me.  Almost embarassed, I joined him, and took a photograph of the stained glass depicting the namesake:  The Sacred Heart of Jesus. 

I said goodbye to my family today, there in the basement of that parish hall, where we'd spent so many years.  I walked up the steps alone, and knelt in the center aisle, bowing to Jesus.  Atoning for all those years of ignorance.  Knowing He understood.  

A bittersweet homecoming.  A little girl grown up. Another home lost. 

A new parish formed, from the vestiges of the old.  

Fr. Peichel,  pray for us.  

Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us.  

Divine Heart of Jesus...I trust in thee. 

Preaching the Cross

I just finished watching Fr. Corapi speaking with Fr. Pacwa on EWTN, and he made a major point; we don't often enough hear about Christ Crucified. We aren't told about the Cross. In many parishes, the crucifix has been replaced with a "resurrection cross", showing Jesus resurrected, but only a sterile reminder of His suffering.

We shouldn't be so surprised, then, that people are trying to end suffering through euthanasia rather than embrace it and understand its redemptive power. If we don't learn about the Cross...we can't truly know Christ.

I grew up with images of our Crucified Lord all over the house; in the images of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Immaculate Heart of Mary, in the crucifixes, in learning the Sorrowful Mysteries. At Mass, I used to look at my First Communion Mass book at the images of Jesus suffering, trying to understand...especially because there didn't seem to be a lot wrong with Him.

Over time, and especially in the last couple years, I've fallen in love with Jesus. Not because He's such a "nice guy", but because of His suffering. I don't love Jesus because He said some interesting things and inspired some people to change their ways and performed a few miracles. I love Jesus because He DIED for me. He suffered HORRIBLY...for me.

I can't tell you the moment it happened, but one day I looked at the Cross, at the suffering of Christ, and realized His sacrifice was REAL, it was PERSONAL, and it was done out of LOVE.

Once I knew what love REALLY was, I was changed forever.

It was the Cross that drew me to Him. It was His suffering, His redemptive suffering that made me approach.

"When I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself."
~Jn 12:32

When Christ was first lifted from the earth, He was Crucified. The second time He was lifted, he was Resurrected, and the third time was his Ascension.

And every day, if we so desire or are able to go, we can see Christ lifted again, during the Sacrifice of the Mass...and we are drawn to Him even more closely, through Holy Communion.

We need to hear about the Cross, we need to understand the sacrifice of love that draws us to Him, and we need to understand His own invitation to unite our own sufferings with His, for that is where we will truly find Him. And in making an offering of our own trials...that is where we will learn to love others.

If we don't understand the message of the Cross, we can't possibly understand love.

Solemnity of the Sacred Heart

Sacred Heart of Jesus, I place all my trust in thee!

Bleeding Hearts and Bluebells

Once again, Sarah over at Just Another Day of Catholic Pondering has inspired me. She is SO GOOD at that!

She posted these beautiful photos of bluebells and bleeding heart flowers recently, and it makes me wax nostalgic. (Like that's hard for me.)

Until I was ten, I lived in the Rock River valley in Illinois. We had a rambler in a little rural neighborhood in view of the river. Our acre lot was bordered, near the house, by a fence to separate our yard from the neighbor's and another neighbor's garden..and up against the fence we had a raspberry bush, a lilac bush, bluebells, irises, and bleeding hearts.

I'm not sure when exactly I became aware of the flowers and fruit that graced our yard, but I do remember that it all came into my radar all at once.

First it was the lilacs; they were so fragrant, and so fleeting, although as I've gotten older I've realized exactly HOW fleeting are those blooms, and I love them that much more for their brevity. They must be loved intensely to make up for their temporary presence in scent and beauty. There is a spiritual lesson in that, isn't there? In God's eyes, our own lives are even more fleeting, even more unique, and he loves us far more intensely, yet he has given us these little examples of life in the Garden we shunned through Adam and Eve. I fully believe that in Eden, these blossoms were eternal.

Then the irises; I became fascinated by their purply-blue color and yellow centers, and I remember picking one to bring to my neighbor, Ethel, whom I loved dearly. I was a shy child, but she had the ability to make anyone feel comfortable, and she rewarded my bravado in visiting her with a piece of candy. So I picked flowers and gave them to her in exchange for her loyalty and her sweets. It was she who helped me identify the mysterious beauty in our back yard. I think that on one occasion, she walked around the little flower garden with me, waiting for me to ask the questions, answering them to the best of her ability.

The Irises were next to the Bluebells, and I knew as soon as she said the word where they got their name. I loved the curve of the stem, the delicate curvature of the "bell" and the tiny little "clapper" that jutted outward for the bees. I wondered if they would really ring if we shook them. They fascinated me.

But my favorite flower of all favorite flowers at the time was...the Bleeding Heart. For those unfamiliar with this flower, they grow on a bush and hang in a row, like little hearts, their literal shape, appearing to be dripping from the bottom.

I especially liked to gaze upon those flowers when I was sad, or happy, or experiencing any intense emotion, because they seemed to contain it all.

My Mom had a devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary, so whenever I saw the bleeding hearts in the back yard, I was seeing Jesus and Mary, but especially Jesus, for his Sacred Heart was on our family Bible. When I saw Bleeding Hearts, I saw God's love, and I took those flowers so personally!

Sadly, I do not have a green thumb, and my complete inability to keep plants alive makes me appreciate God's creation that much more, for I know that where I fail, God is perfected, so I am content to simply allow creation to bloom around me.

Spring is such a beautiful, transient time of year; we are now in the lull, the limbo between spring and summer in Minnesota. The early blooms have withered away, and the summer blooms are only beginning to take place, but there are none so beautiful to me as those precious flowers of my childhood, the ones that captured my heart so long ago, remain with me today, even if I can enjoy them only in photos.