The Looming Shadow of the Cross

I get it. I "get" that it's the Octave of Easter and we're all supposed to be joyful and happy and bubbling over with over-enthusiasm because Jesus Christ has RISEN! ALLELUIA!

Yes, I DO believe, and I KNOW, without a doubt, that God condescended to become one of us, suffered the ransom for our sin through punishment and a really torturous, horrible death, and was buried. I believe He descended into Hell to seek out our first parents, Adam and Eve, and all the others who had gone to Gehenna to await the Messaiah, and freed them.

Yes, I believe, but this year, I remain in the Passion. I celebrate liturgically, but personally, I'm not "feelin'" it and let me just say this:  this is exactly why our Faith is not about emotion.

One of the reasons I am Catholic is also because I do not have to "feel" the liturgical season and be smiley and happy just because, for the 2011th time we've celebrated the Resurrection of Christ.  I'm thrilled that others are happy and I am overjoyed interiorly about all the "HE IS RISEN!" accolades posted by my friends an acquaintances online.  One of the cool things about being Catholic is that we know the Cross is always with us and just because we celebrate something liturgically, it is not a requirement to experience it emotionally. Life happens and it is the Cross that makes it meaningful.  It is the Cross and Resurrection that define EVERYTHING.

So it is that we continue to suffer the Passion of the type God gives us even as we liturgically celebrate with the Christian world. We may be crushed by the weight of the Cross, but we always look to the Resurrection, for were it not for that, the weight upon us would be far too heavy to bear. And in that is a kind of joy that cannot be expressed through mere words or smiley-faces or platitudes.

Triduum

Holy Thursday was beautiful but busy, and I attended my own parish, wishing I could remain for Adoration at the Altar of Repose, but no, immediately after I had to leave due to family obligations.

It had been proposed several weeks ago that we take our mother to a Latin Good Friday Liturgy. On Friday morning, therefore, I loaded the car and went on a long drive to my brother's home in hopes of attending with them. Thankfully we'd done our research and knew the available Latin liturgies and how long it would take to arrive.

That's when the Cross came to us. 

When I arrived at my brother's home, he greeted me with grim news:  Mom was not doing well. He didn't know what was going on, exactly, but explained the previous evening she'd gone to the ER because she felt her throat closing up. She was apparently diagnosed with an allergy of some sort because they gave her Benadryl. Someone drove her home and my brother's fiance' was going to pick her up and drive her to her car, then on to my brother's house in time to leave for Good Friday services.

Well, he was concerned, because Mom was confused on the phone, expressed she couldn't walk, and said she was driving anyway.  I called her and she sounded fine, said she'd realized she hadn't eaten (she'd diabetic and cannot fast on our required days), so ate and was better. As she wasn't slurred, I hung up and didn't order her to pull over and wait for us as I'd originally intended to do.

She arrived some time later and clearly, was having trouble walking. My brother expressed that this was how she'd behaved just after her blood sugar crisis after her angiogram last summer - a crisis that had landed her in the hospital for 5 days.  She insisted she hadn't eaten so we gave her food and made the decision to take her to the Liturgy. It was unspoken that we'd divert or call for help if her condition deteriorated in any way.

Unfortunately, we are like shell-shocked children: we are so accustomed to crisis and weirdness as a baseline that we are completely unable to assess when our own mother should have proper medical care. When crisis is the standard, it takes a great deal to make the decision to involve the hospital...yet again.

As it turned out, we had to nearly carry Mom into the church, give her time to rest in a back pew, find a bathroom for her, walk her there, have her nearly fall in a psychological panic, watch her walk normally when it was convenient for her, deal with her nearly falling over when there were witnesses.  It wasn't a matter of just one thing, but a combination of medical and psychological. I refused to give in to "crisis mode" and became the firm caregiver. I'm sure I appeared quite heartless to people in that particular parish when my mother nearly fell and grabbed onto me. I held her up while stating over and over again, "You're fine."  without emotion and without coddling.

It's like raising an attention-seeking toddler: give in to emotion and turn the incident into a full-blown temper tantrum.

We sat near the front of the church so Mom could see (and so we'd have a quick escape need be), and close proximity to the altar rail as we'd be approaching it twice.

Mom seemed to follow along decently, mostly listened. I knew this was the first Latin liturgy she'd heard for over 50 years. For my brother and his girlfriend it was a first.  Unfortunately, the parish did not have decent guides (most people attending this liturgy were regulars and had Missals - I had forgotten and left mine home).  So it was that we followed what we could, I gave what little guidance I could, and, well, worried about Mom the entire time. I think my brother and I exchanged more glances in that 2 hour liturgy than we ever had at any other point in our entire lives.

When it was time for the Veneration of the Cross, we stood to go, and Mom moved as if to let me by.  I bent down to ask her if she wanted to venerate the Cross. She stared at me blankly. I had to repeat it a couple times while signaling my brother to wait. The line was already moving but that was fine...I was sure they would let us in but we didn't want anyone held up  by our slowness.

Finally she understood, nodded, and my brother and I lifted her and, flanking her, walked her out of the pew and into the aisle. The people were kind and allowed us to enter. We proceeded forward slowly, which was no problem in this particular veneration. The person in front of our trio venerated and moved aside. My brother and I glanced at the woman in the other line, waiting but she stood back, nodding at us to proceed.  We both nodded in thanks (I think?), and brought Mom forward to the Cross so that she could bend and kiss the feet of Christ. The altar servers actually assisted by lifting the Crucifix slightly for her.  Then my brother, then, although my mother tried to turn, by my brother's gentle prompting, she waited so that I could move forward.

I don't ever recall seeing so much detail in blood and nail on the feet of Jesus as I kissed Him.

What was happening was not lost on me.

As we turned and hobbled back at a snails' pace, people lining up behind us, Mom announced she had to go to the bathroom again, so we took her on the long trek in that direction.

I noticed she walked normally between the stall and the sink to wash her hands but the second that was over, she returned to her "helpless" state, obligating my brother and I, once she was in the hallway, to bear her up again and constantly direct her to stop looking at her feet, but rather, look ahead. Yet every time another person approached, she'd panic and we'd be holding her up as one would a person drowning in the ocean.

At one point, Mom's panic aside, I smiled at some children on their way also to the bathroom, stepping aside so that they could proceed, indicating they should go.  We were making a spectacle, holding up traffic everywhere, and not by necessity. Yet...all around us deferred to us, even though we were strangers among them.  It was no matter: we were Catholic and therefore, we were family.  

It was a repeat at Communion and the first time in 50 years Mom was able to kneel at the Communion rail to receive Our Lord. Because of her physical problems I advised her to stand but lean (and said she could lean on me as I knelt) since kneeling would be so hard for her. But no, she knelt and received. Our relatives came behind us not to receive as they could not, but to assist, and again, as we lifted her up and carried her back to her pew, the people of this very reverent, traditional parish waited and moved as they could to allow us to pass.

After it was over my brother got the car to pick her up and we took her home, ordering her to check her sugar, wondering if we should go to the ER or, by then, because she was improving, perhaps "wait and see".

Holy Saturday

Although we'd planned to attend the Vigil together, I went alone out of a personal obligation, and as Mom still had problems walking, she remained home. By the time I arrived back, Mom was in bed although she did join us around 1 am for some time, at which point we learned there was an "aftercare" document given to her by the ER. A document she hadn't shared with my brother and stated, last night, that she "couldn't understand no matter how many times she read it."

The document was clear:  first, she should not have driven at all to my brother's home. (We knew that and had told her to stay home as she was not well.)  All her symptoms required a return to the ER, but because we've gotten so used to both real and psychosomatic behavior as "normal" for her, we did not follow this.  Had we had that document in hand, we would not have attended Good Friday, but would have spent that time in the ER instead.

Last night, my brother and I both confronted Mom on her need to give us the documents from her ER and other doctor visits, and reiterated to each other that we HAVE to talk to her doctor and perhaps get her into an Assisted Living facility that has greater supervision than the minimal facility she is in now (which has only pull cords).

It was not an easy conversation and I left it to take my dog out, where I took the time to take a deep breath and say a quick prayer of apology and request for help.

Easter Sunday

He is Risen!

Yes, He is Risen Indeed, but Mom is nearing the end of her days.

This is the part where people feel the need to quote platitudes about hope and the Cross and the Resurrection and such. And this is exactly why such platitudes are so offensive.

In the midst of the Cross, there is no such thing as comfort. The road to Calvary must be walked, it is awful for all involved. This is where we find fortitude, perseverance, and hope - through experience, not through trite sayings.

The Cross does not disappear just because we liturgically celebrate the Resurrection. Easter in the world does not end temporal suffering. It all continues.

What I say it this:  it is the Cross that gives meaning to it all. It is not about emotion or candy or roasting lambs on a spit in the front yard with a red velvet lamb cake decorated with peeps for dessert.

It is ok to enter into suffering even in the most liturgically joyful Octave of our Calender. In fact, perhaps it is this suffering that reveals the Holiness the most, for it is for THIS that Christ suffered and died.  THIS suffering, RIGHT NOW.  For everyone, In all moments, the big and the little ones, ALL.

The Cross looms for all, for none of us will pass into Eternity without first passing through the Cross.

Success To the Work of Your Hands

He is Risen! He is Risen INDEED!

Lent was difficult this year, and the Triduum was no exception, and although I had difficulty in prayer and was, for the first time in recent memory, tempted to NOT attend the Triduum liturgies, I went and worshiped as planned. Non-Catholic friends of mine sometimes question why we Catholics are so "ritualistic", and my answer is this: because our rituals do not let us fall into the dictatorship of emotions, but rather help us to honor God because He wills it, even though we may will the opposite.

I am grateful, therefore, for our Triduum "rituals", for they help to sanctify we weak souls who would prefer to flee and "do our own thing".

One of the blessed things about the Triduum, however, was time off from work and because I plan my life to avoid "errands" and other things, I was able to spend some time working on my Icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. During Lent I went on retreat and my wonderful teacher and friend, a dear, faithful Religious Sister looked at it with her discerning eye and explained to me some new techniques required by this particular Icon. So it was that during the Triduum, even though I had difficulty with mental prayer, God drew me into the Icon. Even though I am still a student and therefore still focus on technique, it was very prayerful for I was able to speak to our Blessed Mother, to Jesus, and to the Archangels Michael and Raphael.

They responded by guiding my clumsy hand that held the brush, and I was amazed at the effects. Although I continue to make mistakes and see them long after the paint has dried, more and more I am gaining confidence, wondering if, perhaps, one day, I will truly be able to call myself an Iconographer.

The Homily on Holy Thursday was given by a priest ordained only a year ago, and he revealed to us the Bible verse engraved upon his chalice, from Psalm 90, "..Give success to the work of our hands."

His homily struck a chord with me, for ever since, when I approach the Icon I have been praying those holy words. The Icon I write now is ultimately not for me. For whom do I write it, but for God? I write it to give Glory to Him, to ponder on His Incarnation, to meditate upon the Mystery of the Redemption. It is the most Sacred of arts, yet I do not know where it will end up. So it is that I pray it as I go, begging for intercession, praying for success to this work of my unworthy hands.

Who am I to open a window to Heaven? Who will gaze through this window? Who am I to co-create it with God?

Success. What is "Success"? 

In God's eyes, I do not know the definition of "Success".  When I was in high school and college, and in my young adult years, at the "threshold of the universe", I thought "success" was primarily defined by financial means, and the elevation of status within one's chosen field. These days, I see things differently and I have learned the hard way that "success" according to God may not be anything I envision in my fallen perception.

We have all come through Lent with varying levels of earthly "success". What does that mean?

Many of us think we have 'failed", but have we really? If our failures have brought us to the Throne of Mercy, they are not failures but successes in self-knowledge, a huge gift of Grace. If our "failures" have revealed to us something that keeps us from God, then we must recognize a gift given from God's heart to our own.

If our Lenten "failures" have reminded us that of ourselves, we can do nothing, and therefore we have NEED of a Savior...then we have not "failed" so much as been brought closer to Jesus through a breakdown of our Pride.

When we pray, therefore, for "Success", we have to recall that the ways in which we define that word may differ drastically from God's own definition.

As of now, as I pray for success for the work of my hands, specifically for my Icon, I don't know, exactly, what that means. In practice I am praying for my hand to be guided, for my intellect to be informed, for my will to be strengthened, for my Pride to be overcome; for I will and I MUST make mistakes and accept those as I go. It is the mistakes that teach us the most.

It is the mistakes we make, whether in Iconography or in other areas of life, that lead us to ask the most heartfelt and sincere questions.

Difficult Lent - Difficult Easter?

It doesn't matter if our Lent was a big Ol' "FAIL". It doesn't matter. It is behind us now. For those of us who got out of Lent with nothing but this lousy FAIL t-shirt, it is time to let it go and rejoice, not in ourselves, but in Our Lord who foresaw our big fat FAILS long before He was crucified for them.

It is time to celebrate, and if we have failed, then we have a great gift; that of being able to celebrate, purely, the Resurrection, for we can recognize it has nothing to do with our own merit, but Our Lord's. It is a great gift, and we should recognize it as such, for this gift is meant for our own humility. It is my untried theory that we who have difficulty in Lent both need to grow in holiness and need to grow, most specifically, in humility.

And yes, that hurts, and it hurts even more to admit it in public. But then again, for those who know us...is it any surprise that we need that lesson?

Is there, truly, anyone who WOULDN'T benefit from an increase in humility?

We have to remember that none are perfect, we are still being created, and like an Icon, are incomplete until we are with God for eternity. An Icon is not truly an Icon until it is Blessed in a special way, and that is what makes it worthy of veneration. So it is with the Saints - and we are ALL called to be Saints, should we choose to cooperate with that Divine Invitation.

Therefore, let us all pray together, with and for each other, to rejoice in the Resurrection of Christ, and for the blessing of success to the work of our hands...all for Him and for His Kingdom, unto Eternity with all the Blessed.

A Holy Easter to you all, and may God grant you all success to the work of your hands. Amen!

Triduum

Before the feast of the Passover Jesus knew that his hour had come; he had always loved those who were his own, and now he would show them the depth of his love. 

~ Liturgy of the Hours, Antiphon for Daytime prayer

.
I began Lent as Judas, and unfortunately, not much has changed in the last 40 days. The one less I take with me this year into the Sacred Triduum is the very acute, painful knowledge of my own abject wretchedness before God.

This evening, for the first time in many years, I didn't even want to go to the Holy Thursday liturgy, but of course I did go, because I can't imagine not doing so. It would just be...wrong. After all, what other thing could I possibly do that would be a better use of my time? What other thing do I possibly have to do at all?

Nothing.

After Mass I remained and went to the chapel to pray at the altar of repose for awhile, and was grateful to realize that, although I hadn't wanted to come, I didn't want to leave.

I'm grateful to have that sense of loss, of having to tear myself away from the Presence of My Lord, for tonight and tomorrow all the tabernacles in the world will stand empty, the light extinguished, door open. When we return tomorrow, we will be going to enter into Jesus' Passion and death, and lay Him in a tomb.

Perhaps, then, although I began Lent as Judas, I finish as Peter, for although I have fallen many times, I have continued to get up, and although I have denied Him, I have heard the cock crow and I have knelt at His feet, this very evening, and prayed never to betray Him again.

Yet...I know that I will, and that is why He went to the Cross.

Had Jesus not died for me, I would not be able to live for Him.

Thank you, Jesus.

ECCE HOMO!

The Reproaches of Good Friday:

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you?

Answer me!

I led you out of Egypt,

from slavery to freedom,

but you led your Savior to the cross.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

For forty years I led you

safely through the desert.

I fed you with manna from heaven,

and brought you to a land of plenty;

but you led your Savior to the cross.

Holy is God!

Holy and strong!

Holy immortal One, have mercy on us!

What more could I have done for you.

I planted you as my fairest vine,

but you yielded only bitterness:

when I was thirsty you gave me vinegar to drink,

and you pierced your Savior with a lance.

Holy is God!

Holy and strong!

Holy immortal One, have mercy on us!

For your sake I scourged your captors

and their firstborn sons,

but you brought your scourges down on me.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I led you from slavery to freedom

and drowned your captors in the sea,

but you handed me over to your high priests.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I opened the sea before you,

but you opened my side with a spear.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I led you on your way in a pillar of cloud,

but you led me to Pilate’s court.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I bore you up with manna in the desert,

but you struck me down and scourged me.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I gave you saving water from the rock,

but you gave me gall and vinegar to drink.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

For you I struck down the kings of Canaan.

but you struck my head with a reed.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I gave you a royal scepter,

but you gave me a crown of thorns.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I raised you to the height of majesty,

but you have raised me high on a cross.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

*

Lord Who Threw Out These 40 Days?

This post was originally published in March of 2008, and yes, it's Ash Wednesday so I figured now is as good a time as any to re-post it. Sing along and enjoy!

********

I wasn't going to do this, especially because it's Holy Week and we should all be solemn and sad and preparing our hearts for the Passion of Christ. And I won't in a thousand years suggest that you NOT do this. However, Fr. V. over at Adam's Ale has been a very bad influence on me and has triggered me to write one of my rare song parodies. He supplied the first two lines.

Q: Lord, who threw out these 40 days?
A: No one, they’re still here!
Q: But I thought Vatican II
Tossed all that we held dear!

Q: Father, the liturgist you hired
Put sand and rocks in fonts
And said that sacramentals
Are things that V2 lost.

She said that all the laity
Are all the priests we need!
She said that dancing in the aisles
Is required in the Creed!

Your Worship Director’s worse!
He covered up the Cross…
With a big ol' screen to praise the words
Of Haugen and Haas!

The travesties that we behold
Too much…I have a list!
Because I’ve read the Council’s words
And think that they’ve been dissed!

Can we restore these 40 days
And gaze upon the Cross?
We need to have a Triduum
To know that we’re so lost!

Where is the penitential rite?
Has that been sent away?
Can we be forgiven
Or is our church astray?

How can we know that Jesus died
For our souls to save
If we can’t see the crucifix
And sin has been denied.

Father restore these 40 days
To prepare us for these three:
We need the Holy Triduum
For our great salvation to see!



(NOTE: THIS IS VERY ROUGH AND SUBJECT TO CHANGE/ADDITIONS)

Good Friday

(All text is from the Liturgy of the Hours for Good Friday)


The price of your redemption was not something of fleeting value like gold or silver, but the costly shedding of the blood of Christ, the lamb without blemish.


Ant.  It was about nine in the morning when they nailed Jesus to the cross.

Isaiah 53:2-3

He grew up like a sapling before him,

like a shoot from the parched earth;

There was in him no stately bearing to makeus look at him, 

nor appearance that would attract us to him.

He was spurned and avoided by men,

a man of suffering, accustomed to infirmity,

One of those from whom men hid their faces, 

spurned, and we held him in no esteem.

We worship you O Christ, and we praise you.

-- Because by your cross you have redeemed the world. 

Ant: From noon until three o'clock, there was darkness over the whole world

Isaiah 53:4-5

Yet it was our infirmities that he bore,

our sufferings that he endured,

While we thought of him as stricken

as one smitten by God and afflicted.

But he was pierced for our offenses,

crushed for our sins,

Upon him was the chastisement that makes us whole,

by his stripes we were healed.

Lord, remember me.

--When you come into your kingdom.

Ant: At three o'clock, Jesus cried out in a loud voice: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Isaiah 53:6-7

We had all gone away like sheep,

each following his own way;

But the Lord laid upon him

the guilt of us all.

Though he was harshly treated, he submitted

and opened not his mouth;

Like a lamb led to the slaughter

or a sheep before the shearers,

he was silent and opened not his mouth.

He has plunged me into darkness.

--Like the dead, long forgotten.

We adore you O Christ and we praise you
Because by your Holy Cross you have redeemed the world.

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

Holy Thursday

Lent has come to an end, and yet now we enter into the Holy Triduum, the most intense and solemn days of the year.

It has been a difficult Lent for me, and all I have learned, as usual, is that I can't save myself. I cannot overcome my weaknesses, I cannot overcome sin. There is nothing I can do to save myself; again and again I went crawling back to Jesus to confess my faults and ask for forgiveness. And each time, I was forgiven and sent back out, only to fall again.

It is in this condition that I enter the Triduum, knowing my Savior waits, knowing that without Him, I would fall and never rise again.

I am so much like Peter in that way; even as he could not seem to keep from shooting off his mouth, he also could not stay away from Jesus, following him even after His arrest. Following Him, desiring to follow Him as he'd promised, only to deny Him. Not once, not twice, but three times.

I do the same thing. I stand with Christ, and proclaim that I love Him and I will follow Him, and I am willing to DIE for Him. Jesus looks at me probably with the same expression as that which He gazed upon Peter 2,000 years ago. He sees my enthusiasm and desire to do great things for Him and with Him, the same things, hopefully, that Jesus desires. And He says, "You say that now, but before you even leave my presence you will deny me three times."

Jesus, ever patient, ever faithful, understanding our weakness more clearly than we.

It is we who are impatient and unfaithful. It is we who cannot understand. It is we who fail in love and charity.

It is Jesus who constantly forgives, accepts our apologies and reminds us that it is for THIS reason that He goes to the Cross.

Tonight, Holy Thursday, we celebrate the institution of the Eucharist and the Priesthood. Tonight, we see how Christ has begun to empty Himself in preparation for His Passion and death.

We can understand Peter, and the rest of the Apostles, because, in Lent, we have all probably recognized our weakness and sinfulness...our unworthiness. How shocked the Apostles must have been when Jesus Christ washed their feet, in this act of ordination which they did not recognize at the time. How proper that they were cleansed and instituted before the Eucharist, for even though none can be worthy, Christ chooses and calls those whom He desires to serve in His place, with His own authority.

Let us all reflect deeply on how Christ emptied Himself, ask for the ability to do the same, and enter with Him into His Passion and Death on the Cross. We can only rise again with Him if we, too are willing to suffer for others in dying to ourselves in order that Christ might live in us.

Let us also understand the great gift of the Priesthood of Jesus Christ which He has passed on through His Apostles, and the gift of His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, without which none would have life.
*

HE IS RISEN!

INDEED He is Risen!

I just arrived home from the Easter Vigil at the parish where I work, and it was a beautiful Mass. Although I wasn't deeply involved with RCIA this year, I assisted with the last class and gave a short talk on how to receive Holy Communion, Eucharistic Miracles, and Saints. And that talk was only incidental, as the DRE had asked me to help out at the Vigil, so I was with the RCIA class a week ago for the rehearsal, which lead up to giving a talk, completely off the cuff. (Amazing how that works.)

My other involvement was with the children and a teenager. Officially I'm supposed to handle RCIC (Rite of Christian Initiation for Children) but as they were only being baptized and will receive other sacraments in upcoming years, the DRE handled their preparation. She is in charge of baptism, but I did assist with a couple things. And there was a teenager I met with a oouple times, discussed some things in the books she was given, but otherwise, she attended the RCIA classes with her Mom, who is on the core team. The girl's Mom was received into the Church either last year or maybe the year before, and is just a real holy woman. She is truly gifted in prayer and wisdom, and had well prepared her daughter for the Sacraments. (And her daughter is just one of those sweet, sweet souls. I think Jesus might be calling her, so please pray for her.)

As Staff, I assisted the group in heading over to the baptismal font, and stood in back, but where I could really see what was going on. And I've found that the theology I've learned, the exegesis of Pope Benedict XVI in Jesus of Nazareth prepared ME to stand there, present, for this Sacrament. Knowing and understanding, realizing the weight of this glorious event.

"My" teenager was also Confirmed tonight and received her First Holy Communion, and you know...I couldn't be prouder. Her mother was seated behind me. (I was in an aisle seat for strategic purposes). The girl was seated in front in between her Godparents. So it was that I was right in the middle of her family, and I could just feel the Grace! And no wonder she is so sweet...all those with her were such holy people. God bless them!

The Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) says that the Sacraments are what they signify. They are not just signs, but they are more than signs. What they indicate, they DO to the soul, to the individual. Tonight, all over the world, New Catholics have been born, and all of Heaven and Earth rejoices over this new life, rising with Christ.

Please pray for all these new Catholics, and all those who are considering entrance into the Church.

It's been a difficult Lent for me, and my human weakness was brought to the forefront, where it remains. But God's grace is ever-present, and His grace has carried me through the Triduum, in spite of my propensity to sin. God's love is so abundant, so incredible, so vast...He is ever-present in our lives.

I experienced a miracle this week, during the Triduum. As of now, I'm not willing to share this miracle, and I may never share it (on the blog). Suffice to say that there are a few who know about it, and I am still discerning the significance. Initially I thought I should keep it entirely to myself, but for a few others who might understand the gift. I have revealed this miracle to a few others, and did so today to a good friend. She has seen similar things, and explained that such a miracle is often for the purpose of conversion, as a witness to God's glory.

True miracles don't really reflect upon the person to whom they happen; they point to God. They reveal God's glory. My friend suggested that this miracle should be shared for the purpose of the conversion of others, for that's something she's seen before. I wasn't going to share what happened to me with my family. I'm not really sure why; you would think that I'd go to my family first. But family can be complicated and I tend not to bring anything to them. My friend's words were a wake-up call.

God gives us signs and wonders sometimes, even in this day and age. I have family members in need of conversion, so tomorrow I will reveal this to them. Please keep them in your prayers; God has a plan, and we should never miss an opportunity to bear witness to His Glory in our lives, especially when other souls are on the line.

If even a single soul comes to Christ, if a single prodigal comes home, all of Heaven rejoices, and so do we all.

O necessary fault of Adam, that has given us so great a Redeemer!
ALLELUIA!

Good Friday - Holy Saturday

I watched the Passion of the Christ last night, and this time I paid close attenion to Peter's denials and the treachery of Judas.

I saw myself reflected in both of them. Because I am treacherous in my attachment to sin, and I outright deny Christ, whom I promise repeatedly to serve. I have the adulterous, divided heart described in the book of Hosea.

But it was one particular scene that brought me to tears last night; the scene in which Judas strings up the rope and hangs himself violently.

He spent all that time with Jesus, the Son of God, the second Person of the Holy Trinity...and he didn't get it. He didn't understand. He hadn't been able to penetrate the mystery. He'd watched Jesus restore sight, heal the lame, and cast out demons. He watched all of this, apparently from afar.

Jesus knew that Judas would betray Him. He knew all about it. And still, he allowed it in order to save us all. And He loved Judas whom He claimed as one of His Own.

Indeed, Judas betrayed Christ, and became convicted by his own conscience. His eyes were opened and he realized how far he had fallen, what he had done.

Judas made his final choice; he chose to die rather than to be reconciled. He didn't understad it. He probably knew the scriptures well, and knew that over and over, they say that God does not spurn a contrite heart...ever. Never in the history of the Old Testament does God miss an opportunity for mercy. No matter what that person had done, or how many times; God always forgave.

God's justice was for the unrepentant.

Clearly, Judas was repentant, for he saw what he had done to his Lord. But instead of being willing to ask for mercy, he fled, and he chose to die by his own hand.

Jesus would have forgiven Judas. If Judas had chosen to follow Him, even to the cross, he would have seen the repentance, and he would have forgiven Judas in that very moment.

He would have forgiven the single most treacherous betrayal in the history of mankind...and His Mercy was rejected.

What a lesson for us all. What a lesson for me.

Here I sit, the blood of Christ on my own hands, and still, He will forgive me. Over and over again, no matter what act of betrayal I choose.

Today is Holy Saturday, and as our Beloved Savior symbolically sleeps in the tomb and searches the depths of Sheol for our first parents, we prepare our hearts and souls for the joy that arises out of such silent grief.

This is not the end; despair is not a word that belongs to Christianity. When the sun sets tonight, a new light will blaze forth, and we will all rejoice for our Savior who died so horribly in order to set us free.

O felix culpa quae talem et tantum meruit habere redemptorem!

LORD JESUS, COME IN GLORY!

Wednesday of Holy Week

Today is the final day of Lent; the season takes us to today, and tomorrow begins the holiest, most sacred days of our entire year: the Triduum.

As I look back upon Lent this year, if I look with human eyes, I see a dismal failure. I see a woman who cannot keep her promises, who has not withstood temptation and frequently has not even TRIED to withstand temptation. I see a woman ready and willing to betray Christ for thirty pieces of silver, maybe less. Willing to betray Him for the cost of a slave in order to feed her own worldy desires.

On the other hand, if I have the courage to consider Lent with God's eyes, while I see the weakness and the willful obstinance, I also see a child in need. I see grace. I see a woman ready and willing to suffer for and with Christ, something that has been put to the test. And found lacking in many ways, but...it's a start. The seeds have been planted.

No one comes out of storms unscathed.

We all have to question who we are, and during Lent, we prepare our hearts to face ourselves in the mirror that is Holy Week and most especially, the Triduum. Lent calls us to sacrifice, to suffer a little, to give of ourselves, and to draw closer to God. Unless we know our weaknesses, we cannot bring them to Jesus, and if we are unwilling to feel our wounds, the Divine Physician cannot help us. Some of us need only a hug and reassurance...others need only a band-aid. Still others need stitches and major interventions; but if we are obstinate, we cannot receive this loving treatment. Jesus cannot heal us if we are unwilling to admit that we are broken and fearful.

Each Lent, we make a choice...draw closer to God and admit our failings, or draw away from the source of true happiness? We cannot experience the Resurrection unless we first experience death. There is no Easter Sunday without a Good Friday.

Palm Sunday brings us in contact with a mirror, and gives us a few days to recover. Then we enter Holy Thursday where we see the joy of the institution of the Priesthood and the Holy Eucharist, which leaves us in mourning as the presence of Christ is reposed to symbolize His acceptance of death and burial. We are invited to adore the Blessed Sacrament, covered, waiting and watching with Him, and with the Apostles. Tabernacles are left open, abandoned, the sanctuary flame extinguished. Every other day of the year, we enter the Church and genuflect to Jesus Christ, our King and Savior present in the tabernacle. But on Good Friday, we are greeted by an empty tabernacle, for this is the day Christ died. If you've noticed, the Church has an entirely different feel; Christ is not there. Thus, we do not genuflect, but silently enter the pew and wait.

Good Friday should be excruciatingly painful.

I still remember the first Lent of the beginnig of my reversion. At the time, I was attending a small parish, which took great liberties with the Liturgy. The Good Friday liturgy was not well attended; more crowded than the Sunday Mass that normally contained me, but still, the "crowd" was more sparse than at the average Catholic Church.

I remember walking forward for the Veneration of the Cross. It was a huge cross that we had all passed above our heads in the aisle, and it was set into a large base directly in front of the altar. I remember kneeling, wanting to kiss the cross, but hesitant. Most people weren't going that far, and though we'd been invited to do so, most were just crouching with one of their hands at the base. I remember my arrival at the foot of the Cross. I remember going to both knees, really WANTING to kiss the cross, but I only placed my hand there. It was a large cross, and as I knelt, it was as though I could feel the very Blood of Christ dripping upon me. It was as though he was really there, crucified...for me.

I did not kiss the cross that night. But I walked away, in tears, tears that come to me to this day when I contemplate that memory.

By that point, it had been 11 years since I had been to Confession. I did not go to Confession for another year..but that night was instrumental. For the next year, I pondered that experience, and it was the primary thought in my mind the following Lent when I headed out to Our Lady of Grace to be reconciled to Christ, finally.

I died that day, a terrible death...to myself. My tears were as blood, never greater than the blood of the Sacrifice made for me. The blood that had dripped upon my head a year before.

I cannot write of Easter Sunday yet. Because this Lent, I have not really died. I've experienced God's grace, I have seen the blood of Christ on my own hands and I recognize my guilt. I have been to Confession three times, and still, I "feel" unconverted. I am still running away from God. I'm still the unrepentant sinner.

I am Judas. I am Pilate. At best, I am Peter as he fled his own Call.

I wish I could enter the Triduum as a converted soul, a holy saint of a human being...instead, I think I am entering shattered, the mirror I looked into only shards gathered into my hands, piercing my palms, cutting deeply.

No, I'm not ready Lord. All I have to offer are these broken shards. All I have to offer is my own blood...not worth the value of yours.

Holy Saturday

We are in a period of mourning, on our knees, joyful yet silent, waiting in hope, waiting in tears, waiting in gratitude for what our Saviour has done for us. We await and keep Vigil in prayer, preparing to celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord.

And just as Our Lady wept at the foot of the cross, so do we, but our tears differ, for we weep in repentence, in deep sorrow for our sins, the blood of the Lamb on our very hands. We weep for ourselves, for without our Savior, we would be lost and our suffering would be definitive, eternal separation from God. We weep for those who have chosen to reject the God who loves them so dearly, and we weep for our own inability to return His love fully to him.

And we hope in our Savior, we trust in our Savior, and we find joy even in our tears because we know that the Heavenly Father sees us through the wounds of His Son, who stood in our place and bore the justice which should have been meted out upon us.

It is through the Holy Spirit that we see and understand what Jesus has done, for in and of ourselves, we cannot grasp the immensity of his deed. Jesus dies not only in abandonment that we could not withstand, but also so he could send us a permanent companion to unite us in his Body; He sends us the Advocate, the Holy Spirit.

Holy Saturday is a day of mourning, but not so much for the Lord for we know he rose and released us from death; but rather,for our willful separation from Him. But because of His Sacrifice, we rejoice in the Triumph of the Cross, eagerly awaiting his light to return to the sanctuaries, waiting to be reborn again with him; we all await the Resurrection.

When I look upon the cross, I see the hand of God holding not just Jesus, but the entire world. I see the work of the Holy Spirit who brought me home and placed me at the foot of the cross next to the Blessed Mother. and today, I weep with her for she has withstood the sorrow of all sorrows and in her motherly embrace, we may all find the comfort we so require, and the path through her heart into the most Sacred Heart of Jesus Christ.

We will never understand our salvation without first understanding sorrow, which leads us to an understanding of the love that gave us the redemption.

Soul of Christ, Sanctify me.
Body of Christ, Save me.
Blood of Christ, Inebriate me.
Water from the side of Christ, wash me.
Passion of Christ, Strengthen me.
Oh, good Jesus, hear me.
Within thy wounds, hide me
Suffer me not to be separated from thee
From the malicious enemy defend me.
In the hour of my death call me
and bid me come to thee
that with thy saints I may praise thee
for ever and ever. Amen.

Triduum

Last night, Holy Thursday Mass was beautiful, reverent, and above all, as always, holy. After communion and the procession to the altar of repose, the choir filed out and around the sanctuary and sang,


"Stay with me
Remain with me
Watch, and pray..."

It was truly beautiful, and fostered a deeper prayer within me. Throughout the evening a prayer continued to rise from me, one I did not really want to pray, yet I could not help but follow the prompts of the Holy Spirit in my spontaneous request. And as I rested there, suddenly feeling a sensation like a spiritual rupture, I begged the Lord for a special grace, which He provided nearly immediately. I was completely overwhelmed.

I had been contemplating the agony of Jesus in the garden, and I could not help but feel deep, deep pity for him, wanting to extend consolation and mercy to him, wanting to reach out to him in some gesture of gratitude, of love....of consolation.

Yet how could I console my Lord, when I was the one who fashioned the thorny crown he was to wear? How could I offer mercy to the one whom I had lashed so hard with the whips? How could I offer gratitude when I had placed the nails in his hands and his feet? How could I dare to extend pity towards the on whom I had ridiculed?

And yet, still the prayer for a certain grace rose from my soul and I could not hold it back, somehow entering into his suffering in a way I had never experienced.

I cannot share the grace I requested or recieved, suffice to say that the Lord is good, the Lord is merciful, even to the least of us, even to those of us who abused Him unto death.

When I could rise from my pew last night, I went into the chapel, trying to hide my tear-stained face, but I could not stop the tears, and I could not leave His presence. I remained, but had to go; I had no choice, and that leaving ripped a wound open I did not understand.

At home, I could only kneel and gaze upon a crucifix of the suffering Jesus, sensing this terrible separation, feeling a sort of lonliness so deep it was unlike anything I'd ever felt. And yet, the word "felt" or "feeling" isn't accurate; it wasn't really an emotion or a physical sensation. Words simply do not convey the experience.

I had to work today, and counted down the minutes and hours until I could leave, apologizing that I could not be observing in prayer the hours of 12 pm to 3 pm. But tonight's service was blessed. The experience of last night did not repeat, although there was a touch of it before it started; I could not prevent my tears.

And after all, if we are contemplating the suffering of our Lord on our behalf, aren't tears appropriate? So I let them come.

And now it is over, we celebrated the death of our Lord Jesus Christ on the cross, and still, this paradox resides within my soul; it is a separation, a sort of rupture, and yet a closeness to Jesus I don't understand. I don't understand how this paradox can be, and yet it simply IS.

I have never before been so prepared for the Easter Triduum; I have never before experienced such graces at such a time.

This is when the Church goes into a period of silent mourning, and our Good Friday fast is to extend into Holy Saturday to the degree possible. In this way, we may all be better prepared, and more appreciative of the beauty and richness of the Liturgy of the Easter Vigil and the Easter Sunday Masses in celebration of the Resurrection.


Jesus, let me be crucified with you.
Jesus, let me die with you.
Jesus, remember me, when you come into your Kingdom.

Jesus, Remember Me

LUKE 23: 39 -43
Now one of the criminals hanging there reviled Jesus, saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us."
40
The other, however, rebuking him, said in reply, "Have you no fear of God, for you are subject to the same condemnation?
41
And indeed, we have been condemned justly, for the sentence we received corresponds to our crimes, but this man has done nothing criminal."
42
Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."
43
He replied to him, "Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise."

My parish has Stations of the Cross every Friday during lent, and Mass afterwards; when one is properly disposed, the devotion and pray can offer the best sort of preparation for communion.

Tonight after I had received Our Lord, I knelt, contemplating the huge crucifix that graces our altar. I love to look at this crucifix and consider what Jesus did for us, and try to place myself at the very foot of his cross, trying to obtain a greater understanding.

There are some lights which are focused upon the crucifix in such a way that a shadow is cast to either side and from the correct vantage point, it appears there are actually three crosses there; Jesus is front and center, and then, just below and in profile, two other crosses in shadow.

I could not help but think of the criminals who were crucified with Jesus, and in a flash, I realized that I am one of them.

Suddenly I understood that these criminals are metaphors for all of us; we are one in the same.

But there is a difference in their response to their situation and to Jesus, and this is where we must stop and consider who we are and who we want to be.

I have always had a sort of attitude of condescension towards the criminals, but for Dismas who realized who Jesus was and prayed for mercy. Yet he was a criminal; he is "beneath" us, right?

Nope. He is who we aspire to be.

All of us offend God; all of us sin. All of us, by this definition, are criminals in one way or another. All of us receive our just punishments throughout life, our humiliations, sometimes deserved, and all of us have an opportunity at each occasion to either admit our wrongs and move one...or to nurse our wounds, justly earned, and blame others.

One of the criminals ridiculed Jesus, demanding that he save himself. The other criminal rebuked the first; both were in extreme pain. Both were being punished for their crimes. They were truly suffering, but one, through his suffering, was converted. Even in his suffering, rather than closing in upon himself, he rebuked the one in what can be seen as an opportunity to point him towards mercy personified in their presence, and then he turned to Jesus and asked him for mercy for himself. This criminal was named Dismas; and what I find truly remarkable was that he first thought of his angry companion before he asked for mercy for himself.

Jesus did not deny the requestof Dismas, and he did not address the other man; the other had already rejected him.

As I prayed in front of that crucifix tonight, I realized how often I have been the one to reject Jesus, screaming and condemning and ridiculing in my pain. I also realized how often my suffering comes through my own actions, and how often I am only upset because I was called out on my wrong actions in some way. Rather than owning my sin and admitting my failure, I scream and cry. I am not proud of this fact, and in actuality, I realized that this revelation from the cross came to me just after I had prayed that the Lord show me my true proverty.

Our true poverty as human beings is our concupiscence; our tendency to sin, to turn from God. He shows us His glory, and we turn away, grasping in futility at the world which is only so much dust dressed up in glitter. We are poor; we are criminals. We are so far away from God, yet He is there and willing to lift us up to Him, if we but ask.

Jesus will not refuse our sincere requests for mercy; we must only recognize the poverty in our spirits and reach out to the one who died that we may inherit his Kingdom.


Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom. Amen.