St. Joseph and the Liturgy

I've long had a deep devotion to St. Joseph, but I've never considered him in the context of Sacred Liturgy. Reginaldus at The New Theological Movement has posted a brilliant reflection on St. Joseph as a model for priests, especially with regard to the Mass.

The following is an excerpt from the post which struck me as especially astute (emphasis mine):

The need for manly devotion in the celebration of the Sacred Liturgy


The feminization of the Holy Mass is a serious problem in the modern Church. It is not that the Liturgy must be utterly masculine, especially if this be understood in such a way as to exclude women from participating (remembering, of course, that the truest and most active participation is spiritual and internal). Nevertheless, there is a growing recognition of the fact that the sanctuary is becoming a place where men (and boys) are losing their manhood and becoming more like women – this may then have the odd counter-effect of making some women act like men, but that is a problem for another article.


What are some indications of this feminization of the Liturgy and, together with it, of the men (and boys) who serve at the Sacred Rites? Consider, for instance, the hyper-relational emphasis of the modern Liturgy (rather, of the Liturgy as it is often celebrated in modern times). The focus is all too often turned from sacrifice to salutation, from worship to welcome. Obviously, greeting and welcome have their proper place in the Liturgy, but adoration and sacrifice must not be ignored. This movement from offering adoration through sacrifice to greeting and welcome is certainly an indication of a movement from a masculine to a feminine perspective – not that all men want to offer sacrifice, nor that all women want to build community; but these are certainly underlying drives in each gender, respectively. Nor do we say that one is bad and the other good – it only need be emphasized that the male priest (and the altar boys) are very often pressured to deny the masculine sacrificial focus in order to accentuate a more feminine form of community-building. Indications of this would be the use of modern hymns and modern musical instruments, increased “commentary” and ad lib speaking, the placement of the altar closer to the nave, and (above all else) facing the people throughout the Liturgy.

I couldn't agree more! Please go on and read the rest so as to get the full context.

This section was especially striking to me because I've touched on this topic before and of course with my own growing understanding of sacred liturgy, it is one of the modern problems that absolutely makes me crazy when it comes up at deanery meetings and the like. All too often, it seems like the (generally female) laity "in charge" of various parishes are in favor of stripping beauty, making us "more like other faith traditions" and push female "participation" in various liturgical roles.

Sadly, instead of highlighting the proper gifts of women, it seems to turn well-meaning and faithful women in to puppets for those with an agenda of power and the result, which we witness every day, is the "feminization" Reginaldus describes.

The reality is that the Mass NEVER needed to be "feminized".

Certainly some abuses needed to be curtailed and some development needed to occur, as it has, organically throughout the centuries, but the average person never foresaw the destruction and the "wrath of woman" that has done so much damage to our sanctuaries, our architecture, our patrimony...and therefore our sacred liturgy.

The Church as Bride

The Liturgy is, quite literally, the face of the Church. When we speak to non-Catholics, they know us by the Mass we attend every Sunday, and maybe every day. I've known many people who have attended Catholic weddings, funerals, and that was their only real contact with Catholicism. When they look at a Catholic, they are less likely to see our beliefs, but recall vividly our liturgy.

(Never mind there shouldn't be that kind of disconnect - but there it is.)

The Church is already feminine - deeply, deeply feminine. The Church as a whole is the Bride of Christ, and Holy Communion, the consummation of that Holy and Eternal Marriage. In the Mass, the Bridegroom offers Himself as an immolation for His Bride, and the Bride approaches, open to receive Him and offer fully of herself in sacred union.

This is why many Cathedrals and other churches built in the traditional style have a canopy (Baldacchino) over the high altar; it represents this spousal relationship between God and His people.

Look around you in a beautiful parish:  there is stained glass full of symbolism pointing to the purity of the Saints, the sacrifices they made, colors representing universal understanding of things like martyrdom, betrayal, royalty, purity, chivalry...the list goes on. The light of the sun falling through the glass is an adornment upon the Bride, reflected through the jewels created by human hands for the Glory of God. The statues of Mary, Jesus and the Saints are breathtaking, often adorned with floral arrangements, and established within a parish to give proper significance to them in relation to the people, the parish, and the Church as a whole. These things point to eternity and speak volumes of the sensuality and intuitiveness proper to the nature of women.

The clothing worn by the priests and altar servers are made often by women - nuns who have given their lives to their Lord -Brides in the individual sense, with Him, laying their lives down in sacrifice proper to a spouse. The chausables from any time in history therefore have a woman's touch, a sense of beauty that both pleases the eye and guides one to meditate upon eternity.

Consider the architecture of a great Cathedral or beautiful Church, and compare it to the beauty of a woman, perhaps as described in the Song of Songs. People of many faiths, and none at all, visit Catholic Cathedrals, Basilicas, and Churches as tourists, in awe of the magnificence.  One cannot help, when entering these buildings, but to recognize the feminine nature of our ancient decor.

And then contrast it with the more "feminized" buildings, vestments, and "art" of the modern culture - and wonder if someone drank too much kool-aid and decided to take up the hobby of the destruction of beauty.

The Masculinity of the Priesthood

As Reginaldus discusses, St. Joseph is the epitome of masculine worship. He is a protector, he knows about sacrifice, suffering, and in all that, was a compliment to his spouse and a father to Our Lord.

The nature of the priesthood is both one of service and sacrifice. There is a hard practicality to that sacred Vocation which is informed by the feminine nature of the Church as a whole, yet reinforced with a solid foundation so as to stand as a bulwark against the winds that try to buffet her about.

The Church needs BOTH of these natures, the masculine and feminine, in order to bear fruit, and do so abundantly.

The disorder we've been both witness to and suffered from in the last 50 years or so has confused the nature of the liturgy and has caused great divisions among the faithful. I truly believe that this is one of the reasons John Paul II wrote the Theology of the Body, and that this series of Wednesday Audiences was the harbringer of Pope Benedict XVI's liturgical reforms.

I have no solutions to offer, but post this only as an observation. I don't speak for any particular faction within the Church, but only as a faithful Catholic woman who has found freedom in the privilege of being a woman through understanding the true nature of the Church and her relationship to her head, the Bridegroom, Jesus Christ.

St. Joseph...pray for us! 

Sacred or Profane?

When we as human beings consider Art, whether we recognize it or not, we are faced with two very fundamental questions.

Which question we ask reveals a great deal about us as individuals and in fact, may very well reveal our souls.

Secular art, that is, most especially that art that speaks of the physical world and the reality of humanity, even by its method of creation asks the fundamental question:

 "Where do the shadows fall?  Where does the shadow lie?" 

In that form of art, it begins with light and is darkened to reveal the shadows that give form and nuance to the subject.

Sacred Art, on the other hand, as in, most specifically, Iconography, begins in the darkness and asks the question,


"Where is the light?  From whence does the light emanate? How are we drawn to the light?" 

We should use this as a spiritual barometer. Are we most drawn to the shadows or to the light?

Do you know that it is IMPOSSIBLE to look at the shadows that encroach upon us when we have fixed our gaze upon the source of the light?

That is why the Saints, and Christ Himself, tells us to focus our gaze upon Him, and Him alone, for only if we focus on Him can we avoid the shadows that seek to trap us through misleading questions and lying shadows.

My First Icon

I have just returned home from an amazing week.

It's also a week that proves that I am among the geekiest of Catholic geeks. Think about it! What do NORMAL people do when they take a week off work? I, personally, don't know. I'm not normal. (Surprise!)

Early Sunday morning I headed into the depths of Wisconsin corn fields to find the Oratory that rose as if planted from the depths of the fruitful land in the midst of Mennonite and Catholic farmland....and there, my "journey" began with a beautiful, contemplative Mass in the Extraordinary Form....

Iconography Reveals the Soul of the Iconographer

Icons are Scripture, which is why they are "written" as opposed to "drawn". Compare the work of an icon to that of the Word of God; when the monks of yore, St. Jerome, for example, bent over the candle at his desk, he sought to copy down EXACTLY what was written before. They wanted, and DID pass on to future generations, even 2,000 years later, what came from Christ Himself and His Apostles.  An Icon is the same; it is ancient, it is Scripture in pictures, in every line, color, shadow, and highlight.

Throughout the week, the icon began to take shape, little by little. It is made by many many thin layers of paint, delicate brush strokes, and in my case, mistakes that had to be covered up!

The icon Sister chose for us to write was Holy Mother of God "Three Handed", and the feast day of this particular icon, in the West, was July 12; the day we actually put paint to the lines.

What began as a mere trace, over the hours and days, slowly took form. It was an experience of Creation, nearly liturgical, for it seemed to me to follow the pattern of Genesis, finding its completion on Friday so that on Saturday, we could rest.

Those familiar with iconography are aware that they also need to be "prayed". I found I often had to "step away" from it and pray, and a few times took it to the chapel to look at it from a distance, evaluate what was needed, re-offer it to God and ask for help, in the words of scripture, to "bring it to perfection."  Indeed, the icon reveals the soul of the iconographer, not just in the lines but in the process itself!

In a humorous moment, however, as the Madonna's face began to clearly emerge, I paused, thinking that something about it looked, well.....very familiar!

Ah, yes; I had unwittingly made the Mother of God into my own image;  I had given her my nose!

So, without further ado, I present to you, my readers, a photo of my very first icon:

Yesterday morning it was placed on the altar at Mass (Extraordinary Form) and blessed. Soon I will begin work on my next icon.

Come, Lord, Do Not Delay

One of the things someone pointed out to me a few years ago, found prominently in both iconography and the writings of the Church Fathers, is the link between the Birth of Christ and His Resurrection.  This is a critical link that many don't understand, for much sacred art showing the Nativity is very misleading:  our Christmas cards show pristine views either in the desert with pretty palm trees on a clear night, or a snowy night much like those we might experience here in Minnesota, surrounding a cute little clean-looking cozy warm stable with angels singing overhead and animals cuddling around on the hay. Or perhaps some other warm-and-cozy scene eliciting feelings of vague pleasure that our secular culture has deemed to be "the Christmas spirit".  

This kind of art, while to the degree that Truth is allowed, can be beautiful and certainly may portray PART of the birth of Christ, unfortunately causes us to miss out on the fact that Our Lord Jesus Christ was born into the shadow of the Cross and in a place proleptic of His Resurrection.  If we are missing this part of the story, it means that our preparation for Christmas during the season of Advent is lacking some focus, which follows, therefore, that we can't fully enter into the joy and celebration of the Christmas season!

The fact is that Jesus was not born in a nice cozy modern stable in a cow's stall (as the popular song proclaims), but rather, in one of the caves the surround Bethlehem, where the shepherds corralled their flocks at night to protect them from predators and the elements.  Just imagine, then, what the FLOOR of that cave must have been like!  Imagine, if you will, what covered the ground, and how deep it must have been!  It's not as if the shepherds had time to design a manure shovel and clean it out and lay down some nice hay for the "guests"!

Jesus was, indeed, born in a cave. One of the nastiest caves on earth.  And where was our Most Precious Infant Savior, our King, laid to rest?  He was laid in a manger, something used to feed animals, which was never cleaned. It in fact, would have been the cleanest place in the entire network of caves, yet there, "clean" would be a relative term, wouldn't it?  That nasty manger would have been lined with the spit of a thousand camels, and never mind the fleas! He was thus born into the very same relativism that personifies even our own culture today, the actual filth of his own age, and this is fitting, isn't it, for He is relevant to all ages, revealing Truth of eternity in a world in which very few awaited or wanted to receive Him.

Jesus was BORN into extreme suffering, and so we see the connection to the Cross, for as the Church Fathers remind us, the wood of the manger is the very same as the wood of the Cross. In the town with a name that meant "House of Bread", the Bread of Life Himself was placed in an animal's feeding trough, and yet, He came not to feed animals, but to feed US with His own Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity...only to die upon the gibbit as a reminder of His own humble beginnings....and our own great Fall into sin.

This is why, in iconography, one can observe the cave through which Christ was born and entered the earth at his Nativity, and the same type of cave through which He left when He rose from the dead in order to overcome the grave for us, restoring our dignity by opening Heaven to so that we could reach our final end:  eternal union with the Holy Trinity.  Just as He arrived, so He left...in every way.

We must remember, in this season of Advent, and as we celebrate Christmas with great joy at the Incarnation, our God become man who came to save us from our sins calls us to follow in ALL His footsteps...all of them.

"Come, Lord, do not delay.
-Free your people from their sinfulness."
~ Liturgy of the Hours, Midafternoon, Third Sunday of Advent

Advent is a time of Preparation, so that we can prepare our hearts to receive the gift of Christ Himself, and in turn, make OURSELVES a gift to Him!

There is no greater gift we can give to Jesus but ourselves.  We must take time in silence, maybe solitude, slow down even as the world speeds up, and realize what is truly important. The readings for most of Advent call us to consider final Judgement, reminding us of our final ends, giving us hope in our eternal beatitude with God, but only if we respond to His grace and work to eliminate sin from our lives. It is a time of darkness and purification, it is a time of confronting temptations and actual sins and vices that keep us from God.  Especially when we consider the filth into which Christ was born, don't we want to be MORE certain of our own purity so that we can receive Him, offering Him the same mercy He provides to us?

If we saw a child lying in filth, wouldn't our first response be to pick him up, cuddle him and hold him close and warm, wrapping Him in pure, clean clothes? Yet, if we were filthy ourselves, wouldn't we hold back so that we would not contaminate Him further?  Would we not first change our OWN clothing so as to ensure that our efforts would not make this child's condition even WORSE?  If we had just come from a sewage pit, covered in the "fruits" of our labors, would we even CONSIDER picking up a child lying in a manger, knowing that the sewage dripping from us would make his own condition filth even WORSE?

I shudder when I recall that I was once one of those who lived in habitual and terrible mortal sin, did not go to Confession, and yet, at Christmas, for many years, I went forward to receive Him, this dear Holy Infant, into the profanity of my body and soul. I took the Christ Child into my own sewage, that of my own sinful soul, far worse than the filth into which He had been born!

Oh, how I shudder now to consider it!  And how I shudder to realize that this happens EVERY DAY, it happens in HUGE numbers every Christmas and Easter when such large numbers of people return to the Church....but go forward to receive Our Lord in such a filthy state!

We should ALL ensure, then, that we are not in denial of our own sin. We should be using Advent as a true time of preparation, and maybe this is difficult. Maybe it's hard to face ourselves and the reality of our own immorality. Maybe we are in darkness because we have a war within us, an interior battle within which we realize we are in bondage to sin...and are unwilling to let go of the chains that bind us.  Maybe we are afraid that if we go to the Sacrament of Confession, especially if it's been a long time, that we can't be forgiven. Do we inflict a "statute of limitations" on ourselves and condemn ourselves even though Jesus calls us to Him through the Sacrament of Penance in order to reconcile us to Him...so that we can receive Him in purity? Do we deny that we NEED the Sacrament of Confession in order to be ABLE to receive Him and be strengthened on this long pilgrimage to Heaven?

Or do we err on the side of sacrilege, approaching the Holy Altar of Sacrifice, having sacrificed nothing of  ourselves, but presuming a place upon our own authority, demanding to be fed at the Table but refusing to partake in the Sacrifice to which we are truly called?

During this time of Advent, maybe in our introspection we are crushed, and finally realize how we have been defeated over and over again, how we have chosen love of some worldly, fleshly pleasure over love of God, preferring what is temporary to what is eternal.  This is not cause for despair! It is a reason to rejoice, for this gift of self-knowledge, while difficult, is the very cave through which we are born again!  It is the very tomb through which we must pass in order to live again!

We MUST see the parallel between the Nativity and the Resurrection, between the Manger and the Cross. We MUST see how, if we are to be conformed to Christ and live out our Baptismal call to Holiness, we have to live out, over and over again in our spiritual lives the cycle of crushing defeat and the darkness in which we are rebuilt, if only we are willing to cooperate with God's grace. We must be crushed, we must die to ourselves in order to learn to turn our wills more perfectly to God.

Christmas isn't just a random celebration, a day off from work, a day to open gifts. It is a day that requires great preparation, for when we celebrate it, we should be offering the gift of ourselves, in purity, in joy, knowing that God has brought us through darkness and into redemption!  Today, on Guaudete Sunday, in the Liturgy of the Hours we pray in recognition of the Redemption! Now, during Advent, we are directed not towards the Nativity, but towards our eternal Salvation!

Rejoice! Persevere through the remainder of this "mini-Lent" and know that your redemption is at hand!

"Let us cleanse our hearts for the coming of our great King, that we may be ready to welcome him; he is coming and will not delay."

Vocation, Travail, and the Joyful Mysteries

For months and months now, I've been praying the Joyful Mysteries while pondering the gift and joy of Vocation, hoping to "get" it.

As I ponder this, I find I can't actually get through all the Mysteries, for they are not yet at any point of fruition in my life. As I pray, I try to see my own life, my own Call (whatever it is, whatever it means) in that of the life of Jesus and Mary.

Maybe one day I'll formally write a meditation on each Mystery, but for now, I'm only seeking to eke out the treasures, to understand my own relationship with Jesus through them, knowing they are relevant, but not always understanding how, or why. Each time I pray these particular Mysteries, I am trying to find the Joy, find the connection, and if I am stuck, well...I either complete the rosary as prescribed or stick with where I'm stuck, pondering what I can't understand.

The First Joyful Mystery: The Annunciation

The Angel Gabriel appeared to Mary, saying, "Hail, Full of Grace! The Lord is with Thee! Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb!" (Luke 1:28, 2:42)

Mary was at first frightened, yet had an implicit understanding of what the Angel said, for she responded in complete Trust: "Let it be done unto me according to Thy word." (Luke, 38) In the Angelus prayer, we find the Gospel of John 1:14: "And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us."

All by Mary's fiat. She said yes. She said YES unconditionally. Not just then, but in every moment. When she gave her fiat, as they say, all of heaven and earth held their breath, awaiting her response. She made our salvation possible; she who had been chosen, purified, and prepared (through Grace) by God to receive the Word, gave her acquiescence to the Holy Spirit, who descended upon her as a pure vessel, like Mt. Sinai, Like the Ark of the Covenant, like the Holy of Holies; she was overshadowed by Kahvod, by the Untranslatable Kahvohd, conceiving of the Messiah out of her own flesh. A Virgin, pure, free from sin, Immaculate, for she had been created for this moment...and every moment forward.

She didn't just say "yes" in that moment, but to everything, and took action IMMEDIATELY.

Hail Mary, Full of Grace the Lord is with Thee. Blessed art Thou among women, and Blessed is the fruit of Thy Womb...Jesus.

The Second Joyful Mystery: The Visitation

Mary, having conceived of the Holy Spirit, got up and went to Elizabeth, her cousin. The Bible doesn't say much as to her reasons, but we can surmise that she was responding to the prompt of her Spouse, the Holy Spirit, and her human need to both comfort and be comforted. What we know from scripture is that she trusted in the promise of God, thus, before she arrived she knew Elizabeth in her age was with child.

To those who say Mary was "just a woman": Was that particular man-made Protestant doctrine created by MEN who have abandoned their wives and daughters? How could God call men and women to marriage and yet impregnate the Virgin Mary, abandoning her to the world? Isn't that idea a man-made, man-pleasing doctrine, suggesting sexual pleasure without responsibility? How convenient to men!

Isn't it more like the gentle, protective, creative Holy Spirit to be a gentleman, to live up to His promises and treat the Blessed Mother of Jesus as the spouse that she is and remains for eternity? Did He abandon her, or did He provide for her in every moment? Certainly He called her to suffer, but what Mother hasn't suffered?

But I digress, for this Visitation of Mary is relevant in every age, but in this Mystery, we must get to the core of the Mystery itself, which preceded the Paschal Mystery:

Mary arrived at the house of Zecheriah and upon her entrance, at the sound of her voice, the infant in St. Elizabeth's womb LEAPT at the presence of Mary when Elizabeth exclaimed to her, "Who am I that the Mother of My Lord would come to me?" (Luke 1:43)

Elizabeth recognized Mary for her sublime dignity, graced to her by God, recognizing her Vocation as Mother of us all, Mother of Jesus. St. John the Baptist, there at six month's gestation, LEAPT at Mary's and Jesus's presence (Luke 1:44); there, where Jesus would have been but a "lump of cells" in modern terms.

Was Mary just the Holy Spirit's little heifer? Was Jesus just a "mass of tissue"? Was the unborn St. John the Baptist just an overactive mass in his mother's barren womb?

If the humanity and divinity of Jesus, and the full prophetic humanity of St. John the Baptist were present in that moment, how can ANYONE claiming to be Christian and CATHOLIC claim that contraception and abortion are merely political issues?

If Jesus, a tiny tiny, scientifically unrecognizable embryo, at the point he met the fetus St. John the Baptist, were fully human beings at the time of that meeting....how can anyone who claims to be Christian continue to claim that contraception and abortion are not murder?

"Who am I that the Mother of My Lord would come to me?"

The Third Joyful Mystery: The Birth of Christ

Mary returned to Nazareth, three months later, full with child, where Joseph considered divorcing her quietly. He did not "know" her and had believed her to be pure; yet she returned clearly having conceived.

He did not want her to be stoned, and at his own word, such would be done for he was the betrayed betrothed. An Angel appeared to Joseph, revealing that indeed, his betrothed had remained pure, was chosen by God, and...so was he. Joseph the protector, Joseph the husband, Joseph the father.

The stares of the people, the scandal assumed, that Joseph had had relations with Mary before they were married! His very silence indicated both had been impure!

Both accepted the scorn without comment, letting others assume the worst, knowing God had chosen them for greater. Their humility lives on today...the scorn of their contemporaries has died in oblivion, without name, their gossip, unrecalled, their ashes...lost to the desert of Nazareth where they were buried.

Joseph and Mary, the couple scorned, have been elevated according to the glory God chose to bestow upon them; Mary conceived without sin, Theotokos, Joseph, adopted Father of God, whose adult life was lived in the shadow of the Mother of Jesus.

They traveled to Bethlehem, the place of Joseph's birth, for the census. What hardships they endured, physically and spiritually! How did the couple come to know each other in chastity and trust, knowing God had joined them, and their child would save all of humanity from their sins?

Travail

This is where I lose the thread of meditation. I know Mary is in travail, and after the conception of Christ, after the Visitation, after her journey, she gives birth.

The great Saints have said that her travail was not painful, for pain was/is penalty for sin, which she did not endure. Yet it is clear that Mary suffered far more than any woman on earth. I look to Revelation 12, where Mary (the Woman) flees to the desert and the Dragon makes war on her offspring. I know that is us; we are her offspring, for she is the Mother of all, even of Eve, whom she replaced.

I am stuck in "travail".

Even though I am single and know that I am called to marriage, I know that I am still called to motherhood in some sense. The Word has been conceived in me, and I gave my own fiat, believing it is true, accepting, foundationally, that there IS a Call from God.

I have said "Yes" to that Call, albeit imperfectly.

It has occurred to me, over the last year or so, and now, in my present darkness, that what I experience is akin to labor, although it is spiritual. A woman in travail, (labor) as her hour comes, experiences the ebb and flow of terrible, terrible contractions. She has nurtured the child in her womb for close to nine months, has sacrificed, has loved and awaits the coming of this wonderful child. She knows that what emerges is a result of love, a gift from God, and is life eternal.

As she comes closer and closer to giving birth, her pains become stronger, more intense, and longer in duration. She screams, she weeps, she writhes in pain, and no one can comfort her for there is no comfort to be found, until that tiny babe finally rests in her waiting arms, revealing her fulfillment.

It may be a moment, it may be minutes or hours, or even a few days.

Spiritually, it can be years.

I can't now write of the remaining two Mysteries; that of the Presentation of Jesus and of Finding Him in the Temple. I am still struggling to give birth to whatever I have conceived of the Lord.

For now, I must wait, accepting the intensity of the pain, trusting in God, knowing that this is not for nothing.

If I am a part of the Church, a Bride in the general sense that applies to all Christians, then it stands to reason that I must experience this travail, I must fight this war, and I must, even in this desert, know that God will open the earth to swallow what threatens.

Though my veil be torn and my countenance blemished, I can flee to my Savior, for by Him have I conceived this Faith and only through Him can I give it life and live it to the fullness.

And while they were there, the time came for her to be delivered, and she gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

Monday of Holy Week

John 12:3
Mary took a liter of costly perfumed oil made from genuine aromatic nard and anointed the feet of Jesus and dried them with her hair; the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil.

Luke 7:37-49
Now there was a sinful woman in the city who learned that he was at table in the house of the Pharisee. Bringing an alabaster flask of ointment,
38 she stood behind him at his feet weeping and began to bathe his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and anointed them with the ointment.
39 When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would know who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, that she is a sinner."

I think I understand why this woman did this; I think that I have been given a new "vision" into this Biblical scene. I have always come away from this reading considering the grateful heart of the woman who wept at Jesus' feet. And I have always sensed His compassion, imagining that, as she wiped His feet, he spoke softly, so as not to alarm her, even as He rebuked her detractors. Had Jesus spoken a sharp word, even though it was not directed towards this sorrowful woman, she would have drawn away, terrified, for she knew who and what she was, and she knew who Jesus was.

It was her faith that drew her to Christ; it was His Mercy, it was His Divine Charity that alighted the fire in her own heart. So she wept, allowing her tears to wash over the feet that would soon be pierced, torn, supporting the weight of Christ as he struggled to breathe upon the cross. Her tears contained sorrow for herself and others; they contained the joy of hope, the gratitude of her spirit. And wrapped up in all of that, the fear of forgetting, of falling away and returning to the darkness of the past.

If she could reach out to Jesus, she could realize, once again, the reality of what He had done for her; if she could only touch him, she would be strengthened in her resolve to resist temptation. If she could sacrifice for him, she knew she could express her love through the purity of her intent. She could be made whole...through Jesus.

She wanted to console, to comfort, to show mercy to the one who had been so merciful to her. She did not speak; she wept, and her tears were a deeper prayer than that which could ever be composed by mere words.

On Sunday, an image came to mind, one I've been pondering and will continue to ponder throughout this week and beyond. I will not share this image because it is far too personal. I mention it because the image, while it did not resemble today's Gospel, it has given me a glimpse into what was happening, and it has caused me to be able to see a little more than I ever have before.

This is the holiest week of our year. We are invited to approach the cross; we are invited to deeply consider the suffering and death of Christ, and we are welcome to unite ourselves to His suffering, to engage, to become a part of it. And I have begun this week by seeing the blood on my very hands. The woman in the Gospel washed Jesus' feet with her tears...I can do the same, but I can't wash the blood away. The woman in the Gospel annointed the head of Christ with an expensive, fragrant oil. All I can offer Him is His own blood. I am so impoverished that I can offer nothing other than His own sacrifice of atonement.

I tried to bring the image in my mind to life; I tried to sketch it out, but I do not have the ability. When I close my eyes, I can see every line, I can see textures, I can see colors, I can see emotion. But when I put my pencil to paper, it all disappears.

I used to be an artist of sorts; a few of the drawings that I've done have made their appearances here. But I can no longer create such things.

Many years ago, I remember sitting at my desk at work, during Lent, I think. I remember looking at a crucifix, maybe a necklace. I remember the image that came to mind, and I HAD to create the image. I used my own hand as a model...drawing my left hand...with my right hand. I was reaching for Jesus Crucified, reaching out of the flames. I even find it significant that the picture reveals my weaker hand as being the one to rise first toward Christ.

It took a few years, but I think I have discerned the meaning of that image, and sketching it was a doorway that lead into further contemplation. The sketch itself was a prayer, although I didn't realize it at the time. I was begging for mercy. I was deserving of condemnation...but reaching towards our Savior.

This week, we should all take stock of our lives, and reach upward from the flames that consume us, lest they become the true flames of Hell that will seperate us from our Lord for eternity. Jesus was not crucified so that we might live in comfort; he suffered so that we would be free. That requires us to make a choice.

Even our tears are not enough to quench the eternal fires that seek to consume us; so we reach to Christ, who, in His mercy and compassion, will respond to our contrite hearts and lift us into His enternal embrace. God never spurned a contrite heart...ever. And when others refused to forgive, Jesus provided the example. Even if all we have to offer is His own blood, Jesus will recognize our true poverty and He will pull us from the flames.

Shattered Pieces

The other day, Jennifer F. had a great post up about the current-day tabloid story about the new Anna-Nicole: Britney Spears.

I heard the song "Piece of Me" today, and have to disagree with Jennifer F.'s take on it:

The one song that does speak to the trauma she's been through in the past year, Piece of Me, is still a hypersexualized track filled with gaspy "aaah"s and "ooooh"s.

I am not familar with Britney's music as I don't listen to hip hop. But today the radio was on and this particular song was named, so I left the station where it was, remembering Jennifer F.'s post, and really feeling so saddened by the comments made by the DJ's discussing "the latest." Before I go on, I'd like you to see some of the words to this song:

I’m Miss American Dream since I was 17
Don’t matter if I step on the scene
Or sneak away to the Philippines
They still gon put pictures of my derrière in the magazine
You want a piece of me?
You want a piece piece Piece of me…

You want a piece of me?

I’m Mrs. 'Lifestyles of the rich and famous'
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. 'Oh my God that Britney’s Shameless'
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. 'Extra! Extra! this just in'
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. 'She’s too big now she’s too thin'
(You want a piece of me)

I’m Mrs. 'Lifestyles of the rich and famous'
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. 'Oh my God that Britney’s Shameless'
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. 'Extra! Extra! this just in'
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. 'She’s too big now she’s too thin'
(You want a piece of me)

You want a piece of me
You want a piece of me

When I was a little girl, I decided at one point that I wanted to be an actress. And darn it, I was going to be a good one! Although I was shy by nature, I had a flair for comedic humor, I loved wearing costumes and found that playing a role was freeing for me. I could do anything or be anyone if I was doing it on stage. I wanted to sing like Barbara Streisand sang "Memory", and how Julie Andrews sang in "The Sound of Music." I used to dance "ballet" all over our livingroom while playing Mom's and Dad's records. This is embarassing, but I danced to "The Sound of Music" and Peter, Paul, and Mary's "Greatest Hits."

Um, yeah.

I was a clown, but you've never seen such a sincere (and shy!) clown in your life!

In Elementary school somehow I ended up in a group of "smart kids" thanks to a teacher who wasn't willing to let me slack; she was one who discovered the treasures I possessed, even though I didn't recognize them. And so that led me to the stage, where we put on a skit for the school, with hilarious results. I became a "star" that day, and my guess is that the very teacher we were honoring never forgot about it either.

In Jr. High, I tried out for a play, and was cast in one of the principal roles. I was so love with the theatre that eventually it lead me to Community Theatre, where, at the age of 15, I became "Annie" in "Annie, Get Your Gun." It was only for 2 weeks, until the real Annie could get there from her final tests. But it was Heaven to me, and I truly desired to act. I wanted to go to Hollywood. I begged my Mom to let me get an agent and do commercials.

She refused, telling me that no daughter of HERS would EVER follow such a path. No way. I argued and pleaded and begged...to no avail. The answer was "No."

Now, I've never been as pretty as Britney Spears, and I've never had her voice, but in her life, I see what I could have had to some degree...and I thank God every day for my Mother's wisdom.

The song "Piece of Me" on one hand sounds like a challenge to a fight, other times like a plea for freedom. She alternately plays the conquettish temptress, and then turns, mocking angrily. She is enslaved to the people who all want, and take, pieces of her, here and there. She has a family and is still working; no different than any other woman. So she is crying out against those who criticize her working when she has children. She has been in the spotlight since she was 17; and from that point, she's been surrounded by vultures taking pecks every chance they can get.

First it was the status of her virginity...that lasted a couple years, as I recall. Most people I knew thought she was lying. Then it was about her breast size: "They must be fake."

Over the years, it's been more and more- everyone wants a piece of her. She can't get away, she can't live a life of privacy. Every single piece of her is scrutinized and prounounced in the public forum. Whether she was a virgin or not. Whether her breasts were real. Whether she's a good mother. If she's too fat or too thin.

The message is loud and clear; Britney is a piece of meat. Why not take a slice? Everyone else is. Nothing is sacred.

And she knows it; her very SOUL is crying out for mercy and no one is hearing her.

And now the tragedy of her "glamorous" life unfolds before our very eyes. Is there any surprise, what has happened to her? Is it so shocking? After all, what she has been through would destroy ANYONE!

I was in tears this afternoon as I heard her lyrics, hearing her anger, hearing her agony, hearing the truth in her chastizement of those who continually chop pieces of her body and soul, bit by bit. How can there be ANYTHING left of her?

I don't follow celebrities; I don't know when it happened, exactly, but at some point I saw the truth of the world of theatre, film, and Hollywood, and I turned my back on it. Sure celebrities are cool, but what do they do but entertain us? I have my favorites, certainly, but I'm not interested in tabloid gossip about them. My interest is limited to their art, and maybe a bio if about them as a human being. But what has been done to Britney and those like her is an absolute crime.

You can use the argument that "She put herself out there." Sure you can. But just the same, her ability to perform does not give the public the "right" they have taken to tear all parts of her life to bits. The media is partially at fault, partially a pawn; for if the average everyday consumer out there wasn't clamboring for bits and pieces of their celebrities, the paparazzi would be out of work.

So I fault us all, the American public, for our decadance. For our inablity to leave well enough alone. For putting a price on fame, and that price is the body and soul of the one who does not necessarily chose it, but has it thrust upon them.

The best thing that could happen to Britney is for the world to forget her and let her heal. But that won't happen...the shark frenzy is just getting started, and it won't end until the headlines announce her horrible death.

That's just what happened to Anna Nicole. And name others...they aren't the first casualties of American pop culture, and they won't be the last.

And what is so sad is that Britney is a child of God. She is God's own daughter...and see how she has been treated, see how she has been used. See how she is being judged and ridiculed, see how the vultures are drooling for the next scandalous thing.

I don't think the world ever got to know Britney; they got to know an image, embellished it, recreated it, ripped it to shreds, and now stand in judgment over the destruction for which she is blamed.

And maybe now I'm a part of it as I'm discussing it here.

If I could meet Britney I'd tell her just one thing: That she is a child of God, and there is NOTHING anyone can do to take away her dignity as a human being. But I suspect Britney may never understand that again...because it seems there's nothing left of her but shattered little pieces that will require a lifetime of repair.

My prayers are with her.

The Black Robe

Last Monday, I watched the movie, "The Black Robe" (1991), written and based on the novel by Brian Moore.

This movie just left me cold. Granted, I actually had to divide my attention between this movie and something else I was doing at the same time, but just the same, the ending was not really an ending.

The movie is about a Jesuit priest and his young friend who go to the New World as missionaries to the Algonquit and Huron "indians."

On one hand, the priest, Father Laforgue, is welcomed, but with a strong undercurrent of distrust. In fact, the people call him "demon", and the shaman tries to banish him with dances and incantations. And the very people who promise to help him in the end, betray him; even his own companion.

I could see both sides cling stubbornly to their own ways of life, not willing to look at things from another perspective, not willing to go beyond their boundaries to even understand the other side.

Now, keep in mind, I use this terminology with care, for I myself once had a mind far too open for my own good, and it lead me straight to the demon and away from my Salvation. And yet, I am a person very prone to the legalistic side of things, to a fault.

As I watched this, on one hand I could see and understand why Father Laforgue would not "give" and why the people he was sent to evangelize would also not bend, so to this point the movie gives us valuable insight into human nature in the context of cultural differences.. But on the other hand, I can also understand better the need for proper missionary work; not to compromise one's beliefs, but rather, to be prepared to sit and listen, to understand prior to evangelizing, to remember that before Christ died for us, He became one of us.

What Father didn't do in the movie was to become "one of them." He seemed a sincerely holy man, but as prone to sin as anyone. His humanity was present and admitted in humility throughout the movie. And his love of Christ and desire to bring Christ to the people, likewise was sincere. So I saw no real anti-Christianity in this portrayal of his character. Yet what was missing was an important element; he was not willing to become one of the people. He did not seem interested in understandin them in order to seek to work within their beliefs, find what is common and form a foundation. To find their spirituality and speak truths to them that they could understand from their point of view.

I have a friend who feels very called to the mission fields, and goes every year to a camp on a reservation. She loves the Native American people and feels torn between doing what is exactly correct versus doing what will work to reach the children and families there. She has observed that the people are VERY spiritual; they have no problem believing in Jesus, they have no problem understanding who God is. But they are filled with superstition and attachment to their traditional forms of spirituality, which don't always merge with Christianity.

For most people, conversion is not intellectual; it is an action of the Holy Spirit that does not necessarily involve a great deal of specific knowledge, but rather, a change of heart and response to the very Holy Spirit who calls them. So it is on the reservation. They have to be reached on a very human level, and be allowed to come to God on their own terms. It takes time, and most importantly, it takes having rapport that respects their beliefs first and just welcoms them as friends.

I would love to watch this movie with my friend; I suspect her insights would be amazing, but I can't seem to remember to bring it up!

For those who haven't seen the movie, I don't want to give it away, but truth be told, there is no real climax. When the movie ended, all I could ask was an atheistic, "Is that all there is?"

And perhaps, that's the question that MUST be asked...for that is the very question that has lead ME into a deeper relationship with Christ. And perhaps that's the question that makes us all ask how best to bring Christ into a world that does not know Him and cares nothing to make His acquaintance.

Maybe we all wear black robes.

Holy Family / Holy Trinity

+ JMJ +

Yesterday during my Adoration hour, I was thrilled to see a small Nativity in the front of the chapel. As I prayed my rosary, I concentrated on this trio and their trials, and the significance of family, especially in these dark days.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

At a very young age, I was taught that these three names were a prayer, all by itself, for the names that make up this family carry salvation for us. They are eternal, for our salvation came from the "YES" of Mary and Joseph, and the sacrifice of that very Infant who grew up to be so obedient in his sacrifical love for His Father's will.

I still remember, on hot, stormy nights, as I cowered under my covers, sweating, terrified and shaking, I prayed these very names, "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Over and over again. And somehow, I was comforted; in spite of the fierce winds outside, the creaking branches of the trees rubbing against the window, and the rain and hail falling hard against the exterior walls, somehow I was able to sleep again, peacefully, held with Jesus in His Mother's arms. I suppose I spent many a night cuddled with the Infant Jesus, although I didn't understand the power of such a simple prayer.

My knowledge and faith have matured over time, and it leads me to sometimes contemplate not only the meaning of the Holy Family, but also of the Holy Trinity; for isn't the child of the Holy Family the Second Person of the Holy Trinity? Is it any mistake that the Holy Family is a reflection of God, for it is the very love of a man and a woman together that produces a child? For it is not the man or the woman alone that brings life; it is love. It is the productive love of a man and woman that is the reflection of God's image. We cannot, then, understand what "family" means unless we seek to understand the profound truth of the Holy Trinity.

I have heard Catholics and non-Catholics alike tell me that the Trinity can't be understood, is not SUPPOSED to be understood, and so we should not even TRY to understand. To those people, I suggest that they contemplate the Holy Family, and ask Jesus, Mary, and Joseph to reveal God to them. Let the Holy Family teach you about the Trinity; they are a living example, humanized for clearer understanding.

Is it exact? No...the Trinity is so profound and infinite that we as human beings cannot ever fathom the depths of God, and it is true that we are not supposed to understand EVERYTHING. Yet, that is not to say we should not seek to understand; for in that seeking, that is were God reveals Himself to us, little by little, beckoning us through trials and purifications, helping us to understand to the degree that we are able.

I just LOVE the Icon of the Holy Trinity, for it has helped me to understand God a little more, and understand the Saints, for the icon reveals so much. It was after some of the symbolism of the icon was explained to me that I finally understood a concept we had briefly come across in class, but the image solidified this tiny comprehension.

The eye naturally follows in a circle beginning at the feet of the person on the left, travels around and ends on the right. Whether our comprehension follows our eye is a different matter, but as an iconologist explained this to me, let us look at the Trinity in this manner.

We see that the heads of the person in the middle and on the right are inclined towards the one on the left in a show of deference. So clearly, the person on the left is God the Father. Just in case we miss this point, his robes of gold convey his Divinity and Person. God the Father is the First Person of the Trinity. We see that the person in the middle is holding out 2 fingers, to indicate to us that He is Jesus, the Second Person of the Trinity. That means that the Person on the right is the personification of the Holy Spirit.

Now that you can identify all of the Persons of the Holy Trinity, trace the line beginning at God the Father's foot. Follow the line of his leg, and as the line continues, up to His eye. His gaze goes straight across to the gaze of the Holy Spirit across from Him. Follow that downward to the foot of the Holy Spirit.

What do you see? A chalice. The chalice contained within the Trinity, that invites us inward to PARTICIPATION in this very Mystery.

Now look at the chalice in the center of the table. It's obvious that this stands for the Blood of Christ. This is further indicated because Jesus Christ is in the center before the chalice, and it makes sense that the chalice is in the center of the table and not His hand...for it is an offering of His blood.

It is through the blood of Christ that we are ABLE to enter into God's presence.

This icon is proleptic of the beautific vision. Do you want to see Heaven? Pray with this Icon...it reveals all that we need to know in our present condition.

Many of the Saints experienced what are called "Ecstasies" and "Trances" and similar things. People observed that, in prayer, they were able to remain completely still, as they were so ABSORBED with God.

Consider this: At Mass, we pray the Nicene Creed, and some of the words say, "We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son."

"Proceeds" is a key word. Have you ever considered what it meant? Look at it again. The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son.

When the Saints experienced their ecstasies, it is understood by great theological minds that they had been drawn into the Divine Processions...they had entered into the Holy Trinity.

When we look upon this icon, we, too, are drawn into the Divine Processions, visually, and we come to see that this happens through the sacrificial blood of Jesus Christ, who paid for our passage. It is the Holy Spirit that INVITES us and conveys this understanding, and God the Father who willed us into being, for Him and Him alone. Yet Jesus had to offer of Himself, ALL of Himself, in order that we might experience eternity with God.

The Holy Family is simply proleptic (indicative of a future reality) of what is to come; it is what we should seek to be here on earth. No, not all of us are called into human unions, however, we ARE called into that same reflection of self-giving love, sacrificial love, which proceeds from...the Trinity.

It is a mistake to avoid contemplating the Trinity; it is a mistake to admonish someone that they aren't SUPPOSED to understand such things. Rather, we should be ENCOURAGING each other to seek God, especially through these most sublime mysteries. We are all called to be Saints, even here on Earth. We are all called to participate in the life of Christ...and what is the Life of Christ but the Eternal Kingdom of God, there, held lovingly in the arms of the Holy Trinity?

Did I Kill My Little Girl?

This was originally posted on the ides of March, and I took it down. I am putting it up again in honor of Respct Life Sunday. It may come down again soon.

*


I am terrified to write this post. There are some parts of my past that I have alluded to but have never come out directly to admit, and part of that is pride; I want to be seen as a "good Catholic girl." The truth is that maybe today I'm mostly a "good Catholic woman" but in the past, I was not. I got lost and I bought into our culture, and it's terrifying and even humiliating to admit the mistakes I made while I was wandering around in the desert of my own creation.

But I am even MORE terrified that someday, I may meet another woman with the same questions I have now, and she will ask me why I never brought this up. She will ask me why I didn't warn her and why I didn't try to save her babies. I can't undo my past, but I CAN influence someone else's future.

A few years ago, I was involved in a "long-term relationship", and we used contraception. I remember my willful ignorance, most of which I gained from "informed" sources, even when that information was contradicted. I had a roommate, a left-wing liberal Democrat social worker, who told me that contraception does, in fact, cause abortions. It does this because contraception cannnot necessarily suppress ovulation. And if ovulation occurs, and a child is conceived, that zygote cannot be implanted. Contraception makes the womb uninhabitable and flushes the new life out and away and into death.

I rejected what she said because I didn't like it, even though it struck me as truth. She let me live out my denial. After all, it was nothing to her; she was pro-"choice" to the core. She would have been the first in line to drive me down to Planned Parenthood for an abortion (and she expressed this to me on one occasion). Yet truth can come even in these unlikely packages. My friend told me the truth because she was my friend and she knew that I didn't believe in abortion. It must have cost her to somewhat compromise her own liberal agenda out of love for me, her friend, to help me not carry out something she knew was against my own values.

People are puzzling, aren't they?

But I still didn't listen to her. Not then, anyway, but even today, I hear her voice, and I ask questions. I have to wonder; in those years, did I kill a child that was supposed to come into the world?

One day at work as I counted down the night-shift hours, I saw a black-and-white photograph of a little girl and I KNEW I needed to reproduce this image. I took out my art supplies and carefully began to draw. I tenderly began to form the features that made up her face, her eyes, and her hair. I put deep, deep love into each and every stroke of the pencil and then of the charcoal. And then I carefully colored in her own personal hue, trying to infuse life into her pudgy baby-fat cheeks. I kept the sadness in her face, the solemn gaze in her eyes, and the subtle pout to her lips.

This child spoke to me. This child could have been mine.

I don't have a lot of my own art work on my walls, but this is one that was destined from its conception to face me every single day. Several people have asked me if she is mine, if she is related to me, or if she is someone I know. These questions have always amazed me because I do not see any outward connection to me, especially given her skin tone (I'm white), yet by their questions they prove to me that some of the artist goes into each work of art; just as part of the parent goes into each new life. This is why, when I look at this picture, I see what might have been. I see myself and I see her father. And by the comments of friends, they see us, too.

I see my little girl. A little girl who never came to be because I might have killed her.

Please, please, I beg you from the bottom of my heart and the depths of my soul to throw away your pills, your condoms, your sponges, your IUD's, and, please, don't kill your baby.

Can you really look into the eyes of this child and deny her life?

For Tara...

A Confession....

I really, really like this song. I know I shouldn't, but I do. And I really, really shouldn't both because of the fact I see this kind of behavior every day and completely abhor it, and because when my boyfriend cheated on me ('way back when in my mid-20's), I had no desire to do what the song describes. I simply do not have violent traits....but boy howdy, how I wish I had the opportunity to belt this song out with a good band!

I have been jammin' to this song ALL DAY LONG!

"Before He Cheats" (Carrie Underwood)

"Right now he's probably slow dancing with a bleach blond tramp,
and she's probably getting frisky...
right now, he's probably buying her some fruity little drink cause she can't shoot whiskey...

Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool-stick, showing her how to shoot a combo...

And he don't know...

That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive,
carved my name into his leather seats...
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights,
slashed a hole in all 4 tires...

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.

Right now, she's probably up singing some
white-trash version of Shania karaoke..
Right now, she's probably saying "I'm drunk"
and he's a thinking that he's gonna get lucky,
Right now, he's probably dabbing on 3 dollars worth of that bathroom polo...
And he don't know...


That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive,
carved my name into his leather seats,
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights,
slashed a hole in all 4 tires...

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.

I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl,
Cause the next time that he cheats...

Oh, you know it won't be on me!

No...not on me
'Cause I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive,
carved my name into his leather seats...
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights,
slashed a hole in all 4 tires...

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.

Oh.. Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats...

Ohh... before he cheats...

I apologize to the world....

I didn't realize Haugen/Haas/Joncas were from Minnesota. Maybe I heard that awhile ago, but maybe the presence of Msgr. Schuler overshadowed the shadows.

Apparently they won't be offering "concerts" anymore. And that includes at Mass, apparently around the world. Their last "concert" is bring held in MN on June 10, according to our Archdiocesan rag, The Catholic Spirit.

On Sunday, June 10, Haas, Haugen and Father Joncas will play one of the final two concerts they have scheduled. The 7:30 p.m. program at Guardian Angels in Oakdale is a benefit for “Music Ministry Alive!” — the summer program at the College of St. Catherine that trains young Catholic liturgical musicians. Last year’s concert was sold out.

I am not one bit surprised that it's associated with another local black eye, the College of St.Catherine wherein rule the mostly-pagan-in-practice-and-belief eco-feminists Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet. (How far that order has fallen! Pray for their conversion to their roots, for their roots were incredible!).

Anyway, back to the article, the only snipped I want to comment upon:

“We’re not interested in doing just fun Christian music,” Haas said. “When I teach young people about liturgical music, I say you’ve got to keep your ears open and antenna up about what’s going on in the church and what the church needs, what the church is really calling for in its music.


He is apparently a teacher at a local school. Now, to be clear, I'm sure he's a fine and talented musician, perhaps a wonderful teacher and a wonderful human being. I cannot comment on him personally as I do not know him.

However, I get nothing but red flags when I read his comment about "what's going on in the Church and what the Church needs, what the Church is really calling for in its music." (Church, as a proper noun referring to the Catholic Church, needs to be capitalized. Catholic Spirit editor, where were you on that!?)

Anyway, if people are really LISTENING to what the Church wants, needs, and is calling for, they would be going back to GREGORIAN AND AMBROSIAN CHANT!!!!

Not folk-pop music being classified as "liturgical".

I'm going to come out and admit I don't dislike all their stuff, some is actually enjoyable and I understand they were going off of their idea of reverence when they wrote the music. I love music...I'm a musician myself, albeit a fallen-away one. But music remains in the soul, and if one is taught correctly, a barometer is installed.

My barometer never went away, thank God!

And yes, I do like some of their music, and some of it brought me back home, but it wasn't so much the music as it was the sentimentality of songs I grew up with. Had I grown up with Gregorian Chant, I'm sure I would have literally DIED when I heard the powerful strains of "O Salutaris Hostia", but since that was outside of my experience, it was "Here I am, Lord" that hit me. God can use anything to bring us home. But why should He have to when we had perfectly good, reverent music before the misinterpretation of Vatican II?

I'm fine with their concerts. By all means, perform in concerts, and that is the correct setting for much of their music...not the Mass.

I wonder if we'll ever recover from the last 40 years of bad liturgical music?

Writing From the Heart of Faith

I'm going to share my dream with you. It's a dream that just came up in the combox below, but one that has been on my heart for a long time. A couple years, anyway.

I think it's obvious I want to be a writer, and to a certain degree, I AM a writer. I'm not sure who said it, but I do think a famous person defined a writer not as someone with a long list of publication credits, but rather, as someone who MUST write. I am the latter. I have few credits to my name, but if I did not write, I don't know what I'd do.

So, the background to my dream:

A few years ago, while I was discerning the religious life, I read a book called, "UNVEILED, The Hidden Lives of Nuns" by Cheryl L. Reed.

Ms. Reed, a journalist by profession, was raised fundamentalist and attended a Catholic church as an adult, but did not convert because she had the grace to admit she wanted to pick and choose what she believed, so she converted to Orthodoxy. Sadly, I think she was not well catechized there, either, and was an apparant Cafeteria Orthodox. I do not think she had evil intentions; rather, she was a secularist, not a Catholic, and while I appreciate an outsider's view, she could not do justice to the beauty of our faith.

Anyway, as a journalist with no real understanding of Catholicism, she went into several convents, monasteries, cloisters, and homes to experience the lives of sisters and nuns. I have to admit it's a good idea, and she did not limit her experience to the "progressive" or "liberal" orders to which she was clearly most sympathetic. She also entered the traditional, severe orders such as the Redemptorists, Trappists, and Passionists.

She told the story as any media pundit would tell it, not understanding Catholicism, thus she saw the dissident communities as actually on par or superior to the faithful communities. The book made me embarassed for Catholicism due to the rampant disregard for the Truth. I felt that she made the faithful orders appear to be superstitious and strange, which must be how she saw them in her nearly faithless perspective.

I could not get through the book. I often had to put it down, and this book did more to push me AWAY from religious life than anything else. But I'm not an idiot so I did not let her perspective affect my own discernment. Which is why I put the book down when I got angry. I did eventually get through most of it by piecemeal or by skimming, but by then, an idea began to form.

I'm Catholic, and I'm doing my best to be a faithful Catholic. I'm doing my best to know and understand and teach the faith as it was handed down from Jesus Christ himself. I pray that when I teach, it is Jesus who speaks through me, with all the authority of the Church, not the authority of Adoro.

So....my idea is this:

Take up this same project, but from a different perspective: Visit these communities and write about them from the eyes of faith, the knowledge of the Church, and make the book not just informative, but a spiritual testament of the vibrancy of religious life in America. I would like to visit male orders also but I don't think that would work, so I would suggest that a male author take up a parallel project and complete that part.

In any case, I would love to spend some time with various communities, from days to weeks at a time depending upon how such a thing would work out, live with them, pray with them, write about them, learn from them...and not only tell their stories, but share their wisdom and spirituality. I would focus on the faithful communities.

Because I don't see how an unknown author such as myself would be able to take up such a project, I have not considered the specifics. But if I could do this, I fully believe it could be done even while I am in grad school (Ave Maria program meets once per month, all weekend long, leaving the rest of the month free). Such a project paired with solid theology in grad school...what treasures God could bring out of that intellectual and prayerful marriage!

I can't do it as my life stands now. I have seen magazines and writer's books reference grants, but I don't know if there's a grant large enough to cover my mortgage, association fee, etc., my bills, my dogs, and the travel expenses needed to follow this project. I wouldn't want to sell my house because the project would not be permanent, and I'd need a home base to utilize in the actual writing of the manuscript. Besides, I just learned my new printer has fax capabilities.

I think projects like this are usually commissioned by a publisher, and I have no idea how to even seek that out. I know a book like this would sell, but if I didn't already have a publisher asking for it, then I'd need a sponsor, and that person would have to put up a lot of cash on an unknown with no guarantees.

So for now, it's just a dream, but I like this dream, and if God gave me the ability, I'd love to carry it out. There's a certain community down in Nebraska that would be first on my list. (You know who you are!)

So what do you think? I know some of my regular readers are professional writers, and I know that most of you are faithful Catholics. Would you buy such a book? Would you sponsor such an endeavor? Does the Serra Club have any grants for unknown authors who have big dreams?

Motherhood of Mary

I grew up in a very chaotic home; my parents were divorced when I was eight and a short time later, Mom was diagnosed as a "Manic-Depressive" (Currently known as "Bipolar Disorder"). I will not go into detail as to what my brother and I suffered during those years forward...suffice to say that I still have a difficult relationship with my mother and I still find it hard to trust in her or anyone else.

I want you to understand, however, that my mother is a Saint. Even through her disease, while she fought the extremes to which she was taken, she never let go of Our Lady's hand. It drove me crazy; I saw her as a fanatic especially when she constantly thrust reading material with regard to the Blessed Mother under my nose and demanded that I read it RIGHT NOW! I rarely read any of it, and in fact, I pulled away from any devotion to the Mother of God just because it was "Mom's thing", and as we all knew, Mom was nuts.

Yeah, Mom was mentally ill...but she could see clearly enough to know who would see us all through. It wasn't Mom so much as Our Lady that kept my brother and I from going off the deep end ourselves, although we had plenty of opportunities. I am certain, in looking back, that Mom asked the Blessed Mother to take over, to watch over us because she could not, and to somehow provide the protection we so desperately needed in a world that would never have our best interests at heart.

Yes, I fell away from the Church, I got into all sorts of things I should not have gotten into, and when I finally came home, I know it was because of the prayers of my Mother. While I am most certainly an emotional person, my conversion was intellectual as I sought to have my questions answered, and as, in the background, Mom prayed even though she knew nothing of my life. Even as she underwent her myriad of trials, she prayed for us, and her prayers did not go unanswered.

As I came Home to the faith, I did not have a relationship with Our Lady. I always remembered the devotion from my youth, however. Mom had taught us to pray the rosary, and we hated it, but it was part of our life, especially when storms hit. I learned from Mom to flee to Our Lady when there was trouble, and to ask for her assistance and her sheltering arms. In particular, I remember one storm durng which I sat on the step as Mom rushed around closing the windows and herding us into the closet in the face of the tornado warnings and raging winds and lightning. I had taken out a rosary and even though my brother laughed at me, I prayed Hail Marys with all my heart and soul, and I am convinced to this very day that all of Heaven responded to protect us during that storm.

Yet when I came back to the Church, I did not know Mary, and I did not understand all the devotions to her, although I accepted them because they have always been a part of my life and the life of my Mother.

Slowly, this has been changing, little by little. I knew I needed her presence in my home, so when my last Grandmother died, I took the small portion of the estate I was given and I bought a statue of Our Lady, a Renaissance Madonna with the most tender of expressions, pulling her veil around the infant Jesus resting in the crook of her left arm. Ever since this statue entered my home, my devotion to her has grown, and I have begun saying the rosary nearly every day.

Slowly, I have been approaching her for intercession, begging for her assistance, and coming to a theological understanding as to who she is, amazement at her creation, and wonder at her maternity of us all.

Of late, I have fallen in love with her icon, the image of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. I don't know what it is about this particular image, but she draws me in so intimately; and through this, there has been an even deeper union with Jesus, especially as the child in her arms.

Ever since I bought my house a few years ago, I have been seeking an image of the Immaculate Heart of Mary to match the Sacred Heart of Jesus hanging near the crucifix in my livingroom, but I've had no luck. The image I grew up with is nowhere to be found. To date, I still have a bare spot on the wall dedicated to a picture I don't have.

I have also begun seeking an icon for my wall, more recently, of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. I found a votive dedicated to her and it has been constantly lit when I am home. I don't know why, but this is the image that most appeals to me at this time in my life, and she has drawn me deeper into the mystery of the redemption, as well as the mystery of her maternal love for all of us.

Today, Mother's Day, I went into my parish's gift shop before Mass to purchase some votive inserts, and something told me to "look around." I resisted; for fear I would buy something I don't need right now and can't afford. So I remained focused, even as that little feeling told me to "glance around the store."

Just as my candles were rung up, I happened to lift my eyes to the back wall...to see an image of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, the ONLY one I've been able to find since I first fell in love with the icon from an online image.

I asked about the cost...not nearly as dear as a more authentic copy of the icon, which I'd never be able to afford. I wasn't in love with the gold frame, but it was passable. I started to walk away, but couldn't. Her eyes would not let me go, and I realized this particular image was in place for me.

I bought the picture, and happened to run into a priest just as I left the store and headed to Mass. I didn't even have to seek him out to bless the icon.

Now the oddest thing is happening...I experimented with a couple places, but in my home, this picture has only ONE place, and it is as though this section of wall was MADE for her icon. And I can't expalin it, but ever since I hung it there, my home has taken on a sense of her maternal presence and protection that I did not discern prior to this, in spite of other images and statues placed in various rooms.

Do not ever fear to go to Our Lady for her intercession....at the foot of the Cross, Jesus instituted her maternity over us all. She is truly our mother. She truly answers our prayers and in doing so, she leads us ever closer to Jesus, always pointing to him through every action.

I still have a long ways to go in my relationship with my earthly mother, but it seems Our Lady is reaching out to me and today, gave me a gift I did not expect. I am not a mother, only a daughter, but it seems our heavenly mother is not adverse to reminding her children that she is present and ready to assist us with our earthly needs.

Maybe someone reading this has the same difficulty as I in understanding motherhood; go to the Blessed Mother. Let yourself be absorbed into this icon, each and every line, each and every color, and ask her for help. She will never disappoint you.

Blessed Mother Teresa- my first portrait

When Mother Teresa died in 1997, I was working nights and with nothing much to do, I rediscovered my love of art. I had never been able to take a serious art class so I didn't have much to work with, so I could only call upon the very basic mediums with which I was familiar; pen and ink, and charcoals/pastels.

In 8th grade art class, the teacher recognized that I had a certain ability and he wanted me to develop it further, and I'll admit that his encouragement remains valuaable to me even today. Sometimes we don't know that we have certain gifts unless someone actually sees that spark and asks us to take it further, perhaps coaxing it into a flame.

Well, my sights were set on studying Spanish, so I studied that, to the detriment of the art which remained an innate part of my soul. I don't regret studying Spanish; rather, I wish that there had been other, greater opportunities to study art more seriously and in greater depth.

I was never good at portraits and I didn't like having to work from the models and modes they suggested; I felt hampered by it. For example, in order to draw a face, we'd have to use a ruler to draw the lines where the eyes would be, where the nose would be, etc. I struggled and struggled with this. I was able to do well in capturing the shape of someone's jaw, but the "line" method actually seemed to hinder me from seeing and replicating what was there in front of me. I'll never know why that is because this is a great method for drawing portraits. But when I began to do portraits, I began with whatever line happened to stand out to me, usually the line of the brow.

So when I was rediscovering my apptitude for art, I also happened to be struggling to come back to my faith. Mother Teresa had long captured my imagination and my respect; such a small woman, such a large faith! I knew people who had gone to India and they'd actually been able to meet her, and through that were transformed.

When she died, I suffered real grief, realizing that I would never meet the saintly woman; she had left for eternity.

Point to make about artists; we express ourselves through art. We take the grief, the joy, whatever emotion happens to have fallen upon us, and we translate that into our chosen mediums. At that time, I was suddenly hit with an inspiration to draw Mother Teresa.

There were some photographs of her in a biography I was reading, and so I opened the book and began, painstakingly, to try to capture the essence that was Mother Teresa. I fell in love with her all over again as I drew the picture below, capturing the line of her brow, the wrinkles that made up her face, her care-worn hands. Through such an intense study of her physical appearance, she came alive at the tip of my pencil, and I began to truly see the wonder of the design of humanity. As I drew her, I also drew closer to God, in complete wonderment realizing that as I reproduced every single wrinkle and the curvature of her fingers in prayer, that God knew of each and every wrinkle, had designed each and every bone that made up her structure, and He knew her deeply beyond the face and the veil that so captivated the world.

And I realized that if He could know Mother Teresa so deeply and personally, then He also knew ME that deeply and personally. So I continued drawing with a newfound joy, and when I thought I was done, I realized that I had not finished the picture; there was room for a second image, resulting from the first, and in the end, the first image actually AROSE from the second.


I was struck today by this image; Mother Teresa was who she was because of prayer; it was prayer and union with God that transformed her from a simple, everyday woman to the spiritual giant she became, and the strength she provided in her very presence. She absolutely RADIATED Jesus Christ. Now, when I look at this image, I realize that we are ALL called to do what she did; we are all called to give ourselves utterly to God, which can only be done through deep conversation with God in prayer, and through the Sacraments, and allow Him to live through us.


Blessed Mother Teresa, Pray for us.