Youth Dying for Truth

I was like most youth when I "left" the Church. My formation had been horrid at best, I didn't know half or even a quarter of what I needed to know, and in reality, I was not equipped to face...well...reality.

So despite my very intense involvement in my home parish, I was lost when I went to college. I didn't go to Mass. I wanted to be cool and sleep in. And when I DID go to Mass, it followed a weird "Youth Mass" format that involved the priest inviting the students to circle around the altar during the consecration. I watched from a balcony with some friends, astonished, and yet, thinking the way my classmates in the front row leapt to their feet and circled the alter looked incredibly stupid, blocked the view for even we in the balcony, and that the entire thing seemed....wrong.

I was so put off that I went only one more time to a Sunday evening Mass in that particular place on campus, and the ONLY memory I have of it is from the balcony, watching the exact same characters leaping to circle the altar, while most of the students remained, kneeling silently.

My other memories of college Mass involved those from the chapel, where they always seemed to play the piped-in popular music of the day, the theme song of which was the secular song, "Hero" from some movie I never saw because it was both popular AND cheesy. To this day, I haven't seen the movie attached to that song and can't even remember what it is.

All I learned about Mass in college was that it was about us, that it was about popular culture, and I couldn't identify with it because it didn't come CLOSE to touching the very real issues I was dealing with in my life: divorce, death, suffering, the mental illness of a parent, the occult...etc. All I got was affirmation of false choices; I wasn't EVER shown WHY we go to Mass, WHO Jesus was and remains, or WHY it was necessary to go to Mass. Because it was all about us as teens and college students, I never learned anything objective about theology or Christ.

As it was, Mass was no different than any other part of my life. So I didn't go. There was no point.

That said, I went forward to receive Our Lord in Holy Communion, even though I was in a state of mortal sin, and I could not understand my tears, my repentance, my inability to remain aloof. Because He was there, and in spite of all that was wrong, all I did wrong...He saw and He knew...and He called.

I graduated college, and reconnected with college friends when I moved to the Cities. A friend, an even more marginal a Catholic than I, wanted to go to the Basilica Youth Group in St. Paul, and I think she did go, but it never worked out for me. In fact, I've completely lost touch with her. But I remember a sense of disconnection we both shared. We were on the fringes, as we'd always been, not knowing how to really become involved.

At the time, I didn't have a parish. I was seeking God, calling myself "Catholic" but really wandering around going to Mass at different places, giving my heart to the things of this world. New Age, Occult...it was all the same to me.

I kind of felt like the Church didn't want me. When I DID go to Mass, I felt like a fraud, a stranger, someone Jesus would never want to know.

And I have to admit..I've never totally shaken that "feeling".

For years, I went online, searching out different parishes,  seeking a connection, a group I could join. But all of them seemed so much like the cookie-cutter "good kids" I knew in college who lived so "perfectly", did great things, were so intelligent and connected. They were the ones with perfect lives, scholarships, and the ones present at the Masses that didn't seem right, somehow.

And there was something "false" there that I couldn't put my finger on, and to this day, I STILL can't.

After my conversion, after I bought my townhome and joined my current parish, I became involved in my own local Young Adult group, and I didn't fit in even there. It was the same kind of "cookie cutter" person; young women and men with whom I could not identify. I'd seen so much, through both my personal and professional life, and through my own cynacism, all I needed was someone to understand me, even as I tried to understand Christ. It wasn't that the young adults I met pushed me aside; it was that I couldn't understand them or what I saw as their perfect lives.

It's the plague of good youth and young adult groups all around: those who have seen and lived some very serious things have a hard time when they come up against the innocence of lived holiness and...dare I say it?  An absence of suffering.  

That is not to say that those in those groups have not suffered, but rather, I find that in many of those groups are those whose parents are still married, whose parents have supported them when they HAVE gone wrong, and whose catechesis was actually not bad overall (even if in the case of college campuses the liturgy has gone wild). There are different variations of goodness and sin, but no matter where I have gone, I've always felt like the scruffy outcast.

It's not in anything they've done; there has simply always been a sense of not fitting in properly. A square peg in a round hole. Choose your cliche'.

It's been years now, and things ARE getting better. There are WONDERFUL Young Adult Apostolates such as the Frassati Society and other groups.  And although I've been involved in Frassati, this June I end my "tenure" even though my connection to them has been marginal.  As they've sat around discussing faith, I've been teaching it, in all my incompetence.  I look at their perceived holiness, wish I could be there, because, in reality, in knowing these people...they're living better than I am.  And yet...I can't spend any time with them because I'm WORKING for the Church. 

What irony...cut off from my own spiritual connections with people my own age because I'm...WORKING for the very venue.  

Yet, I know that it's not my group, anyway.  I can't put my finger on it, but I know that this is not my group of friends.  They are wonderful people...but they aren't people I understand, or who can possibly understand me. There is no ill will.  Just...a disconnect.  

And I'm in so many ways just like so many other Young Adults out there, wanting to find that group of good Catholic friends, but we don't fit a particular profile.  What about us?  Where do we go?  

Orphans. 

I'm reminded of Menudo;  when I was a child, I remember watching them EVERY SATURDAY, so sad when one of them left and sang his farewell song.  Being a Young Adult in the Church is a lot like that, but we don't get to sing because no one knows us to begin with.  We're just...here. In limbo.  Disconnected, because everything out there seems almost an extended model of teen ministry, which DOESN'T fit those of us who have seen things better left unmentioned.  

In June, I won't be singing a song of farewell to anyone, for there won't be anyone to listen as I turn 35.  And it doesn't matter.  Because my life in Christ hasn't been about age, or a group, or a title. 

Ultimately it's been about Christ. It's been about Truth. It's been about seeking Him, and HE has provided those connections He intended me to have with others. 

I'm very saddened that for so long, Truth has been left out of the formation of teens and young adults; Popular Culture has been put in place of history and transcendence.  I'm saddened that what was supposed to cater to my "sensibilities" turned out to be the things that pushed me away, and that those doing their best to actually provide something REAL have been stymied by everything that preceeded them.  

And the vestiges of bad liturgy, bad theology hang on, holding everyone back. 

Everyone seeking Truth wants a faith they can DIE for. 

Yes, I've found it, but it's taken me to the end of my youth to do so.  That shouldn't be.  

I'm now in this "limbo" age; I'm technically classified as a "Young Adult" but haven't actually been able to see myself as such for several years.  Yet, I can't pass into the next category, whatever it is.  Once we turn 35, we're not "young adults" anymore. We're....what?  

Who am I, in the Church?  A single woman, in limbo. That's all.  Not part of any group, any category. A free agent.  A dryer sock.  Lost. Found.  Undefined.  Lint. 

It doesn't matter.  I've found a Faith worth dying for.  I've not been other there looking for a label or a group, but I've been looking for LIFE. And I've found it in Christ.  

I'm not willing to die for a job or an ideal. 

I'm not willing to wander the desert for a theory.  

But I AM willing to die for Truth, and I've found it in the Cross.  It doesn't matter that you can't pigeonhole me into a particular age group;  the Church isn't about that.  It's about LIVING as Christ calls us to live, and we don't always have the support we think we need. But we have HIM, and that's all that matters.  

THAT'S what we need to remember when we work with young people; they aren't looking for a label, but for Truth. And when they find that, they'll find something worth dying for.  Take away the fluff and the bad liturgy; they can spot it. They want reality. They want what matches their lives. They can understand the Cross because they're living it every day, but no one is willing to point it out to them. 

I'm so sorry that for so long, so many have been lost because the models the Church has been using hasn't addressed the deepest needs of those who have been seeking. I'm so sorry that so many have been deprived of a very real connection to Christ that should have been there, but wasn't. 

But it doesn't have to be that way.  It doesn't matter how scruffy we are, how much we don't connect to the existing "models" embraced by various parishes in how to do "outreach".  What matters is Our Lord, who inflicts no models and no lables.  He simply IS, and it is HE who defines us and helps us to find ourselves, there in His light and loving shadow beneath the Cross.

This Dark Valley

It's been an odd week; even as I was encouraged and strengthened by several conferences and talks, time in Adoration, and Mass, other powers have been at work actively discouraging me in too many ways to count.

I even received an email this weekend telling me to maybe NOT pursue the path that I’m on (in discerning the Passionists), but rather, go over old ground, look at that ground again or choose something lesser than the chalice I think is in front of me now.

I found the email to be so ironic; just recently I spoke with a group about Garden of Eden and the slithering voice of Satan, and listened to a speaker talk about how there is a temptation out there to ask us to be LESS than what God has called us to be.

The email disturbed me greatly because it played into my own doubts and fears, almost word for word. They are the same doubts and fears that have held me back for a very long time, and now, here is this exterior, allegedly objective “voice” saying, “Oh, you should actually look at this instead of this, you should consider a lesser commitment instead of making such an offering of yourself. Maybe God is calling you to what you thought before and not this amazing thing it took Him so long to get you to consider.”

In that email, I clearly recognized the scent of sulpher, something the person writing didn’t even know they were bringing. 

The messenger is innocent; the spirit behind the messenger isn’t.

And it has made me consider, too, how often I’ve been a tool, how often I’ve spoken carelessly, allowing the wrong door to be opened, maybe bringing discouragement to someone else who really needed affirmation instead.

The sad thing is…this discouragement hit me this weekend not just from a random email, but from a lot of other sources as well. All weekend long, all WEEK long, I’ve been plagued by doubts, discouraged through a number of things, wondering how in the world any of what I think God is asking me to do can possibly happen, especially with my history, the reality of my life?

I know who I am, God knows who I am, and realizing there’s a lot to go through is difficult enough. Yet it seems everything is being piled on, one thing after another. And then this weekend…this.

So it is that I’m so thankful for some advice received from a priest at my parish, something he told me several months ago. When he learned of my discernment, he told me that there would ALWAYS be doubts, and they wouldn’t go away.

He didn’t tell me they’d get worse, but that’s been the case. Ever since I made the decision to go in one specific direction, I’ve been under attack both from expected and unexpected sources.
Maybe this is what it means to keep one’s eyes on the Cross. To walk through that dark valley and know that the shadows don’t matter. Yes, the shadows must be confronted, each one, and we must pass through them, but in the end, they have no authority over us. The only shadow that matters is the one of the Cross, the one we follow, because once we’re within the shadow of the Cross, nothing else can touch us. The shadow only looks dark because the light of Christ is so strong it blinds us – and makes us see everything more clearly that we ever have before. 

I only wish this valley weren't so painful, but were it not, there would be no sacrifice to endure. 

So be it. 

I only pray not to be alone in these moments, and in looking to the Cross, I know that there will never be such complete abandonment as that experienced by Our Lord when He cried out in the depths of His agony.  

I suffer so much less. 

Trusting God

This Lent, I think, has been and continues to be an exercise in learning to trust God. I feel like every part of my life is "in crisis" in some way, and I'm just waiting for the next thing. In fact...I'm almost resigned to the next thing, whatever it is. 

And then, a surprise event; a retreat was short on staff, and as one of my parishes is hosting, well, I was basically told I was needed, not just as "furniture", but to fulfill an important role. One which didn't make sense, because it really would require I not be a "fill in" but present for the retreatants. 

In looking at the schedule, in talking it over with the team and visiting priest who is running the retreat, well, I have the freedom to stick with the original plan and end my role this afternoon.  

Except...I can't. It isn't right.  I can't establish a connection with these kids and just disappear.  So while I will have to leave at night and I will have to leave this afternoon, I will be returning to the retreat both this afternoon, and, I think, tomorrow.  

Here's the ironic thing; I have NO IDEA what I'm doing, I'm completely unequipped for this role and all I can do is look at the Cross and say, "Well...here we go!"  

At least God is doing all the hard work...and maybe teaching me to trust that that really is the case.  

For the sake of these retreatants...I certainly hope so.  

I'm quite concerned about all the study time I desperately need, and am losing given that I'm spending extra time working. But if there's another thing that I've learned in the past, it is that God doesn't abandon us, and somehow, He'll help me get through everything I need to do, one way or another. 

In the end, nothing depends on me. Thank God!

*

Head Injuries

This is a serious topic, and one that should be discussed;  the fact is, head injuries can be deadly. 

The big news today is about how actress Natasha Richardson died of a head injury received as a result of a ski crash on a beginner's slope. Initially she was fine, they tell us, but the other symptoms appeared.  And that's what happens. One minute someone is fine...the next...they're dead.  

In my first year as a Ski Patroller, I remember that one of our fellow patrollers took a serious spill on the bunny hill. It was a freak thing; he was an amazing skier, he and his wife were actually moving to Europe and were going to be patrolling there, in the Alps. Well, he took a headlong crash and I remember being on scene...it was pretty obvious he'd hit hard.  And yet...it was a bunny hill.  Never underestimate the force of a fall, even when it doesn't seem to make sense. 

I was also the patroller in charge of a scene on that very same bunny hill a couple years later,  where a little boy had taken quite a creative fall. And although over and over again, he said he hadn't hit his head at all...as it turned out, he DID have a head injury, although in his case it was a slight concussion.

Both of the above people recovered and went on with their lives, but witnessing the damage caused what what was later diagnosed as a "slight concussion" was quite daunting. In the first case, the patroller, "Bill" was bleeding all over the place as a result of a direct hit.  In the latter case, "Andy" had no outward sign of his injury, but he DID go downhill QUICK about 20 minutes later.

One of the scary things with head injuries is that although there are symptoms, they don't always match on every occasion. There are closed and open head injuries. There are direct hits, and hits that involve the brain being "rattled" even though the head has not taken a direct  strike.  There are immediate symptoms, and delayed symptoms.  And sometimes, the patient has to REPORT those symptoms because they can't otherwise be recognized.  (Actually, this would be the difference between Signs and Symptoms:  Signs are objective and can be outwardly recognized, such as an altered mental status, blown pupils, etc.,  Symptoms are subjective and must be reported, although sometimes can be guessed; i.e. someone who is drowsy can report being drowsy, but maybe it can be observed, too. But typically, symptoms MUST be reported due to their subjective nature.)

Personal Experience That Scares Me Now

I've suffered a few concussions; one from a direct hit, a couple others as a "secondary" injury. 

When I was 13, I was in a serious car accident, in which I had not been wearing a seat belt.  We rear ended another car, and I can STILL remember the collision.  As my head struck the windshield at 40 mph or so, my knees hit the dash, and I was thrown back against the seat, dazed, encased in darkness.  I remember shaking it off and looking over at the driver, who was asking me if I was OK. I said I was,  although I was not.  My knees hurt. My head hurt. I remember reaching up and palpating a bump on my head, surprised that was all I seemed to have. I remember trying to peer through a cloud of darkness and trying to grasp what had just happened and what was going on. 

I was really really tired, but got out of the car, wanting to be OK, thinking if I pretended I was, that would effect reality.   

When the ambulance arrived, I told the 'medic, when he asked, that I had not lost consciousness. In my mind, I hadn't. It had just "gotten dark" for awhile.  I didn't tell him even that.  

Uh...HELLO!  

At the time, I was still a pretty shy person, and he was a stranger; it stood to reason that I wouldn't just blurt out what I was feeling, because I didn't want to be the center of attention.   IN a way, because I wanted to avoid attention, I fled from the treatment I needed, and honestly thought I DIDN'T need. 

But I should have told him the other symptoms; the headache, which WAS severe, in spite of the brave face I tried to put on it.  I didn't tell him how tired I was, and in reality, I don't think I know those were symptoms.  They were just how I felt but meant nothing to me.  I didn't expect to feel GOOD after being involved in a fairly serious car accident.  I didn't expect, that if my noggin had cracked a windshield, that I'd feel good, but I didn't really think I was injured, either. 

On the funny side...the Sheriff himself was at that scene and offered to give me a ride home. I was a little intimidated at the time, and wondered if he'd walk to me to the door (which actually would have been proper).  But no, I said I was fine and would prefer a ride from my friend, thinking that if a cop brought me home, Mom would REALLY freak out!  

Well, as it was, I got a ride home from my friend's brother- in-law,  and Mom's immediate reaction, as I feared, was to overreact and bring me to the ER in a panic. I had a small cut on my head. As we were led back to an examining room, she said, "Oh, I hope she doesn't need stitches!"

I stopped in my tracks. "Stitches?"   (I've never been a fan of needles....)

I didn't need stitches. But somehow they coaxed me back and once I had a bed to lie on, I did so. I wanted to go to sleep. They didn't seem to pick up on that. The doctor asked me everything else, gave me the neurological tests, everything, even as I sat there wanting nothing more than to sleep. 

When we got home, I worked hard to stay awake, and when I finally DID go to bed, Mom spent the night waking me up every two hours to ask me "stupid questions."  I just wanted to sleep.  Of course, you realize that those "stupid questions" were quite necessary and thank God Mom did what she had to do and asked them. (And I got them all right!)  :-D 

(As an aside...I was glad she didn't ask me anything about algebra or geometry...)

At the ER they had given me a sheet of paper that said if the headache was ongoing, we should come back.  I actually put it away and said nothing.  The headache was so horrible that I couldn't do anything for DAYS, but I never told Mom how bad it was. In the afternoons, I would lie down hoping for some relief, and finally the pain would abate enough to allow me to function again. 

That was my first concussion.  Undiagnosed, but I know enough now that there's no doubt that I had one.  Fun.  

The second one happened when I was in the Ski Patrol's candidacy program. 

On a Saturday evening, as an Auxiliary Patroller (IE trained in Outdoor Emergency Care, the equivalent to EMT, had not passed the Hill Test, thus not wearing an identifying jacket), I took a bad fall.  I wasn't a great skier at the time, and was "ripping" down a slope.  At the bottom was a snow machine which caused the slope to go from icy to sticky with new, wet, manufactured snow. I turned to make my hockey-stop, recognizing the conditions, but misjudged the space and the snow, besides the fact my weight was on the wrong ski.  I crashed, hard, and in that crash there was no "slide" to absorb the impact. I think I almost felt my brain hit my skull.  

But I stood up,even in that piercing pain,  brushed myself off, and went on, with a headache that got worse and worse throughout the evening. 

I went home, and the next day got up and returned to the ski area for Hill Training, already fearing that maybe I shouldn't be driving, much less skiing. But I didn't want to say anything because passing the Hill Test was EVERYTHING to me. 

That day I was just "off" in general.  I had no balance. While skiing, I actually had a really creative crash that jammed my skis between  the snow and a little "cliff", causing a friend to have to help me disengage from the "trap".  While standing on flat ground near the lift, I tipped over very suddenly, and later that day, in a store, I quite literally just fell over.  It was the oddest thing; while I've never been a graceful person, it is NOT normal for me to be standing one moment and lying on the ground the next, with no memory as to how I'd gotten there. 

So you see the problem, don't you? 

None of me fellow patrollers recognized the signs because they hadn't seen the crash and had no idea that I had other symptoms, including a headache much like the one I'd had when I was 13.  How could they know? Even though I suspected at the time I might have a closed head injury, I said nothing, choosing to say nothing, thinking maybe if I did, they would pull me from training that day.  (Wisely, in fact.)  

I never experienced nausea, but I did experience a certain confusion, loss of balance, and the piercing headache. 

I should have been in the hospital;  that injury...both injuries, could have killed me.  

And a LOT of people experience this and live to tell about it. But every so often, we get an example of someone who doesn't.  

My heart goes out to Natasha's family, and she herself also remains in my prayers.  What they must be suffering is incomprehensible.  In one moment their dear one is present in their lives, and after something that seems so small...she's gone. 

None of us knows the day or the hour, but there is one thing this tragic accident brings to the forefront; and that is the reality that one doesn't NEED to die of such an injury.  We all need to be vigilant and recognize those things that could cause such an injury. It seems in her case she was given the proper advice and followed it, and really, that's all anyone can do. 

I encourage everyone to become educated in these things, if not to use them professionally then at least to be able to help those you love if they ARE ever injured.  When in doubt, take your friend to Urgent Care or the ER. It's better to be seen than not.  

Even in my case, I suspected an injury, but didn't take the initiative to go;  but had someone insisted, I would have. Of course, they would have had to drive me.  I shudder to think, now, that I was driving a few hours between the ski area and home when I shouldn't have been driving at all!  

Our brains are very sensitive and it doesn't take much to kill us. Please take any kind of head injury very seriously, and know the symptoms, or even the possibility. If one seems likely...get to the doctor.  As soon as possible. And tell them every symptom, even if it doesn't seem important, because at that point, everything is. 

Please keep Natasha Richardson in your prayers, and all of her family, as well as the families that are living out this very same thing right now. 

Just Sayin'

I just want to say that as a fellow math-atheist, I fully agree with this very wise Seminarian, Michael and the Calvin and Hobbes cartoon he has posted.  

If he and his very profound understanding is any indication of that of the rest of his brothers,  we can rest assured we'll all be in good hands. 

Ahhh!  How NICE to see wisdom! 

Making a Mockery of Christ

From the Divine Office today, from a sermon by St. Peter Chrysologus, bishop:

There are three things, my brethren, by which faith stands firm, devotion remains constant, and virtue endures. They are prayer, fasting, and mercy. Prayer knocks at the door, fasting obtains, mercy receives. Prayer, mercy and fasting: these three are one, and they give life to each other.

Fasting is the soul of prayer, mercy is the lifeblood of fasting. Let no one try to separate them; they cannot be separated. If you have only one of them or not all together, you have nothing. So if you pray, fast; if you fast, show mercy; if you want your petition to be heard, hear the petition of others. If you do not close your ear to others you open God's ear to yourself.

When you fast, see the fasting of others. If you want God to know that you are hungry, know that another is hungry. If you hope for mercy, show mercy. If you look for kindness, show kindness. If you want to receive, give. If you ask for yourself what you deny to others, your asking is a mockery.

These words condemn me, and it's excruciating. On every level, every word...I fall short.  

One of the things I'm trying to work on is forgiveness; more and more, I realize how much I hold on to grudges. I realize how much I complain about people who have wounded me, but forget how much I have wounded others.  I think of offenses both ancient and recent, and my self-righteous attitude towards those who have offended or injured me in some way, both big and small. 

And this runs the gamut;  serious offenses from childhood, things that have formed me through abuse and injury, and more recently, offenses that have simply wounded my pride. 

True holiness asks us to regard others as more important than ourselves, to defer to them even to our own detriment. And I've found myself having to do this, and it's not easy. Especially when I believe I'm right, and even more especially...when I KNOW I'm right!  But sometimes it's better to back off and acquiesce for the sake of the other;  if the lesson is important enough, we'll BOTH get the message God wants us to receive. And it is in those moments we need to sacrifice our own will and allow God to take the lead. 

But what really  convicts me is this:  "If you want to receive, give. If you ask for yourself what you deny to others, your asking is a mockery."

How often have my prayers been a mockery?  

How often have I harbored a grudge against another, while asking God for mercy for my own transgressions?  

How often have I approached the altar at Mass while feeling and resenting the sting of a rebuke of another, just or unjust?  

How often have I expected kindness, even if I have been unkind?  

How often have I held myself up as judge, jury, and executioner, and resented those SAME actions in another?

How often in the actions of others have I been shown a mirror of myself, and even though BOTH of us have been wrong, have I  held my own position up as the superior one? 

How often have I asked for mercy, even as I have refused mercy to another? 

How often have I pounded the nails into the hands and feet of Christ, even as I have condemned others, even to their faces, of doing the same thing? 

How often have I held both the hammer and the nail, failing to realize it was my own soul being pierced, and each action was to my own condemnation?  

How often have I looked into the loving eyes of Christ and directed my gaze from the wounds I have caused in order to avoid responsiblity for my own actions? 

How often have I directed my gaze away from others because, in my faulty judgment...they didn't look enough like Christ to satisfy me? 

How often have I condemned others, even though Jesus has done nothing but forgive me? 

How many times have I gone about my day, and my prayer and have done nothing but make a mockery of Christ?

How many times in my life have I struck the Rock and Crucified Christ because of my own unwillingness to kneel at His feet in humility?  

How many times, in a single day, have I made a mockery of Christ?

Ecce Homo!  

Behold the Man!

Behold the Man...

St. Patrick's Breastplate

I bind unto myself today
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same
The Three in One and One in Three.
I bind this today to me forever
By power of faith, Christ’s incarnation;
His baptism in Jordan river,
His death on Cross for my salvation;
His bursting from the spicèd tomb,
His riding up the heavenly way,
His coming at the day of doom
I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself the power
Of the great love of cherubim;
The sweet ‘Well done’ in judgment hour,
The service of the seraphim,
Confessors’ faith, Apostles’ word,
The Patriarchs’ prayers, the prophets’ scrolls,
All good deeds done unto the Lord
And purity of virgin souls.

I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the star lit heaven,
The glorious sun’s life giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind’s tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea
Around the old eternal rocks.

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, His shield to ward;
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.

Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours,
Against their fierce hostility
I bind to me these holy powers.

Against all Satan’s spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart’s idolatry,
Against the wizard’s evil craft,
Against the death wound and the burning,
The choking wave, the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till Thy returning.

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the Name,
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.
By Whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
Salvation is of Christ the Lord.

Passion

Have you ever climbed a mountain?  Or just a large hill or bluff?  What about a tower, one to which you had to travel?  Do you remember, during your ascent, looking behind you, and at first, you saw only the bare path over which you'd just crossed.  And after awhile, maybe a few switchbacks, you look back again, and you can see the treetops, but not much else, other than your car in the parking lot.  And so you give up, but then, some time later, as you climb higher and higher, you come to a lookout point.  And at that point, your trail guide says to you, "Look!"  And you look out over the valley, transfixed by the view, seeing the road, the other lookout points, the intersections, and the trail you've climbed.  In that view, you understand a lot more than you did as you traveled along it; the overhead view gives you an entirely different understanding both of where you've been...and where you're going. 

My vocational discernment has been a lot like that for me, only it looks, from my current vantage point, a lot like the exodus of the Israelites as they wandered the desert for 40 years.  Stumbling upon a mountain that has lead me to a vantage point has been pure Grace for me...on my own, I'd still be bumbling around and picking cactus spines out of myself.

Actually, I am. 

Over the last couple months, a great deal has been brought to my attention. First, the Cistercians, which I think now is not where God is drawing me;  rather, I think He has used them to get my attention. As of this point, I don't know if I'll be visiting them; in fact, I highly doubt it. 

In this ascent, the view has changed. I see something else, something I'd seen before, but disregarded because they didn't fit "my" definition of what "I" thought I wanted. 

I was asking the wrong questions.  I was still looking at religious life through the lens of my own will. 

The ONLY way to approach Vocation is through the view of God;  what does HE see?

So God invited me to ascend a bit further so that I could see the highways and valleys and mountains in a way closer to that of His view. 

As I have turned to look out over the valley in the company of Our Lord, I've not only seen where I've been, but the signs that have directed me to Him. I've seen more of who I am and where, from the very beginning, He has directed me to be.  Who He is directing me to become. 

At this time, I'm not going to go into the details, but a great deal has come into my understanding in recent weeks, and I've taken action to further where I believe God is drawing me. 

As of this point, I believe I was mistaken to think I was called to the Dominican Order.  While I'll always have a special place in my heart for the Dominicans, I now believe they have simply adopted me in order to guide me to my destination. 

One of my favorite works of art is Fra. Angelico's depiction of Father Dominic kneeling at the foot of the Cross, the blood of Christ dripping upon him, both in shared anguish.  

In fact...ALL of my favorite works of art involve an aspect of the Passion of Christ;  in my bedroom, each day I wake up and look upon the Agony in the Garden.  Each night I sleep under the icon of Our Mother of Perpetual Help, an icon that points to the Passion of Christ.  Every time I pass a crucifix, I cannot help but stop and stare at it, taken in, wanting to remain in its shadow. 

My spirituality isn't Dominican, or Fransciscan, Carmelite or Salesian. While I admire the Benedictines and embrace the Augustinians, in reality, none of them are home to me, although ALL, in a way contribute, and, in turn, my spirituality is a part of theirs as well. 

In looking over everything that surrounds me, everything that attracts me to Christ, I have to admit that one of the communities that first got my attention is back on the radar screen.  And I never thought I'd truly consider them; not because of who they are, but because of the discipline of their lives. 

I believe that I may be a Passionist.  

It's throughout my blog; woven into my writings, into what I think, how I think, how I pray.  

When I first saw the Passionists, I rejected them, thinking, "Oh, they're cloistered", and I didn't want  to be so. 

But a Vocation is not about "me". It's about God. As I have climbed this mountain, I've come to realize my only focus needs to be on Christ Himself. Nothing else. It doesn't matter what I think I want. I've done so much, and truly, nearly everything I've wanted to do. 

My only regret, if I were to go into an enclosure right now, is that I haven't had the opportunity to travel to the Holy Land.  I want to physically walk through the life of Christ, and to travel along the Via Dolorosa, and kneel at the site of His Crucifixion.  

Otherwise, this world has nothing for me.  This world has never loved me, nor do I want it to. 

The biggest question I've had to ask myself is this:  Where can I find Christ?  

At the Cross.  

And He bids me to follow Him. 

So be it, if this is truly what He wills.   

A Warning to All Drivers!

I am departing from the regular topic of my blog in order to pass on a warning on something that almost happened to me today. And I'm thanking God for my years working in Insurance Investigation for waking me up before I became a victim of fraud.

This morning en route to class, I was driving on a four-lane street, two lanes each direction. There was a maroon late model foreign car driving slowly in front of me, and in the left lane, a white sedan, also late model, but newer, hanging pretty much in the maroon car's blind spot.

We stopped at a light and I was a bit "trapped" by both vehicles that apparently wanted to stay significantly under the limit when the light turned green. It seemed that the car on the left was dropping back so I began to accelerate in order to be able to switch lanes and clear both vehicles.

However, the white car to my left kept pace with my acceleration, and so I backed off...so did he. That's when I saw out of my peripheral vision that the man driving the car kept glancing over at me, and at the person ahead of me, and then back at me again. I immediately grew suspicious, especially considering that once again I'd crept up too close to the maroon car.

That's when the red flags triggered by the guy's inappropriate actions made me realize what MIGHT be going on; in insurance terms, it's a fraud scheme called "Swoop and Squat." It can take place with one or two other cars, and at the time I did not know if they were working together or if the guy in the white car was targeting both of us.

Basically what the criminals do is find a likely "target", maybe an unaware driver, someone alone...they don't want witnesses or passenger testimonies. They let the "target" car get into position, either by forcing it by "boxing" them in (as happened to me today), or just by taking advantage of an impatient, unaware driver. Then at the opportune moment, they hit the gas, leap ahead of the buffer car, get in front, and slam on the brakes, causing what CAN be a multiple-vehicle collision - and they're in front. They go on to get paid for the damage to their car and claim all sorts of fun soft-tissue spinal injuries and other high-dollar things that will lead to a Bodily Injury claim.  

This scenario can play out different ways...the "swoop" car can be the cause of the accident but not be directly involved, but in that case, they HAVE to be working with a partner car.

Well, once I recognized the setup this morning I backed off and refused to get close enough to either car to be taken in. At the next light, I saw that the guy kept glancing at the other driver in front of me, and eventually DID speed ahead, where, lo and behold, he almost IMMEDIATELY found another "target".

How do I know this? Because I was so intent on watching him that I completely missed my stop to get gas for my car and coffee for my class! 

I was in a great position, then,  at the next light where I witnessed Mr. White Car pull up next to the other car he'd been stalking, and there, I observed the same behavior. That car, too, had only a driver who appeared to be either elderly or at least a small-statured person, and the guy in the white car kept staring over at her, as though sizing her up. When the light turned, he kept pace, hanging slightly back, not passing, continuing to glance over as though waiting for the right moment to make some kind of a move.  

Well, I was irritated and needed to get to class, and was tired of being held up by the self-appointed criminal pace car and wanted to get away. So at the next light I made a turn, realizing as I did so that I'd FAILED to grab his license plate, and my "ditch" off to an alternate route might well give this guy the opportunity to cause the accident he was clearly looking for.

I ended up backtracking a couple blocks down, thinking that if I saw the cars pulled over, I'd stop, too (a distance away), call 911 and report the accident and the suspicious behavior to the police. My next call would be to the NICB (National Insurance Crime Bureau). Well I didn't see anything, so went on to class, but wondering if this guy would eventually find his victim.  

So, my dear readers, take caution out there on the road. Don't tailgate, don't get boxed in. If someone is "hovering", back off even if you're in a hurry so that you don't play into their plans and end up with higher insurance rates because of it!

Now, there is another possibility; it's possible that this guy wasn't after an insurance scheme, but rather, looking to cause an accident in order to victimize someone in another way. THAT'S why it's ALWAYS a good idea to call the police to report an accident especially if you're in a place devoid of a lot of foot traffic. If you don't want to get out of your car or have reservations if you ARE involved in an accident, call 911 and explain you're fearful of the other person and would like an officer on scene to facilitate or investigate the circumstances. It's not wrong to do this.

If you have ANY RESERVATIONS WHATSOEVER, DON'T GET OUT OF YOUR CAR! Don't give personal info, and wait for the police. Your safety, and your life is worth the wait.  

Jesus and the Sick Girl

I think I recently read it in Luke, for class, or maybe came across the story in passing. At this point, I can't really remember much of anything.

In any case, it's a story I've been pondering, because I think maybe I finally understand it to some degree. If you'll recall, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John with Him into a home to visit a girl who has died. But Christ said no; she was only sleeping. He raises her from the dead and tells her family to get her something to eat.

In meditating upon this event, I think about the girl, and how she must have been sick for a long time. As I'm currently sick myself, I'm understanding, too, how she likely wouldn't have been eating much, or at all, for the duration of what was clearly a worsening sickness.

For days, I've barely been able to eat. And when I do, even if I'm hungry, the food loses its flavor, and my hunger is abated in only a few bites. There's absolutely no pleasure in eating, and no satisfaction. So I package up the leftovers and put them away for later.

So it is that my lenten fast has drastically changed this week...to all fast, all the time. Yes, I'm eating, a little, and only what's necessary.

There's a lesson in this, I'm discerning. How often do we eat or go about many of our daily tasks and take pleasure in them? How easy it is to sit down to a nice dinner..when it TASTES good! And yet, when it doesn't, we partake in only what we need in order to function. Even more oddly...we don't really miss the pleasure it used to give us.

The sick girl must have experienced something like that as well, in her sickness. But when she was healed, when Jesus raised her, His first concern was for the need He could not heal; the ongoing need to eat. We HAVE to eat; it's how we're designed, and it keeps us going. Whether it's pleasurable or not is a moot point; the fact is, our bodies need fuel.

The concern Jesus has for us is of course primarily ordered to our eternal salvation; He did not die a horrible death in order to redeem our appetites, but to restore our relationship with God. But that's not that He disregards our temporal needs, and throughout the Gospels, revealed this deep concern for those needs. Jesus didn't just care about the soul, but about who we are, together as body and soul.

Our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit; we have to show regard for that. Yes, we are often called to suffer, but we oughtn't suffer through intentional severe fasts, or self-inflicted "scourges". To do so is an insult to God himself, who created us and loves us beyond measure.

So although I know I'm going through a temporary "fast" as a result of this illness, I'll not feel guilty once I'm released and able to enjoy food once again. It will perhaps be just as the story in the Gospel; arising out of sickness, starting over, and once again finding pleasure in the simple needs of life.

*

In the Shadow of Your Wings

Have mercy on me, God, have mercy
for in you my soul has taken refuge.
In the shadow of your wings I take refuge
till the storms of destruction pass by.

This morning I could not take my eyes off of these words from Psalm 57. Even when I tried, I was drawn back, especially to the phrase, "shadow of your wings". What did that really MEAN?

It wasn't long before the connection was made, for as I knelt in adoration of our Lord, my eyes were also drawn to the cross, where Christ was stretched upon it, His hands and feet nailed to the wood. His arms stretched out like...wings.

And there it was; under the shadow of His wings, I will take refuge. The only refuge in the storms of destruction that wail around us all is the folly of the Cross, in which we find the Glory of God in the redeeming sacrifice of His Son.

The shadow of the Cross and the shadow of His wings are one and the same. If we are truly seeking God, we would do well not to flee from the Cross, but rather to run towards it and embrace it with all our might, seeking to remain in its shadow for life.

You have kept an account of my wanderings;
you have kept a record of my tears;
are they not written in your book?
Then my foes will be put to flight
on the day that I call to you.
~ Psalm 56

The children of this world look upon the Cross now just as they did then, pointing and jeering, still seeing only folly. Even as they reject the suffering of Our Lord as "violent", they turn to their own infants and inflict the most terrible violence as they rend them to bits in the womb, or determine the aged or infirm no longer have a need or right to live. The children of this world cry out against the sacrificial violence that bears sin away, as they themselves gnash their teeth and riot in demonic anger at the Christians who have fled to the Cross and live peacefully beneath it, embracing life, bearing the storms that MUST come to anyone who truly seeks to be united to Christ.

In taking refuge at the foot of the Cross, we do not flee the world, but see it as it truly is, and see, in Christ who was lifted up and drawn us to Him, the glory of eternal life. The folly of the Cross is the redemption of sinners, and the Glory of God through the obedience of His Son.

My heart is ready, O God,
my heart is ready.
~Psalm 57

When the temptations encroach upon us, let us take refuge, then, in the shadow of the Cross and allow Jesus to fight the battles we cannot face on our own. Let us flee into the shadow of His wings and allow the Precious Blood of our Redeemer to cascade upon us in a flood of salvific love.

Psalm-prayer
Lord, send your mercy and your truth to rescue us from the snares of the devil, and we will praise you among the peoples and proclaim you to the nations, happy to be known as companions of your Son.

(all Psalms and prayer taken from March 12 Liturgy of the Hours, Daytime prayer)

Preaching the Cross

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spectacular

I've been sick for the last few days, had to work one of them, but the rest of this week I've been home, hardly able to function. The sad thing is that I could study with all this great "time off" but I can't focus enough through the fuzziness of my head to let anything get through!

This morning I finally went to the doctor. Actually...I went to the Minute Clinic down the street as I learned they take my insurance and don't charge a copay.

The diagnosis...Bronchitis. And I'm completely unsurprised. She prescribed an inhaler, a codeine-based cough syrup to use at night, and an antibiotic. It's likely that this is viral, not bacterial, so with the practitioner's "blessing" I'm waiting a couple days to see what happens before I fill the other prescription. If it gets better, as it seems to be doing, then clearly, it's viral.

This afternoon I decided to take a nap. Unfortunately, I'd used the inhaler once, and that apparently made the expectorant I've been taking work that much better! It seemed the very act of my head hitting the pillow, even an elevated pillow, was a cue for my body to violently reject every bit of potential fluid in my lungs or bronchioles. This didn't leave me the possibility of simply clearing my throat a little...no. This caused me to have to sit up and double over coughing so hard I thought my very head might come off!

Fun.

After about an hour of this, and realizing how desperately I needed sleep considering that I was falling asleep immediately and waking up every 5 minutes (no kidding!) to cough like this, I stuck it out hoping that eventually it would be over. NOW I understand why she prescribed the special cough syrup! I didn't take it this afternoon, but I WILL tonight! Without a doubt!

You know, though, this isn't so bad. I could be suffering something that much worse. And really, the fact that this is happening during Lent, is, no doubt, all part of God's most wonderful plan. It's enforcing a fast I didn't plan, but which ultimately is for my own good. And it's giving me something real to offer up. Not just "ooh, I miss my chocolate", but rather.... "ugh, I miss being able to breathe without going to my knees in agony!"

(Note to literalists: yes, I am speaking with a certain degree of hyperbole!)

In all seriousness, we are all invited to join our sufferings to that of Our Lord, and if we have something in this life to suffer, this is the perfect season to recognize that call, and offer it up in reparation for sin, for the conversion of souls, on behalf of a country that refuses to pray for itself, etc. I'm grateful to have this to offer. It seems that I can't really do a good job of self-imposed suffering, so God in His Mercy has chosen something for me, and for that...I'm grateful. And even joyful.

Now...just don't ask me about my "joy" tonight as I'm trying to sleep and experiencing the really fun head-pillow-violent cough mechanism triggered every five minutes for an hour or so before I can finally sleep. And only God knows how long any sleep will last before the violent coughing will start up again.

Hope y'all are having a great Lent!

Active Surrender

Earlier today I was pondering surrender.It seems, in some ways, to be such a lazy way of doing things. The idea of just...surrendering...isn't regarded as something positive, and certainly not a positive action! The act of surrender is, rather, considered to be a rather passive thing. To a certain point, I agree.  From the outside, it DOES seem like surrender has to do with passivity, for one is choosing not to do battle with someone considered to be an opponent. One is giving one's power and will over to another...and doesn't that make one passive in surrender?

Yet, I think we can look at it another way.

Surrender is, in fact, an action, and living in the mode of surrender is by necessity, active. In our fallen nature, we fight God. We battle everyone. We battle ourselves.  We're in such a hyper state of defensiveness all the time that in our hurry to do the next thing, we let the ax fall where it will, and often that means we sever our relationship with God as we cut our ties to Him through mortal sin. We are so rebellious we don't even know where obedience begins

So let's consider surrender first with the image of a child...pure surrender.

Childhood:  

A child implicity trusts his parents.  He looks to his mother and father for everything, from comfort to food to relief of any sort. And even as he resists discpline, he doesn't really expect anything different, and learns to love his parents even MORE through their parental guidance, even if it involves punishment. That's how he learns boundaries that keep him from being hurt.

And if he breaks those boundaries, he trusts that he can run to his parents to comfort him and make his injury go away, make it stop hurting, and kiss the tears away until they stop.

Every act of surrender in a child is an action. It's not passive; it's an active response to love.

Adulthood

As adults, we are a little different, because we have full use of our intellect and will. Just as we actively choose disobedience, we must also actively choose obedience.
 
Surrender is simply obedience...coupled with absolute trust. It is believing in what we cannot see, but know to be true.  It is a response of love, to the ultimate sacrifical love of Christ.

We've been given the ultimate example of what love is really about, and every time we look at the Cross, we see an example of love.  Every time we look upon our Crucified Christ, we know what love is about.  Every time we receive Him in Holy Communion, we take in His very HEART, for He gives His love, in a covenantal form involving His own flesh. 

Jesus HIMSELF surrenders to us. He makes Himself vulnerable to our abuse, our unworthiness, and even our sinfulness.  We punish Him severely when we receive Him in the state of grave sin. And yet...He has placed Himself into such a position to be so abused, so scourged...personally...by us, as individuals

He asks us, also to surrender to Him. Surrender our will (but not our intellect), surrender ourselves to his LOVE. Jesus will never abuse us. Jesus does not use us for evil purposes. He does not exploit us as we seek to exploite Him.

He simply loves us.  Yes, Jesus asks us to suffer with him; but no life is without suffering.  We are merely asked to offer our suffering on behalf of others.  Not on HIS behalf..but for those who do not know God, those who are in sin, those who are lost.

Surrender to God, then, is an action. An action of trust, an action of the will, an action of the intellect, and an action of love.  We can always rescind our actions. Free will remains. But we do what we do out of love, not compulsion.  To decide, as an adult, to unite our own will to that of God's, is an active discipline.  To decide to love with such abandon is an action.  To stop fighting...is in itself...an action.

We so often worry about how to surrender to God, and worry that doing so is passive. Yet, when we are in God's own embrace, when we finally rest, and understand our dependence upon Him, we realize that we have to maket this choice. To simply rest, for us, is an action.  To decide to not "do" anything...is an action.  To TRUST....is an action.

All God asks us for is to surrender to Him. To let go of those things that keep us from a relationship with Him.  He will catch us...
All we have to do is let go.

We won't fall, but be raised up, to Him, our beloved Crucified Lord, who is lifted up and draws all men to Himself...including us.

Surrender...

Separation of Church and State

It's really not shocking that in the state of Connecticut the Legislature is proposing a bill that imposes the state's control over the finances of Catholic parishes. This is a bill that SINGLES OUT the "Roman Catholic Church".  

It's not shocking at all. Because we live in opposite-world, here in America, where "Separation of Church and State", a clause which is cited as being a part of our Constitution but ISN'T THERE actually means that the Church can't speak up in defense of life or marriage, but apparently DOES mean that the State can insert itself into our own hierarchy and affairs. 

This bill is VERY dangerous; it separates the parishes from the bishop. It takes the authority away from the Pastor and puts it in the hands of state-approved "trustees".  Sound familiar?

China, anyone?  Anyone?  Connecticut will be the first state to enter into full-fledged communism, and their first victim, as usual, is the Catholic Church.  Why?  Because the Church is a threat to the regime.  How?  Because the Church stands for Truth, morality, and TRANSCENDS any earthly government.  Because we are Catholic first and American second and as a sovereign entity we are NOT subject to earthly authority and CANNOT be controlled by any government.  

Canonically, [According to Canon Law, the internal legal system of the Church] the Pastor is the person with executive authority in the parish;  he is required to LISTEN to his parish council, but is under no obligation to follow what they recommend;  the Pastor has the authority of the Church, under his Bishop.  

The State is trying to change this;  and wants to place the financial affairs of the Church into the hands of the laity, completely contrary to Canon Law and Divine Law.   Mind you...the State has NO RIGHT to enter into the Church's affairs!  

Here is the wording of the First Amendment which allegedly gives us "freedom of religion", one of the main premises upon which this country was formed: 

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

Here's what shocks me...that NO ONE is picking up this story!  I read it yesterday, and have YET to see  it on other blogs even by this evening!  (with the exception of one)  It seems this story is remaining with news sources, but is not being picked up by the larger Catholic public...where it NEEDS to be!  

People...if this law passes in Connecticut, it will be introduced into other states.  Your diocese could be next. Maybe similar bills are already in the works in your own state.  

If you are not Catholic...beware!  They'll come after you next, and my prediction is that it'll be our Evangelical brothers and sisters, who are as outspoken in defense of human life and the sanctity of marriage as we are.  

For more information, visit the web page of the Diocese of Bridgeport, CT, take a look at the video as the Bishop explains what is at stake.  You can also read a summary below the video. 

You can read the chilling and Communist China-like language of the proposed bill here. 

My fellow Americans, our religious freedoms are at stake.  Under the First Amendment, the Government does NOT have the right to infringe upon the financial affairs of ANY religion.  However, we have a legal system which is based upon interpretation, a mix of positive law and social contract.  Basically, that means that the law can be interpreted at the whim of our dominant Judicial wing and the set precedent reigns supreme.  Our laws are not read according to the letter of the law, but according to a faulty philosophy which renders the original language powerless. 

We don't all have the right to vote in Connecticut, but we DO have the ability to pray.  I don't care about your religious affiliation; what I care about is that although we are being targeted, it won't end with us.  If this bill passes, the government will take control over every church community possible...just like China.  Oh, sure, they'll "allow" a Catholic Church to exist, and "tolerate" us, but only if we preach what they approve. 

If we are truly faithful, we'll be underground, and we'll officially be criminals.  

My friends...pray.  Watch what happens in that state, and be prepared for it to happen in your own. 

This proposed bill is an OUTRAGEOUS violation of our First Amendment protections and we CANNOT allow it to pass!  Voters in Connecticut, contact your legislators and judiciary committee members.  DEMAND that this bill be shut down!

ALL of us need to be certain that a new precident is NOT set! 

Even those of you who do not follow a particular religion must recognize the outright and objective violation of our civil rights.  PLEASE make your displeasure known to your elected representatives! 

UPDATE! 3/10/09 ======>> The Anti-Catholic bill has been PULLED!

The sad news is that it was advanced by Tom Gallagher, a contributor to left-wing unfaithful National "Catholic" Register, and by Voice of the Faithful. ALL of whom, including the 2 legislators, Rep. Michael Lawlor and Sen. Andrew McDonald, underestimated the average Catholic! Enjoy your walk of shame, folks!

The Value of a Good Friend

Earlier this Century, I broke up with my boyfriend: the guy I thought I loved and wanted to marry. And yes, I was the one who broke up with HIM, not the other way around. I took this drastic action because some guyfriends of mine made me realize that I was not loved. Or respected.

It wasn't in what they said, or even that they knew my situation. Rather, I was struck by the look in their eyes when these two friends in particular spoke of, respectively, whether their wife or their fiance', making it clear that this woman was the center of their life.

My boyfriend didn't even have that look when he looked directly AT me.

At one point, my own boyfriend had spoken of a past girlfriend of his own, and how he had broken up with her because he realized that she didn't think of him at all. Touche'. He did the same thing to me. It wasn't because he was bad to me; it was because he didn't think of me at all.

So I knew, thanks to my guy friends, that it was time to move on, because I deserved better.

(In fact, I'll always have a special place in my heart for men from Georgia, and southern gentlemen in general thanks to these two friends. Even in friendship, they treated me with the respect they would have given a queen!)

Shattered

That breakup was a very low point in my life, and made that much worse when I met the new girlfriend. She was astonishingly like me in many ways.

Actually, it was downright disturbing.

If we stood next to each other, we'd be mistaken as sisters. She had glasses like mine, hair like mine, an attitude like mine, a personality like mine. Her car...very similar to mine.

She was prettier than I was, though, and that lead me to the next point in my thought process...she was an "upgrade". My ex-boyfriend had taken a "step up" from me.

Yes, I honestly felt that way, which is something I'm quite ashamed to admit.

I still loved him, you see, and I truly wanted him to be happy, just as I desired to be happy. And I knew that I'd let him go for good reason, but it wasn't a hateful breakup. To this day, I don't "hate" my ex, although I'm saddened that I'll never get those 3 1/2 years of my life back. That wasn't entirely his fault. I was complicit in that relationship.

But I still felt like a doormat, and I was really trying to put on a brave face when I joked feebly, to my friends,"Well, at least he's upgrading from me. At least she's a step up."

But my joke was transparent to my friends, and they saw that it wasn't really a joke, and that I really did believe that she was better than I was in all ways. They knew how I had felt about him, and how devastated I really was, because, let's face it: it's never easy to break up with someone. Especially when we thought we'd spend our lives with that person.

I was trying to joke, but my biggest weakness betrayed me; I have always worn my heart on my sleeve. So I did even then.

One Sunday afternoon,the Sunday I learned via email that my ex was engaged to the "upgrade", my roommate and friend, Anne, couldn't take it any longer. I'd made another crack about my ex-boyfriend's now-fiance (at the time, 6 months after our breakup), while we were watching "When Harry Met Sally".

Anne hit the "stop" button on the remote and declared, "I can't take it anymore! You make me SO ANGRY!" She proceeded to confront me on my behavior and my self-denigrating comments and finished with, "Any step away from you is a step down!"

We were BOTH crying by that point, and even today that memory brings tears. I thank God for Anne, and for that conversation. All of us need time, sometimes, to wallow in a bit of self-pity, but when it goes too far, we need help to get out of that hole. She made me face what I was doing, and made me face the fact that I wasn't just hurting myself, but my friends as well, who cared for me and had seen this coming for a very long time.

She had courage to face me like that, and to make me face myself. A friendship like that...that's real. That's amazing.

That's what God intended

God doesn't give us friends who aid and abet us in self-destruction. He gives us friends that call us to holiness, to remember our dignity and our value. And He calls us to do the same thing for the people we claim as our friends. Maybe that means having hard conversations. Maybe that means the possibility of losing a friendship.

But if we don't speak up to those we truly love....who will? Sometimes we're all they have.

I can tell you this much: at that time, I didn't have any other friends like Anne in my life. She was my lifeline, and I think she's the ONLY one who saw clearly what I was doing to myself. Had she not spoken up, I don't know where I would have gone from there or how far I would have descended.

Look around at the people in your life, and ask yourself if God is asking you to be that kind of friend. You might be the ONLY voice of reason and love in someone's life. Don't miss that chance. A simple conversation, spoken in sincerity, can literally change a person's life.

*

Surrender

Lord, Jesus Christ, I ask the grace to accept the sadness in my heart, as your will for me, in this moment. I offer it up, in union with your sufferings, for those who are in deepest need of your redeeming grace.  I surrender myself to your Father's will and I ask you to help me to move on to the next task that you have set for me. 

Spirit of Christ, help me to enter into a deeper union with you. Lead me away from dwelling on the hurt I feel: 

to thoughts of charity for those who need my love,

to thoughts of compassion for those who need my care, and

to thoughts of giving to those who need my help. 

As I give myself to you, help me to provide for the salvation of those who come to me in need. 

May I find my healing in this giving.

May I always accept God's will. 

May I find my true self by living for others in a spirit of sacrifice and suffering. 

May I die more fully to myself, and live more fully in you.

As I seek to surrender to the Father's will, may I come to trust that he will do everything for me. 

(adapted from the spiritual teachings of Rev. Walter J. Ciszek, S.J.)

Boasting of Weakness

It happens every Lent. 

I can honestly say that, as an adult, I've never had a "successful" Lent. That is, if you define it by seriously abstaining from a chosen thing and never looking at it again until it's over...and bonus points if you do what's intended and not fall back into slavery to it. 

As a child, we HAD to give up candy, and since we had no money, of course, since it wasn't there, we "gave it up".  

As an adult, I don't give up candy, because I don't eat a lot of it and really, it wouldn't be difficult to give that up.  However, if I'm, say, in the line at the grocery store and a certain kind of chocolate looks good, I will remember that it's Lent and I'll decide against the impulse buy. And this is a practice I learned DURING Lent one year and have carried on. I think one could consider that a success.  

A few years ago, I brought a certain issue into Confession, and said that I was absolutely giving it up entirely for Lent.  The priest cautioned me not to do anything too difficult; not because it wasn't a sinful issue in my life, but because, as he said, success was a necessary part of our penances.  He saw something in me that does need to be addressed...the legalistic aspect.  The black-and-white, which is SOMETIMES proper, but other times...damaging.  If we try to give up something, and fail, sometimes the temptation is so great we decide it's not worth it, and without some kind of success, it is our human nature to fall away. 

He recommended regaining control, focusing on the root of the issue, but not doing something that in the end, defeats the purpose of Lenten privations and penances. 

I've come to appreciate that advice, although at the time I questioned it.  Yet, we DO have to look at our lives and work on gaining control over the flesh, not returning to sinful activities.  If what we do is sinful, yes, we need to put it away from us. But if we are giving up a legitimate good, then what?  We need to know balance, not scrupulosity. If we give up chocolate, does that mean we can never have it again?  

Seriously, people...I'm a woman. Giving up chocolate permanently is a recipe for disaster!

As it turns out, this year, for me, is no different than previous years.  I've already failed in one of my chosen penances, and no, it's not the end, and no, I'm not worried. Rather, I'm remembering the advice I've been given, and realizing that God is working through my weakness to make an even more important point.  One which I need to take to heart. 

Each year, I fail in my chosen penance, and get up, repeatedly, trying again. But what really strikes me is that as I try one thing, all sorts of OTHER issues rise to the surface.  Once I realize how weak I am in one area, I tend to recognize how weak I am in others, and overall...how much I NEED a Savior because I can't overcome my own sinful nature.  

Lent isn't about just focusing on one problem that we have, or just throwing a dart and picking something to give up.  It's about conversion. It's about recognizing who we really are in the face of God, seeing our abject poverty, how we wallow in our sin and justify it by our pride.  It's about looking into the loving, uncondeming gaze of Christ, and in that holy visage understanding our true dignity as adopted children of God.  

I'm grateful for Lent because even attempting the fasts and penances forces me to see myself as I really am, and I need that shattered, twisted image. I need to see that, for if I did not, I would be lost forever.  

In the end of these 40 days, we hopefully will have been given this great gift of self-knowledge so that we can better appreciate the very personal sacrifice Christ has made on our behalf.  

The ONLY way we can approach the throne of Mercy is through our weaknesses, through honesty in our weakness, and recognizing that those weaknesses are what draw us to Our Lord. The ONLY way we can come to the foot of the Cross is through knowing our sins, and recognizing that Jesus personally suffered for them. 

The ONLY way we can get to Heaven is through Jesus Christ, through His blood, through His death and resurrection. 

And if we don't experience Lent, then we don't understand what the rest of it means. 

Let us all know the suffering that brings us to the Resurrection.

*

Pondering the Gift of Vocation

On Matthew’s response to his Vocation. 

“This passage of the Gospel shows us that a vocation is something about which we should be very grateful and happy. If we see it only in terms of renunciation and giving things up, and not as a gift from god and something which will enhance us and redound to others’ benefit, we can easily become depressed, like the rich young man who, not wanting to give up his possessions, went away sad.   Matthew believes in quite the opposite way, as did the Magi who gave much more importance to adoring the new-born God than to all the inconveniences involved in traveling to see him.”

~  Navarre Bible Commentary on Luke 5:27-29 (p. 71)

I read this passage the other day and it took me somewhat by surprise. In considering my own discernment, while I have recognized what a joy it is supposed to be to know one's Vocation, and while I know a Vocation is a gift, I have not often pondered that fact.

I tend to focus on the “negative”, i.e. the “giving up” part. In my current state, that means a lot of practical stuff that HAS to be considered in order to be handled properly.  I’m not a BIT  sad about giving up my house (please, someone TAKE the thing!), I’m not sad about not having a car to myself, or even of getting rid of belongings. I don’t use most of the stuff in my house, but it’s overwhelming, to say the least, to think about HOW to make it all go away! 

 The other facet of the “negative” (a term I’m using rather loosely) has also been the focus on, most recently, the austerity of a community that has come to my attention.  I’ve considered the seeming lack of freedom, even knowing how freeing it would be, truly, if that is where God is calling me for the rest of my days. 

The sad thing, though, is that I’ve not really spent time considering Vocation as a special gift from God.  It may be important to look practically at our lives and what we have to do to say “yes”, for a verbal fiat isn’t enough…that response requires action, and action often requires at least a certain amount of faith that one is doing the right thing.  

Divorced from the understanding of Vocation as a gift, everything else becomes an exercise in randomness, in following rules, in “doing this because I have to” as opposed to the joyful exclamation of, “I’m doing this because I love God so much it’s the only thing I CAN do in response to Him!” 

Ultimately, no matter what Vocation we are called to, (Married, Priesthood, Religious, even Single) we have to see the gift intended for us. We have to see the offering of Christ before us, who has been so generous that He invites us to share in His Divine Life in a very special way, intended specifically for us.  And in our acceptance of that gift, we must recognize the love, the preparation, and yes, the sacrifice that has gone into it.

Finally, when we can see that, we are prompted to do the same in return, for rarely is a gift one-sided.  If God can give Himself so fully to us, what can possibly stop us from offering the full gift of ourselves in return?

Truly, we possess nothing.  As we were reminded on Ash Wednesday, we are dust, and to dust we will return. But now, we have life, and we are called to live life eternally, both body and soul (for even our dust will rise and become glorified).  We are called to allow Christ to live in us and through our very hands, shining from our hearts and souls.  

Pondering our Vocation means that we are asking the important question of what we are going to do with the dust that we are, this gift of life God has given us?  He gave that gift freely, and calls us in a way to offer it back, but we must make that choice…freely.  Our response to God is to honestly seek and follow through on the Vocation to which He is calling us. Our Vocation is our spiritual foundation, the way we will become holy as Our Father in Heaven is Holy.  It is what He called us out of eternity to become, and this is always a very generous gift.

We, too, are called to that generosity, which should inspire in us a profound gratitude for that Call, and a joyful reaction to follow Our Lord wherever He leads.  Our Lord does not promise that it will be easy, but He does promise He will be with us.

All we have to do when Christ extends His hand is to reach back, take it up, and follow Him. And the ONLY response to such a gift…is joy.