Perpetual Pilgrim Awaiting the Dawn

O Sapientia
O Adonai...
O Radix Jesse...
O Clavis David...
O Oriens......
O Rex Gentium...
O Emmanuel.....

We await the coming of our Savior, waiting to celebrate His birth even as we continue in our own time to await the Second Coming.  

But that is not all. Some of us still await the purpose of our lives, even as we try to live it out as best we can with what we have.  Given this and my incertitude, I have to confess that I'm still looking at religious communities, trying to find out if there's one I haven't discovered. Today I looked again at the Trappists (Cistercians of Strict Observance) given how my taste of monasticism has so taken hold of me and awakened my very soul.

Just as Mary pondered things in her heart, so do I, although without nearly so much depth, without nearly so much silence, without nearly so much holiness.

We recognize in the Church three Vocations, formally:  the Priesthood, Religious Life, and Marriage.

Two of those require Sacraments:  Holy Orders and Matrimony.  Those require supernatural authority and supernatural grace, whereas Religious Life is not gained through a Sacrament because it has all the needed grace from Baptism and Confirmation.  God alone is sufficient, for He is the sole object.

Then we have the Single Life, which some argue is a Vocation unto itself. In a way, it can be, for we have Consecrated Virgins and we have Hermits; but those are a form of Religious Life, not the Single state.

The reality is that the Single Life is not in and of itself a recognizable Vocation. Especially in our culture of commitment avoidance, we cannot give into the temptation to call it such just because there are so many singles.  To do so is to endorse what is so prevalent in our time;  the refusal of the individual soul to inquire of God what He has called them into being to BE.

There are a thousand reasons for being single, but every one is anecdotal, not objective Unlike the Married, Religious or Priestly Vocations, there is no one to ENDORSE with any authority the "call" to be single  for Christ.  Sure, I can cite LOTS of single men and women who live holy lives, but can any of us actually stand in the place of judgment and authoritatively say that those people were NOT called to some recognized Vocation?  Can we? Especially if the Church of which we are a part and look to for guidance has not done so?

Vocational Discernment is the Hardest Thing You Will Ever Do

I've written of this before and really am not free to tell individual stories for fear they would be recognized, but I learned a great deal last summer of the reality of Discernment...and that for some, it DOESN'T end.  I know of a Sister who had made her Final Profession and ended up leaving her congregation when things went south....far, far south.  She didn't leave her vows, but sought only God's will, landing in a cloister where she was greatly aided by those dear nuns, only to find that wasn't her place, either. She struggled, wondering if she should write to Rome for a dispensation from her Vows, but didn't want to do that. At long last, she found her community and although when I knew her she was still in formation there, this Religious of 20-something years (ie in her 40's, having been in religious life since her teens) seemed to have finally found her Home.

I met another who had entered the community of religious that had taught her in school, only to face a major betrayal LONG after having made her final vows.  She was forcibly ousted, was never told why but went, and finally found her true home.

Through speaking with many Sisters, I learned this is common. It's not just common for someone to be a postulant or aspirant or novice in one place and leave only to try a few more: it's fairly common for some to find, even after perpetual vows that they are NOT where God intends!

This knowledge really didn't help me in my discernment, to be perfectly honest. As it is I have problems with trust, but the information obtained this summer made me realize that even if I DO find what I think is "the place" for me, I may face that same kind of total betrayal.

Or, of course, as I think now, I'm not called to it at all.

Certainly, though, my heart goes out to all of those dear Sisters who have discerned so sincerely and found themselves out in the cold with the Infant Jesus.

Perpetual Pilgrim

I have written many times of how I feel like a perpetual pilgrim.  I haven't had a proper "home" since I was 10 and we lost our home to foreclosure, had to lose many of our things, and in fact, I recall even losing the privacy I'd taken for granted for so long.  Instead of having my own room, I had to share a room with my Mom in a tiny apartment. Instead of enjoying the expanse of a huge acre lot with a little grove of trees to feed my imagination, we had a postage stamp of a yard on the edge of one of the busiest streets in town...yet another new experience.

That apartment was never "home" to me. It was where we lived, and I was embarrassed to live there. Of course we all adapted, but having had our own space once, well, it's hard not to see the world in those terms anymore.

Two weeks after I graduated from high school, Mom was hospitalized for 3 months then sent to live in a half-way house for another 9 or so. We lost the apartment and were, officially, without a formal address.

When I came "home" for Christmas that December, I split my time between friends and relatives, trying not to be a bother to anyone. When I came "home" on weekends to work, or on Easter, or that following summer on break, I tried to make sure I was as invisible and out of the way as possible. After all, I didn't want to be anyone's problem.

Even when Mom got her own apartment, it was hers alone and I couldn't formally, by law, live there because of the reason for her housing.  It was only another place to crash for the night. It was never "home".

When I graduated college, I found myself in the Cities, moving from place to place, year to year, lease to lease.  I purchased my town home in 2003 or so and even then, when I signed the papers I knew this was more like a long-term temporary place. This isn't "home". It's a place to crash for awhile.

Even as I laid down the cash to bind the deal, I realized that this box I keep my stuff in is transitional, not permanent.

Eternal Pilgrimage

A couple years ago, when I visited my friends in Ohio, my eyes were opened.  I knew that my REAL home, at least on this earth, is the Mass.  It is only at Mass that I can really let go of everything and be present for God, knowing I am dependent upon HIM for everything.

It doesn't matter WHERE  I go to Mass....because Mass is transcendent. It is the past, present, and future. It is all times, all places. It belongs to God and therefore it is eternity.

Mass is the ONLY place in this world where I KNOW without a doubt, that I belong.

It is the only place where I am myself, fully, unequivocally, without reserve...because none of us can be other than that in the presence of God.

That July, I GOT it.  I understood what it means to be a Pilgrim here on this earth, homeless, in true spiritual poverty.

Our lives are not about material possessions and in many ways I think it's ridiculous to claim any political or national affiliation.  We Catholics far transcend by our very Baptism and Confirmation the governmental structures that try to lay claim to our lives, our attitudes and our spirits.

It is WE who, if we were to really live up to what we have been given, would be laying claim to the government and exerting God's authority for the proper good of ALL!

The Letter to Diognetus, a document I've posted many times, more and more becomes my anthem.  Here is a powerful excerpt:

They live in the flesh, but they are not governed by the desires of the flesh. They pass their days upon earth, but they are citizens of heaven. Obedient to the laws, they yet live on a level that transcends the law. Christians love all men, but all men persecute them. Condemned because they are not understood, they are put to death, but raised to life again. They live in poverty, but enrich many; they are totally destitute, but possess an abundance of everything. They suffer dishonor, but that is their glory. They are defamed, but vindicated. A blessing is their answer to abuse, deference their response to insult. For the good they do they receive the punishment of malefactors, but even then they, rejoice, as though receiving the gift of life.

Today in complete jest while lamenting yet another pair of cheap boots wrecked (they have holes in the sole) I suggested to friends that maybe I have a new Vocation, one unrecognized but maybe I am called to formalize it.

Maybe I should found the Order of the Discalced Pilgrims of the Holy Sacrifice.

Who are we?  Men and Women who realize we are called to be Pilgrims on this earth, Single men and women who WANT to commit ourselves to Our Lord but don't seem to be called into the Priesthood or Marriage, and can't seem to find our home in Religious Life either. Yet we know we are not called to just be "single".

God did not bring us into this world to just hang out as bachelors and bachelorettes.

All I know is that I am God's own Pilgrim Daughter, still homeless, apparently shoeless, and no resolution in sight. I am perpetually cast upon the sacred shores of God's Divine Providence.

If I have any identity at all, even though I've never been on a recognizable pilgrimage, I realize that my very existence is the only pilgrimage that is necessary.  As I seek my place in this world, I have the next as my goal, knowing that whenever I need to come home, all I must do is attend the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

One day, I will finally go to my true Home, hopefully having accomplished whatever it is God would have me do in this life.

This Advent, I await the revelation of my Vocation just as I await the Second Coming of Christ. I wait, knowing that I am a mere pilgrim, dependent upon God for all things, grateful for our Dearest Lord and Savior, seeking, above all, the pilgrimage into His Most Sacred Heart...for eternity.

I hope, that, when I die, if I can afford it, the following epitaph will be etched into my tombstone:

A Pilgrim No Longer:  I'm Home.

If we do not live our lives (our pilgrimage) on earth with our final end in mind, it is guaranteed we will never find it...for we will never find Him.

Antiphon 3 from LOH:   "When the Son of Man comes to earth, do you think he will find faith in men's hearts?"  

O Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice: come, shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.

I am nothing but a Pilgrim awaiting the Dawn...

Transcendent

This weekend, I decided that since I had time, I would drive down to attend the Mass in the Extraordinary Form (EF), going by myself for the very first time.  The first time I assisted at this form of the Mass was just over one year ago, the First Sunday of Advent, the first one in 40 years at the Church of St. Agnes in St. Paul.  

Although I was fairly familiar with their Latin Ordinary Form (OF), I found the EF to be quite different, but even MORE transcendent.

I knew that I had to go today but didn't understand why. God often doesn't reveal His intentions for us.

Although the little clipper that came through last night made driving a bit treacherous, I decided that it was worth it, and so I took my rosary in hand and drove carefully through the Cities to reach the Church that was my destination.  With gratitude I nearly "fell" into the pew, knowing that in a sense, I was on my own. There wasn't anyone there to help me find my place or make sure I didn't stand when we were supposed to sit.

(As an aside...I always forget that during the EF at a certain point in the Credo, we SIT for the remainder of it. I don't understand this which is why I can't remember to do so. I seriously need to study this form of the Mass, every move and why we do it.)

I have to admit that as I drove to Mass this morning, praying not to spin out on the icy curves with an arrogant SUV on my bumper to "help" me out of his, no doubt, very busy way, I asked God WHY I was so drawn to brave the roads I hated so much to go to this particular place.  Was it out of a sense of needing to suffer for what I love?  What?

I didn't expect to go to Mass and "feel" something.  In actuality, I knew I was trying to feed my soul, to get away from the campy music that characterizes the Mass at my home parish in favor of something that could really draw me into the Mystery, if only I had the proper disposition.

So often, though, even when I arrive at Mass, anywhere, with a "proper disposition", I find myself distracted by the most minute details of my life...or someone else's life...or some other thing.

Today, that didn't happen. By God's great grace, for the first time in a LONG time I was only minimally distracted.  I only just now realized how miraculous that is.

The Moment

There was a single moment, though, that struck to me to the core, and that truly drew me into the Sacred Mystery.  I was trying to find our place in the book, sometime during the consecration, finding it necessary to read the English translation.  Even though I was behind (I'd heard the bells to signal the consecration), I read the words prayed by the priest, standing up there as a representative Called by God to be there, praying for US, for OUR own sacrifice to be offered in union, for OUR silent prayers to be heard.

As it did a year ago, this reality affected me yet again, perhaps even MORE deeply as I realized yet again that even though during the offeratory I had offered myself as a sacrifice, I had brought certain intentions to be placed upon the altar, there, the priest who didn't know me, my intentions, or anything, standing in persona Christi offered those very things to God...and there I was, in HIS presence when it happened.

It was a moment of abjection as I realized once again that I do not know how to pray for myself or my intentions as I ought. It was deeply humbling, as it should be. It made me, in a sense, "let go", and in that surrender, God took over once again.

In that moment I was drawn forward and upward, taken into the Paschal Mystery, becoming a part of it. I had a deep, deep sense of gratitude that completely overwhelmed me. Gratitude for the Incarnation, for the Holy Sacrifice...for EVERYTHING. At the same time, I had an equally deep sense of absolute sadness for the reality of sin that made the Cross so necessary to our Salvation.  I could not separate the sadness from the gratitude, and even as I knelt at the Communion rail, I had to take many deep breaths, willing the tears away, trying to focus on the moment, on WHO I was receiving.

After Mass I remained where I was, pulling my veil low, hoping no one noticed the tears that flowed so freely. I realized THAT'S why I was called to that Mass today, to finally be fully present, according to my own limitations, just as Christ is so fully present all the time.  There was no one there to distract me. As the crowds left, they went about their business, tending to their families, chatting with their friends.

I was so grateful not to be a part of the Sunday Exodus as usual. I was where I wanted and, more importantly, NEEDED to be.

I wanted to stay there forever. Even as my eyes streamed with tears, I wanted to remain, kneeling, at the foot of the Cross.

What can I say but that I am grateful for today's Mass? For God's Grace, a rare one that took me right into His Most Sacred Heart.  It wasn't mere "feeling", not "emotion", but something deeper that passes beyond words.  It is not something that makes me holier than anyone else, but rather, reveals to me how much I lack. I ask you also not to misunderstand, for it was also NOT a moment of infused prayer, but rather a time of clarity, a gift of love that is probably quite common, just one that is beyond words. As it is, I am butchering it which leads me to believe I should not be writing of it at all.

No doubt the next time I attend Mass, in any form, it will be dry, dry, dry, as it is normally.

I do not attend Mass to be entertained, but because God commands it, I love Him, and so I go to profess my love for Him as well as to know more deeply His love for us all, even if I don't "feel" it.

But today, I was drawn in, taken up, and experienced the transcendence that turned normal people into Saints. It is no wonder they progressed so far. I hope they are praying for us all.

I Hate Shopping, I Love Giving

I hate shopping. 

Stop looking so shocked. It's TRUE! And you know what?  I recently learned one of my friends hates shopping, too....we might form a support group for women who hate shopping. After all, say you hate this or that store and no one cares. But say you hate shopping in general, if people are eating they drop their forks and stare, all conversation tapers off, and every man, woman, and child in the room cease even BREATHING at the revelation, not knowing how to respond. Or perhaps, if you are a guest in their home, they consider ejecting you and your anti-shopping attitudes for fear they may infect someone else.

As soon as the shock wears off, which might take a good 15 minutes, the questions begin, the demands to know WHY, and HOW it's POSSIBLE to HATE SHOPPING! At around this point, some will actually be rending their clothing (so that they can go shopping in reparation for the blasphemy in their presence which clearly taints anything being worn at that time), and tearing their hair from their head.

We've learned, you see, that sometimes it's best to just say nothing at all, although even that is dangerous because by saying nothing, these normal women who enjoy shopping think you're hiding something, like maybe some massive deal. If you don't fess up and just admit the truth about yourself, that you hate shopping, it's entirely possible, especially during this overly-materialistic "Christmas Shopping Season" that you'll be tackled a-la Super Bowl, the contents of your purse dumped on the floor, and perhaps all of your pockets ripped out surgically with a seam-ripper in case you're hiding a secret shopping list and destination in said pocket.

And after all that, then you HAVE to go shopping because your favorite outfit has been destroyed, the one you bought 3 years ago, a classic that you could mix-n-match and thus avoid shopping.  *sigh*

So, yes, I hate shopping.  There!  I said it.

Now, I have to clear up a huge misunderstanding that always occurrs when I make such a shocking statement, so I want you to listen very, very carefully:

While I despise shopping with every fibre of my being, I LOVE giving gifts. 

I LOVE it when my family and friends open the gifts I've chosen for them!  I love it when somehow I've managed to choose exactly the right thing for them! Thus I will go so far as to admit all the aggravation is worth it just to see their happy expressions.  I far more enjoy watching someone open a gift I've given them more than actually receiving one myself.

At Christmas, my brother and I for some reason are often on the same gift-wavelength, and have a few times swapped pretty much the same gifts, and this is a source of great entertainment.

On Christmas Eve, we have a little wine-and-cheese party after dinner, while watching movies and chatting. So one year, although we had decided to open all of our gifts on Christmas Day, that year I found a gift for my brother that DEMANDED it be opened that very night.  It was a really fancy corkscrew that came in its own wooden box.

Now, given this new tradition we'd developed, and given the type of gift, I also picked up some wine for my brother.  I had to work that Christmas Eve, so as soon as I got out of work to head home, I stopped off at a local wine shop to ensure I had what was needed for everyone.  I happened to pass a bottle of red wine with three "x"'s on it, the label of which read, "CHEAP RED WINE".  I strongly considered purchasing it for my brother...imagine! That wine to go with the fanciest corkscrew any of us had ever seen! Hilarious!

But no, I decided I really did have enough and if the wine was bad, then it would just be a total waste of money.

So I left it and drove home. As soon as I arrived I insisted that after Mass and our traditional oyster soup supper, we open certain gifts. My brother had one he wanted me to open, too, so we each chose another for Mom.

And do you know what?

That Christmas Eve, my brother gave me - get this - a corkscrew kit!  Nothing nearly so fancy as the one I gave him (he actually offered to take it back in favor of getting something better. I refused!), and...this gets better....

The wine my brother chose for me....can you guess???

CHEAP RED WINE!

He DID get the gag wine, in addition to the "real" one for me!  And we opened it that night, shared it out and in fact, it was GOOD!

Well, this particular Christmas Eve tradition continues, and we are usually joined by his girlfriend who brings her own and helps us sample our own wines.  It's a very festive occasion of course!

This year, though, I very carefully chose the wine gift for my brother.  You see, he fell away from the Church, only goes to Mass when Mom is at his house, and doesn't see why he needs to go to Confession. He basically has rejected every tenant of the Catholic Faith...and probably every other.  No, he's not an atheist, but certainly he is in need of prayers for his conversion.

So this year, I'm giving him a gift he might not "get" but I'm quite certain our mother will!   The name of this wine?  It's from "Big House" (a vineyard I recommend), a red called "Prodigal Son".

Cheers! 

Accepting Ourselves Part II

The other day while visiting a religious book store owned by friends of mine, I confessed how terrified I am as to what is going to happen once I finish with school. I'll have my Master's, but still in a job that pays less than peanuts (I work for the Church, after all), and with yet ANOTHER summer of unemployment stretching before me. How am I going to pay my loans? How am I going to pay my regular bills?  I'm rushing towards that wall and it's bigger than the wall of Jericho...and I have no trumpet!

She pointed out that now, three times, I've had to take this leap: first when I quit my job having nowhere to go, and then since I began this one, somehow God provided what I needed to avoid bankruptcy, foreclosure, etc.

On a whim, she ran to a particular shelf and handed me the book I quoted yesterday:  "Interior Freedom" by Jacques Philippe.  "Merry Christmas!"

This little book HAS been packed with solid stuff that, in fact, I DO need to read!  It's intense, it's to the point, and even as it relieves a burden, it really shifts it to the painful points I'd rather avoid.

In reading it, I have to admit, it is an exercise in self-knowledge. I've been on the alert a couple times as it seems to begin to "water down" certain teachings, but the author comes around and refuses the allow the reader to ignore the hard moral teachings.

Yesterday I quoted about "Accepting our Defects"

And today, I quote a little from the other topic:  Accepting others:

Often we fail to accept others because deep down, we do not accept ourselves.  If we are not at peace with ourselves we will necessarily find ourselves at war with other people....if we close our hearts against other people, make no effort to love them as they are, never learn to be reconciled with them, we will never have the grace to  practice the deep reconciliation with ourselves that we all need. Instead we will be perpetual victims of our own narrow-heartedness and harsh judgments toward our neighbor.  

~ Philippe, p.43-44

Oh, yes, I totally agree. That's not to say I've overcome it, but I think my own problems with others stems from this very thing.

There's a lot more to the book, but as I've read it, I've come to recognize my own self-loathing.

That's exactly what it is and I must say it again:  absolute self-loathing.

So often, even as I look back on my life, I haven't so much been sorry for my sin or my foibles, but rather, my apologies have come from my complete repentance at even being alive. I've felt that I should apologize for my very existence.

It's as if at some point in my history someone told me that I was never intended or even a mistake of God, yet I am "tolerated" for the sake of "charity".

Do I really BELIEVE this?

Intellectually, no. I know it's ridiculous.  Yet as I read, I can't deny the reflection that I've had to confront about myself, my perceptions, and my life. How I've reacted to others, how they've reacted to me. It's painful.

Accepting ourselves is much more difficult than it might seem. Pride, fear of not being loved, the conviction of how little we are worth, are all too deeply rooted in us. Think how badly we react to our falls, mistakes, and failures, how demoralized and upset we become, how guilty they make us feel. 

Only under the gaze of God can we fully and truly accept ourselves. We need to be looked upon by someone who says, as God did through the prophet Isaiah:  'You are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you.'  Consider a very common experience: a girl who believes she is plain begins to thing that she might not be so frightful after all on the day a young man falls in love with her with the tender eyes of someone in love.

We urgently need the mediation of another's eyes to love ourselves and accept ourselves. The eyes may be those of a parent, a friend, a spiritual director; but above all they are those of God our Father. The look in his eyes is the purest, truest, tenderest, most loving, and most hope-filled in the world.

~ Philippe, p 35-36

I've not spoken to anyone of this, as it's such a painful part of my own history, but I identify strongly with "the girl" Fr. Philippe cites above. I was in a three or so year relationship with a man I thought I wanted to marry, and whom I believed wanted to marry me...eventually.

Then I found out through a mutual friend that one day when they were talking he said to her that he stayed with me because he was afraid I'd have a "hard time finding someone else."

I don't think I've EVER had anything so cold and cruel said to me in my life - before or since.

I confronted him on this statement, which he denied, but I knew him well: he was lying and couldn't look me in the eye.

It didn't help, either, that since that breakup (which I forced) I never really dated again.. I just wasn't interested. Sometimes I've wondered if perhaps I've discerned religious life because I refuse to entrust myself to a man ever again, in any way.  And it's a serious question.

But no; I did honestly explore whether I was called to marriage, and I did honestly and purely seek a call to religious life. And my vocational ramblings continue, at least in some way I can't ascertain even now.

When I look back on that horrid day, with that horrid bit of news, what shocks me the most is not how cruelly it cut me, but how completely unsurprised I was to feel that dagger twisting in my back and ripping my guts out through my spine. It was as if it was expected.  I was supposed to apologize for being alive again, for wasting his time for those years.

What we need to realize, all of us, is that while we are flawed, we are all WILLED by God, and LOVED by God, even that waste-of-skin-and-oxygen-amoeba who thought that I'd never "find anyone".  It might be hard, but I have to acknowledge that even HE is willed by God and held in existence out of Our Lord's love for him.

Maybe I have a hard time accepting that, and I don't know why. I don't know how far it goes back, but as I've written before, I've never felt like I'm a part of this world. More and more, I feel like the eternal pilgrim, but even pilgrims have a place...while on pilgrimage.

We find it so difficult to accept our own deficiencies because we imagine they make us unlovable. Since we are defective in this or that aspect, we feel that we do not deserve to be loved. Living under God's gaze make us realize how mistaken that is. Love is given freely, it's not deserved, and our deficiencies don't prevent God from loving us - just the opposite! Thus we are freed of the terrible, despair-inducing sense that we must become "good enough" to deserve to be loved.

I'm grateful to my friend for giving me this book - it's exactly what I needed to read, and re-read, and re-read again.  Although so far I've only pulled out a couple bits that focus on the self, do not be led to believe it's a bunch of "self-help" pop psychology! It doesn't deny sin, it forces one to accept responsibility, but in such a way that can help both a scrupulous soul and a lax soul alike.


** all quotes taken from "Interior Freedom" by Rev. Jacques Philippe, Scepter Press, New York, NY, 2007

Accepting Our Defects

God is "realistic". His grace does not operate on our imaginings, ideals, or dreams. It works on reality, the specific, concrete elements of our lives. Even of the fabric of our everyday lives doesn't look very glorious to us, only there can we be touched by God's grace. The person God loves with the tenderness of a Father, the person he wants to touch and to transform with his love, is not the person we'd have liked to be or ought to be. It's the person we are. God doesn't love "ideal persons" or "virtual beings."  He loves actual, real people. He is not interested in saintly figures in stained glass windows, but in us sinners. A great deal of time can be wasted in the spiritual life complaining that we are not like this or not like that, lamenting this defect or that limitation, imagining all the good we could do if, instead of being the way that we are, we were less defective, more gifted with this or that quality or virtue, and so on. Here is a waste of time and energy that  merely impedes the work of the Holy Spirit in our hearts.

What often blocks the action of God's grace in our lives is less our sins or failings, than it is our failure to accept our own weakness - all those rejections, conscious or not, of what we really are or of our real situation....We refuse to admit that we have this defect, that weak point, were marked by this event, fell into that sin. And so we block the Holy Spirit's action since he can only affect our reality to the extent we accept it ourselves. The Holy Spirit never acts unless we freely cooperate. We must accept ourselves just as we are, if the Holy Spirit is to change us for the better.

~  Rev. Jacques Philippe, "Interior Freedom", p 32 - 33

Commentary:

There are 6 days left to get to Confession before Christmas.  What are you waiting for? How can the Savior change your heart if you refuse to admit you are imperfect and that you have been wounded by your own sin? Go!  He is waiting for you with open arms! He already knows what you have done, and only waits for you to come to Him to admit it and ask for forgiveness.  God's mercy is without limit. There is nothing you can do that will cause Him to stop loving you.

The only unforgivable sin, the sin against the Holy Spirit, is to refuse His mercy.  He cannot give you what you refuse to accept.

Go. The Savior awaits...

Petition Supporting the New Translation

I found this at Fr. Cory Sticha's blog, Omne Quod Spirat, Laude Dominum!:

In the liturgical circles of the Blogosphere, there has been much discussion over the "What if We Just Said Wait?" petition. (No, I'm not linking to it. You'll have to find it yourself if you want to sign. I do not wish to encourage disobedience to legitimate authorities in the Church.) In response, a petition has been created that supports the new translation called We've Waited Long Enough. I encourage you to sign this petition and pass it on to your friends, both real-life and social networking.

Click on the link for the petition, sign it, and pass it on to others!

For those who don't understand WHY the new translation is NEEDED, I give you the short answer:  the original Latin of the text of the Mass says one thing, but the translation we've been living with since its promulgation is grossly inaccurate and theologically questionable.  Considering that the law of prayer is the law of belief (i.e.:  we pray as we believe, our prayer and the way we pray the words we use, influences and defines our beliefs), it is actually spiritually harmful to go on with such a bad translation.  No one has been properly served through inaccuracy.   This new translation corrects the errors, is faithful to the original Latin (which was written the way it was for a REASON), and is something we should be viewing as the work of the Holy Spirit in his ongoing care for the Church.

It is a cause of rejoicing, and in the words of Fr. Cory, We've Waited Long Enough!

Preparing the Way for the Lord

One of the things that has impacted me the most in the past year was my visit to the Cistercian Monastery last summer.  There was a part of me that didn't want to go, dreaded the retreat, yet I went because I had committed to it.  As I wrote upon my return, the silence of the monastery allowed God into my soul in a way I had not experienced before.  He called me into the desert precisely so that I could hear him and be present with him without all the distractions of the world.

I find that I often long for that solitude and silence, the regulated time for prayer, and the restriction of my activities to either Sacred Scripture or The Cistercian Way (outside of the Liturgy of the Hours.) 

That retreat was not filled with consolations and good feelings. But it was characterized by a sense of peacefulness I'd never found anywhere else.  That is not to say it is where God has called me;  just the opposite. It was while I was there that He helped me to understand that He was making no demand, was not demanding that I "make a decision", only that I come into a deeper relationship with Him. When I'd first arrived, every fibre of my being was screaming, "I'm not ready!" And so gently and quietly Our Lord said to me in the solitude of the chapel, "I know. That's why you're here."

Ever since that blessed retreat, I have often looked at the picture on the cover of the Cistercian vocation booklet.  I have remembered fondly the little room (not properly a "cell") I was in in the guest quarters.  I recall how at night I looked up to see how the nightlight and things around it caused the light to project the shape of a dove upon the ceiling, as if the Holy Spirit hovered directly above me as I slept. 

All this should not be taken to mean that I have a Cistercian Vocation...far from it! At this time, I actually believe I do not have a religious Vocation at all.

Preparation for Christ

Advent is supposed to be a time of preparation, of introspection, of readying ourselves for the coming Savior. We are to think about death, judgment, heaven and hell even as we celebrate the birth of our Savior.

Yet because of classes and finals and the craziness of work, I really haven't had the time to retreat into this time of preparation. Even when I DO have the time, I find that I quickly become engaged in other distractions. It hit me hard this morning that what I really need is to "get away" from all of these things. I feel like I'm being pulled into pieces by all the demands upon me, especially those which I have caused and place upon my self. 

It is because of this that I have made a decision to close comments on the blog, probably until Christmas.  I find that as I receive comments, I "feel" I need to respond in a timely manner, even if perhaps I'd rather sit down and finish reading some book.  Sometimes the combox discussions can be lengthy and can lead on and on, and usually I welcome this. In fact, I STILL do. However, perhaps it would be best to simply "shut down" for awhile.

I may, and will probably continue posting, but will not be allowing comments. Please know that I do welcome email, which is linked on my profile. I ask only that if you do send one with regard to either an ongoing discussion or a new post, realize I may not choose to respond at all, or if I do, it may not be timely.

Retreat

In the interim of what remains of Advent, I am thinking I am going to attempt a "retreat in place".  While I can't completely divorce myself from all the distractions of my life, I can eliminate a few, I can cut down on others, and hopefully this will force me to spend more time in prayer, more time in real solitude, more time, recalling that God desires union with us all, and I haven't been doing my part to allow Him to rest in me.   I have not been working on the Vocation we all share by baptism:  the Vocation to Holiness.

I look forward to spending more time in absolute silence, without the self-inflicted "demands" of the blog to distract me from something far more important than my own piddly writings and tenacious opinions.

Again, comments will be closed but feel free to email me. I will respond as I can.

Have a blessed Advent and may your hearts also be prepared to receive our Divine Savior!

Random Thoughts about Beauty and Rage

On Real Beauty:

I was thinking about beauty today, especially beauty in the faces of the people I love. Most are not beautiful by the world's standards, for we are just average, every-day people. I considered how maybe the surface-attractiveness as defined by the world might at times draw us to people, none of us really recognizes it as a defining feature.  Rather, we look at the wrinkles, the laugh lines, the dimples, the surface imperfections that, together paint a tapestry.  When I think of my friends and loved ones, I remember them with animation. They are not cold photographs, but flesh and blood with quick smiles, ready expressions and identifiable mannerisms that draw me past the surface and into their real presence.

They say that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" and I must disagree.  To simply "behold" is to remain at the surface. To enter into real friendship and to know someone as they are, no matter what they reveal on the surface is true beauty.

Beauty isn't revealed in the appearance of the skin covering mere bones, but in the life that animates us all, giving glory to God.

On Rage Against Beauty:

It occurred to me at Mass last night that there is a reason so many rage against the perfect beauty of the Mass, and seek to remove the symbolism and accoutrements that draw us deeply into the mystery.  The Mass is the fullness of life, it reveals the fullness of God if we would but pay attention, and it is both the source of summit of all things.  This is the very depths of beauty as God intended it. It far transcends our paisley-colored lives, the Naugahyde coverings we use to either adorn our imperfections or block out the light of Christ.

It is no surprise that so many rage against the Mass, for when it is properly celebrated it reveals the fullness of God, forcing us to recognize the emptiness of our souls when we come face-to-face with Him.  Those who cannot stand the revelation are enraged, and instead of realizing true beauty and perfection, they seek to destroy the mirror that reveals them to themselves.

As Gaudium et spes, 22, tells us, "God reveals man to himself, making his supreme calling clear."  When we are not living up to our supreme calling, it is much easier to seek to destroy and thus deny the revelation of Truth than it is to shed the vestiges of a false life and choose to embrace holiness.

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."

Blessed Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe!

"Hear and let it penetrate into your heart, my youngest son, that there is nothing for you to fear. Let neither your face nor your heart be worried. Do not fear this nor any other illness, nor anything pounding nor afflicting. Am I not here, I who am your Mother? Are you not in my shadow, under my protection? Am I not your fountain of life? Are you not in the fold of my mantle, in my crossed arms? Is there anything else that you need?"

Ximopaquilti María, teh titemictoc ica mahuiztic.

In Toteco yetoc mohuan.

Tateochihual tehuatizin intech nochin cihuatzitizin.

Tateochihual in Tapoxhuil den moihtic, Jesús.

Yectictitzin María, inan Dios ximotatauhti

totechcopa in tahtacolhuanime

axcan huan tomiquiliztempan.

Ma ihcon mochihua.

Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia,

el Señor es contigo.

Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres,

y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús.

Santa María, Madre de Dios,

ruega por nosotros, pecadores,

ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte.

Amén!

Hail Mary, Full of grace

The Lord is with thee

Blessed art thou among women,

and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners,

now and at the hour of our death

Amen!

Forgiveness and Acceptance

Fr. Gordon MacRae, has written again from his unjust imprisonment, and I found myself in tears as I read of his friend Joseph, a man looking for redemption and forgiveness but certain his past has condemned him completely.

Oh, can I ever relate!

Please read his post in its entirety, but know that I focus this post and my own comment to him on the first part, directing it towards the subject of Joseph. Here is what I said in response:

Father,

The first part of this post was really the one that got to me the most, because it’s a problem I have, too. I have a past. Maybe it doesn’t involve guns and violence, but constantly I’m amazed that anyone who knows what I used to be would ever want to know me now. I have a couple friends who are priests, and they know my history, at least by my allusions to it. And still…they WANT to be my friend. It nearly scandalizes me.

Father if I sat down in front of you right now and told you my history, my past, and even my present, I would look at you in the same way as your friend Joseph; I’d be looking askance, looking for that same horror, wondering when you would shut the door on me. I really admire Joseph, for it seems he had the courage I don’t. I’ve never gone to my friends for Confession; what they know they learned outside of the Sacrament.

Yet I’ve never had the courage to ask them what I wonder so deeply: “Why do you want to be my friend?”. Most people I know don’t know the depths to which I’ve descended, and I am sure that if some of them, family especially, did know…I’d be cut off forever.

While in this comment I referred specifically to my priest friends, I did that given the venue, but in honesty have to say I wonder about my other non-clergy friends as well.  How could they WANT to be friends with me, given what they know about my past? About who I am now?  I am not now without sin, and in fact, there are some sins that even now force me to frequent Confession as I try to overcome them. Sins that might be shocking to some, but seem like mere gnats to another.

I don't want to read of the combox commentary on God's mercy...I know all about it.

In fact, I can lecture on it and I HAVE.

Please,  I am asking all of you, my readers,  to look into YOURSELVES and your own nakedness in your sin and recognize that YOU, too, know the same shame.

 I'm talking about the raw human reality that ALL of us experience, something platitudes cannot cover, cannot stop, cannot deny...that raw reality that when we are stripped down naked before God, we know we have sinned, we know what we deserve, and it's NATURAL to cringe in our concupiscence.

It is FITTING!

We all cringe in knowledge of our sin. We all fear rejection of others BECAUSE of our sin. As a priest I know (not a friend, just a lecturer I heard) observed, "People don't want to be known in their sin."

He was right. Yet...through different venues, in person, blogging, via email, my sin is known to my friends, and still, they are my friends. They WANT to be my friends, and looking at them in the same way, had they confessed the same things...it wouldn't affect my love for THEM.

We all struggle with this.  We all ask for forgiveness, and we all need acceptance. And yet, when the latter happens...if we say we don't question it, we are lying.

My hope is that Fr. MacRae can convey this to his fellow prisoners, so that they will know they are not alone in the sense that they have a past that is known...but doesn't define them. That God's mercy is infinite, that they CAN change, and that they will not forever be judged according to what they have done in the past.

It is possible to be a New Creation, through God's Grace. It is possible to move on. It is possible to experience God's mercy expressed through the friendship of those who know us...who we were, who we are...and who we may be one day.

Myself...I pray for the grace to accept that reality, for I continue to cringe in shame, much like Joseph, Fr. MacRae's friend, who expects to see an expression of horror only to look up and recognize the significance of  friendship and mercy.

God grant me the humility to accept that same mercy. Amen.
*

Mantilla Twitch to Newsbobber...And A Few Friends

I don't often reference the News or News Organizations as, for the most part, there are so many other bloggers who do so that I figure my random two cents becomes part of a mindless echo chamber.  Granted, there are stories that NEED to be put out there, and I am not adverse to doing so. But this is different and I think maybe I owe some publicity towards an organization that seems to deserve it! (It helps that I'm trying to study theology for my final and find this as a necessary diversion from that task.)

By accident, one day some time ago while randomly checking out my "Feedjit" widget on the side, I saw a reference to "Newsbobber". I'd never heard of them, so figured maybe I should check out this source apparently referring to me.

As it seems, they are an independent internet news service, collecting Minnesota-based news, and it seems they have a special love for Minnesota bloggers.  (That alone makes me a fan;  seriously, a news service that isn't disdainful or condescending of bloggers, but rather, HIGHLIGHTS us? Wow!)  I'm especially impressed because of the fact they have determined a way to rank the top 100 Minnesota blogs (hottest blogs) , regardless of the subject matter. It's purely mathematical.

I can't pretend to understand it of course, as several blogs have the same score, but I think the difference comes from the way they measure the RSS feeds, subscribers, google page rank, etc.  You can read their directory and ranking faq yourself for more information. Just don't come back and try to explain it to me. I really don't care at all and only provide the link for the mathematical geeks among you.

In any case, a couple months ago I sent this info to my friend Ray at Stella Borealis Catholic Roundtable, and he has apparently kept up his own analysis of the situation.  I've kept my own tabs on the status my friends, such as Cathy of Alex  at Recovering Dissident Catholic and Terry Nelson from Abbey-Roads but can't figure out why Swissmiss doesn't make the rankings, and I  haven't seen my dear friends, the Hadleys & Company at Our Word at all. That's an absolute CRIME! (FYI....Our Word isn't specifically a religion blog, but discusses art, music, news, and contemporary culture. If they're NOT on your blog list then you CLEARLY haven't any culture at all!)

Based on Newsbobber's faq page, someone actually spends time with each blog in order to write a brief review, and based on the blurb about mine, they did their homework in that they are hitting the big points.  I do have a quibble with what they said about mine as it seems to take three months of my life as a police officer and makes it sound like it was a bigger career. It wasn't. It was three months. An important three months of my life, to be sure, especially considering that I didn't get killed and no one died BECAUSE of me, but I can't deny that the experience lives on in me even now, so many years later.  I don't fault the reviewer for this; clearly they were skimming and trying to get a feel for my main topics and who I am especially considering I continue to write under a pseudonym.  All in all, I think their short commentary on my blog is fair and does tell the reader what they're up for if they click on my link.  Kudos for that!

Anyway, that is my PSA for the month.  If you are a citizen of Minnesota, someone from another state or country wanting to know what's going on in Minnesota, or a Minnesota blogger, this is a site you want to know about.  Go ahead and suggest blogs, go ahead and patronize those you like:  it will help their rankings.

******************
Disclaimer:  I did not receive any blegging emails asking me to blog this PSA. I received no payment or kickbacks and I receive no benefit for linking to Newsbobber.  I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart for an endeavor I feel deserves attention, and for the benefit of my friends who deserve MORE attention.  


With regard to the question on my heart: yes, I have one, albeit a bit cold or fickle at times. 


Stop laughing.
*

Some News That Might Surprise You

First and most importantly! 

Today is the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, and a Holy Day of Obligation. That means, my dear Catholic brothers and sisters, that you MUST go to Mass today! For those of you who are not Catholic, what we are celebrating is not the conception of Christ (which we celebrate at the Annunciation), but the conception of Mary.

So, people...GO TO MASS!  I will be attending this evening in the middle of our first big snowstorm since I was too lazy to get my butt out of bed for the 8 am Mass, which I'm guessing was a school Mass, anyway. And I have to admit I'm not a fan of school Masses: a parade of readers, a different kid offering each petition, singing pithy songs to make sure we all know that "All Are Welcome".  Ugh. It's an exercise in reinforcing and perpetuating the misunderstanding of "full and active participation" as opposed to what the kids should REALLY be learning about Mass and what it is, and cultivating in them a spirit of prayer...not activity.

But I digress.

Next piece of news:

I'm not very bright.  (That part isn't news. That's a given.)

For a long time, ever since I had to put my greyhound to sleep, I've been pondering the idea of fostering. Most of the dog rescue groups in our area are foster-home based, and as I have a German Shepherd, I looked into one that tends to specialize in the breed.  Last night I spoke with the woman in charge of coordinating these things, and got some more information, most of which was on their website.  Foster homes don't incur expenses....the organization provides for food, veterinary care, a crate if needed, etc.  All the fosters provide is a nice warm home, time (many of the dogs need at least rudimentary training), etc.

Well, in the midst of our discussion I kinda said...uh....Yes...  (That's the news part.)

The dog she had in mind for me is from Missouri. Apparently the South is being overrun with German Shepherds, so they're transporting them to Minnesota for adoption, as the breed is in demand up here. I'll be getting a male, no idea how big he is, but I do know he's strong as an ox and has absolutely no manners. Just a winning personality!

I am still pondering this, going back and forth as it IS hard to have two dogs, especially considering I don't have a fenced yard. And with this oncoming snowstorm, I know that walking two dogs at once is going to get even MORE difficult!

But, alas...that is my idiocy. I was thinking with my heart again instead of my brain. Still, a dog like that will probably be adopted quickly and maybe I need something to shake up my life a little, and do something that will benefit someone else in the long term.  My little Christmas Gift to someone who is looking for a good pet.

Someone talk me out of this.

Oh, and I need to provide a name and number to them as a reference. They'll be doing a home visit to verify my living conditions (ie that I live where I claim to live, I'm not an animal hoarder - they're ok with book hoarding - and that in fact, my dog is healthy and happy and doesn't seem to be abused!).

Yeah, my little cream puff is currently hanging out on the couch snoozing. Spoiled dog!

Poor thing...she has NO IDEA what is about to happen...hope she is agreeable....


In Other News:  GOOD JESUITS!

There are some really great, orthodox Jesuits out there and they are asking for help from we bloggers!   From Fr. V. at Adam's Ale comes this announcement:

From AA's correspondent in Rome we receive news of this new site which was launched on December 1st. Fr. O reports, "This is a new online magazine that offers articles from Jesuits who are committed to orthodox teaching. There are two guys from the Biblicum on their editorial board (John Gavin and Jim Swetnam), and I can attest that they are priests of the highest caliber. Both of them teach Biblical Greek there (Swetnam is retired). Gavin is also well versed in Patristics, and Swetnam has spent much of his life studying Priesthood in the Letter to the Hebrews. They asked if we could get the word out to any "orthodox bloggers" that we knew."

Now, go check out their publication, New Jesuit Review!

Struggling for Trust

I've written before this of Trust, and it seems the more I learn from my studies in Theology, the more I learn about God, the more I learn about myself.

Everything is a new impact.

For so many years, I was in denial about the damage done to me by my parent's divorce, by my mother's bipolar disorder, my dad's alcoholism...everything.  I've rationalized, "I turned out fine, I am a college graduate, a home owner, a taxpayer...."

Yet none of those "titles" reveals who I am, but only what I've done. It ignores the reality of my life.  It ignores the fact that my struggle in finding my Vocation is deeply rooted in what has gone WRONG...not what has gone RIGHT. Which is fitting, actually, for Our Lord did not become Incarnate for those of us who are perfect, but rather, we who are sinners and in need of His Grace.

I have thought often, and have written, if you recall, on my problems with Trust. A family as defunct as my own doesn't lead to trust...it undermines it completely. Our parents are supposed to reveal God to us, and when things go wrong, we are shown a face of God that is not true.  I loved my Dad very much, but he wasn't reliable, was too permissive in general, and didn't uphold a very clear image of God the Father to me. In fact, in many ways he was the very antithesis of God the Father.  Mom started out well, but her own disease actually undermined most of it, especially when we got older and found that although we needed our mother...she was not there. We had to make our way....alone.

One of my biggest issues with accepting Mary, the Mother of God, as my own Mother was actually deeply damaged by my Mom's "mariolotry" while I was growing up, and her own reflection of what should have been an ideal...wasn't. I could write volumes on this.

My theological studies have done a great deal to reveal to me my own damaged nature.  No longer can I turn away from the perfection God intends, no more can I deny that as much as I used to protest, I have to accept I HAVE been damaged by my upbringing, by those who were supposed to reveal the face of God to me.

To be honest to all, I have shied away from the Blessed Mother and I gaze upon Our Lord with deep mistrust. Not through will, but through ingrained instinct.  Even as I struggle to come to Him, I cringe, I hide and so often, I run away.

For months now, I've been fighting with this reality, wanting to trust God, thinking that since I am aware of what causes my mistrust, by force of my Will maybe I can finally overcome it.

What idiotic thinking. What a recipe for despair!

No wonder I have been in such a spiritual depression! No wonder I have experienced such despair! No wonder I have lost contact with Hope.

I have been holding on by only a thread...for months now.

Months.

I've been grasping at straws...finally deciding to rest on what is left, knowing my struggle will only cause me to fall further.

Yet I have had a revelation:

Yes, we are to learn about God through our parents; the Decalogue (Ten Commandments) are numbered in that way for a reason.  We see that first we owe to God what He is due, then to our parents, for they stand in for God until we can discern Him ourselves.

God is Faithful, and cannot be taken by surprise. It is of no matter to Him that my parents were not perfect copies of Him. He knew them before they were born, He knew their own struggles and what would happen in their parenthood.  How could He NOT make provisions?  Are we not all His children?

What I have come to realize is that it doesn't matter that I was damaged; the fact that I was given a deep mistrust is, in fact, my Cross to bear on this earth.  Holiness doesn't depend on my parents, but upon my own willingness and desire to cooperate with God's grace. It depends upon His Sacrifice before my own can ever enter into the reality of  this battle.

The fact that I can't rely on my mother for guidance, and was damaged by my father before he died doesn't mean that I cannot become holy. Rather, it is a gift, a very deep and personal gift, from Our Lord's Most Sacred Heart to mine.  I guess it makes sense that blood is involved, and that it continues to gush in a way that no bandage or suture can staunch.

What God has given me is an opportunity to know and love Him as He is, for who He is, without seeing Him only through my parents. He has called me directly into the depths of suffering so that I could know Him that much more clearly.

This Cross that God has given me in the end will lead to perfect trust in Him, for He is all I have. He reveals His stability, His constant mercy, His ongoing friendship, His perpetual Sacrifice, even in the face of every faltering step I take, every fall, every disaster.  Jesus is present and I don't continue to fight against my passions and the fires of Hell for anyone but for love of Him. The fire that burns in my soul, placed there through Baptism and Confirmation fueled like infused coal in Holy Communion, is far hotter and more purifying than the eternal fires of the Hell that seek to consume me in the Devil's eternal and unholy wrath.

So I thank God for this struggle, I thank Him for this Cross and I keep Him in sight as I continue to stagger through my vocational discernment and my temptations, knowing that if I only keep getting up, no matter how mortal the wound...maybe, eventually, I will find eternal life.

Not through my merit, but only through God's Grace...and my willing cooperation.

Thank you, Jesus.

I Trust in Thee....I trust in Thee....Lord Help me, I'm trying....to trust in Thee...

Kyrie Eleison

I came across this tonight, a fictional  piece I wrote during Lent at the beginning of the war in Afghanistan.  My boyfriend at the time was serving for the Air National Guard and I was house sitting, had begun going to Mass again (at a liturgically-challenged parish) and was truly seeking my way back to Christ.  This story came to me during Mass; there is more to it and I will share if there is interest. Please know that, as you read, IF you read it, this account was written in complete ignorance of liturgical norms and of course, of attitudes of real people serving overseas. I pulled from things in the news at that time and from, what I realize now, was a deepening understanding of the real meaning of Sacrifice. The following story is more about the mystical reality of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass than anything else, and I pray that is transmitted.
***

The Mass began like a normal Lenten Mass, with a silent procession up the aisle, the congregation standing....waiting. The piano began to play soft background music as Father began the opening prayer. At intervals the choir and congregation sang the penitential rite:

"Kyr-i-e Ele-i-son! Chri-ste E-le-i-son, Ky-ri-e E-le-i-son!"

Mary bent her head, praying, singing along, wishing her son was with her. She wished this horrible war was over and her family could be back together again. Mary's husband Michael and their teenage daughter, Christy, stood on each side of her, and they all felt John's absence acutely. Theirs wasn't the only family member absent today; each week a Mass was dedicated to the parishioners who were serving their country in Iraq.

Father, intoned, "We offer this Mass today for Lance Corporal John Ames, 3rd Infantry, U.S. Marine Corps...."

"Lord, hear our prayer," responded the congregation.

Tears filled Mary's eyes, so touched was she by the support they'd received from their parish community. She hadn't heard from John since he left for the war. He was somewhere in Iraq; in that hot, horrible desert, doing his duty as he'd pledged when he joined the military. She prayed that Jesus walked beside him and his fellow soldiers. Around her, silently, the other parishioners did the same. Many felt the same anguish.

Ky-rie E-le-i-son, Chr-i-ste E-le-i-son, Ky-r-ie E-le-i-son!**

(**Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.**)

*********************************

John knelt in the sand, stood in the sand and tried to breathe through the sand as the storm swirled around him. It was Sunday morning in America, and he thought of his family going to Mass, the devout Catholics that they were. He wished he was there. He wondered when he'd be able to go home again. And he wondered when this terrible sandstorm would pass. The wind was dying down, but until it did, progress would be very slow. At the moment they were all hunkered down, searching for the shelter they knew was there - if they could only get there. Although they were in their camp, it was easy to get lost and lose their bearings just from going from one tent to another!

John sat on the first cot he came to and pulled out his tablet. He was going to take the lull in battle to write a letter to his family as they waited for the storm to die down. He was keeping a collection of letters as he had no access to e-mail due to his job and mobility in the war. When he had the opportunity, he planned to send them all, in order.

Dear Mom, Dad, and Christy,

I know you won't get this letter for a long time as there is no way to mail anything from this God-forsaken place. But please know that you're in my thoughts and prayers every day. I can't wait to come home. Currently we are in the midst of yet another storm (see previous letters). Have you been keeping a tally? It seems that no sooner does one end that another begins! It makes me very nervous to be out here not knowing if our air support will be able to follow through due to weather conditions.

But we are doing our jobs and all is going well. There have been very few casualties. Of course some are expected, it is a war, after all, but it's better not to think about that. Don't worry too much about me over here, especially you, Mom. We're very well trained, very careful, and very much looking forward to coming home.

P.S. Can we have grilled steak with your special marinade and corn on the cob for dinner when I get back? :)

Well, we're being called....gotta go. Will write more later. Take care, and....will you please pray for me? And for all of us over here? I know you already are, every day. Thanks, from all of us!

Love and miss you all,

John

He tucked the latest installment into his fatigues, keeping them all together to be sent to his family as soon as he was able. John picked up his weapon and walked into the desert, ready to embark on their next mission.

They learned that radar had picked up a line of Iraqi troops in the "surrender" position that the U.S. Military had detailed to them. The command staff cautioned them to be sure it wasn't an ambush, and to be ready to fight. They moved into the desert, into the darkness, guided by their contour maps and night vision goggles.

Kyr-ie E-le-i-son...Chr-ist-e E-le-i-son! Ky-r-i-e E-le-i-son.

*******************************************

Mary sat listening to the sermon that day. Father was talking about the inclination of humans to want to strike out against their enemies. But he cautioned to not get so caught up so as to dehumanize others.

"We are all called to acts of compassion as a demonstration of love. And that is hardest when the people most in need of our compassion are ‘the enemy.’Try to remember that God doesn't play politics...He loves us all. He sees us all with the same eyes, created us all in the same image, and expects us to do as Jesus taught...accept each other in His love..."

Mary closed her eyes, thinking of John, fighting in the desert against young men just like him or older men like his father; with families, children and others who loved them. She had no quarrel with the people; she only wanted her son home safe - just as did all the mothers in Iraq.

Ky-rie E-le-i-son...Chr-i-ste E-le-i-son, Ky-ri-e E-le-i-son...

****************************************

John approached the sand berm carefully, weapon locked and loaded. Was this a surrender or an ambush? Were there wounded they would carry out?

He saw the white flags and a few Iraqi soldiers on their knees, waiting, speaking in their tongues, trying to be understood. John, although a "killing machine" by training, was compassionate through upbringing. He unconsciously lowered his weapon as he tried to understand what they said.

Too late, he realized it was a ploy. The entire unit was surrounded by these men. The Americans fought bravely, but one by one they began to fall, their lives given to God and their country. There was nowhere for the remaining soldiers to run. John didn't want to be a POW, but he knew that if he didn't surrender, he'd be killed for certain.

John fell to his knees, both hands upraised, rifle held pointing aloft in his right. Staring into the mute, deadly eyes of the Iraqi weapons, he dropped his own, conceding his freedom in preservation of his life.

John and his fellow soldiers knelt there, hands raised while they were searched and cleared of any potential weapons. Had there been fewer Iraqis, they would have fought; but all knew it was futile, and all were choosing to submit. They had been trained in what to do if ever captured, so John waited, letting his training and, more importantly, his Faith take over.

The prayer came to him out of nowhere and he grasped it, repeating aloud, but almost under his breath,  "Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison. Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy."

The Iraqi soldiers stopped in their approach, understanding that he was not speaking English...what did he say? No matter...they went forward and grabbed him and the few others roughly, pulling them to their feet. All were wounded from the battle, although not severely. Those with leg injuries were not carried, though...they were forced to walk, leaving trails of blood behind them which were quickly absorbed into the sand.

After marching for a short time the Iraqi soldiers stopped and forced the prisoners to their knees. A group of them stood behind the POW's and John felt the cold, hard steel of the Iraqi weapon pressed against the back of his head.

He looked up at the enemy in front of him and saw no compassion; only dark, gloating eyes. He vaguely wondered if that was his expression when he'd killed their troops. John wondered if this was the end, and he prayed to God, asking for forgiveness for the lives he'd taken. He thought of his family back home, probably still sitting at Mass, and prayed that they would be strong when they received the news. He panicked for awhile, thinking of them; of his life unfinished.

A sense of calm overcame him. An eye in the storm. John felt that he was going to die and he asked Jesus to meet him, to forgive him, and to preserve his soul in heaven. He had no access to the final Sacraments…all he had was hope in Divine Mercy.

The rifle clicked behind him as the commander gave the word to the firing squad. Overcome suddenly, inexplicably John sang softly, defiantly in the face of his enemy,  "Ky-r-i-e....E-le-i-son...Chr-i-ste E-le-i-son, Ky-r-i-e El-e-i-son!....Kyr-i-e E-le-i-son, Chr-i-ste E-le-i-son, Ky-rie E-le-i-son.... "

His brother soldiers, to his surprise, took up the musical litany and sang with him, "Ky-r-ie, E-le-i-son! Chr-i-ste E-le-i-son, Ky-r-i-e E-le-i-son!...."

John felt the steel barrel pulled away from the back of his head as the soldier behind him stepped back, not sure how to respond. They hadn't expected this! John looked straight into the eyes of the Commander, still singing. He saw something there...a brief moment of compassion maybe? A respite? A realization that these POW's were men just like him? Their eyes locked in a moment of understanding and the Commander began to raise his hand. A sharp word from another Iraqi officer stopped him and the shadow fell across him again. The gun pushed hard against his head once again; and yet John and his fellow soldiers sang, waiting...

Waiting......

Kyr-i-e E-le-i-son! Chr-i-ste E-le-i-son! Ky-r-i-e E-le-i-son!.....

**********************************************

At the beginning of the liturgy of the Eucharist, the parishioners prayed aloud, "May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands, for the praise and glory of His name, for our good and the good of all His Church..."

The priest blessed the bread and wine consecrating them in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, transforming them into the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Jesus Christ.

"This is my Body and this is my Blood. It shall be given for you and for many in forgiveness of sin..."

Mary was suddenly and inexplicably overcome with emotion, and something even beyond: she actually seemed to feel the presence of Jesus, far beyond what she had EVER experienced.  At the moment the Sacred Host was raised high, the Ames family unconsciously joined hands and bowed their heads, unified in the same sensation of being bathed in the love of Christ; in the absolute meaning of His Sacrifice. They became a part of it in a way they did not yet understand.

The congregation prayed, "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the Word and I shall be healed."

To themselves, John's family also prayed silently, none understanding why, "Kyrie Eleison, Christe Eleison (Lord have Mercy, Christ have Mercy) My Lord and My God!"

************************************************

As John knelt in that dark foreign desert, the enemy's rifle against the back of his head, he continued to sing for God's mercy. He looked up and instead of the Iraqi officer, he saw an image of Jesus reaching out to him. He saw the wounds in His hands and understood the apparition before him. He heard the words in his head and prayed them out loud, interrupting the song.

"My Lord and My God!"

Jesus was reaching out for him, offering His hand, smiling gently.

John could only say to Him, "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you. Only say the word and I shall be healed..."

Behind him, seeing the same vision the other captured soldiers continued to sing, "Kyrie Eleison! Christe Eleison! Kyrie Eleison..."

One soldier called out very clearly, "Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do..."

In the midst of the war, each man knew peace. And in the midst of life came death.

In the midst of death they were reborn through Christ.

John and his "brothers" never heard the shots and never felt rounds that stole their lives. And the Iraqi soldiers never understood the glow; the mystical penumbra surrounding them as they were born into eternity.

*************************************************

The Ames family learned the next day that John was MIA. They notified the church and activated the family prayer chain. But all knew, somehow, that John was gone. They had felt his sacrifice in that moment in time, during the eternal moment of  the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

They learned a month later that John was Killed in Action. The military didn't tell her the details: they didn't know most of them.  The Chaplin who met with them told her how John was a sort of spiritual leader among his peers, not afraid to live and defend just his country, but also his faith in Jesus Christ. He wished he could tell her, right then, the story they'd learned from a captured Iraqi soldier.

Hassan had been on the firing line and spoke of the POW's singing in Greek when faced with death. He spoke of the glow that seemed to emanate from them in that dark night. It seemed he was the one who held the gun to John's head.

He was not the only Iraqi POW taken from that group to convert. The deaths of the American soldiers had somehow caused the religious conversion of the enemy; especially those on the firing squad.

In effect, the American soldiers had sacrificed themselves for the eternal souls of men who wanted them dead. God called; they answered.

And in the midst of the war, death was not the only way to bring peace.

Kyrie Eleison! Christe Eleison! Kyrie Eleison!

The Saturday Evenening Blog Post - December edition

A couple months ago I linked to a wonderful endeavor, THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST  over at Elizabeth Esther. This is actually my first submission, and guess what, everyone...there's room for MORE!  So pick your favorite post of the month, head on over and maybe find some other cool blogs and bloggers!

In looking over my posts over the month, I decided on one that seemed to be popular:  How to Study Theology. Even though it's a bit long, it seems to me anyone can identify with it by simply inserting their own subject, and the length...well, let's face it:  when you're trying to study Theology (or Math, or Science, or Literature, etc...), it's soooo easy to just get caught up in that much-needed humor....

*snicker*

C'mon. Put the book aside. You KNOW you want to submit a post...and read a few....

(Seriously people, I need to finish my essay questions for Moral Theology, for Mariology on St. Louis de Montfort and Our Lady of Guadalupe, and study for my Liturgy & Sacraments test to take place next Saturday....and dang...my kitchen needs a little cleaning and some blogs need to be read...and the dog needs a walk.....) 

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

I remember, as a little girl, learning the "Our Father", first from Mom, and then, when she was working, from Dad.  He was Lutheran so prayed the doxology at the end in a way similar to how it was prayed at Mass...yet with a little different wording.  Mom knew he did this but told us we must pray it as she taught us, so it became a small thing within our family to honor our parents in that special way. It pleased Dad when we prayed the doxology, and it pleased Mom when we didn't.  When they were both home, we prayed the "Catholic way" and still, everyone was happy, for Dad deferred to Mom while giving us a wink.

Even as I remember this fondly, I also recall to mind the part of the Lord's Prayer that terrified me to no end.

...Give us this day our daily bread, 

And forgive us our trespasses

As we forgive those who trespass against us. 

Lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil. AMEN.

The prayer scared me, for it seemed to rapidly descend from the comforting image of a yummy loaf of bread (which we didn't have EVERY day, but most days, and I really didn't know why we were praying for something so bland to be given to us DAILY. Or maybe we were praying for it so that it would be there when Mom wanted to serve it, and that prayer always seemed to be answered.)

The next image that came to mind was the word "trespass", and I knew that one. I always saw the black signs with orange wording, surrounded by a white border. I recognized the sign even BEFORE I knew how to read, for Mom pointed them out and told us we must never enter land where we saw that sign. And a few of our neighbors sported them, so we knew without a doubt that "trespassing" was a bad thing. I still remember the warm summer afternoon as we walked the gravel road on the hill over our house, exploring the neighborhood, listening to the sound of large dogs, legendarily vicious dogs warning us in no uncertain terms to heed the signs posted at intervals around the property.

Every time I prayed that prayer, and even to this very day, when I say the word "trespass" I think of that sign, standing out in its warning against a dark fence covered in encroaching foliage. Where, probably, there were big thorns and spiders hiding.

Still, it wasn't "trespass" that made my blood run cold. "Trespass" was just the warning before the REAL problem happened.

Rather, it was...."Temptation"

The very idea of being led into Temptation was enough to give me chills and nightmares. 

Lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil. AMEN!

It was very clear to me that "Temptation" was a place, because in the prayer, we were asking God not to lead us there. Any time we were being led somewhere, it was a location. So, it stands to reason that if we were asking God NOT to lead us into Temptation, my first question was:  Why would God lead us somewhere awful?  If God is Love, wouldn't it stand to reason to believe He would NEVER take us by the hand and lead us into some terrible, terrible place, worse than my night terrors, worse than the monster in the closet and the ghost under the bed?

Obviously, Temptation HAD to be an awful place, ESPECIALLY if were imploring He who is all Love not to bring us there.

 In my mind, I envisioned Hell. I thought "Temptation" was where the devil lived, but since "Hell" was a bad word, then we probably couldn't say it in Church, and that's why we called it "Temptation."

I finally Saw Temptation

One summer, we went to visit our Grandmother in Minnesota, in the house where Mom grew up. Mom decided we needed a nap so as soon as our suitcases were brought up to the bedroom, she and Dad pushed the two beds together to accommodate us all, and tucked us in.  Neither of us wanted to sleep, so my brother began the afternoon by telling me the crack between the beds led to Hell.  He said that if the beds separated, we'd fall in and be tortured forever.

I told him to be quiet, leave me alone, and I put my pillow over my head in SPITE of the summer heat and fell into a troubled sleep. Unfortunately, I still remember the dream with a certain vividity.  In the dream, my brother and I were awakened by an earthquake that separated the beds. In between, just as he'd noted, was the crack to Hell, and in spite of all we did to cling to each other and to the blankets and bedposts, we were drawn down into the lair of Satan.  We received a whirlwind tour of this awful, awful place where the heat was unbearable, where the devil laughed incessantly at our demise, until finally, somehow, we escaped.

In the dream, when I screamed, asking where we were, the Devil said to me, "Temptation..."  followed by his evil chuckle.

I still remember waking up, drenched in sweat, shaking, the sun still high in the summer's mid-afternoon. Even as I tried to shake it off, I couldn't, and now, how many years later...I STILL can't.

We were too little then to even KNOW about horror movies, had never seen one and didn't know they existed. I'd never seen ANYTHING like that before, and even the other terrors that sometimes awoke me at night weren't so awful as that particular dream.

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

A few days ago, I briefly read something that had to do with temptation; the fact that we must pass through it in order to overcome it, in order to grow in virtue.  And in passing through that temptation, it is as though we are being scorched, we are being damned, we are being tortured.  We can't see the end of it, but this is what makes it so important to pass through such a trial;  it is how we grow in virtue and learn to trust in God.

Mom could never explain this to me because the concept was too big, and really, most of us can't grasp this reality.

I know that even with all the education I've received in theology in the last couple years, I CONTINUE to pray that I be preserved from temptation.  It scares me for I am too weak, I too often given in, and my will has been trained over the years to give in to my passions.  So when I am tempted I scream and cry out to God to save me, he remains silent, and...I give in to my malformed will.

I get up each morning hoping to overcome, and yet, at the end of the day, find I have failed miserable, often through very direct acts against God.

Now, as an adult, I understand what it means to pray, "Lead us not into Temptation, but deliver us from evil."

As an adult, I know that Temptation is indeed a place, and while it is not Hell itself, it is the gateway, and as soon as we enter that crevasse, we realize that, in fact, they blend into one thing. NONE of us goes to Hell without giving into Temptation. None of us gets out of Temptation without passing through it. Temptation is a paradox.

A terrible, terrible paradox, yet one we must enter, we must survive, we must, through the grace of God, overcome.  No one becomes Holy without temptation.

So it seems that, in the spiritual life, we are at an impasse, aren't we?  Temptation is the gateway, and it is much scarier in appearance than it is in reality. Temptation itself is not a sin; it is only an INVITATION to sin, something calling to our passions.  That deathly knell can really seem like it must be obeyed, it can seem a lot more attractive than living holiness, can seem like it's not a big deal to give in to that one little passion....and yet, once we do...we might be cut of from God completely.

God never stops loving us. He is like the sun, which gives its rays, yet if we put a wall in front of it, that light can no longer pass through. The light does not stop in reality...it is actually that we have chosen not to let it in. We cut God off, refusing His Love, refusing His grace.

And there, in that eternal darkness, is Hell; eternal separation from God.

That's where Temptation leads.

Temptation is both pretty and dangerous and may come to us under both appearances, even while trying to make us believe it is something else.

But no, Temptation is indeed a place; it is the very doorway to damnation.

When confronted with it, when we are trapped there between Temptation and God, we need only take a step back, look upon the Cross, and let God love us.  Even if we can't see the end of the assault, we can gaze upon our Crucified Lord and know that, eventually, this temptation will end, and to get through it all we need to do is trust in Him.

Jesus will never let go. The question is...will we let go of HIM?

Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.

Lead us not into Temptation, but deliver us from Evil.....Amen.