Harsh Reality

I have been pondering Faith in the last several days, and the reality of why I continue to choose sin in the face of what I know of Divine Revelation.  I've considered my moments of disbelief, and those moments where the reality of God brought me to the dirt.

I can boil it down to this:

1.  When we want to sin, when we want to engage in what we know to be contrary to our dignity of human beings, we choose not to believe in God, and we get really militant about our disbelief.

2.  When we become dissatisfied, and when our own behavior is so offensive to our sensibilities that we are brought to the realization that we have a dignity that transcends our animal appetites, and we are so brought to repentance...then we choose to believe in God.

There is no in between. We either love God or we don't.  

And that's why we have, as our center, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Because we cannot remain indifferent. We are brought, through  the Cross, to face God and face ourselves...and we must make a choice.

And every day  I wake up and realize that Faith is a decision and life is a gift, and I immediately come face to face with the above-defined fork in the road.

And every day may involve a different decision.

I can't express to you how grateful I am for the trails between the fork in the road on those days which I choose the wrong road.

God is merciful.

Redux for Lent: Hanging by a Fingertip

When I was hired by the Fire Department. and went to training, I knew that I'd have to overcome my irrational fear of falling, because this kryptonite translated very easily into a fear of climbing ladders. I had to climb with gloves on my hands, in boots, wearing equipment that weighed me BACKWARDS, and of course, what if there wasn't someone there to butt the ladder? The ladder could fall. With me on it. And others.

Gulp.

This particular post isn't about ladders; in fact, it's about something that didn't scare me at first. Until I was literally holding on to my life by my very fingertips.

My first rappel was off of the 4th floor of the concrete training tower. While my friends observed that it appeared that this evolution scared me more than my nemesis, the roof ladder, I was actually fairly comfortable. However, I was shaking with effort...the rope we were using was very heavy, and I wasn't clearly understanding the laws of physics that went against my nature: such as:


Rule # 1  "Open your hand and let go of the rope so it will slide!"

Overall, my first rappel was a good experience. I was slow as I tried to get the hang of it (no pun intended), but fear wasn't really a part of the picture because I felt very in control. I'd tied the knot we are all depending upon (and tied it well!), and although there was no safety officer on belay (contrary to SOP's), all was under control.

My second rappel was different. This time, while our Deputy Chief of Training actually decided we did not "need" someone on belay because "nothing had ever happened before", the FD Safety Officer happened on scene and took up his post....just in time. Apparently he saw this situation as being a very bad thing and realized that if he didn't take over, well....

Aside:   (Thank God he arrived when he did...two cadets fell that day and would have been seriously injured or killed if the Safety Officer had not been on hand, on belay with the rope in his own hands!)  

And the Deputy Chief heard about it, believe me. (No one outranks the Safety Officer when it comes to safety issues!)

I remember standing at the foot of the tower that warm, cloudy afternoon, waiting for my turn at the evolution, to carry the pump can (85 unweildy lbs) up the 6 floors + to the roof of the tower, to rappel down wearing an SCBA face piece with the ambient air valve open, tanks on our backs, but not turned on, an axe dangling from the spanner belt on one side, the spanner wrench on the other. While I watched those who went before me, I saw two of them fall. The first fell a story and a half (about 15 feet) before her descent was slowed, then stopped. ALL of us reacted in horror to this event.

Soon it was my turn. I labored the pump can up to the roof and tied my knot to the anchor. My facepiece was fogging over, I was already tired and winded, and the ambient air valve is not made for this kind of labored respiration. If the tank was on and the facepiece operating as it was designed to do, there would have been no problem, although admittedly my tank would have been dry in very short order. As it was, every single one of us was hyperventilating not so much from exertion (although that was a factor) but from a lack of being able to draw a decent breath!  It was absolute Hell, and every firefighter ever in this kind of training can verify this.

So I tied my knot and went to the parapet, took up the rope, ran it through my D-ring and stepped over it - straight into thin air.


I started out decently, holding my right hand high, palm up.

But I hadn't calculated the weight of the rope, and I wasn't adept at dropping my upper body perpendicular to the wall; and so the rope seemed that much heavier. For those who are not familiar with what we called "life-safety rope", this is not some piece of twine. This was heavy-duty rope, and I was holding 6 stories' worth of it. It probably weighed as much or more than I did at that height. (Seemed like it, anyway!)

It was a combination of errors that got me into a precarious position. The first was my body position. I could not seem to get myself to follow the directions to get my head lower. Instead, I was trying to "muscle" it. Mind you, at that time, in training I was doing 20-25 lb bicep curls...but that was nothing in the face of trying to muscle a rappel. The rope should have been sliding through my hand, but I had a death-grip on it.

As I descended towards the 4th floor balcony, where I'd have to "invert" and swing inward, my hand was being pulled further and further toward my hip. I was losing the rope. Desperately, I tried to abduct my hand outward. I tried thrusting my body hard to my left, trying to scoot "up" the rope, while pulling hard with my right arm to get the rope into my hand and get my hand back up. It backfired. I still remember my face crashing against the cement wall, helmet clunking, the rope sliding through my hand, losing grip.

I was shaking. I couldn't see because my facepiece was fogged over. I'll never forget the sound of my breath wheezing in desperate hitches through the ambient air valve, which sounded like it was about to give out. I couldn't get air. I couldn't think. My Captain was screaming at me: "YOU'RE FINE!"

 That was the most useless thing he'd ever screamed.. And he liked to scream. He was a useless Captain. All we cadets suspected as much but this particular suspicion was confirmed when he yelled at me, "LET GO OF THE ROPE!"

That was the first and last time I ever yelled back at him. "NO!"

I was NOT going to let go of the rope. 

He ordered me to let go. I was NOT going to let go. Period.

All I could think about as my breath rasped in and out, as sweat ran into my eyes, as my fingers tried to curl bone around the rope,  was the hard cold pavement 4+ stories below me. I thought about my friend falling more than a story before being stopped. I wasn't sure who was on belay, if anyone. I couldn't trust that ANYONE was there.   And I thought about my fear. Here I was, dangling high above the ground, facing my most terrifying fear become reality.

 I was going to fall.

You may think I'm exaggerating the situation. I'm not. This is NOT hyperbole; it's EXACTLY what happened that day.

I was flat against the cement wall. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see, and all I could hear was my Captain screaming at me to give up and let go.

 Don't use the argument that he was using "reverse psychology"; he wasn't. This guy was not fit to be a Captain, and only did it for the power trip. He was NOT well respected even among his own ranks...not as a firefighter, and certainly not as a Captain. (This is a fact).  And he'd already written me off, even before that day.

It does NOT help, when facing your worst nightmare, that the one guy who's supposed to be in your corner shouting helpful advice is instead leading the cheer for your destruction.

I still had the rope in a deathgrip. It was a fist-length away from my butt. (Not to be gross; it's just to convey where the rope was, and it's NOT the same thing as "hip". Ask a climber.)

Somehow, I managed to ignore my Captain's screaming....he was at that point screaming from the 4th floor balcony, just below me. I would have given him "The Finger" if I had one to spare. I'm thankful now that I did not, it being occupied with keeping me from splattering to the ground.

All I really knew was this: Very simply stated, I resolved only ONE thing: I was NOT. GOING. TO. FALL

There, in the cacaphony of the moment, was a snapshot of clarity; I had to make a decision. I envisioned falling, all that could happen, "good" or bad. None of the options was acceptable. I considered; "What if this is for real? What if there is no one on belay?"   (Remember in reality...I WASN'T sure there was someone on belay.)

This was about survival, and even if my dimwit Captain didn't see it, I did. I couldn't give up. In Law Enforcement training, they taught us that no matter how severe the injury, how intense the pain, how futile the situation....SURVIVE. I'd lived through thier courses, the raids, the tear gas, CS gas, and pepper spray straight to the eyes...twice. I was NOT going to let go of the rope. It was a very conscious decision in a time of panic.

Slowly, I managed to place my feet back against the wall and "walked" upwards, trying to take the weight off the rope. As I did this, the rope slid ever further, until it was only the pressure of the two first fingers of my  thickly-gloved right hand, pressed against the lower portion of my thigh. that kept me suspended.

It was agony. Every single muscle was shaking. I was crying, both from fear and the agony of trying to survive. From the punishment of the words of my Captain who clearly wanted me dead.  From the pain of my breath rasping harshly in my throat. From the frustration of not being able to see.

From the fear I was about to fall to my death to the great rejoicing of the one guy who was supposed to be on my side..but obviously wasn't.

I was not much of a Catholic at the time, but I was trying, and I had always believed in Guardian Angels. In that moment, I said a prayer to my Guardian Angel for help, but nothing happened. I asked God for mercy, and begged for help. I just wanted the rope back in my hand. That was all.

Carefully, I began to wiggle the tip of my finger, trying to work the rope back towards my palm. My Captain was still screaming at me to let go and give it up. I ignored him. He was an ass.

I slid again...and the rope was back where it had been. So I rocked to my left again and worked my fingers against the rope. My entire weight was suspended on one finger. Just one finger.  One leather-gloved finger.

Not giving up.

Slowly, the rope worked into my palm as I fought my fear to try to follow useful directions now being given by one of the other Captains, who had taken over my direction in that crisis as he was not interested in seeing me crash. My own Captain was pouting silently at this point. (I have a cartoon image in my mind of this Captain being bound and gagged by my Guardian Angel).

Somehow, the rope was back in my palm, and as I had descended, the rope had gotten lighter. It was time to invert at the 4th floor balcony. I inverted, swung inward...and found the rope sliding exactly where I wanted it. I was still shaking and panting with effort, the rope was heavy, but the remainder of the rappel went smoothly until I finally stepped off the wall and onto the cement apron.

Life in Defiance of Willed Destruction 

When I think about that day, I can still feel the rope in my hand, I can still see the pavement below me, and I can still hear my Captain shouting at me. But none of it matters; because on that day, I made a very conscious decision NOT to give up. I made a decision for survival and for life, even though the loudest voice was crying for destruction. Somewhere, in that maelstrom, I found God, I found trust, and I found a spine I didn't know I had.

Oddly enough, I look back on that moment of time with immense affection. Although it was a time of great suffering, it was, ultimately, a great triumph. Even though it might not seem very noteworthy to most people, it meant a great deal to me, and I pray I will never forget what it was like to know that all was lost...and then find the rope back in my palm again, refusing to give up - no matter what.

I just wish I had that kind of spine and discipline in my spiritual life.

*
Lent, 2010:  I'm still looking for the same kind of survival instinct in my spiritual life. But because I know I had it then, it encourages me now, I hope it is there for you, too, even if that proverbial rope is teasing the last bit of skin of your fingertips......


Don't give up. Don't ever give up, no matter WHO is screaming at you to let go...hold fast and keep trying!  
*

The Glory of God and Olympic Gold

I have always dreamed of winning an Olympic medal, and I even remember the moment I made the decision. And yes, it was a "decision."  From day one, it wasn't a mere "dream", but something I set my mind on doing and never actually questioned whether or not it was possible. With typical childhood enthusiasm, I "knew" that I was going, AND I was going to win a medal!

Even though I was young, you see, I understood something very important about the Olympic Games:  just to go was an incredible accomplishment.  To win:   the GREATEST.

But there was an element of charity in my thought process, for I wasn't going to do this for myself, but for my cousin. I recall hearing that she was training for the Olympics, and every so often we'd get updates.  The time for the Olympic trials was coming:  would she make the cut?  As I recall, she was one everyone EXPECTED to make the team. Then, the day before Trials, she was practicing some of her dives on the trampoline...and fell.  Her broken arm resulted in broken Olympic dreams and she decided to move on with her life instead of training for another four years.

I of course didn't understand why she didn't continue to train, but did, in a way, grasp her disappointment.  I couldn't do anything to help, so I decided right then that I would, someday, go to the Olympics in her honor. I never told her this, thinking to save it for the right moment. (To this day she doesn't know about this!)

That summer as we watched the Games, the first I really remember, my family asked me which sport I wanted. I liked the horses (of course!) but otherwise wasn't too sure.  Then, the following winter I happened to be flipping channels and discovered SKIING!  After watching, entranced, I decided that THAT was my sport!  After all, I knew how to jump on a sled and fly quickly down a hill. All I had to do was, well, do it standing up!

I begged and begged for skis, I begged to be taken somewhere to learn, and every weekend I waited for sports tv to come on so that I could look for skiing.  Unfortunately, Illinois is NOT a good place for aspiring ski racers and Mom deemed our sledding hill to be insufficient for my dreams. She did happen to provide a couple of red Fischer-Price "skis" for me, but after only one attempt, I realized they weren't even CLOSE to what I needed, and I refused to use them.  (The Diva in me emerged that early!).

I didn't actually get an opportunity to learn to ski until I was 17, and that day, after realizing the bunny hill was boring and useless, and I couldn't stand up, I hit the lift and went to a big hill, hoping survival mode would kick in.  It did.  As I was headed for a huge cliff and a flimsy orange snow fence, having watched other skiers for a half hour or so from the bunny hill, I knew my skis needed to go sideways TOGETHER....and I began doing parallel turns. About 5  In my 20's, my 4th time ever skiing downhill, I volunteered for the Ski Patrol....and the following fall/winter finally had the opportunity for formal instruction.  I began racing that same year, went to State Individuals that spring, and took 4th place.

Um...I should mention that there were only 4 racers in my age group.

I raced for a few years, enjoyed my time on the Ski Patrol, but my life was moving on and I had to make some hard decisions.  I realized by then (long before, actually!) that I'd never win an Olympic medal, that skiing was all I hoped it would be and more, and...very real surprise...I had a very natural ability in it!   But skiing had to go, and so the last few years haven't involved much of it for me.

I've always wondered, though, what might have happened had we grown up near a ski area of any sort, if I had REAL racing talent and whether I'd ever have the real drive and fearlessness of the greats.  The world will just have to suffer as it ponders that incredible question.

 God's Glory Revealed in Humanity

One of the things I love about the Olympics, and love even more thanks to my theological education, is the way God's Glory shines in these events.

In the Papal Encyclical, Redemptor Hominis, paragraph 10, John Paul II wrote about "Man's amazement at himself" and how God is glorified in His creation: in humanity.  As anyone familiar with his works will know, John Paul II frequently quoted the Vatican II document Gaudium et spes, 22, in how our Redeemer, Jesus, "fully reveals man to himself, making his supreme calling clear."   Over the last few years, we've frequently read this passage, regarding the human dimension of our redemption in Christ, the amazement at our very humanity, the very GIFT of our humanity. It's often been the subject of meditation, if not only mere study.

When I watch these Olympic Games, I wonder if I am experiencing perhaps one of the things John Paull II himself may have experienced when watching and participating in winter sports over the years of his life (he was an avid skier.)  I am taking note of the human ingenuity that invented so many of these sports and, in the incredible abilities of the athletes to constantly go further and faster.  I am more and more amazed at the ability of the human body not just to adapt, but to continue to push onward, to new and greater things, aided by technology, physics, all things that have, as their ultimate beginning.....God.

I even find humor in these sports we love to watch, and of course, participate in if we are able. While I tend to only watch a few of the summer games, it's the Winter Sports that have my undivided attention, and, to my way of thinking, show the greatest human ingenuity.  What do humans do in the cold, harsh conditions that cover the northern hemisphere for half the year, and the southern for the other half?

WE INVENT COOL STUFF TO DO! 


And then we compete!

We humans looked at the mountains and once we climbed them, said, "There must be a better way to get down."  Thus we have the advent of skis:  2 waxed boards can get one from summit to valley in a very short period of time!  It's not a huge jump to see how one can get from sledding to luge and skeleton and bobsleigh.   It's not hard to see how one can go from saying, "Speed isn't enough;  I wanna learn to fly!" and thus we have aerials and nordic ski jumping,  then snowboarding and skier/boarder cross...etc.

The Winter sports in general point, in some sense, to how the Glory of God is revealed in Man, and it brings me to my knees in amazement and gratitude. How BEAUTIFUL humanity is!  How incredible! What ingenuity!  What Glory of God is His creation!  As fallen as we are, as terrible and sinful, we HAVE to also take note of our beauty in the intellect and will God gave to us to be able to do such amazing things.  After all, we were created out of love, for love, to love God, and we have to see not just the sin that brought our redemption, but those things, our inherent dignity and even BEAUTY that makes us worthy of Redemption in God's own eyes!

OLYMPIC GOLD

The other day, having watched her for years now, I saw hometown girl Lindsey Vonn finally take her first Gold medal, on what was maybe one of, if not THE most dangerous, icy and bumpy downhill courses in the history of the Olympic Games. And she did it with an incredibly painful injury to her shin.  I watched her interview at the end, and cried with her, unable to help myself as it was such an emotional moment. I confess I often used to imagine what such a moment would be like! Seeing her live was a moment of joy so many of us could share with her.  I remember when she was an up-and-coming racer, and I remember her crash in Torino four years ago.  In my estimation she has really worked for this and deserves this medal!

I can't forget her tearful, joyful interview after the race.   "This is my dream! This means EVERYTHING to me! I  have sacrificed EVERYTHING for this. It means EVERYTHING to me!"

I understood her sentiment, and rejoiced, but was surprised in that I was also a little taken aback.

"Everything?"   No, I thought to myself, "...a Gold Medal isn't worth "everything."  I was further surprised to catch myself thinking, "You sacrificed EVERYTHING...for something so...finite?"

I do not mean here to denigrate ANYTHING Lindsey Vonn has accomplished. I'm THRILLED for her and remain so, and also realize that power of the moment she was in. I realize her sacrifice and that yes, she truly has sacrificed so much of herself, of everything, for so many years!  I have nothing but the greatest respect for ALL of the Olympic aspirants and athletes out there and I will forever love the Games.

Rather, I am trying to explain something going on within me that signals a change in my own values, for at one time, I would have been willing to give EVERYTHING for the chance to obtain such an award as an Olympic medal.

But...well...although Olympic Gold would mean a great deal to me, and undeniably it is supremely cool, and one of the greatest accomplishments available to mankind, well....it's not everything. And it's not worth everything. And I'm not willing to sacrifice everything to obtain it.

I realized in that moment that while our humanity and pinnacles of accomplishment reveal God's Glory, and in revealing His Glory to us, causes us to be amazed at our very humanity, in what we can accomplish, through Him, through sacrifice and suffering...I saw none other than...Jesus.  I saw the Cross, I saw our Redemption and came to a greater understanding of the love God has for us...and for Lindsey, whom He brought through her years of suffering and sacrifice to win the Gold in her moment of triumph.

"God fully reveals Man to himself, making his supreme calling clear."  (GS, 22)

Yes...He does.  And He uses everyday people to do it, and people often become His unwitting agents.

If I was going to sacrifice EVERYTHING, if I was going to give EVERYTHING, in order to possess something, I would no longer desire that that "something" be a Medal.

I want Christ Himself, and nothing else.

There is nothing else worth living for, and nothing else worth dying for...but for Him, and love of Him.

Let the world keep its medals. I don't want them anymore. I can do more and BE more with God alone.


*********

References:

***  Papal Encyclical Letter, John Paull II,  Redemmptor Hominis, 10:    ""This...is why Christ the Redeemer 'fully reveals man to himself.' If we may use the expression, this is the human dimension of the mystery of the redemption. In this dimension man finds again the greatness, dignity, and value that belong to his humanity."


* ** Vatican II Document, Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World,  Gaudium et spes, 22. "The truth is that only in the mystery of the incarnate Word does the mystery of man take on light. For Adam, the first man, was a figure of Him Who was to come, namely Christ the Lord. Christ, the final Adam, by the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love, fully reveals man to man himself and makes his supreme calling clear. It is not surprising, then, that in Him all the aforementioned truths find their root and attain their crown.


He Who is "the image of the invisible God" (Col. 1:15),  is Himself the perfect man. To the sons of Adam He restores the divine likeness which had been disfigured from the first sin onward. Since human nature as He assumed it was not annulled,  by that very fact it has been raised up to a divine dignity in our respect too. For by His incarnation the Son of God has united Himself in some fashion with every man. He worked with human hands, He thought with a human mind, acted by human choice  and loved with a human heart. Born of the Virgin Mary, He has truly been made one of us, like us in all things except sin.


As an innocent lamb He merited for us life by the free shedding of His own blood. In Him God reconciled us  to Himself and among ourselves; from bondage to the devil and sin He delivered us, so that each one of us can say with the Apostle: The Son of God "loved me and gave Himself up for me" (Gal. 2:20). By suffering for us He not only provided us with an example for our imitation, He blazed a trail, and if we follow it, life and death are made holy and take on a new meaning.

Living the Paradox of the Cross

We can't get away from it. Even people who profess to be Catholic deny the glory of the Cross in favor of the gospel of "positive thinking".

There are some who still cannot, or simply refuse, to accept the paradox of folly and glory that belongs to our Redemption through the Cross of Christ.

Today at work, a co-worker popped into our office to indulge, as he always does, in a salty snack we keep in a cookie jar for visitors such as himself.  I was headed down the hallway at the same time as he, and commented that I can't have those fun snacks anymore. I wasn't lamenting, but rather recognizing the joy in choosing something greater than a pleasure of the flesh. (And believe me, I LOVE those salty snacks, which is why I'm giving them up for lent, and yes, it IS already a struggle!).  I thought nothing of my comments for, we are all Catholics and we are all quite familiar and often joke about our chosen lenten penances.

Apparently I was wrong to be so comfortable, for condemnation came quickly. 

The co-worker surprised me.  He accused me (yes, that's the right word), ACCUSED me of "taking a negative attitude."  I disagreed and explained that deprivation is a very important part of the theology of Lent. He insisted that it was "negative" and asked why I don't take up another practice (and here he surprised me) such as praying the Rosary every day, making it "positive"?

I explained that first of all, I ALREADY pray the Rosary every day, and secondly, that depriving ourselves of something is positive, for it enables a place for Christ to enter into our own deprivation and fulfill it in a new way.

And he walked away saying that he deprives himself of leisure time by praying the Rosary...yet somehow didn't seem to understand that my deprivation of salty foods is the same thing.  While he condemned my choice of phrase and focus, that of deprivation, he eventually admitted to doing the same thing in another way!

I understand that he's trying to be "positive" as a lot of modern "Catholic" theology exhorts one to be, and yes, I agree with the need to be positive, but with a caveat:  we can't forget the price of our ability to be positive!

Why do we deprive ourselves for Lent?

This gets to the heart of Lent, and the heart of misunderstanding that is often perpetuated during this very holy season.  While I agree it is important to maintain a joyful focus, we cannot forget the price in blood that paid for our salvation, and I advance that it is IMPORTANT to recall the suffering and death of our Lord, to enter into it as fully as possible so that we can more fully live out His life here on earth!

There are many ways to explain why we choose to give up something during Lent, so perhaps it's best to point out the historicity of the season as a starting point.

We begin Lent with a Gospel reading from Luke 4: 1-13, about the baptism of Jesus and His venture into the desert/wilderness to face temptation.  We enter this Gospel having already begun this season, having already taken stock of our own need to join Our Lord in this time of prayer and penance and sacrifice in preparation for what God has to offer us in 40 days.

During Lent, we are invited into the same deprivation faced by Jesus. Because we can't all flee our lives and populate the desert as hermits, we are instead called to fast, pray, and give alms.  In our fasting, we must fast from some legitimate good that is in our lives (or if it has become sinful, we are called to recognize that and seek to eradicate it). We are called to allow that deprivation to create a "hollow" place within us where Our Lord can enter the rot of our souls and purify it, becoming united to us through out weaknesses.  We are called to in turn, take that deprivation and turn it into a benefit for someone else, through time, through money saved, or through our own God-given abilities, to benefit and build the Kingdom of God.

If we truly love God, we will fruitfully love others and enable the ongoing live of the Church and the spread of Christianity.  None of this can be done without giving fully of ourselves in true charity, which at its heart requires us to be deprived of our worldly attachments in some way.

To say we are "giving something up" may seem in the parlance of the "Positive Thinker" cult to be "negative", but in reality, it is only a way to make room for something far greater!

Lent helps us to get rid of the clutter that serves only as a barrier to Christ in order to let Him in to order our lives more perfectly. It helps us, each year, to come closer and closer to Him, purifying ourselves to better receive Him, to conform to Him...and to better take Him into the world that so desperately needs Jesus and the message of the Gospel!

Oh, the Folly!

In my co-worker today, in our brief conversation, I recognized a ghost of the heresy of the early days that denied the triumph of the Cross, that sought to turn Jesus into a mere apparition, the Cross into a Broadway play even before Broadway was known.  In some of the early heresies, Christ was made into anything other than what He really was, for when we look upon the reality of God become Man, the God we killed and abandoned upon the Gibbet, the blood-stained Gibbet that both condemns and elevates us, well....it's not an easy reality.  It's much easier to deny Truth than to approach and embrace it.

It's much easier to seek any explanation OTHER than the real one, especially if the reality is folly to the comfortable beliefs of the majority of the world around us that refuses to believe.

And there, again, is the folly and the Glory of the Cross. 

We enter into Lent to become abandoned ourselves in the face of the world that ridicules our ashes, our practices, and our deprivations, exhorting us to "be positive!" even as we seek to enter into and become united not just with the shadow, but with the reality of the Cross itself!  We seek to abandon ourselves to God in a world that seeks to control us by demanding we "take control!" only in accordance with their arbitrary preferences.  We seek abandonment in a world that becomes more and more totalitarian, and less and less tolerant to any religion that professes the Cross of Christ.

We should not expect the world to understand, but rather to offer our sufferings and encounters for the salvation of souls...including our own.  When we are harshly judged, we must recall those times that we have harshly judged others, and seek absolution for ourselves while we in turn remember that we must live heroic forgiveness.

That's what I said:  Heroic Forgiveness.

What I find hardest to bear in this season isn't the denial and the ridicule of secularists and non-Catholics, but the outright denial and in-your-face hostility of those who claim the Catholic Faith.  I expect hostility from the world, and solidarity in my closest brothers and sisters.  Rather, I tend to experience the opposite, for the Catholic world has been so infected with the heresies of the ages that those who seek to embrace the Cross are denounced, called out as "antiquated" and directed to let go of "irrelevance".

I do not want to live in a world where the Cross is irrelevant. I do not want to embrace a world that denies the necessity of salvation while claiming the more attractive trappings for the purpose of personal self-seeking comfort.

And yet..it is just such a world that we are all called to embrace, for it is the same world into which God was born and redeemed through His Cross and Resurrection.

As I recall, Our Lord did not suffer mere comfort in serving to pay the Divine Justice through His Mercy for the sake of our eternal Redemption.

As I recall, the deprivations of Christ far surpassed any deprivations we might suffer as mere humans.

As I recall, there was nothing "fun" or "entertaining" but for the most bloodthirsty and evil in the Passion and Crucifixion of Our Lord.

As I recall, Jesus began the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass at the Last Supper where He instituted the Priesthood in the formal Ordination of the Apostles, and offered the first Homily in union with His Eternal Sacrifice as He died on the Cross.

In light of the holiness and solemnity of the Passion of Christ, the price paid for our Redemption, I don't see how my giving up salty foods or a few other things can be seen as a "negative" approach to Lent. Rather, I see it as being quite insufficient and am quite embarrassed at my own meager offering. What I give up, I give up with a sense of deprivation, but also in joy at the freedom to do so, looking towards the Joy of the Resurrection, for I do not see these present sufferings as anything other than the grace of God which allows me to participate more deeply into to the most important moment of human history.

If that is folly, then condemn me for my folly, for I'd rather be a Fool in the eyes of the world than Irrelevant in the eyes of God. Give me my deprivations, for they are greater gifts than the emptiness of the false happiness of the world.  And give me this ungrateful and hostile world to embrace, for if that is what Christ did...so must we all who profess to follow Him.

Please, Lord, give us the grace to LIVE the Paradox of the Cross! 

Thank You, Jesus

O Happy Fault

I think I fully realized this morning one of my biggest struggles in the spiritual life:   it's backwards. I have it COMPLETELY backwards.

Every morning I wake up with a sense of regret that I cannot shake. I'm repentent of my sin and as I rise, I know I need to do better and resolve, that day, to overcome this or that sin (or at least make SOME kind of effort to avoid it!). 

But then I slip again, maybe several times, and by the time I reach the end of the day, I've actually come to the point of "giving up."  I maybe give in to the sin completely, maybe even set myself up for failure. I quite literally go from "I'm not doing that again!" to a sense of apathy toward it.  Maybe even if it was not deliberately done earlier in the day, but the end I may be actually CHOOSING deliberate sin!

Then I remember the grace of the Sacrament of Confession and wonder...should I even go? I must not be truly repentent! And I feel guilty for my presumption upon God's mercy.  Thankfully, that's when I recall the words of St. Catherine of Siena, in the revelation of God to her; that while presumption is a grave sin, it keeps the door open to His mercy! 

God's generosity is absolutely scandalous!

Already it is the day after Ash Wednesday and I have failed in one of my resolves. Yet, this new and interesting revelation of my backwards spiritual life maybe means I need to change or adapt my resolves a little bit. It's a new perspective, and maybe something I can actually change over these 40 days. 

As I pondered this morning, I realized that perhaps THIS is why we begin this season with a day of fasting. In the emptiness of our stomachs we are assailed by the temptations of the flesh, the very things we need to overcome. It is a spiritual battle, but also a battle with our own deformed wills that reveals the way we've trained our own intellects to choose things over the God who loves us so much.  In recognizing what we desire to fill our emptiness, we enter the season with more clarity, perhaps learning more about what GOD desires us to work on.

It is a time of suffering, something we have the freedom to choose, but not for the sake of suffering itself. Rather, it is a chance to recognize our own weaknesses so that we can invite Christ into them and allow Him to transform us.  Only HE can break the chains that bind us....and only if we give Him permission to do so. Our Lenten penances are in and of themselves acts of sacrifice love, a giving of ourselves to the Lord, seeking to be free from an earthly attachment that may keep us from growing closer to him.

I am grateful for the generosity of God, for without it, I would have been lost long ago. Although I'm starting this season of Lent with an early failure, there is hope, even if my hope comes at the cost of presumption, it is better than giving up and closing the door to the sacrificial love that begets mercy.

O happy fault....

*******
Helpful advice to all from St. Francis de Sales as we begin Lent:

"Have patience with all things,

but chiefly have patience with yourself.

Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections,

but instantly set about remedying them

- every day begin the task anew."

An Observation

The "sidewalk" outside my door at my town home complex isn't so much a "sidewalk" as it is a luge course without all the cool slopes and turns.

The least they could do for what we're paying in Association fees every month is provide a luge sled so we can go from our doors to the driveway and down the block to the bus stop in record time.

It's not like anyone is actually using these areas for "walking".  A fast-running vehicle with waxed metal blades is much more appropriate to the circumstances and would get a great deal more use than the things we normally just put on our feet.

I'm just sayin'.

And for aspiring Luge Racers....come to my neighborhood...if you can't luge here, you can't luge anywhere!

Lord Who Threw Out These 40 Days?

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

********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

Ash Wednesday

So it begins. Another Lent has come.

Each year I make resolutions in seeking to purify my passions, to regain control and in so doing, to turn back to God again.  It always seems that Lent comes just when I am really struggling with something, so it's almost a relief.  I don't know what it is, perhaps the grace of the season, that helps me to let go and fall into God's mercy; a very welcome refuge.

This year, I will also be trying to incorporate what I learned in the silence of the monastery. It's not something I can explain, but only seek to reproduce; it's an interior attitude that I don't think can be cultivated but has to be first experienced in some kind of a purified manner.  (As I said...I can't explain it!)

This morning I awoke breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that we enter this desert of Lent, knowing that today is a day of fasting and penance and prayer, knowing that it will be a struggle.  Yet the terms of this struggle are somewhat defined and we do not go into it alone, but follow the footsteps of Our Lord who goes before us and leads us into the solitude that will ultimately take us through the dark days of His Passion and Death.  It is only through this journey that we can fully enter into the joy of the Resurrection.

Vocation and Being the Enjoyment of the Beloved

Yesterday was the celebration of lust and materialism that this country calls "Valentine's Day."

For me, historically, it's one of the worst days of the calendar year and is quite antithetical to the true meaning of love and charity.  It's a day of personal tragedy for me and one I wish I could avoid...every year.

Yet, even in my avoidance of the day, God revealed His love for me, and did so again today, through a messenger I would not have expected.

Yesterday, I received an invitation to visit a cloistered community, free from pressure, all focused on what God wants of me, and with assurances of prayers from that community for my ongoing discernment.  It was a nice message and I replied, accepting the invitation albeit I won't be making the visit for months!

Today, though, revealed another facet.

This afternoon I went to a local restaurant to pick up my dinner. I am a fairly regular customer there, and go there because it is a Mom & Pop shop, the owners belong to a local Christian church and clearly run their business upon Christian values.  They get to know their customers and allow their customers to get to know them.  Last summer I learned of Mrs. Owner's pregnancy, I learned of the new addition to their family a couple months ago, complete with cute baby pictures, and today, I walked in and greeted the little darling and thanked him for "helping" his daddy at work!  

The owner and I chatted a little while he proudly cradled his very cute, smiling infant son, and the man asked me if I had children.

"No", I replied, wiggling my ring-free fingers.  "I'm not married.  I like children, but I don't believe God is calling me to marriage."

The man seemed to be a bit taken aback by such a statement. It's a reaction I expected;  I find that many non-Catholics have the same reaction to it, as they don't really have the same teaching or concept of "Vocation" as do we Catholics.  It's either Marriage or.....what?  Because of this, usually when a non-Catholic asks me about marriage and children, I just smile and change the subject.

Today, though, for some reason, maybe because the product of their love was present with us, I shared my own heart as well.  After all, my heart and soul are all I possess. 

But this man had something to say, and it bears repeating.  He understood the reference to God's call of course, and that God is the center of all that we do and believe. But he couldn't let it go.He clearly didn't understand my statement of not sensing a call, from God, to Marriage.  Looking me directly in the eye, he said, "Well, if you ever find that one person who just....ENJOYS YOU,  who just enjoys you for who you are, just...really ENJOYS YOU....he's probably the one."  

He didn't break eye contact.

In that moment, I heard the voice of God speaking through him.  It was John Paul II's Theology of the Body coming through a man who has probably never even heard of it.

I found the man's comment particularly compelling because, well, he wasn't telling me to focus on what I WANTED but rather to look beyond myself to the OTHER, and the reaction of the OTHER towards me as a woman, deserving of love.  This man looked at me through the eyes of one who saw my dignity as a woman worthy of being loved, and one who could not comprehend that anyone would ever NOT recognize that dignity inherent within themselves.

I realized also that he was speaking of his own experience of love for his wife, there, while holding their son, their third child.  But rather than telling me to focus on MY enjoyment of another, he was asking me to look beyond and to recognize the true enjoyment of ANOTHER...of....ME.

And....it didn't sound like selfishness.

It was a juxtaposition I didn't expect..He wasn't speaking of lust.  He is a decent man, and was speaking of something far deeper than the secular idea of lust in the place of love.  He was looking through the eyes of self-sacrifice and getting to the heart of marriage and what it is.  The "Enjoyment" of which he was speaking was a love that transcends, a love that looks to the other as something, someone, worth obtaining through great sacrifice.

He didn't say all of this, but it was right there in his expression, in what I know of him and his family, in the very obvious love he has for them, and in the sincere respect he has for everyone who walks through the doors to his business.

This man has given me something to consider, that being the true ENJOYMENT of the Other in the relationship.  We all know that in marriage, one enjoys the other and wills their good.

What is Vocation? 

Today's random conversation goes back to maybe one of my own personal hangups, for I always tend to approach Vocation from the perspective of sacrifice, yet knowing I should be delighting in God, which I do. Yet I always seem to forget that He delights in ME as well!  I tend to forget that in a true human relationship, the man delights in the woman and vice versa. It's not a one way street.

Yet I always seem to make it so, ESPECIALLY when the object of my love is God. I find it impossible that the Creator of the Universe the One who called me into being, would actually delight in.....me.

As I focus on discernment of my Vocation, I constantly seek to be what God wants me to be. I am looking to holiness, to "measuring up", to being everything a Bride of Christ SHOULD be.  I focus on the objective standard of the Mother of God, and of Christ Himself. I focus on finding my joy in HIM, and as selfish as I am as a human being, I have never taken the time to really meditate on how, well....I am worthy of delight.

I don't think in all my years of dating that any man has ever "delighted in" me.  I know I have been the object of lust, and that's all I was, and I thought it was love. I don't know that I was EVER introduced to the idea of the chaste "delight" in the beloved, one for another.

I knew that sex was sacred, was to be ordered within the Sacrament of Marriage, and that love was a driving force. But the actual idea of "enjoyment" of one for another...that was an absent connection. It SHOULD be natural, yet in our culture, we miss that chaste enjoyment in favor of lust or focusing on the purpose of marriage.  In all the dichotomy of our current culture of extremes, we tend to miss out on the simplicity, the most basic and natural part of the love of man and woman; the simple delight in the very person of another, in their very humanity,  a delight that demands nothing, asks nothing...simply revels in mere existence.

Thanks to this simple encounter this afternoon, I have something more to consider. I may never forget the comment directed directly TO me, something I never even thought to ASK for or recognize, for it was never on my radar screen.  Yet, I agree, it's important and I suspect ever married couple, every religious sister, at some point recognized the same truth in their relationship:   The Bridegroom DELIGHTS IN the Beloved!  He ENJOYS her!

I confess...I don't know what that means. I've NEVER experienced it!  Ever!  This lack in my own life is what I recognized in friends years ago, and which drove me to break up with the man I thought I loved;  for I saw that he did not love me.

But I've never been the "target" of that loving gaze of pure enjoyment. Ever. I don't know what it looks like. I don't know what it's like to be the focus of such delight, and if I do experience it, I don't know how to recognize or respond to it.

I don't want anyone to feel "sorry" for me...I'm not writing this post for that purpose. Rather, I am trying to explain a part of discernment that may be absent for many of us, through experience or understanding, for even if it lacks on the natural end, we should be able to seek to understand it through the supernatural. Yet, if it has never been defined, or a part of what we know, how can we recognize it?

Perhaps this Lent, I should meditate on the pure enjoyment of Our Lord for His Beloved, such that He would sacrifice so much to ensure our Union with Him. Perhaps I should make it more personal and recognize my own personal involvement, that it's not about how much I love...but about how much HE loves...and enjoys, not just us...but me.

I pray for the courage not just to understand...but to accept...and respond.

Promised Dog Update

I promised an update after this morning's post.

"Bear" did very well at his debut.  Although he hung very close to me for the most part, as expected,  if someone happened to pat him, he'd try to follow them for more attention. I was surprised to see it. He seemed to honestly be seeking that good attention and willing to meet strangers.

Although he did show his shyness and his puppy-playfulness was absent, this was a good thing as of course, in a crowd it is NOT good to bound around and pounce on random dogs!

At one point he was starting to growl, shake his head, scratch at his ear, and recognizing these as signs of over-stimulation, I took him out of the action and let him hang out in a sheltered area between two fire trucks.

Actually, to be more accurate, Bear decided to hang out UNDER the fire truck. I understood.

A couple people happened by and petted him a bit, but it was calming, not too much for him, and before long he was back on his feet and ready to be social again.

Maybe that's why I understand Bear so well....I'm just like him:  perfectly willing and happy to be social, but if I can't have time in isolation I'll growl and snap and tweak out, too!

Overall, I'm very proud of him;  Bear is indeed a completely different dog than he was when he came to me at the end of December.  He's an ambassador for his breed and I'm still hoping and praying he'll find his forever home soon! Today's event was wonderful and had a good showing of several wonderful breeds and enthusiasts.

One of the things I love about people involved in dog rescues is the fact that we first love dogs; and the breed is secondary. If we can help out another breed, it's worth it, because it's a dog that deserves a good home.  Someone asked me today if the German Shepherd is my "breed of choice" and although they have always been a favorite of mine, I can't say it's the ultimate:  I love Greyhounds (remember my Fire?), and I grew up with a small Bichon-mix. I think I could fall in love with any breed. But outside of that, yes, Shepherds appeal to me for some reason. We butt heads like arch-rivals and match each other like best friends.  It's a recipe for understanding!

Bear's Debut

This morning I'm taking "Bear" and my own dog to an event to obtain some exposure both for the organization I'm with and of course, for him and German Shepherds.

He's as ready as he'll ever be, I guess, so I'm hoping it goes well!

We did have a little setback a couple weeks ago, all my fault:  I traumatized him completely by accident.

There was a "giggle ball" on the floor which I'd seen but had forgotten about, and as I walked towards the livingroom, my errant foot kicked the ball, which went flying into the hardest portion of the couch, made it's typical squeaky noise, right next to Bear who was standing there and not expecting a flying object.  He startled and fled upstairs in terror.

Feeling horrible, I went up after him with treats, hoping to entice him back down to what had suddenly become a chamber of horrors in his mind.

He at first refused, but finally came to me, got half of a treat, then laid down on his dog bed. Then he came to get the other half, took it away, and ate it...all while my other dog was happily crunching away at her own biscuit!

While he DID finally come downstairs that evening, he just wasn't himself.  In fact, that afternoon he'd fled out through my open garage door when I was putting something in the garbage and I had to run out and slowly  coax him back. I seriously thought he was going to run away from me!

At dinner time, the second he saw me with his food dish, he fled upstairs and wouldn't come down.

I kept an eye on him and although this had seemed to start with a behavioral problem (ie I scared him to death), in reality I was realizing he just seemed....sick.  He was behaving like a sick child, isolating in my room, coming down to "go outside" but otherwise wanting to be where he could see me but not where he could be petted.  He didn't want attention unless it was on his terms, which were very short.  It was the, "I don't feel good leave me alone but don't go away!" attitude common to sick children!

The next morning I called the coordinator to talk about taking him to the vet. Thankfully we were able to get in that afternoon, and found that, in fact, Bear wasn't so much traumatized but very ill:  he had an infection from his surgery. The incision had healed just fine, but still had somehow gotten infected. A shot of antibiotics and a 10 day supply to take home has fixed things right up and Bear has bounced back to his normal, everyday goofy happy self.

I'm so relieved!

Bear is as happy-go-lucky as they come, loves to spend time on walks pouncing on my dog and trying to entice her to play.  Unfortunately, my dog tends to be "all business" so the entire show seems like some kind of doggie romance comedy.  If I were using these dogs in a movie, my dog would be voiced over by Susan Sarandon or Glenn Close, and Bear would be Adam Sandler.  (Does that paint the picture for you?)

I expect that Bear will be a bit shy, but perhaps with a bit of encouragement and all the nice people who will want to pet him, he'll find someone who will also want to adopt him.  Such a sweet dog needs to go to his "forever home" so truly I'm hoping his "match" will come along!

So wish us luck this morning...and I'll be sure to provide an update later today.  :-)

Olympics: Behind the Scenes

I'd like to offer a challenge to our local Minnesota NEWS stations.

 I used to be a Ski Patroller here in Minnesota, and loved my service there.  Without the Ski Patrol, believe me, no ski area anywhere would run. During my time, I knew men and women who went to other Ski Areas, other States, and other Nations to serve on their Patrol. Some were regular citizens, some military families.  Most were volunteer, a few became Professional Patrollers.

And then, when the Olympics came to Salt Lake City, some of my fellow Patrollers went out West to be a part of the Games.

I remember receiving the letter under the National Ski Patrol letterhead, and reading it in excitement...but I didn't have the time or the money to go. I wanted to serve my country and all nations, but I didn't have the money or the time to offer during those two weeks. In abject disappointment, I threw the letter away, knowing it wasn't to be.  Not for me.

But I knew others who WERE able to go, and had the financial circumstances that allowed such a trip.

These were regular everyday people, volunteer Ski Patrollers who weren't offered any perks for their service in the Olympics.   They had to pay their own way, they had to fork over the outrageous amounts of money for hotel rooms, for food, and they were not given a preference for their obviously-favorite sport:  downhill skiing.  Nor did they even have the time to ski THEMSELVES while in the Olympic venue! Rather, they volunteered all that they had to be placed at the mercy of the Games, and there, they happily served.

The fact that this is the reality of the volunteers at the Olympic Games, and given that this year has begun with a fatality on the Luge course, I wonder if perhaps the different networks should finally call attention to those unsung souls who help to make the Olympics possible!

Here's what I would like to see:

Portray the Ski Patrol especially as winter is their venue, then the other First Responders. Show how the Ski Patrol volunteers come from ALL the nations, are regular people, and what they sacrifice to be present at the Games, but more importantly, to give of themselves.

Tell THOSE stories.  Without them, the athletes would not be able to compete.  No one can deny the danger of these sporting events, especially this year.

It does not denigrate the Olympic Games or the Athletes themselves to reveal the very enthusiastic support they received from around the world:  the normal, hidden men and women who are ready to pay great amounts in order not just to be present, but to WORK to ensure the safety of the Olympians!

I throw this challenge most especially to KARE11 a local network, an Olympic sponsor.

But I wonder if other networks are also interested, and so I call upon WCCO, KSTP and FOX9!  

I went to both the general and local Olympics websites through NBC and found no way to suggest a story in any realistic manner.. I hope, then, that this blog post might be effective given the fact I know for a FACT  that each network peruses the internet for mentions of their own sites.

(HINT:  This is FREE sponsorship!)

Consider this, then, to be a formal request:

Please highlight the Ski Patrol's role at the Olympics!

 Talk about their own training, sacrifice, and the reality of the unity of  the Ski Patrol throughout the world. Talk about how they came to serve at the Olympics this year, in Vancouver.  

That's a background story worth watching, one to appeal to everyone, even the most average skier....and what a way to participate in history!

Please...someone publicize this story?

It's one worth telling, and the men and women I know who begin to and continue to serve as Ski Patrollers  deserve the recognition. They are, in fact, the unsung heroes of these Games, and ALL Olympic games, in every venue!    

Anyone?

*crickets*

Please make the crickets stop!  

Oprah, Religious Life, and REAL LIFE

I couldn't watch Oprah ** the other day when she hosted the Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist on her show. I was busy at work, living my own life of celibacy, chastity, and, well....obedience, too...if not vowed.

Yes, obedience is the most difficult. Even when one is not vowed.

Although I've only seen a few clips it seems to me that Lisa Ling's time in the convent changed her and I am grateful for her respect, and possibly, friendship with these women. I hope she stays in touch with the Sisters.

From what I've heard of Oprah herself, she was focused on, predictably,  sex and materialism. That's not such a bad thing, for she is a representative of the world, not God. How can we be critical of her questions or her attitude?  Haven't we, as Catholics, enabled and even encouraged such a pluralism?  Isn't it our job as the faithful to engage the needs of this world, and confront head-on what is most contrary to human dignity?

We need to give Oprah credit for this segment, for her willingness to open her show and her heart to the daughters of Dominic and Brides of Christ in their charism, to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ in what is otherwise a land hostile to everything we believe and hold dear.

Oprah should be complimented.

We as Catholics should WRITE to her and reveal our gratitude for her respect for our dear Sisters, our Spiritual Mothers (a title which should be emphasized), for her hospitality and respect not just for the Sisters, but for our very Faith.

In the blogosphere we are so quick to criticize and condemn, but are we ready and willing to compliment?

Do so now.  Please.

Personal Experience

Last summer, as many of my readers know, I visited three religious communities. One active, like the Dominicans of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist, but the others were contemplative or what we call cloistered.

The lifestyles are very different, but the theology...the same. The reality of the lived life is incredible, but not so much a sacrifice as an EXCHANGE. It is, in the words of Fr. Corapi, an exchange for goods that are higher for those that are lower.  It is blackberries and ipods and, with Oprah's obsession, sex, in comparison to the incomparable Lord of Life, marriage to HIM who saves us and gives us all that we NEED versus the random inconsequentials we may want.

The decision is obvious, and as some observed, at the end of the segment, Oprah, who had begun nearly condescending, ended up nearly envying the dear Sisters.

It IS a beautiful life of incredible freedom, and I can at least attest to that!

We all have obligations in our lives. We all must get up at a certain hour and go on with our lives. Even if we don't like the hour, we do it for our careers, don't we?   We do it for SOME reason, and we don't get to dictate that hour from the moment we accept employment, or motherhood or fatherhood or any regular obligation.

But the Sisters accept something more. They agree to the hour of rising, they agree to the life, and in the end, they agree to a marriage to Christ Himself.

As a visitor, I witnessed and in some degree, became a part of this beauty. I saw and experienced, every day,  the lived joy of the Sisters.

It is a life of sacrifice amongst the joy, for there is not a single faithful Religious Sister who does not know the Sorrows of Mary or union with our Crucified Lord.

One Sister expressed to me, during her time there, the cost of her sacrifice. She loved, as I did, the time in prayer in the chapel. Yet at the moment that she was deeply entering into prayer, the time or the bell itself would be calling her to something else. It became her greatest sacrifice to LEAVE Jesus in order to fulfill His will as His spouse!

I experienced some of this, too.  During my retreat I was given a schedule and even when the Sister to whom I was entrusted told me I could spend more time in the chapel, I knew that I had certain duties while there and must attend to them. It seemed that at the greatest point of prayer, it was time to head back to the bakery, or perhaps some other thing, breaking that prayer in order to become the prayer itself in a way I could not understand. I found that I must break even that attachment to my own will, a moment that seemed to be a gift from God, in order to fulfill obedience to a community to which I was not vowed, but deserved my respect in form of conformity to their own vows.

The life of a Religious, a Nun, a Sister,  is a life of sacrifice that reveals the reality of contemplative prayer and loving service which comes to a soul only through obedience and God's own timing.  None can be open to infused prayer without the GRACE of Christ who prepares that soul through the inconvenience of obedience even when that obedience SEEMS to interrupt the deepest moments of communion with God.

It seems a dichotomy to even the most faithful, and it seems an absurdity to the children of this world, who are prudent only in things of this world.

I am glad when the Children of this world are willing to recognize the Children of Light, and even, at the end of their skepticism, find that they are lacking. It is a sign of God's grace.

I do not know to which Vocation I am called, but I do also, like Oprah, continue to seek. So many ridicule her, but I don't have it within me to do the same. I am just as lost, and I have been even MORE lost than she. Perhaps I am so even now.

I thank her publicly for her willingness to host the Sisters, and to treat them, and therefore us all,  so respectfully. In a world, with a popular Media so willing to ridicule all that we believe, all that we live for, we should honor those who reveal even the least bit of true charity. Oprah and Ling have done so.

Thank you, Ms. Winfrey. Thank you, Ms. Ling.  Thank you for your respect, for your openness to our beliefs, our faith, and our Spiritual Mothers.  Thank you.


** Aggie Catholics link to the 4 segments currently available for the Oprah Winfrey/Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist 

Clavis Corde Jesu

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe something more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Faithful

In our Pastoral Theology class, one of the issues that came up is the need to "be all things to all people."  This is where the "trad" vs "liberal" labels are so damaging.  If I express to someone that I have attended the Extraordinary Form of the Mass and LOVED it, I am AUTOMATICALLY labeled as a "traddie" or some similar title.  For that person, the door of communication closes because they will assume that everything I say is going to be "pre-Vatican II". 

If I say to another person that I usually attend the Ordinary Form of the Mass and find it to be just fine when done reverently, perhaps they label me as a "spirit of Vatican II" type.  And then the door to good communication is closed there as well as they will assume anything that comes out of my mouth is going to be tainted with...well...use your imagination. 

And the reality is, both of those attitudes, of enjoying BOTH forms of the Mass, are my attitudes.  I'm right in line with the Pope on this one, for, as he points out, the two forms are supposed to be MUTUALLY ENRICHING, which means it allows for the proper organic growth and change that has always characterized the practices of the Church over the centuries. 

But I don't want to get into a bunch of nit-picking about liturgy or who's right or what Vatican II really said vs. what people want to believe it said.  (Read the documents, people. The ACTUAL documents themselves!).

What I want to say is this:   DANG IT, JUST LET ME BE A FAITHFUL CATHOLIC! 

Thank you, peace be with you.... et cum spiritu tuo. Amen.

I feel better now.

PICTURE THIS!

It's time for "Story Time With Adoro". So settle in with your hot cocoa or tea or, if you really need something harder, then your beer, wine or multiple shots of JD to get you through it. I'll wait....

Ready?  OK!

This week I've reconnected via Facebook with several college friends. Some are people I went back to college-town to see for a couple years after graduation, over big breaks or even just to get out of the Cities. I've mentioned before the bluffs of Winona, and there is something to be said for being a solitary Being in the center of such earthly formations....not to mention the evenings with good friends, cheap beer and lots of laughter!

Tonight I had a "chat" with one of those long-lost friends, and believe me, we go way back to freshman year. Some of what we discussed reminded me of a particular event, of which he was actually not a part. Just the same, I was laughing out loud at the memory of my first "keg bust', something I haven't thought of in YEARS!

Are you paying attention now?

This probably isn't what you'd expect.

As Sophia Would Say:  Picture This!

It was nearing the near-end of the semester and I had a test, maybe a Midterm, early the next morning. I also had a MASSIVE cold and had taken the proper dose of Nyquil in order to get some sleep that night.

Sometime in the wee hours, though, the phone rang. In my Nyquil-induced haze, I picked it up, wondering what I was supposed to do with that noise-making thing. Out of pure habit I brought it to my ear and can't say I was terribly surprised to hear the Security Supervisor on duty say, "There's a party going on in the bluffs."

I sniffed as I contemplated this voice coming from the handset. "Oh Kay"

Supervisor: "They have a keg."

Me:  "Ah."

Supervisor  "We have to get the tap."

Me, staring confusedly into thin air:  "Oh Kay."    *click!*

I hung up and after several minutes, realized I'd just agreed to help bust a party. After all, it was my job....well...kinda. Not really knowing what I was doing, I got dressed and headed into the sharp chill of a dewy May night in Minnesota.

By the time Jim let me in and I had my bearings, I was wondering what I was doing out of bed and at work in my condition. But instead of dropping back into a coma on the spot, I found myself following Jim, and in the company of a couple other confused and sleepy security "officers", we walked across the field, over the creek, and into the bluffs...where we found a keg party complete with dancing ninjas at what we called the Shroom Shack.

Oh, wait....some of that might have been the Nyquil.

But I do recall a brief confrontation, I recall that the crowd disbursed, and that when Jim told them the college rules, some guy, as if scripted, complained,  "But that's not fair!"

In my sleepiness I muttered to him, "The Fair's in July...you'll have to come back then...  *yawn*"

Jim and I carried the keg and the tap down with us to the office. During that walk I pondered why the carnies weren't carrying the keg down...then I remembered it wasn't July.

When we finally got there and had a chance to rest, I thought that keg might actually be a pillow. So Jim gave me a pen and paper and at his direction I wrote, 'Merry Christmas!" and put that post-it note on the keg as a very early gift for the Director of Security, who would come in the next morning to find this "gift" in his office.

Then I stood up and said, "I'm going to bed now" and proceeded to stagger down the hallway, out the door, down the sidewalk, into my dorm, and into my room where I think I might actually have collapsed on the floor because climbing onto the top bunk was too much work.

Can't tell you how I did on my final but I KNOW I got a degree from that University, so I must have done OK.

Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to that keg, though.....

*yawn*  

But I don't care enough for it to keep me awake at night.....

Juxtaposition of Cloister and Prison

I've been seriously discerning the contemplative life, which often (although not always) translates to entering a cloistered community.

My regulars will recall that last summer I visited two cloistered communities: my beloved Dominicans and shockingly, the Cistercians.  Unfortunately I didn't have NEARLY enough time with the Dominincans of Summit, NJ, although my time there was incredibly fruitful. And my weekend with the Cistercians has also borne fruit I could not have predicted nor understood without the luxury of time, prayer, and discernment.

In Summit, we discussed the nature of the cloister in response to the unbelieving world that would demand that those who answer a Call to such a life must be "running away". Sister gave me her own explanation, one that has carried through the ages and lives even today, for it is at the heart of any Vocation:

A Garden Enclosed:

What does a married couple do when they are married?  They steal away to be together, to enjoy each other, to be alone together, out of sight of the prying eyes of the world that cannot participate in such an intimate love.

So it is with a cloistered nun, who goes away into the garden with her Beloved Bridegroom, to be enclosed with Him, and there to bear spiritual fruit for the rest of the world. There they commune, but not just for themselves, for they, together, live sacrificially in order to benefit all who come to their doorstep...and all of those who don't.

The Interior Cloister 

I haven't read Corrie Ten Boom, although her works are well within my wish-list.  Over our Christmas vacation I read "Interior Freedom" by Fr. Jacques Philippe, and he quotes her several times. For those who are unfamiliar with her, she was a Dutch Protestant woman imprisoned in a Nazi extermination camp, and there, she found true freedom.

Her insights, even through the lens of another, have helped me understand my own discernment more clearly, articulate it more coherently, and hopefully, to understand more perfectly what God may be calling ME to be.

I've never been one to question the "use" of cloistered life, but then, growing up Catholic,even without direct  exposure to such an idea, the Saints never seemed to have a problem so why should any who chooses to follow in their footsteps? It never bothered me that St. Teresa of Avila or St. Therese of Lisieux was cloistered, and it was never a part of our family to question their "usefulness" especially considered we prayed for their help all the time.  Who asks for the help of someone who has nothing to give?

It is only as an "enlightened" adult that I have come into the sphere of those so worldly they think of everything only in terms of "use", including marriage and children and the elderly.  It is only through the limiting eyes of the "enlightened" that we must answer to the Divine Call of God, to those seeking utility, for the intensity of the discernment process itself rules out those seeking mere "escape". The religious life, and I daresay, the Priesthood, is a life lived intensely, and is far more real than ANYTHING we can find in the so-called "real" world.

Surrender to God

 Discerning a Vocation isn't a matter of mere emotional experience, or an ability to intellectually explain to oneself or others the reason and being for the mystery of God's personal invitation.  Rather, it is a cohesive absorption of everything of God, surrender to Him and Him Alone, that allows any soul to find who they really are.

If you read the writings of those who have been imprisoned, especially unjustly, and even more especially those who are so for religious reasons, you are able to enter into their own transformation. Corrie Ten Boom and others have observed that after a time, they no longer recognize the walls of the prison that holds them, or the hardships that perhaps seek to destroy them.

Rather, they recognize a deep interior freedom, an interior cloister that belongs to God alone, and because of the prison walls, they find that they become who God intended them to be from Eternity, and see that all of those OUTSIDE the walls of that prison are the ones living a false life. It is only those within the walls that have any real freedom, for they are not held down by the distractions common to the modern man.

One of the biggest points brought home to me in my visits, especially to the Cistercians was this:  Vocation is about becoming the fullness of WHO YOU ARE in relation to God!  It is a life of such intensity that vices rise to the surface in order to be uprooted and eliminated and virtues are obtained in that process, such that the soul is constantly purged of what is false in order to live out what is Truth!

Sister spoke to me candidly about the benefit of being a later Vocation.  She (and other Vocation Directresses with whom I've spoken) have noted that they don't accept younger vocations because, well...they are too scandalized by the reality of sin within the cloister....and within themselves.

Vainglory and Vanity

Many Vocation Directresses I know  have spoken of the fact that many younger women who sense a Call seem to have a sense that they have to be nearly a clone of a particular Saint. They enter religious life with a youthful expectation  that, "If only I can be a perfect copy of St. Therese of Lisieux, I'll be fine."  This attitude might go to such a degree that the girl will enter with the very mistaken impression that she already IS a Saint...only to come crashing down to reality within a couple weeks.  She enters, at such a young age, with a sense of herself that does not bear on reality and finds that NO ONE she knows is exactly ready for a Cause for Canonization.  Often these particular young women have grown up in somewhat insular families and groups, those who are very faithful and sincere but in their nature have actually brought them up in a world that is not really reality. Not even in the cloister.

The fact is that many who try to enter religious life seem to have a perception that since they are Called (or may be), they must already be very Saintly.

Not so much.

The reality is this:   in the cloistered life, women realize quite profoundly how far they are, truly, from God, and some can't handle their reflection in that particular mirror.  If they have no awareness of the reality of sin in the world, and more importantly IN THEMSELVES before they enter the cloister, It ends up being a terrible experience, can destroy  a Vocation, and it can truly inhibit the real Call of that young woman/ young man!

It is often because of this unspoken reality that the Vocation Directresses and Mother Superiors often recommend a few years of life in the world, so as to enable exposure outside of a sheltered home life, not by way of "testing" a Vocation, but rather, by way of enabling it through a dose of reality that doesn't change once one enters the doors of the enclosure.

One of the things that Sister said to me, ironically, was that my own life of sin would actually AID me in the cloister, for I would not be shocked by the ongoing descent of humanity to new and interesting lows. I would not be shocked by my own propensity to sin.

Perhaps that was my biggest surprise last summer: that my very Vocation could be "softened" by the fact that sin does not scandalize me for I know the evils of the human heart...and have both perpetuated it and survived it in the extremes.

The main focus, in my visits, was that Vocation is about becoming who you ARE!  If you are Hilda or Sarah or Michelle, then become fully Hilda and Sarah and Michelle!  God didn't create ANY of us in a vacuum, but gave us EACH a particular personality, particular strengths, and calls us all to a personified spirituality so that we will NEVER become mere clones of the Saints who have gone before us!

Are we called to Sainthood?  Absolutely!

Are we called to be CLONES?

NO! 

AH, but the issue of sin STILL stymies many souls, for they  think that if they but enter religious life, and more specifically, the cloister, their problems will be solved and they will become holiness incarnate.


If one thinks that sin ends at the Enclosure, one is living in a fantasy land.

There is no such thing as a "fantasy land" in religious life.  Although one is free to leave, for only the exterior doors are locked, the interior is like the ongoing contemplation of virtue..that chosen, and that disregarded.

It is not a prison, for one enters a prison only by exterior force, and after a civil act of some sort.  But no one can contain the interior freedom of a soul to know and love God, to engage in real life in spite of any exterior walls. In the case of a cloister, it is a chosen home, the castle of the Bridegroom, with the full freedom to remain or to leave, wherein the Bride chooses to accept her fulfillment, the unmerited gift of Vocation.  She gives herself to the Bridegroom just as fully as He gives Himself to Her...through the Cross.

There is little in this world so beautiful as a soul so willing to die for love, so we have to wonder, in that statement, whether it refers to a woman for her Beloved...or for the Savior for the world?

They are one and the same. And we musn't confuse the two.