Responsibility

I've often said that I don't have a "biological clock" like so many other women seem to have. In my adult years, I've never had a desire to have children, and actually, have been made to feel very badly about that; as if I was lacking something "normal."

I was once told, by a priest, upon learning that I wasn't interested in getting married and having children, that without that desire for biological motherhood, I could not be a good religious sister.

I'd be lying if I said that his comments did not have a detrimental effect on my vocational discernment.  From that very moment, I think I stopped really discerning, because if what he said was true, then it was not possible for me to be a religious. It was a slammed door that left me in limbo.

I didn't understand at that time what "spiritual motherhood" was, or that the intuition that I was not called to be a mother in the biological sense was actually not a sign of "not being good enough" for Jesus, but should have been a sign to both me and that priest to look more deeply into God's designs.  Instead, for a couple years, I walked away, certain that, since I didn't want children, I couldn't possibly be wanted by Jesus Himself. I went away sad, thinking that something was very, very wrong with me; so much so that God Himself would reject me if I truly sought Him.

Now, to be fair to the priest, he came from a different culture, and I honestly believe that his own cultural experience and perhaps faulty formation, or even lack of ability to communicate what he really meant was not adequate to address what I was really seeking at that time. It is years later now, and I don't think badly of the priest, nor should any of you. But that doesn't change the fact of my experience and what went through my head, my heart, and straight to my soul at that time...and in the years following that terrible and destructive  conversation.

I suspect that this has happened to other women, perhaps to be blamed upon the confusion brought about by radical feminism which has done so much damage to so many souls.  There is a huge difference between a woman who senses from her very soul that she is not called to motherhood versus a woman who outright rejects motherhood for selfish reasons.  For my part, I was once one of the latter, but when I finally began seeking God, even though I didn't think I wanted children, I told God over and over again that I would trust in His decision for me. At that moment, I opened to life, if called to marriage.

I do not at heart think, even now, that I am called to marriage. I have no interest in marriage, nor in dating. I am not looking for "a partner" of any sort.  That's not to say I'm not attracted to men! On the contrary! Gosh, every so often I meet a guy and lose about a hundred IQ points, and in the most RANDOM of places!  This is actually a sign that I am actually a very normal woman!

However, though, along with that lack of call to marriage, I also am not bothered by the fact that I will never have children. I love children, and they seem to love me, but I don't mope around pining for a little bundle of joy or the pitter-patter of little feet. Now, when I hear people in certain camps suggest that women who don't sense that draw are somehow disordered, I look more closely at the source, and find that their beliefs don't line up with Catholic teaching on the nature of Vocation.

We are all called to something. Because of that, it means, obviously that we are NOT called to other things.  Not every woman is called to be a biological mother. Not every man is called to be a biological father.

None of this is new for the faithful Catholic who prays every day, or even every week, for Vocations to the priesthood and/or religious life.  This is one of the most beautiful teachings of the Church; that God calls us all out of eternity to fulfill a particular mission with regard to Salvation of souls, and as part and parcel of that Mission He calls us to a specific Vocation with which to live it out and find our way to Him ourselves.

It took me a long time to really understand that spiritual motherhood has its own call, one separate, but which is an important counterpart to the other call to biological motherhood.  Each facet supports the other. One cannot be a true spiritual mother and support abortion. One cannot be a biological mother and reject spiritual motherhood.

This evening, though, I think I finally found the words to articulate the no-man's land that I inhabit as a single woman, and it reveals WHY just being a mere "Single" is not a Vocation:

As created beings, we have within us the desire to reproduce, to co-create with God. We all have this creative force within us, this incredible creative ability. Especially as women, we recognize that, if called to biological motherhood, God  touches us at a very certain point and creates new life. Not just a combination of DNA, but an entirely new SOUL to infuse the DNA, imprinting upon it His own likeness and image! It is a miracle, it is a tender moment begotten out of the Divine love of God!

Ah, yes, procreation is a beautiful thing! Only our Salvation through the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Christ is more stunning!

For me, though, although I appreciate the beauty of new life, I do not desire it for myself. Every so often I experience a twinge of regret and anew, search my soul for the meaning of this, looking for defect. Unfortunately, I find many defects, and it is very discouraging.

What I forget to look for is the beauty in my own state in life, and the beauty of, as a friend put it once, "being set aside".  In the Bible, many women were "set aside". Not out of ignorance, but for a special purpose. It's not an occasion of  Pride, but rather a recognition of something different, something particular for which they  have been created. In my case, it doesn't matter that I don't yet understand what that is. What matters is that I realize there are legitimate options, and those options do not depend upon me, or come from me, or glorify me. No. They all glorify God.

Tonight I was watching a random TV show, and I admit I felt a twinge when considering the family and children on the show. It wasn't a twinge of jealousy or the sense of that proverbial "biological clock."

Instead, it revealed to me the nature of Vocation, fully in union with the Mission of the Church. In that moment, I understood what the Single life is lacking and why it isn't a Vocation, and can never be so.

I've said before, and I say it now, drawing from solid Catholic resources:  a Vocation involves a formal Consecration, a Vow. Anything that floats around without an anchor is just a temporary state.  The Church, for this reason, recognizes only Three Vocations:  Priesthood, Marriage, and Religious Life (Consecrated Life).  There are some forms of Consecrated Life that do not involve living in community, and I suspect this is why some people mistake it as a "Single Vocation". It is not. Consecrated Virgins and Eremitics are not "Single" in the Vocational sense; they are formally espoused to Christ Himself.

They are not dangling participles. That's what I am, and I hang out with question marks.

The Consecration of each Vocational state in life is linked to permanency, and thus, a certain responsibility.  Something, or more commonly, someone in their charge. It had a particular charism, and a specific Apostolate, or in the case of the Priesthood, a ministry.

A parent is confirmed in their Vocation through their children, who were co-created by them and depend upon them. They are responsible for them.

A Priest is the spiritual Father to a congregation, and even beyond. He is a spiritual Father to any soul that comes his way...any soul.

A Religious, be it Sister or Brother, or Consecrated Virgin or Hermit, likewise; there is spiritual parenthood present within their area of responsibility.

I know that what is lacking in my life is that area of formal responsibility. We all desire, inherently, even unconsciously, to leave a legacy. For some that is biological, which implies also the spiritual. For others, it is simply spiritual, and when the focus is on that, it is still just as important, if secondary to biological life.

Tonight I looked around and realized that I am lacking because I am not directly responsible for anyone. I have a house, I have stuff, I have a dog. Anyone can pay for 4 walls and care for a dog. Although I pray for priests, and have "adopted" a few, that doesn't mean I'm Consecrated to that purpose. I've made no formal vows. I don't have any formal obligations outside of those of any other person in the secular world.

I'm not directly responsible for another human life, or by extension, their soul.

That is at the heart of a Vocation;  Responsibility. Chosen and accepted responsibility. It is a calling, only to be followed by a choice; to reject or accept.

For now, I am in waiting, and I accept that fact. I see this sign of desiring to be responsible as a mark of Grace. That is not to say I am immature for my age (although that may be quite true!), but rather, a sign that in the order of grace, in the order of God's plan for Salvation, that I have been  in formation under His hand and perhaps am nearing the next level.

No one becomes a parent from infancy.

Do not take these thoughts as dogma, but only the musings of a woman who once thought she had the world in her hands, only to realize the joke was on her.
*

How to Study Social Ethics and Write a Paper

Some of you may remember last winter's treatise on How to Study Theology.

Well, I'm back with a lesson today on how to study Social Ethics and write a paper.

1.  Gather your study materials, turn off tv, radio, ipod, etc.  Make sure you have good lighting, working pens, hi lighters, and tabs to mark the pages.

2. If you haven't already, complete the reading to familiarize yourself with the subject material for your paper.

3. Get out your notebook and begin taking notes or making your outline regarding the subject. You may have to complete this portion before you can actually begin the paper as you will need to write an opening paragraph identifying what you will be covering and the conclusion you have drawn.

4. Make note of main points and any quotes you plan to use so that you can identify the source at that time without wasting time searching for it again.

5. Look up at the dog lying on the rug, and notice that she is shedding. Surmise that it must be very itchy and uncomfortable for her.

6. Find your favorite grooming tool and spend some time carefully working on removing the shedding hair and maybe even matts that you've neglected. Comfort the dog and apologize when you pull a bit too hard and she jumps.

7.  When one side is completed, ask if she wants a biscuit and provide said biscuit promptly so that she will know that grooming is a good experience, even if it is contrary to her actual lived experience.

8.  In the kitchen, notice the click of dog nails on the Pergo flooring. Realize that she needs to have her nails clipped. As you're already distracted, go ahead and get the nail clippers and the REALLY GOOD treats as it's not a favorite task for either of you.

9. When finished clipping, put the treats away and sweep the floor.

10. Take the dog outside to go potty.

11. As it's a nice day, go for a walk and ponder what you've learned in your studies. Mentally turn over the different points you intend to cover and consider slightly restructuring your paper.

12.  Return home, put the dog's leash away, return to your desk.

13. Realize that you are thirsty after your walk and that you need some water. Go to the kitchen for water, and give the dog fresh water, too.

14.  Return to your desk, glance at your totally illegible notes, grab your sources, and connect to the internet.

15.  Begin writing blog post about how to study Social Ethics.

Ignoring the Signs of the Times

Most of the time, the dreams we have as we sleep are jumbles of nonsense, occasionally entertaining nonsense, but nonetheless...nonsense.  Sometimes, though, albeit rarely, they actually have meaning. Recently I had one of those dreams, and as the meaning is quite obvious, well, let's just say that God is still speaking in parables.

Oncoming Storm

It was Holy Saturday and I was going to my Mom's friend's house to eat dinner with my Mom, my brother and some friends of hers. I had some obligations, though, and needed to go home, even though 8 pm rolled around and we still hadn't eaten. I told Mom that I had to go and wouldn't be able to come back for Easter. She was upset with me but walked me out to the car, said she'd drive, and as we were trying to get out of the garage, the Farmer (the dad and owner of the home and farm we were on) came and told us a tornado was coming. He explained that it had been announced on the radio, and that  getting out on those county roads was the worst possible thing to do. He was right, and at his invitation, we parked the car and got out. For my part, I got out of the car with a bit of resentment, almost poo-pooing the idea that it was going to be THAT BAD. I wanted to get home.


Curious, and hoping the Farmer was wrong, I looked towards the East through the garage window, and to my shock, I saw about 4 tornadoes whirling towards us across the Minnesota farmland, and two more forming: a total of 6. Six Tornadoes! On our very doorstep!  The wind was already picking up; the storm was IMMANENT.


We ran across the driveway in whipping wind, up the walkway and dodged inside, thinking that the farmer's young and adult children were coming, too, as they were also still outside. Once through the door, I  headed down the multi-tiered stairway. When I came into the first part of the basement, I found children playing there as though nothing was happening. Thinking that their parents probably didn't want to scare them, I said nothing about the storm, but asked one of the older kids where everyone else was. He pointed down a hallway. "Probably in there somewhere."  The boy shrugged and went on playing.  


We were still above ground as the farmhouse was built into a hill, so in order to be safe, everyone would have to go into an interior room that butted up against or perhaps was constructed into the hill itself. From where we were, I could look across the driveway to see the farmer's young adult children sitting on cement garden benches, laughing and joking.  I banged against the window, pointing at the looming tornadoes behind them. They just laughed and held on as they were being sucked around by the wind.


I was shocked to see a child out there, too:  a toddler!  He was climbing out of a shed window, clearly seeking shelter somewhere else and yet not understanding the danger he was in. Before my eyes, the wind ripped him from the window frame he tried so desperately to grasp.. I yelled and pointed, knowing the young men and women could see me through the window. One of the young  women laughed and picked the boy up when he fell to the ground, unable to get up on his own.  I kept waving to them, pointing to the door for safety, gesturing to them to look behind at what was nearly upon us.  I was watching the wind pick up, pulling leaves from the trees, pulling at telephone wires, nearly ripping them from their perches. Yet they just continued to joke and laugh as though they were on a roller coaster.


I thought they were insane. I was sure I was about to witness their destruction, and became more and more frantic.


I knew it was futile; they didn't seem to care, not even about the child in their presence. I knew that even if I climbed the stairs and tried to yell from the door, they wouldn't hear me. As it was, they were refusing to "see" me, even standing in the light of the bay window as it got darker and darker outside and the oppressive storm bore down on us all. 


I knew that I was standing in a very dangerous place, expecting that at any moment a branch could be ripped from a tree and thrown through the huge window, maybe killing us all. Still, though, I couldn't give up;  I wanted to stay as long as I could in hopes that they would finally come in and not be killed. I also knew that it was going to be my responsibility to herd the kids there inside with me back into other rooms of the house and away from this dangerous area.


I didn't know where the other adults were, or the Farmer, but I figured they were working, maybe even doing the same thing I was at other windows. Maybe battening down the hatches. As far as I knew, they were safe...and maybe they didn't know about the ones who weren't. If so, it was up to me to help get them inside and there wasn't much time left for them....

Thankfully, I woke up without witnessing the disaster, but I was shaking, and the meaning of the dream was very, very clear.

For those who don't think in terms of allegory, look at the characters, and the numerous children of all ages present in the dream.  God the Father was the Farmer who invited us into the House to shelter us from the storm. All the people there...His children. And as we were there on his property, He considered US his children as well.  [Theological point:  adopted sons and daughters].

I went in to take shelter, found more children, turned and saw others outside who would not come in. They ignored the invitation, they ignored the warning and thought the weather was a joke, something to take pleasure in with no eye to the consequences. [Theological note:  the weather was the signs of the times].

No matter what I did, they laughed and ignored what I was trying to tell them, and I knew the Farmer had spoken to them as well as we were all coming in. [Theological note: the Farmer was a good shepherd who had come out to bring in His sheep]

I actually suspected, in the dream, that the Farmer was still going about his property, rounding everyone up who would heed his advice and take shelter in his house. [Theological note:  House of Israel, which now = the Church.]

Another point, consider what I and probably others were doing in the dream:  trying to get people to come in and out of the storm that was obviously going to decimate them. They weren't people I knew, but I recognized them as "family".  I wasn't shouting and insulting them, but simply pointing out what was going on, out of concern for their safety, trying to get them to SEE and wanting them to come IN to be safe and LIVE! And yet...they didn't.  [Theological point:  the Church is Missionary, seeks the lost, and it is the responsibility of all the faithful to carry out this mission of SALVATION].

Even there, I knew that I also had a responsibility to the Farmer's children who were in the room with me. Because I was there, it meant they were entrusted to my care and I had to protect them as well.  In fact, they were my primary concern and I knew I'd have to leave the others to their demise in order to ensure the safety of those who were in the House to be certain they would not be sucked out by the tornadoes.

Maybe others will see other things in this. I've kept the "interpretation" at a minimum, and I should mention that I have left out some details that are more specific to the people in my life who were in the dream.  What I recounted here is the "public info". Take it for what it's worth. I publish it here as I do believe God speaks to us in dreams, using them to tell the parables that can only reach us if we're open to them.

Someone else may read it as gibberish, and if so, I take no offense at that. All I will say is that I had a dream, this one meant something, and I find it's meaning very obvious. Too obvious to ignore.

My friends, we can all read the signs of the times. We can see what's coming at us, and we know it is our baptismal obligation to live out the Mission of the Church within our states in life. What is that Mission?  To bring in the lost, to aid those who are among us, to build the Kingdom of God. To be salt of the earth. To be leaven.

1 Corinthians 9:16-17

16 If I preach the gospel, this is no reason for me to boast, for an obligation has been imposed on me, and woe to me if I do not preach it!

17 If I do so willingly, I have a recompense, but if unwillingly, then I have been entrusted with a stewardship.

Sacred and Profane: Where Adoro goes, Grace Abounds More

This week has been an interesting one. I've been at the NCEA (National Catholic Education Association) Conference held here at the Minneapolis Convention Center.

Now, just to get rid the the Elephant in the Room: I did not attend anti-Catholic, anti-Life, pro-Gay "marriage" Garrison Keillor's keynote speech yesterday. I'm shocked he was ALLOWED to speak given the Archdiocesan Speaker Policy, and as I understand it (unconfirmed by an official source) the good Archbishop Neinstedt actually asked NCEA NOT to have him. But then they went for popularity instead of content. All this is heresay, though;  I don't know why Keillor was allowed to speak and I refuse to defend his abominable presence. There might have been reason, but in light of the policy, I can't see that reason myself and need it explained to me.

Anyway...

I  learned that I hate discussing curriculum (I actually already knew this), and received affirmation that the idea of being a teacher and reviewing textbooks and curriculum makes me so itchy and uncomfortable that when my boss brings up this or that book or curriculum, the only thing I want to do is exit freely while kicking and screaming.

I think that true teachers actually care about those things. I don't. I hate them.  *cringe*

That's not the say, though, that the week was useless.Much to my surprise, I attended several professional development sessions which, although they were geared towards actual school teachers or principles, there is some content that can be applied in my work, for our students, catechists, and even parents. There are some practical points I hope to put into practice, or at least pass on to those under my guidance. There are a few things I hope to apply to myself in my own work.

Along with all that professional stuff, though, all that Sacred, we still had the Profane to keep us entertained.

Oh,  yes. Where Adoro goes, grace abounds more.  

This week, I took my friends into Hell, and as we found out, with my guidance, there was no waiting!

As we left the Convention Center for lunch, we wondered where best to go. A few blocks up were many restaurants. Being that we were in Downtown Minneapolis, we didn't want to go to some cheap chain we could find around the corner from work.  If we were going to walk down the street for food, we wanted food to remember. Some stuff was ruled out, like Ruth's Chris and Manny's. (Who can afford those places?)   We came, then to a crossroad at 2nd Ave and 9th St.

We didn't have a lot of time, so had to choose:  Keys Cafe' or Hell's Kitchen?

Although I scandalized myself at the juxtaposition of such dire opposites (Keys vs Hell), I did what my coworkers asked me to do, and I made the decision:  Hell.

If nothing else, I thought, we'd have this wonderful receipt to turn in to our straitlaced parish bookkeeper who would read on it, "Hell's Kitchen" and wonder at the Faith Formation department that decided to Descend for lunch.

And descend we did!  

We entered the door under the sign only to find that we had to descend the steps into Hell (that is, the restaurant itself.)  Other convention-goers were in front of us, and specifically a party of 6.  (Does anyone else find that ironic?).  The party of 6, when asked, was told that their 6 could not be seated for another 10 minutes. They were diverted off to a side hallway to await their judgment seating.

My coworkers and I discussed this as we overheard it and decided to stay anyway, for, given that it was shortly after noon, we knew we'd have to stand in line or wait anywhere we went. Walking along to the next place would eat up time.

So as the party ahead moved to the side, and I was greeted by the minion Concierge of Hell's Kitchen, I told him that we are 3. He and the other minion hostess conferred, and we were informed that there was immediate seating for us...and we were led around the bar and into the next level. This also led to much hilarity as my coworkers recognized that apparently, with me leading, there is No Waiting in Hell.

The food was good, and in fact, we learned that in Hell, Buffalo is the staple.

Both my boss and I ordered a Buffalo burger, although with different toppings. When our meal was delivered, I received my white-topped (white cheddar) burger, and the waiter came out with a similar looking one for my boss. She saw the cheddar which looked like mine and said that she'd ordered bleu cheese. He took it back although she said it would be fine, but he feared maybe it was another person's order. No problem. Unable to find the other customer, he brought it back with apologies, my coworker thought it was fine and told him so; she was happy to eat it.  In the meantime I had bitten into my own burger and realized that the waiter hadn't confused the table..but the orders.  I had the bleu cheese.Which I'd almost ordered, anyway.

Still, though, we were happy with our meals. To our surprise, thoughl our hostess came back, apologizing for the waiter. He was very upset at the mistake and wanted to make it up to us, offering us one of their Famous Carmel rolls! But we knew we were all full, and even splitting it between the 3 of us would be too much. Our hostess said that our waiter was nearly in tears, and when she stepped away we commented at how deep the feeling was in the customer service in Hell! Seriously...I haven't ever had a waiter who REALLY felt that bad about such a simple mistake. In the end, as we didn't accept the Carmel Roll, they decided to give us free beverages, and on behalf of our employer, the parish, we happily accepted the discount.

(Seriously...how many people do you know have gotten a discount in Hell?)

I thought back to all the old jokes about the guy who went to Hell and was shown 3 doors. Two of them upside-down in..uh...refuse. The last one, they were standing, talking, socializing and having a great time while sipping cups of coffee. Looking around in Hell's Kitchen, I saw families, including very small children, tucked there in between weird art and a children's program being shown on a big screen. A simple menu encompassing American cuisine (heavy on the Native!), aimed at the family.  What a great place!  It was classy, it was pretty peaceful, and obviously a respectable place in spite of the name!

It was because of this that I kept waiting for someone to jump on the PA system and yell, "OK EVERYONE! COFFEE BREAK IS OVER!"

Instead, we got a waiter with an overdeveloped sense of customer service who had made a minor error that wasn't his fault as he hadn't been the one to directly take our orders, and we  got a hostess who was funny, kind and down to earth, to the degree that when she gave coffee to my coworker she said comfortably, "This will wake your ass up!"

We liked her immediately, and our waiter as well.

As we were leaving, we decided to have our pic taken under the restaurant sign. Just then a man emerged from the general hallway coming from Hell's Kitchen, who agreed to take our pic with my boss's camera phone.

After we finished and thanked him, he said he was the nephew of the founder, and asked what brought us to Minneapolis.  Ha! We're FROM here! But...we explained...we were specifically there because of a religious education conference and thought it would be fun to visit Hell in the process.

Much to our surprise, expecting eye-rolling or general politeness, the man wished us "luck in your ministries", and that stopped us in our tracks. He asked us what we do, and then shared that he does some "street evangelization" there in Downtown.

I couldn't help myself. (People who know me shouldn't be surprised at what I said next.)  I asked him, "Do you street-evangelize from Hell?"

Thankfully he took the question well, and with humor. (The answer is no...he literally hits the street, not Hell!) and all I have to say is this: I hope he brings many souls to Christ! It takes real courage to do such a thing, and I wish we Catholics could get over ourselves enough to do it, too.  Gosh..in comparison to Evangelicals, we have no "personality" at all!  (Incidentally I'm actively working on forming a program that will form Catholics to have such courage and conviction!)

Now...for the record, lest I scandalize anyone:  the Restaurant "Hell's Kitchen" isn't named for Hell, but for the neighborhood in Brooklyn NY (kinda) and for the actual HEAT in the kitchen!  It has no association with the popular reality TV show and celebrity chef, nor the ontological reality of the place people who reject God in hatefulness go to after death.   In fact, I think this restaurant and name pre-dates popular culture!

Back to Sacred

There were many Religious Sisters at the Conference, and I was happy to, several times, run into my friends, the SCMC's, whom I visited last summer in Connecticut.  This afternoon one of the Sisters and I wandered about the exhibit hall, picking up freebies, hobnobbing, and talking with old friends.  I found some great resources, made some great contacts, and strengthened an already-good friendship.  What's not to love about that?

When it was time we headed to the Auditorium for the closing Mass. I couldn't reach my coworkers and hadn't seen them in a couple hours, so I ended up sitting with the Sisters and the teachers from their school, and was somehow given some kind of a "recommendation" to the Principal. His response: any friend of Sister is a friend of mine!  Ha ha!

The Mass was celebrated by Archbishop John Neinstedt, was MC'd by Fr. John Paul Erickson, and concelebrated by many priests. As such, there was no nonsense...it was a beautiful, reverent Mass, and a perfect way to end the Conference.

I admit I hadn't wanted to go to the NCEA conference, but I have to also admit that it was a good experience, I did attend some valuable professional training sessions and made some important contacts.

It is good to end with the Sacred, and so I ask for your prayers for all the Catholic Educators out there who are truly trying to do the right things for your children. They do care about doctrine and how to present it faithfully. They do care about whether or not you as parents are involved....and how best to make sure you know you are the most important part of the education of your children.

God bless teachers, God bless parents, who are primary in teaching their children!  God send us many more!

What is a Christian?

*Content Warning: this post references a heinous crime against a child and may not be suitable for all readers.*

Tonight, while I sat listening to the multitude of readings at the Easter Vigil, I pondered, as I have been, the sacrifice of Christ. I listened to the story of Creation, the salvation of the Jews, the demise of the Egyptian captors. I prayed and sang the Psalms, and, although I didn't want to, pondered the state of the world.

In the last few days alone, in my metro area, alone, there have been atrocious crimes. I tried to push the thoughts away, but they wouldn't go, so I pondered them with God, letting them in and trying to see them in light of His Sacrifice.  I thought of the mother who was shot to death in front of her young children when her estranged husband rammed her car and then blew her away in spite of the presence of toddlers in car seats. I thought of the report of the oldest child to the police: "Daddy killed Mommy."  

I thought of the man who stabbed his ex-wife 40 times, in front of their children. She hadn't been in fear of him before because, as she'd told the courts when getting an Order for Protection, "He's never done anything crazy. I'm not afraid of him doing something."  Now she's a corpse with 40 horrible wounds and orphan children.

But the worst, the very worst, the story that overcame my thoughts tonight, was a story I read today. A fifteen-year-old girl went to a party in her apartment building with some older men. Not teens. Men.  Her little seven-year-old sister tagged along with her "out of concern for her safety", as the story tells us.

At the party, the teen (15 years old!) starting selling herself for sex with the men who were there, and then began taking money to let the various men there touch her LITTLE SISTER!  HER OWN SISTER!

Judas has NOTHING on this teenager. As I sat at Mass fuming about what horrible set of sins and monstrosities had created this evil 15-year-old who was probably very very abused as a child herself, I read on.

No less than 7 men decided that "touching" wasn't enough. They went on to FORCIBLY RAPE the 7-year-old girl! SEVEN men GANG-RAPED a 7-YEAR-OLD!

Tonight, as I pondered that horrible crime, the consequences spiritually, morally, physically and emotionally for that poor child, I looked over at the child of about that same age that I prepared to be received into the Church this evening. I considered all the children I help to prepare for the Sacraments, and I shuddered so deeply that I'm certain there must have been an earthquake in Hell tonight.

Oh, yes, I was angry. There I was, sitting at the most beautiful, most Sacred Liturgy of the entire year, and all I could think about was the horrible crime visited upon an innocent little girl who went as a pure lamb among wolves spawned by Satan himself.

I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to ponder it. I tried with all my might to push the thoughts and images away. I prayed for the girl, and for her family, and couldn't bring myself to pray for the monsters who had defiled her with such demonic violence.

I looked up at the Crucifix and wondered at the God who would send his only Son to die for such a worthless race that is humanity. I wondered at the God who could look upon us with any shred of mercy at all. I considered the men who forcibly raped an innocent little girl, a girl who had entered that den out of interest and love for her own sister, and I asked how Jesus could possibly think humanity worth saving? HOW?  I would wash my hands and walk away, leaving them either to themselves to do as they wished or simply destroy them in one fell swoop.  

The last Psalm ended as I was trying hard to recollect myself.

Then I heard, and, trying hard, read along the words of the Epistle for the Easter Vigil:

Rom 6:3-4:

Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?

I don't think I really heard the rest of the Epistle. I was drawn into those words and captivated there, as though my head was being held under water.  "Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?"

I was bonded there, chastised, and crucified.  And there, from the gibbet of the Cross, I saw what Jesus sees, I saw the reason for my questions, and I saw the Truth of Divine Justice.

My questions....about the value of humanity, about why Jesus underwent His Passion and Death to save us...those aren't new questions. Not to me, not to anyone.  It isn't that I haven't asked them before, and it isn't that I have not sinned, and horribly, at that. If anything, I  know what I am capable of doing and I have seen much in my professional life. Not much shocks me.

The closer I come to Christ, though, the more my outer shell is worn away, and the more I am able to be shocked by the rancid devastation of sin. The more I am able to see the rot, the more I, in my own fallen humanity, want to take a torch to the trunk and burn it ALL away, leaving nothing.

I do not see as God sees.

I was angry tonight, I was scandalized, and then I heard the Word of God that brought me to bear; I have been baptized in Christ. I have been baptized into His death.

Oh, yes. To be Baptized in Christ means to take on the very same Cross, to drink of the same cup of Salvation. To be Baptized means that we are one with Him and His plan for the Salvation of sinners. To be Baptized means we take on that yoke of suffering; it means that we are giving our fiat to God, and that we, too, are willing to DIE for sinners.

For SINNERS. Even the worst.

Even the sinners who would rape a child. Repeatedly.

Jesus, from eternity, looked upon humanity and called us "good".  Jesus, from eternity, was made incarnate at conception in order to save us from our sins. He looked upon the worst of humanity...and said YES.

God did not gaze upon humanity judging our worthiness by the pettiness of humanity, but by the depths to which we are capable of descending.  He looked upon us and judged us by the greatest atrocities. Jesus looked upon the greatest sins of humanity, sins most people could never even imagine, and in His great love, he looked beyond the sin and saw His Own Image, and He said YES.

Jesus became one of us not because we say snarky things or don't do our chores, but because we are capable of raping children and murdering entire generations of them through abortion and genocide.

God looked at the worst we can do and said, "They are in my image, they are my children and I will die for them in the worst torture known to humanity."

To be Christian, to be Baptized into Christ means to take on that same Cross, and from there, took into the eyes, and the soul, of the most depraved sinner, and say, YES!

To be Christian is to know that no one is beyond salvation, and to know that Christ didn't die for the self-defined righteous, but for sinners, and the worst of sinners at that.

To be Christian is to take on the Cross and, for ourselves, to look especially upon the most depraved of souls and say, "You are a child of God and I am willing to die for your salvation."

We must not just be willing to forgive, but to die the most torturous death for the most depraved of sinners

Nothing less is worthy of a Christian. Nothing less than the ultimate price of Divine Love is worthy of Christ.
*

O Felix Culpa! He is Risen!

Rejoice heavenly powers! Sing choirs of angels!

Exult, all creation around God's throne!

Jesus Christ, our King is risen!

Sound the trumpet of salvation!

Rejoice, O earth, in shining splendor,

radiant in the brightness of your King!

Christ has conquered! Glory fills you!

Darkness vanishes forever!

Rejoice, O Mother Church! Exult in glory!

The risen Savior shines upon you!

Let this place resound with joy,

echoing the mighty song of all God's people!

It is truly right

that with full hearts and minds and voices

we should praise the unseen God,

the all powerful Father,

and his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.

For Christ has ransomed us with his blood,

and paid for us the price of Adam's sin

to our eternal Father!

This is our Passover feast,

when Christ, the true Lamb, is slain,

whose blood consecrates the homes of all believers.

This is the night

when first you saved our fathers:

you freed the people of Israel from their slavery

and led them dry-shod through the sea.

This is the night

when the pillar of fire

destroyed the darkness of sin!

This is the night

when Christians everywhere,

washed clean of sin

and freed from all defilement,

are restored to grace

and grow together in holiness.

This is the night

when Jesus Christ broke the chains of death

and rose triumphant from the grave.

What good would life have been to us,

had Christ not come as our Redeemer?

Father, how wonderful your care for us!

How boundless your merciful love!

To ransom a slave you gave away your Son.

O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam,

which gained for us so great a Redeemer!

Most blessed of all nights,

chosen by God to see Christ rising from the dead!

Of this night scripture says:

"The night will be clear as day:

it will become my light, my joy."

The power of this holy night

dispels all evil, washes guilt away,

restores lost innocence, brings mourners joy;

it casts out hatred, brings us peace,

and humbles earthly pride.

Night truly blessed

when heaven is wedded to earth

and man is reconciled with God!

Therefore, heavenly Father,

in the joy of this night

receive our evening sacrifice of praise,

your Church's solemn offering.

Accept this Easter candle,

a flame divided but undimmed,

a pillar of fire that glows to the honor of God.

Let it mingle with the lights of heaven

and continue bravely burning

to dispel the darkness of this night!

May the Morning Star which never sets

find this flame still burning:

Christ, that Morning Star,

who came back from the dead,

and shed his peaceful light on all mankind,

your Son who lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.

The Church in Hopeful Mourning

The Lord's descent into hell

"What is happening? Today there is a great silence over the earth, a great silence, and stillness, a great silence because the King sleeps; the earth was in terror and was still, because God slept in the flesh and raised up those who were sleeping from the ages. God has died in the flesh, and the underworld has trembled.

Truly he goes to seek out our first parents like a lost sheep; he wishes to visit those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. He goes to free the prisoner Adam and his fellow-prisoner Eve from their pains, he who is God, and Adam's son.

The Lord goes in to them holding his victorious weapon, his cross. When Adam, the first created man, sees him, he strikes his breast in terror and calls out to all: 'My Lord be with you all.' And Christ in reply says to Adam: ‘And with your spirit.’ And grasping his hand he raises him up, saying: ‘Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light.

‘I am your God, who for your sake became your son, who for you and your descendants now speak and command with authority those in prison: Come forth, and those in darkness: Have light, and those who sleep: Rise.

‘I command you: Awake, sleeper, I have not made you to be held a prisoner in the underworld. Arise from the dead; I am the life of the dead. Arise, O man, work of my hands, arise, you who were fashioned in my image. Rise, let us go hence; for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person.

‘For you, I your God became your son; for you, I the Master took on your form; that of slave; for you, I who am above the heavens came on earth and under the earth; for you, man, I became as a man without help, free among the dead; for you, who left a garden, I was handed over to Jews from a garden and crucified in a garden.

‘Look at the spittle on my face, which I received because of you, in order to restore you to that first divine inbreathing at creation. See the blows on my cheeks, which I accepted in order to refashion your distorted form to my own image.

'See the scourging of my back, which I accepted in order to disperse the load of your sins which was laid upon your back. See my hands nailed to the tree for a good purpose, for you, who stretched out your hand to the tree for an evil one.

`I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side, for you, who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side healed the pain of your side; my sleep will release you from your sleep in Hades; my sword has checked the sword which was turned against you.

‘But arise, let us go hence. The enemy brought you out of the land of paradise; I will reinstate you, no longer in paradise, but on the throne of heaven. I denied you the tree of life, which was a figure, but now I myself am united to you, I who am life. I posted the cherubim to guard you as they would slaves; now I make the cherubim worship you as they would God.

"The cherubim throne has been prepared, the bearers are ready and waiting, the bridal chamber is in order, the food is provided, the everlasting houses and rooms are in readiness; the treasures of good things have been opened; the kingdom of heaven has been prepared before the ages."

A reading from an ancient homily for Holy Saturday

ECCE HOMO!

The Reproaches of Good Friday:

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you?

Answer me!

I led you out of Egypt,

from slavery to freedom,

but you led your Savior to the cross.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

For forty years I led you

safely through the desert.

I fed you with manna from heaven,

and brought you to a land of plenty;

but you led your Savior to the cross.

Holy is God!

Holy and strong!

Holy immortal One, have mercy on us!

What more could I have done for you.

I planted you as my fairest vine,

but you yielded only bitterness:

when I was thirsty you gave me vinegar to drink,

and you pierced your Savior with a lance.

Holy is God!

Holy and strong!

Holy immortal One, have mercy on us!

For your sake I scourged your captors

and their firstborn sons,

but you brought your scourges down on me.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I led you from slavery to freedom

and drowned your captors in the sea,

but you handed me over to your high priests.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I opened the sea before you,

but you opened my side with a spear.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

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

but you led me to Pilate’s court.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I bore you up with manna in the desert,

but you struck me down and scourged me.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I gave you saving water from the rock,

but you gave me gall and vinegar to drink.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

For you I struck down the kings of Canaan.

but you struck my head with a reed.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I gave you a royal scepter,

but you gave me a crown of thorns.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

I raised you to the height of majesty,

but you have raised me high on a cross.

My people, what have I done to you?

How have I offended you? Answer me!

*

The Violent Bear it Away

And from the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away. ~ Mt 11:12

This evening I went early to the Church to spend a final hour in Adoration. I  noticed Father come into the chapel, but initially did not pay attention as he was not vested. Suddenly I became aware that he was giving the customary benediction and others in the chapel had gone to their knees. I did as well, and watched as Our Lord was taken from the monstrance and the Blessed Sacrament reserved in the tabernacle were removed in solemn silence. The sacristan blew out the candles and left us staring into the open tomb of the empty tabernacle.

I pondered the violence of Holy Thursday, realizing how violent it was to my spirit to watch my Lord carried away at a time I did not expect. In past years there had been more time for Adoration...but not this year. Sadly, I moved into the Church to prepare for the first part of the three-day Mass that makes up the Sacred Triduum.

After Mass I returned to the chapel, to the Altar of Repose, planning to remain this year until the very end.

It is always with trepidation that I spend these last hours with Christ, going from the Last Supper and joining Him in His Agony in the Garden.  Tonight, I pondered the violence, the necessary violence, that makes up Lent and the Mystery of our Redemption. I meditated upon the necessary violence we must do to ourselves to overcome our own passions, to make our own sacrifices, in preparation to receive and understand the sacrifice of our Savior.

I meditated on the violence in this time of persecution, and the violence that begat it.

It is fitting, and it will always be fitting.

Tonight, as the Hour drew near, one could sense the tension in the chapel, as all who remained were aware of what was about to happen. Recalling the scene 2,000 years ago, I thought for a moment that I could nearly hear the sound of clashing armor, heavy footsteps, and hard voices. I could nearly see the torches that lit the way. And yet, there, in the chapel, the Garden, there was peace and silence in the presence of the Beloved. It grew to a point, though, that as much as I dreaded what was going to happen, I was ready, for I knew that if Our Lord was not taken away, our Redemption could not take place.

Even as Jesus surrendered to the chalice that His Father would not forbear to be passed from His lips, so I, too surrendered to the violence that must bear it all away.

Still, even prepared, as the Priest approached the Altar of Repose with great reverence, and removed Our Lord, even though liturgically there is no violence, yet somehow, violence was done to my soul as His Presence was taken from me. The candles were extinguished and the tabernacle stood open...empty.  I knelt were I was; I found that I could not rise. The violence of the Sacred Triduum has born me away, too, drawing me more deeply into the Mystery of our Redemption.

So it is that in stricken silence and anticipatory grief, I follow Jesus through this night of trial and persecution, through scourging and the crowning of thorns. I follow Him, because I cannot stay away. Even as I so often deny Him like Peter, I will continue to follow, for only He who is born away by the violence of the Cross is worthy to be followed, and worthy of the suffering caused even by the attempt.

As the violent bear away Christ our Savior, so, in suffering violence does He go to bear away our sin.

Tonight, they have taken Him away to be Crucified for our sins...

Last Temptation of the Mystical Body of Christ

In these final hours before we begin the Sacred Triduum, it is obvious to see the temptations being put to the Bride, the Mystical Body of Christ. As we get closer and closer to the Most Sacred of days, the voices become louder and angrier, more frenzied and it becomes hard and harder for us to remain calm in the face of this storm of rabid hostility.

This morning as I prayed the Divine Office, I went through the depths of the temptation to lash back at Pope Benedict XVI's (and therefore OUR) persecutors. I read these words with gritted teeth:

Psalm 52

Against a calumniator

Why do you boast of your wickedness

you champion of evil

planning ruin all day long,

your tongue like a sharpened razor,

you master of deceit?

You love evil more than good;

lies more than truth.

You love the destructive word,

you tongue of deceit.

For this God will destroy you

and remove you for ever.

He will snatch you from your tent and uproot you

from the land of the living.

The just shall see and fear.

They shall laugh and say: 

"So this is the man who refused to take God as his stronghold,

but trusted in the greatness of his wealth

and grew powerful by his crimes."

When I reached the end of that passage, I was ready to pray the imprecatory psalms - those psalms that are NOT in the psalter or used at Mass. I was ready to, in anger, call down fire and brimstone upon those who so hate us and so hate Christ.

Then I read on:

But I am like a growing olive tree

in the house of God.

I trust in the goodness of God

for ever and ever.

I will thank you for evermore;

for this is your doing.

I will proclaim that your name is good,

in the presence of your friends.

Psalm-prayer

Father, you cut down the unfruitful branch for burning and prune the fertile to make it bear more fruit. Make us grow like the laden olive trees in your domain, firmly rooted in the power and mercy of your Son, so that you may gather from us fruit worthy of eternal life.

Ant.  I have put all my trust in God's never-failing mercy.

Having finished that section, I was amazed at how quickly I had passed from near-rage into calm thoughtfulness, and even...trust. That's when it hit me.

We faithful Catholics are angry. We are angry about the abuse of children, yes, but also angry at the continuing abuse of these victims at the hands of money-grubbing, vile souls who are victimizing them again, all  for personal gain. We are angry at the bigoted media vipers and their henchmen who ignore the facts and instead perpetuate lies against the Holy Father.  Oh, yes, we are angry, and many bloggers, Catholic journalists, and Catholics on the street are fighting back.  Some honorably, and with use of intellect and  reason. Others, though, are lashing back with the same kind of anger and hatred as our attackers.

I realized in that moment, that this is the last temptation of the Bride. THIS is what is separating the proverbial goats from the sheep. THIS is a true test of the entire Mystical Body of Christ. Who will be ripped from the Head that is Christ, by their own choosing and behavior, and who will remain and follow the example of Jesus Himself?

Jesus was ridiculed, and false charges heaped upon him. He was beaten, he was scourged, even having been judged as innocent by the AUTHORITIES who had juris diction of this type of proceeding!  Jesus was dragged into dungeons and a crown of thorns placed on His head. He dragged His heavy cross up the hill and outside the gate to the Place of the Skull where he was nailed to that terrible tree in utter humiliation and made to face the whole world in His nakedness.

Innocent.

And He uttered not a word.

Jesus did not respond to His persecutors. He did not "correct" them. He did not come to His own defense, but took the assault as though what was happening to Him actually meant something else.

Oh, yes, it did. It meant eternal life for His Beloved.

When Jesus DID speak, He prayed for mercy for those who crucified Him.  He told the repentant thief who was crucified next to him that he would join Him in Paradise.  He PRAYED for MERCY for His Persecutors!

How we react in these terrible days, as faithful Catholics, will forever speak of us as a Church, as the Bride of Christ, as the Mystical Body.  How we respond, personally or professionally or both, will speak to the world of our Faith....or lack thereof.

Do we give into the temptation to lash out?  Or instead, do we turn into the Church Militant and do what we are called to do?

We are called to fall down on our knees and beg for mercy for the Holy Father's, and our persecutors!  THAT'S the battle! THAT'S the frontline! THAT is what will turn the tide and send the enemies scattering in terror!  BEG for mercy for them for indeed, they know NOT what they do! We want to pray for ourselves, that we will have the same zeal for the salvation of souls as did Christ himself!

Do not fall into the temptations that come from the Prince of this world, but rather, look to the Cross of Our Lord and the Salvation that is found in Christ alone. Look to His vicar, Pope Benedict XVI who guides us by his own example, which clearly is patterned after Christ.

Do you want to know why so many are attacking so strongly? Because they can see the image of Jesus in Pope Benedict XVI's actions, and it sends the demons that possess this world into a frenzy of hatred and terror.

So be it.

We must be as gentle as lambs but more cunning than the wolves that seek to destroy us. Our weapon:  prayer for those who persecute us. Love in the face of hatred. Life in the face that calls for death. NOTHING can withstand that kind of power.

Embrace the Passion of Christ

This Lent has been a hard one for the Church as a whole, but it has hit Europe especially. They are facing the purging now that began in America in 2002, but it seems the media and the world in general has become even more vicious and visceral in their reactions. A light is being shown on the sins of the Church, and even as we all collectively shudder, we, the disfigured Bride of Christ, must recognize that even the innocent must be scourged along with the guilty.

We live in a world today that hates us as Christians, but most especially as Catholics. It is launching a vile and backhanded assault against "the Vatican" and against our Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI. In so doing, they are assaulting us all for we as Catholics are in solidarity with all who suffer injustice.  In our innocence, we partake in the sufferings of those who were abused. In our own guilt, we partake in the divine justice that is owed to the men (and women) in the Church who have abused others.  In the mystical reality of our identity as the Bride of Christ, the Mystical Body with Christ as our head, we must enter into and suffer His own Passion. We are one with Christ, and cannot be separated from Him.

I have heard and seen others, in America and abroad, who have expressed that they are "shaken" by these revelations of sin and debauchery in Ireland and Germany (especially given what has happened here). Sadly, I am not shaken at all. I am saddened. I am angry. I am beyond emotion. But I am not shocked, and I am not shaken.

We have to recall that God does not reveal sin without revealing His mercy. In this season of Lent, as we enter Holy week, it is fitting that the Church as a whole suffer to her very soul for the sins committed in her name, and perhaps with her seeming acquiescence.  It is fitting that such horrifying sin has been revealed, for now it can be purged. We enter Holy Week in humiliation, even we who are innocent. We hear once again the banshee cries directed toward all priests, most especially our Holy Father, screaming, "CRUCIFY HIM! CRUCIFY HIM!"  We shudder deep within ourselves, perhaps wanting to look away, but knowing we cannot.

We look into the eyes of the guilty and innocent alike and find ourselves reflected there, part and parcel of both the bad and the good of our human nature.

We walk the road to Calvary with our Savior, knowing why He became Incarnate and went to the Cross to save us from our sins. We offer ourselves in union with Him, to be ridiculed, to be scourged, and ultimately, to be crucified.  Unless we accompany Christ along the via dolorosa, we cannot rise with Him in the Resurrection, knowing the full revelation of His Mercy.

Mk 4:35-40 35 On that day, as evening drew on, he said to them, "Let us cross to the other side." 36 Leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat just as he was. And other boats were with him.37 A violent squall came up and waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was already filling up. 38 Jesus was in the stern, asleep on a cushion. They woke him and said to him, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" 39 He woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Quiet! Be still!"  The wind ceased and there was great calm. 40 Then he asked them, "Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?"

This parable has relevance to our time. If you recall from scriptures, Jesus was always getting into a boat with the disciples and going somewhere, so we recognize this image as a reflection of the Church buffeted about in the world.

We are now those disciples in the boat with Christ as the "violent squall" of an insanely violent media attacks relentlessly, as money-grubbing attorneys with no interest in anyone's soul, much less his own, seeks to bring down the Annointed of Christ himself, seeking hard to find guilt where there is only innocence. In response, we, the faithful, are filling the chapels and churches, we are praying in our homes and in all places, at all times. If we are "shaken" it means that we think Jesus is sleeping and cannot hear our cries. For some, the scandals may well rattle their faith, yet they are in good company, for did not the Apostles (but for John) flee also when confronted by the violence and accusations of the crowd? 

Sounds a lot like the Passion of Our Lord, doesn't it?

We should not be shaken in these times. We should recognize that Christ does not sleep among us, but has sent the Holy Spirit to guide the Church through every storm of every century, and will not fail us now. Christ himself has not abandoned us; He is with us and calls US to be even more united with Him in His suffering for the salvation of sinners. We must pray, we must do penance, and we must, in absolute faith, embrace the Passion of Christ and in so doing, come to understand the full revelation of His saving power through the exercise of Divine Justice, Divine Mercy, and Divine Love in the folly and the glory of the Cross.

In the Office of Readings last Saturday we read an exhortation from St. Gregory Nazianzen:   "We must sacrifice ourselves to God, each day and in everything we do, accepting all that happens to us for the sake of the Word, imitating his passion by our sufferings, and honoring his blood by shedding our own. We must be ready to be crucified."

Today, the antiphon of Morning Prayer reminds us:  "Jesus said: my heart is nearly broken with sorrow; stay here and keep watch with me." 

The Office of Readings today is from Hebrews 10:39 exhorting us: "We are not among those who draw back and perish, but among those who have faith and live."

Today, Monday of Holy Week, we are called to courage, called to "set our faces like flint" and remember that we, too, must be crucified with Christ. We are waiting and we are watching. We are called to have faith....and live.

Holy Week Begins

Today is the first day of the holiest week of the year, and already it's off to an interesting and brutal start.

Yesterday I was able to go to Confession, hopefully for the last time before Easter, and the priest said to me, "It's going to get even a little more intense this week."

Indeed. It already has, in ways I did not expect and ways that are not meant to be revealed.

Forgive me for my silence; it is the best I have to offer in the face of the great mystery of our salvation and redemption.

1. Let all mortal flesh keep silence,

and with fear and trembling stand;

ponder nothing earthly-minded,

for with blessing in his hand,

Christ our God to earth descendeth,

our full homage to demand.

2. King of kings, yet born of Mary,

as of old on earth he stood,

Lord of lords, in human vesture,

in the body and the blood;

he will give to all the faithful

his own self for heavenly food.

3. Rank on rank the host of heaven

spreads its vanguard on the way,

as the Light of light descendeth

from the realms of endless day,

that the powers of hell may vanish

as the darkness clears away.

4. At his feet the six-winged seraph,

cherubim, with sleepless eye,

veil their faces to the presence,

as with ceaseless voice they cry:

Alleluia, Alleluia,

Alleluia, Lord Most High!

Dog: 1. Squad Car: 0

Some days you're the Squad Car.  

Some days you're the Dog. 

Fall in Love Again

Last night I was ready to delete my blog.

I was ready to just walk away from the whole mess. Every so often I get fed up with the snark and vitriol of the internet world, and truth be told, I get fed up with myself as well.

But I can't delete myself, so I don't really see how deleting my blog will help anything.

It's been a tough Lent, maybe my personal worst EVER. I fall...I get up. I fall again. I get up. I fall again. It's like my legs are made of rubber. I can't get out of the dirt, but then again, all I'm looking at is dirt. Even when I get to the point that I'm ready to lift my eyes, something else happens and I am thrust once again into the throes of disaster. I quite literally haven't been able to lift my head for weeks!

I've realized some of the problem is in my prayer life;  I had intended to spend MORE time in prayer each day, but I haven't been faithful to that. In fact, I don't think I've even really tried! It seems, actually, that the closer we get to Holy Week, the less focused I am, and the worse I'm doing.

This morning though, while walking my dog, taking in the fresh air and sunshine, I addressed these problems to Our Lord. I gave him my misery and asked Him about a particular insight that came to me last night. I gave Him my lack of Hope and my absolute weariness, asking Him, "When will this end?  How can I be ready for Holy Week? How can I be ready for YOU?"

Jesus has been silent of late, letting me wallow, and for good reason. I prayed for conversion, for I realize that I am in desperate need of conversion. That is the goal of this Lenten season for us all, but I did have a special request and a special focus. Until today, I thought that I had lost focus. As it turns out, my prayer has been answered.

God is faithful.

As I see now, He was allowing me to really wrestle with my own sin, ask those deep dark questions, and finally fall, exhausted, into the mud. It is only here in this weariness that I could finally see what has been lacking. It is only by experiencing this utter blindness that I finally can recognize my spiritual desolation and from that point, be brought to conversion.

This morning, while walking, I finally heard Jesus speak, and His words were simple. "Look at Me."

Huh?

Again, the words came to me; not in a locution, but in that still, small voice from within:  "Look at Me. I'm right HERE. LOOK at Me!"

And I looked...and that's when I understood.

I've been all over the place this Lent. I've been looking elsewhere, but He was within. He called, he shouted, but I couldn't hear because I had taken my eyes away from Him.

Conversion isn't some difficult theological construct. It doesn't require knowledge or philosophical understanding or complicated definitions.

Conversion is, simply put, falling in love. It is the state of turning toward God, toward the Author of Life, and allowing oneself to be inflamed by the fire of Divine Charity.

All Jesus asks us to do in Lent is to fall in love with Him again.

All He is saying is, "Look at Me."

When we do, when we really look at Him, we can't help but fall in love.

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace. 

~ St. Augustine, Confessions

"Prende La Bomba!"

Sometimes, we choose our fast. Sometimes it is chosen for us.

Back when I lived in Mexico, the shower in the home where I lived was on an upper floor, and directly over it was a broken skylight.  As October moved into November, the night temperatures would fall into the low 50's so some mornings when I got up to get ready to go to class or elsewhere, I'd be shivering in that cold. Still, knowing what REAL cold was like, it was only a minor inconvenience.

Of course, most mornings we had hot water, but some days...not so much. I became adept at very quick, economical showers in freezing-cold water.  In one of our classes, as I recall our teacher told us that we could yell "Prende la bomba!" to tell people to turn the hot water pump on, but I never once used the phrase. (Admittedly I was a little afraid I'd get the phrase wrong and be yelling something ridiculous or obscene, which unfortunately did happen at other occasions much to my great mortification.)  Most mornings, actually, by the time I was in the shower the host family was gone anyway, running the kids to school or perhaps already at work...or just leaving.

I was reminded of those cold-shower mornings in a very real way this morning, but somehow, I think the water is colder in Minnesota.

Over the years, that being most of my life before and after Mexico, I've become quite accustomed, especially in these winter/early spring days, to enjoy a nice warm shower in at least a fairly warm house.

Until Saturday- that is...yesterday.

I turned on the water to the shower...not warming up. I turned the dial further over...a little improvement but not much. Realizing something was very wrong with the heater, I jumped into the shower to use what warmth was left, it was quite bearable but nothing near what I'd call "warm enough", and when I was done and ready to go, I made sure the pilot light wasn't out. No smell of gas. No leak.

I replaced this stupid thing only a few years ago.

When I called to see when they could service the heater, I learned that they would need an 8 hour block of time. Being that this is a class weekend and I'm not here, this weekend is not an option. I made an appointment for Monday afternoon.

You realize, of course, that that means...two days of cold showers. Not just cold, but FREEZING cold!

I hope I didn't wake my neighbors up as I gasped for air in shock this morning and screeched while trying to wash my hair.

Oh, and by the way....I'm quite awake today, thank you very much!

Also....I really hope those words I posted mean what I think they mean.

Have a blessed Sunday, everyone.