What Firefighting Taught Me About Evangelization

I always become a little more reflective when I approach my next birthday, and given the movie I watched a few days ago, (Smokejumpers) I've been thinking a lot about the stuff I did in my 20's, the aspirations I had, and, well, the actual results of my efforts.

Although in many ways I often look back on those efforts and judge them as "failures", when I see them in light of the Cross, I can see something more, something that isn't about me, but tells a story that simply turns my experiences into a living parable.

To be honest, it is only in viewing my past through this lens that both gives me clarity and helps me come to terms with what happened, ensuring that I cannot possibly ever view my life as a "waste of God's time."

EVERYTHING is a part of God's time, and part of His timing. In cooperation with Him, I can look back and find the lessons He intended for me to learn, and hopefully, to pass on to others. What follows is only one of those lessons.

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Back in my employment with the big city, during the Tower portion of Firefighter training our days consisted of roll call, review of the SOP's (Standard Operating Procedures), practice of certain foundational skills, and the training evolutions scheduled to build upon the previous day's training. It started out in the same way one learns to shoot a gun: with basic safety (i.e. "dry firing") care and cleaning, etc,....and then we began to get into the real meat of it, slowly building the skills at the appropriate time.

The six weeks at "The Tower" were the final culmination of our training, where we put all the academics and practical skills to use in a systematic application of the SOP's. In other words, it was where our real mettle was tested, where we confronted our fears and failings and had to make the choice to push beyond...or fall back.

There were lessons learned, however, that applied to other things. Much of the process was reminiscent of my law enforcement training and work, and for others in my class, of their military experience.  Yet, what we learned wasn't limited to the practical realm.

While I was there, I was also experiencing my return to God. That adage about there being no atheists in foxholes?  Yeah, well, we weren't in foxholes, but when you realize your mortality in exercises that might well actually cost you your life in mere training, well, that tends to introduce you more often to your knees. (Given that I was at the Training Tower on 9/11/2001, that lesson came even more completely home.)

Truly, God was a part of my training even when religion wasn't a formal part of my life.

The Evolution

We were sent into the Residence, where natural gas-inspired fires would burn according to the control of the Training Captains (read: Drill Sergeants).

Each trainee was assigned a position, and we were expected to know the details of each role within that evolution. I happened to draw what was perhaps one of the physically easier roles, but one requiring the most courage with regard to being center stage:  I was on the nozzle for our first "fire".

We went into the building in full gear, airtanks engaged as if the smoke was real, and with a "charged" hoseline running from the Engine at the closest hydrant.  I had the nozzle in hand, felt the door with the back of my gloved hand, opened it, and crawled in under the smoke, my secondary (in real life would be my Captain pushing/yelling)  behind me, "rolling" the tankline just as he was supposed to do.

It was pitch black, so I relied on my training thus far to follow the wall, find the doorknob, find the fire. Finally I opened the door to the proper room and from the midst of the smoke came the hot glow of flames arising from the gas pilot lights, mimicking a real fire. I entered the room slightly, pointed the nozzle, and opened the line. The Drill Sergeant Training Captain yelled at me to get closer, so, holding the fully open hoseline I struggled against the force of the water to crawl in further, surprised by the blast of heat that hit me so quickly. (No textbook explanation can describe this experience.)

I knew about not "steaming us out". I knew I had to nail this thing and had to do it right. My backup person (cadet like me) came up behind me to provide physical support, and just as he was supposed to, pressed his forearm and elbow against my back to brace me. With this initially-helpful counterbalance, I directed the nozzle according to our shared will to make the fire go away.

"ADVANCE! GO! GET THAT NOZZLE UP! GO! GET IN THERE!" 

The Captain began yelling at me to advance. I tried, with all my might!

 But my partner,expecting me to move on that command,  immediately put more pressure on me.

The problem was this: he thought he was helping me to move forward, but in actuality, his main pressure point was against my upper back and shoulders. Instead of aiding a tactical advance, he was, in fact driving my entire upper body, and therefore the nozzle (our lifeline) into the ground.

I tried to yell back at him to back off, but instead he only pushed harder, even while the Captain screamed even more loudly at me to get the nozzle up and to get closer to the fire.

I knew the Captains could see what was going on and wondered why they kept yelling for my advance when they could see that my face was nearly driven to the cement, such that the water stream had gone even lower than the base of the training fire!  I could see it splashing against the brown vents of the "fire source", far below the flames I was supposed to be hitting. With all my strength I was pushing the nozzle hard upward with my hand and biceps, painfully handicapped by the muscles I was not able to use as a result of my co-worker's own battle to get us into the mouth of the dragon. I was desperately attempting to relieve the pressure, desperately trying to crawl forward, completely unable to move because of the force against my upper back, continuing to drive me DOWN, not FORWARD.

Helpless

The screams of the other firefighters yelling at me to "PUT IT OUT!!" "ADVANCE!" "YOU'RE STEAMING US OUT!" still ring through my memory. I can't forget the struggle to push back against my backup, trying to raise the nozzle and put us all out of our misery.

To me, it felt like we were approaching the sun. To them, it felt like they were vegetables being steamed in a convection oven. We were all suffering. We were all miserable, and it seemed that perhaps no one, not even the Captains, realized that I was so totally, embarrassingly helpless.

I was helpless because my backup was oblivious to what he was actually doing, and our Captains, ALL three of them,  continued to scream at me to advance, in spite of the fact it was quite literally impossible to do anything other than lay down and die to get any other message across to them.

Instead, I struggled in utter physical and emotional agony, and finally, at long last, I made my way to the fire, close enough to satisfy the Captains, aiming the nozzle properly enough to satisfy my fellow "firefighters".

The fire went out and, well, I barely remember my exit. The only thing I wanted to do was to breathe fresh air. I exited that fire to an entirely new verbal blast from the other trainees. The Captains didn't even allow me to defend myself...they cut us all off immediately with a command to stand down.

As it turned out, they had a point and knew fully what was going on.

One of their points, from a "personnel" (note: not "personal") standpoint was to see how I would handle being pushed both physically and verbally, especially when the two factors made obedience to either impossible. They wanted to witness the struggle and final outcome.

I didn't know any of this when I stood with my immediate "team" from our first evolution. I only recall standing up wearily, drenched in sweat, listening to the complaints of my coworkers and friends, all of whom had no idea what had just happened and why. I left the training building feeling like a total failure, knowing that I had lost respect, certain that in the future, NONE of them would ever want to work with me, certain I would kill them and anyone we were sent in to save.

Then the Captains surprised us all

Yes, they were critical of me; as this was a first-time attempt, certainly I made errors, and serious ones at that!  Those errors were expected and normal. Our superiors went through a litany of errors that didn't leave a single classmate within that evolution untouched. I was certain I would be crucified in this one, and waited, expecting the worst, but, well, that was the capstone:  the harshest criticism was reserved for my #2 person: the guy who was supposed to be backing me up!

The Captains pointed out that it wasn't my fault that they and my coworkers were getting steamed out; it was HIS fault. They actually noted how hard I struggled against him in my attempts to advance, the effect of his force, and spoke of the physics of leverage.

I am not a tall person, but this guy was. All his strength, although intended otherwise, was put into pushing my upper back and shoulders DOWNWARD. It was HE who drove the nozzle into the ground, and me with it. The Captains could see that I wasn't hesitating, but was quite literally trapped by "friendly fire".

They preached awareness, not just of ourselves, but of those we are backing up. As a shorter person, they emphasized where I would need to place support on a taller person, and actually reversed our physical positions to demonstrate this for the entire group, with an open hoseline. For the tall firefighters working with a shorter person, they emphasized the importance of proper position, for the force from behind in any case will quite literally redirect the nozzle, usually to detrimental effect.

They spoke of communication, of the need for both people to be close enough to know each other well, to speak freely and  to be aware of the other and what they needed. It had to be a team effort. They had seen me trying, my partner not listening. It had to be a two-way street or, well...people would die. Those were the stakes.

Oh, yes, I learned that day how important the #2 person is, and it's a lesson I've never forgotten. Even though I was personally vindicated in that particular scenario, I have come to realize that there's more to that lesson, and where it matters, well...I'm the #2 person and I've more than pushed others down: I've steamrolled right over them in a misguided effort to get them to where I thought they should go.

That brings me to the main point:

That lesson makes sense in Evangelization, too.

In Evangelization, we are trying to advance a soul towards the light of Christ, towards salvation. In effect, they are "on the nozzle".

If the backup person is too harsh, too overbearing, instead of helping that soul towards the Divine Fire, they are driving them into stagnancy, or perhaps even worse.

Coming on too strong is as bad as being too lax; in both cases, the soul in question is left in limbo and might actually be destroyed.

There is a balance to maintain, it relies upon teamwork, and God is the Source, the Catalyst, and the Captain.  Every effort comes FROM Him and is directed TOWARDS Him. Any effort that places pressure so as to direct the focus away from Him is, well...deadly. (Yes, there is a place for backfires, for containment, for "surround and drown"...in spiritual terms we call those techniques the Sacraments, Sacred Tradition, and the Intercession of the Saints, among other spiritual realities.)

Every so often, when I think of evangelization and the mistakes I've witnessed or those I have made myself, I recall that scene, there in the training house, and I recall the sense of panic, the steam, the heat, and the pressure that wouldn't allow me to either advance or flee...and I am brought to empathy.

We are called to lay down our lives in service to Christ. We are NOT called to sacrifice the lives and souls of others. If we deny others the free will given to them by God, we both deny Christ and become culpable for all those we cause to flee from Him.

Evangelization isn't about us; it's about Jesus Christ and the salvation of souls, and the second we lose that focus, we drive others away, and may, in fact, spiritually murder them.

Evangelization must be bound and driven by Divine Charity, directed towards Hope, underscored by Faith. We need to be able to step aside, recalling that conversion and salvation do not depend on us. Many souls need a gentle approach, and hard sales tactics do nothing other than scare them away, or in the terms I experienced, drive them into the ground, paralyzing them.

It is a great temptation for believers to pressure others we love to go where we want them to go, however we must remain cognizant that our pushiness may not be the will of God, no matter what we may think. Perhaps some souls need to suffer in order to be brought to conversion. Perhaps they need to fall away in order to understand what they have lost.(I fell into both categories, and then some).

We have to recall that God is the only one who can bring good out of evil, and He allows evil and suffering for just such a purpose. Look at Our Lord Jesus Christ for this example! Who are any of us to complain of suffering in the face of the One who suffered on our behalf and invites us to partake, to unite our own sufferings to His?

Everyone We Meet is Fighting a Hard Battle

We must act with mercy, in light of what we know of divine justice. For our part, we must temper all we do with true charity, which is not a "warm and fuzzy" type of "total acceptance of all things".  What I experienced that day in the tower was real charity:  I suffered what I perceived as injustice, but were it not for that experience, neither I nor my fellow cadets would have gotten that lesson from any side.

True charity can be harsh, for it has in its sight the ultimate good of every soul. It meets the soul where it is and directs it to something greater. It allows the soul to suffer for what it thinks it loves in order that it might become purified enough to experience what it truly loves.

We must take care of the souls who come across our paths, and be willing to be gentle where a gentle touch is needed. It is easy to be forceful in evangelization;  most of those called to this work in a serious way have strong personalities; it is hard to stand down when the love of Our Lord drives one onward. Yet that very love must be the cause of awareness, for when only one soul is lost, if only one soul flees....we are all deprived.

We all suffer. We are all steamed out.

We become less if only one is compromised.

We lose souls if, out of our pride we forget to take a backseat to those we love.

We lose our own souls if we forget to take a backseat to God.

Losing Our Way

Have you ever gotten lost before?

I have.

Yesterday while driving through the unfamiliar hills and valleys of Wisconsin en route to a destination with which I was unfamiliar, I was seized both by a sense of adventure and a memory of being lost in another time and place.

After I had graduated from college, I was given a conditional offer for a job in the Twin Cities which required a few appointments in different places which they conveniently planned for me for the same day. Part I took place in downtown Minneapolis,  Part II took place in one of the western suburbs. None of that meant anything to me; I wasn't a "city girl" and had no idea where I was going. Were it not for a dear friend who was familiar with the geography and parking garages downtown, I would not have made it even to my first appointment! Having experienced the discombobulation herself, she gave me a "map" to get myself both into and out of downtown, explaining the one-way streets and directions, and where they intersected with major highways.

In the end, it didn't matter. I exited the parking garage after my first appointment, already going the wrong way. I had a bad feeling I was doing the wrong thing, but I continued, hoping to find my way out of the maze of tall buildings that made me feel almost claustrophobic. Seriously; the city wasn't THAT big. I knew if I followed a major roadway, I'd find my way to the right highway and to my destination. There was time; I didn't need to rush.

But the road I was on kept going and going and going, and didn't contain any of the landmarks I was told to look for. I saw that "Hennepin Ave." had at some point become "Larpenteur Ave." It didn't become what it was supposed to become. I knew I was lost, and with that sign, I could no longer be in denial.

There I was, in the inner city...lost. I didn't have a cell phone, I didn't know where to go for directions because, well...I couldn't identify my own location! How could I ask how to get from here to there if I didn't even know where here was?  

Finally I saw a business with an open door, a large parking lot, and an easy way in and out without getting lost even more so than I already was! I walked into that very convenient store and simply asked for directions. I asked where I was and told them where I was SUPPOSED to be going. The clerk and his customer conferred for a moment, and managed not even to laugh at me. I was so far lost that my lost-ness was completely nonsensical!

The worst part about it for me, though, was that I could not even fathom this particular state of being; I had always had a very good sense of direction, and with little information I was always able to create a "map" in my head. But in this situation, there just wasn't enough to go on...and I got lost. In humiliation I accepted the directions, and the very kind customer explained he was headed in the same general direction, invited me to follow him back to the freeway and he'd point to me where to exit to get to my location, although he'd be continuing on.

Gratefully, gripping my steering wheel with white knuckles, staying on his "heels", I followed him as we wound through traffic, and I saw him signal my turn, pointing to the sign he said would be there. Gratefully I exited to the next freeway and found my destination with no problem...and from there, after that appointment, I knew my way home.

Yesterday as I watched for my exit, this time in the middle of nowhere as opposed a city crawling with traffic, I remembered that very kind stranger from so many years ago. As I drove the country roads, remembering the lessons from that day, I wondered if I'd missed my exit again or if perhaps I had not gone far enough. I knew to trust the directions I had been given, so simply decided to believe that the signs I needed to change course would be there, just as I'd been instructed.

As it was...they were. I left the highway, turned down a road, until finally, in the middle of Wisconsin farmland there arise a glorious church steeple: my destination.

Being Lost

I had time yesterday during my long travels to ponder the many things involved in getting lost. We've all done it. We've all lost our way at one time or another.

Being lost at any point implies one very important thing: that we have a specific destination.  Not a random point to get to eventually if we feel like it "sometime maybe", but a very specific destination, and often a specific time of arrival at that destination.

Think about it: when we go somewhere important, we plot our course, we plan (even the detours if necessary), and our goal is to arrive at point X at the specified time, if not a bit earlier.

Sometimes, though, those plans go awry.

There can be obstacles; maybe construction sends us on a detour, or perhaps we try to go straight through it, realize that was a bad idea and take a detour that was NOT on the map. Sometimes the planned detour is wrong and leads us off course.

Sometimes we just feel like being creative and randomly try to take a little jaunt off to the side, thinking nothing of it.

In any case, somewhere in the middle of all those options, we lose our way.

Then something happens:

...it seems that the first reaction to being lost is, well...to insist that we are not lost!

First we think that our chosen course will bring us back to where we intend in due time, and we sit back to enjoy the scenery. Or perhaps we're not loving the scenery, but we sure do love the calm assurance that our current course is going to meet up with the road that will take us to our intended destination.

Sometimes we get so busy enjoying our detour, intended or not, that we completely forget that we even HAVE a final destination. In that case, it takes much longer to realize that, well...we're lost.

There is one common thread involved in getting lost:  Arrogance. Pride.

Oh, no, it doesn't begin that way, but it sure does head in that direction in a big darned hurry!

You can see where I'm going with this....

Our spiritual lives are the same way.

We HAVE a destination:  eternal union with God.

We HAVE a map to get us there:  the Sacraments, Sacred Scripture, Sacred Tradition, Sacred Liturgy, etc.

Yet sometimes, we get lost. Maybe we're just confused and go left when we mean to go straight. Sometimes we hit a pothole, fall over, hit our heads, get confused and shuffle off looking for help where there is none to be found.

Sometimes we just decide we know better and try to break our own trails.

Often we don't realize we've lost our way, for we haven't INTENDED to get lost. We fully desire that final destination in the Lord, but...oh, that shiny bauble off to the side is so....pretty! We stop thinking, we take our focus off of our goal, and in so doing, we become disoriented.

It's a world full of shiny objects and we're all a bunch of crazy kittens. Or maybe we're puppies in a butcher shop, finding the falling scraps irresistible.

Yup. Lost. And when we get lost, we lose a bit of our dignity.

That's the final sign of being lost:  we first decide we must rely on OURSELVES to get ourselves out of our mess. We try to backtrack, we try to push on, and in so doing, we become more and more....lost.

The only way, contrary to what we want to believe, to get our dignity back, is to ask for assistance. To ask for directions. To admit we've lost our way and desire to once again to be set right.

That's why we have the Sacraments, especially of Confession. When we go to Confession, we are simply coming to the feet of Our Lord and admitting to Him, "I got lost."  He understands, and He even knows HOW we got lost, even more than we do!  If we KNOW how we lost our way, we tell Him, through His Ministers who can listen, understand...and draw us a map back to the highway.

I remember that day so long ago, when I was so lost, and so alone that I realized I had to find someone to point me in the right direction. Not only did he set me on my way, but he led me almost all the way!

That's what Jesus for us, although instead of ever leaving us to go it alone, He gives us direction, lights the way, and leads us along the path we must follow.

Our pilgrimage here on earth lasts a lifetime, and we often lose our way. We have only to remember that we are never alone, and if we but go to the throne of Mercy and ask for forgiveness, we will be set back on our way.
*

Graduation

One week ago today, I graduated with my Master's degree.

I arrived at the Church thinking that it would be as anti-climactic as that day, 15 years ago, when I mounted the stage to accept my Bachelor of Arts degree. This was, of course different as our class was significantly smaller, "we'd" [meaning a few people on the graduation committee who worked their tails off, God bless them!]  had to plan the event "ourselves" (with guidance from the University), and, as I was to find out...the Mass and Ceremony were a LOT more intense than I'd expected. And a lot more solemn. 

We processed into the Church to the awesome tones of Gregorian Chant. The Schola Choir was beautiful, and, as the organist we'd hired did not show up for some unexplained reason, the purity of the voices rising in praise to God were unsullied, reminding us not just of the dignity of the occasion, but of the eternal holiness of the Mass.

"The Church Needs You!"

I couldn't stop looking at the Crucifix during the Bishop's homily, as he spoke of God's call to us all to serve His Church, his exhortation to serve with a deep love for sinners, and to go out to evangelize. "As one Apostle to another...."  I looked at the Bishop, startled. His homily sounded more like a COMMISSION than anything else, and of course that was no mistake. God had called us to study. We had responded, and now it was time to go out into the world, bringing to souls all that we had learned....and in so doing, bring them back Home.  "The Church needs you!" the Bishop reiterated again and again throughout his homily.

I knew it was no mistake, but all in God's timing, that we had attended our last class on the (transferred) Feast of the Ascension. That alone pointed to the great commission of Our Lord to the Apostles, to go forth and baptize all nations. It was no mistake, but all in God's Providence that we graduated on a First Saturday, a day traditionally set aside to especially honor the Immaculate Heart of Mary, and it was no mistake that we were there just before the close of the Year for Priests, in the Month of the Sacred Heart.  

There, well within the Heart of the Church, the Bishop emphasized our responsibility. Oddly enough, I was taken back to the day I was sworn in as a Police Officer. The weight of my Oath, the badge, the gun, and later, the vest, symbolized the weight of my responsibility for lives. As a Police Officer, if I screwed up, lives would be lost. I realized that what the Bishop was saying pointed to something far greater, something that called me to the foot of the Cross, to lay the burden there too heavy for me to carry:  as a theologian, if I screw up....souls will be lost. Not just lives, but....souls!

Interiorly, I shuddered, then clung to the bloodied wood upon which my Savior hung.  I still don't know exactly what He is calling me to do, but there is no doubt; if I have come this far, it is God's intent that I spend myself in union with Christ for the salvation of souls. 

Commencement

We processed out at the end of the Mass, and I couldn't help but notice all the flashbulbs going off as we passed. It was from that point on that I began to commence with the squirming. I don't like having my picture taken; I never have, but on that day, there was no way to escape it. I had to quite literally grin and bear it. 

We processed in, yet again, this time for the actual Commencement ceremony. The Commencement Address was given by one of our beloved professors, and he gave what we recognize as his final lecture ("No extra charge!" cracked the Program Director later on.), and while we knew it would go over the heads of many of the attendees, we understood it perfectly and appreciated all he had to say.  Our Class Speaker had something to say about (and therefore, to) each and every one of us about "...what we learned in our 75 half hour and 10 minute breaks over the last 3 years...", and I gotta say, he nailed each and every one of us, bringing many of us to tears.  (I actually managed to rein myself in...if I got going, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop!).  I admit that as I write this now, I'm tearing up a bit, thinking about all my fellow students and friends, all we have gone through since we have begun, both the greatest of tragedies and some incredible triumphs.

We received the blessing of the Bishop and processed out, this time with the flash-bulb popping ever closer to us, even as we exited the hall. We gathered in a group for a large group photo with the present Professors and the Bishop. I'm pretty sure all of us were squirming from all the attention. After all, we're bookworms, not celebrities!

As the photo session seemed to go on endlessly, still holding what was probably by that point a clay grin, through our smiling teeth some of us asked, "Are we done yet? Can we go now?"  And still the cameras continued to point in click. 

One of my classmates commented, "This must be what celebrities feel like!"

Someone else queried, "Are we celebrities?"

And yet another cracked, "Hey! They're paparazzi!  We have our own paparazzi!"   Which, of course, caused many of us to burst into laughter, turning our "Danceline smiles" into real ones once again.    

It was a little while before I finally made it into the Hall again to find my fans friends and family. We'd all been limited in the numbers of people we could invite, and suddenly I was grateful for that, for I quickly realized that I didn't have time to be "hostess" to them all. I'm not a socialite by nature, but realized I did have to find a way to greet all of my guests, even while saying goodbye to my classmates, some of whom I am quite certain I will never see again this side of the veil.

Finally, finally I had the opportunity to open the the leather-bound, gold-embossed degree the Bishop had handed me. I stared at it a moment, noting it was all in Latin.  "Oh my gosh, I have a Master's Degree and I can't even READ it!"

It's good to have a reminder to remain humble, that although we have learned a great deal, we've only scratched the surface. It is an invitation to be grateful, and yet, to go deeper, to continue seeking the Truth. 

Our Graduation was a bittersweet event, almost painful in its intensity. I do have a sense of accomplishment, though, of having completed something I set out to do, finally. I know it is a gateway to something, a simple stone on the path I am following to Calvary, and now my foot hovers in mid-air as I try to see the next step.

*                 *               *

In the Shadow of Your Wings

Reposted from March 12, 2009:

Have mercy on me, God, have mercy

for in you my soul has taken refuge.

In the shadow of your wings I take refuge

till the storms of destruction pass by.

~ Psalm 57

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

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

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

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

You have kept an account of my wanderings;

you have kept a record of my tears;

are they not written in your book?

Then my foes will be put to flight

on the day that I call to you.

~ Psalm 56

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

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

My heart is ready, O God,

my heart is ready.

~Psalm 57

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

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



(all Psalms and prayer taken from March 12 2009 Liturgy of the Hours, Daytime prayer)

Interlude

I know I haven't posted much lately, and most of what I have of late has consisted of re-posts.

At this time of transition, my energy is going into prayer and pondering and I haven't felt like writing.

I have already begun working on a serious study of scripture, finally acting on a deep question I have carried with me for three years. I have the skills, I have the resources...all but one:  I still need a 1966 New Jerusalem Bible, the one with the Patristic footnotes. I couldn't even FIND one of these when I first took Old Testament, and of those that have come available, well...I couldn't afford it then and can't afford it now.

If it is meant to fall into my hands, it will. In the meantime, I'll use the tools I have and delve into the Church Fathers and their commentaries that relate to my topic as the time comes.

For now, it is sufficient to read Sacred Scripture with an eye to my topic, mark the relevant passages as I go, and complete the synthesis/analysis/exegesis as time goes on.

Please forgive me if I continue to re-post old things. For now I don't feel like blogging and don't have any idea when I will. It simply isn't that important.

Call me "Bones"

Tomorrow I graduate with my Master's degree: a day I actually thought would never come.

It's been a long 3 years. I've read a lot of books and in the meantime, I've built up a stack of "wanna-read" titles.  Right now I'm in the middle of 4 of them. Being sick of being in the middle of a stack of books once again, in the interim between our last class weekend and now, I've been immersing myself in catching up with my new favorite TV show, "BONES".

Shameful confession:  I actually fell in love with this show when I caught it sometime during my last semester of class.

Watching improbable investigations about crimes that were far more fascinating than any I ever completed has excited my good memories about law enforcement and investigation of fraud, and the other day I found myself giggling over an old memory.

I admit it: I'm still giggling a bit, especially at the similarities!

In my last couple years in Investigation, I was becoming very burned out as a result of several factors. Some of it was the fact that so many people were lying to me for very idiotic reasons. Some of it was the fact that people who were obvious criminals were lying just out of habit and their lies were so obvious it didn't even warrant an investigation. When I had legitimate fraud investigations I was just as happy as when I had legitimate customers.

As a result, I was becoming very jaded and crabby, and as a further consequence, at times I was beginning to lose my patience even while in the field.

On one occasion, we had an especially creepy (read: potentially physically dangerous) customer so my boss came out with me on a vehicle inspection that needed to take place at the suspected fraudmonger's home. As part of my boss's job was to do file reviews, he took this one as an opportunity, and part of that opportunity was to observe my customer interactions. Never mind the fact he was my "backup" in case this guy decided to act in the way his violent history portended.

This particular customer couldn't keep his own story, or his own alleged "damages" straight. He claimed he'd reported a theft, but there was no police record of his alleged report. He reported this and that damage, but when I was there, he gave me completely opposite "symptomatology" of his vehicle.

Tired of the game, I did what any good cop would have done:  I confronted him on the conflicts he was reporting in a very direct way:

 Me, being confrontational:  "That doesn't make any sense. In your statement you said X, but now you are telling me Y. Which is it?"

And then the customer stared at me and tried to hedge around the conflict. I was unrelenting and pressed him on the point.

I wanted to know what I was looking at and what I was assessing his vehicle for. What was he claiming? I did NOT have the time to come out to evaluate the next wishy-washy crappy thing he was claiming with regard to his obvious fraudulent claim.

When the customer went back inside, (tripping up his front steps in the process, only to stand up and state with great dignity, there, at 9:30 am on a weekday, "I'm drunk!") my supervisor quite literally PULLED me aside and said with gritted teeth, "QUESTION HIM ON THE PHONE, NOT IN PERSON!"

He was obviously holding in his OWN temper. (Imagine Booth and Brennan at this point.)

I feigned innocence even knowing I was totally busted in this file review.

Me, feigning innocence to my boss:  "What?  I need to know what he's claiming so I can document it. I'm just giving him a chance to explain his contradictions!"

The criminal customer was coming back down the steps, and this time managed to maintain his footing with the heavy assistance of the railing.  My supervisor stared at me balefully as I came from behind the man's  vehicle to accept some paperwork he was handing over.

I smiled sweetly and asked for clarification on certain points (i.e. I continued to drill him on his inconsistencies albeit in a bit of a softened manner.)

The customer moved into the garage to point something out, maybe some fluid drippings, and my supervisor said to me, again, with gritted teeth, "You are NOT carrying a .9mm anymore!"

Quietly and in a matter-of-fact tone I responded, "I didn't carry a .9mm, I carried a .45!"

Before my boss could brain me with his clipboard I stepped away to join the criminal customer in the garage to stare at the ancient oil stain he was claiming was a fresh transmission fluid leak.

This time I just rolled my eyes instead of responding, pretended to make serious note of the incident, and told the guy we'd be in touch, reminded him to get his forms in and that we were still waiting on the *snicker* police report (*that didn't exist*)

Once in the vehicle, my supervisor said to me again, "You need to remember that you are NOT carrying a .9mm anymore!"

And I corrected him AGAIN, "I didn't carry a .9mm! I carried a .45 !"

Boss:  "Whatever! Either way you're not carrying a gun!"

Me:  "He was lying to me! His story was drastically different in person than it was in his initial statement!"

Boss: "I know, I agree with you! I'm just saying that you aren't carrying a .9mm--"

"--.45!" (me, interrupting..)

Boss: "--anymore! This guy MIGHT have one and might blow you away!"

Me: "He's too drunk to walk up his own familiar steps, I doubt he'd have good aim."

Boss: "Then at least have the decency to protect company property from his bad aim." (half-joking out of exasperation at this point)

Me: "OK, fine."  (pause) "Why can't I have a gun on this job, considering all the customers who want me dead?"

*baleful sidewise stare from scowling supervisor*

Me: *sigh* 

...

Yeah, call me "Bones". (Only, don't call me Bones. Call me Dr. Brennan).

What do you seek when you dream of happiness?

This is a repost from October 2007, something always fitting for Friday, for throughout the year, on every Friday, we especially recall the Passion of Our Lord.



It is Jesus in fact that you seek when you dream of happiness, he is waiting for you when nothing else you find satisfies you; he is the beauty to which you are so attracted; it is he who provokes you with that thirst for fullness that will not let you settle for compromise; it is he who urges you to shed the masks of a false life; it is he who reads in your hearts your most genuine choices, the choices that others try to stifle.

It is Jesus who stirs in you the desire to do something great with your lives, the will to follow an ideal, the refusal to allow yourselves to be grounded down by mediocrity, the courage to commit yourselves humbly and patiently to improving yourselves and society, making the world more human and more fraternal.

~ John Paul II, World Youth Day, 2000 (Rome)

I have said before that I realized my life makes no sense apart from the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ; as time goes on, this realization is coming to be ever more meaningful. When I look at a crucifix and see the sacrifice of my Savior, it is clear that there is nothing more important than that, anywhere. If I never read another word, if I never sleep another night, if I never see another day, it doesn't matter; because Jesus' death on the cross reveals everything. That very moment in time is the meaning of life and the answer to death. All I have to do, for the rest of my life, is to look upon that cross...and become so enamored and unified that I become a living reflection, and let no other worldly concern pull me away from that goal of the perfection of charity. To love as God loves, that completely self-giving and wholly-self-sacrificing love.

God has willed us into being, out of his perfect love, and he holds us in existance. His grace is everything yet he requires but one thing from us: our willingness to cooperate with His plan for our lives. God calls us, each and every one, by our names, quietly guiding us, revealing his plan step by step. Each moment, we have a choice; accept or reject God's plan? Every moment of every day, we live out our choices and consequences of those choices, and each one either leads us toward the cross and self-sacrificing love, or causes us to flee into the selfishness of our own desires. There is always an option; do we act out of love? Or do we flee from the shadow of the cross?

Ultimately we must make that choice; are we willing to be crucified alongside our Lord, our happiness aligned with the deepest gift of self in accordance with God's own plan for us? Are we willing to offer ourselves to God every moment of every day?

Our own greatness resides in our humble acquiescence to walk in accordance with God's holy designs upon our lives. We are called to be holy; we are created for love, and we are formed to love as God loves.

When we look upon the cross, we should understand that this suffering is in fact the perfection of charity to which we should all aspire. And there is no greater glory to offer to God than to abandon ourselves and our entire lives into His loving hands.

*

Sacred Heart of Jesus

June is the month dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Therefore, in honor of His Most Sacred Heart, I am posting a prayer of consecration and the litany to the Sacred Heart.

Sacred Heart Act of Consecration Prayer
~ by Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque

I, ( your name. . .), give myself and consecrate to the Sacred Heart of our Lord Jesus Christ my person and my life, my actions, pains, and sufferings, so that I may be unwilling to make use of any part of my being save to honor, love, and glorify the Sacred Heart.

This is my unchanging purpose, namely, to be all His, and to do all things for the love of Him, at the same time renouncing with all my heart whatever is displeasing to Him.

I therefore take Thee, O Sacred Heart, to be the only object of my love, the guardian of my life, my assurance of salvation, the remedy of my weakness and inconstancy, the atonement for all the faults of my life and my sure refuge at the hour of death.

Be then, O Heart of goodness, my justification before God Thy Father, and turn away from me the strokes of His righteous anger. O Heart of love, I put all my confidence in Thee, for I fear everything from my own wickedness and frailty; but I hope for all things from Thy goodness and bounty.

Do Thou consume in me all that can displease Thee or resist Thy holy will. Let Thy pure love imprint Thee so deeply upon my heart that I shall nevermore be able to forget Thee or to be separated from Thee. May I obtain from all Thy loving kindness the grace of having my name written in Thee, for in Thee I desire to place all my happiness and all my glory, living and dying in true bondage to Thee

The Litany of the Sacred Heart of Jesus

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
Christ, graciously hear us.
God, the Father of Heaven, have mercy on us.
God, the Son, Redeemer of the World, have mercy on us.
God, the Holy Ghost, have mercy on us.
Holy Trinity, one God, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, Son of the Eternal Father, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, formed in the womb of the Virgin Mother by the Holy Ghost, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, united substantially with the word of God, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, of infinite majesty, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, holy temple of God, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, tabernacle of the Most High, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, house of God and gate of heaven, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, glowing furnace of charity, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, vessel of justice and love, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, full of goodness and love, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, abyss of all virtues, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, most worthy of all praise, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, king and center of all hearts, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, in whom are all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, in whom dwelleth all the fullness of the Divinity, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, in whom the Father is well pleased, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, of whose fullness we have all received, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, desire of the everlasting hills, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, patient and rich in mercy, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, rich to all who invoke Thee, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, fount of life and holiness, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, propitiation for our sins, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, saturated with revilings, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, crushed for our iniquities, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, made obedient unto death, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, pierced with a lance, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, source of all consolation, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, our life and resurrection, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, our peace and reconciliation, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, victim for our sins, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, salvation of those who hope in Thee, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, hope of those who die in Thee, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, delight of all saints, have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world, spare us, O Lord.
Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world, graciously hear us, O Lord,
Lamb of God who takest away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.
V. Jesus, meek and humble of Heart.
R. Make our hearts like unto Thine.

Let us pray

Almighty and everlasting God, look upon the Heart of Thy well-beloved Son and upon the acts of praise and satisfaction which He renders unto Thee in the name of sinners; and do Thou, in Thy great goodness, grant pardon to them who seek Thy mercy, in the name of the same Thy Son, Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth with Thee, world without end.

Amen

**

O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us!

O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us!

O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus...be our salvation!

Immaculate Heart of Mary....pray for us!

Amen

Yeah, so...

I had to go to a meeting today. In fact, I've been to a LOT of meetings in the last couple weeks, and am not quite sure I can take it anymore.



I'm just sayin'.

Consummation

Yesterday, Pentecost, I attended a Low Mass in the Extraordinary Form.


Sacred Heart had a beautiful high altar, but no communion rail and so prie-dieux were set up in rows at the foot of the sanctuary, leaving a space in the center as one would find had a communion rail been present.  The attendance was very low, just a few families and individuals scattered throughout; the kind of crowd certain media bastions love to photograph.But oh, was the Spirit alive there, and bearing fruit with virility... 

Come, Holy Spirit....

This Pentecost Mass was a Low Mass; no music, but the prayers usually inaudible during a Missa Cantata or a Solemn High Mass were audible to us which made it easier to follow along. (Not that I did a good job at doing so.)

Still, it was perfect for Pentecost, for the silences were deeper without the ostentatious professional choir that inhabits a local Baroque parish, a different kind of beauty in full compliment to the raucous noise found in other places. God does not come as a storm or an earthquake, but in that still small voice, if only we could stop shouting into the wind long enough to finally listen.

I relished the simplicity of the silences, the rhythm of the Latin prayers, the genuflections, and the chance to "offer up" the pain in my bad knees from their constant contact with long-petrified kneelers.

When it was time to go forward for Holy Communion, I recalled, as I always do, that we are proceeding to the foot of the Cross so that we may take the flesh of God into ourselves; the very Sacred Heart of our beloved Savior. I remind myself that we are being fed from the Tree of Life; given the fruit of the Cross, the author of eternal Salvation.

The anticipation grows, almost becoming an anxiety that there "won't be enough".  I want that kind of desperation for the Sacrament; the constant draw, the hope, the anticipation that leads to that raw edge; almost a fear of loss.

I know that because I have that intense interior longing at times, that the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar indeed has value, more than anything else on earth. (I have not yet become too jaded to recognize Whom I am receiving.) When I have those moments of intensity, I hold on to them as tightly as I can, retaining them in my memory for it seems that daily, the dryness of the spiritual life encroaches even further.

This time, instead of kneeling at the rail, I knelt at the prie-dieu and waited, listening to the priest offer, "Corpus Christi" as he blessed each Communicant with the Sign of the Cross, holding Christ between his finger and thumb. I listened as he came closer, the anticipation building.

As I always do, I gazed from the alter to the Crucifix, visually taking in Love Incarnate, nailed to the Cross...for me. 

Kneeling there wasn't the same as the Communion rail, and I could not stop the lament that rose from within; the opportunity to kneel at the same marble as the altar so as to receive from the same altar of Sacrifice itself. I was all too aware of the spiritual poverty of our age, and yet, joyful,  for here was a priest who could read the signs of the times and provide the spiritual sense of the rail, if not the reality. And in the Mass, the most important symbols transcend their reality to lead us into the deeper reality of the Paschal Mystery; eternal union with God Himself.

I knew, therefore, that it didn't matter that this makeshift "rail" wasn't actually of the identical material of the altar; the spiritual meaning far transcended what was under my knees.

Father and the altar server were nearing; now I could see peripherally the Sign of the Cross being made with the host at the intonation of "Corpus Christi".

As I continued to fix my gaze upon my Crucified Lord, I suddenly realized I could not recall whether or not to say "Amen" in response. I thought back to the different forms of the Mass at which I've assisted; the Ordinary Form in the vernacular (Amen!), the Ordinary Form in Latin (Amen!), the Ruthenian Rite of the Byzantine Church (non), and the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Liturgy (?????). I couldn't remember.

I tried to listen but I was so absorbed in Christ for the moment that the responses (or lack thereof) were lost to me.

My white lace head-covering  caught my peripheral attention as, subconsciously I sought to see how soon I'd be receiving Our Lord.  The veil itself (usually I wear black) was reminiscent especially on Pentecost, of a Bride's veil, of her purity. I recalled my First Communion veil, not really understanding that even then, I was a Bride of Christ and that all First Communicants are representative of the entire Church, past, present and future. First Communion Masses often feel like weddings because they ARE...and so is every Mass!

I was lost in time, but not a bit anxious about that fact. I wanted to kneel there forever, even if it meant waiting, even if Father eternally came close, but never brought Our Lord to me. It was sufficient to me to know that He was there; Holy Communion begins long before the actual moment of reception.

The voices and movements were closer and my heart pounded, thirsting for what was being offered to me. It is always this way at the communion rail; there is always this elongated moment of anticipation, this time to gaze upon the Cross, to absorb the Sacrifice made on our behalf, the Sacrifice calling or our own conscious and willing union, our own specific consent to the self-sacrifice required of every Catholic. Even in a few seconds, we experience this extended lifetime of intimacy, drawing us deeply into the fiery intensity sweetly burning Jesus into our souls, one heartbeat at a time.

As always, I was nearly trembling.

Finally Father and the altar server stood before me. I heard him intone, "Corpus Christi", and he made the Sign of the Cross over me, holding Christ in his hand as he spoke, the movement in perfect synchronicity with the Latin words announcing that finally, Jesus had come to me in all of His hidden Glory.

I opened to receive Him, giving of myself so that we might become one in this eternal moment of consummation, praying that this union would bear fruit not just in this world, but through eternity.

Father and the server left us in privacy as the next of the Mystical Body took their places at the foot of the Cross.

I crossed myself and stood, regretting having to go so quickly, but taking My Beloved Lord with me to the pew, kneeling there in silence, delighting in my Savior, thanking him with a quiet certainty far from superficial emotionalism. When tears arose, they caressed my eyes as briefly as a lover's kiss, falling upon the interior so as not to spoil the gentle afterglow.

*   *    *

2 O that you would kiss me with the kisses of your mouth! For your love is better than wine,

3 your anointing oils are fragrant, your name is is poured out; therefore the maidens love you.

4 Draw me after you, let us make haste. The king has brought me into his chambers.

We will exult and rejoice in you; we will extol your love more than wine; rightly do they love you.

~ The Song of Solomon 1:2-4

Come, Holy Spirit...

Come, Holy Spirit

Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of Thy faithful and enkindle in them the fire of Thy love.

V. Send forth Thy Spirit and they shall be created.

R. And Thou shalt renew the face of the earth.

Let us pray. O God, Who didst instruct the hearts of the faithful by the light of the Holy Spirit, grant us in the same Spirit to be truly wise, and ever to rejoice in His consolation. Through Christ our Lord.

Amen.

St. Augustine's Prayer to the Holy Spirit

Breathe in me, O Holy Spirit, that my thoughts may all be holy. Act in me, O Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy. Draw my heart, O Holy Spirit, that I love but what is holy. Strengthen me, O Holy Spirit, to defend all that is holy. Guard me, then, O Holy Spirit, that I always may be holy. Amen.

The Crucible of Discernment

One of the great frustrations of discerning one's vocation is that there are always those in the peanut gallery who seem to think it's a way to "run away" or "avoid responsibility." (This applies specifically to discernment of the Priesthood and of Religious Life. Somehow Marriage is not seen as an "escape").  I've written before of those people (usually not Catholic, but sadly, sometimes are) who, thinking they are being helpful, will ask, "Why are you trying to escape?"

When I initially wrote of this, I did so in a humorous way, finding it necessary to laugh so that I didn't reach through various modes of communication (including across a table) to strangle the other party.

The risk of writing about discernment via blog is that it puts it "out there" for people to "analyze" according to their own opinions, through their own filter of temperament and personality and maybe even experience....or a total lack.

There are those who have accused me, both to my face, and behind my back, of being disingenuous, of seeking to avoid responsibility, of seeking to escape the "reality of life" simply because I am trying to be obedient to God's will and the course of discernment He wants me to follow. (Which, for the record, doesn't go according to my plan, but His. I don't understand His ways at all. If I was in charge this question would be long settled!)

I've seen those accusations, for years, lobbied at anyone in discernment, even those who DON'T blog about it!  "You're just finding real life to be hard and you're trying to get away.  You're trying to avoid responsibility for what you've done, so suck it up and quit using God as an excuse. You're just trying to escape real life. Go out and get laid. That's all you need. Once you meet the right guy/girl you'll come to your senses. You're too outgoing/quiet/studious/dumb/goody-goody/bad/choose your own objection to be a priest/religious.)  *yawn*  There are others, but I tire of the litany of humanity's objections to God's call.

On one hand, I want to fall over laughing at the absurdity and arrogance of such comments. But what strikes me now is really how intellectually and spiritually dangerous, not just to the hapless "targets" of such spiteful commentary, but to others who are pondering discernment, or pondering writing about it, does to them.  Such uncharitable commentary from allegedly "good Catholics" can actually be sufficient to drive a delicate soul away from revealing to someone  the deepest longings of their heart, for fear of perhaps experiencing in person the same kind of outright ridicule they read on "Catholic" blogs. Blogs that seem holy one moment but then rashly condemn a host of people in the next, as if they are set in place with the right to judge souls and the discernment belonging only to those souls and to God.

And that thought brings me to tears.

How many souls are lost just because of rash commentary, made in the heat of the moment, but regretted when the flash of self-righteous indignation fades away, becoming sheepish embarrassment at a transient moment of reaction to a mirror held to oneself?

I am not picking on anyone: I speak from my own unfortunate experience.  No, wait. Not "unfortunate". That is a word that seeks to avoid responsibility. Rather, I speak from a past of willful experience, of moments of Pride, of even current temperamental moments.

I often wonder how many souls I have driven from the Faith on my snarkiest of days, but, with even more horror, of the effect I've had through simple thoughtless comments??? I often wonder why I continue to write about discernment at all when I know that every word I write is being subjected  to people with all sorts of intentions, reading it through their own biased filter. People who don't know me, but pretend, in their own hearts, that they do. Pretending they can judge my soul, simply because they read some of my words.

It makes me squirm to be under such a glass, and still I squirm more when I ponder that I have placed myself in this position.

So why do I continue?

I think  I keep doing it because every so often, usually when I'm about to delete the whole thing, someone I've never heard of sends me an email maybe with regard to a current post, maybe with regard to something "ancient".  They remind me through what they reveal of their own history that it's not about me, but really, I'm doing it for THEM.

I may think I'm telling my story, but no; I'm telling the story of a lot of people who have had the same types of experiences, who struggle in the same ways, who are seeking God with all their hearts (or as much as our sinful habits/lives will allow), hoping one day to finally break through and truly take hold of the Cross that has given us a journey to holiness that includes a particular crucible of lengthy discernment.

Some days I want to just give up and say, "Great I work in a parish and this is what I'll do the rest of my life whether I like it or not. Because I can't do anything else."  (Which makes me pull the covers over my head and consider calling in dead.)

And then I remember that life isn't about "doing", but about BEING. Holiness is about finding our happiness in God alone, and for many people, it means burning off a whole lotta junk before we can even be OPEN to accepting the kind of love He has to offer, and in that process, learning how to love others as He does, especially when those others are bent on our destruction.

Have you ever had someone actually wish failure upon you? And know they're praying for it?

It's really hard to love someone who does such a dirty deed...and yet...we must. Even if by reading that line alone you are wounded to the core of your soul, know that your own wounding is a sign of how deeply you must pray, not for those who are likewise wounded, but for those who throw the spears.

I wouldn't say I'm good at that. When I'm offended for others, or for myself, I admit I hold a grudge. I admit that I want nothing more than to rip that spear out and throw it back as hard as I can.

I have a sense of justice that is not holy; I often want divine retribution so I say, but truly what I really desire is to carry out that divine retribution through my own hands.

Then I have to stop and think. What do I really want? Who am I fighting? What am I fighting against?

Do the opinions of others really matter?

Isn't vocational discernment between the soul and God? Doesn't He know the path that must be followed for the good of that soul?

Who cares about the paltry snarkiness of blogger A or commentator B?  Isn't their own lack of prudence  part of their own personal battle? Their own sense of regret, especially if they identify so much with another soul that they find the need to vilify it?

Often vilification comes from one's own self-loathing; a core of anger from unresolved pain. It usually has nothing to do with the "target".

As impatient as I am with my own "progress" or alleged "lack thereof" in my own discernment process, I am at a rare point of comfort with it. Thanks to my spiritual director who knows the details, my past, my present, and my greatest desires, I have been reminded that God has His timing, and no one forces His hand. It is a comfort to have that reminder.

There is no way around it; for many of us, the process of discernment is a crucible designed for our purification. It is designed by God to help us to grow in foundational virtues, to identify our habits, our passions, our lack of control. It gives us the chance to grow in virtue. In my case, I am seeking to grow in patience, prudence, and charity.

Most of all, charity. Divine charity; the virtue that bonds all other virtues. The virtue that was nailed to the tree to restore us to God and make us adopted sons and daughters. That virtue.

Discernment is a way to enter into the very Passion of Our Lord, to truly live in the harshest part of the  shadow of the Cross, witness to Crucified Love while living a life of pleading desperation.

As hard as this experience has been, I am thankful for it. As hard as it is to suffer the "slings and arrows" of fellow bloggers, friends, family, and random strangers, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I still can't see an end to this pilgrimage, but perhaps over time I am growing in trust. Or perhaps I am just becoming numb to the pain.

Time will tell. God will reveal His plan in His time, and in the meantime I'll be putting one foot in front of the other, plodding onward, grateful to still be standing.
*

If Confessions of St. Augustine Had Been Blogged

This is a repost from August 14, 2009. Because humor is important!


"Chapter 6 -The Anatomy of Evil

What was it that I, a wretch, loved in you, my act of theft, my deed of crime done by night, done in the sixteenth year of my age? You were not beautiful, for you were but an act of thievery. In truth, are you anything at all, that I may speak to you? The fruit we stole was beautiful, for it was your creation, O most beautiful of all beings, creator of all things, God the good, God the supreme good and my true good. Beautiful was the fruit, but it was not what my unhappy soul desired. I had an abundance of better pears, but those pears I gathered solely that I might steal. The fruit I gathered I threw away, devouring in it only iniquity, and that I rejoiced to enjoy. For if I put any of that fruit into my mouth, my sin was its seasoning. But now, O Lord my God, I seek out what was in that theft to give me delight, and lo, there is no lovliness in it. I do not say suh loveliness as there is in justice and prudence, or in man's mind, and memory, and senses, and virorous life, no that with which the stars are beautiful and glorious in their courses, or the land and the sea filled with their living kinds, which by new birhts replace those that die, nor even that flawed and shadowy beauty found in the vices that deceive us."

August, 397    Discourse and Rhetoric:

FancyMama: Oh, I think you're being way too hard on yourself. It was only a pear! God has already forgiven you! It's not like there weren't enough pears for that guy to share with you. I'm sure if you'd asked him for one he would have given it to you.

Elizabeth III: You have several missepelled words. 5th line from the bottom should be "loveliness", next line down, not sure. Do you mean "such"? Next line down I think you mean "vigorous". Then, in that same long sentence you need to correct "births". Actually, grammatically you've got a lot going on here. You should edit to make your sentences shorter and more understandable.

Manichean: I can't believe you did that! Don't you know that pears weep when they are plucked? And mother tree, what milky tears she must have shed! You should have given the pear to me so that I could have eaten it and breathed particles of God into the world from your sinful hand. You ought to know better, serves you right to feel so awful, but I don't understand your reasoning. And I thought we were buddies. Guess not.

Alypius: Aw, I did that when I was a kid, too, and felt really bad about it after I was baptized and realized that theft is a sin. Baptism changed my whole world. Prayers for you, my friend, and thanksgiving for your conversion.

Rotgut: This is so totally bogus! What the hell is wrong with you? There's no such thing as sin! Life is what you make it! CRAPE DIEUM DUDE!!!!!!!!! And what kind of a doofus are you to write about "loveliness"? What are you, gay?

Augustine: Thank you for your comments, everyone. I will respond to each in turn when I am able.

Elizabeth III, thank you, I'll make the corrections. Typing is a fairly new experience for me and I haven't quite gotten the hang of it yet!

Manichean, I'm starting a new blog to answer you and Pelagius.

Alypius, ironic name and story - you'll see. Thank you for your prayers. Praise the Lord our God for His wisdom, mercy and the grace of Baptism! Would that I had not caused my mother so many tears before I came to conversion!

I'd also like to remind you all not to feed the vermine for they tend to carry diseases.

WiseGuy: You should totally get a life coach to help you get over these issues. I think you're depressed. There's "Depression" written all OVER your blog. Please seek help. There are medications to help you.

Plotinus2: I agree with what everyone here has said...to a certain degree, anyway. Thanks for this post. I really enjoy your blog and have been a faithful reader for awhile now. Keep up the good work!

RomanForum: Nice blog. You and your readers might be interested to know that we have hot chicks in togas and pears! Check us out at rrr.romanforum.rom

Wannabe: Rotgut, that is totally rude. Get a life, what do you live for, to just rip on everyone else? Hey, Manichaean, you tell him. picking that pear had awful consequences for mother tree, just like the fig tree. HEY! I just realized it's the same principle for both, right? All trees feel it when they're assaulted like that. Just the other day some guy I didn't know asked me for some food, but I actually had it for the saints as I was serving them, but I had to give the guy something. It was like...uh..condemned to hell for giving him the food meant for the saints and prophets. Sorry. Don't tell, ok?

Manichean: @Wannabe, I don't know which of you is worse...Augustine or you!

Illuminated: I don't get it. Augustine, what did you mean that "vices deceive us"?

JudasI: You shouldn't have thrown the fruit away. What a waste. It could have been given to the poor. Illuminated - Augustine doesn't know what he's talking about, don't worry about it.

Soulful: Oh, Augustine, this has to be my favorite post yet! I just LOVE how you address so much of this to God, and how you describe him! That's how I think of him, too!

Converted and Loved: I don't think you can call yourself a "wretch". After all, you've been redeemed, and baptized and all. God loves you! Don't ever forget that!

Manichean: @Augustine, I can't find the blog you cited. Can you email me the url? Or haven't you actually started it yet?

Watermuse: I see you got spammed. Nice. Guess they don't edit their victims. I'd love to see you take on the spammers. LOL

SFreud: I'd love to hear more about your mother, heard she was quite an influence in your life. Do you have any plans to discuss her here? If not, send me an email as I'd love to talk with you about her.

*

*** The quoted passage above is taken from John K. Ryan's translation, of Augustine's Confessions, Chapter 6, paragraph 12. *****

Kibbles and Bits and Bits and Bits

There's a lot going on in my life in spite of the fact I'm done with school.

Work has been insanely busy; I haven't had an actual weekend in maybe 6 weeks or more now, and I won't have a normal weekend this time around, either.  I can't seem to catch a break!  All I want is 2 days off, together. But no; not an option. Not even feasible! And in the meantime I have a couple volunteers directing a program at work and while they're doing incredible work with their talents, one of them seems to think I am her personal assistant and doesn't seem to grasp I'm juggling 10 different programs and hundreds of people and their own "demands."

Yup. God is helping me to grow in patience. I'm failing miserably, by the way and it's only His grace that has kept me from unleashing all the things I want to say but don't.

I'm looking forward to Memorial Day weekend like you wouldn't believe!

More Bits:

I'm planning a weekend of fun in June, after graduation.

On the discernment-and-supremely-cool front, in early July I'm heading out to visit a monastery where I will be studying iconography for a week and, bonus, living the monastic life while doing so! Given my ongoing discernment, I will be doing a lot of it there, too, even while writing icons in my paint clothes (which for me is my everyday stuff!)

Seriously, if someone is discerning one's vocation, is it even POSSIBLE to turn off the "discern-dar" when in a monastic setting and keeping to the schedule, especially when the community itself is supremely cool?

I'm thinkin' not so much.

No, I won't state where I am going. But I do ask that you keep this community, and me, in your prayers, and God bless their generosity for being willing to put up with me for a week!

Those were the Bits. Here's the Kibbles:

It looks like I'm going to be fostering again.

I received a desperate email from the dog rescue coordinator last night. One of the other coordinators has left the rescue, so she's doing double-duty and has 6 dogs coming in, terrified she won't be able to find foster homes for them in time.  I responded with my situation:  can't afford to do this right now, life is insane and several out-of-town trips coming up. (It's hard enough to find someone to take my dog! My dogsitters have lives, too!)

She guaranteed it would be a short-term emergency-only foster situation to buy her time to find a more permanent foster home, she will provide all food and other necessary expenses (normally foster homes would get the 1st bag with the dog, but all subsequent food is the responsibility of the foster.)

So I gave my conditional "yes" to the terms, and IF she doesn't find a place for the dog, he'll be spending Saturday night and a few days or weeks with my dog and I.

He's a German Shepherd mix, smaller than my dog (mine is pretty small for a Shepherd), he's only 2 and doesn't appear to have the fear/abuse issues my previous foster had. But, being young, I'll have to see which things he has a taste for. Books? Rugs? Furniture? Shoes?  Is he housetrained, kennel-trained, or obedience-trained at all?

Another Bit

For three years, there is a project I have wanted to take on. I asked a few of my professors whether they could explain in further depth a connection I was seeing in scripture, but they couldn't answer. Perhaps they couldn't answer because I couldn't properly formulate my question. As time as progressed, this "question' hasn't left my mind and so I have been waiting until I would finally have the time to pick up the thread and follow where it leads.

I'd rather not reveal the "question" as I have decided I am going to turn it into my first formal work. I am going to delve into scripture in a synthetic study, looking for how the topics are woven through the Bible, how they interrelate, and perhaps bring different disciplines within Theology into play in the final analysis.

Our professors have given us incredible tools for study, especially our scripture professors. I learned how to do synthesis, analysis, and exegesis. In considering this in light of Ecclesiology, of Sacramental theology, moral theology, fundamental theology...everything and more..I look forward to delving into this project.

I have already begun, in fact, to recognize the tools I will need, both practical and theological.

Perhaps this study has already been done. Even so, I think I will do this for perhaps I will still find another connection, another contribution to the study of theology. And if not, if nothing else it will draw me closer to Christ through a study of His Word.

That is always a good thing. Especially if it leads to a deeper conversion and therefore, a growth in holiness.

And boy-howdy, do I have a LOT of growing to do!


P.S:   
Seriously, people if you think you're holy and possess any virtue at all, go to work full-time in a parish. You'll be humbled before you even get a chance to blink and even in your humility you will understand that you aren't humble at all. Not even then.  And no...it never ends. 

You Just Might Be a Theologian...

Last night shortly after we arrived at class, we learned from one of our classmates that, in fact, we have already graduated.  He had seen an article so called down to the University to inquire about our apparently having been granted our degrees in absentia. They told him that as the University has only one graduation, they expect at this point that we would actually complete the program and so award the degrees in our absence at the graduation ceremony held on University grounds, even though we have our own graduation ceremonies at the various locations of our cohorts.

This caused our professor to say, tongue-in-cheek, "Well, you could have blown off this whole weekend! You're full-fledged theologians now!"

So last night, just as I dropped off to sleep last night lamenting the fact that I didn't even get an invitation to my own graduation, I heard in a perfect redneck drawl... "You just might be a theologian..."

So! I have decided to create a list as to what, exactly, makes one a "Theologian!"

YOU JUST MIGHT BE A THEOLOGIAN.....

If you have ever dreamed about living in a van down by the river when you fall asleep in the chapel...you just might be a theologian.

If you have ever been awarded your graduate theology degree before you actually completed your final paper...you just might be a theologian.

If you can name at least two Rabbis cited by Pope Benedict XVI in his writings...you just might be a theologian.

If you know why a priori assumptions are a bad thing in Biblical scholarship....you just might be a theologian.

If you're so excited about the revision and implementation of the recent revision of the Missale Romanum that you can barely contain yourself....you just might be a theologian!

If you know who Schillebeeckx was, what order he was from, and why we should be praying for him now....you just might be a theologian.

Not only that, but if you know who Skilla  Schelli  Schilla. Schillebeeckx was AND can spell and, bonus, pronounce his name correctly....you just might be a theologian!

If Garrigou Lagrange, OP is one of your favorite authors and you read his works during your "free time"...you just might be a theologian. 

If you have ever referred to yourself or someone else in conversation as "a substance subsisting apart from all other substances"....you just might be a theologian.

If you know what "operatio sequitor esse" is and have ever given a both deep and precise definition of it in a random casual conversation without actually using the Latin phrase....you just might be a theologian.

If you are kept awake at night wondering what would have happened if Adam and Eve had actually 'fessed up to God instead of making clothing out of leaves....you just might be a theologian.

If your Christmas list includes the Summa because you already wore your volumes out....you just might be a theologian!

If you have ever fallen asleep in the chapel only to wake up and write the most brilliant explanation of a point of doctrine you didn't previously understand, and later learn that what you wrote was completely faithful to Church teaching....you just might be a theologian.

If you know the importance of the 1966 New Jerusalem Bible and what the modern versions removed...you just might be a theologian.

If you have ever installed a coffee pot on your DESK! ...you just might be a theologian!

If you have more theological books than you have furniture....you just might be a theologian!

If you are reading blogs and you see demands for this or that person to be excommunicated or suffer some other punishment, you think to yourself, "Canon 18!"   ...you just might be a theologian!

If you have ever felt like someone was attacking your Mother when they were attacking the Church....you just might be a theologian.

If your mother keeps a rosary on her rear-view mirror and several other sets in the cupholder...you just might be a theologian.

If you know what a chokti is and what it's for and why some people would never sell one to you if you are Roman Catholic...you just might be a theologian.

If you know the ONLY only canonical context of the word "Vocation"....you just might be a theologian.

If you can look at any topic of theology and see that it points to ecclesiology...you just might be a theologian.

If you know the history of the priesthood and how it developed in the different suri iuris's of the Church...you just might be a theologian. 

If you know what "suri iuris" means and the canonical import as it applies to an unbaptized child at the age of reason if he or she has parents of differing opinions...you just might be a theologian.

If your car has BOOKS in place of tires....you just might be a redneck....ahem...ah.... theologian without a proper jack.  

If you can type and pray the rosary at the same time....you just might be a theologian.

If you have a question NONE of your theology professors have been able to answer....you just might be a theologian.  

If someone comes into your office with a question on contraception and you print out a copy of Humanae Vitae from a shortcut on your favorites menu....you just might be a theologian.

If you think that God made coffee to prove to us that He loves us and wants to be happy....you might just be a theologian (even if Benjamin Franklin applied it to beer) 

If you have ever been present when a priest in good standing gave a blessing in LATIN to the beer you were about to drink....you just might be a theologian.

If you know what the "Q" document is and why it's a load of crap...you just might be a theologian.

If you can pontificate on the theological truths revealed in "The Gods Must be Crazy" ...you just might be a theologian.  

If your BOOKS have wheels and your computer desk doesn't...you just might be a theologian!

If your parents met on a pilgrimage to the Vatican or the Holy Land....you just might be a theologian.

If your teenagers are going hungry tonight because it's Lent...you just might be a theologian.

If you decorate your house in accordance with the liturgical year....you just might be a theologian.

If your job requires you to wear a dog dish and platter once per year in the spring...you just might be a theologian.  

If you name your sons Matthew, Mark, Luke and John....you just might be a Rad Trad.

If you name your sons Abraham, Jacob, Joseph, and Isaac...you just might be a theologian.

If you name your girls Mary Agnes, Mary Francis, Mary Elizabeth and Mary Grace...you just might be a fan of Flannery O'Connor.

If you name your girls Sarah, Esther, Judith, and Miriam...you just might be a theologian.

If you are in possession of several relics and house them in a proper shrine in your home....you just might be a theologian.

If you know the difference between a Papal Bull, Encyclical, Apostolic Exhortation and General Instruction......you just might be a theologian.

If you have EVER gotten into a discussion on the authorship of John's Gospel and Revelation in a random location with someone you have never met...you just might be a theologian.

If you have a Holy Card Hunt instead of an "Easter Egg Hunt" on the day the Church celebrates the Resurrection of Christ...you just might be a theologian.

If you have your last classroom session on the Feast of the Ascension and your graduation ceremony on a First Friday in June and know why these days are significant to the occasion...you just might be a theologian.

*   *   *

"Theologians"....add your own! 

Grief

I left work a little early today to take care of a few errands before we go into our last long class weekend of our 3 years together.

As we quite literally sit in a classroom for 18 hours between Friday evening and Sunday afternoon, I won't have time to run necessary errands so took that time today.  One of those errands took me to the vet clinic to pick up my dog's annual pack of heartworm preventative. When the tech pulled up the screen to verify my info, I saw displayed there both dogs.

My eyes were immediately drawn to Fire's name, and the big, capitalized, starred letters spelling out "***EUTHANIZED****"

I had to swallow hard for a moment, remembering that day all too clearly. This afternoon, as I arrived during the office lunch hour, I was taken back to that terrible Tuesday afternoon, the raw grief coming back to the surface as I recalled  my sorrowful exit from the empty office during that same quiet hour.

It was a beautiful July day, much like today, it was sunny, and when I returned home, my car was empty. The agonized presence of my greyhound was no longer there; instead I was left in a different kind of agony, one that slowly ebbed away over the following days, weeks, and months.

Fire was the first pet I ever had to have "put to sleep" as the euphemism goes. It was probably the most difficult thing I have ever had to do, and to this day I have no idea how I was able to drive to the vet clinic and then back home.

I didn't expect to run into that particular ghost today, but there it is. It will make my weekend even more bittersweet, for a few days after Fire died, I began my graduate school career. It is a reminder that even in our most joyful occasions, we carry our suffering and together, they form and perfect us in ways only God can see.

Dang, sometimes I miss that big goofy greyhound so much!