Category Archives: liturgical year

>Ordinary

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>Ordinary time, liturgically speaking, began a week ago.
Ordinary time, mom speak, did and then again did not begin a week ago as my kids are still home and not in regular ordinary school time: holidays, in-service days, snow and ice days have still botched up our routine days.  Much griping on my part in my heart (and more than I should out loud) ensues.

Confused? I know, me too!
Sigh…let me begin with the beauty of it, that’s always best.

Ordinary time in our liturgical year is the “regular” or “Ordinary” days of the year; the days not of a special season such as Advent or Lent or Christmas or Easter.  See? They are not marked or bracketed, they are ordinary, normal, routine, whatever you like to call them.  They are the stuff that make up the warp and weft of any given life.
I love them so.

It took me a long time to learn to love them so.
My younger days had me always yearning for the next thing, the next exciting event or season.  I think that is so common, especially when young (By which I mean, shockingly enough even to myself: under forty anymore…yeah, mark that youngsters, I mean  you!).  It feels and/or seems just more fun, more interesting to be immersed in or on the brink of “The Next Big Thing;” even if that thing is simply the next holiday.  It’s exciting.  It livens up our dull mundane lives that are filled with the same ol’ same ol…the chores and the must do’s.  Right?

Well, yeah, to a point.
But just as you will burn out any fine tuned machine by always keeping it revved to the max, so to I believe we burn out our very selves (Fine tuned machines that we are or should be) if we live on high alert at all times.

 Now, don’t get me wrong.  I do this.  Some might say (Hsssh, mom, John, I hear you) that I do this (still) all or most of the time.  I have more than many times been accused of being “kinda intense.”  Sigh.  I guess I am.  Even when I don’t try to be.  I like to be busy, I am high energy, I like to “have things going on.” Or, I used to, I know it.  I still do, I admit it, but now I am learning to see and mark and soak into the beauty of the “ordinary.”  It’s the simple things, stupid….oh dopey Me.
The wisdom of the Church is that we are given this Ordinary time to settle and soak in that.
To remember and touch again that simple self that we are, that really is under all that stuff, all the noise, all the hurry. 

 It’s under the chaff, if we but blow with a settling breath….ah there it is again: me.
And when I settle again, I can listen and I can hear God himself whispering to me again.
I can do better. 
…pray better.
…see better.
…listen better.
…give better.
…love better.
I can be a better mom, wife, friend, daughter, sister, lover, thinker, helper, pray-er, me.
Not that I do so…which is why I so need and have learned to love and exhale with ordinary time.

So, there, that is the beauty of it all.  Right there, in the ordinary day before me.  If only I can stop and slow and soak in it.  And therein lies the test, eh?
As goes the liturgical year, we are living in Ordinary Time.
As goes my household and the lurching four different school systems of my kids, we are not.  Not yet.  So, my challenge, which I fail, oh, daily, is to stop and see that even this lurching “school on, school called off” calendar still is part and parcel of ordinary life.
I tend to think it’s not.  But when I do that, I am lifting ordinary life right out of it’s pocket and trying to make it something it’s not: something like a perfect glistening glowing photo spread.  That’s a mistake.

  Ordinary life is by definition, kind of a mess.  It needs so much: constant endless tending.  It is this very tending, this ordinary work on a perpetual basis, that forms it’s core…again, the warp and weft of the weaving that IS ordinary time.
Even the snow days.

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>Down to the water….and the heavens opened

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 It’s the Solemnity of the Baptism of Our Lord!

It’s a biggie, folks.  It’s the end of the Christmas season (No, really, it is.  Some say Christmas day – pshaw.  Some say Epiphany…well, kinda.  But this is really it.  Unless you have an artificial tree and are truly old school and want to keep it up to Candlemass…that’s like the very beginning of Feb.  And then you are hardcore.).
But it’s a Solemnity and feast where we remember and meditate upon Christ’s baptism by John the Baptist, in the Jordon.  Yeah, the really cool baptism, the first one that really counted.  The one that makes all the others count for something; actually count for everything.

Christ being baptized is a representation of his death and resurrection, and ours as well.  When we get baptized, we die to our very selves and human nature and are reborn in Christ.  He did it first, so that we can do it too.  It’s the penultimate Christmas gift in every way.  From the penultimate Christmas Gift.  Yeah, meditate on that for oh, the next few thousand years!  The richness of our faith and the liturgical year frequently has me waffling between laughing and weeping with joy.  Really, it’s just cool.  And this solemnity is one of the examples why.  Merry Christmas, Happy New Year!
Rejoice.

http://www.mycatholicvoice.com/swf/playerj45.swf
Song: “Isaiah 61”, by Matt Maher. “The spirit of the lord is upon me…”

From morning prayer, of course:

“As soon as Jesus was baptized, he came out of the water and the heavens opened before him.”
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>Mother of God!

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Happy New Year!



Sounds simple, a no brainer right?
Doh….Mary gave birth to Jesus.  Yup. We’re n the midst of the whole Christmas season, surrounded by nativity scenes, Mary pregnant on the donkey, Baby Jesus in the manger….that’s the quintessential “mom” scene.
This IS one of the uber Catholic solemnities….one of the ones that cause some division.  But in my humble opinion, that division is not justified; it’s a tempest in a teapot (to use momspeak).  So, why the big deal…”Mary, Mother of God?”

Well that term took some theological argument discussion.  Ages ago, literally.  Way, way, before the “Big split (into the whole Protestant/Catholic deal).” Even way before any real divide between Eastern and Western Christianity.   Because it speaks to Jesus and his Divinity and while it seems obvious, it wasn’t so much…and you know, folks like things really pinned down officially and academically.  Hence, long ago – 431 AD – they even held a council of the bishops of the world, those who had received the faith, entrusted to them, on down in succession from the Apostles, to officially pin this all down.  Because someone was teaching that Jesus wasn’t divine from the moment of his conception or even birth, but taught that he was elevated to divinity later.   Was Jesus divine from the moment of his conception, or was he born only human?  Did Mary give birth to a human person or a divine person?  Was Mary, or was she not, in that sense, “Mother of God?”  Can we even speak those words?  Well, God chose and prepared her for Himself, from all the women of all time, to be the bearer of His Son.  And while the first person of the Trinity, God the Father is the sole source of Jesus’ divinity, from “in the beginning”, and Mary the sole source of his humanity, by the power of the Holy Spirit these two natures are inseparably, indivisibly, united in the one person Jesus Christ from the moment of His conception — thus declared the great council of Ephesus.  And as God’s Son is Divine and not only human, well, then Mary properly IS to be called the Mother of God. 

The precise title “Mother of God” goes back even further, at least to the third or fourth century. In the Greek form Theotokos (God-bearer), it became the touchstone of the Church’s teaching about the Incarnation. The Council of Ephesus in 431 insisted that the holy Fathers were right in calling the holy virgin Theotokos.



Really, it just remains kind of mind blowing to me.  Mary had the choice to say, “Um, nope, not doing this, too hard, too strange…really?  Mother of God?  I don’t get it….let me think about it.”  But she didn’t.  She said “Yes.” “Fiat.”  And thus the world began to be brought back into the proper order and we were all given the best present ever.

        “Long lay the world, in sin and error pining,

               ’til He appeared, and the soul felt it’s worth”


So today I am looking at icons.  Because today, on the last day of Christmas, we celebrate the mother, the Theotokos, the “Mother of God.”  And really, icons are about the only way to begin to wrap your mind around all this.  Because who can imagine God, really?  You can’t. I can’t — not really as He is.  And as soon as you think you are…well,  you’ve fallen into presumption now, haven’t you?  So, icons are perfect for today.  They function as “little windows into heaven.”  Icons (Ikonos — Images, in Greek) are images of the true Ikon, the one who images the Father, the one who shows us the Father, the face of God, that he revealed to the world “in the fullness of time” born of a woman, of a pure and holy virgin.  Whom He loves more deeply, more perfectly than any other son loves his mother, and whom “all generations shall call blessed”.

They are not meant to be realistic or have realistic lifelike perspective.  They represent what we cannot fully see with just our own eyes and senses; they image the world beyond the veil, the divine, the eternal.  And so today I want to look at these icons and ponder them.  Ponder what it means for her to be the Mother of God, the Theotokos…what faith and trust it took to say ‘fiat’, ‘be it done unto me according to thy word.’  To contemplate the fullness of it all and take maybe one or two(or the multitude that I need) lessons from it.  

Today ends the Octave of Christmas.  The new year is launched.  It is set in motion with a remembrance of the greatest faith and hope and love.  We step into the new year on the right foot, so to speak.  Today we celebrate mom, Mary.  I like that so much.  And, it’s really no coincidence that it’s also the World Day of Peace.  Because we mom’s, we are all about peace: the seeking, the getting, the craving, the searching, the making of peace.
Peace almost always begins with the mom.

Thus, we need today’s World Day of Peace and New Year to coincide with the Solemnity of the Mother of God.  It’s a big job, a big day.  We need the the biggest hope and love of the best mother….because she brings us her Son.  


Happy New Year!
Happy Feast day!
Wishing us all a peaceful day and new year to come!
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>Holy Family!

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Michelangelo, “The Holy Family”

What perfect timing, of course!
I love this feast, its a reminder to me that even Christ got to, had to, live in a family.  
Think about that one…..
Now his family was all holy and everything, true…but even so, it’s a great example.  Heck, we have sports stars that we look up to and try to be as good as they are (for the most part, at least when we are talking about their skills of endurance and perseverance and practice, right?).  So, that’s one of the great things about the saints and feast days, they are like the posters kids put up in bedrooms…heroes to emulate, gaze at and wonder and dream.  
So today I have put up the gorgeous  painting by Michelangelo, I got to see it in person this summer at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence.  Just wow!  This is the heroic icon of family.  The holy family, I could just look at it all day long.  
But the really cool part about all of this, is that WE are called to be like them.  Really.  We are called to be, in our own little (or big) families, the domestic church.  Which is just the coolest thing to me.  We are supposed to model that love that faithfulness that care and keeping of each other…because that’s what families do.  It can take different forms for the different needs and concerns of each family, of course.  But the basics remain.  We care for each other to our best ability, because we are family.  Just like the Holy Family did.  If we shoot for that, we are on the right track.  Which is helpful to remember as I correct my fast growing (in size and temper) son and he stomps up the stairs and shouts that I am “despicable.”  {Yes, he’s got a heck of a temper, but his vocabulary is impressive!}
So as we/I all recover from the excess and crazies of Christmas day {and hand out ‘write-offs’ to the kids who are having fall apart syndrome from too much muchness yesterday}, and review in our mind the sweetnesses of this holiday {sleeping toddlers breathing against your neck at midnight Mass} and the irritants {maybe even Jesus had an annoying distant uncle made Mary roll her eyes at the dinner table}….I need to keep this in mind:
Family. 
It’s not just something we endure or that imposes chores….
it’s what our deepest hearts long for.  
Because it’s holy.
From Evening Prayer for this day:
Father, help us to live as the holy family,
united in respect and love.  
Bring us to the joy and peace of your eternal home.
Grant this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, 
one God, forever and ever. 
Amen.
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>Dia de Fiesta: Guadalupe!!!

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It’s the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe!
Being from the southwest, growing up in Arizona specifically, I have a special fondness for Our Lady of Guadalupe. And you know, I just like most everything about this feast day and Our Lady of Guadalupe.  I love the Mexican culture, the food to celebrate, the miracles, the roses, the prayers, the colors, the music, the textiles.  What’s not to love?

The short version of Our Lady of Guadalupe is, of course, that she appeared to St. Juan Diego on his way to Mass.  She asked for a church to be built on the spot.  She asked him to ask the Bishop.  He agreed, the Bishop didn’t want to believe him.  So he kind of griped to Mary, saying that he couldn’t get the Bishop to listen and he wanted a sign..  She told Juan to gather flowers from Tepeyac Hill, (ones that weren’t indigenous and it was winter) and so he gathered the roses (that had miraculously bloomed in the winter snow) up in his cloak.  When he got to the Bishop, he spilled the roses out in the office and on his tilma (A type of cloak) was the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe!  Full wikipedia version here.

This is one of those times where once again, we see the universality of the Church.  Mary is not only our mother if you are of white european ancestry, but of course, she is mother to us all – the world over.  And in Mexico, today, you can see the festival celebrating her, complete with all the local cultural trimmings.

Coffeedoc and I went to Mexico City on his fortieth birthday, to go see the tilma for ourselves.  And you know, there was a time when part of me just kind of took the ‘folklore’ appreciation route with Our Lady of Guadalupe.  My folklore background would kick in and I’d get caught up in all the sensual aspects: the colors, textures, foods, fiestas…the layers and layers that are part of any long historical memorial.


But, going to Mexico City, to the Basilica’s – the old and the new – well, it’s one of those things.  You go.  You see the pilgrims who have traveled there ON THEIR KNEES.  




You see the thousands and thousands of milagros pinned up (Small metal tokens of thanksgiving left behind for answered prayers).  And you see the tilma.  



You stand in front of the tilma, and scour it with your own eyes.  You pray. And it’s like C.S. Lewis says, to paraphrase: you either believe, or you think they are all lying (Or it’s a big scam), or that they are crazy.  

Well, I don’t think they are all lying and I don’t think that it’s a scam.  I think Our Lady of Guadalupe has made a huge difference in so many lives.  And I don’t think they are all crazy either.  Especially not after being there.  But I didn’t really ever ascribe to that one either.  I believe.  I believe Our Lady of Guadalupe is another manifestation of Our Blessed Mother.  And that like any mom, she will go to where her children are and where they need her.  And so she did.  

“A great sign appeared in the sky, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet,
and on her head a crown of twelve stars”
Revelation 12:1 (Entrance Antiphon for Our Lady of Guadalupe)

  

Ave María (Hail Mary)

Dios te salve, María. Llena eres de gracia: El Señor es contigo.

Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres. Y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre: Jesús.

Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores,
ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amén.

*portions of this from  last year, it’s Advent, and finals….Our Lady of Guadalupe won’t mind, I hope you won’t either. And yes, I’m just that lazy efficient these days*

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>Immaculata

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Saint Anne conceiving the Virgin Mary
Douai, Musée de la Chartreuse

Oh, it’s a big feast today!  It’s one of those feasts: an uber Catholic one.
It’s the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, a holy day of obligation.

It’s actually a Solemnity, which means it has even more import…so it’s a biggie!

This is one of the big Marian feasts, and one that often gives many folks some consternation (from a scratch on the head to fits).  For a good explanation of it all, go here (and scroll down for all those, “What’s up with that” “How can that be?” kind of responses).  I can’t give you a great theological treatise on it.  It took brilliant theologians from the east and west to determine this one over the centuries, but they did because we are human. And our inquiring minds want to know, and puzzle and ponder.  So those who have gone before us prayed and debated and concluded.  I can say that it only makes sense to my puny brain.

Pierro de Cosimo, “The Immaculate Conception and Six Saints”

For a long time, I thought that the “immaculate conception” referred to Mary’s conception of Jesus, you know, with the descent of the Holy Spirit and Gabriel and all…clean, tidy, right?  

But no, it’s actually about Mary and her being preserved from the stain of original sin. 
Confusing, a little, huh?  
Well, this is how it parses out in my old mom brain: God himself is all love and of course, without sin.  God came to us in his son, Christ, who was also without sin (being God and all).  Since all purity and all love cannot coexist with the stain of sin, how could Christ come to us as a man, without first having a pure ‘vessel’, if you will?  Well, he couldn’t, that would not correspond with the natural/divine order.  Growing in utero is, utterly, coexisting.  So, if God cannot coexist with sin, then a human mom to be would have to be found, sinless.  And thus, since God is beyond time, he prepared Mary, {from her conception of course}, to be without sin.  Because God knew, outside of time, that Mary would be the perfect (literally and figuratively) mom for Jesus.

Now, I think that’s cool!  It makes perfect sense to me and really is one of those ‘clap your hands, I get it” kind of moments.  Yeah, it’s uber Catholic.  But hey, I love being Catholic because (well, so many reasons) its cool and rich and takes my breath away.  And of course,  I love feasts….so it’s a good day!

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us!

**Disclaimer: yes, you saw most of this last  year.  But it’s advent and I need to be frugal w/ my net time.  So instead of wracking my puny brain to find another way to say this. I’m gonna go with what I said.  Because I meant it then and still do. Thanks for understanding…**
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>Advent: doing and undoing

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>So, it’s Advent.
Lots of folks will say, “It’s Christmas time!”  Well, kinda…sorta.  But not really. Not yet.
The newspapers and commercials wanna shout it at ya.  They want you to get all up in a frenzy of “get it, buy it, wrap it, give it.”  But first, the most important prep is interior.  Really.
As I try to prepare my home and kids for Christmas, for Christ-Mass, I need to first prepare my hard broken heart.  And if I can walk through this season mindfully, I can have my actions in prepping our home and kids be a real and active prayer.

Of course that means only if I can do it without stepping into that whirling dervish mode of christmas frenzy…complete with glassy stares in stores, aching feet, and griping  mouth.

That is my goal.
I usually fail.
Ok, ok, I have always failed.  Every year.
But, hope is eternal, right? I love that about hope, don’t you??

 My sweet Hannah, long ago, but still adorable.  No I’m not at all biased either!

I have everything working against succeeding once again: crazy busy school schedules and activities for three different schools (four if you count the college boys), eight birthdays in this next month (four of them my own children, the other my dad, sis, etc), and oh yeah, the usual everyday crazies of doc appointments and laundry and, oh, cooking dinner and such. 

But even so, I want to slow it down.  Simplify.
I need to prepare myself to really be ready this Christmas. 
I need to prepare my stony selfish heart to be ready to set myself aside and welcome Christ, in the distressing disguise of the littlest among us (even in my children, whoa). 

Little Sarahbird, tiny adorable girl practicing a Christmas pirouette long ago

I need to do this preparation so I will truly be able to rejoice.  No, not to rejoice that the last present is wrapped and the cookies cut out and the sinks of dishes done (well, maybe a little bit)…but instead to rejoice at the Incarnation, the mind blowing condescension of God himself to come to me.   Who’da thunk it?

So, this season is actually something of a penitential season, officially. (Easy jokes there, I know, of course it is: office parties, secret santas, shopping malls….let’s talk penitential!).
But it’s a season to let go of ourselves {Ok, myself} so we can welcome Himself.

So I have a New Year Resolution, Catholic Version: I will be trying to pray the morning and evening or night prayers, part of the Liturgy of the Hours, daily.  {And yes, I’m putting this up so I’ll feel more accountable….I’m lazy like that.}
It helps ground me. It helps me breathe.  Too often I set it aside.  It gets dropped in the ordinary hectic squoosh of a given day, in my tired selfish desire to just drop into bed or surf the net if I find a moment.  So, this will have to be an intentional action.  Better than exercise even! It also connects me to my Chris, who is much better than I am about being regular and steady with this.  One more incentive for me, as if the Incarnation and prepping for it isn’t enough.  Gads. 

Anyhow, that’s my main Advent effort, or resolution, if you will.  Otherwise I will be calmly (um, yeah, really…..) trying to wrap up a simpler Christmas during this week or so and then being able to be present, really try to be present to the season, the kids, and the anticipation of Christmas.

We will light our Advent Candle/wreath every night for dinner.  I love this too. It’s a pause, only a moment, really, but it’s a pause, a short held breath at the end of a busy day.  This is a nightly reminder to come together, to slow and be present…to each other but also to the goodness of this season.  To stop and look and see each other, instead of only the whirling tasks and to do’s.
We will slowly add a few Christmas items as we get closer and closer to the real Christmas season, December 24th; a nativity set here and there, wreaths, later, a tree.   It will bring that Incarnation closer in to our hearts and home and family as we wait together in Advent.
We will hopefully find those mindful moments together as we step toward Christmas and the evenings lengthen and chill, in the warmth of us around the table and in the flickering light of the candles at dinner.

It’s Advent.
It’s a time that we are pushed to whirl and twirl and spin ourselves dizzy with anticipation and preparation.
But, it’s Advent.
And it’s a time to try to still and slow and prepare and savor the quiet quickening of our hearts in anticipation and the most amazing moment, ever, almost upon us.
I love Advent.

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>Happy New Year! Advent

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>So, one day late, Happy New Year!!
It’s the liturgical new year.
The Church’s New Year, yesterday, officially (ok, vespers Saturday night).
We are in the first season of the new year: Advent.
I was going to post this yesterday but it was a busy day…….so much for resolutions, even in the liturgical  year.  Awfully similar to the secular new year resolutions.  But as with those, I can still begin again.

Anyhow…
I love Advent. I really do. It it the time to prepare our hearts and souls and minds for the Incarnation, the coming of Christ to this hard broken beautiful world.  We get these four weeks, punctuated by four Sundays, to prepare in body and  mind and heart – in action and prayer – for our broken beautiful personal world to be ready to welcome Christ, as one of us, come to us, because that is the only way to truly reach us.  The biggest of gifts, come to us.  Even to me.

Another day, another post is for the doing of Advent.  Or the undoing of Advent, perhaps.  More later.  For now, this is best I think:

Advent begins. Not Christmas, not yet.  The preparation of ourselves for Christmas.  The expectation, the anticipation, the quieting of waiting.  I love Advent.

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>Feast of Christ the King

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It’s the Feast of Christ the King!
Which  means it’s the last Sunday in the liturgical year, already!

Here is a bit of Fr. Andre, and his most excellent homily on this special day.  Go read the whole thing, his meditation on the two crowns of Christ as King is worth the time.  But for a lead in, here:

Pilate asks Jesus: “Are you the King of the Jews?…
Pilate’s arrogance does not intimidate Jesus, who then gives his own answer in the well-known words: “My kingdom is not from this world”….

Pilate is very astute. He does not see in Jesus’ answer a denial of his kingship. In fact, Pilate infers and insists: “So you are a king” (v 37). Jesus accepts his claim without hesitation: “You say that I am a king. For this I came into the world”. For what? To inaugurate a world of peace and fellowship, of justice and respect for other people’s rights, of love for God and for one another. This is the kingdom that penetrates our human history, illuminating it and leading it beyond itself, a kingdom that will have no end. When we pray the “Our Father”, we pray for this kingdom to come in its fullness.

Happy Feast Day.
Christ the King, my Lord and my God, pray for us. 

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>For all the Souls

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Aladar Korosfoi-Kriesch
All Souls’ Day –1910 Oil on canvas,

Its the Feast of All Souls Today.
And this day is cool because its not just the Saints that we are remembering, the big leagues, but all of the little guys, the regular folks who have died – the Joe Schmoes of the world who are just the regular guy in the trenches or mom in the laundry room. But even so, these folks, so many of them, have died, gone to heaven and deserve a remembrance. It’s our nature to do so.

All Souls Day in Slovakia

Sometimes folks wonder why we even bother to think of a day to remember and pray for the dead. I mean, they have passed on, no use now right? Well, no. I think, and our faith teaches us, that in fact there is great use. Our souls are immortal. They are us, the realest us. They do not die. This is an article of faith and I know many who disagree. But I believe it. To my mortal bones, I believe we have souls that are immortal.

Painting by Rubens

Therefore, when I die, I hope and pray that my loved ones, heck, ANYONE, remembers to pray for me. Because I’m gonna need it.
I need it now, I will need it more so then, because my time on earth to actively turn my heart away from my measly selfish self and around to the face of God will be done. And so while I hope and pray I am going to heaven, I suspect…if I get to heaven I will be in the foyer of heaven: purgatory.

Yup.
I said it: ‘Purgatory.”

One of those words! One of those polarizing kind of words.
And I wish it wasn’t.
Purgatory is a beautiful, sensible concept and gives me such comfort and hope.

As I am not a theologian, nor particularly smart or insightful…but am quite opinionated, I get to give you my take on purgatory and why I think its so cool. Keep in mind, I have simplified and condensed a rich complex theological concept into terms my little old middle age wandering mind can digest. So don’t get all tied up in knots over this, go read someone knows.

But, for me, this is the deal with purgatory – a “mom” take on it.
In my rambling rabbit warren of a house, we are lucky enough to have a mud room. This is the main entrance to our house by all friends and family. And you know, even when its my son coming home from college and I can’t wait to see him, we stop him for a moment in the mudroom…we say “Ack! Quick scrape those boots or take ’em off, they are covered in mud!” So he does and then we hug him and pull him into the kitchen to feed him pie and have the little’s jump him with glee.


This is purgatory. Or just like it, to me.

Even if we have turned our hearts to God and want only to do the best we can…we screw up, we still are impatient and ill tempered and selfish (ok, me). And when we die, we don’t just all of a sudden have those hurtful acts disappear; those sins still ripple out to those we left behind. We are still ‘smudgy’ with that selfishness. And while we may be deeply contrite and now, after our passing, fully understand how hurtful even some of our small ‘unimportant’ acts or “white lies” really are…..we are not ready yet to stand in the presence of Love and Truth. Because you can’t. You can’t if you still have some smudges. God’s Divine self/presence cannot coexist with anything less than truly pure. Because God is pure. And so, we too become so – in purgatory. Purgatory is where we take off our muddy boots. We put on some clean soft slippers or go barefoot in to the pure white of the kitchen. And then, we are hugged, hooted over, loved and we all grin and eat pie.

So today we remember and celebrate those souls who have gone before us with their hearts turned toward God: All Souls Day.

Happy Feast of All Souls!
Perhaps even in heaven, or especially in heaven, it’s all about the pie!
 
**reposted from last year because I still just think this sums it up for me, but I want to mark the day.  So. There it is.***
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>For all the Saints

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Today is All Saints Day!

Another name is All Hallows Day. It follows, of course, All Hallows Eve…or, obviously, Halloween. I love that we don’t just celebrate Halloween, the single day, and its not just a creepy horror fest or excuse to dress up and scarf down way too much sugar (Baby Ruth’s, Reeses, pie, oh my!) But that in actuality these are three days of remembrance.

Remembrance of what?
No, not only that you need to stay on your blood sugar meds or that there’s always tomorrow for a new diet.
Rather, its remembrance of the dead.

Its why I think the Dia de los Muertos is cool too, not creepy. Plus of course there is usually lots of food involved, especially Pan de los Muertos (Special bread), and whats not to like about that?

Its why those Dutch Veritas paintings were all the rage way back when (Ok, ok, 16 & 17 C). They were a way of reminding us that “all is vanity” in life (You know, Eccliastes and all); this life here is but a blink.

It’s remembering our dear ones who went before us, and also those who were not so dear personally perhaps, but now can be so very dear as they listen to our prayers and pray on our behalf.

Yup, I’m talking about the Saints!
We love them!

And for those who have concerns with praying to saints, I understand. But, well, here is a bit on the concept of communion of the saints. But for me, I think its one of the most cool and natural concepts of the faith and well, life in general. Because this tells us that we are connected. You all know how much I rely on those connections!

And to be connected to those who have gone before us, and who, since they no longer are bound by their human tendencies toward sin, are pure of heart and intent…to be connected to these special souls and be able to hit them up for prayers? Well, that is just too cool and a huge comfort for me.

Its a lot like asking your best girlfriend or Aunt Midge to pray for you, but knowing that the prayers will be less distracted and without any overlying layers of selfishness. For instance, “Please let Coffeemom figure this out so she will stop droning on about this, it’s making me nuts.” See, thats one kind of prayer that any earthly person might (ok, surely does) pray if I ask them to pray for me.

But we know that the saints will pray for God’s will for us, more along the lines of “O God, come to her assistance, send the graces she needs to understand your will and thus also take pity and have mercy on her best friend.” See? Much better, don’t ya think? Me too.

So, today is the day that we try to recover from All Hallows eve and the food feasting and instead feast on the deep contentment and uber coolness of knowing that the saints, both the “rock star” saints and the little known ones, will pray for us and care about our little human lives.

They’ve been there, done that, know the traps and are cheering us on our way. What’s not to like? Or celebrate? I’ll take every bit of help I can get. And, blessedly, this is real help, right now….and forever. Ah….

Photo by Richard Flynn. Saints in the cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels, Los Angeles: Cecilia, Stephen, Casimir, Ignatius of Loyola, Frances of Rome, Bernardine of Siena, Thomas Aquinas, Katharine Drexel, John of God, Maximilian Kolbe, John Baptist de la Salle, Paul Chong Hasang, Moses the Ethiopian, Kateri Tekakwitha, Thomas More, Nicholas, Dominic, Mary Magdalen, Ann, and Joseph.

Happy All Saints Day!
I’m gonna go dig through the candy..I can’t help it, don’t judge me!

**Reposted, mostly, from last  year because I like this one on the saints, and I am crazed with busy so can’t make my thoughts any more clear today.  **
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>Another amazing Theresa

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Painting by Janet McKenzie

It’s the feast of St. Teresa of Avila!I love her. I feel she is one of my patrons due to our shared tendency toward massive headaches and migraines. Only one who has them all the time can really understand how they scramble you…and she did. So, she’s my gal!

Painting by Francois Gerard, c. 17C


But more importantly, St. Teresa of Avila is just one heck of a great saint. She is one of the three women Doctors of the Church (noting that her spiritual writings are both sound and very important, influential). For a woman of medieval times, that is no small accomplishment, not to mention: staying power! Her books such as Interior Castle and The Way of Perfection are just amazing reads. Not fast page turners, but mind blowers. You have to stop every few pages and just sort of…digest it all. And then soak it in, let it sink in….it’s great great stuff and will change your prayer life. She founded the Discalced Carmelites (Meaning “shoeless,” again, what’s not to like?) and had an ongoing friendship and correspondence with the mystic and poetically powerful St. John of the Cross {And if you want a really phenomenal book, tough, dense, but OH so worth it: read the compilation/commentary on these two together: Fire Within, by Dubay}.
But on another level, not the “resume” angle…St. Teresa of Avila appeals to me because she was first of all a real living, breathing woman. I know, they all are, doh. But what I mean is that she was a woman of opinions and ideas and kind of stubborn and pushy, even when that wasn’t always overtly sanctioned in the culture of her time. She was extremely social and loved to sit and chat and flirt even…she was quiet beautiful and knew how to use it too. She had to struggle against the urge to chat and flirt and spend too much time doing it, because she could lose afternoons to it. Sound familiar to any of you, especially you gals? Um, yeah. That stuff IS fun. Sounds pretty modern to me.

St. Teresa’s monastic cell at the Convento de la Encarnación, Ávila

And yet, even so, St. Teresa could hear in her inmost self the whisper of God who loved her as she was, more than anyone else could. And she responded, bravely, to that irresistible call. And it brought her the ecstasy of union with God in prayer. And that amazes me and intrigues me as I know firsthand how hard it is to push all those opinions and flippy chitchatty conversations out of my head to pay attention to God himself. Distraction? I’m the poster girl for it. But St. Teresa gives me hope and I have hope that she prays for me…for my attention to what is important, for responding to that call, that whisper, for my headaches, for being brave enough to listen through the din of my modern mundane life.
**cut me some slack……reposted due to insanely crazed intensive issue filled days…by which I mean: eight kids, special needs, and mostly: October**

Sculpture by Bernini, “St. Teresa in Ecstasy”
So, happy feast day!

St. Teresa of Avila, pray for us!

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>Feast o’ Beads: Our Lady of the Rosary

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>It’s the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary!

While there is much to say about the rosary and our Lady of the Rosary, I’m just gonna say this:
I pray the rosary.
Not as often as I should or as I mean to.
It comforts me, soothes me, strengthens me….
But it also is one of my best tools for intensively praying for others, and I have a long list and it does me good to remember them all.
Praying the rosary lifts my eyes off my sorry selfish self and helps me help others in a tiny yet big way.

So today I will pray a rosary, for the intentions of you all who are on my prayer list (you know who you are, well, most of  you anyhow) and in thanksgiving for this beautiful meditative prayer.

Our Lady of the Rosary, pray for us.

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>Francis…….

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It’s the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi!

Now St. Francis is, arguably, one of the most popular saints (no matter your denomination or even if you have any belief system at all) of all time. Period. He is, if you will, a rock star of saints. Which, yes I know, is oppositional to all that sainthood is about, but there you have it. He is. He is known and loved around the world.

NOTE: Now I have been to Assisi myself and I have a much greater love for Francis…and frankly the Basilica of Assisi, specifically the lower church/crypt…blew me away.  I gasped at the beauty.  There was fresco everywhere, every single arch and nook and surface.  And I love me some fresco so I was just jaw dropped head back gasping in happy.  
Great great stuff.    So, much of this post is a repost about my prior feeelings about St. Francis, but now, well, know I feel like I know him a little bit better.  I’ve been to his house.  Seen his robes, prayed at his tomb.  Been to Mass, right there with him. It brings you close.  He’s kinda like extended family now…

My issue, and one that kind of has kept me from getting too close to St. Francis, is that he is too often sentimentalized into a sort of “saint-lite.” It seems like only the fluttery bird loving Francis is ever depicted. Churchs all over love to do the blessing of the animals in honor of St. Francis. Well, ok. I like animals too and we all know he loved them and talked to them and that’s very cool.

But really, St. Francis was a radical! He came from a very wealthy family and after living the wild life for years, to the despair of his folks, he had a radical conversion and threw it all away, literally (stripping to the skin in the public square and renouncing his inheritance…not the way I’d encourage youth to model today, but still….). He then went to devote himself to poverty and prayer and building up the Church, literally and figuratively, in joy. Even by the standards of the day, way back when, he was a holy radical. That’s the St. Francis that I like to think about, the one that draws me in and wonder, but is too often unrecognized.

Painting by Murillo, “St. Francis at Prayer”
My favorite thing about St. Francis, really, are these guys!! Also radicals for Joy, totally countercultural…… They are awesome and just light up a room when they are around. I tend to want to follow them around like a puppy. They are magnetic in their joy and just pull you to them!

Fransiscan Friars of the Renewal on tour of Ireland.

So, happy feast day!
St. Francis of Assisi, pray for us!

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>En garde!

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Happy Feast of the Guardian Angels!

” The Lord has put angels in charge of you, to guard you in all your ways.” Ps 91

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>Little Big Love…

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>It’s the feast of the Little Flower: St. Therese of Liseaux!

Which means it’s also my Marti’s feast day: Marta Therese (get the connection?).

St Therese is one of the fav’s at our house, you all know that.  I’ve written about her many times, and posted multiple novenas to her here on blog.  But whether you want to talk about her being a Doctor of the Church; known for her solid writing/teaching and doctrinal insight, or whether you want to talk about her humble “Little Way”……St Therese is about Love. 

And wadda ya know…so is our Faith. So is God.  So, should be, myself. 

And I kinda always thought we added “Therese” to our Marta’s name because we prayed novena’s to this saint on Marta’s behalf.  We hit St. Therese up for many prayers to bring our girl home and get her healthy.  St. Therese had TB too.  St. Therese wasn’t highly regarded among the other nuns in her convent.  She was thought to be slow or dim, she was often overlooked, she was young, she was small.  She was one of God’s “little ones.” 
And so is our Marta, to be sure…one of God’s “little ones.”
If I know anything, I know that.
 
But really….
I am learning, every single blooming day, that I think we were compelled to add “Therese” to Marta’s name also because this saint teaches us how to love. 
In the little things. 
Which of course, means that they are the very biggest things. 
Because this saint struggled all her life to die to her self and her pride and her desires so she could love Jesus better. 

And she ultimately was given the grace of real understanding of the biggest simplest secret: that the Love was waiting for her.  She didn’t have to scale great heights, or go on far missions, or accomplish amazing feats to prove her love.  All she had to do was lift up her arms(heart) and open herself to Love.  And, um, do it.  Love.  Love in the little things.  Every day.  The next thing, right in front of her.  Do the chore before her without complaint.  Smile at the irritating Sister and bite her tongue.  Not correct the error of someone being catty, but let it roll off her back. 
It wasn’t easy for her, she didn’t possess any “saintly” or superhuman patience:

“I understood how easy it is to become all wrapped up on self, forgetting entirely the sublime goal of one’s calling.“

Rather she figured out that:

“…perfection consists in doing God’s will, in being what he wills us to be.”

and

“We can do no good when we seek our self.”

Or, in other terms, to be us, and to love. 
Period.

And yeah, it sounds so simple.  Like stupid simple, right? 
Well, yup, it does.  So why do I fail and kick and fuss and gripe against it every blooming day?
Because it’s the hardest most profound thing we can do, any day, any moment. 
And yet, also the most sublime and simplest. 

To bring this ramble back around…and so it is with  my Marta Therese. 
She too, teaches me how to love. Really. 
Really love.
Because it can be so hard with her.  Because she is small and suffers the after-effects of the TB that ravaged her. Because it’s still sometimes strange and it’s still often hard and it’s sometimes ridiculously complicated.  Because I am slow and am ridiculously complicated and strange. Because she has delays and it makes things very slow and often limited. 
But oh, I know, she is aptly named. 
She is one of the small ones. 
And she loves, to the best of her ability. 
And I am called to love her. 
And sometimes that is simply an act of will. 
And sometimes it is with a tired fuss.
And sometimes it is with a stabbing intake of breath, glimpsing her for a moment as God does. 
He sent me one of his special ones, to give me remedial lessons. 
Because I too am slow.
And need so  much to learn to truly really love. 
The little way.  
It’s so big.  

So today we celebrate, I am thinking upon, St. Therese of Liseaux, and her intentions: 

 “I ask Jesus to draw me into the flames of his love, to unite me so closely to him that he live and act in me.”

And I am asking her for her prayers, for our Marti Therese, my family,  and for me. 
So that I can lift up my arms and  heart, and love better, more truly, all those littles ones given to me…..eight of them. 

See, remedial lessons, lifelong….me. 
Doh. 
And so I can say, “Thank you, here I am Love, lift me up.” 

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>Triumph? A cross, really…..?

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 Dali, of course.

Yup.
Today is the feast of the Triumph of the Cross. 
Which always seems all counter-intuitive.  Like we Catholics and Christians have lost our collective minds.  Really? A cross? That horrible gory ghastly unspeakable death?  Or, that so common it’s lost it’s punch story of the crucifixion….yeah yeah yeah, I know I know.  Easy to kind of give a mental nod to it and move on, right? 
Well, yeah……..except when it’s YOUR cross. 
Because that’s what this is about: You.  Your cross too. 
By which I mean, mine.
And then it all takes on QUITE a different tone doesn’t it?
Because these “crosses”…..doggone if they don’t HURT!
Like HELL!

Yeah, see, you get the idea. 
Takes me a while and I still forget, but yeah.
That’s the idea.  Because you don’t get to Christ without the Cross.
Dang.
But you don’t. 
And really, you don’t even want to. No, really, think about it, you don’t…because it is in our suffering that we strip away the dross, the unimportant, and find the realest of real, the true.  It is in that process that we find what is most important about our lives, ourselves….and it is always the same truth: Love.  And that of course, is God.  God is love.  Done.

Why it takes the Cross to get that through our stubborn mulish heads I don’t know.  I guess because I am so stubborn.  Such a mule.  Such a slow slow learner. 
So proud. So controlling. 
All of that has to be kicked out of me, again and again before I can set it all down and give over…. 
so that I can let real love wash over me, the way it’s supposed to instead of the way I’d like to direct it…. to learn to actually LOVE, in action and deeds instead of only good intentions….to just do it {and yes, I”m still working on it, thanks for asking…sigh}. 

And it’s that. In the doing, where we find the love, even as we might be carrying the cross.  Then too is when we see the triumph, yeah, even the exaltation and joy of that very cross, so despised before.  We see it’s beauty.  Because it transformed…..everything.  It transformed suffering. It transformed ugly, and pain, and horror, and fear, and weeping, and exhaustion.  It took it all and flipped it inside out….into our very reason for shouting and clapping for joy, for hugging with grateful tears, for that catch in our chest when we know that it’s ok, not even ok, but oh so unspeakably good. 
Because it is love.  It is our suffering, which is our giving to the last drop of ourselves that we go the cross, Christ’s cross, and only then do we get to really learn what it means to really love, in the way that is real. 
Triumph. 
Love that word.
Today’s the day to remember it.
Triumph.

Siena

“We adore you Oh Christ, and we praise you, because by your Holy Cross, you have redeemed the world.”

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>Sacred Hearts

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> You know, I always get a little chuckle out of the biker tattoos and punk or rockabilly co-opting of the Sacred Heart image.  Some might well gasp in shock or tsk tsk…but really, I think it’s kind of a flipped, inside joke.

I mean, I know it’s supposed to be, in many tho maybe not all cases,  radical and all… and a way of thumbing their punk biker noses at organized religion or God or whatever.  But to me, it’s a little joke on them.  Because I really am  not sure  you can walk around wearing a Sacred Heart image without it somehow, in teeny tiny ways, rubbing off on you.  God’s funny like that.  He’s got a great sense of humor….look at my family, look at me!  Jesus, I would guess, is fine with a biker having a tattoo of His sacred heart…at least He’s there, right? Isn’t it a little bit like a small boy writing “Mama” on  his arm with a sharpie and then going in and being a out of control little rebel?  It’s that natural conflict that we all have.  These tough punkers or bikers seem to be much the same.  Can you say “arrested development?”  I can.  {Ok, now I am sure a fleet of rough tough bikers will want to come rumbling through my yard….please.  Have a sense of humor, life is short!}

And really, even punk   hipster mamas can carry their babes in these “rockabilly punk slings”, see just below…I’m not even sure what to make of that!  Good or no? Hmmmm, good, really….but too few really understand so the public at large will think you’ve gone punk if  you cart your kiddo around in this.  But the really hardcore Catholics might give you a big high five!  What’s a mom to do??  Ha! And speaking of moms…tomorrow we could, maybe, look at some fun co-opts of pop culture and Mary, talk about conflicted children! Folks can’t stop splashing her around…but she’s cool, or, as the youngsters say, “chill” (they say that right?), because we old moms know that just like with celebs, any publicity is good publicity.  (To a degree…there IS blasphemy and sacrilege, but this is a happy post so we won’t go there this time.)

Anyhow, today is the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, June is the month of the Sacred Heart. {I lifted this part of this post, shamelessly, from a prior post on this solemnity, because of the travel thing, so cut me some slack ok!? Thanks!}  This is an old devotion, a private devotion and one that helps any day, every, day be more mindful. Read all about it here. It helps transform our mundane regular daily grind into something bigger than ourselves – and instead offers our mere efforts to Christ as a way of showing we love Him, despite ourselves and our habitual selfish nature. And it’s not just this month, it can be done year ’round, of course.

When I make this offering in the morning, somehow it helps my days. It doesn’t make them smoother, it doesn’t make them all jolly…but it makes even those “terrible horrible no good very bad days” into something more. It’s a comfort. Oddly, I am often more out of sorts when I forget this prayer to start the day. It’s like resting my head on His chest for a moment before I hop on the whirlwind of the day and try to lasso it.

So, yeah, it’s another Catholic post. It’s an uber Catholic post, really. Meaning, it’s one that might seem strange to those not familiar with it all (though I don’t mind explaining or questions either, I can take it!). It’s one of those old Catholic devotions, but it’s a goody. And if any of you are having days that are way stressed or out of sorts, I’d suggest giving it a go if you wonder… because really, what’s the risk? A little comfort? A little extra grace in the day? What’s not to like about that?

 Odilon Redon, The Sacred Heart
Heck, maybe you’ll want to get a radical tattoo…but because devotion to the heart of Jesus IS so cool, AND so radical, that you’d be hip to be square!  Who knew?
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>Corpus Christi

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{I posted this last  year but want to repost, since I”m traveling..and if I get it together to post fresh, well, great, and if not, I still want to mark this important day. }
 
painting by Paul Gauguin
It’s the feast of Corpus Christi: the Body of Christ.
It’s one of the greatest Mysteries of the faith, capital “M” mystery again…one of those that boggle and baffle the mind. One of those you belief or you don’t. Period.
I do.

It’s the Eucharist. The body of Christ. It’s a gift, a sacrament, it’s utterly holy and sacred and, at the same time, the most intimate thing on earth.

I can’t do this justice of course. To read more about this, with historical support, go here.
To read a good piece on how to bring together your mind, heart and senses on this, go here.

All I know is that I like thinking about connections a lot. You know that. I like that whole connected relational brought together linked adopted bonded sense in (my) life. I see it so many places that it gives me chills if I stop to think about it. And that is what I find to the utmost, mindblowing, heart zinging way in the sacrament of Communion and the Eucharist: the most intimate connection and unity that can be. Ever – in this world. And I yearn for it and reach for it and I sink into it with relief and gratitude and wallowing comfort and gratitude.
And I don’t understand it with my mind.
But my heart and soul know it’s more real than anything else.
John 6
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>Trinity Sunday

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It’s Trinity Sunday, the feast of the Holy Trinity. 

This concept of the Trinity, it’s one of the mysteries in our universe, our faith, and  my mind.  In fact, if you ponder it long enough, and get close to thinking, “Aha! I’ve got it! I understand it now!”…then back up, you’ve just slid into heresy, presumption, and you’re wrong. 

There is no fully complete understanding of this. It’s a mystery with a capital “M.”  One our puny human minds can’t ever really fathom: three persons in one God.  The simplest way I’ve been able to grasp it is the catechism answer: God the Father, Christ the son, and the love between them SO powerful that it begets it’s own person, the Holy Spirit. {Yeah, sounds familiar, no??  In marriage we love each other so much that our love begets another whole person, or more….  Kinda the same thing, but with the Trinity it’s compounded to a factor of unspeakable billions, beyond our ken.} 

This is a short terrific book about the sign of the cross, which is, in it’s purest form, a visual, physical recognition of the Trinity.  A very good quick read, but will make you think again about this common gesture.  As you make the sign of the cross, touching forehead, chest, shoulder, shoulder, and say these words: “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”….well, you’ve pretty much just summed up the most important bits of,  um, everything.  

Anyway, I’m no theologian.  If I start to think too hard about the Trinity, this mystery, my brain starts to scramble and ache. I prefer to gaze at this icon, above.  It’s one of the oldest, most classic and best.  It does the best job of what icons are meant to do: to be windows into heaven.  They help represent the unknowable, the divine.  They help our minds and hearts and prayers step through that window into the divine.  Gaze.  Rest. Look.  Ahhh. 

Happy feast of the Holy Trinity!

God, we praise you:
Father all-powerful,
Christ Lord and Savior,
Spirit of Love.
You reveal yourself in the depths of our being,
drawing us to share in your life and your love.
One God, three Persons,
be near to the people formed in your image,
close to the world your love brings to life.
We ask you this, Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
one God, true and living, forever and ever.
From the, collect:  prayers of the day.
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>LIghten Up!

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It’s the Feast of St. Philip Neri!

He is a saint I should really get to know better.  Because I love to laugh and yet, too often get caught up in the to-do’s and then forget.  I forget to laugh.  And really, what a pity!

It’s too easy to think, and a common trap, that having a life of faith, trying to live a life of faith, must be so serious.  Really? Does it have to be? Well, sometimes, sure.  But always? Golly, no.  No one is going to be drawn toward any sour saints, are they? Nope.  Heck, don’t you think that God doesn’t want any sour saints either? Who would? But it’s an easy trap to fall into.  Mea culpa.

Anyhow, St. Philip Neri is a good one for reminding us that laughter is one of God’s greatest gifts to us all.  I think  you can be dead serious about what is true, even as you glory and laugh in the wonder of what that really means too.  St. Philip was very serious and devout, dedicated to his prayers, but he also had a compelling personality, loved to talk and even would have music and picnics on excursions to visit churches.  He lived in a very corrupt time; he worked hard to restore a strong spirituality by hosting “oratories,” formal talks and music that focused on spiritual topics.  Even so, he was known for  his great sense of humor and practical jokes, in addition to his gentle manner and his skill as a confessor.

He got it. St. Philip understood that you can enjoy the bounty and fun of God’s goodness, even as you live a deep and powerful life of faith.  He became known as “the apostle of Rome.” And, as that is where I am at the moment…today I will ask St. Philip Neri to say a prayer for my family here and everyone on my prayer list. 

Happy Feast Day!

Saint Philip Neri, 
we take ourselves far too seriously most of the time. 
Help us to add humor to our perspective — 
remembering always that humor is a gift from God. 
Amen
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>Let the Fire Fall

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Pentecost, by El Greco

Breathe into me, Holy Spirit,

that my thoughts may all be holy.


Move in me, Holy Spirit,
that my work, too, may be holy.

Attract my heart, Holy Spirit,
that I may love only what is holy.

Strengthen me, Holy Spirit,
that I may defend all that is holy.

Protect me, Holy Spirit,
that I may always be holy
Prayer to the Holy Spirit by St. Augustine

painting by Titian, Pentecost.

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>Going up…

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Ascension.  Today is the feast of the Ascension of the Lord.
Painting by Salvadore Dali.
Now, I have written before about this, and how it kind of always boggles my mind.  Because I am a visual kind of gal, I always get stuck in the imagining of this event, in the unimaginable visuals.  My mind wants to do a whole movie panorama on it, more old Cecil B DeMille flicks, less Spielberg…but I digress.  My point is that I can get all hung up in trying to SEE this, and understand it….which of course totally misses the point.  As usual.
But there are two cool parts to this that I could spend the rest of my life meditating upon, and in fact it would surely do me much good. I won’t, but maybe I should.  
The first part I wrote about last year, again, here.  It’s the whole concept that Jesus went to prepare a place for us.   He went to get things ready for us, at HOME.  Home.  Not our current abodes, apartments, houses, condos…but our true home.  And that is with Him, eternally, in heaven (I hope and pray). I mean,  how cool is that?? I don’t know about  you, but I’m  not the greatest hostess on the planet.  I failed Martha Stewart 101.  I have to write post-its to remember to put nice folded towels in the guest bath.  But here, the God of the Universe, of everything, is heading off to prepare a place for us! Now I don’t know what that entails in heaven and all, but even still, He’s already on the details.  
I know I know, this is really talking about bigger picture stuff, but even so, God is in the details too and  you know it.  Ever looked at the marbling in granite?? Or the  marbling in marble? Huh? Stared into a tiger lily? Don’t tell me that God doesn’t pay attention to the tiny details…so I can marvel that Christ left the apostles, ascended even (another spectacular detail),  to go and prepare a place for us, the best place: Home.  Ahhhhh……joy. 
The second part of this very cool event, this mind tripping visual, is that this ascension also signified a new and different status for the apostles…which of course trickles right down to us, me.  He said to them that he would go, but he would send the Holy Spirit and then they were going to be sent too.  Out.  To witness.  To tell the world about this wild amazing truth, this mind blowing love.  That it was real.  He let those apostles SEE him ascend, not just fade away like the Cheshire Cat with his grin the last to go…
nope, he ascended as they watched (and surely, gaped and pointed, and held out their hands and maybe both laughed a bit and cried a bit too).    But certainly they had to be electrified; how could you not? Surely, this very change from followers of the earthly bodily Jesus to witnesses was facilitated by this ascension.  I mean, literally, they witnessed it.  They witnessed it all: yeah, the ascension, but also Christ himself on earth, his miracles, his passion, his resurrection, his heart, his voice, his smell, his smile.  
They knew him, like the world could not.  
And thus they were the first, sent out with a bang, to bring that excitement to everyone.  Big job, but then again, big cool.  Much to think about with this day….
O King of Glory,

Lord of Hosts,

Who didst this day ascend in triumph
above all the heavens!
Leave us not orphans,
but send upon us the Spirit of Truth,
promised by the Father. Alleluia!
The Liturgical Year: Book 9

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>Holy Mama! It’s May!

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So, it’s May! You know what that means…not only that we can all jump for joy that the crazy stormy April is finished, but that spring has sprung and it’s a new start and it’s a beautiful new month, new season, new start.  May is also, in Catholic life, a month devoted to Mary. By which I mean, it’s all about the mama.
 

No, not only all about me (which of course, it always is!) but even more so, May is all about our Blessed Mom, Mary.  She is the one that I look to this month, today in a bit of needy plea (it’s been a tough week), to give me example of how to do all this mom stuff right.  I look to her to see how to really love, to model humility for me (stop laughing, I know I know, better than anyone  how desperately I need that one), to model kindness and patience and just, baseline, real, love.

Joss van Cleve, Madonna and Child (see even baby Jesus was awfully busy!)

You know that it gets all tangled up too, that love stuff. It gets knotted up in needs and wants and crises and pushing and pulling of all sorts: worldly, culturally, friendly, husbandly (Is that a word? It is today).  My dear pal Sonja writs eloquently on this very thing here, today, in honor of today’s feast of St. Joseph the worker.  Go, read.  It’s so worth it.  (Sorry St. Joseph, not trying to slight you, but Sonja does a much better write up.)

But this month we honor Mary.  It’s her month.  Because May brings new growth, literally, all around us.  So too, does Mary.  Without her fiat, her humble acceptance of a surprising radical challenge to love, we wouldn’t even have a chance to know the truest Love.  She is the spring of our faith, our hearts and their growth too.  She tends and nurtures our hearts through her prayers so that we can grow and bloom and come closer to the truest Love, her Son.  She is “everymom,” it’s too easy to forget that, that while she is unique and selected particularly to be the earthly mom of Christ himself, she is also us, in the trenches, mom to this beautiful hard hurting but glorious world.

After this past week, I figure I am at the baby sprout stage of loving.  I could easily have been mistaken for a weed, oh, even this morning.  So, I am looking to Mary, my Blessed Mother, and asking for her prayers to humble my stubborn selfish self, to grow my ability to love, and to pray me into a bloom of some sort, someday.

In the meantime, I hope to get back to a steady consistent daily rosary (lost too often in the shuffle of some insane days) this month, and to pay more attention to the best mom and mom-model I know:  Mary. 

“The mood of springtime informs the church’s interior; nature’s
blossoming, the warm air of May evenings, human gladness in
a world that is renewing itself — all these things enter in.
Veneration of Mary has its place in this very particular
atmosphere, for she, the Virgin, shows us faith under its
youthful aspect, as God’s new beginning in a world that has
grown old. In her we see the Christian life set forth as a youth-
fulness of the heart, as beauty and a waiting readiness for
what is to come.”
–– Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, Seek That Which is Above
(Ignatius, 1986), pp. 95-96.
{quote h/t wff.org}
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>Divine Mercy

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Painting, “Divine Mercy” Michael O’Brian
It is Divine Mercy Sunday.
I don’t know about you, but I need all the mercy I can get.  
For quite some time, I didn’t pay much attention to this devotion.  It seemed goofy, in a way. Sorry, but it did. I sometimes shy away from things that I haven’t fully looked into and/or fully understand. And also, frankly, the more sentimentalized  traditional imagery and ever more sentimentalized editions of this devotion didn’t set well with me, or my oddball aesthetic.  I know, shallow perhaps, but there it is.  My reality.
Anyhow, but as I learn more about this devotion, I am learning about the simple beauty of it.  And I think it is what we all crave.  Mercy.  Just that.  Just a little mercy. 
To that end, the Church recognized today,  the first Sunday after Easter, as Divine Mercy Sunday.  Because Easter is ALL about Mercy, Divine Mercy.  If it is not, there is no real reason to even get out of bed.  But it is.  I know it, heart and soul. 
So today, I join in the prayer:
“….for the sake of His sorrowful passion, 
Have Mercy on us, and on the whole world.”
Happy Easter…still easter….yay…..
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>Holy Laughter

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Rejoice!
It is Easter!
He is Risen indeed! Indeed He is Risen!

Painting, Fra Angelico

I love Easter, my favorite holiday. It is. It is just too full of pure grinning hugging laughing tear blinking elation. The ever great guys over at Godzdogz make a good point, often lost in the hussle of dying eggs and gobbling candy and oohing and cooing at the beautiful little kids in their Easter bonnets and best:

but this is THE big reversal! This is the big laugh out loud rejoicing because death itself has been foiled. And we can laugh the purest laugh of sheer joy and gratitude at the mind blowing goodness of it all.

Gosh any teen boy worth his salt or brash “too cool for you” comedian should be clapping his hands and howling at the pure “great one” of this day: He didn’t die. He turned death upside down, reversing it for all, for all time. Now that makes the purest truest laughter spring forth, when you really think about it. Because that laughter starts as unsure, tiny niggles of fear, “Can it really be true, c’mon? Do you really believe that?” And now, well, Yeah! He already has spoken with Mary Magdalene and called her by her name!

Painting by Bouguereau, “The Holy Women at the Tomb”

She was so amazed that she ran off to tell the disciples. Talk about taking your breath, blowing your mind…think she just cooly stood there and gazed and thought, “Meh?”
Um, no. I think she ran and tripped and her mind was racing and she couldn’t get to them fast enough. And, as an aside (because I am all about asides) I love it that He saw her first: a woman, a sinful woman who was trying her best, and who made huge changes in her life, because of Him. That gives me hope, that kind of mercy and love.

Anyhow, so, even though I oh so often tear up at the vigil Mass (especially if I catch sight of my dear friend Sonja, who always cries…because it just means SO much to her), at the end of the Mass, after the traditional recessional song of “Jesus Christ is Risen Today,” (Played and sung LOUD and with jubiliation)…at the end, I want to laugh and shout and clap my hands and grin stupidly from ear to ear. Because it’s real.
It’s the BIG reversal, the ultimate gift.
And it’s ours.
Whoa.
That’s just pure pure JOY. Jubilation!
It’s just the best.
It’s holy laughter.

Happy Happy Easter!

Michaelangelo’s drawing, “The Resurrection of Christ”
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>Silence, Holy Saturday

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>Holy Saturday is a day of silence.

It is the tomb.
It is the day of grieving and being still, quiet for it…or mindful of it and trying to find that still silent spot inside; ever difficult in our modern days and our/my busy loud lives.
This is the day when the tabernacles, across the world, are barren.
And the emptiness is visceral.
I feel it.
I think the world feels it.
I do.

Tonight is the vigil and the promise of the return of the light, Light itself.
But for today. 
It is the deposition, the tomb.

It is silent….
So.  We wait.
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>High Holy Day. Psalm 22

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So.  Today it is.
 
Today is Good Friday.
One of the hardest days of the year.
Today He died.
Battered.  Given.  Crucified.
Today is a day of fasting, abstinence, silence, prayer.  
It’s supposed to be hard.
It is.  

“They have pierced My hands and My feet; they have numbered all My bones.”

Psalm 22
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>"Why is this night different from any other night?"

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>It is Holy Thursday.
The first day of the Triduum.
It’s also known as Maundy Thursday
But, no matter the term used, it’s a high holy day, and it’s one of the ones that is rich and complex and beautiful and difficult all at the same time.

(And, as an aside, everyone I know is kind of suffering all sorts of larger and smaller slings and arrows this week, escalating today.  Right.  Exactly. I guess that’s how we know it’s Holy Week and we get to participate in our own mini-wimpy-passion….because “we can’t handle the truth” {to paraphrase Jack} of the real experience.  Just saying…..)

Sadao Watanabe print

Tonight the Mass remembers that special Passover supper, the last supper.  This is the supper of the institution of the Eucharist.  The disciples didn’t even really realize what was going on…how typical, then, and now.  But, oh the beauty of it all.

So too, this night, Christ washed their feet, showing them how to be the servant of servants that they would be called to be…that we are called to be.  How often do I forget that one? Daily, how many times a day is the better question.

Sigh.  This is such a complex layered night.  I can’t begin to do it justice.  The emotions range all over the map: from the quiet humbling of the washing of the feet, to the beauty of the institution of the eucharist, to the stripping of the altar and processing out that brings me to blinking away the tears…..It’s a rigorous beautiful piercing night. For me, this night does begin the vigil…the vigil that doesn’t end until the close of Saturday night’s vigil Mass (finishing Sunday).   

“Why is this night different from any other night?”  
This is one of the Passover questions.  So too, it is our question, mine.
And these three days ahead, I get to ponder it and pray over it and grow my heart bigger to answer it well, or try.

There is also a long tradition of a late Holy Thursday night service, called Tenebrea that means, literally, “shadows” or “darkness.”  This service is one of the hardest and most beautiful.  It starts in light and over the course of the service moves to darkness….because these are the three days of darkness and the greatest of suffering.  It ends with a cacophony of clapping wood.  It jangles and disturbs me deep inside, as it should, as it’s meant to.  The Sisters of Carmel explain it well, go read the whole thing here, but below is a snip from it:
 
There is placed in the sanctuary, near the altar, a large triangular candlestick holding fifteen candles. At the end of each psalm or canticle, one of these fifteen candles is extinguished, but the one which is placed at the top of the triangle is left lighted. During the singing of the Benedictus (the Canticle of Zachary at the end of Lauds), six other candles on the altar are also put out. Then the master of ceremonies takes the lighted candle from the triangle and holds it upon the altar while the choir repeats the antiphon after the canticle, after which she hides it behind the altar during the recitation of the Christus antiphon and final prayer. As soon as this prayer is finished, a noise is made with the seats of the stalls in the choir, which continues until the candle is brought from behind the altar, and shows, by its light, that the Office of Tenebrae is over.

Wishing you a mindful and Blessed Triduum.

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>Palms in our Palms

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>It’s Palm Sunday

And  yes, as seen in the post directly below, it IS our anniversary.  This year our anniversary falls on Palm Sunday.  Which isn’t quite as  humbling and embarrassing as when it falls on Holy Thursday or any such thing, but gee golly, it’s close.  
You see, as Catholics, we don’t really do sacraments like Marriage during a penitential season such as Lent.  It’s not done.  Because it’s a season of penance.  Right, quick now, stop.  No jokes about marriage and penance…cmon, tooo easy.  Get your head out of the gutter!  Besides, we are talking about MY marriage which is a gift, no penance, all right?  Right.  But I’m digressing through my digression…ahem.  I am going on the record that we got married in Lent first of all, because we were simply stupid and ignorant.  Second of all because it was spring break, Tom was in med school and we just couldn’t wait.  Because we were madly in love and couldn’t wait another minute, another day or month or season.  That’s my story and I”m sticking to it.  But, really, secondly, because we are pushy and obnoxious and pushed the our favorite priest to go ahead and perform the ceremony because this was the only time we had to get married (ya know, spring break).  So he surely figured it was better to marry us than to NOT and so, he did.  {I wonder if I should confess being a near occasion of sin for him, oh so long ago? Hadn’t thought about that, hmmmm…not entirely kidding….}  Third and last, but most obviously, we got married during Lent because we were obviously NOT living Catholic lives.  Not paying attention to the good stuff or details at all.  Doh.  And thus now….we are living our penance annually by having our anniversary during Lent.  Sigh.  It serves us right.  Talk about perfect justice.  Sheesh.  
Anyhow.  So.  Back to post.
It is Palm Sunday today.
Which means of course, that this is the beginning of HOLY WEEK!  Finally.  Already.  Oh my.
And this means that it is one of the hardest Masses of the year.  And the longest.  This is the Mass where they pass out Palms for us to hold, to re-enact in a tiny way Christ’s entry into Jerusalem.  This is the Mass where small boys in the pews have mock sword fights with the palms as their mother tries to ignore and/or redirect them.  This is another nice connection to the liturgy my Marta knows, as they too pass out palms in her church (Orthodox) in Ethiopia.  This is familiar and known to her, reinforcing her connections in faith, both backward and forward. 
This is the Mass where the gospel passion of Christ is read, with different readers for each part: the Pastor reads Christ, the deacon or seminarian or another parishoner might read as narrator, another will read the part of Pilate/Herod, and then the congregation reads the part of the crowd.  So, yes, exactly, that means that we have to stand there in Mass and say, choke it out, “Crucify Him!”  It is harder than it sounds.  It is the hardest thing to do.  And yet, we must. Because of course, we did.  And do still.  I can’t do this justice.  But Deacon Greg did in his homily for today, so I’m gonna lift a chunk of it, below.  Go read the whole thing tho, if you’d like a good read to step into a mindful Holy Week. 
 Because this is it.  It’s almost done, this tough season.  It might be a tough week.  Instead of cringing, a dear priest, Father Luckas, has advised to face it head on, as a challenge to keep stepping mindfully forward.  To Christ  himself.  And so that is what I thought about in Mass today, as I held my palms in my hands, in my palms, and I also had to say “Crucify Him.” And, “Jesus, Remember me, when you come into  your kingdom..”  And blink back the tears.  
Just as it should be.  
From Deacon Greg: read, begin Holy Week:
This week is the only time that the gospel is proclaimed by someone besides a priest or deacon – every individual in this church takes part.
It’s a great privilege. And it – literally — gives us a role in Christ’s passion.
But what do we say? What lines are we given?
“Not this one! Barabbas!”
“Hail, King of the Jews!”
“Crucify him!”
“Take him away, crucify him!”
We cry out for vengeance, and we accuse his disciples, and we gamble to see which of us will get his cloak. We mock him.
We are the mob. And we cruelly assist in condemning Christ to death.
And the great irony, of course, is that we do it while clutching these palms.
They are a reminder – and an indictment. While we were standing here, crying out “Crucify him!,” we were clutching the branches that we used to sing out “Hosanna.” The palms reveal our very human duplicity. How easily we turn. How quickly we pivot from faithful, to faithless … from belief to doubt … from being disciples, to being betrayers.
We start out acting like angels, singing “Hosanna.” And we end up just being the mob.
It can sometimes be that way throughout the church. The headlines this week have told the story. Men called to holiness can be guilty of appalling sins. Sins of abuse. Sins of neglect. Sins of dishonesty. Sins of betrayal.
And yet, to be a part of the body of Christ is to be with him on the cross. The Catholic writer Ronald Rolheiser has put it powerfully. “To be a member of the church,” he wrote, “is to carry the mantle of both the worst sin and the finest heroism of soul….because the church always looks exactly as it looked at the original crucifixion, God hung among thieves.”
And all we can do sometimes is echo the words of the one thief, words we heard just a few moments ago: “Jesus, remember me.” That moment is the only one in any of the gospels where someone calls Jesus by his given name. Maybe it is because it is at this moment – the hour of his death — that he is most like us. He hangs there, stripped, beaten, betrayed. He hangs among thieves. This is what we have done to our God. And this is what we continue to do, even today. 
 
Have a blessed Holy Week!
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