Sunday, July 12, 2015

making time for... what?

It's not easy to find a balance in life. 

Sometimes, the problem isn't making time for things... 

The problem is making time for too many.

Thursday morning, I woke up - later than I'd wanted - to a migraine that felt like an icepick jammed through my right eye.

My usual dose of black tea was not quite enough to wake me up, and in spite of the headache and exhaustion, I dragged myself to work, for the sake of one important meeting. 
By 3:00, everything was wrapped up. Though the icepick was still lodged firmly behind my eye, I didn't want to go home, because I knew that if I went home, the odds were not in favor of making it to evening Mass. 

A thunderstorm was looming in the south, and the air was fresh and cool. Not wanting to drive too far, but thinking that being outside in that lovely pre-monsoon storm weather would be good after a long day stuck in an office, I went to a nearby outdoor shopping mall. 

As I walked out of a store awhile later, it had started to rain. I stopped under the eave, and leaned back against the storefront. The rain wasn't hard yet, but it was steady.

I didn't care about getting wet.
I was only about 15 feet from my car.
But I stopped.
Just stopped.
And watched the rain.

I realized that it was the first time all week that I had paused so intentionally – that I had really made time to stop.

My heart and mind have been heavy in recent days, and perhaps in an effort to avoid thinking too deeply about weighty things, I lost myself in the busy-ness of everything else. It’s easy to do. There’s always some demand on my time. The problem isn't making time for those demands... The problem is, I make time for too many.

Sure, there are certain things I hold as non-negotiable, but some weeks, I wonder if I have enough of those. 

Watching the rain, I thought about how living at this pace – often technology-driven (what’s in my email?? what last-minute meeting just got put on my calendar?) – is often not really living, at all. 

We are overly connected, and utterly depersonalized... 

Some days, I wish I could just give it all up. Do something simpler. Something quieter. Something less connected, but more personal.

Some days, I wish I could just give it all up. Then, I'm reminded that giving it all up isn't the solution. Being who God needs me to be, right here, right now - in all the messy complexity that entails - is. Finding a way to keep some balance and simplicity in that mix isn't easy, and I fail at it all the time. 

Lord, help me to find the balance... And to make time for what makes YOU happy. 

Linked up with Blessed Is She, on "making time"!


Saturday, June 27, 2015

being and behavior

"Truth is not determined by a majority vote." - Pope Benedict XVI

On Friday, the Supreme Court made it illegal for states to outlaw same-sex unions. I'm not a lawyer - and I'm certainly no expert on the Constitution - but I agree with those who have called this decision "judicial activism". 

To a first point, whether or not you agree with same-sex unions, I firmly believe this was an issue that should have been left to the states - to the people - to decide - and not left to the judgment of nine lawyers (to borrow from Justice Scalia's term from his dissenting opinion). Reading through the majority and minority opinions issued by the justices, I don't buy the majority opinion's business about gay marriage falling under the 14th Amendment. I will reiterate, I am no expert in Constitutional law, but this seems like quite a stretch. 

To a second point, I am Catholic. Before you accuse me of hating gays or of homophobia, or whatever, let me assure you: I don't hate gays. I wish them absolutely no ill will.  I have had many gay friends. But no, I don't find homosexual behavior to be morally acceptable. Moreover, the Church does not teach that homosexual people are bad or evil in any way - the Church teaches that homosexual behavior is wrong, because it is contrary to the natural law. 

As a sidebar, I know there are plenty of Christians who have been hateful toward LGBT people. And I'm sorry for that. It's not right. Hate is not a Christian virtue. I firmly believe that we can all love each other without loving, condoning, or agreeing with each other's behavior. 

And that brings me to the problem I see in this debate. 

There is a difference between being and behavior. 

We shouldn't discriminate against people on the grounds of who they are. Whatever you believe about homosexuality's origins - whether it is innate or learned - and I do not seek to comment on that here - if someone is gay, that does not give anyone grounds to discriminate against them for being gay... Just the same way that we don't (or shouldn't - I realize discrimination is alive and well in many places) discriminate against people based on their race, or gender, or religion, etc. 

However, behavior is different. If we consider someone's behavior to be offensive, or immoral, why should we be forced to condone it? The U.S. doesn't condone murder... Oh wait, actually the U.S. does - thanks, SCOTUS, for Roe v. Wade! And for the death penalty, too! 
But - as a Catholic - I certainly do not condone murder. 

I also believe it's immoral for couples to live together outside of the bonds of marriage. Many of my friends lived with their spouses before marriage. I certainly didn't hate them for it, but I didn't agree with it. And the beauty of America is, I don't have to agree with their behavior. I don't have to condone it. I don't hate my gay friends who are in homosexual relationships - but I do believe that homosexual behavior is immoral, and contrary to the natural law. And as an American, I HAVE THE RIGHT to believe that. And you, if you are pro-gay-marriage, have the right to disagree with me. Neither of us have the right to be hateful to one another if we disagree with each other's views.

All this is to say, judicial activism won yesterday. The states lost. And whether you are gay or straight, conservative or liberal, you lost - because as Americans, we all lost the right to decide on the gay marriage issue as a nation, and ceded that right to nine lawyers (who, as Justice Scalia pointed out in his dissenting opinion, are nowhere near statistically representative of the U.S. demographic).  

And despite the majority opinion's weak assurances to the contrary, religious freedom has certainly lost. Since civil gay marriage is now the law of the land, it is difficult to believe that legal challenges to religious groups who find gay marriage incompatible with their religious convictions, will not follow in droves. They will. We need look no further than Canada for such evidence, as noted in this article from The Federalist. The leap is not too far at all. 

I'm sorry, but anyone who thinks their religious freedom will be protected under this new law is kidding themselves. All we need do is wait for "religious conviction" to become synonymous with "hate speech" - instead of being protected by the First Amendment. Popular culture is basically already there: it is quite apparent that holding a traditional view of marriage, or any kind of traditional Christian belief, is considered by many "progressives" as hateful, bigoted, and only worthy of denigration. Hillary Clinton's recent remark that "Deep-seated cultural codes, religious beliefs, and structural biases, have to be changed," with respect to abortion and women's reproductive "rights," is one shining example among many.

And so it begins. Or perhaps more correctly put, so it continues. 
Lord, have mercy on us. 

Friday, June 12, 2015

return to the heart

May we alway seek refuge in the Sacred Heart of Jesus. His love for us is deeper than any ocean... How he longs for us to return to his Heart! 

A few days ago, I read a meditation that talked about how, just as the blood in our bodies always returns to the heart, so we should always return to Jesus’ Heart.

I like the image that brings to mind – that we are like drops of blood, circulating through the body of Christ, always flowing back to his Sacred Heart. It’s a beautiful way to be reminded that if we strive to follow the path of Christ, we are united to him in everything – in our joys, our struggles, our outright sufferings. We are always able to seek the refuge of his Sacred Heart, as he loves us beyond the depth of the deepest ocean. Even in our failings, he says, as through the prophet Hosea, “My heart is overwhelmed, my pity is stirred. I will not give vent to my blazing anger, I will not destroy Ephraim again; for I am God and not a man, the Holy One present among you; I will not let the flames consume you.” 

Lord Jesus, may we be your Precious Blood in the world, circulating through your Body however you will - but always returning to your Heart, the source of all love, all joy. "Make our hearts like unto Thine.." 

Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us! 

Linking up with Blessed Is She... on heart

Thursday, May 28, 2015

joy and sacrifice

Joy is mysteriously intertwined with sacrifice, because the origin of all joy is Jesus Christ.

Joy seems to be in short supply these days. A quick look at the world around us, is all we need to convince ourselves of that.

Immediately, I think of my colleagues at work. I can say that many of them have little or no concept of joy. Most of them may be reasonably happy - things are good (or at least not bad) at home, work is not terrible - but they don't seem to have any particular joy in their lives.

Joy and happiness are most certainly not the same things. One can be joyful in unhappy times, even those filled with terrible suffering. 

Over last weekend, seven men were ordained to the holy priesthood for the Archdiocese of Santa Fe. I was privileged to have the opportunity to photograph the Ordination Mass. Over the past several years I've spent as a photographer, ordinations have always been my favorite event to photograph - the joy is always so pure, so unconditional.

What about weddings, you say? Well, weddings are great, yo, but today, so few weddings are about anything more than contrived expectations of what it means to have a "perfect" wedding, that joy is frequently a guest whose invitation is forgotten. The secular invades the sacred, and joy is lost. And marriage preparation? With few exceptions, marriage preparation is often more focused on getting used to sharing the toothpaste (and of course, an awful lot of people getting married these days are already doing plenty more than that), and managing finances, than it is focused on the fact that the joy of marriage is pre-loaded with sacrifice.

Back to ordinations.

There is a certain kind of joy that marks those who have responded unreservedly to the Lord's calling. They understand that the origin of all joy is Jesus Christ. They have already made many sacrifices for their vocation, spending years in preparation for ordination, often far from home. They know that the price of their vocation is their entire life – “poured out like a libation” – even if they don’t fully know the depths of what future sacrifices that pouring out may entail. (If only marriage preparation helped couples understand the sacrificial nature of marriage…)

As it was sung at the Ordination Mass, “Take me as I am – summon out what I shall be – set your seal upon my heart, and live in me…”

That “summoning out” – the conforming of our lives to Christ – is sacrificial. Sometimes it hurts. But there is joy to be found in the sacrifice, and joy to be found in the surrender.

Linking up with Blessed Is She today on finding joy! 

Wednesday, May 27, 2015


"Only that which is eternal can satisfy us." 
- St. Therese of Lisieux

Lord Jesus, you are love, sublime and beautiful. 
Oh, to be consumed by your love for all eternity. 
You are everything. 
Ever constant, yet ever new, your love. 
You poured out your Precious Blood for us - 
Your Sacred Heart aches and longs for us - 
Yet we love you so poorly. 
All you ask is for us to respond to your invitation. 
Draw us more deeply into your love, Lord... 
Show us your heart. 

Thursday, May 14, 2015

finish the race

When life brings us the unexpected, 

grace helps us finish the race...

I've been away from the blog for a couple of weeks - life away from the computer intervened. As it often seems to happen, time passed more quickly than I'd imagined possible.

Last night, the high school students at my parish who have spent the last nine months or so preparing for the sacrament of Confirmation, were confirmed. Thanks be to God!!

It was a special evening for them - a wonderful group of teens, with whom I was blessed to spend many hours over the months of their preparation. Back in September, I'd met them all for the first time as a Confirmation teacher. Last night, I presented them for the sacrament of Confirmation, as the parish's Confirmation program coordinator.

Yep, that was a big change. To say the least.

I certainly hadn't expected this - but a few months ago, the parish's director of religious education took a new job, and I was asked to assume leadership of the high school Confirmation program. I accepted enthusiastically - and yes, a few people thought that was crazy, in and of itself. I knew full well what I was taking on... 21 teenagers in the final months of Confirmation prep... All the joys of making sure they had fulfilled all of the requirements to be confirmed... While doing my day job, on top of all that.

There were moments of joy. The times when I just knew they "got it" - that they understood something of what I was trying to teach them - or when a teen who had been disengaged, found a reason to be interested in why they were studying to be confirmed.

There were moments of stress and thinking I might just lose my mind this time. Perhaps I had bitten off more than I could really chew.

There were moments when I said, "Lord, why am I doing this?" - when the demon of insecurity that often tries to creep into our efforts in youth ministry, would rear its ugly head. I mustered all the trust I could muster, and tried to forge ahead.

But at the end, there was joy, despite the fact that I was a bundle of nerves and adrenaline last night. There was joy in knowing that while this particular race was finished, these teens had finished it strong, and hopefully were ready to walk back out into the world, not as if they'd graduated from faith, but with greater strength, ready to live their lives with faith... Ready for the next leg of the race toward eternity.

They had persevered. I had persevered. We made it, together.
Because... Grace. Without it, we could not persevere. Please God, may we continue on the path you place before us.

Not the greatest pic, I know... But not bad for a snapshot from an early morning run a few days ago... the sun coming up over the mountains, headed up a hill... With the bonus of a bird flying through at just the right time! Kind of a nice analogy for life, right? 

Joining the Blessed is She linkup on "perseverance" this windy Thursday night... 

Thursday, April 30, 2015

running hills

Life is like training for a marathon - while running the marathon. 

Are you a runner?

I'm a runner. Of the crazy, "I need my six miles today" variety. Maybe you're a runner... Maybe you claim only to run when chased... 

Or maybe you're a runner, and you don't even know it.

But if you run, or are close to someone who does run, you are probably aware that there are two types of workouts that runners usually hate: hills, and speedwork.

Me? I hate speedwork - particularly speedwork on a track. So confined. So boring. Round and around and around... Bleh. It drives me nuts. But speedwork is a necessary evil - so when I do it (which is not as often as I probably should) I combine it with a run on one of my normal routes.

The other night, I combined speedwork with hills. 
Yes. I know. I'm crazy. It's nothing new. 

I actually like running hills, or at least I've brainwashed myself into liking them, as they are unavoidable in the neighborhoods where I spend most of my running time. Every run is on hills.

In the midst of this speed/hill workout the other night, it occurred to me that life is like this... like a hill workout - like a series of hill workouts. Some of them involve speedwork, training those fast-twitch muscles to react quickly. Some of them are long, slow distance runs, to build endurance.

But whatever the pace, they always involve hills, and some of them seem nearly impossible. Yet, as in running, when I reach the top of a hill after a grueling climb and stand at its crest, there is something glorious about reaching the top of one of those hills in the journey of life.

Yet the workouts get progressively harder. Life is like training for a marathon - while running the marathon. The hills get steeper, the overall elevation increases, the distances get longer.

Some days, it's hard to run fast. Some days, it's hard to run long distance. Once in awhile, the toe of your shoe catches a crack in the pavement and you land on your butt. Sometimes, you get hurt and have to take some time walking to recover.

And of course, you always have to eat. And if you want to perform your best, you have to eat well.

The further I run, the harder I run, the more hungry I am afterward. Makes sense. (And man, there is nothing like post-long-run hunger. Whoa.)

It makes sense spiritually, too - the harder I "train," the more time I spend trying to do God's work, or at least do his will, the more time I spend learning to hear his voice - the more hungry my soul becomes for him - and the more I need him, in prayer and particularly in the Eucharist. There is no better food than Jesus himself. 

Here is to running the race that is set before me, before us - to going the distance in faith, through the sore muscles, the heartaches, the sprains, the windy days, the days when we feel great, and the days (and months, and years) when we feel like everything is falling apart. 

Then, when we crest that last hill, and stand atop it next to the Lord, looking out over the heavenly Jerusalem, he will say, "You have finished the race. Well done, my good and faithful servant. Come to the feast."

You're a runner... whether you knew it before, or not

Joining the Blessed is She linkup on "life" this lovely Thursday!

Friday, April 24, 2015


Your love, Lord Jesus, is extravagant. As if your suffering and resurrection were somehow not proof enough, you have left yourself for us in the Holy Eucharist. 

How could it be true that the uncreated Creator of the universe - who cannot be contained, who is boundless, outside of space and time - allows himself to be contained in bread and wine? And all so that his creatures might consume him? 

All the while, Lord, as we consume you in the Eucharist, it is really you who consume us. It is less that we receive you, and more that you receive us - because you found us, before we found you. 

It is truly beyond human comprehension, but that makes it no less true. You chose to remain physically with us, veiled under the appearance of bread and wine. Such complete vulnerability - and total humility. 

You have given your very self for us, Lord. Grant us the grace to return your gift of self in thanksgiving - eucharistia - through the gift of our lives. 

I love you.

Joining the Blessed is She linkup on the Eucharist. Late again this week, no thanks to a sinus infection that doesn't want to go away. (Prayers are appreciated!) 


Sunday, April 19, 2015


The mercy of God shines through our inadequacy, because we lack nothing that the grace of God's mercy cannot fill when we place our trust in him.

One Sunday at Mass, about a year ago, my pastor quoted a wise person who had once said to him, "Fear not! You are inadequate."

That quote stuck in my head. The next day at work, I wrote it on a sticky note, and fixed it on the bottom of my computer monitor so I would see it every time I sat down at my desk. I have long been accustomed to feeling completely, painfully inadequate - even when I may have the skill or insight necessary for the task at hand. This was a good reminder to me of the truth of the matter.

If I was always adequate to the circumstance at hand, I would never grow. If I was always adequate to the task at hand, I would not require the grace of God to make up for what I lack - which is plenty, trust me!

The mercy of God shines in our inadequacy, when we don't have what it takes, or when we can no longer go on - and our Lord steps in, giving us the grace to trust in his merciful love.

Almost two years ago, I had reached a point where, spiritually, I could no longer move. I was frozen in pain - I felt as if I was suffocating. It has been my experience that suffering is like that - I am sure many reading this understand what I mean, and I know some of you understand it far more deeply than I - it's like struggling to breathe, fighting for air. Slowly suffocating, you begin to think you will finally be overtaken by the terrible pain in your chest that seems never to go away, and fade into the darkness... I can only imagine this is what it would be like to drown in the ocean. 

The details of what brought me to this point are irrelevant here, except to say that part of this pain resulted from the betrayal of my trust by a friend whom I thought had my best interests at heart, but whom I had sadly discovered only wanted to change me into who they thought I should be.

No one knows better than God who he intends us to become, who he has made us to be. I don't claim to know precisely who God intends me to be at the end of this journey we call life, but I do my best to follow him, through prayer and striving to live a moral life according to the teaching of the Church. I mean that, with all of my heart. 

Yet, worse than inadequate to the path I was following, this individual believed I was following the wrong path entirely, and thought it was their job to straighten me out - which they attempted in various ways, including using other people to get the message across. Ultimately, all attempts to uproot and transplant me to the path they believed to be right, failed. However, it was enough to leave me bewildered and hurt. 

I persistently questioned myself - beyond the level of simply examining my conscience, or some kind of proper introspection - thinking that if this person (and their supporting cast) believed there was something wrong with me, there probably was, even in the face of evidence to the contrary. After awhile, the demon of semi-scrupulosity that had worked its way into my heart convinced me that the person I was, was someone who would never really have a place in a community of faith, because whether I was "too much" of one thing, or "not enough" of something else, I was wholly inadequate, and that was bad

I was ready to give up. 

Then, through what I can only call pure grace, in the midst of this confusion and pain, our Lord Jesus showed me deep and unexpected mercy. His mercy is pure, undeserved gift, and so this was - not only beyond expectation, but completely unexpected - I simultaneously met someone who has become a beloved friend, and came to a parish which has become home in a way I never thought possible. 

In what seemed like overnight, God's mercy became like oxygen to my starved lungs. I began learning to breathe all over again - cautiously at first, scared of finding out this was too good to be true. Finding it safe, I started to breathe more deeply, filling my lungs with that sweet, blessed air.

I was safe. 
My God, your mercy and your goodness. 
I am not worthy.

After spending years pitting myself against the person someone else wanted me to be, no longer had to worry about being "too much" or "not enough". 

To that beloved friend, "I give thanks to God at every remembrance of you". It's one thing to write this and post it; it's another thing entirely to share it with you - so if I've sent you the link, and you're reading this now, you know who you are - and that's all I need to say.

Your heart is both immensely strong and gentle; you understand suffering so deeply and so personally. You are patient when I struggle with putting difficult things into words, in spite of my need to talk about them. You allow me to be myself without suggesting that I make myself into anyone else, yet you never fail to help me see how to seek to do better at life. You have taught me so much about my own dignity - not only as a child of God - but more than anything, as a daughter of God. You are simultaneously a dear friend, and wise guide. 

I don't think you fully realize how deeply you matter to me. I am so grateful to our good God for the gift he has given me in you - and to you, for being that gift - and for being exactly who you are. 

Yes, Lord, I am inadequate, and that is a blessing, because I lack nothing that your mercy cannot fill.


Monday, April 13, 2015

the church is the solution

Many Catholics - and many more non-Catholics - today seem to believe the Catholic Church is a problem that needs to be solved by the world - that the Church needs to be liberalized, and that it is okay to only abide by the teachings of the Church that are convenient. 

After the events of Triduum and Easter Sunday, I returned to work last week, feeling like I’d been gone for a year. It’s funny how taking even just a few days to dedicate to the things of God can make you feel like even more of a foreigner in the world than you’d felt you were before (even if you spent part of those days corralling high school Confirmation students). 

I felt as if I needed some kind of reintegration plan, though all I wanted to do was leave. 

Warning: "passionate Catholic" rant ahead. 

While making small talk with coworkers before a meeting last Tuesday morning, religion came up in conversation – someone had mentioned something about Easter. Despite the fact that religion is one of those infamous topics everyone is told to avoid discussing at work, the ball started rolling. 

Somehow, Catholicism entered the conversation, and a (non-Catholic) colleague exclaimed, 

“I really like Pope Francis! I didn’t like that guy before him, though.” 

… … Well, thanks for your valuable contribution to the conversation, I thought. I wanted to stay out of this one, but now I have no choice. 

“I really liked Pope Benedict, actually.” I was met with shocked stares of silence. 

“But he didn’t DO anything!” the same colleague asserted. 

Um, seriously? Here we go with the people who know little-to-nothing about the Church telling the Church what the Pope has or hasn’t been doing…

“Besides, the Catholic Church needs to be liberalized,” another non-Catholic coworker piped in, “I mean, really, can we get over the abortion thing already?” (Believe it or not, a man - a husband and father - said this!)

Okay. If this goes much further, it will be all out WAR. Before I could respond, the only other Catholic in the immediate group offered, 

“I agree, the Church needs to be liberalized! You know, I’m Catholic, but I don't agree with all of the Church’s teachings. I just ignore the ones I don’t like.”

Oh. Dear. Lord. Have mercy.

As I was about to respond, the meeting was called to order. The conversation ended as quickly as it had happened, and was probably forgotten by everyone except me. 

I’m used to being the weird one who actually agrees with Church teaching on, well, EVERYTHING. I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that most people – even perhaps most Catholics – don’t understand this. If a colleague asks me what I believe, I will absolutely tell them. But other than wearing a crucifix and keeping some holy cards out in my office, I don’t “advertise,” and I don’t slap people around with my copy of the Catechism of the Catholic Church. I keep that at home, lest I be tempted. ;-)

But this conversation, though certainly not the first of its kind I've been involved in - deeply bothered me. A lack of understanding of the Church is, of course, common among non-Catholics, and although I don’t like it – particularly when non-Catholics think it is appropriate to armchair quarterback the Chair of St. Peter, or criticize an institution that they know so little about, and are often predisposed to dislike – this lack of understanding, I can deal with.

Blatant disregard of Church teaching by Catholics who clearly know Church teaching and are willing to publicly state their dissent, though… That’s hard for me, and it struck a particular nerve given the few days preceding.  

I know it's not easy to follow the teachings of the Church; some are harder than others to embrace. There are some with which I struggled for many years - but God is good, and I eventually learned the goodness, truth, beauty found in the teachings of the Church - and the importance of (much-underrated) obedience. I am certainly not perfect, but I have learned that life is hard enough without challenging God's truths. 

The Catholic Church has been an unchanging barque in the turbulent waters of the world for 2,000 years. She hasn’t sunk, while maintaining a consistent, if unpopular, course – particularly in the realm of teachings on human sexuality, which, at minimum, always seems to underpin the issue at hand. (I could write for WEEKS on this alone.)  

Want to see what happens when churches lack consistency and commitment to their teachings? A shining example (and there are plenty beyond this!) is today's “high church” Protestantism – whether Episcopalian, Methodist, Lutheran, Presbyterian, etc… – all have waged internal wars and have splintered over ordaining women or recognizing homosexual unions, or some other such thing to which the Catholic Church has said, and continues to say, “no”.

Consistency.  My God, it is a beautiful thing (and yes, I am addressing that remark to the Lord, not taking his name in vain). I find the Church’s consistency and fidelity to what she deems unchanging truths, beautiful. 
Basically, the principle is that the Church didn’t just make these things up – they are actually God’s ideas – it is the sacred duty of the Church to pass them on to the faithful, and the world.

Without apology to those who know Church teaching and knowingly dissent from it, I offer the following: 

The Church is the solution, not the problem. 
When we dissent from Church teaching on faith and morals, we become the problem, not the solution. 

The Church doesn’t need to liberalize. The Church doesn’t need to change her teachings. They are not hers to change. 

Catholics need to pray. Catholics need to study. Catholics, we need to let God shape us, and learn to do his will, instead of trying to change his Church to fit our will. 

In other words, we need to learn to be Catholic. I know it’s hard for us post-moderns, living in our liberal democratic society to consider anything other than fierce individualism as good – but the Church? It’s not a democracy. It’s not even a Pope-ocracy. It’s a THEOCRACY. 

The Church is not a problem to be solved by the world. The Church is the solution to the problems of the world. 

Thursday, April 9, 2015

forgetting easter

Easter. Resurrection. Christ is risen from the dead. How quickly we forget that Easter is more than a day... 

I could wax theological on the resurrection, but waxing theological doesn't feel right to me this evening. I've pondered the topic of "resurrection" today, thinking about what I might write. Sitting here now, I realize that thinking about this, isn't the approach I need to take.

I'm analytical by nature - I like to think about things, to solve problems, to pick things apart - but some things don't require my analysis - they only require my heart.

This Triduum was difficult for me. My Confirmation  students were required to attend the Mass of the Lord's Supper on Holy Thursday, the Liturgy of the Passion on Good Friday, and Easter Vigil - and  sit together. Which meant I had to sit with them. Which meant I had to be constantly conscious of them, and their behavior - in addition to trying to be fully present to worship Christ. That was... not easy. To say the least. I had to focus on them with my head, while trying simultaneously to focus on the Lord with my heart.

By the time Holy Saturday arrived, I wasn't sure if I was more excited because the Easter Vigil was that evening, or because it was the last Mass at which I would have to play "mother hen" for my students... But if I'm honest, it was probably the latter. Yes, such joy to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus!

Easter Sunday, my husband and I attended Mass again - this time, with my family - and then spent the afternoon with them. By Easter Sunday evening, I was tired, kinda crabby, and a bit miffed that well, Easter Sunday had seemed more full of chaos than grace!

The next morning - Easter Monday - I went to my parish's morning Mass. As I walked into the chapel, I noticed the morning light streaming through the stained glass window on the east wall. The warm light touched everything in the chapel sanctuary and it positively GLOWED... I knelt to pray, and suddenly, I couldn't stop crying.

Easter. Thank you, Jesus, that Easter is more than a day - and that your Resurrection is for all eternity.

Hitting the linkup with Blessed Is She - on resurrection!

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

the breaking of the bread

Then the two recounted what had happened on the way, 

and how he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread. 

Today's Gospel (Lk. 24: 13-35) tells the story of the two disciples who unknowingly meet Jesus on the road to Emmaus, not recognizing him until he blesses and breaks the bread. 
This is one of my favorite Gospel readings. I wait for it every year during the Octave of Easter, and it has often been a beloved companion in lectio divina. 

I'd hoped to go to Mass this morning, but other obligations (i.e., my day job) intervened. My home parish doesn't have a Wednesday evening Mass, so driving home from work this evening, I stopped off for Mass at another nearby parish where I attend daily Mass on occasion. I never quite feel comfortable there - it's a good, solid parish, but it's simply not "home." 

In any case, I wasn't about to give up Easter Wednesday Mass.

As I listened to the Gospel, I imagined how those two disciples would have felt - encountering Jesus on the way. They were completely out of their comfort zone - not yet knowing Jesus had risen - probably still in fear of the authorities, in addition to feeling confusion and grief - one can see how it would have been easy for them not to recognize the risen Lord. Yet, their hearts burn within them as he explained the scriptures, and then they know him in the breaking of the bread. 

They know him in the Mass, as it were - the Word, and the Eucharist. And though they were not "at home," they still found the Lord - or rather, the Lord found them

Lord Jesus, I prayed as the priest said the words of consecration, help me to know you in this breaking of the bread. 

Praised be our risen Lord, now and forever! 


Saturday, April 4, 2015

o felix culpa

O happy fault, that gained for us so great, so glorious, a Redeemer. 

Jesus, how I wish I could cradle in my arms, as your Holy Mother did, your sacred head - and weep over its bruises, over the punctures from the crown of thorns.

To kiss your pierced hands and feet. 

To lock myself in the tomb to guard your sacred body while awaiting the glory of your resurrection. 

O Lord, I would gladly kiss the stone closing your tomb - but I would rather that my heart were entombed behind that stone, next to yours. 

In the holy silence of this day, teach our hearts to love you, and to long only for you as we await your return. 

Thursday, April 2, 2015

what wondrous love is this

"What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul... "

Lord Jesus, what love you show us - 
In the gift of your Body and Blood 
And the gift of your life for our sins.

In your gently waking me when I fall asleep on watch,
And in the grace that is to share in your Cross 
 - even when the pain is beyond my imagining. 

In the joy that is to know the fire of your love, 
And to know that you are Love, 
That you are Light, 
And Life everlasting.

And that as your life became intertwined with the mystery of suffering and death, 
Ours shall be no different.


Monday, March 30, 2015

work in progress

Palm Sunday marks the beginning of Holy Week - yet the Church is largely silent after Palm Sunday, until the celebration of Holy Thursday. The first days of Holy Week are silent witnesses of anticipation that we should not overlook in our own preparation for the Easter Triduum.

Today’s first reading at Mass (Is. 42:1-7) carries a sense of anticipation, of waiting, in its use of “shall” and “until”. God’s servant “shall bring forth justice,” and “the coastlands will wait for his teaching” until he establishes justice. Isaiah’s words are evocative of a mission that is not yet complete – “I, the LORD, have called you… To open the eyes of the blind, to bring out prisoners…”

The eyes of the blind are not yet open; the prisoners are still captive; sight and freedom have not yet come. These things are essentially a work in progress. 
One could sum up this reading in a single sentence: “The world awaits the Lord’s salvation.”

And of course, salvation came, in the person of Jesus Christ, and through his death and resurrection. However, as Catholics, we know that our own salvation depends on our response to the Risen Lord over the course of our entire lives. We await salvation – until God grants us the vision of heaven in eternity. "The Lord is my light and my salvation..." (Ps. 27)

We are all “a work in progress.”

Sunday, March 29, 2015

not what i will

The struggle to follow Christ, to obey his will, is constant - particularly in a dark world that does not acknowledge God... Sometimes, it is so hard to echo the words of Jesus in Gesthemane, "Not what I will, but what you will." 

I'm posting this quite a bit later than I'd intended to... But life has a way of intervening in our intentions sometimes... I had a migraine on Wednesday that lasted through Thursday and into Friday. No thanks to spring pollen and wind for that one! In any case, perhaps it is better that I was delayed in finishing and posting this - a few days' perspective, and with Palm Sunday, has hopefully improved my collection of thoughts. 

A few days ago, I was able to spend some time in the Stations of the Cross prayer garden that is adjacent to the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi, in Santa Fe. Praying before each of the massive bronze Stations, I slowly worked my way around the garden path. After praying the Stations, I sat quietly in the garden and meditated on Jesus' Passion. The bronze sculptures that make up the Stations of the Cross in this garden are rough and textural, nearly primitive in their expressions - and they illustrate the suffering of Christ in a manner that makes them painful to observe.

Suffering that we can barely imagine.

Suffering that was an act of love, to be sure. But beyond that, the suffering of Christ was also an act of perfect trust - trusting that God the Father would not let his suffering be in vain. And beyond that, Christ's suffering was an act of perfect obedience. 

During the reading of the Passion at Mass this morning, my attention was particularly drawn to Jesus' words: "Not what I will, but what you will." 

Lord, you know how poorly I obey you, so often. How often my words are not your own - when instead I say, "not what you will, Lord, but what I will." 

Lord, I love you. Yet clearly, I love you so poorly that I am unfaithful to you, unfaithful to your will, unfaithful to your unfathomable love. It seems to me that, knowing your great love, I should be more faithful to you, and doing your will should not be so difficult for me. Yet I struggle with it, in even the smallest of things. How can it be that my heart is still so hard? 

The Eighth Station: Jesus Speaks to the Women -
Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi, Santa Fe, NM

Though I am a bit late to the party, still hitting the linkup with Blessed Is She! ;)