On my walk back to Mom's from the parish Adoration chapel, I passed three teams of Jehovah's Witnesses visiting the homes up and down the main road. It has been quite some time since I have seen this form of activity, though I have found many a Watchtower in a public place. Having spent ten years doing door to door book ministry, I know how very difficult this work can be on the strictly personal level. And while back then I hoped it was effective by the grace of God and for the greater glory of God, I have to admit I don't really think it is anywhere near the "new evangelization" we are called upon to carry out. And called we are! Just yesterday, Mom was viewing a YouTube video that was full of dire predictions about the future of Europe and the Christian culture of Europe. Based solely on birthrates, which throughout the nations of Europe are below replacement levels (except among the Muslim immigrant populations, with 8 births per family), we are already hearing the death knell of Christian Europe.
As if the Christian future of Europe could only be secured by birthright.
The devout Ethiopian in today's wonderful first reading has something to tell us in this regard. He represented several unlikely groups all in one: as an Ethiopian, he was considered to be "from the ends of the earth"; as a government official and wealthy man, he was one of society's elite; as a eunuch, he was permanently excluded from ever being accepted as a Jewish convert, no matter how much he knew and loved the Scriptures or made pilgrimages to Jerusalem. The Holy Spirit directed the deacon Philip to this man, and let Philip himself take the next steps.
Even if in the next twenty years all of Europe becomes one great Islamic subcontinent, we would not be justified in assuming that Christianity could not flourish there. As Jesus said to Paul of the highly unlikely apostolic field of Corinth, "There are many of my people here."
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Spirit Alive
The end of today's first reading can almost be said to describe the circumstances of today's saint: "With one accord, the crowds paid attention to what was said by Philip when they heard it and saw the signs he was doing. For unclean spirits, crying out in a loud voice, came out of many possessed people, and many paralyzed and crippled people were cured. There was great joy in that city." Replace "Philip" with "Catherine" and "that city" with "Siena and environs" and there's not that much else to alter. The Holy Spirit seemed to have been working overtime in 
both of those eras, and hopefully last night, as well, when my nephew was among 50 young people confirmed by Archbishop Hughes at what we New Orleanians call "the Jesuit Church" (the "Baronne Street Church" or, more specifically, Immaculate Conception Church). There he is, on the left, telling his former 
teacher (Fr. Richard Hermes, SJ) about his plans to run for President of the Jesuit High Pro-Life Club. (Fr. Hermes was the sponsor for one of the other confirmands.)
The church is unique in many ways (when was the last time you sat in a cast iron pew?); mainly, it is noteworthy for its Moorish architecture.
Years back, when my Dad first started practicing law, his office was on Baronne Street, so when we were treated to a day with Dad, it usually involved Mass at the Jesuit Church (sometimes confession, too), so it was a familiar spot, even though I haven't actually been there in decades (although I didn't really remember it being quite so exotic when I was a child). I just wish I had brought the good camera with me!
both of those eras, and hopefully last night, as well, when my nephew was among 50 young people confirmed by Archbishop Hughes at what we New Orleanians call "the Jesuit Church" (the "Baronne Street Church" or, more specifically, Immaculate Conception Church). There he is, on the left, telling his former 
teacher (Fr. Richard Hermes, SJ) about his plans to run for President of the Jesuit High Pro-Life Club. (Fr. Hermes was the sponsor for one of the other confirmands.)
The church is unique in many ways (when was the last time you sat in a cast iron pew?); mainly, it is noteworthy for its Moorish architecture.Years back, when my Dad first started practicing law, his office was on Baronne Street, so when we were treated to a day with Dad, it usually involved Mass at the Jesuit Church (sometimes confession, too), so it was a familiar spot, even though I haven't actually been there in decades (although I didn't really remember it being quite so exotic when I was a child). I just wish I had brought the good camera with me!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
There are a pair of saints sharing the date as their feast day. Both were French priests. Both had "Marie" as their middle name. Both were missionaries and members (in one case, founder) of a missionary congregation. One died a martyr on the other side of the world from his homeland, while the other suffered mightily right at home. With so many coincidences, you might think they were contemporaries at a time when the Church of France was particularly active in missions, but they were separated by over a century--an indication that the Church of France had a long history of vibrant missionary life. There's not much news coming to us from those quarters, but that doesn't mean that all is at a standstill. There are vibrant movements in the Church in France right now: a spread of Eucharistic adoration, various Catholic communities of priests and laity, a quiet ferment of faith. The examples of today's saints, St. Peter Chanel and St. Louis de Montfort, led me to pray in a special way today for the Church of France. Who knows what great souls God's providence is raising up even now in that "eldest daughter of the Church"?!
Monday, April 27, 2009
I was scheduled to be speaking to the Sisters of the Holy Family just about now...but a virus has forced a change of plans. We'll try to reschedule tomorrow. Hope I can beat this nasty thing at least enough to participate attentively in my nephew's Confirmation tomorrow evening. I have really been looking forward to that! Jamie is taking the name Jude, which is his father's middle name. (We always said that my brother was aptly placed under the patronage of the saint of impossible cases.)
Prayers requested for my dear friend Kathy who will be undergoing cancer surgery on Tuesday. It's a rare cancer of a salivary gland. More prayers for Fr. Fred, who sometimes comments on this blog. He has been in the hospital since Holy Week. And a little prayer for me, too (even though Mom doesn't mind bringing me popsicles and kleenex all day while I'm on vacation)...
Prayers requested for my dear friend Kathy who will be undergoing cancer surgery on Tuesday. It's a rare cancer of a salivary gland. More prayers for Fr. Fred, who sometimes comments on this blog. He has been in the hospital since Holy Week. And a little prayer for me, too (even though Mom doesn't mind bringing me popsicles and kleenex all day while I'm on vacation)...
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Pax Tibi, Marce
Today's feast of St. Mark brings me back to Venice and the stupendous Basilica of San Marco. The emblem for the Basilica (and for the city of Venice) is the symbol of the evangelist Mark: a lion, but the book the lion holds is not the Gospel, but features the inscription "Pax tibi, Marce, Evangelista Meus". That's not a scripture quote at all! Where does it come from?
Mark is said to have been St. Peter's right-hand man, and his Gospel basically a transcription of Peter's preaching. But Mark didn't stay at Peter's side his whole life. He eventually left Rome and evangelized in Egypt, especially in the prominent city of Alexandria which had an enormous and well-educated Jewish community. Eventually, Mark was imprisioned in Alexandria. There the Lord appeared to him (as he also did to Paul on more than one occasion) with the encouraging words "Peace to you, Mark, my evangelist." The very next day, Mark was martyred.
And now, as Paul Harvey would say, the rest of the story:
His body remained in peace in Egypt until the 800's when it was stolen by merchants and spirited off to Venice (under a pile of pork, so the Muslims wouldn't inspect the shipment too closely!). The doge of Venice happily received the relics of the saint for his private chapel...now the Basilica and Cathedral of Venice.
Mark is said to have been St. Peter's right-hand man, and his Gospel basically a transcription of Peter's preaching. But Mark didn't stay at Peter's side his whole life. He eventually left Rome and evangelized in Egypt, especially in the prominent city of Alexandria which had an enormous and well-educated Jewish community. Eventually, Mark was imprisioned in Alexandria. There the Lord appeared to him (as he also did to Paul on more than one occasion) with the encouraging words "Peace to you, Mark, my evangelist." The very next day, Mark was martyred.
And now, as Paul Harvey would say, the rest of the story:
His body remained in peace in Egypt until the 800's when it was stolen by merchants and spirited off to Venice (under a pile of pork, so the Muslims wouldn't inspect the shipment too closely!). The doge of Venice happily received the relics of the saint for his private chapel...now the Basilica and Cathedral of Venice.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Keeping Busy
Mom wants to know if this is a "working vacation" ("I keep finding you at your computer!"). Well, I confess to catching up on a few apostolate-related things that I didn't manage before Easter... like sending the posters I just made to St. Paul's in Joliet for the May 16 retreat. I'd be a lot less relaxed returning to Chicago on May 5 with such things still hanging over my head. As it is, I still have a retreat talk to write! And it is also true that I have two talks lined up while I am here. One was scheduled in January when I was here on an actual work-related trip in which I had more days off than working. And the other was an impromptu offer when I met the Sisters of the Holy Family at last week's Institute on Religious Life meeting. These sisters are so much a part of New Orleans, and they suffered incredibly from Hurricane Katrina. Even last week, the sisters at the conference were asking if we had any copies of the wonderful papal document on religious life, "Vita Consecrata," because so many of the sisters' copies were destroyed in the flood. So I offered to give the community a little presentation for the Year of St. Paul. That will be Monday evening.
That's really all, I promise! But Mom wants the time not counted toward my vacation... It is going fast, I admit that.
Today I stopped at the Pauline book center to greet the sisters and pick up a few books and CDs to display with my talk Sunday. That will be at Holy Name, the parish on the Loyola campus. (9:15 in the office building by the chapel; come on by if you're in the city--get jazzed by St. Paul before going to the Jazz Fest!) That immense Church (where my parents were wed) now has only two Sunday morning Masses and one in the evening. But they manage to sustain a perpetual adoration chapel. I guess they have 100% participation: all the Mass-going Catholics in uptown New Orleans must be committed to an hour of adoration! Mom's parish has perpetual adoration, but there is a sign on the door seeking adorers for the Sunday 1:00 a.m. to 2:00 slot and one other less drastic slot. The 4:00 a.m. post was recently filled. It's really inspiring.
I noticed at the book center that our Catholic Favorites, volume 2 CD is now available. We recorded this last August. It has some real favorites: To Jesus Christ, Our Sovereign King, How Great Thou Art (okay, not a "Catholic" hymn, but still a favorite of Catholics), Let There Be Peace on Earth (see: How Great Thou Art), Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence. I haven't heard it yet... about to give it a test run on Mom's kitchen CD player while I check the caribou chili. (The caribou is from Sr. Charlotte, a native of Alaska. She and her family go hunting every year, do the whole field-dressing thing, and she brings a supply of frozen game back to the convent. When she got transferred, she gave Mom ground caribou and caribou stew cuts... Mom hasn't touched them.)
Thursday, April 23, 2009
A day off
I don't mean a day off as in "holiday," I mean I was a day off in making my liturgically-guided meditation. There I was, sitting in the back yard in the morning sun, meditating on...tomorrow's readings. So if you are wondering where today's cliffhanger from the Acts of the Apostles will lead, I can tell you.
Tomorrow we will be introduced to the great rabbi Gamaliel. Luke is such a terrific writer: Gamaliel will show up again toward the end of the book of Acts when Paul claims to have studied the Torah "at the feet of Gamaliel." As I have said on other occasions, that is like a Catholic saying they had Thomas Aquinas as a catechism teacher. Gamaliel was a person of such remarkable stature that ancient Jewish writings say "when the Rabban Gamaliel died, the Glory of the Torah ceased." Wow. And even though he was a Pharisee (a person dedicated to keeping Judaism distinct and "separate" from all that was profane), he had contacts in the Gentile world, traveled outside of the Holy Land and even made sure that his school in Jerusalem taught Greek thought. This leads some scholars to doubt that such a man could possibly have been the teacher of Saul of Tarsus. At any rate, it tells us that Saul didn't emulate his eminently wise mentor.
I'll be sharing a few thoughts on this order on Sunday at Holy Name (the parish which shares a campus with Loyola University); if you are in the New Orleans area, come to the parish hall at 9:15 Sunday for an hour on St. Paul!
Meanwhile, the sun is shining and the swing (and a big fat book on Paul) beckons... After all, I'm taking a day off!
Tomorrow we will be introduced to the great rabbi Gamaliel. Luke is such a terrific writer: Gamaliel will show up again toward the end of the book of Acts when Paul claims to have studied the Torah "at the feet of Gamaliel." As I have said on other occasions, that is like a Catholic saying they had Thomas Aquinas as a catechism teacher. Gamaliel was a person of such remarkable stature that ancient Jewish writings say "when the Rabban Gamaliel died, the Glory of the Torah ceased." Wow. And even though he was a Pharisee (a person dedicated to keeping Judaism distinct and "separate" from all that was profane), he had contacts in the Gentile world, traveled outside of the Holy Land and even made sure that his school in Jerusalem taught Greek thought. This leads some scholars to doubt that such a man could possibly have been the teacher of Saul of Tarsus. At any rate, it tells us that Saul didn't emulate his eminently wise mentor.
I'll be sharing a few thoughts on this order on Sunday at Holy Name (the parish which shares a campus with Loyola University); if you are in the New Orleans area, come to the parish hall at 9:15 Sunday for an hour on St. Paul!
Meanwhile, the sun is shining and the swing (and a big fat book on Paul) beckons... After all, I'm taking a day off!
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Vacay
One of the things I enjoy most about my home visits is being able to make my meditation in the backyard, on the porch swing (in my pajamas!), with the sun, the breeze, the birds, listening to the neighbor's wind chimes while Mom waters the flowers. And today, on top of all the above, there was my favorite Entrance Antiphon in the liturgy! That antiphon, just a snippet of Scripture, tells us what "the will of God" really is for us: "Let us shout out our joy and happiness, and give glory to God the Lord of all, because He is our king! Alleluia!" This is what life is about; this is why God made us. And my second-favorite Apostle, Barnabas, is there in the first reading to give us a concrete example of how to live this antiphon's "joy and happiness."
Barnabas, first of all, was really named Joseph, but once he joined the Christian community, his joy and happiness in the Lord was such that no one seems to have ever referred to him by his given name. Instead, they called him "Son of Consolation." If you play games with the Bible, you can extrapolate from that to "Son of the Consoler"; "Son of the Paraclete"; "Son of the Holy Spirit": a man "filled with the Holy Spirit and with faith," as Luke will, in fact, describe him later. Imagine the wonderful character this man must have had! (This is the one, you will recall, who vouched for the sincerity of Saul of Tarsus...) Anyway, Barnabas. The reading gives a little description of the community as a place where "no one was ever needy" because anyone who had a bit of something put it in the Apostle's hands to be used for the good of the whole Church. And that is what Barnabas, the Levite from Cyprus, did, selling his land giving the proceeds to the Apostles. Like St. Francis of Assisi, Barnabas then had absolutely nothing to call his own. He had staked everything on the Lord. And throughout the rest of the Scriptures, we continue to see him with that wonderful dispostion described in the Entrance Antiphon.
Today I am praying to the great and noble St. Barnabas to share some of his spirit of faith and joy with me; to really open my mind to the Lordship of God.
Barnabas, first of all, was really named Joseph, but once he joined the Christian community, his joy and happiness in the Lord was such that no one seems to have ever referred to him by his given name. Instead, they called him "Son of Consolation." If you play games with the Bible, you can extrapolate from that to "Son of the Consoler"; "Son of the Paraclete"; "Son of the Holy Spirit": a man "filled with the Holy Spirit and with faith," as Luke will, in fact, describe him later. Imagine the wonderful character this man must have had! (This is the one, you will recall, who vouched for the sincerity of Saul of Tarsus...) Anyway, Barnabas. The reading gives a little description of the community as a place where "no one was ever needy" because anyone who had a bit of something put it in the Apostle's hands to be used for the good of the whole Church. And that is what Barnabas, the Levite from Cyprus, did, selling his land giving the proceeds to the Apostles. Like St. Francis of Assisi, Barnabas then had absolutely nothing to call his own. He had staked everything on the Lord. And throughout the rest of the Scriptures, we continue to see him with that wonderful dispostion described in the Entrance Antiphon.
Today I am praying to the great and noble St. Barnabas to share some of his spirit of faith and joy with me; to really open my mind to the Lordship of God.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Greetings from Mom's house! As I waited outside baggage claim, I noticed how many white pickups were circling the area. Rugged pickups. Big fancy pickups. Cadillac pickups? But white was definitely the color. I was waiting for my brother-in-law, who has been known to drive a pickup or two, but I didn't have the vaguest what sort of vehicle to be looking for. Should have known. White pickup.
At the gate
Changing planes in Nashville-the people are amazingly warm and friendly! Mom waiting for me at good in Nola.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Greetings from Mundelein
We're at the IRL Conference (still needing prayers and lot of them!). Sr Helena has the biggest challenge: giving a talk on Theology of the Body and Vocational Discernment for an audience ages 13-30. While she's doing that, I hope to catch Fr. Robert Barron on St. Paul's pastoral preaching. And then get an update from Michael Schierl and Professor Gennaro Auletta (quantum physicist from the Gregorian) on the Vatican's new "STOQ" project connecting science, theology and philosophy. It was a real surprise to see the professor at Mass this afternoon. He is, after all, based in Rome! I'm looking forward to a conversation later this evening. Pray for this wonderful initiative of the Church.
And hi.
And hi.
Gone fishing
Sr Helena and I are about to head out on our "fishing trip" to the Institute on Religious Life Conference... But that's not the fishing trip I mean in my title. I'm really talking about the Gospel for today, the sixth day of Easter, exactly one week from Good Friday. It's a great story, and the continuation is even better. Maybe that is why I kind of never noticed that in this story, a double or even triple-header about the Risen Jesus in Galilee, there seems to be a hint of the mission of the Church in terms that are not what we traditionally associate with that mission.
The first reading has Peter assure us that outside of the name of Jesus, "no other name has been given to human beings by which they are to be saved." Some have recently taken exception to this, claiming that it is imperialistic for Christians to believe that their Jesus is the one and only savior of the whole human race, and that we need to accept the "fact" that other religious groups have other very real saviors. To which the Gospel says, "Fuhgetaboutit." Even though people may never make it into the boat, it is still Jesus who is their salvation, and somehow he makes the Church, his Church, his Body, a part of the process. That's where the fishing trip in today's Gospel comes in. I mean, when we think of "apostles" and "fishing," most of us probably realize that the point is not getting more fish to market. It is bringing people to God. And bringing them in the "boat," the "barque of Peter," which is the Church. But in this story, the miraculously large catch of fish never makes it into the boat: it is just too big to haul in. The fish are brought to Jesus on the eternal shores, but only by being towed or dragged in behind the boat. This kind of "salvation" takes more effort, because there is the actual drag of the water among the fish; it is more laborious for those in the boat, but just as effective for the fish.
The first reading has Peter assure us that outside of the name of Jesus, "no other name has been given to human beings by which they are to be saved." Some have recently taken exception to this, claiming that it is imperialistic for Christians to believe that their Jesus is the one and only savior of the whole human race, and that we need to accept the "fact" that other religious groups have other very real saviors. To which the Gospel says, "Fuhgetaboutit." Even though people may never make it into the boat, it is still Jesus who is their salvation, and somehow he makes the Church, his Church, his Body, a part of the process. That's where the fishing trip in today's Gospel comes in. I mean, when we think of "apostles" and "fishing," most of us probably realize that the point is not getting more fish to market. It is bringing people to God. And bringing them in the "boat," the "barque of Peter," which is the Church. But in this story, the miraculously large catch of fish never makes it into the boat: it is just too big to haul in. The fish are brought to Jesus on the eternal shores, but only by being towed or dragged in behind the boat. This kind of "salvation" takes more effort, because there is the actual drag of the water among the fish; it is more laborious for those in the boat, but just as effective for the fish.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Housewares and elsewheres
Made chocolate ice cream today. It was a big hit. Not much leftover, I can tell you. (Thank heavens, because the freezer has been quite iffy for the past several weeks.) And so now we're getting a new fridge. The current one has been doing this odd back-and-forth on us, sometimes functioning perfectly and other times heating up its outside walls and melting all the ice cream, which is not a good thing after forty days of Lent. So we found a model on sale, pretty basic, but .3 cubic feet bigger than the present one (!), and it should be delivered in a week. I won't be here to welcome it. In fact, Mom is looking forward to welcoming me in New Orleans on Monday. I'm taking a bit of an early home visit this year, since my calendar was pretty free and summer is looking mighty busy.
Tomorrow Sr. Helena and I will be loading up the books and our PowerPoints and heading off to the annual conference of the Institute on Religious Life. It is a pretty big deal for both of us to have been invited to give presentations this year. Mine will be on St. Paul, the one I've been giving the most around here, only (a) shorter and (b) more focused on the theme of the conference, which is "Co-workers of the Gospel." The venue is Mundelein, and the weather is expected to be, thankfully, lovely, which is a bonus. Can I have your prayers for this? My talk will be Saturday morning, Sr. Helena's that afternoon. Back on Sunday and then off to NOLA on Monday!
Tomorrow Sr. Helena and I will be loading up the books and our PowerPoints and heading off to the annual conference of the Institute on Religious Life. It is a pretty big deal for both of us to have been invited to give presentations this year. Mine will be on St. Paul, the one I've been giving the most around here, only (a) shorter and (b) more focused on the theme of the conference, which is "Co-workers of the Gospel." The venue is Mundelein, and the weather is expected to be, thankfully, lovely, which is a bonus. Can I have your prayers for this? My talk will be Saturday morning, Sr. Helena's that afternoon. Back on Sunday and then off to NOLA on Monday!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Join Us Live!
We'll begin the live video stream at 6:30 CDT, God willing. (Still waiting for Fr. Loya, who has a good hour's drive from his parish to our downtown location.) Tonight's topic: the 1968 encyclical "Of Human Life."
Webcam chat at Ustream
Webcam chat at Ustream
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Two Questions
There are just two questions in today's wonderful Easter Gospel, and even though they are questions, they are so only in the Socratic sense: they are really teaching something.
The first question, asked by the angels and then by Jesus ("the gardener") is "Woman, why are you weeping?" What a question to ask in a cemetery! It only makes sense if it is a rhetorical question: "Why on earth are you weeping, given the explosion of life that occurred this morning?"
The second question is only asked once in today's passage, but we heard it before. Twice. On Friday. In the Passion narrative. "Who are you looking for?"
We heard an echo of that same question at the very beginning of John's Gospel: "What are you looking for?" You would expect that to be the question in the cemetery, too. After all, Mary was looking not for a person, but for a corpse. Or so she thought.
So today's second question is also a teaching: the "what" that we all seek is really a "whom," a Thou, a person. "What" we are all "looking for" is communion with the Living One.
The first question, asked by the angels and then by Jesus ("the gardener") is "Woman, why are you weeping?" What a question to ask in a cemetery! It only makes sense if it is a rhetorical question: "Why on earth are you weeping, given the explosion of life that occurred this morning?"
The second question is only asked once in today's passage, but we heard it before. Twice. On Friday. In the Passion narrative. "Who are you looking for?"
We heard an echo of that same question at the very beginning of John's Gospel: "What are you looking for?" You would expect that to be the question in the cemetery, too. After all, Mary was looking not for a person, but for a corpse. Or so she thought.
So today's second question is also a teaching: the "what" that we all seek is really a "whom," a Thou, a person. "What" we are all "looking for" is communion with the Living One.
Monday, April 13, 2009
It's still Easter!
Don't you love the whole idea of the Easter octave--that every day from now through Sunday is still Easter? Pope John Paul wrote a wonderful document called "The Eighth Day" (Octava Dies) that is in a way written in this "mode." The very first Easter, falling as it did on the day after the Sabbath, the day of the Lord's "rest" (his Holy Saturday "rest" in the tomb, as it turns out), was not just another "first day of the week," but the eighth day of creation: the first day of a new creation. And so every Sunday we observe not so much a Sabbath of rest (although we are expected to rest from our own works in order to better rejoice in God's) as we observe and give thanks for the new creation that has already begun. By going to Mass on this day, we make a concrete act of faith and anticipation in the Second Coming (already "here" in the Eucharist).
Here in community we are still talking about our experience of the Eastern liturgy for Easter, even proposing that we do this again next year, and the next... I'm right there with them for that. The funny thing is, I really did not, not, not want to go! I wanted to go to Mount Carmel and sing the "Hallelujah Chorus" and "Jesus Christ is Ris'n Today." But two of the sisters really wanted to go, and one of the sisters kind of wanted to, so the community made that choice. I still didn't really want to go on Easter morning. But as soon as I stepped foot in that incredible little church, I was taken. Now I'm thinking of other feast days when they might pull out all the liturgical stops.
Here in community we are still talking about our experience of the Eastern liturgy for Easter, even proposing that we do this again next year, and the next... I'm right there with them for that. The funny thing is, I really did not, not, not want to go! I wanted to go to Mount Carmel and sing the "Hallelujah Chorus" and "Jesus Christ is Ris'n Today." But two of the sisters really wanted to go, and one of the sisters kind of wanted to, so the community made that choice. I still didn't really want to go on Easter morning. But as soon as I stepped foot in that incredible little church, I was taken. Now I'm thinking of other feast days when they might pull out all the liturgical stops.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
He is Risen!
Last night we experienced the best of the Latin rite by going to the Easter Vigil at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel (where I get my weekly dose of music as a choir member).
Today we experienced the best of the East by participating in the Divine Liturgy at Fr. Loya's parish, the Byzantine Church of the Annunciation of the Mother of God, way out on the far end of Cook County (an hour's drive from downtown). Fr. Loya is not simply the pastor: he's the iconographer who covered the entire interior of the church in brilliantly vivid icons. Even the 
lower three feet of the wall was painted as if with a flowing, red-trimmed drape, all the way around the church! You truly feel you are "inside" of Heaven, surrounded by the "crowd of witnesses" (and clouds of incense), immersed in a thundering song. An usher kindly provided us Latin-schooled worshipers with service books, and since there is so much repetition, we pretty much managed to follow along and even sing the chants (when they were 
in English; some were in Greek and Old Church Slavonic). The small church was filled with parishioners and visitors (we saw a Franciscan there, too); many young families were there with small children (this is a "Theology of the Body" parish), so there was a lot of movement throughout, and not just the many processions, bows and signs of the cross that the book mentioned! After the Gospel (the prologue of John, chanted verse by verse in English, Slavonic--or maybe Greek?--and Latin), Father Loya gave a 
wonderful homily about God's original and overwhelming plan for our abundant life. When I experience a homily like that, I often feel a bit of regret that the audience for it is so limited; I wish I could just record it and broadcast it, podcast it, do all in my power to get that message to more and more people who are starving for a solid and well-articulated presentation of the faith. At least Fr. Loya comes for our Theology of the Body sessions here! (Reminder: This Wednesday he will give a presentation on "Humanae Vitae," that most despised encyclical of all time.)
After the Litu
rgy there was another short service of the blessing of the Easter baskets. These were not your everyday Easter bunny type baskets, 
lined up on tables in the vestibule. These were heavy duty baskets lined with linen napkins and filled with eggs (real ones), sausages, hams, butter in the shape of lambs, and Easter breads. Many had embroidered linen clothes over them, and an Easter icon propped near the handle. There was one blessing for the breads, one for the meats, and one for the dairy and egg products (not a word about chocolate! I suppose it was covered in that line about "all other foods" in the last blessing). Seeing us without a basket, Katy (in the middle) gave us her own. (On the right, you see Anastasia Northrup from Theology of the Body.net.)
What a remarkable day! (So much so that I broke my own rule about not blogging on Sunday!)
Blessed Easter, all week long!
Today we experienced the best of the East by participating in the Divine Liturgy at Fr. Loya's parish, the Byzantine Church of the Annunciation of the Mother of God, way out on the far end of Cook County (an hour's drive from downtown). Fr. Loya is not simply the pastor: he's the iconographer who covered the entire interior of the church in brilliantly vivid icons. Even the 
lower three feet of the wall was painted as if with a flowing, red-trimmed drape, all the way around the church! You truly feel you are "inside" of Heaven, surrounded by the "crowd of witnesses" (and clouds of incense), immersed in a thundering song. An usher kindly provided us Latin-schooled worshipers with service books, and since there is so much repetition, we pretty much managed to follow along and even sing the chants (when they were 
in English; some were in Greek and Old Church Slavonic). The small church was filled with parishioners and visitors (we saw a Franciscan there, too); many young families were there with small children (this is a "Theology of the Body" parish), so there was a lot of movement throughout, and not just the many processions, bows and signs of the cross that the book mentioned! After the Gospel (the prologue of John, chanted verse by verse in English, Slavonic--or maybe Greek?--and Latin), Father Loya gave a 
wonderful homily about God's original and overwhelming plan for our abundant life. When I experience a homily like that, I often feel a bit of regret that the audience for it is so limited; I wish I could just record it and broadcast it, podcast it, do all in my power to get that message to more and more people who are starving for a solid and well-articulated presentation of the faith. At least Fr. Loya comes for our Theology of the Body sessions here! (Reminder: This Wednesday he will give a presentation on "Humanae Vitae," that most despised encyclical of all time.)After the Litu
rgy there was another short service of the blessing of the Easter baskets. These were not your everyday Easter bunny type baskets, 
lined up on tables in the vestibule. These were heavy duty baskets lined with linen napkins and filled with eggs (real ones), sausages, hams, butter in the shape of lambs, and Easter breads. Many had embroidered linen clothes over them, and an Easter icon propped near the handle. There was one blessing for the breads, one for the meats, and one for the dairy and egg products (not a word about chocolate! I suppose it was covered in that line about "all other foods" in the last blessing). Seeing us without a basket, Katy (in the middle) gave us her own. (On the right, you see Anastasia Northrup from Theology of the Body.net.)What a remarkable day! (So much so that I broke my own rule about not blogging on Sunday!)
Blessed Easter, all week long!
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Night Vigil
Tonight's Easter Vigil starts with that fabulous ceremony of the "new fire" that will light the Paschal Candle. The Deacon will sing three times, "Lumen Christi" ("the light of Christ") and we w
ill respond, "Deo Gratias!" ("thanks be to God").
The fire and the candle represent many things; my favorite is in the Exsultet, explaining that the candle is "a pillar of fire that dispels the darkness of this night," because it makes the Exodus-Easter connection so explicit. (Remember that the people were guided on their way out of Egypt by a cloud during the day, and a pillar of fire by night.) We will light our own candles with that fire to renew our baptismal promises (and the candles will be lit tonight for the newly baptized). Later in the evening, we will again invoke the fire, this time the fire of the Holy Spirit upon those who will be anointed in Confirmation. Jesus said, "I have come to cast fire upon the earth!" It is we who hold the torch.
ill respond, "Deo Gratias!" ("thanks be to God").The fire and the candle represent many things; my favorite is in the Exsultet, explaining that the candle is "a pillar of fire that dispels the darkness of this night," because it makes the Exodus-Easter connection so explicit. (Remember that the people were guided on their way out of Egypt by a cloud during the day, and a pillar of fire by night.) We will light our own candles with that fire to renew our baptismal promises (and the candles will be lit tonight for the newly baptized). Later in the evening, we will again invoke the fire, this time the fire of the Holy Spirit upon those who will be anointed in Confirmation. Jesus said, "I have come to cast fire upon the earth!" It is we who hold the torch.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Friday
We are making a retreat day today.
May this Good Friday be a
day of grace for you,
opening you to
new grace
in the
Easter season.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
"As I have done..."
Tonight the Paschal Triduum begins: three (really four) days of the most concentrated Catholic liturgical life--really, more than the calendar days can even handle. Most dioceses transfer the Chrism Mass (which would be celebrated today) to an earlier day this week. On reflecting, I don't know if that's good or less so: maybe the liturgy wants to overwhelm us with symbols and actions and the most meaningful prayers and rituals, so that we grasp at least in some way that this is more than we can grasp.
Be that as it may... nobody reschedules the "Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper" with its twofold focus on the "Mandatum" ("I give you a new commandment: Love one another as I have loved you") and the Institution of the Eucharist (and with it, the priesthood). And both are summed up in the washing of feet.
I wrote an essay on this Gospel scene a year or two ago; pretty typical. But I started to worry that some people, especially women, might take Jesus' example in the wrong way, and use it as a pious reason to let themselves be abused or trampled on by demanding people. Without a healthy sense of self-esteem, some might read Jesus' example as mere self-abasement. But Jesus explicitly recalls his own superior status: "You address me as teacher and Lord, and rightly so, for that is what I am." Jesus conducts this service of love, not from a position of neurotic self-hate, lack of self-esteem or other such motivations, but from a standpoint of remarkable self-possession and confidence.
The focus, the point, is all about love. This is what Jesus insisted on: love one another as I have loved you. What he did was give them a very graphic example of that love, love as the "sincere gift of self." Gifts cannot be extorted, no more than love can. And there are some sacrifices that only God can ask of (or inspire in) a person. That's what the whole Triduum is telling us: God so loved the world...
Be that as it may... nobody reschedules the "Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper" with its twofold focus on the "Mandatum" ("I give you a new commandment: Love one another as I have loved you") and the Institution of the Eucharist (and with it, the priesthood). And both are summed up in the washing of feet.
I wrote an essay on this Gospel scene a year or two ago; pretty typical. But I started to worry that some people, especially women, might take Jesus' example in the wrong way, and use it as a pious reason to let themselves be abused or trampled on by demanding people. Without a healthy sense of self-esteem, some might read Jesus' example as mere self-abasement. But Jesus explicitly recalls his own superior status: "You address me as teacher and Lord, and rightly so, for that is what I am." Jesus conducts this service of love, not from a position of neurotic self-hate, lack of self-esteem or other such motivations, but from a standpoint of remarkable self-possession and confidence.
The focus, the point, is all about love. This is what Jesus insisted on: love one another as I have loved you. What he did was give them a very graphic example of that love, love as the "sincere gift of self." Gifts cannot be extorted, no more than love can. And there are some sacrifices that only God can ask of (or inspire in) a person. That's what the whole Triduum is telling us: God so loved the world...
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Reminder
Tomorrow is the last day for input to the White House asking that pending legislation regarding life issues protect the consciences of health care professionals.
For more info: http://www.freedom2care.org/
http://www.usccb.org/prolife/index.shtml
For more info: http://www.freedom2care.org/
http://www.usccb.org/prolife/index.shtml
Smoked Out
Actually, the noxious fumes from next door are a bit better today. Maybe it's because I kept the hallway window and my office window open a few inches all night, letting in that fresh, 32-degree air. Plus, at a certain point last night I picked up my pillow and a blanket and camped out on the sofa in the living room. (Sr Helena followed suit a few hours later, going to the third floor spare room.) Providentially, just this week, the engineer from the motherhouse is here in Chicago to look at our building's issues and see where we can save on our energy bills, schedule maintenance, etc. So he is able to pursue the source of the fumes and get that addressed.
Yesterday's paper had an article about the earthquake in Italy; I recognized the name of the city (L'Aquila) from Sr. M. Thecla: that's where her parents emigrated from. She still has loads of family right in the city. I called this morning to see if she had heard from them. They have all evacuated to Rome, while the city is digging out from the rubble. The saddest part is that the scientist who had been predicting a major earthquake in just that region had been silenced, accused of trying to provoke a panic.
We just finished our visitation, so I am taking one of the councilors off to Old Town to the Spice shop, and then to the "Jewel" (local grocery) to get our Easter dinner supplies. Too bad the councilors can't stay for Easter!
Yesterday's paper had an article about the earthquake in Italy; I recognized the name of the city (L'Aquila) from Sr. M. Thecla: that's where her parents emigrated from. She still has loads of family right in the city. I called this morning to see if she had heard from them. They have all evacuated to Rome, while the city is digging out from the rubble. The saddest part is that the scientist who had been predicting a major earthquake in just that region had been silenced, accused of trying to provoke a panic.
We just finished our visitation, so I am taking one of the councilors off to Old Town to the Spice shop, and then to the "Jewel" (local grocery) to get our Easter dinner supplies. Too bad the councilors can't stay for Easter!
Sun and Moon, Bless the Lord (especially today!)
As I learned in last Friday's Wall Street Journal, today holds a special place in the Jewish calendar. Sunrise this morning was an exact replica of the first sunrise of creation. At least, that's what the Talmudic scholars said. As the WSJ put it: "According to Talmudic calculations, every 28 years the sun is in the exact position it occupied at the time of Creation."
So this little observance, called "Birkat Hachamah" (blessing of the sun), is repeated every 28 years, but with the environment being such a hot topic lately (sorry about that!), it seems as though the blessing will be getting special attention this year in many Jewish communities.
There's a special prayer to mark the moment (the same prayer that is prescribed whenever you see some wonder of nature), and it sounds to me just like something you'd expect to hear St. Francis say: "Blessed are You, King of the Universe, who makes the works of creation."
So this little observance, called "Birkat Hachamah" (blessing of the sun), is repeated every 28 years, but with the environment being such a hot topic lately (sorry about that!), it seems as though the blessing will be getting special attention this year in many Jewish communities.
There's a special prayer to mark the moment (the same prayer that is prescribed whenever you see some wonder of nature), and it sounds to me just like something you'd expect to hear St. Francis say: "Blessed are You, King of the Universe, who makes the works of creation."
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Still working on that prayer
See yesterday's invitation to contribute to a prayer through St. Paul's intercession for President Obama (and all those entrusted with government). I didn't get any nibbles on the blog, and only three responses through Twitter and Plurk!
We had community meetings all day yesterday and today--finally ended, and I'm on my way to Chapel (to pray, among other intentions, for our President and government officials!). Tomorrow can be a catch-up day--until choir practice, that is: we have Solemn High Choir Practice that will last longer than the Easter Vigil itself!
We had community meetings all day yesterday and today--finally ended, and I'm on my way to Chapel (to pray, among other intentions, for our President and government officials!). Tomorrow can be a catch-up day--until choir practice, that is: we have Solemn High Choir Practice that will last longer than the Easter Vigil itself!
Monday, April 06, 2009
A Prayer for the President
With the controversy surrounding Notre Dame's commencement and the honors to be bestowed on President Obama, our community has decided to offer a special prayer for the President every day, that he might hear and believe the Gospel of Life. (Remember the prayers that were offered for so many years to Our Lady of Fatima "for the conversion of Russia"? Something like that.) My superior asked me to draw up a prayer, but I would like to extend that invitation also to you: send me something to work with--some expressions, petitions, whatever.
I am thinking that since this is the Year of St. Paul, and since President Obama was sworn in during the Year of St. Paul, and it was St. Paul who urged that "prayers, petitions and thanksgivings be offered for all people, especially for those in authority," this prayer could be directed especially to St. Paul.
Take a little time this week to pray to St. Paul, read a letter or a passage of his writing, and add y our contributions to the comment box.
Thanks in advance.
I'll post the prayer here when it is done, and also prepare a pdf so you can print and distribute it. Wouldn't it be great if we could get Rosary groups and other prayer associations to add it to the prayers they offer each day?
I am thinking that since this is the Year of St. Paul, and since President Obama was sworn in during the Year of St. Paul, and it was St. Paul who urged that "prayers, petitions and thanksgivings be offered for all people, especially for those in authority," this prayer could be directed especially to St. Paul.
Take a little time this week to pray to St. Paul, read a letter or a passage of his writing, and add y our contributions to the comment box.
Thanks in advance.
I'll post the prayer here when it is done, and also prepare a pdf so you can print and distribute it. Wouldn't it be great if we could get Rosary groups and other prayer associations to add it to the prayers they offer each day?
Simply a Matter of Conscience?
A cover story in Sunday's Chicago Tribune left me unsettled all day, in that "Is there any way to name this problem?" sort of way. (I get like that. Gotta find a way to articulate the problem, or what's behind the issue.) What was the problem/issue the story dealt with? Catholics (couples and doctors) using IVF as an answer to infertility. Truly, a case where angels fear to tread, and all the more, a consecrated virgin! But there's more to this than the matter of procreation, and that is what I was trying to articulate to myself yesterday , as in "what's really going on here?" Because it's not really just about couples wanting children and businesses springing up to make their dreams come true for a price.
In what I write now, I in no way intend to diminish the suffering of couples facing unexpected infertility, nor do I question their sincerity in attempting to resolve the issue conscientiously. I do not doubt, either, the sincerity of the doctors who put their skills at the service of these couples. But sincerity and good will do not guarantee that people are walking a path of moral truth, or that their decisions cannot be challenged on any number of grounds. And it is not right for the couple (or the doctor) to use the genuinely beautiful desire for a child, or to use the child himself/herself as a sort of sublime shield from any possible questioning (much less any call to conversion!).
The couple and the doctor in the story gave a nod to Church teaching, admitting that they were violating it, but the real story was their various approaches to justifying themselves. In dealing with infertility and the possible ways to address it, the couple deliberately kept their parish priest in the dark about their considering IVF, because they knew he would tell them that the Church would not "allow" it. Not only is that distressingly immature ("Daddy says 'No!'"), it seems not to have entered their minds that the Church might actually have something to contribute to their full awareness, allowing them to make a more enlightened and more truly upright decision. Since the honest search for truth is part of a genuinely "conscientious" decision, we can ask if this couple really "followed their conscience" while failing to incorporate any adult inquiry as to the grounds for what they understood Church teaching to be. Wouldn't they have been surprised to know that there are approaches to infertility that are open to Catholics? And wouldn't they have been relieved to know that these legitimate approaches are more effective than IVF, more affordable, and result in no untimely deaths at all?
Why has a Catholic doctor devoted her professional life to bringing about human life in a petri dish, knowing that eight embryos will die for every child successfully brought to birth? Knowing that some parents will order the nonimplanted embryos to be destroyed--and that she, the doctor through whose efforts those nameless lives were brought into the world, will be the instrument of their deaths? (The doctor in the story admitted that this is sad, but that "it is not my philosophy," as if this excused her of any responsibility.) Does this doctor, and others like her, think of the great need for medical practitioners who will diagnose and treat the underlying reasons for infertility, instead of mechanically seeking to override the problems (which will still remain, despite IVF)? (There isn't a single Illinois NaPro/Fertility Care doctor listed on their website, and yet how many Catholic doctors and other health professionals in Chicago alone are engaged in IVF?)
Of course, an unstated issue isn't simply that the couple didn't trust their pastor to be pastoral with them. It's that they don't even know what their real relationship with the Church is. They think that the Church is a part of their lives; a part that they can then give more or less time, value and weight to; that their relationship with the Church is theirs to determine. They don't know that in reality, they are a part of the Church: they belong to the Church the way the limbs and organs belong to a body. The body in its wholeness reveals the vocation of each member.
And that brings up the issue of vocation. I noticed that for the couple and for the doctor, references to God were pretty much limited to the expression of pious hopes that they were "doing the will of God." In other words, that God would agree with what they had already decided and done. There's no indication there that Church might be a mediator in the search for "the will of God," much less a participant in it. Besides, God's will is manifest in many ways, including the situation itself that we find ourselves in. As a religious with a vow of obedience who sometimes has to accept situations that I do not understand fully or agree with, I am well acquainted with the frustration of worthy and beautiful hopes, and with sadness over lost potential. (The more potential one has, the greater the possibility that some of it will be left undeveloped.) But sometimes those frustrating situations are frustrating precisely because they hold within them a different call than the one we were looking for. That's why the daily examen is so important: so we learn to see what is hidden in the unlikeliest situations, and find God there. That doctor, for example, could be using her skills in a much more effective way by actually healing infertility permanently, rather than creating work-arounds that involve such a high loss of life and leave the couple dependent on technology for the future. The couple, too, could have benefited from spiritual direction that would have helped them seek the broader "will of God" for their whole marriage (and maybe also deal with the spiritual issues raised by the infertility they were suffering through) while still pursuing legitimate avenues in their desire for a child.
Perhaps a real reckoning with "the will of God" would be good for both the couple and the doctor, and (in this Holy Week) for each of us. God's will isn't always what we want it to be; I suspect that is why so many of us (raise your hand if you never did this) prefer to act first and ask pardon later, when the much-desired prize is firmly in our grasp.
Jesus in Gethsemane gives us a very real example of reckoning with God's will. And look what he was facing! He makes his own will very clear: "take this cup away from me." But only "if it is possible." "Your will, not mine be done."
In what I write now, I in no way intend to diminish the suffering of couples facing unexpected infertility, nor do I question their sincerity in attempting to resolve the issue conscientiously. I do not doubt, either, the sincerity of the doctors who put their skills at the service of these couples. But sincerity and good will do not guarantee that people are walking a path of moral truth, or that their decisions cannot be challenged on any number of grounds. And it is not right for the couple (or the doctor) to use the genuinely beautiful desire for a child, or to use the child himself/herself as a sort of sublime shield from any possible questioning (much less any call to conversion!).
The couple and the doctor in the story gave a nod to Church teaching, admitting that they were violating it, but the real story was their various approaches to justifying themselves. In dealing with infertility and the possible ways to address it, the couple deliberately kept their parish priest in the dark about their considering IVF, because they knew he would tell them that the Church would not "allow" it. Not only is that distressingly immature ("Daddy says 'No!'"), it seems not to have entered their minds that the Church might actually have something to contribute to their full awareness, allowing them to make a more enlightened and more truly upright decision. Since the honest search for truth is part of a genuinely "conscientious" decision, we can ask if this couple really "followed their conscience" while failing to incorporate any adult inquiry as to the grounds for what they understood Church teaching to be. Wouldn't they have been surprised to know that there are approaches to infertility that are open to Catholics? And wouldn't they have been relieved to know that these legitimate approaches are more effective than IVF, more affordable, and result in no untimely deaths at all?
Why has a Catholic doctor devoted her professional life to bringing about human life in a petri dish, knowing that eight embryos will die for every child successfully brought to birth? Knowing that some parents will order the nonimplanted embryos to be destroyed--and that she, the doctor through whose efforts those nameless lives were brought into the world, will be the instrument of their deaths? (The doctor in the story admitted that this is sad, but that "it is not my philosophy," as if this excused her of any responsibility.) Does this doctor, and others like her, think of the great need for medical practitioners who will diagnose and treat the underlying reasons for infertility, instead of mechanically seeking to override the problems (which will still remain, despite IVF)? (There isn't a single Illinois NaPro/Fertility Care doctor listed on their website, and yet how many Catholic doctors and other health professionals in Chicago alone are engaged in IVF?)
Of course, an unstated issue isn't simply that the couple didn't trust their pastor to be pastoral with them. It's that they don't even know what their real relationship with the Church is. They think that the Church is a part of their lives; a part that they can then give more or less time, value and weight to; that their relationship with the Church is theirs to determine. They don't know that in reality, they are a part of the Church: they belong to the Church the way the limbs and organs belong to a body. The body in its wholeness reveals the vocation of each member.
And that brings up the issue of vocation. I noticed that for the couple and for the doctor, references to God were pretty much limited to the expression of pious hopes that they were "doing the will of God." In other words, that God would agree with what they had already decided and done. There's no indication there that Church might be a mediator in the search for "the will of God," much less a participant in it. Besides, God's will is manifest in many ways, including the situation itself that we find ourselves in. As a religious with a vow of obedience who sometimes has to accept situations that I do not understand fully or agree with, I am well acquainted with the frustration of worthy and beautiful hopes, and with sadness over lost potential. (The more potential one has, the greater the possibility that some of it will be left undeveloped.) But sometimes those frustrating situations are frustrating precisely because they hold within them a different call than the one we were looking for. That's why the daily examen is so important: so we learn to see what is hidden in the unlikeliest situations, and find God there. That doctor, for example, could be using her skills in a much more effective way by actually healing infertility permanently, rather than creating work-arounds that involve such a high loss of life and leave the couple dependent on technology for the future. The couple, too, could have benefited from spiritual direction that would have helped them seek the broader "will of God" for their whole marriage (and maybe also deal with the spiritual issues raised by the infertility they were suffering through) while still pursuing legitimate avenues in their desire for a child.
Perhaps a real reckoning with "the will of God" would be good for both the couple and the doctor, and (in this Holy Week) for each of us. God's will isn't always what we want it to be; I suspect that is why so many of us (raise your hand if you never did this) prefer to act first and ask pardon later, when the much-desired prize is firmly in our grasp.
Jesus in Gethsemane gives us a very real example of reckoning with God's will. And look what he was facing! He makes his own will very clear: "take this cup away from me." But only "if it is possible." "Your will, not mine be done."
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Old is New Again in New Orleans
I'd love to have seen this in the actual newspaper (the "Times-Picayune"), but at least I can link to it online... It's a bit of the story of our latest album, In Paradisum (see the link in the sidebar).
Friday, April 03, 2009
You're it!
The Queen (or is she the Handmaid of the Queen?) at Regina Terrae tagged me with a kind of meme I'm not sure I'll manage to fulfill. It's supposed to include 7 facts about oneself that one's readership doesn't already know.
Having maintained this blog with a reasonable amount of fidelity for almost five years, I'm not sure I have any secrets left at all. So pardon any repeat performances you find here...
The rules:
Sunday's sundry: In sixth grade I was a big "Star Trek" fan (the original series, mind you). My favorite character was Spock, and to this day I can offer the Vulcan gesture of greeting.
Monday's morsel: I used to hate bell peppers, and now I can't imagine cooking without them.
Tuesday's tidbit: I developed an appreciation for architecture after living in Rome. (That has served me well in Chicago, where there is so much architecture to appreciate!)
Wednesday's whatnot: My voice teacher in college tried to discourage me from attempting a career in music; I had to reassure her that I was headed for the convent and only taking voice for sheer love of singing. (Fast-forward 30 years, that same teacher became Sr. Julia's voice coach in New Orleans!)
Thursday's thingee: On Jesus' "to do" list for me: Get me to Rome (any time!), Spain (again!), Ireland, India and the footsteps of St. Paul!
Friday's factoid: My family has the most amazing Hurricane Katrina story you will ever hear in your life.
Saturday's soupçon: I'm kind of a jack of all trades, master of nun... I mean, "none"!
Now, to tag seven more souls... That's easier on Facebook than on blogs these days! My audience hasn't been showing its face in the comment box, so I can't tell who's even there unless I go snooping in Statcounter. Can I have seven volunteers for now? You can bi-locate in the comment box so we have your links.... Sorry, Regina; this is all I can do right now! Nunblog lurkers, show yourselves!
Having maintained this blog with a reasonable amount of fidelity for almost five years, I'm not sure I have any secrets left at all. So pardon any repeat performances you find here...
The rules:
- Link to your original tagger and list these rules in your post
- Share 7 facts about yourself in the post
- Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names and links to their blogs
- Let them know they’ve been tagged.
Sunday's sundry: In sixth grade I was a big "Star Trek" fan (the original series, mind you). My favorite character was Spock, and to this day I can offer the Vulcan gesture of greeting.
Monday's morsel: I used to hate bell peppers, and now I can't imagine cooking without them.
Tuesday's tidbit: I developed an appreciation for architecture after living in Rome. (That has served me well in Chicago, where there is so much architecture to appreciate!)
Wednesday's whatnot: My voice teacher in college tried to discourage me from attempting a career in music; I had to reassure her that I was headed for the convent and only taking voice for sheer love of singing. (Fast-forward 30 years, that same teacher became Sr. Julia's voice coach in New Orleans!)
Thursday's thingee: On Jesus' "to do" list for me: Get me to Rome (any time!), Spain (again!), Ireland, India and the footsteps of St. Paul!
Friday's factoid: My family has the most amazing Hurricane Katrina story you will ever hear in your life.
Saturday's soupçon: I'm kind of a jack of all trades, master of nun... I mean, "none"!
Now, to tag seven more souls... That's easier on Facebook than on blogs these days! My audience hasn't been showing its face in the comment box, so I can't tell who's even there unless I go snooping in Statcounter. Can I have seven volunteers for now? You can bi-locate in the comment box so we have your links.... Sorry, Regina; this is all I can do right now! Nunblog lurkers, show yourselves!
Happy Landings
Whew! Am I glad to have successfully run the MSP gauntlet this morning and still made it to my flight! And I feel sorry for any of you who have to run that same gauntlet on a regular basis.
The TSA folks in Minneapolis/St. Paul obviously didn't expect too many people to be flying this weekend before Easter, because they only had one agent checking boarding passes and ID at each of the six security entrances across the immense terminal, with roughly 100 travelers meekly (and slowly) advancing through each set of roped-off corralls. I thought I was in the clear when they opened a third X-ray lane where I was waiting.
I hadn't counted on being called out for my "voluminous skirt" (not to mention the veil). There was an embarrassingly accurate "pat down" in which the handkerchief and pen in my pocket were seen as potentially suspect. I emptied both pockets into a tray (hanky, pen, rosary, boarding pass and a business card from the Catholic bookstore I visited yesterday); everything scattered across the floor when the agent dropped the tray. I did feel sorry for her, because she was nervous at having to do something as pointless as patting a down a nun as a potential security risk, but I was getting nervous, too: about the computer on the belt (I could stand near it, but I couldn't touch it) and about the ticking clock at the faraway gate, where a little commuter plane was (hopefully) waiting for me.
I assumed I would have to prepare my carry-ons for a gate check; those commuter planes usually provide space roughly the size of a Kleenex box for your carry-ons. In the one shining moment of today's air travel experience, I was assigned to a commuter plane that had magically ample baggage space over both rows of seats and amazingly adequate under-seat space, too! Plus, they gave out cookies with our choice of beverage. Best of all, the plane landed in Chicago!
It's good to be home.
The TSA folks in Minneapolis/St. Paul obviously didn't expect too many people to be flying this weekend before Easter, because they only had one agent checking boarding passes and ID at each of the six security entrances across the immense terminal, with roughly 100 travelers meekly (and slowly) advancing through each set of roped-off corralls. I thought I was in the clear when they opened a third X-ray lane where I was waiting.
I hadn't counted on being called out for my "voluminous skirt" (not to mention the veil). There was an embarrassingly accurate "pat down" in which the handkerchief and pen in my pocket were seen as potentially suspect. I emptied both pockets into a tray (hanky, pen, rosary, boarding pass and a business card from the Catholic bookstore I visited yesterday); everything scattered across the floor when the agent dropped the tray. I did feel sorry for her, because she was nervous at having to do something as pointless as patting a down a nun as a potential security risk, but I was getting nervous, too: about the computer on the belt (I could stand near it, but I couldn't touch it) and about the ticking clock at the faraway gate, where a little commuter plane was (hopefully) waiting for me.
I assumed I would have to prepare my carry-ons for a gate check; those commuter planes usually provide space roughly the size of a Kleenex box for your carry-ons. In the one shining moment of today's air travel experience, I was assigned to a commuter plane that had magically ample baggage space over both rows of seats and amazingly adequate under-seat space, too! Plus, they gave out cookies with our choice of beverage. Best of all, the plane landed in Chicago!
It's good to be home.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Juicy Lucy, or Adventures in Fine Dining, St Paul style
Just arrived in Ham Lake, MN (north of Saint Paul). St. Paul's staff member Jessica Balzarini picked me up at the airport and introduced me (after Mass at St. Mary's) to the local burger, called a "Juicy Lucy." I have never heard of these 
cheese-stuffed hamburgers, so she brought me to the acknowledged leader in this local cuisine, a tiny place called "The Nook." I was a little uncomfortable when we came through the door and all I could see was the bar... but a family with three tiny children came in with us, so that was my clue that this was an all-round sort of establishment. Besides, as Jessica informed me, it had even been spotlighted on the Food Network (my favorite TV haunt!). Now, I generally hew to a pretty healthy diet. I love veggies and I love to cook. But you don't go to the top-ranked burger joint in Saint Paul and order a salad. You go for the Juicy Lucy (or in this establishment, the "Juicy Nookie") (with the pepper jack cheese for me) (and the hand-cut fries that come with it) (and the bottomless iced tea, even though it was still in the 30's). Jessica clued me in that you have to cut the burger before attempting to eat it, or you will get a lapful of very hot, melted cheese. Since, in the evangelical spirit, I did not pack a second "tunic" (habit) for this trip, there is no way I was going to risk turning into the world's largest burger melt. I did as I was told and watched the white-hot lava spill over toward the fries. And enjoyed every bite! (Good thing I don't eat like that every day, though!)After lunch, we stopped at the Catholic bookshop next door. (I had noticed the Catholic titles in the window as we passed by.) It did my heart good to see our Pauline editions on the front table, and a big stack of our wonderful First Communion memory book with the sacrament display. Theology of the Body was easy to spot, too. The proprietor was truly happy to learn that our Chicago community hosted a streaming video study group for people who would like to get into TOB but find the book intimidating. As soon as I finish this post, I am going to send him the information. (You might consider sharing that info with the Catholic bookstores in your area, too; it can help them to sell the book if customers know there is a kind of "user support" available for it.)Now I'm checked into a comfortable little hotel room (free wi-fi) to get a bit of rest before my evening talk at St. Paul's. (You already know what I'm going to talk about!)
cheese-stuffed hamburgers, so she brought me to the acknowledged leader in this local cuisine, a tiny place called "The Nook." I was a little uncomfortable when we came through the door and all I could see was the bar... but a family with three tiny children came in with us, so that was my clue that this was an all-round sort of establishment. Besides, as Jessica informed me, it had even been spotlighted on the Food Network (my favorite TV haunt!). Now, I generally hew to a pretty healthy diet. I love veggies and I love to cook. But you don't go to the top-ranked burger joint in Saint Paul and order a salad. You go for the Juicy Lucy (or in this establishment, the "Juicy Nookie") (with the pepper jack cheese for me) (and the hand-cut fries that come with it) (and the bottomless iced tea, even though it was still in the 30's). Jessica clued me in that you have to cut the burger before attempting to eat it, or you will get a lapful of very hot, melted cheese. Since, in the evangelical spirit, I did not pack a second "tunic" (habit) for this trip, there is no way I was going to risk turning into the world's largest burger melt. I did as I was told and watched the white-hot lava spill over toward the fries. And enjoyed every bite! (Good thing I don't eat like that every day, though!)After lunch, we stopped at the Catholic bookshop next door. (I had noticed the Catholic titles in the window as we passed by.) It did my heart good to see our Pauline editions on the front table, and a big stack of our wonderful First Communion memory book with the sacrament display. Theology of the Body was easy to spot, too. The proprietor was truly happy to learn that our Chicago community hosted a streaming video study group for people who would like to get into TOB but find the book intimidating. As soon as I finish this post, I am going to send him the information. (You might consider sharing that info with the Catholic bookstores in your area, too; it can help them to sell the book if customers know there is a kind of "user support" available for it.)Now I'm checked into a comfortable little hotel room (free wi-fi) to get a bit of rest before my evening talk at St. Paul's. (You already know what I'm going to talk about!) 
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Evening reflection
It was a full day: we invited two sets of guests over (lunch guests and supper guests) to meet with Sr. Kathryn as part of her theological reflection process for our book center ministry. I was the lunchtime cook, because my evening was already spoken for. (In fact, I was not only "spoken for," I was the speaker for the Cathedral's last "Lenten Lecture" program.) I got home in time to participate in some of the evening session, but needed to pack for my next evening's commitment (see you tomorrow night at St. Paul's in Ham Lake, if you are in the Twin Cities area!).
It's pretty late now, but I'm packed and ready, so I wanted to put in a few words about today's Gospel, because it highlights what I see as amazing parallelisms between John the Evangelist and St. Paul, even if sometimes they choose opposite vocabulary. One of Paul's key words, for example, shows up (in two different ways) in the reading for today: "works." Anybody who knows anything about the rhetoric often used to distinguish Catholics and Protestants can tell you that it comes down to "faith" and "works," with "works" definitely being a negative term. John knows that use (look at today's "works of the devil"!), but he also uses "works" in a positive way: "doing the works of Abraham." Paul, master wordsmith that he was, prefers to use a different word to heighten the drama. When Paul wants to set up a conflict between "the works of the devil" and "the works of Abraham," he uses the term "works" (negative) and "fruits" (positive: recall that passage about the "fruits of the Spirit"?).
But there's more in today's liturgy than works, whether grace-filled or not. In fact, what is more important than the works is the source, and in this we find John using his most distinctive word: "abide." "If you remain/abide in my word, you will know the truth and the truth will set you free." Later in John 's Gospel, Jesus will modify (or rather, more fully reveal) what he is getting at: "remain/abide in me, and I in you; whoever remains/abides in me will bear much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing."
The Nazis had their ironic and hypocritical promise written across the gates of Auschwitz, "Work sets free." But the Gospel says that good "works" (Paul's "fruits") come from freedom; the freedom of living in Jesus, like branches in the vine. The branches freely produce the vine's fruit; it is not the branches' labor, but the vine's life that produces "life in abundance."
It's pretty late now, but I'm packed and ready, so I wanted to put in a few words about today's Gospel, because it highlights what I see as amazing parallelisms between John the Evangelist and St. Paul, even if sometimes they choose opposite vocabulary. One of Paul's key words, for example, shows up (in two different ways) in the reading for today: "works." Anybody who knows anything about the rhetoric often used to distinguish Catholics and Protestants can tell you that it comes down to "faith" and "works," with "works" definitely being a negative term. John knows that use (look at today's "works of the devil"!), but he also uses "works" in a positive way: "doing the works of Abraham." Paul, master wordsmith that he was, prefers to use a different word to heighten the drama. When Paul wants to set up a conflict between "the works of the devil" and "the works of Abraham," he uses the term "works" (negative) and "fruits" (positive: recall that passage about the "fruits of the Spirit"?).
But there's more in today's liturgy than works, whether grace-filled or not. In fact, what is more important than the works is the source, and in this we find John using his most distinctive word: "abide." "If you remain/abide in my word, you will know the truth and the truth will set you free." Later in John 's Gospel, Jesus will modify (or rather, more fully reveal) what he is getting at: "remain/abide in me, and I in you; whoever remains/abides in me will bear much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing."
The Nazis had their ironic and hypocritical promise written across the gates of Auschwitz, "Work sets free." But the Gospel says that good "works" (Paul's "fruits") come from freedom; the freedom of living in Jesus, like branches in the vine. The branches freely produce the vine's fruit; it is not the branches' labor, but the vine's life that produces "life in abundance."
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