Quick hi from San Antone

We are meeting in our little convent, surrounded by the sound of heavy equipment and hard work, having just come back from a pleasant and informative talk by Fr. Ronald Rolheiser. (Actually, we are in San Antonio because of that appointment!) The bells of San Fernando Cathedral are tolling the evening Angelus, perfect for today's feast of the Annunication, even though it falls in Regina Coeli season!
The sun has just peeked out, and we are hoping to have a little free time this evening to actually see the neighborhood.
But first? A bit of supper!

Greetings from Texas!

I knew I wasn't in Chicago any more when I saw not just green grass (green! what a wonderful idea!), but wildflowers in the grass along the tarmac. "Oh, this is going to be nice," I said to myself. And as I write this from my sister's house, so far, so good!
I had plenty of time to pray on the plane, and spent it reflecting mostly on St. Paul. Something he wrote to the Corinthians (the second time around) resonated with today's readings in a particular way for me on this Easter Day: "We were so pressed as to feel our life was threatened, so that we might rely on God, who raises the dead." I think today's responsorial psalm, continuing the praises from Sunday, expressed Paul's thought: I shall not die, but live and declare the works of the Lord.
Does that mean that if we hope in the Lord, we will escape death? It didn't work out that way for Paul, but even now he "lives, declaring the works of the Lord."
In a way, that's the outcome I hope from Paul in this week of meetings on evangelization. Please pray for us! I will update the blog as opportunity and duty allow.

Taking away sin

I was expecting Easter Saturday to continue the story of Jesus' last appearance to the disciples, but instead, the Gospel is from Mark! If we had stayed with John, we would have been brought back to Holy Thursday. I had often heard that Jesus' threefold "Do you love me?" to Peter was to set right his threefold denial, something that seemed a bit of a pious stretch to me. John's Greek shows that I was wrong. The clue is in one simple word, one simple image, that appears in only two scenes in the whole Bible (at Peter's denial and then here, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee): the "charcoal" fire. Peter denied the Lord while warming himself at a charcoal fire. Now, as they eat fish and bread around a charcoal fire on the beach, Jesus asks Peter to retract that denial. This is how Jesus wins us back after sin: not by pushing our faces into our sin, but undoing it by eliciting its exact opposite from us freely.

"little children"

Today's Gospel is John's story of the appearance of the Risen Jesus by the Sea of Galilee (and its attendant catch of fish at the unlikely morning hour). But there is one aspect of this Gospel that I can't seem to find an explanation for. Even the intensely detailed Jerome Biblical Commentary passed right over it! It is that when the Risen Christ, on the shore, calls to the men in the boat, he doesn't call them "Brothers" (the term he used in commissioning Mary Magdalen), but "Children."
Children?
So I looked at the Greek, which was "paidia"--children, school children. It wasn't "tekna" (the term for "offspring"). In the epistles of John, these two terms are used back and forth, but tekna is the preferred word. Here, I suppose, John is saying that Christ is still "teaching" his disciples; when the time comes, they (especially in the person of Peter) will then lead, teach and guide the flock.

Sr. Helena has been working for a solid week to figure out how to transfer her media literacy collection of sundry video clips and commercials to a workable DVD. Today she has proclaimed her technological victory! Meanwhile, I have been pouring over our Founder's works (in English and Italian) to mine for his thought on methods for spreading the Word of God--in view of next week's gathering in Texas. Which I am eagerly anticipating, given that today's temps in San Antonio were to be between 65 and 80, and here in Chicago I was watching the snow fall about an hour ago.
Spring started last week, actually.
At least I caught up on one old, forgotten commitment: providing a summary book review of a manuscript from another publisher. I don't think we'll be carrying the book in PBM centers, though. (A bit too hard to reconcile with Church teaching.) Glad I got that over with! But having read through it, I have been distracted by its overall tone. The author was trying to inject the findings of contemporary quantum physics and so on into spirituality. So far, so good. It's an important thing to do. But to attempt that with only one or two references to the entire New Testament (and only two canonized saints) seems to me to be redefining "spirituality" in all too generic a sense. It is as if the 2,000 year history of Christian spirituality, which naturally expressed itself (in its "positive" formulations) according to the dominant world view and culture, had nothing of real significance for us today (unless it be for the via negativa formulations of certain Germanic mystics and the writings of the late Teilhard de Chardin); as if all our spiritual thought should come from the findings and theories of science. And there was very little room for anything like "divine revelation" outside of the world of quantum science, too.
I didn't want to dismiss the whole book, but I kind of had to, given its overall tenor. But I still want to think out the ramifications of mind-blowing science for how we see ourselves in the world, and what Augustine might have meant when he wrote that eternity would be the "One Christ loving himself."

Easter Break

I know, it's "Spring" break (give me a break!)... Today I met a group of Capuchins from Wisconsin, on their Easter Break in Chicago. I was heading home after an unsuccessful visit to the Art Institute, where I had hoped to find the 15th century European gallery. I only had 15 minutes (they were closing for a special event which involved caterers and wine). The Franciscans, a group of eight or so (average age 26?), were heading to Millennium Park after what I presume was a more fruitful visit to the museum. Hopefully, they'll visit us on Saturday. By then I'll be en route to Texas (yee-ha!) for a meeting of our Pauline Evangelization team. I return April 3, on time for our Founder's birthday (April 4) and the big good-bye to one of our staff members, who will be leaving PBM and entering the religious life in Mexico.
Lots going on here.

God in the Garden

That great Gospel scene of Easter morning in the garden...with the risen Jesus being mistaken for a gardener (!); it's all a reminder of the Garden of Eden. The resurrection garden with its empty tomb is the Eden of the new Creation.
What struck me today, though, in reading the Gospel, was the realization that while Peter and John had been to the tomb and saw the wrappings, John "saw and believed" and then left. Mary Magdalen, however, had scene the open tomb and the angels inside--utterly spurning their attempt to engage her in conversation. But she stayed. And she is the one who had that private meeting with Jesus (aka, "the Gardener"), and it is she who was (the gospels are all very clear about it) given a message for the all the others.

All turned around

This year, Easter has gotten the whole feastday cycle out of kilter. Not only was St. Joseph "transposed" and St. Patrick simply eliminated (except in Ireland, from what I understand!), even the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord has been bumped from its usual day (nine months before Christmas!) to next week. Well, the Incarnation itself was in view of our redemption through the Paschal Mystery (pace Duns Scotus and the Franciscans!), so it is most fitting. Today's coincidence of Easter Tuesday and the date of the Annunciation is almost an illustration of what St. Paul wrote to the Romans about God "who gives life to the dead and calls into being what never before existed."

Lapsus Fidei

I have been really bothered by something I read in Sunday's paper. It was a reflection by a newly fallen-away Catholic. This was his first Easter away from the Church, a result of a decision he made just as Lent was about to begin. Kind of a "Heck, this is just too much to believe any more."
I keep wanting to respond, but I suspect that "this kind of demon can only be driven out by prayer." I say that because the essay, while reflecting some interior anguish and loss, was really characterized by arrogant language. I find it hard to get past that to the person inside who probably never knew the Church or his Catholic faith as well as he ought, or as well as he presumed. So I guess I will just keep praying for this person (and hoping someone wiser than I will find a way to get through to him!), though I really would like to dare him to read von Balthasar's "Heart of the World" (where he would find many of his objections expressed and mysteriously answered by one of the greatest minds of the 20th century: a mind that remained fully Catholic!).

Cathedral Protest

Today's Tribune had a front-page article about an anti-war protest during Cardinal George's Easter Mass, which was being held in the parish auditorium, due to ceiling damage in the Cathedral. A small group of "Catholic Schoolgirls Against the War" (all adults and not all "girls") spurted fake blood on parishioners, shouting their opposition to the Iraq war. (Do they even realize that the Catholic hierarchy, all the way to the Pope, have been outspoken in its opposition to the same war?) It seems the group was peeved at Cardinal George for meeting with Mayor Daley and President Bush.
This has become the feature du jour for online comments at the Tribune.
Personally, I think their intervention in the name of peace was an act of social violence, and directed to the wrong audience. (Clearly, they were using the setting and the audience for publicity purposes, not because their message was addressed to this particular audience.) What is your reaction?

The Marys and the Myrrh

Every day this week is Easter, and liturgically equal to Sunday. Every day this week we will hear a different part of the Easter Gospel. Today's Gospel (from Matthew) mentions two "myrrh-bearing women," both of them named Mary, who went to the tomb that morning and met the risen Lord on their way back. John's Gospel tells us of three women named Mary who were beneath the cross of Jesus when he died: his own mother, Mary Magdalen, and "his mother's sister Mary the wife of Clopas." Clearly, his mother is not among the myrrh-bearing women, something that the Fathers of the Church say testifies to the Virgin Mary's faith in the resurrection even before it came about. So who is the third of the myrrh-bearers?
Mark says that the three women were Mary Magdalen, Mary the mother of James and Salome (that's "Mrs. Zebedee," the mother of James and John). But Luke says they were "Mary Magdalen, Joanna [whom we learned about in Luke 8 as one of the "financial sponsors" of the evangelical enterprise] and Mary the mother of James."
So far, it looks as though Mary #2 was "the mother of James" and probably "the wife of Clopas." (Would that make Clopas and his son James the "two disciples" who left Jerusalem and met Jesus on the road to Emmaus that same Easter day?)
How many women were there at the tomb that Easter morning? It is Luke who sets the record straight: we don't know. He named three, but mentioned "the others who accompanied them" who also testified to the apostles about what they had seen and heard at the empty tomb.

On a side note, I was struck in today's Gospel at the message Jesus gave the women: "Go to my brothers and tell them...." This matches what we find in the Gospel of John: "Go to my brothers and tell them...." It is unusual enough for John's account to match any of the synoptics, which should really cause us to pay attention to this similarity. This "brother" language is unique to the Resurrection story in the Gospels; we'll only find it again in the letter to the Hebrews, where it is used in the context of the Incarnation. Only after the Passion, Death and Resurrection does Jesus say that his disciples have become his "brothers," true sons of the same Father. Only after the Resurrection will John affirm "our relationship to the world is just like his."

Regina Coeli time

Just a reminder from your friendly neighborhood Angelus Project sponsor: during the Easter Season, the Regina Coeli takes the place of the Angelus, morning, noon and evening.

The Third Day

"In the world, you will have affliction, but take courage: I have overcome the world!"

Saturday

Friday

Thursday

Paschal Retreat

When I was stationed in New York as a newly professed sister, I was particularly impressed with the way the Jewish community observed the high holy days, especially Yom Kippur. Manhattan seemed to have shut down for the day: restaurants, stores and offices, if open, were running with a skeleton crew. Heads of companies were nowhere to be seen. They were taking the holy day off. The city that never sleeps was making a retreat.
As Christians, we get our holy day of Christmas handed to us by the culture, but the even greater holy days of this Paschal Triduum are, for many, many people, workdays like any others, except that the more pious among us find a way to attend services sometime during the day. (The Chicago Methodist Temple downtown has a banner announcing its 25-minute services on Good Friday.)
What if Christians treated Good Friday the way the Jews of Manhattan treat the Day of Atonement?

Here in Chicago, some people looking for last-minute gifts for friends entering the Catholic Church may be dismayed to find our book center closed on Friday; we'll be making our Paschal retreat, and giving our employees the chance to do the same. I won't be blogging until Monday, in order to observe the Triduum better. (What I will do is create some simple posts now, and just "turn them on" day by day.)
How are you able to celebrate the Lord's Passion on Good Friday?

Sr. Bernadette Mary wrote a short article on the washing of the feet in view of tonight's liturgy. Read it here!

Sr. Mary Caroline

One of the really tough things about belonging to an extended family is learning that someone has a terminal illness when you aren't in a position to ever see them again. That's what happened with Sr. Mary Caroline. I saw her last in mid-December, never realizing that this would also be the last time I saw her in this life. Yesterday, her 60th anniversary of first vows, the Lord came to bring her to share the Paschal Triduum from a new and definitive vantage point. We had only learned recently that she had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. (In December, she looked great for her 83+ years.)
Sister Mary Caroline was a New York girl, and had no intention at all of entering religious life, but somehow...this most unlikely of candidates found herself mysteriously drawn to the Daughters of St. Paul. By the time I met her, in the first days of my postulancy, she was a fixture in our Boston community. She served as the "mother of the bindery" and the savior of many vocations. Mine may have been one of them, on my very first day at the publishing house's three-knife cutter. As a newbie, I was given the easiest of tasks: to catch the freshly trimmed books as the conveyor belt shot them toward me. Then I was to stack the books in a pattern on a pallet, forming a sturdy tower of Grade 4 religion books that could be transported by forklift into the stockrooms. (This was the machine that completed the production process for a paperback book.) I can still see where the machine was positioned in the basement level of the "Divine Master" building. (Now there are shelves of copy paper.) The more experienced postulant took the books, two or three at a time, from the hamper. They had been through the "paperbacker" and gotten their covers glued in place, but the pages still had folded edges and the cover was untrimmed. They were put on the conveyor belt, and then SWOOSH, BANG! KABOOM! and SWOOSH, they shot out toward me. SWOOSH, BANG! KABOOM! SWOOSH!SWOOSH, BANG! KABOOM! SWOOSH! SWOOSH, BANG! KABOOM! SWOOSH! Pretty soon I had my first migraine, and Sr. Caroline came over to rescue me, leading me to the quieter shipping department where someone sat me down at a desk and showed me how to do the simple accounting procedures we had in those days before computers. Then dear Sr. Caroline told Sr. Margaret Charles (who was then still "pre-postulant Margaret," and whom I knew as "Peggy" from my old high school): "Your little friend couldn't take the noise!"
God bless the dear soul. She remained in the Boston community throughout these 33 years of my religious life, so every time I would go to Boston, I would see her. She taught new entrants how to run machines that they would soon be responsible for, led vocal prayers over the din of the many motors, and often commented, "Patience and much mercy!" In her later years, she switched from heavy machines to computers, and helped maintain the marketing department's mailing list, send out review copies of new publications, and did other light work.
She was especially devoted to St. Joseph, so it is touching that it was on his "day" (even if not, this year, his liturgical feast) that she was called to heaven. We even had a "hint" that this would be the case because yesterday morning we received an unexpected donation of grocery items, a little sign of the Divine Providence that is St. Joseph's special area. Almost as if to say, "Watch St. Joseph; he is visiting your community today."
Sr. Caroline, may you rest in great peace! As you used to say, "Let us work! In heaven we shall rest!"

Spy Wednesday

Not a very nice name, is it? Puts all the attention on treachery. But the first reading focuses elsewhere. It is the declaration of the Suffering Servant that he has been graced "to speak to the weary a word that will rouse them." Not a word of denunciation, but a stirring word of encouragement--and this coming from someone who is publicly beaten and mocked!
There is something in that. It is easier to denounce than to encourage. Even the Corinthians thought Paul was weak because he preferred to exhort and encourage rather than threaten (although he later reminded them that he had "authority to tear down and to build up" and that he could very well "come with a rod" on his next visit).
Technically, Lent ends as the Triduum begins tomorrow evening. I pray that in this Triduum, all the "weary" will hear the word they most need from the one who "loved us and gave himself for us."