Becoming Queen - Esther, Our Lady, and you

In ancient days, some years after the Hebrew people had been taken captive by King Nebuchadnezzar, a group of Hebrews settled in the city of Susa. In time, they blended into the fabric of the society and people like Mordecai, from the Tribe of Benjamin, were given roles in King Ahasuerus’ court. These people, though strangers in a foreign land, proved that they could adapt and thrive almost anywhere. In the house of Mordecai, a faithful servant of God, there lived a young woman named Esther, Mordecai’s beautiful cousin.


Esther had no desire to be known by the masses. She had no desire for anything at all, but to live a quiet life and serve her Lord in peace.


But God had His own plan for Esther.


When Queen Vashti disgraced King Ahasuerus publicly, by blatantly disregarding an order to come into his presence that he might display her beauty to the populace and officials, the King demanded an answer. She was too busy, she was sick of her husband’s agenda, and she just couldn’t be bothered.


So the King was done being bothered by the Queen.


She was sent away, banished. The King put out an order that all the women in the kingdom should be gathered and pampered. Each one would spend an evening in the King’s presence. After he had assessed the possibilities, he would name one of the virgins to be his queen.


Esther wanted nothing of it. Her cousin encouraged her to go with the women. Don’t be afraid, perhaps it was for this moment that you were created, he said.


Esther wasn’t so sure. But because she was obedient, she joined the other women in going to the palace.


In time, she had her evening with the King, and he was completely taken by her beauty and gentle spirit. Out of all of the women in the kingdom, he chose Esther to be his queen.


But Esther had a secret. The King of Persia did not realize that his wife was one of the Hebrew women, an exile in a foreign land. She may have told the King that she was an orphan, which she was, but she did not tell him that she was related to Mordecai, and she did not tell him that she was a Jew.


And so, when Haman, the King’s right-hand-man, presented the King with an order to kill the Jews (along with a laundry list of why he believed it was necessary), the King placed his seal on the order. He did not realize that he had just ordered the death of his beloved wife.

Mordecai visited the palace and told his young cousin of the edict. He explained to her that she would have to intercede or her people would surely die.


Queen Esther had a problem. The penalty for going into the King’s presence, without him ordering it first, was death – unless the King had mercy and extended his scepter to the Queen.


Esther decided that her cousin might be right. Perhaps it was for this moment that she had been created. The young woman sent word that the Jews must not eat or drink for three days, and they must also pray that the King might have mercy on them.


Esther fasted and prayed for three days, and then, she boldly entered the presence of the King.


When the King saw Esther, he was overcome with love and, rather than order her death, he extended his scepter to her. She invited her husband to a dinner in his honor – and she invited the evil Haman as well.


Once they had gathered for the banquet, the King asked Esther to tell him what was bothering her. She could ask anything of him, up to half his kingdom, and it would be hers.


Esther very humbly thanked the King and Haman for coming to the banquet, and she asked them both to do her the honor of attending another banquet the next evening as well.


They agreed.


Once again, when they had gathered for the banquet, the King asked Esther what was bothering her. Again, he promised her anything, up to half of his kingdom.


Now, the moment had finally come and Esther poured out her heart. She courageously stood in the gap for her people and pleaded with her husband to spare their lives. Please, Lord, have mercy on me, spare my life and the lives of my people!


Kill you, Esther? What are you talking about? Just who are you people?


I am a Hebrew woman, my Lord. And you have signed the edict declaring that all the Hebrew people are to be slain, struck down. The enemy of my people has delivered us up to destruction, slaughter, and extinction.


Who is the man who has dared to do this? The King asked.


The enemy oppressing us is the wicked Haman. And she turned toward Haman, who was immediately seized with dread.


The story moves quickly now. Haman is killed and the Hebrew people are spared, including the lives of Esther and Mordecai.


Perhaps you are like Esther. Maybe your one desire is to live a quiet life, humbly serving Our Lord. And yet, maybe God has a job for you that you did not expect. Maybe he plans to take you out of your comfort zone and put you in the heart of the battle. Throughout Salvation History, God noticed the quiet lives of women, and he raised them up and placed them in unique positions to establish his plan.


Once upon a time, there was a virgin who pleased God in every way. Like Esther, she expected to live a quiet life, but she was asked to step into the gap, to intercede for her people, to turn the heart of the King of kings toward those marked for death, so that they might be spared. The woman?

The Blessed Virgin Mary.


And now, you must look to Esther and Our Lady for inspiration. Dear women of the King, now is the time to rise up and intercede. We are living in a time in which many are marked for death. I know how you feel. It would be so much easier to live a quiet life, safely going about the task of raising a family-


While millions of babies die.


Queen Esther and Our Lady have set a standard. We cannot remain silent when so many little lives are marked for death. We must fast and pray and beg for a new edict. We must bring this petition to the altar, God’s banquet table, and we must beg the King to have mercy and act justly.


Women have changed the course of history before – rise up and do the same.


One more little insight into this story. Perhaps you hold a public office and feel compelled to support abortion legislation or perhaps you have cast your vote for a pro-abortion candidate, while you have your own laundry list of reasons (as Haman did for the edict he wrote on the king’s behalf), you must realize that Haman was invited to the banquet and he ate and drank in the King’s presence – just as you do when you go to Mass. Don’t forget what happened to him. He was given the death sentence in the end. The Church isn’t kidding around with this. If you present yourself for Holy Communion, be sure that you have repented and made a good confession. Unlike Haman, for you there is still time.


I Corinthians 11:29 For he who eats and drinks in an unworthy manner eats and drinks judgment to himself, not discerning the Lord's body.

Becoming Queen - Esther, Our Lady, and you

Esther. . . be inspired to rise up as she did and intercede

Esther. . . be inspired to rise up as she did and intercede

With Prayers for LeAnn - and her personal talk on Mary

Please join me in praying for fellow preacher's daughter and convert to the Catholic Church - LeAnn.

She will share her personal testimony of the journey into Our Lady's arms. . . this Wednesday evening in Lawton, Oklahoma. If you are in the area, consider attending the talk at Holy Family Parish.

If you did not grow up Protestant, and even more so, if you were never a preacher's kid, then you have no idea how difficult this journey can be. Come find out! And celebrate this journey with Our Lady of Grace!

All our prayers, LeAnn. God bless!

With Prayers for LeAnn - and her personal talk on Mary

I'll Talk With You All Tomorrow

Dear friends,

I have so many things pressing today in order to make it to my oldest child's wedding reception tonight. I will be back with you all tomorrow.

Blessings,

Denise

I'll Talk With You All Tomorrow

Judith

I could write an article on Judith, but it would seem redundant since I did that last year for Canticle Magazine.

Why don't I just give you the link? The article is on page four. Enjoy.

http://www.lhla.org/canticle/pdf-all-issues/issue38.pdf

Judith

Food Pantry: Weathering the Growing Economic Crisis

Mary Kochan, Senior Editor of Catholic Exchange, has a new series. It is a must-read for the CEO of every household (typically she goes by the title Mom).

This new series will help you to turn your pantry into a warehouse. You will become the Joseph-of-old, ready to help the family make it through the growing economic crisis.

Check out her series (the first entry starts today):

http://woman.catholicexchange.com/2009/03/24/664/

Food Pantry: Weathering the Growing Economic Crisis

A Little Slave Girl and a Prophet

It’s every mother’s worst nightmare. Your child is abducted. It doesn’t matter that the abduction took place centuries ago or that the little girl was from ancient Israel. She was someone’s daughter, and she was taken from her homeland when the Arameans led a raid on Israel.


What strikes me as incredible, though, is what happens next. As a slave in the house of Naaman, the army commander of the king of Aram, the little girl has the ear of the master and his wife. When Naaman contracts leprosy, the little girl finds the courage to speak to her mistress about it.


“If only my master would present himself to the prophet in Samaria, he would cure him of his leprosy.” We know this prophet. His name is Elisha, successor to Elijah. He is the one who asked for a double portion of the Spirit of the Living God – and got it.


Now, isn’t it incredible that this little girl remembered her faith at all, that her memory of the prophet of the Lord was so strong that she was able to pass the message along to her mistress, and that she even had the courage to speak, though she was a servant girl?


Even more amazing, Naaman took her advice, and with the king’s approval, he went to Israel and found Elisha. Naaman was healed, and the story has been captured for all time in Holy Scripture.


The net result of the child’s faithfulness is that the message and reality of God’s power spread throughout the land and throughout time.


Here’s the thing. We are that little girl. In a very real way, we are living in a foreign land. When it matters most, do we speak up and tell those in positions of power that there is one who can heal them? Do we even remember the faith at all, or have we forgotten to carry it with us as we labor in a foreign land. Do we consider ourselves unimportant in the presence of leaders and those with more money and prestige? Are we afraid to speak up? Or would we be willing to share the Good News as courageously as this little girl?


Our Mother, the Blessed Mother (and the archetype of Mother Church), has guided us and prepared us for every encounter we may have as we journey to our final homeland. While she longs for us to come safely into the arms of the Heavenly Father, she also instills in us the needs of those we meet along the way. She longs for them to encounter for themselves the Spirit of the Living God. And she knows that you may be the only mouthpiece God has to get their attention.


If a little girl, a slave in a foreign land, can share the good news of God without restraint, then so should we who have access to the Mother of Perpetual Help and the Lord Most High.

A Little Slave Girl and a Prophet

Elisha and the Shunammite Woman

There once was a wealthy couple who had no children. Holy Scripture doesn’t tell us very much about these two, except to say that they practiced the virtue of hospitality to such a degree that they created a rooftop sanctuary for the prophet Elisha. Any time he passed through the neighborhood, he was welcome to stay with them. And so he did.


One day, Elisha asked his servant to find out from the couple what he, Elisha, could do for them. Could he put in a good word with the king? Could he ask for a favor from the commander of the army? Their answer was no, there was nothing that they needed.


But Elisha would not let the topic rest. Certainly, there must be something. The servant said to Elisha, they have no son and her husband is getting on in years. Elisha told the servant to call the wife to the door.


This time next year, you will have a baby boy. That is all Elisha said.


The woman wasn’t pleased, not because she didn’t want a child, but because she wanted one more than anything and had lost hope that such a joy would ever be hers. “Please, my lord, you are a man of God; do not deceive your servant.”


The following year, she gave birth to a son.


Now, if we took the time to stop at this point, assuming that this woman prefigures Israel and the Blessed Mother, what event might we expect to happen next?


Maybe you have guessed it.


When the boy was older, he went into his father’s field. One day, the boy complained of a terrible headache. One of his father’s servants carried the boy to his mother. The mother held him in her lap until noon, the hour of his death.


Immediately, she took a donkey and went in search of the prophet.


When she found Elisha, she fell at his feet and poured out her heart, “Did I ask my lord for a son? Did I not beg you not to deceive me?”


All Elisha said was, “The Lord hid it from me and did not let me know.” But now that he knew, Elisha sent his servant ahead of him, and Elisha and the mother journeyed together to her home. When Elisha reached the house, he closed the door and prayed. Then he stretched over the boy and prayed. The cold and lifeless body grew warm. He rose and paced the floor and prayed.


And the boy’s life was restored to him.


Perhaps there is no greater example of human hospitality than when Our Lady gave her fiat. Certainly, there is no greater suffering than the piercing of her heart as her she watched her son die a most painful and humiliating death on a cross. And there was no greater joy than seeing that son rise again. To hold him in her arms once again. To hold his face in her hands. To sit at his side and hear him speak, to say the word mother and to be given the chance to respond, yes my son.


What does a Shunammite woman have in common with the Blessed Mother. Quite a bit. And yet, these women of the Old Covenant are mere glimpses of what God was planning for the woman who would one day be the Mother of His Own Son.

Elisha and the Shunammite Woman

Elisha and the Widow

In the Gospels, we see that Jesus’ concern for people included a great concern for restoring life (spiritual and physical) and feeding the hungry.


Yesterday, we read about Elijah. This prophet stayed with a widow during a great famine. While he remained with her, God multiplied her handful of flour and small portion of oil so that it fed them the entire year. And when her son died, Elijah prayed for him, and God restored the boy’s life. Prophetically, Elijah was demonstrating what Our Lord would do in his ministry – restore life and feed the hungry.


Today’s story is almost identical. In fact, if you do not read with an eye for the details, you might think I got lazy and just posted the same story today. But, no, this is a new story and another prophet.


God was ready to bring Elijah home. Holy Scripture says that God had already ordered a chariot of fire to go down and bring Elijah to heaven. And so, God announced the name of Elijah’s successor. Elisha.


Elisha is an interesting man, as was Elijah. He agrees to take Elijah’s place, but he asks for one thing. . . to receive a double portion of the Spirit after Elijah is gone.


Hmm. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? I want a double portion of God’s Spirit, too. What a fantastic petition. Would God agree to Elisha’s request?


Elijah tells Elisha that it won’t be easy, but if Elisha is with him when God’s chariot comes, Elijah will leave the mantle behind, and with it, Elisha will receive the double portion. (I love this story, and when I became Catholic, it helped me to see that things can indeed be holy – like Elijah’s mantle – and that we can even request that Our Lady throw her mantle around us when we are afraid or tempted or feeling weak.)


Elisha is in the right place at the right time. The chariot arrives. As it rises with Elijah inside of it, the senior prophet drops the mantle down, and Elisha picks it up. The successor turns and begins his journey alone, and when he comes to a stream, he strikes the water with the mantle, and the water parts for him.


Eventually, Elisha encounters people who are in need, just as Elijah before him. Like the senior prophet, he visits a widow who complains to him that she, too, has nothing – or almost nothing. Her debtors are demanding money, and all she has is a little oil.


Elisha tells her to send her children out to collect as many empty vessels as they can. Once her home is filled with pots, he tells her to close the door on her home, with only her children and herself left inside and to begin pouring into the empty containers from her reserve of oil. She obeys, and there is enough oil to fill every pot. When the last pot is filled, she announces that the oil has run out.


Elisha then commands the woman to sell the oil and pay her debtors and that she will have enough left to weather this difficult season of life. And so she does.


I find it interesting that these two stories both made it into Holy Scripture. Why do we need two stories that are almost identical? Perhaps it is to give us a preview of what Our Lord will highlight in his ministry. Restoring life and feeding the hungry. (Tomorrow’s “Elisha story” will focus on restoring life and once again we will see a parallel between Elijah and Elisha.)


Flour and oil. They are so important that these items appear almost weekly on the St. Vincent de Paul food pantry list in our parish bulletin. We are the widows, and like the widows in Holy Scripture, we tend to focus on how little we have and how far it has to stretch. But God tells us to give without fear, to give without restraint, and to give to the stranger as though he were a man of God. . . or even Our Lord himself.


It is an important lesson for our times. How can we receive the Bread of Life, but deny others the simple ingredients for mere bread? How can we enjoy Mother Church, where the doors of the House close, and we the children are permitted to remain inside and receive the gift of purest wheat, and then not go out those doors and give to others?


Find a food pantry and give today. Give without fear, give without restraint, and give as though the stranger were Our Lord himself.


The Blessed Mother, the Widow and Mother at the cross, has given us the Bread of Life. Let us go and do likewise.

Elisha and the Widow

Elijah and the Widow

Elijah is the greatest prophet.


In fact, at the Transfiguration, Elijah appeared with Our Lord, as did Moses. Moses represented the Law; Elijah represented the Prophets. And Our Lord was revealed at the Transfiguration as the fulfillment of both the Law and the Prophets.


Elijah was a larger-than-life kind of guy. He went toe-to-toe with the evil King Ahab and his even more depraved wife, Jezebel. He told them that God was angry with them for worshipping foreign Gods. “As the Lord, the God of Israel lives, whom I serve, during these years there shall be no dew or rain except at my word.”


And so it did not rain. For years and years!


At first, God sent Elijah off to a brook and commanded the ravens to bring him bread and meat in the morning and the evening. But eventually, even the stream dried up.


Elijah followed the Spirit’s leading to Zarephath, where he met a widow and her son. Elijah asked the widow for something to drink and some bread to eat.


Sir, I have only enough oil and flower to make one small loaf of bread. Before you arrived, I planned to take that handful of flour and little portion of oil, bake it, share it with my son, and then we can die together.


But Elijah told her not to be afraid. God wouldl take care of them both, if she would take care of him. The widow could have told the prophet to leave. She could have clung to her last bit of food, perhaps even keeping secret the fact that she had any supplies at all. Instead, she did as the stranger said.


The handful of flour and little portion of oil lasted a year, and the three did not go hungry.


In time, the widow’s son became sick and died. Overcome with grief, the widow blamed Elijah. You have come to my house, and now God’s attention has turned to me and He has seen my guilt. And so, he has taken my son from me.


Elijah had compassion. Surely, he knew the woman’s virtues and vices well after a year. But the thing that touched his heart was that this woman, who had shared everything she had, now had lost the thing that was most important to her.


And Elijah took the boy in his arms. He carried the lifeless boy into the upper room where Elijah stayed, and he prayed over him.


If you are unfamiliar with Elijah, then you may not know that Elijah had God’s ear. He could ask God to hold back rain, and God would hold back the rain. He could ask God to bring down rain, and God would open the heavens and pour down rain like crazy.


He could beg for fire from heaven, and fire would come down and set a stack of wood ablaze – even though the wood was soaked with so much water that the water pooled up all around it.


And now, Elijah interceded for the widow’s son. Three times, he covered the boy and begged God to raise him. “O Lord, my God, let the life-breath return to the body of this child.”


And the son rose up, and Elijah gave the boy to his mother, saying to her, “Your son is alive.


According to tradition, Our Lady was a widow at the time of the crucifixion. Most theologians believe that St. Joseph had already passed away, or surely he would have been at Mary’s side.


And so, we see the parallel in the two stories. A mother who gives all that she has - bread for the prophet, only to lose a son - but ultimately that son rises again. Even the image of three petitions reminds us of the passing of three days.


Our Lady gave all that she had as well - Bread of Life to the world, only to lose a son - but ultimately that son rises again after three days.


This was not so that Mary could see and believe, as it was for the widow in Elijah’s day. It was so that the world would be able to say precisely what that widow said to Elijah when he gave her back a living son. “Now indeed I know . . . the word of the Lord comes truly from your mouth.”


And today, every time we go to Mass, we can receive this One who is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets. We can say to God, as Elijah said to the widow, please give me of this Drink and give me of this Bread, for I know, the word of the Lord comes truly from your mouth.

Elijah and the Widow

Bathsheba, Queen Mother to King Solomon

(painting of King Solomon, the son of Bathsheba and King David)

I don’t know why we overlook some of the vices of Old Testament women but focus on the scandals of others. Take Bathsheba. Most of the writing about her (and the art that portrays her) deals only with that one infamous day when King David sees her bathing on a rooftop and enlists his authority to gain the object of his desire.


And yet, there is so much more to this story. It isn’t simply about a king who sees a woman, summons a woman, seduces a woman and renders her pregnant and husbandless. While these offenses are staggering, we miss the whole point of the story if we don’t look further.


The prophet Nathan comes to David and tells him a little story, knowing that a parable sometimes convicts the heart far better than a tirade.


And David repents.


God hears his cry for mercy and forgives him.


Even though God is merciful, he demands recompense. David is heart broken when he realizes that his new son will pay the price for David and Bathsheba’s sin.


True to his word, God takes the life of the baby boy, but God blesses David once again, and we get a glimpse into the full plan of salvation.


All of us are part of fallen humanity. All of us have been born into sin and then added our own personal sin on top of that. We must repent, as David did. We will receive forgiveness, as David did. We must make restitution, as David did.


And God will bless us, as He did David.


It all pivots on the death of an innocent son. Indeed, a very high price to pay for sin.


But if this story reveals for us some of the mystery of salvation, then maybe Bathsheba reveals a few secrets about the Mother of the Son.


Bathsheba is given another son who is destined to be a great king. A son dies because of sin, and now a son lives because of blessing. And that son assumes the throne.


Here’s an interesting thing about ancient civilizations, including this one. Because the king had many brides, a woman did not receive the title of queen until her son took the throne. The queen was not married to the king, because there were far too many wives vying for such a title. And they couldn’t all be called queen. Actually, the position of queen was held by the king’s mother. She was known as the queen mother. And so it was with Bathsheba. When Solomon was crowned king, his mother became the queen. Not Michal. Not Abigail. Not any of the other wives. Just Bathsheba.


As a former Evangelical Protestant, this was a great help to me in understanding how I can say, Hail, Holy Queen – without choking on the words.


If Mary’s Son has become the King of Kings (of both heaven and earth) then the Mother has become the Queen of heaven and earth.


And if this King assumed the throne, wouldn’t his greatest joy be to receive his Mother to Himself and bestow upon her the same kind of honor earthly kings give to their mothers?


The Queen Mother always intercedes for the people. She has influence with the King. And she has at her disposal many kingdom treasures, which she is authorized to dispense. (Sounds like Marian Theology to me.)


The next order of business for an earthly king, after taking the throne and naming his mother the queen, was to take a bride to himself.


Guess what, Church? You are the lucky bride! And He will come again for you.


While it is tempting to wallow in the scandal that typifies the story of Bathsheba, we actually miss the most important lessons of all if that is all we remember. As with most of the Old Testament stories, the New Covenant is hidden in Old Covenant, and the Old Covenant is fulfilled - and revealed - in the New.


Bathsheba and Mary, one woman pointing us to The Woman.

Bathsheba, Queen Mother to King Solomon

Abigail - a fool's wife, a king's bride

Abigail and her husband had enjoyed David’s company. It had worked to their advantage that David was “on the outs” with King Saul. The fact that David and his men had set up camp near their fields meant that nobody would bother them. It was like having a big brother right next door. Yes, David’s exile from Saul’s presence meant only good things for Abigail and her husband.


But later, when David realizes that he will be passing their way again, David sends a request for provisions. Abigail’s husband blows him off.


A servant informs Abigail of her husband’s social faux pas. He’ll kill us all, I’m telling you. And your husband is a real jerk. He won’t listen to reason.


Abigail doesn’t join in the husband-bashing, but she does take matters into her own hands. She prepares a feast and delivers it herself. When she meets the traveling band of brothers, she gets off her horse and bows to the ground. She begs forgiveness and makes amends for her husband’s ingratitude.


And David accepts her offering. He promises Abigail that he will not retaliate, though he had surely planned to cut down every male, young and old, in her household.


She, alone, had turned back his wrath.


Days later, God shows that he isn’t persuaded so easily. Let the husband repent and be contrite for himself. When that doesn’t happen, God strikes down Abigail’s husband.


Enter the prince (or rather the king-to-be) on a white horse.


When David hears of Abigail’s plight, he sends her a message. Come to me. I will be your husband. I will take care of you, Abigail.


And so she does.


Let’s see. A woman who belongs to a group of people who refuse to acknowledge the one who preserved and protected them (we see this throughout the history of ancient Israel). A woman who stands alone to make amends. A woman who intercedes, runs to meet the King-to-be, and begs for mercy. A woman who rescues the entire household, except the one who holds stubbornly to his errors.


A woman who is plucked out of the quagmire and made the Bride.


Yes, even Abigail is a prefigurement of Our Lady.

Abigail - a fool's wife, a king's bride

Saul's Daughter, David's Wife - a pawn in the hands of men

King Saul’s daughter, Michal, didn’t start out with a bad attitude. It was more like getting a “bad attitude” starter kit from her father, which he watered and tended until it could thrive on its own.


It’s easy to see what went wrong. When King Saul realized Michal was in love with David, he thought he could work it to his advantage. A marriage between the two would tie David to him more closely. And maybe, if Saul was lucky, David would die trying to collect the 100 Philistine foreskins he’d demanded for Michal’s hand in marriage.


But, as before, God’s hand of protection was upon the young man, and David returned with twice the requisite foreskins.


Michal was a happy bride. She even covered for David when her father became homicidally jealous and made plans to kill David. But that’s where Michal’s moral fiber begins to break down. The first thing she does after David escapes is lie to her father. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t let him leave. Don’t blame me, Father.


After David narrowly escapes Saul’s clutches, King Saul marries Michal off to another man. Maybe she had to go with it. Maybe she felt her father was testing her allegiance. Regardless of the reasons, Michal’s life begins to get more and more tangled.


It’s hard to know what was going on in Michal’s mind at this point, but definitely something snapped. She remarries and starts living life as someone else’s wife. Later, when David gains power, he sends for his wife, Michal, and she returns, reluctantly. In a scene that shows the absurdity of marriage and remarriage, Michal’s new husband follows his wife’s entourage from behind. Crying. Yes, crying.


Michal is tired of being an object in every man’s eyes. There is only one thing she has left to control, her own attitude. And so, she turns into a very bitter woman.


When David celebrates at the return of the Ark of the Covenant, Michal completely scorns him and unleashes her tongue against him. Ridiculing God’s anointed one (King David) is a pretty serious offense. What makes it even worse is that we know she is scorning the holiest thing the Hebrew people had. The Ark that contained the golden jar of manna, the Law of Moses on stone tablets, and Aaron’s staff which had budded.


This Ark, an object no man could touch without paying for it with his life, this gold-covered tabernacle for God’s greatest gifts to the Hebrew people, where the Shekinah glory of God rested, this Ark which prefigures Our Lady, this is the object of her scorn.


Is it any wonder that we, as a society, have difficulty recognizing the holy and sacred in things around us? When we are used and abused, what keeps us from becoming bitter? Don’t we do the same thing? Don’t we redirect our anger and frustration toward God and things that we should hold sacred and holy?


I’ve been there. The mixed messages from those in authority. The marriage gone wrong. The devastation of divorce. My own perception that Catholics make far too much of Mary (the New Ark of the Covenant). Self-righteous. Self-indignant. Self-satisfied.


I know Michal. I have been this woman.


To see the holy, to recognize the sacred once again, it requires a massive amount of grace.


And a little crack in the door to one’s heart.


Let us pray that Our Lady of Grace will look with mercy on those who have been ill-treated, and that little lost daughters will be brought back and given new hearts. May they be given hearts that can love God without bitterness or scorn.

Saul's Daughter, David's Wife - a pawn in the hands of men

I finally did it - now it's your turn

I didn't own a red envelope. I knew I would have to get to the store. So today, I looked for a box of red envelopes in the scrapbooking/office supply section. I came up with nothing. So many colors, but no red envelopes.So, I had a choice. I could go to another store. Or, I could see if there were any boxed sets in the stationery department.

I found what I was looking for. Imagine my heavy heart when I realized the card and envelope set was for invitations to a baby's first birthday party.

I opened the package this evening and wrote across the back flap. I addressed the envelope. And now I have a card for a baby's first birthday. I'm going to put that card in my Bible. It will be a reminder to pray for every unborn baby. If you haven't sent the President your red envelope, please do it today.

I finally did it - now it's your turn

The Cross of the Contemplative

I am a contemplative by nature. My favorite place (other than on my knees at Mass) is my home. If I had my preference, I would stay at home every day and contemplate spiritual things. Then, when I felt really adventurous, I would hide away with my computer and write my thoughts. If I really felt like taking a risk, I would post the thoughts on the computer or send them to an editor for review.

You see, I simply love being a reclusive Catholic writer. But God sometimes asks me to step out of my comfort zone. Like He did today.

Contemplatives are used to praying for all those active in the faith. We lift you before the Throne. But sometimes, we need your prayers. Like I do today.

So, dear active ones, if you would, please say a prayer for me today as I step out of my comfort zone and do something new and a little adventurous for me.

The Cross of the Contemplative

Hannah and little Samuel

Hannah wanted a child. Month after month, she felt forgotten by God. One year, she went to the Temple with her husband. There, Hannah prayed for a child.


I promise you God, if you give me this one thing I desire more than anything else, I promise I will give him back to you. Please, God. Please.


When the priest entered the sanctuary, all he saw was a distraught woman. Her lips were moving, but nothing was coming out of her mouth. Eli, the priest, scolded the woman and told her she had to leave. You cannot be drunk in this place, woman.


Oh, sir, I am not drunk. I am pleading with God for a child, but He has not heard me. What will I do?


Today, the priest or counselor might sit with the woman and suggest that she consider adoption, or go back to school and find a way to serve God that way, or “mother” other people’s children (things that are probably almost as insensitive as being scolded for being drunk in the sanctuary when you really are in great distress).


But in Hannah’s day, these were not viable options. Married women had children. That is what they did. And Eli understands the woman's great need for a child. Hannah’s husband had tried to console her by telling her he loved her totally and completely, with or without children.


But the truth was, in their culture, a married woman was judged on whether or not she could produce a child.


So, that day, when the priest realized that he had misjudged the young woman, he felt great compassion on her. God has heard your prayers, dear one. Within a year, you will have a son.


Hannah might have left and forgotten all about Eli, the priest. As soon as she became pregnant, she might have even forgotten all about God. But she didn’t. She gave birth to a son, and named him Samuel. When he was weaned, she brought him back to the Temple –


And gave him to Eli!


Here is the son God has given me. And now, I give him back to God.


A mother who gives her son to God, fully, without strings. Now, who does that remind you of? Before you decide that Hannah isn’t much of a prefigurement for Mary, turn to Holy Scripture and read Hannah’s song. Her canticle matches Mary’s with uncanny precision. (See I Samuel 2:1-10)


Indeed, Mary had to have been very familiar with Hannah’s song.


In a previous post, we saw how the Ark of the Covenant prefigured Our Lady, as well. Keep that in mind as we look at one more chapter in Samuel and Hannah’s story.


When he was a little older, Samuel was sleeping near the Ark of the Covenant. He heard someone calling to him. Samuel, Samuel.


Samuel ran into Eli’s room and said, Yes, Eli, you called me.


Eli said, No Samuel. I didn’t call you.


Three times this happens, and then Eli has an “ah-ha” moment. Samuel, next time you hear your name called, I want you to do something else. Don’t come running into my room. Say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”


Of course, in a very short time, God comes calling again. And this time, Samuel is ready with the correct response.


Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.


God tells Samuel that he is very disappointed in Eli’s sons. They will not inherit the spirit of God when Eli dies. They will not be priests or prophets of the Lord Most High. No, God has chosen another one to bring His message to the people. And the one God has chosen is Samuel.


If Samuel prefigures Our Lord, then his mother Hannah (and the Ark of the Covenant) prefigure Our Lady. Samuel went on to guide Israel in those final years from the age of judges into the era of Israel’s monarchy.



And God blessed Samuel, and the Spirit of God rested upon him.


(Hannah gave birth to five more children.)

Hannah and little Samuel

Ruth, the third foreign mother named in Our Lord's lineage

Life in Bethlehem was difficult for the foreign-born widow. Ruth’s future was rather dim. Wake up every morning, go into the field, glean whatever you can, gather whatever the harvest crew leaves behind. Deal with the ridicule, the stares, the teasing and snide remarks, all for a handful of grain. Barely enough so a young woman and her mother-in-law won’t starve.


Go to bed, bone-tired. Get up early and do it all over again.


Today. Next year. Every year, until you are too old to do it. And then, who will take care of you when you are Naomi’s age? Who will take care of you, Ruth?


But God had a plan.


The Hebrew people might not have been inclined to embrace a foreigner (let alone a foreign widow, who had almost no status in their culture). But Boaz was no run-of-the-mill Hebrew man.


He was wealthy. He owned a number of fields. He was well-liked in the community, a leader. A man of status, with people and harvest crews under him.


And he was the son of a foreigner. His mother? The prostitute from Jericho. Rahab.


We remember Rahab, the woman who hid the Hebrew spies, the second foreigner in the list of three women named in Our Lord’s lineage.


And perhaps God chose Boaz to join the line. . . because he would have a soft spot in his heart for a foreign-born woman, like Ruth.


One day, while in the field, Boaz asks about the woman who gleans with the other women. Who is she? I don’t recognize that one.


That’s Ruth, my lord. Naomi’s daughter-in-law. She is here every day. Sun up, sun down. She comes behind us like the other gleaners, to gather what we leave, and to take it back to Naomi.


Really. She does that for Naomi?


Every day.


Hmm. Very good. Let her glean. Oh, and leave a little extra behind for her. And tell the men to leave her alone. They mess with her; they deal with me. Make sure they understand.


Yes, Sir.


Boaz finishes reviewing the field and the workers. Before heading off to another field, he approaches Ruth. He tells her that she is welcome to glean in his field. And he tells her to stay in his field. Here, she will be safe. He promises her this.


Night after night, Ruth returns to Naomi. And each night, she returns with more and more grain. Finally, Naomi has to know, Where are you gleaning, Ruth?


In the field that belongs to Boaz, Naomi.


Naomi is silent. She is a very bright woman, and she wonders. . .


Boaz. Do you know what is interesting about Boaz, Ruth?


No, Naomi, what is that?


He is a relative. Ruth, he is our relation, distant relation to be sure, but relation none the less. Here’s what you must do: Go to the harvest floor. Watch for Boaz. He will be there. When he retires for the evening, follow him. He will lie down to sleep. Once he is asleep, go to him, uncover his feet. The cool air will awaken him. When he stirs and wakes up, you are to tell him that he is your kinsman redeemer. Ruth, he will know what this means. You see, he is in line to marry you, if only he chooses to do so.


Naomi, what if he does not want me there? What if he laughs or sends me away?


You were in his field, weren’t you? Look at this grain! Ruth, you have never brought this much home. I’m telling you. He will not send you away.


Ruth obeys Naomi. When she uncovers Boaz’ feet, he wakes up and sees Ruth, and asks her why she has come. When Ruth explains, he does not laugh. He does not yell. He seems sad for a moment, and then he replies, Yes, Ruth, but there is one closer than I who has a greater claim to you. He must first relinquish his right to you. I promise you, I will take care of this. I will send for you, once he withdraws his right to you.


The very next day, Boaz seeks the one with the greater claim, and after presenting the man with the “property that belonged to Naomi’s husband,” the man relinquishes his claim before the elders. It sounds like too much baggage to him, Naomi and her foreign daughter-in-law. He offers it all to Boaz.


And Boaz clarifies with the elders, You have heard what he says.


We have, my lord.


And the two marry. And Boaz and Ruth have a son, Obed. Naomi bounces the boy on her knee, filled with joy once again. A grandmother in the eyes of her community – and in the eyes of God. Once more, blessed.



And Obed has a son, and names him Jesse.


And Jesse has a son, and names him David.


And David has a son. . .


Son of David, born in the City of Bethlehem, a savior, who is Christ the Lord.


And you will find him, lying in a manger.


According to the Gospel of Luke. . . a messiah. . . with only three matriarchs named in the lineage. . . Tamar, and Rahab, and Ruth.


I like the concept of a kinsman redeemer. It is one who comes to claim us, when we have no hope left. And like Boaz, he must settle a score with one who has a greater claim, for we are really sinners, and we have no right to the Messiah’s gift of redemption.


Except, that the score was settled on Calvary. And now, a New Covenant is in place. We have a Kinsman Redeemer.


And His name is Jesus, the Christ.


You are Ruth. And your Kinsman Redeemer has come.

Ruth, the third foreign mother named in Our Lord's lineage

Teaser for the next post. . . keep reading

I will treasure this Miraculous Medal, and finger it so often that the gold-plating wears off, and your dress turns silver.

For what I find, if I go far enough with you, is not gold plating, or even silver underneath, but the House of Gold where I can enter.

Teaser for the next post. . . keep reading

Ruth - the pre-writing

I thought I had written this article and it was ready to post. All I had to do, I thought, was locate the Word document and do a quick Cut-and-Paste.


When I pulled up the document, all I had written was this:


“Naomi and Ruth - Mary and Me”


No background story about how Naomi becomes Ruth’s mother-in-law. No explanation about how Ruth’s husband dies and Naomi decides to go back to Bethlehem to be with her people. Nothing about how Ruth begs to go with Naomi, but the other daughter-in-law stays in Moab.


Nothing about what happens back in Bethlehem. All I had was:


“Naomi and Ruth - Mary and Me”


Tomorrow, I will have more for you. I’ll tell you all about Naomi and Ruth and what happens when they get to Bethlehem. But for now, I will just tell you this. Naomi and her husband ended up in Moab because a famine hit Bethlehem. After they moved, Naomi’s husband dies. Her sons marry Moabite women, but then her sons die, too. And Naomi just wants to go back home. When she tells her daughters-in-law, Ruth begs to go along. Naomi tries to talk the young lady out of it, reminding her that she will find another husband in Moab, but Bethlehem has nothing for Ruth. There are no more sons waiting in the wings to marry the young widow when they get there. Nothing but begging for food and scrounging for a living. But this is what Ruth says to Naomi,


Where you go, I will go. Your God will be my God. And your people will be my people.


You see, I know why that document said only this:


“Naomi and Ruth - Mary and Me”


It is really very simple. It is my own private shorthand and this is what it means:


I am Ruth. When I became Catholic, I realized that Our Lady is very much like Naomi. I had to leave behind so many close relationships, so many familiar faith practices, and I had to embrace a faith culture that was unfamiliar. Yes, even the veneration of Mary was very new, very strange. I had to say, that’s okay, Mary. Where you go, I will go. You are here, in this Church. I will be here, too.


Your God will be my God, and what the Church teaches, I will embrace. All of it, even the most difficult teachings about you, dear Mother.


And your people, these strange Catholic people, with their Stations of the Cross, and their Signs of the Cross, and their Veneration of the Cross, and the Rosary, and Purgatory, and strange prayers, and Holy Days, and Saints’ names that I cannot remember and their list of Saints’ Days - the whole lot of them, they will be my people, too.


Mary, where you go, I will go.


I will stand with you at the foot of the Cross.


I will kneel with you.


I will cry with you.


I will fly to you, oh Mother of the Word Incarnate.


I will learn these new prayers.


I will treasure this Miraculous Medal, and finger it so often that the gold-plating wears off, and your dress turns silver.


I will love you, and cling to the hem of your mantle.


Yes, I will go where you go. Your God will be my God. And your people will be my people.


Naomi and Ruth. Mary and Me. It’s shorthand for everything that went into the journey home.


(More on Naomi and Ruth – and Bethlehem – on Monday.)

Ruth - the pre-writing

Delilah's Deadly Beauty

Let’s face it. A woman with great looks wields great power. It gives her all the tools necessary to get a man to do almost anything.

And with power comes great accountability.

Holy Scripture provides us with many examples of beautiful women who loved God above all and their beauty was His to use. We think of Queen Esther and Judith. Their beauty served God well.

But then there’s Delilah. A real hottie, and her beauty wasn’t lost on Samson.

Samson was a judge in Israel, gifted by God with great power, something like God’s super-hero. The Philistines just couldn’t “get” why this guy was so strong. They had to know his secret. What would be akin to kryptonite for this guy? Did he have an Achilles’ heel?

But every man has a weakness, and Samson’s was a pretty face.

Delilah wooed him and when he was most vulnerable, she asked him to tell her the secret. Why are you so strong, my love?

When he wouldn’t tell her the truth (after pleading three times), she pouts. You don’t really love me, do you!

And so, in one of the dumbest acts in human history, Samson tells Delilah the secret he shares with God alone. He has a covenant with God; Samson can never cut his hair. To cut his hair is to break covenant with God.

When Samson is asleep, Delilah shaves his head, and when he awakens, the Philistines are upon him. Only this time, God’s favor is gone.

It was a difficult lesson. Years pass, and Samson is used and abused by the enemy. One day, the Philistines have a great party. They bring out Samson and chain him to the pillars, to get a laugh at Samson’s expense. He is old and blind. Humbled beyond recognition. But God has watched Samson, and He is ready to bless him once again.

Samson lifts a prayer to God, one more time. Bless me this one last time, Oh Lord.

And the power of God comes upon him, and he tosses back his head and shakes his hair like a lion in mid-roar.

He grips the pillars, and with a mighty effort, he pulls them to the ground.

The building falls and the enemy is crushed. Samson is among the dead.

We don’t know if Delilah is there. We aren’t told what happens to her. But we have seen pretty faces come and go. We can almost imagine her fate. We’ve known women with good looks (and an evil heart) and we’ve seen how miserable they are later in life. We can almost imagine Delilah after about a decade or two. Her beauty fades, and she is considered replaceable by the kind of men that gravitate to her. Eventually, all she has left are the bitter memories.

But it doesn’t end there. Imagine Delilah as she stands before God. . . and gives an accounting of what she did with the only gift she had.


Charm can be deceiving, and beauty fades away, but a woman who honors the LORD deserves to be praised. (Proverbs 31:30)

Delilah's Deadly Beauty

Dad's Statement of Faith

I ran across one of my dad's college papers. It was titled "Statement of Faith." I find things like this fascinating. I sat and read all four pages, including the condescending red ink some professor had jotted down in the margin.

The paper was well written and seemed to cover all the basics, except of course the four marks of the Church, but then, the paper was written when Dad was in Wesleyan Bible College, long before Presbyterian seminary, not to mention that Dad never did enter the Catholic Church. (If you follow my blog, you know that I didn't even come into the Church until after my dad's death. . . when I stumbled upon the writings of St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila.)

At times like these, I am reminded all over again how blessed I am to have this Faith. I don't have to reinvent the wheel. Nobody is standing over me with a red pen. And yet, I don't have to worry that I might be way off base. Truly, I'm standing on terra firma.

It is good to be home.

Dad's Statement of Faith

Deborah - the only female judge in Israel's history

It was the period of time between Joshua’s death and King Saul’s reign. A series of judges guided God’s people. These judges defended the oppressed, delivered them from foreign aggressors, and directed the timing of military action. In short, the judge was a mouthpiece for God.


There is only 1 known female judge; her name is Deborah.


As happened often, the Hebrew people had lapsed in their faithfulness to God. And He, in turn, permitted their enemy to torment them for 20 years.


Finally, God told Deborah it was time to bring down the Canaanite king (Jabin), his general (Sisera), along with their 900 iron chariots.


Deborah went to her general and told him to move against Sisera – now! God has promised you the victory, she says. The general isn’t so sure, and he tells Deborah that he will go into battle, but only if she comes with him.


Deborah pauses, and then she agrees, but there is a price to pay for his request. Because you have demanded that I accompany you into battle, God will still give you the victory. . . but He will give the glory of the victory to a woman.


That day, on the field, Israel defeats her enemy, through the power of God. But Sisera escapes. He enters the tent of a woman named Jael (the wife of a man Sisera considers an ally). She agrees to hide him under a rug. As soon as he is tucked away, Jael takes a tent peg & hammer and drives the stake through the enemy general’s head.


All of Israel gives the glory of the victory to Jael. . . for God has delivered them through the action of 1 woman.


Deborah sings a canticle in chapter 5 of the Book of Judges. In her song, she describes herself as a “Mother in Israel” (5:7) and she praises Jael as one “blessed among women” (5:24).


Phrases such as these remind us of the Blessed Mother. If we linger with this story just a little longer, we see that God is showing us something important about spiritual warfare and The Woman.


We may feel outnumbered and ill-equipped for battle, but God has promised us the victory. He has raised up a Mother in Israel, one blessed among women, who, from the foundation of the world, was destined to crush the head of the enemy – by delivering a Son to her people. In obedience and fidelity, she would bear the Savior. And every generation would call her blessed.


He has lifted up the lowly and cast down rulers from their thrones, and holy is his name.

How long has it been since you sought the help of the Blessed Mother? When God brings down the enemies in your life, be sure to praise Him . . . and share your own "canticle" about the powerful intercession of The Woman.

Deborah - the only female judge in Israel's history

Rahab - the second of three foreign mothers named in the lineage of Our Lord

Holy Scripture tells us that Rahab was a pagan woman who lived in the City of Jericho. She owned an inn – and she was a prostitute. She was an unlikely forerunner to Our Lady, and yet, Rahab is one of only three women mentioned in the Gospel account of Our Lord’s lineage.


Before Joshua led the Israelites into the Promised Land, he sent spies to check out the Canaanite Land. Rahab gave the men shelter, and when the king’s soldiers came to seize the Hebrew spies, Rahab sent them on a wild goose chase. She said they had already left Jericho, but if they hurried, they just might catch up with the spies. When the coast was clear, Rahab told the Israelite spies to head for the hills and wait a few days before they returned to Joshua and reported their findings.


Why had Rahab agreed to hide the men among some stalks of flax in her home? For some reason, Rahab had been given the grace to see that these men served a God far greater than any she had ever known. If she threw in her lot with them, she would be spared the destruction that would come eventually.


The spies guaranteed the woman safety in exchange for providing them a sanctuary. When the walls of Jericho fell, Rahab and her family were the only ones who survived. (An interesting twist to the story – for those who are interested – the spies gave Rahab a red cord to hang from her window, so the Israelites would know where she was and rescue her when the city was destroyed. In his book Salvation is from the Jews, Roy Schoeman tells an interesting story about how Jewish people would hang a red thread every year on the Day of Atonement and they knew God had accepted their prayers when the red thread turned white! This miracle ceased to occur the year Our Lord died on Calvary! 131-132.)


But the story of Salvation History does not end there.


The Book of Joshua doesn’t tell us what happens to Rahab after the destruction of Jericho, but we read about it in I Chronicles 2:12. One of the spies, a man named Salma, marries Rahab. And they have a son named Boaz. And Boaz marries a woman named Ruth.


Ruth and Boaz become the great-grandparents of King David.


The Gospels name just three women in the lineage of the Messiah. All three are foreigners. Tamar, Rahab and Ruth.


And yet, with these women, God gives us the first glimpse into His plan for salvation, a plan that will extend to all people. Every nation will be blessed through the Hebrew people and this lineage.



God also hints at one other important aspect of the salvation story. We will find a sanctuary from destruction through the faithfulness of a woman. We will hide within her house, we will be saved through her offspring.


Who is this woman? The Blessed Mother, of course.

Rahab - the second of three foreign mothers named in the lineage of Our Lord

House of Gold. . . so much more than a metaphor for Mary

A word of explanation:

The Ark of the Covenant was not a woman. Why, then, would I include a post about the Ark of the Covenant in a series about Women of Salvation History? Well, the Women of the Old Testament point to the New Eve. We have seen how these women reveal a little piece of God’s great plan for our redemption. This line of matriarchs quietly runs parallel to the line of patriarchs, and it culminates in the Immaculate Conception (Mary) and the birth of the Incarnate Word of God (Jesus). Any review of the great female prefigurements of the Blessed Mother must include an overview of the Ark of the Covenant, because there is no denying the truth. Our Lady is the New Ark of the Covenant.




My fascination with metaphorical language began in a senior-level English class in high school. I discovered that I love to sort through a novel or short story and unveil the literary symbolism hidden within the text. I think I knew even then that I would eventually study literature and writing.

Nothing compares to the delight I find in studying the metaphorical language contained in the Word of God, but over and over again, I am struck by the realization that what I am studying is more than a metaphor.

One such moment occurred when I took a closer look at Hebrews 9:4-5 (below), which is really a summary of many Old Testament passages that describe the sacred Ark of the Covenant. There is no denying the attention to detail, the significance of the items contained in the Ark of the Covenant, and their prefigurement of the coming Messiah.

First, we see the gold jar of manna, a direct link to the Christ who would become the Bread of Life (John 6:35 and John 6:49-51). Second, we see Aaron’s staff, which is nothing more than a branch cut from a tree, but by some miracle, life has sprouted from this dead branch. Certainly, this prefigures the one who would be conceived in a virgin’s womb, but even more so, the one who would turn death into life (John 5:24). And finally, we read that the Ark of the Covenant contained the stone tablets of the Law, a reminder that with the New Covenant, we would receive a Lord who would be the fulfillment of the Law of Moses.

Our God is a God of details. It’s almost like He was practicing for the big moment. It’s almost like He wanted to give the Israelites clues so they wouldn’t miss the Messiah when He finally came.

But the prefigurement doesn’t end there. Could there be a clue in the word overshadowing?

Could this word reveal the connection between the Ark and Mary? Let it be a sign to you, the virgin will be with child (Isaiah 7:14). Mary is so important, she was the sign. She was the way the people of God could know Jesus was the Messiah. In the Scripture, we see the word “overshadowing” only a few times: resting on the Ark of the Covenant, when the Spirit rested over the waters, at the Transfiguration, and when the Angel Gabriel explained how Mary would conceive. The power of The Most High will overshadow you (Luke 1:35), the angel says in answer to Mary’s question, how can this be (Luke 1:34).

A well known priest, Fr. Benedict Groeschel, once gave an extensive talk on Mary. At the end of the talk, an old woman came up to him and told him he missed the main point. With great humility, the priest asked the old woman what that point was. She told him the most important thing was that Mary was overshadowed.

Oh, to be overshadowed by The Most High, to welcome Jesus into our lives at any cost, to become, in our own small way, an Ark of the New Covenant! And every time we receive the Eucharist, for a space of time, we are an Ark of the Living Manna, the fulfillment of the Law, and the Tree of Life.

The God of yesterday, today, and forever gives us one more glimpse at the Ark. In the book of Revelation (11:19-12:1), we see the two Arks come together in heaven. Just in case we missed the connection, God superimposes these two Arks one last time. Then God’s temple in heaven was opened, and within his temple was seen the ark of his covenant. And there came flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, an earthquake and a great hailstorm. A great and wondrous sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars on her head. She was pregnant and cried out in pain as she was about to give birth.

Indeed, the Word of God is more than a metaphor.

References from Holy Scripture:
Exodus 26 (construction of the Ark), 37(description)
I Chronicles 13 (transfer of the Ark)
Deuteronomy 31(the Law placed within the Ark)
Joshua 3, 4 (the Ark and the priests go before the Hebrew people as they cross through the Jordan and into the Promised Land)
Hebrew 9:4-5 (This ark contained the gold jar of manna, Aaron’s staff that had budded, and the stone tablets of the covenant. Above the ark were the cherubim of Glory, overshadowing the atonement cover.)

House of Gold. . . so much more than a metaphor for Mary

Zipporah - when a woman must take the reigns in obedience

Every wife gets angry with her husband now and then. Even so, it’s a little surprising to run across a story about a ticked off wife in Holy Scripture. Aren’t holy women supposed to always be calm, cool, and collected? Aren’t they supposed to love and obey their husbands? Certainly, they aren’t supposed to get angry and take charge of the situation. Maybe Zipporah didn’t read the job description because she certainly wasn’t a passive wife.

Zipporah’s husband Moses was blowing her off. The boys weren’t circumcised, but when she approached Moses, he told her he’d get around to it - after he’d taken care of all the other stuff God wanted him to do. Free the Israelites. Get them through the desert. He had big fish to fry. The boys could wait.

And yet, Zipporah knew that faith started at home, in the family. A lack of faithfulness to God’s precepts in the home threw everything else out of whack. They were covenant people. Moses needed to be about the business of bringing his own sons into the covenant. She waited and waited. She probably began by hinting around at the subject. Then she probably asked him straight out in case he was too busy to catch innuendo. Then she probably begged him. Finally, she probably got really ticked off.

If the thing hadn’t been so important, she might have let it go. But these were her sons too! Let the rest of them cool their heels at the tent flap. Get the boys circumcised, Moses.

But he just kept ignoring.

I suppose the story is in the Bible because Zipporah didn’t act like a typical Old Testament woman. No second class citizen here. Sure, she was a foreigner. Sure, Moses’ own siblings disliked her and never really treated her like one of them. Who cares? All that matters is pleasing God. Not the in-laws. Not the throngs of Israelites. Not even Moses if it conflicted with what God wanted. Her duty to God came first.

That spunky woman took up the knife and did the job herself.

And Holy Scripture tells us that she did it for her sons. But she also did it so that God would hold His hand back from punishing Moses.

Many generations later, Mary would quietly embrace a New Covenant. She would give her consent to carrying God’s Son, even if it got her into a heap of trouble. Nothing mattered, except what God wanted.

She knew she wasn’t in charge of what Joseph would think or what the rest of the people would think. She didn’t pause to consider what retribution might come when the community discovered that she was with child. All that mattered was following God’s will, and ushering in the New Covenant. All that mattered was this Son and giving Him all that He needed.

The Book of Hebrews talks about the faith of the Old Testament men, and how it was credited to them as righteousness. There was a quiet faithfulness in women like Zipporah as well. And it was credited to her as righteousness. How do we know this? Because God held back His hand and did not punish Moses for this offense.

I suppose Moses was a little angry at his wife. Husbands are like that sometimes. But we wives must remember that God’s will comes first, especially when it comes to our children. We must make sure that they are raised in the faith, even if it means we attend Mass with the children and our husbands stay home. Even if we have to drive them to religion class or take a part-time job to pay for a Catholic school education. Even if it means we must present our children for baptism – or any of the sacraments – all alone.

If Zipporah could do it, so can we.

Render to God what belongs to God. And let the chips fall where they may.

Zipporah - when a woman must take the reigns in obedience

Miriam and Moses

She was probably about the age of the typical middle school girl. Maybe twelve or thirteen. Old enough for her spirit to be waking up to those first whispers of maternal instinct and the powerful love that comes with it, and to know the joy of lavishing that kind of love on a new little brother.

Old enough to have seen the dangers that lurk around this river. Old enough to know what those dangers can do to a baby boy like this one.

In obedience, she takes the baby she and her mother have hidden for three months and places him in a little basket. She walks to the water, with prayers on her tongue and tentative glances toward the reeds. Then she lowers the basket into the water.

The little baby doesn’t stand a chance unless God takes charge of the basket, and Miriam knows it.

With a heart that trusts when there is absolutely no reason to trust, Miriam gives the basket a push. It moves away from the young lady’s hands, into the deeper waters far from shore.

Miriam remembers how it felt to hold the sweet infant close and soothe him when he cried. How she whispered in his ears about the danger that would come if somebody heard him. How she had begged him to sleep, just keep sleeping. How she sang her life-saving lullaby for days and weeks and months, until he was too old for them to hide another day and keep quiet another night.

In this moment as she kneels beside the Nile River, Miriam remembers the many times she has seen this river claim lives, as rivers always do. And she prays that, this day, the river will not claim life, but bring life.

Even though she has absolutely no reason to trust, she trusts.

She moves along the shore and strains to keep her eyes fixed on the basket. Will he sleep? Will the lapping water work to their advantage? Or will the infant wake up and flail his tiny arms? Will his cry awaken a predator?

How can this go well? How can this end in any way but absolute tragedy?

The basket seems to follow a random course. But Miriam knows that God’s hand can sometimes seem just as random as the Nile’s current. And she watches and she prays.

So young, to have been entrusted to such a job. So young, to have endured such a moment. What should she do if the basket goes too far? No, not if, but when the basket goes too far? What will she do when the current takes him so quickly that she cannot see him any longer? Would it be better not to know or to know the worst because it happens right there in front of her eyes?

And then she hears voices and for just a second, her heart seems to stop beating altogether. Happy laughter. Carefree banter. Women bathing in the sacred waters. One of them sees the basket, and commands another to draw it from the water.

What is this? There’s a baby in here! Look, it is a Hebrew baby. Oh, isn’t he precious? Let’s keep him!

But, how will you feed him? He is so young. Certainly, he isn’t yet weaned.

We will find a wet nurse for him! Oh, won’t it be fun!

As the wind carries the conversation across the water to the ears of the older sister, Miriam realizes that something wonderful is happening. This is God’s work. Nothing is random. Nothing is beyond God’s watchful eye. Not even her baby brother.

She steps forward and very humbly lifts her voice, saying, I know a wet nurse. I’ll go get her if you wish.

The daughter of Pharaoh lifts her eyes from the baby who now rests in her arms. Oh, yes, please do that.

And Miriam races home to tell her mother the story. How God has saved their little boy, through water working in tandem with the Spirit of the Living God.

Many years would pass, and this little brother would save them by standing before Pharaoh and demanding that he let the Hebrew people go. God would work many miracles, part the waters, lead them through the desert by a pillar of fire at night and a cloud by day, give them food from heaven, spare them from poisonous snakes, and teach them His law in a deeper way than ever before.

Miriam would see God do mightier things than rescue a baby from the water. That was only the beginning of God’s saving power. A moment when water and the Spirit kiss and a life is spared.

This young lady witnessed all of it. She held a baby boy in her arms and entrusted Him to God. And the Hebrew people find salvation because of her courageous act of faith.

And just as she did when she held the baby in her arms, she sings a song as the Israelites escape through the parted sea.

Our Lady probably wasn’t much older when she held a baby boy in her arms. This baby would be the savior of the world, prefigured by Moses, who saved the Hebrews from slavery. This baby would give to the people the saving water of baptism, prefigured by Moses, who was saved from the Nile and led the Hebrew people to safety through the parted sea as they fled Egypt. This woman would sing a song that would proclaim the good news, Our God saves!

It all began with the young lady named Miriam, who quietly waited among the reeds, interceding and pleading for God to spare the child. In many ways, we can see Our Lady in this young lady. But it doesn’t end there.

We also see Mary in Miriam’s mother. In this analogy, we are like Miriam, holding our breath for God to demonstrate His provision and protection, pleading for God to spare those we love, and springing into action when the moment of salvation is at hand, saying, “I know just the woman for you. Shall I go and call her to come?”

And Mary comes running, because she loves her son. She hears our petitions, because she loves her son. She risks everything, for love of the Son. She will go anywhere to care for the Body of Christ, just as Moses’ mother humbly took the title of a wet nurse so that she could bring life and nourishment to her son.

Miriam and Moses

It's All About Grace

Here’s a question. Are we saved by faith or by works?

Okay, so it’s a trick question. We are saved by grace. But what about faith? According to James, faith without works is dead (2:26) – so our deeds must factor into the mix somehow. But how? Jesus makes it clear that in the end, He will divide the goats from the sheep. Who gets to be called sheep? Those who did the work of the Kingdom. Those who fed the hungry, those who visited the prisoners, and those who clothed the naked. They are the ones to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. (Matthew 25:31-46)

Jesus doesn’t ask them, Am I your personal Lord and Savior? The proof of that is in the pudding. In fact, in Matthew 7: 21 Jesus says “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.” Believing is just the beginning of this journey. We are given the grace to believe, and then we are given the grace to act – to be His hands and feet to a world that desperately needs to be fed, clothed, and visited.

The problem is the word alone, especially when it comes after the word faith. That “alone” was added during the Protestant Reformation. It created two problems for believers. The first problem is that the essence of justification isn’t a faith versus works question. It isn’t an either/or situation. It is a both/and situation.

Second problem. In saying we are saved by faith alone (rather than grace alone), too many believers decided that works are worthless in the eyes of God. Well, some works are worthless. Romans 3:28 says that we are justified by faith without the deeds of the law (Greek Lexicon). Deeds of the law are worthless. But deeds of grace can mean the difference between being called a goat or a sheep.

I think there is something more, too. Any analysis of grace that doesn’t put the emphasis on God rather than us is simply wrong. The grace to believe comes from God. The grace to do good works (rather than works of the law) comes from God. We simply respond to the call of grace.

We are justified by grace alone. We aren’t justified by believing, because the Bible tells us that even the devil and his demons believe – and tremble (James 2:19). We aren’t justified by what we do – unless it is done in love for Christ. What you did, you did unto me, enter into your rest (Matthew 25). Yes, says the Spirit, they will rest from their labor, for their deeds will follow them (Rev.13). Even if I have the faith to move a mountain and have not love, I am nothing (I Cor. 13).

Grace is a beautiful and mysterious thing. It helps us to believe as Christ would have us to believe, not as the demons believe, but as sons and daughters of the Most High God. They are the sheep who have an active faith. A faith that is not dead. They are saved by grace alone – which has enabled them both to believe and to do good works for the Lord Jesus Christ.

It's All About Grace

The Adoptive Mother: Pharaoh's Daughter

Pharaoh’s daughter saw the basket. Noticing the basket among the reeds, she sent her handmaid to fetch it. On opening it, she looked, and lo, there was a baby boy, crying! She was moved with pity for him.


Holy Scripture says, she lifted the lid and found the baby. Instantly, she wanted to save him. Suddenly, her life changed because she knew this baby must be permitted to live.



This may be the first example of a conversion from the “culture of death” to the “culture of life.” This may be the first woman who accepted baby killing as “good for the society” – until she comes face to face with a baby and her heart tells her something else.



The pro-life movement has worked from this assumption – and Holy Scripture seems to underscore the message. If only you would lift the lid on the whole abortion thing and really take a good look at what’s inside, you would see for yourself that it is a baby. And your heart wouldn’t let you make any other decision.



The child must live, no matter what.



If only a few people in key places would have the courage to say what Pharaoh’s daughter said. This child must live.

The Adoptive Mother: Pharaoh's Daughter

The Birth Mother: Jochebed

There is very little to say about Jochebed apart from the fact that she was pregnant at the worst time in history. Her people were slaves in Egypt, and Pharaoh feared an uprising of the Hebrew people whose numbers had grown so rapidly.


So he told the midwives to kill every male baby they delivered. Throw them into the Nile, he said.


Into this mess, Jochebed delivers a son. She somehow manages to keep him quiet and hidden for three months. But, she was putting off the inevitable. Someone would find out eventually, and she knew it.


In one of the most amazing maternal acts of trust in God’s Providence, Jochebed placed her son in a basket and told her daughter to take the baby to the Nile. This river, which was supposed to take his life, would actually save it.


You know the baby as Moses. But he hadn’t yet received this name. The name was given to him by Pharaoh’s daughter, and it means I drew him out of the water.


Pharaoh’s daughter decides to keep him, and she sends for Jochebed to nurse the baby. I wonder how Jochebed felt as she held her own son, now that the worst was over, now that he had been spared a terrible death and adopted into the royal line. What was it like, later that same day, when she felt her body calling her to feeding time, and she could lift the baby to her breast as she had done for three months, this time without fear that they were living on borrowed time.


She had delivered a son, in the middle of one of the worst periods of infanticide. And God had spared him.


Moses, the one who was drawn from the waters, the one who would lead the Hebrew people through even greater waters and into freedom. Moses, the one who would give them the Law, the one who would lead them through the wilderness. The one who would intercede for them before God.



This was no ordinary boy child.


If Moses prefigures Our Lord, who is the fulfillment of the Law, then Jochebed prefigures Our Lady – in many ways. It may have seemed like she, too, was pregnant at the worst possible time. It may have felt like her people were more slave than free. It may have seemed that only divine intervention could keep them alive as they passed through the desert (ironically from the Holy Land into Egypt rather than the other way around). But God had not blinked. This male child would deliver a fallen world, lead them through the desert, and show them the Promised Land His Father had prepared for them from the foundation of the world.


It takes a great writer to weave foreshadowing into the story line, but only God can write history this perfectly, carefully leaving clues for humanity, meticulously weaving a tapestry of Salvation History that would culminate in the New Adam and the New Eve. . . and ultimately in redemption and salvation.

The Birth Mother: Jochebed

Archbishop Fulton Sheen . . . on womanhood

Today's Graceline comes to us from Women of Grace ministries:

"To a great extent the level of any civilization is the level of its womanhood. When a man loves a woman, he has to become worthy of her. The higher her virtue, the more her character, the more devoted she is to truth, justice, goodness, the more a man has to aspire to be worthy of her. The history of civilization could actually be written in terms of the level of its women."
-Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen

(picture of LeAnn, Archdiocese of Oklahoma City)

Archbishop Fulton Sheen . . . on womanhood

This One is for Cindy. . . reprinted by special request for her daughter

There are many portions of the Liturgy of the Mass that resonate with me. It does something to my heart when I hear Father proclaim, This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Likewise, I am humbled when I say the words, I am not worthy to receive You, but only say the word and I shall be healed.


Power-filled words. Truth. Life. There is nothing boring or redundant about this Liturgy. Like Peter, I know these are the words of life. Like Peter, I find myself saying where else can I go? This is where my soul is at home. This is where I find peace.


By nature, I am an anxious person. I worry about everything. Everything.


My children, my husband, my extended family. My students, their parents, the lesson plans. My dog and my house. I worry about what I will say, what I should have said, what I did say. I worry about what I will do, what I should have done, and what I actually did do.


I have sought peace on my knees many times, and sometimes peace has come.


I have put the day’s activities aside to enjoy some entertainment and a diversion from the chaos.


I have sat at the piano or called a friend or sent an e-mail, hoping for respite from my self-imposed stress.


Sometimes, these things work. Sometimes, I find peace and respite from the storms of life, but there is one place that has never failed to erase the anxiety. There is one place that I have always, always experienced grace, and I am freed from the concerns of my little life. Free us from all anxiety. Powerful words. Grace-filled words. Truth. Life.


The Liturgy of the Mass. In the Mass, I am healed and freed. In the Mass, I have some sense of what it was like when Our Lord walked up to someone, touched him, and said, Be healed. And the man went away dancing for joy.


Jesus, Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, grant us peace. Become the Master of our angry seas. And help us to walk on the waters, with our eyes clearly set on you.

This One is for Cindy. . . reprinted by special request for her daughter

Tamar: the first of three foreign mothers in the line of the Messiah

The Gospel account of Our Lord’s lineage mentions just three women by name. Obviously, there were other women in the genealogy running parallel to the Old Testament patriarchs, but only three are named.

Tamar, Rahab and Ruth. Foreigners all.

And yet, these women were hand-picked by God and woven into the fabric of Salvation History, becoming part of the greatest royal household that has ever existed.

The first woman mentioned in the genealogical list is Tamar, a Canaanite. When we first see Tamar in Holy Scripture, she is married to Judah’s son, Er. All we know about Er is that he has offended God (though we aren’t given the details), and he pays for the offense with his life. According to levirate law, the next eligible son must step in and marry the widow. His number one duty as the Kinsman Redeemer is to produce an heir for the deceased brother. Onan, younger brother to Er, takes Tamar as his wife, but he is selfish and refuses to father a child with the young widow, because he does not wish to share any of the family inheritance with such an offspring.

Onan uses his new wife, but he spills his seed on the ground, and Tamar is left childless once again. God takes the life of this husband as well. Tamar turns to Judah for help.

Her father-in-law decides to send Tamar back to her family, but promises to send for her when his younger son is old enough to marry. In time, though, Judah’s own wife dies, and by Levirate law, he is free to marry his own daughter-in-law and provide an heir for his sons’ inheritance. Judah does not send for her.

Tamar waits and waits. She who has been abandoned three times, she who has no hope for a child, she is the one God sees. God chooses Tamar to be named in the line of David, the lineage of Christ, and His will cannot be thwarted by disobedient husbands or a forgetful father-in-law.

One day, Judah passes through Tamar’s town on business. He sees a woman and, thinking she is a prostitute, he lays with her. He does not have the proper payment, so he leaves behind some personal items and promises to send payment.

Months pass. Eventually Judah learns that his sons’ widow is pregnant. Judah is furious. He demands that Tamar pay for her transgression with her life.

Before the sentence can be carried out, Tamar produces the personal items of the one who compromised her. Judah is shocked when he discovers that he is the father of Tamar’s child. Humbled, he admits that his sin is far greater than Tamar’s, and he now does the honorable thing and takes Tamar into his home and cares for her.

Tamar bears him twin sons. Perez and Zerah. Perez becomes the next link in the royal family. An unlikely offspring of an unlikely mother in less than ideal circumstances.

The abandoned and rejected one is raised to a position of noteworthy maternity.

In some ways, Tamar is as much a symbol for Israel as she is a prefigurement of Mary. Like Israel, this Canaanite woman yearns for a child. Israel longs for the Promised Son. Tamar waits as one abandoned and forgotten. Israel waits, a nation that feels forgotten. Abandoned. Rejected. And yet, Israel will become the most blessed of all nations. She will be called the Betrothed One. She will bear the savior to a lost and dying world.

No longer forgotten. Or abandoned. Or rejected.


From Isaiah 54
Raise a glad cry, you barren one who did not bear, break forth in jubilant song, you who were not in labor. For more numerous are the children of the deserted wife than the children of her who has a husband, says the Lord. For he who has become your husband is your Maker; his name is Lord of Hosts. For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with great tenderness I will take you back.

Tamar, the first woman the Gospels name in that Most Royal Family. One of three women, all foreigners. This once abandoned widow has become the next mother of the Promise. A symbol of God’s faithfulness, and a symbol that redemptions will eventually be extended to all people.

Tamar: the first of three foreign mothers in the line of the Messiah