Monday, April 18, 2011
One of Many Entering the Catholic Church at Easter Vigil
http://usccbmedia.blogspot.com/2011/04/ivan-posthumus-conversion-story.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+UsccbMediaBlog+%28USCCB+Media+Blog%29
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
If I Should Die Before I Wake...
When I receive a contributor’s copy of one of my published articles, I usually read it over once and file it away in my office cabinet. It will stay there, collecting dust, until I die and my children sort through the things I have left behind.
No, I don’t have a terminal illness. And I’m not trying to be morbid. But I think it is a safe bet to assume I will die one day, and when that happens, there’s something I want to leave behind for my children. Like Elijah to Elisha, there is a mantle I want to pass on to them.
One day, my children will dig out everything I’ve ever written (which they didn’t have time to read when I was alive) and study it like it contains a directive from the Great Beyond. They will do this in hope that something I have written at some point in the past will ease their pain and make the grief endurable. I know they will do this, because it is what I did when my father passed away.
And when they open the drawer and pull out the file, I’m praying they find this article in the stack, because there is something I want them to know. At this point in their lives, they just aren’t ready to embrace it, but one day that will change.
The year before the crucifixion, Jesus tried to tell the disciples about Holy Communion. They weren’t ready to listen either. Hundreds of followers left Jesus that day. The remaining twelve didn’t really understand, but after His death, eleven of them would begin to make sense of that Most Holy Mystery. They would remember Jesus’ words, and the divine epiphanies would come over them in great waves. They would remember the night He was betrayed. How Jesus had offered Himself to them at the Last Supper. The Eucharistic Meal. Take, eat. This is my body. Take, drink. This is my blood. And they would remember back to the moment a year earlier, when He promised to give them His Flesh and Blood (John 6). Finally, it would begin to make sense.
Many non-Catholic Christians believe Communion is a symbolic meal. I can no longer accept that theology. When a dying person contemplates his final words to those he loves, he doesn’t usually think it’s a good time to play a game of let’s pretend. It is time to be real. It is time to give those who remain what they need to make it through the dark night. And people of faith take that moment very seriously.
What we say when we are about to die has staying power. There is a reason why people make deathbed requests. There is a reason why survivors keep deathbed promises. Final words are powerful.
When I die, if I have a moment or two with those I love, I want to convey something important, something that will help them through the sorrow and suffering they will face. I want to leave them something that will bring us together again one day. And the one thing that can do all this is Our Eucharistic Lord. Unless you eat the Flesh there is no life in you. That’s what I want to tell them.
While it is a safe bet to assume that I will die one day, it is not a safe bet to assume that I will have a few moments alone with my children to share this important message. And so, I file away the articles. And say a prayer.
Jesus Christ had that perfect moment with His followers. As the Second Person of the Trinity, He’d had all eternity to plan what He would say at that Last Supper. And the message He had to share was the most important message of all time. It was time to usher in a New Covenant. It was the last quiet moment that He would have with the disciples before they scattered and He made His way to the cross. This was no joking matter.
It was time to offer to them the Bread of Life.
Because I may not have that perfect moment with my children, I keep that powerful message safely tucked away. My hope is that one day, when I can no longer share my faith by simply inhaling and speaking, when my fingers are still and my computer is in a landfill somewhere, when my life is just a memory to a handful of people, those dearest to me will pull a tattered article from the cabinet and the Catholic faith will begin to make sense to them. And I pray that in that moment, they will understand what Jesus meant when He gave the disciples his Body and Blood. And I pray that the Eucharist will call to them, speaking above their grief, and say come this way. I pray that they will find their way home through the path of grief, to find Jesus Christ waiting for them in the Mass.
And by grace, I will meet them there as well.
Witness: An Unexpected Encounter
I just read this. It's not fiction, though it sounds like something out of a book. No. This is real. This is where the real world collides with the Real Presence. Like the blogger, I am convinced we'd all be like this poor woman, if not for Christ. There but for the grace of God go I... -Denise
Witness: An Unexpected Encounter: "At Eucharistic Adoration yesterday a woman approached me and started talking. She appeared to be crazy, as in clinically needy. I had been w..."
Witness: An Unexpected Encounter: "At Eucharistic Adoration yesterday a woman approached me and started talking. She appeared to be crazy, as in clinically needy. I had been w..."
Monday, April 11, 2011
At the End of My Rope
There are some things that make my heart hurt. A real ache.
I sense it when I read John 17. And that's what we're covering this week in my Paul VI class.
My heart aches because I hear the words of Christ. I know what He prayed for in His fleeting moments with those He loved dearly, with those He was sending into the world.
He prayed that their unity would be made perfect.
We are nearing that Holy Thursday, that hour of Our Lord's priestly prayer.
And we are not one.
Not even close.
Lately, I have been contemplating the Communion of Saints. When I came into the Church, it was easier to embrace this teaching if I distilled it into something I fully understood. The Saints in heaven pray for us before the Altar of Our Lord, before His Holy Throne. They are alive in Christ, not dead. And they are grafted into the Body of Our Lord. Their prayers are efficacious. As Sacred Scripture says, the prayers of a righteous man availeth much. And so it is with the holy ones in heaven. They pray with more efficacy than we can, because they are perfectly holy and one with Christ.
But there's more to this Communion of Saints than can be extrapolated from the title: heavenly prayer partners. And I'm getting it, bit by bit.
I'd share it here, but I still don't quite know how to capture it in words. Because it's more than my words. Bigger than that. I have this sense that I'm held up by these holy ones, embraced by them, encouraged by them, surrounded by them - and that's more than being a prayer partner. It is mystery. It is the Mystical Body of Christ.
The frustrating thing about not being able to put something into words is that I'm at a complete loss to share it with non-Catholics. My soul demands something of me (do all I can to foster the full Christian unity that Jesus prayed we would have), but my intellect and writing ability are not up to the challenge.
I have crossed the Tiber. I am on the other side. And I turn around to look at those I love who are standing on the banks on the other side of the Tiber. They are happy over there. Having a little picnic. Little gatherings dot that side of the River. Blankets and quilts. Clusters here and there. And I see my family happily gathered together in one spot. They sometimes glance across the River and look at me - wishing that I hadn't left them - not understanding why I felt it necessary to get to the other side.
I look down at the rope I am holding. I have tried to toss it to them so many times. And on days like today, I see that it is too short. I cannot, no matter how hard I try, span the distance and help them to get across the River to Rome.
The rope I hold is made up of words. Ideas. Clever metaphors. Inspirations. Analogies.
But it is not the right rope for this job.
How will we ever be one? Is it possible for Our Lord's prayer on the night He was betrayed to become reality - ever?
Yes. It is possible. Archangel Gabriel proclaimed it. For nothing is impossible with God.
But the rope that is most trustworthy is not one that is made up of my own words. It is made up of Christ's words.
It is a prayer.
Father, make them one, as we are one. I in you, and you in me. That the world may know that you have sent the Son. And I pray not only for these, but for the ones who hear of me through them. That they, too, will be one. -Jesus Christ, on the night of the Last Supper.
I sense it when I read John 17. And that's what we're covering this week in my Paul VI class.
My heart aches because I hear the words of Christ. I know what He prayed for in His fleeting moments with those He loved dearly, with those He was sending into the world.
He prayed that their unity would be made perfect.
We are nearing that Holy Thursday, that hour of Our Lord's priestly prayer.
And we are not one.
Not even close.
Lately, I have been contemplating the Communion of Saints. When I came into the Church, it was easier to embrace this teaching if I distilled it into something I fully understood. The Saints in heaven pray for us before the Altar of Our Lord, before His Holy Throne. They are alive in Christ, not dead. And they are grafted into the Body of Our Lord. Their prayers are efficacious. As Sacred Scripture says, the prayers of a righteous man availeth much. And so it is with the holy ones in heaven. They pray with more efficacy than we can, because they are perfectly holy and one with Christ.
But there's more to this Communion of Saints than can be extrapolated from the title: heavenly prayer partners. And I'm getting it, bit by bit.
I'd share it here, but I still don't quite know how to capture it in words. Because it's more than my words. Bigger than that. I have this sense that I'm held up by these holy ones, embraced by them, encouraged by them, surrounded by them - and that's more than being a prayer partner. It is mystery. It is the Mystical Body of Christ.
The frustrating thing about not being able to put something into words is that I'm at a complete loss to share it with non-Catholics. My soul demands something of me (do all I can to foster the full Christian unity that Jesus prayed we would have), but my intellect and writing ability are not up to the challenge.
I have crossed the Tiber. I am on the other side. And I turn around to look at those I love who are standing on the banks on the other side of the Tiber. They are happy over there. Having a little picnic. Little gatherings dot that side of the River. Blankets and quilts. Clusters here and there. And I see my family happily gathered together in one spot. They sometimes glance across the River and look at me - wishing that I hadn't left them - not understanding why I felt it necessary to get to the other side.
I look down at the rope I am holding. I have tried to toss it to them so many times. And on days like today, I see that it is too short. I cannot, no matter how hard I try, span the distance and help them to get across the River to Rome.
The rope I hold is made up of words. Ideas. Clever metaphors. Inspirations. Analogies.
But it is not the right rope for this job.
How will we ever be one? Is it possible for Our Lord's prayer on the night He was betrayed to become reality - ever?
Yes. It is possible. Archangel Gabriel proclaimed it. For nothing is impossible with God.
But the rope that is most trustworthy is not one that is made up of my own words. It is made up of Christ's words.
It is a prayer.
Father, make them one, as we are one. I in you, and you in me. That the world may know that you have sent the Son. And I pray not only for these, but for the ones who hear of me through them. That they, too, will be one. -Jesus Christ, on the night of the Last Supper.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Catholic by Grace diocesan column for April 2011
When I was in my early twenties, I listened to a lot of evangelical Christian music. If a group was a Dove Award recipient, I had their CD. I went to as many concerts as I could afford. On Sunday mornings, our Protestant worship services loosely followed the pattern of a Christian concert. We judged our Sunday mornings by the special music performance and the pastor’s homiletics. We based our assessment of sermon and song on how closely they matched their professional counterparts in the big leagues: TV evangelists and Dove Award recipients.
One of the first things an outsider notices about the Catholic Mass is that there is nothing performance-based about it. It’s all about prayer. Everything is a prayer. By design, true prayer is God-focused.
Paragraph #2559 of the Catechism tells us that humility is the foundation of prayer. We come to God humbly, like the beggar. We do not come to Him from our own great heights. We come to Him out of need. We come to Him out of love.
Self is eclipsed by God - or perhaps more accurately, self is absorbed by God. Everything is rendered to God, for God.
Emptied of self, we are ready to receive all of Christ.
These truths are most sublimely actualized when we pray the Mass. Although the cantors are as gifted as any I encountered in my previous walk as an Evangelical, Catholic cantors don’t even try to play by the same rules as their Protestant counterparts. You don’t get the feeling that you are at a concert. You never feel like you should have paid for a ticket and surrendered it at the door.
The cantor is there for one reason: to help us pray the Mass with reverence and great devotion. And the homily doesn’t mimic the message of a self-help guru. The priest or deacon can’t just pick a text at random and run with it. He is called to help us enter into Sacred Scripture and come to a fuller understanding of 2000 years of Church teaching.
In a word, these cantors and musicians, servers and lectors, deacons and priests are all servants.
They are not performers.
One would think that a person might have to sacrifice a lot to be Catholic. One might expect the Mass to be extremely boring – stripped of all the hype. One might wonder why there aren’t more Catholics seeking out mega-churches and claiming their own seats in the auditorium.
For that matter, why would those born and raised beyond the embrace of Mother Church – those who believe they are free to choose any place of worship without guilt – why would they ever deliberately walk away from the performance-style worship of other faith communities and be content with the Catholic Mass?
The answer is almost the same for every convert. In the Mass, heaven touches earth, and we receive the Incarnate Word, Jesus Christ.
The pinnacle moment of my year is the Liturgy of the Eucharist at Easter Vigil. I do not say this lightly. No kidding, it is the best Saturday night of the year. I wouldn’t be surprised if heaven itself opened up, and I could see angels turning toward the altar. I wouldn’t be surprised to see the saints weeping for joy right along with the rest of us.
And it isn’t just the priest praying the Mass that pierces my soul. I would willing trade all my albums, tapes, and CDs just to listen to the cantor’s voice as she sings the Litany of Saints on that same night.
But there’s more. Doesn’t it get to you when you see a little child hold the prayer book while the parish priest leads the faithful? Really, can you think of anything sweeter than how that little one looks up to the priest and waits for him to close the cover - how the child quietly walks back to his seat and waits patiently for the moment he is needed next?
Even that little child knows that it isn’t about him. It is about helping the people to pray.
That’s powerful stuff. In moments like that I realize how the Church has preserved the proper meaning of worship. Even with all the changes in technology, all the big screens and sound systems, even with the stage-centered, entertainment-based Christianity that mimics some American Idol episode - for two thousand years, the Catholic Church has remained holy. Christ-centered.
This is the Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.
And there is no performance anywhere in this country of entertainers and gifted speakers that can match the beauty and glory of the Divine Liturgy.
Do we pray the Mass or do we celebrate the Mass?
I received an email from a woman who took issue with a few things in my last diocesan article. One of her points was that we do not pray the Mass. She said that we celebrate the Mass.
For those who may wonder what the answer is to the question, here's a Catechism reference and a quote by Pope Saint Pius X.
"The Eucharist contains and expresses all forms of prayer..." the Catechism #2643 (see also #2626-#2642 for an explanation on the forms of prayer that make up the Mass).
For those who may wonder what the answer is to the question, here's a Catechism reference and a quote by Pope Saint Pius X.
"The Eucharist contains and expresses all forms of prayer..." the Catechism #2643 (see also #2626-#2642 for an explanation on the forms of prayer that make up the Mass).
"The Holy Mass is a prayer itself, even the highest prayer that exists. It is the Sacrifice, dedicated by our Redeemer at the Cross, and repeated every day on the altar. If you wish to hear Mass as it should be heard, you must follow with eye, heart and mouth all that happens at the altar. Further, you must pray with the priest the holy words said by him in the Name of Christ and which Christ says by him. You have to associate your heart with the holy feelings which are contained in these words and in this manner you ought to follow all that happens at the altar. When acting in this way, you have prayed Holy Mass." - Pope Pius X
In reading the Catechism, we learn that we not only celebrate the Mass together, we do indeed pray the Mass.
Friday, April 8, 2011
In the Trenches: 40 Days For Life
So... last week, I gave this talk....
There's a group of ladies who were wrapping up their 8-week Bible study with an evening celebration. And I had the great joy and blessing of giving the talk that evening.
The main point to the talk? Our spiritual friendships begin as practical encounters that blossom into spiritual and mystical (mystery of Christ) encounters --- but they are not meant to stop there. No, the really amazing thing is they are meant to bless the Church, to become ecclesial. And when they become ecclesial, they become a blessing to the whole world. Spiritual friendships, centered on Christ...
...they are sacred, and almost Sacramental.
It was a great evening. But it gets better. The women "get" it. Check out the email I received last night. This is what they have been doing this week. I tried to read it to my husband, and I couldn't get through it without crying. Very moving.
Today a few of us went down to Planned Parenthood to pray and participate in the 40 days for Life program. There was constant traffic in and out of Planned Parenthood as we held our signs, prayed, and walked the sidewalks. Then around 10:00 two women walked out of the building and one of them started waving a piece of paper and yelling out to those of us that were on the sidewalk "I didn't do it" over and over. We of course were elated and started cheering for her. When they drove to go out of the parking lot we were gathered around the entrance and they stopped and she said again "I didn't do it". I walked over to the car and through her open window she showed me proudly the paper she had been waving earlier...it was an ultrasound picture of "her baby" as she called it. We all cheered for her and told her how proud we were of her making the right decision. I handed her the resource booklet telling her there is help available for her and her baby. It was such a wonderful moment...a life was spared this morning. Praise be to God!
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Because By Your Holy Cross You Have Redeemed The World
I have a San Damiano Cross. It is small - about three inches tall. My parish priest gave it to me the year I was chosen to participate in Holy Thursday foot washing ceremony. It hangs on the thumbtack that holds my desk calendar to the wall. When I switched the month from March to April a few days ago, it wouldn't stay on the thumbtack and kept falling to the floor. (Yes, I caught the symbolism that points to Our Lord falling three times on His way to Calvary.)
I didn't want to leave the cross on the floor, so I picked it up and set it on my office desk.
My grandson Jojo came into the office yesterday to see what I was up to. I picked him up and looked around for something to entertain him for a few minutes. He's just 15 months old and nothing holds his attention for very long. The nearest thing to us was the San Damiano Cross. He took it into his chubby little hands and I said, "Jesus. Jojo, that's Jesus."
I expected him to look at it, almost sure that he'd never seen one of these picture crosses (inhabited Saints' Cross). Instead, he looked at it briefly and then held it up to the calendar on my wall.
I was amazed. He not only knew what it was; he knew where it belonged. And I realized that he was far more aware of holy things than I ever imagined.
Jojo was baptized about a year ago. God is making good on His promise to Jojo - to whisper into his ears of the things of God, to begin to draw this little one to Himself in the deep mystery of sacramental grace, and to be a fountain of living water that bubbles up to salvation.
Lord, by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
I didn't want to leave the cross on the floor, so I picked it up and set it on my office desk.
My grandson Jojo came into the office yesterday to see what I was up to. I picked him up and looked around for something to entertain him for a few minutes. He's just 15 months old and nothing holds his attention for very long. The nearest thing to us was the San Damiano Cross. He took it into his chubby little hands and I said, "Jesus. Jojo, that's Jesus."
I expected him to look at it, almost sure that he'd never seen one of these picture crosses (inhabited Saints' Cross). Instead, he looked at it briefly and then held it up to the calendar on my wall.
I was amazed. He not only knew what it was; he knew where it belonged. And I realized that he was far more aware of holy things than I ever imagined.
Jojo was baptized about a year ago. God is making good on His promise to Jojo - to whisper into his ears of the things of God, to begin to draw this little one to Himself in the deep mystery of sacramental grace, and to be a fountain of living water that bubbles up to salvation.
Lord, by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Treasure Island: Mother Church!
This is the first Catholic by Grace article - published in 2005 in The St. Louis Review. Since then, Catholic by Grace articles have appeared in over 43 diocesan papers in the United States.
There is such wealth in the writings of both early and recent Church fathers.
I am the daughter of a Protestant minister, a recent convert to the Catholic faith, and it saddens me that the lives of these holy men and women never reach the eyes and ears of Protestant laity. I must ask myself why these treasures are kept hidden?
The only answer is that the Protestant founders wanted to close all doors that might lead Protestant laity back to the Catholic faith. Until 24 months ago, I had never been exposed to anything written by any saint – I didn’t even know their names!
Each of us is born into a faith culture; each of us inherits a pool of theology by the lottery of birth. Protestants are taught to be faith seekers – but within the limited pool of truth in which they are born. By limited, I mean not only within the Protestant branch of Christianity, but also within the denominational splinter to which their family clings.
How can we reach Protestants who are confident that their pool of faith is complete? Specifically, how can we get them to be willing to swim for a while in the pool of Catholic faith?
If we give them a day pass to Catholic waters – through the writings of such converts to Catholicism as G.K. Chesterton, David Currie, Marcus Grodi, Scott Hahn and Cardinal John Henry Newman (now Blessed John Henry Newman), among others – it is doubtful they would ever want to go back to their swimming hole. We may also suggest they read Confessions by St. Augustine as well as The Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross, writings that were especially meaningful in my conversion.
A year ago, a member of my parish invited me to accompany her to perpetual adoration. I found myself wondering what might have happened if a Catholic friend had invited me to pray in this manner years ago.
It may have broken through my Protestant self-righteousness. I might have realized that Protestants had no corner on the market in the area of prayer. Perhaps I would have questioned my own prejudice, realizing that Catholics do have a very personal relationship with the Lord.
Would I have asked myself if I was willing to give up the hour between 11 and midnight every Monday night in order to make my way to the church just to sit in the Lord’s Real Presence?
A few months later, my RCIA leader lent me a book, Father Elijah, by Michael D. O’Brien. It might be the best work of fiction I have ever read – no hyperbole intended. I have a master’s degree in literature, and prior to my conversion published an article on Christian fiction – of the Protestant variety. Nothing I’ve read in the past, secular or spiritual, compares with the treasure I found in Father Elijah. Consider lending it to a Protestant friend, and tell him it’s better than the Left Behind series – because it is.
An invitation to perpetual adoration and handing a Catholic book to your separated brethren might be two of the best ways to help your Protestant friend begin wading in Catholic waters. The true seeker, even though he was born into Protestantism, will naturally be drawn to the deep end of the pool of truth. He just needs to get his feet wet.
You can help.
(If you're Catholic and you've never told anyone how great it is to be Catholic, that's worse than having a closet full of new clothes and being unwilling to share one shirt with the poor. We have no right to keep the Good News to ourselves. Lent will be over in a couple of weeks. Make a point to tell just one person how blessed you are to be Catholic!)
There is such wealth in the writings of both early and recent Church fathers.
I am the daughter of a Protestant minister, a recent convert to the Catholic faith, and it saddens me that the lives of these holy men and women never reach the eyes and ears of Protestant laity. I must ask myself why these treasures are kept hidden?
The only answer is that the Protestant founders wanted to close all doors that might lead Protestant laity back to the Catholic faith. Until 24 months ago, I had never been exposed to anything written by any saint – I didn’t even know their names!
Each of us is born into a faith culture; each of us inherits a pool of theology by the lottery of birth. Protestants are taught to be faith seekers – but within the limited pool of truth in which they are born. By limited, I mean not only within the Protestant branch of Christianity, but also within the denominational splinter to which their family clings.
How can we reach Protestants who are confident that their pool of faith is complete? Specifically, how can we get them to be willing to swim for a while in the pool of Catholic faith?
If we give them a day pass to Catholic waters – through the writings of such converts to Catholicism as G.K. Chesterton, David Currie, Marcus Grodi, Scott Hahn and Cardinal John Henry Newman (now Blessed John Henry Newman), among others – it is doubtful they would ever want to go back to their swimming hole. We may also suggest they read Confessions by St. Augustine as well as The Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross, writings that were especially meaningful in my conversion.
A year ago, a member of my parish invited me to accompany her to perpetual adoration. I found myself wondering what might have happened if a Catholic friend had invited me to pray in this manner years ago.
It may have broken through my Protestant self-righteousness. I might have realized that Protestants had no corner on the market in the area of prayer. Perhaps I would have questioned my own prejudice, realizing that Catholics do have a very personal relationship with the Lord.
Would I have asked myself if I was willing to give up the hour between 11 and midnight every Monday night in order to make my way to the church just to sit in the Lord’s Real Presence?
A few months later, my RCIA leader lent me a book, Father Elijah, by Michael D. O’Brien. It might be the best work of fiction I have ever read – no hyperbole intended. I have a master’s degree in literature, and prior to my conversion published an article on Christian fiction – of the Protestant variety. Nothing I’ve read in the past, secular or spiritual, compares with the treasure I found in Father Elijah. Consider lending it to a Protestant friend, and tell him it’s better than the Left Behind series – because it is.
An invitation to perpetual adoration and handing a Catholic book to your separated brethren might be two of the best ways to help your Protestant friend begin wading in Catholic waters. The true seeker, even though he was born into Protestantism, will naturally be drawn to the deep end of the pool of truth. He just needs to get his feet wet.
You can help.
(If you're Catholic and you've never told anyone how great it is to be Catholic, that's worse than having a closet full of new clothes and being unwilling to share one shirt with the poor. We have no right to keep the Good News to ourselves. Lent will be over in a couple of weeks. Make a point to tell just one person how blessed you are to be Catholic!)
Hoberman and the Transformable, Expandable Toy
This morning, I sat at the computer and sipped coffee. I do it every morning.
I was thinking about a toy that our daughter and her cousin loved to play with when they went to grandma and grandpa's house.
It is called the Hoberman Expandable Sphere.
I googled it and there it was. The article said that Hoberman's favorite time of the day is the morning - as he sips his coffee and thinks about the possibilities of the day.
Kinda cool, because that's exactly what I was doing.
I've been thinking about Hoberman's Sphere. And yes, I see something about the Faith in it. Well, actually, I think it reveals what the mind goes through as it begins to understand things of the Faith.
At first, the understanding is small; the subsections of faith matters are so small they let only a little bit of the faith pass through.
And that narrow gap of understanding in one area affects all the other areas, all the other subsections.
If I don't have room for one thing to grow in my heart and mind, then another area stays small too.
But here's the cool part. Here's the really great part of it all.
If I let even one area of my heart expand to receive more of the Faith, then all of the other areas expand as well.
And my Faith grows exponentially.
Right now, I'm growing in my understanding of the Body of Christ. We are incorporated into the Corpus Christi.
And the really goofy thing about how my mind works is that other areas of the Faith are expanding right along with that deeper understanding.
It affects my thinking about the Communion of Saints.
It changes my appreciation for the works of mercy. Charity. Seeing Christ in others.
It helps me to grasp the idea of purgatory, where we will be completely perfected and seamlessly grafted into the Body of Christ.
I see that there is more similarity between sancta and sancti - and it goes far beyond the linguistic similarities.
You get the idea.
Opening myself to one part of Truth means that my understanding of the full scope of Truth expands. The kind of scary thing is this... there is an expandable sphere for false-truth too. And if I open myself up to that, my self-deception grows exponentially. Two spheres. The same principles apply.
Dang.
That's pretty amazing, I think, as I sip my morning coffee.
I was thinking about a toy that our daughter and her cousin loved to play with when they went to grandma and grandpa's house.
It is called the Hoberman Expandable Sphere.
I googled it and there it was. The article said that Hoberman's favorite time of the day is the morning - as he sips his coffee and thinks about the possibilities of the day.
Kinda cool, because that's exactly what I was doing.
I've been thinking about Hoberman's Sphere. And yes, I see something about the Faith in it. Well, actually, I think it reveals what the mind goes through as it begins to understand things of the Faith.
At first, the understanding is small; the subsections of faith matters are so small they let only a little bit of the faith pass through.
And that narrow gap of understanding in one area affects all the other areas, all the other subsections.
If I don't have room for one thing to grow in my heart and mind, then another area stays small too.
But here's the cool part. Here's the really great part of it all.
If I let even one area of my heart expand to receive more of the Faith, then all of the other areas expand as well.
And my Faith grows exponentially.
Right now, I'm growing in my understanding of the Body of Christ. We are incorporated into the Corpus Christi.
And the really goofy thing about how my mind works is that other areas of the Faith are expanding right along with that deeper understanding.
It affects my thinking about the Communion of Saints.
It changes my appreciation for the works of mercy. Charity. Seeing Christ in others.
It helps me to grasp the idea of purgatory, where we will be completely perfected and seamlessly grafted into the Body of Christ.
I see that there is more similarity between sancta and sancti - and it goes far beyond the linguistic similarities.
You get the idea.
Opening myself to one part of Truth means that my understanding of the full scope of Truth expands. The kind of scary thing is this... there is an expandable sphere for false-truth too. And if I open myself up to that, my self-deception grows exponentially. Two spheres. The same principles apply.
Dang.
That's pretty amazing, I think, as I sip my morning coffee.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Who Says Catholics Don't Have a Sense of Humor
Definitely worth reading - especially if you are on Twitter. :)
http://usccbmedia.blogspot.com/2011/04/catholicrulesfortwitter.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+UsccbMediaBlog+%28USCCB+Media+Blog%29
http://usccbmedia.blogspot.com/2011/04/catholicrulesfortwitter.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+UsccbMediaBlog+%28USCCB+Media+Blog%29
Google the Good News
From today's Old Testament Reading:
Wherever the river flows, all living creatures teeming in it will live. Fish will be very plentiful, for wherever the water goes it brings health, and life teems wherever the river flows. Along the river, on either bank, will grow every kind of fruit tree with leaves that never wither and fruit that never fails; they will bear new fruit every month, because this water comes from the sanctuary. And their fruit will be good to eat and the leaves medicinal.
Isaiah 47
When I read this today, I thought of the passage: "Rivers of Living Water will flow from him." Not remembering where it was from, I googled it, and John 7 came up. There is a lot there, especially for those who "come to do His will." Those who live the Good News; those who speak the Good News-- the key to it all is forgetting one's self and doing/sharing only that which comes from the One who sent you.
Lord, keep me planted near this River, a tree that bears fruit, a living creature teeming with life. It's not about me. It's not about me. It's not ever about me.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Begging - yes begging - for your prayers for this dear priest.
Please pray for Father Larkin, that he will have a happy death. I met Fr. Larkin when I spoke at his parish in Lawton, OK a few years ago. About a year ago, he was diagnosed with a stage four brain tumor. God gave us a wonderful, vibrant priest who loves Jesus Christ dearly, and it is certain that this same Jesus Christ who called Fr. Larkin to the priesthood is now calling him home. I am posting what his brother wrote last night on his CaringBridge page, because I'm begging you to enter into the gathering of prayer warriors who are praying for him now.
Hence, the "tough" and the "blessed" aspects of our time together. He remembers most folks quickly, but may forget they are there after a while. One afternoon, he spent nearly three hours just playing with a very nice wooden truck our cousin from CA had made for him. ( I have to admit, I spent some time playing with it too. Good job, Steve!) Yesterday, he seemed to be enthralled with a list of names mom had printed off (I think it was of folks who have sent something to Kirk) and he poured over that list with a pen for hours and hours. We don't know exactly what he was gleaning from this scrutiny, but it was intense nonetheless. As of late, he has been watching alot of EWTN, especially during the beautiful Masses celebrated down in Irondale, as well as the Golf Channel. He also goes on tangents where he blesses just about everything in sight at times, and if you happen to be sitting at the table with him, you know sooner or later he is going to say "Ok, let's pray" and we say grace whether we are fixin to eat or not! Today, he was very intent on praying his rosary, but as little boys are want to do, he would give it a good lasso spin in the air every once in a while I guess to keep the beads nice and cool (haha!). Every so often he will come up with a real zinger that tells us he still has more capacity than we know, and then again he will sometimes spend the better part of the morning or afternoon not communicating much at all.
It's been a tough week in many ways, but a blessed week in many ways as well.
Kirk has entered into what the hospice nurse has described as the "little boy" segment of his journey in that his computational abilities are akin to someone in the 5-6 year old range.
This has all been pretty hard on mom. Even though everyone has been doing their part as best they can, (especially Louis and Casimira trekking up from Dallas each weekend and us three other local children) she is the "helper of last resort" and has to be aware of his needs 24/7. This is where the tough parts and the blessings come together. He is very, very sweet to mom and will tell her he loves her probably 5-10 times an hour, if not more, but then again, she has to direct his actions at times when he has different ideas. She has the patience of Job! She also knows alot of folks are praying for her so this helps keep her tank full in spite of the daily grind. If it gets too tough on her, we know we always have hospice to fall back on for additional help and that will probably be something that figures in more prominently as time marches on.
Well, that's all I know to report. We know how emotionally invested so many people are in Fr. Kirk's journey and our family feels a convivial and pleasant obligation to keep everyone informed. By reading the posts, I think we are all becoming more and more of an extended family. And Kirk would really like to know that is happening despite the sorrow of his illness.
We take the time to comment on the postings and he is always glad to know of them. He especially likes to know how families have been affected by his ministry and really got a big kick out of the story about the dream of him blessing so many Boy Scouts. Good stuff all!
Sunday, April 3, 2011
The Priest Wore Pink
When the priest breaks out the rose vestment during Lent, the people rejoice. In the midst of our journey to Good Friday, it doesn't make much sense. I'm supposed to be happy? I'm supposed to rejoice in the middle of my Lenten sacrificing and meditating on the suffering Savior?
Yes. It is time to rejoice. We are almost there. More than half-way there! So pick up your chin. Look at how far we've journeyed with Christ. Reach out and grab His hand and keep walking. While the rest of the world seeks happiness in all the wrong places, we find our greatest joy in the midst of the difficult journey. Why? Because Christ walked this way first. And He is right beside us, walking the Way of the Cross with us each time we pass through Lent.
Today, the priest wore pink.
This one who stands in persona Christi wore pink. It is to remind us that we can find joy even in the most difficult moments of life - because Jesus Christ is at our side. And He has all of the provisions we need for the journey - safely tucked away in His Most Sacred Heart.
(Here's an old Catholic by Grace article - go ahead, let yourself be happy today!)
Yes. It is time to rejoice. We are almost there. More than half-way there! So pick up your chin. Look at how far we've journeyed with Christ. Reach out and grab His hand and keep walking. While the rest of the world seeks happiness in all the wrong places, we find our greatest joy in the midst of the difficult journey. Why? Because Christ walked this way first. And He is right beside us, walking the Way of the Cross with us each time we pass through Lent.Today, the priest wore pink.
This one who stands in persona Christi wore pink. It is to remind us that we can find joy even in the most difficult moments of life - because Jesus Christ is at our side. And He has all of the provisions we need for the journey - safely tucked away in His Most Sacred Heart.
(Here's an old Catholic by Grace article - go ahead, let yourself be happy today!)
Are some people just naturally happy?
Like the Disney dwarf that bears the name, some people just always have a smile regardless of what comes along. But even “Happy” could not preserve his happiness when Snow White lay dead. Likewise, even the happiest dispositions seem to lose their joy when things around them go bad. So what is the key to lasting happiness?
Is there any hope for those of us who are overly sensitive, irritable, or cynical? If the naturally happy people can’t retain happiness, what hope is there for us?
In his Letter to the Philippians, St. Paul
It is one thing to know what St. Paul St. Paul
The ultimate source of happiness is not money or romance. I know this from experience, for I have lived below the poverty line. I have also known prosperity. I have spent week-long vacations at expensive resorts and enjoyed fine dining.
I have known love. I have received flowers, chocolates, jewelry, and mushy cards from lovers. I have also known heartache. I have been dumped, rejected, and divorced.
I have given birth, and I have buried those I love.
When am I the happiest? Was it in prosperity or poverty? Was it when I knew love or loss?
The answer to the question is so easy. I am happiest when I kneel after receiving Holy Communion. When everything else, both good and bad, falls away and there is only my Lord and my God, that is when I am happiest. I am happiest in that moment because He comes with mercy and grace and peace and quiets the storms (and parties) of my life. I am happiest when He takes over and I just let Him do it.
Friday, April 1, 2011
The Feminine Genius
The Feminine Genius: What we can learn from The VisitationThat's the talk I'm giving tonight at St. Joseph's in Arnold, MO.
- practical help for our times of need
- mystical bonds that are Christ-centered
- ecclesial benefits for the Body of Christ
Who's your spiritual sister-in-Christ?
Don't have one? Begin asking Our Lord for a spiritual sister.
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