Picture of the Patriarch of Constantinople - Bartholomew I

The Patriarch of Constantinople is staying at my hotel in Jerusalem. This is a shot I got last night when he walked through the lobby to meet the Holy Father at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

 



To follow my travelogue as I journey through the Holy Land and pray at sacred sites, visit my website at denisebossert.com or follow my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/denise.bossert.

Picture of the Patriarch of Constantinople - Bartholomew I

What's the Deal with Mary and the Month of May (and how do I explain that one to my Protestant friends and family?)

It is May.  That means Catholic schools and parishes will be having May Crowning.

About two years after my conversion, the whole Mary-and-the-month-of-May thing hit my radar. “So what's with Mary and the month of May?” I asked my cradle Catholic friend. She explained that the Church has set aside the month of May to honor the Blessed Mother – hence, May Crowning. It’s time to pray the rosary and present the Blessed Mother with flowers and a crown, she said.

Try explaining that to your Protestant family & friends.

You do what?

We pray the rosary...  [You've already lost them, and you haven't even gotten to the part about the crown.]

Have you ever read the children’s book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie by Laura Joffe Numeroff? It's kind of like that.

If you mention May and the Blessed Mother, you have to mention May Crowning.  If you mention May Crowning, you have to explain how Mary is the Queen of Heaven & Earth.  If you mention that Mary is the Queen of Heaven & Earth, you have to talk about the Assumption, the Immaculate Conception, the Ark of the Covenant, the New Eve and why that's all scriptural. You’ll have to crack open the Bible and look at the Book of Revelations and the “women clothed with the sun” and explain how Mary was prefigured by Hannah, Ruth, Queen Esther, and Judith.

And if you make it to Judith, you are going to have to explain why Judith is not in their Protestant Bibles--but they don't know what they are missing because Judith is the most amazing widow in Salvation History.

And if you find yourself back to the Bible, you are going to have to talk about the rosary again and how those prayers come right out of the Bible because Jesus prayed the Our Father, and the Hail Mary is a combination of the words of Archangel Gabriel and Saint Elizabeth.

And if you manage to explain why Catholics pray memorized prayers, you will have to explain that we pray in many different ways and it all comes together in the Mass and the Mass fits into the Liturgical Calendar and the Liturgical Calendar takes us from Advent to Christmas to Ordinary Time, to Lent to Easter to Pentecost, and then to...

May.

To the Blessed Mother.

And... if you mention the month of May and the Blessed Mother, you'd better put on another pot of coffee because you are about to cover the same ground all over again.

Our Faith is organic. It all fits together. It cannot be reduced to one sound bite. It lives and breathes and has a complexity and beauty that is as mysterious and glorious as the Body of Christ.

And the month of May is connected to that living, breathing intricacy.

Let’s face it. The best way to experience Mary's month is to become a little child. Don't try to figure it all out at once like someone cramming for a final exam.

Just go cut some flowers and lay them at her feet. Pick up your rosary and pray the Glorious Mysteries.  Or simply plan to learn the Hail Mary if you have never tried to do that.

For you see, it all comes down to this:

Sometimes, the best way to find Christ is to let yourself find Mary.  Embrace the simple elegance of it and the organic complexity will fall into place.

What's the Deal with Mary and the Month of May (and how do I explain that one to my Protestant friends and family?)

Denise Bossert on the Son RIse Morning Show Tomorrow!

I will be talking with Matt Swaim on the Son Rise Morning Show Wednesday morning (tomorrow) at 8:10 ET and 7:10 CT. We will be discussing the Holy Father's upcoming trip to Israel. I will be traveling with the Catholic Press Association as a guest of the Israeli Ministry of Tourism. Tune in tomorrow! Listen live here: http://www.sonrisemorningshow.com/

You can follow my travelogue at denisebossert.com and follow my journey on my Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/denise.bossert.

Blessings!

Denise Bossert on the Son RIse Morning Show Tomorrow!

The Thing That Needs to Change in Almost Every Parish in the United States

I believe it is the key to unleashing the New Evangelization. And Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI would agree.

I believe there can be no resolution to the crises in vocations to religious life, the priesthood and married life without it.

And no wonder.

Mission depends upon holiness and holiness requires contrition, mercy, healing, grace, and ongoing spiritual direction.

So what is this missing element? It is the confessional.

You might have expected me to say the Eucharist. It is, of course, the Source and Summit of our

faith. And Saint John Paul II said Holy Communion was necessary. At the Eucharistic Congress in Seville on June 12, 1993, John Paul II gave a homily that established how we are to share the Gospel. “Evangelization through the Eucharist, in the Eucharist and from the Eucharist: these are three inseparable aspects of how the Church lives the mystery of Christ and fulfills her mission of communicating it to all people” (4).

But I would posit that priests already do an amazing job at accommodating parishioners when it comes to offering the Sacrifice of the Mass. My own parish has four Sunday Masses, daily Mass Monday through Saturday, and numerous other special Masses throughout the year.

And they come. People show up at every Mass.

But we are sinners. As much as we do not wish to do it, we fall back into sin – often. And so the net result is that people are receiving the Eucharist while in sin. Perhaps even while they are in mortal sin.

That is a problem. One cannot advance in holiness this way. In fact, it only adds mortal sin on top of mortal sin. The spiritually ill become more ill.

So much for holiness and mission. Without holiness, we cannot be a people on mission. Redemptoris Missio is clear on this.

”The call to mission derives, of its nature, from the call to holiness. A missionary is really such only if he commits himself to the way of holiness: ‘Holiness must be called a fundamental presupposition and an irreplaceable condition for everyone in fulfilling the mission of salvation in the Church.’

“The universal call to holiness is closely linked to the universal call to mission. Every member of the faithful is called to holiness and to mission. This was the earnest desire of the Council, which hoped to be able ‘to enlighten all people with the brightness of Christ, which gleams over the face of the Church, by preaching the Gospel to every creature.’ The Church's missionary spirituality is a journey toward holiness” (90).

In his papal address on the Sacrament of Confession in March of 2012, Pope Benedict XVI made it clear that, “the New Evangelization draws its lifeblood from the holiness of the children of the Church, from the daily journey of personal and community conversion in order to be ever more closely conformed to Christ.”  Because personal holiness depends upon the Sacrament of Confession, Pope Benedict XVI went on to say that “the new evangelization, thus, also begins in the confessional!”

And on the parish level, this is where things begin to break down.

While most parishes are incredibly accommodating in providing opportunities for Mass attendance, they are abysmal – tragically so – when it comes to providing opportunities for the Sacrament of Confession.

Some may say that nobody shows up for the scheduled opportunity for Confession as it is – those fleeting fifteen minutes before Sunday Mass or half an hour after Mass on Friday morning when most people are at work. That is when many parishes have their standing opportunity for Confession.

 

But this is what the parishioner thinks:

• I don’t want to bother my priest before Mass because it’s just a venial sin, and he’s so busy right before Mass, and I would guess there are others far more sinful who need these few minutes more than I do.

• If I go to Confession right now, then my parents (wife, children, husband, friends) will know that I have mortal sin that I need to deal with before Communion. Who wants to open that can of worms.

• I’ll just go another time.

But there is no other time.

That’s it. Sunday before Mass – if you can find Father. And expect a whirlwind confession because he is bound to have his mind on Mass and his eye on his watch.

Or, take off work on Friday so you can go to confession. Try explaining that one to your boss.

It wouldn’t be so bad if we were holy. But we are not holy.

The Church is a hospital for sinners.

But we are acting like it is a battlefield and the only ones who should receive a healing touch are the ones about to die.

Or, we are acting like we are all in Heaven already and nobody really needs to confess anything anyway.

We need to stop practicing spiritual triage with the confessional.

We need to stop acting like we are all holy and marked for sainthood.

Every parish should have one night a week set aside for confessions. The parishioners need to know that their shepherd is there, waiting. The people need to be reminded that he is there – often.

Every parish should also have a time for confessions during the weekend – and that time must not be limited to the fifteen minutes before Mass. Nobody wants to bother the priest then.

These things must be implemented in every parish.

Here is what will happen in the parish:

People will become holy. People will be on mission. The New Evangelization will come to your parish. The faithful will begin to discern vocations to religious life.

Here is what will happen in individuals:

They will be healed from mortal sin first and lose their attachment to it. Then they will begin to address chronic sin. Jealousy. Gossip. Eating disorders. Bitterness & unforgiving spirits. Laziness. Then they will become stronger, more accustomed to walking in grace.

This is not a pie-in-the-sky ideal. My parish priest implemented a generous confessional schedule – and these are the very things that I have brought to him – and praise God, grace showed up. There really is healing in the confessional. It is not just something we say. It is real.

I testify to it.

I also have one recommendation for every diocese. Every day of every year there should be a priest somewhere who is waiting in a confessional somewhere in the diocese. The diocese should make this schedule known – in much the same way as it shares the Mass schedule of parishes in the diocese.

If a diocese has fewer than 200 priests, each priest would be the designated priest of the day twice each year. If the diocese has over 300, each priest would be the designated priest of the day once each year. Catholics would know that a shepherd was available every day of the year. The bishop/archbishop should be on that rotation. It would benefit both the priest and the penitent if the priest could stay in his parish for his designated day. Imagine, there would be confessional hotspots popping up every day all over the diocese.

Here is what will happen:

People will become holy. People will be on mission. The New Evangelization will come to your diocese. The faithful will begin to discern vocations to religious life.

When I was a teacher, we used to talk about the hidden curriculum. By hidden curriculum, we meant those things students learned that we did not set out to teach. The students always figured out what was important and what wasn’t important. They learned the corners that could be cut and what the teacher really cared about - despite what he/she said was important.

Sometimes, to our dismay, we realized that the students jettisoned things that were really important because we inadvertently  fostered problems and created issues we never meant to foster or create.

That is the situation right now. When the scheduled confessions are right before Sunday Mass or at a time when most people are unavailable, we are teaching our parishioners that confession is a last-minute Sacrament, a kind of triage-only Sacrament, a rarely-needed Sacrament, a practically-unnecessary Sacrament.

While we do not believe any of these things – it is the hidden curriculum, the catechesis we did not intend to teach.

Reality check.

Thousands are receiving the Eucharist while in a state of serious sin. And our current Confessional schedule makes them think that is not a problem.

Keep in mind--

Some of the holiest people have availed themselves of the Sacrament of Confession weekly. Weekly. If even two people in every parish decided they wanted to emulate that kind of holiness, the current Confessional schedule would not be sufficient.

If even two people wanted to purge the sin before receiving Christ in the Eucharist, the current Confessional schedule would not be sufficient.

No wonder we have a crisis.

The Thing That Needs to Change in Almost Every Parish in the United States

The Absurdity of "Decluttering Catholicism"

My friend is attending a class on life after a divorce. She is Catholic. She loves the faith and simply wants to heal and be whole for Christ and His Church. She lives in fidelity to the faith she has received.

Her counselor suggested that she attend the post-divorce class which is held in a non-denominational church in the area.

My friend doesn’t know if she will go back.

On the night of the first class, she walked down the hall and read the signs on the doors as she looked for the class on healing after divorce. The sign on one door said De-cluttering Catholicism.

It felt like someone had punched my friend in the stomach.

She felt the blow both physically and spiritually. And the one thought she had was how much she loves her faith – and how little they must understand about the faith she holds so dear.

She kept on walking and eventually found the class on divorce, but the blow against her faith and her Church stayed with her.

When she shared the story with me, I felt the anguish, too. Oh, Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they are saying.

I do not want to de-clutter any part of this beautiful faith. It is a treasure. And nobody throws open the Kingdom’s treasure chests in order to toss out all that is beautiful and precious.

Nobody raids the coffers in order to cast the treasures aside.

How precious the intercession of saints.

How dear the gift of the Blessed Mother.

How sacred the Chrism, the bells, the incense that rises to the heavens.

How lovely the holy cards and statues and icons. Mosaics. Stained glass. Sculptures. Paintings. Paten.
Chalice. Ciborium.

How holy the Body of Our Lord. The Most Precious Blood.

How full of grace the Sacraments, the open door to the Confessional, the steps that lead down the
aisle to the Eucharistic Lord of Life.

How healing the touch of Christ through the hands of the priest, the anointing of the Bishop, the blessing that comes down to us through the Pope, through St. Peter and apostolic lineage.

How sweet the feel of smooth rosary beads, the voices of those beside me praying, the cares and intercessions lifted by each one kneeling.

What joy is found in the holy water font, the cool water touching the forehead, the smell of Chrism on a baby’s head.

What a treasure the family baptismal gown, a grandmother’s prayer book with its weathered pages.

What meaning comes with the flowing stream of the liturgical calendar, the readings each day and each hour, the colors, the altar, the Tabernacle and lit candle.

The Stations line the walls. The kneelers wait to be lowered. The book is opened and ready.

No. Do not de-clutter my precious faith.

Do not reduce it to something too small.

Do not suggest that it is better to have a faith that is summed up in five bullet points and one passage from Scripture.

I. Want. It. All.

I need it all.

I thirst for these streams of running water. It is life. It is strength. It is all a venue for grace.

One would never enter the King’s palace in order to de-clutter the rooms and toss out the treasures.

And so it is with the Faith.

It is a deposit worthy to be kept sacred. Worthy to be passed down to our children.

It is rich, so very rich, and the divine life infuses all of it.

No. You cannot purge the most holy, most beautiful, most precious of all that serves to bring us into the holy, the beautiful, the precious.

It is a treasure worthy of our treasuring.

The Absurdity of "Decluttering Catholicism"

Sense of An Ending . . . and a beginning

I read something yesterday in Fr. James Martin’s Jesus: A Pilgrimage. It made me think of conversion and Lent and even a little something from my days as a graduate student at Southern Illinois University at Edwardsville.

“The ancient Greeks had two words for time: chronos, the tick-tock chronological time that we are more familiar with; and kairos, the right or opportune moment. We also know what these kairos moments are like: tired and dissatisfied with our lives, we’re waiting for someone to say that it is okay to change. For the fishermen on the shore, this was their kairos moment” (Martin 140).

All the talk of chronos and kairos reminded me of The Sense of an Ending - required reading for M.A. comps. Not that I wrote anything profound that awful, awful day. I received a B on my comprehensive exams though I had trended toward A’s throughout graduate school. I choose to blame my performance on the migraine that rendered the experience a nightmarish blur. No hyperbole. I began the day with a shot of Imitrex which worked no better than a couple of Tic Tacs.

I remember three writers from the long list of required reading. Four Quartets by T.S. Eliot. The Writing Life and Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. And Frank Kermode’s The Sense of an Ending.

I might have known that I was headed for a massive conversion –for I forgot most of the other things I read in the months of preparation for comps, but the things that remained and took up residency in my long term memory were Annie Dillard, T.S.  Eliot and Frank Kermode. If you took Pilgrim, Writing Life, Four Quartets and Sense of an Ending and ground them up with a mortar and pestle, you might end up with words like Catholic and mystery and contemplative and writer.

It is where I was headed – though I, myself, had no idea.

But there is something about the notion of kairos. A time for each thing. A season. A changing over and rendering up. Dropping nets to follow. Or abandoning the now for the unexpected call. The sense of an ending. And of a beginning.

When you talk about such things, others stare. They don’t get it. Aren’t privy to the crook of God’s finger. The hook of the Shepherd’s staff. My walking papers. My mandate to go. To follow. To pick up a pen. Or a cross. Or both.

There is something beautiful-and painful-in accepting the call one receives in these kairos moments.

You try to get others to understand, but there is no way they truly can– not being in your skin.
Not having walked in your moccasins.

The most one can hope for is for one’s spiritual director to affirm the call.
It’s enough. A nod from him and a nod from grace– that’ll do.

Kairos. The changing time.

A blank page.

It’s not that anything is possible. It is only that His Will awaits. And somehow, you know it. You begin to perceive it.

The words on the blank page are written in invisible ink – the kind of ink that fills God’s pen. And your spirit is the secret decoder that unlocks the hidden script. You see the words.

And you get to say–

Ok. Let’s do it.

So be it. Amen.

You drop your nets and walk away from what was to embrace what is to come.

It is the moment you are ready for God’s plan for you.

Kairos.

Sense of An Ending . . . and a beginning

Novena For Pope Francis' Trip to the Holy Land

Please join us in praying for the Holy Father's trip to the Holy Land. Recent headlines indicate that Israel may be cut from the Holy Father's itinerary, due to a strike by Israel’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs that began this week. Join us in praying for a speedy resolution so that our Holy Father can join us in Israel this May. See article:

Israel may be cut out of Pope Francis’ visit to the Holy Land 

You can find the Novena to Our Lady, Undoer of Knots here.

The novena begins March 30th.

Novena For Pope Francis' Trip to the Holy Land

Invisalign Braces and Free Will

I am one hour in to my first set of invisalign braces.

I now have many more things to offer up this Lent. No coffee – except with meals when the braces come off. No soda either. Nothing with color – unless I want a red, or brown, or orange smile. No eating with the braces on either.

Water. I can drink water. And I can eat and drink whatever I want – but only at meal time when the braces come off.

As they said in the orthodontist office: This is a good time to start a diet. So there is a bright side.

 

They say the good thing about invisalign is that you can take them out. They say the bad thing about invisalign is that you can take them out.

Still, I think invisalign is a good choice for me. Perhaps you should ask me later – after my teeth start hurting – because they say they will hurt. They say I will want to take them out. But they said I should not give in to that desire.

It’s kind of like the freedom God gives us. The good thing about this faith is that God has given us the choice to love him or to walk away. The good thing about God's gift of grace is it depends on our free will to receive it and to walk in it. The bad thing about God's gift of grace is that it depends on our free will to abandon it and to let it fade away completely.

There will be times we will feel like throwing off the mantle of holiness. But we should not give in to that desire.

Like the invisalign braces, my faith may not be obvious at first glance. This pursuit of holiness is usually a quiet, hidden process.

But those who are closest to us know it’s happening. They are aware of the changes, and eventually others will notice as well.

So we submit to the pain required in spiritual change. We do not throw off the mantle when it becomes a little difficult.

And when we need some assistance, we know where to go. The Eucharist. The waters of Baptism. The confessional.

We turn to Christ.

Invisalign Braces and Free Will

Catholic or catholic?

Dad was my first confirmation teacher. He taught the Presbyterian confirmation class that I attended when I was in middle school. Years later, when I became Catholic, I was Confirmed again – as a Catholic.

But when I was in that Presbyterian confirmation class, Dad made the students learn the Apostles’ Creed. When I hit the line, I believe in one holy catholic and apostolic church, my hand went up.

 

“Why is the word ‘Catholic’ in there when we aren’t Catholic?" I asked.

My dad’s explanation? The word catholic means universal. And we, as Presbyterians – or Wesleyans or Assembly of God or Nazarenes or Methodists - were part of that church. Small “c” you see.

 

I nodded. It made a little sense. But there was still something unnerving about it. It seemed to point to something I had never considered. We all traced our roots back to catholic – whether you were part of the big “C” church or little “c”  church – whether you were part of the Church or just a bunch of churches that kind-of-sort-of belonged together in a we-don’t-really-agree-on-things-but-we-all-love-Jesus type of way.

While the Catholic Church defines catholic as universal, she has a fuller command of the definition. As Greg Willits writes in his book The New Evangelization and You, “the word universal, when applied to Catholicism, has a deeper meaning. Universal in terms of Catholicism means ‘according to the totality’ or ‘in keeping with the whole’” (69). In this excerpt, Willits cites the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Willits goes on to say, “In other words, the Church affects everything totally and completely. Imagine an area of our world, of your very existence, that isn’t somehow affected by the Catholic Church.”

He’s right. Even as a Protestant preacher’s daughter, I brushed up against the Catholic Church quite a few times. If you read my column, you know what I mean. Almost every column has an “I remember when” moment from my non-Catholic days. And each of those moments points toward the Catholic Church – with a big “C”.

Education. Recreation. Procreation. Cantatas. Current event. Fine arts class at a Free Methodist college. Literature class at a Presbyterian college. Friends. Eventually, politics and employment.

As Greg Willits says, “. . . it’s borderline impossible not to be affected in some way by the Catholic Church.”

It is, however, completely possible to belong to any other denomination and not brush up against another denomination. You can go your whole life as a Presbyterian and not be exposed to the Pentecostals, the Nazarenes, the New Springs of Life in Christ Non-denominational church. You get the idea.

But the Catholic Church is everywhere. And the Mass is everywhere. And the Church touches everything.

No matter where you go on the planet, you will be close to a Catholic parish. When you walk through those doors, you will encounter the same Mass – in a variety of languages with people from every race on planet Earth. When you leave the building, you will continue to encounter that Church again and again and again.

Only one church can lay claim to being truly universal – complete – touching everything and everyone. The Catholic Church.

 

 

Catholic or catholic?

Bossert To Travel to the Holy Land

I will be traveling to the Holy Land from May 18-28th with the Catholic Press Association as a guest of Israel's Ministry of Tourism. It is an amazing opportunity and the timing couldn't be better as my book on Judea will be released by Ave Maria Press later this year. The trip also coincides with the Holy Father's visit to Israel. I look forward to sharing this journey with readers on the blog, through my column in diocesan newspapers, and in the pages of my book. My heart is filled with joy and gratitude.

Bossert To Travel to the Holy Land

Check out Boomer Esiason Story

Link to the story: http://denisebossert.com/2014/01/30/the-boomer-esiason-story/

Cystic Fibrosis Foundation Link: http://www.cff.org/

Check out Boomer Esiason Story

Two Reminders

Be sure to check out Denise's new website. http://denisebossert.com/

If you are on Facebook, you will want to stop by Denise's Facebook Page for the latest updates on her writing and speaking engagements. https://www.facebook.com/denise.bossert

Two Reminders

January 2014 Catholic by Grace Column

This article ran in diocesan newspapers in the U.S. and in the Catholic Press Association paper The Catholic Journalist.

One morning last spring, I caught my older daughter flipping through a diocesan newspaper while eating breakfast. I had to smile. On that particularly morning, she wasn’t officially Catholic. She entered the Church later that day at the 2:30 Mass at the Cathedral Basilica in St. Louis, Missouri. It was Pentecost Sunday and soon, my second child would be entering the faith I had chosen less than a decade earlier.

“Did you read the diocesan newspapers when you lived here? Or is this a new thing for you?” I asked her.

She looked up from the paper and smiled. “When there was no catalog or magazine on the table, I would read it. It was something to do.” She laughed and closed the paper.

Those were rough years. She had moved into our house with her little boys and was trying to juggle them and full-time employment. She was also trying hard to avoid God.

But on this particular Sunday, the fight against God ended. On that day, she was received into Mother Church.

My husband also used to scan diocesan newspapers and magazines before he converted. He's the kind of guy that goes through withdrawal when he doesn't have a book to read. In the years after my conversion (before his own conversion), he would read the Catholic papers that were on the table – the random complimentary copies I received as a columnist. This is the same man who promised he would never become Catholic. He was born Southern Baptist, and he would die Southern Baptist.

He’s been Catholic since 2008.

I don't know if there is a cause and effect relationship between conversions and subscriptions to diocesan periodicals, but at the very least, there is some correlation. I believe families that have subscriptions to diocesan papers are the very families most likely to experience conversion and ongoing conversion – even among families in which some members actively resist God. There are times that the diocesan newspaper on the kitchen table is the only remaining voice for Mother Church in the lives of those who stubbornly resist grace.

I am blessed to write for diocesan papers and magazines, but I am even more blessed to have those periodicals in my home and on my kitchen table. There was a time when my husband told me to stop talking about my new-found faith – but he would still read the diocesan newspaper. My daughter tuned me out for years. But last spring, she entered the Church.

Diocesan papers are tools of evangelization. Sometimes, they are the only evangelization tool left in a household.

If you are reading this, you understand how important this magazine or newspaper is. You know that it assists you in your journey – and you know that it assists those who live under your roof and sit at your kitchen table.

In a world that is filled with many voices and so many words, it is a blessing to have faithful media coming into our homes, sharing words that matter – words that bring life.

January 2014 Catholic by Grace Column

Leaving Bethlehem

I'm not ready.

I'd rather stay here, in this house.

The company left yesterday. It's time to begin taking down Christmas and getting on with Ordinary Time. But I am dragging my feet. I enjoyed it, and now I'm clinging to it. I'd like to keep it a few more days - maybe forever. Not the flu I caught over Christmas despite the flu shot in October. But the rest.

The baking, the hostessing, the linen changing for guests, the grandchildren -- yes, those little faces!

I enjoyed my daughter's break from school - and those four extra snow days which kept her home until today.

But the season is ending. And there are things I have abandoned. Things I'm avoiding.

I'd like to stay inside. To keep the resting & lounging going. Hide here a bit longer, like the agorophobe I could so easily become. The reclusive writer - without the dedicated writing routine.

I want to freelance life. Keep what's easy.

Even grocery runs seem too much. And dog grooming. And that dental appointment I should schedule.

Lord, help me to leave the comfort of this house, to travel to Egypt with the Holy Family - though I'd like to stay in Bethlehem & wait to see who else might drop in.

Let the world come to me.

But that isn't how it works.

Ordinary days are going out days. Routines that fill up. Errands to be run. More people. More places. More work.

So give me that dreamy mandate to go, like you once did to St. Joseph.

Because what seems safe - it's not good for me. Egypt awaits.

Bethlehem on another day.

Leaving Bethlehem

Lord of the Nations

Last night, before the snow began falling, my husband and I went to a Twelfth Night Christmas party. The night was something from a dream. We revisited a home we had not seen in seventeen years and talked with professors we knew in graduate school. And I had the thought before the party began, before we even left our home – what if we stepped across the threshold and suddenly were transformed into the people who met and married seventeen years ago – like some kind of plot in a Nathaniel Hawthorne short story. What would happen if people who knew each other a lifetime ago suddenly changed and re-entered the prime of life?

Dr. Heidegger’s Experiment all over again.

John and I don’t socialize very much. We’ve had company for two weeks, but they were all family members. Our idea of socializing is going out to eat with our parish priest (which we enjoy immensely). So last night was the kind of night that will stick with me; it’ll come up again in a dream. My subconscious mind will gnaw on this experience months from now.

My husband and I stepped into old patterns. We were the same two people last night that we were seventeen years ago – like the time travel-thing really did happen. John carried the conversations. I listened. Nodded. Smiled. Pondered it all. Because that’s what writers do.

I take the people with me, and they don’t even know it. Each room has a unique feel to it. The crowded dining room. The lovely sitting room. The large kitchen with its team of caterers in their crisp, white uniforms, offering roasted lamb and crab cakes. The sweeping staircase. And my favorite – the three-story library with its own spiral stair.

The people are as unique as the rooms. People from the Order of Malta and the Eugene Field House. Editors. Professors. Book designers. Architects. A priest.

The quieter ones, like me, gravitate to the library. This is where literature keeps its own time capsule. One can sit and read and discover that time travel is possible.

And we did step back in time.

My husband and I stood in the middle level of that three-story library, where just a few others had migrated, and John pulled a book from the shelf and read the poem he quoted to me more than seventeen years ago.

And we remembered our story. We remembered each other and this vocation that has been so full of grace and love.

It was Twelfth Night.

We had just been to Mass and celebrated the Epiphany – where Mary and Joseph’s quiet little life with Jesus was interrupted. The whole world came to them in the form of Magi. Joseph probably did most of the talking – like my husband. Mary probably quietly took it all in – like me. Perhaps this is where they realized that their life would not be their own. It was meant for others. It was meant for everyone. Perhaps their vocation was felt most acutely in that moment.

Christ is not meant to be kept a secret. He is Lord of the nations. We must let Him be who He is. We cannot remain closed off. We must not keep Him to ourselves.

It was like someone had taken the book off the shelf and laid it open before them - for us. The old scroll contained it all. And they found themselves stepping into those words – finding themselves there.

“Caravans of camels shall fill you, dromedaries from Midian and Ephah; All from Sheba shall come bearing gold and frankincense, and proclaiming the praises of the LORD.” Isaiah 60:6

Epiphany 2014

Lord of the Nations

The Adventure Has Begun

It’s the excitement I used to feel when I was a child and it was time for the Children’s Film Festival on Saturday morning. The cartoons were over, and that was okay because Kukla, Fran and Ollie were about to present a movie. That’s where I met Heidi. It’s where I visited the Swiss Alps and had a curmudgeony grandpa who raised goats and befriended a girl in a wheelchair.

It’s the convergence of adventure and fear – like when the babysitter would let me stay up for Creature Feature, and I would battle Godzilla or the changeling woman who could morph into a serpent.

It’s the feeling of staying overnight for the first time at a friend’s house.

It’s the first day of middle school.

It’s the wedding night.

Or the moment the nurse puts a plastic hospital bracelet on my arm and hands me the gown which I wrap around my unborn baby and me.

The adventure has begun.

And that is how it feels every year when we pass through the Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God and enter a new year.

This is where anything is possible. It’s so far beyond silly resolutions and high ideals. This is the divine adventure, where God lays the road ahead of us, and we know that we are living out Isaiah 61:2-3. We watch as Luke 4:19 unfolds. We will battle our own godzillas and serpents. We will encounter curmudgeony people who just might become family – by the power of true conversion and the mystery of the family of God. We will visit new places, give birth to new possibilities, wed ourselves to God’s amazing divine plan.

The adventure has begun.

To announce a year of favor from the LORD and a day of vindication by our God; To comfort all who mourn;to place on those who mourn in Zion a diadem instead of ashes, To give them oil of gladness instead of mourning, a glorious mantle instead of a faint spirit. (Isaiah)

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free,  and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.” (Luke)

So go ahead and get excited. Don’t settle for worn out resolutions. Aim high, because with God, all things are possible.

The Adventure Has Begun

Catholics and the song "Mary, Did You Know"

Today, a woman on Twitter posted that she knows a lot of Evangelicals, and they all love the song Mary, Did You Know.

Then, she said that most Catholics – herself included – loathe the song.

A few years back, our entire family attended an Amy Grant Christmas concert. Some priests were seated beside us. When Amy sang Mary, Did You Know, one priest wept silently. My twenty-something daughter still talks about how much love she saw in that priest.

Back then, nobody in the family was Catholic. Not even me.

So when I saw the Tweet today, it kind of surprised me. I suppose the woman's loathing is because the song's fundamental question has to do with whether or not Mary was oblivious to the full reality of the One within her womb. How much did she know about the One she bore, the One she held, the One she nursed?

As Catholics, our sense of wonder goes deeper. It goes to the heart of Mary’s yes.  Mary is God’s most perfect creation, and she has given us a Savior.

She wasn’t stewing over whether Jesus would be able to walk on water or heal a blind man. She was marveling at the power of God. As Catholics, we enter into that moment so deeply that a songwriter’s words can’t contain it.

Only Mary’s own words, her own song – the Magnificat – will suffice.

But what I loved about the priest at that Amy Grant concert is that he didn’t loathe an Evangelical’s rendering of Mary. He didn’t critique Mark Lowry's lyrics, though the priest's understanding of Mary went far deeper than the song ever could. When he thought of Mary, he thought of the Immaculate Conception, the Mother of God, the perfect creation, Our Lady of Grace.

And he wept as he listened. Someone was singing about his greatest love – the miracle at Bethlehem. A virgin and the Son of God.

The priest knew that God places questions in our hearts.

The simple questions, like Mary did you know . . .

The profound questions, like Mary are you the Immaculate Conception?

The deep, troubling questions.

The questions-that-shake-the soul.

And all the questions are answered right here – where a woman’s fiat to God ushers in the greatest gift. For unto us, a Son is born.

She is the sign. She is the one we read about today at Mass. The priest at the Amy Grant concert fully understood who Mary is. He also understood that most evangelization begins with a question – and the evangelizing bears fruit when we welcome the question and respond—not with loathing because we have it all figured out, but when we respond with love.

Perhaps even with tears.

With wonder and awe.

What did Mary know? I think she knew a lot – far more than we can imagine. But the one thing that matters most is not what she knew.

It’s what she did.

Let it be done unto me according to your word – for I am the handmaid of the Lord. All generations will call me blessed – for the Almighty has done great things for me.

And holy is His name.

Let us lose the arrogance. Yes, we know Mary in a way Evangelicals do not. What matters is not how much more we know. What matters is how much we love. How much we share. We must become like that priest. Our love must fill us and spill over.

We let that transform us until the tears run down our cheeks – and the people sitting in our row begin to grasp something more.

We have been given a sign. There is enough for everyone to contemplate. And that is something we should encourage.

“The Lord himself, therefore,
will give you a sign.

It is this: the maiden is with child
and will soon give birth to a son
whom she will call Immanuel,
a name which means “God-is-with-us.” – Isaiah 7:14

Catholics and the song "Mary, Did You Know"

Both the resume and the pedigree would have to resemble Christ - and they do.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about why I'm Catholic. My shortest answer is simply that it is a

St. John Lateran, Rome -Consecrated in 324 A.D

result of grace moving in my life (hence the name of my column, podcasts and blog).

But I haven't spent much time thinking (or writing) about the reason why most serious fundamentalists and evangelicals are NOT Catholic--

 --and why they do not even consider it a viable option or even a possible choice among many choices.

 It comes down to this. The Catholic Church does not see herself as a possible choice among many choices. The fact that the Church states that She is the Church Christ founded makes most (if not all) evangelicals dismiss her completely.

It sounds too much like a cult.

Cults believe they are the Church. The Way. Chosen. Established by God Himself.

So, Catholicism is lumped in with the groups that make this claim. You say that you are the Church Jesus Christ founded. Enough said. I'm out of here.

There is a problem with that generalization. What if there really is a Church that was founded by Jesus?

She would have to be present from the moment of Pentecost forward. She would have weathered the gates of hell and still be standing. She would have to be able to point to a line of holy people that were made holy while in the embrace of this Church. She would have to have a message that touches hearts of people in every culture and time. She would have to transcend time, politics, history, culture, trends, whims, and the theoretical. She would have to be able to set up shop in Calcutta, India and be as valid there as she is in Des Moines, Iowa or New York City or La Paz, Bolivia.

She would have to have a resume.

She would have to have a pedigree.

Both the resume and the pedigree would have to resemble Christ.

History would have to affirm her claim and Christ would have to be present there. Really and truly.

One, holy, catholic, apostolic.

There is only one antidote to the fear that says, "You can't say that! You can't say that you are the Church! Come on. You're sounding like a cult now."

The only antidote to that kind of fear is Jesus Christ Himself.

He is here.

His Body is here, for you.

His Blood is here, poured out for you.

The same Christ.

A perfect love.

And perfect love casts out fear.

Yes, it is a radical claim. It is an absurd claim - unless it is true. John 6. It's true.

Come home. He's waiting for you. In the Eucharist.

Both the resume and the pedigree would have to resemble Christ - and they do.

Advent is a polite guest.

I have dipped my toes in the chaos of the Christmas-before-Advent scene. I’ve been to the mall once.

I’ve landed on radio stations that play Christmas music around the clock – and quickly popped in my Rosary CD to escape the noise. I’ve seen enough of commercialized Christmas even though I have actively avoided it this year.

Advent is the only antidote.

But Advent only comes to those who know how to get quiet. It hides from those who have to hurry. It will never be found in the crowded places and packed spaces of shopping aisles and city crosswalks.

Advent waits to be invited to your December. It will not show up on its own. It is a polite guest. It will not crash your party.

Christmas-without-Advent is a fake. An imposter. We all know it.

The Christmas we all need – the one we long for – the one we can imagine so clearly . . . it only comes to those who walk alongside Mary.

In the quiet.

Away from the crowds.

Where Sacred Scripture comes alive and holiness is real.

It’s no mirage – this Advent journey. It’s necessary. It’s the way to Christmas. The only road to Bethlehem.

The journey that leads to Christ.

Advent is a polite guest.

December 2013 Catholic by Grace Column

My due date was the 26^th of December, but by Christmas Eve 1985, I was ready to be done with it.

I stretched out on the bed and reluctantly prepared for another night of leg cramps and propped pillows. The Christmas presents were wrapped and ready. The Christmas cookies decorated. The overnight hospital bag was packed and waiting in the corner. My sister had arrived and was ready to look after my daughter.

Still, nothing happened.

The first pain hit at 9:30 PM. I knew immediately that I had skipped early labor and entered active labor. At the hospital, the nurse called it precipitate delivery. There would be no time for pain medicine. I was disappointed, but at least something was happening. I wouldn’t be pregnant forever.

I looked at the clock and wondered if our baby’s birthday would be Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.

Then the nurse checked the heartbeat and the questions about pain medicine and possible arrival time turned into terrible silence.

Something was wrong. The nurse wasn’t smiling. She just kept moving the obstetrical stethoscope from one spot to another.

“I’m having trouble finding the heartbeat.” After a few more attempts, she muttered something about getting the doctor, and I was left alone in the small examination room

The wait was excruciating. I knew what labor was like. I’d been through it two years earlier. I couldn’t imagine giving birth while overcome by grief.

Sometimes, waiting is like a game. It’s fun. Exciting.

Sometimes, waiting is a chore. It’s demanding. Requires effort.

Sometimes, waiting is agonizing. Terrifying. Earth-shattering.

This pregnancy had been all of these.

Before I became Catholic, every day between Halloween and December 25^th was Christmas, not Advent. I focused on making sure the food was ready, the cards were sent, and the presents were wrapped. I prepared the house for Christmas, but I did not stop to think about how to prepare myself for Christmas.

Bottom line, I did not know how to wait.

As Catholics, we know that Advent is about waiting. Preparing. Journeying with Israel through Salvation History. A man grows into a family. Twelve sons become twelve tribes. The tribes become a nation. Prophets, judges and kings lead them. Everything presses on to one great event.

A young woman steps into the center of all things and says yes to the most incredible proposition of all time. God has chosen you, Mary. And all creation waits for an answer.

As that final week of Advent arrives, we see clearly. This is more than a journey through time. This is a journey to a person.

To the God-man. Messiah. Mary’s child.  God’s own Son.

At times, the wait was exciting. Seas parted. Angels visited. Walls tumbled. A donkey talked.

At times, the wait was difficult. Brothers argued. Kings failed. Generations were exiled.

At times, the wait was terrifying. People died. Nations fought. God was silent.

And then, He spoke.

With one word, the waiting was over. Unto us a child is born. Unto us a son is given. And upon his shoulders, dominion rests. (Isaiah 9:6).

Advent quietly passes. A baby cries. The wait is over.

On Christmas Eve 1985, a doctor stepped into the examination room and heard a heartbeat. My son was born at 11:53 PM. The wait was over.

Every year, we pass through Advent and enter Christmas. The changing liturgical seasons are always fresh and new, like it is all happening right now – the waiting, the expectation, the fulfillment. And so it is.

 

December 2013 Catholic by Grace Column