Lent, the church, tears...

Scarring the Body of Christ

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

“In deep disappointment, I have wept over the laxity of the church. But be assured that my tears have been tears of love. There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love. Yes, I love the church; I love her sacred walls. How could I do otherwise?”

Tears come and go.  They wash and clean eyes, leave tracks of mascara down my face, my cheeks.  They roll over my nose.  I have cried for love many times in my life.  The love of my church is probably one of the deepest sorrows I have ever held and cried for. 

What does it mean when the scars of the church are from scrapes and bruises that I not only cause but also continue to inflict?  I was walking through the halls of the office building I work in and I saw the pictures of a bunch of provincials from an order of religious men.  I wondered then if the order would ever see men of color in charge.  In a church that was founded on gospel values- “neither Jew nor Greek, neither male nor female, neither slave nor free” all people recognized as beloved children of God, how is it that our church allowed racism to persist?  How is it that our church allows for sexism to still exist?  Homophobia?  How with these HUGE issues can our church expect to be taken seriously by people?

This lent has not been a stellar lent in many ways.  My fasting has been pretty minimal.  I have lagged in my relationships with others, focused attention in places that I should not have.  I have felt lazy and uninspired.  My prayer life is for the most part non-existent.  Today’s first reading was from the book of Daniel and was the story of Shadrach, Meshach and Abendego.  The three men of faith who would not allow their faith to be swayed by false idols, but stayed the course, faced the fire (literally) and saw the reward and favor of God in their midst- and also converted King Nebuchadnezzar through their very actions. 

I love my church- there is so much beauty in the imperfections of the actions of the church- in the thinking- the challenges issued.   There are times when I think of leaving, sure, but then I remember the challenge of being in relationship.  I am called to maintain this relationship until it ceases to be life giving.  I think the biggest hindrance to my life in the church right now is my attitude.  I think I will just get out of my own way and just be- just remember to experience and participate rather than anticipate.  

humble pie tastes like s*&^!!

I was told on Saturday that I needed to be humbled.  It was said in jest, in a funny part of a conversation after a pretty serious conversation.  It was said to lighten the mood, and to bring some levity.  As many of these conversations leave the speakers mouth, they stay with me for some time.  I find the need to consider many different points- whether it is to accept and take what is said as truth- or if there is a need to dismiss the point and move on. 

One of the best things that I have done since moving to DC is in the last 4 months, I registered to receive some theological sayings from Church of the Saviour in their daily Inward/Outward reflections.  Today’s was on humility.  (I often marvel at God's ability to reinforce a thought that is so easily dismissed in the heat of the moment.) It reads:

Humble and Free

Conrad Hyers

Humility is not thinking lowly of oneself; it is not thinking of oneself. The humble person is free--free to be concerned about others, free to be at the disposal of others, free to see the worth of others.

What does it mean to be humble in my life?  I know that I have gifts and talents that God has given me.  Some are discovered and in use, some have been discarded because I wasted them, others have yet to be uncovered.  How concerned am I about others though?  I remember when I first moved to Brookland, I was so wanting to be a part of the community- to really understand and establish in my own life what community, neighborhood means and to accept life in Brookland.  How do I show and embrace compassion for others?  I know that is really tough for me.  I feel so encumbered by my life and work sometimes that I want to be nothing but naughty in my life outside of work- I want to gossip, I want to be nasty to others, I want to embrace the seduction of a secular life that tells me there are no consequences to any choice- it feels good, wonderful, sexy, so I should do it.  I don’t want to work on relationships that are broken, I want to be able to wallow in a woe is me time.  My life is so boring in other ways.  The challenge though is that this is far from authentic. 

 

So, why isn’t authentic easier?  Well, I think that in being humble, authenticity comes a bit cleaner- not necessarily easier, just more well expressed in daily life and expression. The form of the question then becomes, “how do I accept humility-my humbling in my life?”

Who brings the thought of humility to my life?   I think first of Jesus- his humility to suffer the humilitation of the cross which would bring humanity to redemption.  But when I think a bit longer I see Mary.  Mary who witnessed the humiliation of a teen pregnancy- an almost failed engagement- an immigrant life-a son who was never accepted in society and ultimately killed as a criminal of the state.  I wonder as a woman- the older I get what this would have meant to Mary to go through each of these trials.  

Abraham Joshua Heschel

Prayer depends not only upon us but also upon the will and grace of God. Sometimes we stand before a wall. It is very high. We cannot scale it. It is hard to break through it, but even knocking our heads against the wall is full of meaning. Ultimately, there is only one way of gaining certainty of the realness of any reality, and that is by knocking our heads against the wall. Then we discover there is something real outside the mind.

I had so many goals in place for my 40 days of Lent. I was going to be “praying” more- and I really mean praying- didn’t even make it a day…I was going to be working to deny myself some of my favorite beverages- that fell at about the 14 day mark…what is the deal? Why when I was little was I so able to sustain the fast of Lent and this time as an adult- when I have the ability to regulate myself do I suck? Fail? Wither in comparison?

I was recently telling a new friend that I crave the discipline of the liturgy, but I think that is the only place- and really, “crave” might be a bit strong, though the liturgy is what keeps me going to mass- when I go…daily or weekly-its because the liturgy is so thought out and deliberate.

Prayer can be ambiguous and nostalgic at times. Ambiguous that during my grad school years, my prayer was in the form of my studies. I would read such deep though provoking word, that it became my prayer. Lectio Divina was often employed to read certain texts and passages. I would constantly seek out new and challenging ways to engage the texts- but always I knew that what I was doing was prayer. I have not made this leap to my new life, the life away from school.

I spent Monday glorying in the beauty of the cherry blossoms at the basin of the Washington Monumet and the Jefferson Memorial. It was a gorgeous and beautiful day. I spent the morning walking around by myself, listening to my ipod, in my own little world looking at the blossoms, looking around and seeing the living history story of a nation that seems to be in more trouble these days than out of trouble. What was glorious though was the way that people were still engaged, wanting to see what was the gift of spring. The whole morning was a prayer of walking, contemplation, wonderment and startling observations.

The Samaritan Woman

This is a homily that I gave at Ecumenical Advocacy Days yesterday.

Men and women are different. That seems pretty obvious! Men and women also have many shared similarities. We have different approaches to life, to our lived experiences, to how we relate to the world around us. These differences are made clear to us as Catholic women and men through our church- “big c” church and “little c” church. This reality of difference I think is especially made clear in our Gospel story of the Samaritan Woman.

The Samaritan woman is continually ostracized in her own community, she goes to the well during the middle of the day- she is dismissed by her own society- the women don’t socialize with her, the men in her community certainly don’t. Yet, when she meets Jesus, in the middle of the day at the well, her entire life changes. This is not the first time, nor will it be the last time that Jesus reveals himself to women. His mother knows him, he already has an entourage of women who are following him (though in most accounts they are “not counted”). It is the women at the tomb whom Jesus will reveal his risen self. The women need no convincing. They approach him for healings, to raise their brother from the dead. The women know what Jesus has to offer.

Jesus redeems her through the act of offering her life giving water, and acknowledging her gender. He references her in conversation as “Woman”- he is acknowledging who she is, her experience as woman. Jesus recognizes how important it is to call her this way. He has not dismissed her, but rather expresses his care and concern for her by calling her woman. In this naming of the Samaritan woman, Jesus has given her dignity- her dignity as a woman, as a human, to claim as her own. The Samaritan woman accepts her dignity and begins her mission when she accepts the life giving water that Jesus offers. Rev. Nunes yesterday reminded all of us that the living water cannot remain in a reservoir- in a well, but it must be moving- it cannot be stagnant. Our baptism is what calls us forth to be moving- to recognize the life giving water that Jesus is!

This is the reality of community for us- the ambiguity and mixed reality of what our sacramental life in the church means. We are all called through the sacrament of our baptism to be a part of this community. We are all baptized priests, prophets and kings. Some people might think we stumble most over the “Priest” part, but I think we are more afraid to be prophets. It is our prophets who die, because they challenge the church, the communities, the governments. Our prophets are challenging us to remember the affect of life giving water- of baptism daily. It is the life giving waters of baptism that calls us to communion- to reconciliation. We find our reconciliation in our relationship with God, each other and the community at large. Our Eucharist, our meal brings us together to be with each other, to share our common expression of faith and commitment to the beauty of imperfection in our church.

But this is not the end of the story for the Samaritan woman nor should it be the end for us today in the church. Our dignity- our self worth is not to be relegated to someone else- this dignity is inherent in our knowledge of Jesus and belief in the paschal mystery. Our dignity is not relegated to their understanding of who we are, rather, our dignity is tied up in our relationship with each other- and ultimately with our God.

Putting Things in Order...

Why is it that it takes so little for things to be put in order? After listening to a friend talk about mint.com for about a year, I decided to investigate and “budget” my money and begin seeing where I am spending my money. I appreciate knowing where my “treasure” is going. Granted, my income is much different from most peoples my age who have a master’s degree and are working for a national organization in Washington, D.C., but I appreciate seeing where the money goes in such an organized fashion.

I find myself participating in life in a very different way when the stress of finances looks differently. I was participating in a meeting last week and one of the conversation pieces that was brought to the attention of the group was the use of the word “poor”. Specifically in relationship to the people who are poor. In the parish that I grew up in we talked about the poor, what we were supposed to do to help the poor and all that … but the conversation at the meeting was challenging us to use a different phrase, other than the poor, because that phrase has allowed to distance ourselves from the reality of “the poor”. Rather than use the language of “the poor” I am encouraging myself to use the terminology of “those suffering in poverty”. No longer will I be able to think in abstract terms, but rather will remember to place the dignity of each person in tune with each brother or sister that I meet.

Labels

That was the message that I got from mass tonight. Labels are a part of our encounter with Christ and with one another. Peter wanted to label his encounter on top of the mountain. What is the purpose of such labels though? Where do labels fit in our lives today? How does a label add or diminish our relationships with others?

I think I have always been a proponent of labels, there is a level of comfort that comes from having a label attached to life. I remember shortly after my divorce, a priest that I had known my entire life growing up approached me and we began to visit. Our conversation went like this:

“So, how is your family?”
“Fine, all of us kids are grown.”
“Now you are divorced, right?”
…long, awkward pause… “Yes.”
“You weren’t even married a year, correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”

I remember being so furious, disappointed, angry and well, frankly, pissed off. As I look back on this encounter as the years go by, I wouldn’t say that I am grateful, but rather that I am aware of how the benefit of being labeled has helped me to be real about my life today. There are people that live for the ambiguity of life, what it means to them, and how they are able to interact with others in this realm of ambiguity. I, for the most part am not able to function in ambiguity- but I have to trust that there is a reason for such ambiguity. In the times of solace after my divorce, I am able to relate to ambiguity, to the need to un-define, not put strictures and trappings around my living. It is when I am un-trusting that I find myself burgeoning with the need to label- to affix labels to all points and parts of my life and to place my labels on others. Rather than just noting that I am scared, angry, frustrated, or some other emotion- my reaction is place a label on the situation.

I am interested to know how you avoid labels.

*write*

I have a friend who is a BIG TIME :-) editor for a publishing company who blogs and writes many entries about the importance of words and what they do, how they affect people, who is affected and in turn affects others. I have been listening lately to two of my favorite singer/songwriters- John Legend and Adele. ADELE’S new album is frickin’ off the charts!!!

I myself have written several posts about words and what they mean to me- usually within the frame of a deeper theological or sacramental context, but they are important none-the-less. I was riding the H8 bus this morning with my friend J. We were on our way to a lovely morning coffee and game of quiddler (scrabble for cards) and some light shopping. We got to talk about words, and she encouraged me to start writing on my blog again. I noted how when I was transferring information from my old computer to my new one, it had been such a stretch since I had last posted. I made the correlation that while I was in my master’s program it seemed so much easier to write- because I knew what I wanted to spend my time word-smithing- I had some new theological vocabulary to experiment with, and the easiest way to put this in use, is immediate use. It seems that while I may have more time on my hands these days, I have less to experiment with and put into immediate use.

I have attempted to frame some posts around current readings:
The Measure of a Man
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
The Help
The Invisible Bridge

are all books I have read in the last few weeks that have made an impact in my own learning’s and sharing, but that doesn’t seem to be reaching me much these days. At other times, I have taken quotes from a daily calendar that I have:

“Whatever you want in life, other people are going to want it too. Believe in yourself enough to accept the idea that you have an equal right to it.” ~Diane Sawyer
“We’ve begun to raise our daughters more like sons, but few have the courage to raise our sons more like our daughters.” ~Gloria Steinem
“Parents know how to push your buttons because, hey, they sewed them on.” ~Camryn Manheim
“You show people what you’re willing to fight for when you fight your friends.” ~Hilalary Rodham Clinton
“In my sex fantasy, nobody ever loves me for my mind.” ~Nora Ephron
“The problem with people who have no vices is that generally you can be pretty sure they’re going to have some pretty annoying virtues.” ~ Elizabeth Taylor

So, I am going to try to be more constant in my need to write and explore the use of words.
That is the best I can do!

More thoughts of Dorothy Day

I have been a bit preoccupied in the last couple of weeks.  On November 3^rd I was in New York at Maryknoll.  For Madmen fiends, Maryknoll is located in Ossining, the location of Madmen.  While there, I was able to replace my copy of Catholic Social Thought: The Documentary Heritage- Expanded Edition. 

Before I left for Nebraska for Thanksgiving, I had re-read Mater et Magistra or Christianity and Social Progress.  The part that I really appreciated about the document was that at the end, there is an offering of a Practical Suggestions or practical applications.  The assessment of how to determine if a social teaching and obligation is being observed and the identified need is being met. 

If you were to ask many of the men and women that I went to school with at St. John’s I doubt that many would express their shock that I was honing in on the practical application.  While I consider myself to be a liberation theologian (Christian/Catholic might be a better phrasing); or a feminist theologian; at my core I am a practical theologian.  I want to know the how’s and why’s of theology and its practice.  How do we translate effectively our beliefs to the men and women that we encounter in our daily lives?

I find this to be a contradiction in self to some extent.   I feel that I am a pretty open minded individual and am willing to accept people for the most part- where they are.  The contradiction lies in the fact that as a practical theologian I am looking for in most cases the tried and true methods of what works in translating the Supernatural Existential-grace in other words.  What makes the Grace of God reachable to everybody?  I am looking for in some respects, some very definite ideas of how to encounter God in life and among others. 

I am currently reading a book that is a compilation of Dorothy Day’s work- her writings and journals.  If there were ever a practical theologian who did not pay attention to methodology- well, I would have to say it was St. Dorothy Day.   My prayer for the last couple of weeks has been that I may be saturated in the same understanding of practicality that St. Dorothy encountered.  I imagine this to be more of “balm” that is massaged into the person’s soul through the actions of their lives.  In other words, the heart is so exposed; there is no doubt of motivation, meaning, and desire.   

“We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community.” ~Dorothy Day

Dorothy Day is one of my favorite catholic saints. While she has yet to be canonized by the Roman Catholic Church, the co-founder of the Catholic Worker Movement and inspiration for Catholic Worker Houses all over the world is widely held to be a great figure of wisdom, love, compassion and mystery today.

I just recently was sent an article in which some of Dorothy’s very personal love letters were in the process of being published. I wonder what she would say about this- no doubt, if I should be in her place, I would wish them destroyed. The letters are very personal and many are her love letters to her lover and partner, the father of her only child. Though they never married and separated due to strains that are a part of every relationship, she never sought another relationship (as far as I have studied [not that I am an expert by any stretch of the imagination]).

The letters speak of her ongoing love and loneliness of her missing partner. The letters address the very real aspects of relationship- the sweet words, the challenges, the sadness of ½ the bed being empty when the partner is away- the sweet expression of desire to have the bed filled.

Some will find these sentiments wrong and maybe even scandalous. I think that it has the beautiful ability to lend credibility to the very definition of what it means to be in relationship. Whether that relationship is in community- the group or with just one other individual.   I think the question is what does love look like to you?  How is it expressed authentically?  These images are vidi images of the fun in and with others in relationships!!!  Thoughts?

ideas...

in an attempt to be more deliberate in my postings i have decided to do a couple of things differently....
*my posts will not be asa long or as detailed
*my posts will follow my format of taking a quote from a recent reading and be a paragraph or two of reflection

Update: I have been at home sick for the last 3 days- and realize, there is only so many movies to watch, books to read, and sleep to get before a headache becomes a constant due to inactivity. While I am grateful for the job that I have that allows me to have sick days and the reality that I have no fear of taking the sick days- i am tired of being sick! I know, from my conversations with D & L that I need to do a better job of taking care of myself, remembering to take time off, etc. Having said that- I have had a wonderful, stress-filled, fantastic time at work for the last, gosh, eight months. I have felt fulfilled, stretched, and affirmed (for the most part).

I am excited to go to work on Monday, and leave for vacation on Wednesday! I will be posting from Nebraska though too...

Saturated in Chrism

Chrism (Greek word literally meaning "an anointing"), also called "Myrrh" (Myron). Pure or scented olive oil, although typically not called chrism today, has been called chrism in the past, including oil used in some forms of Baptism, Confirmation, Anointing of the Sick and foot washing.

I find it fascinating when I am suffering from some kind of broken relationship, a friend or lover I start to feel myself shriveling. I start to shrink and loose my elasticity. It is obviously a defense mechanism, but defense from what? In any relationship (I will be using the inclusive we pronoun as I don’t think I am the only person who finds this true of their self) we put ourselves out there. We spend time with our new interest- platonic or erotic and expend energy determining what aspects of our self we will share, how much and how often.

What happens though when the relationship ends?—When your friend moves away (to Benin for instance) or you decided your lover wasn’t just right? Do you find it hard to trust? Certainly there is an initial pain and frustration, promises to yourself to do things differently, self-talk to remind yourself that you are loveable, good and worth the best that God has in store. Once that is done and the weight of time is pressing on you, then what do you do?

I have noticed a trend in myself to become a bit brittle, sharp and hard to deal with. I don’t stay that way- but that is my initial reaction. My response though when I take the time to look further, is to want chrism oil. I want to be saturated, redeemed through my sacraments again. The Sacraments are some of my first loving welcome and embraces into my Christian community. I was saturated in a sign of the cross made on my head. It was of chrism-myrrh-perfumed oil when I was baptized and again at the confirmation of the seal. There is a sense of healing for me in remembering such moments (even the ones I don’t recall). The other time that oil is used in our church is for the welcoming of others into the church (again Baptism or Confirmation) or the anointing of the sick.

Are we not all sick at heart and in need of anointing when we see a relationship end? I suppose in that regard it is sensible to crave such a tangible expression of the reality of God’s grace. When all we should want and desire in life is right relationship with one another—to be a full, live, embodied expression of God’s love visible in the world, we can still fail. We choose to deny relationship to others, or they choose to deny us. Either way, relationship is broken.
So, I find solace in knowing that through the signs and expressions of my home community, my universal church that the prayers of the church are reaching beyond my grief, are opening their care and love to encourage me to heal, to saturate myself in the reality of God’s care and love of me. I have been created in the image and likeness, why not cherish the very full reality of God in me?

Reality check and time to check back in…

It has obviously been several months since my last contribution. There are several reasons for such an oversight. It was travel season at my job- I have been gone most weekends visiting different parishes and speaking at liturgies about mission. I have found that to be a very rewarding facet of my current position. There is something very tangible about being connected in a parish, seeing babies come in and out of church. Watching families, single people waltz in and out of the doors of a sanctuary. There is a sense of security in recognizing that while time marches on, it does not change the consistency in which people attempt to communicate with the Divine- whatever they know the Divine to be.

So travel season, for the most part is complete. I still have other small trips to take- comp days to catch up on, etc. But for the most part- I get to be a homebody and am able to still take in the beautiful surroundings of the city I live in and to which I belong.

Currently- I am a registered DC voter and resident!!! Praise Jesus!
I am looking into Doctoral programs or another Masters of some kind (more on that later).

I have visited several states over the last year and am closing the gap on places to visit…Louisiana (3 x) Chicago (3 x) Wisconsin, Minnesota, Nebraska, Iowa, New Jersey (2 x), New York, Delaware, Pennsylvania (6 x), West Virginia, California, Texas, New Mexico, (this list does not include the layovers from said trips either!- that would be like another 15 states at least!!!!)
Relationships have changed…my sister lived with me for part of the summer. That was not a part of the original plan and people were surprised when I shared plan A with them. My typical response was, “Well, we tried living together once for, like, 18 years and someone almost died. My dad!” Of course they laugh and of course I jest (kind of), but while it was trying to have K. in the small one room apartment converted into a two bedroom apartment, her and I sharing a room, I feel that for the most part, we did pretty well. Granted I was gone most weekends, but it was lovely to have my sister as a part of my daily life.

That is my life for the past several months. I feel like I am still processing my trip to Guatemala, our country is still struggling to welcome those who are seeking refuge in our borders, and I am still continuing to figure out what my reality looks like. I, in my attempt to figure this out, plan to be disciplined in my blogging.

draconian laws make a comeback...

“Happy the eyes that can close.”

These are the ending words of the last sentence of the first chapter of Cry, The Beloved Country. I have had this book on my shelf for some time- last summer actually, and am just now at a place where I think I am capable of reading about this land of Africa. The book is set in late 40’s early 50’s South Africa. It follows a priest on his journey, leaving behind his wife, in search of a wayward sister, brother and son. That is as far as I have gone…so far.

What struck me last night, reading in my favorite chair (a gift from one of my favorite former housemates who lives in Wisconsin…yay CW) was I don’t know how well I have slept in the last couple of days…two weeks really. I am uncertain of my own role is to play in the racist law recently passed in Arizona, but I know that I am disturbed. I am disturbed because I think of the men that I was working with in Phoenix two summers ago, the kids I was playing with, my friend who I went on a lark with to Mexico for a fantastic one day trip. All the raspados I had that summer…There were so many phenomenal points in which I was challenged as a person who lives with others in a global community.

I think one of the more disturbing trends is that I am unclear how people who don’t see immigration through the same lens that I do are able to justify their position with their faith…how is that reconcilable. (Please let me be clear- I am not asking for these positions to be made clear on this blog!)

I wonder how many people are not sleeping in Arizona. Is the Governor? Is the Sherriff of Maricopa County- America’s self-appointed toughest sherriff? How many children are afraid to sleep at night? How many children are afraid to wake up because it could be the day that their parents are taken away…or their sibling…or their grandparents… or neighbors…

Maybe, if I were writing, I would say, “Happy the eyes that can close with peaceful rest.”

Musings....

“Truly great people have never had much peace of mind, for they were too aware of their own inner conflicts, of the pain and suffering around them, and of their own calling to a life of struggle.” ~John Sanford

A friend sent me this quote recently. I had been discussing the merits of my job. *Disclaimer- I love my job, what I do, etc…I do struggle though with my job as vocation- since I thought I primarily had been in ministry, I thought there might be a more direct ministerial link…

There are some dynamic words at play in this quote that continue to engage me: peace, aware, pain, calling, life and struggle. At different points in my own life I have been all of these words, imagined them in my own reality and put them to work in my life. But what do they mean for personal identity and reality of a life lived aware of vocation, calling, discernment? I think that , before anything else can be laid down, it should be understood that all these words will mean different things to different people. Again, I believe as previously stated, that this is one facet of the beauty of Catholicism. We don’t have to make a point to fit everything into little boxes, neatly organized. Instead we can relish our time in the chaos. As a Catholic woman, that is where I find myself anyways. As a professor of note would remind a class gathered everyday- chaos is where creativity lives and God makes beauty from chaos- just look at the world.

I have been spending an inordinate amount of time focused on the word of struggle lately…

Since my last entry Arizona passed one of the most disastrous laws which will affect the way America deals with immigration. As a country founded around the idea that all people seeking refuge from oppression should be able to find a place in the US- Arizona has just changed the way it can/could ever be perceived in the US, in the world. There are many stories of men and women who are staging their own protest of a law that legalizes racial profiling.

I don’t pretend to know what it is like to be an immigrant, the challenges, the scared reality of moving away from all that I could know, people that I know and living in a new country. What is worse then moving to a country where a number of people (lawmakers) have made it clear that I am not welcome? I find though that my response is tied fundamentally to my identity as a Catholic woman. It is my responsibility to continue to speak with those who are not being welcomed.

Are we not all born of immigrants? How is this discrimination different from the profiling of past times in US history when the Irish were targeted? Or the Poles? Really, every single ethnic group has been targeted- the fears are all the same. People cry out that the immigrants are going to ruin the country, they are going to eat up too much of our tax dollars, they won’t learn the language…Yet, the reality is that English is still the national language even if we are showing respect to those who move to the country and need help with translation (see the ad by an Alabama gubernatorial candidate- icky!).

My grandpa and I were having a conversation about this about a year and a half ago. My parting comment was, “Well, I guess then that it was a good thing that Mary, Joseph and Jesus had all their papers in order when they went to Egypt to flee oppression.”

My Trip...Part 1...For Now...

I said that I would be writing this weekend, and I had every intention of writing yesterday, but I ended up succumbing to a Guatemalan recovery illness. I lost my voice to an extent and stayed in bed for the last two and half days.

At this point, I just have the energy to list some highlights from the trip:
• The quiet and stillness of the countryside. Zapote where I stayed for 6 days is a remote village where the community knows very little Spanish, if at all. The language of the village is one called Q’eqchi’ (pronounced kek chi). They greet one another with a saying that translates, “How is your heart/soul?”
• Being surrounded by the goodness of others. Every day I was greeted with greetings- generally too early for me to appreciate-not being a morning person even in Guatemala. People would escort Francis and I to all of our meals and provided wonderful and tasty meals for each of us. Breakfast was a mix of beans, eggs and sometimes spaghetti with sauce and of course homemade tortillas. Lunch and dinner was ALWAYS a homemade chicken soup that was a typical fare for visitors and guests of import, and homemade tortillas. For drinks there was always something hot- coffee colored sugar water or a coco water, as the water was not safe for me to drink, I had some trouble staying hydrated.
• I went to the local tienda (store) and bought some goodies a couple days. Their cookies in small packets were the ones my parents would never have let me have when I was little, and really after two bites of the treats I was ready to hand the goodies off to the kids that would gather around. They also served orange drink- Miranda which sent me back to my childhood and the handful of times our family went to McDonalds for a meal. We ordered happy meals and had to get the Orange drink because it was better than pop. I was reliving this memory with Aris- one of the priests who journeyed with me and he just laughed. I was told that Miranda is what people drink when they are sick….Hmmmm…
• The liturgies were intense from a cultural standpoint. I had a lot of need to place my western understanding of liturgy and behavior aside as I participated in the liturgy. Children were running all over the churches, a game of kick ball made its way into the church, a boy (12-14) was smoking outside the church and the smoke blew into the church, one legged races, etc. …My cultural understandings of behavior were challenged and disregarded by the local community in part because of a lack of catechesis of what was really happening, and also significant cultural differences. Yet, the most basic element- our identity as brothers and sisters in Christ who were participating in their liturgies in other parts of the world- some in complete silence—others in war zones—others with noise levels some where in between—we were all united in our prayers, we were united in our fervor for the care of God’s creation and the wonder that encapsulates all- the silence and the noise.
• I have gone to the last couple of peace vigils at SOA/WHINSEC in Fort Benning, Georgia. I was able to really contextualize what the trips mean for me know. I met several “catechists” or “catecistas” who carry and pass on the faith to members of the community. These are the men and women who were targeted by the military for their belief that they have human dignity, and for sharing that belief with their brothers and sisters in Christ. This really hit me when we travelled to Zapote and were met by the Head Pastoral leader and his associate. They had met us in a city where we all journeyed together to Zapote. These men would have been risking their lives and the lives of their families 20 years ago. Even with the violence in the past, I am not sure that I would be brave enough to hold such a position in the community. When we travelled to Guatemala City- the capital we went to the cathedral and on the gate outside the cathedral were the names of every person who had suffered violence during the war. Every person from Guatemala, who had been beaten, killed, disappeared, raped, and tortured.

I am still trying to figure out what to do with all of this. There is a lot running through my head, which I am sure is part of the reason I fell sick. So much of this trip was framed from my time at St. John’s. I kept recalling when I was being pushed/shoved out of my comfort zone, that part of the fun of cliff diving, is falling. Opening my eyes and watching the world whiz by was glorious. I learned in a classroom what the teaching of subsidiarity was- the idea that we as one culture have no business telling another culture how to run their lives. What we do have a right to do is participate in their lives through their understanding. I think I did that to the best of my ability in this trip. My next trip to Guatemala will I am sure bringing even more challenges, and call to mind even greater reflections.

The quiet presence....

I think that sometimes it is very easy to feel overwhelmed by life, by living, and by all the realities that accompany every day in the world. What I found from a holy conversation tonight was my conversations are not separate entities that are removed from every other conversation, but rather are bound together in such a way that there is no real way to separate one from the other.

In my conversation tonight, I was speaking with a woman whom I have known for well over 20 years. She knew me as a little girl and has seen me grow and become a woman. She was my next-door neighbor, her daughter was my flat mate, we are peers in our profession of ministry. Our relationship has changed in subtle ways in the past 20 years. What I realized though, in our conversation was that the times that I have felt overwhelmed, when I felt the burden of choices, of carrying baggage that was mine to carry, and some that wasn’t- I was overwhelmed because I chose to not pay attention to the people around me. If I had, I would have realized that I would have been lifted by those who know and love me, who are standing with me, in an act of solidarity to help carry the burdens that I place on my shoulders.

When I was going through an especially bad time two years ago, I was heartbroken and sick, I remember my good friend telling me it sounds like I had lost a sense and an awareness of gratitude. I remember being outraged at those words!!! I had nothing to be grateful for- I had been dumped, humiliated, and really, I think indignant was a good look for me…I have thought about her words a lot in the last two years, a lot. I don’t ever want to be accused of not being aware of gratitude, much less, I have so much to be grateful for. I now look back at that time of pain and am able to reflect and see the beauty that has emerged in my life as a result of growing stronger in my own identity as a woman.

My conversation tonight with my friend reminds me over and over what it means for a cohort of women to gather and to be a support and life thread for one another. In today’s first reading, Queen Esther pleads for the cause of her people. She asks for deliverance from the evil plotter who wishes to kill her family, friends, neighbors, peers, the people she knows in her mind and heart. There are actions of solidarity that we all undertake to be of support for one another. Some speak freely about their actions of solidarity. Others just quietly go about their day and provide simple graces to those in the world by deed and prayer. That is what Meme does for me. I love you!

And so it begins...again...

Prayer cannot exist together with hostile feelings. The fruit of prayer is always love. In prayer, even the unprincipled dictator and the vicious torturer can no longer remain the objects of our fear, hatred, and revenge, because when we pray, we stand at the center of the great mystery of divine compassion.”
~Henri Nouwen

Lent began today, and with the ashes that now sit on my forehead comes the weight of the next 40 days. There are those that resent Lent, the act of giving something up does not ring authentically with their understanding of God. I wonder about that. Belief in the divine is not a guarantee that everything will go your way. Rather belief in the divine seems to be a way to get through the pain that sometimes accompanies life. Loss and life. Relationships are broken.

Lent is a time that I try to make sure that my prayer life is attempting to live on a foundation of sturdy stone. It is easy to allow myself to be distracted from the work of prayer as well. I find many reasons to wash and polish the floor rather than to spend the time needed to ensure that prayer is perfect. In a conversation today I was reminded yet again that my life is not a call to perfection, rather it is a call. That is all. My response to the call is how I choose to be in relationship with the divine.

It is because of the reality of prayer, the struggle sometimes to pray that I am reminded that I must in turn love from my prayer. My broken relationships are a challenge to remember that I am called to authentic love and also heartbreak with humanity.

Lent is the time to remove myself from the sin of omission in life- the refusal to participate from being with others because I am tired, because I don’t want to be doing anything. Lent is a time to get down to the business of loving others, and most of all, myself. Lent is a challenging time for me~I don’t know about anyone else…

Ponderings on my way...

My brother is back from overseas. There is a great sense of relief from my family- in my mothers voice there is energy and life again. My father was able to vocally project such vigor and a great sense of enthusiasm that has been missing in the past 6 months. Both did a great job in the time my bro was gone of not being gloomy, but there was a very noted change that I would venture only those closest to them could really gauge and fully hear much less understand. I never really considered before the weight that a missing family member can have on the dynamic of a family. I got an introduction certainly when J. was sent over. It became even more fully noted when my cousin was missing over Christmas and the eventual finding of his body, and the closure with his funeral.

But, I became very aware yesterday as I was waiting for the bus that there is another type or form of missing someone. I am not sure really how to frame this yet, but I have been thinking about it since yesterday. A boy- he must have been around 15 was at the bus stop waiting for the 80 when I joined him and I commented on his scarf. He said thanks, and then proceeded to say how happy he was because his older brother was being released from jail today. All I could think to say was, “You must be so happy!” His smile, which was from ear to ear said everything. The bus came and we never spoke again.

I have kept thinking in the last 24 hours how special our brothers, well, really our siblings are. They are our first friends and our first enemies. They are confidants and tattlers. Siblings are the reminder that no matter what we do in our lives, there is always someone who will take us down a notch when we need to be taken down, and will be our strongest cheerleaders when we need that. We may not always be in communication, in fact we may not even talk to one another as adults, but that will not displace the fact that we shared a very intimate home for at least 9 months, if not longer. That bond cannot be broken. Wars, incarceration, hurt feelings, death cannot take away that connection.

Liturgy and charisms (My Soapbox)

This is a picture of (I think) the Baptismal font in front of the Episcopal House of Prayer in Collegeville, MN.

I am not a liturgist. I make that disclaimer at the beginning of this entry because this entry will be about liturgy. My understanding of liturgy is founded on the belief that liturgy is the “work of the People”. This comes from church teaching, my own formation in my family and academically. I am irritated to say the least. The more I think about the sometimes ridiculous nature of how our church is reflected in the words of others is scandalous. I would like to propose a question and would enjoy feedback.~Truly- Im not just sayin' that!

Scenario 1: I attended mass on Monday to celebrate one of the greatest martyrs of the 20th century- Martin Luther King Jr. It was a pretty big deal- Mayor Fenty was in attendance for a bit. The homily was horrible. The presider was not a homilist- he covered way too much in 50 minutes. The length of the homily is not the problem. I love a good homily- one that will prompt me to be challenged and will call me to see life and my interaction in the world in a different way- that was not this homily. Everything was covered- but I think I would also be generous to say that five minutes of the 50 minute homily was devoted to the work of MLK. During the Liturgy of the Eucharist the presider then literally breathed words onto the host and wine to turn them into the Body and Blood of Jesus. So, what that says to me, as a lay woman in pew is that regardless of my participation- I will be a spectator. This is not for me.

If preaching is a charism that is to be in place as a requirement for ordination when we attend (some would go so far as to say participate in) a mass, when the homily is horrible- does that mean that the mass is considered invalid?

Scenario 2: I attend daily mass. After today's liturgy I ran into the cafeteria and a meeting was taking place and two priest who had concelebrated came in after me. They were asked by their group already gathered in the room how mass was and the response from one of the men was, “Well, it was valid today.” He would not elaborate on what had made it invalid yesterday (at least not in front of me). They stated that the mass was still valid yesterday because he and the other priest were there to concelebrate, but it left me with the impression that it was barely valid…

The priest who had celebrated had just come back from working abroad in the missions. He has devoted his life to proclaiming the work of Jesus and living a life of the Gospel. Maybe he forgot something- I don’t remember- what I do remember was being invited to participate fully and being challenged in the time of the homily- recognizing the wisdom of Sophia alive and moving, coursing through my soul, my body, my entire being as he spoke.

Are we such an arrogant people that we think words are really enough to take away the presence of God from the midst of others? When phrases like invalid/valid mass get tossed around I wonder and often reject the idea that when our heart as a community gathered to celebrate and revel in the presence of God, that our participation in the sacrifice of the liturgy could ever be considered invalid. People all over the world, with the wrong books, wrong vestments, wrong vessels, and little education participate fully in the mystery of the church and mass. There is nothing invalid about that.

A Week in Review...

I have written many times of the needs of solidarity, how I attempt to live in solidarity, and what are the moments in my life that call out such movement…It is with this in mind that I note three things in my week that I want to highlight as calls to solidarity.

1- the earthquake in Haiti. Obviously that is central to what my week has been focusing on. Speaking with members, hearing stories from their missioners, about their families in Haiti-it is overwhelming to think of what this devastation and destruction means for people who have less than nothing- and I had trouble picking out which top to wear to work today…This devastation brings out the many sides and faces of the humanity on our earth. I have heard words from one man in particular that are beyond sinful (in my mind) and found consolation in the need to remind myself the God does not cause sin, death and destruction- but rather redeems. It is our sinful attitudes of want and desire that led to our brothers and sisters living in such conditions that brought such ease to the destruction of their living. As this is not sitting well with me at this time, I am sure I will be reflecting on this more in the coming days.

2- the second act of my week was last night. I went to the Women and Spirit exhibit at the Smithsonian. It is a display noting the contributions of the Women Religious (sisters and nuns) in America since they first came to the continent. It was a marvelous display and well done exhibit. There was not time to see everything, so I will go back- it is an exhibit that I plan to take my mother to see when she is visiting here in March. To see a great preview go to www.womenandspirit.org The exhibit is well worth the time to examine and view the work of women in America. I think I even spotted the Annunciation Monastery in Bismarck, ND (that is the sponsoring community for The University of Mary where I studied in undergrad)!

3- I found out this week that I will be travelling to Guatemala during Holy Week this year. I will be doing basic research and helping to establish a formation program for missioners working with a group of ordained Catholic priests-I will be studying, praying and researching with several men, one of whom is a cultural anthropologist in an attempt to come up with a frame of reference for lay missioners, their culture shock and initiate ways to promote authentic discussions of religious traditions and experiences as they are in unfamiliar territory (spiritually and geographically). I am really excited about this and obviously will be blogging during this time and the prep time leading up to the travel.