Hungry, but for what?

"Hunger, that gnawing ache in the pit of your stomach,
"A constant reminder of the most cruel sign of poverty:
"Life longing to be nourished and fed.

"But where do I go when I hunger for justice?
"Is there enough food to fill the hungry heart,
"A feast where all are fed?

"Then I hear the invitation to sit down
"Around the table --
"A table with enough chairs for all.

"It is just a simple meal,
"A sacred meal of bread and wine,
"Blessed and consecrated as a sign of love.

"As one body we receive you,
"This bread that is broken and shared,
"Can break the boundaries of an unjust world.

"In the Eucharist we are formed,
"On mission we are sent to live justly."

-- Catholic Relief Services

I am writing this on Good Friday. I waited until today to write on this topic because I knew I would be experiencing a small degree of hunger today, the physical kind of hunger. Yesterday I attended Holy Thursday Mass, and so my own body and spirit are well-nourished. Today I fast, partially.

I awoke hungry and felt that gnawing ache. I ate a small meal of bread and eggs, with a few blueberries sprinkled in. I am allowed to do this, by virtue of age and a medical condition. I am fortunate to live in the United States, where, at least for now, I have access to necessities like food, water and basic medical care for as long as I have money to pay for them.

On Sunday, Easter Sunday, my family is coming for dinner. We will enjoy roasted chickens, vegetables and more. We are sharing with family. But I try to share with more than just family. I don't always do well at sharing, but I do try.

Last Saturday I spent the morning with some of my colleagues sorting frozen meats at our local food bank. It was heartbreaking to throw some of the food away, but for safety reasons, we had to. What good is food that, instead of nourishing a body, will make it ill?

We sorted about 8,000 pounds of frozen meat that morning. I was told it would be gone before week's end. People rely on this donated food to maintain their very lives. Many of them, most of them, are working poor. People who work as many hour as I do, or  more, yet cannot afford to feed their families. And that's right here in the United States, right here on the Shore where I live.

But as vital as the need for daily bread, there is a deeper hunger, one that is not so easily recognized. A hunger for God, for meaning, for love and peace. None of that can be readily found here on Earth. Yet all of it can be found here on Earth, if we but look in the right places.

Who teaches us to love? Who models the kind of love we yearn to experience? Where do we go to gain an understanding of true peace, and where does it begin?

The truth is, we yearn for things we have never experienced, never seen or heard or touched. Yet we know they exist. Some are convinced they are capable of grasping these gold rings on the carousel of life, on their own -- but can we even recognize them when we see them, much less reach out and pluck them off the tree of life?

As Catholics, we fast so that we might come to a better understanding of hunger -- not so much the physical variety, but the hunger for things this world cannot give us. We ponder how we might help others who are far away from our reach. We consider how even the greatest love we experience here on Earth -- perhaps the love of our parents, or the love we feel for our own children, or the deep and satisfying love of a spouse, the love we call friendship -- is but a pale shadow of the real thing. And we meditate on the promise that those who hunger and thirst for righteousness will be filled.

No one of us can solve all the world's problems, can fill all the need or make all the sacrifices necessary. That is the realm of God alone. God could easily right every wrong, fill every need, level every mountain that stands in the way of our happiness and fulfillment, fill every valley of despair until no one would experience hunger, ever again, in any form.

But that's not what we actually need. We are struggling to learn how we can help each other, because that's what really matters. It can be friends and family, neighbors and strangers, doesn't matter. But until we learn to love one another, to share what we have with those in need -- joyfully and freely -- we will not experience that for which we hunger.

It's a hard lesson to grasp. We do the best we can.

And on Sunday, we will celebrate with great joy the resurrection of our Lord and Savior, who did  make the requisite sacrifices so that we can begin to understand what is required of us.

Between Then and Now

Lent will be over in ten days.  My Lenten sacrifice has been twofold:

• One, finding the time to write two blogs a week in which I entered into self examination and self reflection regarding eight different topics.  Let's see if I can remember them from heart.  Negative thinking, criticism, procrastination, fear of success, fear of failure.  Well, five out of eight isn't too bad.  Upon a little research, I discover the other three to be negative self-talk, people pleasing, and self-doubt.

• Two, living with the fact that very few people will ever read my blogs.  A trial sore to the ego.

Which reminds me of a story, a true story at that, and also a short one.  One morning, when I was sixteen, I woke up from a dead sleep and burst into tears.  Just burst into tears. I was not rocked by a dream, or some dread worry facing me that day.  I was rocked by a notion.  That notion was the possibility I may not live forever.  

It wasn't long afterwards that I made a life-changing commitment to Jesus Christ, one night under a starry sky while sitting in a parking lot just a few blocks from the Atlantic Ocean.  In an instant it was as if my heart broke open and the entire ocean rushed in, washing away completely any doubt I would not only live forever, but in a sea of joy, love, peace, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and everlasting divine adventure.  

I was seventeen and seven days.  A week later, I left for college, sailing off into an unknown future that was full of hope.  My faith was so absolute, so strong, so pure, so certain.  I knew that I knew that I knew that I knew Jesus Christ, Son of God, was risen from the dead, and was now risen in me.  No doubt.  Not then, not now.  

Not that I haven't doubted God in between now and then, or been unfaithful to my commitment.  In fact, over the years, I have prayed to many gods.  But only One has answered.  That is why I observe Lent.  My goal is not to indulge my need for perfection, but to enlarge my heart.  Not that I'll ever be able to contain the entire ocean.  But I plan on spending an eternity trying.

Pax et Bonum,
Rose

Seven Pages a Day: And They Said It Couldn’t Be Done

Well, I did it! I finished the New Testament in 40 days. Actually, I finished a few days early, which—as you’ll see—turned out to be a good thing.

Today is the last day of Lent. The Triduum begins tomorrow evening. The next three days are the most sacred days in the Christian calendar. It begins with the celebration of the Last Supper and Institution of the Holy Eucharist. It continues with Good Friday—good because of Christ’s atoning death—and culminates on Easter with the marvelous resurrection of our Savior, which is the foretaste of our own glorification.

I chose to read Revelation last because, well, it’s the last book of the New Testament. Wow. It was like reading a mini-version of The Lord of the Rings. I LOVED it! If you don’t know, Revelation was written by John while he was exiled on the Island of Patmos. It records a series of visions experienced by John. A lot of people have racked their brains trying to figure out to what or whom each of the symbols refers. It’s hard to say. Some are obviously relevant to the time in which John lived. But given the plot of the book is the universal and timeless battle between good and evil, it’s hard to tell.

Personally, I think Revelation can be fulfilled again and again. It probably will be until the end of time, when “(t)here will be no more night” and “(we) will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give (us) light. And (we) will reign for ever and ever.” (Rev. 22:5) with Christ, “the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End (Rev. 22:13).” To that I say, “So be it! Lord Jesus, come!” (Rev. 22:20).

I also think Revelation, with its call to keep faith until that day comes, speaks to our personal Armageddon—the last battle before the day of judgment. In that sense, we are all living in the end times, because when we die…well, that’s the end of time for us! Armageddons come in all shapes and sizes, too. But they all give us the opportunity to “go on doing good (Rev. 20: 11).”

John and I have been facing one of these Armageddons since vacation last week. First, we both broke our phones, which plunged us deep into the bowels of Cricket Phone Hell. After emerging victorious from there, brandishing new phones like shining swords, we were confronted with a mouse infestation in our kitchen. Ugh. John bought mousetraps. I sought wisdom on mouse control from my peeps on Facebook. Spot, our cat, continued grooming herself.  Not a mouser bone in her body.  We’re doing everything to make our home uninviting to them without having to kill them.  It’s not the easiest route. 

Still in the midst of this battle, we were confronted with another attack from the dark side. Halfway through the rinse cycle, the washer died. Of course, that was the load that had all our underwear. John found out it couldn’t be fixed, which meant another $$ ding we weren’t expecting. Plus, I had the pleasure of dragging out every last piece of clothing from the washer, ringing it out and throwing it in the dryer. This activity distracted me from the sound of water running in my office, which turned out to be coming from a broken toilet.

And yet, somehow, through it all we kept our peace.  Did reading the New Testament in 40 days  help?  I like to think so.  It was a reminder that when I set my mind to it, I can do just about anything and face about any trial.  Because with God, nothing is impossible.

Have a blessed and holy Easter.