People, Places and Things

In chapters 16-18 of Matthew Kelly's book, Rediscover Jesus, I am challenged to consider how I allow judgement, exclusionary behavior and materialism distract me from God's desire for relationship.

How will your key relationships improve if they are free from judgement?

In order to answer this question well, I think it's important to talk about the difference between judgement and discernment. Judgement says, "Your behavior is bad, and therefore you are unlovable (by me)." Discernment says, "Because your behavior is bad, I have to set appropriate limits. But I still love you."

Discernment is very important to me. In fact, it's a survival skill. Without it, I have made very bad choices in my life that have wasted a lot of precious time. With it, I've avoided everything from letting that extra cookie ruining my figure to scam artists ruining my credit.

Finding the fine line between discernment and judgement is like maintaining Tree Pose.  If I focus on a point straight in front of me, I can stand for quite awhile. But, if my gaze strays just a bit, I will lose my balance and topple.

In the same way, when my discernment is clear, I'm free from feelings of frustration, hurt and lack of forgiveness. I can go about my life, clear on what I will or won't let other people do to me. At the same time, I am able to maintain feelings of compassion, or at least neutrality, towards the person I feel is doing me or someone else harm.

I am free to act in ways that may change the situation, as well. That could be anything as subtle as a prayer for another who has harmed me, or as overt as joining in a public protest against wrongdoing.

But if my gaze strays to how he hurt me, or she used me, or they are destroying the world, or I'm sabotaging myself, I topple. I fall in a heap of distracting thoughts and feelings, and lose focus on the goal.

My goal is to keep my eyes on Jesus, who tells us again and again in the gospels, "Judge not, lest you be judged."

God, help me to remember the difference between discernment and judgement. Never let me mistake one for the other. 

Jesus taught every person is as important and valuable as those considered important and valuable by society. What is God saying to you through this teaching today?

I think God is teaching me true community does not exist when even one person is excluded

Several situations in my life have helped to drive this message home.

• Caring for my aging mother has taught me the elderly deserve respect and understanding. 
• Worshiping in an integrated parish reminds me to love regardless of background. 
• Living across the street from a L'Arche community helps me to experience the uniquely pure love of people with disabilities.
• Finally, marriage is a mirror that constantly drives home I am weak and needy when I want to appear strong and capable.

That last one is especially important. Most people think marriage is where you learn to love another unconditionally. That's true. But it's also where you learn to allow yourself to be loved unconditionally.  

Thank you, God, that life will teach me what I need to learn if I let it.  My life is richer than it could ever be if I sheltered myself from the challenges of true community.

Jesus said, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven." What is one practical way you can live this teaching in the coming week?

I don't know who was the first to say it, but in this chapter Matthew Kelly reminds me of one of my favorite memes:

But, I've been wondering. Could I love things AND people at the same time? The reason I ask is that I know the one practical thing I could do this week is to put down my phone (with which I'm playing Words With Friends) or close my book every night at bedtime and listen--really listen--while John tells me about his day. I would definitely love a pass on that. I would love to believe listening to John share his day while in a state of total distraction is OK.

Unfortunately, by the end of the day, I have a little too much in common with Linus when he said, "I love mankind. It's people I can't stand."  Just leave me alone and let me read my book.

Now, in my defense, I will offer up that I'm an introvert, and bedtime is about the only time I get all day to recharge. Nonetheless, perhaps a little self-reflection on my use of technology is in order. I don't think there is anything wrong with using technology--even to relax--but when it gets in the way of relationships, or is a substitute for them, I know I'm relying on something that will be rusty and moth-eaten, and will leave me feeling empty in the long run.

I am amazed by how much technology is used at the wrong times and in the wrong places. I still recall the day I saw a woman take a phone call during mass, just after receiving communion. No, I don't think it was God calling.  But I do hope I'm listening when he does.

Dear God, show me something practical I can do today that will help me detach from the many distractions that disconnect me from hearing your call.

Live, Give & Forgive

These are my reflections on Chapters Ten, Eleven & Twelve of Rediscover Jesus by Matthew Kelly.

Are you loving yourself the way God wants you to love yourself?

A part of me hates this question. I immediately flash on an entire self-help industry dedicated to improving my self-esteem and empowering me to live a very big life by focusing on myself. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for healthy self-esteem. I want to get the most of my life. But in order to answer this question properly, I need to focus on the last half of it:

“…the way God wants you to love yourself…”

How does God want me to love myself? I have to put this question into the context of the two great commandments Jesus emphasized: 

"'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." (Matthew 22:34-40)”

He didn’t add a third commandment. He didn’t say, “You must go into therapy in order to learn to love yourself before you love your neighbor.” He seemed to take it for granted that we love ourselves. So, what I conclude from this is, to love God is to love myself. The more I love God, the more I’ll love myself.

The analogy that comes to mind is sun bathing. If I bask in the sun, I’ll get tan. If I bask in the presence of God, I’ll reflect that influence. I’ll just start naturally acting like Jesus…loved, loving and lovable.

So I ask myself, how did Jesus love himself? Well, to make it short and snappy. He prayed and he served.

That being said, the question for me is, “Rose, are you loving yourself through prayer and service?”

The answer is yes. Although there are days I’d like to be praying in a spa and serving myself another glass of wine.

Thank you, God, that we practice loving ourselves when we love you and serve others. Amen

How is God inviting you to become more generous?

Eight years ago, I started getting the message it was time to start giving back. I began by volunteering to be a lector at my parish. I joined the choir, too. I started co-leading Kid’s Liturgy. A few years later, I began volunteering at a hospital, offering Reiki sessions to cancer survivors. A few years after that, I became a friend of the L’Arche Chicago folks. I hang out with them several times a month, and I’ve helped organize a ministry to them through our parish and outreach center. I even got John and myself to get our act together as regards to tithing.

Not content to give back at church, last year I joined the local Chamber of Commerce. I am a member of our health and wellness committee, and the chair of the Chamber Health & Wellness Speakers Series.

Not to mention, I am the primary caretaker for my 90-something mother.

Now I’m getting another message. It goes something like this: “Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.” These are Jesus’ words to his hard-working disciples.  In effect, he was saying that even when you are out to save the world, take time to be generous to yourselves. Or you’ll burn out before you’re done with your mission.

I used to be much better at spiritual self-care. I took long weekend retreats four times a year at a local convent, nurturing myself on prayer, long walks and extra naps. For some reason, that hasn’t come as easily to me. But this Lent, I’m reminded of the old saying, “generosity begins at home.” And I’m recommitting to those quarterly retreats.

God, I am grateful for your Son’s work ethic, which included times of rest, prayer and play. Help me never lose that rhythm in my life.

How seriously do you take Jesus’ invitation to forgive?

Yesterday I was talking to my husband about this question. “Honestly,” I said, “I think forgiveness is a survival skill.” He nodded his head vigorously. After twenty years of marriage, I think we’ve both learned that without forgiveness, we couldn’t have lasted.

That’s not a very high and holy reason to take Jesus’ invitation seriously. But it’s practical, and lots of Jesus’ advice was practical.  So I don’t think he minds that I may forgive just as much to keep my blood pressure down as to bring about the Kingdom of God. In the end, I suppose, it’s all one and the same.

Jesus, give me the grace to forgive as you have forgiven me. Without it, I'll never survive.

Imagine That!

S

At the beginning of Jesus' public ministry, he announced to his hometown synagogue that these words had been fulfilled in their hearing:

God’s Spirit is on me;

    he’s chosen me to preach the Message of good news to the poor,

Sent me to announce pardon to prisoners and

    recovery of sight to the blind,

To set the burdened and battered free,

    to announce, “This is God’s year to act!”

For the last forty days, I have been reflecting how I have been called to act, as well.  How am I to preach the message--using words only when necessary--to the poor?  It's a question that has challenged me to stretch my imagination.  What more can I give?  What am I willing to sacrifice so that I can give?  Jesus gave up his life.  Am I willing to do the same?

I leave you with this poem as a reflection on what it might be like if all of us asked ourselves these questions.  Would this be God's year to act?   

Imagine the Angels of Bread

This is the year that squatters evict landlords,

gazing like admirals from the rail

of the roof deck

or levitating hands in praise

of steam in the shower;

this is the year

that shawled refugees deport judges

who stare at the floor

and their swollen feet

as files are stamped

with their destination;

this is the year that police revolvers,

stove-hot, blister the fingers

of raging cops,

and nightsticks splinter

in their palms;

this is the year

that darkskinned men

lynched a century ago

return to sip coffee quietly

with the apologizing descendants

of their executioners.

This is the year that those

who swim the border's undertow

and shiver in boxcars

are greeted with trumpets and drums

at the first railroad crossing

on the other side;

this is the year that the hands

pulling tomatoes from the vine

uproot the deed to the earth that sprouts the vine,

the hands canning tomatoes

are named in the will

that owns the bedlam of the cannery;

this is the year that the eyes

stinging from the poison that purifies toilets

awaken at last to the sight

of a rooster-loud hillside,

pilgrimage of immigrant birth;

this is the year that cockroaches

become extinct, that no doctor

finds a roach embedded

in the ear of an infant;

this is the year that the food stamps

of adolescent mothers

are auctioned like gold doubloons,

and no coin is given to buy machetes

for the next bouquet of severed heads

in coffee plantation country.

If the abolition of slave-manacles

began as a vision of hands without manacles,

then this is the year;

if the shutdown of extermination camps

began as imagination of a land

without barbed wire or the crematorium,

then this is the year;

if every rebellion begins with the idea

that conquerors on horseback

are not many-legged gods, that they too drown

if plunged in the river,

then this is the year.

So may every humiliated mouth,

teeth like desecrated headstones,

fill with the angels of bread. 

Martin Espada

Where have I experienced the darkness of injustice in my life?

If one member suffers, all suffer together...  I Cor. 12:26

How does injustice keep people in the shadows?

Soon another Feast came around and Jesus was back in Jerusalem. Near the Sheep Gate in Jerusalem there was a pool, in Hebrew called Bethesda, with five alcoves. Hundreds of sick people—blind, crippled, paralyzed—were in these alcoves. One man had been an invalid there for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him stretched out by the pool and knew how long he had been there, he said, “Do you want to get well?”

The sick man said, “Sir, when the water is stirred, I don’t have anybody to put me in the pool. By the time I get there, somebody else is already in.”

How am I called to live in solidarity with my global brothers and sisters?

He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?  MIcah 6:8

The Spirit of the Lord is upon you.  How will you respond?

The Spirit of the Lord is Upon Me

Should We Help Refugees?

"When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong.  You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.  I AM the Lord your God."  -Lev. 19:33-4

"A refugee is someone who owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religions, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to, or owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country.'" 1951 Refugee Convention

I wonder if our forefathers thought of these words from Leviticus when they landed on what we now call the United States of America.  Especially when the native inhabitants of this soil extended aid to us, when we were welcomed as strangers and sojourners without a home to call our own.

When I first moved to Chicago, I  hung out with Earth Wisdom, a community of people deeply interested in Native American spirituality and lifestyle.  We jokingly called ourselves the "WannabeeTribe," because we were all a bunch of middle-class white folks wanting to be Native American.

Our attempts were sincere, though, and well-grounded in connections with people like Ed McGaa. We hung out at Camp Ronora for vision quests and sweat lodges.  We gathered in friends' homes for drumming circles, potlucks, talking sticks and give-aways. I learned how to offer tobacco to an elder for a pipe ceremony, how to plant a garden according to the power of the four directions.  How to walk the Red Road, as much as a middle class white girl can.

One of my fondest memories of Earth Wisdom was the time Ed McGaa gave me a name during a Sweat Lodge.  My name is Tasweka Tate, which means "Dragonfly  Wind."  He chose if for me because he knew how much I loved Dragonflies.  He claimed it was my Totem.   It is especially meaningful to me, because that summer something magical happened, and it showed me the power of Native American spirituality.

I had gone biking by the lake on the Northwestern campus in Evanston.  I don't know the reason why, but dragonflies were swarming the coastline that day, literally being blown in from the lake into the trees and grasses that lined the path.  For a good fifteen minutes, I watched a sea of glimmering wings fill the air, like rainbows in flight.

Did the natives here see us as rainbows in flight, promises of peace, beauty and blessing?  Or were they frightened, finding hints of their demise in our eyes?  What an irony that the people who welcomed us as refugees became refugees, fleeing from us for their lives.

From what is it that I flee?  Where do I seek refuge?

Honestly, I'd like to flee from this topic.  The barest statistics overwhelm me:  According to the UN refugee agency, there are more than 50 million refugees, internally displaced people, and asylum-seekers in the world today.  It's jaw-dropping and heart-stopping.  How can I begin to respond?  HOW do I respond?

I take refuge in all the organizations out there who are doing refugee work.  I am very grateful for the hard work they do in helping people who are homeless and traumatized.  

I take refuge in the knowledge I am a citizen of a country not threatened by war.  It means I am living in personally peaceful times, and am free to use that time to help others in need.  It may not be a refugee from another land, but it may be someone who feels or is homeless in my own country.  

I take refuge in my parish.  I love the diversity I find at St. Eulalia's.  We're a motley crue of races, cultures, politics and sexual orientations.  I feel I experience a bit heaven on earth every time I go to mass. 

I take refuge in the Eucharist, where we are all made one in the Body of Christ, joined as one regardless of our race, creed, culture, sexual orientation,  or political position.

How does racial prejudice close the door of welcome?

Prejudice is the act of making general assumptions about a person or a community, based on limited knowledge.  It is like slamming  a door in the face of the other. 

It can have many affects.  The person who is being subject to prejudice may become defensive and experience shame, anger, sadness and withdrawal.  It also affects the person who is judging.  They miss opportunities to learn and grow.  If unwilling to learn about a different group, it can lead to harassment, abuse and violence.

Where is the hope for refugees who are left homeless?

I hope our government will repudiate the Doctrine of Discovery, which our founders used to justify destroying the nations that already existed on this soil when we arrived. Until we repent our own part in creating refugees, we will never be able to stop it happening elsewhere.  

As Jesus put it, until we remove the log in our own eyes, we will never see how to truly help others.  

As for myself?  

I hope that, when given the opportunity, I will welcome refugees as we were once welcomed. 

I hope I will see them as beautiful rainbows of Good News, bringing resources of heart, mind and culture that will help us grow the Kingdom of God here as is it is intended.

I hope I will follow the wisdom of the Dragonfly, whose gift is the ability to embrace change, transformation and adaptability.  

Finally, I hope I will remember the wisdom of Leviticus 19: 33-4.  Never forget what it feels like to be unwanted.  We don't need to be refugees to have that experience.  All of us have felt it in small ways in our lives Without these memories, we lose our capacity for empathy. Without empathy, there can be no true compassion.  

Why don't you listen to this song while you consider your answers to these questions? 

Hold On

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

The Boomerang

                                                                                                                                                         Criticism is a sport at which my husband excels, but which I cannot abide.  So much so that for Lent he

offered to give up being critical...around me.  He knows how much I dislike criticism.  It upsets me no end, and makes me loooooong for an internet-free world, and a talk radio-free world, and a pundit-free world. It makes me long for heaven, and believe me, I thought I'd died and gone there when he told me what he planned to do for Forty.  Glorious.  Days.

But for John, offering his critical insights on everything from...well, on everything is as much fun as a game of table hockey.  So, you'll notice, he clearly reserved the option to cut loose whenever I'm not around.  That's fine with me.  As C.S. Lewis once said, "a heaven for mosquitoes and a hell for men could very conveniently be combined."  So let the mosquitoes gather where they will (probably at the local cigar lounge), just as long as I'm not there!

It's not that I believe all criticism is bad.  Constructive criticism can be highly useful--maybe even lifesaving--feedback to help me improve myself.  Almost daily I seek this kind of criticism from the Bible. "For the Word of God is alive and active, sharper than any double-edged sword.  It penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow.  It judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart."  (Heb. 4:12)  Inviting that kind of criticism into my life leaves me feeling clean, albeit a tad uncomfortable with myself from time to time.  It's refreshing, renewing, and hopeful, offering solutions.

But when criticism is unedited, unfiltered and un-reflective, it is just the opposite.   It's like a jab in the eye with a sharp stick.  And in my opinion, that stick is quite often the plank jutting out of the eye of the one offering the criticism.  It leaves me feeling defensive, hurt and angry.  It leads me to joust with my own barb, fulfilling the words of Jesus: "Don't pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults--unless, of course, you want the same treatment.  That critical spirit has a way of boomeranging."  (Matt 7:5, the Message)

I'd rather let mercy boomerang, wouldn't you?   Because what goes around comes around.

Pax et Bonum,
Rose

Failure: There are Worse Things to Fear

The fear of failure has been on my mind a lot recently since I decided to start a new business.  I haven't stopped my old business.  I just added something on, something I think could generate some additional passive income for me and my husband as we move towards retirement.

It is very daunting to start a new business at 57 years of age.  I try to tell myself many people have made their fortunes later in life.  Colonel Sanders started Kentucky Fried Chicken when he was 65, for instance.  Grandma Moses first art exhibition was held in a drugstore when she was 78 years old.

When I hear stories like that, I am very inspired.  I think to myself, "Gee, maybe I should wait until I'm 65!  Or even 78!"  Seriously.  I do think that.  Because starting a business at 57 is a lot of work, and I'm already tired.  Maybe by 65 I'll be rested up enough to really give it a go.

Honestly, though, I don't think I'm afraid of failure nearly as much as success.  Success could be even more daunting.  I could have more responsibilities and a super busy lifestyle, and a whole new set of problems.  How would I handle more money than I need?.  Do I want new, time consuming challenges to dominate my life?  Do I really need my life to be rich, rewarding and full of meaning?

Seriously, these crazy thoughts go through my head all the time.  My only comfort is knowing the future of my new business really doesn't matter..  What if I fail?  The opinion of only one person matters to me, and I know he doesn't care.  I know already what he would say to me. To paraphrase Matthew's gospel, "Don't lose your priceless soul for few lousy, extra bucks."

And if I succeed?

I recently read the story of a man who died.  Before he was resuscitated, he had a harrowing experience of being dragged into hell by beastly spirits.  Then, as a last ditch effort, this lifelong atheist called out to God.  Immediately, Jesus and his angels came.  They spoke for awhile, reviewing his life up until that moment.  Now, as it happened, this man was a very successful business man.  What amazed him was that neither Jesus nor the angels were impressed by his worldly acumen.  In fact, the only experience in his entire life that impressed them was a moment when he was a child of ten.  His sister was in her bedroom, crying.  He walked in, climbed on her bed, and wrapped his arms around her.  He stayed there until she calmed down.

 The rest of his accomplishments, apart from this, were so much chopped liver.

Pax et Bonum,
Rose

Love has Come for Us All

Years ago, I used to hang out at All Saints Convent in Catonsville, Maryland.  The Convent had a beautiful scriptorium full of holy cards that were hand painted by the sisters.  Each card had a picture and a saying.  It may be a scripture, or something wise and uplifting said by a holy person.

One card in particular stood out to me.  In it a little boy is kneeling on the ground.  He seems to be gathering flowers into a little bouquet.  From the message, you can read his intent:  "Go; nothing is better for the soul than to make another soul less sad."  

As a dysthymic, I am well acquainted with the problem of negative thinking.  My mind can be a weed patch overgrown with negative thoughts, rather than a garden blooming with flowers of peace, love and joy.  I also know, as an introvert, that the worst possible thing I can do for myself is to try to weed my own patch.  To paraphrase Jesus' warning about not sweeping the house clean just so it can be possessed by seven more devils, I've learned that if I tear up one weedy thought hastily and without care, ten more are likely to grab its place.

Over the years, however, I have discovered two important tools to help free me from the tyranny of the mind bent on its own destruction.  One is Adoration.

Adoration, or sitting quietly before the Blessed Sacrament, first and foremost offers me the opportunity to know I am not alone with my thoughts, no matter how painful they may be.  Just as Jesus asked his disciples to watch with him during his hour of suffering, in Adoration, he is watching with me.

In addition, it allows me the chance to let negative thoughts simply come and go.  I've used different visuals to help me in that process, one for each of the four seasons:  

• In the winter, my thoughts are snowflakes that disappear in a roaring campfire
• In the spring, my thoughts are bits of pollen carried away by birds, bees and butterflies to far distant fields where they can't bother me.
• In the summer, they are ripe dandelions, sending their fluff up into the air and away, away.
• In the fall, they are dry, brown leaves falling to earth, becoming one with it as they decay.

Each of these images helps me to remember how impermanent are my thoughts.  It gives me a moment to realize I can live without them.  I don't have to worry, be angry, obsess, daydream, live in the future, live in the past.

Lastly, it teaches me that in the absences of my self-absorbed thoughts, I can open myself to God's thoughts for me.

I've alluded already to the other tool.  Get the hell out of dodge, to paraphrase Pascal.  In other words, service.  Go weed someone else's patch.  Comfort the sick.  Visit the prisoner.  Clothe the naked.  Feed the poor.  

For one blessed second, forget yourself and preach the good news.  God is Love.  Love has come for us all.  

When you preach that message, whether in deeds or in words, you help others let go of the worst negative thought any one of us can ever think:  "No one cares for me."   

Instead, they'll say, "Thanks for thinking of me."  

Pax et Bonum,

Rose

Self Doubt

I think of self-doubt being like the Chinese finger trap.  Although in my imagination, it’s my feet caught in the trap, not my fingers.  In reality, it’s actually my mind caught in the trap of action-paralyzing thoughts.

Can I trust myself?  Will I follow through?  Am I for real?  Do I really mean it?  Can I do it?

Questions like these can keep me from taking a single step towards my goals, whatever they might be.  But look what happens when I simply change a question into a statement:

I can trust myself.

I will follow through.

I am for real.

I really mean it.

I can do it.

I suddenly feel more self-empowered.  I believe in myself, even if only an eensy-teensy bit.  Say, who is that Wonder Woman in the mirror, I find myself asking.

I wonder if believing in yourself is one of the lessons Jesus hoped his disciples would learn when he told them the parable of the ten talents:

 “It’s also like a man going off on an extended trip. He called his servants together and delegated responsibilities. To one he gave five thousand dollars, to another two thousand, to a third one thousand, depending on their abilities. Then he left. Right off, the first servant went to work and doubled his master’s investment. The second did the same. But the man with the single thousand dug a hole and carefully buried his master’s money.

 “After a long absence, the master of those three servants came back and settled up with them. The one given five thousand dollars showed him how he had doubled his investment. His master commended him: ‘Good work! You did your job well. From now on be my partner.’

 “The servant with the two thousand showed how he also had doubled his master’s investment. His master commended him: ‘Good work! You did your job well. From now on be my partner.’

“The servant given one thousand said, ‘Master, I know you have high standards and hate careless ways, that you demand the best and make no allowances for error. I was afraid I might disappoint you, so I found a good hiding place and secured your money. Here it is, safe and sound down to the last cent.’

“The master was furious. ‘That’s a terrible way to live! It’s criminal to live cautiously like that! If you knew I was after the best, why did you do less than the least? The least you could have done would have been to invest the sum with the bankers, where at least I would have gotten a little interest.

 “‘Take the thousand and give it to the one who risked the most. And get rid of this “play-it-safe” who won’t go out on a limb. Throw him out into utter darkness.’

Fortunately, I don’t identify with the play-it-safe guy.  On the other hand, I don’t see myself as  a shrewd and talented investor in the Game of Life.  I guess I’m somewhere in between.  But I am reassured that Jesus likes the person who takes a risk, who goes out on a limb, the one who is scared he will fail, and maybe just as afraid he’ll succeed. 

I guess it’s normal to be all over the map, right?  One day you’re applying all your skill to realizing the kingdom of God.  Another day you’re searching for the lucky slot machine that’ll make having to trust God for your daily bread a thing of the past.  Another, you’re playing Words With Friends on your Boyfriend (my husband John’s nickname for my phone) all day, wishing God would just get back from that damn business trip.  Then you’re back to “thy kingdom come!” 

Well, no matter where you are on the cycle this Lent, remember that God believes in you.  Just like this little girl believes in herself.

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. 

Seven Pages a Day: Too Deep for Words

The Spirit pleads with God for us in groans that words cannot express.  Romans 8:26

Those who speak in strange tongues do not speak to others but to God.  I Corinthians 14:2

In reading the first letter of Paul to the Corinthians, I was amazed by how much time he devoted to talking about glossolalia, otherwise known as the gift of speaking in tongues.  Speaking in tongues is a form of glossolalia in which a person utters unintelligible sounds thought to be a sacred language spoken through him or her by God. 

I was introduced to this gift back in the early seventies, when I was in my second year of college.  I’d begun attending a charismatic prayer group called Lamb of God.  They were a group of two hundred or so believers who gathered in the basement of a church to pray, sing worship songs and, when the spirit moved them, break into long periods of “Singing in the Spirit.”

I loved listening to them singing in the Spirit.  Every person sang their own mysterious language in such a way they would all blend into a free-form ecstatic chant.  It was otherworldly, like the singing of Tolkien’s elves.  So when I was invited to attend a seven week seminar which would culminate in being “baptized in the Spirit” (and receiving the gift of tongues), I signed up. 

For six weeks, I met every Tuesday evening for an hour before the prayer meeting with a small group of people.  We sat in desks for school children and listened eagerly to different members of Lamb of God share their experiences of encountering Jesus, being filled with the Spirit, and speaking in tongues.  The stories were inspiring and moving.  I couldn’t wait for the seventh night, when a team of LOG members would pray over me to receive the gift of tongues. 

Well, there’s nothing like performance anxiety when you’ve got three or four people laying their hands on you, babbling up a storm, and expecting you to do the same.  I don’t know what I was expecting.  No wave of ecstasy swept over me.  No ancient words formed in my mind.  I was a blank.  Finally Claire, who had lovely brown eyes that reminded me of a deer, suggested I just start repeating a single syllable.  So I did.  It didn’t take long to get the hang of it, then.  I just began moving from one syllable to another until it sounded like something.  I was always encouraged to believe it was a legitimate language, but I could never quite sell myself on that score.  It sounded to me more like the soothing flow of water over stones.  That was good enough for me.

From that time on, I was able to join in the spiritual singing with the others during the prayer meeting.  I realized then it was not only otherworldly, but put me in a mildly ecstatic trance.  I also discovered something else.   I didn’t think in these terms back then, but I found the main gift of speaking or singing in tongues was the fact it would simply short-circuit my left brain…my thinking, logical, doubting, skeptical, linear, verbal, unimaginative left brain. 

With the short circuiting of the left brain came something else:  access to the imaginative, creative right brain.  Out of that would arise magnificent visions, soulful prayers, encouraging words, prophecies of hope and challenge and healing, like foam cresting on waves of grace.  This was everyone's experience.  At different times during the prayer meeting, one or another person would get up and share what he or she had seen or heard or felt while praying their secret language.  It was beautiful.  We were meeting God in the privacy of our hearts, and sharing it with each other. 

I was given to having visions.  I can still remember a few.  Once I saw purgatory.  I was engulfed in flames along with many others.  It was painful only as long as I held onto whatever was being burned.  Once I’d surrendered my attachment, the pain stopped.  Another time, I saw three women wearing a veil emblazoned with the Franciscan Tau cross.  In retrospect, I wondered if that wasn’t somehow presaging the time I would spend in Little Portion, the Franciscan Lay community founded by John Michael Talbot.  One was very sober.  It was of Pope John Paul II surrounded by military, and being led away.  What that meant was never clear to me.  Perhaps I was becoming sensitive to the way society was beginning to change in its attitude towards matters of religion and faith.  My favorite vision was of a fine, gold ring descending to me from heaven.  It was presented to me as my spiritual wedding ring.  I searched high and low for a ring like the one I saw.  I suppose it's waiting for me across the border.

Of course, the more I write, the more I start to remember others.  Trips across the desert.  Wine-filled chalices.  But like Paul says about these things, the messages that arose from singing in tongues were always very personal to me.  So I rarely shared them.  Like Mary, though, I treasured them.

That was many years ago.   I don’t sing or speak in tongues very often anymore.  When I try, it feels a little like trying to relive my youth.  I was not even twenty then, still riding the high arising from my conversion.  Everything was so new and promising.  I was full of hope, and it filled every unintelligible syllable I uttered.  Now, the sounds feel world weary, full of sorrows, disappointments, pleas for help and healing…and yet, still achingly beautiful. 

I am grateful for the gift of tongues.  It reminds me to take risks, to lose control, to be willing to appear foolish, to make up life as I go along.  Most of all, it reminds me to trust that maybe, just maybe, I can hear the Spirit, who is always praying for me with groans that words cannot express. 

Seven Pages A Day: What Would Your T-Shirt Say?

Wow.  I didn’t realize how hard it would be to blog about reading the Bible seven pages a day.  Over seven days, that’s a whole lotta pages!  I’ve already finished the Gospel of Matthew.  This Gospel was written by Matthew.  Matthew was probably a wealthy Jewish tax collector who was called to be a disciple and apostle by Jesus.  It’s clear he was writing to a Jewish audience because of his familiar references to prophecies from the Old testament and to Jewish customs which he doesn’t bother to explain.  Even so, a quick read of this Gospel by anyone is a moving experience. 

I decided I wanted time to digest what I’d read to some degree before moving on to the next Gospel.  So I skipped ahead to the letters of Paul.  Paul was a devout Jew who experienced a life changing conversion to Jesus Christ.  His missionary work and writings transformed the religious beliefs and philosophies in the lands around the Mediterranean seas.  It’s largely thanks to Paul that Christianity became the faith of Gentiles.  This is evident in the letter to the Romans in which he both emphasizes the debt the Gentiles owe to the Israelites, as well as grieves for what he feels was the ultimate lost opportunity, in that his own people did not recognize the promised Messiah.   Next came 1^st Corinthians, with its well-known passage on love in the thirteenth chapter.  Now, I’m reading 2^nd Corinthians.

But still, where to begin?  I thought maybe I would summarize by weighing in on a few of my favorite verses, but even that seemed daunting.  Then I got to thinking about all those book reports I wrote years ago in grammar school.  Maybe I could write little book reports!   I can give each book a title, summarize each one in a sentence or two, and follow it with a brief critique.  Probably leans towards the flippant, but here goes:

Gospel of Matthew:  “The Messiah has Come.”  This is the jaw-dropping story of how the Old Testament promises of a Savior, known as “King of the Jews,”  were fulfilled in Jesus.  Fantastic parables.  Dramatic finish.

Romans:  “The Gift of Faith Comes from The Jews.”   Paul waxes on about the deep roots Christianity has in Judaism, and shows himself to be quite the theologian.   A tad judgmental in tone.

1^st Corinthians:  “Knuckle-rapping in Corinth.”  Paul takes the Christians of Corinth to task on a number of different matters.  Some sections make one Raise the Brow, like 1 Cor.14:36: “It is a disgraceful thing for a woman to speak in a church meeting.”

That last one makes me want to get a t-shirt that says, “Disgracing the Church on a Regular Basis.”  How about you?  What would your t-shirt say?