The Price Of A Sparrow

Sometimes I really love McDonald's! - and yes, yes I know it's bad for me and I'll have a coronary by the age of thirty, but let's leave that aside, shall we?

Anyway, it was a dark and rainy and cold evening and my brain was hurting from looking at microfiche all afternoon. When I got to the train station, I had nine minutes to catch my train. In that time, I went all the way to the other end of the station, went through the Golden Arches, got dinner, and went back to the train with four minutes to spare. Awesome! Now I'll get home an hour earlier and have more time to waste on addictive Facebook games (you know who you are).

I sometimes wonder, though, if McDonald's and its various spin-offs are hurting my soul. I mean, doesn't it seem like, more and more, we're cut off from the process and only see the final product? I'm not advocating that we rise up and overthrow our capitalist overlords, comrades, but isn't it a bit sad to be cut off from the holistic experience of the entirety of a thing only to know a part of it? I mean, in a way it's backwards from what Marx was on about, because we do see the end, but it's just as fragmentary, just as divorced and segmented.

I sometimes wonder if maybe we want things a little too quickly, and that we take for granted all the things that have to go on in the background. Take my cheeseburger, for example. Somewhere out there, a cow died. And someone had to invent the process for making processed cheese. Not to mention the pickle. Also cooking the think and putting on the ketchup. Someday, they tell us, one too many cows will fart in one two many fields, and the resulting greenhouse gases will tip the global warming process past the point of no return, and all our ecosystems will collapse. While I think we all have the right to eat delicious, nutritious cows, I think maybe we shouldn't take it for granted, that there's something behind a burger that takes five minutes to make and even less to eat.

We want things a little too quickly, a little too glibly. You get mad when the line is too long, when things don't happen instantly, when things just don't seem to be getting done the way they should be (you know: when people just aren't reading your mind, goddamit!). Maybe all this emphasis on fastness is hurting us - or me - in ways I can't even begin to imagine. Maybe we aren't taking the time that we should.

Or maybe I'm just pissy because I haven't written in this blog for so long and because it rained.

So do not be afraid of them. There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. (Mt 10:26-31 NIV)

I suppose what this means is that to proclaim the Gospel means loving and praising God with your whole life, and not forgetting that creation is His even though you get to use it. So maybe don't rush things so much, or feel like it all revolves around you, or forget all that goes into it and that it all has a purpose. [and now I win the award for Most Sloppy Biblical Exegesis EVER!!]

But everyone's got to eat. And sometimes I really love McDonald's.

God Being My Helper

Two Sundays ago (I was meaning to write sooner, sorry), I was received into the Anglican communion at SJE as they celebrated the beginning of their Jubilee year. As usual, their liturgy was perfect, full of the things I love (and you can tell they're taking it seriously when there's a rehearsal). I am not indifferent to beautiful ritual.

Everything seemed to come together nicely for me: two years less a day after making my decision to leave the Roman Catholic Church, I was received at a parish whose rich liturgy I love, attended by some people from my home church, and was sponsored by someone I know from school and whom I greatly admire. In short, all the disparate elements of my faith journey coming together.

Many people have asked me why I chose to be received at all, since it makes no tangible difference. After all, they pointed out, I was already receiving Eucharist. I was a reader, on the Parish Council, helped at morning prayer, led a talk on Anglican liturgy, went to Bible study and had been allowed to preach several times. "As far as we're concerned," they said, "you're already Anglican."

I suppose there's no single answer. I wanted to be received because I came from a tradition that values it. Because I believe in the grace that accompanies sacramentals. Because I wanted to make a public declaration of my faith. Because I wanted to feel like I really belong to the Church instead of just being there. Because I love the Anglican Church and wanted to be a part of it in every possible way.

The ceremony itself was fairly simple. The candidates were introduced, then we knelt in front of the bishop. He took our hands and said this: "we recognize you as a member of the one holy Catholic and Apostolic Church and we receive you into the fellowship of this Communion. God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, bless, preserve, and keep you. Amen." We had all renewed our baptismal vows. That we had to promise we believed the Creed before we were received really drives home the point about what the Anglican Church believes it is: a part of the one Church of Jesus Christ. It seems to me that, while we have a distinctive worship and some unique beliefs, what really defines us is our deeper unity with the whole of the Christian Church. It is only in and through oneness that we bind ourselves to this Communion; it is only as Christians catholic and apostolic that the Anglican Church as a way of living our faith embraces us as members.

I felt both happy and relieved. Happy because I'd been waiting for this a very long time. Relieved because I felt like I wasn't in a no-man's land of churchlessness anymore. The time between excommunication and reception was uncomfortable, to say the least!

I'm proud and happy to say I'm Anglican. To be a full member of this Church, to live the baptised life within this Communion.

"Will you endeavor to keep God's holy will and commandments and to walk in the same all the days of your life?"

--I will, God being my helper.

We Will Dance

Went to my church's Worship and Share this evening about spiritual warfare and we sang this great hymn! I've been singing it ever since I got home, so I thought I'd post the lyrics even though everyone (except me) has probably heard it a million times before.

Sing a song of celebration, lift up a shout of praise
for the Bridegroom will come, the Glorious One
and oh, we will look on His Face
we'll go to a much better place

Dance with all your might
lift up your hands and clap for joy
for the time's drawing near, when He will appear
and oh, we will stand by His side
a strong, pure, spotless bride

We will dance on the streets that are golden
the glorious bride and the great Son of man
from every tongue and tribe and nation
will join in the song of the Lamb

--this hymn was written by David Ruis. Enjoy!

Judging Sorrow (Job 9:1-15, 32-35)

[a brief comment from the Daily Office]

The book of Job is interesting because Job questions the understanding of justice found in the rest of the Deuteronomic canon: the idea that if a person is suffering, it’s because of his sins. The idea that the conditions of a person’s life reflect whether God is rewarding or punishing her for things she has done.

Job says, “No, I have done nothing to earn me this pain and hardship.” Job rebels against the biblical interpretation of suffering that other people around him believe.

But that doesn’t mean he thinks he’s perfect, either. He asks, “how can a man be just before God?” (9:2). On the one hand, he means that no one can sue God, as it were, for wrongful suffering and expect to come out of the lawsuit justified as the winner. There’s no one to oversee the trial because no one can judge God. God is not a human being, and everything He does is just. Being angry at God because he’s suffering is not the answer Job is looking for – he has no illusions that God will take responsibility for causing unjust sorrow.

On the other hand, it also isn’t possible for anyone to be just before God, to stand before Him and call oneself sinless. Just because Job has tried to live a good life and hasn’t done anything horribly wrong doesn’t mean he’s sinless. Everyone is a sinner, and God alone is just.

Then why, Job asks, do some people suffer while others don’t? More than anything else, Job wants people to know that bad things haven’t happened to him because he is a bad person who did bad things. They’ve simply happened through no fault of his own.

We all have something to learn from Job because we all reflexively judge people based on what we see of their life. Psychological studies have been done on things like the ‘halo effect,’ for example: we have a cognitive bias that makes us think beautiful people are also good people. The bias also works in reverse. We often assume that a person is very poor or homeless because of his own bad decisions. As a society, we’ve made some progress against the belief that sick people are to be shunned because there’s something wrong about them – we aren’t ashamed about most cancers anymore, because we don’t think a person somehow did something to deserve it. But we do have problems when dealing with mental illness. We do still think people just aren’t trying hard enough to get better when they’re depressed, and we still back away from the psychotic. We also sometimes blame victims of crime for putting themselves in a dangerous position or not being careful enough.

These knee-jerk responses are natural: we’re cognitive misers (our brains are wired to think as little as possible) and evolution has set us up to make certain connections. But Job reminds us that those connections aren’t necessarily true. His suffering, which found a place in the Bible, tells us that we have to work harder at being compassionate toward those in distress, and that we shouldn’t blame them or abandon them. No one is perfect, but no one deserves to suffer, either.

Prayer of the day: Lord, we pray for all people who feel abandoned under the weight of sorrow, illness and despair. We ask that each of them finds in their friends, family and community a place of comfort and respite, and a source of strength. We ask also that we be given the grace to better support the people who depend on us for help, and that we receive the wisdom to see beyond suffering to the human being who suffers.

Judges

Along with my blatant neglect of this blog, I've recently gotten out-of-step with several other things as well. I skipped praying the Daily Office for a while and, let me tell you, the action-packed book of Judges did not agree with that! Getting back into the swing of things, I found myself totally confused about what was going on. Who are these people? Why are they at war? Who is the man in the yellow hat?

It's interesting how clinical depression can be a vicious circle. You feel bad, so you're too tired to pray; you don't pray, so you feel worse; cycle continues ad infinitum. I hate to compare prayer to exercise, but it kind of is: if you'd just do it you'd feel better. It's a difficult situation for me because I've always connected prayer to a passionate desire for God, so the idea that I have to create that by getting into a prayer routine is foreign, because it's backwards.

Nevertheless, I think that this is a valuable learning experience for me, if I can learn how to draw a new kind of strength from prayer. What does it mean to want God when you don't feel like you want Him? The great experiment begins.

I know that I seem like a pessimistic crackpot pessimist but, really, there's a lot I have to look forward to. If all goes according to the current plan, I'll be welcomed into the Anglican Church in October (woohoo!!). I might me leading a Worship & Share session in September at my church, about liturgy (yay liturgy!); also might get to preach for back-to-church Sunday. If ministry team agrees, we're also going to start having daily prayer a few times a week, once we can get it started in the Fall (awesomeness!). It'll be good to have a prayer responsibility to someone other than myself...well, good for me, anyway. I miss the corporateness and the timeliness and the human contact.

So you see, lots of churchy goodness on the horizon.

But, even MORE awesome: two of my closest friends are getting married today!! YAY!!! I can't wait!

p.s. Pat, the elephant misses you a lot. You always cheered it up. The elephant will come visit you when you least expect it. And it's saving a great big hug just for YOU.

The Church of Jazz and Wallmart

I spent some time hanging out at the Jazz Fest this year (what else is new), and I suddenly realized that good church should be a lot like music festivals. And no, this epiphany had nothing to do with my beer-to-jazz ratio.

For one thing, people come up with catchy slogans at the Jazz festival. Such as: “I can’t decide whether that guy reminds me more of a hippy or a sex offender.” These catchy slogans hold just enough truth to get you thinking (‘you’re right: those neon mini-shorts and tank top are like something a hippie sex offender would wear’), are simple yet striking enough to get stuck in your head, and contain a hefty dose of judgmentalism. Exactly the way many sermons turn out, right? Good church will have sermons with catchy slogans. And, in order to preserve tradition, at least some of those slogans will be judgmental.

For another thing, the music at the Jazz festival is free, at least if you stay outdoors. You can wander in during the middle of a set, leave before it’s over, comment on the music, and eat snacks (you can also drink beer). Church is free, too, unless you go to one of those places where you have to pay for your seats. [note: although church is ‘free,’ donations are encouraged. You can donate to the festival by buying special passes that make you its friend.] I think a good church encourages people to walk in at various points, since that way the people who are ten minutes late won’t skip out entirely. Maybe if there were less parishioner glaring at perceived church-going infractions such as coming and going, we’d be a more welcoming place. Also, the potential for people to leave might encourage us to be more interesting and dynamic. We could have sock-puppets, for example.

Some churches have music that does make you feel like dancing, or at least responding in some way. I applaud them.

All in all, the Jazz festival welcomes everyone. Poor students and super-wealthy finance people, dudes covered with tattoos and professional swing dancers, children and the man in the neon shorts. Everyone just comes and enjoys the music and the atmosphere, and no one feels like they don’t belong.

In the opposite vein, I think churches should be less like Wallmart, which I’ve also visited lately (I bought suspenders and a hula-hoop. Don’t ask). Wallmart sucks out your soul. They don’t like you going unless you buy stuff. They really, really don’t like it when you try to take stuff for free. Wallmart tries to make you a conformist. They have very bright lighting.

In short, church should be more like the Jazz festival and less like Wallmart. It should probably also have a point, unlike this rambling post of mine.

Well, you can't please everyone.

Jell-O Couch / Potato

I was sitting on my couch the other day reading “The Study of Anglicanism” (long story) when I was reminded of what minor earthquakes feel like fairly far out from the epicenter. It’s been a while, I’ll give you that, but I still knew exactly what it was right away. It’s amazing how, momentarily, the ground you’re resting on feels like nothing less than Jell-O.

I apologize for not having written anything recently, O fictional audience of mine. But, really, I’ve been pretty boring. I’ve been watching a lot of Star Trek: Voyager. I like to pretend I’m a character on the show. Not Seven of Nine though – her outfit’s a little too conservative, don’t ya think?

At Bible Camp, we once put on a skit that was set on the bridge of a Star Trek ship. I can’t remember exactly how, but it was somehow religious.

Anyway, my couch and me have been pretty tight lately. This may or may not be related to the fact that my favorite pants have recently informed me I’m getting too fat for them. Unfortunately, this truth coincides with the fact that summer is ice cream season. It’s difficult to say who will win out, but I’m confident we’ll all come to an understanding eventually.

Thus has been my life. Oh, I’m ‘preaching’ on Sunday, if that’s what you call it. I think I might specialize in taking cheap shots at the gospel.

Happy St. Jean to all of you out there. It certainly is a break from Numbers, if not a celebration of our independent nationhood. Maybe we’ll all take a lesson from those people who challenged Moses’ authority and tried to steal the priests’ job whom God smote?

Padre Pio Et. Al.

On Sunday I went to my old parish to see an Italian film about the life of Padre Pio, a Saint probably most famous for his Stigmata. He's quite inspiring. But that's not what I'm going to write about.

Over a decade ago, I attended the ordination of a young man, Father T. Some time later, he was assigned to the church across the street, so I had numerous occasions to see him in his ministry. He is a good priest, and as we watched his congregation change that became ever clearer. I had him pegged as an excellent bishop in the future (he was trilingual, and who knows how far the Italian he learned so well could have taken him, politically?). He was well positioned to climb the ecclesiastical ladder, and he seemed to be a good pastor.

Anyway, he's been really sick. But I found out on Sunday that he intends to leave the priesthood.

I think that's always a shocking thing to hear. In the deepest sense, it isn't even possible: once you've been ordained, there's no going back, and you're a priest forever. I can't begin to imagine what it feels like. There must be such a sense of defeat, in a way, that you can't follow on the path you've chosen. What are you admitting to yourself? Does it mean you have to admit you never had a vocation? I think that's simplistic. God doesn't lead you through it for nothing, nor does the Church call and endorse you without reason. They also don't release you into laicisation without grave reason. Transitioning out of the priesthood bespeaks great inner torment. To be released from your vows is no easy thing...I think probably even harder than taking them in the first place.

Who can know what God wants with certainty? I do know how difficult listening to God can be. That He speaks and what He says can cause great turmoil in the heart, and also a great deal of doubt (ironically). As I continue my journey, I better understand what it means to be faced with the certainty that the life I once planned is no longer possible, that the people and community I believed I would be with forever can no longer be my home. I understand what it's like to give up things I have cherished and that were comfortable in search of something I don't understand; to choose uncertainty and doubt. I know what it feels like to disappoint the people who wish everything could stay the same. Still, I can't pretend to know what he's feeling. It really makes you stop and see that, when it comes to relationship with God, nothing is certain except that He loves you.

And sometimes the form that love takes is painful and complicated, heartbroken, and full of doubt.

The Case Of The Missing Church Service

I like to choose my church services based on the sign; not that I look for particularly flashy or inventive signs or anything – I check the times of the services written on a given sign and go from there. I like to pick services that mesh well with the AMT train schedule. So yes, if you must know, the transit commission for the greater Montreal region (or whoever) is, indeed, directing my spiritual life.

Today I wanted to go to the 12:15 service at a downtown church I haven’t been to in years. Time-wise, it’s within sprinting distance of a train that gets me there in the nick of time. Pretty convenient, eh?

So anyway, the train was late and I was a bit worried but, as I said, sprinting distance. I got there about three minutes before what should have been the start of Mass. Should have been because there was, in fact, no service that I could find. The hunt is now on for the missing service, which the sign tells me surely should have occurred.

The Gazette tells me in its religion calendar (which I read every week) that there should have been a service with a discussion following it. But I’m telling you I could find no such service! Was it relocated somewhere within the church, like a secret location known only to true initiates? If so, why would they advertise in the local paper? I went in the main door, checked out both side chapels, and saw nothing. Perhaps I should have looked for hidden entrances in other parts of the building?

If the service was hidden in a new secret location, and yet still open to the general public – including miscreants who wander in off the street because they’ve seen the sign – why did the church not contain clear directions on how to find said secret chamber?

Curiouser and curiouser.

The events calendar on the church's website tells me the service should have taken place in one of the chapels at 12:15, as it said on the sign. But both chapels were spectacularly empty at said time. In fact, nothing was set out that would even indicate there was to be a service. Perhaps the service was kidnapped? I saw no evidence of other foul play: no obvious signs of violent struggle, no clues of any kind, really.

This case is turning out to be particularly hard to crack.

The calendar of events, also on the website, tells me that there is an informal Eucharist at that time, and refers to another informal prayer as taking place in the treasurer’s office, wherever that is. There is also lunch and teaching. Perhaps they have Eucharist in the dining hall, wherever that is? This is all a moot point, because weekday Mass can’t be in the chapel, hall, and office all at the same time (though that would be pretty Trinitarian).

I thought for a moment that perhaps the service did not exist during the summer months, but there’s nothing anywhere on the website or elsewhere to justify that suspicion. Anyway, I can tell you I’m pretty disappointed that I couldn’t catch a service today. I woke up early and everything! I’m also worried that something terrible might have happened to it to make it miss out on itself. I mean, what kind of a service does that if not for a grave and serious reason? Without leaving any notice?

I just can’t fathom what happened to this missing service. If anyone has any information about this or any other unsolved crime, feel free to contact us through this blog.

Feast Of The Visitation

Three of my friends had children this year within weeks of each other. It really is something special, to share that experience with someone else. "You're having a baby? Me, too!" Just like Mary and Elizabeth.

In our lives, in so many ways we don't realize, we share in the life of Jesus by living these biblical experiences. The ordinary, everyday humanity of Mary; the extraordinary lives to which we are all called. All of it is miraculous, even to the smallest of things.

Magnificat anima † mea Dominum,
et exsultavit spiritus meus in Deo salvatore meo,
quia respexit humilitatem ancillæ suæ.
Ecce enim ex hoc beatam me dicent omnes generationes,
quia fecit mihi magna,
qui potens est,
et sanctum nomen eius,
et misericordia eius in progenies et progenies
timentibus eum.
Fecit potentiam in brachio suo,
dispersit superbos mente cordis sui;
deposuit potentes de sede
et exaltavit humiles;
esurientes implevit bonis
et divites dimisit inanes.
Suscepit Israel puerum suum,
recordatus misericordiæ,
sicut locutus est ad patres nostros,
Abraham et semini eius in sæcula.

My soul † proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour;
he has looked with favour on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed;
the Almighty has done great things for me and holy is his name.
He has mercy on those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm
and has scattered the proud in their conceit,
Casting down the mighty from their thrones
and lifting up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things
and sent the rich away empty.
He has come to the aid of his servant Israel,
to remember his promise of mercy,
The promise made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and his children for ever.

Grace, Raphaël, Giulianna, you are all holy and beloved. God be with you always.

In Memoriam

Today I went to the memorial service for the father of two friends of mine. In a way, it's a bit incomprehensible to think of someone my age losing a parent. I don't know why it's any different this time -- I've had other friends whose parents have died of cancer, and P.'s father murdered his mother -- but somehow this was closer to home...maybe because in a way it reminds me of my own relationship to my father. I see some of the same tension here, and I think that makes the loss harder in some ways.

The minister talked about how, in some ways, the Bible is all about boats. The disciples always going out onto the water and fishing and stuff, and they respect the fact that it can be dangerous, and are grateful when they come back safely to shore.

She read the story where Jesus and the disciples are out on the water and Jesus calms a storm. First, he calms it and makes them safe. Then he asks, "where is your faith?" Not "ye of little faith!" or "have you no faith?" like in other versions. It is more, 'I know you have faith, why aren't you drawing on it?' In facing death, both our own and others', we have to draw on faith to see that it's not an end to be afraid of, but a beginning. If the gospels are all about boats, they're also all about faith. And in death, all our storms are calmed.

Something I realized again today is that maybe we should all be having our memorial services while we're still alive to enjoy them. I mean, for some of us this is the only chance to have people say nice things about us, a chance to see ourselves in a new light -- the best light possible. Imagine the lives we might lead if we knew the good things our friends and loved ones see in us, if we knew what they saw and strove to live up to that.

I think I'll go review the list of music I chose now.

Genie In A Bottle

I was talking with someone the other day about Sacraments and discovered that we have radically different views. While I can see where he's coming from, I don't think I'll ever agree. One of the main differences between our two understandings is that I think, when all the elements are present, the Sacraments are always effective, while he thinks that can't be said with any certainty because it would turn God into a genie Who could be forced to do something by someone who utters the right 'magical' words.

While I agree the idea of shoving God into a glass bottle to be summoned as a wish-granting servant is unnerving, I don't think it's possible to say the Sacraments don't impart a grace that changes a person. I guess what this means is that I'm going to go on and on about Sacraments now and that nothing short of a miracle will stop me. So you should probably put your hands together and pray for one.

So, Baptism. The idea put before me was that it is a sign of the community choosing to welcome you. That's all well and good, but I think Baptism also changes you. It binds you into the Church, Christ's body. You are now something that you weren't. I know the imagery of marriage to Jesus had been embraced by religious orders, but by being made one with the spouse -- the Church -- in Baptism, the soul is united to God. Jesus becomes a part of us because, in his love for us, he dwells in us and we in him. The reason that professing religious life isn't a Sacrament is because the substance of the soul's marriage to Christ has already been accomplished by Baptism. There can be a renewal and deepening of that relationship, but it's already there. The marriage remains even though the union hasn't been consummated and isn't complete: our Lord is a patient husband.

Baptism aside, on to Confirmation. The idea he discussed with me was that Confirmation is you choosing to be a part of the community that already welcomed you. I personally think the meaning of Confirmation has been somewhat warped by ripping it apart from the larger initiation ritual. It goes exorcism, Baptism, Confirmation; Confirmation is the seal of the Holy Spirit given to strengthen the person against the devil, to keep out the demonic which had been driven out, and to enhance / impart the fruits of the Spirit first given in the gift of grace. The Spirit indwells in you and forges an even closer bond between you and Jesus.

Next up: Eucharist. Oh boy, this is the one where people start throwing rocks at each other and shouting things like 'burn the heretic.' I really don't want to become a human marshmallow. I think the bread and wine actually become the Body and Blood of Christ, so you're partaking of the one Sacrifice of Jesus Christ for the world. I don't particularly care what happens to the substance of the bread and wine: it's either gone, leaving only accidents behind, or it's still there (and before you go complaining that two substances can't occupy the same space at once, remember that the One God is a Trinity and Jesus is both human and Divine). That question isn't particularly important. The person I was talking to believes that Eucharist is essentially a symbol that can help you accept that Jesus died to save you from your sins and to embrace that one offering for all time, thereby allowing you to 'participate' in that sacrifice.

He also thinks ordination doesn't do much more than confirm what God has already done in calling someone to ministry, that God has chosen you, and maybe that it adds a special blessing on that. But I think I'll save the Holy Orders discussion for another time.

Anyway, those are the Sacraments we got around to discussing. I've talked about Confession and Unction elsewhere, so if you're excruciatingly bored you can check that out, though I'd recommend against it. Obviously, anything I've said here is pretty superficial: I've done more sophisticated versions at other times, but really you need to embed it in a systematic approach to sacramental theology, and it's more fun if it's in the context of a robust catechetical program that includes stuff like Creation. Woohoo!!

While I agree with my friend that you can't force God to do anything, I also believe the Sacraments were freely given to us as gifts until the end of time. While they are a participation in eternal life, it's not like they cause or guarantee our salvation. That's the province of God alone (which means at some point someone will call me on my argument that Baptism grafts you into the Church but you can end up outside the gates of heaven anyway. Umm...it's complicated, so I prefer to avoid that minefield until absolutely necessary).

The only Sacrament at the end of time is the Church. I don't think the Church is a Sacrament now in the same way as the others but, someday, when we are all changed and made perfect within her, we -- the Church -- will be graced with the unity that will put us into perfect communion with God as a spouse interpenetrating us in an eternal perichoresis between God and the Church born from Christ's side. Though the marks of the other Sacraments remain on the soul, they have no more effect. They are for this life, not the next.

And for this life, they are real and true, gifts that do not fail.

It's A Bird! It's A Plane!

Pentecost Sunday...so big, who wants to tackle it, really. So basic to the fabric of our lives that sometimes it cannot be seen.

What I wonder is, why is the Holy Spirit so often depicted as a dove? I know at least part of the reason is because the Spirit does appear as one at least once, but why does She do that?

After God's done flooding the world, Noah sends out a dove from the ark to fly around and check things out. A kind of biblical analogue to the canary in the coal mine, if you will (and since the dove doesn't get eaten you know all the dinosaurs have drowned). He sent out a raven too, but no one cares about that.

First time out, the dove comes back: the land's not ready to live on yet. The second time, our bird returns with an olive branch: life has begun to flourish, but there's not yet a place to set down and live. Third time out, and the dove doesn't return: the earth is ready and the dove chooses to live in it. Curious that Noah wasn't concerned about losing half a breeding pair of doves. Did he count on using them as messenger pigeons and bring along a dozen? Or is the bird a symbol of something else?

Some people would say it's a metaphor of the history of faith. The Spirit is sent forth the first time and finds that people are not ready, there is no place for Her to dwell. Then, the people of God: here, it begins to be ready; here, the Spirit finds life is being prepared, but not yet a home. Then, Jesus comes, and now the Spirit does not need to return. The dove goes forth every seven days. The movement of the Spirit is the movement of creation, as its promise and potential is more perfectly fulfilled.

Other people might say it's an allegory of Jesus' ministry. The dove appears first at his baptism: the people haven't received his message yet, and aren't ready for the indwelling Spirit, but it is beginning. The same voice from heaven comes a second time at the Transfiguration when Jesus is seen in his glory, shining with uncreated light. Life is beginning to grow, and they have a longing for this life, but they aren't ready for the indwelling Spirit. Finally, after the Crucifixion, Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus, the Spirit is sent out again. Now, they are ready. Now, it alights on them. Now it lives in them and doesn't need to return leaving them behind.

Maybe we could say it reflects the reality of our own spiritual journey. The Spirit comes to us not only scouting but preparing our ground. Announcing Christ our Lord and the truth of our salvation, making us ready; filling us with the fire of love between the soul and God, the dove in the Song of Songs, the longing of our hearts. The energy of ardour, and the rest of the seventh day.

So the Spirit moves within us, uttering sighs deeper than words, always seeking forth, always within us, always binding us to the One Who send Her, always preparing us, always driving us onwards, always abiding. Proceeding, indwelling love.

Or maybe I should spend more time reading my Bible and less time chattering on about stuff I made up.

Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.' Maybe the raven can be disbelief or the demonic or something? Good thing it disappears from the story into irrelevance.

Shawville

Last Wednesday, we went to a bar in Shawville to watch the third period of game 7 between the Habs and the Pens (our set was fuzzy). What an exciting game! It was pretty interesting to find a bar full of English-speaking Habs fans. It was also interesting that the 3 women from our group were the only women there, but that odd discomfort is a completely separate issue.

It was nice to be in a small town full of Anglophones: although the town I grew up in has a decent-sized group of English people, there was never any question that we were some sort of equal partners in suburbia. When I was in elementary school, kids from the nearby French high school would pass behind our yard on the raised train tracks during lunch and throw rocks at us because we were English. I got whacked pretty bad in the knee once; bummer. The cops only came one time when this girl Stephanie got hit really hard in the head. Like she could pick them out of a line-up. This was part of the reason some people didn't want to speak French: Francophones were the enemy. The boys who lived behind us used to throw rocks at us, too. My conclusion is that French people like to throw rocks. Of course, now things are better, except for the odd spray-painted comment.

Anyway, the town of Shawville is famous for running a busload of inspectors from the OLF out of town. Here, the people banded together under the principle that merchants should be able to write their signs in whatever the hell language they want. Awesome!

In a lot of ways, I like small towns a lot better than big cities. I don't know why, really. I mean, there's a lot to recommend cities. When I first came to Montreal for University, I expected to meet more open-minded people, to find new ideas, new ways of doing things, and hoped I would fit in. I was right: there was more here than I'd thought possible. Even though I live only one train ride away from the metropolis, there were ways in which I felt safer, more at ease.

I got to go to lectures in astrophysics, and once went to a biomedical ethics conference at the medical school with all these experts (don't ask), who for some reason couldn't figure out why the control group in a study we reviewed was the control group.

There are so many churches in the city, and it allowed me a degree of freedom and experimentation I couldn't have imagined in a place small enough that everyone marks your comings and goings. If it weren't for Montreal, well, I don't think I'd have had the guts to do the things I've done, to step out of the role that was fashioned for me and into something vaster, wider, more. Something I can't see the bottom of. The courage to make decisions I don't fully understand.

But something in me still likes the little towns. Maybe because I often feel that I can't do what's asked of me, and so I look for a smaller place that would somehow demand less, be satisfied with less. I don't know if I can walk this road I've taken, this meandering road, this journey I can't fathom.

Caught between bigness and smallness, a big wide world and the world I come from, the longing and the fear. Two worlds, both complete. Two pieces of me.

Our Lady of Fatima

Blessed Lady of the Rosary, you reach out to the humble and the meek, to children who have not gone seeking you. There is no one on whom your care does not fall, no, not one. Like the angels heralding the birth of our Lord, you spoke of the world to these children. You showed them secrets so that many may come to believe.

Was it about them, or a gift through them to those who heard them speak? Who can know why God chooses His messengers as He does, save that it is to the glory of His Name?

Friend of the friendless, pray that we will be given the strength to know that nothing God gives us is only for ourselves, the humility to receive all blessings without presumption, and the childlike joy of knowing that your son, Jesus, cares for us to the depths of his being. You who held all Knowledge in your arms, be for us a gateway to a closer and more trustingly open relationship with the Lord as we seek to behold him in all the little marvels we encounter, and to carry him forth into the world as little children.

Of Sheep And Fluffy Clouds

I try to remember a time when sleep came easily and I can’t rightly recall, though I’m sure such a thing must have existed. And I don’t mean the insta-sleep that followed taking Zopiclone or some other tranquilizer. I mean lying down in bed and falling asleep, having pleasant dreams that don’t wake you up at two in the morning, being refreshed upon awakening. You know, the stuff of legend.

I know, I know, it’s not even that late, so why am I talking about insomnia while trying to sleep when I could be doing something more productive? Why write a somnolence-inducing blog post at this early hour, when the night is still young and wanting to get its groove on?

More importantly, why am I writing it on my out-of-date Mac laptop instead of the computer I usually use?

Well, that part’s easy: I feel bad for it sitting here in its case all lonely and ignored. I bought it long ago so I could do my job as an academic aid to my blind student more easily. I’ve written many fine and not-so-fine essays on this thing. At the end of the day, I’m simply nostalgic. Also, it kind of amuses me that some of the more popular letters are a bit worn off.

Sleep, or the lack thereof, reflects a part of my larger reality, the part where I feel exhausted for only vaguely discernible reasons. It’s not that my life isn’t full of little meaningful nice things, because it is. My tree bloomed three weeks early, and I took many many pictures of it, getting to enjoy the smell of it, and its buzzing sound (the bees like it too, you know), and the birds nuzzling up to the blossoms at dusk. I’ve been feeling sick recently from the meds stuff, and enjoyed waaaaaaay too much chicken noodle soup today. It was fantastic and warm and salty. I love salt. Salt is necessary for life.

This longing...this longing for a resting place that isn’t merely somewhere to be still but to find stillness, this is like a picture of something bigger in my life that I don’t comprehend. I want not the darkness and nothingness but the something behind it, the thing that can’t be seen by directly looking. Glimpsed in sideways glances, at the edge of vision, when seeking something else. The desire to be held in God’s embrace to sleep and then to wake.

What God has showed is what God has showed and the rest remains hidden. Though we may want and believe we need to see into the mist and shadows, there remains an outer darkness beyond which it is not given to us to know. We can count sheep for hours and not find rest in much the same way as we can ask to behold and not see. Many things can be desired and not grasped, many things asked for and not received. You get an answer if you knock on the right door, and the rest is the fluffy clouds of longing. The soul speaks a language the heart does not always understand. I long to sleep but yet I wake, on the edge of waiting for that which I do not yet know.

The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want; He maketh me down to lie. The lying down is not sleeping, but waiting for life to begin; it is before being led to green pastures. Being sleepy is okay because it takes from me nothing I need (except possibly coherence, which isn’t that necessary anyway). I have God, and so want for nothing. Our Lord, awake in the garden, tormented by our hurt, what else is there? What is it to feel anything, compared to this? Is there any sorrow like his sorrow, any life but his?

No one dies of exhaustion.

These ridiculous posts though, they might kill you, or possibly make you mad. Best watch out for that.

Don't Worry, The Riot's Still Over There

I met up with an old friend (J.) for dinner tonight. Really good Mexican food at those hole-in-the-wall places, I've gotta say. Then we went to Hurley's and had broken-down-golfcarts (don't ask; I don't know what's in them, either). It's always good to catch up with a good friend.

Tonight was also hockey night - the Habs playing the Pens. Of course, we won! All is right in the universe once again.

Nothing brings home the fact that this is a hockey town quite like the police helicopter hovering up above after we left the bar. The game had just ended, you see. And in case you didn't know, the Crescent Street bar scene is almost on top of the Bell Centre. So you can leave your drunken revelries right after the game and feel secure in the knowledge that the police brotherhood has (probably) got your back.

J. to me: "You know, I do hope they win the game. Then maybe we'll win the Stanley Cup and they'll burn down half the f*cking city."

1 1/2 hours later, J. to me: "Let's hurry, the last thing I want is to be stuck in the middle of a hockey riot."

Me: "Oh, don't worry, the riot's still back there," gesturing vaguely behind me at the crowd of people pouring out of the Bell Centre.

Motorcycle cops, cop vans, cop helicopter, that camera guy from CTV, all the honking and flag-waving...it's all really exciting! Our hooliganism may sometimes be embarrassing in the international media, but what else do you expect from a people with hockey for a religion?

Anyone want to watch the next game with me? Seriously, anyone? I'll totally bring snacks!

There's only one thing left to say: Go Habs Go!!

Light Of Christ

Is it strange to say that I met God in the church parking lot when I was a child? God was in the light. I saw the light in a moment of clarity where all things fell into place and I understood. The moment where I believed what my life should be. That moment has never left me. The light was not God, but the light was from God and God was in the light. It was underneath and within and between everything. The light filled all that I saw and all I could see was the light.

I feel like I've told that story so many times before. Oh well. Endlessly repeating myself is kind of my forte.

In class tonight we talked about Eastern Orthodox mysticism. I started learning about Orthodoxy a few years ago and, in some ways, found an unexpected friend. For one thing, it's nice to find a tradition that can make at least some sense out of why I sometimes cry at the overfullness of Eucharist. It doesn't make it less embarrassing, but I'll take what I can get. It's nice to find a tradition where devotion to the Light of Christ is normal. Given these things, it's really a shame I haven't read my Philokalia in the last while. I should get back to that.

Learning about the mystics and reading their work makes me wish I was a better person. In the course of my life, I've failed God so many times. In the examples of the Saints, we see what's possible, the kind of life God calls us to live, and I can't help but feel wanting.

The church has given me so much, and I wish I could give something back but, really, what can I do? Nothing. I feel like I'm wandering, trying to find a place for myself that doesn't exist, and that I am not worthy or capable of being anything other than I am. There's that pesky despair again. It's ionic to feel that in some ways one has been given so much while at the same time finding oneself bereft of a means to share the blessings God has so abundantly given. What's the point in having something if it can't be shared or given away?

Since I've got nothing else, I'll include a song that was in the Vespers service I put together in memory of Fr. Lowe.

A hymn to the Light of Christ

Daylight has seasons,
sleeping at the dawning of night;
sunlight has shadows
hidden in the midst of its brightness
yet the darkness never overcomes
the shining of that radiant light
as our Lord is not overcome
shining His love in our lives.

Life has its seasons,
fading at the end of the day;
roads have their endings
turning off at the wayside
yet a new path always opens
leading to green valleys and fields
where the Good Shepherd leads us
to rest at the end of our days.

Daylight has seasons,
waking at the slumber of night;
darkness hides shadows
revealing the presence of sunlight
in our darkest days we turn to Him
shining so radiant and bright
revealing the treasure
of His love in our lives.

Regina Cæli

O God, come to my assistance
O Lord Make haste to help me.

Regina cæli, lætare, Alleluia:

Rejoice, O Queen of Heaven, Alleluia! Was it only joy you felt when the Angel told you that you were to bear God’s Son? I can’t imagine that your joy was without fear, without anxiety, uncertainty. Could anyone come face to face with God’s messenger and not feel them both? Yet you chose, in that moment, to trust in the joy. You embraced it, and so we honor you.

In our baptism, we are called, too, to choose this joy. Help us to embrace Christian lives so we may carry Christ within us. That we may know him as you do, and rejoice! Grant us the fortitude to become true followers of God, to be of one body with the Church. Help us to create and build up that body so that it might become transformed into all that God promises: the kingdom of Heaven on earth. Blessed Virgin, pray that we receive the grace to overcome all our doubts and fears.

Quia quem meruisti portare, Alleluia,

For the Son you bore, Alleluia! When you came to Elizabeth and her child recognized yours, leaping in her womb, was it only joy that you felt? Or was there anxiety about what this might mean? Here was one to prepare a way you could not see. Yet you chose humility, reckoning your life as one that gives glory to the Lord, Who has done marvels for you. You glorified Him, and so we recall your life as praise.

In our prayer, we are called to glorify the Lord in thanks. Help us to sing out the marvels which God has done for us. That we may love Him as you do, and carry Him out into the world! Grant us the gift of your counsel, that we may see our own gifts more clearly. Help us to nurture our gifts and those of others, that we too may give good counsel. Blessed Mary, pray that we receive the grace to recognize God’s work in our lives.

Resurrexit, sicut dixit, Alleluia;

Has arisen as he promised, Alleluia! Did you dream, in that moment your son was born into the world, of all the glory that would mark his life? Did you fathom the mystery, or were you overcome by the joy of a child who took his first breath and lived? The son you bore would be the first-born of the dead. Yet here he was, alive, and you took him in your arms. You held him close to your heart, and so we draw close to you.

In the confusion of our lives, we are called to accept the responsibility that comes with our faith. Help us to choose the right path in the midst of turmoil and confusion. That we may love and care for others as you loved and cared for him! Grant that we may be given fear of the Lord that we may know Him. Help us to respond to God as He wills us. Blessed Mother, pray that we receive the grace to embrace God’s will.

Ora pro nobis Deum, Alleluia.

Pray for us to God the Father, Alleluia! When the wise men came to adore him, how did you feel? Were you confused at the gifts they brought, and did you wonder at what these omens could mean? Your son was born to be ruler over all. Yet you raised him as a child, your child, as one who needed you. The Child Jesus needed you, and so we turn to you in our need.

In the choices of our lives, we are called to stand before God as people presented to the world. Help us to live with integrity and to act in ways that honor God’s purpose for us. That we may be holy as Jesus is holy! Grant that we will receive wisdom so as to reflect the God who knit us together and sent us forth into the world. Help us to be faithful to God. Blessed Woman, pray that we receive the grace of thankfulness for our lives.

Gaude et lætare, Virgo Maria, Alleluia;

Rejoice and be glad, O Virgin Mary, Alleluia! When you found him in the temple, after those days of worry, was there anger mixed in with your joy? Was your relief strong enough to overcome the pain and anguish? Your son left you without warning. Yet you embraced him without reservation, and were glad of him. You found your child, and so you help us to find him.

In the frustrations and failures of our lives, we are called to discern God’s presence. Help us to find the light in the darkness. That we may let go of anger and live in gladness! Grant that we be given the strength of understanding so as not to be angry when God’s ways do not seem to make sense. Help us to accept God’s will when we do not understand it. Blessed Lady, pray that we are blessed with the grace of trust.

Quia surrexit Dominus vere, Alleluia.

For the Lord has truly risen, Alleluia! Did you feel doubt and confusion when you saw the empty tomb? Or was there only joy in your heart? You buried your firstborn son. Yet he rose from the dead, and you were overjoyed that you could hold him again, that he breathed for a second time. You beheld our Resurrected Lord, and so by turning to you we also behold him.

In our Spirit-filled lives, we are called to draw strength from the Resurrection and live with hope. Help us to find comfort in our Risen Lord. That we may overcome adversity and live the risen life! Grant that we receive piety and love so that we may live to the fullest the life we have received. Help us believe that God’s power can conquer anything. Blessed Advocate, pray that we are given the grace of faith.

Oremus: Deus, qui per resurrectionem Filii tui, Domini nostri Iesu Christi, mundum lætificare dignatus es: præsta, quæsumus; ut per eius Genetricem Virginem Mariam, perpetuæ capiamus gaudia vitæ. Per eumdem Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.

Let us pray: Living and deathless God, you have given joy to the world by the resurrection of your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. Through the prayers of his mother, the Virgin Mary, bring us to the happiness of eternal life; through the same Christ our Lord. Amen. When you were Assumed into heaven and crowned Queen, your love for all but your Son did not pass away. You love us, and find great joy in us. You have always held Jesus and now have joined him for eternity, and so you call us to be held in his embrace and to be one with him in God’s kingdom.

In our lives and deaths, God loves us and calls us to himself. Help us to trust God and nurture the conviction that He desires good things for us. That we may respond joyfully to His call and follow Him in our hearts! Grant that the gift of knowledge be given to us so that we may truly hear God’s call. Help us follow Him with all our strength, and to fall ever more deeply in love with your son, Jesus. Blessed Queen of Heaven, pray that God grants us the grace of eagerness and generosity in loving.

In thy conception, O Virgin Mary, thou wast Immaculate.
Pray for us to the Father, whose Son thou dist bring forth.

Zumwhere Over The Rainbow

I do, in fact, have a guilty pleasure over which I’ve experienced some spiritual angst. Okay, not only one. But, for the purposes of this post, let us assume that I am perfect in every other way. *delusional* What I’m talking about is, of course, my Webkinz ® addiction.

For those of you not in the know, Webkinz are adorable stuffed animals that come with a secret-code tag. When you go to Webkinz World and ‘adopt’ a pet by entering its code, you get an online version of it that lives in that world. You can buy and decorate rooms (indoor, outdoor, treetop and underwater), buy clothes for and dress your pet, feed your pet, play games, etc. Your pet can sleep on beds, sit on chairs, swing and slide on swings and slides respectively, swim in pools, run on treadmills, drive vehicles and do things like wave at you. Your pet can get very unhappy, hungry and sick, but it can’t actually die (though it was terrifying to see my pet at zero that one time it got scared by a ghost on the pirate ship at vacation island). Some of the items are interactive: fridges, stoves, televisions, some lamps, fireplaces, dressers, fridges, bathtubs, bathroom sinks, etc. Your pet cannot actually pick anything up or make specific requests for what it wants. You buy things using kinzcash that you get by playing games, doing jobs, gem hunting and by telling your pet you love it every day. It’s a pretty cool world, actually. I wish I lived there.

It all started out so innocently: in December 2007 I got a reindeer as a gift. For a long time it lived alone, and I couldn’t see the point of having more than one. Then I got a puppy for my birthday in 2008 and I realized that each pet comes with a ‘pet specific item’ (PSI) you can’t get any other way. And from thence it went. Given that I do have a few remaining shreds of dignity, I won’t tell you how many I actually have. Suffice it to say, ‘addiction’ or ‘obsession’ are both acceptable terms.

I’m not alone in this: as with any other collectible item designed for children, the people most obsessed with Webkinz are adults. When I see people in the forums bragging about having 100+ pets, I heave a huge sigh of relief in knowing I come nowhere near that number. *SIGH* When you think about it, it’s a bit psychotic, really. Anyway, I suppose this puts me in the category of people our parents warned us were lurking around on the internet.

It should be noted at this point that the site actually puts a remarkable number of safeguards in place to ensure people cannot give out personal information. If your pet ‘chats’ with another pet, it has to select pre-fabricated slogans, and it also can’t send its own notes. If it uses the 'open' chat rooms, their chats will not allow them to share anything that looks like it might be a name, phone number, address or anything resembling a swear word. So props to Ganz ™ for protecting the younger generation from various brands of creepy people.

There is a new-ish feature called ‘MyPage’ which is similarly restricted, where your pets can display information about themselves: how many they are, high scores, the games and jobs they like, future pets they want in the family and suchlike. I just realized the other day (being, apparently, a bit slow on the uptake) that what this essentially means is that my pets have their own Facebook page, and can even have friends – though, curiously, they can’t unfriend their friends like you can on the real Facebook. I am struck by the fact that my Webkinz have more stable interpersonal relationships than I do, and that they might get viewed more and be more popular than me. Somehow, this wouldn’t be surprising: they’re a lot more cuddly than I am.

The whole of Webkinz World can be seen as saner and cuddlier than the Facebook-world, in which ‘friend’ is both a verb and a category that has expanded to include ‘that guy I met at a party once for five minutes.’ But that’s neither here nor there.

The only downside is that my pets can’t be Christians: how can they accept Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Savior and be saved from the eternal fires of hell?? Well, at least I’ll see some friendly, if singed, faces when I get there too. Their menorah does light up though; I guess they can be Jewish.

The reason I’ve felt a bit spiritually troubled by all this is that, well, it sort of goes against the whole non-materialistic thing the Bible’s always talking about. My pets might actually be helping to destroy the environment and to perpetuate the cycle of exploitative poverty enacted by free trade in the global south. Now we really are going to hell.

But I also worry about it for other reasons. Online, I can sometimes obsess over tending their garden and making sure they do all their daily activities, planning and decorating rooms in their massive house (they’re wealthier than me, too, superior in almost every way), seeing what the weather is like and whether or not they can help Dr. Quack in the clinic. It’s a world over which I have almost perfect control, unlike my own life which seems to be continuously spiraling off. It gives me a sense of security and mastery I lack in reality, I think. But maybe I should be spending more time attempting to grapple with my own adversity and less time escaping into a world where those struggles do not exist.

Anyway, there’s been a new development in Webkinz World: they’ve invented these things called Zumbuddies: little winged creatures that hover around your pet. The Zumbuddy lives in Zumwhere, which is itself lodged in the Magical Forest (it gets complicated, oy!). Your pet takes care of the Zumbuddy in its little ‘box,’ which looks like any other room in Webkinz World except that you can see your pet standing behind it. You have to feed your Zumbuddy and give it toys to make it happy: unlike a regular Webkinz, it has really specific needs and a really sensitive happy-meter. (My happy-meter is currently wavering, in case you’re interested.) They can actually pick stuff up and do things with it. Sometimes when they’re happy they reward you with Zummies, 'money' that can be spent in the Z-shoppe to buy them stuff for their rooms. They can sit on chairs and sleep in beds. You can’t control their movements, so unlike your pet they have an independent personality-ish.

This development heralds the dawning of a new era in Webkinz World, one in which your pets have pets. Personally, I’m not sure I’m ready for the meta-level narrative Webkinz World has reached. Boxes inside of boxes inside of boxes…I feel a little like I fell down a rabbit hole.

My Zumbuddy is pink. I usually find it pretty annoying and so ignore it. It would seem that my pets do not have the same attachment to fictional creatures as I do. As I said, superior to me in almost every way.

#weather #fail

There's nothing quite like a snowstorm at the end of April to remind you that life is an uncertain mistress. One day she's smiling on you like a warm sunshiny friend, and the next she's trying to dampen your mood like a sullen ex-girlfriend.

And I had such great plans for today, too. I was going to go for a nice long walk this morning; I had my water bottle ready and everything! Oh well, I guess it could be worse. I feel pretty bad for my neighbor who spent the weekend building a huge cabana and hasn't got the roof on yet. Ick. (He's been pretty industrious lately. He built a really nice fence two weekends ago. Props to him.)

I think tomorrow I'll curl up with a nice cup of hot chocolate and pretend the ground isn't covered with goopy slush. And pray that my beloved crab apple tree will still bloom this year. It's like a crazy pink explosion! I love it.


There's so much about this earth - this world - that I don't understand. It can be so overwhelming in its beauty. A yellow flower. A bird making its secret hiding place inside a hand-painted birdhouse. A tree coated in a thin layer of scintillating ice. The shadowy darkness of a gathering storm.

The Romantic poets talked about what they called the Sublime: an experience of overwhelming terror and smallness coupled with the overflowing joy of great beauty. It was found in the experience of nature. Some might call it 'awe.' It's what you feel when standing before a majestic waterfall and simply beholding it. The Romantics believed that you could encounter the Divine in nature. It's like being outside on the yard in a tent while lightning strikes - the sheer power of that force, its wildness and uncontainability.

While I'm not sure I believe in Pantheism or Panentheism (in fact, I'm pretty sure I don't), something deeply true is expressed in that great hymn, "How Great Thou Art." This world and its sometimes appalling beauty speaks to us about the depths to which God loves His creation. The sheer joy of it and fear of it can bring you to your knees. Who can look upon burning fire issuing forth from the earth and not feel awe?

The wonder felt in the experience of nature can be a stepping stone toward a relationship with God because it contains the realization that there is so much more to this life than you. Each seed is a life made by God and a world unto itself.

The world does not belong to us and we do not control it. It is not about us. Today's #weather #fail reminds us of that. We are lives held carefully within something so much greater that we cannot comprehend it. We are held, with the world and all fragile things, by the hand of Him to Whom we belong.


"Or who shut in the sea with doors, when it burst forth from the womb; when I made clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band, and prescribed bounds for it, and set bars and doors, and said, 'Thus far shall you come, and no further, and here shall your proud waves be stayed?' [...] Have you comprehended the expanse of the earth? [...] Have you entered the storehouses of snow, or have you seen the storehouses of the hail [...] What is the way to the place where the light is distributed, or where the east wind is scattered upon the earth? [...] Who has put wisdom in the clouds, or given understanding to the mists? Who can number the clouds by wisdom? [...] Is it by your wisdom that the hawk soars, and spreads his wings toward the south? Is it at your command that the eagle mounts up and makes his nest on high? On the rock he dwells and makes his home in the fastness of the rocky crag." (Job 38:8-39:28)

Our Lady Of Good Counsel

Blessed Mother,

In you the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and in your acceptance of Jesus you were granted, through grace, perfect union with him.

In your Immaculate heart you treasured all that he said and did, and through the years of his life you carried this knowledge of him carefully within you.

Prepare me to be a vessel of the grace which lit you from within, with light as of the golden fire of dawn. Lady of Good Counsel, guide and protect me as I struggle to discern the path laid before me. You never abandon us, just as you did not abandon your Son, the child of your flesh, in the hour of his darkest night.

Intercede on my behalf, that I may be healed. Be with me always, sharing your wisdom as she who held Wisdom Herself.

Pray for me, oh holy Mother of God, that I may be made worthy of the promises of Christ. For you are gentle and kind, and will counsel all who turn to you in Jesus’ name.

Put Some Pants On, You Monster!

You may be familiar with Islamic rules of modesty for women: we’ve been hearing a lot about them in the news recently. While many people argue about what exactly this is supposed to mean, the Qur'an is pretty clear about things like covering up, although what exactly you must cover is, beyond the obvious, somewhat vague.

“Good women are obedient. They guard their unseen parts because God has guarded them” (Q 4:34).

An Islamic cleric, Hojatoleslam Kazem Sedighi, has expressed alarm and dismay over lapses in female modesty. He says (according to National Post), “Many women who do not dress modestly…lead young men astray, corrupt their chastity and spread adultery in society, which [consequently] increases earthquakes.”

Well…the Qur'an does mention that both women and men are supposed to turn their eyes away from immodesty (Q 24:30-31), so maybe the real problem is that they’re looking? That is a bit facetious: after all, the scriptures also tell women to dress modestly so as not to incite…um…anything. But earthquakes? This is the first I’ve heard of that. I’m sure that has scriptural grounding somewhere, but frankly I can’t find it. The only mention of earthquakes that I know of pertains to the last days (Q 99). I think maybe rampant fear of Western culture and its various licentious ways are getting the best of some people and pushing them to rather absurd conclusions.

“Their dread of you is more intense in their hearts than their fear of God: so devoid are they of understanding” (Q 59:13).

I think this concern with female modesty is rather overblown. It just directs people away from the real, serious and threatening problem which is much more important. Clearly, clearly, I’m talking about the lack of male modesty which is obviously responsible for volcanic eruptions.

“Say to the believing man that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty; that will make for greater purity for them” (Q 24:30).

I mean, what is it with these men walking around in shorts above the knee? Or without shirts on? Their scandalous attire is causing the earth's core to heat up! And those tight pants? I mean, leave something to the imagination! Tempting the weaker sex like that with your immodesty: for shame.

Some of you may know that I have a great respect for the Muslim faith – heck, I thought seriously about converting – so I mean no disrespect to the Prophet or the Qur'an. However, I mean great disrespect to the morons who twist its message around and use it to disenfranchise people or treat them with less dignity than they deserve as human beings.

“But great is the guilt of those who oppress their fellow men and conduct themselves with wickedness and injustice in the land” (Q 42:41). Since the Qur'an is concerned with everyone’s rights, I’m interpreting ‘men’ as rather broader than just the male gender.

Forcing people to dress or worship a certain way, or making outlandish claims as to the results when they do not, undermines the beauty of Muslim beliefs, as it would undermine the power and poetry of all and any faith. The truth is that, in the end, each person comes before God and has a relationship with Him as an individual, and by taking away that aspect of volition you rob the believer of the chance to have real faith, determined only by that person’s own love of God.

“Thus did they earn God’s grace and bounty, and no harm befell them. For they had striven to please God, and God’s bounty is infinite” (Q 3:173).

Earth Day Prorogued

I was planning to talk about Earth Day, and maybe my patron Saint, but instead I’m going to do something completely different. Ha!

I ran into someone I went to high school with today, whom I think I’ve seen once before in the last decade. Wow! I have to say that this was really unexpected. You never know what surprises await you should you take a stroll along the sidewalk!

Like me, this woman went back to school after completing a degree (today was actually her last exam ever). I felt somehow comforted to know I’m not the only person in my graduating class who’s still somewhat rootless, who stayed in school for what some have called a ridiculous amount of time.

Lately I’ve been feeling pretty…I don’t know if ‘lost’ is the word, but I’m gonna use it. My best friends are getting married and having babies, have jobs and mortgages and pets. I sometimes feel that I somehow managed to sacrifice my life (as in, ‘get a life’) in order to get a university degree(s). Is it really that important to me, that I was willing to miss out on so much in order to get it?

Meeting this woman today, just shy of campus, helped me remember that it’s okay for this to be important to me, because we all have to follow our own path, even if it’s a winding dirt road through death valley, leading to what may or may not be the last rest stop for two hundred miles.

More important than this feeling of self-validation, my chance encounter reminded me of how lucky I am to have my best friends. It really is special and miraculous that we’ve stayed together all these years after high school ended, some of us having met even well before then. I love my friends, and I can honestly say they saved my life. For example, Melissa – the first friend I made in high school – had come to my house one day and I mentioned where I was going that night. When I went missing, she actually woke up her boyfriend, remembered the name, looked up the person’s number and called his house at Lord only knows what unholy time in the morning. She was the first person I spoke to after getting away.

My friends visited me in the hospital, and were there afterward. They’ve always supported me in going to school, they’ve believed in my dreams and supported my faith. They’ve encouraged and trusted me. Even when I’ve pushed them away because I was afraid of hurting them, they’ve never turned their backs on me. I wish everyone were as lucky as I am. I hope we get to share in each other’s lives forever.

Accept, O Lord, our thanks and praise for all you have done for us. We thank you for the splendour of the whole creation, for the beauty of this world, for the wonder of life, and for the mystery of love. We thank you for the blessing of family and friends, and for the loving care which surrounds us on every side. We thank you for setting us tasks which demand our best efforts, and for leading us to accomplishments which satisfy and delight us. We thank you also for those disappointments and failures that lead us to acknowledge our dependence on you alone. Above all, we thank you for your Son Jesus Christ; for the truth of his word and the example of his life; for his steadfast obedience, by which he overcame temptation; for his dying, by which he overcame death; for his rising to life again, in which we are raised to the life of your kingdom. Grant us the gift of your Spirit, that we may know Christ and make him known; and through him, at all times and in all places, may give thanks to you in all things. Amen (BAS).

Almighty God, we entrust all who are dear to us to thy never-failing care and love, for this life and the life to come, knowing that thou art doing for them better things than we can desire or pray for; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen (BCP).

Desiring Goodness

To begin (with something completely different), another prayer by my younger self:

You have held me
like a broken vessel,
gently;
all my pieces
You have lovingly collected.

I have been shattered
so in Your Love You might
repair me, remake me;
You make marvelous
what was despised.

You line up
the history of my cracks;
You mark the weakest places
among the most glorious.

Your faith in me
is like a potter’s,
reforming me in love
that I may hold pure water.


In chapter three of Eldredge’s book, he talks about how we’ve lost the point of our faith by turning Christianity into a religion about morality – a how-to of righteous living comprised mostly of rules, if you will. While right action and duty are obviously important, he believes the movement of faith should be from duty to delight, and not the other way around. “The goal of morality,” he says, “is not morality – it is ecstasy. You are intended for pleasure!”

He doesn’t think this means anything as simplistic as ‘feeling good.’ Rather, he means we are made for eternal life, the pleasure of the Garden of Eden. This life we have in Christ isn’t just about foreverness, either: eternal life isn’t really about floating around in the sky with God through all of timeless eternity (thank goodness!). Instead, “eternal life is not primarily about duration but quality of life, ‘life to the limit.’ It cannot be stolen from us, and so it does go on. But the focus is on the life itself.”

The problem is that we’ve killed the desires of our hearts with wanting to follow exact rules in the hope that, somehow, those rules will themselves satisfy us. The story of the Fall from paradise embodies this stupid choice. We didn’t have a normal desire for the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil: the desire was put in our minds by the serpent. It isn’t really ours, but we chose it and allowed it to guide our decisions. This obsession with right and wrong, isn’t that a kind of death? It can take us out of God’s presence.

Jesus came to forgive sins, yes, but it was so that we might have life! Desire for God and following our hearts means first stepping out of the assumptions that would have us believe Christianity is about morality in the first place. It’s about living in God’s presence in joyful trust.

I’m not entirely sure where this leaves me. I mean, I’m pretty political at times (gay-rights anyone?). I don’t think that a religion of life would have me ignore what’s right. But I do think, maybe, it would have me do what’s right not because it is the-right-thing but because, in so being, it is the path of life.

And anyway, if I had to give up self-righteousness entirely, whatever would I put in this blog of mine?

(p.s. Please, please do write comments on the blog. It’s much appreciated because it makes me feel like possibly someone other than me is reading it.)

Good Desire

My parish priest said something interesting on Good Friday. He said that if you come to worship requiring of yourself a perfect offering, you aren’t leaving room for grace to work in you. And if you require other people to make a perfect offering, you aren’t allowing grace to work through them. I realized something important then, which is a good realization since I spend so much time whining about liturgy and whatnot. As much as I think liturgy is important, and that it has rules, what’s most important is that it enables people to pray. So maybe I should stop being so judgmental about it, eh?

Being sick has forced – or allowed – me to make certain discoveries somewhat along the same lines as this. Because I get so absolutely exhausted, sometimes I actually don’t do daily prayer. *shock and horror!* I know, I know, for someone who liked praying five times a day that’s a totally messed-up state of affairs. But I’ve come to realize that prayer can’t be something I do just because I’ve told myself I have to. It has to be something I do because I desire to do it. Right now, I simply don’t have the drive to pray that much, and I think I’m deciding that that’s okay. Do you think writing this blog or the one for the church counts as some kooky form of meditation?

Along the lines of desire, I’ve been reading chapter three of Eldredge’s book “Desire.” He talks about how our understanding and practice of religion has become about killing desire; he thinks this is bad because it makes it impossible to follow God, since we can’t know our hearts. He says that “[we] are told to kill desire and call it sanctification.” For Eldredge, this is obviously a bad idea.

I admit that I have trouble with this idea because, in its simplistic formulation, it seems to exclude practices like asceticism. I think asceticism can be a good thing, and the people we’re studying in my course on mysticism tend to agree. Self-denial in various forms has permeated Christian tradition from the very beginning. At various times, I’ve practiced different forms of ascetic discipline myself, and I’ve found it very helpful.

Obviously, I’m no expert on this: I don’t come out of a religious formation, and asceticism, while a current in my life, has by no means dominated the practice of my faith. But I think that ‘killing desire’ can be crucial to discovering the true desire of the heart. Simplifying your life by taking things out of it both literally and figuratively opens up a space for God. Denying oneself certain things you want can help expose the fact that you don’t really need much of the stuff you want. Pain and exhaustion can show you how far you can really push yourself for something you believe in.

For me, all desire or want born of denial is a reflection of the deeper, truer desire of the soul for God. The feeling of wanting something because you don’t have it is a window to a fuller longing that comes to eclipse all else. When you feel hungry, it is a metaphor for your hunger for God. When you’re thirsty, it reflects in miniature a thirst for God. Being tired is a longing for the rest of God. Being in pain is a desire for God’s soothing embrace. Hours of prayer are a foretaste of loving God in totality, to the exclusion of all else. Chastity is an overwhelming need to be consumed by God in His Divine fire.

While I agree that a focus on these acts of ‘killing desire’ is dangerous because it can lead to a dead faith based on works, I think it’s invaluable insofar as it does not remove desire but reveals what lies beneath it – God, the source and end of desire itself.

Asceticism can also help derail unhealthy desires that have an unwholesome grip on a person’s life (which is why obsessing over something you’ve told yourself you can’t have defeats the purpose). It wasn’t an accident that Jesus said ‘he who looks at another man’s wife in lust has already committed adultery in his heart.’ Lust implies an all-consuming want, something that isn’t a true desire because it perverts the heart away from God. Adultery is the Biblical symbol of idolatry – putting something else in the place of God, worshipping it, giving it your heart. Asceticism can help curb these idolatrous tendencies, insofar as it reveals the heart’s longing for God and opens up a space for Him, and does not itself become a god in the place of God.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that “desire” isn’t as simple as wanting, that sometimes wanting does need to be killed, and that maybe the real desire we’re searching for deep within ourselves can set us free from judgment and form and open us up to the working of grace.

Because being focused on what’s right, being over-focused on that to the point you can’t see anything else, makes you like the older brother in the parable of the prodigal son: refusing to enter into the joyous embrace of the father, refusing to allow grace to uncover that desire, for the simple reason that you were right.


And now (for something completely different), a prayer by my younger self:

My Lord, I saw two doves today,
they were like You and I:
perched upon this lonely world,
longing for the sky.

I look to You, my Life, my All,
my perfect Dove is One;
and I, your soft companion there
with You in the golden sun.

One day, my Dove, I’ll fly with You,
in heaven’s full, perfect light;
that day we’ll dance, but now we rest
at dusk, and wait for night.

Tonight, we’ll steal away, my Love,
in cover of the dark;
we’ll hide on secret, verdant shores
among the rush and lark.

Soft, silent kisses we’ll exchange,
draw near as lovebirds do;
we’ll cast but one shadow on the waves,
as I enfold myself in You.

My perfect Dove, we’ll hide away
‘till dawn within the gloom,
and never You’ll depart, nor I,
though light be dawning soon.

The dark of night, my loving Lord,
while terrifying, too,
allows my fragile wings to bear
my softness close to You.

Lost At Sea

[the product of me shooting my mouth off during a conversation, that a friend said I should post; so you can blame her!]

If you read the papers and follow the religious news, and if you've done either of these things lately, you know the news isn't good. The stories that keep popping out are the breaking sexual abuse scandals in the Roman Catholic church, and the completely inadequate responses of the Vatican. Now they're saying the whole thing is a calculated attack on the church. Talk about a stupid answer to a really serious problem!

It's not just the Holy See that's fucked up: we all have. We've all failed. It's just that the Romans are the most vivid and spectacular embodiment of the failure we all share. As churches, we are broken. We live in a broken world and have become broken in it. The fact that the Church is 'made up of sinners' is neither an explanation nor an excuse. We fucked it up because of stubbornness and secrecy and an unwillingness to be responsible for our errors. An unwillingness to see ourselves as we really are.

Sunday's gospel reading had Peter and some others fishing naked on a boat all night, not having caught anything. Jesus calls from the shore and they catch a netfull of fish, and the net was not torn (hmm...didn't this same sign happen at the beginning of Jesus' ministry, at the part where he called them in the first place?). They come in to the beach - after Peter puts his clothes on and swims for it, no one knows why - and eat breakfast with Jesus.

We are Peter out on the water, and we have a broken net. We neglected the net, we used it in ways it wasn't supposed to be used, we ran it over the rocks and we used pieces of it to tie up our hair in fashionable styles. The net is broken, so of course it's empty.

We need to fix the net. We need to listen to Jesus telling us to keep fishing, and to do that we need a net that can function. How are we supposed to mend the net?

More than anything, we need to be willing to stand out on a boat, naked, and admit we screwed it up. 'Hey Jesus: we screwed it up! A little help here?' We need to stand out there with nothing hidden, admitting everything to everyone. We need there to be nothing between us and God, nothing covering over our shame. That's how we start fixing our net.

How do we catch fish with the net? How do we listen to Jesus' command from the shore? Well, he told us to be fishers of men, right? But that's a little vague. What he made Peter promise, once he made it to shore dripping wet, is to take care of the flock, because that's what loving God is. That's what being a fisher of men is. Love the flock, don't throw them to the wolves. Take care of the flock, don't wander off to write idyllic pastoral poetry and leave the sheep to their own devices. Feed the flock, don't lead them to some sort of dried up pasture where all the grass is dead.

The real problem is power. Grasping after power. It enslaves people and churches, it clothes them in iron garments that can cause a ship to sink. They think they're clothed, but they're naked; they think they're free, but they're drowning. Grasping after power is a problem, because it means you're looking after the shepherd instead of the sheep.

Feed the sheep, fix the net, and stand naked on a boat until Jesus calls you. Then we can answer his call. Then we can fill our nets, and the boats beside us will help us to carry them. Then we will not be alone. Then Jesus will feed us. Only when we, as churches, actually realize that the net doesn't belong to us will we be able to fill it, side by side, and come in to shore.

Amazing Grace

Welcome to the world Grace! You're beautiful! Everyone loves you so much, you are a miracle and a gift from God.


!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Congratulations to Amanda and Garcia, you must be so proud and excited.

Truly a miracle.

Here There Be Dragons

Today I saw the film "How to Train Your Dragon." It's a GREAT movie, and I recommend it to everyone.

I guess you could say that it's about things not being the way they seem. Maybe something you think is bad really isn't. Maybe something you think is bad really protects you from something else, something you don't want to see and shouldn't ever see.

Maybe the opposite is true as well, that behind something that seems too beautiful hides a deep darkness, something broken.

Behind the beautiful dragon lurks something else: not everything is as it seems. At the same time, the dragon-as-scary, as terrible, is not quite what you expected. Difficulties and trials and sufferings...the places we find God. I try to tell myself that every time my medical stuff plunges me down into terrible places. In the darkness is the One Who is not afraid of the dark, with Whom dwell both the darkness and the light.

Between The First And The Last (by which I mean, lunch)

“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” (Rev 1:8)

Today was the last service of the year at the college I hang out at. The last Eucharist and the last evening prayer until September. For some of us, the last time we’ll pray here as students.

Because it’s an ending, God is in it. God is in it as beginning and as what is yet to be, reminding us that the end of something is also a beginning of something else. Because the two are knit together into a whole, being held by God in a reality greater than themselves, they are neither a beginning nor an end – they are both, and everything between and beyond.

Every Eucharist at the college is followed by lunch, which I never go to; somehow my life tends to schedule itself in the way, though I can’t say I’m always displeased. But today I had planned to stay (yay?). Unfortunately, my doctor’s appointment got moved into that spot yesterday, so the best laid plans of Kats (and mice) came to naught. *sadness* and *hungry*

Coming out of a church tradition where food is less than prominent, I’ve wondered a lot lately: what is it with Protestants and food? At my Anglican church, we have parish breakfasts, dinners before worship-and-share, movies with popcorn, coffee hour before and after Sunday services, and a variety of food-based events to mark special celebrations. That reminds me: we have a congregational life lunch coming up – what should I bring?

Today is also my birthday. I’m 27, which a friend of mine pointed out is 3-cubed, a good Trinitarian symbol. As we observe them, birthdays mainly mark the remembrance of a beginning. But they also mark endings and continuation. Again, in this mundane life event, time blurs and blends together, and extends to include more than itself. As in all the ordinary things of the world, the Alpha-and-Omega movement of God can be discerned.

Like church events, my birthday will be celebrated with food. Tonight I’m having pizza (yay!) and cake (yay!!) and some kind of sparkling wine. Tomorrow, I’m having lunch with my boyfriend. And on Friday my friends are having a party for me.

Food is there at the very beginning of our lives: feeding babies is one of the first things we do, even when they show up ten weeks early weighing 2 ½ lbs. Food is there at the end: last meals for the condemned, and buffets at funerals. In the stories of Creation, God is very concerned about what we’ll eat, and at the end, we’re all invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb. Food is everywhere in between: it’s all over the Bible and runs through Jesus’ ministry. It fills each day of our own lives.

Eating is theological. It recognizes the sacrifice made of one living thing that another may have life. By it, we acknowledge and enter into relationship with creation and one another. Sharing it with others is a mitzvah. Offering it to others brings us into communion with God ('I was hungry and you fed me'). Accepting it unites us to God ('Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish'). And in the Eucharist, it becomes the ultimate sacrifice of Love for us.

I first noticed the power of food in the psychiatric hospital with my second roommate. She was totally isolated from everyone when I met her, and I didn’t think it was right: no one deserves to be shunned, even if they are a bit different or struggling. So I started bringing her food to her (catatonic depression makes a person less than mobile) and ate with her. Our interactions made it possible for us to form a relationship that ultimately helped us both.

[Unfortunately, my relationship with food isn’t always entirely healthy. Years ago, a teacher of mine and I had dinner together and then he raped me. It’s never been the same since. It’s something I need to work on. But I digress.]

God’s gift of food to us is a kind of sustenance that goes beyond mere survival. It is a way for people to come together in thanksgiving for all that we have been given and for each other. It forms relationships and bonds, strengthens communities and, taken holistically, gives rise to something truly unique: an embodiment of the beginning, middle and end in a single moment, a glimpse of God in the experience and in each other and, most importantly, a sense that in no time or place are we ever really alone. Because God is there in all of it, and with Him all the love and fellowship we have given and received.

When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand upon me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one; I died, and behold I am alive forevermore.” (Rev 1:1:17-18)

Behold The Mercy Of God

[in lieu of a real post, the homily I gave on Sunday]

Well, here we are, at the first Sunday after Easter and, in a way, it’s kind of a let-down, isn’t it? I mean, we’ve just finished celebrating Jesus’ Resurrection! We’ve come through a difficult Passiontide and arrived at a place of pure joy and miracle. Finally, Lent is over! Finally, Easter has arrived! We’ve had all the family dinners, the chocolate Easter eggs, the sugar high and the inevitable cranky period after it. We’ve been exhausted and reborn, horrified and overjoyed. Finally, it’s Easter! The Lord is risen! Alleluia!

So, what do we do now? What’s left? It’s like coming home from a really great party: now that the excitement is over, we feel a bit empty, kind of disappointed. “Oh, it’s over.” Don’t get me wrong: it’s great to be home. But there’s still that feeling, you know? That feeling of emptiness. Even though it only lasts a little while, because life goes on, it’s still a pretty powerful experience. Maybe part of that feeling comes from being suspended between times. Jesus is risen! But we’re waiting for him to ascend into heaven, and we’re waiting for Pentecost. What are we supposed to do with this time in between?

On the second Sunday of the Easter season – which is today – a little-known celebration is observed: the feast of the Divine Mercy. A Polish nun named Sister Faustina (who is now considered a Saint) received visions from our Lord Jesus Christ throughout most of her life. These visions – these messages from Jesus – infused her life, leading her to join a convent and shaping her mission as an Apostle of Mercy. Jesus instructed her to record everything he told her in her diary, and ordered her to proclaim his message of mercy to all people.

One of the things Jesus told her to do was to paint an image of him. In the painting, Jesus stands with one hand over his Sacred Heart and the other reaching out in a blessing. He looks pretty welcoming, like he wants you to come to him. Two rays of light emerge from his Heart. The red ray represents the blood he shed on the Cross, as well as the life of the soul; the whitish-blue ray symbolizes the water flowing from his side, and the soul being made righteous. Jesus’ death both gives life to our souls and purifies them, making them whole again. Most Divine Mercy Icons have these words written on them: “Lord Jesus, I trust in you.” Jesus promised Saint Faustina that the souls genuinely devoted to his Divine Mercy would never die.

Celebrating the Divine Mercy actually takes nine days: it consists of a series of prayers extending from Good Friday until today. Each day, prayers are offered for a different group of people. We begin by praying that all sinners will be immersed in the ocean of God’s mercy. And on the last day, we end by praying for all the souls that have become lukewarm – the people who once cared about God and don’t anymore, the people who have lost the fire of faith. We pray that they will be enfolded in Jesus’ mercy and regain that fire and passion. In Jesus’ revelation to Saint Faustina, the lukewarm are described as the people who caused him the most pain during his Passion: the people standing by who didn’t care, one way or the other, about what was happening to him.

All of these prayers are offered in the name of Jesus’ body and blood, soul and divinity. They are offered for our own sins and for the sins of all people. We pray using these words: for the sake of his sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world.

I personally love this feast of the Divine Mercy. I know, I know, it seems really weird to be talking about this now. You’re thinking, ‘man, this is depressing! Why in the name of all things are we talking about Jesus’ Passion and death right after Easter? You remember Easter, right? It was just last week! Stop ruining my cheerful mood with all this crucifixion talk and get back to the Resurrection where you’re supposed to be.’

That’s a perfectly normal reaction: we are an Easter people and we want to live there. But we tend to forget the difficult reality of the Cross a little too quickly after the Resurrection – I know I do. But there’s no such thing as Easter without the Cross! If we allow ourselves to forget that the two are part of the same act we might as well toss Easter onto the pile of things that have become totally secular. Totally meaningless. We might as well spend Good Friday saying: ‘Now, you just be patient a few more days, honey, and Jesus is going to bring you a nice basket full of candy, just as soon as the Easter Bunny rolls that giant egg away from the tomb!’

The fact that we’re here today testifies that we believe in something more real. To really believe, to really be Christian, means that Easter has a real effect on our lives. It is transformative, and not just some ritual involving chocolates and draping the church in white. This means we can’t just receive the promise of Easter and squirrel it away like a precious secret. Like the light flowing from Jesus’ Heart, it has to shine out of us, because if we don’t let it flow through us and out into the world we haven’t really received it, either.

What does it mean to receive this promise? How do we allow it to live in us? The answer is in the blue and red rays: we receive it by allowing God to breathe life into our souls and to transform us in His image. First, we must ask for the mercy offered to us on the Cross. Then we must be merciful. Today’s readings are full of the truth that Jesus’ resurrected life is an offering of, and call to, mercy. Acts of Apostles tells us that “The God of our fathers raised Jesus whom you killed by hanging him on a tree. God exalted him at his right hand as Leader and Savior, to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins” (5:30-31). Revelation says “Jesus Christ [is] the faithful witness, the first-born of the dead […] who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood” (1:5).

In the Gospel reading, the Holy Spirit is given to the disciples along with the power to forgive sins. The idea that the Resurrection is about mercy is one of the oldest truths of our faith.

The final element in receiving the Easter promise comes with the command that we place all our trust in God. Blessed is he who does not see, and yet believes! The marks remaining in Jesus’ hands remind us that his sacrifice and mercy will never disappear. We can confidently rely on him as we strive to live the risen life. Accepting this truth is the source of our great joy, as in the light of Easter we see life.

And what life that is! The celebration of the Divine Mercy is meant to help us realize that Jesus’ forgiveness and compassion are total, that he forgives even the worst sin, and that it’s never too late to embrace his mercy. Our Resurrected Lord stands reaching out to us, calling us to him as beloved children. He bathes us in the light of his Crucified Heart. By taking his outstretched hand and standing in his life-giving mercy, we participate in the Passion that broke his Heart and make the heavy pain of it easier for him to bear. We must give ourselves over to Jesus in complete trust, believing firmly and absolutely that his mercy will indeed save us, covering over our sins and clothing us in righteousness.

I asked before what we should do with this time in between Easter and Pentecost. What we need to do is prepare to receive the Holy Spirit. We know there’s more to that than just running around proclaiming, “Jesus is risen! Jesus is risen! Alleluia!” To share in the risen life – to be faithful witnesses – we need to devote ourselves to God’s mercy. The crucial part of this devotion is committing ourselves to actually being merciful, to living the mercy for others that has been freely given to us.

To proclaim the Resurrection, we need to forgive other people. To anticipate Jesus’ ascension to his Kingdom, we need to evangelize the world by giving to those in need, whatever that need may be. To receive the Holy Spirit, we must be set on fire by love for others. And to await God’s coming in glory, we need to pray for the salvation of all the world.

We must always stand faithfully at the foot of the Cross, even now, especially now, as we celebrate Easter. It is by doing so that we, through believing, come to have life in Jesus’ name.




Readings: Acts 5:27-32; Ps 118:14-29 or 150; Rev 1:4-8; Jn 20:19-31
(11 April 2010, Second Sunday of Easter)