tchotchke \CHAHCH-kuh\ - knickknack, trinket
An English word apparently originally from Polish by way of Yiddish.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
A planned attack
In this morning's dream, Jodi (my former choir director) and I were plotting with a small group to assassinate the POTUS by suicide stealth bomb. There was some sort of experimental, high-tech explosive that Jodi was to smuggle through the airport to our destination in a pair of travel support hose (we were only bothering with the airport because there was some sort of trip or delegation planned that we were to be a part of), and sure enough got it through undetected. When we arrived at our destination and got in our limo, I expected we were to pick up the target, but we really were just being transported to the hotel where the actual bombing was to occur. We checked into our room, and got a visual on our target (who was now Fr. Cy Middendorf, God rest his soul) down in the lobby, but he wasn't going to be there long and that wasn't where the attack was to occur because of the collateral damage. We were in a tiered conference room when a couple of obvious undercover homeland security agents were hovering us to catch us in the act, so they could charge us with attempted terrorism rather than merely conspiracy. But it turns out that we were actually trying to thwart the attack ourselves, and were just playing along with the conspirators. We split up and shook our agents and I was quickly walking through the halls of the hotel looking for Jodi by trying to find the correct elevator where the attack was to occur.
Dreams are freaking weird.
Dreams are freaking weird.
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
My Substitute
A basic part of Christian theology is the idea of sacrificial substitution: Christ bore the burden of our sins so that we could be set free from it. Some of us come to a personal understanding of this concept that fills us with an abiding gratitude to God for his gift of atoning salvation, which drives our life in a very different direction. As a result we begin to participate with the movement of the Holy Spirit in our lives, who directs us into very different pathways than we'd otherwise follow and transforms us into very different people than we would be on our own.
I'm getting a different glimpse into this than I've ever had before, one with which I must be very careful because of its potential to lead me back to an emotionally unhealthy place. Yet I think it is not only worthwhile to give it appropriate consideration, it may be a gift from God in this season of Lent.
Seventeen years ago, I received mercy I didn't deserve. At the time, I didn't really recognize how true that was. At first, at least, it felt unfair that my own actions to address the wrong I'd done led me at all into the legal consequences of my wrongdoing. I came to understand that entire cause-and-effect much better. Now, however, I find myself appalled by the sentence handed down against a dear old friend, especially in comparison with my own, when my own actions were so much more damaging than his were. When I was discussing this with my bride the other evening, she expressed how she is likewise taken aback, and couldn't help but point out the undeniable truth that what I did was so much worse than our friend's crime. She wasn't putting me down with that; it's just that the severity of our friend's punishment is more along the lines of what I deserved than what he did. Now as we exchange correspondence and I read his wife's posts of his e-mails detailing his experiences in prison - which is coincidentally located on what was part of an Air Force Base on which he once served at least a TDY - I can't help but get a clearer picture of what I deserved.
I know he isn't there in my place - I completely know this. As much as he loves me (and I him), I know that my friend would not have chosen to bear my penalty for me had he been offered the opportunity to do so. I'm confident that he doesn't blame me for the position he's in; when he expresses his anger about his current situation, it is anger at himself for the choices he has made, not over the social climate that played a role in his punishment being so much more extreme than he really deserved - a climate which one could argue all offenders have played a role in creating.
Yet still it feels as if, as a result of his incarceration, I am getting a deeper insight into and understanding of what it really means that Jesus accepted the penalty for my sin. The pain and humiliation of a crown of thorns is foreign to me, but my friend's separation from his family is real, and something I have experienced to a lesser degree. The flogging that Jesus experienced for my sake is a pain unlike any I have ever known, but my friend's fear of what his experience in prison might become is frightfully familiar. And the burden of bearing the world's guilt in the gruesome crucifixion on that cross is utterly alien to me, and so the idea that Jesus bore it for me has always been a little distant, but this feeling that my friend's place should have been mine helps me to feel more grateful than ever to Jesus for taking my place.
I'm getting a different glimpse into this than I've ever had before, one with which I must be very careful because of its potential to lead me back to an emotionally unhealthy place. Yet I think it is not only worthwhile to give it appropriate consideration, it may be a gift from God in this season of Lent.
Seventeen years ago, I received mercy I didn't deserve. At the time, I didn't really recognize how true that was. At first, at least, it felt unfair that my own actions to address the wrong I'd done led me at all into the legal consequences of my wrongdoing. I came to understand that entire cause-and-effect much better. Now, however, I find myself appalled by the sentence handed down against a dear old friend, especially in comparison with my own, when my own actions were so much more damaging than his were. When I was discussing this with my bride the other evening, she expressed how she is likewise taken aback, and couldn't help but point out the undeniable truth that what I did was so much worse than our friend's crime. She wasn't putting me down with that; it's just that the severity of our friend's punishment is more along the lines of what I deserved than what he did. Now as we exchange correspondence and I read his wife's posts of his e-mails detailing his experiences in prison - which is coincidentally located on what was part of an Air Force Base on which he once served at least a TDY - I can't help but get a clearer picture of what I deserved.
I know he isn't there in my place - I completely know this. As much as he loves me (and I him), I know that my friend would not have chosen to bear my penalty for me had he been offered the opportunity to do so. I'm confident that he doesn't blame me for the position he's in; when he expresses his anger about his current situation, it is anger at himself for the choices he has made, not over the social climate that played a role in his punishment being so much more extreme than he really deserved - a climate which one could argue all offenders have played a role in creating.
Yet still it feels as if, as a result of his incarceration, I am getting a deeper insight into and understanding of what it really means that Jesus accepted the penalty for my sin. The pain and humiliation of a crown of thorns is foreign to me, but my friend's separation from his family is real, and something I have experienced to a lesser degree. The flogging that Jesus experienced for my sake is a pain unlike any I have ever known, but my friend's fear of what his experience in prison might become is frightfully familiar. And the burden of bearing the world's guilt in the gruesome crucifixion on that cross is utterly alien to me, and so the idea that Jesus bore it for me has always been a little distant, but this feeling that my friend's place should have been mine helps me to feel more grateful than ever to Jesus for taking my place.
Universal prayers
"Lord, I have cried to you, hear me." This is a prayer we can all say. This is not my prayer, but that of the whole Christ. Rather, it is said in the name of his body. - St. Augustine
I think we sometimes forget, in our lamentations before the Lord, that we are not in this alone. Our needs seem pressing, and we can get our whole attention on them rather than on the bigger picture. I think that is both a gift to us and a shortcoming to work on. We're too small to embrace all the needs of our brothers and sisters throughout the world, to be cognizant of them, nor even in many cases to do anything about the ones we are. But by remembering as we face our challenges that we are united in our struggling with every one of our fellow members of Christ's body, perhaps our journey through this life's challenges can be less egocentric and more compassionate.
"Let my prayer rise like incense in your sight; let the raising of my hands be an evening sacrifice." This is generally understood of Christ, the head. - ibid.
I now understand better why we pray this at evening prayer. I never connected it before with its fulfillment in the raising of Jesus' arms upon the cross. And if we are the body, are not we, too, joined in this prayer with him, sacrificed, crushed in our afflictions for the sake of the whole body? It is both a prayer of triumph and a joining of our struggles with the larger desire of God to have all of his beloved children brought home to him.
A day late with this reflection, but maybe another later on today's readings . . .
I think we sometimes forget, in our lamentations before the Lord, that we are not in this alone. Our needs seem pressing, and we can get our whole attention on them rather than on the bigger picture. I think that is both a gift to us and a shortcoming to work on. We're too small to embrace all the needs of our brothers and sisters throughout the world, to be cognizant of them, nor even in many cases to do anything about the ones we are. But by remembering as we face our challenges that we are united in our struggling with every one of our fellow members of Christ's body, perhaps our journey through this life's challenges can be less egocentric and more compassionate.
"Let my prayer rise like incense in your sight; let the raising of my hands be an evening sacrifice." This is generally understood of Christ, the head. - ibid.
I now understand better why we pray this at evening prayer. I never connected it before with its fulfillment in the raising of Jesus' arms upon the cross. And if we are the body, are not we, too, joined in this prayer with him, sacrificed, crushed in our afflictions for the sake of the whole body? It is both a prayer of triumph and a joining of our struggles with the larger desire of God to have all of his beloved children brought home to him.
A day late with this reflection, but maybe another later on today's readings . . .
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Chances to grow
I know how hard our first ME weekend was for you. It's hard to believe it was 25 years ago. I keep thinking it was 1987, but I know it was just a couple months before Karen died, so definitely '88.
Of course I would love to make another weekend with you! Did you really think I wouldn't? Or I'd love to go to the regional conference with you this summer. I'm willing to do either, and I think that either choice fits right in with our determination to make our relationship a higher priority. And yes, darling, I'm willing to reschedule my plans for next month, if that ends up being the best weekend for us. My friends will understand. I'd still rather go to the one at the Cliffside Retreat Center in September; I think it will be a better environment. The rooms have private baths and individual heat/ac units, so those concerns are addressed. The only downside: twin beds!
I love you.
Of course I would love to make another weekend with you! Did you really think I wouldn't? Or I'd love to go to the regional conference with you this summer. I'm willing to do either, and I think that either choice fits right in with our determination to make our relationship a higher priority. And yes, darling, I'm willing to reschedule my plans for next month, if that ends up being the best weekend for us. My friends will understand. I'd still rather go to the one at the Cliffside Retreat Center in September; I think it will be a better environment. The rooms have private baths and individual heat/ac units, so those concerns are addressed. The only downside: twin beds!
I love you.
Except they'd never sing this
I'm feeling really Class of '57 today. Must remember the bigger story I'm a part of.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Striking the root of the matter
I just can't pick a phrase or two from today's second reading from the Office of Readings that particularly struck me. Usually I prefer the selections that are chosen from the early church fathers, which often resonate with their timeless truth. Yet today's reading from the documents of the Second Vatican Council kept drawing me into its own veritas as I continued to read. A couple of things in particular struck me, and I hope I'm able to capture them before my own thoughts obscure them.
Without God, the higher kind of life to which we aspire is obscured, taking the form of our mere dreams and wishes. Sometimes there is a sincere element of selflessness in this striving, insofar as we are able to understand and apply it. But what we understand to be the freedom to live this higher calling becomes instead an enslavement to the ideas, the dogma, that becomes an empty shadow of the true freedom we find only in living in God's love.
Without God, we do not understand our weakness and our sinfulness properly. Rather, we often mistake these characteristics as noble causes which we should embrace, or toward which we should strive. And the power of our own wants can become all the more consuming if we have no source we trust that might serve to steer us away from them. The unhappiness we experience in response to our failure to understand that our loving God is providing for our true needs ends up driving us toward more unhappiness, for ourselves and for those whom we are trying to love as well as we can.
These questions with which we grapple should serve to bring us to a relationship with God. Yet when we begin the struggle with an inner conviction that God cannot be the answer because there is no god, that indeed no rational person should believe in any form of god, they can indeed drive us to despair. By no means is this inevitable; there are undoubtedly atheists who accept their fatalistic position with an inner peace, but in my experience they are often driven off of their precarious peaceful perch when they encounter various sorts of upheaval in their lives or opposition to their point of view.
Yet faith in God does free us from our own inner struggle between sinfulness and righteousness, nor from our tendency to close off when we are hurt rather than reconcile. The battle wages within us even when we believe in God, even when we have a relationship with him that transforms us, and the efficacy of that transformation wanes when we fail to give ourselves regularly and with increasing consistency to this most perfect of loves. I cannot fully imagine the effect that not believing must have on that battle, and pray that I never will experience it.
Only the conclusion of this selection, its last three brief paragraphs, provide the proper context for the resolution of this conflict, and therein can be found the only way to approach it that brings life rather than death, selfless love instead of narcissism, grace and forgiveness in place of vengeance and judgment.
Yet none of these positive approaches is possible of our own effort. Only the Holy Spirit can manifest grace, and at our best we merely participate in and give ourselves over to this work of God.
Without God, the higher kind of life to which we aspire is obscured, taking the form of our mere dreams and wishes. Sometimes there is a sincere element of selflessness in this striving, insofar as we are able to understand and apply it. But what we understand to be the freedom to live this higher calling becomes instead an enslavement to the ideas, the dogma, that becomes an empty shadow of the true freedom we find only in living in God's love.
Without God, we do not understand our weakness and our sinfulness properly. Rather, we often mistake these characteristics as noble causes which we should embrace, or toward which we should strive. And the power of our own wants can become all the more consuming if we have no source we trust that might serve to steer us away from them. The unhappiness we experience in response to our failure to understand that our loving God is providing for our true needs ends up driving us toward more unhappiness, for ourselves and for those whom we are trying to love as well as we can.
These questions with which we grapple should serve to bring us to a relationship with God. Yet when we begin the struggle with an inner conviction that God cannot be the answer because there is no god, that indeed no rational person should believe in any form of god, they can indeed drive us to despair. By no means is this inevitable; there are undoubtedly atheists who accept their fatalistic position with an inner peace, but in my experience they are often driven off of their precarious peaceful perch when they encounter various sorts of upheaval in their lives or opposition to their point of view.
Yet faith in God does free us from our own inner struggle between sinfulness and righteousness, nor from our tendency to close off when we are hurt rather than reconcile. The battle wages within us even when we believe in God, even when we have a relationship with him that transforms us, and the efficacy of that transformation wanes when we fail to give ourselves regularly and with increasing consistency to this most perfect of loves. I cannot fully imagine the effect that not believing must have on that battle, and pray that I never will experience it.
Only the conclusion of this selection, its last three brief paragraphs, provide the proper context for the resolution of this conflict, and therein can be found the only way to approach it that brings life rather than death, selfless love instead of narcissism, grace and forgiveness in place of vengeance and judgment.
Yet none of these positive approaches is possible of our own effort. Only the Holy Spirit can manifest grace, and at our best we merely participate in and give ourselves over to this work of God.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Agents of grace
Since the very name you bear as Christians is a profession of love for men, imitate the love of Christ.
Reflect for a moment on the wealth of his kindness. Before he came as a man to be among men, he sent John the Baptist to preach repentance and lead men to practice it. John himself was preceded by the prophets, who were to teach the people to repent, to return to God and to amend their lives. Then Christ came himself, and with his own lips cried out: Come to me, all you who labor and are overburdened, and I will give you rest. How did he receive those who listened to his call? He readily forgave them their sins; he freed them instantly from all that troubled them. The Word made them holy; the Spirit set his seal on them. The old Adam was buried in the waters of baptism; the new man was reborn to the vigor of grace.
What was the result? Those who had been God’s enemies became his friends, those estranged from him became his sons, those who did not know him came to worship and love him.
Let us then be shepherds like the Lord. We must meditate on the Gospel, and as we see in this mirror the example of zeal and loving kindness, we should become thoroughly schooled in these virtues. - Saint Asterius of Amasea, bishop
This wonderful truth can elude our consciousness if we omit the first part of the last sentence. The discipline of regularly focusing our attention back on the truth allows it to penetrate and transform our lives.
But when we see a phrase like "become thoroughly schooled in these virtues," we can get the idea that our transformation in Christ by the Holy Spirit is primarily of our own doing and by our own effort. It isn't that our effort isn't important, but the transformation is God's work, in which our role is to participate as we are called. There is an element of relationship which is completely beyond our ability to make happen. We have no hope of embracing God by our efforts, yet we are nonetheless called into communion with God. As we respond to that call, humbly acknowledging that we need God and that God alone can reach us in our need (not vice versa), we find that God makes his wondrous way into our lives, and we can live in him as we could not of our own efforts. Our lives become full of thanksgiving (Eucharist) for what God has done for us, and we then become purveyors of the grace we have received, ministers of God's grace in others' lives.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Charismatic music ministry
One can be an effective liturgical music minister based primarily on talent and knowledge.
But to be an effective minister of music in the charismatic environment requires a personal relationship with the Lord through the Holy Spirit.
But to be an effective minister of music in the charismatic environment requires a personal relationship with the Lord through the Holy Spirit.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Love in the little things
It was funny how we both u-turned at basically the same time this morning, realizing we hadn't shared a goodbye kiss when we'd just passed at the top of the stairs knowing I was heading out the door. It reminds me of the importance of the little things we do to keep our love and our relationship strong, that help keep us in touch with our love for each other, and that nurture it through the trials that come. I think our "weekly date night" decision is going to be another of those things that helps strengthen us.
A challenging reading
I'm not sharing direct quotes from St. Gregory Nazianzen's sermon in today's Office of Readings, because there wasn't any one quote that particularly resonated with me. Rather, I find myself grappling with the entire issue of how to apply this concept in today's world and in the context of my own life. It would be easy enough to dismiss this as being somehow inapplicable to our modern world, and to keep on living as I am. But the truth is that I have an acute awareness that I am not doing what I think I should be with regard to helping those who are less materially blessed than I am.
I also can't dismiss this by yielding control over this area to my not-like-thinking spouse, who directs more of how our resources are allocated. No, I am responsible for the decisions I make with regard to helping my brothers and sisters or ignoring their needs.
I also can't dismiss this by yielding control over this area to my not-like-thinking spouse, who directs more of how our resources are allocated. No, I am responsible for the decisions I make with regard to helping my brothers and sisters or ignoring their needs.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
And lead us not?
He made us one with him when he chose to be tempted by Satan. We have heard in the gospel how the Lord Jesus Christ was tempted by the devil in the wilderness. Certainly Christ was tempted by the devil. In Christ you were tempted, for Christ received his flesh from your nature, but by his own power gained salvation for you; he suffered death in your nature, but by his own power gained life for your; he suffered insults in your nature, but by his own power gained glory for you; therefore, he suffered temptation in your nature, but by his own power gained victory for you.
If in Christ we have been tempted, in him we overcome the devil. Do you think only of Christ's temptation and fail to think of his victory? See yourself as tempted in him, and see yourself as victorious in him. He could have kept the devil from himself; but if he were not tempted he could not teach you how to triumph over temptation. - Saint Augustine
I haven't opened Death on a Friday Afternoon yet, but I've found no lack of things to reflect on in the Office of Readings thus far this Lent. The thing is, I really don't have to many of my own reflections to add to St. Augustine's excellent words. They're just pretty much a reminder for me.
(That said, of course I've thought of something to say . . . )
I think that sometimes we think of our own temptations as being greater than what others face, or maybe of less importance to deal with, so that we either excuse or accommodate our failure to triumph over them. Or perhaps we think that the grace that was present for Christ to draw upon in the face of his temptation is less available to us. Both of these strike me as a sort of reverse pride, as a way of exalting our sinfulness to the status of something we can't do anything about. It takes one sort of humility to acknowledge that, no, my temptations really aren't all that especially unavoidable, and another sort - one that we don't often think of as being humility but I think it is - to realize that I have the same grace at work in me that enabled Jesus to resist the devil.
I realize that it was Jesus himself who taught us to pray to the Father to lead us not into temptation, but we should remember that we're going to encounter it anyway, and we can count on him to lead us through it when we do, if we'll just turn to him and acknowledge our need for him in that moment.
If in Christ we have been tempted, in him we overcome the devil. Do you think only of Christ's temptation and fail to think of his victory? See yourself as tempted in him, and see yourself as victorious in him. He could have kept the devil from himself; but if he were not tempted he could not teach you how to triumph over temptation. - Saint Augustine
I haven't opened Death on a Friday Afternoon yet, but I've found no lack of things to reflect on in the Office of Readings thus far this Lent. The thing is, I really don't have to many of my own reflections to add to St. Augustine's excellent words. They're just pretty much a reminder for me.
(That said, of course I've thought of something to say . . . )
I think that sometimes we think of our own temptations as being greater than what others face, or maybe of less importance to deal with, so that we either excuse or accommodate our failure to triumph over them. Or perhaps we think that the grace that was present for Christ to draw upon in the face of his temptation is less available to us. Both of these strike me as a sort of reverse pride, as a way of exalting our sinfulness to the status of something we can't do anything about. It takes one sort of humility to acknowledge that, no, my temptations really aren't all that especially unavoidable, and another sort - one that we don't often think of as being humility but I think it is - to realize that I have the same grace at work in me that enabled Jesus to resist the devil.
I realize that it was Jesus himself who taught us to pray to the Father to lead us not into temptation, but we should remember that we're going to encounter it anyway, and we can count on him to lead us through it when we do, if we'll just turn to him and acknowledge our need for him in that moment.
Thought from retreat
Near the beginning of the day, our regional liaison for the charismatic renewal was sharing some thoughts from Pope Benedict's document on the current Year of Faith, and some other thoughts from the Holy Father's Ash Wednesday homily. I'm not sure which of these was the source for the thought that caught my attention and resonated for me: the idea that the Eucharist is the summit of worship. I know plenty of people who believe that social outreach ministry is a higher calling.
I'm sure I must have written before against a popular approach to our faith that has begun to dominate over the past century: that its chief value is in how it moves us to be a force for social change in the world. In Catholic circles, the theology behind this thought is sometimes summed up very briefly in a very reasonable sounding idea, "The Eucharist is created for us, not vice versa." I had a former pastor, whom I love dearly, who was fond of quoting this as he opposed any excesses, as he understood them, in Eucharistic adoration. But there are a couple of truths which get mixed up in this misunderstanding, and of these, the first is probably the one that most gets at the root cause of the error.
It is the failure to fully understand that the Holy Eucharist is Jesus Christ.
Of course, it is ridiculous to suggest that any of us fully understands this. Only when we participate fully in the heavenly banquet for all eternity will we begin to approach this level of knowledge of God. Yet even understanding to the smallest extent that, in ways we do not fully understand, the Eucharist is Jesus Christ, leads us to understand that we were indeed created for the Eucharist - though not to meet His needs, for He has none. And this is where those who use that phrase have it right, for indeed the Eucharist was instituted to meet our need for spiritual food. Done right, worshiping the Lord in the Eucharist is a key element of eating his Body and drinking his Blood. (More on which aspect of Christ's body was created/instituted for which in a bit.)
First, though, is the thing that this modern theology usually gets right when its adherents lament the practice of regular Eucharistic adoration (an objection which they have wrong, in most cases). They point out that the traditionalists' emphasis on reverence for the consecrated elements in the context of the Mass often comes at the expense of a recognition that Christ is just as really present in the assembled Body as in the Eucharistic elements of the Body and the Blood. They are often right about this, yet the one ought not come at the expense of the other. In this sense, it is true that we and the Eucharist have indeed been created and instituted for each other. According to God's plan for us, we do not become his Body - and individually parts of it - to the degree God intends unless we are fed by the spiritual food, in which Christ gives us himself as the nourishment we most need.
So my chief objection to the phrase as it seems (to me) to be misused is in its implication that the purpose of the Eucharist is to equip us for the social outreach that many mistakenly consider the "real purpose" of Christianity. Indeed, this viewpoint holds that the chief purpose of our worship is to make us the best version of ourselves - itself a concept on which Matthew Kelly has written extensively that is worth investing our energy and effort into - so that we might go forth and do what we're really supposed to be about. The truth of the matter is that we frequently put too little effort into the things that God might have us do, but the purpose of our relationship with God is not for us to do those things. Rather, a relationship with God is the greatest good our lives will ever know, and inevitably when it is all that it should be it leads to our transformation - which is of course a good thing - and our social outreach - which is also a good thing.
And yet to say that our personal growth or our social ministry is the purpose of our relationship with God gets the two greatest commandments out of order. Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love the Lord our God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength, and that the second is like it: to love our neighbor as ourselves. Now, these two are inextricably linked for us, but their linking does not make the second commandment equal to the first.
Of course, God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and it is impossible to love God without loving our neighbor. And if we love our neighbor rightly, we will enter more deeply into our relationship with God in the process. So maybe this whole megapost is just an arguing of unimportant semantics.
And yet it seems to me that I see way more people lose their perspective on the truth by focusing on service of others and trying to let their spirituality flow from that than by focusing on worshiping God (though perhaps I've just been blessed by being around true believers). Putting service ahead of worship puts us at risk of despairing over the injustice we perceive in our neighbors' suffering. Worshiping first reminds us that God is God, and we, though his Body, are not God. We are his presence in the world, yet in God's infinite eternity he remains greater than any finite collection of our finite minds can fathom. It is certainly possible to go through the rituals of worship without entering into a true relationship with God in the process, but then the lack of fruit - the absence of transformation and service - eventually becomes evident.
I'm sure I must have written before against a popular approach to our faith that has begun to dominate over the past century: that its chief value is in how it moves us to be a force for social change in the world. In Catholic circles, the theology behind this thought is sometimes summed up very briefly in a very reasonable sounding idea, "The Eucharist is created for us, not vice versa." I had a former pastor, whom I love dearly, who was fond of quoting this as he opposed any excesses, as he understood them, in Eucharistic adoration. But there are a couple of truths which get mixed up in this misunderstanding, and of these, the first is probably the one that most gets at the root cause of the error.
It is the failure to fully understand that the Holy Eucharist is Jesus Christ.
Of course, it is ridiculous to suggest that any of us fully understands this. Only when we participate fully in the heavenly banquet for all eternity will we begin to approach this level of knowledge of God. Yet even understanding to the smallest extent that, in ways we do not fully understand, the Eucharist is Jesus Christ, leads us to understand that we were indeed created for the Eucharist - though not to meet His needs, for He has none. And this is where those who use that phrase have it right, for indeed the Eucharist was instituted to meet our need for spiritual food. Done right, worshiping the Lord in the Eucharist is a key element of eating his Body and drinking his Blood. (More on which aspect of Christ's body was created/instituted for which in a bit.)
First, though, is the thing that this modern theology usually gets right when its adherents lament the practice of regular Eucharistic adoration (an objection which they have wrong, in most cases). They point out that the traditionalists' emphasis on reverence for the consecrated elements in the context of the Mass often comes at the expense of a recognition that Christ is just as really present in the assembled Body as in the Eucharistic elements of the Body and the Blood. They are often right about this, yet the one ought not come at the expense of the other. In this sense, it is true that we and the Eucharist have indeed been created and instituted for each other. According to God's plan for us, we do not become his Body - and individually parts of it - to the degree God intends unless we are fed by the spiritual food, in which Christ gives us himself as the nourishment we most need.
So my chief objection to the phrase as it seems (to me) to be misused is in its implication that the purpose of the Eucharist is to equip us for the social outreach that many mistakenly consider the "real purpose" of Christianity. Indeed, this viewpoint holds that the chief purpose of our worship is to make us the best version of ourselves - itself a concept on which Matthew Kelly has written extensively that is worth investing our energy and effort into - so that we might go forth and do what we're really supposed to be about. The truth of the matter is that we frequently put too little effort into the things that God might have us do, but the purpose of our relationship with God is not for us to do those things. Rather, a relationship with God is the greatest good our lives will ever know, and inevitably when it is all that it should be it leads to our transformation - which is of course a good thing - and our social outreach - which is also a good thing.
And yet to say that our personal growth or our social ministry is the purpose of our relationship with God gets the two greatest commandments out of order. Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love the Lord our God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength, and that the second is like it: to love our neighbor as ourselves. Now, these two are inextricably linked for us, but their linking does not make the second commandment equal to the first.
Of course, God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and it is impossible to love God without loving our neighbor. And if we love our neighbor rightly, we will enter more deeply into our relationship with God in the process. So maybe this whole megapost is just an arguing of unimportant semantics.
And yet it seems to me that I see way more people lose their perspective on the truth by focusing on service of others and trying to let their spirituality flow from that than by focusing on worshiping God (though perhaps I've just been blessed by being around true believers). Putting service ahead of worship puts us at risk of despairing over the injustice we perceive in our neighbors' suffering. Worshiping first reminds us that God is God, and we, though his Body, are not God. We are his presence in the world, yet in God's infinite eternity he remains greater than any finite collection of our finite minds can fathom. It is certainly possible to go through the rituals of worship without entering into a true relationship with God in the process, but then the lack of fruit - the absence of transformation and service - eventually becomes evident.
Friday, February 15, 2013
|:A reflection on :| prayer
The highest good is prayer and conversation with God, because it means that we are in God’s company and in union with him. When light enters our bodily eyes our eyesight is sharpened; when a soul is intent on God, God’s inextinguishable light shines into it and makes it bright and clear. I am talking, of course, of prayer that comes from the heart and not from routine: not the prayer that is assigned to particular days or particular moments in time, but the prayer that happens continuously by day and by night. - A homily of pseudo-Chrysostom
I rebel against this, at first reading. Certainly, the deep prayer in the quiet time of day set aside for it does more to deepen my walk with the Lord, right? And yet there is a truth here, that the continual awareness of and attentiveness to God's presence with us brings powerful transformation of our lives as we walk moment-by-moment. And yet the first may be a prerequisite for the second. How do I learn to hear the voice of God throughout my life? Is it not only by listening, harkening to it in specific, designated times of prayer? If I fail to train my ears to hear him by such practice, I might mistake any robber's voice for that of my Shepherd.
I'm reminded of an exchange I just had with a friend, and of a reflection by a renowned Protestant evangelist and teacher, Oswald Chambers.
First, my friend is trying to teach her son of the importance of doing his repetitive math homework, even though he thoroughly understands the concepts and aces the tests. Beyond the issue of being evaluated on these assignments is the self-discipline he must develop to be prepared for the day when he needs such reinforcement to truly master a subject. It's hard to convey this to a young person, but that term "discipline" is of course rooted in the idea of being a disciple, one who applies himself to the following of a person or a way. There is, of course, no greater discipleship than to follow Christ, and all other self-discipline we learn serves us well in this greatest one.
In one of the daily reflections in My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers reflects on our expectation that we'll just somehow be ready to pray and make holy choices when the large matters come along. He says this is akin to an army trying to build its munitions in the trenches. The disciplines of prayer and sanctified living must be developed before the battle, or the battle will be lost while we're building our weapons.
Indeed the soul should not only turn to God at times of explicit prayer. Whatever we are engaged in, whether it is care for the poor, or some other duty, or some act of generosity, we should remember God and long for God. The love of God will be as salt is to food, making our actions into a perfect dish to set before the Lord of all things. - ibid.
What a wonderful analogy. It isn't just that our dedicated times of prayer and communion with God should direct our actions of social outreach. Rather, an awareness of and focus on God's presence even during the labor will enrich what we strive to do, and make it even truer that our work is a matter of God working through us.
Prayer is the light of the soul, true knowledge of God, a mediator between God and men. Prayer lifts the soul into the heavens where it hugs God in an indescribable embrace. The soul seeks the milk of God like a baby crying for the breast. It fulfils its own vows and receives in exchange gifts better than anything that can be seen or imagined. - ibid.
We often think of prayer as a means to an end, that the purpose of communing with God in prayer is to change us, to motivate us to do what he asks of us, to make the world a better place as a result. No, these things are but glorious side effects of the greatest good of God himself. There is nothing greater that we can receive or achieve than God, and communing with God is its own end, which also and inevitably brings about these visible blessings that others see and are thereby brought to their own greatest good of encountering God for themselves.
I warn you, though: do not imagine that prayer is simply words. Prayer is the desire for God, an indescribable devotion, not given by man but brought about by God’s grace. - ibid.
And therefore by grace we are led to ask for grace. It is the movement of the Holy Spirit - God - who draws us into Christ - God - to the glory of the Father - God.
If God gives to someone the gift of such prayer, it is a gift of imperishable riches, a heavenly food that satisfies the spirit. Whoever tastes that food catches fire and his soul burns for ever with desire for the Lord. - ibid.
"For ever," but only so long as we continue to desire this food rather than the lesser things that we mistake for it. When we become content to satisfy ourselves with lesser nourishment, we atrophy for lack of the true nutrition our souls need.
To begin on this path, start by adorning your house with modesty and humility. Make it shine brightly with the light of justice. Decorate it with the gold leaf of good works, with the jewels of faithfulness and greatness of heart. Finally, to make the house perfect, raise a gable above it all, a gable of prayer. Thus you will have prepared a pure and sparkling house for the Lord. Receive the Lord into this royal and splendid dwelling — in other words: receive, by his grace, his image into the temple of your soul. - ibid.
My goodness. What a tremendous reflection! I've quoted nearly the whole of it, and want to just soak in it! I'd forgotten what riches were in the Hours during these early days of Lent!
I rebel against this, at first reading. Certainly, the deep prayer in the quiet time of day set aside for it does more to deepen my walk with the Lord, right? And yet there is a truth here, that the continual awareness of and attentiveness to God's presence with us brings powerful transformation of our lives as we walk moment-by-moment. And yet the first may be a prerequisite for the second. How do I learn to hear the voice of God throughout my life? Is it not only by listening, harkening to it in specific, designated times of prayer? If I fail to train my ears to hear him by such practice, I might mistake any robber's voice for that of my Shepherd.
I'm reminded of an exchange I just had with a friend, and of a reflection by a renowned Protestant evangelist and teacher, Oswald Chambers.
First, my friend is trying to teach her son of the importance of doing his repetitive math homework, even though he thoroughly understands the concepts and aces the tests. Beyond the issue of being evaluated on these assignments is the self-discipline he must develop to be prepared for the day when he needs such reinforcement to truly master a subject. It's hard to convey this to a young person, but that term "discipline" is of course rooted in the idea of being a disciple, one who applies himself to the following of a person or a way. There is, of course, no greater discipleship than to follow Christ, and all other self-discipline we learn serves us well in this greatest one.
In one of the daily reflections in My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers reflects on our expectation that we'll just somehow be ready to pray and make holy choices when the large matters come along. He says this is akin to an army trying to build its munitions in the trenches. The disciplines of prayer and sanctified living must be developed before the battle, or the battle will be lost while we're building our weapons.
Indeed the soul should not only turn to God at times of explicit prayer. Whatever we are engaged in, whether it is care for the poor, or some other duty, or some act of generosity, we should remember God and long for God. The love of God will be as salt is to food, making our actions into a perfect dish to set before the Lord of all things. - ibid.
What a wonderful analogy. It isn't just that our dedicated times of prayer and communion with God should direct our actions of social outreach. Rather, an awareness of and focus on God's presence even during the labor will enrich what we strive to do, and make it even truer that our work is a matter of God working through us.
Prayer is the light of the soul, true knowledge of God, a mediator between God and men. Prayer lifts the soul into the heavens where it hugs God in an indescribable embrace. The soul seeks the milk of God like a baby crying for the breast. It fulfils its own vows and receives in exchange gifts better than anything that can be seen or imagined. - ibid.
We often think of prayer as a means to an end, that the purpose of communing with God in prayer is to change us, to motivate us to do what he asks of us, to make the world a better place as a result. No, these things are but glorious side effects of the greatest good of God himself. There is nothing greater that we can receive or achieve than God, and communing with God is its own end, which also and inevitably brings about these visible blessings that others see and are thereby brought to their own greatest good of encountering God for themselves.
I warn you, though: do not imagine that prayer is simply words. Prayer is the desire for God, an indescribable devotion, not given by man but brought about by God’s grace. - ibid.
And therefore by grace we are led to ask for grace. It is the movement of the Holy Spirit - God - who draws us into Christ - God - to the glory of the Father - God.
If God gives to someone the gift of such prayer, it is a gift of imperishable riches, a heavenly food that satisfies the spirit. Whoever tastes that food catches fire and his soul burns for ever with desire for the Lord. - ibid.
"For ever," but only so long as we continue to desire this food rather than the lesser things that we mistake for it. When we become content to satisfy ourselves with lesser nourishment, we atrophy for lack of the true nutrition our souls need.
To begin on this path, start by adorning your house with modesty and humility. Make it shine brightly with the light of justice. Decorate it with the gold leaf of good works, with the jewels of faithfulness and greatness of heart. Finally, to make the house perfect, raise a gable above it all, a gable of prayer. Thus you will have prepared a pure and sparkling house for the Lord. Receive the Lord into this royal and splendid dwelling — in other words: receive, by his grace, his image into the temple of your soul. - ibid.
My goodness. What a tremendous reflection! I've quoted nearly the whole of it, and want to just soak in it! I'd forgotten what riches were in the Hours during these early days of Lent!
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Living love (or: How does our garden grow? part ii)
I read a great post today about today, and more importantly about not making it into something out-of-proportion but instead living committed love throughout the year. I generally end up treating today as a chance to do what I should be doing every day: loving my bride as I am called, laying down my life for her and helping her feel treasured. If I fail to do something special today, though, she is going to feel left out and disregarded. I sometimes wish she agreed with me that this annual day is a reflection of the world's approach to romance and that we have something greater that we celebrate every day and so don't need to "crank things up" on this particular day. Instead I choose to observe today uniquely because it is the only way to make sure that she feels special and treasured today rather than as if she is playing second fiddle to my ideals.
That said, there are things in the linked post that I think we could learn from. We should get into the habit of a weekly date, for instance, not as an excuse to get out but a chance to make our relationship the priority it should be. I like that they are setting aside one day every week for that, and think we should do the same.
So what is the practical implication (as Fr. Satish would say) of that conviction? Well, if we're to implement this in the same way, I'm going to have to cut something out of my life. Right now there is no night of the week on which I don't have at least one recurring conflict. So it looks to me as if I should either never be available for first Friday mass, or never be available for our quarterly charismatic gathering, as the other things all occur more frequently. Now that there is no Jubilee - a loss I'm particularly feeling this week - perhaps Friday is my most consistent available night. After all, I've said that I'm laying down my life for my bride, but I think that I too often make her take a back seat to something else I think I should be doing.
That is definitely not how I want to treat her.
That said, there are things in the linked post that I think we could learn from. We should get into the habit of a weekly date, for instance, not as an excuse to get out but a chance to make our relationship the priority it should be. I like that they are setting aside one day every week for that, and think we should do the same.
So what is the practical implication (as Fr. Satish would say) of that conviction? Well, if we're to implement this in the same way, I'm going to have to cut something out of my life. Right now there is no night of the week on which I don't have at least one recurring conflict. So it looks to me as if I should either never be available for first Friday mass, or never be available for our quarterly charismatic gathering, as the other things all occur more frequently. Now that there is no Jubilee - a loss I'm particularly feeling this week - perhaps Friday is my most consistent available night. After all, I've said that I'm laying down my life for my bride, but I think that I too often make her take a back seat to something else I think I should be doing.
That is definitely not how I want to treat her.
How does our garden grow?
Initially, men are made new by the rebirth of baptism. Yet there still is required a daily renewal to repair the shortcomings of our mortal nature, and whatever degree of progress has been made, there is no one who should not be more advanced. - Saint Leo the Great, pope
There is a sense in which it's appropriate to apply the "good enough" test, and another in which we frequently misuse it. When we have done due diligence in whatever task is at hand, then it is appropriate for us to let that be good enough rather than apply an undue level of effort to achieve perfection either in an area that can never be made perfect or when that attention should really be better applied elsewhere. On the other hand, we sometimes fail to even ask the question of whether there is growth we should be looking for, just allowing our life to continue by inertia along its current trajectory.
Just yesterday I reflected how we are never fully living as God has called us to. St. Leo says as much here, and it seems to be a hallmark of true spirituality - as reflected in the lives of the saints over the centuries - that the closer we walk with Jesus, the more aware we are of how we yet need to grow. Sometimes this is because of things we should scale back to a more appropriate level or cut out of our lives completely. At others it may be that we have failed to recognize Jesus' presence in those around us in some way. And I can't help but think that we too often lose sight of who we are and are called to be, sometimes due to an over-awareness of our past failings. Whatever the cause, it is true that a daily examination of conscience may help us to recognize changes we need to make in our daily walk, and equally true that the season of Lent gives us an opportunity to join with the whole Church in striving to grow.
Dear friends, what the Christian should be doing at all times should be done now with greater care and devotion. - ibid.
It isn't that we shouldn't be doing this all the time, but the Lenten season in which we're all more aware of being in this boat together seems to bring a special grace that nurtures our transformation in ways beyond us. Let us recall that any labor of transformation is not ours alone, nor even chiefly ours, but simply a matter of our participation with the Holy Spirit's work in glorifying God through our lives.
There is a sense in which it's appropriate to apply the "good enough" test, and another in which we frequently misuse it. When we have done due diligence in whatever task is at hand, then it is appropriate for us to let that be good enough rather than apply an undue level of effort to achieve perfection either in an area that can never be made perfect or when that attention should really be better applied elsewhere. On the other hand, we sometimes fail to even ask the question of whether there is growth we should be looking for, just allowing our life to continue by inertia along its current trajectory.
Just yesterday I reflected how we are never fully living as God has called us to. St. Leo says as much here, and it seems to be a hallmark of true spirituality - as reflected in the lives of the saints over the centuries - that the closer we walk with Jesus, the more aware we are of how we yet need to grow. Sometimes this is because of things we should scale back to a more appropriate level or cut out of our lives completely. At others it may be that we have failed to recognize Jesus' presence in those around us in some way. And I can't help but think that we too often lose sight of who we are and are called to be, sometimes due to an over-awareness of our past failings. Whatever the cause, it is true that a daily examination of conscience may help us to recognize changes we need to make in our daily walk, and equally true that the season of Lent gives us an opportunity to join with the whole Church in striving to grow.
Dear friends, what the Christian should be doing at all times should be done now with greater care and devotion. - ibid.
It isn't that we shouldn't be doing this all the time, but the Lenten season in which we're all more aware of being in this boat together seems to bring a special grace that nurtures our transformation in ways beyond us. Let us recall that any labor of transformation is not ours alone, nor even chiefly ours, but simply a matter of our participation with the Holy Spirit's work in glorifying God through our lives.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
How the world works
And the class of '57 had its dreams
Oh, we all thought we'd change the world with our great words and deeds
Or maybe we just thought the world would change to fit our needs
The class of '57 had its dreams - The Statler Brothers
This song is on the Best of CD I bought "for mom's birthday" last weekend. This first refrain really struck me. I'm older now than than the class of '57 was when this song was written, and could easily find myself daunted by this sense of the ordinary, mundane nature of my life among the billions of mundane lives that are most of our stories.
But for one thing, I believe the group may be being too hard on themselves and their peers. I don't think any of us really feels as if the world owes it to us to conform to our existence in some way. More basically, though, I think that we grow up with a fundamental misunderstanding of how the world works, which some of us never get past. We think that if we want a thing badly enough it will come to be somehow, rather than correctly understanding that we will make choices throughout our lives that will be rooted in the things we really think are important to us, and these will only partially determine the course of our lives. So, if we're really single-minded enough about our goals, and if we don't get derailed by circumstances completely beyond our control, and if also we have sufficient talent for what we dream to accomplish, then we may do some great thing that we envision. But that really takes a combination of talent, dedication, and circumstance.
For instance: Michael Phelps is 6' 4" tall, and compared to most people his size he has a longer arm span, larger hands and larger feet, plus a double-jointed chest area, all of which aid his stroke efficiency and efficacy. His muscles produce significantly less lactic acid than most other athletes, allowing him to train more intensely for longer periods. Even with all of these remarkable physical attributes, Michael still had to put in many laborious hours of intense training to accomplish his remarkable Olympic achievements. And suppose he'd experienced some catastrophic accident before the Beijing Olympics? Only so many of these things were ever within his control, but he had to exercise the control he did have to accomplish his great deeds. Now, these great things are over, but Michael's life continues, and is no less valuable today, next year or next decade because his glorious Olympic career has been completed.
Could it be that the class of '57, and the rest of us, put too much of our attention and effort on the wrong sort of outcome? Part of what makes great things happen are the outliers of our characteristics. I'm reminded of a quote from The Incredibles: If everyone is special, then no one is.
I think the most important things we can each do, in terms of how life really is, can be illustrated more in line with this frequently misquoted thought:
We are not all called to do great things - not even me - but we are all called to do small things with great love. - Mother Teresa
When we seek greatness in anything other than loving greatly, we lose sight of the best things we should really be doing day in and day out because of the great things we may imagine. Unfortunately, the greatest - that is, the strongest, most driving - love that many of us know is is for ourselves, for whatever hunger drives us to mostly act on our own behalf. We indulge our own wants rather than really submitting our desires to the needs of others. No, we all can't be Mother Teresa, but the words and deeds we're all called to daily are rarely "great" in terms of fame, fortune or worldwide impact.
Oh, we all thought we'd change the world with our great words and deeds
Or maybe we just thought the world would change to fit our needs
The class of '57 had its dreams - The Statler Brothers
This song is on the Best of CD I bought "for mom's birthday" last weekend. This first refrain really struck me. I'm older now than than the class of '57 was when this song was written, and could easily find myself daunted by this sense of the ordinary, mundane nature of my life among the billions of mundane lives that are most of our stories.
But for one thing, I believe the group may be being too hard on themselves and their peers. I don't think any of us really feels as if the world owes it to us to conform to our existence in some way. More basically, though, I think that we grow up with a fundamental misunderstanding of how the world works, which some of us never get past. We think that if we want a thing badly enough it will come to be somehow, rather than correctly understanding that we will make choices throughout our lives that will be rooted in the things we really think are important to us, and these will only partially determine the course of our lives. So, if we're really single-minded enough about our goals, and if we don't get derailed by circumstances completely beyond our control, and if also we have sufficient talent for what we dream to accomplish, then we may do some great thing that we envision. But that really takes a combination of talent, dedication, and circumstance.
For instance: Michael Phelps is 6' 4" tall, and compared to most people his size he has a longer arm span, larger hands and larger feet, plus a double-jointed chest area, all of which aid his stroke efficiency and efficacy. His muscles produce significantly less lactic acid than most other athletes, allowing him to train more intensely for longer periods. Even with all of these remarkable physical attributes, Michael still had to put in many laborious hours of intense training to accomplish his remarkable Olympic achievements. And suppose he'd experienced some catastrophic accident before the Beijing Olympics? Only so many of these things were ever within his control, but he had to exercise the control he did have to accomplish his great deeds. Now, these great things are over, but Michael's life continues, and is no less valuable today, next year or next decade because his glorious Olympic career has been completed.
Could it be that the class of '57, and the rest of us, put too much of our attention and effort on the wrong sort of outcome? Part of what makes great things happen are the outliers of our characteristics. I'm reminded of a quote from The Incredibles: If everyone is special, then no one is.
I think the most important things we can each do, in terms of how life really is, can be illustrated more in line with this frequently misquoted thought:
We are not all called to do great things - not even me - but we are all called to do small things with great love. - Mother Teresa
When we seek greatness in anything other than loving greatly, we lose sight of the best things we should really be doing day in and day out because of the great things we may imagine. Unfortunately, the greatest - that is, the strongest, most driving - love that many of us know is is for ourselves, for whatever hunger drives us to mostly act on our own behalf. We indulge our own wants rather than really submitting our desires to the needs of others. No, we all can't be Mother Teresa, but the words and deeds we're all called to daily are rarely "great" in terms of fame, fortune or worldwide impact.
Lenten beginning
Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom nor the strong man in his strength nor the rich man in his riches. Rather, let him who glories glory in the Lord by seeking him and doing what is right and just. - Scripture reference unknown, but this was quoted in today's Office of Readings, from a letter to the Corinthians by St. Clement, pope
This attitude of humility causes us to shift our attention from our gifts to the Giver. No matter how far we have come, we are not yet where God would have us be. If even wisdom, which we are elsewhere told to seek fervently, is not to be taken out of context for its own sake, then we must surely not allow any other gift to take the place of simple obedience to God's will. How often I lose sight of this.
God's will is simple, and daunting: to ever draw near to him rather than getting caught up in our gifts, our agendas and our selves, and to receive in him each one whom he puts into our lives for us to embrace in his love.
This attitude of humility causes us to shift our attention from our gifts to the Giver. No matter how far we have come, we are not yet where God would have us be. If even wisdom, which we are elsewhere told to seek fervently, is not to be taken out of context for its own sake, then we must surely not allow any other gift to take the place of simple obedience to God's will. How often I lose sight of this.
God's will is simple, and daunting: to ever draw near to him rather than getting caught up in our gifts, our agendas and our selves, and to receive in him each one whom he puts into our lives for us to embrace in his love.
Monday, February 11, 2013
Struggles
You know, I was planning to put off that conversation this morning. I had decided not to even bring it up. Last night I'd chosen not to express my frustration, to set it aside in an effort to avoid losing the rest of the night. Choosing instead to respond to your suggestion seemed like the most loving thing I could do, though of course it didn't work out as we planned. So I was caught off guard this morning when you apologized for that last part, which wasn't even within your control, and left the thing that was in your control completely out of the conversation. I didn't think it would be right or fair to say that everything was fine when it wasn't, nor to say that something was wrong without letting you know what it was. The reason I'd decided not to discuss it with you in the first place this morning, though, was that I was certain that you would just be dismissive of what had bothered me. When you were, only the fact that your response matched up so well with my low expectations kept me from saying anything more about it.
I'm not sure where to go from here. I don't really feel as if I have anything to apologize to you for. When I let you know what was bothering me, I'm pretty sure I wasn't a jerk about it. I suppose I'm going to have to practice what I believe about there not being any prerequisites for forgiveness in a marriage, including agreement or repentance - at least for the little things - and try to just let it go. But I need to be able to communicate with you when I'm feeling frustrated with some part of our life together without having to dread that you're just going to blow me off, as is our predominant pattern.
I wish I had prayer group tomorrow instead of the Shrove Tuesday evening prayer at St. Helen. Prayer group helps me more when I'm dealing with this sort of thing.
I'm not sure where to go from here. I don't really feel as if I have anything to apologize to you for. When I let you know what was bothering me, I'm pretty sure I wasn't a jerk about it. I suppose I'm going to have to practice what I believe about there not being any prerequisites for forgiveness in a marriage, including agreement or repentance - at least for the little things - and try to just let it go. But I need to be able to communicate with you when I'm feeling frustrated with some part of our life together without having to dread that you're just going to blow me off, as is our predominant pattern.
I wish I had prayer group tomorrow instead of the Shrove Tuesday evening prayer at St. Helen. Prayer group helps me more when I'm dealing with this sort of thing.
Not whether, but when
When I was a kid, Mom was a huge fan of the Statler Brothers. (Well, inasmuch as a 107-pound woman can be said to be a "huge" anything.) She moved on to the Oak Ridge Boys as their popularity rose, but when I was shopping for a CD of international music to include in our raffle basket for the dance I couldn't keep myself from buying a $5 copy of The Best of the Statler Brothers in honor of her birthday earlier in the week.
Among their best-known hits is a piece I thought appropriate for the dance: I'll Go to My Grave Loving You. What a great tune. But it wasn't until I just looked up the lyrics and saw the bridge, to which I'd never really heard the words, that I realized that the songwriter was singing to another man's woman, with whom he knew he'd never be. Oops. I still love the piece, even in the original context in which I'd understood it.
Among their best-known hits is a piece I thought appropriate for the dance: I'll Go to My Grave Loving You. What a great tune. But it wasn't until I just looked up the lyrics and saw the bridge, to which I'd never really heard the words, that I realized that the songwriter was singing to another man's woman, with whom he knew he'd never be. Oops. I still love the piece, even in the original context in which I'd understood it.
Today's words
meretricious \mair-uh-TRISH-us\ - 1. of or relating to a prostitute : having the nature of prostitution 2a. tawdrily and falsely attractive b. superficially significant : pretentious
I might have gotten close to one of the second definitions. I'd never have gotten the first.
froufrou \FROO-froo\ - 1. a rustling especially of a woman's skirts 2. showy or frilly ornamentation
This one I knew, but even my mind insists on mispronouncing it.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
A miscommunication
I don't think you understood me. I'm not frustrated by how you're playing your game. I'm frustrated that you're still playing your game.
Put on the spot
At Jodi's reception this afternoon, I was caught off guard when one of our assistant music directors mentioned that Fr. Dave wanted to know if I'd like to say a few words to Jodi. My first thought, which I voiced to Matt, was that I'd already said what I wanted to to Jodi during the 8:00 mass when, during the sign of peace, I told her, "Hey, this isn't goodbye, y'know?"
In the time it took him to walk around the table, I realized that I wasn't being asked so much to say something to Jodi as being given an opportunity to honor her, and I realized there were actually one or two things for which I really wanted to affirm her, that I thought were really important for her to hear, and which I knew no one had yet addressed, nor was likely to. So I called his name before he could walk away, and nodded that yes, I'd like to say something, and said the same to Fr. Dave about thirty seconds later when he approached me with the same question. Just a couple minutes later, it turned out that I was up first. (I am invoking my right "to revise and extend my remarks.")
I started by referring back to the tumultuous years between when our previous successful director, Dawn, had left, and when Jodi had finally succeeded her. We went through four transitions in three years, as her three predecessors just didn't quite fit for one reason or another. The stability Jodi has brought to the music ministry over the past eleven years has allowed us to grow in ways that just can't happen when there is that much turmoil. Since then, through many changes to the choir in the meanwhile as folks have arrived and left, the repertoire we've established has both expanded and deepened, as we have learned so much wonderful new music and better honed the older pieces we do. And our familiarity with each other has helped us know what's likely to happen next in those moments of uncertainty, such as when that first downbeat is going to drop even when there hasn't been a head nod to warn the guitarist that it's coming. (At that point Jodi grabbed the mic to explain how often she'd left me hanging, and how I'd learned how to "be there" anyway as a result of our years of working together. Oh, and I hadn't really planned any of this, but that part hadn't even entered my mind but an instant before it came out of my mouth.)
I went on to the single thing I've most appreciated about Jodi, out of which all the other things (and there are many, many other things) grow. It's one thing to have a director who calls you to excellence and won't settle for anything less than your best effort, who has the skills and the insight to bring that out of you. It is quite another when the basis for her leadership is her own relationship with the Lord and the entire music ministry grows out of our shared spirituality. It isn't just that the music has been so excellent, through her hard work as well as ours - that in itself would be a laudable thing. Even better, it has been an offering of praise and worship, not just of the choir and music ministry but of the entire community of faith. As wonderful as excellent music is in and of itself, it is this basis by which God transforms it into a manifestation of God's glory, which draws others into his transforming love.
As those at the reception acknowledged the truth they'd heard, there really wasn't any way to then go back and speak of her patience with us, her affirmation, her development of our skills and the chances she has given so many of us to grow musically and in public ministry, nor of the caring, loving environment she has nurtured in the music ministry. But I did make sure to hug her in a quiet moment before leaving, to take the chance to tell her that I love her and that we'll see her soon. I'm so glad she isn't going anywhere!
In the time it took him to walk around the table, I realized that I wasn't being asked so much to say something to Jodi as being given an opportunity to honor her, and I realized there were actually one or two things for which I really wanted to affirm her, that I thought were really important for her to hear, and which I knew no one had yet addressed, nor was likely to. So I called his name before he could walk away, and nodded that yes, I'd like to say something, and said the same to Fr. Dave about thirty seconds later when he approached me with the same question. Just a couple minutes later, it turned out that I was up first. (I am invoking my right "to revise and extend my remarks.")
I started by referring back to the tumultuous years between when our previous successful director, Dawn, had left, and when Jodi had finally succeeded her. We went through four transitions in three years, as her three predecessors just didn't quite fit for one reason or another. The stability Jodi has brought to the music ministry over the past eleven years has allowed us to grow in ways that just can't happen when there is that much turmoil. Since then, through many changes to the choir in the meanwhile as folks have arrived and left, the repertoire we've established has both expanded and deepened, as we have learned so much wonderful new music and better honed the older pieces we do. And our familiarity with each other has helped us know what's likely to happen next in those moments of uncertainty, such as when that first downbeat is going to drop even when there hasn't been a head nod to warn the guitarist that it's coming. (At that point Jodi grabbed the mic to explain how often she'd left me hanging, and how I'd learned how to "be there" anyway as a result of our years of working together. Oh, and I hadn't really planned any of this, but that part hadn't even entered my mind but an instant before it came out of my mouth.)
I went on to the single thing I've most appreciated about Jodi, out of which all the other things (and there are many, many other things) grow. It's one thing to have a director who calls you to excellence and won't settle for anything less than your best effort, who has the skills and the insight to bring that out of you. It is quite another when the basis for her leadership is her own relationship with the Lord and the entire music ministry grows out of our shared spirituality. It isn't just that the music has been so excellent, through her hard work as well as ours - that in itself would be a laudable thing. Even better, it has been an offering of praise and worship, not just of the choir and music ministry but of the entire community of faith. As wonderful as excellent music is in and of itself, it is this basis by which God transforms it into a manifestation of God's glory, which draws others into his transforming love.
As those at the reception acknowledged the truth they'd heard, there really wasn't any way to then go back and speak of her patience with us, her affirmation, her development of our skills and the chances she has given so many of us to grow musically and in public ministry, nor of the caring, loving environment she has nurtured in the music ministry. But I did make sure to hug her in a quiet moment before leaving, to take the chance to tell her that I love her and that we'll see her soon. I'm so glad she isn't going anywhere!
Friday, February 08, 2013
How long is "never," exactly?
That's when we said we'd live with middle daughter again.
Based on a conversation we had early in the week, it seems to be about 5 months.
"A few months," on the other hand, appears to equal "a couple years."
The former is how long you suggest that she'd need to live with us until she could find a place of her own, while the latter is how long I think she will actually be with us if she has to break her lease.
I think she's going to be better off kicking the roommate out and trying to find another one, seeing as she's going to be on the hook for everything anyway. Of course, the idea of dropping non-essentials like cable and a cell phone to make her circumstances more affordable apparently aren't options. (I can understand why they wouldn't be, due to contractual obligations; that's why I've always been careful in choosing my contractual obligations.)
Based on a conversation we had early in the week, it seems to be about 5 months.
"A few months," on the other hand, appears to equal "a couple years."
The former is how long you suggest that she'd need to live with us until she could find a place of her own, while the latter is how long I think she will actually be with us if she has to break her lease.
I think she's going to be better off kicking the roommate out and trying to find another one, seeing as she's going to be on the hook for everything anyway. Of course, the idea of dropping non-essentials like cable and a cell phone to make her circumstances more affordable apparently aren't options. (I can understand why they wouldn't be, due to contractual obligations; that's why I've always been careful in choosing my contractual obligations.)
Today's word
métier \MET-yay\ - 1. vocation, trade 2. an area of activity in which one excels : forte
Name that adage: Having many skills, yet no métier.
I'd seen this word before, but not often nor for a long while. I'd have understood it had I seen it in context, I think.
Name that adage: Having many skills, yet no métier.
I'd seen this word before, but not often nor for a long while. I'd have understood it had I seen it in context, I think.
A strange series of anxious dreams
- My coworker Chris was parked beside a pair of railroad tracks with an additional spur on the other side of them, working on a basic geometry problem of some sort. I pulled up parallel to her but facing the opposite direction, parked between the tracks, in a sheriff's cruiser, not clear of either of them, in uniform. I was able to help her resolve the problem. Then a train began to approach from in front of me, so I pulled across the other track, now perpendicular to them, with the cruiser mostly on the track, facing the spur. Just as the train passed, another began to approach from the opposite direction on the track I was now straddling, so I frantically tried to reverse off the track. But my wheels kept spinning on the gravel as I tried to go backward, then forward, several times. They finally found purchase, and I pulled forward and drove away down Fort Smallwood Road in Pasadena, MD, near where I grew up. I was concerned about being in trouble with my department because of the gravel damage to the paint, and for putting myself into the dangerous position to begin with. There was something else about only being a one-day-per-week (Monday) augmentee, and about Chris having more math to work on but it would be fine.
- I was walking along US35, trying to get to a restaurant, on a Saturday morning. Suddenly I was barefoot on a hot morning, struggling (it felt like uphill and upwind, though there didn't appear to be either) to make progress along MD route 100 (westbound, toward an exit that was a cross between Catherine Avenue off of 100 and Grange Hall Rd. off of I675) toward the restaurant, when my manager, Don, walked up behind me. We paused beneath an overpass, then continued along our way, and when we finally approached the next exit we decided he would continue ahead and I would turn around and walk back toward my home.on Mountain Road. Along the way I was on the other side of a water-filled culvert (which doesn't exist) and tried to cross at a dangerous point, but Don hollered to me to keep going and look for a safer place. Now making quick progress (again, it felt as if I was now going downhill and downwind, though there were still neither) I soon found one, and when I reached the bridge at which we'd paused earlier, there was a cell phone and iPad on a square card table. I wasn't sure if they were Don's, so I grabbed them in case. When I got home I continued to puzzle over them, but couldn't unlock either to ascertain whether they were his. I finally (late afternoon) remembered I had Don's cell phone number in my own phone, and the phone in front of me rang when I dialed it. I then realized I also had his home phone (I don't), so called him. He was terribly relieved I'd found them, as he was just getting ready to replace them already. I delivered them to his house (he actually lives in a trailer) in Medway.
- After this dream and before the next, there was at least one other anxious dream that I can't recall now.
- I was swimming in a pool, which became a large lake, with dolphins. After a while, I was flying above the clear water, which was now more of a large lake, and could see the dolphins, along with a whale/shark in the water. Then I was in the now-smaller pool water again, and the whale/shark wasn't going to bother me, but a young woman - a nanny, it seemed - came along and set out some curved, interlocking, accordion-like sections of wood planking to serve as walkways over the water. Now the children began to swim, too, and I was concerned about their safety as swimmers and with the whale/shark present, so I swam with them to protect them. Suddenly the whale/shark and a dolphin began fighting quite near us, and I looked down in the water where the youngest girl had sunk to the (8') bottom of the pool. She was Marta von Trapp, from the movie (after all, I have no idea what the real Marta looked like) and I pulled her up from the bottom, and we were frantically trying to revive her. We were going to be able to, but hadn't succeeded yet when I awoke.
Thursday, February 07, 2013
Today's words
eurytopic \yur-ih-TAH-pik\ - tolerant of wide variation in one or more environmental factors
Usually used of species, though may be applicable to coworkers, too, along with its antonym "stenotopic."sangfroid\SAHNG-FRWAH\ - self-possession or imperturbability especially under strain
Likewise applicable to one's more agreeable coworkers.factotum \fak-TOH-tuhm\ - 1. a person having many diverse activities or responsibilities 2. a general servant
And, in its first sense, applicable to me as a coworker. (Or, at least, I'd like to think so.)
Monday, February 04, 2013
Reflecting on the otherwise unimportant
Boy, that was some ride last night. What a day, what an evening, and what a day! Now to shop for cool stuff!
My feelings are a bit weird. The role of faith is a fascinating topic. I don't think, as Ray Lewis seems to, that the Ravens won because God wanted them to and it was his plan. I do believe, though, that God is glorified when those who endeavor to do big things do so in his name. I'm gladder for a lot of the Ravens other than Ray than I am for him, as if his faith is as authentic as it seems God was going to be working through him anyway, win or lose, and if he's a fraud I'd have rather he fell short. But to hear John Harbaugh acknowledge the role of Ray's faith in driving him was also very nice. Still, I am convinced that it was not so much a matter of it being God's will that the Ravens would win as of it being God's will that he should be glorified whoever won.
This has been a way fun year. As I've posted elsewhere, the last time I rooted for both my MLB and my NFL team in the postseason of the same year, I was only 11 years old! But far more important is to not get too caught up in all of that, and enjoy the blessings God gives while serving according to his
My feelings are a bit weird. The role of faith is a fascinating topic. I don't think, as Ray Lewis seems to, that the Ravens won because God wanted them to and it was his plan. I do believe, though, that God is glorified when those who endeavor to do big things do so in his name. I'm gladder for a lot of the Ravens other than Ray than I am for him, as if his faith is as authentic as it seems God was going to be working through him anyway, win or lose, and if he's a fraud I'd have rather he fell short. But to hear John Harbaugh acknowledge the role of Ray's faith in driving him was also very nice. Still, I am convinced that it was not so much a matter of it being God's will that the Ravens would win as of it being God's will that he should be glorified whoever won.
This has been a way fun year. As I've posted elsewhere, the last time I rooted for both my MLB and my NFL team in the postseason of the same year, I was only 11 years old! But far more important is to not get too caught up in all of that, and enjoy the blessings God gives while serving according to his
I needed us to have that talk
It didn't go as I would have liked, but that frustration has been building for an unspeakably long time. I don't know that it's going to make any difference, but if it doesn't, it won't be because I didn't give you a chance to do anything about it.
Friday, February 01, 2013
Today's word
amortize \AM-er-tyze\
I've known this word for decades, but have always mentally mispronounced it (\uh-MOR-tyze\). I've also never considered this, from the WOTD write-up:
"When you amortize a loan, you 'kill it off' gradually by paying it down in installments." (Which, may I say, fits my pronunciation better than it does the correct one.)
I've known this word for decades, but have always mentally mispronounced it (\uh-MOR-tyze\). I've also never considered this, from the WOTD write-up:
"When you amortize a loan, you 'kill it off' gradually by paying it down in installments." (Which, may I say, fits my pronunciation better than it does the correct one.)
A close encounter
Okay, we were both mostly asleep. Sorry for waking you ( - I hope you wouldn't define it as "rudely" - ), and sorry it didn't work out . . .
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