Another Lent w/ Fr. Neuhaus

Every day of the year is a good day to think about Good Friday, for Good Friday is the drama of the love by which our every day is sustained. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

. . . there is nothing more central to Christianity than what happened on Good Friday. It is, if you will, crucial. In fact, the word "crucial" comes from the Latin word crux, meaning "cross." - ibid

I forgot that I "took a year off" from Fr. Neuhaus' excellent reflections on the Seven Last Words of Christ last Lent. I'm glad to be back into them again. Of course, every time I encounter something I think I want to reflect on further in these musings, I'm going to have to make sure that I haven't covered that ground already. For instance, I've previously reflected on the first quote above but perhaps not on the second, and the two are quite connected in my thoughts now.

If Good Friday is central to Christianity, then it is central to how I am to approach my own life every single day. Too often I view whatever my current circumstances may happen to be as something to lament, complain about, "get through" or "survive," rather than as an avenue for God's grace to abound that I should embrace. When I consider my life through the focusing lens of Good Friday, I obtain a radically different and far more healthy view of my reality, even when it includes things that I would not choose for myself and even when there is no sign that those circumstances may ever pass. Perhaps applying this lens more consistently will allow love and joy to be greater hallmarks of my life.

I think this fits well with the theme that the parish is emphasizing during this holy season, and certainly with the specific virtue that my bride has chosen for me to pray for this. More on that later.

Hi mom! I miss you so much!

So much to write about this morning, and all that I have time for is one dream.

The 25 minutes between alarms was just enough time for a strange dream and "reunion." It was a continuation of an earlier dream in which I was in a strange new apartment or condo with a toilet unlike other I've ever seen, and sharing the details of that would just eat up more of the too little time I have this morning to write. In this second dream I was in the dining room, and there on the tabletop amid some other clutter of things that had not been put into place yet was a graph paper notebook with a brown cover. I was waiting for someone who would be living there - my sister, I think - to come through the door, but it seemed that she was missing. I picked up the book and saw that the front half was blank, but when I turned to the center leaf I saw several entries of writing in my mom's unmistakable script. It appeared to be a sort of journal that she had started, leaving the front half empty in case my sister wanted to reclaim it on her eventual return. The first and third entries seemed to be prose, with what looked like it might have been a piece of verse between them. (That I know of, my mom never wrote any poetry.) I closed the book, not wanting to violate her privacy. Soon I went into the strange bathroom again, taking the journal notebook with me, battling the temptation to read it as I tidied up in the bathroom and prepared to sit on the strange "throne."

Before I got to that point, my mom came into the apartment. I opened the bathroom door and she cleaned up a couple of things that I hadn't gotten to yet, either ignoring that I had her journal or not being concerned about it. We talked about my having to "go back" for work - my dream sense was that it was back to Maryland - and she told me that she knew I wouldn't be able to stay yet, that I needed to go back and take care of what I needed to without any sense of urgency to return here or resentment about things. It was clear now that we were in Georgia; this place was just off of I-85 about halfway between downtown Atlanta and my stepfather's place in Hoschton. Mom seemed to understand and accept my plan not to tell him that we were moving there or to get in touch with him. She was wishing me safe travel and peace of mind when my second alarm woke me.

On waking, I can't help thinking that perhaps the geographical details of my dream were just placeholders. I'm reminded of a dark line almost exactly in the middle of Confession that has never since been completely untrue, and wonder if this dream is maybe unconsciously addressing that thought habit.

There's so much more to write about, but I'm out of time budget this morning (partly because of this dream and partly because of taking time to write about it). Later, as time permits: my Lenten virtue stone, my thoughts on yesterday's Office of Readings, and back into Fr. Neuhaus.

My best seasons

Without a doubt, my best liturgical seasons are Advent and Lent. It isn't that these are my "favorite," mind you, but they are the times of year in which I am most open to the grace to keep my attention where it belongs.

Again We Keep This Solemn Fast

It sounds like a small thing, the giving up of my "farm" for the season. And it is. If my granddaughter, who got me started on the game, were still playing it, then it would be a little like giving her up, which of course I wouldn't be willing to do. But she doesn't, so I'm giving up a habit that consumes at least a half hour of every day. I plan to replace that time with prayer and reflection throughout the season, which is the more important part of any Lenten discipline we undertake.

This morning I spent that time in intercession for the many people I've been lifting up, mostly for health issues, from the 4-year-old daughter of a friend's friend to the father of a former neighbor, from strangers to personal friends who are struggling. It was a good prayer time to start the prayerful season.

A helpful thought?

When I struggle to believe in my forgiven-ness, and in my subsequent decency, perhaps this thought that just came to mind might be good to revisit. It was of my risen Savior asking me a question:

"What more would you have me do for you? For it is finished."

Today's words

holacracy -  a social technology or system of organizational governance in which authority and decision-making are distributed throughout a fractal holarchy of self-organizing teams rather than being vested at the top of a hierarchy.

holarchy - a connection between holons

holon - something that is simultaneously a whole and a part

Thanks, Scott Adams, for sending me down this rabbit hole. Climbing back out before I get in any deeper.

decoct \dih-KAHKT\ - 1. to extract the flavor of by boiling  2. boil down, concentrate

Oh, and another new WOTD, too!

The bigger picture

I am also tired of having to continually remind myself of the bigger picture. (Now, I'm not referring to The Big Picture, the one that's painted on the walls of a huge round room in a secret government building somewhere around Washington D.C.  Nor am I talking about They, who have an office in The Pentagon around the corner from the generals' latrine with a brass-plated sign on the door that says "They." Nor am I talking about Air Force Dollars, which are blue with Curtis LeMay's portrait on the front. -- Dang, just noticed that old Curt passed away in 1990, about two years before I got out of the service. I think I might have known that once. It's probably way past time to redo that old joke about Air Force Dollars, though. But I digress.) At any rate, to stop doing that would be a really bad thing.