2015

Palm Sunday

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In reading one of today’s reflections in Give Us This Day, I was reminded of something that has often bothered me throughout the years. Who killed Jesus?

Growing up Jewish I was always offended by the notion that Jesus was betrayed and that the blame always fell to the Jews.

My response has been that that was all there was. There were no Christians. You were Jewish or you were Roman and the Romans crucified everyone. How could the blame not fall to the Romans? Even Jesus’ followers considered themselves Jewish.

It was very confusing to me as a young person.

In reading and understanding the Gospel of the Passion, it is a little clearer, at least enough for me to speak on.

It also helps that the Church seems to have embraced Jesus’ Jewishness, something that surprised me when I first came to my parish.

Today’s Palm Sunday Mass opened in our parish hall where our palms were blessed, we were sprinkled with holy water and we walked out into the cold air under a bright sunny sky to the Church for the rest of the mass.

Most services have their own beauty, but these during Holy Week really do a good job of bringing us back in time, and letting us relive the original Passion, in addition to gaining the perspective of two thousand years.

Today begins the holiest of weeks for Christians. My first one as a Christian. I’m looking forward to growing and learning more as a Christian and seeing how different my views are from when I was growing up.

I grow every day.

A Minor Infraction

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What are your plans for the weekend?

I was asked this when I woke up this morning, and I was embarrassed to answer. After a long pause, the question was repeated.

Umm….I thought, well…..I’ll be watching The Walking Dead.

All weekend? The finale is Sunday at nine. At night.

Yup. All weekend. Marathon starts at eight tonight so I can catch up on all of the season five eps I missed, and then the rest tomorrow after Palm Sunday Mass. Then after dinner, the finale. What do you want for dinner?

I was answered with a shrug.

I’m already making plans to invite friends over in the fall for the premiere of season six, but that’s another happening for another time. That also assumes the kids will get their rooms and the living room clean in a spotless sort of way, although right now it kind of works for the zombie apocalypse theme.

So yeah, my entire weekend is revolving around a season finale of a show that six months ago I refused to watch. It just goes to show you how conclusions are jumped and mistakes are rectified. They’re not always something as insignificant as misjudging a television series. We all have our more serious misjudgments and mistakes in our past. None of us are perfect, and those mistakes remind us not only of our imperfections, but also of how to retake control of our lives and move forward.

We need to forgive ourselves for our mistakes and leave them in the past, and then keep on going.

Life is all about making choices and then reevaluating those choices.

For television I can decide to go back. Luckily for me (and others like me) there is Netflix to remedy this minor oversight.

In the coming days we’ll be reminded of this again when Peter denies Jesus, not once, but three times, and in the end he is still forgiven and it is forgotten as he is asked to be the foundation for the new church; the rock that the rest is built on.

Big or small, whatever lapses we make, there is always room for encouragement and do-overs.

Remember that.

I know that I will try to.

Penance

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Tonight was our parish’s Communal Penance Service. There was no Mass, but there was music and contemplation and an opportunity for individual reconciliation. In addition to our pastor, there were four other priests hearing confessions and absolving. While we’re waiting our turn, the lights are dimmed and our music director plays several hymns on the organ. There is time to think and meditate on our sins and our transgressions.

When it was my turn my priest took my hands in his, and said my name. I’m still only comfortable going to my own priest, although the whole process of contrition can be quite nerve-wracking for me; it’s still new to me. His eyes are both serious and twinkly. He has such a good soul, a kind soul; it radiates outward and is such a comfort. I got very lucky when I wandered into this church three years ago. Someone (clearly) was watching out for me.

I expressed my regret and sorrow for my sins. I named two specific ones, and at the moment that his hand touched my forehead, his open palm on my head, his words on my heart; when he says that I am absolved, I can feel the weight lift. It is a weight that I don’t realize I’ve been carrying until it is gone.

I think I am finally ready for Easter. I’ve gotten through this first year as a Catholic (a reflection for a later time), Good Friday is approaching and the Lenten season is coming to a close. I’ve been trying to use these daily reflections to show myself how much I really do meditate on the words of my life, not only the Scriptures but all the words of my life.

Penance is part of those meditations, and contemplations, and absolutions, and forgiveness.

It is also a reminder that I am somebody even if I’m still trying to figure out who that somebody is.

Do Not Be Afraid

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“Do not be afraid, I am with you. I have called you each by name. Come and follow me, I will bring you home; I love you and you are mine.”

– You Are Mine (hymn)

Always a good thing to remember. This was a really hard week, and next week is going to be a really, really busy one. I will try to keep this hymn in mind as I go through everything.

Love Deeply

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“Love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” 1 PETER4:8 (NIV)

-From the pamphlet, Blessings of the Cross, Day 5

Love each other deeply. Today my oldest child turned eighteen. What a huge milestone! We celebrated yesterday because today he went for fire department training, but we came home and had more cake. Cake is a good thing. Eighteen is a good thing. My son is a good thing. Happy birthday, Z. You are deeply loved.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

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It was eighteen years ago today that I became a parent; a mother. A first baby changes things. It changes everything. From one to two to three. A little early, a little small, but a perfect baby with all the pieces that babies are supposed to come with. Things did not go as the textbooks and classes promised but the one thing they did promise is that each birth is different even as it’s all the same, and it is. Twelve days in the hospital, a feeding tube, a phenomenal rash, jaundice, but once we went home, it was baby, baby, baby, all the time, baby.

He was small but grew quickly. He ate everything including onions and broccoli, Chinese and Indian food. He tried anything you gave him. He sat up, he crawled, he walked, he ran. He never wore shoes but he always wore socks. His favorite color had always been red, and he loved fire trucks. He dressed as a firefighter for Halloween at least three times. On days not Halloween, he still dressed like a firefighter; all the time.

He used my father’s desk, and when he graduates from high school he’ll get my father’s ring. Video games and iPods, Skype with friends, theatre and stage crew.

In Jewish culture which is how I (and he) grew up, the two letters that form the word Chai translates to life. L’chaim. Chai is also 18. So this is also his Chai birthday.

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Today he turns eighteen. We celebrated yesterday because today…. what’s he doing today? He’s about an hour or so away, doing trench training with the fire department. He starts college in five months to study fire and paramedicine service. He drives, a little too fast for my comfort and he’s planning a trip to see his friend away at college, also out of my comfort.

While he’s not a baby, he’s still my baby.