religion

Yom Kippur

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I kind of failed Rosh Hashanah this year. I mean it’s still my responsibility to model for my kids and teach them how to observe. I feel as though I’m failing them in this area. I am also not ready to give up all of my traditions, and Yom Kippur is one of those thoughtful observances that gives you a mandatory stop and take inventory of where you are, where you’ve been, and we’re you’re going.

Yom Kippur is a little different today. For me, it’s less about what you can’t do, but what you can; what you do.

Fasting isn’t the absence of food; it is the presence of G-d as reminder of not only my failings of the past year, but also where I’ve succeeded.

Lighting candles for my parents. The reminder of where I’ve come from, how much I miss the every day, and it tells them that they are not forgotten.

Not working. No writing has always driven me crazy, but it has also afforded me the opportunity to slow down and think; to meditate. I am “forced” to something else.

My usual Yom Kippur activity is reading. Harry Potter was one of my Jewish holiday books and look at all my life has changed because of that beginning of that New Year. Overall, wonderful things from deep friendship to finding parts of me and knowing that are still parts missing; left to find.

This year’s book is Jesus: A Pilgrimage by James Martin. I know, an unusual choice for Yom Kippur. I’ve wanted to read it for some time. It was a gift from my godmother, and I look at the spine nearly every day and thinking I don’t have the time, I go back to my Kindle.

Yom Kippur will give me the time.

It is a whole day where I can read, pray, meditate, pray the rosary, light candles and no one questions the whys or the wherefores.

It is the one day out of the year where I don’t have to explain my actions.

It simply is.

Why are you….?

Because it’s Yom Kippur.

The simplicity of not apologizing for who I am or who I am becoming is part of my day’s meditation.

I do ask guidance and forgiveness for those I’ve wronged even with the best of intentions. Enlighten me how I can do better and I will do my best to try.

I will let my faith continue to guide me.

I will question what I don’t understand.

I will defend the wronged.

I will be the friend I’m supposed to be.

I will be the person I’m supposed to be.

Sept 22 (Luke 8, Proverbs 3) Reflection

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There were several things in Monday’s Mass that struck at me with familiarity. The first was the Reading: Proverbs 3:27-34, in particularly verse 27:

“Refuse no one the good on which he has a claim when it is in your power to do it for him.”

And the Gospel of Luke 8: 16-18

16 “Now no one after lighting a lamp covers it over with a container, or puts it under a bed; but he puts it on a lampstand, so that those who come in may see the light.17 For nothing is hidden that will not become evident, nor anything secret that will not be known and come to light.18 So take care how you listen; for whoever has, to him more shall be given; and whoever does not have, even what he[e]thinks he has shall be taken away from him.”

 

How many reminders in the Scriptures are there for helping your neighbor? And we all know that it isn’t always literal neighbor, but a euphemism for fellow man or rather mankind.

If you have the ability, as Proverbs says you should help without questioning yourself, your neighbor’s motives or needs or whether or not you feel like it. It can be just as hard to ask for that person or more than it is to go without.

And Luke. How many passages do we read that have to do with light shining in the darkness? Following the well-lit path? Showing someone else your own light?

The light is so many things – our lives, our faith, the brightness in a child’s eyes, the glow of the sun’s rays through stained glass as it skitters across a wooden or stone floor. When I first came into the church, I couldn’t help but notice the different lights: the skylight, the small stained glass windows, the large Blessed Mother in the front, the large windowed cross in the back and of course the candles and how each light reflected itself, but also shown differently in the shadows; to be more nuanced than simply light and dark.

I saw Christ in the light – the proverbial awakening of my soul through the spirit.

I have come full circle through most of the passages. It won’t be complete until the third year of Gospels, but for some of the readings I’ve heard them before, and they still jump out at me as I recognize their impact on my heart.

Monday’s Antiphon was the first one I ever read, and that was a random picking of a page back when:

I am the salvation of the people, says the Lord. Should they cry to me in any distress, I will hear them, and I will be their Lord for ever.

 

He did.

And He is.

Sept 21 (Matthew 20) Gospel Reflection

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Since beginning my Catholic education that led to my recent baptism this past Easter, I have continually been astonished at how much I’ve learned that I already believed. I’ve never had any formal teaching in any Christian religion. I had attended a handful of Masses with friends or for their weddings, a christening or three, and I’ve had one or two who believed in evangelizing and brought me pamphlets and materials to read and consider.

One of the things I always had a problem with was Judgment Day and whether or not and who would make it into Heaven. My belief had been, and I apologize for the flippancy in which it sounds, but my belief was always that even if I didn’t believe, if Jesus was real, He would forgive my ignorance. He would take me into his flock because that’s what he does. It’s His thing.

Honestly, I tried to avoid this conversation because it does sound disrespectful and I’d never meant it in a tongue-sticking-out way, but in my head, it was just a logical assumption.

Over the course of the last year (it is almost exactly a year since I began in the program), I have had the privilege of taking several classes and workshops. I also ask a lot of questions, and I am so happy to say that they are always answered. My questioning is welcome and I find that when I can ask anything, it is easier to allow myself to think and decide what it is that I believe within the religious framework that I’ve been seeking.

In addition to daily Mass for the past two years, I’ve gone to lectures on Matthew’s Gospel by a local priest, and one of the things he expressed was this feeling, this statement that whenever you come to Christ, you are accepted. You can be the last one in the door, and still you are welcome. (He also had a few things to say about Judgment Day which I also believed in my heart since forever, but that is another essay.)

In hearing Sunday’s Gospel (Matthew 20: 1-16), it reaffirmed that and what I’d always thought.

If I have made a conscientious choice with no malice, and I was mistaken, not through hubris, but through faith and reasoning, I would not be punished for my opinion. Jesus wasn’t that kind of a person. (Again, in my Jewish faith, I thought of Jesus as a person, not divine; this has changed in the last two years.)

He would not turn me away.

I’m not the last one in the door, but I have still found this to be true. I have been welcomed; not only by Jesus and His example, but by his representatives in the church and parish community.

Here is an excerpt from the New American Bible of Matthew 20: 1-16 that made me smile on Sunday:

20 “For the kingdom of heaven is like [a]a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. 2 When he had agreed with the laborers for a[b]denarius for the day, he sent them into his vineyard. 3 And he went out about the [c]third hour and saw others standing idle in the market place; 4 and to those he said, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and whatever is right I will give you.’ And so they went. 5 Again he went out about the [d]sixth and the ninth hour, and did [e]the same thing. 6 And about the[f]eleventh hour he went out and found others standing around; and he *said to them, ‘Why have you been standing here idle all day long?’ 7 They *said to him, ‘Because no one hired us.’ He *said to them, ‘You go into the vineyard too.’

8 “When evening came, the [g]owner of the vineyard *said to his foreman, ‘Call the laborers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last group to the first.’ 9 When those hired about the eleventh hour came, each one received a[h]denarius. 10 When those hired first came, they thought that they would receive more; [i]but each of them also received a denarius. 11 When they received it, they grumbled at the landowner, 12 saying, ‘These last men have worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden and the scorching heat of the day.’ 13 But he answered and said to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for a denarius? 14 Take what is yours and go, but I wish to give to this last man the same as to you. 15 Is it not lawful for me to do what I wish with what is my own? Or is your eye [j]envious because I am[k]generous?’ 16 So the last shall be first, and the first last.”

Mixed Feelings (Rosh Hashanah)

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I have mixed feelings about Rosh Hashanah this year.

I had planned on observing it and keeping the kids home from school on the first day of the holiday, but it wasn’t on my calendar and I’ve made a committment to drive on of the elderly ladies to our memoir workshop, which is on Thursday (the first day of the holiday). I thought of maybe observing the second day instead of the first, but if I make a nice holiday dinner on Thursday, my husband won’t be home because he’s going to the high school for back to school night.

I may have to split the difference and do parts of each day. Have the dinner tomorrow night, go the workshop and then come home and continue with my own observance.

The liturgical year also starts in the fall, closer to November I think, I’d have to check, but that just reinforces my beliefs that becoming Catholic is an extension of my Jewish life, especially if you look at the New Testament as a part II, then my being Catholic after being Jewish is also a part II, a next chapter.

Once you are aware of all of the holidays, you can truly see the overlap, Rosh Hashanah, Passover, etc. I actually gave my take on Passover/The Last Supper to one of the presenters at the Spring Enrichment. It’s nice to be able to contribute with something I kind of know.

It’s also one of the reasons that I think joining the adult enrichment ministry is a good fit for me.

 

Beliefs: Faith and Social

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I’ve been thinking on this part of this ask for weeks now and the way my mind works this may or may not flow well. One thought led to another one and things expanded from there. This is the portion I’ve concentrated on:

“To be a member of the Roman Catholic church means that you accept that the Pope is infallible when he speaks on matter of faith, and is communicating the the true will of God. That also means that you accept that acting on homosexuality is sinful and disordered, separates one from Christ, and that gay people are called to celibacy, as the Pope has stated.”

 

I know a lot of religious people have opinions on social issues and politics based on their concept of their religious teachings, their interpretation of the Bible and their surroundings (the people they know, their experiences.) I’ve also never heard of homosexuality being ‘disordered’. I’ve also said before that priests were previously allowed to marry, and if not marry, there was an open secret that they had women and children who were acknowledged by the church officials.

I don’t know where along the way there was this mix-up between social, moral, civil lives and faith. I’ve always thought of religion separate from religion. That may be having grown up in the US with the Bill of Rights as my benchmark.

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Supreme Court Decides an Employer’s Right to their Employees’ Reproduction Decisions (My Opinion)

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I don’t think I’ve ever disagreed with my priest before today. He is usually apolitical even though by virtue of being a priest, you kind of know where he stands on most issues. We are currently in the middle of the fortnight for freedom. It’s two weeks of daily prayer for religious freedom.

At the same time, yesterday, the Supreme Court handed down its decision in the Hobby Lobby case having to do with an employer’s religious beliefs. I’m a little incensed, so I’ll be touching on these and other related topics. If I’ve got facts wrong, please message me and I will most definitely look into it.

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Spring Enrichment 2014: An Introspection

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This is a list of the classes/workshops I took and the one thing I learned that I didn’t already know:

 

Keynote: Open the Door of Faith (intro with Bishop Edward Scharfenberger of the Albany Diocese, Keynote with Bishop Frank Caggiano of the Bridgeport, CT Diocese)

The themes that rang true for me were: Be open to the voice of G-d and there is no challenge that cannot become an opportunity.

Pope Francis’ The Joy of the Gospel (with Bishop Frank Caggiano)

“Joy is the deep abiding faith and contentment that everything will be alright.”

I realize that I’ve been absorbed in Supernatural themes and fandom, but what he said during this talk was “Family don’t end in blood [boy]” and I promise you, Brooklyn accent or no Brooklyn accent I heard this is Bobby’s voice.

The Judeo-Christian Contribution to the Rise of Science

The one thing that stood out to me isn’t the disagreement between the Church and the Secular or between Creation and Evolution. The conflict that arose wasn’t between science and faith; it was between the different faiths. The Church encouraged science and wanted to learn more. The Big Bang Theory was a phrase used to mock and deride the Belgium priest who was the scientist who came up with it in the first place.

It was also believed that the pursuit of science was a sacred duty – that was how to experience G-d.

Also, a very interesting statement that I would need a little more first-hand research on, but Father Pat stated that there was no gender assigned to Adam until the second person (commonly known as Eve) is created (read the Scriptures)

An Overview of the Spiritual Exercises of Ignatius of Loyola and a Contemporary Way to Pray Them

I’ve never been a fan of the idea of meditation and contemplation and this opened me up to trying it in bits and pieces. The journey of Ignatius of Loyola mirrored mine in an emotional way and it really struck me as parallel in ways. I’m interested in exploring the Spiritual Exercises a little more. We were given a shell to symbolize our pilgrimage, and I do often use objects to focus my thoughts and prayers, not necessarily religious objects like crosses and rosaries.

Thomas Merton’s Down to Earth “Christology from Above”

This ended up being more of an introduction to Merton, which was good for me who had never heard of him. He really spoke to my bias that you need to be religious and pious to find the comfort in G-d, and Merton was far from piety, but he still managed to take his hyperawareness and experimentation and find his religious and spiritual center and that leaves hope for the rest of us.

It is also a reminder that most Saints don’t start out that way (see St. Augustine).

Witnessing to Christ in the Digital Age: Strategies for Discipleship and Tactics for Evangelization

A Brand-New Parish for a Brand-Driven World

These two classes really showed me the link between church and secular life. All of the things we are doing with social media secularly can be done for our ministries and our parishes. It is more of a joining, a combining of our religious and secular lives rather than compartmentalizing them into an us vs. them scenario. It is also the reminder that all things can be used for good or ill, and it is up to us to use our skills and the available technology (see Ignatius of Loyola) to promote positivity and who we want to become instead of shunning them as too hard or difficult to learn or deciding that it doesn’t fit into the religious context. It ALL fits. We just have to figure out the best way to use it in what context.

How Catholics Read the Bible, Part 1: The Hebrew Scriptures

How Catholics Read the Bible, Part 2: The Christian Scriptures

How the Bible is set up, the historical context, a reminder that the Bible is written by humans and it is an interpretation and an ever-evolving document. There is also literary form to consider. These are all things that I never considered.

We are also prompted to take the Bible seriously, not literally.

Though He Slay me, I will hope in Him (Job)

My least favorite subject (and one that I didn’t realize was the subject of this workshop): end of life, pastoral care, bereavement. There was a great visual of our understanding of heaven is a hug. If you look at Jesus on the Cross, his arms are stretched out before in really a universal symbol of an embrace. It is an invitation, a welcoming.

This is not something that I considered before, but I can think back on one or two or three particular hugs that not only gave me comfort but took away pain, and the picture of Christ is less than I imagined as well as so much more.

History of Liturgy Part 1 and Part 2

This. My most favorite learning piece of this is how much of the current liturgy, prayer service, Mass has been part of the Mass since around the 3rd century. It’s worked so well for nearly two thousand years and really shows me the true belief and the specialness of Mass for me today.

Walking Through the doors of Faith with Jesus and Frodo: Praying with the Gospels and “The Lord of the Rings”

I am a huge fan of modernity and pop culture being connected to religious life – it isn’t separate but equal – it is two halves of the same coin. Just as pop culture changes, so must religion. I also enjoy seeing the parallels of the Lord of the Rings (and other pop culture works, see Supernatural) with Biblical texts and stories. For me, the movie visuals made more of an impact than the readings (which I’ve never done), but I also think there is a slippery slope not to make more of something that isn’t there and not to put words into the mouths of the artist (in this case, JRR Tolkien).

TED Panel: Open the Door of Faith (three viewpoints: theology, art and architecture and liturgy

I love the melding of different forks in the road into one theme. Of course, doors are one of my staunchest symbols of many things. Leaving one side to the other, finding hidden opportunities, looming large and scary but they don’t have to be, the different materials used in making the doors, the simplicity, the beauty, the attention to detail.

When you don’t know what is behind the door, that first hesitation is a tiny bit apprehensive mixed with excitement and wonder and once the door is opened, the introduction to all of the senses is there on the threshold and you still have the choice to close the door, but nine times out of ten you step through. Even that tenth time that you close the door; often we are drawn back and eventually enter. These are the roads in our lives leading us and greeting us and supporting us by providing nourishment along the way and sometimes offering us other doors with other choices or breaks from the journey, but at the end of the corridor, we still keep going.

Holy Communion

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Leading up to my sacraments, the one that was the most public, the one that everyone watches and sees always is receiving the host. No one would ever know (and most didn’t until a few months ago) whether or not I’d been baptized or confirmed, but everyone knew that I didn’t receive Eucharist.

I wasn’t particularly nervous about the logistics of it but there were a couple of things on my mind. I’m always anxious of tripping over my own two feet, and the thought did cross my mind of what might happen if I swallowed the wrong way and had a coughing fit. Coughing in church is a nightmare.

I think I thought that I’d feel like when you’re a kid and you’re constantly picked last and then you finally get picked in gym class or invited to the Slug Club in Harry Potter. I would be in this elite, privileged group and there would be some self-satisfied feeling of being part of ‘it’. Part of me felt bad for thinking this, and I also felt that that wasn’t what I wanted it to feel like.

But how else should it feel?

I can still count on one hand the number of times I’ve received the Eucharist since my first time at the Easter Vigil, and it is so completely not like I thought it would be.

There is a slight nervousness of not knowing if I’m giving enough respect. Have I bowed low enough? I know I’m forgetting something at the end, but it’s not intentional; my respect and love for Christ is very much present.

I always have a pause because for that second I forget to say ‘amen’, especially when it’s Father Jerry giving me the body of Christ. I try to see his hand, the perfectly round wafer as he offers it to me, but invariably our eyes meet. In the last couple of weeks, he will say my name, and there’s an intensity in his look, a solemn shadow that emanates from his gaze that puts me in mind of the Mystery, and there is so much feeling that I’m receiving in my heart that the ‘Amen’ gets stuck for that moment.

It is all at once calm and comfort, belonging and humbling while at the same time remaining spiritual and wonderful and electrifying.

There is also feeling behind the wine, joy and excitement, but it is not as gripping as my initial and internal reaction to the Host.

Joining my brothers and sisters in Christ each day, there is that belonging, but not the prideful way that I was afraid of feeling. There are no mean girls, no cliques, no hazing. Each of us feels different things and even if we were to describe the experience using the same words, I would doubt very much that we’re feeling the same feelings.

I’m also glad it isn’t the kind of privilege of exclusion; it is not remotely elite. All are welcome here to participate in the liturgy, the breaking of bread, the sharing of sustenance. There is no self-satisfaction, no prideful better than you sentiment, but there is a satisfaction of contentment. There is feeling beneath your feet and the sensation that the path is so clearly ahead.

For me this daily reminder and partaking in the sharing of Christ’s body and blood is also a time to slow myself down beginning with the walk up to receive, to breathe, to clear my mind to everything except the host and for that moment let the Resurrection take hold as a reminder before my day moves forward.

There is no club, but there is belonging.

Holy Thursday or Mass of the Lord’s Supper

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A lot was going on today.

There was a prayer service this morning, and surprise, Father J called me up for a special blessing. I do not like the center of attention place, but I really like all of the warm-hearted and good wishes that I’m being given. When I turned to go back to my seat, one of the women in the front (who I don’t know), grabbed me and hugged me. There is a lot of hugging.

In fact, as an aside, the only group who hugs more than this church is the posse!

While on my errands, I received a call from my going-to-be-godmother who is also the parish office manager to say that Father J had a revelation.

This worried me.

It should have.

He wondered why I wasn’t having my feet washed at tonight’s mass.

My first reaction was, “NoNoNoNoNo…”

I do NOT like people touching my feet. They’re dry and very ticklish and let’s just leave it at that. Basically I only take my socks off to take a shower.

I was told that I didn’t have to, but it was one of those you shoulds but you don’t have to, and I’d still have to do it next year, so I said, ‘whatever he wants me to do,’ which has been my usual response to most things that I know I can get through but don’t want to say yes. (Like Wales and LARP and an emergency c-section, but I digress.)

I’m already carrying the oil of catecumen in the processional, and I am supposed to announce it. It needs to be very loud. At rehearsal, they made me say it three times because my voice is too timid. If they let me type it on tumblr, I could have gotten it in ALL CAPS, bolded and italicized, and it would have been perfect.

And then of course, I’m carrying a glass jar of oil that’s been blessed by the Bishop for the parish for the entire year. No pressure there on not tripping and throwing it through the air like Daffy Duck.

One of the things that has surprised me about all of the things asked of me for the ritual of becoming Catholic and observing Easter has been how non-plussed I am about everything.

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” I say, and surprisingly I’m not.

I’m more nervous about meeting tomorrow’s train than anything I’ve been asked to do.

I’ve gotten a tiny surge of anxiety and in my mind asking myself, ‘you want me to do what?!’ but it’s fleeting, and I nod my head and smile and I mean it.

I have been given a certain grace to accept what I need to do or maybe it’s that it’s like an obstacle course. I jump through the hoops to get to the prize, and of course this prize is being in communion with Jesus Christ.

Once it was there in front of me, it was there. No doubt. No question that I believed and this was the right thing and if you ask anybody there is not one thing in my life that I can say that about.

If you asked me what’s for dinner, I’d answer, but it would be with a question mark – a kind of ‘is that okay’ at the end that I have never said or felt with joining the church officially.

Telling people made me more anxious, but once the statement was out of the way, the decision was right, and I always knew it.

Tonight, all of us oil and banner carriers were standing in the back waiting for our cue when I noticed a smoky wisp at the front of the church. I didn’t smell incense, and thought at first that it was that dust that you see in a ray of sunlight, but I realized that it was indeed the incense, but it wasn’t a smell, it was the way the incense rose. I watched it climb slowly, steadily and I promise you it was in the shape of a Jewish star. (Also called a Star of David, and it is through David’s line that Jesus is born.)

I could feel myself getting emotional. It was only the most recent moment of clarity.

While Father J was washing feet, he seemed to say something to make the person more at ease. We laughed, and he poured the water over my foot.

I’m pretty sure they put ice cubes in it. I have never felt water that cold and my foot jerked. I’m lucky (or was he the lucky one?) that I didn’t kick him in the face.

It was a humorous moment, but when he laid his hands on me, the humor went away and a most incredible feeling came upon me, I want to say ‘washed over me’, but that seems a bit cliche, although that’s what it was. He dried my foot and leaned forward to kiss it and looked into my eyes and said, “G-d bless you,” and it was a moment much like the one earlier with the incense.

If in my mind thngs don’t make sense, there is no rationale or reason to it, these moments of clarity, of faith, of knowing give so much calm and comfort and warmth.

After that we venerated the altar, eucharist was given and we walked and sang as a group to the parish hall for the host to be kept for adoration and tomorrow’s mass.

The kids were a little antsy, but one more mass for them. We have lots of cleaning and grocery shopping to do tomorrow. (Good Friday fasting is much different than Yom Kippur fasting.)

As I said, there are things I’m anxious and nervous about, but I think it will be okay; I hope so anyway.

At this moment, I feel content, so i’ll post this and go to bed.

The Beauty of Touch

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I love when inspiration hits; a memory of something good; a phrase that sets my mind wandering and that happened in a wonderful way at today’s Mass.

Today was the Feast Day of St. Thomas the Apostle.

Thomas needed to see that Jesus had risen from the dead before he would believe it. It wasn’t because he didn’t trust his friends or Jesus’ word, but Thomas needed to touch him. How many of us does he represent?

When the priest described Thomas as touchy-feely and gave an example from his own life; of his three year old self touching a hot oven after his mother warned him not to, so many things in my mind came flooding to the front. We all have those moments.

This touchy-feely part of the sermon clicked and immediately I thought of my first trip to England and my visit to Warwick Castle.

I am a Doubting Thomas.

If you tell me the water’s too hot, I must put a finger under the tap. I like to open cabinets and the drawers in the refrigerator, and in a museum, I am an absolute horror to bring along. If it doesn’t specifically say in big bold letters DO NOT TOUCH, it’s a safe bet that I will touch it. Granted, I have not ever climbed up onto a Revolutionary era cannon at The Smithsonian as I saw one young child do, but I have my other mo
I’ve slid my fingers along the woven edges of medieval tapestries at The Cloisters. If I’m in an art museum with a roped off masterpiece, I must run a finger along the velvet rope that keeps me from the painting itself.

I’ve touched the fire truck at The State Museum.

When I was visiting my close friends, often a touch on my shoulder relieved any anxiety that had been rising, a hand grabbed and squeezed in friendship elicited a smile, fingers brushing as a cup of tea was passed was a small hug.

Most recently In Wales, the only thing that kept me from rocking and weeping during the flight was my hand on my pocket frog, the cool Lucite against my palm, my thumb rubbing the same spot over and over again. I also liked to rest my hand against the cold stone of thousands years old castles and brickworks and abbey walls.

Touch is the most soothing thing when it’s wanted or when you least expect that you wanted it. I feel this at daily mass every day during the peace part of Mass. I’m a little lost when there is no one around me to shake my hand. That simple touch sets my whole day on a positive note.¬

In Warwick, though, we were able to take a tour of the castle, and we eventually came to a room with a large, stunning chest. We were told that this tower (known as the Ghost Tower) was known to have the ghost of Sir Faulk Greville who was murdered by his servant, and we should listen for it. I think we all chuckled nervously.

The chest was next to a locked door and yes, I turned the old knob. The door didn’t budge in case you were wondering.

As the tour group was heading into the next room, I touched the top of the carved chest. I looked around and tried to lift the lid.

It opened!

It opened quite easily. I was just about to peek inside when a voice began to speak. I jumped at least ten feet, dropping the lid that fell noisily into its original closed place. I looked around the empty room and ran out after the tour group as fast as I could catch up.

When I met up with them, I realized that it was the tour guide on the other side of the door speaking at the exact moment I lifted the lid. Not quite the ghost I had just started believing in.

Touchy-feely is one of the more adventurous and a most beautiful part of human nature.