spiritual

The Holiday Season Begins

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With the liturgical year having ended nearly a week ago, thus began the Catholic New Year and the season of Advent, the time for waiting for the Nativity of Our Lord. For someone new to the faith, I often compare my old views and beliefs with my new, Catholic ones. I had seen Advent calendars growing up, but I didn’t really understand their significance. I had thought of it as a countdown to Christmas, but in a secular, Santa Claus is coming to town sense. There are many secular versions of Advent calendars – calendars filled with chocolates, Lego Advent calendars, Starbucks has a chocolate candy calendar that comes with a $5 gift card. I also never associated it with beginnings, but rather endings since it comes at the end of the year. We had our Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, but it never occurred to me that there was a parallel time for the Catholic year. I had assumed that our secular calendar was a Christian calendar, and it had been set up long ago and adapted after the birth of Christ.

Now, I know that the religious year comes to an end in much the same way the Jewish year does, and Advent is the beginning of that new year. After celebrating a proper Advent last year I look at it more as a companion to Lent, although less somber – more anticipatory, more joyous, but also an opportunity to look at the past year and make some changes in whatever way that seems appropriate. Change is good, so a time of reflection before the family centered times of the holidays – presents, dinner, dessert, church, and family get togethers.

One other thing I and many other people think is that the twelve days of Christmas are the twelve days preceding Christmas Day but it is actually the twelve days after – the days between Christmas Day and Epiphany, or Three Kings Day. During the Middle Ages, this day was called Twelfth Night, and that was the traditional day to give and receive gifts. The Advent season goes from the first day of the new year until Christmas Day, and the Christmas season goes from Christmas Day until the feast day of Our Lord’s Baptism. It was startlingly to recognize that the Christmas season began with Jesus’ birth, and hadn’t ended with it.

It really is quite a profound change in perspective.

Our last few Christmases have been a little more low key as the kids get older and the toys get quieter. They sleep a tiny bit later, and they anticipate and expect our family traditions every year just a little bit more, looking forward to each one almost as a separate holiday. Chinese take-out for Christmas Eve dinner. Dunkin’ Donuts and Starbucks for Christmas Day breakfast. Roast beef for dinner, and Doctor Who with dessert. In more recent years, they have gotten used to Mom’s church traditions of the Nine Lessons and Carols, the Christmas Eve Vigil and wondering when the tree will go up. We celebrate Chanukah, and they are always surprised to get a new dreidl and a bag of chocolate gelt even though they receive both yearly. Christmas Day comes with a phone call to their cousins and Grandma, a couple of texts and Facebook posts, and quiet time with their siblings, the oldest counting down until he’s spent enough time in the living room and can sneak back to his bedroom.

In this time there is also the Novena of the Feast of the immaculate Conception. This is the patron of my parish, and so we recite the novena daily. I had planned to include a daily rosary recitation during this week, but instead of looking on it as failing, I will instead look at it and try to do better for the rest of the nine days. The Novena prayers conclude with Mass on December 8th for the Feast of the immaculate Conception.

This week (yesterday to be precise) although not a milestone, it was my birthday. Forty-nine. It celebrates the ending of my forty-ninth year, and begins my fiftieth. I’m hesitant for fifty, although I think it’s more self-fulfilling anxiety because somehow I’m supposed to be upset by it. I wasn’t upset by forty. Or 42, although everyone who knows me knows that was a year celebrated as my Douglas Adams birthday. Forty-one gave me issues. I feel like I should commemorate fifty, so I am, but I’m not sure how I’ll feel at the end of next year.

As the days pass I’m sure that I’ll figure out my feels – happy, scared, and everything in between – and share them with you. I am planning on a year long reflection journey; I’m still not sure if it will be daily or weekly or weekly with an occasional influx of daily.

I am also entertaining the idea of some kind of pilgrimage in regards to the Jubilee Year of Mercy as announced by Pope Francis, but I’m still not finished on deciding what I want to get out of it. I don’t want to do it just to say I’ve done it. I only know that when Pope Francis mentioned it, it struck me in the heart as something calling to me.

Je Suis Paris

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Artist: Jean Jullien

I haven’t had any problem expressing my outrage and my pain with the terrorist attacks in Paris, France earlier this week. I put the news on for the first time in two months. I needed to see what was happening thousands of miles away but in a place I’ve thought often about. My thoughts went to my friends who live there, to my son’s school visits to Paris in recent years. I have been struggling with the outward expression of solidarity however. As the French flags went up on Facebook profiles, I knew I didn’t want one, but I didn’t really know why. My friend put it into words when he removed his transparency from his profile pic. Here we are supporting France (as we should be) when we ignored the same type of attack in Beirut this week, ignoring Kenya’s terrorist attack at the beginning of the month, and the Syrian Refugee Crisis.

Many people cite racism. The French are white Europeans and not Middle Eastern Arabs, but that’s not my thinking or the thinking of my friends, so why do the majority of us focus on their pain?

For many Americans, myself included, France is our friend. Of course, we’re upset at the tragedy befalling others, but we know France. France has been our friend since the literal beginning. They helped us become who we are, not like a parent, but more like a favorite and favored uncle. That doesn’t mean that Great Uncle Al, twice removed and divorced from the family isn’t thought about and cared about and mourned when he dies, but he’s not Dad’s brother. Dad’s brother has picked me up and patched up my skinned knees. He’s taken care of me, and he’s always there when I call. It’s not the homoethnicity as much as the familial relationship that we have with the French people.

In addition to that, I mentioned that my son has been to Paris. Twice. I imagine how I would have felt if he were there at this time and it tears me up. I have put myself in the places of the Syrian refugees and Arab victims and I’ve cried and felt pain and received courage from them but my family…

Since I wasn’t able to attend Sunday Mass this week (I hurt my leg and couldn’t manage the walking), I still read the readings, and one of them spoke to me about this tragedy and unrest in the world.

In my life, the readings and the Scripture and my spiritual headspace includes everyone; it is a part of my everyday life. I live it. It is a Living Word.

From today’s Readings in the Entrance Antiphon:

The Lord said: I think thoughts of peace and not of affliction. You will call upon me, and I will answer you, and I will lead back your captives from every place.

– Jer 29:11, 12, 14

This stuck with me throughout the morning, and regardless of your religious affiliation or no affiliation we can still think on and want and hope for peace and for affliction to be gone, in my life, in my family, in my world.

G-d promises to listen and answer and lead back those of us who are ‘captive’, missing, stuck in situations not of their making; to help them escape, like Moses leading the Jewish people out of Egypt and out of slavery.

Non-religious people have their own beliefs and hopes for peace and ending conflict and affliction and bringing those ‘captives’ back home.

The current book that I’m reading is Revelations of Divine Love by Julian of Norwich. In the 16th Revelation she relays from her vision:

‘But take it, believe it and keep yourself within it, comfort yourself with it and trust yourself to it; and you shall not be overcome.’

You shall not be overcome.

We have the strength to get through these tough times and any other tough times that are yet to come. G-d is speaking through her, and her visions – she is not alone in her world, and similarly we are not alone. We are surrounded by people who are on our side and want to and will help us through the hard times and celebrate the good ones.

As I said about prayer earlier today, prayer builds up, and doesn’t tear down. That doesn’t mean that prayer is the only way. Embrace all the ways people want to help, through spirituality or through humanity, and we will be better for it.

From Death into Life

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There is a line in a hymn, I think it’s sung at funerals or as they’re called in the Catholic church, Mass of Christian Burial. It goes, “from death into life.”

I began attending this celebration of life by accident in one of my early days of attending Mass. I was there, and I couldn’t leave without drawing unnecessary attention to myself, so I remained, hidden in plain sight, in one of the back pews, wishing I was invisible, feeling as though I didn’t belong in such an intimate family gathering. I was, however, wrong – this mass invites the community members, the congregation; to be in communion with the family, to send their loved one on their next journey. I followed the program, I sang along, I prayed, and I found something in that service. I think my first funeral service was for a woman named Dottie. I still have her program in my church papers that I’ve collected and saved.

After that first time, I continued to go to the Rite of Christian Burial when it occurred during the daily mass time. I almost never knew until I arrived at church, and after one or two more, I found great comfort in this Mass.

But I still didn’t get it – that death into life bit.

I could never understand that phrase. How can you go from death into life?

It wasn’t until after my spiritual conversion, and after passing this tree, always on my way to my writing workshop.

On the way to the library, I passed the church adjacent to this tree, and the cemetery that surrounds this tree, and one spring day it was gloriously sunny and bright, and the green leaves had sprouted and grown.

I could see them bright against the white of the siding on the church building; this delicate new growth rising from the fallen tree, its life long thought buried and gone.

This was when I could grasp death into life, life from death, the infinite from finite, everlasting life from our journey on earth.

Now, when I sing the hymn, I picture this tree when I sing death into life.

All Souls Day

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Wisdom 3:1-9

The souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them.

They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead; and their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction.

But they are in peace.

For if before men, indeed, they be punished, yet is their hope full of immortality; chastised a little, they shall be greatly blessed, because God tried them and found them worthy of himself.

As gold in the furnace, he proved them, and as sacrificial offerings he took them to himself.

In the time of their visitation they shall shine, and shall dart about as sparks through stubble; they shall judge nations and rule over peoples, and the Lord shall be their King forever.

Those who trust in him shall understand truth, and the faithful shall abide with him in love: because grace and mercy are with his holy ones, and his care is with his elect.

Vocations and Saints and Good Days, Oh My

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I’ve spent today with so many thoughts running through my head. I started today in a weird place. I showered yesterday so I was able to sleep in a little, but I had forgotten to change the clocks back, so when I awoke this morning, they were all wrong except for my cell phone and my kindle. I hate waking up to wrong clocks on the time change Sunday. I find it so confusing. If I don’t realize the change I’m fine, but throwing it in my face just irritates my senses. That’s why I try to change them all before I go to bed, and avoid them all night.

Today was one of those days that was good in retrospect. It’s hard to pay attention to life as it is happening, but it is in looking back that we see what was there. This was something John Boehner said this week after he left Congress. He was asked if the Holy Spirit played a part in his decision to leave, and he relayed that he was told that we only see the Holy Spirit in retrospect.

It should say something that I’m paraphrasing John Boehner!

But it’s the same with good days. They are simply not bad days until you look back and breathe that sigh of relief and announce to yourselves, hey, that was a good day.


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A Barrel of Joy

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I had a ten minute conversation on where I wanted to eat lunch, most of that with myself.   I finally decided on Cracker Barrel. Good food, reasonable prices, good atmosphere for writing. I have my rituals for pretty much every place I go. Cracker Barrel is a glance around the store and a trip to the bathroom before I get settled in my seat with whatever I’ve brought to do. Today it was my kindle and keyboard.

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Retreat, Day 2: Anointing Mass

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My church has a twice yearly Anointing Mass for anointing the sick. It is also called a Healing Mass. Everyone is welcome whether for a physical or a mental ailment. Many of the neighboring nursing homes and assisted living centers bring in their residents for this special mass. This was my third one. I go for both my depression and my knee pain.

Obviously this is for people of the Catholic faith, but belief or not I still think it is a wonderful experience of community and sharing our joy which halves our pain*. Seating is every other pew so the priests can move through to anoint and offer the Eucharist.

There is music and singing; there are prayers and scripture reading. It’s a Mass so it includes the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist.

The Mass is followed by lunch. I usually attend alone, so it’s always a surprise who I will be sitting with. So many people go to so much trouble, cooking, setting everything up, decorating. There are prayer cards and a favor to take home. One of the volunteers makes them. They are so thoughtful and creative; it makes me want to go home and create something.

In yesterday’s writing, I mentioned having an object to help with meditation and contemplation. Today we were given a small medal with a cutout of a cross. I have been given this week’s object, I see.

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I encourage you to look up today’s readings. They are always a link from the past history to our daily lives. One of the things I enjoy about going to Mass so often (usually four times a week) is that despite the words being thousands of years old, they still speak to me. I relate to them on a regular, almost daily, basis.

First Reading: Lamentations 3:17-23

Second Reading: James 5:13-16

Gospel: Mark 7:31-37

My prayer

card:

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Julian of Norwich is one of my favorite mystics. Her work is said to be the first one written in English by a woman (1395).

One of my favorite of her quotations struck me when I first heard it. Ironically, when I am in a pessimistic mood, I will still often say that everything will work out; it will be okay.
Her words:

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well”

is so close to my own sentiment that I did a double take the first time I heard it, which was appropriately at my first healing mass.

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[Borrowed and paraphrased with permission from Dumbledore’s Army and the Year of Darkness.]