THE SWEETEST WORDS

What are the ‘Sweetest Words’? How about, “As for you, your sins are forgiven.” ~Luke 5:20.



Or maybe you prefer, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, [and] from now on do not sin anymore.” ~John 8:11.



When we go to Confession, we have the opportunity to actually hear that our sins are forgiven. We hear the words of absolution said aloud. Whether we are aware of it or not, it is good for us as human beings to admit our sinfulness, to put it into words and then to be told we have been forgiven.



While Catholics are only required to go to sacramental Confession when they are aware of having committed a mortal sin, the Church urges the faithful to take advantage of the sacrament often. Once per month is a good suggestion. In preparation for fulfilling our Easter Duty to receive Holy Communion, we should first go to Confession even if we are aware only of venial sin.



The value of a Confession to our relationship with God is based on the recognition we are all sinners. That isn’t a popular statement to make today—if in fact it ever was. People want to be told they have done good, not bad. We are certainly called to lives of holiness. So . . . what is sin?

Sin is before all else an offense against God, a rupture of communion with Him. At the same time it damages communion with the Church. For this reason conversion entails both God's forgiveness and reconciliation with the Church, which are expressed and accomplished liturgically by the sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation. (Catechism of the Catholic Church 1440)

Jesus didn’t come into the world as Our Messiah, live, preach, suffer, die, rise from the dead and ascend back into Heaven with the promise to return again because we are a race of holy angels. He did all that because we are sinners and in need of Him. We know this whenever we ponder the mystery of a crucifix, the Real Presence or the Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.



What are you waiting for? Want some “sweet talk”? I know just the place to go for it. And this is what you will hear:

“God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

BEAUTIFUL!

The Mystery of Glory

I used to struggle with sorrow. In my youthful naiveté, it seemed the world just should be happy—or joyful. That it wasn’t I knew, but nevertheless I clung to the belief that it should not be as it was, i.e., often a sad place.

But at some point in time—or at some level—I came to embrace the Season of Lent in a way I enter into no other liturgical season of the year. Though it is a time of penance, prayer and fasting—things not usually associated with happiness and joy—I look forward to these weeks every year as the best, so much so that I often experience a letdown at Easter. Instead of rejoicing with the rest of the Church triumphant for six weeks after Lent, I spend six weeks reminiscing over the loss of the closeness I felt to Jesus when I was carrying a cross of sacrifice.

My question now is how do we as poor weak humans share in His Glory? This Easter Season, I am resolved—with the help of the Holy Spirit—to pray the Glorious Mysteries every day and meditate on these mysteries: The Resurrection; The Ascension of Our Lord into Heaven; The Descent of the Holy Spirit; The Assumption of Mary and The Coronation of Mary. If I am graced with understanding on even one of these great mysteries I will count myself blessed indeed, for truly when I contemplate them, they amaze, overwhelm, awe and confound my feeble human capabilities—which is probably as it should be.

Nevertheless, if it be God’s Will, I desire this Easter Season to be as spiritually fruitful as has been the Lent which has just past.

We should be joyful.

There is much sorrow.

I want to believe in the Glory and the Power forever ... so I do. But I know I don’t begin to understand it ... or Him. Glory mystifies me.

Oh Lord I believe. Help my unbelief. ~Mark 9:24

Visitors to the Vineyard

‘Jesus began to speak to the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders in parables. “A man planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a wine press, and built a tower. Then he leased it to tenant farmers and left on a journey. At the proper time he sent a servant to the tenants to obtain from them some of the produce of the vineyard....’ Mark 12:1-2

On March 7th of this year—two days before Lent started—I had this familiar parable ‘opened up’ for me. Although these are not the words of the sweet little monk who gave the extemporaneous homily on this Gospel, here is my poor rendering of his beautiful revelation:

We usually think of this story of Jesus’ as addressed to the Jewish people of Biblical times. They are the bad tenants who mismanage God’s vineyard, who beat, ‘treat shamefully’ and kill all the prophets sent to them over the centuries, until finally He, the Son is sent. Jesus is foretelling His own brutal death at the hands of those among the people who were jealous and afraid of Him. And certainly St. Mark confirms Jesus’ story has struck a nerve with the audience, for further on in the same narrative, the evangelist writes: ‘They were seeking to arrest him, but they feared the crowd, for they realized that he had addressed the parable to them.’ Mark 12:12

This can leave those of us who have come after with the comfortable feeling that in this parable at least we are the ‘good guys’. As Christians, Jesus isn’t talking to or about us.

But there’s another way of looking at this parable.

Suppose instead the vineyard is an analogy for each one of us. What if we are the vineyard? God has ‘planted us’ and leased us to ourselves—we remain His; we certainly do not belong to ourselves.

When the time comes, He will send His servants to us. They will come in many shapes and sizes. We will probably not recognize them anymore than the Jewish people recognized God’s messengers of old.

They will come to us as they did to the Israelites, as natural disasters (plagues), as war/acts of terrorism (foreign invaders), as the inarticulate (Moses), military leaders (Joshua), crazy men (Saul), boy upstarts (David), quarreling couples (Samson and Delilah), adulterous politicians (also David), beauty queens (Ester), weepy youths (Jeremiah), grumpy runaways (Jonah), loudmouth ascetics (John the Baptist), dreamers (both Josephs) and unwed mothers (Mary). If you take away their Scriptural significance, can you imagine a motlier group?

They are us.

They are also visitors to our vineyards.

How many have we ignored? Beaten? Verbally, if not physically? Killed? Either emotionally, spiritually or mentally?

God will keep sending them to us, to His vineyard. He did the planting. He is coming to collect His produce. Eventually the visitors will be replaced with the Visitor, Jesus.

Oh Lord, I thank You for that wonderful priest, Your son and the amazing insight You shared with him. I have had many visitors to my vineyard since that day: rude drivers and good friends; the disgruntled and self-satisfied; family and strangers. There have been many messages from You I welcomed, some I learned from, a few I still don’t understand and others causing me horror and great pain.

Whatever my feelings or thoughts, I thank You for helping me see that they all come from You. Please help me continue to accept each and every visitor You send, as someone sent by You to help prepare me for Jesus’ Second Coming.

Poverty of Spirit

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 5:3

Poverty of Spirit by Johannes Baptist Metz seemed like such a simple book the first time I read it. Perhaps I was just so overwhelmed by everything else to do with Retreat in Daily Life -- the term given to St. Ignatian' Spiritual Exercises when they are conducted over a six month period verses the usual thirty day intensive seminar format. In 2004-2005 I participated in the program offered here in Oklahoma by the Benedictine Sisters at their Red Plains Spirituality Center in Piedmont.

However, the simplicity of Poverty of Spirit is comparable to that of the initial Beatitude which it expounds, the closer you look the deeper it goes. 'To become human means to become "poor," to have nothing that one might brag about before God.' (p.10) Nothing? Nothing! NOTHING! Let that sink in. Really and truly sink in. Poverty of spirit isn't about becoming poor but accepting that we already are poor, only most of the time we just don't know it, or get it. 'We are so poor, even our poverty isn't our own.' (p.51)

Ah, but this is a review and not a homily. Still, it is hard to write about this book without going into its spiritual teachings and mystery. Poverty of Spirit can be read in one sitting; it's only fifty-two pages. And yet probably a third of my copy is highlighted because of all the quotable sayings.

Jesus's poverty of spirit begins with His acceptance of His humanity, something we are so familiar with we usually fail to grasp the immense significance of God-become-man. It continues with His life of prayer, obedience, service, ultimately culminating in His sacrifice on the Cross, called the sacrament of poverty of spirit.

Cardinal Metz shows how we human beings are innately poor and the various shapes poverty takes: commonplace; misery and need; uniqueness and superiority; provisional nature; finiteness and death. Each distinct form is dealt with as both our chalice and our curse. And yet, those of us who would lay claim to the kingdom of God/heaven, know this to be blessed.

A spiritual classic worth reading . . . many times. For me, once every Lent. I re-read this again this year, as I've done every Lent since I first did the St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises-like many of the great works, it can be read in a short span of time, but probably never mastered.

One additional note about the author, which I just learned recently in reading, The End of Time?: The Provocation of Talking about God, Cardinal Metz is a fellow Bavarian and colleague of Pope Benedict XVI.

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wondering and wandering...

Usually when I sit down to blog I know what I want to write about. I'm either going to review a book or recommend a film clip or on rare occasions write a little vignette about something blog-worthy which has happened to me recently.

Right now I have over a dozen books I've read and drafted book reviews for, but I'm not ready to publish any of them. I found this new (to me) wonderful artist who I'd love to write about, but I haven't had the time to do the necessary research on him yet.

Lent is over and so is my journey with Father Neuhaus and Death on a Friday Afternoon: Meditations on the Last Words of Jesus from the Cross, the book Benedict's Book Club has been reading for the past six weeks. I finished it Easter Sunday evening, which was perfect timing.

I thought about writing about our evacuation Holy Thursday night when our neighborhood was on fire. Winds gusting in excess of fifty miles per hour turned a teenage prank into a nightmare for a huge section of Midwest City, Oklahoma. For us, the fires were as close as two blocks, but we were among the blessed. Not so our neighbors, some friends and members of our parish. But it seems wrong to blog about someone else's losses. The worst I had to endure was a night of wondering if I had a home. Considering I asked St. Michael to watch over it for me, all I truly was was tired.

So in the end, this is just an update, to say I'm still blogging, even though I haven't been. I wonder if I should blog. I wonder if I have anything worthwhile to say or if I'm not just wasting my time. Sometimes--and more than just occasionally--I think I don't have anything worthwhile to say. Sure, I read and review books, but I can do that just as well on goodreads. Do I need to maintain a blog too? Is it worth the effort?

In the end, I'm not sure. But then I'm not sure about a lot of things, so maybe that is the point of this blog. In this world where everyone seems so sure about everything, maybe it is worthwhile to have one lone voice crying out, "I wonder...?!"

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Dereliction

'Early and often did the LORD, the God of their fathers, send his messengers to them, for he had compassion on his people and his dwelling place. But they mocked the messengers of God, despised his warnings, and scoffed at his prophets, until the anger of the LORD against his people was so inflamed that there was no remedy.' ~~selection from Reading 1, 2 Chr 36:14-16, 19-23, for Lætare Sunday, Fourth Sunday of Lent

As I was listening to those words read during Saturday evening Vigil Mass, I thought they are as true today as when they were written over two thousand years ago. It seems the more things change, the more they remain the same.

Our book group, Benedict's Book Club is currently reading Death on a Friday Afternoon, Chapter 4, Dereliction. Each chapter is devoted to one of the Seven Words of Jesus on the Cross:

1. "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do." Luke 23:34

2. "Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise." Luke 23:43

3. "Jesus said to his mother: "Woman, this is your son". Then he said to the disciple: "This is your mother." John 19:26-27

4. "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Matthew 27:46 & Mark 15:34

5. "I thirst." John 19:28

6. "It is finished." John 19:30

7. "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Luke 23:46

In Chapter 1, Coming To Our Senses, Father Neuhaus focuses on the gravity of our sinfulness and His great love for us which consequentially led to Good Friday, and hopefully will bring us 'to our senses'.

The second chapter, Judge Not, is long and complicated; reading it often seemed like following a rabbit trail. Eventually however, after several readings, what I took away from it was the following, ‘It would seem to be the unanimous experience of Christian thinkers and mystics that, the farther they travel on the roads of thought and contemplation, the more they know that they do not know. The most rigorous thought and the most exalted spiritual adventure bring us, again and again, to exclaim with St. Paul, “O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgements and how inscrutable his ways!” Therefore it is rightly said that all theology is finally doxology. That is to say, all analysis and explanation finally dissolves into wonder and praise.’

Chapter 3, A Strange Glory, reflects on Mary, Christ's gift of her to us from the cross and (what is often forgotten) our gift to her.

Which brings us to Chapter 4, Dereliction. A 'derelict' is someone deserted by an owner or keeper; abandoned and/or run-down; dilapidated. That certainly describes Our Lord. Does it also refer to us?

'And about three o'clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?" which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"' Matthew 27:46

Have you ever prayed like that? Have you ever felt so abandoned, so deserted, especially by the very one you look to for support? I know I have. There are many times I've cried out to God, with far less provocation than Jesus, but still with great anguish. I suspect most people have.

However, what I appreciated most in this chapter was Fr. Neuhaus’s treatment of the complexity of sin, the struggle we all face in trying to fight it, how often we fail, why we fail, the futility of the struggle when we 'go it alone', and most of all, the fact that he refuses to compromise to the triteness of 'just do it' or 'be good', as if those remedies haven't been thought of (and tried) by almost every human being who ever lived.

Whereas the rest of the book thus far has been more informative, this chapter, for me, has been the most helpful as a reflection on humanity’s hardhearted sinfulness, as well as its helplessness without God. His observations about dualism fit perfectly with this Sunday’s readings. In the first reading from Second Chronicles, we learn how God loved His people and how He tried to help them. He loved every person He created then as He loves each of us now, but humanity was as sinful in days gone by as in the present. And they had prophets then as we do now: our own dear Pope is a living, breathing prophet; so was Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta.

And then there is that scary mindset so popular today of “feel good” religion, sometimes called New Age religion, referred to by Father Neuhaus as, “spirituality”, in quotes. True spirituality doesn’t need to be put in quotes. The type of spirituality Father Neuhaus is talking about, however, is the type found and heard everywhere and really thinly veiled self-aggrandizement. As he puts it on pages 129 through 130, ‘…dualism is today's dirty word in the view of many people. Consult those hundreds of books under the category of “spirituality” in your local bookstore and you will discover the preferred language is all about wholeness, unity, coherence, harmony, synchronicity and the good feelings of being “at one with All.” By way of the sharpest contrast, Paul speaks of the Christian life in terms of conflict, tension, antagonism and jarring dissonance.’ He goes on to talk about who is the true self, the “I of myself”. Is it the “I” who serves the law of God with my mind, or the “I” of the flesh who serves the law of sin? Paul believes both are the “I” of him. ‘There is no deliverance from the intolerable contradiction of this conflicted “I” unless there is another “I”. Which brings us back to Galatians. There is another “I”. “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” The complexity on the far side of which such simplicity is found might be described as the transposition of the ego.’ (p. 130) We can’t do it alone. We can’t overcome sin, or anything else for that matter, without Him Who is all-in-all, the Alpha and Omega, without this Cross, this Death on a Friday Afternoon.

The exclamation Jesus cries out from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” is the opening words of the beautiful lamentation Psalm 22. Beautiful lament? Isn’t that a contradiction in terms? It would be if there was no one to hear, no one to answer, no one to respond. But just as everyone smiles at the first cries of a newborn, knowing that he (or she) lives, it truly is beautiful when we cry out to God, for only then do we truly LIVE in Him.

'God, who is rich in mercy, because of the great love he had for us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, brought us to life with Christ — by grace you have been saved —, raised us up with him, and seated us with him in the heavens in Christ Jesus, that in the ages to come He might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God.' ~~selection from Reading 2, Eph 2:4-10, for Lætare Sunday, Fourth Sunday of Lent

This is only the fourth chapter and the Fourth Sunday in Lent. Our journey continues...

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Encountering Christ

When I reminded my dear husband a few weeks ago he had promised to chaperon for our younger daughter's Confirmation retreat to Camp Our Lady of Guadalupe, known affectionately as Camp OLOG by many here in the Oklahoma City diocese, he wasn't especially thrilled at the prospect of spending a week-end with forty to fifty teenagers.

Knowing his joyful anticipation, I wondered what our daughter, Michelle, was going to say when I told her, that her dad was tagging along. After Bear's offer was gratefully accepted, much to his chagrin, our Youth Minister called back and wanted to know if my oldest daughter and I also wanted to come along as chaperons. We begged off, pleading prior plans. But I couldn't help wondering how Michelle would react to her entire family at the retreat. Having her dad wouldn't be too bad, I reasoned. He's pretty cool most of the time and after all, unlike 'Mom', he would be in the boy's cabin and therefore not within hovering distance.

A couple of days before the retreat Michelle learned her Dad was going along...and two adults she knows from our regular week-end Mass, friends of her Mom. She wasn't too happy. We had a family pow-wow. It seems she was looking forward to this week-end because it was a chance to 'get away from her family' for awhile. As her mom, it's sometimes hard for me to understand why she needs and wants 'to get away' from us but then my wise husband asked me, "Didn't you ever want to get away from your family at that age?"

As a matter of fact, I did...

When they returned, Michelle came in carrying this crucifix made out of Play-Doh. My husband and daughter only spoke twice during the retreat and once gave each other a hug. Mostly Bear spent his time explaining teenagers to the other adults chaperoning the kids. He's pretty good at that. He has a lot of experience helping me. I was very tuned into my children when they were little, but since they've become teenagers, I've had to get to know them all over again. It's a day by day process; some days I 'get' it and many days I don't. Or maybe I should say, some days I let them be who they are and other days I expect them to be who I think they should be, or who I think they are, I'm really not sure which. Bear is much better at letting people be who they are, at accepting. I'm better at learning. He's teaching me to accept and fortunately, for our children's sake, I'm (usually) a pretty good student.

Bear said the retreat was good for the kids. They all got away from cell phones, I-pods, non-stop music, TV, and distractions. Many had incredible experiences of Confession; a lot were crying, probably for the first time as a result of receiving a sacrament. They got to spend hours just talking to each other, really talking, not texting. They walked in the woods, explored nature, discovered silence and who knows, just maybe, they even encountered Christ?

When my daughter saw the crucifix, she asked who made it. Upon learning her Dad made it, she picked it up and brought it home.


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Lenten Reading -- Please Join In

RANN at This, That and The Other Thing is doing a Lenten Reading Meme which I've decided to participate in. Normally I shy away from this sort of thing simply due to time, but I've decided to give this one a try and see how it goes. Nothing ventured, nothing gained as they say. Anyway, it's not too difficult. All you have to do is copy the questions below, paste them in a new post, answer them (obviously), and leave a comment back to me to let me know you want to participate. It's an excellent way to discover good recommendations for Lenten books.

1. What books have you read and/or reviewed in the last year that you would recommend to people looking for Lenten reading? What book/s is/are you reading this Lent?

(If you don't have a blog, leave your answer here in a comment)

2. Include a link back here.

3. Leave a comment here with a link to your post.

4. Encourage your blog friends to participate. Let's see if we can help each other find books for Lent and beyond.

My answers: Books I've reviewed this past year, or the one before, which I would recommend for Lenten reading include first and foremost, Jesus of Nazareth by Pope Benedict XVI. Our book club read that last year and it's awesome. Then I'd have to list two from my list of 'books worth reading over and over...': Abandonment to Divine Providence and The Practice of the Presence of God. Those books can be read every year for the rest of your life; they're quick reads, perfect for Lenten reflection or anytime. Recently I read an incredible book all about trust which profoundly changed my relationship with God; it's called, Pathways of Trust and would make a great Lenten read.

Finally, Benedict's Book Club is reading Death on a Friday Afternoon which I happen to think is the best book of all time for Lent.