Intercessions ~ Feast of the Epiphany

 

Mosaic of the Magi ~ St. Apollinaire ~ Ravenna ~ 6th century

On the Feast of the Epiphany,/ we remain before the little house of Bethlehem,/ praying for the little house which is each of our homes,/ asking for them to be places where persons are built up by respect and mutual assistance./ We pray to the Lord.

The wise men of the Lord's Epiphany feast are symbolic of humankind — all are invited to Christ/ who is light./ May we understand this invitation more deeply/ for ourselves and our families,/ to become our most authentic selves before God and others./ We pray to the Lord.

Christmas and Epiphany are feasts of hospitality/ with the welcoming of shepherd-guests and the magi./ We pray for those who long to be welcomed and included./ May we be an open-hearted nation./ We pray to the Lord.

In this winter of sickness,/ we pray for the unemployed,/ the uninsured and those suffering insecurity./ For those who are on food lines/ or in mourning./ For health care providers who persevere through exhaustion./ We pray to the Lord.

At the start of the New Year, / we pray for those places around the world where there is war/ civil unrest,/ violence,/ terrorism and destruction./ The world asks for leaders of good faith,/ committed to the creation of peace/ and the well being of all./ We pray to the Lord.

As a new year begins/ we pray for those who sow despair,/ doubt and distrust,/ cynics who weaken hope./ In times of great loneliness and isolation,/ as God has taken on a human face in Christ,/ may we find the courage to be other-referred persons./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for the many who have died this past year,/ mindful that around the world/ nearly two million have died of Coronavirus./ We pray to the Lord.

In the Christmas Octave

 

This Early Renaissance, polychromed, clay image of the Madonna and Child was created by Lorenzo Ghiberti (c1377-1455). It was most likely made for someone's devotional home use. It's very lovely, isn't it? God has joined us, become one of us in our littleness and vulnerability. What does the Child see that frightens him or causes him insecurity? We can bring this sense into full consciousness these days where so many people are suffering. Perhaps that struggle and suffering is close to you—in your home or your own life in some way.

It is reported now that one in six adults in the United States suffers hunger. One in four children. We know that people are out of work, businesses are closed temporarily or permanently. Many are stuck in anger and obstruction. People are exhausted, isolated and painfully lonely. Some are trapped, terrorized, exploited or abused. The earth itself seems to groan, as St. Paul says. Someone asks, "What do you want me to do?" I can bring it all to my prayer before this tender image, reflective of our humanity and the deep love which has a good hold on us. The image was created for home use after all.

Keep the candle lighted ~ the candle of your heart. 

Upstairs, Downstairs Lesson and New Years Choices

 

I don't recall seeing any television during my 1970's seminary years when Upstairs Downstairs was all the rage. So during these covid stay-at-home days, I'm catching up with that hugely popular series. It is indeed excellent television. One scene in Episode 13 of the Fourth Series (Peace Out of Pain) seemed especially relevant for today. The lady of the house, Hazel Bellamy, is dying of the Spanish Flu. Here is a picture from the episode in which she, aware that death is near, reflects with her husband, James Bellamy. 

Dr. Foley has been called and paid a number of home visits. When hope is cleary waning, the anxious servants commiserate around their downstairs table. One maid reveals that after Dr. Foley's most recent visit he arranged for the road outside the Bellamy London residence (165 Eaton Place) to be covered with straw, to muffle the sound of passing automobiles. I thought, what an amazing presence of mind, and then to bother about having the road covered so the patient upstairs would have a quieter space. And during our own pandemic so many people in this country refuse even to wear a mask for the benefit of the others. The selfishness is profound. We do indeed live in a different time, of different value, a different world.

In the neighborhood here a young girl has painted rocks with bright colors and words to live by these days. I'm borrowing some of her words and adding my own for a New Years wish:

In the New Year may we choose kindness, courtesy, knowledge, respect.

In the New Year may we choose inclusion, listening, gratitude, sympathy.

In the New Year may we choose recovery, decency, generosity, joy.

In the New Year may we choose compassion, life, cooperation, thinking.

In the New Year may we choose belief, hope, awareness, spirit.

In the New Year may we choose interiority, justice, patience, simplicity.

In the New Year may we choose non-violence, presence, willingness, humility.

Another Christmas Feast ~ Holy Anastasia

 

December 25 is also the Feast of Saint Anastasia (ah-nah-stah-see-ah). The Greek word anastasis means resurrection. Counted among the girl-martyrs of the early Christian persecutions, we might remembering hearing her name in the second half of the First Eucharistic Prayer (aka The Roman Canon). 

Not much is known about her. Anastasia died on December 25, 304 in Sirmium (modern day Serbia) during the Diocletian persecutions. Her marriage was  arranged to a non-believer. Her husband turned abusive when he was told of her charity to the poor, her visiting prisoners and her attentions to the sick. She has wonderful titles: Anastasia, Deliverer from Potions (Poisons); Anastasia, the Healer; Anastasia, Deliverer from Bonds.

Anastasia's arrest, trial, imprisonment, and torments to death are standard fare as saint's stories go. More importantly, the witness she leaves us today is that of a young woman (little more than a girl) who leaned in and ferociously stood her ground against abuser-men who couldn't abide her self-knowledge and defense of her life choices.  

We might have a long look at this 14th-15th century Byzantine icon of Anastasia with its earth-toned background — perhaps unintentionally reflective of a young woman who knew herself and stood her ground. My: Prayer Before the Icon of  St. Anastasia, follows. Of course, you are invited to add your own lines.

Anastasia's mind for new thinking,

Her cross for endurance,

Her gaze for visioning through the dark night.

Anastasia's mantle for our covering,

Her sparked mantle for our enlightenment,

Her ointment jar for the healing of our sickness.

Anastasia's beauty for our wonderment,

Her witness for our recovery,

Her silence for dreaming.

Anastasia's legend for our hastening,

Her icon for our dwelling,

Her shared Christmas feast for our re-birth. 

Fr. Stephen P. Morris

"On the Feast of Stephen"

 

"Good King Wenceslas looked out on the Feast of Stephen." In other words, the good king looked out of his castle window today, the day after Christmas. Strange, yesterday celebrated a birth; today remembers the awful death of a young man. Stephen, whose feast is older than Christmas, is called the Protomartyr — the first. To love and learn from Christ is going to cost me something. 

This painting by the 17th century artist, Bernardo Cavallino is filled with emotional energy. Stephen wears a deacon's dalmatic. Red is the liturgical color of a martyr. In front and behind there's an agitated, angry mob. No women. In the upper right corner notice even the sky is troubled. We see the city wall. Like Jesus, Stephen was taken outside the city to die. The biblical account of the saint's work and death is found in Acts of the Apostles 6,7.

But one verse gets my attention, "he looked up."  Very busy, preoccupied people never look up. They only look straight ahead to where they're hurrying or they look down determinably, making no eye contact. But "look up" can also have symbolic meaning. "Look up" as if out of the bubble world we can find ourselves in — encased in the world of someone else's ideas we've picked up along the way without thinking. This is played out dramatically these days in our post election world of denial — I believe it because someone said it — especially someone I've invested with authority. Some people never look up  in this sense.

And what did the deacon-martyr see when he looked up? Bernardo Cavallino understands. Stephen didn't see Jerusalem's glorious temple; that's behind him. Rather this:

But he, (Stephen), full of the Holy Spirit, looked up into heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of  God; and he said, "Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing at the right hand of God."

It's at that point that the listeners can't stand it anymore and they "cried out with a loud voice and stopped their ears and rushed together upon him." And they stoned him to death.

Stephen saw "the heavens opened and Jesus standing with God." Standing is the posture of readiness and action. What does it mean? The point of contact with God is no longer a splendid building, but the person of Jesus Christ. The heavens are opened over all of us — not a prefered or exclusive some of us. That line has tremendous personal implications — political implications, religious implications, racial implications. 

But when we delve deeply into those implications/possibilities, that's when people still cover their ears and rush about screaming (if even inwardly) to put someone or something (maybe the ideas themselves) to death. 

This first martyr's feast day, in the Christmas Octave, might be an invitation for me to look up and out of the little sphere of my world in some new way, to allow for the new vision, the new universal vision of the one who lived his life most authentically. It's a life changer.

Christ is Born! Glorify Him!

 

Greetings to you at Christmas! This hand painted and hand lettered prayer book is open to the Latin Confiteor prayer opposite an image of the Mother of God nursing the Infant Christ. The artist, perhaps a monk, isn't simply decorating pages but giving us a window into creation as it celebrates the Incarnation — God, who in limitless imagination gives us the plants and the animals, joins us in humility, a tiny child crying for his mother's milk. I see forest strawberries here, violets, a wild geranium, butterflies and other creeping things. We might imagine sitting quietly with this prayer book open on our laps. Just to hold it silently would be a prayer.

And here is a wonderful Christmas poem by Robert Herrick (16th/17th century) celebrating the birth of Christ. What lovely images: December turned to May...the chilling winter's morn smiling like a corn field or fragrant like a just-mowed field. The third verse refers to Christ as the world's darling. We might read the poem a second or third time before listening to the Choir of King's College, Cambridge sing the verses which have been set to music by the English composer, John Rutter. I pass it on to you with a blessing and gratitude for the cyber community we share here — may you live your own unique self as truthfully and as beautifully as Jesus lived his.

What sweeter music can we bring

Than a carol, for to sing

The birth of this our heavenly King?

Awake the voice! Awake the string!

Dark and dull night, fly hence away,

And give the honour to this day,

That sees December turned to May.

Why does the chilling winter's morn

Smile, like a field beset with corn?

Or smell like a meadow newly-shorn,

Thus, on the sudden? Come and see

The cause, why things thus fragrant be;

'Tis he is born, whose quickening birth

Gives life and lustre, public mirth,

To heaven, and the under-earth.

We see him come, and know him ours

Who, with his sunshine and his showers,

Turns all the patient ground to flowers.

The darling of the world is come

And fit it is, we find a room

To welcome him. The nobler part

of all the house here, is the heart.

Which we will give him; and bequeath

This holly, and this ivy wreath,

To do him honour; who's our King,

And Lord of all this revelling.

What sweeter music can we bring,

Than a carol, for to sing

The birth of this our heavenly King?

Poem: Robert Herrick, 1591-1674

Music: John Rutter (b.1945)

Sunday in the Christmas Octave ~ Holy Family

 Gaudi's Sagrada Familia Basilica ~ Spain ~ Bathing the Holy Child

We ask the blessings of health and safety for Pope Francis,/ who at Christmas asks us to resist consumerism/ and to have in mind those who are thought of by no one else./ We pray to the Lord./ 

May our new President and Vice President lead by example,/ that we may understand how to live wisely,/ think deeply/ and love generously./ We pray to the Lord.

In the winter time,/ we pray for the families of the world,/ sorely stressed,/ broken,/ fearful,/ poor,/ forgotten,/ trapped./ For healing/ peace and wholeness./ We pray to the Lord.

In the Christmastime/ we celebrate the cooperation of Mary and Joseph with heaven's purposes./ We pray for those who during this Coronavirus pandemic,/ refuse to cooperate or help,/ and for the many who staff hospitals,/ who put themselves at risk./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for the millions who have fallen into poverty during this time of sickness,/ who are food insecure,/ or who risk eviction./ For those who feel no cause for joy at Christmas./ We pray to the Lord.

As the New Year approaches,/ we pray for the nation and the world to rediscover kindness and solidarity where it has been lost./ We pray for those who have died this past year,/ mindful that many have died untimely deaths by sickness and violence./ We pray for those who carry sadness into the New Year./ We pray to the Lord.

The Stable

 

Hans Miultscher ~ Wings of the Wurzach Altar ~ 1437

And in a time like this

how celebrate his birth

when all things fall apart?

Ah! Wonderful it is

with no room on the earth

the stable is our heart.

Madeline L'Engle

You'll want to read this in the Advent Time

This statue (1520) is titled, Maria in der Hoffnung (Expectant Mary). It is found in the Liebieghaus Sculpture Museum, Frankfurt, Germany. It is Advent Mary. The Gospel reading at Mass on December 18th, begins:

The birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child of the Holy Spirit..." Matthew 1:18.

But while stumbling upon this beautifully preserved polychromed statue, I also came upon an online article I think many of us will be interested in reading. Click on the link and don't allow yourself to be discouraged, "Oh, this is too deep for me." If I can read and understand this article (some paragraphs I had to read twice), so can you. Read carefully, America!

"Pre-natal screening can lead to 'moral ugliness' of aborting disabled"

Intercessions ~ Fourth Sunday of Advent

 

With grateful hearts/ we pray blessings for the many people who worked to create the new Coronavirus vaccine/ and the many who are delivering it across the country./ We pray as well that the first world countries would not buy up all the available vaccine/ depriving the poorest parts of the world of life-saving medicine./ We pray to the Lord.

There is a serious food crisis in our country,/ with one in seven adults and one in six children experiencing food insecurity./ May we find the idea of a hungry child to be intolerable./ We pray to the Lord.

This past week marked the 8th anniversary of the Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre/ in which 20 children and 8 adults died./ For the comforting of those whose mourning remains painful and deep./ May our nation have the mind of Christ./ We pray to the Lord.

There is a long list of countries where being a Christian can mean arrest,/ harassment,/  destruction,/ imprisonment,/ even death./ We pray for those who suffer for the name Christian./ May we take nothing for granted./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for those who are away from loved ones at Christmas./ For those who are lonely,/ feeling insecure or afraid./ For those who will work in hospitals,/ nursing homes or hospices at Christmas./ We pray to the Lord.

We ask blessings for our new President and Vice President/ and all who were recently elected to public office./ May they be agents of reconciliation/ who promote the well being of all./ For the healing of our country burdened with resentment./ We pray to the Lord.

For those who have died since last Christmas,/ mindful that more than 300,000 persons have died in our country from Coronavirus this year./ We pray to the Lord.

In the atmosphere of the Guadalupe - looking more deeply

 

The Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe was this past week — December 12. The great pilgrimage, photographed above, (folks in the hundreds of thousands, walking from all over Mexico to Tepeyac) didn't take place this year because of Covid restrictions. So they celebrated in their home parishes and virtually. We might linger in the Guadalupe atmosphere a few moments. Do you know the full story?

Sr. Donna Korba, IHM summarized it in an online article in 2007

The year is 1521. Mexico City (the capital of the Aztec Empire) is conquered. An entire culture is annihilated, a people is stripped of her dignity and a nation is destroyed. It is one of the darkest moments in the history of America. The conquerors: the Spanish. The conquered: the Aztec Indigenous. 

Over the next ten years, Franciscan missionaries arrive and would begin the conversion of a conquered nation to Spanish Catholicism. Among the first converts is an indigenous man Singing Eagle and his wife. They take their baptismal names of Juan Diego and Maria Lucia. 

Eventually, Juan Diego becomes a childless widower and moves in with an elderly uncle nearer to Mexico City. On his way to Saturday dawn Mass he has his first encounter with the Lady who meets him standing on the ground in a kind of golden mist. These are the words of her first instruction to him.

"Know and be certain in your heart, that I am the ever Virgin holy Mary, Mother of the God of Great Truth (Teolt), of the One through whom we live, the creator of all persons, the Lord of Heaven and Earth. I very much desire that my hermitage be erected in this place. In it I will show and give to all people all my love, my compassion, my help, and my protection, because I am your merciful Mother and the Mother of all nations that live on this earth who would love me and who would place their confidence in me. I will hear their laments and cure all their miseries, misfortunes, and sorrows."  

Of course, like Mary Magdalene on Easter morning, and Bernadette of Lourdes and the children of Fatima, when attempting to deliver the Lady's message to the Spanish bishop, he is distrusted and hassled. 

Sr. Donna Korba continues, summarizing the message. It is a revolutionary message—Gospel-like in the change it invites.

The message she (the Lady) wanted delivered. Build me a home at Tepeyac in America where pilgrims can come and know themselves as my children and know me as their mother. Build me a home at Tepeyac in America where there are no conquerors and no conquered, only the possibility of a New World and a New humanity. Build me a home at Tepeyac in America where the powerful will be brought low and the lowly will be raised up and where all my children will live as brothers and sisters."

Notice, the Lady the asks for a home. She asks for a new world and new kind of humanity. A humanity of reversals, as she sings about in her Magnificat. No more, this people over that people. She uses the word all four times: all persons, all people, all my love, all nations. Pretty incredible, isn't it? What are the implications?

"Build me a home." Yet we disparage, frighten, threaten, mistreat (even the children) of those who would come here, to this land of troubled, immigrant peoples. Mary asks for a home, anticipating the words of the one with whom she is pregnant, "When I was a stranger, you welcomed me." Matthew 25:35.

Pope John Paul II was elected pope in October 1978. Two months later he visited Guadalupe (his first trip outside of Rome) and declared her to be the patroness of this hemisphere. John Paul was the one who spoke "America" in the singular, absent the North, South, Central divisive distinctions. Stunning really! 

Sister Donna ends with the following prayer, which I would suggest is best in expressing the unsentimental meaning of the Guadalupe.

Our Lady of Guadalupe of Tepeyac, the Mountain of the Beatitudes in America, the place of the Incarnation in America.

Our Lady of Guadalupe of Tepeyac, the place where the lowly, the poor, the meek and the persecuted are raised up and the mighty are brought low.

Our Lady of Guadalupe, woman of mestizo face, symbol of America, symbol of a New World and a New Church where there are no oppressors and no oppressed, only sisters and brothers in Christ.

Five hundred years ago, in 1531, you appeared to Juan Diego, in the darkest moments of American history. In 2007 (2020-2021) you come to us in difficult times as well. You come expecting, pregnant with hope as you came to your cousin Elizabeth in Luke's' Gospel.

You come requesting a home in our hearts and a place in our lives as you requested a home in the time of Juan Diego. We have lost a sense of the dignity of life. We have lost a sense of the dignity of the lives of those who are different from us and those yet to be born.

Touch our hearts. Teach us once again the message of peace, love, life and unity. Give us the courage once again to be a New Church, to be brothers and sisters to all the Juan Diegos of our time—to all the Juan Diegos of our day. Teach us to live as your children, as brothers and sisters to each other with you as our Mother, Sister, Example, and Friend. Mary of Guadalupe, pray for us.

 

"Take the log out of your own eye first."

 

39 He also told them a parable: "Can a blind man lead a blind man? Will they not both fall into a pit? 40 A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone when he is fully taught will be like his teacher. 41 Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? 42 Or how can you say to your brother, 'Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your eye,' when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother's eye." Luke 6:39-42

There's nothing mysterious about Jesus' plain spoken teaching here. I entered religious life in 1969, a small Franciscan community in the throws of the renewal that followed the Vatican Council. This community had just stopped the practice of  Culpa Chapter—the public declaring of each others' negligences and faults. "Brother Martin talked in the dormitory after lights out." "Brother Cyril broke a cup in the kitchen and didn't declare it." "Brother David is seen in the company of Brother Francis too often." "Brother Luke takes seconds without asking permission." It made for a very neurotic, suspicious way of life. There was nothing interior about it—just accusing others of breaches of outer religious rules. Jesus would have a field day!

Here's a funny aside. When you broke or ruined something (a dish, a book, a pair of muddy sandals, a bent fork) you had to bring it to the chapter of faults if you intended to declare your own offense against poverty. One day a brother brought a toilet seat to the chapter, as he had broken it. Everyone laughed and understood how ridiculous the whole thing was. That was the last culpa chapter. But religion can get like that—petty and minding everyone else and losing one's own self-observing Christ-Center. In these gospel verses, Jesus says effectively, "Cut it out." 

Verse 39: Jesus gives us the little picture of one blind man taking off another blind man for a walk. Both will wind up in trouble. Imagine two people of low conscience (low consciousness) conspiring. Both are headed for a downfall. I'm thinking of troublemakers in the small parish, who put their heads together and don't even see themselves and how destructive of community they are—what spoilers! 

Verse 40: "...but everyone when he/she is fully taught..." Did I ever pay attention to those Christ words? Do I allow myself to be taught? The word is docile. It comes from the Latin docere—to teach. Instead of saying to myself, "Oh yeah, of course I'm teachable," I might pull up from the back of my mind when it was that I last listened long enough to what someone else had to say that I took it to heart and changed course. I sometimes wonder if docility (teachable-ness) is dead.

Verse 41: Jesus asks a question: why do we do this—see the faults of others and not our own? Jesus asks a question; he wants an answer, not an argument. Does it have to do with our fearing vulnerability, that a crack in our facade will be revealed, that someone will not like us, that we'll be perceived as a loser? In a homily at the start of Lent I once suggested that spouses ask each other, "What should I do for Lent?" One rather upset woman got in my face at the door — no way was she going to take the risk of asking her husband what she should do for Lent? Maybe he'd suggest giving up so much time gossiping about the parish on the phone? Stop trying to be so impressive? 

Verse 42: One translation uses the word, "plank" — take the plank out of your own eye first. But I think log is better. Jesus has a sense of humor. Log is funnier than plank. He knows how we are. I put up a picture of a log pile here. Jesus speaks in the singular, but truth be told, we can carry a whole pile of logs in our eyes. Judgments, assessments about everyone and everything. And some of those judgments can be very old. Remember, when a tree is cut, we can count the rings revealing how old the tree is — a ring for every year. I saw a tree slice once that had well over 1000 rings. Old tree — old resentments. A lifetime of judging and resenting! But again this gospel is about seeing ourselves first. "Why do you see...?"

"You hypocrite..." The Greek word hypocrite means actor. When religion doesn't take me inside to self-knowledge and the awareness of new direction and evolution, I'm just an actor on a stage. There was an older nun on the seminary faculty who called us all out on this one day. She said at a house meeting, "You know, you're all sitting there in chapel every morning with your prayer books on your laps with the colored ribbons set, and you're looking all around the place checking out each other's sweaters." Ouch!

Intercessions ~ Third Sunday of Advent

Francisco Zurbaran ~ St. Lucy ~ detail ~1625-1630

Sunday is the Advent feast of Saint Lucy,/ patron saint of those with eye disease./ We pray for those who are physically blind,/ or whose sight is impaired./ For ourselves and our nation,/ as our spiritual sight can be limited by arrogance,/ selfishness,/ or simply a preference to live in dark ignorance./ We pray to the Lord.

Nearly 300,000 Americans have died of coronavirus./ We pray for them and their sad relatives and friends./ We pray for those who still refuse to adhere to the simplest health recommendations./ For front line workers—doctors,/ nurses,/ orderlies and hospital cleaning crews./ For health care systems which are nearing the breaking point./ We pray to the Lord.

In Advent/ we prepare to celebrate the birth of the one we call Savior./ So we pray to be freed of all the false saviors we can adore:/ consumerism,/ partisanship and devotion to our candidates,/ religious fundamentalism,/ false patriotism,/ even secularism/ where we fail to pay attention to God in the decisions we make./ We pray to the Lord.

Even after Election Day,/ our divisions and discontent seem to persist and deepen./ We ask for gifts of healing./ May we learn to trust again./ We pray to the Lord.

May the newly elected,/ preparing to assume public office,/ be people of sound mind,/ good character and good faith./ May they set out to be servant-friends to the many Americans who are falling behind./ We pray to the Lord.

As the cold time descends,/ we pray for those who are out of work,/ who are threatened with evictions or foreclosures,/ who are food insecure,/ uninsured,/ feeling stressed and burdened./  We ask for a nation which helps people to feel safe and well./ We pray to the Lord.

Give gifts of life and light to the many who have died since last Christmas,/ those who have died of this pandemic,/ in wars,/ or the frequent disasters that have occurred this past year./ For the many around the world who are dying of loneliness and neglect./ We pray to the Lord.

Bemused Guadalupe

 

Retablo de la Virgen Indigena ~ J. Michael Walker ~ 1995

Months before Pope John Paul II proclaimed the Virgin Mary Guadalupe to be Patroness of our Hemisphere, my parish placed a beautifully framed photograph copy of Juan Diego's tilma in a wide niche in our church. Father Elizondo's hand lettered Guadalupe Litany was placed left and right of the image. The shrine quickly became a much-visited place of candle-lighting and prayer. Some weeks after the shrines creation, I visited an elderly parishioner at her home, and in the conversation said, "Have you seen the new Guadalupe Shrine in our church?" She answered, "Oh, I don't even go back there; she's for the Mexicans." Kind of pathetic, heh — a long lifetime of being Catholic and still thinking like that.

Now I have stumbled on (and am eager to share with the folks here) this remarkable, contemporary depiction of the Virgin Mary Guadalupe. She's not a Euro-Guadalupe. Nor should she be. The Virgin Mary appeared to Juan Diego, an Aztec Native whose people had been conquered by Europeans. Maybe this parishioner I've referenced would say, "Oh she's too dark. She's too Mexican. She looks Aztec and they were pagans." I love this Guadalupe because she looks like the people to whom she appeared. 

I also love her for her bemused look. Bemused means: puzzled, perplexed, bewildered, confused. A bemused smile can show confusion or the inability to think clearly. A bemused person can be shaken at what she/he is experiencing.

Is this Guadalupe looking to the side where she sees more than 650 of her Mexican children still separated from their parents at our border? Some are toddlers whose parents cannot be found.

Is this Guadalupe bemused at all the persistent, angry fuss over DREAMers:

"In the last few years, "DREAMer" has been used to describe young undocumented immigrants who were brought here to the United States as children, who have lived and gone to school here, and who in many cases identify as American. The term DREAMer originally took its name from the bill in Congress, but it has a double meaning about the undocumented youth who have big hopes and dreams for a better future."  

Is this Guadalupe bemused at the hateful words used to describe her Mexican children? Even though these are the people who are the aching backbone of our fruit and vegetable food supply. Every berry, every head of lettuce, every bunch of grapes...

Is this Guadalupe bemused at the distracting obsession to build a border wall, accompanied by threats, instead of building relationships with the people to whom she appeared? The whole Guadalupe story is about building relationships — as is every page of the Gospel.

Is this Guadalupe bemused by our racism, nasty name-calling, color-obsession, suspicion and resentment?  Is she bemused at the world's treatment of women and girls whose work holds the world together?

Some years ago I was part of an after-Mass conversation about Mexico and its troubles. Someone chimed in, "As long as they're legal." I suppose that's as legitimate a question as any other, but it's not a Gospel question. Jesus never asks anyone about their legality. The only question Jesus would ask is, "Are you hungry? Are you thirsty? Do you need a place to stay? Do your kids need clothes? Do you need a friend? Are you sick? What can I do for you?"  

How does someone live Catholic-Christianity 40, 50, 60, 70, 80 years, and still not get this?

Bemused Guadalupe, pray for us.!

What Remains ~ Indeed, Flourishes?

The title question here is important, "What remains ~ Indeed Flourishes?" It is a searching question: What remains after the McCarrick report? or What remains after the national contention of the past four, petulant White House years that overflows into today? or What remains after Coronavirus?  

What remains after addiction? What remains after bankruptcy? What remains after cancer? What remains after betrayal? What remains after profound disappointment? What remains after perhaps losing my childhood faith? 

Nearby, this small white rose remains (a little more than an inch across) on a now winter-hibernating bush. There have been freezing nights lately and cold, buffeting rain, but the rose  remains, inexplicably intact. Better than simply intact, the flower is flawlessly white, soft, delicate, full-blooming. The flower flourishes above the spotted, mildewed, seasonally finished leaves. Look at your life and I, mine. There are so many factors which might have spelled a failed life: addiction, disappointment, failure, loss, abuse...

The little, last remaining rose, got my attention—I'm on my feet these many years, leaning in, looking for what is genuinely of God in an inner itinerancy, which means, being attentive to how each day, each hour, each minute, holds an exquisite surprise. The word exquisite comes from the Latin, exquirere—to seek or search out.  Exquisite describes something that is particularly lovely, beautiful, excellent, flawless, deeply sensitive, perfected. Something is exquisite when it's understood in its subtlety, when it is uncommonly appealing, delicate, tasteful or fine. "On my toes" to detect the exquisite can be my way of life. I would suggest it is the spiritual life lived deeply. Jesus often calls us to awakeness, which is the realm of grace. Grace is not a commodity, a thing to be stockpiled, like the nation's silly stocking of toilet paper and paper towels.The priest-monk Gabriel Bunge, in his book on the Rublev Trinity icon, speaks of grace as God's sharing God's energies and illumination. We don't collect grace, but live in it!

For me, this encounter is shared sitting in front of my boyhood icon of the (Donskaya) Mother of God (below), or walking through the neighborhood learning the seemingly endless loveliness of trees (like the Japanese Red Cedar pictured above, which I came across recently). 

Here we are, early in another Advent. I want to stand on inner-tiptoe where I realize I am not a victim to the insanity of the past or of this day—the decay, the disappointment, the ugliness, the fury, the lies. Rather, something remains, even flourishes within—this capacity to anticipate and live in the exquisite. You too!

 

Intercessions ~ Second Sunday of Advent

St. Nicholas ~ Patron of Children

2020 has been a year of disease,/ death./ and disappointment./ As that year draws to its close,/  may we hope for a new year of health,/ cooperation,/ truth,/ a return to decency, and goodness/ - a year of light./ We pray to the Lord.

On the Feast of St. Nicholas,/ the patron saint of children,/ we pray for the hungry children,/ the abused and trafficked children,/ the children of war zones,/ the children separated from parents,/ the pre-born children,/ the children of special needs,/ the children in our own lives. We pray to the Lord.

Monday is Pearl Harbor Day/ - that day which brought the United States into the Second World War./ A weaponized world seems to beg for war./ We pray boldly for a new world/ where growing food,/ educating and protecting children,/ healing disease/ and lifting up the poorest are our first priorities./ We pray to the Lord.

Chanukah,/  the Jewish feast of light,/ begins on Friday./ We pray for our Jewish friends and neighbors./ We ask for the conversion of hearts/ which rejects  anti-semitism/ and amy stereotyping of persons/ causing heartache and loss./ We pray to the Lord. 

An autumn flock of geese,/ assumes its classic V formation by instinct./ As the higher life form,/ may we consciously embrace the simplest practices/ which help to save lives during this coronavirus pandemic./ And let us pray again for the heroic doctors and nurses fighting  bravely to save lives./ We pray to the Lord. 

Many of the animals,/ the trees and other plants/ are resting now./ As the holiday time is here,/ may we be spiritually wise,/ and not lost to exhausted,/ frenzied living./ May we be attentive to those who are lonely and forgotten./ We pray to the Lord.

May I See Myself

 

This icon of the Mother of God is found in the Church of Nativity at Bethlehem. Here, we see some of the pilgrims who have lined up to venerate the icon. There is a glass over the icon to protect it from lipstick, smudged hands, incense smoke and candle soot. But the glass provides another possibility. Did you notice, the glass acts as a mirror. The fellow who is second in line, sees himself even before he sees the icon. There it is: when I approach the holy, I see myself, invited to ask the essential question before God — Who am I?

I can settle for a host of exterior identifiers, some silly: I am an American, a parishioner, a denomination, the wearer of brands and labels, my likes and dislikes, a Democrat/Republican/Independent, a consumer, the driver of this or that vehicle,  who abides at this address, my credit card limits, my stock portfolio, the roles I assume. Nah!

Here's a little meditation. I might imagine myself taking a place on the pilgrim line. And when I find myself at the head of the line, perhaps with candle in hand and a prayer to see myself clearly by its light,  I ask...

Who am I? 

I am imagined into existence,

conceived,

brought to birth,

passed through water a second time,

en-spirited,

gifted.

I am

God's child,

mirrored in divine eyes,

Christ's friend and sibling,

Mary's dear one,

treasured.

I am

without a mask,

known,

still standing and

leaned in, in a world of woes.

I am

an interior world,

forgiven and freed,

held up,

held close, 

watched, but by loving eyes.

I am

spent and frayed,

healed and healing,

understood, 

trusted,

invited,

created for light,

awaking.