It's A Beautiful Day!

This day marks so many things. They all point to joy. They all cause me to feel gratitude beyond imaging. 

Talk about a sacramental marriage... This is all about marrying a person, a family, a parish, a community, a world.

There is so much to be grateful for... It is all gift. Mark, Erica, Gracie, Boo-boo, my friends and neighbors, my new career - such as it is. All gift. All joy. All. It is also all so unlikely.

And yet - Here. We. Are.

The Lord is My Shepherd, There is Nothing I Shall Want - A Reflection on Good Shepherd Sunday

I wanted to write something evocative for this Sunday's Gospel; short though it is, there is much meaning.

Jesus said:
“My sheep hear my voice;
I know them, and they follow me.
I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish.
No one can take them out of my hand.
My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all,
and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand.
The Father and I are one.”

Nothing wise has seemed to come - so much for my homiletic skills!

Then today I got into a conversation over on my personal Facebook page, about liturgical music. Someone that I have affection for noted that she did not like Marty Haugen's music. This got me to thinking about one of my favorite hymns, Haugen's Shepherd Me O God. I really love this piece of music actually and you will find a video of it at the end of this post.

This got me further thinking about God as shepherd and how we hear God's voice.

When I was far from church, but still interested in some kind of relationship with God, I had an experience, that I can see today, was my shepherd calling out to me.

I used to travel a lot, this was in 1986 or so. At that time, I would take a shared van service to the airport and I often had the same driver, an old African-American man. He was always quite cheerful, even at 5am, which is when I was usually in his van.

One day it turned out that I was the only passenger, so we got into quite a conversation. He told me that he began every day thanking God and ended each day the same way. This intrigued me. I am sorry to say that at that shallow point of my life, it did not occur to me to thank God very regularly.  I asked this man to say more about this and he said that he prayed and read "God's Holy Word" every morning and every night.

Hmmm... The Bible. I always had a sort of academic interest in the Bible, so I pressed on. He seemed shocked that I did not have a Bible and he urged me to go get one.  Being a book-loving person, I never needed much encouragement to go get another one!

So I did go get a Bible!  I got one off a sale table at a bookstore, a King James version (no offense KJV peeps)that was very hard for me to read. I persisted however.

The one thing that I found I could read with ease were the Psalms and the Psalm I sort of knew and read most frequently was Psalm 23. I came to read this Psalm all the time. Thus began my somewhat regular reading of Scripture.

The Lord is my shepherd - there is nothing that I shall want. I particularly love the language of the Jerusalem Bible for this psalm. (Yes, I am aware of the don't-use-Yaweh-rule, but that is this translation and I am sticking with it.)

PSALM 23
The Good Shepherd
Psalm Of David

Yahweh is my shepherd,
I lack nothing.

In meadows of green grass he lets me lie.
To the waters of repose he leads me;
there he revives my soul.

He guides me by paths of virtue
for the sake of his name.

Though I pass through a gloomy valley,
I fear no harm;
beside me your rod and your staff
are there, to hearten me.

You prepare a table before me
under the eyes of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil,
my cup brims over.

Ah, how goodness and kindness pursue me,
every day of my life;
my home, the house of Yahweh,
as long as I live!

It is really something - my heart leaps when I read it even now. Don't you love the last part, it sounds so ardent.... "goodness and kindness pursue me." It is like I am being chased!! I hear the voice of my shepherd and I recognize it. I know my shepherd and my shepherd knows me and he is calling out for me!

This reminds me of the post I had up on Friday, about time. Who knew in 1986, when that nice man told me about thanking God, that that would lead me to a Bible and that a psalm would lead me to a whole other life? 

These days I thank God every day - at the beginning and at the end and so very often in the middle. As Anne Lamott says, there are really only two prayers "help me, help me" and "thank you, thank you."
 
Today I say - The Lord is my shepherd! Thank you! Thank you!

The Full Scope of Time

"Each time human beings stand up for an ideal, or act to improve the lot of others, or strike out against injustice, they send forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance" 
Robert F. Kennedy, From a speech at the University of Capetown, South Africa, June 6, 1966  (courtesy of Inward/Outward)

We are still in the Easter season. I am not sure that I fully appreciate that as much as I would like to.  The daily readings are all full of the Acts of the Apostles and the Gospels ground us in what Jesus was saying and doing. We are in the bread of life discourse from John this week. What could be more incarnational than that?

So, what does that have to do with the Robert F. Kennedy quote that I started with?

I guess I am often reminded as I go to blogs and enter into conversations about the state of the Church today.  It is this... It is that... It is all good... It is all bad... It is right... It is wrong...

So many answers. So few questions. So much certitude. So little wisdom.

When I read this quote I was reminded of how actions in the present may not seem to have any bearing on the future. Think for a moment about Robert F. Kennedy, in Capetown in 1966; the place was seemingly intransigently steeped in apartheid. Today it is a very different place, even with its problems.

That brought me to the days following the resurrection. Please forgive my levity, but I often joke that many of us were brought up to believe that Jesus rose on the third day, vested in a fiddleback chasuble, entered a Gothic cathedral and celebrated a liturgy that was not put into practice until somewhere around the Council of Trent.

It is important to remind ourselves that those days after the resurrection were not the church we know today. The church of the Council of Trent is not the church we know today.

The Church is alive as the Church is us. What is being wrought today that we can't possibly imagine?

To be a follower of Christ is to be a ripple that forms a great wave. It is not our job to know exactly where and how the wave lands, but rather to just be in it.  And Christ brings down all the mightiest walls of resistance and oppression.

Brother Ash, Sister Flight

Recently I have been thinking about the movie, Brother Sun, Sister Moon. It is in my Netflix queue, but I keep pushing it to let other things in. It may be time for me to watch it now that I have it on my mind so much. I saw it a long time ago; I wonder what I will think of it now.

For those who are not familiar with this film, it is the story of St. Francis. The name is taken from a canticle of Francis' of that same name. If you know me, you know I love me some St. Francis. He is one of my heroes and a truly transformational person, a real agent of God.


Lately I have also been considering post-modern life and its impact on spirituality and faith. How can the post-modern condition and faith be reconciled? It seems at one level impossible and then again, quite possible. This has caused me to pull down a favorite book from the shelf, Meeting Mystery by Nathan Mitchell. Mitchell is writing about sacraments and liturgy, but very much framed in our post-modern times.

Then  I happened to read one of Richard Rohr's daily meditations entitled, "How Much Time Do I Spend Connected to Nature?" Rohr refers to Francis' ability to connect with nature in a particular way, which is made clear in the link to Rohr. To St. Francis, he had a "brother" this and a "sister" that for almost everything. He called his own body "brother ass," referring to how harshly he treated it.

All this led me to consider the contemporary plight of stranded travelers due to the plume of volcanic ash from Iceland. It is quite a reminder of the old theme of literature, man vs. nature... Guess who wins. We love to feel so master-of-the-universe-y by creating technology that can do pretty much anything in pretty much the face of everything.

But we can't fly through the cloud. And who knows how long this will last? Or even if it ends, when it will happen again?

I am also aware of how much St. Francis' was in touch with nature. In our postmodern world we like to think about nature a lot, but perhaps more as a commodity, rather than in what it is, which we are a part of.

Brother Ash. Sister Flight. How they struggle with one another in these days.

I imagine myself stranded somewhere, like maybe Paris. Part of that seems good enough, I mean, there are worse places to be stranded! On the other hand, life goes on and work must be attended to, bills paid and so forth. Not to mention, floating the expense of the Parisian extension. Airline vouchers only go so far.

This is no apocalyptic warning, this is no call to admonish our modern ways. It is just a moment to consider our contemporary plight.

We can't control everything, even if it seems we can. In the nexus of can/can't there is a space that I think is most revealing. While I find it hard to articulate just what I see there, I am called to spend some time in that space. 

I think some people may think I have lost my mind. I just wonder if at last, I haven't found it.

It seems to me that God does not call us to be Luddites, but rather calls us to be who we are in the world that we have around us. That may invite us to some, pardon the irresistible pun, deus ex machina moment, who knows.

(That last line was completely unnecessary wasn't it?)

Doing Old Things in a New Way

This Sunday's Gospel is from John chapter 21. Peter and the others have made their way back to the Sea of Tiberias, in Galilee after Jesus' death. I guess they are kind of lost after all that they have been through, so they return to the familiar.

However, Jesus death and resurrection is about transformation! It is about returning to the familiar, but doing some old things in a completely new way.

Peter, as we know, which is a great hope for all of us, does not catch on so quickly. So he goes and does the one thing he knows how to do... Fish.

Sadly, the fishing trip is a bit of a bust and the apostles end up with empty nets. As we know that our Scriptures are not to be read just literally, we must turn our attention to what is being said.

After knowing Jesus, we can't just go back to the same old same old. And if we do go back to it, we surely can't keep doing things the same way that we once did.

As they head back into shore, they encounter a man on the beach grilling some fish. It is not a surprise, that apostles do not recognize who this is... It is Jesus, the Risen Lord.

And this Risen Lord tells them to simply try the net on the other side. A subtle but essential difference, cast your net to the other side. Which is what they do and which is what fills their net to near bursting!

We are in a crisis as a Church. Reading and praying with this weekend's Scriptures make me wonder what we as Church are called to change. In other words, how can we do some old things in a new way?

This link brings you to the Diocese of Knoxville website. The Bishop of Knoxville, Bishop Richard Stika has a press release and there is a video available. As it happens, someone who was harmed by a priest had come forth and Bishop Stika is making a statement.

That in and of itself is not so unusual. He is doing the same old thing... but he is doing it in a new way. Bishop Stika is doing an old thing in a very new way.

He is being completely humble, self-effacing and transparent. Read on:

Last week when I spoke to the media about the topic of clergy sexual abuse, I was not aware of a credible allegation against any priest in the Diocese of Knoxville.

Knowing how difficult it is for a victim of sexual abuse to come forward, I want to personally thank Mr. Warren Tucker for his courage in bringing this allegation to our attention [on April 14]. I know that SNAP has been working with Mr. Tucker and I appreciate their assistance.

Stika acknowledges that he knows just how difficult it is for a victim of clerical sexual abuse to come forward. He lauds the victim's courage. And then he thanks SNAP, an organization that often has a contentious relationship with the institutional church. The video of the statement and a subsequent press conference is below. It is worth a look, even if you just watch the beginning.

Many Catholics I know want to do one of the following about the current crisis in the church:

• Strike out at any critics and blame the NY Times and other media for bias
• Blame a so-called "homosexual element" in the priesthood
• Blame celibacy
• Somehow conflate the two prior items
• Leave the Church
• Blame women
• Blame the radical nuns
• Want to ordain women
• Blame the liberals
• Blame the conservatives
• Blame Vatican II
• All of the above

It is so ridiculous to think that any one of these things, some of which are completely erroneous, would change anything.

No, what we have to do is find new ways to do old things. We have just been through the Resurrection... are we transformed or not? Can we all find new ways to do old things?

And we should be very mindful to recognize the Lord, in places likely and unlikely, helping us to find and put these very changes into place. We ask Jesus for help all the time, but really, He is just waiting for us to notice... and to act.



Press Conference, The Diocese of Knoxville, April 15, 2010, Bishop Richard F. Stika from patrick murphy-racey on Vimeo.

Lazy River of Consciousness Post

It has been a whirlwind of a time. Events go tumbling by like objects in the tornado scene of the Wizard of Oz. That may just be me feeding my inner Dorothy - in this chapter of my life I feel like I had a hard landing, but ended up in the right place.  Unlike Dorothy though, I don't need to go home - I'm here.

So this is not exactly a stream of consciousness and not a puddle of it either, so I shall deem it the lazy river of consciousness post!

Oh the Facebook posts and the emails and the phone calls. I initiate many of them myself, for good or ill. Such sturm und drang in these times. While I initiate much of the conversation, I am put off by it. Anyone who has read my work for a long time or a short time knows how "both/am" I can be.

"Both/and" means I do not think that the Roman Church is good or bad, I think it is both, very clearly both.  We all know we live in sound-byte world, in a world of absolutes and as result we want things to be one thing or the other. Don't worry, for all of my own both/and professing, I suffer from the same thing.

And God knows we want to be right - at all costs we want to be right. Once I gave up being right for Lent. I wish I could give up being right for my whole life!

We want to be in community, but we want to be in community with those that are like minded. That is a nice thought, but a tough reality - not to mention that it is not real community. We want unity, but unity means mixing it up with those of other points of view and ideas. It kind of sucks, but that is how it goes.

Community - common good, common union. These are not popular thoughts, are they?

Community and unity require some surrender and flexibility. Honestly, I don't have the stomach for it, but in my "both/and" world, I don't know what other choice it is. I can't join the tea party; I have even less stomach for that.

On Monday night I went to a talk given at a local college.  It was given by Dr. Jyoti Swaminathan and it was a Hindu perspective on Conversion and Transformation. I sat in a room at a Catholic inspired college - not a room,but an interfaith chapel, filled with Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus and who knows what else. I listened to this brilliant and passionate woman talk about religious experience and transformation in a truly humble but brilliant way.

And she was not trying to convert anyone... but I think she was trying to transform them. It got me to thinking about how converting someone is not very both/and, but that transformation is very much so.

In any case, I find some reassurance in that thought... transformation.

(For what it is worth, last night I went to a journalism class at another college, a Catholic college, at the invitation of one of the professors who is also a local journalist and news anchor Benita Zahn; she is also a good friend. It was a taping of a panel discussion on ethics. Other participants were Michael Brannigan, Ph.D., Sean Philpot, Ph. D., Anne Grenchus, and Fr. Dennis Tamburello, OFM, Ph.D.

It was fascinating and I left with thoughts of forced H1N1 inoculations, end of life decisions and legal vs. moral dancing in my overstimulated brain.

Today I awoke to find this essay about abuse on The Episcopal Cafe. While the author of the essay, Rev. Ann Fontaine and I do not always agree, we do agree on a lot of things. And we seem to have found many creative and bountiful ways to agree to disagree about other things. That to me is what community is really about. We are working it out as we go along, committed to more than just being right. I tend to suck at this, but folks like Ann keep me moving along.

I take no joy in reading Ann's essay... Abuse is tragic and wrong in any context. I do however welcome the thoughts that it is not just a celibate or gay issue and that the presence of women matters. Thank you Ann.

In any case, there is much to ponder in our world, no? I awoke on Tuesday and flew into a rage. By the end of the day I was knocked dumbstruck by the remarkable nature of the world and the people in it. Even those I don't want to love, perhaps especially because of those I do not want to love.

None of it is easy, but I shall muddle along, trying to work it all out.

Are you coming with me?

A Study in Doubt - Second Sunday of Easter 2010

It is the Second Sunday of Easter and we have such great readings to pray with. I always like to remind people that Easter is not over on Easter Sunday... We have 50 days of Easter, all the way to Pentecost. It is easy to want to move on, but let us luxuriate in this liturgical season. (Fr. Bosco Peters is a tireless evangelizer of the 50 days of Easter.)

I love the juxtaposition of the First Reading from Acts 5:12-16 and the Gospel of John 20:19-31.

In the Acts reading, we find that people are responding to the Apostles in a big way.

Many signs and wonders were done among the people
at the hands of the apostles.
They were all together in Solomon’s portico.
None of the others dared to join them, but the people esteemed them.
Yet more than ever, believers in the Lord,
great numbers of men and women, were added to them.
Thus they even carried the sick out into the streets
and laid them on cots and mats
so that when Peter came by,
at least his shadow might fall on one or another of them.

The people clearly see and believe in all that is happening... so much so that they would even be happy if Peter's shadow fell upon them.

Peter- remember him? Our hapless, denying, abandoning Peter? I am not mocking him... No, I am pointing out that there is hope for all of us. I got into a bit of a spat in an ugly comment chain on a blog the other day. Someone compared someone to Peter in a most negative way. I suggested that if this person were like Peter, great things could be in store for them!

So here we have the believing throngs of people, looking for salvation, healing and peace.

Now the Gospel tells us a different story.  The apostles are in a locked room. Let's face it - they were afraid. And with good reason, they were in the middle of a lot of controversy.

Then who comes in - locks mean nothing to him... Jesus the Lord.  He enters in among them and says "Peace be with you."

It has been said so many times and ways, including by me - he could have said "Thanks for nothing, losers!" No, he offers peace.

Last year I wrote about how Jesus lead with his wounds. What strikes me this year however, is the contrast between the great belief of the crowds and the fear of the apostles and the doubt of Thomas, specifically.

It is interesting to consider that people would have been happy with Peter's shadow falling upon them.

And yet, Thomas has to go poking his whole hand into Jesus' wound. That gives one a reason to pause, ponder and pray.

The other thing that really comes home for me is that Jesus is there, flesh and wounds. Jesus came to us in human form and Jesus comes back, still remarkably human and wounded.

It is really all about the body. Incarnation.

Incarnation... Incarnation... Flesh. Made of Flesh. Flesh. Body. Incarnation.

Yet we seem to have been at war with flesh for a long, long time. It is quite a conundrum.

I love the image of Thomas poking his hand in there. I am squeamish as all get out. Yet, there he was. We are puritanical about touching and yet, Thomas is very hands on. We should be appropriate. God knows that being inappropriate has the Church and world on fire right about now. But one can be touching and appropriate.

However, we tend to go all one way or the other and that means denying the body more than being in the body. It is kind of sad to me... and I say this as a person who has a hard time with her own body.

In any case, I have rambled on a bit longer than I planned to, but I hope you can see the contrasts of belief and doubt and of flesh and fear.

What strikes you in these readings? What makes you feel glad to be alive in your body? Or what makes you feel just the opposite?

(Here is a humorous image of "doubting Thomas Kinkade." I hope that you enjoy it!)

Easter Vigil 2010 - He Is Risen!

We had a wonderful vigil at our parish. The flowers were gorgeous, the candles were waiting to be lit. Everyone was ready and happy to be there. Many of us were in constant motion with preparation.

Then it was outside, the Holy Fire was lit. Earlier in the day a fire was started with a magnifying glass and the sun and the flame was transferred to a candle; that candle started the bonfire. Every candle will be lit from that flame, which will be kept alive all year - for everything from daily mass, to the Sanctuary Light in the Reservation Chapel, to funerals and special feasts.

We entered the church in darkness and heard the Exultet sung beautifully by our pastor, Fr. Pat. The lights came up partially and we heard many readings, interwoven with beautiful sung psalms.

Then the Gloria - which raised the roof off the church and the final reading of the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans, which I was privileged to read.

We had 3 baptisms and a number of communions and confirmations; it was beautiful and alive and filled with the spirit of the Risen Lord.

Our choir outdid themselves yet again, as they had done on Holy Thursday and Good Friday.

Jesus Christ is Risen today! Sing alleluia! Let the alleluia echo in your heart and may you be transformed. Then go and transform the world in the name of Jesus!

Easter 2010

Limbo
by Sister Mary Ada

The ancient greyness shifted
Suddenly and thinned
Like mist upon the moors
Before a wind.
An old, old prophet lifted
A shining face and said:
“He will be coming soon.
The Son of God is dead;
He died this afternoon.”
A murmurous excitement stirred
All souls.
They wondered if they dreamed –
Save one old man who seemed
Not even to have heard.
And Moses, standing,
Hushed them all to ask
If any had a welcome song prepared.
If not, would David take the task?
And if they cared
Could not the three young children sing
The Benedicite, the canticle of praise
They made when God kept them from perishing
In the fiery blaze?
A breath of spring surprised them,
Stilling Moses’ words.
No one could speak, remembering
The first fresh flowers,
The little singing birds.
Still others thought of fields new ploughed
Or apple trees
All blossom-boughed.
Or some, the way a dried bed fills
With water
Laughing down green hills.
The fisherfolk dreamed of the foam
On bright blue seas.
The one old man who had not stirred
Remembered home.
And there He was
Splendid as the morning sun and fair
As only God is fair.
And they, confused with joy,
Knelt to adore
Seeing that He wore
Five crimson stars
He never had before.
No canticle at all was sung
None toned a psalm, or raised a greeting song,
A silent man alone
Of all that throng
Found tongue –
Not any other.
Close to His heart
When the embrace was done,
Old Joseph said,
“How is Your Mother,
How is Your Mother, Son?”

Stories from the Mount of Olives

The taxi dropped me off at Dominus Flevit. It was a hot day at the end of May 2006; the morning sun was already baking the Mount of Olives. The taxi driver was a bit rude; he wanted to take me to Bethany; I did not want to go. He persisted, so I finally I just ignored him and I did not like that.

Exiting the taxi I went into the church. A cat was running around, skittering here and there, seeming to play with an imaginary cat toy; it was not a cute cat, it was too lean and hungry.

A Franciscan came along - he seemed very agitated and and started to yell at the cat; my prayer was interrupted by his angry words. I don't even know what language it was. I started to ask him a question and he scowled, said something and left.

I sighed deeply, once again reminded that I could not "create" religious experience just because I was in a particular place or because I wanted to. You'd think I would know that already. I do know it, but I am persistent in my pursuits, so I guess I keep hoping.

After taking a photo through the window behind the altar, I left and made my way down the hill, passing the gold domes of the Church of Mary Magdalene. This was my second trip down the road; I was there in 2004 too. This church is intriguing, but only open at certain times; once again my timing was off.



In front of the Magdalene church complex gate, there was a man with a white mule. He smiled at me, I smiled at him. He said, "Peek-CHOOR?" Yes, I could take his picture. He posed and after I snapped, he put out his hand and offered me a toothless smile. *sigh* Some shekels and I parted company and he smiled again. I kept going down the hill.

My next stop was The Garden of Gethsemane. The trees are ancient and gnarled, standing like sentinels. The quiet was penetrating, no one else was there. After some time in the garden,  wondering about Jesus praying there so many years ago, I entered the Church of All Nations. 

If there is something bizarre to me about Jerusalem, but maybe not, it is that finding a time and place to go to mass is a challenge.  So I entered the church and in the dark silence of the entrance, I scanned a sign and it did appear that mass would start soon.

The church was cool, dry and dim. I sat down, no one was there. A group of tourists came in, I think that they were Polish. They were noisy, running around, touching things and having animated conversations.

What was it about creating religious experience that I did not understand? This was religious experience, just not one that I could control.

They left and soon thereafter a priest entered. He went to the altar and I thought that mass would begin. He looked about 35 and was wearing a cassock; he went to the altar table, then to the chair, where he sat and prayed.  Eventually he left and once more, I realized that another plan of mine was foiled. No mass. I felt angry.

Some other people came in and out, groups of 4 and 5, from different countries. There were some very loud Asian people who went up on the altar and took photos of each other. My inner hanging judge was on high alert.

Creating religious experience again, not accepting what was. A theme.

Then they sat down and became very still. One of them, a woman, went over to the rock where Jesus is thought to have prayed and sweated blood, and she lay down up on it.  I pretended to pray with my eyes closed, but I was actually watching her. She prayed and stayed there a long time and I thought about how I would never do that. I must admit that I thought this with an air of superiority. That's how Ms. Planned Religious Experience rolls. How annoying I am - to myself.

They left and I remained, a tightly wound ball of control issues, anger and judgment. Nothing worked. Maybe I should have gone to Bethany after all.

My eyes closed and I went into my favorite form of contemplative prayer - sleep.

About 15 minutes later I awoke with a start and I knew what I had to do. I got up and walked up to the altar and turned around; the church was empty. Next thing I know, I am on my knees next to the rock.  A moment later, I am draped across the rock and I begin to weep.

Yes, I myself am laying on the rock and I am now sobbing uncontrollably. In my heart and through my tears, I hear myself making a promise and a big one at that. As I literally press my entire body, shaking through the tears as it is, against the rock, I hear myself saying that I am giving my whole life to God.

I don't really want to be saying this at some level, but I am saying it nonetheless. And I know I do not want to say it because it is true and I can't bear it.  It is true and I can't bear and I do not want to be saying it, yet at the same time I begin to feel a weight lift and I feel some tremendous relief.

Then I realize that I am in a public place, flat upon a rock, crying and sobbing, on an altar for God's sake. I get very still, just staying where I am. It reminds me of when I was little and would not want to be seen. Back then it seemed that if I got really quiet and really small no one would see me.

Of course, I was not little or small so I simply got up at one point and surveyed an empty church.

I returned to the chair I had been sitting in before and collected myself. A barrier had been broken; I had made it clear to God that I was in. Buyer's remorse danced around the edges of my consciousness. I mean, I was already more religiously inclined than most. This was different however, very different.

It was also too late to turn back.