Rich In What Matters To God

(My part II to my story comes slowly. I put this up at my Church blog and am putting it here too.)

Humility. Dignity. Generosity. These may not be words that you automatically associate with the Middle East. For many reasons, images from that part of the world often portray anger, hatred, death, oppression.

In 2006 I had the great opportunity to visit Jordan. When I was there I some encounters that will never leave me. The first was that the brother of a Jordanian friend who lives in the US hosted me for a week's visit. Now this man is a man of some regard, socially and financially, but that matters not. He rolled out the red carpet for me and gave to me so lavishly in ways that showed his heart and character; his wealth was not what made him who he was... It was his great presence and generosity.

The second was a woman who I met in passing. She was the restroom attendant at the Roman ruins at Jerash. It was a small, old dark restroom which she kept spotlessly clean. I'm sure she wasn't paid much and she seemed pretty elderly.  Some women from another country walked by her little tip plate and looked directly at it and laughed as I entered the room. As I left, I did put something in but what I also did was to look her directly in the eye and say "Shrukan, salaam." This means thank you and peace. Her dignity struck me so deeply at that moment; she was standing in her own presence with no sense of shame and no sense of arrogance. It was quite moving.

The third encounter was with my driver and his family. The generosity of my host had provided me with a driver and a guide and on my last day it was just the driver and me. Legendary Bedouin hospitality offered me many opportunities to get invited for tea. My driver wanted me to come to his house and meet his family and have tea also. (Bedouin hospitality is based on the idea that all guests are welcomed as God.)

His family lived in a very run down area in a very small, hot apartment. He lived there with his wife and 2 year old daughter along with his wife's sister and her twin girls who were 8. You can tell that they struggled to get by yet I was treated like royalty. I was served tea and every kind of "sweet" imaginable, all sorts of pastries and cakes. It seemed to me that everything was turned out and over in order to have me as a guest. I was struck by the notion that real hospitality does not require anything fancy - simply a most open and welcoming heart.

All three encounters defy the stereotypes we so often encounter as well as addressing some Scriptural themes.  Today's readings speak to these themes of equality, dignity, generosity and what might be rich in the eyes of God.

In the first reading from Ecclesiates, we are reminded of the downfall of vanity. This is not just about feeling all puffed up and proud. It is about the vanity of feeling like we are somehow in charge and that power, position and prestige elevate us. This is something that I know I can be guilty of; it is the bane of our culture to "get ahead." And our culture also contains no shortage of disdain for the poor.  Vanity is when we create ourselves in our own image rather than to defer to the person that God has loved into being.

The second reading from St. Paul reminds us to put aside our earthly desires and to focus on being risen in Christ. In the risen Lord we have put on our new selves and all are equal in Christ. This too remains something that is hard for our world to deal with as equality seems more a dream than a reality for so many - inside of church and out.

Luke's Gospel offers up the final challenge for us to consider when Jesus is asked about inheritance and he reminds us to "guard against greed." Then he goes further by relaying the parable of a man who stored up all his grain. This reminded me of something I recently read at the Jesuit blog, People for Others. In the post entitled Wisdom Story 22 we read about similar storing up notions. Ironically, this is an Islamic story and this post begins with the Islamic world.

What is rich in God's sight? In our hearts we know, but yet we strive for so many other things. Money, material goods, over-achievement of every sort. Yet - is this what God really asks of us? And how do we also get lost in stereotypes - both good and bad, that make us admire one person and feel disdainful of the other? And yet both are children of God, created, like ourselves, in God's own image!

There is much to ponder and pray with here as we begin a new week.

Faith in Community Part I (Subtitle, Why I Am Catholic)

(Thank you to Rev. Diane Roth for the title. Diane just used Jane Redmont's book title for a post and now I am using Diane's blog for a title... As we talk about community.)

As you can see, I did some writing as soon as I came home from the hospital and I just stopped. No reason - just focusing on healing, relaxing. I have lots of things I want to write about, but I do seem to lack some focus in actually doing so. Frankly, this whole recent event has called me to slow down, so it is not a bad thing.

To say that I was bowled over by the amount of love and support that I received and that I continue to receive, would be an understatement.  Honestly, if I had any doubt that I was much beloved and held in regard, my doubts would be over.

Words like awed, humbled, deeply moved and especially grateful come to mind.  There are many events in my life where I see grace unleashed and this is another one of those.

One thing that kept my attention, even in the depth of my worst moments was that I have lived here less than 3 years.  How could it be that in this short time I have been so richly blessed with so many friends?

Right behind that was the thought that many of my online friends, through blogging and Facebook are also in that 3 year span. Many may say that what so many of us share out here is not "real." Well, I have an argument or two for that.

Today however, I am focusing on the real-life-here-and-now portion of community, with no disrespect meant to the online component.

I very much respect that we live in a country that supports freedom of religion. You can choose to be a person of faith or not, to be an atheist, an agnostic. You can choose to join any church, for good or ill or house of worship or no house of worship.

One may choose to be spiritual but not religious and many people choose that. There is all sorts of religious sycretism abounding right now, so people might have some of this and some of that.

Sorry, not for me. I am Roman Catholic and most gratefully, joyfully so. Say what you will, and there is plenty to say, I can't imagine being part of another church and I have no regrets about where I am.

In any case, I will have more to say about this in the following days, but that is my starting point.

(to be continued...)

εὐχαριστία - Eucharistia

εὐχαριστία... Eucharistia. It comes from the Greek for thanksgiving.  Of course, Eucharist means Holy Communion to many of us. And we think we are "receiving" communion? Well, that's part of the dynamic, but we are also giving thanks.


The last food that entered my mouth for awhile, was 5 saltine crackers at noontime on Tuesday July 6. About 14 hours later I was admitted to the hospital and was NPO until Friday July 16.  


On Friday night, my doctor said that could have water and jello. I had the water first... The nurse brought me a cup and I just looked at it and began to cry. Then I did utter a little prayer and slowly brought the hospital styrofoam cup to my lips  and I took the tiniest little sip. 


My nurse was by my side, kind of holding her breath and whispering "slow, slow." 


I drank that teeny sip of water and I wept. It was a sacrament for me to take that first drink.


The jello came next - orange. I loathe orange jello. That did not matter at that moment however, it looked like manna from heaven! In fact I took a photo of it, captioned "The First Supper" and uploaded it to Facebook. 

The jello sat there and I took that plastic spoon, taking up a very small bite. I lifted it to my lips and I did offer thanks. It tasted wonderful and awful at once. Yet to have something of flavor, even orange jello, touch my lips, slip onto my tongue and melt away. I wept again. My nurse was still there, I don't think she'd seen a head case like me before, but she too was crying a little. 


A sacramental moment.


This week I experimented with foods that are tolerable for me. Yogurt. Watermelon. Some soup. Price Chopper Mini Tuscan Boule bread. Laughing Cow Light wedges. Jello of course. It has been hit or miss. I eat very slowly, taking a tiny bite - otherwise I feel sick. A small container of yogurt or a cube of watermelon might be a 30-45 minute excursion. 


None of it has quite been like the first sip of water or taste of jello.


Today I went to mass for the first time since Saturday July 3. Someone did come to bring me communion in the hospital, but that aforementioned NPO left me with no choice but to say no. It was one of the saddest moments of my life - I hated to say no.


Today was a day of great thanksgiving, of εὐχαριστία, for me. I approached the altar; I had already told Fr. Pat that I could only take the tiniest piece of host. He however went to give me a normal host and I whispered "No, I need something tiny!" He looked at me quizzically, and I pointed to one of the triangles from the priest's host and said, give me a tiny corner from the top." He broke off that little piece and as our eyes met he said "Body of Christ" and I said "Amen."


My eyes welled up with tears as he placed the Living Bread in my hand, I took if from my left palm with my right hand and placed the host in my mouth. εὐχαριστία. 


I went to the cup minister and she said "Blood of Christ." After my "Amen" I lifted the chalice to my lips and let the wine touch my lips but did not take a drink. It was enough. εὐχαριστία.

This post has no real point, I just keep thinking about the sacramental life with both Big S and little s sacraments. It is all gift. Going to communion is so much about what you go to give, not what you go to receive. I think that Eucharistic theology is one of the reasons I cannot imagine myself anything but Roman Catholic. Who knows I do know this... I am grateful. εὐχαριστία.

The Future of Catholicism

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem November 2004, taken by me. Think about what happened there, what kind of future did that hold?

Recently I was honored to be asked to submit an essay to an one week online symposium on the Future of Catholicism, at the Summa This, Summa That; a Catholic blogging forum. I am grateful to The Anchoress for the invitation to participate in this event.

Today was Day 2 and my essay, along with that of Patrick O'Hannigan is featured. You can find them both right here.

Please also check out the main page of Patheos on the topic of the future - there are many interesting essays. You can also read Day 1on the Summa This, Summa That blog which featured Tony Rossi of The Christophers (no relation!) and Pat Gohn. Each day is worth following, with many provocative and inviting points of view.

What do you think is the Future of Catholicism is?

I think that one of the things that we need to do as Church, which means people, is to be church instead of just "go to" Church. You don't just "go to" your home and family - you are part of your home, your family. Church is the same.

Now like family, it is easier said than done. Here is one thing I said in my short essay:

When I consider the future of the Church, I always come back to the same place. The future is each other, as we literally and figuratively re-member the Body of Christ. It is slow, urgent and demanding work; are we up to it?

We've got to come together, to be together. At my parish, we hear our pastor Father Pat say this all the time... Common union. Communion. Eucharist.

So About That Surgery... And Life And So Forth

More than a few notes have arrived asking what happened, so let me just put it out here dear friends, readers and lurkers.

As always, I subscribe to the Anne Lamott theory that there are really only two prayers in life; "Help me, Help me!" and "Thank you! Thank you!" That is pretty much my life story in 8 words. Really 4 words, repeated.

I had let a situation with my digestive system go out of control and then used my not-healthy-learned-as-a-child coping mechanism of ignoring pain for so long that it ultimately became normal. *sigh* Years of therapy and grace and yet I still flop along the Way! So it goes for us all, right?

Flippity, flop, flop, flop, flip - Jesus, here I come, I'm following you, thump by thump, oops, I tripped, I fell, I rolled again. Whoa! I'm sliding, wheee! Oh, it's backwards. Well, I'm tryin', I'm tryin'!

In any case, my poor self-care resulted in me getting full on surgery (Nurse! Scalpel STAT!), no little laproscopic thing for me! This included an infection, pancreatitis and a few other complications. Gangrene would not have surprised my doctor, but had not yet appeared, thanks be to God. 12 days later I feel much better and all I  had to turn over, well along with my pride that is, was my gall bladder! Such a deal! *bigger sigh* 

At them moment I'm still sporting my stylin' J.P. Drain; that gets surrendered back to the authorities on Wednesday however. Beats the hell out of a monitoring bracelet. If I were going to wear it longer, I might want to decorate it. Mark began to call it my "bile grenade," which totally works as a name for it.

Sadly I can report that I did not consume a morsel of food for 11 days, although for the final 4 I did have what I called "my milkshake" aka TPN, mainlined into my body via a PICC line. That actually, even more than being sliced open in two places, kind of grossed me out. Go figure.

In any event, I did not eat for 11 days and I lost a whopping 5 lbs, most of it muscle mass from laying in that hospital bed. Great. Despite daily walks around the floor and my use of the Voldyne 5000 (sounds scary!), I still had some minor fluid and lung collapse to deal with. That is almost all better now and I remain as full of hot air as ever. (As is evidenced here!)

Frankly the whole thing is really a gift. Aside from the part that I could have become more seriously impaired or died, I have had some good lessons. Not lessons in that "nyah-nyah be a good girl and do it right next time" way, although a little of that, but mostly in the gifts of surrender, humility and interdependence.

What will be sown from this journey? Will my lessons hold? I hope so, but then I almost always hope so and all kind of stuff happens. We'll see.

Thanks for all the good thoughts, prayers and wishes. As ever, I believe that I am carried on the wings of angels, even when doing my flopping around behind the feet of Jesus.

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Ouchie!

I think most of you know that I was hospitalized via the ER on Wednesday July 7th. I had emergency surgery on Friday July 9th and there were some complications, but all will be well. Today is my first day home and it feels great! I feel grateful!!

Thanks to all who sent good wishes via Facebook and email and to my many in-person visitors.

Blogging will resume soon; focusing on getting well first. (And no - Paris is not in my immediate future, sadly!)

Almighty God - El Shaddai - Mother God

What amazing readings we have upon us this weekend!  Yet, I was struggling to find words to write about them. I sat, I read, I prayed... and nothing really came.

Then I went to church and our pastor and I got into a brief discussion about the Scriptures as I was setting up for mass. One part of his homily is what I will write about today.

When you think of the words "Almighty God" what image comes to mind?  I don't know about you, but when I was asked me that question, my cultural conditioning kicked in and I immediately thought of the image of a powerful, old man... White hair flowing, white robes gleaming, exuding all kinds of power and might.

So when asked, I replied "Zeus-like!" My pastor just had to laugh; thus is the Greek influence on our Church, is basically what he said. 

Then in his homily he asked that question at large - what image does Almighty God conjure for you? Most of us think of Old Man God. Father God. Powerful God.

Our first reading from Isaiah really demands that we consider otherwise.

Thus says the LORD:
Rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad because of her,
all you who love her;
exult, exult with her,
all you who were mourning over her!
Oh, that you may suck fully
of the milk of her comfort,
that you may nurse with delight
at her abundant breasts!
For thus says the LORD:
Lo, I will spread prosperity over Jerusalem like a river,
and the wealth of the nations like an overflowing torrent.
As nurslings, you shall be carried in her arms,
and fondled in her lap;
as a mother comforts her child,
so will I comfort you;
in Jerusalem you shall find your comfort.

When you see this, your heart shall rejoice
and your bodies flourish like the grass;
the LORD's power shall be known to his servants.

I love this reading. It totally resets the image, doesn't it?  There are many directions that I could take with this - not the least being, what an incarnational and fleshy faith we practice, but I won't be going there today.

Another thing I think of is the on-going conversations in society about public breastfeeding. I won't go there either, but it does give one pause in the context of this reading.

Where I will go, is one of the directions that Fr. Pat took and that is the etymology of the term Almighty God.

Loose that whole powerful, old, white man thing, because the roots of almighty are quite different indeed.

The roots of El Shaddai are feminine.

"indicates that Shaddai might be related to the word for breasts (shadaim), indicating sufficiency and nourishment (i.e., "blessings of the breasts and of the womb" (בִּרְכת שָׁדַיִם וָרָחַם)).  In this case, the Name might derive from the contraction of sha ("who") and dai ("enough") to indicate God's complete sufficiency to nurture the fledgling nation into fruitfulness."

What an image. Suddenly - everything completely shifts. Everything.

Another link offers us this:

"One of those derivatives is the word shad, breast, bosom, used both in erotic scenes and the practical usage of feeding babies. A relation with the name Shaddai is not unthinkable, as this is the name by which God initiates the covenant of which Jesus is the final fulfillment."

Feeding, nurturing, loving, guiding. This is very much an image of God, yet many shudder at the thought of the feminine images of God. Yet, we have to consider that God is both male and female as we are made in God's image.

We are culturally conditioned to consider the male as the head of everything. However, God is neither male nor female. And we are also conditioned in church (in the Roman Catholic church anyway) to think of men as the arbiters of power - the priests. Yet we are all baptized into our own power as "priest, prophet and king." So it is important to consider that what we think and what is, are two entirely different things.

God in all forms is our comforter, our nurturer, loving us, bringing us forth, feeding us, nourishing us.  These things are a reminder that we box ourselves and our God in with the images of our culture and our cultural heritage.

And this is a reminder as well, that our God is a God full of surprises and unexpected happenings. The unexpected does not refer to the past alone, but rather encourages us to the present and to the future, where nourishment and surprise, comfort and delight meet us at every moment if we but allow for it.

Let us suck fully at the abundant breasts of our God and nurse with delight. It is there that God will comfort us and then send us forth to do the same.

Sticks and Stones Will Break My Bones... Words, Dehumanization and Dignity -

Words truly matter. I have had reason to be in several conversations of late, that cause me to consider the impact and power of words.

One of those conversations was during our first parish book club discussion. We had read, Left to Tell by Immaculee Ilibagiza. If you have not read this remarkable story of the Rawandan holocaust and the world of reconciliation ardently pursued by Ilibagiza, I highly recommend it.

During this beyond-horrible era of genocide in Rawanda, the two native peoples of that country were at odds. The Hutu people began to viciously slaughter the Tutsi; people; in about 100 days, 800,000 people were slaughtered brutally.

The reason that I bring this up is this - during the book discussion, we talked about how the Tustis were called "cockroaches" and so forth, by the Hutus.

There is a long history of name calling. In Jesus' time to be called "tax collector" was to be called defiled, unclean. To be identified as a "Samaritan" was to be considered unworthy; it was extremely negative.

Over the course of history, negative name calling has been used quite successfully. In our own recent history (and sadly re-emergent) the notion of "red menance" existed and has now morphed into "socialism." Suddenly a descriptor has all the power of a dirty word! We now have a very present belief that giving health care to people who don't work or sharing our resources is "creeping socialism."  Can people be serious?

My friend Susan reminded us during the book club, that we are desensitized by books, songs and movies - all elements of popular culture. There is much truth to this...  I should know, once a frequent dropper of f-bombs myself. I still do it. (And Susan heard me on Monday during another meeting.)  I have stopped talking like that - or tried to - for a number of reasons... I have a child now, I live in a different community where that is not as accepted are but two examples. How about the biggest reason - it just is not right!

What other words do we use with such abandon? In addition to "socialist," I think that words like conservative, liberal, orthodox, progressive, Democrat and Republican, just to name a few, are all seen as purely negative by many. And ALL sides of the discussion tend to do this, not just the "other."

In the Roman Catholic Church we especially hear about "liberal versus progressive" and the debate is further reframed in terms of social justice. There is also a lot of sneering between "post-Vatican II" Catholics and those who would appear more inclined to a "pre-Vatican II" church. Let's not forget the "post-Vatican II priests" versus the newer generation of "JPII priests." It exhausts me just to think about this! (Reminder to my co-religionists, Catholic does mean universal.)

Then there are those who are self-defined as "ardently pro-life" versus those who are "pro-abortion" or at the very least "soft on abortion." What are we talking about here? These conversations drive me particularly mad because they rarely further the cause of life for those who are dedicated to it.

In cultural life, we hear the term "that's so gay," flying around. I recently took someone to task for using it. A conversation about not bowing to political correctness ensued. I ultimately asked if not bowing to political correctness was a reason to not teach your children (your Catholic children in this case) about basic human dignity and justice? Is it ok to mock gay people if you are not being specific about who it is? Would this same (very good and well-intentioned) person say "I jewed him down" with the same ease and offer up the PC argument?

And what might be the most inflammatory use of words in our time and one I take extreme exception to... "Illegal aliens." Say those two words very slowly and out loud to yourself and try to not let the words about laws and so forth come flying up out of you.

Not bowing to political correctness, is it not possible as a culture to start to retrain ourselves to use the words, "undocumented persons" or "undocumented workers?" This is not about some kumbayah-hand-holding but rather about the essence that each person is a human being, deserving of some basic respect. I note that we are much kinder to corporations that break the law and the attendant executives than we are to the people who occupy the lowest rungs of society. What does this say about us as a people?

There is not enough time to explore this more fully today, but I will say this... When we name call, we dehumanize. When we dehumanize we are violent. When we are violent we hurt, we ultimately kill.

All groups do this. I watch it unfold on my Facebook page almost daily. I see myself (cringe cringe cringe) do it all the time without meaning to, although I have made great efforts to change. Many of my friends on the left consequently think that I have gone too far to the right... and my friends on the right consider me a hopeless leftist.

*deep sigh*

Being in community - whatever community means, a church, neighborhood, group of friends and of course, family - means that we must help guide and correct one another. We must do this with the same dignity and love that is called for in all human situations.

It does cause me to wonder what the power of words would unfurl if we could simply start using better language not to be polite or politically correct, but to be clear and honest and to act with dignity.

Is this possible?