Book review: Flannery by Brad Gooch

As I mentioned before, I spent last week reading Brad Gooch's new biography of Flannery O'Connor, titled Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor. It was a fascinating look at a woman about whom I knew very little, other than that she was Catholic, from Georgia, a writer, and she died young.

I found the quotes from O'Connor about her faith to be particularly resonant. As a graduate student in Iowa City, she attended daily Mass as a way of combating her homesickness. She said that "I went to St. Mary's as it was right around the corner and I could get there practically every morning. I went there three years and never knew a soul in the congregation or any of the priests, but it was not necessary. As soon as I went in the door I was at home" (120-1). This is one of the many things that I love about the universality of Catholicism; as soon as I walk in the door of any Catholic church, anywhere in the world, I, like O'Connor, am at home.

O'Connor was also not reticent about sharing her Catholicism with her friends. She wrote in a letter to a friend, who was in the process of converting, but saw herself as a "history of horror" that "The meaning of the Redemption is precisely that we do not have to be our history" (282). O'Connor wrote that, which struck me as very true and beautiful, after her friend had disclosed some information that was incredibly scandalous, more so in the 1950s than today, and which her friend felt would mar their friendship. But O'Connor's response was one of love, as she wrote in another letter that "from my point of view, you are always wanted" (282)-again, a beautiful, pure expression of friendship that's rooted in love.

These examples are just a small sampling of what Gooch's biography contains. As an aside, I learned that O'Connor gave a lecture at my alma mater, Meredith College, not long before her death. I never knew that, but I love thinking about her walking around the campus that is so dear to me.

I would definitely recommend this biography to any and everyone. The only thing that took some getting used to was the length of the chapters; I like reading a chapter at a time, but I found that I could only read parts of chapters in one sitting, since the book is close to 400 pages and only has 10 chapters. But other than that, I thought it was wonderful.

Morning Mass

I leave my house in the chill of a coastal Carolina predawn October morning and make my way down the stairs of my apartment building as quietly as possible so that my neighbors’ dogs don’t wake up. After my car warms up a little, I pull out of my parking space and silently make my way to an equally quiet church.

I’ve begun going to daily Mass in the mornings. This is not something I’ve ever been in the position to do on a regular basis; in high school I had to drive too far to get to school and in college, I always had morning classes. But recently I’ve been feeling a tug at my soul to experience Christ in the Eucharist every morning. Though I don’t like my alarm clock, it hasn’t been hard this week to get up and go.

Crossing the bridge, I see the first vestiges of day appearing over the horizon. The deep blue of night gives way to a paler blue sky tinged with brilliant rays of pinkish orange. My little red car is one of only a few on the highway and I marvel at the stillness of the morning.

My decision to start making the trip across the bridge was a combination of a few things. A few weeks ago, my mom and I made the trip to Murfreesboro, Tennessee so that I could present a paper at a conference. On the way, at some point about hour seven or eight of our ten hour trip, I saw a car sitting on the side of the road rather haphazardly and I made an offhanded remark that that sight reminded me of Flannery O’Connor’s short story “A Good Man is Hard to Find.” The next week, I posted a status on Facebook asking if anyone knew of a good biography of O’Connor, since I didn’t know much about her other than that she was a Catholic from Georgia who wrote short stories and died young. My friend Ann suggested the recent biography by Brad Gooch, which I’ll write about in more depth later, so I checked it out of the public library earlier this week. One of the things that I discovered about O’Connor was that she was a daily communicant, as that gave her her center, reminding her of her identity as a Catholic in the predominately Protestant South and helping shape her writing. Reading that gave me the first seed of the idea that this would be good for me.

Kneeling in prayer in the still church, I fight back yawns. My friends, seated around me, do the same. We are all here to begin our work days in worship, together, offering our still-sleepy bodies as a sacrifice to the One Who sacrificed all for us.

Then, on Wednesday night, my friend Nathan was bugging me about going to Mass with the small group from MP that goes every morning. He jokingly threatened to call me and wake me up every morning until I started going, so I decided that I would go on Thursday just because he had made such a big deal about it. I am so grateful that . It’s been a long time since I’ve had friends who want to peer pressure me into holiness; since July, I’ve been going to Wednesday night Bible study with the young adult group at the Cathedral downtown and it’s been wonderful. I’m probably a little biased, but it is wonderful having a group of smart, funny, kind friends who share my faith.

The tangibility of Catholicism seems particularly accessible early in the morning. The tissue-like paper of the Mass reading booklet. The firm grip of my fellow worshippers’ hands as we exchange the sign of peace. The stretch of every vertebrae in my back as I bow before receiving the Blessed Sacrament. The tastes of both species of the Sacrament. The coolness of the holy water as I bless myself while exiting the sanctuary. The experience is both concrete and mystical

In just a few short days, I have come to love morning Mass, early though it is. Receiving Christ’s Body and Blood into my body prepares me to go out and live my faith in a more fearless way. Prayer comes easier, I work harder and better, and (as this post evidences) I have begun to write again. All because I’ve allowed myself to experience Christ as He is calling me to do in this season of my life.

The Dream of the Rood

One of my favorite Anglo-Saxon poems is "The Dream of the Rood," a poem about the crucifixion told by the cross itself. The Anglo-Saxon conception of heroism is clear, as in this poem, Christ is not nailed to the cross but as a heroic young warrior climbs up and embraces it. Jonathan Glenn's translation is a lovely (and annotated!) version.

On Holy Saturday, the Church waits in silence for the Easter Vigil Mass. This ancient poem, excerpted below, provides much fodder for meditation in Holy Week; for me, translating it, which I have done twice, has been a profoundly spiritual experience.

it is glory's beam

which Almighty God suffered upon
for all mankind's manifold sins
and for the ancient ill-deeds of Adam.
Death he tasted there, yet God rose again
by his great might, a help unto men.
He then rose to heaven. Again sets out hither
into this Middle-Earth, seeking mankind
on Doomsday, the Lord himself,
Almighty God, and with him his angels,
when he will deem--he holds power of doom--
everyone here as he will have earned
for himself earlier in this brief life.

"The Dream of the Rood," lines 97-109

God, Divine Goodness, and Conversion

"We want, in fact,a not so much a Father in Heaven as a grandfather in heaven--a senile benevolence who, as they say, 'liked to see young people enjoying themselves', and whose plan for the universe was simply that it might be truly said at the end of each day, 'a good time was had by all'" (31).

-C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

On Sunday night, I was very tired and a little down in the dumps. Not depressed at all, but just feeling like I could burst into tears at any moment. I decided that what I needed was some quiet time with Jesus, so I went with my dad to his adoration hour at the Perpetual Adoration chapel in the next town. I brought with me Lewis' The Problem of Pain, not because of my aforementioned mood, but because some dear family friends gave it to me for graduation and I wanted to read it. And I'd already started it and was ready to read some more; it's one of those books that begs for me to respond to it through underlining, notes in the margins, and lots of thought. Plus it seemed like a good book to meditate on.

The chapter I read on Sunday was titled "Divine Goodness"-the quote above comes from that chapter. That particular quote stood out to me because, as Lewis says, I don't think many people would quite format their theological views like that, but it seems to be a pretty prevalent idea nowadays. And to resist that idea of God is difficult at times: why would He not want us to be happy doing whatever? Lewis answers that question a few pages later. He talks about kindness and love, saying that while there is kindness in love, they are not interchangeable terms. Lewis then says that

It is for people whom we care nothing about that we demand happiness on any terms: with our friends, our lovers, our children, we are exacting and would rather see them suffer much than be happy in contemptible and estranging modes. If God is Love, He is, by definition, something more than mere kindness. And it appears from all the records, that though He has often rebuked us and condemned us, He has never regarded us with contempt. He has paid us the intolerable compliment of loving us, in the deepest, most tragic, most inexorable sense. (33).

Why do I bring this up? Well, it's because I've been grappling with something for some time. You see, I love conversion stories. I love reading them and hearing about them face to face. There's something about the deeply personal aspect of listening to them; I feel like I really get to know the other person in a more intimate way than otherwise. My only problem? I'm a cradle Catholic, baptized as an infant, raised in the Church all my life... I don't have a conversion story to tell. Or at least, I didn't think I did.

That particular chapter of The Problem of Pain made me realize, though, that I have become a bit complacent in my spiritual life, something that isn't good. I'm an adult, and a confirmed one too, so I need to be responsible for my spiritual life and make adjustments if it's not where it should be. Easy? Not always, but that's what a loving God requires of us: that we daily die to self in order to become transformed into images of Him through grace. And so I've come to realize that, while I may not be the one sheep out of the 99 who has a dramatic story, that's OK. My conversions come in small ways, quietly, and I'm not often inclined to share them. But the overarching point is that I do have them. My task, then, is to respond to my loving God.

Mass attire

Well, I'm feeling like a failure as a blogger. It's been 3 weeks since my last post; though, in my defense, I've been really busy. I'll catch up on life and all that at some point, but I read a really thought-provoking article this morning and wanted to share.

The article, "Adore the Lord in Holy Attire-On Proper Dress for Mass" by Monsignor Charles Pope, can be found here. Msgr. Pope's whole premise is that our culture, which has by and large become a very casual culture, has lost our respect for important occasions. He says that "Here in America we have become extremely casual about the way we dress for just about everything. It seems we almost never dress up anymore. This has changed somewhat dramatically in my own life time of just less than 50 years." Now, I'm only 22, but I do understand where he's coming from. In my own family, my parents have always made a point of having us dress nicely for Mass; in fact, I don't think I've gone to Sunday Mass without nylons since I was about 11 or 12. My younger brothers all wear khakis or dress pants and either a polo shirt or a button-down shirt and tie, as does my father. The only exception is younger brother #1, who is at a military college and therefore often wears his dress uniform when he's home. My mother and I wear skirts or dress and generally make an effort to look as nice as possible. This is pretty typical for my parish, but it isn't always for every parish.

Now, Msgr. Pope doesn't say that everyone ought to be wearing the most expensive clothes available, but rather that we ought to always dress in a way that makes us aware of why we go to church, to receive Jesus in the Eucharist. He says "Going to God’s house IS important. Being ministered to by the King of Kings and Lord of Lords is astounding." And he's right. We ought to dress in a way that makes us reflect on the extreme importance of the One whom we are going to receive. But here's the cool part about being Catholic: that doesn't mean the same thing everywhere. Like I said, in my parish, everyone dresses as nicely as they can, but for the Igbo people from Nigeria, that means their traditional dress: dresses with headdresses for the women, pants and tunics for the men, all highly embroidered and colorful. For the Montagnard people from Vietnam, it means, again, traditional dress. Most of the rest of the community dresses in traditional Western dress clothes, but the point is that it's totally possible to express individuality and culture within the body of the Church.

In the Latin rite, today is the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, also known as Corpus Christi. Our homily today was about the transformative power of the Eucharist; the visiting priest talked about how when we eat regular food, we take what the animals and plants were and change it into what we are, but when we receive the Eucharist, if we are properly prepared, Jesus makes us more like him. He said that "Animals and plants feed us for a day or a week, but Jesus feeds us for all eternity." And that, truly, is something worth dressing up for.

Pange Lingua

Pange lingua gloriosi

Corporis mysterium,

Sanguinisque pretiosi,

Quem in mundi pretium

Fructus ventris generosi,

Rex effudit gentium.

Nobis datus, nobis natus

Ex intacta Virgine

Et in mundo conversatus,

Sparso verbi semine,

Sui moras incolatus

Miro clausit ordine.

In supremae nocte coenae

Recumbens cum fratribus,

Observata lege plene

Cibis in legalibus,

Cibum turbae duodenae

Se dat suis manibus

Verbum caro, panem verum

Verbo carnem efficit:

Fitque sanguis Christi merum,

Et si sensus deficit,

Ad firmandum cor sincerum

Sola fides sufficit.

Tantum ergo Sacramentum

Veneremur cernui:

Et antiquum documentum

Novo cedat ritui:

Praestet fides supplementum

Sensuum defectui.

Genitori, Genitoque

Laus et iubilatio,

Salus, honor, virtus quoque

Sit et benedictio:

Procedenti ab utroque

Compar sit laudatio.

Amen.

It's Holy Thursday and the Triduum starts in 2 hours with the Mass, but I wanted to post these lyrics before going offline for Easter. I'll be back next week, but have a blessed Easter!

What Wondrous Love Is This?

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!

What wondrous love is this, O my soul!

What wondrous love is this

That caused the Lord of bliss

To bear the dreadful curse for my soul, for my soul,

To bear the dreadful curse for my soul!

To God and to the Lamb I will sing, I will sing;

To God and to the Lamb I will sing;

To God and to the Lamb,

Who is the great I AM,

While millions join the theme, I will sing, I will sing,

While millions join the theme, I will sing.

And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on;

And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing on.

And when from death I’m free

I’ll sing and joyful be,

And through eternity I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on,

And through eternity I’ll sing on.

This song has been running through my head since Monday. Every year, a very talented lady at our parish sings this a cappella on Good Friday during the Veneration of the Cross. It's haunting and beautiful, the perfect song, in my humble opinion, to be singing during Holy Week.

Palm Sunday thoughts

It's a grey, almost-rainy day in this part of NC. During both Masses at my church this morning, a cold wind was blowing while we were outside for the blessing of the palms and the processional. And yet, as much as I love beautiful sunny days, it seems almost appropriate to bring in Holy Week with a somber sky.

One of the things that I love about being a cradle Catholic is the sense of constancy; there is a rhythm to life that's based around the Church year, which has been the rhythm of my life too. And so, every Palm Sunday, I know that the Mass will start with joy, shouting "Hosanna! Hosanna in excelsis!" but will end on a sadder note-we know after the Gospel reading that what has begun today will bring us to Good Friday and its mournful Stations, veneration of the cross and communion service. But we know that there is hope, because Saturday night, we will celebrate Christ's rising from the dead and the catechumens will be brought into full communion with the Church, giving us all cause to celebrate.

This year, I'm singing with the choir and at our church, the choir takes the part of the crowd in the Gospel reading. Every year, I am struck at how hearing those words of the crowd ("Crucify him! Crucify him!") sound so harsh-much more so than reading them to oneself in the Scriptures. This year, though, I was one of the ones saying those words, calling out for the death of the Lord. I was brought to tears both times, thinking about how many times a day I do just that, but without saying those words aloud. The unkind thoughts and words, the selfish actions, the lack of attention to duty or to my prayers, the wasting of precious time that should be spent doing good things-all these are ways I cry out for Him to be crucified. But do I realize it? I don't think so.

My Lenten journey this year has helped me realize how often indeed I hurt the Lord. Trying to curb my unkind thoughts and words has been difficult and I've fallen a lot. At the end of the day, right before I go to sleep, I've been going over my day in my mind; I've started saying an Act of Contrition because often times, the number of places I've fallen is shameful.

But Palm Sunday brings hope too, especially this year. Because I am seeing anew how much love God has for me, that He would send Jesus to die for someone who continually hurts Him. And I am thankful for the grace to see my faults and the grace to know God's love.

Today's reflection

This Lent, I've been reading from Minute Meditations for Each Day in the morning as part of my prayer resolution. This morning's reflection, for the Solemnity of the Annunciation, is as follows:

"Mary said: 'I am the servant of the Lord.'" (Luke 1:38)

Reflection: What a magnificent program for life! To be a servant of the Lord, that is, to be ever at the disposal of God, ready to regard life with all its joys and sorrows as a sacred mission given us by God's love. And to fulfill this mission with all the generosity of our heart. Is it really this word of Mary that guides me each day and points out the right way for my life?

Wow.

Later on, this afternoon while I was at work, I was talking with my friend Antoinette about graduation and God's plans for me afterwards. I asked her (she's come back to school for a second degree after working for some years) how you find the line between praying about things and actually doing them. Her response: "Just pray that God will close all the other doors so that you know. It just takes a little trust."

So that's my new prayer. Not that I will figure it out, but that I will be guided to make the right choice. And really, trusting and obeying is all I can and should do, if I really have faith. It is just going to take more than a little dying to self.

Thoughts of spring

I've had a bunch of thoughts rambling around in my head, so rather than write a bunch of posts, I decided it's time for a thought-collection post

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It's spring here in North Carolina (finally) and I am loving it. This is the third day in a row that I've worn a skirt (without tights!) and for the past two days, I've driven with my sunroof open. Louisa (my roommate) and I have turned off the air in our apartment and are living with the windows open, which is a lovely thing. The trees are still rather bare, but still, I know that spring is coming and I couldn't be happier about it!

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Spring break starts tomorrow afternoon! I'm so ready for it and I have lots of plans, including:

-making my Class Day dress

-making at least 1 new skirt

-finishing the parish newsletter

-getting my grad school stuff all ready to mail when I get back from break

-planning my graduation party with my grandma

-sleeping

-reading frivolous books

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I graduate two months from Monday. It's coming so incredibly fast; I can't believe it. I bought my stole for Sigma Tau Delta (English honor society) yesterday and my cord for Silver Shield (MC honor society) on Sunday. I need to buy my cap and gown, my Kappa Nu Sigma stole, and my graduation announcements. I also need to purchase SAI cords for me and the other graduating seniors and figure out when I get my Alpha Lambda Delta cord, my Honors cord and my study abroad flag. Holy cow, graduation is close.

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Singing with Encore this semester has been fantastic. I love being part of a smaller group and, the thing I'm probably most proud of, I've gotten up the courage to sing solos in front of a bunch of people (like, the entirely full Jones Chapel). Our trip to D.C. was brief, but good; there was a lot of bonding time, and it didn't hurt that the Army folks loved us. Dr. P canceled rehearsal today to give our voices a break (yay!), but I'm looking forward to starting new music after break.

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Talking about loving my classes, I really do love all of them. I know, I'm a nerd, but I've accepted that and am moving on.

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The thing that I'm not currently loving is the fact that I've fallen off the Lenten wagon in regards to my prayer life. Fasting & almsgiving are covered; it's not easy, but it's not as hard as you'd think. I'm starting over today, though; this just tells me that my prayer life is really what I need to concentrate on. I also need to remind myself, as St. Therese of Lisieux said, that it's about doing "little things with great love"--it doesn't have to be grandiose as long as my intention is love. And I think that this difficulty in keeping up with my prayers speaks to the fact that I need help with the love part.

Beginning Lent

Lent starts tomorrow, and in preparing for it this year, I have found the US Conference of Catholic Bishops' statement on penitential practices very helpful (all quotes come from that document, which can be found here).

For Catholics, Lent entails three things: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Fasting is perhaps the most well-known of the three aspects, but there are the other two, which is why I try not to ask people what they are "giving up" for Lent but rather, "What are you doing for Lent?" I've worked out my Lenten plan ahead of time this year (rather than usual, when I wake up on Ash Wednesday morning and go "shoot! Lent's started and I don't have a plan.... ummmm, how about I give up ________? Yeah, that sounds good." This year, I feel like I should be more responsible for my spiritual growth (having reached the ripe old age of almost 22), so following my excerpts from the bishops, I'll post what I'm planning to do and why; I anticipate this working as a kind of accountability for me this Lent.

Prayer

Prayer, that process of listening to and responding to God's daily call, sustains and nurtures our relationship with our triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Without prayer, personal and communal, this relationship is diminished, sometimes to the point of complete silence on our part. Every day the Spirit of Jesus invites us to enter into that serious conversion that leads to blessed communion (USCCB).

My prayer plan is two-fold, with additions of devotion in both the morning and the evening. In the morning, I plan to read a chapter from the Gospels, starting with St. Matthew. In the evening, I'll pray the evening prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours. This year, I've felt a tug to spend more time with the Scriptures, so I have chosen the Gospels for my morning reading. In high school, I spent a few days at Mepkin Abbey in South Carolina and fell in love with the Liturgy of the Hours; I have incorporated this into my practices in previous Lents and it has ended my days peacefully, connected to the Church's prayer in a special way.

Fasting

Fasting, a very special form of penance, and Jesus' second call, has been a consistent part of our Catholic tradition. Fasting assists us in getting our own house in order...By fasting and self-denial, by living lives of moderation, we have more energy to devote to God's purposes and a better self-esteem that helps us to be more concerned with the well-being of others...Rather, our fasting and refraining is in response to the workings of the Holy Spirit. By fasting we sense a deeper hunger and thirst for God. In a paradoxical way, we feast through fasting—we feast on the spiritual values that lead to works of charity and service (USCCB).

Deciding what I ought to fast from is always difficult for me. Do I give up something that I love or something that is keeping me from God? This year, I've decided that I need to do a little of both. For the thing I love, I'm giving up fancy coffee. No Starbucks, no Royal Bean, nothing but homemade coffee with a little sugar and skim milk. I'll talk about what I'm doing with the money I save in a minute.

Then there's the thing that is keeping me from God: criticism. I understand that I can't stop having an opinion, but I can stop expressing it, especially when it's to the detriment of people around me or people I come in contact with; instead of criticizing them, I'm going to try to treat them with love. The woman at the grocery store who was nasty to the cashier? Maybe she just received some bad news. The person who left some mess for me to clean up? Perhaps they were running late. You get the picture. Trying to love people despite the things they do that drive me crazy. If Jesus could offer Himself on the cross, I think I can be loving when I have to take out the trash or load the dishwasher or deal with someone I don't particularly care for.

Almsgiving

The third call of the Lord is to give alms. Jesus was always concerned about those who were poor and in need. He was impressed by the widow who, though having so little, shared her resources with others: "I tell you truly, this poor widow put in more than all the rest; for those others have all made offerings from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has offered her whole livelihood" (Lk 21:3-4). To be a disciple of Christ means to live a life of charity. To be a disciple of Jesus is to live a life of stewardship, generously giving of our time, talent, and treasure. (USCCB).

Here's where my money saved from not buying fancy coffee is going: Operation Rice Bowl. This organization is run by Catholic Relief Services and is a project that CRS does every Lent. 75% of the money that is donated goes to foreign countries (Lesotho, Bolivia, Afghanistan, Nicaragua, and Ethiopia) and 25% stays in the diocese it's raised in (so North Carolina) to work to alleviate hunger and poverty in that diocese. I'll also be putting all of my spare change in there so that I'll have just a bit more to give those who have nothing.

So that's my Lenten plan. To conclude with one more quote from the bishops: Our Lord's threefold call to pray, to fast, and to give alms is richly interconnected. In prayer the Holy Spirit, always active in our lives, shows us those areas where we are not free—areas that call for penance—as well as those people who are in need of our care. Through fasting, our spirit becomes more open to hearing God's call, and we receive new energies for performing works of charity. Almsgiving puts us in contact with the needy whom we then bring back to God in prayer.

Happy Shrove Tuesday!

Dominican nuns on Oprah

Dominican sisters from the Mary, Mother of the Eucharist congregation

(picture credit: http://catholiceducation.org/articles/stories_of_faith_and_character/cs0172.htm)

I don't watch Oprah, so I didn't see this on her show, but I saw this on a Catholic news feed; the Dominican Sisters of Mary Mother of the Eucharist convent in Ann Arbor Michigan were featured recently on the Oprah show. I admit that I was a little hesitant to watch the videos at first; I was afraid that they would put a spin on the segment, trying to make the sisters look like freaks.

I was pleasantly surprised.

The sisters, who are very similar to the sisters at the St. Cecelia convent in Nashville, came across just as I have always experienced them: women who are passionate for God. In my own search for my vocation, I've thought about the Dominicans. Ultimately, I believe that God is calling me to be a wife and a mother and raise children in the Church, but if I were to be a religious, I think I'd be a Dominican. The Dominicans are also called the Order of Preachers and that is what they do: preach and teach. Learning, especially sacred theology, is a life-long undertaking for them, which is a big part of why they appeal to me.

For more about the Dominican sisters, visit the St. Cecelia convent website

Love and judgement

I've noticed lately that people seem to think they need to explain themselves to me. I wonder if I come off as a terribly judgmental person? I really try not to be (even though it would be so easy sometimes); I try to keep the following verses in mind when I'm confronted with someone who does things differently than I do:

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing (1 Cor. 13: 1-3)

I chose a non-Catholic college and I knew that here I would find people that do things very differently than I do. My friends have diverse backgrounds, beliefs, and practices, but I can't bring myself to judge them for what they do. I don't feel that I have room to until the day that I do things perfectly. Which, as we all know, isn't going to happen this side of heaven. I am a fallen human being and I struggle with my tendency to sin, although most of the time my pride hides it from the people around me. I'm sure I'm as difficult to live with as the next person, though I don't often see it. I get frustrated with people in my classes, but I have to remind myself that to them, I might be "that girl" that irritates them to no end and about whom they talk to their friends: "You'll never believe what SHE did/said in class today!" I realize that that makes me sound paranoid, but I'm not, I promise. I just have to have something to keep my own vanity in check.

The bottom line? Credo in unum Deum, patrem omnipotentem... ("I believe in God, the Father Almighty...) and all that reciting that statement of faith means. But I also know that Jesus preached love, even for tax collectors and prostitutes. And for me, the best way to evangelize is quietly, loving those who are different, because that's what is difficult. Because I think that the best thing I can do is to try to demonstrate that Catholicism is not all about the rules and regulations; those are important, but Jesus' example of love is most important of all. If He had enough love to become man, then be put to death on a cross for His creature, most of whom don't care, then I should have enough love to look past differences (not condone sin, which is totally different) and love people where they are. Because sometimes, I think people do things they ought not because they don't see themselves as worthy of love, which we all are.

I'll close with a quote from St. Anthony Mary Claret: "Love is the most necessary of all virtues. Love in the person who preaches the word of God is like fire in a musket. If a person were to throw a bullet with his hands, he would hardly make a dent in anything; but if the person takes the same bullet and ignites some gunpowder behind it, it can kill. It is much the same with the word of God. If it is spoken by someone who is filled with the fire of charity- the fire of love of God and neighbor- it will work wonders."

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord

I went to Mass tonight; I really needed it, though I don't think I knew how much at the time. Just spending time in quiet prayer and adoration is so refreshing, especially after a long day. Today was good, just long, and I was really in need of some quiet time with Jesus.

Anyway, there's a girl (or woman, I don't really know; I don't even know her name) who comes to our church sometimes; she is severely mentally retarded and the woman who cares for her brings her on a pretty regular basis. They were there tonight, sitting behind us, and I noticed that the further we got into Mass, the more excited the girl got, clapping her hands and laughing. It made me think about childlike faith; ought I not get so excited about receiving Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament? Perhaps her response is not what is conventionally acceptable; perhaps others might say that she doesn't understand, that she's responding to the music and the incense and the colors, the so-called "smells and bells," but I don't believe that.

I think that perhaps she, even more than me at times, understands what's really happening on the altar and is celebrating it the best way she knows how.

Julian of Norwich

"All shall be well and all manner of things shall be well."

Every time I think about (read: worry about) graduate school, these words run through my head. Then today, Fr. Ned mentioned this quote from St. John Vianney: "God commands you to pray, but He forbids you to worry."

Definite food for thought.

Confession and freedom

I was in my Global Capitalism and Ethical Values class this morning and we got on a tangent about the website Postsecret (note about that: while I do read Postsecret on a regular basis, there are often secrets with pictures posted that aren't appropriate when small children are in the room. I scroll past those and also don't read it when I'm home, just to protect the little one's eyes. Just FYI). As my friend Sam and I were trying to explain the website to our professor, who has no experience with it, she mentioned that it seems like most people submit secrets because of the confessional aspect of it. Our professor then went on to say that, unlike the Church says, confession isn't really freeing, but rather imprisoning because of the fact that, once you confess something, another person knows about it. The conversation shifted before I could object, but it did get me thinking about confession and what comes with it.

First of all, the most important point about confession is not the "feeling" that comes along with it. Yes, it often does feel liberating to tell someone and know that you're forgiven, but that's not why Catholics confess. We confess to take ownership of the things that we have done wrong and to ask God's forgiveness for them. I know that personally, I'm a crier. I'm that girl that comes out of the confessional with mascara lines down my cheeks because the process of calling my sins to mind and telling another person about them is difficult and often embarrassing. I also cry because I feel so bad that I've done what I've done; however, there are a few things that I know for certain when I leave the confessional:

1. My sins are forgiven. Jesus told his disciples in Matthew 18:18 that "Amen, I say to you, whatsoever you bind on earth , shall be bound also in heaven; and whatsoever you loose upon earth, shall be loosed also in heaven." The priest has the power to forgive sins because he is a direct descendant of the Apostles and is given this same power when he is ordained by his bishop.

2. The priest will never tell anyone my sins. He can't, because of the seal of the confessional. I don't ever have to worry about someone finding out my sins because the priest is forbidden to tell anyone ever, even in a court of law.

3. Once the words of absolution are pronounced, I am right with God again. And that is where the feeling of freedom comes in, for my soul is in a state of grace and I am completely united with God again. If that's not freedom, I don't know what is.

I think the problem that came up in class was the fact that most people associate liberation or freedom with not being tied to anything. However, we are a social creature and no one can exist completely on his or her own, which would be what makes them totally free. The paradox here is that I am free because I choose to live according to the teachings of the Church. I think Fr. Stan Fortuna, CFR, summed it up in his song "Libre" from the album "Sacro Song II" (emphasis mine):

Oh my beloved world

You have given me so much and yet so little
Always offering an answer to my questions
Always with a comeback for where I come from
And yet here I stand
Still full of questions of self
For your responses my world,
Have been an unread subscription
That lingers on the coffee table
With images that grab.
But your answers do not fill
So I just wanna say, “Yo soy libre”
Because I have been freed by the great I Am.

For I am as the cobblestone on
The Grand Concourse that call out
From breaks in the asphalt
What was once suffocating
From sinful tar and stony heart
Has been freed from the heat of Grace
I now see through the melting-pot holes
And now by my presence I call out
To the world that this land on the
Surface is not all there is or was
Yo soy libre porque El me ha liberado
¡Libre!

I am Carravagio spray painted
On the Spanish-Harlem wall
The beauty is unquestionable
And it calls out to all
But some choose to dismiss it
As Medieval graffiti
Chaining themselves up
With the fetters of false ideologies
Worshipping the beauty of creation
While executing in their hearts the Creator
Who has freed me
Yo soy libre porque El me ha liberado
¡Libre!

I am one who stands in awe of the martyrs,
But my tastes have changed
For once my heroes were
Pancho Villa, Che and Trotsky
For these died for what they believed
But man cannot find his end in himself
I too have envied the rich
Wishing it were I instead of they
For these lived for what they achieved or received
But man cannot be his own measure
So I have traded in the rhetoric of empowerment
For the contradiction of the Cross.
And now I know what freedom is
Yo soy libre porque El me ha liberado
¡Libre!

For what the Lord has kept from the wise and learned
He had revealed to mere children
That one must lose his life in order to gain it
Now my heroes are
A wrinkled blue and white
Flower from Calcutta
A bishop of a war torn land
Killed for preaching peace
And a man who goes throughout the world
Clothed in white
Saying, “Do not be afraid”
Lord, help me not to be afraid…
Lord, I need you to help me to not to be afraid…
Porque Yo soy libre,
Tu me has liberado.
Libre.

(http://www.francescoproductions.com/lyrics/sacrosong2/libre.html)

For more on confession, see the Catholic Encyclopedia entry: http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/11618c.htm

Take Thou Our Minds, Dear Lord

Every year on a Wednesday night in August, our pastor, Monsignor Williams gives a blessing at Wednesday Night Novena Mass to all of the students in college or graduate school who are headed back to school for the new academic year. After the homily, he calls us up and gives us a charge to remember our roots, our faith, as we go through the year and he reminds us to bring Christ to everyone we interact with through not only our words but also our deeds. This year, before we received our blessing, he handed out copies of a hymn that we all sang, with the congregation singing in the pews behind us.

Take Thou Our Minds, Dear Lord

Take Thou our minds, dear Lord, we humbly pray;

Give us the mind of Christ each passing day;

Teach us to know the truth that sets us free;

Grant us in all our thoughts to honor Thee.

Take Thou our hearts, O Christ, they are Thine own;

Come Thou within our souls and claim Thy throne;

Help us to shed abroad Thy deathless love;

Use us to make the earth like heaven above.

Take Thou our wills, Most High! Hold Thou full sway;

Have in our inmost souls Thy perfect way;

Guard Thou each sacred hour from selfish ease;

Guide Thou our ordered lives as Thou dost please.

Take Thou ourselves, O Lord, heart, mind, and will;

Through our surrendered souls Thy plans fulfill.

We yield ourselves to Thee--time, talents, all;

We hear, and henceforth heed, Thy sovereign call. Amen

This year, it was a bit bittersweet for me; as I walked up to the front of the church, I was thinking "This is the last year I will do this. This really is the beginning of the end," which made me tear up when Father was talking to and blessing us. But then I thought that really, the end isn't what I should be sad about. Instead, I should be excited that God has great plans for me after I finish here, even if I don't know what they are yet. God is good and loving and I need to be patient and grow in virtue so that I will be well equipped to handle whatever gift He gives to me next. As another hymn puts it, Trust and obey, for there's no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey. That is where I am right now, entering senior year realizing the importance of those two words in my life. Life is good because God is good :)

Learning patience

Me with Father Tony at his ordination 2 years ago

I am not, by nature, a patient person. I like to have answers quickly and I like to plan out my life. This has worked out pretty well for me so far: I always knew that after high school, I would go to college and, by my junior year of high school, I even had my college and major picked out. However, lately, it has been a different story. I start my senior year 2 weeks from today and I have no idea what the future has in store for me. This is turning into a time of serious discernment through prayer; do I go to graduate school or look for a teaching job? Do I start trying to write professionally (and about what???) or do I look for a temporary job that will allow me more time to figure things out? So many options...

And yet, I ought to be thankful that I have options. Some of my friends are Teaching Fellows for our state, which means that when they graduate in May, they owe the state 4 years of teaching for the scholarship that they received to help them pay for college. The public schools in this state are not the greatest; in fact, I live in one of the best counties for public schooling, but that doesn't guarantee that every school is good. Not to mention the fact that a lot of schools are going through a hiring freeze, so it may be difficult for some of these girls to find jobs once they have diplomas.

My family had dinner with a priest friend of ours, Father Tony, the other week and at some point, the conversation came around to jobs. Father made the comment that some jobs require you to be "cunning as a serpent, but gentle as a dove," and for some reason, this resonated with me. Does that mean that I am supposed to be cunning but gentle as a high school teacher in one of the private schools in my town (one diocesan and one independent), or does it mean that I need to be in a university setting doing graduate work? I have no clearer idea, but this is the thing that has become abundantly clearer: I. NEED. TO. TRUST.

Crazy, isn't it? Who would have thought that that would be the answer? I read a quote earlier today in which the person was talking about another topic, but I think it works well here too: "I said that [trusting] was simple. I didn't say that it was easy." Often, I believe, what I focus on is the easy answers, not the simple ones. And yet, at every other point in my life, when I felt like I was going to have to make a decision without having any idea which option was the better one, I was shown the way. It will be this way with this decision as well. I will know when I need to know and not before. Again, a simple answer, but not an easy one.

On a side note, this film from Grassroots Films is, I believe a great reminder in this Year of the Priest about why we need our priests (the title is Fishers of Men)

Part I: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9a1DpmCDuc

Part II: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_SXSpzx4hY

Skirts

Recently, I have become a skirt-wearer on a daily basis. In fact, as I sit here thinking right now, I realize that it has been over a week since I’ve worn a pair of pants—and you know, I don’t miss them! I always thought that the women who did wear skirts or dresses every day were overly romanticizing how easy it was to live your life in a skirt, but I must say that I have become a convert. I like how feminine I feel when I am wearing a skirt and being that I am in the South in the summer, a skirt is much cooler than the jeans I used to wear all summer long, since I am not a fan of shorts.

I know that for many women, the choice to wear skirts and dresses rather than pants is a religious one; they feel that that is God’s command to women. While I’m not disputing that, I will say that for my part, it is not a religious concern. Catholicism only requires that women dress modestly and does not mandate how that is to be done. For many years, I have worn pants and feel completely comfortable in them, but I have found that when I am wearing a skirt, I feel more graceful and feminine. I am a fan of long skirts, again not because I am concerned about the modesty aspect, but because they allow me to function more easily. I can sit on the floor to play with my youngest brother, climb up on a chair to reach a bowl or pot that is inaccessible, and lie on my bed to read without having to reach for a blanket first.

The latest book that I have finished is The Gift of Femininity, edited by Christine Muggeridge. This book tells the stories of twelve women who have worked in and for the Church for many years. All of them link back to Mary, the ultimate example of femininity. Each author points out that, like Mary, the way they discovered true femininity was by staying close to the Church and her sacraments, especially Jesus in the Eucharist. Without Him, all the rest is just frills—it doesn’t matter how graceful and flowing my clothes are or how well I keep a house—if I don’t have a close relationship to Jesus and frequently receive the Blessed Sacrament, I’m not truly fulfilling my role as a woman. It is through the Eucharist that we draw the strength and the graces to live out our vocations in the world; I know that mine is to be (someday) a wife and mother, so while I outwardly learn to clean, cook and sew, I also need to be developing my inner life through prayer, reception of the sacraments, and spiritual reading.

My summer apprenticeship is teaching me that there is so much more to domestic life than appears to the outward eye; this adventure is exciting, but challenging in so many ways. I wonder how I will be able to keep all this up when I return to school in two months. What will I have to adapt to stay on track with all of my school assignments as well as what will need to be done in our apartment? But I do know this: my prayer life cannot be neglected for any of the other thousand important things that need doing. For without prayer, without Jesus in the Eucharist, all this is and will be nothing.