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God in Diapers
1 Jan
The one who reads aloud the Gospel of the visit of the shepherds must make the appropriate pause, lest it sound like “they found Mary and Joseph and the infant lying in the manger.” All three of them lying in the manger together sounds cozy, but cramped. Yet the failure to pause (and the accompanying chuckle) gives us pause to remember that God chose to be that close to us. God has invited us into that kind of intimacy with him.
What we celebrate on the Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God is quite simple: “God chose to have a mother. God chose Mary to be that mother.” That is amazing. If it were not so true, it would be unbelievable.
God chose to have a mother. I had no choice. I had to have a mother or I would not exist. God, who creates everything, chose to be a creature. God did not choose be like us; God chose to be one of us. God, who creates every mother, chose to have a mother. The woman he chose for his mother, he himself had created. God, who creates all life that lives in the womb, chose to live in the womb. God chose to be born and to wear diapers. God chose to be held, changed and nursed. That is outlandish. If it were not so true, it would be unbelievable.
God chose as his mother someone who was humble and simple, trusting and loving, brave and strong. God chose Mary to be his mother. When Mary felt movement within her, she was feeling God within her. When she felt a kick, she was feeling God’s foot. When she held her baby and smelled him, she smelled something of herself, and she smelled something of divinity and eternity. When she slobbered him with motherly kisses, she was kissing the face of God.
We call him Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Prince of Peace. We call her God-bearer, God-birther, Mother of God. If it were not so true, it would be unbelievable.
The painting above is by American painter Morgan Weistling. “Kissing the Face of God” is lovely and tender. Take a generously long look at the painting, savor the emotion, and then maybe ask Mary to kiss the face of God for you.
[Thank you to Caitlin Kennell Kim of Busted Halo for the inspiration and for many of the words I have used.]
say often in family and in prayer
29 Dec
For the feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, six things that we do well to say often in family: Please. Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. You are wonderful. How can I help you?
Perhaps you think of the one in your family to whom you last said one of these, or the one to whom you would do well to say one of these six things: Please. Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. You are wonderful. How can I help you?
Something dawned on me while I was coming up with the list.
I was shooting for five. The first four came easily: Please. Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you.
Something had me notice that they were the kinds of things that we often say in prayer. They matched three of the four “kinds” of prayer that we talk about: petition (please), thanksgiving (thank you) and contrition (I’m sorry; I love you).
The one kind of prayer that was missing was adoration. You know how we say to God, “You are wonderful. You just are.” Well, we can say that to someone in family, too, and we would do well to say that often to family. I had reached five.
But then I thought that there is something else we often say in family, “How can I help you? How can I help you accomplish what you are trying to do?” We can say that to God, too, “God, how can I help you to pull off what you are trying to make happen?”
It dawned on me that what we do well to say in prayer we would do well to say in family, and what we say in family we can also say in prayer.
So, which prayer best matches your emotions and desires at this moment, “Please, O God. Thank you, God. I’m sorry, God. God, I love you. O God, you are wonderful. God, how can I help you?
our island of misfits
25 Dec
My nose and my fingers are crooked. My right ear sticks out like a car door that is opening. One of my legs is longer than the other one.
I am a bit of a misfit.
In a classic Christmas movie, Rudolph the Reindeer, the one with the red nose, accidentally comes to the island of misfit toys. Something is wrong with each of the toys. They are convinced that no one would want them or love them.
There is an elephant that had spots, and a bird that couldn’t fly but it could swim. There is a water pistol that shoots jelly, and a train that has a caboose with squares wheels. And there is Charlie:. He is a bit of a surprise and has a spring in his legs. He hides in a box, and pops out. But his name is Charlie, and he is convinced that no one would ever want to play with a Charlie in a Box.
We are all misfits. Somewhere, and someone all of us don’t fit in. I don’t meet the standards that I have set for myself. I don’t match up with what the Church thinks that I should be and what the Gospel demands of me. I have not become all that God created me to be.
God came on purpose to our island, this island of misfits, to show us what was in his heart that needed to be in ours, that we are wanted and loved by God. God wants you. God loves you. No one is truly happy until they are convinced deep down within them that they are truly wanted and truly loved by God. That is what makes Christmas the most wonderful day of the year!
when grief is raw
3 Nov
This morning at the 11:00 a.m. Mass at St. Andrew, we lighted a candle for each person who was buried from our church this past year, with a calling of names and the sounding of a bell.
Two more candles were lighted …
+ for all those who were buried elsewhere who are remembered by someone at Mass this day whose grief is still raw.
+ for children born to God before they were born to us — children who died because of stillbirth, abortion or miscarriage — whose mothers often grieve alone and in quiet because no one knows or few understand, and without the benefit of a funeral or burial.
It is a good and holy thing to remember those who grieve.
“yesterday” was Expedite’s feast day
20 Apr
St. Expedite is the patron saint of procrastination His feast day is April 19. I didn’t get around to mentioning it yesterday. At least now I didn’t put it off until tomorrow.
There is not much that is “known” about St. Expedite, although there are a lot of great stories about him. Believe any of them that you like. I like the one about when he had decided to become a Christian, the devil appeared in the form of a crow, and didn’t argue with him about his decision, but just suggested to him that he could convert tomorrow. Expedite stomped on the bird and said, “I’ll be a Christian today!”
I often hear myself saying to myself, “I really want/need to … I am going to start tomorrow.”
Got an emergency? Need a quick solution to a problem? Want relief from the habit of procrastination? Pray to St. Expedite.
BYW, in the holy card above and below, “hodie” translates “today,” and “cras” (like in pro”cras”tination) means “tomorrow.”
“It is unacceptable. We have obviously failed.”
16 Feb
Living in the sight and smell of feces and urine, with raw sewage at their feet, limited water, not much electric, no heat or air-conditioning, and not enough food – this is not what the people on the Carnival Triumph cruise ship had signed up for. This was no way to live. They deserved better. It was unacceptable. Yet this is how they spent their Mardi Gras and began their Lent.
In communication with loved ones by cell phones many gave accounts of the good service of the crew. They spoke about how they were making do with what they had (or didn’t have). They lived in hope and trust that their ordeal would eventually be over.
In the port on shore the CEO of the cruise line made no excuses but only apologies, “We pride ourselves on providing our guests with a great experience, and clearly we failed in this particular case.”
As we begin our Lent and ponder how disgusting it must have been to live those days on the ocean liner, we remember that there are people in the world who live that way all the time: the way human beings are not meant to live. There are people who never have utilities and facilities, who are always without water, food and electric, and who are without any hope that their ordeal will come to an end. This is unacceptable. Maybe this event – and this Lent – will make us more grateful, when we flush the toilet, turn on the lights, open our refrigerator and make our beds. Maybe this event – and this Lent – will find us more inclined to be of good service to those who do not have something that they deserve.
Maybe this event – and this Lent – will cause those of us who stand on the shores of comfort or cruise through life in luxury to catch a glimpse of the suffering of others. Maybe in the next forty days we will be shown some way of working toward fixing things and making things right for someone else.
No One to “Be My Valentine”
14 Feb
Valentine’s Day is my most unfavorite day of the year. Because of the life that I have chosen for myself as a celibate Catholic priest, which, to the best of my ability to know, is the life that God chose for me before I chose it, there is no one to “Be My Valentine.”
When my mother was still with us, I could count on one Valentine. In the mail, year after year, I would receive one of those simple (read: cheap) Valentines on flimsy paper, with the perforated edges indicating that it was one of a sheet of Valentines. It was the kind that I remember being passed around in the first grade. There was no breath-taking or tear-bringing message, like the ones we see on the jewelry and perfume and candy commercials. It would be signed simply with her heartfelt, “Love, Mom.” But mom is gone now for six and a half years. No more Valentines from her.
There is the cutest little blond girl in our parish, six and a half years old. She has taken to making me and bringing me a Valetine’s Day card every year. It so happens that she was born on the day that my mother died. Without her parents knowing me six and a half years ago, and knowing nothing about my mother, they gave their daughter the name, “Isabelle.” That was mom’s name. And they call her, “Izzy.” That is what my sisters and I called mom.
Izzy brought me a Valentines’ Day card today. I smiled. Izzy smiled. My mother smiled.
(most) enjoyed and concerned
5 FebSomeone asked me what I most enjoyed recently about being Catholic – and – what concerned me most about the future of the Church. This is how I responded? How would you respond?
Most enjoyed being Catholic? Being in the Middle East at Catholic Mass and having pilgrims tell me how much they appreciated the ritual of the Catholic Church and how comfortable they felt at Sunday Mass when the vernacular was not their own language. Because of the ritual, they could tell where they were in Mass and what was happening and was being said, even though they understood not a word of Arabic. One even noted that the priest, speaking Arabic, had the same inflection and cadence in his voice that his priest back home used when celebrating Mass in English.
Most concerned about the future? That people and priests will become more and more imbedded in opposing camps, and will fail to take the humble stance and maintain the humble attitude to listen, to learn and to realize that the church does not belong to any of them. I fear that believers will feel so strongly about what they believe that they will always see things as simple and clear, that their first thought will be to try to control and convince the others, and that thus all conversation and growth will be stifled.
2012 in review: shameless “self” promotion
1 JanThe WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.
That someone from 103 countries visited my blog in 2012 totally intrigues me. Apparently, a lot of people have gotten lost, totally confused or made mistakes in the search for what they really wanted to find.
Most visitors came from The United States. That makes sense. Most of them are probably me!
I like the way the numbers from the Holy Land are broken down, keeping separate numbers for Israel and the West Bank. Of course, Jordan has its own numbers. Hmm. Am I being “followed” or “watched” by someone in the Middle East, do you think?
I am curious as to who is checking in from Ireland, and why the number for the United Kingdom is so high, high for my blog, that is. They give me no way to tell “who” they are, only “how many” they are. Actually, they don’t actually tell me how many different people, but only … oh, never mind, I am the only one who would ever care anyway.
How much do you want to bet that the “5 most active commenters” are the first to notice that part of the report?
Wishing you a blessed good year – and wishing mysef a blogging good year 2013!
With Open Doors 