Triumph? A cross, really.....?

 Dali, of course.

Yup.
Today is the feast of the Triumph of the Cross. 
Which always seems all counter-intuitive.  Like we Catholics and Christians have lost our collective minds.  Really? A cross? That horrible gory ghastly unspeakable death?  Or, that so common it's lost it's punch story of the crucifixion....yeah yeah yeah, I know I know.  Easy to kind of give a mental nod to it and move on, right? 
Well, yeah........except when it's YOUR cross. 
Because that's what this is about: You.  Your cross too. 
By which I mean, mine.
And then it all takes on QUITE a different tone doesn't it?
Because these "crosses".....doggone if they don't HURT!
Like HELL!

Yeah, see, you get the idea. 
Takes me a while and I still forget, but yeah.
That's the idea.  Because you don't get to Christ without the Cross.
Dang.
But you don't. 
And really, you don't even want to. No, really, think about it, you don't...because it is in our suffering that we strip away the dross, the unimportant, and find the realest of real, the true.  It is in that process that we find what is most important about our lives, ourselves....and it is always the same truth: Love.  And that of course, is God.  God is love.  Done.

Why it takes the Cross to get that through our stubborn mulish heads I don't know.  I guess because I am so stubborn.  Such a mule.  Such a slow slow learner. 
So proud. So controlling. 
All of that has to be kicked out of me, again and again before I can set it all down and give over.... 
so that I can let real love wash over me, the way it's supposed to instead of the way I'd like to direct it.... to learn to actually LOVE, in action and deeds instead of only good intentions....to just do it {and yes, I"m still working on it, thanks for asking...sigh}. 

And it's that. In the doing, where we find the love, even as we might be carrying the cross.  Then too is when we see the triumph, yeah, even the exaltation and joy of that very cross, so despised before.  We see it's beauty.  Because it transformed.....everything.  It transformed suffering. It transformed ugly, and pain, and horror, and fear, and weeping, and exhaustion.  It took it all and flipped it inside out....into our very reason for shouting and clapping for joy, for hugging with grateful tears, for that catch in our chest when we know that it's ok, not even ok, but oh so unspeakably good. 
Because it is love.  It is our suffering, which is our giving to the last drop of ourselves that we go the cross, Christ's cross, and only then do we get to really learn what it means to really love, in the way that is real. 
Triumph. 
Love that word.
Today's the day to remember it.
Triumph.

Siena

"We adore you Oh Christ, and we praise you, because by your Holy Cross, you have redeemed the world."

Birth of St. John the Baptist

It's a Solemnity!

It's a Solemnity of a happy day: the birth of St. John the Baptist!

Now, I've gone over this before but a solemnity is actually a big deal feast day...not really like it sounds - solemn in the sense of sad or grim.  Rather, it's a specially marked day to remember some of the very important figures in our faith and history.  Obviously, St. John the Baptist...he's a biggie!

Now this also means it's a feast day of sorts for my Jon.  You know: patron/name and so on.  No surprise then, really, that I see many overlaps in character traits between these two John's/Jon's.  That's how these things seem to go.  Names somehow evolve to seem very apt.  Maybe it's all projecting by the parents, but even so....it's my blog and I'm the mom and I'm going with it. 

So.  Here we have a day to remember and mark: the birth of this remarkable man, the herald of Christ to come, St. John the Baptist. 

Heck, even before he was born he was jumping around and making himself known, pointing (or kicking...) toward Christ.  When Mary went to visit Elizabeth, arriving and greeting her with a big hug, John lept in Elizabeth's womb and Elizabeth knew, deep down, that something was up.  So I'm presuming it was more than your usual kick/bump/push by the babe.  Must'a been a whopper of a flip.  Maybe a little prenatal jump for joy?  Actually yes: 

"Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, cried out in a loud voice and said, "Most blessed are you among women, and blessed in the fruit of your womb.  And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy." Luke 1:41-44

Ok, this painting is  

Visitation by Mariotto Albertinelli (1503) and I saw it in the Uffizi.

I LOVE this painting. I do.  

  

So, that's just cool.

But, what ya gotta also think of, ok, what I think of, is that little John...he was no milquetoast.  I mean, even before he was out and squinting at the light, he was already pointing and pushing and making a bit of a ruckus.  Elizabeth, she should have sensed what was to come.  Maybe she did.  Tho, not many moms will even dare look ahead to such radical futures for their kids: heading off into the desert, scavenging for food, not wearing the nice clean linens that we got or made for them...nope, not what might have been dreamt.  But it was precisely his hardheaded radical ways that made him who he is and was.  Those very traits of fearless speaking out earned him followers and prepared the way for Christ. It was exactly like it was supposed to be.  So he got the biggest honor of all: baptizing Christ.  Whoa.  He got to take part in a miracle for all to see.  And still he was his own kind of raggedy but strong difficult stubborn self.  To the very end, even to his beheading (another vision that no mom wants to even consider, yikes).

 El Greco, you know I love his stuff....

So, for all of us, we get to think about how to be countercultural today.  How to say the truth, even if it's hard. How to stand up for what is right, not necessarily easy.  How to stay clothed in the less than flashy skins of integrity, loyalty and humble truth.  And my Jon, he has these qualities (maybe needing some work on the humble part...he's 18 after all....): he has deep running integrity and a radar seeking truth, he is a champion of the small and weak. 

 {Yeah, even will stand up for his sisters...go figure}

He will speak out, in the desert or in the face of the powerful.  I know he too will do great things, even if hard.  And while sometimes I might personally want to roll his head down the hall in frustration...I DO wish him a different end than that of his patron.


But today is the day to celebrate the BIRTH of St. John the Baptist, not the end.  To think of the promise that even that little baby showed and that his intuitive saintly mama knew, from the very beginning: he was special.

Happy Solemnity!

Tintoretto, 1563

Let the Fire Fall

Pentecost, by El Greco

Breathe into me, Holy Spirit,

that my thoughts may all be holy.

Move in me, Holy Spirit,

that my work, too, may be holy.

Attract my heart, Holy Spirit,

that I may love only what is holy.

Strengthen me, Holy Spirit,

that I may defend all that is holy.

Protect me, Holy Spirit,

that I may always be holy

Prayer to the Holy Spirit by St. Augustine

painting by Titian, Pentecost.

Holy Laughter

Rejoice!

It is Easter!

He is Risen indeed! Indeed He is Risen!

Painting, Fra Angelico

I love Easter, my favorite holiday. It is. It is just too full of pure grinning hugging laughing tear blinking elation. The ever great guys over at Godzdogz make a good point, often lost in the hussle of dying eggs and gobbling candy and oohing and cooing at the beautiful little kids in their Easter bonnets and best:

but this is THE big reversal! This is the big laugh out loud rejoicing because death itself has been foiled. And we can laugh the purest laugh of sheer joy and gratitude at the mind blowing goodness of it all.

Gosh any teen boy worth his salt or brash "too cool for you" comedian should be clapping his hands and howling at the pure "great one" of this day: He didn't die. He turned death upside down, reversing it for all, for all time. Now that makes the purest truest laughter spring forth, when you really think about it. Because that laughter starts as unsure, tiny niggles of fear, "Can it really be true, c'mon? Do you really believe that?" And now, well, Yeah! He already has spoken with Mary Magdalene and called her by her name!

Painting by Bouguereau, "The Holy Women at the Tomb"

She was so amazed that she ran off to tell the disciples. Talk about taking your breath, blowing your mind...think she just cooly stood there and gazed and thought, "Meh?"
Um, no. I think she ran and tripped and her mind was racing and she couldn't get to them fast enough. And, as an aside (because I am all about asides) I love it that He saw her first: a woman, a sinful woman who was trying her best, and who made huge changes in her life, because of Him. That gives me hope, that kind of mercy and love.

Anyhow, so, even though I oh so often tear up at the vigil Mass (especially if I catch sight of my dear friend Sonja, who always cries...because it just means SO much to her), at the end of the Mass, after the traditional recessional song of "Jesus Christ is Risen Today," (Played and sung LOUD and with jubiliation)...at the end, I want to laugh and shout and clap my hands and grin stupidly from ear to ear. Because it's real.
It's the BIG reversal, the ultimate gift.
And it's ours.
Whoa.
That's just pure pure JOY. Jubilation!
It's just the best.
It's holy laughter.

Happy Happy Easter!

Michaelangelo's drawing, "The Resurrection of Christ"

The Postmodern Why: holy linkage

painting by Dali, of course

So, today is of course Good Friday and a day to ponder our faith, if any. 

And as I do this often (some will say tooo often, and some will say not nearly often enough) I am most interested when others do it too.  And this gal has written a piece on NPR today that is worth reading.  Because, as usual, she answers this question, the one that is  blazing around the modern media outlets of late (well, not overtly, but it's in the subtext, it really is):  

Why? Why be Catholic? Really?  How can you? How could you?  

Especially now, in light of scandals and more mud thrown and slings and arrows and accusation and supposition and on.... why?  

Well, here is an excerpt, below.  But, today, of all days, I'd ask you to go read it.  It's worth a few minutes. 

"The question has come my way several times in the past week: "How do you maintain your faith in light of news stories that bring light to the dark places that exist within your church?"

When have darkness and light been anything but co-existent? How do we recognize either without the other?

I remain within, and love, the Catholic Church because it is a church that has lived and wrestled within the mystery of the shadow lands ever since an innocent man was arrested, sentenced and crucified, while the keeper of "the keys" denied him, and his first priests ran away. 

***snip****

The darkness within my church is real, and it has too often gone unaddressed. The light within my church is also real, and has too often gone unappreciated. A small minority has sinned, gravely, against too many. Another minority has assisted or saved the lives of millions.

But then, my country is the most generous and compassionate nation on Earth; it is also the only country that has ever deployed nuclear weapons of mass destruction.

My government is founded upon a singular appreciation of personal liberty; some of those founders owned slaves. 

***snip***

I am a woman with very generous instincts, and I try to love everyone, but I am capable of corrosive scorn. Have I been much sinned against? Yes. So have you. Have I sinned against others? Oh, yes. So have you.

Like a pebble cast into a pond, our every action ripples out toward the edges, reaching farther than we intended, touching what we do not even know, for good and for ill. It all either means nothing, or it means everything.

As a Catholic, I believe it means everything."

Go.  Read.  Then, ponder faith. Ponder being human. Ponder the why of faith.  

That's what today is about.  It's Good Friday.
 

"Why is this night different from any other night?"

It is Holy Thursday.
The first day of the Triduum.
It's also known as Maundy Thursday
But, no matter the term used, it's a high holy day, and it's one of the ones that is rich and complex and beautiful and difficult all at the same time.

(And, as an aside, everyone I know is kind of suffering all sorts of larger and smaller slings and arrows this week, escalating today.  Right.  Exactly. I guess that's how we know it's Holy Week and we get to participate in our own mini-wimpy-passion....because "we can't handle the truth" {to paraphrase Jack} of the real experience.  Just saying.....)

Sadao Watanabe print

Tonight the Mass remembers that special Passover supper, the last supper.  This is the supper of the institution of the Eucharist.  The disciples didn't even really realize what was going on...how typical, then, and now.  But, oh the beauty of it all.

  painting by Juan De (Vicente) Juanes (Masip).

So too, this night, Christ washed their feet, showing them how to be the servant of servants that they would be called to be...that we are called to be.  How often do I forget that one? Daily, how many times a day is the better question.

Sigh.  This is such a complex layered night.  I can't begin to do it justice.  The emotions range all over the map: from the quiet humbling of the washing of the feet, to the beauty of the institution of the eucharist, to the stripping of the altar and processing out that brings me to blinking away the tears.....It's a rigorous beautiful piercing night. For me, this night does begin the vigil...the vigil that doesn't end until the close of Saturday night's vigil Mass (finishing Sunday).   

"Why is this night different from any other night?"  
This is one of the Passover questions.  So too, it is our question, mine.
And these three days ahead, I get to ponder it and pray over it and grow my heart bigger to answer it well, or try.

There is also a long tradition of a late Holy Thursday night service, called Tenebrea that means, literally, "shadows" or "darkness."  This service is one of the hardest and most beautiful.  It starts in light and over the course of the service moves to darkness....because these are the three days of darkness and the greatest of suffering.  It ends with a cacophony of clapping wood.  It jangles and disturbs me deep inside, as it should, as it's meant to.  The Sisters of Carmel explain it well, go read the whole thing here, but below is a snip from it:

 

There is placed in the sanctuary, near the altar, a large triangular candlestick holding fifteen candles. At the end of each psalm or canticle, one of these fifteen candles is extinguished, but the one which is placed at the top of the triangle is left lighted. During the singing of the Benedictus (the Canticle of Zachary at the end of Lauds), six other candles on the altar are also put out. Then the master of ceremonies takes the lighted candle from the triangle and holds it upon the altar while the choir repeats the antiphon after the canticle, after which she hides it behind the altar during the recitation of the Christus antiphon and final prayer. As soon as this prayer is finished, a noise is made with the seats of the stalls in the choir, which continues until the candle is brought from behind the altar, and shows, by its light, that the Office of Tenebrae is over.

Wishing you a mindful and Blessed Triduum.

Fish Eaters - What's up with that?

Ok, so here we are in Lent, officially in the first week of Lent (because even though half of last week was Lent, beginning with Ash Wednesday, those days aren't counted in the "weeks" but they are counted in the days.  Yeah, it messes me up too.)  Anyhow..... so we've already had two official days of abstinence and one of fasting.  

So, what's the diff? Abstinence, fasting, no meat....but fish, isn't fish meat?  
Confused?
Join the club, you aren't the only one.
In fact, I am a what they call a "Cradle Catholic;" by which I mean, raised Catholic from birth.  And even I still have to scratch my head and think hard on the specifics of the days sometimes.  {Although, admittedly, lately that's been more because of the softening of my mind and loss of brain cells due to this blasted middle age.}  

But folks always ask about the fish.  Specifically, "What's up with the Friday Fish?"

Ya got your fish fries, your fish sandwiches, tuna fish in every way you can dream it up.
Personally, I prefer the veggie route...but that's just me maybe.  Anthony, my little man, he will vote for the cheese pizza, every time.  But I digress.

Anyhow, so what IS up with the whole "fish" thing?
Well lots.
The rudimentary part is we abstain, we Catholics, from meat on Fridays.
It's a small mortification.
Some have speculated on why we do it.
But as with most things in the Church, there is always real history and tradition behind what we do today.  For a good article on the history and reasoning behind this, go here, it's an article written by my real world in person I just hugged her at Mass yesterday morning gal pal, Sonja.  She's brilliant and writes lovely intellectual pieces that explain so much about the church (as opposed to my stream of consciousness blather).  So read, you'll learn.  You'll be glad you did.

So, we fast and abstain in order to experience the spirit of this penitential season of Lent.  We make small (measly, really) sacrifices in order to train our bodily selves to look beyond our lives here, moment to moment.  We offer that small suffering to Christ, in thanksgiving for all he went through for us.  It is a small teeny tiny parallel to Christ's forty days of prayer in the desert.  We are in the desert, during Lent. We try to train our minds, bodies and hearts to turn to what is actually real and important.  And it's not the hamburgers...or the fish sandwiches.

So, yeah, we don't eat meat on Fridays.  Mostly during Lent, though some try to observe this throughout the year.  And it may sound like no big deal.  But I'll tell ya, maybe it's because I have the self discipline of a four year old....but when I KNOW I can't have meat, all of a sudden I am craving a big ol' steak, or bacon, or a chicken sandwich. It's as if I was thrown back to the caveman era, before the world knew the  wonders of spinach salad with goat cheese, or hummus, or a good caprese salad.  And I sulk a bit.  I mope around and suddenly can't find anything to eat. Because I am an infant.  And so, Fridays are tough.  But I guess that it how they are supposed to be.

Feast of the Immaculate Conception.

Saint Anne conceiving the Virgin Mary
Douai, Musée de la Chartreuse

Oh, it's a big feast today!  It's one of those feasts: an uber Catholic one.
It's the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, a holy day of obligation.

One of the big Marian feasts, and one that often gives many folks some consternation (from a scratch on the head to fits).  For a good explanation of it all, go here (and scroll down for all those, "What's up with that" "How can that be?" kind of responses).  I can't give you a great theological treatise on it.  It took brilliant theologians from the east and west to determine this one over the centuries, but they did because we are human. And our inquiring minds want to know, and puzzle and ponder.  So those who have gone before us prayed and debated and concluded.  I can say that it only makes sense to my puny brain.

For a long time, I thought that the "immaculate conception" referred to Mary's conception of Jesus, you know, with the descent of the Holy Spirit and Gabriel and all...clean, tidy, right?  But no, it's actually about Mary and her being preserved from the stain of original sin.  Confusing, a little, huh?  Well, this is how it parses out in my old mom brain: God himself is all love and of course, without sin.  God came to us in his son, Christ, who was also without sin (being God and all).  Since all purity and all love cannot coexist with the stain of sin, how could Christ come to us as a man, without first having a pure 'vessel', if you will?  Well, he couldn't, that would not correspond with the natural/divine order.  Growing in utero is, utterly, coexisting.  So, if God cannot coexist with sin, then a human mom to be would have to be found, sinless.  And thus, since God is beyond time, he prepared Mary, {from her conception of course}, to be without sin.  Because God knew, outside of time, that Mary would be the perfect (literally and figuratively) mom for Jesus.

Now, I think that's cool!  It makes perfect sense to me and really is one of those 'clap your hands, I get it" kind of moments.  Yeah, it's uber Catholic.  But hey, I love being Catholic because (well, so many reasons) its cool and rich and takes my breath away.  And of course,  I love feasts....so it's a good day!

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us!

Happy Birthday to Mary

It's the feast of the Nativity of Mary! Which means, of course, that it's her birthday! And, as you have probably guessed by now...I love a birthday. They are full of happiness, just knowing that's the day they were brought into the world. What's not to celebrate about that, ever? This feast of the Nativity of Mary "is a commemoration of that happy and joyful day on which the ever-blessed virgin Mother of God first saw the light of day."
This feast is one of the few that celebrate the birth of a holy person. Most feasts celebrate the death of the holy person...which sounds really weird, but the idea is that the day of death is the day they enter heaven, which is something worth celebrating on their behalf. But this is one of the three days on the church calendar that celebrates a birth-day; only John the Baptist and Jesus himself get this privilege. So this is an extra special honor, signifying her special role in our lives and her relation to Christ.
All of us are born and have many chances to turn to God or away, and really, you can't ever know for sure until you get there (by which I mean, you die). So, for most of us regular Joes, we hope to keep turning toward God all along the way and we only mark and celebrate the death of the holiest, mostly saintly folks....and not their births; because they stayed the course, or turned to it for good. But for Mary, we get to celebrate her birth because God himself made her for himself, to be his entrance as a man to this world. Now that's cool.
"We pray Thee, O Lord, grant to Thy servants the gift of heavenly grace: as the childbearing of the blessed Virgin was the beginning of our salvation, so may the devout celebration of her Nativity accord us an increase of peace."

Martrydom of St. John the Baptist

Carvaggio, 1608

Ok, that title is a more polite way of describing this event. In my house full of rough and tumble boys, they tend to use the other, more graphic title: The Beheading of John the Baptist.

Sigh.
I guess in our modern era of shock tv and horror movies, even this grisly story seems tame.
What a shame. Maybe it should shock and make our stomach's flop and faces wince.
It does mine.
I used to (still do, really...sometimes) wonder why we had to have these gruesome stories in the bible, and even commemorate them. I mean, really? As they say, "Why can't we all just get along?" Why can't it be "nice?" Let's just look at the pretty stuff.....yes, Pollyanna....

But as we all know all too well, REAL life isn't always pretty. Real life has real hurt, real gore, real unexplainable happenings, that can't be explained away....except perhaps by the real existence of evil and our all too human nature to be seduced by it.
And this true story, that we remember especially today, is about evil, to be sure.
I mean, Salome asked for the head of John the Baptist on a platter...because her mother told her to ask as she danced. Her mother was so torqued at John for calling out Herod on his adultery (with her), that she pressed her daughter to ask for his death, and decapitation at that.
Talk about a vengeful woman...

Anyhow, this story is not only about that evil impulse and gory act. It's about John the Baptist being both a harbinger of Christ and His sacrifice to come, but also a man who stood up for Truth - no matter what.

Massimo Stanzione c. 1634.

Now, even in our modern days, holding onto truth can sure get hard. Especially when so much of the idea of truth has become a dull gray slide rule......there is not much black and white anymore; absolute truths or rights or wrongs. Or, so it seems in our popular modern culture. And yet, of course, there still is real truth, but it's not always popular or 'pc' or whatever. And while I haven't heard to too many folks getting beheaded for being 'non-pc' lately, there is still a pressure out there to just...not. Not get involved. Not care. Not worry about anyone else. Not call it like it is. Not get into anybody's business.

But really, it IS a fine line. I myself have more opinions than most, but I find the words "Judge not" ring in my ears. So, how to jive that all up? I don't know. I tend to do the best I can on the fly. Which is probably pretty poorly, most of the time. I'll either get too timid to speak up, or too tired, or I will speak up and stick my foot in it. Typically I just throw my opinions out there anyhow.

So, I can let my boys play with swords and be good guys and bad guys; acting out the scary hard ideas of good and evil, right and wrong. And this story can have a place in that sort of teaching, eventually. St. John the Baptist teaches us that we should not be afraid. That speaking the Truth is hard, possibly even dangerous. There is real danger in life, and sometimes it cannot be escaped. But, it is worth it.

And the caveat is: the Truth is Love. Love is Truth. And so....if you (ok, me) can try speak of Truth/Love, with courage....then you or I will live it as well.

Icon written by Constantine Youssis

The Assumption

Icon of the Assumption

Today is the Solemnity of the Assumption.

And solemnity doesn't mean, necessarily, somber and morose...rather it can mean big time, important. Meaning, it's a holy day of obligation, go to Mass. And while this is one of the "biggie" (Yes, I spent my summers in the seventies on the beach, we used that term, so what?) solemnities in the Catholic calendar, I don't have the energy to give you all the scholarly apologetics behind it all (go see the link above for a start).

As an aside, however, Coffeedoc pointed out that today was the feast of the Assumption to Marta - Ethiopian Orthodox celebrate this feast in a big way and it is called "Filsata Mariam" - and she jumped up and down with excitement. So it's a big deal even in the the other ancient Christian faith traditions.

Ethiopian Orthodox Marian icon.

Suffice it to say that this Solemnity is totally cool and has so many threads connecting it all that it blows my mind with a grin. And that, as so much of life is, it's one of the Mysteries. That's mystery with a capital "M;" theologically speaking. By which I mean, if I really could understand it through and through, well, I would be be both presumptuous AND wrong. Because some of the mysteries that make life and faith so rich, are not for my puny mind to dissect.

So, that all disclaimed, ahem, I give you my personal gloss on this feast day (My blog, massively opinionated, you knew it was coming.):
Mary was a mother who loved with perfect love (unlike myself). Her son was a perfect son, who also loved with a perfect love. Now, if I, with my very imperfect love can love my sons SO much that it can make me cry and mope when they leave for their very fun new exciting lives in college (Next week, I"m just saying.) once again......then how much more so did Mary ache to see her son leave this earth and his time with her in such a grisly unbearable event? And how much did she miss him, achingly miss him, all those years? And therefore, at the end of her life, when she was able to be reunited with her boy, her Son....just think of the joy, the unbridled radiating shimmery JOY, of that reunion! And in this feast, we believe that they were reunited in Heaven.

Frankly, I simply love everything about this. I mean, just having my boy come back home after a few months at college makes me want to whoop, jump for joy, run down the stairs and hug him tight, not let go, feed him pie and just look at him. It makes me ridiculously happy. So, this feast is a promise of that to me, that reunion, that that kind of love between mom and son (or, ok, kids, but hey, let me run this out), doesn't just die out...it is eternal. And that is the best promise of all and that is nothing but cool.

So, there, moms....that's something to smile about.
Happy Solemnity of the Assumption!

Detail of painting of Assumption, by Titian

Magnificat (Luke 1:36-55)

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,

my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour;

he has looked with favour on his lowly servant.

From this day all generations will call me blessed;

the Almighty has done great things for me and holy is his name.

He has mercy on those who fear him,

from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm

and has scattered the proud in their conceit,

Casting down the mighty from their thrones

and lifting up the lowly.

He has filled the hungry with good things

and sent the rich away empty.

He has come to the aid of his servant Israel,

to remember his promise of mercy,

The promise made to our ancestors,

to Abraham and his children for ever.

Amen.

Lodovico Caracci, The Assumption of the Virgin, about 1586-7

Feast of St. Dominic

Painting by El Greco, St. Dominic in Prayer, 1596-1590

It's the feast of St. Dominic today!
That is my favorite painting of him, above. We have a particular fondness for the Dominicans...mostly due to these wonderful sisters. They are the best things going around here and are some of the most joyful and compelling people I've met. Happily for us, they also teach our children (some of them) and we are lucky enough to be able to visit their motherhouse for Mass or vespers whenever we are in need of the sound of angels.
For another great link to online Dominican goodness, go here.

Now, for me, this is what St. Dominic stands for: the vocation to teach, sanctity, and the zeal for truth. And oh my, joy. Just clear joy (not simpleminded, but real, joy). And that is what I've seen embodied in so many Dominicans that I have met and know.

The irresistible combination of sanctity and complete dedication to Christ (Uhm, I know, DUH, they are vowed religious, but still...) somehow makes these Dominicans so compelling. You just want to be around them because they radiate. They really do.

Maybe it's that zeal for truth, a la their founder: St. Dominic. Because that zeal for truth is the zeal for Christ, who is Love and really uniting to that, that truth, that love....it brings joy. And that is why they draw me, and others. They really do just glow, radiate joy and happiness.

And I think we are all searching for that. I am. Always. And it's so hard to really hold onto....but St. Dominic is an example of how to find it. For real.

St. Dominic, pray for us, that we may radiate the joy of truth and Love.

Feast of the Transfiguration

Fra Angelico, fresco, Transfiguration of Christ, 1441

Today is the feast of the Transfiguration.

This feast is, once again, a timely juxtaposition with my mundane little life. I love how living the liturgical year through the Church brings us/me these connections and reminders of what's real and important...and helps me see beyond my own little self absorbed boundaries, even if only for a millisecond or two. It's cool. It's almost like it's planned to do that or something, I don't know... Doh!

This feast is the story from the gospel (Luke 9:28-36) that we meditate upon in the fourth mystery of the luminous rosary. Its when Jesus and his apostles, Peter, James, and John go up onto Mount Tabor with Christ. Then Christ appeared to them, not only as the man they knew but in all the blinding splendor of His Divine Nature, and what's more, with Elijah and Moses beside Him. Peter, one of my fav's, was so excited that he burst out and said, "Lord it is good to be here! Let's put up a tent!" (well, that's my paraphrase, anyhow). He was so thrilled that he just wanted to stay there, it was that cool! (He reminds me of my sweet Booboo here, ok often, but that is just what my son would say and do.)

Well, I just really love the visuals and imagery of this story. But I also love the whole concept of transfiguration. Even as I cringe at change in general, I beg to be transfigured myself as I need it so. And this passage promises that, for each one of us. Now, the caveat is that it promises it through the cross. It was just following this event that Christ went to His Passion, the Cross. He went to suffer. But the transfiguration was a promise to his disciples, his most beloved, that the suffering would not be the end. That there was more and it was Glorious, breathtaking. It was also a promise to us and a path: that our suffering is not for naught, that it too transforms us.

I know, I've written this before. I think about this a lot. Maybe because it's hard to wrap my puny brain and sensibilities around the whole concept. And now, especially, it's been a struggle, because this past month I've been in it. And you know, suffering, um, hurts. But even so, even in the weary of it, the core of me believes it does change you. It transforms you. And you come out on the other side different. Better, stronger. No, not faster, this is not a Six Million Dollar Man cheapie tv show..... but more. Transfigured. More the You that you were made to be. Whatever that is. But MORE. And that, to me, is glorious, and hopefully, for me personally, shinier (as I am nothing but smudgy of late).

I like Raphael's drawing, below. One, because I love drawings, but also because I love how this study is about the apostles. The actual imagery of the transfiguration of Christ is of course impossible to really know or guess; it is beyond our ken. But the apostles, this story is very much about them, and us, as well. And the wonder and the stunning awe that they must have felt, the joy, the fear, the gasp.....well, I keep finding my mind turning to that. So, today on this feast of the Transfiguration, I will try hard to remember and trust that even we regular Joes (And, erk, Janes) can be transfigured too. The promise is for us as well. And I will meditate on that in gratitude and wonder.

Raphael, study of heads of apostle's for Transfiguration painting.

Mercy Me

It's Divine Mercy Sunday!
And this is one of those days where we are reminded, formally so we really get it, of the most important things in life.
Possibly, THE most important thing:
Mercy.
Which means love.
For everyone, everyone deserves it: mercy and love.
We just forget that.

And today, we not only try to remember, but the church all around the world celebrates it and rejoices in it and shouts to us: "Don't forget this! Trust in it: mercy and love."

"Doubting Thomas" by Caravaggio

And we all know by now that I have trust issues, it seems.
That's where the worry and fretting and control freak comes from.
But today we are told, again, and again: "Trust. It's all about the mercy and love. Trust."
Ahhhhhh. Relief for the asking, or, the trusting.
Now, that is worth a celebration to me!

And since I can't say it well, I will send you to Deacon who says it so much better. Really, go read, it only takes a minute and you'll be glad you did, he connects the dots with our current world so well:

"God’s mercy says to us, very simply,
“You are loved -- no matter what. Because everybody is somebody.”

And that is what we celebrate, officially, today.
Ah, mercy, mercy.

Easter Sunday!

Rubens, "The Resurrection of Christ"

Hallelujah, He is Risen!
He is risen, indeed! Hallelujah!
It's Easter Sunday!!

This is it.
This is the reason I get out of bed in the morning, ultimately.
If it wasn't for this, I'm not sure I could, so many days.
It would just be too too hard.
But this, this makes it all worth it, more than worth it....
this makes it glorious.
Every day.
I don't even have the words....

Happy Happy Easter.
Go hop for joy!

Holy Saturday, Lamentations

Painting by Mantengna, c 1490

Holy Saturday.
We wait.
It is finished.
It is so silent, so sad.
It is a somber quiet day.
I think of his Mom.
And I ache for her.

Painting by Franz von Stuck, 1891

And today is an achy day, all around.
It hurts.
It should.
It is too quiet, too somber.
And yet, of course, not.
And we wait, happily for us, in joyful knowledge and hope, for tomorrow.
But still, today, we wait.