Abbey-Roads2

“Filled with the Holy Spirit, Jesus returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the desert for forty days, to be tempted by the devil.” - Luke 4

This is such a grand mystery in Our Lord’s life.  On one level, it parallels Israel wandering in the desert for forty years, suggesting to me how Jesus embraced every aspect of suffering which afflicted the Chosen People, indeed, the entire human race.  How He emptied Himself, taking the form of a slave, wandering amidst the evils and temptations humanity is subjected to.  Revealing how He who did not know sin, became sin for our sake - to deliver us from sin.  I may be mistaken, yet it seems to me it is precisely our sin that so attracts the Lord in His love and mercy.

His sojourn in the desert and His temptation was for us, just as certainly as His sorrowful passion and death.

I believe it is in the Grunewald Crucifixion where Our Lord is shown badly wounded and in agony.  If my memory serves me, the triptych had been painted for a hospital that cared for patients suffering from the effects of the plaque, others have noted that the wounds resemble those suffered by patients with advanced cases of syphilis.  Contemporary observers have suggested the wounds appear similar to Kaposi sarcoma, a skin cancer people with AIDS suffer from - or once did when the epidemic broke out.  (Although, I don’t know if it is still a symptom in AIDS cases.)

Once I mentioned this to a Cancer Home sister, in conjunction with the passage from Corinthians; God allowed Christ, who did not know sin to become sin for us.  Sister was somewhat scandalized at my assertion, imagining that I was saying Christ actually sinned - which was so far from my meaning.  For some reason, she could not identify His wounds with those people develop as a result of sexual sin.

The words of Isaiah best expresses my understanding however:

“He was spurned and avoided by men, a man of suffering, accustomed to infirmity, One of those from whom men hide their faces, spurned, we held him in no esteem.  Yet it was our sins that he bore, our sufferings he endured…Upon him was the chastisement that makes us whole, by his wounds we are healed.” - Isaiah 53

So often we think of Jesus in glory, so pure in the Blessed Sacrament, the glorious and terrible Judge who separates the sheep and the goats, or the gentle Lamb welcoming the pure and innocent children, failing to comprehend His abject abasement, His complete understanding of our fallen state. After all, He embraced it, being born in human estate, He took it upon Himself - He owned our misery.

When he revealed Himself to mystics such as Josepha Menendez, He frequently referred to her as a worm, a miserable wretched creature.  The Blessed Lord was not at all insulting her dignity, nor abusing her through these references - rather, He was revealing His experience of our humanity - that He knows our fallen nature and propensity to evil - He shared in it.  He was revealing His Sacred Heart as the refuge for sinners, the font of mercy - calling souls to come to Him without fear or intimidation because of their sins.

In  my life, and I think in the lives of others caught in sin or depression of whatever sort, it is good to take to heart the words Betsy Ten-Boom expressed in the Nazi concentration camp, “There is no pit so deep that His love is not deeper still.”  He who suffered for us, suffers with us, even in His mysterious descent into Hell,  which demonstrates that no one can take the last place from him, no one can comprehend the sufferings He endured; no one, not one, has ever endured what Our Lord endured.

The only way we can understand suffering and the excruciating effects of sin in the world is to study His Life, to immerse ourselves in the contemplation of His suffering, His sacred passion and death.  Then we will know that those wounds are indeed proof that while naked upon the cross, he was actually clothed with our sins, becoming sin for our sake - to reveal the secret of His love and bring us eternal salvation, redeeming us from our sins.

Nevertheless, this is foolishness to the worldly minded. 

Since the snow started in earnest this afternoon, and the roads were getting treacherous, I went to the vigil Mass tonight.  Good thing, as it promises to be worse tomorrow.  I also got my grocery shopping done and went to the drugstore.

I went to my local parish.  I haven’t been to a low-Catholic church for Sunday Mass for several years, I normally attend on Sundays at a high-Catholic church.  (I think these may become the terms of distinction after the Motu Proprio is propagated.  Although I believe this is what the opponents may fear.)

It is so not easy to be recollected in the Church I attended.  There was music, a bit more sentimental and schmaltzy for Lent - kind of like a ballad - I guess music is now permitted in Lent.  Before Mass, the pastor announced we were going to greet one another with the sign of peace beforehand, to preserve the more penitential aspect of the celebration.  He kind of did a Letterman style warm up - well, maybe more Regis - asking who was new to the parish, or visiting, etc. - I should have stood up.

Despite his saying we wouldn’t be greeting one another at the sign of peace, we did.  I participated - when people turned to greet me I responded, “You like me!  You really, really like me!”  Then I hugged them.  (Okay!  I just wanted to be hugged!)

Kidding aside, I think it is rather nice to greet each other, especially for the elderly or those who are alone.  Maybe not in the middle of the most solemn part of the Mass however.  I witnessed one woman nearly jumping over pews to greet others.  I was entertained by her enthusiasm.

Father began the prayers of the faithful referring to “God our Mother.”  Otherwise the prayers were kind of normal - the musical responses added drama.  During the Eucharistic prayer and Consecration, there was the tinkling of the piano as background music - it was sort of like a movie.  Glass was used for the Precious Blood - that always worries me.  Some people stood, while others knelt throughout the Eucharistic prayer - it must be optional.

I took Communion in the hand from a lay-person - ‘when in Rome’ - it is so awesome to touch the Lord!  I checked for particles, there were none.  When I arrived home I blessed my kitties with the fingers that actually held Our Lord.

As I entered the Church, I was grateful to see there was no sand in the holy water fonts - maybe it was because the fonts were removed, although the Paschal candle was in full view.  (That is called liturgical confusion.)  The obligatory barren fence-post cross was in place with a purple drape.  I thought they may have moved beyond that by now, it has become so cliche - that and banners.  It always strikes me as rather Lutheran - high-Church of course.

After Mass, I thought a riot had broken out, but people were just talking.  It was kind of hard to be recollected enough to make my thanksgiving, and I was afraid someone may come over to make sure I hadn’t died or something.  So I left, making my thanksgiving while I brushed snow from my car.

All in all, it was a good experience.  The priest was fully vested, his homily was excellent and very spiritual, and it was good to see families and elderly there, braving the blizzard conditions to gather for worship.  I was edified to see teenagers there with Christian t-shirts, genuinely participating in the celebration of Mass as they know it.

I realized we are indeed One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church.  It is so good to step out of our paradigm on occasion, recollected or not. 

Photo source:  “Hallowed Ground” a wonderful blog with beautiful photos.

I still drive by my homeless friend Alex every evening on my way home from work.  He presents himself much in the same manner as the woman pictured above, only he is young and stands at the corner, his head bowed.

Every evening I drive by, ashamed that I do not stop, at least to talk or ask if he needs anything - what a stupid question that would be.  Ashamed I cannot do more for him.  Ashamed I can’t alleviate his suffering.

I am my brother’s keeper.  I’m responsible for him, and I have failed him.

My favorite saints are the ones who were sinners…and became great penitents.  The Blessed Angela of Foligno, St. Margaret of Cortona, St. Benedict Joseph Labre, and others, such as St. Catherine of Genoa and Bl. Charles De Foucauld, all did public penance, more or less.

Angela and Margaret went through the streets of their respective towns with signs of their sins draped about them, with a noose around their necks, bewailing their sins and hypocrisy.  St Benedict Joseph was a flea-bitten vagrant, mocked and derided, something of a ‘fool for Christ’.

I was thinking blogging during Lent could be that for me.  (Although, my writing can be foolish enough as it is.)

Last weekend I posted on the state of my soul in venial sin - well sort of - and people were disgusted when I illustrated it with a wound covered in maggots.  Folks, sin is disgusting.  Remember how Our Lord called the Pharisees white-washed sepulchres, a brood of vipers.  He did not mince words.  My saint friends were so illuminated, they were able to see how sinful they were, and wanted the world to know as well.

In our culture, we witness blatant sin all of the time, and call it entertainment, fashion, politics, or business practices.  Nevertheless, it is polished to perfection, often glamorized or slicked up and excused because of the excellent ’marketing of evil’.  We all know this.

I’m a big hypocrite however.  I get annoyed with others who gossip and back-bite, especially if they are discussing me.  It just happened yesterday.  A juicy piece of gossip was floating around the store, and I was disappointed that at the beginning of Lent, everyone seemed to be engaged in it.  I remained above the fray, virtuously avoiding any participation in the discussion.  As I was leaving work, someone asked me about the ’scandal’ and I told them what I knew - without batting an eye.

Was I trying to be nice?  To be a people pleas-er?  Was I happy that someone was talking to me and treating me as a confidante?  Was I trying to gain this person’s favor and trust?  Pretty much.

What I decry in others, I myself am guilty of.  I do the same things everyone else does.  I mock, deride, and judge others without seeing the log in my own eye.

I love those who love me, while desiring those who do not love me to at least like me. I’m seeking myself in this, rather than doing good to those who despise me for the love of Jesus; or more exactly, in reparation for having deserved such treatment in the first place.  Although perfect love is to do good for Love’s sake alone.

I judge others, hold grudges, and condemn and criticize freely, in thought, word and deed.  I do all of this to people who have little esteem for me, who couldn’t be bothered to give me the time of day - because I want them to like me and they don’t.  I want to be accepted and respected, esteemed and appreciated, even if it means committing a sin such as tale-bearing, gossip, or rash judgement. 

It’s all about me.  For one to understand one’s sin is so necessary in the process of conversion.  That is why fasting, the various sacrifices we make in Lent, and our good resolutions are so purifying.  Never more so than when we fail in our good intentions.  Our faults, and falls, reveal so much to ourselves, especially when we humbly acknowledge these and cast ourselves into the merciful Heart of Jesus with confidence and love. 

It seems to me we cannot trust in ourselves, but in Jesus who inspires and perfects our faith, who may allow us to fall, even at every step.  Therefore we should not be discouraged, neither by our sins, or failings in our Lenten ascesis.  Instead, offer the Lord the sacrifice of being displeasing to ourselves, and even others; offer the humiliation of others seeing our sins and faults, even though we keep trying.  Remembering, “A saint is a sinner who keeps trying.”

Hang in there.

“Thus says the Lord: ‘If you remove from your midst oppression, false accusations and malicious speech; If you bestow your bread on the hungry and satisfy the afflicted; Then light shall rise for you in the darkness…”  Isaiah 58

I’m certain I contribute to the oppression by my selfish self-seeking and self indulgence, and tolerance of evil in my heart.

I know I support false accusations when I pay attention to them or repeat them.  They are false because I cannot know other men’s thoughts or motivation.

I’ve discovered malicious speech arises as a result of my envy, jealousy, pride and self-righteousness, which perpetuates the oppressive effects of evil.  (Little Jesus, of my sins repent me.)

Thankfully, in today’s Gospel, the Lord proclaims:

“Those who are healthy do not need a physician, but the sick do.  I have not come to call the righteous to repentance but sinners.”  Luke 5

I was on the phone for four hours last night with Qwest MSN support - I almost threw the lap top out the window.  Then the guy hung up on me, and never called back.  I was patient and cooperative, friendly and nice - as was the tech in Seattle, I’m sure he was at the end of his shift and just decided to leave.  I cannot recommend Qwest MSN for anything.  I’m going to switch servers.

So anyway - if you need to contact me, message through comments on this blog.  Thanks.

Today once was the feast of St. Margaret of Cortona.

Free-base biography - as if someone asked me about her life…

She fell in love with a handsome nobleman who had seduced her, and moved in with him, to escape a horrible home life.  She enjoyed the luxuries of the upper class and became a sort of ‘fashionista’.  She flaunted her irregular relationship and new found status before the entire town.  She feasted and dressed luxuriously, bearing a son to her lover, scandalizing the entire populace.  (Imagine Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie - or celebrities such as these - I think Margaret was like that.) 

Her lover never returned from a hunting trip, however, his dog found his way back home to beckon Margaret to the site of his death; he appeared to have been murdered.  Margaret was struck with horror as she gazed upon his corpse realizing her lover may have been damned.  She repented of her sins and took her son away to lead a life of penance, having been rejected by her former friends, and family, with whom she initially sought refuge.

She found sanctuary with the Franciscans of Cortona, who eventually admitted her as a tertiary.  Her penance was extraordinary, and Our Lord granted her many mystical graces, calling her the Magdalen of the Seraphic Order.

How’s that for a brief biography of St. Margaret?  Her new feast day is actually on my birthday, May 16, but I continue to observe today’s date as well.  Though we did not do the same things, our sinful lives were similar…how I hope I may imitate her penance and prayer.

I love this photo, “Mom!  Is that you?”

I think I’ll name my posts this (Free Fall) when I just write whatever comes to mind…is that ’stream of consciousness’? - University seems so long ago.

I realized how nice Lent is when one is the focus of others good works, when they take the injunction to  “Love your enemies” seriously.  You know, doing good to the people you despise, or mistreat - everyone at work was so nice to me today!  I almost felt as if everyone really likes me.

I looked at Drudge today - it was nothing but surreal, a photo of bald Brittney attacking her ex’s car.  A piece on Anna Nicole’s attorney collapsing, and the the judge presiding over the case as to where she should be buried, breaking down in tears.  Some days it is a trip just to check out the Drudge.  One wonders if there is any sanity in the world.  (Do you think things happen just for bloggers to blog about?)

My email is down, I have 30 some emails waiting for me, but I can’t get in.  I’ll have to call Chipheads back.  I’ll get Regina Falange to get them over here.  In the meantime, if you want to get a hold of me, post comments on the blog.

So anyway, I was reading some other blogs, people I like but who do not post me in their links, and they are just now writing about things I posted last week.  So read me first, then read them for the commentary.

As far as blogging goes, I’m torn between writing true confessions and spirituality or social commentary.  I sometimes like to post about stuff that annoys me, and occasionally, that annoys others  - I know - it’s neither charitable or humble - but I often take them down around 3AM when I get up to go to the bathroom.  Obviously I don’t know what to post about tonight.  After all, it is Lent - still, I have this urge to start a fight…it’s a temptation I deal with.  (See what fasting does.)

These crazy traits stem from the fact I come from an alcoholic family where there was a lot of fighting and nutty behavior.  Now that my parents are dead, life has become sort of boring.  I miss the nights my mom would telephone, out of the blue, “What the hell were you trying to prove?” - which had no relationship to anything.  She was such a sweet instigator.  I so have her to thank for my way-off-the-wall humor, not to mention the wit to recognize the craziness in others.

As regards people from alcoholic families, the traits and symptoms can easily pass through generations.  (Thank God I never had children!)  Not necessarily the drinking, but elements of the dysfunction.  Passive aggressive behavior, dissimulation, co-dependant exploitation of others, paranoia, suspicion of everyone, etc.  It makes for a crazy world.  Life can be one big tilt-a-whirl, or a cyclical experience of crises and drama.  I doubt these folks are aware of these tendencies, having created an aura of respectability around themselves, I think they function in a sort of denial.  But I digress. 

Onto another topic: I spoke on the phone with a friend in Europe the other day.  Somehow the “Motu Proprio” thing came up.  He said it will be released soon.  Everyone says that.  In the course of the conversation, the subject of Masons came up.  There are indeed elements in the Vatican, who may or may not be Masons, putting up resistance to the Motu.  My friend told me that.  I never believed that stuff until he told me.  (He is so not a conspiracy theorist!)

In Europe, Masonry is said to be different from what it is in the U.S. - or so they want us to believe.  As I understand it, in Italy, Masons are very strong politically, hence the intertwining of the Hierarchy - or members of it.  I was surprised to hear that.  Whatever, supposedly these people are the opposition to the Motu.  Of all days, it should have been released today on the feast of the Chair of St. Peter.  Benedict should be a bit more Germanic in his rule I think.

Which brings to mind the rumors of Anglican reunion.  Don’t hold your breath - if the Church can’t get the liturgical reforms together, much less the Motu, how does anyone expect a reunion of the Anglican Church is going to happen anytime soon?

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday of course, and I posted about the ashes on the forehead thing.  (Thanks for all the response on that BTW.)  Today two women came in to the store and they still had their ash crosses, perfectly intact on their forehead.  I was kind of impressed.  Another fellow still had the ashes embedded in the creases of his brow.  Impressed?  Not so much.  I realized he hadn’t bathed.

Since we are on the subject of Lent, I hear everyone talking about what they gave up.  So what merit is there in that?  “I gave up caffeine for Lent.”  Oh really, you had to tell me?  Yet it gets me to thinking.  What did I give up?  Not so much.  Although, no one will ever know.

Well that’s it, if I think of something fun to post about, you will be the first to know.  (And with this post, you know something of what I’m thinking - it’s like the snapshot of Brittney.  No more drama!  Good album with the same title by Mary J.Blige by the way.  Andrew thinks I’m a black man in a white man’s body because I only like black music.) 

I’m down with that. 

Pictured, Monk’s skulls in the charnel house at St. Catherine’s Monastery in Sinai.

On Ash Wednesday, many people walk around with black crosses on their foreheads.  It reminds me of monk’s skulls, sometimes marked with a cross.  In Europe, the skulls are marked with crosses and the date of death.  In Churches throughout the world, ashes are imposed as a sign of penance and a reminder of death

Some of the people I saw today looked as if the priest had been somewhat overzealous and nearly covered their entire forehead.  Others had perfectly symmetrical crosses, marked very neat and clean.  A couple had neat little ”dot” crosses.  When I was young, that’s how the priests always did it.  Nowadays, with lay people distributing ashes, depending upon their seriousness and perhaps fervor, the ashes seem to be more pronounced.

In Europe, the custom remains to sprinkle the ashes over the bowed head, just as it is done in many monastic communities.  Someone told me that in Puerto Rico people receive the mark of ashes, yet brush them away on their return to their pew.  (I usually wipe them away before I leave Church.  As everyone who knows me knows, I think it looks dumb.)

However, it is a good witness to walk around with ashes on your forehead all day.  It makes people think.  It reminds people Lent has started.

Nevertheless, I had this irresistable urge to wipe them off people today, or to ask, “What’s on your forehead?”  (Within seconds, I recalled they were wearing their ashes.)  One woman had ashes on her nose, and I so wanted to tell her to clean up.  All day, I was surprised to see the same people still had their ashes on their foreheads. 

It’s one of the ironies of our religion.  Today’s Gospel clearly instructs us:

“When you fast, do not look gloomy like the hypocrites.  They neglect their appearance, so that they may appear to others to be fasting.  I say to you, they have received their reward.  But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden…” - Matthew 6

A friend from Europe told me it is an American tradition to wear ashes on the forehead.  I imagine they do it in Canada as well.  (Although - I wouldn’t be surprised if the ashes on the forehead thing isn’t something the Irish came up with.)

When I was in Catholic school, the nuns told us it was a sin to brush them off.  It’s not.

The heroic little baby kids of Fatima - it’s their feast day today!

After the apparitions and the education Our Lady gave them, both became exemplary contemplatives, especially the teddy bear Francisco.  Jacinta became quite a mystic, revealing many details of the apparitions through her ongoing relationship with Our Lady.  Jacinta often spoke of things pertaining to the Third Secret and the effects of sin, wise beyond her years.  I have loved these two since childhood, Francisco has always been a very special friend.  (Little Jacinta died on this date, all by herself, in a Lisbon hospital, from complications associated with the 1918 flu pandemic.)

Pray for us Blessed Jacinta and Francisco - pray for me that I may soon join you.

(News today is Sr. Lucia’s cause for sainthood may be accelerated, as was Bl. Mother Teresa, and the cause for John Paul II - we know Lucia is with her cousins now - it would be nice if the Church confirms it speedily.)