To The New Year

Happy New Year! New year, new beginnings . . . familiar story, right? What is it about the turning of this particular calendar page that sparks in each of us such a strong desire to change, to renew? Maybe we as humans are only equipped with 365 days worth of cache before our systems require us to reboot and clean the slate. Or maybe there is just something particularly attractive in that continual "second chance" we give ourselves after slugging through the day-to-day for four seasons. Regardless the motivation, I definitely feel the need for a new start this January 1.

It's been a particularly hard year. Some years are like that. While I write often about the presence of God in our lives, it's funny how much of last year I spent questioning his whereabouts. I don't doubt he was there, is here . . . I've only come to see that he isn't always where I've expected him to be. Truth be told, that's been one of the most painful lessons I've ever learned.

While I'm not one to make New Year's resolutions, I feel compelled to make one this year. (Sort of for my own survival.) My resolution is to keep looking for God and to be more aware of the ways in which he is trying to find me. I promise not to be lazy about this. I know so much better now that much of what professes to be of God is not. Many things in today's world seem grim. Lot's of people are suffering in their own way. I can give you lists of bad things, horrible things, but yet sprinkled among those there is still beauty, and peace, and love, and hope. I'm betting on it. I'm banking my heart on it.

I'll share with you here what I find. Join me if you like. Help me along the way. I'm pretty sure it'll be easier with friends. So here's to 2012! Brighter days ahead.

Misjudging Simon

I've been thinking a lot about Simon of Cyrene lately. You remember Simon. He's the guy standing by the side of the road who in the blink of an eye finds himself caught up in Christ's last moments on earth.

In the past, I have always imagined Simon's struggle as being one of getting involved. I've pictured him going about his business that day never considering the "wrong place, wrong time" kind of moment only hours or minutes away. I framed him as a spectator to life. Someone just hanging by the side of the road watching. I guess it has been this impression of him that's always made me judge him a bit harshly.

For some of us (for me), seeing someone struggle is like feeling real physical pain. I want to help. I need to fix everything. I don't want anyone to be lost and alone. I can't bear the injustice. This is especially true for someone I care about. I jump up and down on the side of the road and throw myself in front of the procession. I rip the cross away and chain it to myself. I can carry this forever, I announce.

How could this Simon guy just stand and watch? Why did he have to be forced into service? But a thought occurred to me recently. What if Simon was standing in that crowd wanting to be pulled in? What if compassion overwhelmed him and he just couldn't bear the thought of Christ's aloneness? Maybe he wanted to be noticed. Maybe he knew he would never be able to face himself if he walked away. Maybe I misjudged Simon. I've spent all this time labeling his struggle as taking the cross from Christ. What if his real heartache came from having to give it back?

That's a heartache I know too well. I don't want to let go. So I meditate on this Fifth Station of the Cross. I ask Simon for my lesson. What comes to me is that sometimes we are blessed with the privilege of helping one another. In those moments, we provide comfort and some relief. We allow for rest and encourage rebuilding of strength. But ultimately, this road we walk, we walk alone. Our cross is a private possession that cannot be given away, only shared for a time. It's okay to jump up and down on the side of the road and let someone know you are ready and willing to be his or her Simon. Just remember that in a little while, you'll need to face this weary friend and gently place the cross back.

Lord, Have Mercy

In times of uncertainty, it is more important than ever to cling to hope and faith. Growing up Catholic, my faith has always been intricately entwined with my being. For example, when things get lost around my house, the first line of defense is a prayer request for St. Anthony's assistance. No conscious directive to pray, just an automatic plea, "St. Anthony . . . help!"

An immediate response of I'll pray for you slips from my lips when told of another's pain or suffering. The inner voice that fills my mind is a mixture a self-absorbed monologue sorting through the happenings of life and an ongoing dialogue with God. Funny thing is that none of this was known to me until my faith was shaken. In the midst of questioning why and how could this happen, I cut myself off from God. What followed was a lonely, empty room where silence suffocated breath. In this whiteness, I found myself wordless, prayerless, and lost.

Here again I seek solace in the words of Henri Nouwen, my sweet protector and angel spiritual guide. He reminds me that I can run from God, but God will not run from me. In that white, silent room, God stands by the door. He watches me and waits for me to turn and notice that I've never been alone. Nouwen writes,

You wonder what to do when you feel attacked on all sides by seemingly irresistible forces, waves that cover you and want to sweep you off your feet. Sometimes these waves consist of feeling rejected, feeling misunderstood. Sometimes they consist of anger, resentment, or even the desire for revenge, and sometimes of self-pity and self-rejection. These waves make you feel like a powerless child abandoned by your parents.

What are you to do? Make the conscious choice to move the attention of your anxious heart away from these waves and direct it to the One who walks on them and says, "It's me. Don't be afraid." Keep turning your eyes to him and go on trusting that he will bring peace to your heart. Look to him and say, "Lord, have mercy." Say it again and again, not anxiously but with confidence that he is very close to you and will put your soul to rest.

The waves come in many forms . . . some expected, some unexpected. The point is to keep your eyes above them and firmly focused on Christ. He shared our humanity, but was not flawed.

Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

The Next Step

When we are hurting most, sometimes it helps to find peace in the words of wise individuals who have traveled difficult roads before us. One such person is Henri Nouwen. His writing is like the most soothing oils. You can sense in his words the compassion of one who has experienced pain and can speak from a place of knowing. The following passage comes from his book, The Inner Voice of Love.

The great challenge is living your wounds through instead of thinking them through. It is better to cry than to worry, better to feel your wounds deeply than to understand them, better to let them enter into your silence than to talk about them. The choice you face constantly is whether you are taking your hurts to your head or to your heart. In your head you can analyze them, find their causes and consequences, and coin words to speak and write about them. But no final healing is likely to come from that source. You need to let your wounds go down into your heart. Then you can live them through and discover that they will not destroy you. Your heart is greater than your wounds….You have to let go of the need to stay in control of your pain and trust in the healing power of your heart.

It's so easy to get caught in pain. Letting your thoughts drown in whys, hows, and what ifs creates an endless circling that rarely gives much relief. Instead it drains away what strength you have and makes little room for hope. Faith means believing in Jesus and trusting him to guide your life. Faith is easy when the path is well lit and the horizon bright ahead. But let's face it, who really needs a guide in those conditions. It's when the sky is dark, the road filled with dangerous twists and turns, and you are barely able to see the next footfall, that you must cling tightly to someone who knows the way. The healing power of your heart comes from God. Surrendering and trusting that he knows you better than you know yourself is the only way to have the courage to step out into the darkness with the faith that the sun will rise again and brighter journeys are ahead.

Signal Graces

Fear seems to be a driving force in the world right now. Markets are affected by fear, people are living in fear, fear is influencing future decisions. There is a definite short-term impact of this kind of atmosphere, but of greater concern is how this way of thinking changes who we are as a people. We were not created to live in fear. We were created to be filled with a peace of knowing that our Creator loves and cares for our every need, both great and small.

I know these truths in my heart, but in the middle of fear, truth and logic are often lost on me. At these times, I find great comfort in the gentle reminders God so lovingly sends my way. I call them signal graces. They may arrive in the form of a book I happen to open to just the words that will touch my hurting heart. Sometimes a signal grace is gifted in the readings at Mass or in the message of a homily seeming to have been crafted just for me.

Other times signal graces come in unexpected emails from a friend, a surprising gesture from a stranger, the particularly beautiful way in which the sun glints through the trees, or the lyrics of a song I happen upon on the radio. The point is those graces are everywhere, always. It's just a matter of me noticing. God doesn't sit back and watch me struggle only to decide that at a particular breaking moment he'll send me a little sliver of hope to keep me from throwing my hands up and calling it quits. In fact, I believe I'm surrounded by these loving reminders and gentle supports every moment of my life.

It's not about me finding time or space to seek God. God is always seeking me.

I want to share with you a few of the signal graces I've come across in the last few days and weeks that have been particularly helpful in dealing with fear. I pray that you will find some comfort in them as well. I also hope you will take a breath from the fear that may be surrounding you and see the many gifts and wonders God has for you.

Isaiah 42:10

Fear not, I am with you;

be not dismayed; I am your God.

I will strengthen you, and help you,

and uphold you with my right hand of

justice.

Do Not Look with Fear

by Saint Francis De Sales

Do not look with fear

on the changes and chances of this life;

rather look to them with full faith that as they arise,

God--whose you are--will deliver you out of them.

He has kept you hitherto.

Do not but hold fast to His dear hand,

and He will lead you safely through all things;

and when you cannot stand, He will bear you

in His arms.

Do not anticipate what will happen tomorrow.

The same everlasting Father who cares for you today

will take care of you tomorrow and every day.

Either He will shield you from suffering or

He will give you unfailing strength to bear it.

Be at peace, then, and put aside all anxious thoughts

and imaginations.

Prayer by Thomas Merton

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.

I do not see the road ahead of me.

I cannot know for certain where it will end.

Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.

And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.

I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.

And I know that if I do this

you will lead me by the right road

though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you always

though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.

I will not fear, for you are ever with me,

and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Say Often, "Lord, Have Mercy"

by Henri J.M. Nouwen

"You wonder what to do when you feel attacked on all sides by seemingly irresistible forces, waves that cover you and want to sweep you off your feet. Sometimes these waves consist of feeling rejected, feeling forgotten, feeling misunderstood. Sometimes they consist of anger, resentment, or even the desire for revenge, and sometimes of self-pity and self-rejection. These waves make you feel like a powerless child abandoned by your parents.

What are you to do? Make the conscious choice to move the attention of your anxious heart away from these waves and direct it to the One who walks on them and says, "It's me. Don't be afraid" (Matthew 14:27; Mark 6:50; John 6:20). Keep turning your eyes to him and go on trusting that he will bring peace to your heart. Look at him and say, 'Lord, have mercy.' Say it again and again, not anxiously but with confidence that he is very close to you and will put your soul to rest."

[Source: The Inner Voice of Love by Henri J. M. Nouwen. Image Doubleday Books© 1996.]

On Faith

Faith is a delicate string

Upon which hangs our hearts and souls.

We dangle unaware of its strength.

Until, in the midst of the strongest gale,

We grasp with our entire being.

How tightly we cling,

Crying out for relief from all the uncertain motion.

Please let it stop, we pray.

Is this tender filament enough?

Pleading for it to sustain our fragile selves

Awaiting peace.

Promising this time to appreciate its delicate plait

And the landscape below.

Lessons for Living

I was reading passages recently from a wonderful book called Find Your Way Home: Words from the Street, Wisdom from the Heart. It was written by the women of Magdalene. "Magdalene is a residential community in Nashville for women who have survived lives of prostitution, violence, and abuse. The women live together and support each other through the work of Thistle Farms, a nonprofit bath and body-care business run by the women." The book chronicles the lessons for communal living that the women have developed over the years as they grow, heal, and love each other back to health. Similar to the Benedictine rule established by monks centuries ago, these lessons are simple, non-restraining, and in fact, liberating. I believe they apply to us all, in one way or another.

Here are a few that struck me as especially powerful:

• Proclaim Original Grace

We are made in the image of God. We look at each person's journey beginning not with original sin but with original grace.

Our journeys all start and end with God, and everything we do is a step toward our return to wholeness. Because grace is our beginning, we are worthy of all good things.

We are God's children in flesh and spirit. We never have to live in shame for all the things that have been done to us or that we have done to others.

• Make a Small Change and See the Big Difference

Sometimes the miracle of healing happens so slowly that we fail to notice the great difference in our lives.

Most of the changes in our lives occur in subtle ways. These subtle changes can lead to a difference that is big and profound.

The difference can set us free so we never have to buy or sell pieces of ourselves again to find meaning.

• Stand on New Ground and Believe You are Not Lost

What we are feeling and experiencing is not a sense of being lost but the wonder of discovering something new.

This is sacred ground. We walk it alone, following the advice of others who have walked before us.

The prayer is to walk this ground in faith and trust that the Spirit leads us toward God.

• Lose Gracefully

If you are wrong, act with grace and carry on with the work of healing. It is the easiest way to move forward in peace.

Say you are sorry for whatever you have done, ask for forgiveness, and let it go. It is not yours to worry about anymore.

• Consider the Thistle

The thistle blooms in streets and alleys where women walk and sleep.

We spend a lot of time considering the thistle--its rough exterior, its soft and regal center, and its capacity to break through concrete to blossom.

In a world that names them weeds, we taste the riches of thistles and savor their beauty.

We are thistle farmers. The world is our farm, and we harvest where other people do not want to travel.

For more information about Thistle Farms or Magdalene House,

http://www.thistlefarms.org/

[Source: Find Your Way Home: Words from the Street, Wisdom from the Heart by the Women of Magdalene with Becca Stevens. Abingdon Press, Nashville. ©2008.]

ROMBOC Part 4

Last week we addressed changes in the Nicene Creed, which is prayed as a profession of our beliefs. The next few changes occur at the beginning of the Liturgy of the Eucharist.

The first change of just one small word spoken by the priest. Can you find it?

May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands

for the praise and glory of his name,

for our good

and the good of all his holy Church.

(If you said it aloud, I bet you recognized that the word holy has been added to the last line.)

Then comes the Preface Dialogue. Here you will remember a change we discussed at the beginning of the Mass.

Priest: The Lord by with you.

People And with your spirit.

Priest: Lift up your hearts.

People: We lift them up to the Lord.

Priest: Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

People: It is right and just.

Note that last response has been modified, as well.

Finally today, I wanted to share the changes that you will notice in the Sanctus, or "Holy, Holy, Holy." This one will certainly be of concern for all the music ministers out there as it is often sung during the Mass.

Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of hosts.

Heaven and earth are full of your glory.

Hosanna in the highest.

Blessed is he who comes

in the name of the Lord.

Hosanna in the highest.

Hope your finding this training process helpful. Again, change is never easy. However it does become remarkably more bearable when we open ourselves to accepting it.

Sand, anyone?

Today's Gospel relates the parable of the wise man who built his house on a foundation of rock and the fool who chose instead to build on sand. If you're like me, you've heard this story told and retold for many years. It begins and I sort of tune out. I know this one. Lesson learned! In fact, I go ahead and imagine myself perched high upon the rocky mountain next to the wise man. Together we stand looking down with pity at the poor slob shoring up the walls of his fancy new beach house. We (the wise man and myself) shake our heads in disgust, cluck our tongues, and share a knowing look of "he'll just never learn."

I know the story, and I also know the moral--Dude, don't build on sand! I automatically place myself on the winning side. I am a rock builder from way back, says I with smug assurance. But am I really? What does it mean to build on sand?

Maybe building on sand involves those hasty, impulsive decisions I make sometimes. The ones that seem so important that I couldn't possible take time to check out the details or consequences. Those same decisions that I find myself regretting later and hoping to fix quickly so no one else notices. Maybe I'm really just dusting sand off my shoes.

What about those relationships that I choose not to tend? I'm too busy to call her. I'm too tired to talk to him. I don't want to deal with those issues right now. Relationships built on sand are susceptible to strong, unexpected currents, but even gentle waves can cause drift.

The more I think about all the things I build in life, the more I find shades of myself in that poor fool on the beach. Perhaps I'm really standing not too far down the shore from him. It makes me realize that just because I've heard the story a hundred times before, I'm not necessarily on the right side of the moral.

Think about it. Notice any sand on your shoes today?

ROMBOC Part 3

Today's ROMBOC (ROman Missal BOot Camp) training exercise highlights what will undoubtedly be one of the most noticeable revisions to the prayers of the Mass. A few significant changes have been made to the Nicene Creed, the prayer in which we profess our faith. Again the purpose of these changes is to make the translation more accurate and in this case to more concisely express what we believe as Catholics. Notice the fun new word we all get to learn. Try slipping it into casual conversation to impress your friends!

Nicene Creed

I believe in one God,

the Father almighty,

maker of heaven and earth,

of all things visible and invisible.

And in one Lord Jesus Christ,

the Only Begotten Son of God,

born of the Father before all ages.

God from God, Light from Light,

true God from true God,

begotten, not made,

consubstantial with the Father;

through him all things were made.

For us men and for our salvation

he came down from heaven,

and by the Holy Spirit

was incarnate of the Virgin Mary,

and became man.

For our sake

he was crucified under Pontius Pilate,

he suffered death and was buried,

and rose again on the third day

in accordance with the Scriptures.

He ascended into heaven and is seated

at the right hand of the Father.

He will come again in glory

to judge the living and the dead

and his kingdom will have no end.

And in the Holy Spirit, the Lord,

the giver of life, who proceeds

from the Father and the Son,

who with the Father and the Sone

is adored and glorified,

who has spoken through the prophets.

And one, holy, catholic

and apostolic Church.

I confess one baptism

for the forgiveness of sins

and I look forward to the

resurrection

of the dead

and the life of the world to come.

Amen.

**For those of you keeping track, the fun new word in the text is consubstantial. It means "of the same substance, nature, or essence" and replaces "one in being with the Father." The new word is more closely related to the Latin word consubstantialis.

The Little Way

It's nearly impossible to turn on the television, listen to the radio, or surf the web and not be bombarded with the many ways in which you and your life need to be improved. What was once reserved for commercials and advertisements has now seeped into news stories and entertainment shows. You've seen the segments on what you should or shouldn't eat, how you can improve this or stop that. Scientific research is used to report how just about everything you have ever done might someday result in a fatal disease. Let's face it, most mainstream messages are designed to make you need something, want something, or just plain feel uneasy enough to search for comfort in things that are packaged and sold.

Is it any wonder that with this as our comfort zone so many of us feel unworthy or somehow less than what we should be? Should we be surprised that this attitude also translates to our faith life? Have you ever asked yourself how someone like you can presume to love God, or be loved by him in return?

Saint Therese of Lisieux died at a very young age. She never acted in any grand or forceful ways. She was not a martyr. In fact, she lived most of her short life within the shelter of her family and the solitude of a convent. However, God used her to work miracles and he allowed the Spirit to speak through her in ways that can offer us great comfort. Her writings and the message of her words are known as "the Little Way." This theology she shared can be best understood through her own words,

"The more one is weak, without desires and without virtues, the more one is suited for the operations of God's consuming and transforming love."

In other words, we are perfectly made by God and for God. There is no need for us to feel incomplete when we unite ourselves with him. Those frailties and weaknesses that the world tells us must be changed, fixed, or covered up are the very elements of ourselves that God loves most and uses to transform the world.

In a book about St. Therese, her Little Way is further explained,

The Little Way is a whole new way of life, a way of holiness that is open to all because it requires nothing from anyone but the ordinary, day-to-day experience of which every life is made. Steeped in her mission of love, Therese saw no reason to take upon herself great penances, which were common in her day. She soon gave them up, content to offer God the small sacrifices which came in the routine of community life, the little occasions to be kind to others, the apostolate of the smile when smiling at another was the last thing she felt like doing. Such opportunities to demonstrate love for God by showing it to others abound in everyone's daily life.

The Little Way finds joy in the present moment, in being pleased to be the person you are, whoever you are. It is a school of self-acceptance, which goes beyond accepting who you are to wanting to be who you are. It is a way of coming to terms with life not as it might be but as it is.

You don't need to change yourself to love and be loved. Are you ready to not just accept yourself, but to really love yourself and want to be the person you are today? How might your life change if you answer yes?

[Source: Maurice & Therese: The Story of Love by Patrick Ahern. Doubleday. © 1998.]

Detours

Do you ever find yourself looking in a mirror and wondering what it is you are meant to do next? I know I have . . . on more than one occasion. Funny how life ebbs and flows. One day I know exactly where I'm headed and move with full force only find myself the next day turning sharply, slowing to a crawl, or stopping altogether. Trust me, I don't tend to be a fan of these detours. I'm a mover and live with a strong sense that time is too short and too precious to waste. More often than not, I have viewed these questioning times, these detours and direction changes as wastes of time. But as I grow older, I'm starting to see these moments as anything but wastes of time. In fact, I'm slowly learning these are some of the most fruitful and precious times in my life. Why you ask? Because these are the times when I give up my sense of control and let God unfold his plan. These are times when I allow Him to guide my next step.

Blessed John Paul II said it well,

God calls us and sends us forth as laborers in His vineyard. He calls us and sends us forth to work for the coming of His Kingdom in history. In fact, from eternity God has thought of each of us and has loved us as unique individuals. Every one of us He has called by name. However, only in the unfolding of the personal history of our lives and its events is the eternal plan of God revealed to each of us. It is a gradual process; one that happens day by day.

What a beautiful reassurance that there is no such thing as wasted time when we are truly living in harmony with God. Those detours are just a new revelation. Like each petal of a rose, the next unfolding reveals a bit more of the beautiful, complete flower. We too are in a constant state of unfolding. What do the detours in your life reveal about God's eternal plan for you?

Thoughts on an Almost Summer Day

For today's blog, I'm borrowing thoughts from one of the most inspirational people I've met, Becca Stevens, Episcopal priest at St. Augustine's Chapel in Nashville.

"All woods in my life, all the woods in your life, teach us the truth about resurrections. They teach us that someday love will right all the wrongs of this earth. It will set the captives free, heal our blindness, make the trees clap their hands in joy and cause people to weep at the beauty of a field of lilies. Someday the lion will lie down with the lamb. Love, more powerful and older than stone, will roll away.

The Ecuadorian woods sang, 'Before there were stones, there was God. Before there was death, there was life. Before there was doubt, there was faith. Before there was war, there was peace. Before there was sin, there was grace.'

Benediction

The sun begins the procession in a deep orange chasuble

as the frogs and crickets begin the opening hymn.

The thistle genuflects reverently as the leaves

rustle to find their place.

The spring-fed lake reflects on the world,

and it is ready to accept the born-again dragonflies

that have heard the call.

The harmonies of the cardinals, sparrows,

and occasional crow offer the praise,

as creation begins its communion with the moon.

And just as the sun dips beneath the shroud of trees

that covers its

and turns the day to memory,

a barred owl calls out the benediction.

Let creation which passes all understanding,

keep your heart and mind in the knowledge and

love of God.

Let the dirt you are made from join in the last

chorus,

and let the water that flows through your veins

give thanks.

[Source: Sanctuary: Unexpected Places Where God Found Me by Becca Stevens. Dimensions for Living, Nashville. © 2005.]

Pentecost Sunday

This past Sunday, the Church celebrated the coming of the Holy Spirit to the apostles. We know this feast as Pentecost Sunday. The significance of this event is great in the life of our Church. The apostles, consumed with the Spirit, left the safety and isolation of their upper room and began the process of building the Church on earth.

To reflect on this coming and its impact in our lives, I'm reposting a meditation that I wrote about a year ago. Be filled with the Spirit!

The wind is howling today. I fear for the big old maple that stands out in the yard. It bends and twists with each gust like it might lift its roots and stumble down the street. The leaves dance and the branches sway in a kind of practiced rhythm. Their movements seem choreographed yet frantic at the same time. I am swept into wind’s music that builds strong crescendos then softens only to pick up strong again. It takes my breath away and sits me on the edge of my seat with nervous anticipation. I feel it inside.

It must have been like this for the apostles in the upper room. I imagine them breathless and uneasy as the Spirit swept through the space and lit them afire. The Spirit turns everything on its head just like the wind sending all the loose pieces of life tumbling out of sight.

Wind makes everyone, even the animals jumpy—and so does the Spirit. In Scripture, the Spirit is the agitator, not the comforter. Wouldn’t the apostles have had an easier time sitting in prayer and reflection with the doors shut and windows closed? But Spirit flipped up the shades and pushed them out the door into the messy, windy world.

I think that’s how it is for us, too. Just when things get too comfortable, the Spirit blows through us and stirs up a storm. We may prefer to close the windows and sit in the silence, but it’s in that howling, swirling wind that we find our set ways twisted into creative motion and new possibilities. There is a time to glory in the stillness, but we only know stillness after the wind has calmed. Spirit bends us and we sway, but that movement gives us cause to plant our roots more firmly. So today I thank God for the restless windy places inside me. I lift my face and take long deep breaths letting Spirit settle where it likes. I feel its rhythm and am ready to dance.

ROMBOC Training Part II

Welcome back to part two of ROMBOC (ROman Missal BOot Camp). Last week we warmed up with the new greeting that will be used beginning the first Sunday of Advent. Shall we review?

Priest: The Lord be with you.

Us: And with your spirit.

Well done! Today, we're going to touch on two more subtle changes in language. Again, it is the intent of the bishops that these changes will bring us closer to the original meaning of the Latin text. If you've ever asked a native speaker of a different language to translate something into English, you've likely heard them express frustration in finding exactly the right words to make the meaning clear. Hence the popular phrase, lost in translation. The changes in the Roman Missal reflect this kind of ongoing tweaking.

Last week we learned the new greeting and one form of the Penitential Act. Today we're going to see another form of this prayer and the changes to the Gloria.

Form B of the Penitential Act is a prayer led by the priest with our response. It is used less often in Mass than the first form which we addressed last week. The new language will look like this:

Priest: Have mercy on us, O Lord.

Us: For we have sinned against you.

Priest: Show us, O Lord, your mercy.

Us: And grant us your salvation.

The second change we'll focus on today involves the Gloria. This is one of those changes that will greatly interest the music minister at your parish since this prayer is often sung these days. You will notice that most of the changes occur in the first stanza of the prayer. The new text will be as follows.

Glory to God in the highest,

and on earth peace to people of

good will. We praise you, we bless

you, we adore you, we glorify you,

we give you thanks for your great

glory, Lord God, heavenly King, O

God, almighty Father.

Lord Jesus Christ, Only Begotten Son,

Lord God, Lamb of God,

Son of the Father,

you take away the sins of the world,

have mercy on us;

you take away the sins of the world,

receive our prayer;

you are seated at the right hand of the Father,

have mercy on us.

For you alone are the Holy One,

you alone are the Lord,

you alone are the Most High,

Jesus Christ with the Holy Spirit,

in the glory of God the Father.

Amen.

If your parish typically sings this prayer, the accompanying music will also be somewhat different. But take heart. If you've ever used music or rhythm as a memory device, you'll know that those prayers we sing will be easier to learn than those we say. Once we adapt to changes in the melody, the words will follow with ease.

As to whether those melodies will be just adapted versions of the ones currently in use or entirely new songs, here's what Our Sunday Visitor says,

"One of the primary questions facing parishes will be whether to choose a revised version of a familiar Mass setting, which would incorporate the new wording but use melodies that are similar to those currently used, or a completely new setting that includes original melodies written specifically for the new text. Publishers are preparing both new and revised settings, leaving a difficult choice in the hands of parish leaders. For some, . . . the easier path seems to be in choosing a setting that is closer to what parishioners are already accustomed to singing."

"Others believe, however, that learning a new melody will prevent people from stumbling over the changed words."

You'll need to wait and see just what your music minister has planned. But either way, you'll be ready for what's coming!

If you'd like to read more about how the changes will affect music, check out the source article for the above quote. [Source: Parish music ministers prepare for major Roman missal changes. Our Sunday Visitor. 9/26/10]

Sweet Emptiness

Some days as I sit down to write this blog, I feel empty. Empty of ideas, inspiration, let's face it--empty of anything meaningful to say. But I recently had a revelation about these moments. In reality, when I can't find things to write I'm not empty; I'm too full. I'm too full of my own thoughts, preoccupations, worries, and distractions. I let too many other things get in the way of the inspiration. The truth is, this is not a phenomenon that happens to me only when I write.

Sometimes I let myself and all my "busyness" get in the way of really living a meaningful life. I become too full to hear God's whispers and feel his inspiration leading me. I find myself feeling empty, scattered, purposeless. . . I suspect it happens to you, too.

I found a passage on this very idea in Margaret Silf's book the Inner Compass.

I discovered another picture of freedom one night while lying in a warm, deep bath. I had emptied one of the little plastic bottles of bath oil into the water, hoping that its promise to be "revitalizing" would rouse me from the threat of lethargy and despondency that was lurking around the corner.

I watched idly as the bootle bobbed up and down on the water. Then I held it down and filled it up. I let it go and watched it sink slowly down and settle on the bottom. I fetched it up again, emptied it, and let it float. My childish pastime made me realize that God sometimes does the same with me. I fill up, gradually, with all the things I desire and want to hold on to. The more I fill up, the deeper I sink, until eventually I lie like a lead balloon at the bottom of the bath, quite incapable of movement. Then something happens to "tip me up and pour me out." It is usually something unwelcome that I resist with all my strength, but if it succeeds in draining me of all the attachment feelings I have collected, then something new happens. The little bottle bobs up again, freed of its cargo of bathwater, light, floating, and responding to every wave. This is the gift of emptiness; only in my emptiness can I be sustained by the buoyancy of God's unfailing love and move on as he created me to in order to grow.

I love this imagery. I have certainly been that bottle weighted at the bottom of the bath. But I rarely recognize the solution. I mistake a feeling of empty for a reality of being too full. Think about your own life. Have you found yourself feeling empty or lost? On closer inspection, might you really be too full? What freedom might come if you were able to let go of all the heaviness and weight of negative emotions, old attachments, distractions, fears, and compulsions?

Might emptiness be a welcome relief leaving you room to be filled with the things God really intends for you?

[Source: Inner Compass: An Invitation to Ignatian Spirituality by Margaret Silf. Loyola Press, Chicago, IL. ©1999.]

Memories of Spring

The last days of spring are willowing away. While working in my yard this weekend, I found myself struck with the most vivid memories of childhood days spent at my grandmother's house. She lived on two large lots and her gardens were filled with fruit trees, rhubarb, grape vines, and all grandmothery kinds of flowers like peonies, lilies of the valley, hollyhocks, and irises. It was my own secret garden. For hours I would act out imagined stories using nature's props to make real my fantastic dreams. I spent countless early mornings and late afternoons hiding under trellises, crawling through lilacs, and dozing on cool, soft grasses under tall oak trees. I can still taste the berries picked from bushes and the cherries right from the tree.

Funny how a breeze can carry with it a lifetime of memories.

This spring the colours pierce,

too opulent, too vivid . . .

Something bruised in me

longs for gardens from my childhood.

~Maude Meehan, "Second Spring"

What memories do the winds of spring uncover in you?

Friday Smiles

A few jokes to make you smile.

A child came home from Vacation Bible School and told his mother he had learned a new song about a cross-eyed bear named Gladly. It took his mother a moment to realize the hymn he'd learned was really "Gladly The Cross I'd Bear."

***********************************************************************************

Here is the Lost Chapter in Genesis . . .

Adam was walking around in the garden of Eden feeling very lonely, so God asked him,

"What's wrong with you?"

Adam replied that he had no one to talk to.

God said that He was going to make Adam a companion and that it would be a woman.

God said,

"This person will gather food for you, cook for you, and when you discover clothing she'll wash it for you. She will always agree with every decision you make. She will bear your children and never ask you to get up in the middle of the night to care for them. She will always be the first to admit she was wrong when you've had a disagreement. She will freely give you love and never have a headache.

Adam asked, "What will a woman like that cost?"

God replied, "An arm and a leg."

Then Adam replied, "What can I get for a rib?

*********************************************************************************

A teen boy had just earned his driving permit. He asked his father if they could discuss the use of the car. The father said, "I'll make you a deal. Bring up your grades, pay attention in Church, and get your hair cut, then we'll talk about it.

After about a month, the boy again asked about the car. The father said, "I'm really proud of you, son. You've raised your GPA, you are very attentive at Mass, but I notice you still didn't cut your hair.

The young man waited moment before replying. "You know Dad, I've been thinking. Samson had long hair. Moses had long hair. Noah had long hair. Even Jesus had long hair."

His father replied, "Yes, and they walked everywhere they went!"

and sending you off with one that will make you say, "Awwwwwwwwww . . ."



Have a great weekend!

Upon that Mountain

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of the Ascension of Jesus. We recall Jesus’ return to his Father in heaven. The end of Matthew's Gospel is used for this feast. Jesus' last words to the disciples.

This got me thinking about a conversation I had with a friend. She was just notified that a relative had an accident and the prognosis is grim. By a strange coincidence, the two spent time together last weekend. They shared laughter, talked about family memories, and enjoyed each other's company. Neither imagined that the words they spoke would be the last they would share. As she recalled their time together, I heard her grasping for even the slightest recalled phrase or spoken word. It was important to her to remember. What we say to each other matters, most especially when the words are our last.

Christ must have known this human attachment to words. That's why I believe these last few lines he spoke to the disciples were not your average goodbye. Within them, I believe he intended to leave a lasting impression to carry them and us through many lifetimes.

“All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.”

In other words, Everything that happened here was for a reason. Don't hold these times selfishly for yourself. Go tell others. Let them in on the gift. Let's face it. These disciples have gone through a lot to get to this point on a mountain in Galilee, a whirlwind of change in just three short years. Leaving behind families, jobs, and communities, they followed a traveling preacher. They watched him perform miracles and transform lives but also witnessed him being ridiculed, arrested, humiliated, and killed. In their grief they suffered. In his Resurrection they marveled. Now what do they do with the rest of their lives? Jesus chose his words carefully. Don't let this end here. You are changed forever. Go out and change others.

While his first words were for their heads--a kind of job description, the last were for their hearts.

“And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

These are the ones our humanity struggles with most. The disciples' must have, too. For as we know our friends and family members, they knew Jesus. They knew the sound of his voice. They could see the lines on his face when he smiled. They knew the melody of his laugh and the rhythm of his sigh. They must also have known the struggle people have to remember these things once a loved one is gone. So again, Jesus spoke the words they, and we, needed to hear.

He reminded them, I will always be with you. No longer confined to time and place, I am forever a part of you. Like for us when we come together with family to remember a loved one, the disciples would remember Christ in their shared experiences. But he was offering them more than just that. Jesus would remain a living presence in the community of the Church that they would build and grow in the world. He would remain a Real Presence in the Eucharist, and stay forever a companion to all who opened their hearts to him. He would forever be a part of their lives and come to be a part of ours, as well.

I am with you always--comforting last words that are really just a beginning.

Change Isn't Easy

I mentioned a week or so ago that I would spend some time over the next few Wednesdays sharing specific changes that Catholics will notice at Mass as we start using a newly revised Roman Missal beginning Advent 2011. From this point on, we shall call this recurring feature ROMBOC (ROman Missal BOot Camp). I personally think everything sounds more interesting and fun when given an acronym.

During these months leading to the transition, training is taking place to acquaint priests, music ministers, and other liturgical leaders with how the changes will impact the Liturgy. You may begin noticing opportunities within your own parish for formation of parishioners to help ensure the successful implementation of the new text. If not, you'll find these Wednesday sessions will ensure you're not caught off guard on the last weekend of November.

So, let's begin with a couple of examples of what the changes will actually look like.

Mass begins with the Greeting spoken by the priest. We're used to responding "And also with you," to the priest's "The Lord be with you." In the new missal, our response will change to "And with your spirit." This will change will recur each time we are prompted with "The Lord be with you," throughout the Mass.

Another change relates to the Confiteor, the prayer we pray at the beginning of Mass to confess our sins. The new words relate more closely to the Latin, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. (I personally can't say these words without hearing Jimmy Buffet sing them in my head. All those familiar with the Fruitcakes album will understand this reference!)

Here is the revised Penitential Act, Form A

I confess to almighty God

and to you, my brothers and sisters,

that I have greatly sinned

in my thoughts and in my words,

in what I have done

and in what I have failed to do,

through my fault, through my fault,

through my most grievous fault;

therefore I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin,

all the Angels and Saints,

and you, my brothers and sisters,

to pray for me to the Lord our God.

Take some time to reflect on how these changes feel. They might seem a bit disorienting at first, but be patient with yourself. Consider this, perhaps the new language will help you refocus your thoughts and reflect more deeply on the meaning behind the words. Change is rarely easy, but it is often good.

Memories in Memorium

Memories are beautiful threads that connect who we were with who we are and what we can become. The trick is not to let those threads tie us down, but rather to use them to weave a tapestry that both comforts and supports us. The following quote from Joan Chittister seems appropriate as we close out this Memorial Day weekend. I think Joan's words speak to this holding on and letting go.

"But the truth remains: Nothing lasts. No single thing can consume our entire life's meaning. No single thing can give us total satisfaction. Nothing is worth everything: neither past, nor present nor future. It isn't true that the loss of any single thing will destroy us. Everything in life has some value and life is full of valuable things, things worth living for, things worth doing, things worth becoming, things worth loving again. It is only a matter of being detached enough from one thing to be open to everything else.

The essence of life is not to find the one thing that satisfies us but to realize that nothing can ever completely satisfy us. And that's all right."

Are you holding on to something too tightly? What else are you letting go as a result?

[Source: Scarred by Struggle, Transformed by Hope by Joan D. Chittister. William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company ©2003.]

Friday Beat

Thought I'd send you into the weekend thinking about how life moves us in many directions. From one angle it may all appear random, but from a different perspective it's really a perfectly timed dance.



The places we find ourselves might even lead to unexpected surprises.



And the realization that beautiful music can come from the most unlikely of instruments.



Look for the dances and listen for the rhythms in your weekend!

To Love

Jesus said to his disciples:
"As the Father loves me, so I also love you.
Remain in my love.
If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love,
just as I have kept my Father's commandments
and remain in his love.

I have told you this so that
my joy might be in you and
your joy might be complete."
~Jn 15:9–11

A good friend once said that the one thing people desire most is to love and be loved. Regardless of race, creed, or socioeconomic background, in our quiet moments, it's love for which we long. Maybe that's why reading today's Gospel sounds so much like hearing the sweetest piece of music ever played. Like a beautifully composed love letter, Jesus tells us exactly what we want and need to hear. We are loved.

We are loved, but true love is never a one-way street. Remain in my love must naturally follow. Every relationship has two sides. The give and take are both crucial. Think about it. Have you ever found yourself angrily muttering about what you're not getting from a friend, a family member, a spouse, or a co-worker? You easily list all the ways they have offended you or not lived up to your expectations. Fix one of these moments in your mind. Then turn the mirror on yourself. Did you make it easy for them to help you, to know you, or to love you? How might your reactions have influenced their behavior? Every relationship has two sides.

The same is true for the one you have with God. I've certainly reached moments in my life when it seemed like God was far away. Things were not going well and I felt no sense of grace or divine assistance. That poem about the footprints in the sand is a beautiful piece of literary work, but let's face it, even the guy in the story didn't know he was being carried at the time it was happening. It was only later when he took the time to listen to God's story, to have a conversation with God, that the truth of their relationship came to light.

Remain in my love. Keep your end of this relationship alive. Do what is right, what is just, and what is good, and you will remain in my love. Jesus makes it pretty clear. He'll always love us, but in order for us to feel the joy of this relationship, we're going to need to give a little, too. The next time you find yourself feeling lost and alone, muttering about how God has left you in the mess of life, turn the mirror on yourself. When was the last time you sought God? What part have you played in your relationship with him?

Look for the next blog update on Thursday, May 26.

Friday

I'm off on a field trip today so I thought I'd bring you along to share in some natural beauty.

A few years ago, my family had the great fortune to travel to Poland. Part of our trip was a visit to Zakopane in the Tatra Mountains. This is the place where Pope John Paul II often walked and prayed the Rosary. It was truly the most beautiful place I've ever been. Many of my nature photographs that are used on this blog come from that trip, including the one from yesterday's post. I thought I'd share a couple of videos of this amazing place.

In the Searching

Lord, you have searched me out and known me;

you know my sitting down and my rising up;

you discern my thoughts from afar.

You trace my journeys and my resting places

and are acquainted with all my ways.

Indeed, there is not a word on my lips,

but you, O Lord, know it altogether.

You press upon me behind and before

and lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;

it is so high that I cannot attain it.

Where can I go then from your Spirit?

where can I flee from your presence?

If I climb up to heaven, you are there;

if I make the grave my bed, you are there also.

If I take the wings of morning

and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

Even there your hand will lead me

and your right hand hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will cover me,

and the light around me turn to night,"

Darkness is not dark to you;

the night is as bright as the day;

darkness and light to you are both alike.

~Psalm 139 1–11

We all feel lonely sometimes. Caught up in our own kinds of darkness, it seems that no one can possibly understand. There are some things we must face alone, but not really alone. The psalmist understood this and tries to convey it to us through this love letter. No matter what we wrestle with, no matter how alone we might feel in the struggle, God is always there. Our unsettling loneliness is a reminder to continue searching for God in the big and little things around us. In the happy and the sad, the dark and the light, he waits to be noticed.

Where do you see God today?

Changes are Coming

For many of us, the parts of the Mass are so familiar that we can recite the prayers and responses by heart. But come the first Sunday of Advent, November 27, 2011, you may need to pick up a missalette. The reason is the coming changes with the implementation of the New Roman Missal.

The Third Edition of the Roman Missal is being introduced in all Catholic churches in the United States. The missal is the ritual text containing prayers and instructions for the celebration of the Mass. It has been in the works for quite some time. In fact, Pope John Paul II announced the revised version during the Jubilee Year 2000. Since that time it has been written and revised with the final version now ready to be implemented this Advent.

What kinds of changes can you expect? Among other things the revised missal contains prayers for the observance of recently canonized saints, additional prefaces for the Eucharistic Prayers, additional Votive Masses and Masses and Prayers for Various Needs and Occasions, and some updated and revised rubrics (instructions) for the celebration of the Mass. It will also include updated translations of existing prayers, including some changes to well-known responses and acclamations of the people.

We'll talk more about some these specific changes in the weeks to come. If you'd like to read more, here are a couple helpful articles to get you started.

http://www.revisedromanmissal.org/

http://www.loyolapress.com/roman-missal-changes.htm

The Path

Today I'm borrowing a meditation from Mahatma Gandhi.

I know the path: it is strait and narrow.

It is like the edge of a sword.

I rejoice to walk on it.

I weep when I slip.

God's word is:

"He who strives never perishes."

I have implicit faith in that promise.

Though, therefore, from my weakness

I fail a thousand times,

I shall not lose faith.

Are You Listening God?

The past week I've been witness to the amazing power of prayer. Against all odds, a friend survived a major surgery and is recovering beyond the expectations of all doctors involved. Many people prayed for this individual. I believe it mattered. But it leads me to the obvious question, what about the people for whom prayers were not answered. What about those who despite their most sincere pleas to God didn't make it through or heard news that devastated them and their families. Is God really listening, or is it all just a random act of universal chance.

This brings me to a wonderful reflection from the book Inner Compass by Margaret Silf. She writes,

There was a time when I thought of my prayers as some kind of lottery. I might get lucky on a few of my scratchboard prayers and clock up a few ticks, as if I were checking God off against a shopping list. Big wins were a lot less likely--really only dreams. Some people even keep diaries of the answers they feel they have, or have not, received to their specific prayers.

Today, though, I really question this way of thinking of prayer and the ways in which God responds to it.

Margaret goes on to compare our "deepest desires" to a powerful underground stream. The stream is so deep that we ourselves are not even fully aware of it. This desire comes from God and directed toward him. The problem we face is that we are often distracted from this inner connection. The distractions come from outside ourselves. They are the things that pull us away from God. They are our own selfish wants and desires that may make us feel good in the moment but ultimately will leave us lost and empty.

These are the prayers that often begin, "Please God, if you'll only do this . . . then I will never . . . again." They are the prayers said in desperation and fear. Sometimes we may feel they are answered, and other times not. Ultimately, what becomes our burden is believing that God is like a vending machine receiving our prayers as tokens and feeding back answers like treats. Or we see God as a genie who randomly decides to grant us our wishes.

Margaret goes on,

I discover, when I let my prayer become this deep flow that I can't even name or ever fully know, the amazing truth that God is continuously responding to it, much as the parent of a much loved, much wanted child is continuously aware of the child's fundamental needs. The parent is continuously attending to those needs even though the child is unaware of them, and even when the child expresses "wants" that will not further his or her real interests and may even be damaging.

A strange reversal follows from this discovery. If I believe that God is continuously responding to my deepest desire, then it follows that by observing God's actions in my life and his movement in my heart, I will be able to see more and more clearly what my deepest desires really are. Paradoxical though it may appear, I will become able to hear my prayers by listening to the answers, not the other way around.

Take a look at your life. What are your answered prayers telling you about what you really need?

[Source: Inner Compass by Margaret Silf. Loyola Press. ©1999]