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."

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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?

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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.