Lenten Penance?

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On Saturday morning Jack bounced into our bedroom and proudly announced that he’d been wearing the same pair of socks since Ash Wednesday.

As soon as the words left his mouth a distinct rage began to pulse through my veins as I thought about all the time I’d wasted each morning frantically digging around in laundry baskets looking for clean socks.  “I give you a clean pair of socks every morning!”  I shrieked.  “And you’re not wearing them?”

“Nope!”

“But you take a shower every night.  Are you telling me, that you put the same pair of socks back on after you’ve showered?”

“Yep!  I even wear ‘em to bed!”

I wrinkled my nose in revulsion, “That’s disgusting!”

*I actually think in some bizarre 8-year old boy sort-of way this accusation only made him more pleased with himself*

Then Dan, who’d been completely silent up to his point, mumbled from beneath the blankets, “Is this some weird form of Lenten penance?”

If it is, then whose penance is it supposed to be?   Jack’s or mine?

It has made me think about Lenten penance, though.  Have you ever wondered where the whole giving something up for Lent came from? I often do, especially since I am notoriously bad at keeping these types of Lenten fasts and am always looking for some sort of loophole or easy way out (I’m not proud of this and you can read about last year’s Lenten fasting here).

Anyway, here’s a great article I read the other day about giving things up for Lent .  Hope you find it as intriguing as I did!  I also hope that you’ve found a more suitable fast or form of penance than some of the ones listed in the article (and obviously something better than what Jack has chosen)!

Repentance

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Readings for Sunday, March 3: Exodus 3:1-8, 13-15; Ps 103; 1 Cor 10:1-6, 10-12; Luke 13:1-9

I picked up my copy of the Magnificat today (if you don’t yet receive this publication, I can’t recommend it enough) and flipped to the reflection for this upcoming Sunday’s readings.  It is, of course, so much more eloquently said than I could ever manage; so I thought I’d pass it along to you all.

“If you do not repent”

The third portico is repentance for sin, deep and true.  It is turning away in all sincerity from everything that is not God, or that does not come from God.  The very marrow of true contrition consists in this—that a sinner returns absolutely to God with all that he is inwardly and outwardly.  That a man is wholly absorbed in trustfulness of God’s goodness, that he ardently longs to possess him and him only, that he is resolutely determined to cleave to him forever in all love, that he has the purpose clear and distinct to do God’s will alone to the utmost of his power:  my dear children, this is what repentance essentially is.  Whosoever has it in that spirit, his sins are without any doubt forgiven him wholly, and the deeper the intensity of his earnestness, so much the more perfectly is he cleansed.”   Father John Tauler, O.P.

It is clear from these Scripture readings that things will not go well for those of us who refuse to repent of our sins, but it is also clear (from the pairings of the New Testament and Old Testament passages) that God longs to be merciful to us and to forgive all of our sins.  As the Psalmist says, “Merciful and gracious is the Lord, slow to anger and abounding in kindness.  For as the heavens are high above the earth, so surpassing is his kindness toward those who fear him.”  Ps. 103:8.

I don’t think that there is any coincidence in the fact that Saturday’s Gospel reading is the Parable of the Prodigal Son and the Old Testament reading comes from Micah.

“Who is there like you, the god who removes guilt and pardons sin for the remnant of his inheritance; Who does not persist in anger forever, but delights rather in clemency, and will again have compassion on us, treading underfoot our guilt?  You will cast into the depths of the sea all our sins; you will show faithfulness to Jacob, and grace to Abraham, as you have sworn to our fathers from days of old.” Micah 7:18-20.

Make no mistake, God insists that we all must repent of our sins, but only so that we might be the recipients of His surpassing kindness and compassion and healing from all our ills.

The Transfiguration of Christ

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Readings for Sunday, February 24th: Gn 15:5-12, 17-18; Ps 27:1,7-9,13-14; Phil 3:17-4:1, Lk 9:28-36

When I read these passages I was struck by God’s obvious desire to be in a personal relationship with each of us.  How he longs to reveal Himself to us.  How He wants to enter into covenants with us.  How He wants to help us; to rescue us; to be our refuge; and to bless us abundantly.  I was also struck by how very easily distracted we are by “earthly things” and miss just what it is that God, out of his immense love,  is trying to do for us.  I am particularly guilty of this.

Surely, something specific should also be said about the Transfiguration.  I’m just not sure what, except that each time I read the story of the Transfiguration I wonder what it means that one day we too will share in Christ’s glory.  There’s no easy answer to be sure.  But I’d love to hear your thoughts.  And I think we’d all be grateful if anyone had a good article/book to share.  Blessings!

Litany of Humility

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On Fridays I typically write a short reflection on the liturgical readings for the upcoming Sunday, but today I feel compelled to write something about yesterday’s readings instead—in particular the Gospel reading (Luke 9:22-25).  This is mainly because when I read it yesterday I couldn’t help but be reminded of a prayer I discovered while praying in the Adoration Chapel this past Sunday entitled a Litany of Humility.  The moment I read it I knew that I was meant to begin praying it daily and seeking to live it out as best as I could, despite how difficult it might be (and no doubt I will fail miserably at it).

Litany of Humility

O Jesus! Meek and humble of heart, Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being loved, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being extolled, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being honored, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being praised, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being preferred to others, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being consulted, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the desire of being approved, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being despised, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of suffering rebukes, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being calumniated, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being forgotten, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being ridiculed, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being wronged, Deliver me, Jesus.

From the fear of being suspected, Deliver me, Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be chosen and I set aside, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be praised and I unnoticed, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

 

~Rafael Cardinal Merry del Val (1865-1930)

I went home from the Adoration Chapel and showed the prayer to Dan whose response was, “That’s a really frightening prayer.” And he’s right.  It goes against everything this world teaches us.  But it really is the only way forward on the road to humility.

I’ve been praying for months that Christ would teach me humility.  But I keep finding the more I focus on trying to be humble, the more my pride rears its ugly head.  It’s very much like when I was learning to ride a bike.  No matter how hard I focused on not hitting the thorny bushes in front of our house I’d always land right in the middle of them.  The secret was in focusing on something beyond the bushes—beyond my problems.

It is the same with humility.  We cannot grow in humility as long as we’re constantly taking our own spiritual temperature.  We must completely lose ourselves for the sake of Christ, for the sake of His creation.  There’s no other way around it.  We must take up our cross and follow Him; no matter how frightening and vulnerable the road ahead may be, trusting that “no one who believes in Him will be put to shame”. (Romans 10:8-13).

Reshaping the Gospel

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Readings-Sunday, February 10, 2013:  Isaiah 6:1-2a, 3-8; Ps 138:1-2, 2-3, 4-5, 7-8; 1 Cor 15:1-11; Luke 5:1-11

I have two thoughts about the readings for this upcoming Sunday.  First, it seems obvious to me that the great theme of these Scriptures is our calling to proclaim the truth of God; to pass on the Apostolic faith; to draw men and women to Him.  And with regards to the 1 Corinthians passage, in particular, there is a distinct emphasis to hand off exactly what we’ve received.  All too often people want to reshape the message of the Scriptures to suit their purposes or make the message more palatable for modern ears or even to keep from hurting anyone’s feelings. But the truth of the matter is, whether we like it or not, none of us has the authority to change the Gospel message.  I can’t help but think of one of my favorite quotes from St. Augustine:  “If you believe what you like in the Gospel, and reject what you don’t like, it is not the Gospel you believe, but yourself.”

Second, when I think about Peter and Paul as apostles chosen by the Lord to do great things, I can’t help but think of what they were (Paul even refers to this in the 1 Corinthians passage).  They were not obvious choices for sainthood, were they?  I think the message is quite clear.  God expects (and has plans to accomplish) much greater things in us than we have the courage to imagine, and this despite what we may be at this moment in time.  I’m reminded again of another well-known quote:

“Jacob was a cheater, Peter had a temper, David had an affair, Noah got drunk, Jonah ran from God, Paul was a murderer, Gideon was insecure, Miriam was a gossiper, Martha was a worrier, Thomas was a doubter, Sara was impatient, Elijah was moody, Moses stuttered, Zaccheus was short, Abraham was old, and Lazarus was dead.. Now, what’s YOUR excuse? Can God use you or not? – ~~~ God doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the CALLED! “ Anonymous

What are your thoughts?

Happy Birthday, Merton!

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Today is Thomas Merton’s birthday!  So in honor of Merton, whose writings have meant so very much to me, I thought I’d post a couple of my favorite quotes (though, admittedly, it is hard for me to pick just 2).

“It is only the infinite mercy and love of God that has prevented us from tearing ourselves to pieces and destroying His entire creation long ago.  People seem to think that it is in some way a proof that no merciful god exists, if we have so many wars.  On the contrary, consider how in spite of centuries of sin and greed and lust and cruelty and hatred and avarice and oppression and injustice, spawned and bred by the free wills of men, the human race can still recover, each time, and can still produce men and women who overcome evil with good, hatred with love, greed with charity, lust and cruelty with sanctity.  How could all this be possible without the merciful love of God, pouring out His grace upon us?”  ~Seven Story Mountain

The Merton Prayer

“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.”   Thoughts in Solitude

The Pinewood Derby or The Last Time Dan and I Fought…I Mean Really, Really Fought

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The other day, for some reason—I can’t remember why—I was thinking about how Dan and I very rarely fight.  Sure, we bicker from time to time.  Who doesn’t?   But we really laugh together much more than we fight. Somehow, as I was pondering our greatness (please note the sarcasm), I got it into my mind that we just might be a model of healthy married life.  That was until I remembered the last time we fought…I mean really, really fought.

It was exactly one year ago, the eve of the Pinewood Derby.  Hours before the race.  The kids were fast asleep and Dan and I were in the garage desperately trying to attach the wheels to Jack’s Pinewood Derby car.  Apparently, this isn’t a task that most people find difficult.  But we did.  It didn’t help matters that a) we were handling a car whose paint was still a bit sticky after our attempted repairs to an overly exuberant paint job and we couldn’t find a way to handle the car without smudging our fingerprints into the paint; b) all of the decorations Jack had stuck to the body of the car fell off each time we exhaled; and c) Dan and I both have the fine motor skills of a St. Bernard (the dog, not the Cistercian abbot of Clairvaux).  No matter what we tried we couldn’t seem to get the wheels to fit into the little grooves.

Well, the expletives started flying.  At first we spat them out in a cathartic sort of way and they just hung in there air, not meant for anything other than bringing levity to a stressful situation.  But at some point we turned on each other and the expletives became weapons we wielded against one another.  It all seems so completely ridiculous to me now, but in the heat of the moment I really couldn’t imagine anything of more consequence than this car and its @*+$!&% wheels.  I think it was about 2 a.m. when we finally got 3 of the wheels on pretty good (the fourth kept popping out of the groove).  We took a deep breath, said a few half-hearted apologies and decided to add a little graphite—you know, to make the wheels spin faster.  The graphite exploded all over the car and, as luck would have it, proved impossible to wipe off. You can only imagine the words that were said.

By the time we arrived at the race the next day we’d realized how foolish we’d been.  I wished Jack good luck as I headed off to do my hour of prayer in the Adoration Chapel—completely determined, I might add, to spend the entire hour praying that Jack was not humiliated in front of his friends by the car he held in his hands and that all the wheels would stay on long enough for the car to make it once down the track—and Dan gently reassured me that “they” always say cars run faster on 3 wheels.

It truly was pathetic.  I only wish I could show you just how pathetic this car looked, to confirm the absurd mental images in your mind, but the dog ate the car…wheels and all.  Seriously.  I’m not making this up.

We’ve learned our lesson, though.  We’ll never fight over something as ridiculous as the Pinewood Derby (most likely because we’ve resolved to always have our dear friend, Joe, put the wheels on).  Tomorrow is race day.  We may not win, but at least Dan and I can say that January 2012 was the last time we had a major fight.

photo (4)Jack holding this year’s Pinewood Derby Car.  You can’t tell, but this one has all 4 wheels!  Thanks, Joe!

With Certainty

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Readings: Neh 8:2-10, Ps 19:8-15, 1 Cor 12:12-30, Lk1:1-4; 4:14-21

As I was looking over the Gospel reading for this Sunday the words “so that you may realize the certainty of the teachings you have received” seemed to leap off the page.  Certainty.

I spend a lot of time thinking about relativism—the idea that all truth is relative and that every point of view has subjective value and is, therefore, valid.  It seems to me that so much of what is wrong in our world can be traced back to society’s either inability to recognize truth or refusal to claim it.  We do not like to be told what to do or how we are to live our lives and we certainly don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.  So the most convenient thing to do is wish away the commandments, the precepts, the laws of the Lord.  We want to be comforted.  We want to rejoice.  But we sure as hell don’t want to be told what to do.

I’m reminded of a time in college when I was in the car with a couple of other students who were discussing the glories of relativism.  I’d kept silent throughout the entire conversation—feeling a little intimidated and unsure as to how to eloquently explain my thoughts—until all of a sudden I blurted out, “If all truth is relative then you can’t say that what Hitler did was wrong.” We sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity and then one of the young women said, unaffectedly, “No, I can’t say what Hitler did was wrong.”  If Hitler’s truth is valid, then oppression and injustice will always reign, the captives will never be set free, and the tears will never cease.

I once wrote in an article: “If all truth is relative, then there is no truth and there is no peace to be had and no salvation for which we can hope.”  And I believe that with my entire being.  But there is truth.  And as soon as we are bold enough to claim it and surrender our lives to it we begin to understand the words “Do not be saddened this day, for rejoicing in the LORD must be your strength.” Neh. 8:10.

I’ll end by including one of my favorite quotes.  I’ve posted it before, but it is so perfect for our time that I feel it must be read and reread:

“In the world it is called Tolerance, but in hell it is called Despair, the sin that believes in nothing, cares for nothing, seeks to know nothing, interferes with nothing, enjoys nothing, hates nothing, finds purpose in nothing, lives for nothing, and remains alive because there is nothing for which it will die.”  ~Dorothy L. Sayers

The Wedding at Cana

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Readings for Sunday, January 20, 2013: Isaiah 62:1-5; Psalms 96:1-10; 1 Corinthians 12:4-11; John 2:1-11

From John: 2:1-11

I always cringe when I read this passage; because I can’t read it without thinking of the number of times I’ve heard sermons about how in this passage Jesus is getting a little cheeky with his mother.  Some say He is even rebuking His mother.  And I’ve never felt that this is an accurate interpretation of the Scripture.  I’ve recently heard some interesting interpretations (some better than others), but I’d truly be interested to hear your opinions.

Marcellino D’Ambrosio has a great reflection on the Wedding at Cana over at ICL.  You read about it here.

I do find it fascinating that this passage is paired with the Isaiah 62 passage.  “For the Lord delights in you and makes your land his spouse.  As a young man marries a virgin, your Builder shall marry you; and as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride so shall your God rejoice in you.”  I wonder how many of us actually believe that God delights in us.

I’m also intrigued by the fact that the Gospel reading that follows in the lectionary (Mark 2:18-22) includes imagery of both weddings/marriages and wine.  I’m curious as to how you think these fit together.  Please share your thoughts!