It's November, so it's time to pray for the dead and contemplate the coming of Christ, not just by remembering/celebrating Christmas, but also by looking forward to his Second Advent.
Sorry for recycling old goods, but perhaps few have read this column. I published it in The Record, the newspaper of the archdiocese of Perth, Australia, once upon a time. (I would link the page, but alas, they seem to have removed all but six of my columns from their archive.)
Not a nice topic for a Sunday afternoon. Not a nice topic ever.
I am soooooo angry, and so grieved, sad, horrified--there are hardly words. I can't say a prayer, read a word of Scripture, or hear a Mass reading without thinking of this still-mushrooming scandal. I want to say so much, but a good deal of it is not remotely charitable. Let's just say I find the image of Jesus cleansing the temple, corded whip in hand, somewhat comforting at this moment.
But there's a lot of grief to deal with too. And don't think our Lord isn't feeling it. His Church (his holy Bride) is being ripped apart: figuratively and potentially literally. Not least by wicked, lying, despicable, hypocritical shepherds (may they all be called to account--every last one of them), but also by us. You and me. Because we are all sinners and that's what sin does: divide and destroy.
Have you watched the Passion of the Christ lately? I did last Lent, and it made me cry, especially the scene where Jesus, shaking with pain, embraces his Cross. He is embracing it now. Will you carry it with Him, or will you stand in the street mocking and shouting?
On the Via Dolorosa, he embraced our sins and carried them to Calvary. Maybe we can't do much about the sins that have been committed by our pastors, but we can do our best to ensure that Christ's burden is not any heavier than it has to be. Our only option at this point is sainthood, ie. striving for holiness in every moment of our lives. And we can only do this by remaining in prayer and by staying as close to Christ as possible. I believe the rest will unfold as it should. Justice will be done, if not on earth, then surely in the hereafter.
Jesus and vintage. Though the aforementioned is a Person, of course, and what a Person. I especially love the image/statue of Christ the Redeemer as he appears in Rio, Brazil.
For as much as I love Audrey Assad, I have to admit that I don't own ANY of her albums. Isn't that the worst? A Christmas or two ago, I'd bought Fortunate Fall for my daughter. Then I "borrowed" the CD, and still haven't given it back. (She's OK with that, since she ripped the album into her iTunes library.)
To expand my Audrey repertoire, I've been listening to her tracks and playlists on YouTube, and loving everything I hear. Then I went to the iTunes Store and previewed all her tracks from all her albums, and I gotta say, I HAVE TO HAVE ALL OF THEM. That is all. This fantastic song is from her album Heart:
This is a great live version. Want the official video with lyrics? Go here.
Do not be troubled; His eye is on the sparrow. Have a great day.
Sunday, April 15, 2018
I've mentioned this artist before (and I will keep doing it until everyone I know has at least given her music a try), but if you want to be blessed and uplifted and refreshed and energized, LISTEN TO AUDREY ASSAD. This song is appropriate, because it's mid-April, and we are still sitting under three solid feet of snow. So try not to laugh when this video begins with the "Spring" quotation from Shelley. He obviously had never heard of Saskatchewan.
On a somber (and more hopeful) note, the song and video remind me of death and resurrection. I'm thinking of the men, boys and Dayna who "woke up in April" to eternal life, and to the broken hearts they left behind. I am praying for every one of you. #BroncosStrong.
Last post (oh so long ago-sorry!), I said my life was like a movie. Not really. It's been more like this:
I love this classic photo, which has inspired countless internet memes. It's all the more funny to me because the terrified kid reminds me of one of my daughters (when she was little), and the girl holding her hand reminds me of my niece, who is close to the same age as said daughter.
Every time there's a chronological gap in my blogging, I allude vaguely to how challenging life has been, and I more or less hint that I may explain myself in time, but somehow I never do.
No, this is not about emojis or online dating. It's yet another observation about yet another Jordan Peterson video that I watched recently. (Yes, I watch a lot of them. It's the only form of TV we have now, and on the whole, it's more edifying and enlightening than HGTV or the Food Channel--and I've lost weight.)
Wisdom's hint of a smile
The video below comes to us from the Dutch podcast, EindBazen ("bosses") episode #87. The host, Michel Vos, describes himself as a former "militant atheist," who is now struggling to come to terms with the concepts of morality, man's desire for knowledge, and the complexity of the universe. He thinks it's almost "too convenient" how well it all works together. Not to us believers; it's just how God rolls.
He talks about small acts of love, friendship, service etc, that end up having a big impact on people's lives and the wider society. He calls these acts "winks from the Universe," adding, "it restores your faith in humanity."
I think it sounds suspiciously like the way God works, and it reminds me of the spirituality of The Little Flower, St. Therese of Lisieux, who called it "The Little Way." Find out more here.
She used to say that after she died, she would send forth a shower of "roses from heaven." They are not really from her, of course, but from the Lord, the giver of all good things. Like all the other saints, she is just a friend (or big sister, however you want to imagine it) who is already there, and praying for us. We don't worship the saints; we just ask them to pray for us, much as you would ask your grandpa, or aunt or best friend to pray for you.
But back to the video for a few more points:
heroism is our goal: it shows we are "properly inculturated"
"You tend to become what you practice" says Dr. JBP ("Families, become what your are," was a famous quotation by Pope St. John Paul II, in Familiaris Consortio)
"getting proactive with your life" is an antidote to misery and resentment
they discuss the symbolism of the pilgrimage and how it changes you: the psychology and biology of going outside your comfort zone and meeting goals
At one point, Michel Vos invokes (and approves the wisdom of) The Serenity Prayer, even though he says he's not a very religious person. They also discuss what was variously expressed as "the arbitrariness of evil" or the "randomness of the universe."
I don't agree, because I think there is no such thing as coincidence or dumb luck or randomness, whether we're talking about good or evil. I believe God is omniscient, omnipresent, all-loving, all wise, and that his will is inscrutable. But he also has given us free will, and that, alas is where the devil so often seems to gain the upper hand.
On that note, it's interesting that in the video, Dr. JBP discusses the psychological utility of fear.
He tells us that we need more than goals; we need a vision. And not just a positive vision (of future success). He says we also need to fear how bad things could get if we fail to move forward: if we let everything slide or let our worst habits take over. And thus he arrives (I kid you not) at the psychological utility of hell. Michel Vos even refers to the idea of "lighting a fire behind you."
Wow: how LONG have secularists been laughing at us Christians for talking or preaching or wanting to avoid "the fires of hell" -- and now here they are, straight-faced, discussing it as a legitimate motivation for goal-setting. Talk about a vindication for old-timey religion.
"You need a vision of hell;" says Dr. Jordan B. Peterson, "there's nothing like consulting your existential terror."
You don't hear secular professors say that every day. There are such interesting things going on... one might almost envision the Spirit of God hovering over the void.
Something tells me the saints are chuckling--and possibly winking.
But I suppose there are various ways to define "rest." One thinks of the phrase, "A change is as good as a rest," and today I will have to hew to that version. After Mass, we're heading north (45 miles) to visit my husband's parents for the afternoon. In the evening, Hubby is going to drive our teens back to the parish for youth group, but I'm staying in town to see Faure's Requiem (woot! All my life I've longed to see that performed). I hope to catch a ride back home with a friend. Fingers crossed that it will all work out, and that the weather will cooperate (yesterday we had a blizzard, so you never know.)
But back to the idea of "rest." There is this concept of "Resting in the Lord," and it's something we should strive to do on a regular basis, whether it's Sunday or not. Most people I know (including yours truly) seem inordinately stressed a lot of the time; it just seems to be the way life is. And there are no signs of it letting up, especially as postmodern society gets more bizarre by the day.
We need to "get away," which is, I suspect, why people who can afford it --and even some who can't-- take exotic vacations. Some people of faith take pilgrimages to various holy sites in the world; others go on retreat as often as they can. But sometimes you just can't get away...or can you?
The answer is yes. It's called prayer. More specifically, contemplative prayer, which mainly just means sitting still and quiet and focussing on God. Which is kind of hard to do, especially if you are a restless sort of person, or if you have a million things to think and worry about. But my main aid in this pursuit is listening to calm worship music. It's a way to touch and commune with God without leaving your bedroom.
One of my favourite artists is Audrey Assad. If you don't know her music, seriously, look her up. She has lengthy playlists on YouTube (not that I recommend those for prayer, since they are interspersed with annoying ads). I have her album Fortunate Fall, but I'm going to acquire more--in fact all of them. I love her that much. She helps me connect with God, and that is no small feat.
If you have time today (and please try) sit still and listen to this track. And meditate upon the words.
This is yet another song that my daughter has been practicing. She accompanies the junior church choir for Sunday Mass, and also when they compete in choral classes in the local music festival. It is for the latter that she is preparing this piece, although (I hope) the choir will also sing it during the Easter Triduum.
I love this song because of its inherent beauty, truth and holiness, but also because it was composed by a Canadian duo for World Youth Day 2002 in Toronto, Canada. I will never forget that event, even though I could not attend (having recently given birth, which sort of chartecterizes most years of my life between 1988 and 2004). I watched it on TV, and Pope (now Saint!) John Paul II was of course in his declining years (health-wise), and the Canadian state TV network (CBC, a leftist outlet) were all cynical and critical and "oh he's so frail, he has to exit the plane with an elevator, yadda yadda yadda" and then the Holy Father left the plane of his own accord and WALKED down the stairs and rendered the reporters speechless. It was so satisfying.
The music for the Masses of WYD 2002 was just wonderful. I still get teary-eyed thinking about it, and I still watch reruns on YouTube. It was a moment in history--wish I could have been there.
But... procrastination. I wonder if I'll ever overcome it? Maybe someday...
As I had mentioned last Friday, I attended the St. Therese Institute Lenten conference in Bruno, SK. It was a fantastic and grace-filled weekend--all the more so because I was able to experience it with three of my daughters and several other good friends. And, as always, I made some new ones (friends, that is).
And it's about time. The man is a cultural phenomenon (and IMO, a force for good), and the Church intellectuals should be commenting on anything of that nature. I'm actually a bit surprised by the number of people I encounter who have not yet heard of Dr JBP, but I guess they don't frequent the same news/web hangouts or YouTube channels that I do. (Or maybe they have actual "lives" and "jobs" and such, and don't live online, haha).
Bishop Barron has written a good article, titled "The Jordan Peterson Phenomenon." It's well worth reading, but here are a few snippets:
The Jungian template enables Peterson to interpret many of the classical spiritual texts of Western culture in a fresh way—those very texts so often excoriated by mainstream intellectuals as hopelessly patriarchal, biased, and oppressive. It also permits him to speak with a kind of psychological and spiritual authority to which young people are not accustomed but to which they respond eagerly.
With all due respect to Bishop Barron, "eagerly" is a bit of an understatement. Dr Peterson is a man who gets invited to SECULAR colleges by SECULAR clubs (such as Free Speech clubs) and he stands at the podium, telling unchurched young people (many of them hardcore atheists) that every action and every thought and every word they say "tilts the world either toward heaven or toward hell." He tells them to "take up their cross and carry it." And he tells them to tell the truth at all times, so that they can build up "the kingdom of God." And they jump to their feet, giving him standing ovations. STANDING OVATIONS.
Which should lead ordinary Christians --especially those of us not very good at evangelizing-- to wonder, "What the heck is going on here?"
Especially given the fact that Dr. Peterson himself is not a religious person. (If the Holy Spirit ever gets a hold of him, look out, I say!) But I'm fairly certain that God knows what he's doing, and I'm content to let the Almighty order things in his own time and way. (As I've written elsewhere, I am not overly concerned about the nature of Dr JBP's personal relationship with God); I'm just glad he seems to be doing wonderful things for Western Civ and helping people, especially young men, change their lives for the better.
Bishop Barron again:
His new book, an elaboration of twelve basic psychological rules for life, makes for bracing and satisfying reading. Peterson’s considerable erudition is on clear display throughout, but so is his very real experience in the trenches as a practicing psychotherapist. His advice is smart indeed, but it never seems abstract, detached, or unrealistic. [...] Peterson tells his readers—especially young men, who have been cowed into complacency for various reasons—to throw back their shoulders, stand tall, and face the challenges of life head on.
The article is mostly warm praise for Dr. Peterson, but there's a BUT coming. You know there has to be. (Emphasis in red added by me.)
So do I thoroughly support Jordan Peterson’s approach? Well, no, though a full explication of my objection would take us far beyond the confines of this brief article. In a word, I have the same concern about Peterson that I have about both Campbell and Jung, namely, the Gnosticizing tendency to read Biblical religion purely psychologically and philosophically and not at all historically. No Christian should be surprised that the Scriptures can be profitably read through psychological and philosophical lenses, but at the same time, every Christian has to accept the fact that the God of the Bible is not simply a principle or an abstraction, but rather a living God who acts in history. As I say, to lay this out thoroughly would require at least another article or two or twelve.
PLEASE WRITE THEM, BISHOP BARRON! Catholic supporters of Jordan Peterson would love to read them, and perhaps Dr. Peterson would read them too. We need all the information, discussion and inspiration we can get in this battle of powers and principalities. For your further edification, here is a discussion between Dr. JBP and Catholic evangelist Patrick Coffin:
How can I turn it into more than just words? That is the question.
For one thing, my head still isn't really in the game--and ye gods, it's been Lent for almost 10 days: it's a quarter gone! I was sick Ash Wednesday, so I didn't get to Mass, and I didn't get any ashes. Kind of an ominous beginning. Because of being sick, I lost almost 3 pounds (yay) but really: is Lent just a diet for vain and foolish ladies? No, and I should be ashamed for thinking of it in those terms. What's even more shameful is that I have probably eaten those 3 pounds back on again in the last 10 days, which means my fasting is not going all that well.
It’s a day late, but I
wanted to share some prayers and random musings from Sunday Mass. Last Sunday
was the 6th in Ordinary Time. Because it was also Feb 11, it was the Feast of
Our Lady of Lourdes, which has been proclaimed by the Church the ‘World Day of
the Sick.’
As a side note, people
often complain that they "don't get anything" out of church, prayer,
etc. But the stark reality is that we must put something in first, namely
effort and a hopeful attitude. It's like the guy who says, "Lord, fill my
cup," and then he holds up a thimble. But sometimes we don't even go so
far as holding up the thimble.
Well, not on the treadmill, or outside. In fact, the total distance was only about 20 feet. But I ran (in my basement) and I didn't pass out, or even feel dizzy afterwards, which is a small miracle. So thank you, my lovely friend, who sent me the Miracle Prayer the other day. I think it helped.
My ears are still popping, but the dizziness is much better. I'm looking forward to feeling normal again, and getting back to some kind of fitness routine.
But not this. I include it because it's so hilarious. Jazzercize was probably THE number one reason why people started hating exercise in the 1980s. I mean, for most of us, it's all we can manage to get up and MOVE, never mind working hairspray, choreography, and smiling into the picture. Enjoy.
Post-modern society has become so politically correct and easily offended that I actually hesitated the other day to use the word "stupid" in my blog post. The S-word is so taboo these days that you can get busted in Kindergarten for using it. (But then again, you can also get busted in Kindergarten for drawing a gun, or declaring you have a best friend, or even for using the wrong gender pronoun, so what does that prove...)
This is why we need poetry in our lives. Isn't that one of the best lines you've ever read? It comes from the opening hymn from Morning Prayer (Liturgy of the Hours). If you do not pray the LOTH, you should seriously consider it, because it's the next most legit thing to attending daily Mass. (Yes, it's even "better" than the daily rosary, and that is saying a LOT.) If you don't know what it is, or where to begin, read this book. Available in ebook format, so you can start within the next 10 minutes if you want. I can't overstate how important this form of prayer is in my life.
We all have suffering and darkness in our lives, and we want God to take it away. Sometimes, the only prayer we can muster is, "God, help me; I can't deal with this crap." But if we're going to pray that prayer, we might as well use beautiful language--not because God needs to hear it (he knows all the words, even the bad ones), but because we do. God is everything that is true, good and beautiful. And good Art is the same thing. True Art leads us to God.
The LOTH is based on the Psalms, which contain some of the most beautiful words in the Bible.
The Bible also has a lot of cool metaphors. This one came from the Reading from Midmorning Prayer today: (1 Peter 1:13-14): "Gird the loins of your understanding..." Ha, I love that! In other words, 'Get it together, man!' Know what you believe; know why you believe it, and be ready to explain/defend it when asked/challenged.
By the way, I don't usually pray so many of the hours, so don't think I'm some kind of saint. In fact I was kind of cheating and listening to the LOTH audio while I tidied my bedroom this morning. It had become rather messy over the holidays. (You know it's bad when you get all the way through the podcasts of Morning Prayer, Office of Readings AND Midmorning Prayer, and you only cleaned half the room.) Disorganization, laziness and clutter: just a few more those darksome things that need to be driven forth from my life. Pray for me; I'll pray for you.
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The houseplants near my kitchen patio door, waiting for sunrise.
Christmas is almost officially over, as Ordinary Time begins tomorrow. I hope you had a nice Christmas; our family certainly did. It's always sad at the end of the holidays to see the adult and college-age children going back to their jobs and studies. This January is more poignant than usual, since Daughter #5 is leaving home, and there are various other changes afoot, some of which I did not anticipate. As they say, "Change is the only Constant" (actually, "they" is the pre-Socratic Greek philosopher Heraclitus, which I just discovered this very moment. Isn't Google useful sometimes?) Despite the various challenges of life, my spirits are lifted because: 1) God; 2) we are POST-SOLSTICE: more hours of daylight--yay! I have trouble getting up early in the morning at the best of times, but winter is even less fun. When one of our daughters was little, she called everything between midnight and sunrise "Dark Morning," and the label is apropos, literally as well as metaphorically.
I thought I would jot down a few notes inspired by Mass today. Here is the Opening Prayer:
“O God, who on this day revealed your Only Begotten Son to the nations by the guidance of a star, grant in your mercy that we who know you already by faith may be brought to behold the beauty of your sublime glory.”
It's funny (or sad) how sometimes the words of the prayers and readings of Mass go in one ear and out the other, without even pausing to register. And then other days, a sentence, or phrase, or word will jump out at you and sear itself into your brain, and inspire you to go home and meditate on it for a while. This phrase from the Opening Prayer caught my imagination this morning:
Here is a lovely article about the traditions of Ukrainian Christmas. Being of Slavic descent, and having been gifted with a beautiful volume of Russian folk and fairy tales in the early 70's (thanks, big sisters!), and having been introduced to Catherine Doherty's writings at young age (thanks, Dad!) I have a great love for Eastern Christian art, spirituality, rituals, architecture, culture and so forth. (How did I not mention food in that list?) I have never experienced a Ukrainian Christmas Eve feast, but someday I would love to.
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