Got Fired! And Got Fired Up!

OrganizedWisdom.com for whom I'd been working for the past several months let me go today, along with a seeming host of other guides. They say our writing wasn't up to snuff, but I suspect it had more to do with economics. Anyway, God shuts doors and opens windows, or at least that's how the saying goes.

I was sad at first, shed a tear or two, but realized I was working day and night for 400 miserable dollars a month. And, it would seem that God is letting me know "this has passed, now what I want you to do something else." What that something else is I have no idea, yet I trust that God will reveal it to me in due time.

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I have had a couple of people ask me what a mad liberal catholic is. Well, I'm a social liberal, and a Roman Catholic. Madness is a state of mind where I don't much care whether you think social liberal and Roman Catholic go hand in hand. We tend to forget that the entire point of religion is not the Roman Catholic Church, but Jesus Christ, and him crucified and resurrected. If you think otherwise, then I assure you this site is not for you.

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The Apostolate for Suicides. People, we need to take this very seriously. First of all, suicides are going to sky rocket during this economic crisis which we've only begun to see the effects. Our prayers do matter. They matter a great deal. Now, woo-woo or not, when I sat at St. Vincent's praying for my life, I was promised that by my prayer one person would be prevented from suicide. That makes me want to pray for it all the time.

Do you pray for those on the verge of suicide? It not, why not? Don't think it's something which will never touch your life because the dice of chaos rolls around and will fall upon whom it will. Mixed metaphors or not, the truth is suicide strikes those around us, those we love, those whom we know vaguely, etc. Just because most of the people who read this are Lay Cistercians does not release us from the duty to pray for those on the verge of suicide. AND for those who have already committed suicide.

1. Suicides are not burning in hell, God knows the depths of their sorrow and despair.
2. God is infinitely more compassionate a judge than we are, or the church is.
3. Suicide is sin because it ruins the life of everyone around the victim.
4. If we pray for those on the verge, and those who have already done it, then we are fulfilling an important roll in the building up of the body of Christ.

And Now for the Daily Donne

John Donne HOLY SONNETS. VI. This is my play's last scene ; here heavens appoint My pilgrimage's last mile ; and my race Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace ; My span's last inch, my minute's latest point ; And gluttonous Death will instantly unjoint My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space ; But my ever-waking part shall see that face, Whose fear already shakes my every joint. Then, as my soul to heaven her first seat takes flight, And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell, So fall my sins, that all may have their right, To where they're bred and would press me to hell. Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil, For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil. Source: Donne, John. Poems of John Donne. vol I. E. K. Chambers, ed. London: Lawrence & Bullen, 1896. 160. to Works of John Donne Site copyright ©1996-2003 Anniina Jokinen.All Rights Reserved. Created by Anniina Jokinen on November 5, 2000. Background by the kind permission of Stormi Wallpaper Boutique.

Wednesday, 30th Week of OT

After two days of broken voice, and about as much energy as a slug, I dragged myself over to Nazareth today for Mass. Whew, what a relief it was to go. It's hard to explain, but I feel that each time I miss a Mass I am that much less connected to Jesus. I know that may seem foo-foo to some of my readers, but I also know that others are saying "YES."

One positive thing I can say about this weeks experience has been the way it knocked me back into my body, and my mortality. I admit, for a little while I wondered, "am I having a heart attack?" And to be honest, I was peaceful with the thought. No, I do not want to die, nor do I long for death like some medieval saint with dementia, but I do not fear it any longer. I know who I am before God, to God, and cling quite tenaciously to "nothing can separate us form the Love of God in Christ Jesus."

I sin, I repent, I do not quit. I get up, say my prayers, confess my sins, and go on with my life. Then the whole thing repeats again. The time I don't get up, that's the time I will have separated myself and then I give all my friends free tickets to kick me in the ass.

John Donne HOLY SONNETS. V. I am a little world made cunningly Of elements, and an angelic sprite ; But black sin hath betray'd to endless night My world's both parts, and, O, both parts must die. You which beyond that heaven which was most high Have found new spheres, and of new land can write, Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might Drown my world with my weeping earnestly, Or wash it if it must be drown'd no more. But O, it must be burnt ; alas ! the fire Of lust and envy burnt it heretofore, And made it fouler ; let their flames retire, And burn me, O Lord, with a fiery zeal Of Thee and Thy house, which doth in eating heal.

An Eventful Sunday

Yesterday was far from ordinary. After the Saturday disaster with my niece, I went to church Sunday morning, still kinda shaky, and it was a big get together for all the Sisters under the age of 62, so the place was packed! That was fine, it was glorious.

Then I came home and asked my niece if she wanted to go have Chinese food for lunch. She did. Now, I've had GERD for several years and never really done anything about it. Sometimes a little piece of food gets stuck in my esophagus and I cough it out, the valve opens, and I continue with the meal. Yesterday that didn't work -- at all. In fact, I could hold nothing down, the valve was stuck shut, and I drank water, and up it came. For FIVE HOURS I vomited thus -- without nausea -- until finally I called a doctor and he said go to the hospital.

I did. They did not admit me, thank heavens, since I don't have insurance, but they did keep there for another five hours and gave me something to make the juncture open up. It did. I came home exhausted.

That was my Sunday. How was yours?

There are days, then ....

Today has not been a red letter day for me. With my niece still living with us, she has been yelling at us, telling us how to live our lives, and why we are stupid with money, for two days now. All of this is coming from someone who was previously living on a basement floor futon, eating only once a day, and has never been able to keep a checking account without bouncing it like a basketball.

All of that aside, two of the nuns at Nazareth died this morning, one of which I actually knew who she was, and that sorta made me sad. I didn't know the woman more than, "you mean the one that used to sit over there?" but just the same, it put a pall over my day. Then I came home and my niece was yelling at me for something, then later yelling again, until finally I told her. "You are a guest here, and you need to mind your own business and butt out of our financial affairs. Or, go live with your other grandmother."

Now folks, I love this girl, I have prayed for her more than almost any other human on earth, but there comes a point at which the abuse she doles out to us has got to stop. Of course, she isn't speaking to me at the moment, and that's okay. I'm ready to make up, but she'll carry this grudge possibly through tomorrow. However, mom is going to have a talk with her while I'm at church tomorrow. Either she starts respecting us in our own home, stops yelling at us, butts out of our financial lives, or she has to move to her other grandmother's house on Monday.

I hate this. I just hate it, because I want her to be happy, to get a job here in Bardstown, where I feel she is semi safe at least, and then go to live in the apartments they provide at Nazareth, safe places, well lighted, and guarded. If she goes back to Louisville chances are she'll find another piece of shit man who will have her living again on a futon in a basement eating once a day.

But, I cannot live her life. I cannot make her decisions. I also cannot allow her to abuse us like so much filth under her feet. With all that said, why do I feel so fucking guilty?????

Pray for us.

Ah, Friday at Last

Friday in the 29th week of ordinary time. Remember there are only 34 weeks in ordinary time and then it's ... Advent! yes boys and girls, advent it coming upon us like a steam engine upon poor Polly tied to the tracks. We will all solemnly announce that the consumerism of Christmas will not infect us, and then we will go directly to the store.

This year might be less going to the store, but not less consumerist. We all complain about the money we spend, how we forget the reason for the seasons, etc. et al, ad nauseum... The truth is, we love it, we would feel like 'monks' without it, and even they get a little homesick around Christmas time so face the fact that you LIKE IT.

Not long ago I read that perhaps the entire essence of christian life is in the struggle. It was for Paul, so why should it be any different for us? So, let's apply that to the Christmas season, when we're struggling with our checkbooks, family whom we both love and hate, our jobs, and the dwindling resources of the decline of the American Empire.

And why complain about a consumer culture we perpetuate? Besides, it's fun to go out and shop. Just not at Christmas time.

Oh well, if you were expecting spiritual insight out of me tonight, sorry. Sometimes I am just fresh out.

But I'm never out of poetry.

John Donne

HOLY SONNETS. IV. O, my black soul, now thou art summoned By sickness, Death's herald and champion ; Thou'rt like a pilgrim, which abroad hath done Treason, and durst not turn to whence he's fled ; Or like a thief, which till death's doom be read, Wisheth himself deliver'd from prison, But damn'd and haled to execution, Wisheth that still he might be imprisoned. Yet grace, if thou repent, thou canst not lack ; But who shall give thee that grace to begin ? O, make thyself with holy mourning black, And red with blushing, as thou art with sin ; Or wash thee in Christ's blood, which hath this might, That being red, it dyes red souls to white.

New Dimensions

Lately the evenings have been tough for me. Of course, the arthritis reminds me that an entire day has passed and it wants a turn for my attention, but something more than that has been eating at me. I am not the kind of person to ignore something like that, so I overanalyzed the situation, trying to find any connection, or source, from the past, present or whatever that could account for me tormented evenings...then it hit me.

Okay, a warning. If you don't like ooooogy woooogy stuff, don't go any further.

You have been warned.

I realized that what I was feeling in the evenings was not my upsets or miseries, it was the upset and misery of others who needed my prayers!

Let that soak in. For years I have prayed "Lord make me a true Intercessor." I think that has come. Why? Because as I was lying in bed thinking why do I feel like living hell, a wee little voice of silence said, "because you're holding onto these prayers that need to be passed on to me." Okay, I'm used to moments like that, and said, "then I pass all the miseries and pain that others need me to pray for on to you, O God."

Then I prayed to St. Therese, since she is one of my best saint buddies, and asked her if I was doing it right. Naturally, she didn't say a word. Of course why should she when the Lord had already told me.

Now for proof I offer this. For the last three nights I have gone into my prayer space, and gathered all the pain and misery that I sense, and make myself a conduit through which it passes. I am not the receptacle , just the conduit.

Make of it what you will. I would appreciate some feedback on this one, because it has changed the entire timbre of my life.

I love you all. Here's some John Donne for your trouble.

HOLY SONNETS.

III.

O ! might those sighs and tears return again
Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent,
That I might in this holy discontent
Mourn with some fruit, as I have mourn'd in vain.
In mine idolatry what showers of rain
Mine eyes did waste ? what griefs my heart did rent ?
That sufferance was my sin, I now repent ;
'Cause I did suffer, I must suffer pain.
Th' hydroptic drunkard, and night-scouting thief,
The itchy lecher, and self-tickling proud
Have the remembrance of past joys, for relief
Of coming ills. To poor me is allow'd
No ease ; for long, yet vehement grief hath been
Th' effect and cause, the punishment and sin.

I Like the NRSV Best

Yes, the jury is in (in my mind that is) the New American Bible translation as perfectly fine, but the New Revised Standard Version has it beat, hands down, and not because it's gender inclusive, either. The NRSV is clearer in meaning. Of course, for clarity, we should all use the Good News Bible (yes, it really is a tranlations, not a paraphrase) because it breaks down some tough concepts into idiot proof language. Which is not to say that I always understand what that translation says either.

The bottom line in bible translations must be reliability, readability and to some extent, beauty. I'm certainly not saying the NRSV is a beautiful translation, for that you need The English Bible, that was the supreme of flat out beautiful language. Of course, as speakers of English, we should expect that translators from England might do a superb job on an English Bible.

That is something that still rattles me a bit after my Catholic conversion. If you look at the 1979 Book of Common Prayer, you are going to find some beautiful english. If you look at the 1975 Missals, you ain't finding such beautiful prayers. Now why is that? I am tempted to say power hungry, control freaks in Rome, but I suspect it's deeper than that. I think English is devalued by most people who are not native speakers.

All that said, and none of it important in any way, I just want to say that I find beauty in the New American Bible, but I find more, and clarity, in the NRSV. That's all. But for sheer lovely words, The English Bible, which is sooooooo out of favor for it's use of He, Him, His, Men, Man, etc. They revised it, but instead of adding sister, etc, they tried to redo the whole thing and managed to just ruin it completely.

That's all for today.

Peace

John Donne

HOLY SONNETS.

II.

AS due by many titles I resign
Myself to thee, O God. First I was made
By Thee ; and for Thee, and when I was decay'd
Thy blood bought that, the which before was Thine.
I am Thy son, made with Thyself to shine,
Thy servant, whose pains Thou hast still repaid,
Thy sheep, Thine image, and—till I betray'd
Myself—a temple of Thy Spirit divine.
Why doth the devil then usurp on me ?
Why doth he steal, nay ravish, that's Thy right ?
Except Thou rise and for Thine own work fight,
O ! I shall soon despair, when I shall see
That Thou lovest mankind well, yet wilt not choose me,
And Satan hates me, yet is loth to lose

me.

Imperiled Solitude and the Solitary Life

Every since my niece moved in with us I have felt my lifestyle to be cramped. First, she is sleeping in the room where I used to say my prayers. I now say my prayers at the kitchen table, with my mother's television going on the other side of the door to her room. So I stick my fingers in my ears and say the Office of Readings. It might be inconvenient, but I'm thankful to have the shelter of this house to do it in.

Then follows the routine with coffee. If she is awake I open her door to indicate that she can come on out and get coffee. If this is before I've prayed she goes back to her room with the coffee. If after the prayers, we chat a few minutes.

At first all the change made me feel cramped up, too little room, too much noise, too many people. Well, there is still too much noise and too many people, but I don't feel so cramped anymore. The change is not exterior, it's the same 1340 sq ft house. No, this change is interior. It is assisted by the fact that by 9:40 every morning, I stop working on Wisdom Cards and go and sit in the church at Nazareth for a full hour until Mass starts at 10:50AM. In that hour, with three old nuns also in the church, we sit in silence.

It's funny in a way, but every time I go, no matter how angry I might be feeling, or upset, or sick, or etc., when I get into my pew and kneel, all I can say is "What a joy it is for me to be here with you. Thank you for bringing me here Lord." What is stunning in that is how what came before I got into my pew no longer is part of my world. Suddenly the Lord is all the world! And, I know that it won't last beyond the beginning of Mass. But each day, for a time, I am with the Lord in happiness and peace!

I've sat here now for ten minutes trying to think of what to say after that, and the truth is, there is just nothing more to say. Instead I'll put some poetry in place and say goodnight.

John Donne

HOLY SONNETS. I. THOU hast made me, and shall Thy work decay ? Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste ; I run to death, and Death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday. I dare not move my dim eyes any way ; Despair behind, and Death before doth cast Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh. Only Thou art above, and when towards Thee By Thy leave I can look, I rise again ; But our old subtle foe so tempteth me, That not one hour myself I can sustain. Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time AKA Missions Sunday

A long time ago I gave up the fantasy that there was some remote part of the world where Jesus Christ had not been preached. I also gave up the idea of the use of missionaries. What good was it to preach to people who already knew?

Well that shows how little I understood about the role of missions in the church. It's not just about converting the heathen to Christ, it's about showing Christ in our actions, gestures, joy, presence, and sharing of our very selves. As usual, there is a contrast in my character which reflects itself in my life. I am a lay Cistercian of Gethsemani, yet I go to church most often with the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth, because they are across the street. The Trappists I love, don't do missions, they pray for missions. That is a missionary work in itself, but it is not the same as actually going somewhere else, somewhere possibly quite scary, and setting up a hospital, a school, and a safe haven for women in a culture where women are chattel.

Trappists will stick around until someone cuts their heads off. Sisters of Charity of Nazareth may get that very opportunity in Burma before it's all over with.

What do I do for missions? I gave two dollars, the last two in my wallet, and I pray. It is clear to me that prayer is my true vocation. Now I must pray for missions.

See ya'll later.

George Herbert


COLOSSIANS III. 3.

OUR LIFE IS HID WITH CHRIST IN GOD.

MY words and thoughts do both express this notion,
That LIFE hath with the sun a double motion.
The first IS straight, and our diurnal friend :
The other HID, and doth obliquely bend.
One life is wrapt IN flesh, and tends to earth ;
The other winds t'wards HIM whose happy birth
Taught me to live here so THAT still one eye
Should aim and shoot at that which IS on high—
Quitting with daily labour all MY pleasure,
To gain at harvest an eternal TREASURE.

Feast of St. Luke, Apostle

Yup, there he is. Luke painting that same Icon I talked about yesterday. Funny, it's already Byzantine in style. Oh well.

I like the Gospel of Luke most of all. John's gospel is extremely rarified, full of "I am" statements, and glory. It is exalted. It is theological.

Luke on the other hand has women washing Jesus feet with tears and drying with their hair. Luke also has shepherds, not the most respected job in Israel during that time, who happened to be the recipients of the great news of Jesus birth! Imagine that, the angels come to earth to announce the birth, and they go to "shepherd abiding in a field, keeping watch over their flocks." Wow. They didn't go to Rome to the emperor, or to Jerusalem and the High Priest. No, they went to shepherds. In fact, the entire thrust of the Gospel according to St. Luke is right there. Jesus has come among us ordinary, regular, not always the best smelling, people. Jesus loves us. Jesus gets mad, really mad in this gospel when those in power treat people like US badly.

Now, even though I swore off dunderhead conservative websites, I can't help but link to the old style breviary site today. I'm a sucker for the art, and the readings, and the responsories. Yeah, I know, I'm a sucker for the trappings. In my own defense, I'm also a sucker for Jesus as he comes to us in the Gospel According to St. Luke, Apostle.

Oh, one other thing. The two canticles we sing, one in the morning, and one in the evening? Both come from the Gospel of Luke. There simply is no getting away from the saint is there?

Troparion (Tone 5) [1]

Let us praise with sacred songs the Holy Apostle Luke,
The recorder of the Joyous Gospel of Christ,
And the scribe of the Acts of the Apostles,
For his writings are a testimony of the Church of Christ:
He is the Physician of human weaknesses and infirmities.
He heals the wounds of our souls,
And constantly intercedes for our salvation!

Kontakion (Tone 4)

You became a disciple of God the Word,
With Paul you enlightened all the world,
Casting out its darkness by composing the Holy Gospel of Christ.

Kontakion (Tone 2)

Let us praise the godly Luke:
He is the true preacher of piety,
The orator of ineffable mysteries
And the star of the Church,
For the Word who alone knows the hearts of men,
Chose him, with the wise Paul, to be a teacher of the gentiles!

St. Luke the Evangelist

The title alone makes you want to respect him. St. Luke, not just saint, but Evangelist. And, not just Evangelist, but responsible for more writing in the New Testament than anyone else. Check it out. You'll be surprised.

Does that faded Icon seem out of place in a discussion of St. Luke the Evangelist? Well, according to tradition, it was PAINTED by St. Luke himself. Luke wasn't even a jew, but he made it a point to meet Mary the Mother of Christ, and according to tradition painted this icon.

I'm a touch suspicious on stylistic grounds, however it is clear that whatever was originally underneath all that top layer might be a little more late 1st century. One thing for authenticity is Mary doesn't look like some doped up 14 year old. She looks like a middle aged woman who has been -- through hell, for lack of a better way to put it.

If you get a letter every time I mess up and publish post when I meant to save, then I'm sorry. There is no way I'd leave the Evangelist out of the post. You see, whether or not he painted that icon, Luke did write a gospel which shows the compassion of Jesus, the caring for the dispossessed, the not so savory characters of the time -- in other words, a Jesus I want to know. What's more, he also wrote the book of Acts. Now, I'm know I'm not telling any of you anything you did not already know. But think about it. Luke never met Jesus! He has some of the finest Greek writing in the New Testament, and is clearly a polished composer of tales.

Composer of tales, I mean that in the way of knowing how to tell a story. You can relate facts, and a fat lot of good that does. That's called history and we all slept through it. No, Luke takes Paul in Ephesus and instead of just saying "he caused a riot," Luke works it into one of the most stirring stories in the entire bible!

So, here's to Luke, Gospeler, Evangelist, and maybe even an Icon painter, even thought the Byzantine style had not yet developed.

Let us praise with sacred songs the Holy Apostle Luke,
The recorder of the Joyous Gospel of Christ,
And the scribe of the Acts of the Apostles,
For his writings are a testimony of the Church of Christ:
He is the Physician of human weaknesses and infirmities.
He heals the wounds of our souls,
And constantly intercedes for our salvation!

Let us praise the godly Luke:
He is the true preacher of piety,
The orator of ineffable mysteries
And the star of the Church,
For the Word who alone knows the hearts of men,
Chose him, with the wise Paul, to be a teacher of the gentiles!

Saint Hedwig, religious
or Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque, Virgin

Good heavens, do make up your mind, who goes with today? I suppose it depends on who was first. My guess is that Hedwig was first, but if you are a Sacred Heart Devotee like myself, then Margaret Mary Alacoque is the lady of the day. No disrespect to Hedwig, but she doesn't swing it for me.

After searching through a mountain of maudlin Catholo-junk for an image of Margaret Mary that didn't revolt me, or make me wanna go into diabetic shock, I settled on this one. It is linked to the Trinity stores where you could buy it for me. lololol. Right.

Moving on. The Sacred Heart, as faithful readers of my blog know, plays a large part in my spiritual life. So I could not let the premiere saint of the Sacred Heart pass without at least some comment on my part.

In other areas of my life I'm working on a Formation program for Lay Cistercians [of Gethsemani or anywhere really, I couldn't care less] and basing most of it on the Rule of Benedict -- no big surprise there -- and on a 2000 paper written by Fr. Michael which I'm sure he's forgotten writing.

So, there's my life in a nutshell. Oh yeah, we buried a nun over at Nazareth yesterday. Very moving, but very different from the Trappist way. I can't say I have a preference for either one. Which is a good thing since I am neither a Trappist of a Sister of Charity of Nazareth.

St. Teresa of Avila, Doctor of the Church

Teresa of Avila! What a woman, saint, doctor, foundress, mystic...you name it, Teresa was it. I chose this particular picture of her because it is said to be the one that looks most like she did in life. I chose against the Bernini sexualized statue with the angel piercing her with the arrow in orgasmic ecstasy because everyone misses the point when they see that one. Great art -- but not the best for the Feast of St. Teresa.

Avila is my patroness. When I cried out for all angels and saints who loved me, she showed up. I don't care how spooky-woo-woo that sounds, it's a fact. Her example gives me strength. Against the assembled power of the entire Carmelite Order, Teresa, a woman in 16th Century Spain, reformed it and founded the OCD -- Order of Discalced Carmelites. She was bold and fearless in pursuit of what she believed to be the will of God. She was examined by the Inquisition, but never called to "appear" before them.

God was with her, and has blessed her efforts, for to this day her order still thrives on the face of the earth. Praise be to God for Teresa of Avila.

Monday of week 28 of the year

The daily mass readings lately has us been taking us through Galatians. It's all about an argument of saved by Christ, no saved by law, no saved by Christ, no saved by law. etc. an infinitum. Paul, fed up, goes so far as to say You stupid Galatians.

Sometimes we all feel that inner tension between law and the freedom that is ours in Christ. We want to do the right things, at the right time, in the right way, and by doing so, be safe in our little covey hole of "I've done everything I was supposed to do." But freedom in Christ sometimes blows that to smithereens and says you don't have to say that rosary for me to love you, you don't have to wear that miraculous medal for me to watch over you. Rosaries and miraculous medals are important, but they are not the end in itself!

If I weren't so tired I'd find something profound to say, but I am beat and just want to go to bed, but I couldn't get that image of law vs. freedom in Christ out of my head. If I don't say all seven liturgical hours each day I feel like I've let God down. The truth is, by not saying some of them I get more work done and live a little closer to my lay state!

Also, thinking about formation a lot lately as I'm working on a formation program, which is shaping up to be much more fun and interesting than I thought it would. Oh well, more tomorrow, or the next day. Love and peace to you all.

George Herbert


Antiphon (I)
Cho. Let all the world in ev'ry corner sing,
My God and King.

Vers.

The heav'ns are not too high, His praise may thither flie: The earth is not too low, His praises there may grow.

Cho. Let all the world in ev'ry corner sing,
My God and King.

Vers.

The church with psalms must shout, No doore can keep them out: But above all, the heart Must bear the longest part.

Cho. Let all the world in ev'ry corner sing,
My God and King.

Saturday 27th week of Ordinary Time

The Office of Readings this past week has focused on I Timothy. I confess, both books of Timothy annoy me in so many ways. First, Paul wrote neither one of them, so this Paul to Timothy business is misleading, and flat out in error, so why is it still printed so in our Bibles?

However, having to read each morning a section of I Timothy I keep finding gems among the junk. Contradiction to today's Institutional Church. Bishops, husband of one wife. The Implication of women deacons, etc. It makes me wonder at what point did we as church decide that we knew better than the annoying book of I Timothy? Of course, the church continues to grow in understanding of human psychology, physiology, psychopathology, etc., but when did we decide that letting women have a part in the life of the ordained ministry was just simply not going to happen.

You see, Paul, in the books he actually wrote, doesn't imply that at all. Take a careful look at Romans, even the business in I Corinthians was dealing with a Priestess Cult of Pagans, not the female sex in general. We go through the Bible and ignore those exalted moments of Paul's greatest revelations, and pick out the nit picky stuff that he may or may not have even written.

This makes me suspicious of the Institutional Church. What is does not do though is make me suspicious of the Sacraments. I can disagree with the Magisterium all I want, and trust me, I do, but since they don't seem to care much what I say, I'm not going to worry about it. I believe in the Sacraments, and the apostolic succession. Although, I'm seriously in doubt about some of those early Popes that seem to be manufactured. But so what?

I trust in the Redeeming Power of Christ. As that lovely hymn says, "I have no gold or silver to bring, but simply to they cross I cling."

I left the Episcopal Church after 30 years, not because of gays or women priests, but because the focus had dropped off Christ. I joined the Catholic Church and wasn't particularly surprised that many had lost their Christ centeredness in order to get a Latin Mass, or things done their way, and I mean that on both sides conservative and liberal. Agendas are the death of faith, and the fastest way to drive the Holy Spirit away.

So what is my agenda? To continue to strip away my false self until I am the onion undone, a naked core left on the Divine cutting board. To ignore those with agendas at the risk of seeming rude. To keep my gaze set on Christ, even as I fall off the path, I will get up, dust myself off and keep right on going. Why? Because of something the writer of I Timothy seems to have forgotten. "Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus."

Our Lady of the Rosary

Unlike the good Catholic man I'm supposed to be I'm a little suspicious of this feast. Why? I don't know, maybe it's just left over fundamentalism, or Episcopalianism...whatever the reason, anything that comes with promises attached "to those who faithfully..." make me suspicious of origins.

That said, I confess that I use the rosary daily, and sometimes more than that. Everyone tells me it's not about Mary, it's about Jesus, but Jesus gets mentioned once in the rosary and Mary gets mentioned twice.

Anyway, I don't care, I use it because the words are easy to rattle off while my mind dwells on whatever prayer needs praying. That's the value of the rosary to me, is something to occupy the mind and hands while the Holy Spirit prays in my heart. People have always used beads in some form to use as prayer devices, and the rosary is one that happens to be Christian. I sometimes use the beads to say the Jesus Prayer instead of the Hail Mary...but don't tell anyone, lest the rosary police come and drag me away.

Do yourself a favor and go visit the old style breviary, for those Latin longing folks. The art alone makes it worth your while.

Bottom line? I consider the Virgin Mother my patron. I am devoted to her, and I use the rosary. I don't think she's trying to usurp the place of Christ, but I do think that some of her more insane followers would have us believe so.

Holy Mary Mother of God. That's who she is.

Feast of St. Francis of Assisi

Of all the many portrayals of St. Francis at prayer, this is the one that captures my imagination, and touches my heart, the most. I'd like to have that framed image from Allposters.com but hahahhahahaha. You going to buy it for me? It's only $230.00!

I didn't think so.

Anyway, tonight is the start of Hospice Volunteer Training. I am approaching this with something close to dread, because it's becoming very real now. Yet, I'm just as excited as I am in dread. Paradox, thy name is God.

Because tomorrow is the Feast of St. Francis, and because Hospice starts at 8am, unless I get up and go to the Gethsemani Mass, there will be no Mass for me. I feel a little guilty about that. It may only be a memorial, but for many people I know St. Francis is the true saint, and our patron.

I'll write more on Sunday when my mind is jam packed with conflicting thoughts and feelings. See, something for you all to look forward to!

Feast of St. Therese, the Little Flower, etc. Doctor of the Church

There she is folks. The Little Flower. And do I have a tale to tell you about this holy woman. Some of you may remember when I wrote about my friend with the terrible crack cocaine addiction. I prayed a Novena to St. Therese for him, and basically told her I was giving him to her care, since she always wanted the hopeless cases.

Well, I found out just before the retreat that my friend is now going to meetings for rehab. How long it will last? I don't know, but that doesn't change the miracle. Or the reality of her intercession before God. So I honor her, this wonderful and powerful patroness of the hopeless. Thank you St. Therese of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face. Doctor of the Church, and patroness of lost souls.