"OK, Lord, this is Your classroom."
That might make you think that I am a very holy teacher. Trustingly surrendering my classroom to the Divine Teacher and allowing Him to work through me.
In truth, that was a prayer murmured out of necessity. A final spiritual dropping to my knees and surrendering out of the inability to do anything else. It was the first day of a new semester and I was becoming nervous again at the prospect of being scrutinized by new seniors with the inevitable assessment of found wanting. My emotional transition to a new home wasn't really playing in my favor and to make it a bit more challenging, I forgot my school bag. Of course I remembered to bring my prayer journal, Bible, cell phone, and prayer materials. However, I had completely neglected to bring my computer with my introduction PowerPoint and a fun brain activity for them to go through.
At 7:30 in the morning outside my car in the school parking lot, I frantically thought of racing home (15 minutes away) and back to school with my computer. It was possible, though, that I would come to school late--something I am certain would have led to a melt-down. Yet if I managed to not be late, I would assuredly come in panicked and short of breath. This was not a good beginning.
It was here, in the midst of panic and stress that I "surrendered" my class to the Lord. I realized, as I prayed this silent prayer, that it was because my own means had failed that I was giving God the reins. If I would have had my computer with the PowerPoint filled with cute family pictures, I would have started the semester in a state of semi-confidence. Instead, the Lord was given control at the last minute.
This image just come to mind as a plausible analogy of what I did:
I'm in a car driving. Then the roads get slippery. My omniscient, omnipotent passenger asks if He can help. But I've got it. All of sudden the car is careening toward a cliff or an oncoming semi and just when I'm about to slip over the edge or be crushed, I pull my hands from the steering wheel, cradle my head in my hands, and shout, "Fine! Take over!"
I felt a little guilty surrendering my classroom only after all my plans had failed. Perhaps it is a lesson for the semester. I am not in control. It is better to just give God my classroom and myself right now instead of waiting until things are crashing and burning all around me.
My goal for this brand new semester is to take the passenger seat and allow God to dictate my classes. Not once I tried my way and it failed. But His way, always His way.
Who knows---maybe God will have a better method than me.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
One Little Success for the Holy Spirit
It is the little things that seem to make a world of difference. I remember reading a quote by a saint that essentially critiqued the readers for allowing their emotions to control them so much. That we allow ourselves to become unduly happy when things go well and inordinately depressed when things go badly. Instead, we are to remain more constant, trusting everything to the Lord.
I do not do that very well. Nevertheless, today is one of those days that I am perhaps unduly happy. I'll take it. There were a couple moments today that I felt a beautiful joy. The simple thing of placing in the classroom another tissue box decorated by a student in a Theological theme. Silly, perhaps. I just loved the idea that even my tissue boxes are decorated with Scripture and pictures of saints. The little things.
Today I felt elated as I won a victory when I didn't even know I was in a battle. A couple weeks ago I was perusing an online Catholic bookstore. I love books. I love to buy books. I wish I could buy more books. I saw that Delivered was being sold, a book that gives testimonies of people who have fought and conquered, with God's grace, an addiction to pornography. I looked at the cover, read a snippet of the book, and was intrigued. The price was $8-9 for one copy. However, one could purchase 20 books at only $2 per book. I love a good deal. Good deals and good books make one of the most irresistible combinations.
Trish, do you really need 20 copies of a book you have never even read? I was just about to say "No" when I felt something within that told me to just buy them. So I did. And then I impatiently waited 2 weeks for them to arrive at my doorstep. Last night I opened the box, took off the plastic wrap from one of the books, and began to read through it. I didn't read the whole book, but I read a few of the stories and I was taken. I don't know much about pornography. In many ways it seems like it is in a different world than I am in. I know this crisis affects me because it affects people I interact with, but I don't typically think of pornography on a daily or weekly basis.
The problem that remained was how would I get them into the hands of my students. I could have the most life-changing book but unless they were reading it, it wouldn't make a difference. So I did what any self-respecting teacher would do. I offered them extra credit. The good sign was that neither class asked how much extra credit. All they have to do is read one of the stories (10-15 pages) and write two paragraphs--one summarizing the story and another speaking about pornography and the effect it has on the world, what they think of it, or other problems that go along with pornography addiction.
Nine students from each class took the book and I was thrilled. Just having it in their hands is a success I am willing to celebrate. My hope is that the one story they have to read for extra credit will turn into curiosity about the other stories. Maybe they will tell another classmate or someone in another class about the book and lend it to them. The possibilities are endless!
This is a rather small thing considering that maybe none of them will actually follow through. Yet it seems like a triumph to me. I will take that triumph, minuscule though it may be, because victories do not come often or easily in this battlefield. So perhaps the Holy Spirit is doing something great through these little books that my students are being bribed to read.
Now who says that buying an excessive number of books is a bad thing?
(Purchase your own copy of Delivered and spread the truth! http://shop.catholic.com/catalog/product/view/id/2364/category/44/)
UPDATE:
After the first day, I am still running on excitement. One of my students spoke to me after class about something and as I was looking for a paper he quietly asked about the book and how I found it. I told him I received an e-mail from a place advertising the book and I just decided to buy 20 copies. Quietly he told me that he wished he had the book 5 years ago. It took a moment but what he was telling me finally sank in. He told me he plans to read the whole book. Deo gratias! Keep going, Holy Spirit, keep going!
I do not do that very well. Nevertheless, today is one of those days that I am perhaps unduly happy. I'll take it. There were a couple moments today that I felt a beautiful joy. The simple thing of placing in the classroom another tissue box decorated by a student in a Theological theme. Silly, perhaps. I just loved the idea that even my tissue boxes are decorated with Scripture and pictures of saints. The little things.
Today I felt elated as I won a victory when I didn't even know I was in a battle. A couple weeks ago I was perusing an online Catholic bookstore. I love books. I love to buy books. I wish I could buy more books. I saw that Delivered was being sold, a book that gives testimonies of people who have fought and conquered, with God's grace, an addiction to pornography. I looked at the cover, read a snippet of the book, and was intrigued. The price was $8-9 for one copy. However, one could purchase 20 books at only $2 per book. I love a good deal. Good deals and good books make one of the most irresistible combinations.
Trish, do you really need 20 copies of a book you have never even read? I was just about to say "No" when I felt something within that told me to just buy them. So I did. And then I impatiently waited 2 weeks for them to arrive at my doorstep. Last night I opened the box, took off the plastic wrap from one of the books, and began to read through it. I didn't read the whole book, but I read a few of the stories and I was taken. I don't know much about pornography. In many ways it seems like it is in a different world than I am in. I know this crisis affects me because it affects people I interact with, but I don't typically think of pornography on a daily or weekly basis.
The problem that remained was how would I get them into the hands of my students. I could have the most life-changing book but unless they were reading it, it wouldn't make a difference. So I did what any self-respecting teacher would do. I offered them extra credit. The good sign was that neither class asked how much extra credit. All they have to do is read one of the stories (10-15 pages) and write two paragraphs--one summarizing the story and another speaking about pornography and the effect it has on the world, what they think of it, or other problems that go along with pornography addiction.
Nine students from each class took the book and I was thrilled. Just having it in their hands is a success I am willing to celebrate. My hope is that the one story they have to read for extra credit will turn into curiosity about the other stories. Maybe they will tell another classmate or someone in another class about the book and lend it to them. The possibilities are endless!
This is a rather small thing considering that maybe none of them will actually follow through. Yet it seems like a triumph to me. I will take that triumph, minuscule though it may be, because victories do not come often or easily in this battlefield. So perhaps the Holy Spirit is doing something great through these little books that my students are being bribed to read.
Now who says that buying an excessive number of books is a bad thing?
(Purchase your own copy of Delivered and spread the truth! http://shop.catholic.com/catalog/product/view/id/2364/category/44/)
UPDATE:
After the first day, I am still running on excitement. One of my students spoke to me after class about something and as I was looking for a paper he quietly asked about the book and how I found it. I told him I received an e-mail from a place advertising the book and I just decided to buy 20 copies. Quietly he told me that he wished he had the book 5 years ago. It took a moment but what he was telling me finally sank in. He told me he plans to read the whole book. Deo gratias! Keep going, Holy Spirit, keep going!
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
To Thine Own Self Be True...
Morals get in the way of fun, don't they? I remember taking a Christian Moral Principles class in college and then I began to analyze everything I was doing. Well, probably not everything...but many things that I hadn't considered before seemed to present the possibility of being immoral. Even to this day I cannot quite decide if this semester (because it didn't last until now) of near scrupulosity was a blessing or a curse, was good or bad.
At times I think we are able to give ourselves passes or excuse ourselves from seeking holiness in every aspect of our lives. I want to be holy...but it isn't that bad if I ____________________ (insert current vice or guilty pleasure). I'm pretty good most of the time but I'm human, which means I am not perfect and thus I ________________________. While the Lord doesn't call us to beat ourselves up for being imperfect, He does desire perfection. We are to strive for the perfection that our Heavenly Father has. Yet we are really good at excuses for ourselves.
So this semester of questioning the morality of different actions was interesting. Was speeding a sin? Would not obeying posted signs or rules be sinful? Was it a sin to lie to the Nazis standing at the door asking if I was harboring Jews? The professor I had insisted that it was morally good to follow all just laws to our fullest extent. Lying, he said, was always sinful, even in the case of the Nazis at the door. (Side note: Before you get upset about not being able to lie to Nazis, he also said that we were not supposed to tell them the truth either. Interesting, huh? We should use "discreet language." They don't have the right to know the information they are seeking because they desire to hurt others. Anyway, lying in this circumstance would you make less morally culpable because you under pressure.) Now I wanted to follow all of the rules and I am a person who typically likes to do so anyway. I think I have a pretty good sense of right and wrong but this class was challenging me to look at things I had always accepted as "not that bad" and strive to look for what would be virtuous.
The memory that comes to mind is from when I traveled to Switzerland and Germany. The semester that I took the Christian Moral Principles class happened to be when I was studying abroad in Austria. One weekend a few friends and I traveled to Germany and Switzerland. We were not in Germany for long but during our time there we went to Fussen, Germany and saw Neuschwanstein Castle.
Isn't it gorgeous? Sadly, I never really realized how beautiful it was until I was looking for pictures of it. We were there for such a brief time. And now I wish I would have actually toured the castle. Instead, we got there, looked at the outside, saw the price to tour, and decided against it. I regret that a little but I think I was getting so used to seeing gorgeous cathedrals and opera houses that touring a castle didn't seem that special. It seems a bit crazy now.
The story: We are at this gorgeous castle but decided against touring it. However, there was a bridge one could get to that gave a lovely view of the whole castle.
Unfortunately for us, it had recently snowed and was closed for safety or to clear it off. Doubly unfortunate for me was that posted sign was in German and English. It was easy enough to slip around the gate and several people were doing it. The people that looked like they would be in charge didn't seem to mind that much or shoo the people away. Here was the dilemma--do I obey the rule (made, presumably, with my best interest in mind and clearly posted in English (drat!)) or do I dismiss the rule out of a desire to see the castle and acknowledging that it wasn't really very bad conditions.
What did I do?
I didn't go on the bridge. Instead, I sat by the bags with another girl (who didn't want to go--not because of a moral dilemma but because she had little interest in it) and felt an internal tugging over the situation. I can see it going both ways and I hesitate to say that I should have just done it because we are to strive for perfection, not "OK." Yet part of me thinks this is being scrupulous. I don't exactly know but I know it was a semester of pondering the morality of different things. (Was it wrong to sit in the lovely window seat even though we were told not to sit there?)
Why does this reverie surface today? Today the school tried to surprise all of the students. The original schedule was altered and afternoon classes were not to take place, unbeknownst to the students. However, word spread (as it always does) and students began to question if we had afternoon classes or not. Today was a shortened day anyway but the students wanted to be in the know. Yesterday I managed to dodge all of the questions, carefully replying to afternoon classes that my plans were to watch videos or not do too much. All true. However, today I received a direct question and my little "don't-lie-but-try-to-evade-question" was uncertain how to morally respond.
"Do we have afternoon classes or not, Miss --?"
Pause. No way to skillfully evade this question without it being obvious. This was a student just coming into class and many of them were not yet there or paying attention.
"Please don't ask me direct questions about the schedule. I don't want to lie to you but I can't tell you the truth." I am so skillfully secretive.
They kind of laughed at that but I hoped nobody else would ask. They did. For them I just responded, "Accept whatever happens today...just don't worry about it." I overheard some of the students talking and saying that other teachers had said there were afternoon classes and that whatever rumors they heard weren't true. I just couldn't bring myself to do that. I have lectured my classes on different occasions about always being truthful. Not that one always has to tell the complete truth all of the time. (Ex. How do I look? You look fat and ugly. What do you think about me? Well, to be honest, I really hate you. I can't stand the way you....)
I wonder sometimes if I take things too far. I read an article about how telling your children that there is a Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, and Easter Bunny is not sinful because it is helping them develop an imagination. (If that is not the thesis of the author, I apologize. I actually skimmed it more than read it thoroughly. The main gist of the article: you can tell your kids about Santa.) My professor argued that we shouldn't tell them things that aren't true. People gave examples of kids who, upon finding out that Santa Claus didn't exist, wondered if Jesus was made up, too.
I think I can see both sides of the story but I am left wondering what is the most virtuous decision. Because I hesitate when people give the excuse of "it isn't that big of a deal" or "everyone does this" or "don't be so serious/strict/restrictive." If we are called to be saints, perhaps we will have to look different than others and behave differently. Not perhaps...we will. Does being a saint mean being super serious, never joking, and never fun? No, definitely not. But saints do strive for virtue in everything that they do.
I end with no neat conclusion because I do not quite know the answer. Is one being "over the top" attempting to follow all rules and laws? Or it is simply a death to my desire to be my own boss and do things my own way. Sometimes just going the speed limit is an act of self-denial. Do we make excuses for the little flaws we have because we do not desire to put the work into weeding out these things from our hearts and habits? Or am I being legalistic and missing the main message of God in favor of focusing on little details? I don't know. Maybe all are true to a degree.
"Strive even to death for the truth and the Lord God will fight for you." -Sirach 4:28
"A lie is an ugly blot on a man; it is continually on the lips of the ignorant....The disposition of a liar brings disgrace, and his shame is ever with him." -Sirach 20: 24, 26
At times I think we are able to give ourselves passes or excuse ourselves from seeking holiness in every aspect of our lives. I want to be holy...but it isn't that bad if I ____________________ (insert current vice or guilty pleasure). I'm pretty good most of the time but I'm human, which means I am not perfect and thus I ________________________. While the Lord doesn't call us to beat ourselves up for being imperfect, He does desire perfection. We are to strive for the perfection that our Heavenly Father has. Yet we are really good at excuses for ourselves.
So this semester of questioning the morality of different actions was interesting. Was speeding a sin? Would not obeying posted signs or rules be sinful? Was it a sin to lie to the Nazis standing at the door asking if I was harboring Jews? The professor I had insisted that it was morally good to follow all just laws to our fullest extent. Lying, he said, was always sinful, even in the case of the Nazis at the door. (Side note: Before you get upset about not being able to lie to Nazis, he also said that we were not supposed to tell them the truth either. Interesting, huh? We should use "discreet language." They don't have the right to know the information they are seeking because they desire to hurt others. Anyway, lying in this circumstance would you make less morally culpable because you under pressure.) Now I wanted to follow all of the rules and I am a person who typically likes to do so anyway. I think I have a pretty good sense of right and wrong but this class was challenging me to look at things I had always accepted as "not that bad" and strive to look for what would be virtuous.
The memory that comes to mind is from when I traveled to Switzerland and Germany. The semester that I took the Christian Moral Principles class happened to be when I was studying abroad in Austria. One weekend a few friends and I traveled to Germany and Switzerland. We were not in Germany for long but during our time there we went to Fussen, Germany and saw Neuschwanstein Castle.
Isn't it gorgeous? Sadly, I never really realized how beautiful it was until I was looking for pictures of it. We were there for such a brief time. And now I wish I would have actually toured the castle. Instead, we got there, looked at the outside, saw the price to tour, and decided against it. I regret that a little but I think I was getting so used to seeing gorgeous cathedrals and opera houses that touring a castle didn't seem that special. It seems a bit crazy now.
The story: We are at this gorgeous castle but decided against touring it. However, there was a bridge one could get to that gave a lovely view of the whole castle.
Unfortunately for us, it had recently snowed and was closed for safety or to clear it off. Doubly unfortunate for me was that posted sign was in German and English. It was easy enough to slip around the gate and several people were doing it. The people that looked like they would be in charge didn't seem to mind that much or shoo the people away. Here was the dilemma--do I obey the rule (made, presumably, with my best interest in mind and clearly posted in English (drat!)) or do I dismiss the rule out of a desire to see the castle and acknowledging that it wasn't really very bad conditions.
What did I do?
I didn't go on the bridge. Instead, I sat by the bags with another girl (who didn't want to go--not because of a moral dilemma but because she had little interest in it) and felt an internal tugging over the situation. I can see it going both ways and I hesitate to say that I should have just done it because we are to strive for perfection, not "OK." Yet part of me thinks this is being scrupulous. I don't exactly know but I know it was a semester of pondering the morality of different things. (Was it wrong to sit in the lovely window seat even though we were told not to sit there?)
Why does this reverie surface today? Today the school tried to surprise all of the students. The original schedule was altered and afternoon classes were not to take place, unbeknownst to the students. However, word spread (as it always does) and students began to question if we had afternoon classes or not. Today was a shortened day anyway but the students wanted to be in the know. Yesterday I managed to dodge all of the questions, carefully replying to afternoon classes that my plans were to watch videos or not do too much. All true. However, today I received a direct question and my little "don't-lie-but-try-to-evade-question" was uncertain how to morally respond.
"Do we have afternoon classes or not, Miss --?"
Pause. No way to skillfully evade this question without it being obvious. This was a student just coming into class and many of them were not yet there or paying attention.
"Please don't ask me direct questions about the schedule. I don't want to lie to you but I can't tell you the truth." I am so skillfully secretive.
They kind of laughed at that but I hoped nobody else would ask. They did. For them I just responded, "Accept whatever happens today...just don't worry about it." I overheard some of the students talking and saying that other teachers had said there were afternoon classes and that whatever rumors they heard weren't true. I just couldn't bring myself to do that. I have lectured my classes on different occasions about always being truthful. Not that one always has to tell the complete truth all of the time. (Ex. How do I look? You look fat and ugly. What do you think about me? Well, to be honest, I really hate you. I can't stand the way you....)
I wonder sometimes if I take things too far. I read an article about how telling your children that there is a Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, and Easter Bunny is not sinful because it is helping them develop an imagination. (If that is not the thesis of the author, I apologize. I actually skimmed it more than read it thoroughly. The main gist of the article: you can tell your kids about Santa.) My professor argued that we shouldn't tell them things that aren't true. People gave examples of kids who, upon finding out that Santa Claus didn't exist, wondered if Jesus was made up, too.
I think I can see both sides of the story but I am left wondering what is the most virtuous decision. Because I hesitate when people give the excuse of "it isn't that big of a deal" or "everyone does this" or "don't be so serious/strict/restrictive." If we are called to be saints, perhaps we will have to look different than others and behave differently. Not perhaps...we will. Does being a saint mean being super serious, never joking, and never fun? No, definitely not. But saints do strive for virtue in everything that they do.
I end with no neat conclusion because I do not quite know the answer. Is one being "over the top" attempting to follow all rules and laws? Or it is simply a death to my desire to be my own boss and do things my own way. Sometimes just going the speed limit is an act of self-denial. Do we make excuses for the little flaws we have because we do not desire to put the work into weeding out these things from our hearts and habits? Or am I being legalistic and missing the main message of God in favor of focusing on little details? I don't know. Maybe all are true to a degree.
"Strive even to death for the truth and the Lord God will fight for you." -Sirach 4:28
"A lie is an ugly blot on a man; it is continually on the lips of the ignorant....The disposition of a liar brings disgrace, and his shame is ever with him." -Sirach 20: 24, 26
Saturday, November 23, 2013
The Providential God
The only thing certain about life is that it is uncertain.
That isn't deep or profound. But it is true. Yesterday I found out that a young woman I went to college with lost her husband of 5 months. It made my heart ache even though we never talked much. I was surprised the effect it had on me. That evening and this morning I found myself thinking a lot about her and how hard it must be.
Yet it made me worry for myself. Too often I trick myself into thinking that my complete happiness will come when I am engaged, or finally married, or starting a family. Everything is transient, though, and it can all be taken away in a moment. My heart began to feel restricted and desired to be closed off. I began to desire that I would never be in a situation where so much could be lost. So quickly I was being tricked into thinking that to be closed off was a better option than suffering at the hands of love or for the sake of love.
I imagined what she was feeling and I knew I never wanted to feel that. I didn't ask the age-old question, "God, why do bad things happen to good people? Why did this tragedy happen?" I didn't ask that question because I didn't wonder it. The question I asked instead was "What can I cling to, Lord? How could I endure losing that which I hold closest to my heart?" In honesty, I was thinking that having God alone wasn't enough for me. I wanted more than the assurance that God would always be with me. Instead I wanted promises that specific people would always be in my life, that certain things would never happen to me, and that parts of my heart would be left unbroken.
I know that God alone is enough. That He provides the graces for every heartache. Yet in all honesty, I do not live as though He is enough. I do not cling to Him now as though He is all that is certain. I cling to other superficial things or to things, good as they are, that cannot fulfill me.
My mind knows the correct answer. God will provide. In fact, God is providing. It is not some future promise but rather a lived reality. The paradox of love is that one must love with one's heart vulnerable and revealed or it is not actually love. Yet to love means one will suffer and feel sorrow. I have a natural tendency to want to protect my heart, to guard it from all that could injure it. This can be good but it can also close it off from a deep, penetrating love. The battle within is between self-preservation and self-gift.
This little heart has a lot of expanding to do. She needs to begin to live as though everything rests in the hands of God and that He will truly provide for every need. To be so grounded in the Lord that should all else be lost, she could rest assured that not everything was truly lost. Sacred Heart of Jesus, sanctify our hearts.
P.S. My household sister who lost her husband has a fund set up for her and their unborn baby. If you feel your heart moved in that direction, please give a gift of money. Regardless, please pray for them.
http://www.gofundme.com/5fd75k
That isn't deep or profound. But it is true. Yesterday I found out that a young woman I went to college with lost her husband of 5 months. It made my heart ache even though we never talked much. I was surprised the effect it had on me. That evening and this morning I found myself thinking a lot about her and how hard it must be.
Yet it made me worry for myself. Too often I trick myself into thinking that my complete happiness will come when I am engaged, or finally married, or starting a family. Everything is transient, though, and it can all be taken away in a moment. My heart began to feel restricted and desired to be closed off. I began to desire that I would never be in a situation where so much could be lost. So quickly I was being tricked into thinking that to be closed off was a better option than suffering at the hands of love or for the sake of love.
I imagined what she was feeling and I knew I never wanted to feel that. I didn't ask the age-old question, "God, why do bad things happen to good people? Why did this tragedy happen?" I didn't ask that question because I didn't wonder it. The question I asked instead was "What can I cling to, Lord? How could I endure losing that which I hold closest to my heart?" In honesty, I was thinking that having God alone wasn't enough for me. I wanted more than the assurance that God would always be with me. Instead I wanted promises that specific people would always be in my life, that certain things would never happen to me, and that parts of my heart would be left unbroken.
I know that God alone is enough. That He provides the graces for every heartache. Yet in all honesty, I do not live as though He is enough. I do not cling to Him now as though He is all that is certain. I cling to other superficial things or to things, good as they are, that cannot fulfill me.
My mind knows the correct answer. God will provide. In fact, God is providing. It is not some future promise but rather a lived reality. The paradox of love is that one must love with one's heart vulnerable and revealed or it is not actually love. Yet to love means one will suffer and feel sorrow. I have a natural tendency to want to protect my heart, to guard it from all that could injure it. This can be good but it can also close it off from a deep, penetrating love. The battle within is between self-preservation and self-gift.
This little heart has a lot of expanding to do. She needs to begin to live as though everything rests in the hands of God and that He will truly provide for every need. To be so grounded in the Lord that should all else be lost, she could rest assured that not everything was truly lost. Sacred Heart of Jesus, sanctify our hearts.
P.S. My household sister who lost her husband has a fund set up for her and their unborn baby. If you feel your heart moved in that direction, please give a gift of money. Regardless, please pray for them.
http://www.gofundme.com/5fd75k
Friday, November 15, 2013
The Wedding Feast of the Lamb
The day was cool with a hint of coming winter in the breeze that ruffled my hair and made me grateful for tights and boots. Winding roads meandered through the sylvan surroundings and we followed them at sometimes dizzying speeds. Arriving at a church to which we had never been, we soon occupied a special pew reserved near the front. It was the day of my sister's wedding but there was none of the pre-wedding frenzy that accompanies the typical wedding. Bows were fastened to the end of each pew, programs were passed out, and a video was rolling. Other than that, very little would lead one to believe that a wedding would soon take place.
I glanced around hoping to see my sister, wondering if she would be tucked away or kneeling in a pew silently praying. Music began to issue forth from a keyboard and the bridal procession began. It was a lengthy procession, including guests from far and wide. Nearly a dozen priests and a bishop were numbered in that group. My sister was there, too. Her veil was fastened securely on her head and her simple wedding gown did not quickly attract the eye, except perhaps as an oddity to the random stranger that would stumble upon this blessed affair. For those of us present and invited, it was no surprise. Her hands were secured around an unlit candle and her face was serious but serene.
My sister's veil was black and her gown was a simple brown dress fastened with a rough cord. The cord was adorned with three knots. Poverty. Chastity. Obedience. A firm denial of all that the world offers as important and desirable. She was armed with a wooden rosary, hanging from her cord. They would not later produce flowers with which to ornament themselves. Rather my sister prayed her vows and was then given her crown. It was a crown of thorns. And it was striking.
Very little do weddings typically speak of the crosses that are to come in the marriage. It may be alluded to, perhaps said outright, but often the joy and happiness of the day are the primary focus. There is a definite goodness in that. Here, though, the cross was very evident. Yet they did not run from it. Rather they embraced it and clung to it.
She laid on the floor and stretched her arms out in a cruciform. It was the beauty of the marital embrace in a form that is seen too little. Her Spouse bound her to Himself and asked her to become one with Him. He beckoned her, called her name, and delighted in receiving the fullness of her heart. The gift He gives is that of the cross but not without the hope of the resurrection and the nourishment of the Eucharist.
The wedding unfolded in a beautiful way and before long we were watching them process out, priests, sisters, and bishop. A typically long post-nuptial reception line was formed. There was remarkable joy. It was not women being oppressed or women surrendering their hope for marriage or women wondering what point life had. Instead it was the picture of women who know who they are, women who know their purpose, and women aware of the radical love the Author of Life has for them. There was peace and there was beauty.
At this unusual wedding I realized something that I want at my wedding. Barring any dramatic revelations from the Lord, I intend to someday get married and raise a family. Yet this wedding, in its very nature, pointed to the Person who should always be central in such a life transforming moment. There was no conceivable way to misunderstand who was the central focus. From beginning to end, God was being worshiped and praised. It was His love that was being celebrated, along with the love my sister bears. Many weddings often focus too much on the couple and not enough on the Lord. At this wedding I realized that I want my guests to leave my wedding with the clear idea that God was the center of it all. Yes, I want a gorgeous dress and I want to have beautiful pictures of the day. Of course I want a well-executed reception and lovely music to delight our ears. Primarily, though, I want the guests to leave the Mass thinking, "Our Lord came to us in the Eucharist...and this couple promised to strive to reflect the love of Christ and the Church."
I've been to weddings where I could sense something was lacking, a depth or a sincerity. It was evident that they loved each other but perhaps a little less evident that they loved the Lord. Yet I've also been to weddings where I was moved by the witness of the couple and grasped the beauty and gravity of the sacrament they were entering into.
She cut the cake, she posed for pictures, she laughed, and she cried. It was a day of graces and a day of some sorrow. My heart lurched and broke and healed. This was the Wedding Feast of the Lamb being lived out on Earth. I spoke rather few words to her, hugged her several times, and sometimes just watched her with love as she spoke. There is an ache in my heart and perhaps there is this ache residing within every living person. It is an intense longing, a feeling that there must be something far greater, far more lasting than this fragile life here. An ache for union that can never be fully lived in this world and yet my little heart so greatly desires it. It is an ache in me that desires this exact type of wedding yet also reminds me that I long for marriage and family with an earthly husband. This is the longing for Heaven, for Our Lord, and for a life completely surrendered to Him.
There is a breaking within me that cannot be articulated and cannot be measured. This is a place where sorrow and joy blend into a beautiful, ineffable disposition. It is not mere emotion or a passing feeling. Life is sorrow and joy and beauty and, eventually, eternal. In these days before eternity there is searing pain that cuts through hearts and severely strains and changes relationships as we know them. Yet in the midst of this sorrow there is an abiding peace and joy that reassures us that all of this is worth it. It convinces us that tonight will pass and morning will spring eternally in our souls. This temporary separation will give way to a communion that is beyond comprehension. My heart must be re-created to endure this deep communion lest is burst of happiness. That is the process it is undergoing now. The chambers are being widened, the heart is being enlarged, and the desires are being purified. Yet it will all be worth it. We shall be gathered in from off the streets and ushered into the banquet of the Lamb. He will rise, take us by the hand, slip a ring on our finger, place sandals on our feet and wrap a robe around us, and say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant...enter into the joy of your master."
I glanced around hoping to see my sister, wondering if she would be tucked away or kneeling in a pew silently praying. Music began to issue forth from a keyboard and the bridal procession began. It was a lengthy procession, including guests from far and wide. Nearly a dozen priests and a bishop were numbered in that group. My sister was there, too. Her veil was fastened securely on her head and her simple wedding gown did not quickly attract the eye, except perhaps as an oddity to the random stranger that would stumble upon this blessed affair. For those of us present and invited, it was no surprise. Her hands were secured around an unlit candle and her face was serious but serene.
My sister's veil was black and her gown was a simple brown dress fastened with a rough cord. The cord was adorned with three knots. Poverty. Chastity. Obedience. A firm denial of all that the world offers as important and desirable. She was armed with a wooden rosary, hanging from her cord. They would not later produce flowers with which to ornament themselves. Rather my sister prayed her vows and was then given her crown. It was a crown of thorns. And it was striking.
Very little do weddings typically speak of the crosses that are to come in the marriage. It may be alluded to, perhaps said outright, but often the joy and happiness of the day are the primary focus. There is a definite goodness in that. Here, though, the cross was very evident. Yet they did not run from it. Rather they embraced it and clung to it.
She laid on the floor and stretched her arms out in a cruciform. It was the beauty of the marital embrace in a form that is seen too little. Her Spouse bound her to Himself and asked her to become one with Him. He beckoned her, called her name, and delighted in receiving the fullness of her heart. The gift He gives is that of the cross but not without the hope of the resurrection and the nourishment of the Eucharist.
The wedding unfolded in a beautiful way and before long we were watching them process out, priests, sisters, and bishop. A typically long post-nuptial reception line was formed. There was remarkable joy. It was not women being oppressed or women surrendering their hope for marriage or women wondering what point life had. Instead it was the picture of women who know who they are, women who know their purpose, and women aware of the radical love the Author of Life has for them. There was peace and there was beauty.
At this unusual wedding I realized something that I want at my wedding. Barring any dramatic revelations from the Lord, I intend to someday get married and raise a family. Yet this wedding, in its very nature, pointed to the Person who should always be central in such a life transforming moment. There was no conceivable way to misunderstand who was the central focus. From beginning to end, God was being worshiped and praised. It was His love that was being celebrated, along with the love my sister bears. Many weddings often focus too much on the couple and not enough on the Lord. At this wedding I realized that I want my guests to leave my wedding with the clear idea that God was the center of it all. Yes, I want a gorgeous dress and I want to have beautiful pictures of the day. Of course I want a well-executed reception and lovely music to delight our ears. Primarily, though, I want the guests to leave the Mass thinking, "Our Lord came to us in the Eucharist...and this couple promised to strive to reflect the love of Christ and the Church."
I've been to weddings where I could sense something was lacking, a depth or a sincerity. It was evident that they loved each other but perhaps a little less evident that they loved the Lord. Yet I've also been to weddings where I was moved by the witness of the couple and grasped the beauty and gravity of the sacrament they were entering into.
She cut the cake, she posed for pictures, she laughed, and she cried. It was a day of graces and a day of some sorrow. My heart lurched and broke and healed. This was the Wedding Feast of the Lamb being lived out on Earth. I spoke rather few words to her, hugged her several times, and sometimes just watched her with love as she spoke. There is an ache in my heart and perhaps there is this ache residing within every living person. It is an intense longing, a feeling that there must be something far greater, far more lasting than this fragile life here. An ache for union that can never be fully lived in this world and yet my little heart so greatly desires it. It is an ache in me that desires this exact type of wedding yet also reminds me that I long for marriage and family with an earthly husband. This is the longing for Heaven, for Our Lord, and for a life completely surrendered to Him.
There is a breaking within me that cannot be articulated and cannot be measured. This is a place where sorrow and joy blend into a beautiful, ineffable disposition. It is not mere emotion or a passing feeling. Life is sorrow and joy and beauty and, eventually, eternal. In these days before eternity there is searing pain that cuts through hearts and severely strains and changes relationships as we know them. Yet in the midst of this sorrow there is an abiding peace and joy that reassures us that all of this is worth it. It convinces us that tonight will pass and morning will spring eternally in our souls. This temporary separation will give way to a communion that is beyond comprehension. My heart must be re-created to endure this deep communion lest is burst of happiness. That is the process it is undergoing now. The chambers are being widened, the heart is being enlarged, and the desires are being purified. Yet it will all be worth it. We shall be gathered in from off the streets and ushered into the banquet of the Lamb. He will rise, take us by the hand, slip a ring on our finger, place sandals on our feet and wrap a robe around us, and say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant...enter into the joy of your master."
Thursday, November 14, 2013
My week...
This week has been my week. The kind of week where you find ridiculousness at every turn it seems and yet it isn't enough to be overwhelming. It is Thursday and to date I have: given two detentions, caught one person copying another person's paper (and the other person was willing), confronted a situation that was cheating and explained why, took away a student's phone, and kicked said student out of class. I wasn't even in school on Monday. It has been busy here and, on top of it all, I started off the week lacking in sleep and have been the victim of an increasingly annoying cold.
Despite all of this, I don't feel like throwing in the towel, although I am eagerly anticipating Friday and a restful/productive (can that even be possible?!) weekend.
All I can say is it must be grace.
Despite all of this, I don't feel like throwing in the towel, although I am eagerly anticipating Friday and a restful/productive (can that even be possible?!) weekend.
All I can say is it must be grace.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Heaven is like a Symphony
I don't quite recall how we got on the topic, but I was talking to my first period class about how we will experience Heaven differently. My reference was to the idea that Heaven will be experienced as deeply as we allow Christ into our lives now. To be sure, Heaven will be fantastic, beyond anything that I can imagine. When we get there (if we get there) we won't be comparing our Heaven and wanting somebody else's Heaven.
One of the students didn't understand what I was saying. How could we experience Heaven differently? Will we each have our own Heaven? It was about this point in time that I wondered why I brought this topic up, since it didn't have a lot of bearing on the subject at hand.
Then the Holy Spirit (He gets the credit/blame, anyhow) provided the perfect analogy for me in the situation.
"Heaven is like a symphony." I said it and I liked it, the richness of a symphony and the depth of Heaven. I went on to briefly explain that we could all go to the same symphony but some of us would appreciate it more. Perhaps someone knows more about music and they would be able to understand and love aspects of the symphony that others might not notice. We are all at the same symphony, but we are able to experience it in different ways.
His face seemed to lighten in understanding. I, on the other hand, was particularly pleased with this off the cuff analogy. However, I know it had little to do with me...
The Lord provides. Thank the Lord He provides!
One of the students didn't understand what I was saying. How could we experience Heaven differently? Will we each have our own Heaven? It was about this point in time that I wondered why I brought this topic up, since it didn't have a lot of bearing on the subject at hand.
Then the Holy Spirit (He gets the credit/blame, anyhow) provided the perfect analogy for me in the situation.
"Heaven is like a symphony." I said it and I liked it, the richness of a symphony and the depth of Heaven. I went on to briefly explain that we could all go to the same symphony but some of us would appreciate it more. Perhaps someone knows more about music and they would be able to understand and love aspects of the symphony that others might not notice. We are all at the same symphony, but we are able to experience it in different ways.
His face seemed to lighten in understanding. I, on the other hand, was particularly pleased with this off the cuff analogy. However, I know it had little to do with me...
The Lord provides. Thank the Lord He provides!
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