Since my conversion* I have seen Advent as a time of waiting for Christmas, or as commemorating the waiting of humanity, the waiting of Israel, the waiting of Mary and Joseph for the Messiah to come.
I have thought of it as an entrance into the mystery of that expectation both a memory of humanity and something that makes it present. Also, as the Church teaches, I know Advent as our renewed expectation of the Parousia, the return of the Lord.
Something else is happening with me this year. I find myself sensing that God is about to act in my life in a mighty way, a way I will be conscious of. I feel it like a rising tide, steady and slow, but sure.
God is coming. And He will set things right. Even if setting things right means I become free to accept and walk away from some painful and deep running, long term injustices I have been coming to terms with. Even if that is what is happening, I am happy.
“Lift up your heads, for your redemption is at hand.” (Luke 21:28)
However, I have a feeling that change is coming. Clarity is coming. An unravelling of seemingly impossible knots is already starting to happen. Justice is rising gently, truly.
I believe it.
Something about it is not just personal to me, but also universal.
Advent, in a very real way, is a special time of grace.
I hope this is happening for you, too.
I hope it is happening for our country, and for the world.
Let us prepare the way of the Lord. (Isaiah 40:3)
His ways are not our ways, and His thoughts are not our thoughts. (see Isaiah 58: 8-9)
Of course that is so.
But this year, as we wait for the Lord, and we make way in our lives,
let’s really expect Him…
In our houses, for real…
In our lives.
God entered into time in a mighty way by the Incarnation and Nativity of the Lord.
Let it happen now to us.
Let there be a star.
See it.
Because it’s all true.
I don’t know about you,
But I think I will celebrate Christmas this year with my front door open.
* I was baptized a Catholic October 23, 1990, at the age of 22. 🙂
A reading from the Letter of Paul to the Galatians 2:19b-20
I have been crucified with Christ, and the life I live now is not my own; Christ is living in me. I still live my human life, but it is a life of faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.
The Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
The last few years have been so traumatic for me that I have felt alienated from everything and everyone, and like I would never be myself again.
Part of my healing in this latest phase of my journey has been to investigate for myself what really happened and to face the truth around my brother’s suicide, to ask questions I had been too freaked out to ask before, to recognize and re-claim my own experience of what happened after a truly dysfunctional family response that left me confused, dismayed, and even more traumatized.
I called my truth- seeking mission “The Immaculate Heart of Mary Detective Agency.” I thought this appropriate because the sword that pierced Mary’s heart, Simeon said, was “so that the secret thoughts of many may be revealed.
I wanted to truly love my brother by understanding all of him, not just the parts that I had enjoyed so much all of my life, but all of him. I wanted to try to understand what drove him to do what he did.
I realized I didn’t have to wait around for people to quit lying to me and tell me what was going on. I could find out for myself. So I started asking questions and interviewing people who had the information I wanted, or a different perspective from my own as the sister and room mate I had been at the time.
Unexpectedly, the whole experience of the IHMDA has been empowering, though I uncovered rank injustice and malice I hadn’t known some people were even capable of. I feel more alive than I have since all this tragedy began. I have a glimmer of an idea that I have a life and a future.
It seems to me that Mary’s heart has helped lay bare many truths, and strengthened me to deal with them.
I am not sure what I will do next. But it seems God thinks my next step is to forgive. That message was in last Sunday’s Gospel. It seems to pop up everywhere I turn. I seem to read or see or hear something about forgiveness every day.
There is hardly anything I have not lost to some degree in the past couple of years of shock and trauma; my home, my life savings, my family, and the cohesion of my group of wonderful friends. Everything is strange now. I have even felt like I lost myself.
I am grateful for the good relationship between my daughters and me, though honestly, at times, even those sacrosanct relationships were violated and temporarily distorted by lies and manipulation.
What do I do with this horrible story? Sometimes I can hardly believe it myself.
How can I forgive the unforgivable? And how can I ever be a whole person again? How can I bear this?
I have been asking all that for a good while.
I realized, praying Morning Prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours today, when I read this reading, (above) the answer to these questions. “This is how,”Jesus says.
“You will do and experience both of these things because your life is not your own anymore. It’s better than that because I live in you and for you. From within you, I will forgive, I will live, and we will have a beautiful life together. I have loved you and given Myself up for you. You have loved Me and given yourself to Me, no matter what life has brought you. ”
I thought about this. It is a miracle that the thing I have not lost or had to re-negotiate, so to speak, is my faith in God. Even though I have been broken inside beyond anything I thought it was possible to experience, I have an inner rock solid foundation of faith that God has not let me lose.
I have discovered that, as St. John of the Cross speaks of in his Ascent of Mount Carmel, I am “supported by faith alone,” now, in spite of how disjointed I feel psychologically and socially.
No one and nothing can take me from Christ’s hand. He is even more real to me than I am to myself. And even though my heart is broken, it does know it is safe. It does know Who it belongs to and Who lives there forever. Not even my own death will change that.
In fact, Paul also says that the spirit of Jesus in us is so real, it is that power that will raise our bodies from the dead.
But if the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you. Romans 8:11 (This turned out to be in Evening Prayer tonight.)
All the lies and malice, misunderstanding, persecution, blame, rejection, trauma, loss and grief I have suffered, and that the whole world has suffered, are no match for the Truth of God who is Love, and Life.
In a way, in comparison, these terrible things are not even real.
The reality is God.
And I am glad to be only ashes and dust.
That is exactly how I have everything I will ever need in this life and in the next:
“It is not I who live, but Christ Who lives in me.”
While the crowd was pressing in on Jesus and listening to the word of God, he was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret. He saw two boats there alongside the lake; the fishermen had disembarked and were washing their nets. Getting into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, he asked him to put out a short distance from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. After he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.” Simon said in reply, “Master, we have worked hard all night and have caught nothing, but at your command I will lower the nets.” When they had done this, they caught a great number of fish and their nets were tearing. They signaled to their partners in the other boat to come to help them. They came and filled both boats so that the boats were in danger of sinking. When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at the knees of Jesus and said, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” For astonishment at the catch of fish they had made seized him and all those with him, and likewise James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were partners of Simon. Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching men.” When they brought their boats to the shore, they left everything and followed him.
Just when I think it’s over, and I have tried everything, I’m tired, I am out of courage and strength, Jesus says, “Go out again.” He says, “Go to this bigger, deeper, scarier water. It’s going to be good.” And He astonishes me.
I have learned over and over again, that if I listen to His voice, He not only does something astounding, but then invites me places I never even knew about. He gives me hind’s feet, enables me to go onto the heights, makes it like nothing at all to leave everything and follow Him, to sell everything to buy that field where the treasure lies.
Let the dead bury their dead. Whoever has Jesus has everything, and plenty to give.
I trusted that before, and I am ready to trust it again.
Who catches lots of miracle fish and then leaves their nets and follows some crazy hippie preacher?
One of the most famous healings recorded at the tomb of St. Philomena aside from that of Venerable Pauline Jaricot, is the healing of a blind girl, and a change of heart in a non-believer who was present, who later gave money to build the shrine where St. Philomena’s body still rests today. Eight days after Philomena’s body was moved from Rome, and settled in the Italian town of Mugnano, in 1805, there was a large crowd of people gathered for evening prayer in the church. Miracles and healings had already been taking place, so a mother had brought her blind child. The little girl, about two years old, had been blind since she had contracted small pox. She dipped her hand into the oil from the oil lamp before St. Philomena’s coffin, and applied it to her child’s eyes. The girl was instantly healed, both mother and daughter started to shout with joy and excitement. All eyes were on them, and an un-believer present, as mentioned earlier, was moved to give the money to build the shrine to house St.Philomenas’ relics. Through St. Philomenas’ physical presence, two miracles happened in moments: the opening of the eyes of a blind child, and the opening of the eyes of a heart closed to Jesus, that both might see in the way each needed the most.
God seems to show us that He loves to share his grace and glory with His holy ones, even and maybe especially after their deaths, by His miracles through their physical presence.
representation of St. Philomena’s body in her tomb
A reading from the Second Book of Kings
As they were burying a man, behold, they saw a marauding band; and they cast the man into the grave of Elisha. And when the man touched the bones of Elisha he revived and stood up on his feet.
The Word of the Lord
-Thanks be to God
St. Philomena, we come into your spiritual presence with our needs and pressing burdens, our longing for healing, for change of heart, for truth, for new life, for help with our difficulties. In spirit, we bring our broken hearts before the lamp at your tomb in Mugnano as we pray with faith. [Here express your petitions and needs to St. Philomena.] Dear compassionate and miraculous friend, we trust in your intercession. Your name, Philomena, means “Daughter of Light.” May God pour over us the brightness of His light through you, His dearly beloved saint.
Our Father…
Holy Virgin Mary, you have shown that St. Philomena was especially close to you when your brilliant light came into her prison cell and healed her of her wounds from being whipped, her humiliation from being punished in public, and the sorrow she felt about her family and her impending suffering and death. You showed her the Child Jesus, and your encouraged her with the hope of Heaven. Visit us now and protect us from evil and despair, that we might be encouraged and filled with new hope.
Hail Mary…
Radiant girl, courageous and free of heart, our friend and guide, protect us, lead us, for the glory of God.
The only accounts we have of the life of St. Philomena are two corroborating private revelations (from different people in different places) that have been approved by the Church, but are not as certain as written testimony from her contemporaries would be of course. According to these private revelations and the hints from the drawings on her tomb, she had been through and survived several humiliations and tortures to try to break her down and many attempts by her captors to kill her before she was finally beheaded.
She gave herself to God bravely one life-threatening moment after another. Her trust converted many of the people who witnessed it. I am sure God was speaking to St. Philomena, too, in the way He is said to have saved her miraculously from two attempts to execute her, once by drowning, once by arrows. God often sends us messages in our lives, as well, often when our suffering is deepest, and our challenges urgent, to let us know, “I am with you.”
Because of her union with God, and her willingness to follow His lead wherever it might take her life, her moments of fear and suffering became her finest.
A Reading from the Letter of St. Paul to the Philippians
Conduct yourselves in a way worthy of the Gospel of Christ, so that… you are standing firm … struggling for the faith of the Gospel,not intimidated in any way by your opponents. This is proof to them of destruction, but of your salvation. And this is God’s doing.For to you has been granted, for the sake of Christ, not only to believe in him but also to suffer for him.
The Word of the Lord
-Thanks be to God.
St. Philomena, pray for us that our pivotal moments may be transformed in Jesus, and that in these we might glorify His love. May God increase the strength of our souls, and exceed all we have ever known of Him. [Here mention your petitions.] Trusted Saint, lead the way for us bravely, and help us to see the movements of the Holy Spirit in the events of our lives, that every one of them will become sign posts of the way forward. Pray to God for us, that He may turn darkness into light before us, and make crooked ways straight. May we shine with the power of the Lord when we come to moments of decision, and may God bless our efforts to be faithful, as you were unfailingly.
Our Father…
Mother of God, may the sweet companionship of your spirit make our paths bright with meaning and love and grace. As you accompanied St. Philomena to such great bravery, we ask that you also accompany us, especially in times of trial and discouragement. Shine the brilliant light of the Gospel on our paths, that we may see our way through our troubles, and that the grace we will know may, in turn, strengthen the faith of others.
Hail Mary…
Radiant girl, courageous and free of heart, our friend and guide, protect us, lead us, for the glory of God.
Warm, soft, vulnerable and alive, this sleeping One in my lap. I caress the tiny forearm, touch the curled, unsure hands. I can’t stop kissing his fast-beating heart, listening to his unpracticed, uneven breath. I touch his soft, dark, baby hair, nuzzling the top of his head with my nose. His little feet, slightly cold- so tiny and perfect- have never yet touched the ground. I hold them in my hands to warm them. I kiss their satiny soles. “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” my heart in wonder repeats, repeats. I press him to me, this Lord of mine, with a profound, peaceful, joyful gratitude and love, a protective love. He opens his eyes, still that deep slate gray of the newly arrived human. They hold the newborn’s sage, open gaze; mildly curious, seeming to drink in the powerful love pouring out of the utterly enchanted person looking back at them. He blinks innocently at the tears falling from my eyes into his.
I am cold, my arms flailing awkwardly and out of my control. I’m confused. I don’t know what’s happening. I need comfort, warmth, nourishment. And then I am warm, pressed soothingly all around. A deep, sweet peace flows into my mouth and through my body as my unruly hands tangle in her hair, Mama, Mama. The only thing I know is this love, this union, this protection and assurance. I relax completely.
I am that I am, Being, Love, Light and Life. I surround my Son, inhabit my Son, I am within my Son, I love my Son, I am my Son. I have remained what I have been and will be eternally, and I have become what I was not. In my love of humanity, I have finally become fully human, entering the world of time and space in the most profound and humble way. So great is my love, I have been conceived and born into this human cloud of unknowing, emptying Myself, taking the form of a slave, in order to free and divinize my beloved humanity, made of dust, that they might share my Divine Life.
Vulnerable, human, innocent and unknowing, be, oh Christian soul. I have shown you the way to Me: this little Child, this Way, this Truth, this Life, full of humility and trust, gentle, humble, simple, with the need, the open-ness of the newborn. Come to Me, forgetting everything but Love Itself, and be born again. Be little, be free, be loved. Never be afraid, it is I, the Little One, asking for your love.
Answer Me, say from the heart:
Truly, I have set my soul
In silence and in peace
As the Divine Child has rest in His mother’s arms,
Even so, my soul.
Children of God,
Hope in the Lord forever. (a variation on Psalm 131)
On this Holy Night, take time to be little, humble, simple, trusting, and close to God, like a child.
Now that I have pretty much gotten over the shock, and horrified outrage that this event is most likely actually going to happen, it’s time to write about it, to contribute to the resistance.
The officials at Texas A & M can’t seem to get out of having unwanted speaker, Richard Spencer, promote hate and division here.
I have been praying, researching all I can about what this guy, and the person who invited him, Preston Wiginton, and their Neo-Nazi (“Alt Right,” “White Nationalism”) are all about. I encourage you to learn all you can, as well.
I will surely be at the silent protests planned. I like the way the students are planning to do this: with Aggie dignity and decorum, but with courage to resist what is unacceptable.
I am happy that so many student leaders at A & M have voiced their opposition, including Hannah Wimberly, student body president, and Cecille Sorio, Corps of Cadets commander.
Our local paper, The Eagle, has done a good job educating and informing the community, and I think we will have a good showing as we protest outside this event. I hope to see many of my fellow Catholics, especially from my parish, St. Mary’s Student Center, there as well.
The Jewish student center, Hillel, has already planned to protest, and the Rabbi has publicly reacted to this. The Anti-Defamation League is sponsoring a briefing at Hillel which I plan to attend this week.
I was wondering if there was going to be a public Catholic response to this event. Then I realized that as the Catholic columnist for my local paper, that’s at least partly my responsibility.
My paper’s editor thought it best that I write a “letter to the editor” for this purpose. My regular column is mostly reflections. Besides, it just ran last week already. She said they did not invite the other religious writers to write about this, but she liked what I had to say. So I wrote. Here it is. 🙂
In case you don’t get the Eagle, or don’t live in Bryan-College Station, and you want to catch up on how we are doing with all this, you can check in here. Once there, search Richard Spencer and/ or Preston Wiginton.
Here is my own letter to the editor:
To my fellow Catholics, and to all people of good will in my community,
As we each consider our responses to this event, I suggest reading in the Catechism of the Catholic Church #s 1928- 1948, especially # 1946, regarding race relations in society and our responsibilities in that regard, according to the teachings of our faith.
I have been reflecting and praying Ephesians 6: 10-17 as well. It tells me we are not battling people; in this case, not Richard Spencer or Preston Wiginton, but the insidious, and often well- disguised hateful ideology they promote.
We should pray for the conversion of heart of all neo-Nazis to God’s law of Love.
The Saints of our Catholic Faith who were confronted with direct experiences of the evil one in person, confirm that the best response is simple resistance in the Name of Jesus, rather than argument or engagement. In the Gospel, “Get thee behind me, Satan,” confirms how to respond to someone speaking in ways opposed to the Gospel. We can say that with our actions very well, of course.
Let’s reflect on where we stand according to our faith, and then let’s live those values out with the humility, confidence, and love God commands.
May the Catholic Saints who died at the hands of the Nazis pray for us.
May the many Saints of color, pray for us.
May Mary, Mother of Jesus, a Jewish woman, blessed among all women, pray for us.
As Mary said, “Do whatever [Jesus] tells you.”
We each have to discern what our responses should be.
As for me and my house, we will take this opportunity to serve the Lord of Love and righteousness by standing outside in quiet protest with the Aggies, rosaries in hand.
“For God did not give us a spirit of timidity to go back into fear, but of power, and love, and self control.”( 2 Tim. 1:7)
If you would stll like to sign the petition for the university to cancel this event, though a way has not yet been found:petition
If you would like to attend the silent protest during the event on December 6: Silent Protest
If you would like to attend the alternate event, Aggies United at Kyle Field that was announced last night by A & M President Young.
P.S. Good things have come of this event already:
We are all better educated about what this movement is about and alerted that it can’t be ignored or wished away, but must be opposed vigilantly.
Our town, and its university, have gotten in touch with what we are about, and energized to stand up for what we believe in. It has been unifying, overall.
I bet there will be better vetting of anyone who wants to use the Memorial Student Center for an event from now on, as there is at some of the other places on campus. Thank goodness for that.
A good thing I hope will come of this is for all minorities be reassured that the rest of their community knows they belong, cares about them, and stands up for them and with them.
The world will be watching Texas A & M and Bryan-College Station, to see how we react to this. The “Alt Right” will be watching, too. I hope they all get an eye full.
I have a cup of coffee, and I am listening to jazz (Alice Coltrane today,) because it is 2 o’clock. That’s what I always do this time of day; jazz and coffee. Somehow this makes me feel more present in the day.
The loose, open-ended routine of stopping the day, at least a little bit, to remind myself I am in it, began when I was an overwhelmed young mother with my first new born. I looked forward to the afternoon jazz show on public radio every day. It helped me touch base, and for the day not to just slip away. It started at 2:06PM. It still does, actually.
My best friend, Andrea, lived on the other side of our duplex, and she liked to make a pot of coffee about 2, because she tended to get sleepy that time of day. So we had the afternoon solace of a cup of coffee, afternoon jazz, and an attempt at a moment of peace together each day, with our babies.
Later 2 o’clock jazz and coffee was a stopping place of peace and re-gathering before I picked the kids up from school. There were various incarnations of the same 2 o’clock routine as my life evolved.
Even through all the tragedy and trauma of these last few difficult years, I have continued to put on some jazz and make a cup of coffee around 2PM, if possible. The duration of time I spend on this, and what else I will do at that time, varies, but generally, I will do at least those two things, and make conscious contact with the day.
What does this do? It gives me a little island in the day to reclaim my peace and priorities.
On a busy, hectic day, it reminds me that I need to slow down.
On one of those difficult, timeless days when my ADD seems worse, or I have that PTSD inertia -anxiety I get, it helps me get a foot on the ground and start over.
For me time can be vague, and the day gets away from me. The simple act of turning on the music and putting on some coffee at that same time of day I always do, is a rung on the ladder back to earth.
As Dorothy Day said, “My strength returns to me with my cup of coffee and a reading of the Psalms.”
When I am at work caring for Mac, I still make coffee and put on some jazz at 2 in the afternoon. He has developed a taste for jazz now, and if I put on any other type of music that time of day, he looks confused. “Hey, what are you doing?”
The rhythm of the day means a lot to Mac. I think it is how he understands his place in time and in the world in general.
I can learn from his way of keeping track of his life so that it means something to him. Without the predictable and repeated routines of each part of the day, life would feel like an unsure, confusing continuum to him. He feels safe when he understands, at least in a general way, where he is in his day.
We are the same way, though most of us have more physical senses and more personal choices available to us than Mac does.
Routines and traditions help us to be fully in the present moment, and, if they are appreciated, can help us live more deeply, more consciously, and therefore, more prayerfully.
Maybe that’s why God made time for us to live in, even though He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t have any problem being present everywhere at once, but we do. We need time to truly experience life and meaning.
We have to mark time to keep ourselves in the only part of time we can really live in; the present moment.
The present moment is where we are most able to encounter God, because that is where we ourselves really are. God is within us, so we need to be “home,” to be present to our Guest.
During the day, we can get caught up in the past, in the future, and other distractions, worries, and concerns. Our minds are a constant river of thoughts and feelings.
Sometimes the day is a frantic blur. Sometimes it is like a dream we can’t quite remember.
When we occupy time fully by being present in the day, there we will find meaning; we will find God.
I have been thinking about that.
I am not much of a routine person. I tend to prefer a cadenza of a day, leaving plenty of room for inspiration, for people who show up, for the Holy Spirit to blow through, for random acts of goofiness, impulsive kindness, or happy, dreamy uselessness.
However, I understand that touch points in the day can be sacred. They give me a way to put the day back on track, put first things first, and remember what I’m trying to do with my life.
Besides making sure I get certain things done each day that have to be done, routines can be boxes to put presence in.
They can be conscious bridges into the next part of the day, helping me live intentionally for the next few hours.
I am trying to aim for small and attainable things to do here and there like modest ornaments for the day I am crafting.
One of these little routines is to turn off any music or stop whatever noise or activity or device is on at noon and pray the Angelus prayer.
I try to get certain things done at work by then so that I can sit down beside Mac and pray the Angelus at the traditional time of noon, or as close as I can get.
Mac likes this, too. He knows when all is tidied up and quiet, and he is made comfortable, that I will come sit and pray with him for a while. Sometimes he likes me to scratch his head while I pray the Angelus, and mid day prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours.
Mac and I hang out
Another thing I have been trying to do: When I get home from work, before I do anything else, is to make time for a mindful sweeping up before I let myself settle down or get obsessed with anything. It’s an easy thing to do, but it makes a big difference in how the rest of the evening goes.
The temptation, when I get home from work, is to flop down and start reading or messing around on the Internet, or get caught up in listening to the news.
When I succumb to that temptation, it seems I only get more and more tired and unmotivated, and that time is wasted. There goes the evening, before I know it; myself and the world, none the better.
I am more likely to do other good things if I make the transition into the evening by doing a simple, silent routine like sweeping, paying attention to what I am doing, often accompanied by inwardly saying the names of Jesus and Mary prayerfully as I sweep.
Jesus. Maria. Jesus. Maria. Jesus. Maria.
Sometimes I even think there is another pair of playful, encouraging feet dancing with mine as I move across the floor with the broom; sneaky, sandaled, dusty feet behind my bare ones, and a silent voice that playfully says, “1,2,3, 1,2,3,” as if we were waltzing together while I sweep.
It makes me chuckle.
Maybe I’m on the right track.
painting by Bob Chapman
*If you would like to try praying the Liturgy of the Hours, you can try it for free on Universalis
For more on finding meaning and mindfulness in house work, you might like my post The holiness of house work
Bethany Hang Out 