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St. Maria Goretti; a different take


July 6 is the feast of St. Maria Goretti, a Saint I love very much.

Loving her was not immediate for me. My appreciation of her has been more of a journey. I had to take a prayerful look at her life and my own life too. She became a good friend and has always been there for me.

As a survivor of child rape the way her story has most often been interpreted is disturbing to me. Holding her up to young people as a “model of purity” does not fit out current understanding of the dynamics of sexual abuse. I often read she “resisted a challenge to her purity.” She was eleven. She did not want to be raped. No one does. Abuse is not the child’s choice or fault. We know that though usually that is not how the child feels. Those feelings are hard to get over and can last a lifetime. Saying she was pure because she managed not to be raped and was murdered… instead? Can sound twisted to us survivors and not only to us, to anyone who knows much about these things.

Maria had survived the death of her father. Her mother had to go out and work the fields by herself. They had to share a house with another family. The other family had a disturbed young adult son. Maria had to take care of the house and the younger children. She was very gentle and kind. The young man thought she would be silent about his advances (most children are) and he was right. He thought she could be cowed into doing what he wanted. He was wrong. It’s not that I’m not proud of her for resisting, and for the way her thoughts even in those moments were on God. It’s amazing. She tried to persuade him with concern for his soul. He was angry with her for this and certainly for her noncooperation. So he murdered her, stabbing her fourteen times.

At the hospital her priest asked if she forgave her killer. She said she did. A lot of us are asked to forgive our abusers. It’s inappropriate for someone to ask that of us. I understand she was dying but that still bothers me. So many of us are asked to do this so we don’t make other people uncomfortable or mess up the status quo. So we are expected to carry the load alone so nobody has to deal with the relational and systemic consequences of us telling the truth. So I don’t like that he asked her that.

Later she appears to her killer in prison with fourteen lilies, one for each of her wounds. I love this. I love it because it shows that she did have the wounds. They are real and have meaning. He is confronted with that truth. However in Heaven her wounds are transformed and can become a gift to transform others; even the one who did the wounding. And he is transformed. He is converted and joins a monastery. He testified in the investigation for her cause of sainthood.

Something that moves me is that when she was exhumed her body was (and still is) incorrupt. Like Snow White she lies in a glass casket now. People come and pray and look at her.

What is God saying by this?

St. Eulogius wrote to St. Flora when she was about to be sent as punishment for being a Christian into a brothel, that even if her body was violated, her soul would remain pure. When I read about that I was very struck by it and I have remembered it for years. Abuse survivors don’t feel pure. We feel gross. I felt deeply flawed and somehow dirty all through childhood. It has taken years of work not to feel intense shame all the time. The idea and the trust that my soul is still pure regardless was profound for me.

I am sure that St. Maria felt violated by what happened to her. She was groomed and sexually propositioned at eleven years old. She was afraid of that man. That is already not OK. Just because he didn’t succeed in penetrating her doesn’t mean what she endured was not a sexual assault. He assumed like the “incels” of today that he was entitled to the bodies of women and girls, that they owed him access. He didn’t see her as a person deserving dignity and sexual autonomy. Her refusals enraged him and he brutally murdered her.

And that beautiful girl found healing in the arms of Jesus. She had been extremely devout. The love she always had with God carried her to Heaven and she was given the work of healing, real healing where the truth is brought to light and with God’s touch becomes a light for others.

He left her little body free of corruption to reveal to us the beauty of her bright soul treasured and healed in his heart, in his light.

Yes she is pure. She was always pure whether a man sexually assaulted her or not. Her body is holy and precious to God. He wants to show her to us. He wants us to know.

The pure of heart shall see God.

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Mary’s life of letting go

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Today’s Gospel (Mt 10:37-42) made me think of how Mary constantly let her own plans go in order to embrace what God was asking of her. She did this over and over. “Whoever loves (fill in the blank) more than me is not worthy to be my disciple. Whoever does not take up her cross and come after me is not worthy to be my disciple. Whoever finds his life will lose it. Whoever loses his life with find it.” At the Annunciation Mary whole heartedly accepted a surprising and sudden radical change in the course of her life. She continued to do this again and again throughout her ministry as the Mother of Jesus and Mother of the Church. She even accepted and offered to God the brutal death of her Son. She let him go at the Ascension. She left home and family to join the community of believers. She left all she knew again to go with John the Apostle to Ephesus. Again and again she let go and accepted change and loss for the sake of the Kingdom. So if you feel like there is a sign on your life that says “EVERYTHING MUST GO!” Remember Mary’s beautiful crown of stars. Remember that. Because you’re getting one too! 💫

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The Liturgy of the Hours

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Every morning as sunlight makes its way across the earth, the  praises of God awaken from the heart of the  praying Church. Behind  the sunrise the praises and petitions continue through the hours of the day. As each time zone turns into the darkness, Night Prayer is raised to God beneath the moon and stars. 

This is the official prayer of the Church called The Liturgy of the Hours, The Divine Office, “The Work of God,”  prayed by Catholics of every vocation, by Pope Francis, by our Bishops, priests, religious, and by many lay people as well; the same words of prayer in every language of humanity. 

It is an anchor in the day, a way to sanctify time, express unity with the whole Church, and to call our hearts back to God again and again. 

Morning and Evening Prayer are laid out for us daily as a hymn, two Psalms, and a Scriptural Canticle, (a poem or song in the Bible that is not a Psalm) each with antiphons, (a reflective one line prayer) and followed by “Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.” 

After the  Psalms and Canticle there is  a Scripture reading; usually from  a New Testament letter. 

After that  there is what is called a “Responsory.” For example: 

 Just is the Lord, in justice he delights.
— Just is the Lord, in justice he delights.

He looks with favor on the upright man;
— in justice he delights.

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
— Just is the Lord, in justice he delights.

This will be followed, for Morning  or Evening Prayer, by a New Testament Canticle. For Morning Prayer, this will always  be the Song of Zechariah (Luke 1:68-79). In the Evening it will be Mary’s Song we call The Magnificat ( Luke 1:46-55),  each with their respective antiphons.. 

After this are the Petitions, similar to the ones we pray at mass. These are different each day. Then we pray the Our Father and a closing prayer that changes daily. 

The other daytime  “Hours” : midmorning, midday and mid afternoon are more abbreviated.  Night Prayer is brief and includes an Examination of Conscience and Act of Contrition or Confiteor, along with its Psalms prayers and canticles. It ends with a Marian antiphon such as the “Hail Holy Queen” to kiss our mother goodnight. 

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The “Office of Readings” will have a longer reading, usually from the Old Testament, and a Patrisric reading (from a Church father or from the writings of a Saint) and can be prayed any time. 

These prayers in their daily format can be found in the four volume version of The Liturgy of the Hours which unfortunately is a bit expensive for some. You can also buy  the one volume version called Christian Prayer if the expense is prohibitive. Christian Prayer does not include the Office of Readings. 

It’s hard to learn to navigate the volumes at first while you are getting used to this. You might want to buy what’s called The St. Joseph Guide, a little paper book that gives you all the page numbers for each day.  There is a lot of page turning and going back to a page and so on. I once heard a priest describe it as “death by ribbons.” Yes it feels like that! 

It was worth it to me to learn. The Liturgy of the Hours has become an indispensable part of my everyday life, connecting me consciously to God and to the whole Church at the times of day I pray it. As Secular Carmelite I am committed to pray Morning, Evening and Night Prayer daily. 

Through hard times I have prayed every available “hour” to help me get through the day, which was healing and helpful for me. At all times the rhythm of it grounds and connects me with the family of God. 

Morning and Evening Prayer should take about ten minutes for you to pray at a normal pace.  The other “hours” are shorter. 

When we pray the  Psalms of  Liturgy of the Hours we  are praying with Jesus who prayed these too as did the generations before him. We are praying with the whole Church, with the voice of the Church. 

I love praying with everyone. 

Another thing I love about praying The Liturgy of the Hours all these years is that the Scriptures they contain are written in my heart. A line from a Psalm that is just right will come to me at exactly the right time when I need it. The prayers , Canticles and  Psalms are woven into my life now like flowers in my hair. 

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I look forward to praying the Divine Office as I wait for my coffee to brew,  or when I start thinking about what to make for dinner, or when I am getting ready for bed. 

I enjoy praying it alongside others as well, especially my family and my Carmelites when we are together. When we are apart the liturgy connects me with them.  

Know that praying The Liturgy of the Hours does something. It is never just a recitation. 

“For the word of God is alive and active.  (Hebrews 4:12a) 

“So shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I pupose

and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”  (Isaiah 55:11)

We are praying God’s words, and the words of the Church spoken by the Holy Spirit. We are participating in the healing of the world. We are allowing ourselves to become conduits of God’s grace when we join our brothers and sisters spiritually for “The Work of God”. 

Now I will tell you a secret. The secret is that nowadays you don’t have to go through “death by ribbons” unless you just want to. I feel like a cheater because I use the app now though I still cherish the books. I have the app called Divine Office on my phone. You can also pray from the Divine Office website or the other one,  Universalis. 

So you see? It’s not hard. Come on and join us. You’ll be glad you did.   

From the rising of the sun to its setting, let the Name of the Lord be praised. (Psalm 113:3)

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*This piece originally appeared as my column in The Eagle Newspaper Saturday June 24, 2023

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The Ascension

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To us who celebrate it every year the Ascension of Jesus  seems to naturally follow the initial celebration of his Resurrection. 

However I imagine it was an earth shattering surprise to his followers that he would be leaving them yet again. 

When I reflect on this event as part of the rosary the virtue I link to the Ascension is detachment as I see him beautifully disappear before the eyes of his followers as “a  cloud removed him from their sight.” 

The family of believers had to let go of their expectations that Jesus as they knew him would permanently remain to walk and talk with them. Again they had to face that Jesus was not about to get rid of the Roman occupiers either. There would be no restoration of the Davidic Kingdom  in the literal way they had thought of it. And the One they loved was going to withdraw from them yet again. They must have felt as if they were back from the defining experience of their lives with nothing to show for it, as if they were just a rag tag group of people standing on a mountainside for no particular reason. They were shocked and bereft. They didn’t understand what Jesus meant about him having to leave that the Holy Spirit could come to them. How could they? 

When the angel said that Jesus would be back they must have shaken their heads. Jesus had said for them to go and baptize, to take his message to the world. This must have seemed like too much for them, an overwhelming task, especially on their own. 

They had to greatly expand their understanding of God even past the miraculous three years they had left everything for and deeply identified with now. 

They had to let go so they could be filled and receive Jesus in a whole new way, by his presence in their hearts, and to come to know the Holy Spirit who was new to them. 

How can we receive the Spirit without detachment, self emptying, without freedom of heart? 

“Love- the way God wants to be loved, and leave off your own way of acting,” said St. John of the Cross. 

Or, as Jesus said to St. Angela of Foligno, “Make of yourself a capacity and I will make myself a torrent.” 

Jesus said that if his friends loved him they would be happy he was going to the Father. (Jon.14:28) Is there something more to that than being happy for him? Yes, because he says, “for the Father is greater than I.” Maybe it also means that we have to let our current perhaps more comfortable understanding go to make room for the immensity he has for us. We can be happy he is going to the Father because then, in letting him go as we thought we had him, he then is truly closer than our breath, more accessible than ever. Detachment is hard. We feel that we are losing our Treasure.   

 St. Faustina said of Mary’s experience of the Ascension that she deeply grieved as any mother would  that her Son was leaving but that, “her heart could not want what God did not want.” 

In seeking a pure heart for God and a Marian detachment; a detachment with great love, a detachment even from the way we thought Jesus would be present to us, we open ourselves to what is even greater, beyond what we could ever have thought of ourselves.  But first we let go. 

“Bend  my heart according to your will, O God.” (Ps. 119:36) 

Then, 

“I shall run in your paths for You will enlarge my heart.” (Psalm 119:32)

In this is peace that comes from open-ness to God and freedom of heart.

These verses are a perfect prayer to cultivate holy detachment as the disciples struggled to do this, standing there on the Mount of Olives, not knowing what to do with themselves. 

Fortunately we don’t have to rely on our own strength in this and neither did they.

Jesus had said to wait in Jerusalem and to pray. They did. They trusted in simplicity. And prayer continually purified theirattachments and intentions as disciples, transforming their dismay into receptivity.   

They still longed for Jesus; his voice, his hug, the sound of his footsteps, “like a deer that longs for running streams in a dry weary land without water,” (Ps. 42:2)  However they soon found that once emptied, their muddled and broken hearts were then open to the new gift of God’s presence; the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, filling them past overflowing, their thirst for God more than quenched.  “Your torrents and all your waves swept over me.”  (Ps. 42: 8)

Come, Holy Spirit, come. 

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Red


Red had an easy laugh; open and free 

He laughed at himself because he was funny, 

And at the world because it was his playground and he loved when it surprised him.

At The Eagle Newspaper pressroom

Red was irreplaceable 

Ingenious 

An out of the box thinker who loved to save the day. 

He liked telling pressman history and showed me how to fold the paper hats they used to wear in the old days to protect their hair from ink. 

He was proud of his work. 

Red had endurance


Working long hours until the job was done. 

I hardly ever saw him not covered with grease and ink. 

He was often seen eating refied beans out of the front pocket of his uniform. 

Red was a hard worker but a rebel 

Full of mischief although he understood honor 

A little crazy though he had his own wisdom. 

He would have made a good pirate. 

Great in an emergency Red had the presence of mind to laugh and take a sweeping bow when his hat caught on fire. 

He was a gentleman who smiled at the ladies, opened doors for us, always ready with a compliment “You smell good!” 

Red was kind, believing in love. 

Red was a wild man.

Red could fix anything 

Blow up anything

Get into anything 

Race anything. 

He had a theatrical sense of humor; coming to work dressed in a sarape and sombrero, maracas in hand.

It was a national immigrant walk out day but those in the mail room were not allowed to participate under threat being fired. Red and Bob harassed the manager all day yelling “No worky Monday” on their behalf. Loudly they sang in fake Spanish their made up Tejano music making said employees screech with laughter and take pictures.

And who could forget Bob and Red’s mock strip tease routine in their tool belts when they popped out of a cardboard cake for that mail room crumudgen on his birthday? 

Red was accident prone.

Once accidentally peeling off the top of an Eagle truck under a bridge. We had a picture of him shrugging dramatically at the scene, smile intact.

Red was the most believable Gun Smoke cowboy and on alternate years, tie dye hippie, at The Eagle Halloween parties, always in character with memorable lines off the cuff

Red always had something inappropriate to say to make us shake our heads and laugh.

Red believed in peace but he didn’t mind stirring up a little trouble now and then.

Red was a dare devil we were sure would go out in a blaze of glory one day.

Red loved his six Yorkies with all his heart maybe especially Chester the rattlesnake fighter. 

He loved his kids and spoke of them often. 

He married in his teens and stayed with his wife until her death, often writing on face book afterward, that he would love her forever.  

Red tattle tailed on my daughter but also defended her to me, reminding me she was a good girl. 

Red made everything he touched and every place he inhabited into art. Things that dangled, things that drove, things you weren’t sure about. He was an unusual yet somehow traditional decorator. Odd keepsakes and knick knacks you couldn’t mistake for anyone else’s’ filled every available space of his house. 

Red had a quick mind and a ready wit.

Once he fixed a dirt bike in the woods with a rock.

At The Eagle Red is legend, someone we’re proud we knew. 

Red repaired my rosaries with love though he made cracks about it the whole time. 

Red loved the press crew as his brothers. 

He was there for my husband when he was dying, racing him around in his wheelchair for “one last ride.” 

He said he and the press crew wanted to heal my broken heart. 

Well they did. 

You helped a lot Red.

Red was a good friend to all of us. 

Red was reckless, adventurous, a lover of danger but he could be a sage at times, cautioning me against resentment. 

If he left us with a message maybe it would be a kindly but funny warning like the one he spray painted on a barrel of toxic waste the guys were stacking on the dock to be taken away; bad shit do not eat.” 

Red would tell us to forgive, to let things go and not to ever let hate settle in our hearts to embitter us. 

He would tell us to live, love and be free.

Don’t eat  bad shit that will damage your well being and the priceless gift of joy. 

I don’t think Red  will just “rest in peace.”

Too much to do.

God will have to start breaking stuff to keep Red occupied. 

We love you Red. 

In the great beyond

You do you. 

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In silence and trust

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Oh silence you are so safe and all is contained in you. As much as music fills my soul so do you nourish me as you gather yourself to me and come into my heart. God’s embrace is silent, his kisses on the soul even more so. God creates a silence, a unique solitude, a stillness with his presence, a stillness we all know and recognize as his.

Holy Saturday is about the silence of the earth, silence of the soul of the world.

Silence in the depths of Mary’s soul even in grief.

Wherever you are today take some time to enter into her silence. And trust.

“Your strength will be in silence and trust.” Isaiah 30:15b

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Mary at the foot of the Cross; a reading from my book Come to Mary’s House; spending time with Our Blessed Mother

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Mary’s Preparations for the Passover

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Where was Mary during the day Holy Thursday?

I think Mary would have been helping to prepare her Son’s last Passover today with the other women, feeling the tip of the sword in her heart as she chopped vegetables, listened to the chatter in the kitchen as her heart began to bleed. But I imagine at the same time she would have carried a shining joy because of her love for him.

She would have wanted to make this night beautiful for him and for the others too. At intense times like the last hours we will have with someone we love terribly, we are drawn deeply into the moment. We stay in the now letting love define it.

Her simple actions she had performed many times would have taken on an almost liturgical rhythm, a stillness in her heart, a sense of the sacramental as she cooked and stirred and set the table for him and his followers. Maybe she knew what he had planned for the evening. Maybe she would be as surprised as anyone. But she had to know his hour had come.

Remembering this and that she placed wildflowers at each place around the table, working her way around blessing silently each one who would sit there.

I think she would have snuck off to pray for this night, for all Jesus needed to say and do, her mother’s heart clutched with the frantic desire that this cup would pass him by, loving him and us enough to know if it couldn’t she must accept that it had to happen this way.
Back among the others maybe she let her eyes linger on every face with prayerful love, knowing they were about to be horribly tried by whatever happened next, but praying her Son ‘s words would have their full sway with them tonight.

She tried to prepare herself too.

“Bend my heart according to your will O God.” (Psalm 119:36)

Maybe God said to her that he always heard her prayers and would always do as she asked.

Maybe she told him she would always do as he asked too. “

Maybe she repeated to herself and to God her “Let it be done,” as she had at the Annunciation.

” At some point perhaps as she carried in water, or brought something needed to the table, her eyes would have caught Jesus’s for a second and they silently would have strengthened one another.

Oh Mary help us prepare our hearts for this commemoration, our participation in this Holy Night.

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The Annunciation

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Imprinted fondly in my memory is the picture for “The First Joyful Mystery: The Annunciation” in the little paper book that taught me how to pray the rosary, The image showed a stately Mary, tall and dignified even on her knees. Her tiny perfect and improbably small hands are held out before the golden haired Archangel Gabriel. Neither of their faces show any emotion. They look  like brightly painted statues. 

 As I tried to learn the rosary the Annunciation story from the first chapter of Luke’s Gospel was brand new to me. Reading it I was intrigued that God seemed to be asking Mary to be the Mother of Jesus. The Lord is not telling her or just making it happen. She understands this is a request and says yes. I was impressed with the spunk she showed in asking the Archangel for clarification before she responded. 

I wondered what she felt. What did Gabriel think? Was he surprised at God’s choice of this young girl? Was he a bit worried? Or did he see as God sees, captivated by Mary’s beautiful soul?

The picture didn’t say much to me about either Mary or Gabriel’s thoughts.

It alienated  me a bit that the serene statuesque and otherworldly Mary gave no hint that she was a real person. I think we can easily make the same mistake unconsciously. That keeps too much distance between us and Mary. If we think of Mary as a wispy apparition of untouchable holiness how can we be close to her? I wanted very much to be close to her. 

My little rosary book suggested I think of “Mary’s obedience and submission” when she gave her consent to become the Mother of God as I reflected and prayed. I know she had these virtues. 

However to me her courage and love are what amaze me. She accepted this commission for the love of God and for our sakes. I  think she was filled with joy and excitement once she got over the holy terror of the angel’s presence and the unimaginable message he brought and his strange greeting  calling her “full of grace.” 

She would, as someone whose life was woven through with Scripture, have known how Gideon was greeted by an angel in Judges 6:12

The angel of the Lord appeared to Gideon and said, “The Lord is with you, ·mighty warrior!” (What? Me?) 

It’s true of Mary though. If you read Genesis 3:15 she is in battle with the Evil One. She is a mighty warrior. The word we see translated as “enmity” (EBAH) here in Hebrew connotes the  total hatred of  sworn enemies continually  at war with one another. She and Jesus are at war against Satan. 

And I will put enmity

    between you and the woman,

    and between your offspring and hers;

he will crush your head,

    and you will strike his heel.”

For us she is the new Eve, the woman who is Mother of the Messiah to come whom this verse predicts will crush the Serpent. 

I wonder if she thought of that verse too? She surely would have known it. 

She definitely would have wondered what “full of grace” could possibly mean. She wouldn’t have been able to place it because the only other person to be called “full of grace” in the Bible would be her Son who was yet to come. 

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1: 14)

There would have been a lot of surprises for Mary that day. 

What?! God has a Son? This is new. 

“Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One” (Dt. 6:4) would have been recited by her family daily, and at Synagogue on the Sabbath. 

What?! The Messiah is coming? Now? Through me? 

She bravely asks how this is going to work since she is a virgin, a state she intends to remain in apparently since the Angel had not said when this conception would occur and she was legally engaged to be married. It could have come about in the usual way. She trusts but she does ask for understanding. (Luke 1:34) 

Once she understands she is all in! 

Our Lady declaring herself as the handmaid of the Lord is her saying she sees herself as the God’s low ranking servant. At  the same time a handmaid has a very intimate place with the one she waits on. She is at his side handing him things, at his side as a helper, quietly present  for everything.  Maybe in this moment  she suddenly realizes who she is and voices this. Maybe she always felt different but didn’t know why. Now in her humility she is filled with awe. After all humility is simply the truth about one’s self and inspires gratitude. 

“The Lord has done great things for me and holy is his Name.” (Luke 1:49)

Rather than merely a gracious answer of  obedience and submission  I think Mary’s “yes” may  have been more like Alan Shepherd saying “Let’s light this candle!” when he was about to blast off to the moon, more like the impetuous embrace of a joyful daughter of Israel. 

It seems to me she would have wept with astonishment and the deepest joy. Maybe Gabriel did too. 

Thinking of the Annunciation with Mary as very human and scared and amazed and surprised and real helps me feel close to her in that moment everything changed and God was among us. 

I can almost feel her catch her breath –  the wind of the Spirit rustling her hair. 

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