Christmas Musing: Preti's "The Visitiation" and Our Search for the Infinite

When we rounded the corner to the left and into the Baroque room at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts this morning, my eyes welled with tears. There it was; the painting I had visited the museum for, a painting called "The Visitation" by 17th century Baroque master Mattia Preti, a Calabrian and a protege of Caravaggian naturalism.

How fitting the painting first went on display here on Christmas Eve.

On Half Marathons and the Potentate of Time

Today: John Lynch Bridge, Piscataway, NJ

This morning, in subfreezing temperatures, my husband and I completed eight miles of walking, punctuated by tenth-of-a-mile runs. Tonight, after our two-hour naps, I went to 5 p.m. Mass at our parish, not remembering until I showed up that this Sunday is the Feast of Christ the King.

On Christmas Eve, Thanking God for God

I have had a horrible headache for about 8 hours now. I do not want to think this is a consequence of an online bully, a person I never have met who lives in my town, and who harped, name called, stomped and shouted about a piece of my writing for about seven hours on facebook yesterday. I proceeded with my day, a beautiful day with my husband, I might add. And the vitriol kept spewing in a facebook comment box.  I want to think I just need water and caffeine. 

Already But Not Yet: Our Advent Dinner

On Saturday night, Father Jeff Calia, C.O., gave a wonderful homily about what it means to be a Christian. We are the "already and not yet" people; we commemorate the resurrection of Christ and yet, we are still waiting to meet Him face to face. And this, to me, is how we should live: understanding the  Kingdom of God is here and now and also has not yet happened.  We live in the world, but are not of the world. We inhabit that paradox.

Carrying the Cross of Cancer with a Heart WIde Open

My friend Frank Simmonds continues to share his suffering and his faith in the face of cancer as he "walks toward the Infinite." He shows us how to live suffering with meaning.

One of my favorite comments is: "Where were you when the Universe was created?"

Litany of Humility: A Prayer for a Beloved Sinner

Today's 11 a.m. Mass celebrant at our parish, Father Peter Cebulka, C.O., recommended we look up the Litany of Humility. Father Peter, who is chaplain of the Catholic Center at Rutgers, said he recommended the prayer to a student recently. Later, the young man texted him:  The student texted him: Litany of Humility. I love it. I hate it. 

Boy oh boy do I need this prayer. As Father Peter told us, we need to remember that we are beloved sinners. That is our identity. If we think too much about how we are beloved by God, we might fall into pride. If we focus too much on our sinful nature, we might never feel we can connect with the One who called us into being. 

Why Mass Cannot Disappoint, Even When I Don't Like the Music, the Homilist or the Architecture

My family and I were out of town this weekend, dropping our older son off at a camp where he is working as a CIT, or a counselor in training. I had this idea we were going to stumble into an unfamiliar Catholic church and emerge spiritually uplifted by the pastor, the liturgy, the music and so on. Well, that didn't happen. And you know what? None of that matters.

That's because, in the end, it isn't about me. Thank God for that.

On the Road to Jericho, "Every Living Being Is Our Neighbor"

Yesterday, as I continued my travels through Alabama, I attended Mass at St. Peter the Apostle Church in Hoover with dear friends who once were fellow parishioners in New Jersey.  As good homilists do,  Rev. Joy Nellissery told a familiar Gospel story so that I thought about it in a new way.

We all know the parable of the Good Samaritan, the man who stopped to help a stranger on the road to Jericho. I didn't realize this dangerous 17-mile steep and winding road was known as the "Way of Blood," a remote road well known to robbers. The Samaritan, an enemy to Jews, stopped to help an injured, half-dead man, after  both a priest and a Levite pass him by. How powerful and timely  Father Joy's words are.

Opening Our Hearts to Our Enemies. Now.

We live in divisive times. Sometimes, that grieves me.

 How do we reconcile these two perspectives? Can we? A homily I heard yesterday gave me hope.

On the Road to Belgrade, Teens Encounter History and Create Beauty

I decided not to blog about Stretto Youth Orchestra's tour of Europe, even though I had asked readers to contribute money to helping some of the needier musicians afford it. That's because our son, nearly 17, is on the trip and likely wouldn't appreciate his mom giving moment-by-moment accounts from New Jersey of the journey that I could glean from his instagram account and his messages to me. This is his journey, not mine. 

That said, I thought it would be okay to share an email that all the orchestra parents received today from Sherri Anderson, founder and leader of the group. This will move you. Thank you to those who helped to pay for this journey and to those of you who continue to send out your good wishes and prayers.

Krist Kralj (Христ краљ) and His Church Are Everywhere

Never can the Roman Catholic Church be accused of being groovy. But I gotta say, its universality makes it come pretty darned close.

Tonight, in about five minutes, I was able to find online an 11:30 a.m. Catholic Mass, in English, in downtown Belgrade, Serbia, for our son. Gabriel will be in that city on July 30 with his chamber music orchestra. Gabriel plugged that time and location into his iPod. If it turns out that Mass time doesn't work for him, he also has the option of going to the 8 a.m. Mass in Slovenian or the 10 a.m. Mass in Serbian.  I just emailed the pastor to check, but our son said he feels comfortable attending Mass in any language.

"It's all the same Mass," he just told me. 

A Friend Faces Death: "I am Surrendering to Something"

Two weeks ago, I published a video my friend Rita had put on youtube. Her husband, Frank, (pictured holding the cross) suffers with from advanced-stage neuroendocrine cancer. Today Rita put up another video, one that shows her husband continuing to bear witness to the Mystery that called each of us into being and the Mystery to whom we all are destined.

Burying a Bomber: What Would Christ Do?

We ended up tonight at St. Matthias in Somerset, NJ, a parish we don't normally go to and we all left stunned and inspired by the homily. The celebrant said he had had extra time this morning and decided to read the newspapers. He read the story of Martha Mullen, the Virginia woman who found a way for Boston Marathon bombing suspect Tamerlan Tsarnaev to be buried in an Islamic cemetery. Her gesture, widely critized, is an example of Christianity in action, he said.

"Are we not told to bury the dead?" he asked. Indeed. Burying the dead is one of the seven corporal acts of mercy. "

God requires us to bury, not just the dead of whom we approve, but every body that was created in His image. "And aren't we supposed to pray for our enemies?" the priest asked us.

Did we know, the priest asked us, that the suspect has a three-year-old daughter? Have we prayed for her?  Have we considered what this child's life will be like? Nope. I hadn't.

In Boston, A Priest Shows What He is Made for

A few years ago, I was struck by the homily of a visiting priest at my New Jersey parish, a man named Father John Wykes, O.M.V. who talked with us about his order and his mission and the severe priest shortage in the Philippines. Today, I encountered him again, in a Wall Street Journal article that made me reflect on a man I do not know, laboring largely in obscurity, for the good of our souls.

Bearing Witness, Suffering with Gratitude

Frank Simmonds is a friend, a fellow traveler in the ecclesiastical movement I follow called Communion and Liberation. He suffers from advanced-stage neuroendocrine cancer.  He continues to bear witness to the One who called each of us, by name, into being. In the photo above, he carries the cross, leading thousands across the Brooklyn Bridge during a Good Friday procession.

A Father is Dying: A Lesson in What Faith Looks Like

This is what faith looks like.

I just got off the phone with Jane, one of my dearest friends. Her husband is our younger son's godfather. Jane had emailed me to let me know her 85-year-old father, Richard, is dying. He has had a massive stroke. She is sad; my usually stoic friend has been shedding tears. Her four daughters and her husband are comforting her.

Jane told me this. "God loves my father more than I do. He is more God's child than he is my father."

A Life Lived Small and With Immeasurable Beauty

When I checked my email this morning before work and opened the attachment from a colleague, I burst into tears. My colleague Mary, with whom I co-teach a Natural Science class, had put as the subject to the email "Aunt Eileen."

"Aunt Eileen" was Eileen Jaqui Kuhn, 88, of Metuchen, who died on Holy Thursday at home with her family by her side. My husband and I have lived in this corner of New Jersey since 1995 and our lives have intersected with the Kuhn family's ever since. Tonight, Easter Monday, my husband and I attended Mrs. Kuhn's wake, which gave me a glimpse into the beauty of a life spent from start to finish within a three-mile pocket of friends, family, work and parish.

Christ Is Risen! How Our Family of Four Celebrates

 www.theclayrosarygirl.blogspot.com

On our way out of Mass this morning, I wished the elderly usher a Merry Christmas. We both had a laugh about that. Silly middle-aged me. The beautiful Mass reminded me of Christmas Mass somehow - the new faces, the standing-room-only crowd, the lovely, noisy toddlers dressed up in their finest. So many faces filled with hope.

Like Christmas, Easter attracts people who don't normally spend time at church. I am happy when I see these new faces because it reminds me that no matter how far each of us wanders, home always waits to welcome us. Easter is, as our pastor put it today, a still-unwritten story; the rest of the story is how we as individuals encounter Christ and how we choose to live out our days.

After Mass,  I was heartened when I checked facebook and saw the status update of a teenager of my acquaintance, a boy who I have heard on multiple occasions mock the Christian faith.

"The Infancy Narratives:" Compelling Gift from a Pope Emeritus

In the days of Sede Vacante, between Feb. 28, when Pope Benedict XVI resigned and March 13, when Argentina's Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio was elected the Holy See, I felt the profound silence of the former pope as he withdrew from public life and into a world of monastic prayer.

It felt clear we won't be hearing from this man, so often maligned within the Church and without, ever again. What has been lost to so many, including millions of us Catholics, is that this man is a gifted writer and theologian, a student of St. Augustine and a deep thinker in his own right. I felt the loss and, as a kind of homage to him and as a reminder to me that his legacy continues, I spent my morning commutes listening to the now-emeritus Pope's latest book - Jesus of Nazareth: the Infancy Narratives.

I find this book deeply reassuring and have since passed it along to an Evangelical friend, who I know will find it inspiring. This is a book for any of us who call ourselves Christians and for anyone who is curious about the Christian claim. The book comforts me because it reminds me the Holy Spirit moves among is the men who lead our church and because it gives us a taste of a Pope whose absence is palpable to me.

Lent in Catholicland: A Peek at My Day

To mix things up a bit, I took my younger son to a Mass at a parish a few miles away instead of our usual parish home. After Mass, we drove over to our parish for our monthly Family Catechesis.

This three-hour odyssey showed me how rich and varied our faith is, even here in suburbia. I wish those who don't know or who misunderstand the Catholic faith - who think we are a bunch of reactionary weirdos -  could encounter some of the joy and goodness my son and I did today. Here is a glimpse.