In the World Not of the World

This past weekend I traveled to West Palm Beach, Florida for the wedding of my dear friend, Elaine. While I was more than excited to see her- it had been months and months-, I was also a little nervous, because it had also been months and months since I had been in the world by myself. It was a little bit of a rocky start; I realized when it was time to go out with the girls, that I hadn't brought "going out clothes". It had been a long time since I'd "gone out"and I wasn't used to it.

Thankfully, going back into the world is a bit like riding a bike. Once I was in it, I remembered how to be. And boy, was it nice to get my nails done (all in the duty of being a bridesmaid of course) and dress in grown-up clothes all weekend- I felt like a lady. But, I also remembered how to be me, and I didn't let the world take over my identity. Over the course of the weekend, I had so much fun. I spent time with old and new friends, remembered how much I love dancing, and so much else. Of course I missed Covecrest, how could I not? But I realized that I am not dependent on this community or being up in the mountains to maintain my identity in Christ. I still prayed, and it was because my heart wanted to, cried out for it, not simply because of the routine. In fact, in some ways, I prayed more when I was gone than when I'm here (I know, I know, it sounds impossible).

This life, this year, has prepared me to go back into the world and be in it, not of it. I'm not done learning yet, and I'm sure there will always be struggles, but I'm on the right track, and I'm grateful for what I've been given.

Holy Thursday

"It was into the wildest part Jesus went to pray"

Last week, we took our day off as a desert day, which is when we spend the day in silence, meditation, and prayer. I chose to spend the afternoon in the small garden next to Mike's Place, one of my favorite spots here at Covecrest. Hidden by tall bushes and vines entwined around the fence, the garden is simple and beautiful. It's wild, not perfectly kept, but a perfect spot for reflection. As I sat in the garden, I wondered if Gethsemane was a place such as this, wondered if Jesus spent the Passover night in a garden like ours.

Tonight after Holy Thursday mass, we processed with the Blessed Sacrament from the ampitheater, and I assumed we were headed for the chapel (this is the first Holy Week in years that I have not been very very involved in the planning and execution of Holy Week Services, and I have been glorying in that). Instead, we entered the garden. And as I kneeled on the stone, gazing upon the tabernacle through the branches of a bush, looking at Jesus sitting in the spot where I had sat a week before, I felt that God was answering my prayer in a way. Maybe Gethsemane did look like our garden physically, maybe not, but in any case, it was a place such as ours- a place of prayer, a place to wait and watch with the Lord, a place where the Lord is praying for you.

Chapter of Faults

This past week we here at Covecrest had a community meeting where we all (families, missionaries, and staff alike) sat down to talk about our community, where we are and where we've been failing. As a family, we did an activity called the "chapter of faults." Beginning with the oldest member of the community and ending with the youngest, each person shared and asked forgiveness for the ways in which they've failed the community, beginning with the sentence "I have sinned against God and the community. Trusting in God's mercy and forgiveness I ask for your forgiveness for . . . " There were no reactions, no judgements, no condemnations, just a simple admission of what you've done wrong. The idea behind this was that we could all admit our wrongs and failings, and commit, as a whole community, to work harder, to live more fully into the Rule.

One of the difficulties living here is that we get complimented a lot on the lifestyle we've chosen. It can be easy to fall into the trap of complacency, to stop striving to do better, to pray more, be more hospitable, to love deeper and better. This lent, I'm working on this, as is the community in general. Its something we've talked a lot about, and the chapter of faults was a step in that direction for us.

Okay, this admittedly might sound strange. Public confessions are not exactly normal these days. Its difficult to admit wrong-doing and ask for forgiveness, to a single person, much less 25, but it was a weight off of my shoulders to apologize to these people that I love. And as daunting as the task of examining the areas where I've slacked off or failed outright was, it was a good thing for me to do. Its much easier to look at the faults of others than to look seriously into our own, at least I know it is for me.

I think that the chapter of faults was a positive experience, as awkward as it was when we started. I feel closer to the rest of this community, like we're all on the same page again. There aren't any walls up between us and I love them more now than I did before (which was a lot). In the same way, I know that they love me too even more deeply than I knew it before.

Relationship

Catholicism, all of Christianity for that matter, is about a relationship with a person, The Person- Christ. This truth is something that I've noticed has been missed in many people's experience in the Church. So I'd like to share a little bit about what my relationship with Jesus is and what it has meant to me.

There's a difference between knowing about someone and knowing someone. For example, I can read biographies on George Washington and know a great deal about him, but because he lived hundreds of years ago, I can never know him. I can't have a conversation with him, know what is happening in his heart, know what's on his mind. In the same way, there's a difference between knowing about God and knowing God.The difference between the two situations is that even though Jesus lived thousands of years ago, we can still know Him. I can read the Catechism of the Church, the Bible, and any number of books filled with information about God, His laws, His teachings. But if I never let it into my heart; if I never actually approach Him as a person, then I will only ever know about Him.

One of the things Jesus has been telling me lately in prayer is that I am Beloved, that I am loved intimately and personally by Him, in a way that no one else is, not loved more or less, just in a unique way because I am unique. He's been saying this to me through the Scripture that I've been reading (when you read a passage in the Bible that speaks to your heart, remember that its Him speaking to you, not just to the collective people of the Church), through the prayers of others, through the sunsets and nice days. He shows me He loves me in so many little ways, and it blows my mind to see how many times He says "I love you" when I'm open to hearing it.

The reason that I go to mass each week, the reason why I go to adoration and prayer groups, is to spend time with someone I love- God. You can't have a relationship with someone you never see, never talk to, right? Its the same with Jesus. It may seem weird, but He's just as present in the Tabernacle of the Church as the person sitting next to you in the pew. And He's going to respond when you talk to Him just like they would if you said hello. He wants to know about your life; He wants to be a part of it. So tell Him, talk to Him about your day, what went well and what didn't, what friend upset you, what family matters are troubling you. And then listen. Because He will answer, maybe not in the way you expect, but He will answer.

Knowing that I've got the One who loves me more than anyone with me throughout the day means the world to me. And having a relationship with Him has changed me. When I think about the mercy that He has shown me, the fact that I shouldn't be loved as much as I am, I realize that in turn I need to show mercy to others. The understanding He shows me when I make a bad decision or act in a way that is not positive, makes me realize that I need to show that to others. Its just like the Our Father says: "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." What a tricky clause that is- we're actually asking God to forgive us using the same measure that we use to forgive others, to give us the mercy we give others. And forgiveness doesn't mean accepting the sin, it means accepting the person.

So yea, I think that this is going to be a Lent of living into my identy as Beloved. I'm really looking forward to getting to spend more and more time with the Savior I love and getting to know Him better.

Job

The book of Job is one of my favorite books of the Bible, mostly because I can empathize with Job in his sufferings. As a result of illness I've gone through many periods when I've felt like Job and railed against God, not understanding why, being angry about what I'd lost or what I couldn't do. But more than that, the value of the book of Job in my life, the lesson and the message that has always stuck with me, is encompassed in job 1:21 "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!" Strange words from a man whose life has been stricken with every kind of trial known to man, but oh how true! I've been reading through Job during my holy hours lately, and realizing how much respect I have for him and the wisdom and faith it takes to utter those words and really truly mean them, which Job does.

One of the things that Job struggles with is not understanding why all this has befallen him. He knows that he hasn't sinned, that his pain is not a result of his own actions, and is steadfast in that claim. He wants God to explain Himself and tell him why. Which is a feeling that I can understand very well. But in reading Job, I've come to the realization that I really don't need to know why I'm sick. I mean, look at Job. The witness of his sufferings and his redemption have stood for centuries, for millenia, and the glory that his story has given God is beyond anything he could have imagined. When I think about that, I can only wonder what purpose He has in store for my small share of pain. And I know He has one. The fruits this illness has born already, whether through offering it up in prayer, or the clearer priorities it has given me, the patience, the gratitude for the small things, have been worth it. And that's only the things that I know about. Who knows what the All Powerful has been doing that is beyond my understanding.

And in the end, Job's story has a very happy ending. Job is restored to his former prosperity of course, but more than that he is made an intercessor for his friends, and the Lord hears his prayers because they are born out of his suffering. Its because of and through that suffering that Job becomes an intercessor for those around him, which is a very special gift and a remarkable blesisng.

So I will always choose to say Blessed be the Name of the Lord because I know that God is taking care of me, has bigger plans for me than I do for myself, just as He did for Job. This illness is not something that I can control or change, so my worrying about what I cannot do, or what others may think is quite simply a waste of time. But praising God, well, that is never a waste of time.

St. Andrew

This afternoon some of us missionaries traveled to St. Helena's Church in Clayton for mass where Fr. Foley, a visiting priest gave one of the best homilies I've heard in a long time. The topic he chose to talk about was St. Andrew, which at first seemed strange- the first reading was about the call of Samuel and the Gospel about the call of the first disciples. St. Andrew is mentioned in but one line, so I wasn't expecting him to be the center of the homily. Which was exactly the point.

Father talked about how St. Andrew was the first of Jesus' disciples, the first to react to the call, and that it was through him that St. Peter was brought to Jesus. But though the first, Andrew was not included in the inner circle of the apostles- Peter, James, and John. He's only mentioned 12 times in the New Testament, and nine of those times he's only referred to as one of the 12. Andrew was an ordinary man who answered the call God placed on his heart, he wasn't a great man or a genius or an orator, just a man who did was he was called to do, no more, no less. And that, Father said, was what made Andrew a saint. The three times that we read about St. Andrew's actions in the New Testament he is bringing someone to Jesus. How profound.

The point of Father's homily was that we don't need to be anyone other than who we are to do God's work. St. Andrew was content to be an ordinary man, he didn't seek greatness, and we have no record of him being upset or jealous, of being unsatisfied with his place. He did the work that he was called to and he did it well- he brought people to the Lord.

As I'm still trying to figure out my place here at Covecrest and my place in the world, what I'm doing now and what I will be doing next, the example of Saint Andrew is what I need to remember to simply be me and to simply be God's. I don't need anything more.

The Feast of the Epiphany

Ok so I know I'm a little late, as its now two days after the feast day. But late or no I wanted to share this poem with you about the day. Its called the Journey of the Magi by T.S. Eliot, and its one of the very few poems that I actually like. I read it in high school, and it has stuck with me since then, especially the final stanza. Simple, but complex at the same time, Eliot points out to us during the Christmas season that the Incarnation and the Cruxificion are tied together.

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times when we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities dirty and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wineskins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.