Jesus the Beggar

I hardly slept at all last night.  I cried intermittently all night, and if I'm not careful, I might cry now.

This unusual experience started during Mass yesterday (but I can see precursors over the past few weeks.)  I believe I was in a state of true contemplation.  From the moment of Consecration I was drawn in by the mysteries of our Redemption.  I couldn't even move after Communion, and I was still kneeling about two minutes after the postlude ended.  It was one of those very rare times when I could leave myself behind and follow our Lord wherever He would lead.

This is what I take from the experience:

• Jesus humbled himself to the point of becoming a piece of bread and a cup of wine.  And, He was tortured and brutally murdered.  How could anything we mortals have to endure possibly be as difficult as that?
• If GOD can become bread, I surely ought to be able to walk into Dunkin Donuts and ask for an application.
• If I had to answer right now the question, "When did we see thee hungry...?" I would have to answer:  When I didn't give that lady a cigarette.  When I didn't give that guy so much as a quarter when I was outside the bar (never mind the fact that I didn't actually enter said bar.)  The instances are Legion, but you get the point.

How can I ever serve in persona Christi if I can't even look at the people around me and say, "I am one of you.  I don't just feel your pain; I experience your pain"?

This is the scary fact that makes me cry:

• I can say the Apostles' Creed without crossing my fingers.
• I go to Mass every Sunday and sometimes during the week.
• I serve at the altar frequently.

But, if I can't serve Jesus in the person sitting beside me, it means nothing.

One Day in Thy Courts

"For one day in Thy courts is better than a thousand.  I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord than to dwell in the tents of ungodliness."  Ps. 84:10

Amidst all the recent turmoils of my life, everything comes back to this.  There is NO place I would rather be.  Nothing takes my mind off of my troubles and makes me feel more alive than being in the Lord's house.  Whether I serve as thurifer, crucifer, MC, or merely sit in  a pew, I am filled with the consolation of the Holy Spirit, with a sense of complete belonging and purpose, which I struggle to find in the outside world.

I am ever mindful of the words of the Mother Abbess in "The Sound of Music:"  "These walls were not meant to shut out your problems.  You've got to face them." (cue "Climb Ev'ry Mountain.) Surely, I do sometimes seek refuge in the Church, but for me, the Church is much more than just "a shelter in time of storm."  One of the most ancient and fundamental questions of Man is, "Why am I here?"  I find this answer whenever I walk into a Church or perform some service in association with the Church.  I am normally inclined neither to manual labor or to customer service jobs (being a homosexual and an introvert,) but in service of God and His Church, I sometimes find myself doing (and enjoying) things I would not normally do.  Two particular instances spring immediately to mind (and on further reflection, several from years past, also):

On Saturday morning,  11/03/2012, we celebrated the Requiem Mass for a beloved member of our parish.  About four years ago, the first time I really met Richard was when I volunteered to help with some work being done at our recently adopted Mission Church of St. James the Less.  I spend a day on my knees pulling nails and staple from the floorboards in the old Sexton's Cottage, and I had a blast doing it, because the property was such an gem, and I was willing to help in any way possible to restore it to full functioning in service to God and His people.  Service and Fellowship made the day.  And I went on to do several more days of service there, raking leaves, cleaning pews in the old stone church, and working with youth at a summer camp.  What blessed times they were.

The other thing that comes to mind is a few months ago, when I dropped into the Church Office one morning for some brief business, and when I was done, volunteers wore beginning to set up for the Food Cupboard, a ministry providing food to the needy.  Having some time on my hands, I decided to stay and help.  Not once did I get farther than the Parish Hall, but being with fellow parishioners and helping the needy was enough.  There was no need for me to step into the Church -- just being present to help God's people and know their welfare was provided for was quite enough.  I enjoyed talking to some folks I hadn't much conversation with previously, and I received a blessing from being part of the community and serving those in need.

Of course, Worship and Prayer make me feel welcomed, loved, and cared for, but those are the obvious.  The full meaning of Psalm 84 doesn't come to understanding without remembering those simple things I've mentioned.  In these times of turmoil, it is important that I remember also the words of the General Thanksgiving, said at the conclusion of the Daily Offices:  "We bless thee for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life..."

God created me.  God has preserved me, despite my attempts by deliberation and recklessness at the contrary.  God has blessed me by putting many people into my life who care about and support me.  God has given us Jesus Christ, His only Son, who gave us the ability to literally kneel before His Throne of Grace and worship Him in the Blessed Sacrament (more on that in a future post).

So, I therefore give thanks on this anniversary of my birth.

(Apologies if some thoughts aren't completely fleshed out, but I thought it better to post something rather than my usual nomos of sitting on it until it was perfect...I'm sure my professors wish I had done the same in college!)

Laudes Mariae

"Hail, thou virgin maiden fair!"
Said he whose wings did beat the air.
A precious seed within thee grew;
Our trials and triumphs, all he knew.

Thee we revere, who was so pure
That God Himself in thee did dwell.
In labour's pangs thou didst travail,
The Word Made Flesh on Earth to bear.

At thy sweet breasts did he suckle,
And with his cousin John, perhaps he did play.
He grew and in the temple taught,
And those who heard him were amazed.

Thy precious Son understood they not,
And so to kill him did they strive.
Thy tears flowed hot as he hung
Nailed to a cross, us poor men to save.

He gave thee John,
And John thee gave,
And now we too love thee, Mother Dear.

Hail Mary,
Queen of Heaven,
Star of the Sea.
Loving foster-mother,
Thee we praise,
From ere, and now, and ages hence.
Amen.

GT 10/13/2012

His praise ever on my lips

(This post was originally written in May of 2008 but never published)

After about 3 months, here I am again. I am so bad about this blogging thing it's ridiculous, but I felt a need to get some of my thoughts/feelings out into the open just now.

I have just returned from an extended weekend excursion to California with my college choir. The college itself being Roman Catholic, so are the majority of choir members. The majority of our repertoire is Latin polyphony from the 16th Century (Palestrina, Byrd, Lassus, Victoria, and the like). It is absolutely a joy and a privilege to go on these excursions as we sing this beautiful godly music in all sorts of beautiful settings. It truly is evangelism of a sort to expose people to these ancient ways of expressing our thanks and praise to God.

My perception of God's presence started while on the plane, approaching Los Angeles (where we would change planes en route to Fresno). We were passing over mountains and canyons (I am not sure whether we passed over the Grand Canyon), I beheld the beauty of the landscape and was reminded of something my sister said while showing me pictures of her recent trip to the Grand Canyon: "how can you look at that and say there is no God?" INDEED. How can you???? Sure, you can say millions of years of erosion and what not, but how could all of that come to pass if not for God setting it all in motion? But I came here to talk about music, not creation and evolution...

Our first event was rehearsal at St Anthony of Padua RC Church in Fresno, CA for rehearsal. It was good to sing with these people once again...we even had a few of the original members from 1993 return to sing this weekend. We have a number of pieces in the repertoire, but there is one particular piece that always moves me -- "Sicut Cervus" by Giovanni Perluigi da Palestrina.   The text is Psalm 42:1 -- "As the deer longeth for fountains of water, so my soul longeth for Thee, my God."  If any piece brings me to tears, it's usually this one...and it seems to happen more frequently within about the last year or two. I actually managed to hold it together tear-wise, but I was indeed moved during rehearsal. It's always exciting to be back singing with this group. There is a tangible faith in the room as we sing -- we don't just sing words in a language we don't understand -- we sing in faith at least understanding the basic translation of the piece. One of my favorite things to do (although the director may not exactly approve) is to look around the choir as we sing and observe the facial/bodily expressions of the singers. It can be quite awe inspiring. How wonderful it is to look around and realize that we are all singing to the glory of the same God, be we Catholic, Protestant, or otherwise?!