Staying, remaining faithful implies an outgoing. Precisely if one remains in the Lord one goes out of oneself. Paradoxically precisely because one remains, precisely if one is faithful one changes. One does not remain faithful, like the traditionalists or the fundamentalists, to the letter. Fidelity is always a change, a blossoming, a growth. The Lord brings about a change in those who are faithful to Him. That is Catholic doctrine. Saint Vincent of Lerins makes the comparison between the biologic development of the person, between the person who grows, and the Tradition which, in handing on the depositum fidei from one age to another, grows and consolidates with the passage of time: «Ut annis scilicet consolidetur, dilatetur tempore, sublimetur aetate».
--from an interview with 30 Days
This Pope just might be awesome. :) Another great quote, from his address to journalists today, during which he explained his choice of the name Francis. Immediately after his election, Cardinal Claudio Hummes, archbishop emeritus of Sao Paolo, had urged him: "Don't forget about the poor." This statement sparked the thoughts that led to his choice of a name:
Immediately with the thought of the poor, I thought of Francis of Assisi. I thought of wars--while the vote counting continued, until the end of all the votes--and Francis, the man of peace. That was how the name came into my heart: Francis of Assisi. And for me, the man of poverty, the man of peace, the man who loves and guards creation--at this time when we have a relationship with creation that is not so very good, right? And the man who gives us this spirit of peace, this poor man. How I would like a church that is poor, and for the poor!
It is no coincidence that our first three children have middle names associated with Sts. Francis and Clare. :)
Today Alleluia Boy and I ran some errands, and we ran into an old friend working at one of the stores we were visiting. I asked him how it was going, and he said, "Every day is a good day...some are just better than others."
I was really struck by that line -- what a positive attitude! And how true, especially if we have ever had a brush with a perspective-changing crisis (cancer, a brush with death, etc.). This particular friend -- I will call him Joe -- is someone we met at the local Catholic Worker houses years ago. At first he was a guest, then a regular at evening hospitality. We still see him there and around town about once a week. Our friendship has grown gradually, as has our admiration for him. Without going into the gory details (which actually I am a little fuzzy on anyway), he has really come through quite a lot in terms of personal crises. For a while there, his life seemed like it could go either way.
Today, he's doing so well, no one at this major big box retailer would ever guess anything about his past history. In fact, he's one of the kindest, considerate, generous, gracious, cheerful people I know. He rides bike everywhere, I think because his license got revoked a while back and he never bothered to get it again, but you will never hear him complain, not even in the worst weather. He is also very gentle -- he reads "Winnie the Pooh" to our girls -- despite being very athletic (he did a triathlon last year). He is working in a good, upwardly mobile position, and makes his time with his teenage son (also a great person) an absolute priority.
He's just one of the many people we've been privileged to call friends as a result of our time at the Catholic Worker.
The photo up top? Totally unrelated -- Alleluia Boy taking a bath -- but it seemed to fit the theme: "Every day is a good day!"
(Also, I fixed the video of Starling singing "Bless the Lord" with the girls, two posts back.)
"For just as lightning flashes and lights up the sky from one side to the other, so will the Son of Man be...." --Luke 17:24
A really good Advent sets up a really good Christmas, and we had a really good Advent this year. As we usually do, we set up the Christmas tree with a few strings of blue and purple lights (Advent colors), but nothing else. Actually, Jaybird had fun coloring and cutting out and hanging up Jesse Tree decorations, so for most of Advent our nearly-bare tree was decorated with those. In a nutshell, Jesse Tree symbols summarize salvation history leading up to the birth of Christ -- each symbol represents a different biblical story or episode.
We also lit the Advent wreath most nights; we sang a new verse of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" every week, until we were able to sing the first four verses reasonably well. Even little Alleluia Boy was singing along in his own way by the end! Of course, we have read the Scripture readings for the day from the lectionary for years, so that was good too -- hearing all those very hopeful, poetically beautiful readings from Isaiah over several weeks leading up to Christmas.
We went to confession as a family, Advent being a penitential season and all.
And on the day before Christmas Eve, the kids and I ran around town donating things. We saw this story in the Winona Daily News about the 600 families who received a free holiday basket from Winona Volunteer Services. Actually, a friend had driven past on the pickup day and then Facebooked about the line that stretched six blocks. Here's a picture from the Daily News:
That was the prompting we needed to head to the grocery store -- each child got to pick an item to donate. Mouse wanted to donate a 15-pound ham! I nixed that only because I wasn't sure whether they would accept perishable food, so she chose two jars of pickles instead. (Turns out the ham would've been okay -- oh well, next time!) Jaybird donated a bag of potatoes. And Bear donated a can of pineapple. We ran all that over to the food shelf, where it was weighed; we also dropped off a check. Then the kids got a five-minute tour of the food shelf. (Or as Mouse corrected: "Actually, we just stood around while you talked to the lady.") We found out that, indeed, nearly 1,000 families in our area rely on the food shelf once a month or more. That's nearly one in five families in this town. And that, frankly, is amazing.
We also donated a whole bunch of stuffed animals to another charity. Then it was off to Pizza Hut for a bit of a reward!
It was a buffet -- and this being Winona, that meant it was absolutely packed. But the kids enjoyed it anyway. The other thing we'd done in the week leading up to Christmas was to go through all their toys (again!) to organize them and to get rid of some of them. It was a lot of work (again), so the pizza out was well-deserved. By me especially. : )
That night we went down to La Crosse to see the Rotary Lights display in their park along the Mississippi River. This year, Alleluia Boy was properly impressed -- he kept looking around, wide-eyed, pointing out the "light, light!" We think he enjoyed it. And it was unseasonably warm and ice-free this year!
Bear's friend came along for the ride -- far left.
Christmas Eve morning, we decorated the tree with "real" lights and "real" Christmas decorations. It's a wonderful tradition...it really feels like a turning point, like we've come out of this period of darkness and penance into this time of light and joy.
The kids watched "A Charlie Brown Christmas" on DVD in the afternoon -- their one and only Christmas special. I have a special place in my heart for that special, because of Linus's speech on the true meaning of Christmas -- the birth of the Christ child. It was fun to hear the kids all laughing like crazy at Snoopy's antics. Some things are just classic!
Also Christmas Eve afternoon, our next door neighbor came over for a small gift exchange and cookies and milk. I shouldn't say "small," since she is always VERY generous with gift certificates to the local book store and Godfather's Pizza.
Another Christmas tradition for our family is Christmas Eve dinner at the local Catholic Worker house. Dinner was great -- ham, turkey, stuffing, and lots of great sides, including a wonderful squash soup. People were a little subdued, for understandable reasons, but there was still a lot of camaraderie and laughter. Bear and I ate with a new guy who regaled us with wonderful and amazing stories of his 19 years working as a carpenter in the Alaska wilderness.
We eat there every week, of course, so many of the regulars have become good friends. I persuaded them to pose for a picture after dinner:
Then it was homeward to get dressed for "Midnight" Mass -- at 8 p.m. (which is good, 'cause we couldn't do any later!). The girls dressed in their Christmas dresses:
Mass was wonderful -- the high point of Christmas, as usual. Although...
...Christmas morning was pretty nice, too.
This little guy had no idea that it was Christmas, but squealed with delight on seeing the "horsey" anyway.
There is a story about the little prayer book Mouse is holding. I actually "hid" this gift and a few other small religious items too well -- and ended up spending about an hour and a half searching for them on Christmas Eve night, meaning that I didn't actually get to bed until early Christmas Eve morning!
The kids enjoyed all of their many gifts, as you can see in the video below.
We took time out for a walk in the nearby Trempealeau Wildlife Refuge just to get out of the house and to enjoy the beautiful weather. Everyone was in good spirits.
Here is the video of Christmas morning:
One of the highlights of the season for me was listening to Brother Mann, president of Saint Mary's University, deliver some brief remarks before the SMU Christmas dinner. He offered one of the best reflections on the Christmas season that I have heard in a while. The Scripture quotation at the beginning of this post was part of his remarks. I was really struck at the imagery in this quote, especially in the way he connected it to the incarnation.
The Gospel of John gives us that wonderful image of the Christ child as a light in the darkness, but I also like this image of Christ as a bolt of lightning spanning the sky. It really captures just how radical the Incarnation of God is...because if you really are so crazy as to believe in a God whose love for humanity is so great that he becomes one of us in order to draw us to him, then the Incarnation changes everything, absolutely everything. Like a flash of lightning in the night, it lights up our world and our lives, so that we see them as they truly are...and that is a good thing.
On Memorial Day, we went up to the Saint Mary's University campus and did a May Day "crowning" (in quotes because obviously we couldn't get to the statue to crown her). We prayed the Angelus with the kids: ". . . And the Word was made Flesh: And dwelt among us...." And we prayed for peace.
As anyone who has read this blog for a while knows, we have a very ambivalent attitude toward these "military" holidays. On the one hand, we have family and close friends who have volunteered with the military, and we know many good people in the military. It does seem appropriate to honor the sacrifices they make for the sake of the good.
On the other hand, we are mindful that the Church has always taught that war has no place in the kingdom of heaven, that it is always a failure of humanity. And we are aware that, too often, our military has been involved in actions that can only be described as horrific; the indiscriminate firebombing of whole cities comes to mind as deserving condemnation. More recently, we read this L.A. Times minute-by-minute analysis of how a U.S. Predator drone killed 23 civilians, including two small children, in Afghanistan. More disturbing than the civilian deaths (thousands have been "collateral damage" in the past ten years) is the attitude of the drone team as revealed by transcripts of their chatter, which can only be described as sickening: their enthusiasm for killing their "targets," their mockery of the civilians' prayers by the side of the road, their resentment at cautionary suggestions that some of the targets may have been kids. Their cavalier attitude upon learning that their targets were civilians, including women and children, reminds me of the kind of black humor and self-excusing talk that we're told is common in abortion clinics. It's another example of why resorting to violence as a solution to social problems ultimately hurts us more than it hurts our victims.
Later that evening, we went to the Winona Catholic Worker, which is usually host to a handful of veterans -- some of them homeless, others hungry for food or conversation. We heard that earlier that day -- at about the same time that we were doing our May crowning -- the workers were getting cursed out by an angry veteran dressed in his uniform, complete with various medals; he had apparently come straight from one of the many Memorial Day ceremonies around town. He was angry with the Catholic Worker volunteers because they'd just told him they didn't have a bed for him that night.
Perhaps I would feel less ambivalent about these military holidays if we said fewer words around stone memorials during services that conflate respect for our veterans with a subtle endorsement of the wars we send them to fight. Perhaps I would feel more warmly toward Memorial Day if we truly remembered our veterans -- beginning with the ones who need food, shelter, and someone to listen to their stories.
Many of you are already aware of Starling's surprise trip to Rome to attend the Vatican's first meeting for Catholic bloggers. She was one of 150 bloggers attending from around the world, and one of just about 13-14 Americans.
If you're not familiar with this story, you can read all about it at her blog, The Ironic Catholic. (Of which one of the meeting organizers said, "That blog made me laugh out loud!" And an Italian cardinal attending the meeting pointed and laughed every time he saw Starling, chuckling, "Ironic Catholic! Heh, heh, heh!" -- in an Italian accent, of course.) The basics are this: About a month ago, Starling found out that the Vatican's Pontifical Council for Social Communication was going to sponsor a meeting of bloggers around the time of the beatification of John Paul II, and was accepting applications. On a lark, and at my encouragement, she applied -- never imagining it would actually come together. But then, there she was -- number 141 on a list that included such heavyweights as Catholic News Service, First Things, etc. After she finished screaming, she realized that there was no way she could go -- flights cost well over $1,200, rooms were scarcer than hen's teeth, and the thing was right smack dab in the middle of the end of the semester craziness (review days, events, finals, etc.). So she e-mailed them to say she couldn't go.
Well, ha ha on her, 'cause I said a few prayers, and apparently God had other plans. Either that or a lot of things just happened to fall into place very nicely. Her department head and the president of the school went to bat for her, offering to cover the cost of the trip. Her readers raised more than $400 in less than four hours. People from her department offered to cover classes for her. She'd lost her passport ten years ago, but was able to get one expedited in time for the trip. Every objection she had evaporated.
And that's how she went to Rome last weekend for the beatification of John Paul II and the blogger meeting. I will let her describe the details of the trip -- probably after she is done with classes and grades. I will just say that I was extremely heartened to hear that the issue of anti-evangelization was addressed -- that's my term of art for Catholic bloggers who use sarcasm, meanness, and hateful remarks to attack other Catholics who they view as not being sufficiently orthodox (or, in some cases, not sufficiently liturgically correct according to their own personal tastes). It's sad, because they're trying to advance their opinion in a way that shows they've completely missed the most important moral doctrine of Christianity -- that whole love your neighbor/enemy thing.
Anyway, here are a few tantalizing pictures.
These huge cubes were everywhere, displaying pictures from John Paul II's papacy.
The crowd in Saint Peter's Square.
The room where the bloggers' meeting was held.
Starling with some famous blogger who I don't know.
Part of the crowd during the beatification.
More of the beatification crowd.
Starling offering proof of her real presence in Rome.
Back at the ranch, the kids and I stayed with my mom, and spent an afternoon at the science museum with my brother and his daughter, pictured here with Jaybird in the tugboat overlooking the Mississippi River
The youngest kids really missed Mom! They got to see her again for the first time the morning after she returned home.
Another happy reunion picture.
And finally, this brief video snippet gives the smallest hint of how it felt to be in the crowd of more than one million people during the beatification:
Triduum really marks a high point of the year for us -- even with four kids in tow. This year seemed especially good; there is a lot going on in our lives, spiritually as well as practically, and the whole liturgy seemed particularly meaningful. Holy Thursday was especially moving for me. I had been whistling the Tantum Ergo around the house (a little too jauntily, Starling kept saying) for several days. During the period of adoration after the service, I felt God's presence very powerfully, which is especially amazing considering I had a toddler in a sling and two impatient young ones at my side.
For as much as they disliked "too much church," the kids did really well at all the services, even the Easter Vigil, which went until 10:30. I like the Easter Vigil because it's so Catholic -- that is, so "smells and bells." God chose to reveal himself in the flesh, so it seems only natural that that revelation would continue in a physical, tangible way. I like how the church is dark and silent at the beginning of the service, just like a closed tomb. But then, there is a great light at the door -- the bonfire, representing the light of the risen Christ. The light enters the church in the form of the Paschal candle, and then spreads from person to person, until it lights the entire church. Each of us becomes a bearer of the light of Christ; all of us, together, become the Resurrected Body of Christ. And then the chanting of the Exultet --
Rejoice, heavenly powers! Sing, choirs of angels!
Exult, all creation around God's throne!
Jesus Christ, our King, is risen!
Sound the trumpet of salvation!
Rejoice, O earth, in shining splendor,
radiant in the brightness of your King!
Christ has conquered! Glory fills you!
Darkness vanishes for ever!
Rejoice, O Mother Church! Exult in glory!
The risen Savior shines upon you!
Let this place resound with joy,
echoing the mighty song of all God's people!
. . .
Of this night scripture says:
"The night will be as clear as day:
it will become my light, my joy."
The power of this holy night dispels all evil,
washes guilt away, restores lost innocence,
brings mourners joy;
it casts out hatred, brings us peace,
and humbles earthly pride.
Night truly blessed when heaven is wedded to earth
and man is reconciled with God! . . .
Hearing the words of the Exultet makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle -- because, notice, the words are spoken in the present tense. Just as we are truly participate in Christ's offering of himself during the celebration of the Eucharist, so we are also truly present at the tomb on the night of Christ's resurrection. It is all one moment.
And then the seven Scripture readings, tracing the unfolding of God's plan of salvation, interspersed with more joyful song.
And then we have the blessing of the baptismal font, and as we sing the litany of saints -- that beautiful invocation of our wider community, those holy women and men who have gone before us -- we all come forward to bless ourselves with holy water, a reminder of our own baptism.
Usually, we also have several candidates to be received into the Church. That any adult would want to enter the Church at a time when it is so widely and passionately scorned and ridiculed, and at a time when too many of our leaders lack courage and compassion, and sometimes are actually a source of pain (I'm thinking of certain dioceses suing sex abuse victims, for instance) -- that is a miracle in itself. And it is a reminder that although the Church is full of sinners ("I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners"), Jesus is still present in the midst of them -- just as he so often was when he walked the earth ("They asked, 'Why does he eat with sinners?'"). The Church remains the place where we find God made flesh.
On this particular night, we not only had half a dozen adult candidates, but also two children -- I'd guess their age at somewhere between seven and eleven -- who were baptized. Everyone holds their breath as the older child, the girl, is baptized; then her mother is gently stroking her face, and gently drying her hair with a towel, and another sort of water begins to flow (sounds of people sniffing back tears all over the church!).
The kids held up well through all of this; Mudpuppy slept upright in the sling next to me the entire time, and Jaybird attempted to sleep on the pew. And when it was all over, we celebrated with cake and punch -- and I do mean celebrated. Everyone is so happy! Admittedly, the youngest children (and there are quite a few of them) are happiest about cake and punch at 10:40 p.m.! Bear did lean over to me at one point to say, "Now this is my favorite kind of Mass!"
Here we are, with our friend Laurie, after the vigil service.
Here are the kids on Easter morning. Notice Mudpuppy
peering over the table -- no candy for him! The kids also
each received a CD of good religious music.
Later in the day, we visited the Trempealeau Wildlife Refuge,
where we saw many birds, including two wild turkeys.
And the best part is that we get to continue celebrating Easter for fifty days -- ten days longer than Lent, a point of sarisfaction for those of us who don't do well at fasting. :)
It has been a bit of a rough day here, with both me and Mudpuppy sick. I spent much of the day in bed or dozing with a bad cold -- or maybe it's the flu? It's not so much sneezing and stuff, more achy-ness and tiredness.
Anyway, Mudpuppy got the worst of it with a short-lived stomach flu. He threw up twice, and spent most of the day trembling and/or crying. Very unusual for him, poor thing.
Before he got sick, though, we went to church, where he was his normal cheerful self. I know I'm always saying this, but it keeps happening . . . after church, we had a woman come up to us a detail everything Mudpuppy had been doing. I tell you, we have got to stop sitting near the front -- this smiley kid is distracting half the church, apparently! After the Dec. 26 Mass, a woman came up to us and said, "My kids visited over Christmas with their eight grandchildren, and I had to tell them sorry, but that's the cutest baby I've ever seen." Meaning Mudpuppy, of course.
Well, Starling is declaring that the "inaugural" Fun Run to raise money for orphaned special needs kids in Eastern Europe "went smoothly." Which is to say that attendance was nowhere near what we'd hoped for; chalk it up as a learning experience. However, thanks to the extra generosity of several participants, we raised $622.10. That, plus a substantial gift from our friends in Boston, brings Anthony's adoption fund up to $6,642.10. Not bad. It might even be enough to get him adopted; he now has the second-highest fund (out of two hundred kids) on the Reece's Rainbow website.
We're relieved it's done, since Starling basically got the notion to do this all by herself just about three weeks ago. She did an amazing job, considering she was also holding down a full-time job, creating a grant proposal, and taking care of four kids in the evening. She's already talking about next year! I bought her a Subway sandwich to celebrate afterward. As we talked, I learned a few new things -- like that the one-year survival rate for the kids who end up in the adult mental institutions is about 50 percent, according to Human Rights Watch; Reece's Rainbow, which has been more deeply involved there more recently than HRW, says the one-year death rate is actually higher than that. All the more reason to do it again next year, I suppose.
Here are some pictures:
Mudpuppy getting his feet painted
The kids loved singer-songwriter Amanda Hardy
Starling registering kids
I think there were more volunteers than participants!
