It takes my breath away

{I am not entirely sure what this post is. It all just came to me the night I wrote it, and for some reason I feel like sharing it.}

My journey home to the Church was astonishingly smooth, even easy, once all the gears clicked into place and the movement really began -- God had paved the way for me for years, slowly preparing me for Truth, for Himself. And so many of the common struggles or obstacles to acceptance of the Church's Truth I just did not have. It was all deliciously and mysteriously True; for some things, an answer at long last, for others, an answer I had never sought, but made perfect sense, and awakened a thirst in me that never subsided. On those things that surprised me in my own uneasiness, I never doubted their truth or the Church's wisdom, only knew that there was something in me that needed teaching, healing, or awakening, which continues to this day, and is in the "littler" details of spirituality, for the most part. God always sends just what I need, when I need it and when I am ready for it, to illuminate some aspect of Truth for me that I hadn't seen so clearly before or even avoided facing. So often His Truth and Love lay bare some truth about ourselves we don't want to face or deal with or see. But once the unpleasantness, discomfort, or pain has passed, a peace comes, even delight! Oh yes, even delight as you exult, wonderstruck, in the sweetness and sheer deliciousness of this new-found Truth. Yes, your soul has grown and been transformed just a little bit more in Christ.

My journey into the Church has been and always will be a kind of Dance, learning to follow His lead, to not push or pull away or force my will, or drag my feet -- a dance into the grace and piercing Beauty of God as manifest in His Creation and in His Church. To dance with the rhythm of the Earth's seasons and the Church's seasons, to dance to all the beauty of the treasure chest He's given us, to revel and exult in all therein. Sometimes I feel like it is a perpetual discovery of beauty and loveliness and grace and hope and love. There is always something new to nourish and feed my soul, to heal my wounds, to startle me out of complacency or apathy or laziness. There is never a lack of ways He stirs and awakens the yearning inside me again. I look back to just a few years ago, and marvel at how even then I felt awestruck at all that had been given me, and wondered at how I could possibly go "any deeper" than I already had, to know more beauty than this, to go even deeper into the love of God, to be even closer to Our Lady. Yet I was taken deeper! And how. It takes my breath away even now at the thought that there could possibly be more -- more beauty, more love, more depth to all this, more to wonder at, more than what has already been given to me?! And yet that is the astonishing reality. There will always be more.

He sings a love song to me in my sleep and whispers invitations to trust and holy, wild abandonment. His eyes draw me to Him in longing, but I am driven away by my fear, distrust, and awareness of my sinfulness and weakness. Yet, like the poem, He only draws closer to me, sweetly asking if I need anything. "Who made the eyes but I?" He asks, the infinity of love in His eyes haunting me in my dreams, a gentle Presence throughout the day that begs my attention, to be present to His Presence, too.

Christ asks for a home in your soul, where He can be at rest with you, where He can talk easily to you, where you and He, alone together, can laugh and be silent and be delighted with one another. ~ Caryll Houselander

God desires nearness. He would like to be with you to the end of the world. He is a beggar for your love. ~ Fr. Hans Urs von Balthasar

Our Saviour says: "Go into your room and pray," but by 'room' you must understand, not a room enclosed by walls that imprison your body, but the room that is within you, the room where you hide your thoughts, where you keep your affections. This room of prayer is always with you, wherever you are, and it is always a secret room, where only God can see you. ~ Saint Ambrose

Sometimes it comes to me, through some echo of the Beauty, some glimpse out of the corner of my eyes, a reflection as in a mirror, when the infinite reverberates inside me, a hint of a Voice that calls my name -- and then this ache, the ache that fills my whole being -- swelling up into tears and trembles and shivers throughout my body. It hits me with a gasp. Ache is so feeble a word for something so intense and deep, extending into the very recesses of my heart and soul, reaching out towards the infinite. It's an ineffable, inexpressible ache, ache, ache, ache! Words are suddenly burdensome and clumsy (though it is often then that a rush of words will descend upon me). There is no earthly way this will be completely translated into human language -- so small, so limited, so narrow -- how could it possibly enclose and express something of the Infinite and Uncontainable? Only with hints and shadows and flickers of the fullness of the reality. It is then that I long for someone, somebody to hold me close to their own heart in my aching, to shelter me in my sudden vulnerability to the expanse of this wide and wonder-full Cosmos --- yet I scarcely ever speak of this to anyone. Yes, in bits and pieces like here, but in those actual moments, I am alone in my humanness. I don't even mention it to my parents, the longing, how could I possibly make myself so painfully vulnerable, even to them whom I know love me so, so much? No, no...I can't even try to explain it to them. Not in full, not when it so evades capture by words. I need someone who already knows and can share the ache with me, and wrapped in embrace together, breathing together, hands pressed together, ache together, not needing words or speech, to be able to weep openly and freely when we have been pierced so deeply with such acute awareness of our exile, for a simple glance into each other's eyes to know that the other knows. Oh yes, they know. And for that to be enough.

This --- oh, this! I long for this, to have a companion in this life, a true companion on my spiritual journey, a fellow pilgrim. Not just a friend, though I cherish dearly all whom I have, and are fellow pilgrims -- brothers, sisters -- in their own beautiful way, but my soulmate, my life's helpmate. Where, oh where, my Lord, is he? Where is the human heart who knows this ache that flows in my blood and dwells deep in my bones, whose heart was made to beat next to mine in this life? He who will help me stand when I stumble or fall, who will love me in my weakness and imperfection, and for whom I can do the same? He my appointed companion on the journey home to You.

For so long have I felt this strange lack, like something is missing, and the separate ache of not having those eyes to look into that reflect a heart that knows and understands. Long have I sojourned in this my desert. I am a perpetual unrequited look of recognition.

Wounded by Beauty. I am irrevocably wounded by Beauty. And oh, what an exquisite pain it is! I need a man who is as intoxicated by Beauty as I am. Who positively craves it and longs to swim in it, drink it in, sinking ever deeper into it, or rather, Him, He who is Beauty -- He who Is. Beauty is Truth is Goodness is Love is Life. I want to dive with him into the Beauty of God's Love and never resurface. To swim with him where the water is sweet and the brightness of the Sun doesn't blind. For our souls to be intertwined and bound together, for thoughts and hopes and pains and heartbeats and breaths and flesh and lips and hands to be woven together -- And twain shall become one flesh. To be joined in communion with him and to learn communion with him. To be drawn out of our isolation into communion, for a glimpse of that ultimate consummation for which we were created. For love to grow betwixt us and within us; love is always creative: to gaze upon our love and learning-love embodied and new and astonishing.

We are like fish on the land, gasping for the water which is our breath, yet so terribly unaware we are even gasping, dying. And so I walk to the shore of His River, the unending abyss of the Sea of His Love, and all the while I had been dying unknowingly, starved for Beauty, starved for Truth, starved for Love, the currents of this sweet Water pull me in, and suddenly I am drowning in Beauty. For so long have we been dying, suffocating little fish on land, that when life floods us, we are bewildered and think then that this is death, and insanely fight to swim to the surface, back to the barren land of death that we had grown so accustomed to. Darkness seemed as light, lies seemed as truth, death seemed as life. But in swimming, in fighting, we suddenly realize we've been plunged into life. As we slowly allow ourselves to become more and more alive, we become drunk on this Water of Life, and beg to be pulled ever deeper into its depths, to sink more and more into its wondrousness and deliciousness. Life, we cry! Awash in the stories redemption sings, we are astonished at the blood now flooding our veins, at our hearts which beat ever stronger. Where we had only bitter emptiness now overflows with grace's fruitful abundance. We thirst with an insatiable thirst for more. The thirst for this Beauty is never fully quenched.
There is always more.

He is waiting for you

Today was the first official feast day of newly-beatified Pope John Paul II! Deo gratias! Here is just one of my favorite quotes from him. There are so many!

It is Jesus that you seek when you dream of happiness, He is waiting for you when nothing else you find satisfies you; He is the beauty to which you are so attracted; it is He who provokes you with that thirst for fullness that will not let you settle for compromise; it is He who urges you to shed the masks of a false life; it is He who reads in your hearts your most genuine choices, the choices that others try to stifle. It is Jesus who stirs in you the desire to do something great with your lives, the will to follow an ideal, the refusal to allow yourselves to be grounded down by mediocrity, the courage to commit yourselves humbly and patiently to improving yourselves and society, making the world more human and more fraternal.

~ John Paul II, speaking to the young people of the world at World Youth Day 2000

Blessed John Paul the Great, ora pro nobis! We love you, Papa!

Heartsickness

{I began this post on the Friday that the very last Harry Potter movie was released in theatres - July 15th. I wrote much of it then, but only finished it up now, the 21st of August, after watching Goblet of Fire at home. Here you will find much rambling thoughts on Harry Potter and what he means to me and my life.}


I am not just a mere fan of Harry Potter. Sure, I might call myself a fan, though you'll never catch me using the silly term 'Potterhead' or whatever. xD No....I am much, much more than just a fan.

I never know where to begin when telling my Harry Potter story, but I suppose it would do to start by saying that at first, I was quite prejudiced against the Harry Potter books. I thought, looking at the books' American covers, that they looked quite silly and uninteresting. So I paid them no attention. Haha. Until one day when I was at a family friend's house for the day, and their little ones, much younger than I, liked HP and wanted to watch the first film, which had recently come out on DVD. This was August 2002. Begrudgingly, I said I would watch it with them. The rest, as they say, is history. The movie was unlike anything I even remotely thought Harry Potter would be like, and I was hooked. In the same way as I had done earlier that summer, when I had loved The Hobbit so much the first time I read it, I promptly read it again upon finishing it, I watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone a second time that day. Soon, it was time to go home. All I could think about was how much I wanted the books, the 4 which were out at that time. When I finally got my hands on all 4 books, I fell even more deeply into the stories, and it would be a long time before I emerged to even consider breathing anything other than Harry Potter.

That year was my 6th grade year. I won't go into a lot of detail here, but suffice it to say that it was a hard year, a dark year, for me. At 12 years old, I felt utterly alone in the world. Even my parents felt strangely distanced from me. I felt like I was in a room to myself, locked up, and no one, not even me, had the key to get inside. The pain -- I cannot even describe. The Harry Potter books became my solace, my hope, my haven in a world that suddenly felt alien and separated from me. An ache deep inside me was at last awoken in full, when only stirrings had I known before. I cannot even begin to tell you how many tears were shed, each and every night, almost. It was here that I learned how to cry quietly, silently, making no noise as I cried myself to sleep. Inside these books was a place that felt like home beyond what mere words can express, here were friends, true friends who would be like brothers and sisters to me. Words such as yearning, longing, aching came to define my life, and really, still do. At the same time, however, my immersion into Harry Potter carried an unexpected twist -- not only had it become a source of nourishment, a balm to soothe my bleeding soul -- it had become also my poison, the sword that wounded me. For I found that my longing had grown bitter and harsh over time, and no longer bore the sweetness and intoxicating joy and hope it once had. Something had gone wrong, inside of me. So I slowly, slowly made the decision to journey out of this 'land' that I had inhabited those many months, whose music to this day pierces me to my very core...

You see, something interesting and rather unexpected happened when I slowly 'emerged' from my Harry Potter immersion; though he no longer consumed my every waking thought and word that came out of my mouth, over time, he became part of the very foundation of who I am; Harry was absorbed into my very self, the fabric of my being, of what makes me uniquely me. I can no more separate Harry from who I am than I can separate my soul from my body --- which, even in death, is a temporary separation, false, and not meant to be. The body and the soul are to be forever reunited in the end, glorified and made perfect in God. For we are human beings: flesh and spirit. To 'extricate' Harry from myself would leave you with less than me. It would no longer be me, fully me. Only a piece, and incomplete.

Harry is now part and parcel of myself. This is why it hurts so much when he is attacked in some way by others, untruths said about him, slandered, belittled, or when others somehow, bewilderingly, just do not "like" or "enjoy" his Story very much. It is almost, to me, as if I am being attacked, and wounded, as this part of myself closes its doors to others' blindness and even sheer idiocy. I know it is not an actual attack on me personally, but still, it does hurt. As to those who just don't 'respond' to the story....I am not sure what to say, but that I cannot relate....that, in this area, you and I cannot relate, there are no binding threads between us. Perhaps in other ways, there are, but not in all.

I must say that if your soul does not resonate deeply with Harry akin to mine, then there will ever be a part of me that I cannot communicate to you, that is 'dark' to you, a part of me you cannot see or understand. This does not mean we cannot love each other and be friends --of course we can -- just that a very deep and sacred part of who I am remains hidden from you, and there is nothing I can do about that. I am sure, since God uses a myriad of things to reach His children, there are comparable things in your souls, perhaps, that I cannot grasp or understand about you for the same reason.

However, if you do understand what I mean when I speak of love for Harry, in some degree, in a similar way ...then a connection has been made, a bond forged. You know. A communion is shared, a gaze into each other that is rare indeed. And it requires no words, really, to express it. We can try, of course, as I do here, but we will both understand how feeble words are with something like this, when our words are so limited in the realm of the spirit, of the heart.

Years later, I would read a book, How Harry Cast His Spell, by John Granger. It made it crystal-clear to me why Harry meant so much to me when it did, and why it helped me how it did. Harry Potter is truly, like Narnia and Lord of the Rings, spiritual food in a spiritually starving world. I was spiritually starved, to be sure....and in Harry Potter I found such beauty, such Truth, that it filled my heart with a powerful longing for home and belonging and for adventure, magic, enchantment, the existence of things beyond my sight, of things beyond explanation, of epic battles between good and evil. I wanted very much to be able to fight for all that is good and true. I grew tired of cold, harsh, limited, sterile science and longed for Truth over mere physical "facts". (I have since learned that stripping science of its wonder and awe is one of the worst things the so-called "Enlightenment" did for us, though they left us a rather unfortunate legacy anyway, in many areas.)
I did not know for what I yearned with every fiber of my being (little did I know it was more a Who, not a what), though I felt it embodied best in words like home, true friends, beauty, magic, enchantment, adventure. Was this 'home' a place? I felt distant from my parents, whom I felt, at that dark time, did not love me (I know now they most certainly did and do). It took me not quite 4 years for me to find this 'home', but find it I did. :)

No matter what I say or connect it to down the years in my life, I will never be able to fully convey what Harry means to me. He is wrapped up in everything.


A lot of the time, I just feel generally sick, heartsick.


How is it that these songs have wound their way into my skin, flow in my blood and nestle in my bones? What is it that makes my heart leap into my throat and tears well up in my eyes when certain songs are heard, this ache, this ache that is so hard to put to words?! The characters, the people --- you love them, as family. They have, indeed, become family. And loving them like family, you grieve with them, laugh with them, weep and rejoice with them.

What maddeningly brief glimpses of Truth do we see, and make us pant for more? Whispers, hints, and reminders of Eden and our exile is felt all the more painfully. We look in the windows and see far beyond -- and within -- and our heart of hearts cries out for the home we never left, but are too blind as yet to see. Oh! The curse of Uncle Andrew Eyes! (and ears) Its poison seeps through us all. We live in a world of enchantment and wonder but have our heads in the sand, our eyes on the cave wall. Whither has the magic gone? Oh, does it hide in the forest like Old Narnia, beaten back by fear and hate, or does it perish with forgetting, like the gods of old? Or Tinker Bell, when disbelief struck at her beating heart. Or perhaps like Avalon, protected from our finding, and our abuse. With denial comes withdrawal, no longer wanted or respected in any way, and seeking solace in the hidden places. The stars they sing and dance in their courses, but deaf and blind we look away.

What powers and gifts lie within us, lost? Left beneath a tree's dark shade with half-eaten fruit among them. Some linger on, bent and weakened, but most are just a memory. What has our disbelief earned us? The ties that bind us one to each other all tangled and twisted and frayed, how great is our rebellion against the Weaver's hand.

Why does Hogwarts feel like home, unique and distinct from the way that Narnia, too, and Middle-earth, feel like home? Oh, to wrap myself in it and breathe it in deeply into my lungs!

Yes, yes, there is a chapel at Hogwarts, I am sure of it. And Catholic, too -- for Hogwarts was young and forming when England Mary's Dowry was. How did the Reformation -- a schism tearing the Mystical Body apart-- touch the magical community? What were, or are, their views of the crown?

Imagine, the Greatest Miracle ---of Love-- on an altar, in a magical school! The wizard priest whose consecrated hands thus bear Love Incarnate should tremble at the Deeper Magic, and so should all who take It into their flesh and bones. Here, the true Master of Death reigns, He the true bearer of all three Hallows.


It is with Harry that we journey through darkness, pain and strife, with him that we cry and laugh and love, with him that we forge lasting memories of friends and adopted family and school lessons and life lessons, with him that we swallow our fear to fight for what's right, good, true, and beautiful, with him that we learn that we must first die before we can rise from the ashes, and with him that we learn that unconditional, sacrificial love is the greatest, most powerful magic of all.


Oh, I am truly heartsick, and this sickness doth within me dwell for all my days, until I die.

No story lives unless someone wants to listen. The stories we love best do live in us forever. ...So, whether you come back by page or by the big screen, Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home.

~ J.K. Rowling

The Three in One and One in Three

Sunday was the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, belief in Whom is the foundation of our Faith. It was also Father's Day in America, which I think is truly fitting, considering the father of a family should model the love of our Heavenly Father, and together with the mother should model the love that is the Trinity to their children. Indeed, marriage and the family itself is an icon of the Trinity, imaging to the world the Trinitarian communion of love, through the love of husband and wife that is incarnated, embodied, in their children. I posted some excellent links on the day on Facebook, I highly recommend them. One is Fr. Robert Barron offering a stirring homily;

God is Trinity. He is fundamentally a relationship: a lover, a beloved and the love between them. In other words, God is a complete openness and receptivity to the other. He is love. Now, we believe we are made in the image of God. Thus, we become fully alive to the degree that we imitate God.

In another, Deacon Mike Bickerstaff offers an excellent primer, 'The Inner Life of God', on this Mystery of our Faith, including the actual 'definition' of the Trinity, and connects it to each of us as made in His image:

Man and woman were created in the image and likeness of God. Although we may lose the likeness of God by sin, we never forfeit the image. Thus, in learning about God and coming to better know who He is through the doctrine of the Trinity, we learn something about ourselves. We were not made to be solitary beings; we were made to be in community. We were created to live and love as God does.

And from the blog The Christocentric Life comes another beautiful meditation on what the Trinity means for us and our lives:

We are born in relationship with the Blessed Trinity. We have the gift of life because the Triune Community of Love breathed life into us. Stop for a minute. Meditate upon the model of perfect love and unity given to us by the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This unending union of love, beauty, joy and wisdom is the reason we exist. We are made by, and made for, unity and love. What will happen if we begin to live this Trinitarian vision? Jesus says that if we do then "...they also may be in them, so that the world may believe that You have sent me." We will show Jesus to the world in how we love one another.

Also from the blog Beginning to Pray, we find another post on the Trinity and specifically the thoughts of Blessed Elizabeth of the Trinity, and how we ought to approach prayer. Simply, humbly...if you struggle with praying, read this!

...we only become most fully the creature we are predestined to be in Christ through completely entering into this mystery and allowing God to enter into us. The Three in One and One in Three is our true home, the fulfillment of all desire, our inheritance with the saints, the Abyss of Mercy, the Furnace of Love, our heavenly homeland.

I hope you go and read and listen to each one I just shared, but what I want to share with you here is the beautiful prayer that this Blessed Elizabeth of the Trinity, a French Carmelite nun who died at the young age of 26, composed. It is now beloved and prayed around the world, and we are each invited to make it our own. Some pray it each day; perhaps I should start doing that, too... what graces lie in wait for those who pray and meditate on these words each day, I am sure!

O my God, Trinity whom I adore; help me to forget myself entirely that I may be established in You as still and as peaceful as if my soul were already in eternity. May nothing trouble my peace or make me leave You, O my Unchanging One, but may each minute carry me further into the depths of Your mystery. Give peace to my soul; make it Your heaven, Your beloved dwelling and Your resting place. May I never leave You there alone but be wholly present, my faith wholly vigilant, wholly adoring, and wholly surrendered to Your creative Action.

O my beloved Christ, crucified by love, I wish to be a bride for Your Heart; I wish to cover You with glory; I wish to love You...even unto death! But I feel my weakness, and I ask You to "clothe me with Yourself," to identify my soul with all the movements of Your Soul, to overwhelm me, to possess me, to substitute yourself for me that my life may be but a radiance of Your Life. Come into me as Adorer, as Restorer, as Savior.

O Eternal Word, Word of my God, I want to spend my life in listening to You, to become wholly teachable that I may learn all from You. Then, through all nights, all voids, all helplessness, I want to gaze on You always and remain in Your great light. O my beloved Star, so fascinate me that I may not withdraw from Your radiance.

O consuming Fire, Spirit of Love, "come upon me," and create in my soul a kind of incarnation of the Word: that I may be another humanity for Him in which He can renew His whole Mystery.

And You, O Father, bend lovingly over Your poor little creature; "cover her with Your shadow," seeing in her only the "Beloved in whom You are well pleased."

O my Three, my All, my Beatitude, infinite Solitude, Immensity in which I lose myself, I surrender myself to You as Your prey. Bury Yourself in me that I may bury myself in You until I depart to contemplate in Your light the abyss of Your greatness.

And in the original French:

O mon Dieu, Trinité que j'adore, aidez-moi à m'oublier entièrement pour m'établir en vous, immobile et paisible comme si déjà mon âme était dans l'éternité! Que rien ne puisse troubler ma paix ni me faire sortir de Vous, ô mon Immuable, mais que chaque minute m'emporte plus loin dans la profondeur de votre Mystère. Pacifiez mon âme, faites-en votre ciel, votre demeure aimée et le lieu de votre repos; que je ne vous y laisse jamais seul, mais que je sois là tout entière, tout éveillée en ma foi, tout adorante, toute livrée à votre action créatrice.

O mon Christ aimé crucifié par amour, je voudrais être une épouse pour votre cœur; je voudrais vous couvrir de gloire, je voudrais vous aimer...jusqu'à en mourir! Mais je sens mon impuissance et je Vous demande de me revêtir de Vous-même, d'identifier mon âme à tous les mouvements de votre Âme; de me submerger, de m'envahir, de Vous substituer à moi, afin que ma vie ne soit qu'un rayonnement de votre Vie. Venez en moi comme Adorateur, comme Réparateur et comme Sauveur.

O Verbe éternel, parole de mon Dieu, je veux passer ma vie à Vous écouter, je veux me faire tout enseignable afin d'apprendre tout de Vous; puis, à travers toutes les nuits, tous les vides, toutes les impuissances, je veux vous fixer toujours et demeurer sous votre grande lumière. O mon Astre aimé, fascinez-moi pour que je ne puisse plus sortir de votre rayonnement.

O Feu consumant, Esprit d'amour, survenez en moi afin qu'il se fasse en mon âme comme une incarnation du Verbe; que je Lui sois une humanité de surcroît, en laquelle il renouvelle tout son mystère.

Et vous, ô Père, penchez-Vous vers votre pauvre petite créature, ne voyez en elle que le Bien-aimé en lequel Vous avez mis toutes vos complaisances.

O mes Trois, mon Tout, ma Béatitude, Solitude infinie, Immensité où je me perds, je me livre à Vous comme une proie; ensevelissez-vous en moi, pour que je m'ensevelisse en Vous, en attendant d'aller contempler en votre lumière l'abîme de vos grandeurs.

Blessings to everyone on this Father's Day -- may St. Joseph pray and intercede for and protect all fathers, biological and spiritual, today and always; and may the beauty and love of the Holy Trinity -- our Creator, our God, Infinite Love Who Loves us Infinitely -- dwell in your hearts always, leading you ever nearer to communion with and union in Him.

The universe of the other

Pope Benedict recently gave an address to the John Paul II Institute for Studies on Marriage and the Family. It is absolutely beautiful! So I am excerpting a part of it here, hoping it will get you to read the whole thing. Though I must say it is hard to not just quote all of it! ;)

The body speaks to us of an origin that we did not confer on ourselves. “You knit me together in my mother’s womb,” the Psalmist of the Lord says (Psalm 139:13). We can say that the body, in revealing the Origin to us, bears in itself a filial meaning, because it reminds us of our generation, that derives, through our parents who transmitted life to us, from God the Creator. Only when he recognizes the originary love that gave him life, can man accept himself, can he reconcile himself with nature and the world. Following that of Adam is the creation of Eve. The flesh, received from God, is called to render possible the union of love between man and woman and to transmit life. The bodies of Adam and Eve, before the Fall, appear in perfect harmony. There is a language in them that they did not create, an eros rooted in their nature, that invites them mutually to receive themselves from the Creator, to be able thus to give themselves.

So, we understand that in love man is “re-created.” “Incipit vita nova,” Dante said (“Vita Nuova I, 1) -- “the new life begins” -- the life of the new union of the two in one flesh. The true appeal of sexuality is born from the greatness of this horizon that discloses integral beauty, the universe of the other person and the “we” that is born in the union, the promise of the communion that is hidden there, the new fruitfulness, the path that love opens to God, font of love. The union of one flesh is thus made a union for life so that man and woman also become one spirit. In this way a path is opened in which the body teaches us the value of time, of the slow maturation in love. In this light the virtue of chastity receives a new meaning. It is not a “no” to pleasures and to the joy of life, but the great “yes” to love as profound communication between persons, that requires time and respect, as a journey together toward fullness and as love that becomes able to generate life and generously welcome the new life that is born.

This is just a small taste of the richness of what our Papa Benedetto has said. So go on already and read the whole thing! You won't be disappointed. It is truly a profound and thought-provoking reflection on the goodness and beauty with which our bodies -- with which we ourselves-- have been made, and the meaning it then gives to being human. Deo gratias! There is much to chew on here. I'd love to hear which parts particularly struck you, so feel free to comment! :)

Diving into Freedom

I just stumbled across this absolutely wonderful reflection from the Sisters of Life, and I would like to share it with all of you! Please feel free to pass it along to others, its message is so badly needed in this day and age.

An excerpt:

You are made in the image and likeness of God, springing forth from the heart of the Trinity. You are made in the image of Christ. You reflect a unique aspect of the FACE of GOD that no one before you or after you will ever bear. You are unrepeatable, precious, and sacred. God loved and willed you into existence, and it is His personal, intimate, passionate love for you right now, that is holding you in being. If God stopped loving you for a split nanosecond, not only would you cease to exist, but it would be as if you never were. Our hearts were created by God and for God, and nothing less than the Infinite One can satisfy us. Only friendship with God can satisfy the deepest longings for freedom and love in our hearts.

Read the whole thing here!

Each life is irreplaceable

I came across this today... so true, so true. May we all stop and think about what is being said when the "dangers" of "overpopulation" are touted. Overpopulation, my foot. Europe is dying (case in point: pregnant women in northern Italy are now going to be offered money to not have an abortion.), and the rest of the planet is not far behind. All people are of great worth and value. Tell me, who are you going to go up to and say "You don't deserve to live." ????


Of course, it's the girls, the unborn, the disabled, the elderly, the poor....

Like a window

Do please read this lovely reflection on Christianity and Beauty by Cardinal Marc Ouellet. You won't be sorry! :)

An excerpt:

Our world easily doubts truth; it is tempted, too, to despair in the goodness of being, but it is still sensitive to beauty. How many artists suffer in ways that can at times lead them to the verge of personal shipwreck, but the beauty that fascinates them also saves them from drowning. The beautiful opens the heart to another dimension, like a window onto the infinite.

A gift of song

One thing that has passed in and out of my mind for about a year now (it was more on my mind last year, as I graduated high school) has been the desire to start, somehow, a little choir that’s sole purpose would be to sing, free of charge, for the poor and forgotten. Meaning, the people in homeless shelters, nursing homes, domestic violence shelters, soup kitchens, the sick and/or dying in the hospital, and the like. And the music would be mostly sacred music, music they mostly no doubt have little exposure to. (of course there can be exceptions)

The ethereal-yet-earthy sounds of Medieval and Renaissance church music, of chant, and of other, later works, too. Right up to more modern works by composers such as Eric Whitacre (=love, lol) and Joshua Shank. (both utilize dissonant chords, and dissonance in the right places, done correctly, can be the good-goosebump-inducing, unearthly-seeming kind). :)

Why? Because these people are starved for beauty. Time and time again, I heard my HS choral director Roberts tell us that “this concert, that night…” [whichever one it may be] may be the highlight of someone/s in the audience’s Christmas season (if it was that time), or their best night in weeks, even months. He would remind us of the current recession and economic anxiety. How people are pulled thin and stressed out to the extreme. Just one hour (or less) of beautiful music, immersed in another world, can refresh them completely.

My own mother would tell me this – that our concerts were the things she looked forward to most, and the things that refreshed her the most. They allowed her to, if only temporarily, shed all the cares and worries of the rest of the day, the world, of life. I know she is not the only one.

Of course, music is special among the arts. She is sort of the one that connects all the others, somehow, and it is music that most breaks down the ‘barrier’ between the human and the Divine. It is music that most seems to border on another world, causing the already thin veil between them (which can seem to us humans like a wall at times) to flutter… Music is no ordinary thing.

But I regress. Roberts told us to give our all, to give “110%” – to always enunciate so the “little blue-haired lady in the back” can hear what we say (when we sing a song in English), to put our hearts into it, to “tell the story.” To touch people. Music is our gift, he said, to give to the world. He would say that he believes that we were put on this world for two reasons: “to worship God, and to uplift our fellow man.”

And so we sang as a gift. A gift to our families, friends, strangers we’d never meet. For each other.

For God.

When we sang in the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Louis in April of 2009, it was unbelievable. No words to describe it. It was hard for all of us not to cry. I had been there before, in 2007, so I was prepared and eager to see the immense beauty of it. But my 98% Protestant choir-mates were not. Stunned down to their toes, they wandered the Cathedral Basilica with wide eyes, excited whispers, little gasps of surprise and pleasure, awe and wonder written all over their faces. Cameras flashed over and over. Later, I heard some say its beauty was such that it “almost made them want to be Catholic.” (!!! :D) Beauty, true beauty, is a powerful sign of the sacred. It always seems to cause us to look beyond this life to Something More, to True Beauty, which is God. Yet at the same time, beauty is anchored in the things of this world. In colors and sounds and smells and earthy things. It connects heaven and earth. Beauty is also a powerful restorative, bringing healing and relief to the soul.

And somehow, my thoughts wandered to those who have never had the chance to hear such music, nor visit such stunning, breath-taking holy places, such as the Cathedral. Yet I know that both things are meant for all people. Anyone is allowed to visit a church, to go to Mass, to hear such music sung at Mass. But of course – an awful lot of what is sung in Catholic churches these days is a load of rubbish and sounds like awful, pained imitation Broadway show-tunes.

(The best of Broadway music can be lovely and beautiful and fun, true music of its own kind, of course not suitable for Mass, but this stuff at church doesn’t even come close to good Broadway. Or good pop, rock, or anything else like that. It’s all rubbish and dulls the senses.)

And also, an awful lot of Catholic churches these days are indistinguishable from the office buildings down the street, or whatever. They bear no resemblance inside or outside to a house of God, a place of worship, a place of beauty.

After all, the high vaulted ceilings of Gothic cathedrals of the Medieval age were built to lift the eye up, up to light, up to the heavens, ‘up’ to God. Holy Mother Church, in her wisdom, filled the church space with beauty that both instructs and inspires.

So, I thought, drawing inspiration from the little student ensemble (from a local university) that would sometimes sing at Mass at my parish (which the people ate up like candy, who are sadly also starved for beauty)…why not start a vocal ensemble of say, no more than 30 or so people, whose mission would be to share this beauty with those who generally don’t often have access to it?

Again, they are starved for beauty. Not only are a lot of them materially poor, they are deprived of beauty, of spiritual or transcendent beauty, of a respite from the workaday, ugly world that surrounds them, or the loneliness that creeps up on them. And so on.

One thing I have learned in becoming Catholic is that not only can one be materially poor or impoverished, one can also be spiritually poor. Now, this is not the same as being “poor in spirit,” as in the Beatitudes, which refers to the virtue of humility (as opposed to pride). Being spiritually impoverished can mean any number of different things, including those who claim no need for God, those deprived of the Gospel, those given warped ideas about God, the Church, bad theology, etc, those with little to no awareness of the spiritual in any form, or the transcendent, or deprivation of beauty. Because beauty is one of the chief ways God reaches us, for He made us very sensory, ‘sensual’ beings. And so on. Spiritual poverty of this kind takes many forms and is something of a pandemic in our post-modern world. So many addictions, obsessions and compulsions of all kinds – all attempts, conscious or subconscious, at filling the God-shaped ‘void’ in our hearts. We make for ourselves so many false idols that take a myriad of forms – science, politics, sex, entertainment, power, money, “stuff”, sports, social status, work, even work at church, even knowledge…the list goes on. None of them intrinsically evil or bad, we just take it to excess and turn it into a god of sorts. We are a culture that is trying so hard to run away from God, while at the same time desperately seeking Him in our heart of hearts.

I was starved for beauty once. I didn’t call it that because I wasn’t aware of it like I am now. I had no language to articulate what I was feeling with. But that’s what it was. I longed for all the tangible, old, beautiful expressions of faith, the mystical and enchanted – stained glass windows, candles, statues, art, incense, old church buildings, the holy water, the rosaries. The sunlight streaming through the colored panes. The bells ringing, the flowers around the church…and this is just with regards to churches! I longed for beautiful old English homes and cottages, the gorgeous English gardens, I loved and still love period films for the costumes and sets…the list could go on and on and on and on. Beauty is a powerful pull to God, who is Ultimate Beauty.

In a way, I am still starved for beauty. I do not get incense at every Mass, or Mass ad orientem (facing east, pointing to the rising sun [Son]) at my parish. No beautiful music, either, even though we have an organ and a choir loft. With a little training, it would be easy to start a little schola to sing the Gregorian chant propers for Mass. But nooooo, we don’t even try. The makeshift “choir” formed for special occasions or feasts such as Christmas is hardly a choir, with not enough male voices, too many (well-meaning) aging ones that push the tone and pitch awry, and is not allowed to sing from the choir loft!! A group of people standing in front of Mary’s altar singing is a pointless distraction during Mass. They are not there to perform, which is what my Chorale did at the Cathedral Basilica, they are there to provide the music for Mass. Meaning they should be heard, not seen. Whereas in an actual choral performance outside of Mass, it is appropriate to sing around the sanctuary steps/altar rail, etc, as we did.

At the Mass in the Tridentine Rite, locally just starting up, they have to have it in the local “cathedral” which is technically old, but ransacked in the 70’s or whatever, if you get what I mean. -____- The interior is greatly altered and not ideal for the Tridentine. :(

And besides, we are all spiritually impoverished in some way or other, some greater, some lesser. For we are human and imperfect, and on this side of life for now. We all hunger for the Cosmos in the Chaos of life. The God-ache in our hearts is God calling us to Him. We need that longing for the soul’s Beloved. It pushes us along in our pursuit of a holy life lived for God. It is the spark that causes us to seek Him, to run to Him. In the same way that two lovers long for each other…

But now I am rambling on.

Somehow, God willing, I hope to form such an ensemble within the year. How am I going to do this?!

I don’t read music very well, honestly. Or know enough about conducting or directing to do it. I’d like it to be mostly students, if possible. To be young people giving back. It would take work and time and organization. If we were all in choir together normally, we could start out with songs we all know from there, which is helpful. And also, it occurred to me that most of the places these people are to be found – homeless shelters, etc – are not acoustically conducive for such music. In the case of nursing home residents, we’d have to stay there, which is fine. But if it is at all possible, I’d love to somehow bring the others we’d sing for to a nearby church building that is built more traditionally (and therefore more acoustically conducive).

I suppose this is the place I should ask for your prayers for such an endeavor. :P Indeed, yes, I ask for your prayers. I have so many ideas similar to this in scale, I have no idea how I could possibly do them all. Oh, sigh. :( But I really hope to be able to do this. It would be amazing and would be an unusual, but needed, way to minister to the downtrodden and the “least of these.”

...................

"Greatly did I weep at the beauty of your hymns and canticles, moved deeply by the sweet chants of your Church’s music. The voices flowed into my ears and truth was poured forth into my heart, from which the emotion of my devotion overflowed: tears ran from my eyes and I was blessed in them." ~ St. Augustine

We are miracles

Dear God, how beautiful and amazing life is!

To think - I could carry one of these new little human beings inside me, help them to grow.... just the thought of it always stuns and moves me. ♥




♫ And I've got my heart set on what happens next,
I've got my eyes wide, it's not over yet.
We are miracles, and we're not alone. ♫

The Story of the Whole World

This trailer made me smile so much and nearly cry. I want to see this!!! Ah...yes. ♥

To bathe in it, to become part of it

I came across this quote today. I sure do need to someday read everything he's written. My book list is only ever getting longer.... xD
How true this is, too...I know how this feels with every inch of me...

What more, you may ask, do we want? … We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words—to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.

—C. S. Lewis, "The Weight of Glory"

At the edge of these two worlds

Excusing his few typos here and there (lol), Jonathan Mark Foreman has yet again managed to strike a chord deep within me and make me think and ponder, pray and wonder. Thank you for writing this, Jon. Thank you for being so utterly and beautifully human. ♥

Click here to read his article "What's in a Word?"



(and one can see how pro-life he is; he uses that language of pregnancy and birth, etc that I so love.)


Thank you, God, for leading me to this today. The little graces you send me keep the fire burning in my heart, even if the shadows threaten and leer. <3

it hurts where he stands

So I went to the March for Life in DC this year! I have wanted to for some years now. :)

And now that I am back, I have no idea where to even BEGIN in terms of talking about it. So darn much happened in a few days! At least, it seemed so to me.

So while I try to collect all my thoughts, or even just a few of them, here I will post one of my new favorite songs. God gave me some new music to love during this trip... it was so unexpected, and this song is so beautiful. It truly is. I heard it sung live, shall we say, and in person, by the man you will hear singing it. It's called "On My Way," written and performed by Vince Scheuerman of the band Army of Me.

(there is also a funny, rather awkward story in connection with this song. It will be told later.)

;)

Without further ado:

Click to listen (also has lyrics).

Lyrics:

"Head To The Heart" is the name of the road
'Cross mountains, valleys, switchbacks, and stones
The longest of journeys that I've ever known
To take me, take me home

I walked for many-a-miles, many-a-days
Months became years, they asked me my age
I said, "I couldn't see what difference it makes
Once we reach, we reach home."

Off in the distance, there must be a place
Somewhere to find rest, some light on your face
She said, "I've always been open
So come through my gate."
I said, "Love, I'm on my way
I'm on my way."

I started to doubt that I might arrive
Sometimes I wandered and one time I cried
On the breast of a woman who paid a high price
To say "yes"
"Yes" to home

I asked her, "What does it feel like?"
"And how will I know?"
"How long must I wait?"
"Which way do I go?"
She said, "I've always been open
So come through my gate."
I said, "Love, I'm on my way
I'm on my way."

One day in the distance, a mountain did rise
But one that was different, it wore a disguise
I saw my destination for the first time
Yes, I saw it clearly, but not with my eyes

And when I arrived I met a young man
He showed me his heart
He showed me his hands
He wore a strange crown
Said it hurts where he stands, but "welcome
Welcome home."

I said, "Show me the table
I'm a traveling man
I'll eat every last crumb
I'll take all that I can
And she said, "I've always been open
So come through my gate."
I said, "Love, I'm on my way
I'm on my way."

So, "Head To The Heart" is the name of the road
'Cross mountains, valleys, switchbacks, and stones
The longest of journeys that I've ever known
To take me, take me home