My husband has said for years that he thinks that Tantum Ergo would make a great lullaby. I never disagreed with him (all eye-rolling to the contrary) but now I have a few more ideas.
Enter Rockabye Baby!
I grew up in a home that was rather loud and did not include much in the way of lullabies or rock. I would not actually buy this for any child in my care, but I still find it rather hilarious.
What do you think of nontraditional lullabies and baby soothing?
For the many options available for daily mass and communion services, and the fact that the different parishes provide a continual reminder that the only thing that really matters is the Body of Christ: in the Eucharist, and the people who gather for the celebration. It is hard to get caught up in a building or ideas about how liturgy should be run when one is surrounded by reminders of how blessed we are to have such access to God.
At the end of last September I realized that I was headed toward hell.1 I sat in Adoration reading random chapters from Schönborn’s My Jesus and wondering what on earth I was doing with my life.
Schönborn quoted Matthew 25:31-46 and then he wrote:
It is God’s Final Judgement. But how will it come about? What standard will be used to measure; which criteria will be used to judge? Two big surprises:
The Judgement has already taken place. Only at the end will that which was decided long ago become clear. Everything was decided where we might have expected it too little or not at all: in the attitude toward my neighbor. How I ultimately stand before God one day is decided today by the question of whether I was aware of my ill neighbor and visited him. Jesus names six instances of need: the hungry, the thirsty, strangers, the naked, the sick, and those in prision. They stand for all forms of need and suffering.
And now the second surprising thing: Jesus identifies himself with all those who suffer such deprivation. Whoever notices them finds him. Whoever does them good also does it to him. “When did we see you and help you?” to this amazing question Jesus gives the decisive answer: “As you did it to one of the least of these my brethern, you did it to me.”
What counts with God is the love and attention given selflessly and as a matter of course to the neghbor who needs my help. On this, Jesus tells us, your eternal salvation is decided. The decision to do this is made daily, and the importan thing is, not whether we are aware of it, but that we do it.
One thing frightens me about Jesus’ discussion of the judgement of the world: the “goats” on the left who are given over to eternal punishment, did not at all realize they had failed to see God when they did not turn their attention to those suffering need. How easily our neighbor is overlooked! In God’s sight, failure to do good weighs more heavily than doing evil. I might comfort myself with the fact that I hve not killed anyone. But that is not enough in God’s sight if I have nevertheless found no time for the sick, have not noticed the hunger and thirst of my neighbor, have not given shelter to strangers, in short, if I have been unaware of the needy.
Sins of omission should frighten us. For whatever good I have failed to do is irretriveably past. My neghbor, who might have needed me, whom I failed to see (maybe because I was too preocupied with myself and my wishes), was Jesus himself, who was waiting for me. My God, help me so that I will be able to show in my last hour at least a few moments when I served you in my suffering neighbor.
I was shocked in a stomach-in-knots way to think that I was headed to hell because, well, I live in a sort of ongoing communion with God. As one with stronger evangelical tendencies might say, I had a personal relationship with Jesus. He would not send me to hell! Does it really matter that much that the communion is on my terms, so long as I am a fairly good person who follows all the rules?
Yes, yes it does. To the extent that the communion is on my terms, it is not fully communion with God. And as for following all the rules… I could only think that I was obedient when I conveniently forgot about the most important Rules of love and self-sacrifice. It was pretty clear that I was headed toward hell. The truth was screaming at me from the pages and it seemed that the Real Presence of the Lord was there in a sort of head-tilted-to-the side, hate-to-tell-you way with the affirmation that it was true. I was not loving God. I was doing what worked for me. And since what works for me happens to line up rather well with going to Mass and Reconciliation, following the Ten Commandments, and all the other things popularly associated with being Catholic; I could actually sit in Church struggling over what to confess.
But I had forgotten about the works of mercy. I had forgotten about living as Christ. I knew that Christ has no body on earth but mine, but I did not really believe it.
For Catholics, living like Christ is summed up in a short list that many of us like to forget so quickly that most non-Catholics do not even know that the Church cares about anything other than contraception and gay marriage. But Catholics are required to:
Feed the hungry
Give drink to the thirsty
Clothe the naked
Shelter the homeless
Visit the sick
Visit the imprisoned
Bury the dead
Instruct the ignorant
Council the doubtful
Admonish the sinner
Bear wrongs patiently
Forgive all injuries willingly
Comfort the afflicted
Pray for the living and the dead
I could handle the burying the dead part since I did not have any dead people to worry about, but otherwise I solidly failed both lists. And I knew it.
It has been a little over four months, and this story does not have a happy ending. Yes, I took action in early October. I started looking for Jesus in those around me and taking little things more seriously. But I did not really understand the ramifications of my insufferable, unbearable privilege. I kept thinking in vague terms about how my actions impacted others in their suffering, but did not focus on my suffering savior and what I could do to live most fully with God right now.
This past week has given me the chance to understand a bit more of what this all really means, but it still seems worthwhile to try to process these things in chunks rather than waiting for the complete picture. It is quite likely that I will need to spend the rest of my life remembering my inclination toward hell. And honestly, that is not a bad thing for me.
1. I do not even believe in hell in the way that most people understand the word, but ThePlaceWhereGodisNot is not where I want to be.
I do not write in books. I do not highlight in books. Books are our friends, and I do not believe in marking up my friends.
The only exception to this was the one time I was studying MacIntyre and trying out new study methods. I reasoned that I did not even like what I was reading, so I should get over my fear of disrespecting the books and write notes in the margins for discussions with my professor. A few days later my professor sent me an email. He wanted to know whether he could borrow one of my books to make copies for one of his classes. He knew that I did not write in my books and his were all covered with notes… thankfully I had only begun my attempts to defile the pages and the section of interest to my professor was still clean. But that stopped me from further attempts to get over my respect of books.
Since I could not write in books I turned to excessive bookmarking with 3×5 cards with notes written on the cards. But then one day someone picked up my book incorrectly and many of my notes fell out. So I started using post-it page markers. And now certain books bear a strong resemblance to porcipines.
How do you mark your books? Please share your strategies, but if you are one of those people who is so into writing and highlighting in your books that you also mark up library books, please do not tell me. I do not want to put a face on the one I have hated for all these years.
For the return of joy. Somehow this week most of my stress over our financial situation was replaced with thankfulness for all that I do have, and most especially for a great husband. I would much rather be homeless with a happy marriage than wealthy and fight over money.
Guest Post by Trena. I am really thankful for Trena’s decision to write about the pill in a way that most people never consider.
When I was a senior in high school, my period got really out of hand. For several months, I would come home sick the first day of my period. I would get so sick that I would vomit the entire day. Everything I ate, everything I drank, I eventually would dry heave the rest of the night. It was bad. It would be so unbearable and I was pulled out of school several months in a row. It wasn’t Toxic Shock Syndrome because my period was so heavy the first day that I couldn’t even wear a tampon. I would soak through a jumbo tampon in an hour easily. Instead, I would wear an overnight pad and change it every two hours. Like I said, it was unbearable. After several months of this happening my mom set up an appointment with a gynecologist.
He had a solution to the problem and it came in the form of a pill. It was the birth control pill but he said it also worked to help women who had issues with their menstral cycle. The only catch was that I had to make sure to take the pill every single day at the exact same time. No problem at all.
I started taking the pill and it was magic! My periods were no longer heavy and my sickness went away. That pill was my lifesaver and I was so thankful for it. It turned out, the pill came in handy for other reasons. Well, maybe it became a little too handy too. I mean, I had to take it for my female issues, so I might as well use it.
Fast forward seven years later when I meet the man of my dreams, Francis Wayne. I knew right away that he was the one and I even nicknamed him, “The One” to my friends. He was absolutely everything I wanted in a man and I was beyond Cloud 10.
He knew I was on the pill for female issues and it never really came up that I could use it for other reasons. But after we were dating for nine months, we started using it for other reasons. It just happened, something we really didn’t plan and both felt awful about. But the pill kept us safe and we just pushed the issue to the side. This went on for months and we both felt bad about what we were doing and knew we needed to stop, but neither one of us talked to the other person about it. Finally, a year had gone by, and one of us spoke up. I still don’t remember who it was, but thankfully that person did. I guess it was such a hard subject to talk about, even though it was a very important subject, that both of us were afraid to hurt the other person. But someone spoke and we decided it wasn’t right. We practiced our faith together, always attending Mass on the weekends, but we weren’t living what we were preaching. We kept thinking about God looking down on us and being ashamed. And then we were ashamed.
But words are weaker than will power and we all know how powerful the gift of will power is. So to keep to our word and know that there was no way to fall back on what we agreed, I stopped taking the pill. I knew that there would be a chance that my periods from hell would return but I weighed my options: periods from hell or feeling like I was in hell? I took the periods from hell.
And to my surprise, my periods were fine. All together I was on the pill for eight years. Gosh, that just makes me shiver to think how long I relied on that crutch to “cure” my female issues. When I look back at my life, I realize that when I was a senior I had stopped playing soccer and was no longer a cheerleader. My eating habits were disgusting as well. If I would have taken better care of my physical well-being then I may never have had the issues I had. Five years after starting the pill, I started to workout. (It is so gross to think that I went nearly five years without working out consistently!) I started taking kickboxing and was started my love for running. I started to watch what I was eating and was more conscience about making healthy choices. Two years later, when I met Frank, I ran my first marathon and was continuing with my healthy lifestyles.
So my female issues were solved by diet and exercise. The eight years of paying anywhere from $3 to $30 a month for the pill, depending on which insurance company I was with at the time,were fruitless. It not only robbed my bank account, made me believe it was fixing my issues but it also gave me the ability to do things I might not have done otherwise. The pill gave me power and honestly, I didn’t deserve that kind of power.
After I quit taking the pill, which led to us quiting another part of our life, we dated for four more years until our wedding day. And let me tell you, the wedding night was amazing. I’m thankful for the mistakes we made in our relationship because those mistakes only brought us closer to God and each other. We learned to trust in God’s Word deeper and practice what we preached. We learned to open our communication lines and trust each other, 100%. The pill did that for us by allowing us to give into pressure. But removing the pill, or I should call it, the band-aid, set us free.
More of Trena’s writing can be found at The Third Prayer. Please check it out!
Thomas Aquinas is one of my favorite Saints. This was not always the case. At first I struggled with the fact that Thomas devalued women, was a bit boring, and was over-cited by the sort of Catholics who disliked Pope John Paul II for being too progressive.
It did not help matters that my first real introduction consisted of Kreeft’s A Shorter Summa. I found the book significantly less than engaging and did not take further interest in the Summa Theologica until I found myself exploring it online after searching various topics. Suddenly Thomas was nothing if not interesting. A few years later I read more of Thomas in another class and was finally able to appreciate a bit of his genius for bringing together the Christian faith and classical reason. Turns out that Saint Augustine had not really covered everything.
Suddenly Saint Thomas was my hero. While he had his share of odd views, Thomas was a master at working out competing claims to truth. It also helped me to remember that, by the time of his death, Thomas was quite aware of the inadequacy of his work compared to the overwhelming beauty of mystical Truth. It seems likely that Thomas would be happy to look over my shoulder as I struggled with a part of the Summa and remind me that this was meant to be an introductory work for beginners with the best knowledge of his time. He did not offer it as the final word on anything.
And so Thomas became one of my models for working to learn from both Christian Tradition and the emerging philosophy of my time. I do not need to worry much about Aristotle, that has been worked out for me and bishops have long ago given up on condemning Thomas. But I do have to deal with feminist philosophy and the contemporary secular wisdom which forces me to wrap my mind around new truths in an attempt to understand how best to re-understand Truth.
And then, of course, there are Thomas’ prayers. I kept a copy of Thomas’ prayer before study over my desk:
Ineffable Creator,
Who, from the treasures of Your wisdom,
has established three hierarchies of angels,
has arrayed them in marvelous order
above the fiery heavens,
and has marshaled the regions
of the universe with such artful skill,You are proclaimed
the true font of light and wisdom,
and the primal origin
raised high beyond all things.Pour forth a ray of Your brightness
into the darkened places of my mind;
disperse from my soul
the twofold darkness
into which I was born:
sin and ignorance.You make eloquent the tongues of infants.
Refine my speech
and pour forth upon my lips
the goodness of Your blessing.Grant to me
keenness of mind,
capacity to remember,
skill in learning,
subtlety to interpret,
and eloquence in speech.May You
guide the beginning of my work,
direct its progress,
and bring it to completion.You Who are true God and true Man,
Who live and reign, world without end.
Amen
And it was only natural for me to love “O Salutaris Hostia”
O saving Victim, open wide
The gate of heaven to us below,
Our foes press on from every side;
Your aid supply, your strength bestow.To your great name be endless praise,
Immortal Godhead, One in Three;
O grant us endless length of days
In our true native land with thee. Amen.
In fact, it is one of the few things that I will say seems far better to me in Latin. Too bad Thomas is not around to translate for himself!
I have never been much of a football fan. I watched my first Super Bowl six years ago and only decided to care about the Patriots because my boss was cheering for the Panthers because he thought I cared about the Patriots.
Then I got married. And nothing changed. My husband cared about football even less than I did. My father-in-law was apparently the quarterback of his high school team but never cared that much about pro-football. I am sure that this had nothing to do with the fact that Mississippi does not have its own professional football team, nor with the fact that the New Orleans Saints just were not that inspiring. Anyway, according to Josh, his family never watched football other than the one time his parents made the children watch a game so that they would not be entirely clueless.
And then we moved back to Mississippi. And everyone was so excited about the fact that, for once in team history, the Saints were playing well. Very well. I did not care to follow any of the games, but I told Josh that we sort of had to cheer for the team given their name. He agreed and added that the team colors are actually some of the most appealing visually when it comes to clothing; and who can complain about the fleur-de-lis? 
Then there is the fact that you have to feel badly for the people of New Orleans and the Mississippi Gulf Coast. It rather stinks when your whole area is destroyed by a hurricane and everything takes years and years to rebuild. So it is really nice for them to have the happiness of football. I do not know whether it is the fact that winning is a surprise, or the results of Katrina, or something else entirely, but I have never seen complete communities as excited about a team in the way that they are here. And yes, that includes being in Boston when the Red Sox finally started winning. That was a different sort of crazy..
If all that were not enough reason to cheer for the Saints (and really, how could color preference not be enough to choose a team?) the issue was firmly settled yesterday. No, it was not the fact that the Saints won the game against the Vikings, it was what happened in Church.
The evening Mass apparently started just before the Saints game and the priest took note of the fact without mentioning the half-empty church. The homily was short (smart pastoral move, no?) and when the cantor announced the recessional hymn, the pianist broke in with “would it be inappropriate if we sang ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’ instead?” The priest said “that would be fun” and the congregation sang it with glee.
And so I asked myself what other team could possibly sing such a song in Church? The only thing that I could come up with was the Steelers with a twist, or being lifted up on Eagles’ wings, or maybe something about Jesus riding on a colt? But really, none of that can come close to belting out “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Since we do not have any songs praising Cardinals, I think the matter is closed. I am officially a Saints fan.
How could it be otherwise?
14,500 – 17,500.
That is how many people the State Department estimates are trafficked into the US each year. I have been meaning to post about human trafficking in the United States for a while, but it is so overwhelming.
So I was thrilled when I saw Kelly’s giveaway for a cause. All you have to do to be eligible to win a pashmina is to read a bit about the sad state of the law regarding human trafficking in California, and comment on Kelly’s post letting her know that you did so.
I do not remember ever posting about a giveaway before, but this one is different. Please enter it!
For fresh greens that have survived the “winter” indoors and are now growing well outside.
For a long-suffering friend who will put up with weeks worth of phone tag.
For a library card and a library that is finally rebuilt.
