Concepts I Don’t Understand

April 30, 2013 at 6:06 pm (Silliness) ()

Skipping breakfast, the undecided voter, the NRA, not using turn signals, Humvees for civilian use, jeggings, Jell-o, reality television, short stories, boxing, misuse of  first person singular pronouns, humming, bourbon, what happens to all those socks in the laundry, and lastly, perfume, cologne, aftershave, air freshener, smelly candles and room spray.

This isn’t an exhaustive list by any means.


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April 29, 2013 at 12:36 pm (Community, Faith) (, )

It was a busy Sunday, hardly a day of rest, with seemingly each member of the family running in different directions. Hockey at 7:30, clean up for the previous night’s event at 9, a performance at 11, 1 and 4…we couldn’t get to any of our usual masses, so we found ourselves at one of the “last-chance masses” downtown on Sunday evening.

We pounded sandwiches for dinner on our way down, and arrived soaked to the skin from an evening rainstorm. I led our bedraggled little group to a pew on the right-hand side of the church, all the way up at the front. As we filed in, I realized that the woman sitting directly in front of us was homeless.  She had several black garbage bags stuffed full of her belongings with her in the pew. She smelled. Her white hair was greasy, hanging in limp hanks across her shoulders, and her layer upon layers of clothing were dirty.

I sighed as I shuffled my kids to the other side, away from her.  “I don’t want to touch her,” I said to myself, the Kiss of Peace looming in my mind.  I couldn’t pay attention to the readings, or the homily, or even the music, as I worried about how I could avoid shaking her hand.  Maybe I could feign a cold, smiling politely as I pretended not to want to share my germs.  Perhaps I could duck out to go to the bathroom, using my youngest as a beard.  Or I could just occupy myself in the other direction, looking at her ruefully as we ran out of time to share a handshake.

I hadn’t quite picked my strategy when I saw her stand up to leave.  She exited the pew and headed up to the altar, placing her garbage bags over the altar rail.

“What on earth?” I wondered.  “Is she mentally disordered to boot?  Will someone need to do something?”

She walked over to one of the now ubiquitous containers of hand sanitizer and rubbed her hands together.  I watched her in bemusement, still not catching on.  As she approached the priest and the altar, I finally got it.  This woman whom I had disdained, this creature of God whom I had considered unworthy of my touch was going to distribute the Body of Christ to the community…to me, and it was I who was utterly unloveable and unworthy.  I burst into tears, and my oldest asked if I was ok.  I shook my head and got up to receive the Eucharist, great heaving sobs wracking my body and tears pouring down my face.

The woman smiled at me as I approached her and I swear to you, she could read my mind.  Her smile said to me that she knew me, she forgave me, and she loved me.  Her face now seemed beautiful to me, shining in the light of the candles and lanterns.  Of course she was beautiful, for she was Divine.

“The Body of Christ,” she said, placing the Host on my upturned palms.

“Amen,” I choked and I fled back to my pew and knelt, hiding my face in my hands.

I wept for the rest of mass.

I wish I could tell you that afterwards I approached her, and introduced myself and begged her pardon and hugged her and redeemed myself.  I could tell you that, but it would be untrue.  Here’s the end of the story.  After communion, she disappeared and I cried all the way home, eventually choking out what happened to my husband in sign language and words of one syllable, and even though this happened months ago, I’m crying writing it down now.

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Revolutionary Soccer Moms Unite!

April 29, 2013 at 3:46 am (Community, Faith, Politics) (, )

I give you a new commandment: love one another.
As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.
This is how all will know that you are my disciples,
if you have love for one another.”

John 13:34-35

Today’s homily, courtesy of Father Franciscan, belonged to my favorite phylum – we’ll call it:  “Jesus Was an Expletive Radical, and We’re Probably Not Doing it Right.”  (I won’t specify which expletive, since my dad reads the blog and I don’t want to offend him, and also, after the week I had I’m not sure how much credit I have Upstairs…but it rhymes with “plucking.”)

As he mulled over today’s gospel reading (excerpted above), FF asked why there were any poor among us if we were following Jesus’ commandment.  That’s an uncomfortable question to hear posed in our comfortably well-off parish.  I was SUPER uncomfortable when FF brought up St. Basil the Great, who said:

“The bread which you do not use is the bread of the hungry; the garment hanging in your wardrobe is the garment of him who is naked; the shoes that you do not wear are the shoes of the one who is barefoot; the money that you keep locked away is the money of the poor; the acts of charity that you do not perform are so many injustices that you commit.”

There are a LOT of garments hanging in my wardrobe.  My husband calls me a clothes horse, while I would say simply, “well-dressed.”  I don’t really want to share those garments, and in fact, I’d like to add more to the pile.  I told a friend after church today that were I to win the lottery (which would take a miracle, since I never buy a ticket) the only thing that would change would be the frequency with which I buy and the amount I spend on clothes.  So if you tell me that those same garments, both real and imagined, are really the property of the poor, well, I might drop another expletive.

On the other hand, yesterday at mass (double dipping in the church chip bowl this weekend – why aren’t I a better person?!  I should probably go to church tomorrow too), Father Pastor mentioned St. Teresa of Avila’s prayer, which is one of my very favorites of all time:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

So I guess the take-home is that Christ wouldn’t be using his hands to order clothes on the interwebs or his feet to walk to the mall?  I have a LOT of work to do.

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