My father, who studied the Kabbalah,  would have appreciated all the numeric coincidences connected to his date of death. First, the 30-day period after death is the fixed time for mourning in the Jewish tradition.  Thirty days after his death happened to be his 75th birthday, and also the end of the Mayan long-count calendar, and finally the Winter Solstice.

In Eastern Christianity, the soul is said to wander the world for 40 days after death, so there is a traditional service at the end of 40 days to mark the final passage to the afterlife.  For my father, that date fell on New Year's Eve.  So the whole world celebrated his passage.

Finally, something not quite as neat as those:  my father was 25 when I was born, I am 50 and he was 75 this year - so we have a rough-edged set of thirds marking our lives together and apart.

I seem to be the only one of my siblings who shares my father's interest in religious spirituality or mysticism.  We both of us took up religious study for pure personal enrichment.  I began a program of study of Eastern Christianity with his encouragement and support in my late 40's, and we enjoyed discussing the shared roots of modern religions, particularly in the liturgy.

Father Tony, Rest in Joy

I say the rosary during my drive to work every day, and on Tuesdays I offer it for clergy and religious. Tuesdays are the Sorrowful Mysteries: Gethsemane, the Trial and Scourging, the Crown of Thorns, Carrying the Cross, and Jesus' Death. When I can, I reflect on specific people or groups with each mystery; seminarians and novices on the first, diocesan priests on the second, bishops and abbots and abbesses and such on the third, any and all who are dealing with daily life on the fourth, and those I've known who have died on the last.

All this to explain why today I thought of Father Tony. He died last year, unexpectedly (to me). He had been our Parochial Vicar for a year or two, before being assigned Pastor of a neighboring parish. I thought of him often, included in the above-mentioned rosary.  I remember he always reflected tremendous joy as he said Mass.  I sometimes imagine priests facing the life-sized cross and Jesus on it; what would they do if the statue were alive and they could receive His body? Some would take Him in their arms and weep, some would hold him in deep earnest prayer.  Father Tony, I always thought, would open his own arms wide with joy in the presence of his Savior and Lord, and I am certain He would return the embrace.

I am certain Father Tony's joy was real, and was in some way the "real" part of him. During the rosary before the funeral, I stood before the casket looking at his body, lying in repose, eyes closed and face smooth, and I thought it wasn't the real Father Tony, because the light of that joy was not shining out of him.

I wish I had gone to visit him, or sent a letter or even a card.  I miss him.

Goodbyes

My father died Wednesday morning, November 21, 2012.  Everyone said, "It was so fortunate you and [my oldest brother] were able to come out when you did!" When I booked the trip to see him, I just knew I was done waiting for an ideal time or worrying about getting a cheap fare. I flew in on Tuesday, went home on Saturday, and he died the next Wednesday.

I had a few very intense days there. I had that one last personal conversation with him, and the night before I left my three brothers and I had an incredible few hours with him, completely lucid, trying to play a particular YouTube recording.  He wanted to share it with us because it made him happy.  We finally succeeded by a group effort, with one monitor on the bed table, one brother on the wireless laptop, and another with the wireless mouse and a second monitor, all talking at once and somehow managing to locate and play the correct video:  The Features: Whatever Gets You By. The song in question is the first 2 minutes, he wasn't interested in the second song. But I rather like the way the heavy guitar lead in to the second song wraps up the light bounciness of the first song.

I sat in a chair close to the foot of the bed, reading a book while playing footsie with my dad. I'd poke the sole of his foot, he'd push back, while we each sat paying attention to other things.

When he began to tire, he called our attention back to the time, and mentioned that I had a flight to catch in the morning. I said it was just like a family gathering, including the classic "sending the youngest to bed first," except in my case I'm the second oldest, so it was clearly a case of sending the shortest.  We all laughed, with a little too much energy, and the party broke up.  Dad felt great, just tired, but said we should definitely all do this again soon.

I left the next morning early.  From what I hear he never really woke up after that.  And as I said, he died the next Wednesday.

It was a wonderful deathbed.

Conversation With My Father

My last one-on-one conversation with my father was about liturgy.  Specifically, what had I taken away from the online courses in Theology of the Divine Office and of the Divine Liturgy that I took as part of a credential program.  My father was the head of the Liturgy, or Ritual, Committee at his synagogue in Manhattan, so this is both a personal and a 'professional' interest for him.

I had already picked up from the Catechism of the Catholic Church that the Mass or Eucharist, which the Eastern Christians call the Divine Liturgy, is a re-enactment of the Last Supper.  My studies in Eastern Christianity taught me the startling, profound truth that there is truly only one event of Sacrifice.  The Eucharistic Consecration of any priest on any given day is not a representation of that event, nor is it a re-enactment that connects us to Christ, as if the priest were concelebrating with Him.  Instead, the Eastern Theology of the Divine Liturgy teaches that the priest's act of consecration actually unifies the priest with Christ, and brings all participants into the one moment of His Sacrifice that is forever a present event.  We are brought into Eternity.

My experience with the Theology of the Divine Office was similar.  The Roman Breviary I have says that reciting the Divine Office is a "sactification of time." That never seemed a sufficient explanation.  Again, my studies of Eastern Christian Theology gave me a deeper and richer insight, which I happily heard echoed in last Sunday's homily.  The Christian perspective on the "End Times" is that they have already begun, that the death of Jesus on the Cross ended the "time" of the reign of Death, and since then we have been living the End Time that will last until He comes again in glory.

In the End of Time we hear that we will join with the angels and saints standing before the throne of our Lord, singing hymns of praise and thanksgiving.  That is what we are actually doing when we recite the Liturgy of the Hours, or the Divine Office.  We are stepping out of our mundane world into a parallel universe in which we are standing before Him, addressing our words to Him Who is ever present, though we may not see Him.

I try to remember this every day, though my fallen human nature makes my thoughts wander far away from Him into the mundane world.  I pray often for the grace to be more aware of the alternate, parallel universe in which these petty frustrations and sorrows weigh me down.  Lord give me strength to persevere!

Amen.

Taking humorous things seriously

Perhaps because I have a headcold and everything seems a bit echoey, including my thought process, but for some reason, anyway: outside just now I was chanting in my mind, "Dominus vobiscum," and the response, "et cum spiritu tuo." And my thoughts wafted into the memory of how we used to as kids have fun saying pretend-Latin, using English words to make nonsense Latin chants, using words like "Domino Nabisco" and "Animal Cracker." And just now I was considering that the reason it is possible to do that is that Latin is a significant ancestor of our language, such a foundational aspect of what we say that our own language gives us the tools to make fun of it.  As children of course we did so in innocence, simply for fun and knowing we were in some way ignorant of the truth and using our ignorance to jest about it.

Now as I write all this out, it occurs to me that we are doing the same thing as grown ups, not with language but with our culture, which came from the same source.  In many ways the rhetoric and concepts we string together to mock and diminish the Roman Church are tools which she herself cultivated and gave to society.  I don't have the brainwidth to take this further, but it is a thought that echoes in my head with the resonance of truth.  "Hmnn, there's something in that. . ."

I Miss You

I noticed that one of my contacts at my favorite social networking site disappeared overnight.  Because of something she posted yesterday, I suspect she deleted her account. I realize this is the nature of our virtual society: we now have acquaintences, neighbors, and friends in distant locations, who we may meet in person. Some of them disappear.

Then we have traditional relationships, founded on physical presence at least initially.  People we meet, speak with, spend time with in the same physical space. Their departures are generally less sudden and unexpected.

All endings stir a sense of sorrow and loss somewhere within me. Sometimes I feel personally rejected and wonder what I did or am that generates such a response.  In my older age I more often simply mourn the loss and say a prayer that they will find good things in life even when I won't know about it.

I am going to miss my friend. I will notice the absence of her particular tone of comment and feedback, and I will be reminded of her every morning when I check the weather in her city (a town I'd like to live in myself).

(wave)

To anyone I've lost track of - I wish you well!

Human Nature: Fundamentally Good or Bad?

On September 12, 2012, there were peaceful rallies in Libya, people gathered together to show denounce the violence that occurred the day before.  A friend posted this link, which has pictures of the demonstrators and translations of their signs:
http://www.reddit.com/r/pics/comments/zs4o1/today_was_prousa_demonstration_in_benghazi/

Down in the comments underneath I found information about one of the embassy staff killed in the attack:  http://www.reddit.com/r/pics/comments/zs4o1/today_was_prousa_demonstration_in_benghazi/c67bypp.

Sean Smith was the information management office at the consulate.  He was also an online role-playing gamer, in a universe where he was a highly respected diplomat.  The comments from his fellow gamers are heart-touching.

I didn't know how to communicate my mental and emotional response to 9/11 this year. Then came news of the attacks in the Middle East, and the followup information.  And the conversations with coworkers. And the online commentary.  And I remembered a debate a long time ago on the fundamental nature of humanity: are we fundamentaly good but capable of corruption, or are we fundamentally evil and capable of some goodness?

One thing I learned about myself is that I am fundamentally grounded in reality.  I look to what is to understand first principles, I can't engage in debate or discussion without a real-world illustration.  In the midst of grand theoretical "what if" and "it's said" I saw on 9/11 the demonstration of what is.

A few, a very few, a very small number and smaller percentage of people chose to do evil.  And the number of truly evil people is even smaller, because it was one person who invested tremendous energy into the evil who pulled the others to it.  It took an investment of time and thought and persuasion to get the few to perform the evil actions.

And in response, the vast overwhelming and spontanous response from humanity was a cry of outrage, and whenever possible, wherever there was opportunity, a demonstration of good. People ran into burning buildings, people helped each other out of rubble, people took strangers into their homes.  In 2012, people gathered with signs written in their own language and in a language they didn't understand condemning violence and evil.

People are good.  That is why Our Lord, the Incarnation of Truth and Goodness, could tell us that "what you do unto others, you do unto Me." Our Lord is Goodness, and created the world as good, and shared our humanity, including especially the good.

How the Adversary is sapping the strength of our arguments

Most Holy Redeemer Church vrs. the authority of the Church personified by their pastor and new Archbishop.  How this is an example of the virtue of Tolerance being used to counter the Virtue of Chastity.

What is happening in San Francisco, and our culture as a whole, is that we are being distracted from the cardinal Virtues by the pushing forward of other good behaviors.  As a child I remember hearing that certain religious were "gay" and thus learning the meaning of "sexual preference."  I promptly said I didn't understand why it was a problem, because the same religous had taken vows of celibacy.  Ergo, whatever their orientation, they had renounced its practice, therefore it didn't matter.

Instead of using the principles of the Church, which are difficult to explain in this age of moral relativism, I propose we drop down to the basic Virtues of our faith to explain how a Christian is supposed to live.  How many of the people promoting tolerance of the homosexual lifestyle are practicing the virtue of Chastity?

Let's start with that, and explain that all men and women should be chaste, except those who are joined in the Sacrament of Matrimony.  Let's push Chastity.

The devil will have a fit.

Something interesting, and rather sad:

I started this blog while I was still employed by a major corporation, and felt a strong need to separate my personal life from my work life.  That is one reason I used a pen-name in social media situations, and used my maiden name on Facebook.

Two years ago I was laid off.  Fortunately I was ready, with time to prepare, and I received a nice severance package. Given that the work environment had become almost openly hostile, in a cold silent sort of way, I was happy to go.

While I had nothing positive to say about upper management, I did consider the people I worked directly with, and those I managed, to be friends.  We talked about more than work, we enjoyed conversations about our kids and families, in general we 'hung out' together while working.  I worked hard to make a team environment among my direct reports, and they did seem to work that way.

When the news got out that I was leaving, I was flooded with good wishes and requests to keep in touch.  I shared my personal email address with everyone, and looked forward to being able to develop actual friendships with some. In fact, one of my former direct reports invited me to stay at her house with my family while we traveled on vacation that summer.  I accepted joyfully, telling her "It is such a joy to be able to be friends at last!"

Our family circumstances had changed, and while we still needed me to contribute to the family finances, I no longer had to provide the bulk of the income and the health benefits.  I decided to start over in a new field, one that is personally more appealing to me. In effect, I retired.

That is when the sad part began: of the people I knew from my former job, they all dropped the connection. A couple continued to respond to greetings through instant messenger, but even they did not initiate conversations.  The rest ignored me. And in this day of online communication and connectivity, it is possible to be quite pointed about ignoring someone. Because the people I managed and worked with were spread across the US, we used Yahoo IM continuously to keep projects moving.  With Yahoo, when someone on your contact list logs in, a popup message tells you so.  We would check in, say 'hello,' whenever one of us logged in, just to keep in touch.

Suddenly, not only did no-one say hello, most never responded even to a direct greeting from me.  I had become invisible.

The terribly sad part is that I don't think it's me.  There are just too many people involved, unless there was a threat made to them about connecting to me.  Which would be interesting, but just not plausible.

A simpler explanation is that in the modern world of work, where the lines between personal and professional time have dissolved, people have no time anymore for relationships outside of their professional life. The younger generation may be better with relationships.  But my generation, my secular colleagues, have no one besides their immediate family with whom to share their lives.

What an empty space they live in.

Blogger's Corner

Two weeks ago I cleaned out the corner desk in the living room to make it my writing space. I off-loaded the desktop computer to my husband to take to his work, cleaned, dusted and vacuumed under and around.  I've installed my laptop with an external monitor, mouse, and keyboard, and now am carefully positioning important or attractively-covered books onto the shelves.

I moved the carved Mary statue that Aunt Carol gave me from the bedroom cabinet to one of the shelves, I have also acquired a new fountain pen.

What I have NOT done much of, except when all else fails, is write.

In fact, I am not going to write any more now, I've found my copy of The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul and I'm going to read that instead.

Fifty

My birthday was yesterday - I turned 50 on a Thursday.  I should have realized it would be a difficult day, I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

Office of Dawn

Robert Frost - What Fifty Said

When I was young my teachers were the old.
I gave up fire for form till I was cold.
I suffered like a metal being cast.
I went to school to age to learn the past.

Now when I am old my teachers are the young.
What can't be molded must be cracked and sprung.
I strain at lessons fit to start a suture.
I go to school to youth to learn the future.

Here I am

This fits

Leaves Compared with Flowers -- Robert Frost

A tree's leaves may be ever so good,
So may its bark, so may its wood;
But unless you put the right thing to its root
It never will show much flower or fruit.

But I may be one who does not care
Ever to have tree bloom or bear.
Leaves for smooth and bark for rough,
Leaves and bark may be tree enough.

Some giant trees have bloom so small
They might as well have none at all.
Late in life I have come on fern.
Now lichens are due to have their turn.

I bade men tell me which in brief,
Which is fairer, flower or leaf.
They did not have the wit to say,
Leaves by night and flowers by day.

Leaves and bar, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.

Early Autumn

It's only the first week of August, but there are signs. The giant Gingko tree is less green, the maples have a touch of fire on their crowns. We have heat in the day, but the shadows hold on to a chill. The chestnuts have started falling. In years past chestnut season coincided with the beginning of school, and signaled the true end of summer. This year we don't seem to have had a summer at all.

I don't suffer as much from winter depression, thanks to modern medications and full-spectrum lights. I do have a sense of something, a whistful feeling perhaps.  I miss. . .something.

Offer it up

Fr. Tony dropped by today. We talked our way into a discussion of suffering.  Suffering - "Offer it up" - what's the point of that?  Didn't Christ suffer sufficiently for us? How could there be anything left over, for St. Paul to say "I make up in myself what is lacking in the suffering of Christ?"

Yes, God Himself experienced ultimate, that is, complete suffering for the sake of our salvation.  Therefore, no deficiency exists and our salvation is assured.  Yet we still suffer, because we continue to live in the fallen world.

So, when we suffer, we have the choice of enduring it however we may, or we can take that suffering, that we will have not matter what, and ask God to accept it as a gift from us.

Jesus' Cross held the weight of all our sinfulness, and he carried it to completion.  Now, today, I experience some suffering.  I imagine it like this:  Jesus is staggering along, beaten and exhausted, with the burden of His Cross.  There is nothing that I can do to stop his suffering, for He has already completed it, and it had to happen that way for our Redemption.  And I come along, and have my suffering in my own time. And I say to Him, "Here, let me carry this with You, and keep you company."  I see Him pause a second and look at me with a smile, and that we go on together for as long as my suffering exists.

When Father Tony talks of Jesus, his face lights up. He looks as if he would embrace Christ on the cross, and take Him down and waltz with Him. He radiates great joy, even lightheartedness, yet I know he himself experiences great inner suffering.  I always pray for him to find peace.

More thoughts about .. .

I stood on the porch of the Mansion (where I work) this morning, thinking sadly that I don't have such a place for my family; I thought of how much fun it would be for the kids to have such a wonderful place to live and play. I then imagined the family that first lived here, and wondered if their children had enjoyed it as much as I imagined. I thought that only children, clear-eyed and carefree, would be able to enjoy it completely.

Then I thought of the scripture verse, "My Father's house has many rooms, I go before you to prepare a place for you." To me this is God's promise of happiness in Heaven; everything we love, that brings us happiness, He is preparing for us, it is waiting for us after this life.

And then I put the two together with another scripture verse: "Whoever does not accept the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it."

I can almost, almost know what it means. I can't put it into better words than what I've just written.

The Gospel in the Digital Age

The Gospel in the Digital Age

December 13, 2011: The Feast of St. Lucy

December 13 was the date for the Winter Solstice before the calendar was revised by Pope St. Gregory.  “Luz” means “light,” and so it was considered fitting that St. Lucy’s feast day occur at the darkest time of the Northern Hemisphere’s winter.  Today the calendar is changed but the day is still dark, my shadow is longer than I am tall, and it’s hard to stay warm.

I like this time, when I have time to think of it. I enjoy it because there were times when I didn’t have what I have now, couldn’t do what I can do now.  I like to bundle up, wrap in warm cloths, drink hot beverages.  I can’t get enough of candles, the bright flame and fragrant wax, so I’ve taken up candle making.  My kids are in the living room, warm, comfortable, taken care of.  I am content.

One thing remains the same: I cannot do anything myself.  Alone I can never sustain even my most minimal needs. I don’t even try anymore.  The Lord who made the Universe and cares for everything within it, made and cares for me and mine, to the level of my every breath.  He knows every hair on my head, He knows me.

Because I am a diminished creature and He, the Creator, is Goodness itself, He provides for me as much as I need and more, as much as I am open to.

Thank you, God.