the personal is universal. (more lenten reflections.)

Henri Nouwen, from "Bread for the Journey" (found at NBCC)

We like to make a distinction between our private and public lives and say, "Whatever I do in my private life is nobody else's business." But anyone trying to live a spiritual life will soon discover that the most personal is the most universal, the most hidden is the most public, and the most solitary is the most communal. What we live in the most intimate places of our beings is not just for us but for all people. That is why our inner lives are lives for others. That is why our solitude is a gift to our community, and that is why our most secret thoughts affect our common life.

Jesus says, "No one lights a lamp to put it under a tub; they put it on a lamp-stand where it shines for everyone in the house" (Matthew 5 14-15). The most inner light is a light for the world. Let's not have "double lives"; let us allow what we live in private to be known in public.

Stations of the Cross

On Fridays during Lent, it is traditional to pray the Stations of the Cross.   Every Catholic (and Anglican, I believe) church has some kind of representation of each of the fourteen stations on its walls.  At the Chapel of the Holy Cross in Sedona, Arizona, they are no images or titles--just Roman numerals in nails. 

Not too long ago, I discovered these reflections, by Joseph Ratzinger (now Pope Ben. XVI) which I highy recommend taking along if you intend to pray the Stations privately.

wimps and fasts; wimpy lenten fasts

"That's one thing I am ashamed of, as a Catholic convert," he said, "that the official definition of a daily 'fast' is one full meal and two small meals.  I mean, come on.  When I was a younger man, I wouldn't eat a thing all day on Friday, every Friday."

I rolled my eyes only later, once I got home and had an audience.  In the moment, however, I think I just stared and mumbled something about the lowest common denominator. 

Hey man, some of us are pretty happy that the standard hasn't been set impossibly high, okay? 

Yeah, sure, I admire the Orthodox (and whoever else) for being hardcore and not just abstaining from meat but fasting every Friday.  And they've got Lent named as the "Great Fast" because Advent is one, too (and maybe some other liturgical season I don't know about).  It's just that it is so hard and I am so very bad at it.  Also: what's the point, again? 

I had to go back and look it up: "Lent reminds us of our weakness. Of course, even when we set simple goals for ourselves during Lent, we still have trouble keeping them. When we fast, we realize we’re all just one meal away from hunger. In both cases, Lent shows us our weakness." 

Oh yeah, that. 

And there's more:  "This can be painful, but recognizing how helpless we are makes us seek God’s help with renewed urgency and sincerity...When we’re confronted with our own weakness during Lent, the temptation is to get angry and frustrated. “What a bad person I am!” But that’s the wrong lesson. God is calling us to be patient and to see ourselves as he does, with unconditional love."


Right lesson: Be patient with yourself.  Love the wimps.  Love your wimpy, hungry self. 

it might just be blogging perfection

This morning, I almost forgot to pick up my son from preschool because I stumbled across a new blog.  I hope no one needs dinner or snacks or any of my attention for the rest of the day because I cannot tear myself away (it was an effort to take a break to write this).  It's completely fake and totally made up but that don't mean it ain't true.  It's Mormon, but let's face it, the joke would still work for Evangelicals, too*.

I dare you not to laugh: the Bible is adorable and so are cats, pooped, and so greatful for forgiveness, and frosting.



*totally kidding!  The Orthodox are just as guilty as anyone.

7 quick takes

The kids are back in school as of this past Monday.  They were home for two weeks.  Here is one reason I was glad to see them go back: Thursday, December 29, 2011.   It wasn't a terrible day, but it did crystallize for me one of the reasons I am not homeschooling my daughter L. right now.

The sequence of events: the kids rushed out of bed and attacked the crafts with vim and vigor sometime around 6:30 or 7am.  Before I even left my bedroom they had created as many little origami monster things as they could and already moved on to dragon pictures.  Then L. re-read one of her favorite novels.  Then we ate breakfast. 

I remember doing a chore or two while simultaneously trying to convince everyone to get dressed and make their beds and that took about an hour because they never do unless I drop everything and devote my full attention to the tasks, which I eventually gave in and did.

We went to the grocery store, and they were SO happy (and hyper) that they pushed and shoved each other up and down the ailes while I kept telling them to stop pushing and shoving each other.  So then they pinched and pulled because I didn't tell them not to do THAT.  But they were having so much fun with it all and were really and truly so very happy that I decided to stop being such a witch and Let It Go. 

Checkout took 40 minutes.  No joke. 

We were so very late getting home that our playdate friends were on the doorstep.  For the next several hours there were five kids playing fairly nicely but not at all independently so I suggested we all cooperate on a baking project.  A carrot cake from scratch with real carrots and real pineapple and real orange juice as sweetener and everyone helped and there were dropped raw eggs on the floor and carrot shavings EVERYWHERE and sticky orange juice puddles by the time we were through. 

The guests went home eventually and I finally dropped onto a part of the floor that was not covered in goo and slime. 

L. thought for a minute, walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later with a fresh idea.  Holding a bag of colorful scraps of material from my supply: "Can you sew me a stuffed parrot now?"

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And here is my routine on a school morning (more or less):

6am: wake up. 

6:45: wake kids up.  Dress, pack lunches, feed breakfast and all that and we walk to school to get there by 7:55.  Say goodbye (smile broadly).  

8am: Mass (one single block away from the kids' school). 

8:40 Go for a jog. 

9:30: Eat breakfast/shower. 

10ish: go to laundromat or grocery store or do chores...alone.  And I don't even push or pinch anyone!

10:45am: pick up my son from preschool.

It's pretty much cake from there, and completely awesome.  I love it.

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And yet, that two hour and forty five minute slot sans kids that I now have in my days is a bit daunting.  How best to use the time?

At the homeless shelter yesterday, I was making beds and thinking of all the linens I still had left to do when I got home.  Rather than get all worked up about it, I used the time to think back on tips (verbal or non-verbal) the MC Sisters have given me when it comes to having too much on your to do list.  We have that in common, the Sister and I: lots and lots of housework and cooking to do and not enough hands to go around.  Here is some of what they do:

Stop and pray: just walk away from what you are doing it and get quiet. The work will still be there once you come back.

Say a "fly" novena: apparently, Mother Teresa used to recommend these for those moments when you are faced with an impossible situation or task.  Basically it's a Memorare, 9 times.

Just do what you can, and when time's up, move on with your day.  Just walk away and do the next thing on your list. It is amazing and I can't explain it, but the work somehow actually gets done, more or less, at the end of the day or week. 

_____

Speaking of the many ways I learn about my own vocation from the Sisters: we were talking about how few volunteers there are in this town who are willing to cross over to the other side of the tracks (yes, literally).  They said that they receive many phonecalls from people who promise to come on a certain day and at a certain hour to help out, but few actually ever turn up.  Most of the folks I know from church or wherever would rather spend their time at the nursing home run by the Little Sisters of the Poor.  "That's allright with us," said the MC Superior, cheerful as can be, "we are happy to be as poor as our men." 

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On a completely unrelated note, we checked out this DVD series for the kids from the library last week and it is fantastic.  I think I enjoyed it more than they did, especially the episode on the Ice Age in what is now the US Southwest called "Canyonlands."  You can watch it here.

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A few friends and I have been reflecting on the significance of place in our short lives.  To change it up a little bit, I'm going to write it out in list form, and look at some numbers.

Places I've lived; duration and population (at the time I lived there):

Philadelphia, PA: 5 years, 1.7 million
Casablanca, Morocco: 12 years, somewhere around 2 million (?)--I can't seem to find numbers for this
Chicago, IL: 5 years, 2.8 million
San Diego, CA: 2 years, 1.4 million
Denver, CO: 2 years, 600,000 people
New York City: 5 months, 8.1 million
Kolkata, India: 4 months, somewhere between 4.4 and 13.2 million people.

Where I live now: just about 6 months, population of 20,001 at the last census count.


(*In the above list, I have omitted the college years during which I lived in a city of 55,000.  I was on campus for all four years and ate almost all of my meals in the cafeteria and did my laundry in the dorms.  It's just a different kind of lifestyle than actually living in the real town, in my opinion.)



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Thrift store find of the week: shoes very similar to these for $2.99.  Score!  May they last through all three kids.

that's my 7.  Here are hers.

nativity

"as he was carried along the way...they would turn back at the sight of the child,

and neglect their business, to indulge themselves with the sight of him;

for such was the loveliness of the child, that it detained those that saw him.''

-Josephus, on Moses as a baby

This melody seems less romance and much more lullaby, I think.  Mother rather than lover, it conjures up memories of long gazes at infant toes and tiny fists, seeing that new person who is daughter or son for the very first time.

Speaking of babies and birth-days.

joining, and leaving religious cults

Not only is this documentary concise and well made, but each of the women interviewed has a compelling story and is articulate in telling it.   I could particularly identify with Amy who shows up at the end of this first segment.  Listening to her speak was like listening to myself, ten years ago.

Advent takes

Yesterday, it finally got up above freezing, briefly.  It's been so cold that both of my rings were slipping off.  I wear two rings and I they are both on the same finger: my wedding ring is a little too loose and in the winters I need to wear another smaller ring on the outside to keep the wedding one on.  (I end up wearing it year-round usually because I never think to take it off when the weather gets warmer.) 

Yeah, I could have it re-sized, but that's no fun.  Obviously, there is only one option: wear a third ring to keep the second ring on that keeps my wedding band on.  

_____

This is the first year my kids aren't wrecking all the Christmas decorations or pulling the tree down on their heads.  They don't even chew on them! 

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I started this blog earlier this year while living in India.  There were several reasons I decided to write a second blog, but one of them was that I really try to keep my family blog mostly lighthearted and drama-free.  There are several reasons I do that and one of them is that I don't really like fielding phonecalls from concerned relatives if I happen to post anything like, "I'm having a hard time staying on my feet when I leave my apartment because everything is so overwhelming."  They worried.  It stresses them out.  And I had enough trouble not worrying or stressing out those around me: if mama can't keep it together, it's bad news for everyone else.

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago we marked the anniversary of our arrival in Kolkata.  November 26th, to be exact.  As I look back on those initial moments and try to remember, it's actually kind of fun to have the happier moments captured in photos and anecdotes.  I can't forget that first month; the heat, the multiple-baths-a-day for the kids, the jet-lag, the excruciating back-muscle spasms that followed the jet-lag because the kids were all piling in and sleeping on and around me in my tiny bed and which meant that I couldn't sit or stand for more than a few minutes every day, the struggle to find meals that were more or less kid-friendly (=meals where The Spicy would not kill them---in India, these do not exist so the kids did not eat very much food), that terrible reaction to the anti-malarials I had and the three painful weeks that passed before I was finally diagnosed (during which I could not eat very much food).  Yes, all of that I do remember. 

But thankfully all that is in the shadow of that mystery wooden box that construction workers showed up to install on our apartment wall, and now when I can look back I can mostly forget the ugly and just remember the good times.   

  ____

Today is the Feast of St. Juan Diego and yesterday was the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.  At Mass this morning, the priest linked these two days in a very simple way that I had never considered before: St Juan Diego, an Aztec peasant, became known because of a Marian apparition (Virgin of Guadalupe).  And not only is Mary, the Immaculate Conception, the patron of the United States, but long before that she was also "declared on 8 November, 1760, principal patron of all the possessions of the crown of Spain, including those in America" (source).  St. Juan Diego was canonized in 2002, the first indigenous American saint.

source

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This year, on the first Sunday of Advent, English speaking Catholics switched over to using the wording of the new translation of the Mass.  It's been a little awkward.  Little changes like "And with your spirit" rather than "And also with you."  I keep forgetting, though, so my version is something like this: "and also with---oh, right."

There are a couple of other minor changes which I barely noticed (and one that I always said anyway, oops!).  It could be (and I am not completely sure of this) that it is because Anglicans and Episcopalians have been saying it this way all along...?  Through my highschool years, my family went to a Church of England church (only because there was no other English-speaking Presbyterian option, I think) and in college I went to an Episcopal church.  

____ 

Here is another remnant of my Church of England days: I much prefer their version of "O Little Town of Bethlehem."  The melody is just so much prettier, isn't it?  (I don't love her voice, but the soloist's tunic is awesome.  Also: we never sang the descant so only the first part of this clip is actually relevant.)

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Speaking of descants, it seems to be traditional in England to sing the third verse of "O Come All Ye Faithful" like this (starts at 2:46): 

I've only heard it sung this way in church in England. Anyone else? Do ya'll Mennonites sing it like this?




(more takes at Jen's)

Feast of St. Andrew the Apostle

source

Andrew was a disciple of John the Baptist first, according to the Gospel of John.  This passage really stood out to me as particularly relevant during the season of Advent and in light of the previous post's commentary on seeking and finding.

He first found his own brother Simon and said unto him, "We have found the Messiah" (which is, being interpreted, "the Christ"). (John 1:41)

today I am thinking about...idolatry!

In Caryll Houselander's The Reed of God, there is a chapter called "Idols."  She means the various ways we, through pride or fear or misunderstanding, mis-conceive of Christ.  The spiritual life, she believes, ought rather to be called "the seeking" because, just as His Mother discovered during the Passover pilgrimage of His twelfth year, He needs to be sought in order to be found.

And yet we are so selective about what we want to find.  The author recalls a scene from her childhood when an elderly and quite wealthy friend would sit on the vast lawns of her estate (the one that was built from slum-rents), and read aloud from the Bible, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..."

She writes:

We all tend to that sort of scripture reading.  And though we do not depend only on reading, yet it is really necessary, in our search for Christ, to read the Gospel, and to read it without flinching; or if we must flinch, at least without giving up the attempt.

But we are still faced with the fact that Christ lives with us, in the same room, and we do not know Him. (...)  We form a wrong conception of Him, an ego-projection Christ, an imaginary Christ who fits into our own narrowness, who does not shatter our complacency. (...) [But] Christ does answer all our real needs.  People who have what is called a "special devotion" to one particular aspect of Christ's humanity, find in this approach to Him the true answer to some deep need in themselves.  One of the greatest motives of God's love is to answer the needs of men...

If we had kept the strength of our primitive needs, we should not want to make idols...[T]he basic needs, the roots as it were, of human nature are good; they are given to us by God in His great purpose of increasing life.  Love, in its several great manifestations, is given that life may be begotten and nourished and cherished, strengthened and handed on and not exclusively physical life, but the life of the mind, too.  Our other great instinct, self-defence, it is newly created form was just an immense awareness of the wonder of the gift of life, which gave man the instinct to preserve it in gratitude. (...)

But we have watered down and whittled away the power of our deepest instincts we are afraid of the completeness of Love and afraid, or too lacking in vitality, to rejoice fully in the glory of possessing life.

 
She carries on describing the limitedness that comes with having a limited view of Christ and of God, and the cruelty or rigidity exhibited by those whose god is cruel or rigid, but then she returns to the original question about progressing in the spiritual life, or rather in "the seeking:"

Now we have one answer to the question, Why must we always be seeking for the lost Child?  Why must we always feel the pain of loss?  If we did not, we should not realise that our idols are not God, are not Christ.

Bad as they are, they match our limitations; and if they could content us, we should never know the real beauty of Christ: we should not become whole.  (...) Our conception of Christ makes us what we are, makes our effect on others what it is, influences us and influences everyone with whom we come into contact.

Our Lord said to His Apostles: "It is expedient for you that I go away."  It is the same for us.  We know Him only by continually learning Him anew; we get away from false gods only by continually seeking Him we hold Him only by losing Him.

the annual

This year there were only two of us for our reunion.  We missed our third so very much. 

my daughter said, "Leia looks so happy!"

We stopped in Leia's highschool-hometown for all of twenty minutes but we were spotted. I even suspect that we were talked about later.  Ah, small Midwestern towns...

This was a first for us, not meeting up in a big city.  Last year was NYC, before that Denver, and before that we all shared a place in Chicago.  But I'll tell you what: discovering small German-Mennonite farming communities in KS was a real foreign experience for me.  Talk about culture shock!  (in a good way)

Thanks for all of it, Peia.  I sure felt spoiled and I hated to go.

carrots and cults

At the open air market held on Saturdays, I sometimes buy from a certain group of farmers who live about an hour and a half south of town.  This morning, I purchased some carrots and a winter squash.  I've wondered before who they are, as they seem to be some sort of commune.  Non-traditional Mennonite, maybe?  (Because a few of the men have beards.)  That didn't seem quite right, though, so I eagerly took home a booklet of "reading material" when they offered it.

Folks: if you are looking to write up a 46-page handout in order to prove without a doubt that you ARE indeed a religious cult, you should be sure to include the following.

#1: an article on why you are not brainwashing members, depriving them of sleep or working them round the clock.

#2: an invitation to join their community because all serious Christians realize that going to church only once a week will inevitably lead to spiritual death.  (be sure to use the phrase "spiritual death" and maybe make up a word to describe those church-going so-called Christians.  Like, for example: "churchites.")

#3: be sure that there is a healthy sprinkling of these themes in your articles: that the wealthy and comfortable of the world will be first in line at hell's door, that the lukewarm in faith will be sent to hell, that those who laugh at or ignore you and God are bound for hell, that those who are addicts and drunkards and who are living immoral lives are going to hell.  That everyone outside of your door is suspect, and especially those who refuse to join you and that they are probably all going to hell.

#4: plenty of articles about the wrath of God and how it is going to be "poured out" on unbelievers and sinners and fornicators and all the other "rebellious" out there.  Oh and there will be plagues and diseases too, probably.

#5: a condemnation of all the "religious systems set up by men" and idolatry in various forms.  Beware of false spirits and false gods.

#6: an emphasis on the spirit rather than the body.  As in, "turn away from carnality and sow in the spirit so that you can reap in the spirit." (not an exact quote, but it's the main idea.)

#7: a piece entitled: "Hour of the Spirit's Call."  Because it captures the urgency, exclusivity and importance of the cause about as succinctly as possibly, and besides it's catchy!

#8: include a clarification regarding Communism, what it is and what it's not and how it relates to communal living and ownership.  (hint: that was a tip for cult leaders from the 1970's, for any who might happen to be reading along.)

#9: 2% of the pamphlet should be promotional and recruitment-oriented, and 98% for the transcriptions of your prophet's visions and/or sermons (for extra extreme boringness).

And here's a free bonus tip: use "thee" and "thou" because God (and King James) did and it makes what you say sound timeless and cool and authoritative.

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In all seriousness, this is a very sad phenomenon.  I looked them up and found out that this particular group is thirty years old; they've spent almost twenty of them locally.  I cannot imagine how they recruit new members with materials like the one they handed me but the man I spoke with today looked about my age.  Then again, maybe he just grew up in it and doesn't know any different?  Either way, it is heartbreaking.
He and the others don't look nearly as happy or relaxed as they should have (if they'd really been Mennonite) and that should have tipped me off from the start.  Instead they look tired, and tense, kind of like they work too hard and don't get enough sleep. 

Anyway, they grow great carrots.  The kids and I used their veggies to make carrot-and-orange juice in the juicemaker and it was dee-lish.

____________

Stay tuned for more installments in my series on cults, identification and recovery; I've got a couple more posts on that subject in the works.  In the meantime, won't you please say a prayer for all the folks trapped by cults--the leaders and the followers.  It's just a sad, sad business. 

they're just kids

These children of mine are so adorable and unique.   They each have their own distinct way of living their truth that they are the center of everything that matters in the universe.  Rules, manners, codes of conduct be darned: they will do what they want, when they want.

My guilty confession is that I actually kind of love the particular variety of self-centered spacey-ness my kids exhibit; I know very well that they are unlikely to remain so freely uninhibited for much longer and once it's gone, it's gone.  A mom friend told me that she had noticed this trait in my children even in the relatively short periods of time she has spent with them and she admired their "self-confidence."  She was gracious but I secretly suspected that her epiphany moment was when my son marched into her kitchen and demanded hot apple cider "right now." 

They don’t have bad manners…they’re just kids being kids.  (At least I hope so because my reminders to behave have yet to bear visible fruit.)

At any rate, I sort of prefer it when they drift off into dreamland and forget themselves.  I'll choose those moments over some of their ones of hyper-awareness.  A conscious grip on their surroundings is often closely accompanied by the desire to Do Something To Put Them Right, which is exactly what the middle child did last Sunday.  Her younger brother was running rather than walking back to his seat after having received his Communion line blessing, and clearly someone needed To Put A Stop To It At Once.  My daughter chased him down, reached him just in time to prevent him from calmly and inconspicuously sitting back down in the pew; she grabbed him from behind by his neck and gave him a good firm tug.  As no less than thirty spectators looked on in horror (okay, some were laughing), he spun around and slammed to the floor with a loud shriek while she stomped over to her spot on the pew and plopped herself down defiantly and crossed her arms.  (She felt it was important for me to know, later, that she had been “helping” me.) 

So here's my digital note to self: enjoy them while they are still oblivious and clueless.  Enjoy the moments of uninhibited and unrestrained “kid-ness,” even--or maybe especially?--during Mass.  Like the time two weeks ago week when I looked over at my eldest (age 7) during the Consecration to find that she had rolled both legs of her cotton stretch pants up to above her knee, for maximum dorkiness—I mean, comfort.  Or this past Sunday when I glanced her way and noticed that she had very carefully stuffed her dress (red) into her tights (black) and now had a big bulging middle, with skinny black stork legs sticking out underneath. 

“What are you doing?” I hissed, and she looked up at me, innocent and with a somewhat confused look.  She whispered back: “I’m tucking my dress into my tights.”  Ah, yes.  So you are.

Quick Takes

1.  Usually, I avoid places like Walmart and fast food joints.  But even this failed anthropologist can see that these are some of the main social centers of this Southwest town.  Pretty much, I feel as if I am doing fieldwork anytime I go to the Burger King, and I stick out about as much as a white researcher would in some remote African village.

2.  Our Walmart is the second-grossing in the nation, I've been told.  On weekends, our town's population is quadrupled with folks coming in to do their shopping.  On the first weekend of the month, it's even more.  

3.  Speaking of cultural happenings that are just "ethnographically too much" (as one of my dear college professors used to say), Halloween is just nuts here.  We got a peek at some of it, but I hear that the real fun stuff takes place in the neighborhood just about a mile or so away from us---where the docs and lawyers and jewelers live.  Apparently, full truckloads of kids get bused off the Rez and the streets are packed with folks hauling garbage bags full of loot from house to house.  Maybe next year I'll venture up there and check it out.  I hear it's like a Walmart on the first Friday of the month times 10. 

4. My daughter was mad at my son for some reason.  She decided to get back at him and hit him where it hurts.  He was going to be John the Baptist for the Saints Day party and she was going to stick with her parrot costume from Halloween.  "At least I get to be a cute little creature; you just get to eat bugs."

5.  I have several runner-friends and sometimes on Sunday mornings we go a few miles out on some nearby desert trails.  I never thought I'd be into trail running but it turns out it's kind of fun (and really challenging).  It makes road running seem really boring in comparison so I might have ruined that for myself, oops.

6.  My son wandered away while we were out shopping the other day.  I was kneeling under clothing racks and calling for him for about ten minutes, thinking he was just hiding.  When I finally found him, he was much more shaken up than I was about the whole thing so I didn't even need to lecture at all.  He has promised never to do it again and I believe him.   

7.  In exactly one week, I will be en route to go visit a dear friend in her hometown in the Plains.  For three and a half days we'll be staying up way too late sipping tea and/or wine, catching up, snuggling with her cats and seeing the sights.  Maybe even catch a play?  I can't wait.

more at Jen's