Monday Morning

Gregorio Allegri's Miserere. Breathtaking, no?

Oddments

So maybe this should happen over Christmas break? I really liked the book when I read it in high school, and I'm really, really curious to see what Tom Stoppard (Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead) and Joe Wright (the 2005 Pride & Prejudice) do to it. Auntie Seraphic seems to approve.

And, on an utterly unconnected note, St. Hildegard of Bingen is going to be declared a Doctor of the Church on Sunday. Cool stuff.

Happy Feast of St. Thérèse!

“May today there be peace within.

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.

May you be content knowing you are a child of God.

Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.

It is there for each and every one of us.” 

--St. Thérèse

Breath of Fresh Air

Brand new online magazine Dignitas looks like a nice rebuttal to the fashion magazines of the checkout lane. Go thou and check it out!

Wingless Chickens

Flannery O'Connor about knocked my socks off with her letters. I'd read four or five of her short stories before coming to this book, and, while they were interesting enough, none of them really sparked my interest until we read "Everything that Rises Must Converge" for a seminar class last semester. The symbolism and wry humor intrigued me enough that I trotted down to the library and picked up, not her other works of fiction, but her collected letters. It was the greatest of fortune.

The book opens with letters written during her time in New England -- letters to her mother in Georgia, an exchange with Elizabeth McKee who became her agent. There wasn't anything particularly extraordinary or gripping in the first hundred pages or so. O'Connor's wry, biting humor, turned against herself as often as against others, definitely was there, and there was some talk of her writing and her thoughts on the literary figures and works of her day, but it wasn't until 1955 that the letters really began to pick up. Because, you see, in 1955 Betty Hester (known only as "A." in the collection; her identity was revealed after her death in 1998) wrote to Flannery, asking about her short story collection A Good Man is Hard to Find. Flannery's curiosity and interest were piqued from that very first letter. 

You were very kind to write to me and the measure of my appreciation must be to ask you to write again. I would like to know who this is who understands my stories. 

In the following letters, Flannery's delight with finding someone with whom she could engage in intellectual conversation as an equal is startlingly palpable. Letters to Hester form the bulk of the remaining collection, although not even all of these were included.

Reading her letters is to peep inside Flannery's head, and the portrait painted by the letters is extraordinarily life-like. Flannery's sense of humor, her impatience with sentimentalism, and her deep and tenacious faith all spring off the page with a fierce vivacity. After reading the nearly 600 pages of the book, I feel as though I know her, as arrogant and cliched as that may sound. Flannery wrote on a myriad of topics, informing friends of happenings on the farm (Flannery's mother kept cows and Flannery raised fowl of various kinds, including peacocks and swans), her reactions to books she'd read, tart commentary on goings-on in the world and not least of all, exasperation with the stubbornness of misinterpretation of her work. Her work is often (if not universally) labelled grotesque and "Southern Gothic" (whatever this may mean), and, not having read much of her writing, I feel disinclined to pass judgement on those labels. But, having read her own reflections on her work, I know that she saw herself as a sort of prophet (if I may use that term) to a world that had lost much of its sensibility of sin, its consciousness of the fallen state of man. She succinctly (and memorably) summarized this loss to Hester:

The moral sense has been bred out of certain sections of the population, like the wings have been bred off certain chickens to produce more white meat. This is a generation of wingless chickens, which I suppose is what Nietzsche meant when he said God was dead.

Her blunt forcefulness acted as a two-by-four to the head of a world that was losing, and in many ways had already lost, its ability to judge between good and evil. Flannery's writing is shocking in the way that smelling salts are shocking.

All is not a bitter crusade against evil and its minions, however, and Flannery is equally captivating when relating hilarious farm news or defending the Catholic faith to various correspondents. There are, of course others beside Hester, and I particularly enjoyed O'Connor's exchanges with Dr. T. R. Spivey, Cecil Dawkins and Maryat Lee. The last letter Flannery wrote, a short note to Lee, was found on her bedside table after her death and mailed by her mother. It refers to an anonymous phone call Lee had received, and counseled her to call the police, telling her that

cowards can be just as vicious as those who declare themselves -- more so. Don't take any romantic attitude toward that call. Be properly scared and go on doing what you have to do, but take the necessary precautions.

It seems a very O'Connoresque note to end on: don't take a romantic view of the situation, and do what you need to do without fuss or emotionalism. I get the feeling that this would have been her approach to death as well as nasty anonymous phone calls.


Obligatory bio-snippet: Flannery graduated from Georgia State College for Women (now Georgia College & State University) in 1945, then attended the Iowa Writers' Workshop. Flannery spent time in New England, both with friends and at the Yaddo artists' colony before being diagnosed with lupus in 1951. Other than excursions to give lectures and a pilgrimage to Lourdes (and stints in the hospital), O'Connor spent the rest of her life living with her mother Regina on their dairy farm, Andalusia, in Milledgeville, Georgia until her death on August 3, 1964 from lupus.

Dust unto Dust

The men of the East may spell the stars,
And times and triumphs mark,
But the men signed of the cross of Christ
Go gaily in the dark.

The men of the East may search the scrolls
For sure fates and fame,
But the men that drink the blood of God
Go singing to their shame.

-- G. K. Chesterton, The Ballad of the White Horse

Why is There So Much Pink?

Wishing you and yours a very tongue-in-cheek feast of Saints Cyril and Methodius.

Windows into Eternity

Because Christ Pantocrator is one of my favorite icon subjects ever.

Nashville Dominicans' Novena

Current events are not our forte here, but this is something I think should be passed along. The Nashville Dominicans (Dominican Sisters of St. Cecilia) will be praying a novena from February 11-19 for our country in the light of the recent HHS mandate.


We beg God for the preservation of our great and beautiful country, and of the freedom we have all enjoyed and been privileged to share with others.  The Dominican Sisters of St. Cecilia invite you to join with us in a novena of prayer and fasting, asking Mary, Patroness of the United States of America, to implore God’s loving mercy on us at this critical time.  The novena will begin February 11 and end February 19, 2012.  The sisters will be praying the following prayer each of the nine days.

Act of Consecration of the United States to the Immaculate Heart of Mary
     Most Holy Trinity: Our Father in heaven, who chose Mary as the fairest of your daughters; Holy Spirit, who chose Mary as your spouse; God the Son, who chose Mary as your Mother; in union with Mary, we adore your majesty and acknowledge your supreme, eternal dominion and authority.
     Most Holy Trinity, we put the United States of America into the hands of Mary Immaculate in order that she may present the country to you.  Through her we wish to thank you for the great resources of this land and for the freedom, which has been its heritage. Through the intercession of Mary, have mercy on the Catholic Church in America.  Grant us peace.  Have mercy on our president and on all the officers of our government.  Grant us a fruitful economy born of justice and charity.  Have mercy on capital and industry and labor. Protect the family life of the nation. Guard the precious gift of many religious vocations. Through the intercession of our Mother, have mercy on the sick, the poor, the tempted, sinners – on all who are in need.
     Mary, Immaculate Virgin, our Mother, Patroness of our land, we praise you and honor you and give our country and ourselves to your sorrowful and Immaculate Heart.  O Sorrowful and Immaculate Heart of Mary, pierced by the sword of sorrow prophesied by Simeon, save us from degeneration, disaster and war.  Protect us from all harm.  O Sorrowful and Immaculate Heart of Mary, you who bore the sufferings of your Son in the depths of your heart, be our advocate.  Pray for us, that acting always according to your will and the will of your divine Son, we may live and die pleasing to God.  Amen.


On a related note: Cardinal-designate Dolan's WSJ Op-Ed piece.

Francis and Therese

This thought actually came to me at the beginning of the month, back on St. Francis Xavier's feast day. I was sitting in Mass (this is where the best thoughts hit you -- wonder why?), and I realized that Francis and Therese have a lovely complementarity about them. They are both patron saints of the missions, one of whom traveled from Europe to India and Japan before dying off the coast of China in the 1500s; the other spent all of her meager twenty-four years in France (other than that pilgrimage to Rome). I think this fact beautifully illustrates both facets of any Catholic undertaking. You have to go out and actually do something, yes, but if you didn't have your devoted corps of prayer warriors, you wouldn't get very far at all. Isn't it lovely how the Church manages to coordinate these things? :-) Just one more reason to be Catholic: no matter what your personality, talents or passions, there will be a niche for you.

The Importance of the Habit

Nice article about the importance of the habit in the religious life. Plus, I think it's kinda cool that I recognized the habits from the photo without having to look up the order. Props to the Catholic nerd!

Get Holy or Die Trying

 

“These are the ones who have survived the time of great distress;
they have washed their robes
and made them white in the Blood of the Lamb.”

 

Now go to Mass!

The Joys of Confession

(My peeps, I am here to trumpet the virtues of a much-maligned sacrament. Bear with me while I make sweeping generalizations about the human race with little to no apparent scientific backing. Also, my theology is not the most profound.)

Society at large is fond of dissing confession. It tells us that reciting one's personal failings to a man in a dark little room is weird and twisted (then promptly heads off to its therapist's couch). Not so, gentle readers, not so. The human being is wired for guilt when wrong has been done -- it is not the sole province of Catholics. So, after accumulating guilt-burdens in assorted sizes, humans feel the intense need to tell all, whether that be through memoir, drunken family-reunion tirade, or psychologist's probing. Fortunately, we Catholics have a simpler (and cheaper) way out: confession.

It's a basic formula, really. Humans, as the fallen, flawed creatures that we are, screw up. This should not surprise us, sad as it is. We fall, we feel guilty, and, on a purely minimal level, we try to make the guilty feeling go away. Except with confession, it's not just the relief of letting the cat out of the bag, it's also actual, honest-to-goodness forgiveness from someone (i.e. God) who has the power to forgive you. Sure, there are still consequences and penances to be dealt with, but that's as it should be. Warm fuzzy feelings don't fix broken windows.

(No, duh, disclaimer: of course you should regret your wrongdoing because it is a sin against God as well as against your fellow-humans, and if we were all saints, we would all have perfect contrition every time we went to confession [or for that matter, if we were all saints we wouldn't need to go to confession because we wouldn't be sinning. But I digress]. But we're not, and I'd just like to point out the fact that, given that oddly persistent reality that Man is body AND soul, confession works wonders not merely moral [although that in itself is reason enough to go], but mental. This is just the way being human works, people.)

How does this relate to little ol' me and the college life? Because, like I said, confession isn't exactly the most popular sacrament. First Communion cakes, dresses and parties? Check. First Confession cakes, dresses and parties? ::crickets:: Confession naturally precedes Holy Communion. It's like washing your hands before dinner -- elementary and essential. But, because we are human and easily lose track of what is important and what is not, confession quickly falls by the wayside. It can be icky and awkward, although less so than you think. Come on. He's a priest. How many times do you think he's heard the same litany of sins over and over again? Unless you're an exceptionally wicked person, nothing you say will shock or scandalize him. Still squeamish about spilling your less-than-stellar beans? Go read the life of St. John Nepomucene.

Minimal wince factor aside, confession is incredibly liberating. Picture this: you've just made an honest, humble confession, said your penance, and, as you're walking out of church, you get squished by a falling piano. (This could totally happen) What now? Well, unless you committed a sin between penance-saying and piano-squishing, you go to heaven, and, even if no wayward instrument snuffs out your life, you're still on good terms with God and full of grace. This is an incredibly good place to be, and all for the time investment of roughly fifteen minutes. Eternal life for fifteen minutes? I think it's worth it.

O Modesty, Where is Thy Blush?

O Modesty, where is thy blush? we may ask,
O Nakedness, where is thy shame?
Fast slipping away from the people of God
Till some are mere Christians in name.

O Modesty, thou art a virtue quite rare,
A most treasured gem of each saint.
But where are the women aglow with God's love,
With courage to be labeled quaint?

The world treats unkindly who will not conform
To rules that Fashion declares.
For any who dare to step out from the crowd
Will notice the whispers and stares.


Yes, Fashion is cruel, she has her designs,
For she is the foe of the Lord.
She violates principles God has laid down
In counsel quite clear in His Word.

The daughter of Fashion must pamper her pride,
For meekness would make her too plain.
So vanity leads to all manner of show,
And Modesty's held in disdain.

As Modesty flees, and the goddess now reigns,
Discernment and conscience both sleep.
The church and the world now appear as if one--
How God's holy angels must weep!

O Modesty, waken the people of God
And let us recapture thy grace!
Adorn us with purity, meekness and love--
Prepare us to look on His face!


Moving Toward Modesty

The Feast of St. Patrick

On this most blessed day which honors that holy man and first bishop of Ireland, St. Patrick, I thought I should share with you some Irish blessings.



An Old Irish Blessing
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.



A Wish for a Friend
Wishing you a rainbow
For sunlight after showers—
Miles and miles of Irish smiles
For golden happy hours—
Shamrocks at your doorway
For luck and laughter too,
And a host of friends that never ends
Each day your whole life through!



An Irish Prayer
May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.




From St. Patrick's Breastplate
Christ be with me
Christ before me
Christ behind me
Christ in me
Christ beneath me
Christ above me
Christ on my right
Christ on my left
Christ where I lie
Christ where I sit
Christ where I arise
Christ in the heart of every man
who thinks of me
Christ in the mouth of every man
who speaks of me
Christ in every eye that sees me
Christ in every ear that hears me
Salvation is of the Lord.



An Old Irish Blessing
May love and laughter light your days,
and warm your heart and home.
May good and faithful friends be yours,
wherever you may roam.
May peace and plenty bless your world
with joy that long endures.
May all life's passing seasons
bring the best to you and yours!

Laughter is the Best Medicine

Interesting article by Fr. Dwight Longenecker over at Inside Catholic.

It reminds me of one of the epigraphs from The Screwtape Letters: "The devil...the prowde spirite...cannot endure to be mocked." -- St. Thomas More

Heavenly Music

During the Christmas season the masses are bombarded with a multitude of jingles, ditties and songs that abound in good cheer, merriment and roasting chestnuts. However, the glitter and gayety of these songs that blast merrily away in shopping malls and on the radio lack what makes this season truly joyful. While it may make us all wriggle with delight that “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town”, it cannot fill our souls with the joy and awe of Christ’s birth. ‘Christmas cheer’ and ‘gifts of the season’ are glorified and celebrated for their own sake without the slightest hint toward the greatest gift that was granted to mankind, that of salvation from our sins and the gift of eternal live with God. Without the birth of Christ, there would be no Christmas season. Without the joy and grace rendered to us by Christ and his birth there would be no cause for celebration. In the hustle and bustle of Christmas preparations, buying gifts, putting up decorations and baking cookies we all too often forget to prepare our souls for this holy season. The Savior of the world is born, let us all raise our voices in joyful praise.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MS3vpAWW2Zc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXkgqpVVpTg

All Saints' Day

"After this I had a vision of a great multitude,
which no one could count,
from every nation, race, people, and tongue.
They stood before the throne and before the Lamb,
wearing white robes and holding palm branches in their hands.
They cried out in a loud voice:

“Salvation comes from our God, who is seated on the throne,
and from the Lamb.”

All the angels stood around the throne
and around the elders and the four living creatures.
They prostrated themselves before the throne,
worshiped God, and exclaimed:

“Amen. Blessing and glory, wisdom and thanksgiving,
honor, power, and might
be to our God forever and ever. Amen.”

Then one of the elders spoke up and said to me,
“Who are these wearing white robes, and where did they come from?”
I said to him, “My lord, you are the one who knows.”
He said to me,
“These are the ones who have survived the time of great distress;
they have washed their robes
and made them white in the Blood of the Lamb.”

Revelation 7:9-14

(And speaking of the future and what it holds...)

"Beloved, we are God’s children now;
what we shall be has not yet been revealed.
We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him."

1 John 3:2

Both passages are taken from the readings for the Solemnity of All Saints

What's Around the River Bend

(So apparently Desdemona and I think along the same lines -- I started my draft first, but she beat me to the posting punch.)

Sometimes, okay, most of the time, I wish God would be a little more explicit in His life directions. It would make life so much simpler. Instead of little spiritual nudges and feelings of peace, He could send an e-mail with instructions for the days events laid out in great detail. I wouldn't have to worry about discerning or choosing. The questions that I want answers to are both mundane and profound -- as Desdemona put it, "What should I wear today? What should I do with my life? What does God want me to do?" -- everything from the time I should go to bed at night to what on earth I should do after graduating. Maybe it's because I started sophomore year, and graduation (and the real world) just seem that much nearer. Maybe it's because it's autumn, and I always get pensive and melancholic during the autumn. Whatever the reason, I've just been thinking about my life lately -- Where do I want to go? What do I want to do with this life of mine? What does God want me to do with it?

Of course I have dreams and aspirations. I want to be a writer, a wife, a mother. I want to live in San Francisco/New York/Washington D.C./some other big city (but not LA) for a couple years after graduating. I want to go to grad school. I want to travel in Europe. I want to own a house with a dining room, second story, and attached garage. I have a bucket list. There are a million and one things that I'd like to do before I die.

But what do I actually see myself doing? My realism is warring with my idealism. Whenever I look at the glossy magazine spreads of chic downtown lofts or impeccably arrayed women, my idealistic self nods in agreement and immediately begins building air castles about my future as that impeccably arrayed woman living in that chic downtown loft. If God were to reach down into my world and speak to me right now, at this particular moment of my life, what would He say about that downtown apartment? About the dreams that I have for my life?

I know that, right now, I have a vocation to be a student, and I try to live that vocation every day to the greater glory of God. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes I fail, but it's a very real vocation to me, in the here and now of my very hectic, very crowded existence. But once I look to the future...? Everything is murky, and I can't help dreaming about all the possibilities that the future holds. It's very natural to plan and prepare, I guess, but I can't help thinking that, given the fact that I have zero control over what will happen tomorrow, let alone next year, it might be better if I just gave it all to God -- grad school, that potential future spouse, the dream job -- and just lived from day to day.

At the same time, I firmly believe that God designed me exactly the way I am. He give me my love of writing, my desires to travel, go to grad school, and get married. Somehow, I don't think He'll totally ignore these deepest longings when it comes to my future. But I also believe that He has an amazing adventure (called life) planned for me, one that surpasses all the wonderment and joy of my most carefully laid plans.

In summary, the future will be awesome, because God is boss, and He controls the future. Don't worry about it too much, but you have to plan for it a little, i.e. you won't get into college (which falls under the "future" category) unless you take the SAT ("present" category). And pray a lot, because God will speak to you, if you take the time to listen to Him.

Questions and Answers

"Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."~Rainer Maria Rilke

So. Despite my best intentions, I didn't pen a line of a blog post in the past three months, because, (drumroll) I've begun my freshman year at university!! Transitioning from high school to college has been a highly rewarding, exponentially beautiful, and occasionally distressing journey. Thus, my days(and nights) have been consumed with study and homework (and Sporcle. And talking. And procrastinating. *guilty face*) College may be an overused, unsatisfactory excuse to neglect writing here for so long, but it conveniently segues into my topic.

I think one of the greatest sources of stress and soul-searching these past months has been the desire to live life to the fullest. Let me explain. Frosh-O weekend, (that's freshman orientation weekend in Notre Dame lingo), we were constantly encouraged to find our full potential and to take advantage of every opportunity. However, at the time, I was overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of possibilities and opportunities that had been opened up to me. I was afraid that I would miss wonderful opportunities, and I guess I assumed that meant that dire consequences would ensue. It seems like a silly fear now that I realize I have four years here to take advantage of every marvelous opportunity, but at the time, it was stressing me out.

However, that stage passed (hallelujah) but, more questions arise. What activities should I do? What clubs should I join? What service opportunities should I participate in? What shows should I do? What shows shouldn't I do? What classes should I take? Should I get coffee or tea? (answer: coffee) When should I go to Mass? What should I wear today? What should I do with my life? What does God want me to do?

That's a lot of questions. And I didn't have the answers.

Thankfully, God has put two amazing people in my life. One is Mother Teresa, the other is a friend/mentor/director/rolemodel who sent me the above Rainer Maria Rilke quote. That quote made me realize that God doesn't expect me to have all the answers. In fact, He doesn't need me to have all the answers. What He needs is for me to trust Him. If I had all the answers, then I'd never have to trust Him. And what fun would that be? No fun, that's what. Life would be insanely boring if we had all the answers to the million questions that we encounter. We just have to keep asking the questions and God will send us answers.

But what are we to do in the meantime? We can't just pray for answers and then sit back and wait for God to send them. We have to act. Move forward. Live. But what do you do when you don't know what you're supposed to be doing? The answer is simple. Love. Live each day focusing on others. Mother Teresa's writings are a constant inspiration and reminder of that. Her simple yet profound example of love and complete giving of herself is rousing-I feel like dashing off into the Great Unknown and single-handedly change the world. I may not know what I'm supposed to do after I graduate, what my vocation is, or what I should wear to the dance, but I do know that I can offer a prayer for someone I pass by, or hold open the door for someone, or help someone with their laundry, or bake them brownies when they're feeling blue or just smile. These simple acts of love are what life's all about. A life lived in love is a life lived in God. And God's got the answers. He is the answer.

"I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice?"

— Til We Have Faces, C.S. Lewis