No Worse for the Wear

Jim and I are in our early-to-late fifties. (I'm early, he's late.) We are in that wonderfully peculiar place of parenting adult children. I've often expressed the anguish of bidding them farewell as they grow up and move out.  But our kids continue to come and go, rendering our nest anything but empty.

Yet life is different. Very different. Two of our adult children are continuing their education locally and although they would love to be out on their own, economically, it behooves them to live at home. (One is subletting an apartment for the summer, but will return home in August, until the next phase of her life works itself out.) Our youngest returns home from college for summer breaks and at other times throughout the year. They are expected to help out with a few chores, and respect the rules of the house, but basically they come and go as they please. They generally don't need permission to stay out late with friends, but they do need it to borrow the car. They don't need to be home for dinner. They don't need a whole lot other than a roof overhead and food in the refrigerator. Unless I'm feeling especially kind, I no longer do their laundry, but I do grant them use of the washer and dryer and the laundry detergent. I've mothered them from diaper-hood to adulthood and everything in between. At times they have made me want to pull every hair out of my silly little head, but they have always been and continue to be my joy. 

They've grown into very likeable adults. I love our conversations over freshly brewed coffee or sipping a full bodied cab sav in the evening. I enjoy our shopping sprees and cooking ventures. They - especially my daughters - have become my dear friends.

I realize they won't be hanging around forever. After all the bitter-sweet milestones marking each of their journeys - kindergarten through college graduations, learning to drive, trips over-seas, a variety of employment opportunities, and marriage and motherhood for one - I am slowly realizing that a part of me is actually looking forward to their full independence, to their living on their own, working and raising families - or heading off to wherever God may be calling them. So, I guess you can say that nearing the empty nest is not quite as bad as I had previously expected. (And gosh, who knew how much fun grand-parenting could be? Being a Nana is positively the bees knees!) However, none of the kids is allowed to move more than a few hours away. My heart and soul would miss them too much! Seriously though, it could certainly happen. I now know that there comes a time in a mother's life when it is right - good - for her children to venture out on their own. It is good for them and for her, too.

I recall the early days of marriage, when I telephoned my mother to whine and wonder how my dear husband could be so plain unthoughtful, insensitive - so, well, selfish. No, I do not remember exact circumstances, but they probably related to things like tracking mud through the house or leaving his stuff lying all over the place, or forgetting it was our anniversary. (Okay, this one I do remember - at least he didn't knowingly and maliciously plan to go on that camping trip. He honestly forgot that it was our special day!) There were times, after some silly argument, when I childishly implemented the dreaded silent-treatment, stubbornly refusing to give in for days. I even remember several years ago blubbering to my former spiritual director about how annoyed I could get with my husband. He listened attentively to my long rant. When it was over, I expected something like a gentle pat on my head accompanied by a terribly sympathetic, "Oh, you poor dear."  I was shocked to hear instead, "Wow, you must really be hard to live with!" Bam, hello! My director's words were definitely a much needed wake-up call, no matter how much I hated hearing them.   I am also well aware that I am far more capable of driving my husband up the proverbial wall than he is me. But interestingly,  something has changed now that we've been together for over 27 years. Those little things really don't matter so much. They still occur, those frightfully petty little annoyances. But so what? Life has provided us a more mature perspective. We are wiser and know it is foolish to waste time dwelling on those pesky, little things. We've stopped making mountains out of mole hills.

We're stronger now than ever before. Together we are able to enter this new season of life. Together we realize that we can let them go, our kids, and our lives will continue to be fruitful and meaningful.

Because lying there, hidden behind all the boo-hooing that comes with severing the apron strings; underneath the aching blow of letting our children go, we've discovered a surprisingly delightful, wonderful phenomenon. It is a sweet, soothing balm. A new and better and deeper affection for one another. I am certain the seeds were planted on the day we wed and have been nurtured strong over the years by the grace of the sacrament.

It is a bit like we are falling in love all over again, only far better because we are so well connected - our souls really are one. We are older, but seem young again. We find more time to be alone together. Moments of intimacy have become more spontaneous.We are more relaxed, more mellow. We have become more merciful, more forgiving of one another. "I'm sorry" slips off the tongue more readily, more easily. We've emerged through perhaps the toughest part of marriage pretty much unscathed. No worse for the wear, as they say. 

Perhaps this renewed love is our reward for all the sleepless nights with little elbows poking our ribs and pudgy feet in our faces. For surviving teething and croup, countless childhood colds and flu, ear aches, potty training and how many trips to the ER? For (happily) surviving periods of biting cold, soaking rains, and unbearable heat over countless years on soccer fields and carting kids all over kingdom come. For refereeing too many sibling squabbles, enduring all that teenage drama, putting up with missed curfews and teaching them how to, gulp, drive. It hasn't always been smooth sailing. Like all the families I know, our lives have been peppered with moments of frustration and sorrow, but God has also graciously filled many of our days with joy and celebration, too. All embraceable moments.

I am truly grateful for being no worse for the wear and for continuing to share this adventure with my beloved friend, my dear husband. I am eagerly anticipating all that the future holds for us - stiff joints and all. May God grant us many more years - many more opportunities - to grow in faith, love and trust and may He be praised!

Please remember to pray for those couples who, after raising children, are seriously struggling to stay together and those whose marriages tragically succumb to the hardships and challenges they have faced over the years. God love them. God bless them.

You Say I am Intolerant

For several reasons a same-sex union contradicts the nature of marriage: It is not based on the natural complementarity of male and female; it cannot cooperate with God to create new life; and the natural purpose of sexual union cannot be achieved by a same-sex union. Persons in same-sex unions cannot enter into a true conjugal union. Therefore, it is wrong to equate their relationship to a marriage. - USCCB, Between Man and Woman: Questions and Answers About Marriage and Same-Sex Unions

Lately I have felt persecuted, not by the usual culprits from afar - you know, the ones you hear on the nightly news or read about online who make snarky comments about your faith or criticize your beliefs - or make fun of the pope. No, lately I've actually felt targeted by a few of my friends and relatives whom I love and admire, and by acquaintances with whom I hold the utmost respect. It makes me very sad and sorry for the rift in our friendships that, at least for now, seems inevitable. Although I sincerely hope not.

It is all because, to me, the redefinition of marriage to include same-sex unions is as absurd as claiming the earth is flat. I really do believe that marriage should be reinforced, not redefined. And they, my dear, beloved persecutors, do not agree. They have as much as said so, on Facebook posts, Twitter tweets and the like.

I know I'm not perfect, but I have prayed often for the grace to love. And I have tried from early on to do just that. From time to time, throughout my life - mostly while young and single, I had friends who were gay. Not just acquaintances, or classmates, or co-workers, but friends. I hold fond memories of one college friend in particular. Ben (not his real name), was a little bit shy but terribly witty, positively attractive and a very, very talented artist. He was one of those sweet, suffering souls who loved deeply, sometimes too deeply it seemed. If he was hurting, I would lend an ear. We dined together in the dining hall, chatted about life, and art and I even trimmed his hair once or twice. I couldn't have loved him more if he had been my own brother. Just because he was gay, I wouldn't have treated him any differently.

But that was then.

And now? What about now with thirty years separating us and a lifetime of experience, of marriage and raising children and of growing closer to God? Has the broadening of my understanding of the Church's teaching on marriage and family made me less loving toward those who do not embrace these same teachings? Has acceptance of these tenets, which my very core knows as truth, rendered me closed-minded, hateful, judgmental, politically incorrect and un-hip? Would I now turn away from my gay college friend, avoid him altogether or sling insults at him? No. I know I would love him still, despite feeling ever so strongly that marriage is a sacred bond between a man and a woman instituted by God, and that no one - not even our government - has the authority to redefine it. And it saddens me that the truths I have come to embrace are in danger of slipping away - not solely due to gay marriage laws, but by the proliferation of divorce, sexual promiscuity, pornography, contraception and abortion. I know all too well that for too long the institution of marriage has been eroding and over the years too few public warriors have been defending it with little or no reinforcements. Their voices often have fallen on deaf ears. Yet, there are many behind the scenes, sweating it out in the trenches, who have heeded the call. By entrusting themselves and their families to the teachings of Christ and His Church and living them, they are fighting the good fight - maybe not perfectly, but with conviction and with love. They are the true warriors along with countless holy parish priests and religious.

The world is cruel to those who it deems different; to those it does not understand. Hatred exists in many degrees; in many fashions. We have seen it, heard it, witnessed it too often - most of us very likely have been subjected to it at one time or another. We have been ridiculed because we are too fat, or too thin. We are poked fun of because we have special needs, we talk funny or we appear odd. Perhaps we do not speak English fluently or at all. Maybe we're too poor, or too smart or too dumb. We may be too old or not old enough or not yet born. We're too conservative or too liberal. Maybe we're gay or maybe we're not. Maybe we're just too religious or not religious enough. But we all bleed when we're cut; we all feel pain - physically and emotionally. We have all suffered at the hands of others and it is wrong. It is cruel; it is sinful. Most of us, I'm sure, have even been the instigators of cruel jokes and name-calling at times, yet, all of us are imbued with the potential to make a difference in someone's life; to love - to be Christ's hands and feet. To lift others up when they are down. To share joy and sorrow. No matter how similar or how different a person is, we are called - commanded by God - to love. Everyone.

And one of them, a doctor of the Law, putting him to the test, asked him, "Master, which is the great commandment in the Law?" Jesus said to him, "'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind.' This is the greatest and the first commandment. And the second is like it, 'Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.' On these two commandments depend the whole Law and the Prophets." (Matthew 22:35-40)

He never ceases to love any one of us, his children, but that doesn't mean our sinful lifestyles are acceptable to Him. He constantly calls us to repentance. We know from reading the gospels that Jesus hung out with sinners all the time, because they (we) are whom he came to save. He ate with them, conversed with them, taught them, and in His infinite mercy forgave them and told them to go and sin no more. 

Some folks get all uptight about Christians being too judgmental. They don't want to be associated with their overly judgmental brothers and sisters(granted some do fit the bill). "Who are you to judge? You're not God!" Of course, they are right,  we are not God - it is not our place to judge a person's soul ... but what of his actions? Jesus gave us the tools to recognize sin in our lives and in the lives of others, too. We were given guideposts (e.g., the 10 Commandments, the Precepts of the Church, the Beatitudes, Holy Scripture, the Sacraments, teachings of the saints, papal encyclicals, prayer, etc.) to help us recognize when we're on the right path and thankfully, when we're about to veer off. Because He loves us and desires our union with Him in Heaven, He has supplied the tools we need to get back on track. Charity compels us to desire Heaven not only for ourselves, but for others, too, and our Christian duty is to help them get there. Tolerating and approving any sin simply because it makes someone happy is not love.

Ah, but you see, that can't be right. The Catholic Church has it all wrong! We, Catholics, have been duped by over 2000 years of the workings of the Holy Spirit! By accepting and fully believing all that Mother Church teaches - (and I do or else praying the Nicene Creed every week at Mass makes me a liar) - I have closed my mind or lost it. I am naive, intolerant, and, sadly, not progressive. Worst of all, they claim that the Church has made me an irrational, homophobic hate-monger. 

Really? Hmm ...

It is not unjust to deny legal status to same-sex unions because marriage and same-sex unions are essentially different realities. In fact, justice requires society to do so. To uphold God's intent for marriage, in which sexual relations have their proper and exclusive place, is not to offend the dignity of homosexual persons. Christians must give witness to the whole moral truth and oppose as immoral both homosexual acts and unjust discrimination against homosexual persons. The Catechism of the Catholic Church urges that homosexual persons "be accepted with respect, compassion, and sensitivity" (no. 2358). It also encourages chaste friendships. "Chastity is expressed notably in friendship with one's neighbor. Whether it develops between persons of the same or opposite sex, friendship represents a great good for all" (no. 2347). USCCB, Between Man and Woman: Questions and Answers About Marriage and Same-Sex Unions

St. Thomas More, pray for us!

Isaac Welcomes Summer

There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart.

~ Celia Thaxter

In summer, the song sings itself.

~ William Carlos Williams

Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.

~ Henry James

Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year - it brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul.

~ Unknown

Then followed that beautiful season ... Summer ...

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape

Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The summer night is like a perfection of thought.

~ Wallace Stevens

In winter I get up at night

And dress by yellow candle-light.

In summer quite the other way

I have to go to bed by day.

~ Robert Louis Stevenson

My Mom and the Lost Art of Letter-Writing

My family treated me to a lovely brunch at Mon Ami Gabi yesterday afternoon. Not only a Mother's Day treat for me, but for Katie, too, who is an incredible, loving mama to her two little ones. I was spoiled with lovely cards - a few sentimental, one tear inducing and one with spot-on humor, and sweet gifts, too. My husband even bought me this. Funny how he seems to be getting more romantic after 27+ years together. But he also bought me this, and then later admitted it was only because I really wanted one to vacuum the dog hair off the sofa. He said it doesn't really count as a Mother's Day gift. He's right, I would have bought it - or one like it - anyway.



My parents on their wedding day,
Oct. 12, 1946



I thought a lot about my own mother yesterday. I love her so much and marvel at what an incredible woman she is and always has been. People can hardly believe she is 88 years old. She lives on her own (I do worry about that sometimes), drives herself around town to shop, to go to doctor's appointments, or to the hair salon, and to church every week. She is stylish, artistic, creative, an awesome cook and has a flair for decorating. She is loquacious and fun. These traits she has passed on, like precious gifts, to her children - my brothers and sisters and me. Between the seven of us, we all share some aspect of our mother's talents, her out-going personality (not me) and most importantly her deep faith in God. She calls me Honey Bunny and reminds me that I live too far away.

I know that, sweet Mama. I know. But you remain in my heart always.



Mom with my brothers, Paul & Jim



I am grateful for the convenience and immediacy that cell phones provide, allowing us to chat often and sometimes for hour long spells in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week. But part of me misses composing lengthy letters to her filled with anecdotal sketches of my days with kids in tow. I miss, too, finding letters from her in my mailbox, those deliciously perfumed infused musings about the latest family news and those darling xoxo's at the end of each note. We do send greeting cards including brief, peronal notes, or copies of recipes, or newspaper clippings to one another, but much too seldom. We have allowed e-mail to rob us of ... well, perhaps of the permanence and purposefulness that letter-writing affords. E-mail tends to be comprised of brief, little snippets here and there (albeit friendly and loving, too). Letter-writing takes time and effort. Our letters, our thoughts and feelings, can be tied up with string and kept in shoe boxes and visited for years to come - even long after we have left this earthly life.



Mom and her kids, June 2010



There's something to be said, too, about a person's penmanship. My mother's is beautiful, careful and belongs to her alone. It is as unique to her as the color and shape of her eyes or the way she laughs. I sometimes run my finger over her carefully inked words sensing her presence in some peculiar way, although we are separated by over 400 miles. You see, it's not just what she writes that stirs me, but how her words look; how they flow across the page in smooth, precise, old-Catholic-school-girl strokes. E-mail, texting and chatting via social media does not and cannot satisfy my need to sense my mother's (or anyone's) presence. Electronic messages can be deleted at the push of a button, a click of the mouse, or the touch of a finger, disappearing forever into the black hole of cyberspace. (If it's true that messages can be retrieved long after hitting the delete forever button, I'm certainly not tech savvy enough to know how to do it.)

As I've been typing this post, I keep thinking about the movie, "You've Got Mail" and how Meg Ryan's character, Kathleen Kelly, describes how electrifying it is to see and hear those titular words pop up on her computer screen announcing that messages have been delivered to her inbox (and now with smartphones and tablets, you don't even need a laptop or desktop  - my how we've evolved in 15 years!). Yet, how exciting is it to walk down the driveway to the mailbox, open it up and see that there is a real, honest-to-goodness letter waiting there? You've got mail! Real mail, to see and to touch and to smell. And to read again and again until you tuck it away in a shoebox for safe-keeping, so that someday your grandchildren will be given a marvelous treasure, a piece of their great-grandmother's heart to see and to feel and to ponder.

My mom and I will continue to communicate via all our sundry electronic devises. I'm not ready to throw them out the window just yet! Admittedly, I would miss our phone conversations and the ability to share photographs instantaneously or to type a quick, "Hello, I miss you." But one of these days I will dig out that lovely stationery from the box I've been storing in my closet, find a pen that feels just right and sit down to write my mother a long, detailed missive about my day or week. And maybe she'll read the words in my not-so-perfect penmanship and sense that a part of me is there with her, sitting comfy-cozy on the sofa next to her. And maybe I'll include a favorite new recipe, or a picture from a magazine of new chair I'd like to buy for my living room , or perhaps even a real photograph of her great-grandchildren.

Great Gramma Bea and baby Isaac, June 2010

The Rabbit Chaser

I knew Rocky long before I met him or knew his name. His owner walks him along the path behind our house about the same time every morning. I pegged Rocky as some sort of hound due to his deep, prolonged baying, almost like a howl. I hear him most every morning as I am pouring my first cup of coffee or sometimes waking my own little, drowsy-headed hound, Holly, whose own bark sounds nothing like her bigger hound cousins. Because she is a dachshund, her bark -- yap-yap-yap -- is characteristic of small breeds and can certainly grate on one's nerves if not controlled.

I was told a few weeks ago that Rocky is a Treeing Walker Coonhound. He looks much like this:



Photo courtesy:  http://www.akc.org/breeds/treeing_walker_coonhound/

 It was evening; my son, Kevin, had just arrived home from his community college classes and was preparing his dinner. I had eaten earlier with my husband who was now helping our daughter and son-in-law with a project in their apartment. I heard Rocky's distinctive barking and didn't pay too much attention to it at first. But it continued, non-stop. I was a little annoyed, wondering why his owner would allow him to stand there and simply bark away like that. In the meantime, Holly, who was going a little nuts, proceeded to yap excitedly. From our deck, the branches of trees partially obstructed my view of where Rocky was standing, but I could tell that the owner was sitting on the ground and that Rocky's much quieter, and much more formidable, 'dog-brother' was accompanying them, as is customary. I learned later that the other dog's name is Ollie and that despite his very calm, quiet demeanor, he isn't very nice to strangers. He looks a bit like a Mastiff - but I'm really not sure of his breed - perhaps he's a mixed breed. Whatever he is - he is big and bulky. From my kitchen window I could plainly see that Rocky was baying at a rabbit in our neighbor's yard. The rabbit sat hunched down, frozen - perhaps pretending to be garden statuary in an attempt to fool the foolhardy hound. Suddenly, the rabbit dashed off lickety-split into the woods with Rocky at her heels. From the open window, I heard wimpers of pain from the owner; the female owner - the wife of the man who normally walks the dogs. I called to Kevin as I rushed by him, "C'mon, we need to help that lady. Her dog is loose and she's hurt!" I hurried over to where the woman was struggling to get up and  asked if she needed help. She was visibly shaken and her hand was bleeding. "He pulled us through the fence when he saw the rabbit and I just couldn't control him!" she cried, almost apologetically. She was attempting to call her husband on her cell phone, but was so rattled that she could hardly remember his number. I spoke to her gently hoping to calm her nerves. As I moved closer to her, she backed away. Puzzled, I wondered if she was frightened of me. Finally, she explained that Ollie - who appreared so well-behaved - was really not very nice. She was just protecting me. She worried, too, that Rocky would not come back, "Once he's gone, he's gone! I'll never get him back now." I told her about Jake, the beloved Foxhound mix we had when our kids were young. He was the same way. It was nearly impossible to call him home once he escaped. I asked her if Rocky would come to me if I offered him a treat. "Oh, yes!" she said, "that might work!" By this time, Kevin had joined us with a small Holly treat in hand. The "dog lady" handed him a large leathery treat she had fished from a small pouch strapped around her waist. Kevin had no trouble apprehending a very friendly and affectionate Rocky, who seemed to care less about the treat offered him. Rocky greeted me, too, tail wagging and head nudging my hand begging for a good scratch behind his ears. By this time the woman had managed to reach her husband by phone, tearfully explaining the ordeal. He, I assumed, was on his way to meet her, so Kevin handed Rocky back over to her. She assured us that she could manage both dogs despite the pain ... and the embarrassment. She thanked us profusely and turned to make her way back home with Rocky, nose to ground sniffing away in grand hound style, and Ollie, who honestly didn't seem to give a damn.

As my daughter, Erin, and I were heading out to do some shopping a few nights ago, the "dog-lady" walked up from behind our house. She handed me a not-too-small, white gift box filled with chocolate chip cookies that she had baked for Kevin and me. She was beaming. She smiled wide and her eyes sparkled. The cookies - that we soon discovered were quite delicious - were her offering of thanks. How sweet and kind of her!

Attached to the box, a note read:

To the Kind Lady and Her Son,

     Thank you so much for rescuing me the other day when my crazy hound decided to chase a rabbit. I don't know what I would have done without your help.

      I keep telling people it must have been quite a sight to see as the three of us went through the fence. People often ask me, "who is walking who" - no question that afternoon Rocky (the Rabbit Chaser) was in total control.

      Anyway you were wonderful to help me. I hope you like chocolate chip cookies. They are my way of saying Thanks!!

                                                You have made a friend for life!

                                                  Debbie and Doug
                                                  (Ollie & Rocky)

This morning, I could hear Rocky along the path behind my house and as I peered out the kitchen window, there hunkered down in the grass of my neighbor's yard, were two rabbits as still as stone. Doug and Ollie gazed at the rabbits as Rocky called out to them - aarooh, aarooh, aarooh. I headed out to the deck and picked up Holly to keep her from yapping at them as they meandered by. A short while later, Holly and I could hear Rocky baying off in the distance at some other family of rabbits or maybe at our neighborhood fox or resident deer. I imagined, Ollie, standing there, fierce and distiguished and bored, patiently waiting to mosey along.




Holly watching for Rocky & Ollie and maybe a rabbit or two.



My sweet Lovies



6 days old





2 years old in 2 days!



Smitten

I swoon at every thought of her

and with each encounter, still so new.

She charms me so, my little Rosebud,

with sweet, elfin lips widening into sleepy smiles.

I draw her in to kiss her tiny, feathered head,

 while whispering a thousand offerings of gratitude. 

Little Girls are Blessings from Heaven

"But you have given my heart more joy than they have

when grain and wine abound." Psalm 4:8

Please welcome

Margaret  Thérèse  Phillips

♥♥♥

Egg Hunt, the first

Isaac's first Easter egg hunt

(Oh, the Joy of being a Nana!)



On the look out!



First one found!



Sinking in the mulch!




Huh?  Looks like a squirrel got to this one first!




Look! Another one!




Wow, a blue one beside Grandpa's tent!
(The tent was up for a bit of an airing out and routine maintenance)




Just within reach!




Isaac had no trouble catching on!



Ha-ha, this is so much fun!




More! More! More, eggs, please!




Daddy congratulates Isaac on a job well done!




What? No more?



The two 'sp-egg-tacular' aunties who so - ahem - cleverly hid the eggs throughout the yard.
Thanks, girls!

Happy Easter!

He So Loved the World



For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. John 3:16

 It is the way of darkness to make one feel abandoned, forsaken. But He is not alone in His agony, though others continue to sleep away the sorrow. The Father is not a distant observer, aloof and dispassionate. He, Abba, sees Him, hears Him, holds Him.

And He sees us, too.

There, in that garden, in the dark of night, He sees us and how the weight of all of our sins crushes His Son to the ground. He dispatches His angel to console Him, to love Him through this appalling dance of suffering and death. 

He sees us there, clothed in robes of denial and betrayal, and in the washing of our hands when we, too, are afraid to take a stand for truth. You and I stand side-by-side as we jeer and shout, "Crucify Him!"

We are there through every measured step, every stripe across His back. Through every thorn piercing His adorable, most sacred head. Through the vile spitting and the mockery. He sees Him fall, once, twice, three times, as He watches us fall continually.

Our Father God sees us - you and me - as He gazes upon His most beloved, suffering Son. He sees us bearing the burdens of those we love just as the Cyrene helps His Son carry the Cross.

He sees us when we choose compassion, as Veronica cups His adorable and most sacred face in her capable hands wiping away the grime, the sweat and the blood.  

He sees us, too, begging with the good thief for forgiveness and mercy.

He sees us standing beneath the Cross, with His precious Mary, praying, adoring, loving.

He sees us carried in the outstretched arms of His Son, who pleads for us and bleeds for us.

For you and for me.

He sees us in Magdalene's discovery of the empty tomb, in her fear, in her wonder. He sees you and me running in haste with Peter and John to the tomb. He sees us in our disbelief even when we know His promise.

 And still, He sees us in the triumph!

He sees us in our joy when, at last, we accept, we trust, we hope!

Because He loves us - intimately, immensely, infinitely - He never takes His eyes off of us.

This intricate dance of life's victory over death, this embrace between Father and Son wholly linked

in Love, moves us - moves through us and for us - for all time and until the end of time.

Christ is risen; He is risen, indeed!

Alleluia!

Pope's homily for Holy Thursday Mass at St. John Lateran

This is awesome:

Pope's homily for Holy Thursday Mass at St. John Lateran

Here's the text from the above link:

Dear Brothers and Sisters!


Holy Thursday is not only the day of the institution of the Most Holy Eucharist, whose splendour bathes all else and in some ways draws it to itself. To Holy Thursday also belongs the dark night of the Mount of Olives, to which Jesus goes with his disciples; the solitude and abandonment of Jesus, who in prayer goes forth to encounter the darkness of death; the betrayal of Judas, Jesus’ arrest and his denial by Peter; his indictment before the Sanhedrin and his being handed over to the Gentiles, to Pilate. Let us try at this hour to understand more deeply something of these events, for in them the mystery of our redemption takes place.

Jesus goes forth into the night. Night signifies lack of communication, a situation where people do not see one another. It is a symbol of incomprehension, of the obscuring of truth. It is the place where evil, which has to hide before the light, can grow. Jesus himself is light and truth, communication, purity and goodness. He enters into the night. Night is ultimately a symbol of death, the definitive loss of fellowship and life. Jesus enters into the night in order to overcome it and to inaugurate the new Day of God in the history of humanity.

On the way, he sang with his disciples Israel’s psalms of liberation and redemption, which evoked the first Passover in Egypt, the night of liberation. Now he goes, as was his custom, to pray in solitude and, as Son, to speak with the Father. But, unusually, he wants to have close to him three disciples: Peter, James and John. These are the three who had experienced his Transfiguration – when the light of God’s glory shone through his human figure – and had seen him standing between the Law and the Prophets, between Moses and Elijah. They had heard him speaking to both of them about his "exodus" to Jerusalem. Jesus’ exodus to Jerusalem – how mysterious are these words! Israel’s exodus from Egypt had been the event of escape and liberation for God’s People. What would be the form taken by the exodus of Jesus, in whom the meaning of that historic drama was to be definitively fulfilled? The disciples were now witnessing the first stage of that exodus – the utter abasement which was nonetheless the essential step of the going forth to the freedom and new life which was the goal of the exodus. The disciples, whom Jesus wanted to have close to him as an element of human support in that hour of extreme distress, quickly fell asleep. Yet they heard some fragments of the words of Jesus’ prayer and they witnessed his way of acting. Both were deeply impressed on their hearts and they transmitted them to Christians for all time. Jesus called God "Abba". The word means – as they add – "Father". Yet it is not the usual form of the word "father", but rather a children’s word – an affectionate name which one would not have dared to use in speaking to God. It is the language of the one who is truly a "child", the Son of the Father, the one who is conscious of being in communion with God, in deepest union with him.

If we ask ourselves what is most characteristic of the figure of Jesus in the Gospels, we have to say that it is his relationship with God. He is constantly in communion with God. Being with the Father is the core of his personality. Through Christ we know God truly. "No one has ever seen God", says Saint John. The one "who is close to the Father’s heart … has made him known" (1:18). Now we know God as he truly is. He is Father, and this in an absolute goodness to which we can entrust ourselves. The evangelist Mark, who has preserved the memories of Saint Peter, relates that Jesus, after calling God "Abba", went on to say: "Everything is possible for you. You can do all things" (cf. 14:36). The one who is Goodness is at the same time Power; he is all-powerful. Power is goodness and goodness is power. We can learn this trust from Jesus’ prayer on the Mount of Olives.

Before reflecting on the content of Jesus’ petition, we must still consider what the evangelists tell us about Jesus’ posture during his prayer. Matthew and Mark tell us that he "threw himself on the ground" (Mt 26:39; cf. Mk 14:35), thus assuming a posture of complete submission, as is preserved in the Roman liturgy of Good Friday. Luke, on the other hand, tells us that Jesus prayed on his knees. In the Acts of the Apostles, he speaks of the saints praying on their knees: Stephen during his stoning, Peter at the raising of someone who had died, Paul on his way to martyrdom. In this way Luke has sketched a brief history of prayer on one’s knees in the early Church. Christians, in kneeling, enter into Jesus’ prayer on the Mount of Olives. When menaced by the power of evil, as they kneel, they are upright before the world, while as sons and daughters, they kneel before the Father. Before God’s glory we Christians kneel and acknowledge his divinity; by that posture we also express our confidence that he will prevail.

Jesus struggles with the Father. He struggles with himself. And he struggles for us. He experiences anguish before the power of death. First and foremost this is simply the dread natural to every living creature in the face of death. In Jesus, however, something more is at work. His gaze peers deeper, into the nights of evil. He sees the filthy flood of all the lies and all the disgrace which he will encounter in that chalice from which he must drink. His is the dread of one who is completely pure and holy as he sees the entire flood of this world’s evil bursting upon him. He also sees me, and he prays for me. This moment of Jesus’ mortal anguish is thus an essential part of the process of redemption. Consequently, the Letter to the Hebrews describes the struggle of Jesus on the Mount of Olives as a priestly event. In this prayer of Jesus, pervaded by mortal anguish, the Lord performs the office of a priest: he takes upon himself the sins of humanity, of us all, and he brings us before the Father.

Lastly, we must also pay attention to the content of Jesus’ prayer on the Mount of Olives. Jesus says: "Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet not what I want, but what you want" (Mk 14:36). The natural will of the man Jesus recoils in fear before the enormity of the matter. He asks to be spared. Yet as the Son, he places this human will into the Father’s will: not I, but you. In this way he transformed the stance of Adam, the primordial human sin, and thus heals humanity. The stance of Adam was: not what you, O God, have desired; rather, I myself want to be a god. This pride is the real essence of sin. We think we are free and truly ourselves only if we follow our own will. God appears as the opposite of our freedom. We need to be free of him – so we think – and only then will we be free. This is the fundamental rebellion present throughout history and the fundamental lie which perverts life. When human beings set themselves against God, they set themselves against the truth of their own being and consequently do not become free, but alienated from themselves. We are free only if we stand in the truth of our being, if we are united to God. Then we become truly "like God" – not by resisting God, eliminating him, or denying him. In his anguished prayer on the Mount of Olives, Jesus resolved the false opposition between obedience and freedom, and opened the path to freedom. Let us ask the Lord to draw us into this "yes" to God’s will, and in this way to make us truly free. Amen.