Wool & Words

Eagle's Wings

I found an interesting bit of faith in an unlikely-ish place today. A recent post to Pajiba (a place for pretty scathing entertainment reviews) asked readers to list songs that always made them cry. Apparently, "The Rainbow Connection" is a big weeper. A surprising one to me was the hymn, "On Eagle's Wings." A bit of the lyric:

You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord
Who abide in His shadow for life
Say to the Lord "My refuge,
My rock in whom I trust."

And He will raise you up
On eagle's wings
Bear you on the breath of dawn
Make you to shine like the sun
And hold you in the palm of His hand.

It's really a lovely hymn, all about how God takes care of us if we trust in Him. The posters to the site who referenced it seemed to associate it with various funerals, which makes sense, I suppose, as it's the kind of hymn that would be sung to give comfort. Still, it was strange to see this perennial church favorite making its way into that place and I started thinking about music that makes me weep. Sometimes, when I'm singing particular hymns, I get really choked up and I have a hard time continuing. "On Eagle's Wings" doesn't usually do it for me, but Carey Landry's "Isaiah 49" always does:

I will never forget you, my people;
I have carved you on the palm of my hand.
I will never forget you; I will not leave you orphaned.
I will never forget my own.

Does a mother forget her baby?
Or a woman the child in her womb?
Yet even if these forget, yes, even if these forget,
I will never forget my own.

Gets me every time. The music is like a lullaby. Just gorgeous. Our church usually does this one during the Easter Vigil mass, when the lights are all off in the church and we're going through the Old Testament. It's this moment of absolute peace and safety; we all sit in the dark waiting.

It's the surrender, I think, the realization in the singing of a connection, of something larger than oneself; for me, it's always a release of burden that makes me cry. The post at Pajiba made me think about that again.

What makes you guys weepy?

Someone Has a Sense of Humor

I've got papers to finish grading this weekend and I knew that if I stayed in my apartment, I'd end up spending all of my time on the couch trying to grade while watching some Jane Austen adaptation (I'm in a "Welcome Spring with Austen" spiral). So I got up, showered and dressed, and came down to the local coffee shop to grade papers. I've got my coffee, had a lovely sausage biscuit for breakfast and 2 hours later I've graded exactly 2 papers.

In the morning prayer today there was a petition about doing for others in our daily work (I don't have it with me, or I'd give you the real petition, which was much more eloquent that that statement). I kept thinking of it in terms of my students: how the attention I would pay to their papers today would be a gift to them. LOL--I think God's got something else in mind today!

I'm going to soldier on and keep grading, but hopefully I'm done with interruptions for a little while. I love small town life, but sometimes the city's cloak of anonymity is appealing.

GAH!

I'm currently reading Jean Vanier's Community and Growth and came across this passage:

We have to try to hold our tongue, which can so quickly sow discord, which likes to spread the faults and mistakes of others, which rejoices when it can prove someone wrong. The tonge is one of the smallest parts of our body, but it can sow death. We are quick to magnify the faults of others, just to hide our own. It is so often 'they' who are wrong. When we accept our own flaws, it is easier to accept those of others.

Sigh. I am so very guilty of this tongue-death-sowing business. It's hard to see yourself.

So far, a rough-on-the-reader, but good, read.

Little Windows

I've been a busy girl, what with dissertating, knitting, retreating, engaging, and all other manner of life activity. Life is busy, and being blessed can be the busy or the rest to reflect on it.

Anyway, in addition to my pirate reading (I really need to just finish with that book--it's so short!), I've been sneaking in a bit of the spirit. This passage from the introduction to The Best Catholic Writing 2005 seemed worth sharing:

I think about the motley chaotic confusing house that is Catholicism. I think about the mad wondrous prayer of the Mass. I think about how there are such stunning and wonderful and confusing people in the clan of Catholics. I think about how we are all several kinds of people at once and hardly know ourselves, let alone anybody else. I think about how possible the church is, and how possible we are. I think about how, really, the Church is just lots and lots of us gathered for little holy meals and story swaps. I think about how religions are like people, capable of both extraordinary evil and unimaginable grace. I think about how the church is sort of like the windows above me, which catch these timbers of sun and focus them on the human comedy.

The book is a collection of writings about Catholicism and catholicism, about faith and life and people and intersections. The first piece is an essay about Mother Teresa that was worth the cost of the book alone. What a window she was; the author of the essay (David Scott) commented that Teresa didn't really do anything to solve poverty, but took the little way of simply caring for the poor. Small window shining on one soul at a time.

The plight of Abdul Rahman has been such a window for me. I am happy that he will be released and hope that asylum will be granted in a safe place. I pray for the day when he and others like him will be free to practice the religion they choose.

However busy you are in the world, no matter what your faith system (and we all have something in which we have faith), don't forget to notice when the windows let in a little light.

Rest in Peace

Still waiting, at 2:34 p.m. EST for official word from the Vatican, but I offer thanks to God for sending such a faithful servant to His Church for so many years. My heart is sad.

And for those of you with questions:

How the Pope is Chosen

Whatever Side You're On

Please keep the people of Iraq in your prayers, especially on this weekend where dangers are higher than they have been. I pray for a peaceful and sucessful election. I am not so naive as to think that Iraq will miraculously become stable. But I have to hope and pray that there will be peace and that good will come from all of the bloodshed and suffering.

I also pray for our troops, for the Iraqi troops, and those serving Iraq in the interim government. For those who have been taken hostage, for the innocents, and, well, for everyone whose life is affected by this situation.

And I pray for the insurgents/terrorists--whatever you like to call them. I pray for them as part of the human family.

May God guide us all and His will be done.

For Today

I read this in my morning prayer and it seemed to say just what I needed to hear today. So often, especially lately, I find myself in little mental wars with others. These make me sad, tense, anxious, frustrated, but mostly they serve to alienate me from people. Perhaps someone else will find inspiration or comfort from this.

from Ephesians 4:29-32

Never let evil talk pass your lips; say only the good things men need to hear, things that will really help them. Do nothing that will sadden the Holy Spirit with whom you were sealed against the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, all passion and anger, harsh words, slander, and malice of every kind. In place of these, be kind to one another, compassionate, and mutually forgiving, just as God has forgiven you in Christ.

Unkind

Last night, a member of my Carmelite group said something so profound I had to share it.

"There is no justification for unkindness."

Wow. We were discussing forgiveness and the call to forgiveness in the Lord's Prayer ("forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who tresspass against us"), a call that is really an assumption that we will and must forgive. And it became clear as we were sorting through this that forgiveness happens when we are no longer trying to use hurts to justify being unkind.

At least, that's the way I took it.

Several years ago I took on as a Lenten penance rejecting gossip. After the Lenten season ended, I found it physically painful to be on the receiving end of gossip and nigh impossible to tolerate myself on the giving end. That lesson has stuck with me for a long time, but lately I've felt the pain becoming blunter and blunter. This statement resonated with me so strongly, I think, because it reminded me of the fundamental purpose of that long ago Lenten penance--to be kind to God's children, no matter what they say or do.

So I'm taking that along with me today and would be interested to hear what you folks out there make of it.

Friday

Lent began on Wednesday, and even though I'm far away from the Mardi Gras/Ash Wednesday split of my childhood, I felt the whole of it this week. On Wednesday evening I found myself sardine-packed in a church in Athens, GA waiting to receive my ashes and start this Lenten season off right.

I don't know that I'm doing such a great job. But I'm trying.

It's hard to know what to do during Lent. I always have a million things I want to do, and they all come down to one thing--be a better Catholic and be a better me. It's very hard to navigate today's world, to be a part of the world and yet remained detached enough from it to be true to the faith. I never know when, for example, to speak out on issues of national importance.

This Lenten season, I resolve to use my voice a wee bit more and to speak and to respond to the events surrounding me in a manner that is appropriate, consistent, and honest. And that I will do this compassionately.

God's peace be with you all today.