Hope

 Hope is faith in things unseen, the promise of things to come. Without we hide under the bed of our soul and never let God make us what we can be.

As 2020 turned over into 2021 and the New Year begins with yet more ugliness—deaths from Covid are up, Virtual Mass proves a poor substitute for the relating, hunger is rising and homocide rates with it, and a coup attempt that is probably just an opening sally has occurred—hope has never been a more vital component of our spiritual lives.

Samantha Powers told U.S. Catholic recently that, while the size of if the  world's ills is massive, there are always things that can be done right in front of our noses. No one of us is called to save the world. (The work of Redemption has been done, I believe), but we are all called to remember that the kingdom is at hand--right in front of us. We're called to live in the kingdom, loving God with our whole hearts and our neighbor--whoever that is and a whoever comes our way each day--as ourselves. 

We can't let darkness win. We'll know we walk there if we see His fruit. More on that another time.

This I Believe

This I believe:

1. God is. Nothing else really matters.
2. God is love. He is the trinity of Lover, Love, Beloved in neverending exchange.
3. The logic of love is creation~the sharing of love.
4. The gap between humanity and God demanded redemption. The continued gap calls out for salvation.
5. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him, not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it...  And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

 I accept the formulation of the Nicene creed, and I choose to be a submissive daughter of the Roman Catholic church, never blind to its greed, sins, and administrative blunders, but joyful in its life in the Spirit, the beauty of its traditions, and the communion of its saints.

Word on Fire

...for our gospel did not come to you in word only, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit

                    1 Thessalonians  1:5

In the middle of the angst, divisions, and failures of the Catholic Church this decade, I've looked for a spiritual home.

My parish, as luck would have it, is lovely; bible study there keeps me going. But it is shrinking. Between the flight of believers, aging out and changing demographics, it teeters toward disappearing. In my heart of hearts, I have my doubts about the old structure of parish/diocese/archdiocese/conference... It doesn't seem to be working. I have total faith that we as a community of faith can march on no matter what, but the structure? It may be time to let it fall.

I considered one of the traditional religious orders, some, including the one that raised me, take affiliate members. I've looked at various lay movements without finding much satisfaction. I spent some time perusing Formed and some of the online groups. None spoke to me.

So I've settled on Word on Fire. I admire the way in which the institute engages the culture. Wherever I go on social media (and I confess to being out there a lot) WoF is there, not cringing before the culture, not attacking the culture, but engaging the culture in a dialogue rooted and grounded in our faith. As a layperson called to be in the world but not of it and as a writer who prays for ways to make sure my work is soaked in my faith, and a person who uses technology, it feels like a good fit. I'm particularly fond of the magazine and podcast Evangelization and Culture. I'm happy to have my monthly subscription contribute.

I recommend their work—I hope one day to confidently call it our work. Look for us wherever you go. Start here:

https://www.youtube.com/user/wordonfirevideo

or here

https://wordonfire.institute

Notre Dame Burns

I tell you that something greater than the temple is here.

                                Mathew 12:6

I watched in horror, my stomach churning, holding back tears while the great cathedral in Paris burned. I wept when pictures surfaced of people kneeling, praying, singing in the street.

The outpouring of grief for that holy site, that great cultural artifact, "the heart of France," has been genuine and understandable. My own sense of loss is deep. Very quickly, however, we began to hear people struggling to make sense of the event, Worse, some folks began to fold it into their own disparate belief system in awful ways. Some of the things I heard:

1. It can't have been an accident, it had to be "them" (Muslims, anarchists, whoever you define as "them")
2. Our Lady is alerting France to mend their ways and return to faith.
3. The cathedral had been corrupted into a tourist attraction and didn't deserve God's protection.
4. Let it burn, it housed/tolerated/covered up pedophilia.

What struck me as the evening wore on is no one died. The destruction, heart rending though it was, didn't rise to the level of even one mass shooting: Parkland, Columbine, ChristChurch. I wept for a building, and I ought to week for the lost,

Heroic efforts went into rescuing dozens of artifacts, some quite ancient, some recent, some quite valuable, some priceless, and all with great religious significance. The media's emphasis on the crown of thorns relic troubled me, mostly because I am all to aware the the provenance of such relics is shaky at best. I found myself thinking I would sidestep that one and go right for Saint Louis IX's tunic. I am generally put off by relics that are body parts (the tongue of Anthony, the head of the Bapist—or that of Catherine of Siena) and attracted to objects like Francis's little brown robe or Katherine Drexel's desk. The ones reputed to be associated with Christ and the earliest church tend to be questionable. There was a not trade in relics during the middle ages. The crown of thorns itself was once used as security on a loan. That's how Louis IX acquired it.

We were reminded later in the week that three historic black churches in Louisiana were torched in the previous month or so. As billionaires pledged millions to rebuild Notre Dame, less affluent folks began send their mite to the fund to rebuild those churches. I plan to do the same.  We were also reminded that people are starving, and some asked "Where are the billionaires when people need food?" Good question.

How then should I respond to this? I pray that the cathedral will rise and the faith of France— and indeed the whole world—will rise with it, resurrection out of ashes being an appropriate thought for Holy Week.  I will probably send my bit to the cathedral fund. I will most definitely send some to the fund for the churches. Food causes are always dear to my heart and in my budget. 

What came to me was this: love what God loves. And what is that? Us. God loves every one of us, and, as I read the Gospels, his special preference is for the poor and marginalized. Does he care about buildings, relics, art? Only insofar as they enrich us. I'm glad they rescued the relics, but I'd trade them in a second to rescue one hungry child. I'm glad they are rebuilding the cathedral because the hearts of people are elevated by it.  I just hope France finds peace, unity, and faith in the process.