Vines

I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.         John 15:5

In many ways, this is the quintessential Easter text. Life for those of us connected to the vine.  The abiding part is fairly easy. It is a warm fuzzy sort of text. God's life is in me!

Remembering that last bit, however, is the tough part. We can do what? Nothing. All our work means nothing unless we do it with Him. A good marriage? Not without God at the center. Our efforts at spiritual life? Nada. Prayer? Don't even go there.


Most mornings I wake up with a prayer and remember the day belongs to God. Most. Not all. Evenings are another story. By about mid-afternoon (if not before) I'm running on my own power...which means running on empty. If it is a good day, I circle back around and tap in before I got to bed.

In this effort, as in all things, I need His help because I can do nothing.

Killing is Killing

Anyone who hates a brother or sister is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life residing in him.
                                        1 John 3:15

I live in a political desert that lies between warring armies in the battle between life and death. There are no innocent parties, me included. They whole of life is a precious gift from God and we are all obliged to protect it.

Killing is killing. Death is death. On one side are the gun lobbies. They run the extreme from responsible gun owners (I'm related to many) to the rabid gun promoters. That last group includes the masses genuinely persuaded that "liberals" plan to take their precious guns to which God entitles them to the cynical bloodsucking NRA and firearms industry people growing fat off the firearms that have flooded the U.S. To those who believe the second amendment is about (or only about) some individual freedom and that "the genie is already out of the bottle" regarding the numbers of firearms out there—and therefore nothing can change—I say (with the Parkland Kids) BS. The community has a right to defend itself from without and within. We can enact federally mandated universal background checks tomorrow to weed out the unstable, mentally ill and terrorists. We can make all bumpstockj illegal. Those two would be a good start while we sort out what else we want. We can behave in ways that prevent mass killings.

Here's the odd part. Folks in the pro-gun camp often—in the case of the most extreme, almost always—claim to be "pro-life." What they really mean is they are anti-abortion, often in a way that masks as anti-women's rights. The far right also attacks universal health care and assistance to poor mothers. The whole of life is a precious gift of God. You can't have it both ways.

Killing is killing. Death is death. On the other side is the pro-choice movement. They run the extreme from those who know there is a line, a point at which the taking of human life is bad, to rabid pro-choice people who believe any legislation to regulate the abortion industry is an affront to their God give right to do what they please with their bodies. Women do have an absolute right to control what happens to their bodies. I have no doubt about that. At least they do up to the point of conception. At that point the woman is not the only person whose right must be considered because the rights of another human being are at stake—at least half of them future women. The point at which a fetus becomes that other human being has been debated, but to argue for late term abortion when the unborn child is fully formed, viable and moving is to argue for legalized infanticide. I personally have never found a point in prenatal development in which a radical becoming human event occurs except conception. The pro-life political movement has taken a hard line all or nothing demand for making all abortion a crime as their platform. I would argue for laws that slow the rush to abort as a cheap, freely available method of birth control. We can enact laws the value women's health, and provide the resources they need to provide for themselves and their children. We can focus on income equality. We can support community health centers that support the whole gamut of women's health. We can behave in ways that prevent abortion.

Here's the odd part. Folks who are rabidly pro-choice and defend the need for ubiquitous easy, freely available abortion are often anti-gun rights. I don't get it. The far left defends universal health care and income equality, but rigidly defends the right to terminate life in the womb. The whole of life is a precious gift of God. you can't have it both ways.

The signs we live in a culture of death are all around us: teen suicide, violent movies and video, the sheer proliferation of guns in our homes/streets, the high price of needed medication, the acceptance of abortion as an option in all pregnancy, inequality in access to health care, execution of criminals, advocacy for assisted suicide an euthanasia. I think on some level almost all of us are culpable. However, I think there may be a special place in Hell for some:

• Those who grow rich on the manufacture, sale, and lobbying for the firearms that flood our streets. 
• Those who make abortion a for-profit business, or even use it to fund their so-call non-profit operation. 
• Pharmaceutical company executives who grow rich manipulating prices and patents to keep the prices of their drugs high at the expense of the ill, the elderly and the poor. 
• Those who mock young people traumatized by violence. 
• Politicians who care more about reelection and fundraising than the death of young people, who value their position more than their ethics. 

Killing is killing and death is death. God forgive us all.

Life in the Midst of Winter

 Christ will be exalted in my body,whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.
                                        Philippians 1:20-21

That is one of the few bits of scripture I know by heart in both English and Latin. Why then do I forget it so often?

I have wandered into yet another patch in which prayer has become one more thing to check of my list of tasks, and Mass one of the obligations I faithfully carry out.  When this happens I become a creature of the religion and the law, as Paul viewed it. Only life in Christ gives Lauds meaning. Only life in Christ gives the Mass its power and glory. I walk with a person, not a set of rules and I forget that at my peril.

The Inner Light

 This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all.
                                                                             1John:1:5

I've been reading about Quakers for my most recent book, and I have become enamored with the concept of inner light.

As a Roman Catholic, I value the structure of the church around me. In spite of eras of weak leadership, worldly popes, and/or men corrupted by power (and lack women's influence), having a center has generally kept us from splintering and from wandering into the extreme fringes of religious practice. Over the long haul of history, we get pulled back to center. Visionaries enrich the church; fanatics lead us over the cliff. Only time (and God's own judgment) sorts the wheat from the chaff.

That said, I've always believed each individual needed to listen to the work of the Holy Spirit in them, calling them to l rest in God as they go about their daily work. On days I remember to listen, my life goes well and my writing does too. On days I don't, I go to bed irritable, frustrated, and quarrelsome. What is that if not the inner light?

I trust the work of the Spirit in myself and those I love. I also view with caution the tendency of each of us to let ego and our need for control mistake "inner light" for "my desire." The only cure for that is humility and that, my friends is a life-long battle. Having the discipline of church, even if we don't always like what it says, helps with that.

Poverty of Spirit

 Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

While she is aware many saints sought actual poverty, Leseur says, "This is not my vocation." As the wife of an upper middle class professional, and one with severe illness, she wasn't free to choose it. There is nothing in the essay about solidarity with the poor or any particular insight into actual poverty. She does say that as far as is compatible with her "state in life" she will practice "a little poverty," by which she seems to mean certain self imposed penances. The insight here is not profound.

She distinguishes between Poverty of Spirit, which she defines as detachment from all that is purely human, and Poverty of Heart, which she defines as cutting oneself off from every attachment that cannot last eternity. Leseur addresses poverty of spirit sharply, but it bleeds into her previous writings on renunciation, detachment, and humility. There are no new insights, and it isn't her best piece.

Compared to the radical poverty of Francis, the active solidarity of Vincent de Paul, her writings on this subject sound weak, vague, and self centered.

I've always been haunted by the admonition to "live simply that others may simply live..."  I don't always do it well, but I've tried to store up my treasure where neither thieves nor moths can get to it. In our over rich culture, when people die for lack of clean water, adequate health care, and sufficient food, we can't afford ivory tower concepts of poverty. I don't know that I do any better than Leseur actually did.

Still the point is face poverty of power and rely on God, poverty of grace and ask for it, poverty of virtue and throw ourselves on his mercy, to walk in joy no matter what God gives us or takes away because His will is always to our benefit and His ways are not our ways.

Obedience

When I faced burnout in May and gave myself the summer off from all my writer blogs, I didn't intend to include this one. Alas, it too fell by the wayside. A quick review of Leseurs sixth and seventh monthly resolution, however, makes me suspect I also ducked them. Neither was any more difficult for the soul than, say, humility, but they were both rather mushy concepts and hard to wrap straight forward words around.

The sixth month? "To meditate on, serve, and love our crucified Savior." I actually did focus on the sorrowful mysteries that month, and work at this one. I just had nothing to say about it

The seventh month is "Detachment of soul." I wasn't seeing how this differs from many of her other ones. It is yet another way of saying "I must decrease and He must increase."

That brings me to last month's resolution, Obedience. Leseur resolves to practice it first of all and most obviously toward God. She goes on to say her body ought to be in obedience to her soul, an instrument to be used. Saint Francis called his body "Brother Ass." The point is that the body must be fit and disciplined enough to carry out the responsibilities of one's vocation, but not coddled.

When she turns to her "superiors," she lists first of all church authorities in descending order: Pope, bishops, priests, and—lucky her—her spiritual director. She talks about joyful, humble obedience. I decided some twenty years ago to be an obedient and submissive daughter of the church. It hasn't always been easy. Only a fool would deny there has been and still is corruption in the Vatican, weakness in some chancery offices, and not all priests are worthy. Those things matter to the life of the church and are cause of great sorrow, but they do not let me off the hook. Church discipline is above my pay grade. My job is to be a sabbath keeper, a rule follower and a humble obedient servant of the church. 

All this is particularly striking to me because I have been reading "traditionalist" literature at the request of a family member. I try for humility and an open mind, I pray before reading, and I seek the fruits of the Holy Spirit in what I read. I'm finding turmoil, arrogance, and defiance.  It isn't that all of the specific content is wrong, it is that there is little concrete dogma/ideas to get my arms, things that can or  be worked on lovingly in faithful obedience to the church. Most of it is clearly delineating between "us" and "them" and defined all that is true as "us." Much of it is convoluted justification for disobedience. It discourages me, but it challenges me not to mistake my own opinions for absolute truth.

Leseur goes on to list her "temporal superiors," her husband, her mother, and all to whom she owes respect. Last but not least she speaks of obedience to her own resolutions. That's a hard one, especially for me when I insist on biting off more than I can chew!

That brings me to September. Later...

Souls

As I have loved you, so you must love one another.
                                                              John 13:34

I resolve to love souls for the sake of Jesus Christ.
                                                            Elizabeth Leseur

Ok. So I got to Leseur's fifth month and this time her language feels truly awkward. Love souls? Not people? One another?  Puzzlement.

She goes on to talk about resolving to know souls and to go out and seek them. She speaks of welcoming everyone who comes her way.  She seems to mean that she will try to see all people with God's eyes, loving them, and with knowing them as they are to him. By loving she means looking to their greater good in God's eyes.

To pray, "let me see everyone I meet today as you see them and love them as you love them," is terrifying if I pray it like I mean it.

A week ago I visited Times Square. A seething mass of thousands of diverse people are there night and day. Some are downright peculiar. Some are attractive. Many are not. With Leseur's fifth resolution in the back of my mind it occurred to me that God had made every one of them and loves every one of them. I can choose to pray for them all and offer such general care, but I can't relate to them. I suspect she is talking about rising above our limitations in this regard.

If we try to relate to each person as beloved of God it would alter our relationships with those that come our way, enable us to do the good in front of us, and help us look past conflicts, even the ones that hurt the most, the ones with our near and dear.

Dear God, I can't do this without your grace. I ask for it.

Renunciation

 Renunciation of self is perhaps the most difficult of all.
                                                      Elizabeth Leseur
 
It is month four and Leseur is getting really serious.  She is treading in some dangerous territory! If I were a contemplative nun, I might understand renunciation and how it applies more clearly.  I'm wondering if I'm up for this. Perhaps I'm making it harder than it is.

This Lent I coordinated a program once a week after 10 AM Mass in our parish. What I didn't realize was that that particular Mass is the one most frequently used for funerals. Today I want to my third funeral for a perfect stranger in six weeks.

As is often the case I found my mind wandering, fantasizing about my husband's funeral. That isn't quite as morbid as it sounds. He is chronically ill. The first time I almost lost him I was forty, almost thirty years ago and I started planning the funeral as a sort of black humor. My thoughts run not only to hymns and readings, but to imagining who might travel here, what sort of gathering we might have, and what toasts I might make.When distracted in church I've learned to give it over in prayer. The Holy Spirit (object of our Lenten studies) came back with two thoughts. The first had to do with my fantasy of all those we love from our entire extended family gathered in my yard. I realized with delight that what I actually imagined was heaven, the ultimate family reunion. Our destination isn't the funeral celebration, it is God who will gather us all to himself.

I tried to sidestep the second thought, but it kept coming. Why Greg's funeral? What about mine? The inevitability of death isn't a new thought, but it has become more profound in my soul. All of this, whatever "this" is today, is temporary. That, my friend, is renunciation. I can accept that. It puts all things in their proper place.

But what about the meantime? I went back to LeSeur's list.

• Renunciation of evil. Check. At least I think so. "Of all things that might make me tend toward evil," is a bit dicier and I'll have to rely on the Spirit to point those out.
• Renunciation of the world. She says "those things that are solely of this world and have no place in the afterlife. She goes on,"I resolve to live for God alone, and for souls and for friendship..." Friendship! It is one of the things that goes on.  She notes also that she "lends" herself to the world to perform the duties of her place in life and of charity. She makes it sound manageable when she puts it that way, but I have work to do.
• Renunciation of self, she says is perhaps the most difficult of all. Yet, I already know that I can't be filled with Christ if I don't empty of self. Tough, but clear.
• Renunciation of human desires. She says that can be either for the sake of others or in a spirit of mortification.  I think this means actually embracing every opportunity to let another choose—dinner, which movie to watch, what to do on Saturday, and when to enjoy the blessings of the marriage bed.  Knowing it and remembering on time are two different things.
• Renunciation of spiritual joys and consolation. I wanted to whine, "That's not fair!" Actually I had just read two passages in The Imitation of Christ that said the same thing. If we cling to the gift instead of the giver we're going to fail.

Leseur recommends obtaining these things in prayer. It's the only way. I was right at the beginning this is hard. It is at least becoming clearer. I'll have to be satisfied with that.

Humility

Learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart

Matthew 11:29                                                                             

 Leseur's third month resolution, humility, is, she says, one of the foundation pillars of the spiritual life. She holds up Jesus as the exemplar of the virtue. He who is greatest is the most humble. That presents a paradox that challenges us. We are incapable of mastering it; only the Holy Spirit acting in us can manage it. Perhaps that is the greatest humility.

Reading chapters from the Imitation of Christ as Leseur recommends daily just reinforces her focus on humility.  I've begun to think that virtue is not only the key to sanctity but the key to a long and happy marriage. I think she would agree.

Control and power sharing swirl around marriage and the temptation to turn the relationship into a tit for tat arrangement in which all activities, tasks, and opinions must be divided "fairly" is a trap. The very challenge presents an opportunity to learn and grow.

It seems to me there are two ways an individual can practice humility in marriage. The first is the more obvious. It involves silence, biting your tongue when offended, and submission to the other. It is contrary to our modern views on the necessity of "fulfillment" for each individual on the surface of it. Done freely, however, this kind of behavior is healthy. The one choosing silence or choosing submission is in control of his or her own decision to give freely out of love and without rancor. Done by force either from the other, out of passive aggressive spite, or from some misguided sense of obligation, it can become an ugly, cold thing. Only love protects you from that. Nor is submission a gender obligation. Beloved once told our prayer group he had no less obligation for submission in marriage than I did. As we've gotten older, the value of submission is clearer to me every day.

The other way of humility, however, is assertive. To say without anger or aggression, "you hurt me when you did that" takes great humility. Such an act puts the importance of the relationship, the love between the couple, at the center. Such an act requires that you put aside fear of rejection or conflict and even control over the ultimate outcome in order to say "we must fix this for both our sake." Such a conversation must not be confused with bickering, arguing, or attacking. It is the tougher form of humility.

Human beings being the complex self-centered creatures we are, there are pitfalls all around. The temptation to take power, the temptation to self righteousness about our own virtue, and the temptation to even take pride in humility all remind us what foolish beings we are. That is precisely why it is a foundation stone. Only when we accept our inabilities and throw ourselves utterly on the mercy of God and the grace of the Holy Spirit do we have any hope of real growth.

Mortification

The kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the gospel.

       Mark 1:15                                

As her second month of reflection. Elizabeth Leseur offers mortification. Really? Repent, yes, but mortification? I can't get excited about it.

She quotes Mark 1:15 to show that mortification is a requirement, but I think that leaps over a few fences.  The gospel is adamant that repentance is an absolute requirement. There is no question about that.  That does not equate to mortification, at least not directly. Repentance, penance, and mortification are three different things. Some definitions might help.

Repentance is the action of repenting; sincere regret or remorse, a change of heart. It is generally described as a turning away from sin and worldly values and turning your face (and heart and soul) to God. It is foundational. You can't give yourself over to God without it. So repent if you would call yourself a Christian.

Repenting brings consequences: restoration and reconciliation. If you steal and you repent, you still have to pay back what you stole. "I'm sorry" doesn't cut it. Hence the need for penance. Penance is
voluntary self-punishment inflicted as an outward expression of repentance for having done wrong. It may include dealing with those you've sinned against. Sometimes that person is God himself. Traditional forms are fasting. abstinence, and alms giving in recompense to God.

So far so good. That brings me to mortification. The very word sounds Victorian if not medieval and makes me shudder, thinking of hair shirts, flagellation, and other forms of artificially imposed pain. I'm not so sure Leseur had that sort of thing in mind at all, and when I dig more deeply I begin to have an to get a glimpse of why it might be important.

The word mortification comes from the Latin word for death and refers to the necessity of death to self in order to experience life in Christ. It is the practice of asceticism or penitential discipline designed to overcome desire for sin/worldliness and to strengthen the will.

What attracted me to Elizabeth Leseur in the first place is that she generally doesn't see the need to go to heroic, artificial, and sometimes egotistical lengths. In fact she gives the caveat: unless it is harmful to my health. The idea is to empty out self, to dominion of soul over mind and body. There are plenty of opportunities daily, she says to mortify yourself. Accepting the foibles, demands, and thoughtlessness of those around me without complaint is the biggest one. Disciplining my body's eating habits, my mind's erratic thoughts, and the kinds and amount of information and entertainment I consume offers me plenty of opportunity to die to self. Last but not least Leseur would add accepting illness and weakness, of which she suffered more than her share. In my case it is more a matter of accepting the indignities of an aging body than a sick one. She adds at the end of her list the importance of hospitality and making herself accessible to people.

I'm still not particularly at ease with this concept, but I have an inkling. Maybe when it cycles around again, I'll have a better handle on it. And maybe I ought to pray for help with it. 

                                      

One Bread, One Body

…each of you is saying, "I belong to Paul," or "I belong to Apollos," or "I belong to Cephas," or "I belong to Christ." Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you?

1 Corinthians 1:12-13

It was distressing to hear those words proclaimed during a weekend of unprecedented division and conflict. Not much has changed in the 2000 years since then.

Two of my least favorite words are liberal and conservative, which have become code words in the culture wars. It is one thing when they are applied to a specific idea and quite another when they are used to describe a person. They are pronounced by pundits and speakers as if they can sum up a human being's entire body of thought and belief with one word. So and so is a liberal. Conservatives hate women. Liberals want to ruin the country. Some people talk as if "conservative" means virtuous and "liberal" means depraved. Some people talk as though "conservative" means racist bully and "liberal" means reasonable broad minded person. They are even worse when they are preceded by a pejorative adjective or used as an adjective followed by a pejorative noun. ("Liberal asswipes" is my current least favorite but "conservative clown" is about as bad)

The words are used as handy packages of policy opinions, as if a person has to accept one set if ideas or the other. I never fit in either box. My father saw me as a screaming liberal, and it is likely many of my in-laws do too. My high-school and professional friends find me excessively conservative. I believe in free-trade and limited government, but I make exceptions and would happily see health care heavily regulated and pharmaceuticals subjected to price control. I believe strongly in a woman's right to the sanctity and control over her own body, her right to decide when where and how to have sex, to say no, and to have law enforcement take her seriously. All women, especially pregnant ones must have access to good health care. But I support the rights of the unborn and oppose abortion. I would defund Planned Parenthood as long as they perform them. 

I also oppose the death penalty,  support common sense gun control, believe a nation of immigrants has to continue to admit people fleeing oppression. I believe it is my duty to care for people in poverty and support policies that address entrenched poverty. I love my country and consider myself patriotic. Low life types who wrap their patriotism in xenophobia and racism tread on my rights as a citizen to express my love of country as I please.

These words infest church matters as well. We argue about how to arrange the furniture in the sanctuary. We attack each other over the tension between compassionate toward sinners and firm on definitions of sin.

So am I a liberal or a conservative? I hope I'm a Christian. I believe in Christ and Him crucified and try to live accordingly. There are some in my church who have so convinced themselves they must be one-issue voters that they have sold their souls to one particular political party and look the other way on all other issues. I don't.

I wonder if Paul was writing today, I wonder if he might write, …each of you is saying, "I'm a Republican," or "I'm a Democrat," or "I'm a Conservative," or "I'm a Liberal" and not "I belong to Christ." Is Christ divided? Was any politician crucified for you?

I think rather, Since there is one bread, we who are many are one body; for we all partake of the one bread. (I Corinthians 10:17)

We might try listening respectfully to start. We might read the gospel and try to live it out.

Silence

Silence is good for the soul, essential to recollection, and conducive to humility. Remember Our Lord's silence throughout His life and during the hours of His passion.

Elizabeth Leseur           

I discovered Leseur's writing only recently and was struck by the simplicity of her spirituality. She begins a series of "retreats," each with a resolution, with Silence. She has a resolution for each of twelve months. The beginning of a new year struck me as a good time to consider them one by one.

When I see the word silence, I tend to think of it in terms of shutting out noise. Turn off the TV. Shut out the news.  Retreat to a spot where there is no sound. Avoid social media. Get off the Internet. Quiet your insides. Those are all things to do. That isn't what she means.

Leseur writes about being silent. Her emphasis is on not talking, and particularly about not talking about herself. For years I've grappled with something that skirts the edges of her thought but misses the heart of it. I have tended to focus on listening, being attentive to God and learning how to do that by learning to be attentive to Greg first of all and all others as well. My mantra has been listen don't talk in prayer, in social life, and in business. It's my mantra because I'm not very good at it. My natural instinct is to blurt out every thought.

How is that different from what Leseur writes? I realized that by focusing on listening I'm in expectation of receiving something. While it can and should open me up to compassion and care, it is in the end an openness to receiving, not giving. Leseur sees keeping silences as a value in and of itself; it is part of her great emphasis on humility, the emptying out of self. That wasn't a value to me in my twenties. As I age I see the emptying as the absolute necessity of the spiritual life and I know it for the virtually impossible challenge it is. 

So. Silence. She talks at length about all of the things about which she won't speak: the petty, the mean, the material, but also her own interior life, her spirituality and blessings granted her. She leaves it all between her and God. She does write about it so perhaps I can be excused for keeping this journal.

Her final resolution is, I resolve to hide my spiritual life, and, to great extent my sufferings, interests, and material or personal occupations under a veil of silence.

Wow. Perhaps I can take baby steps in that direction.

Poverty of Spirit

Ten years of Franciscan education left me with the concept of poverty deep in my consciousness. It was, to great extent, exactly that, a concept.

"Blessed are the poor"
"Holy indifference"
"Live simply that others may simply live"

All those words have swirled around my spiritual and practical adult life. Now in my seventieth year I find myself returning to them again and again and wondering if I ever understood the idea at all.

In Light in the Darkness Elizabeth Leseur writes eloquently about silence, humility, and renunciation in ways I've never heard them before. Perhaps I wasn't listening. Perhaps as age takes its toll and losses mount, as they inevitably do in life, I understand them better. She even had me with "mortification," an old-fashioned word that would have made me cringe at twenty, but which begins to make sense in marriage or in any life with others when you look at the things life actually sends you.

It comes down, I suspect, to letting go. We can learn to let go of ego, of greed, of the need to win, to be right, to be powerful. We can do it without losing sight of our own great value as children of God. We empty ourselves out in order to be filled. The extent to which we can do that is the extent to which God can take over and do His work in our life and use us for the sake of those he sends our way.

Various writers and various saints have used different words to describe the same process. "The Little Way" of Therese of Lisieux is not that different than holy poverty. Maybe I'm beginning to have an inkling of what the great ones understood utterly. I hope so because the one thing I know for sure is, I have a long way to go and am unlikely to have too many years in which to do it.

I gave up trying to be a hero for God long ago, seeing it for the foolishness it was. Maybe it is time to let go of my life completely and let God have it. My dearest Franciscan mentor once wrote to me, "In your passion for truth and justice, don't neglect poverty and humility." I should have listened then.

Life

I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.

John 14:6

Let me make on thing clear up front: abortion is the deliberate killing of innocent human life. It is an abomination. I make that statement as bald as I can because I am about to outline thoughts that may challenge many in the so-called pro-life movement.

I believe that, as heinous as abortion is, there are circumstances in which it is the least evil choice. Women who find themselves in desperate straits have sought to terminate pregnancy throughout history. In our own day the both sides of the issue talk about "cases of incest and rape," to describe particularly desperate cases of pregnancy, often at the expense of a woman's mental health. Both those cases involve coercion and forced unwanted pregnancy, a violation of a woman's right to the integrity of her own body up to the point of conception.

There are also cases in which a woman must choose between her own life and a child's. Choosing for the child, as Saint Gianna Molla did, is unquestionably heroic. However, what if she has other children who need her, children who don't have anyone else, the choice isn't as clear. To this list I would add, hunger, poverty, and the inability to care for the children a woman already has. The tough ethical question for each woman becomes, "When is abortion the least bad thing to do."

That desperation is not what the so-called pro-choice movement defends, however.  They wave the flag of abortion on demand, no questions asked. Abortion has become the first recommendation in cases of teen pregnancy, career demands, inconvenient pregnancy, and, God forbid, a baby that is less than perfect. The attitude is symptomatic of a corrupt culture whose driving sins are greed and self gratification, putting self above life-giving generosity.

As complex as the moral issues can be, politics has made the situation worse in the United States. One party has used "pro-life" as a whip to flog its base to turn out and vote. They have no vested interest in overturning Roe vs. Wade because it is entirely too useful politically. The other has used "pro-choice" as a threat to frighten women that other rights are at stake. They have no vested interest in focusing on prevention, women's health care that does not include abortion, or any other solution to underlying problems.

If either party truly put human life at the center, they would oppose the death penalty, support common sense gun control, work to get guns out of the hands of teenagers, and support universal health care, particularly for the elderly and children—as well as working to oppose legalized abortion. Better, they would  support laws that eliminated abortion on demand clinics, required both ultrasounds and consultation that includes referrals to organizations who can help women with their pregnancy, and other measures to eliminate the need for it.  Neither party does that. The Enemy laughs in victory either way.

As I write this we are in the midst of another election in the United States, this one uglier and more distasteful than any since perhaps 1968. Archbishop Chaput put it perfectly when he quoted a friend as saying our choice is between:

A vulgar, boorish lout and disrespecter of women, with a serious impulse control problem; or a scheming, robotic liar with a lifelong appetite for power and an entourage riddled with anti-Catholic bigots.

Our choice is an ugly one. We've been told by pro-life friends and family that they will vote for the disrespector of women because he has promised to appoint people to the Supreme Court who will rule on the pro-life side.  Here's what I think is wrong with that:

Assuming he is elected (and that is looking unlikely), and assuming he does what he says (and his past history argues that we ought not rely on any word that comes out of his mouth), and assuming the persons interpret the law as he assumes, what then?  The court might rule as we hope, at least on laws such as I described to slow down the rush to abortion. It is unlikely to over turn Roe vs. Wade in any case. Even if it did, that would merely push regulation back to the states. If all this happens without great conversion of heart across the country and without putting a widespread network of pregnancy support centers and adoption services in place, we might find the situation is as bad or worse than before the appointments.

Belief that the Supreme Court is the answer to a horrific moral problem is foolish at best. If such a belief allows pro-life people to wipe their hands of the problem and feel self-righteous it is downright sinful. Belief that criminalization will fix the problem is at best foolish, and at worse shows a lack of compassion and care for underlying problems. Punishment without compassion not only inadequate, it is a sin of omission.

The Supreme Court won't fix the problem; people of faith have to. What should we—or what's more to the point—what should I—do?

• Some evils can only be driven out by prayer and fasting. 40 Days for Life provides and opportunity to fast and pray for 40 days twice a year.
• Read and think about the underlying issues of women. Don't oversimplify the problem.
• Sidewalk witness at clinics and hospitals, if done with joy, compassion, and openness can be very effective.
• Speak up in secular situations such as university, school, or work.
• Adopt children or support people who do. It is a tough thing to do.
• Support pregnant women in need, financially or better, with our time and attention.
• Work to develop pregnancy support services.
• Watch our state legislature as well as the Congress. Lobby for laws supporting pregnant women or regulating abortion. Write letters, call, email—make your voice heard.
• Give witness to the joy of family in your own life.
• Think about the whole of life and the impact of being pro-life on the death penalty, health care, the policies of the pharmaceutical industry, refugee crises, war, and gun control to name a few.

 I'm please to note that I've done some of all those. I'm ashamed to say I haven't done enough. I remember that it is Jesus who changes hearts, and ask Him to use me as he sees fit. We can only be his hands and feet.

Advent

"...the people that sat in darkness have seen a great light."  

Matthew 4:16; Isaiah 9:2

Light again. An entire bloomin' season devoted to it.

Matthew said that the folks sat (past tense) in darkness. Isaiah, somewhat more dramatically said they were walking.  Matthew quoted Isaiah 750-800 years after the prophet wrote it.   Goodness.  Human longing for light, joy, peace never ends.  Among Advent's persistent themes longing will do as well as light.

This year I heard the same thing twice on the first Sunday, once in church and once in ready.  We celebrate two comings of Jesus. One is the one is 4-6 BC in Bethlehem. The other is the one at the end, the one trailing clouds of glory.   The pastor's question was this:  Does the second one fill us with fear or dread? Shouldn't we long for it, pray for it, ask for it?

The little Advent booklet we got at church had a question on day 1. When Jesus comes, what will you say to him?  I began cataloging a list from, "I couldn't help it" to "Oh now I get it." (You will note those are all about me.) My husband, always wise, said simply, "I love you."

Joy

Rejoicing comes in the morning...

Psalm 30:5

The sun shines bright this morning.  It filters through the two dozen trees in my back yard. It gives the little piles of fallen leaves a sparkle. Every morning has its own unique beauty.

I am well housed, well fed, well loved in a home my grandson moves comfortably in and out from his own home down the street.  Life is good. I should be bursting with joy -- and giving thanks.  And in some ways I am--really.  Thanks and praise come readily to my mouth. 

Joy has always been a struggle, though.  Contentment is tough.

I don't know why, but in my life (and in my writing) I seem to be more comfortable with angst and struggle than peace and joy. When things are this good a wee small voice deep inside is saying, "Are you sure? Better look more closely." Gloomy, grey mornings come and I think, "Ha! I knew it." Given a fabulous day with one bad moment I have to force myself not to focus on and pick over the bad moment.

I don't know where this came from. I've learned to work around it. (I once made a conscious decision to stop thinking of my life as a Greek Tragedy and being to see it as a situation comedy, but that is hard to remember.)  One thing I do know: it reflects a fundamental lack of trust on a spiritual level.

We're in God's hands. Let us give thanks and rejoice.

Darkness

For you Lord give light to my lamp; my God brightens my darkness.

Psalm 18:29

Some periods of life are murkier than others.  Having changed my life utterly and completely, there is an opportunity to rebuild it. God, as always, hasn't sent blueprints.  The potential for growth is enormous; the darkness, smothering at times.

Do I pray more? Seek religious community? Reduce the clutter of this world in my hours and mind?  Is there Good Work to do or study and prayer?  Justice to demand? Monastic schedule or spirit-led spontaneity?

One road marker is the fundamental vocation, in my case hearth and family. Nurture Greg. Create a center of peace and support for children, grandchildren, extended family. But when? how? what roles? what gifts?

The opportunities for black funk are many also. Family discord.  The burdens of those I love. Politics. Bigotry. Abortion. Violance. Wars and rumors of wars. Evil in the Church and out of it

Perhaps the greatest temptation is to believe salvation--even my own--is my job alone. The sure knowledge that I am powerless (on my own) in the face of all those things can crush me.  The good news is, I'm not on my own.

As someone once observed, "We play at being God but the almighty has a way of reminding us that the job is already filled."  Or,  as Catherine of Siena put it, "I am He Who is God; you are she who is not."

So what then? Prayer surely. Even retired I don't get the entire Divine Office in, but I can manage at least two legs and frequently three. In the middle of the day it lifts me up.  Yesterday various mishaps practically bullied me into saying the rosary while on the treadmill. I used to use drive time for it, but I don't do that anymore.  Rule of thumb: when down, pray. When confused, pray.

The psalmist tells us that it is the WORD that is the lamp unto our feet. Seek wisdom through the word.

Cardinal Newman wrote more prayers about darkness and confusion than anyone.  I need to remember his dictum:

If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him, in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him. If I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him. He does nothing in vain. He knows what He is about.

Give God space to act. Do not fill it with your own noise!

The Journey

God, carried you, as a man carries his own child, all along your journey...

Deuteronomy 1:31

And He still does.   We don't see where life is taking us. We have no idea what things God will send or what obstacles this world will put in the path. We can't see the bends in the road or what is around the corner.  We don't know the map of our own particular journey. We do know the ultimate destination whether it be near or far and we know one other thing:  God carries us.

Sleep

You withheld sleep from my eyes, I was troubled, I could not speak. I thought of days long ago.

Psalm 77

Bad night. It is tempting to claim I used it to ponder, as the psalmist suggests, the works for the Lord.   Alas no! 

I pondered this: Why is my tummy acting up now?  I was fine all day yesterday but at bedtime pain and, well, noise.  I was tempted to ask "Why now God?"

Greg slept, I wandered the house.  Night office done, I sought refuge in OTC meds, tea, a sip of Drambui--to no avail--not additional prayer.  An hour or more with a favorite author later I slipped into bed with a more minor tummy ache and finally, blessedly, sleep.

This morning praise and joy in the office, fog and sleepiness everywhere else.  Now I ponder, "Lord how can I work if I don't sleep?"  I've learned to ask for help for worse so I ask, "Help me get a grip on my digestive challenges and get a good night's sleep."

Actually, one night in seven isn't bad. This used to be nightly.  So praise Him for what you get, thank him for the things that humble, and do the best you can with what you get.

Work

First of all, every time you begin a good work, you must pray to Him most earnestly to bring it to perfection.  

Rule of Saint Benedict  

The psalmist says Unless the Lord build the house, they who build it labor in vain. (Psalm 127).  The house, the family that lives in it, the neighborhood, the city--without God's work the result is vanity.

Whether I'm picking up a paintbrush, sweeping the kitchen, or trying to pen a great novel, none of it has meaning if it isn't God's work.   Benedict put his finger on the problem.  The trick is to remember to pray first.   Starting the day with a general scattergun prayer, "Bless the works of our hands," is good but specific prayer for specific work is better.   

At the moment we're attempting to make a new house into a home.  Even more important, we want to create a place of comfort and joy for our grandson down the street.  If ever there was work that required God's hand, it is this.