Journeys of a Catholic Poster Girl

From Catholic Exchange’s daily Word of Encouragement feature (you can sign up using the link above):

Jan 30, 2007
Suffering Has Meaning!

Colossians 1:24
Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of His body, that is, the Church.

Some people complain that the Catholic Church’s theology is a “theology of suffering.” By this, they mean to accuse the Church of encouraging people to knuckle under in hardship instead of striving to right the wrongs of the world. It is an accusation that the Church is one vast attempt to make a human being into a sheep. Of course, in the next breath, such people also often accuse the Church of making people too warlike, but we won’t address that contradictory complaint today. Rather, we simply point out that whether or not we have a theology of suffering, we all suffer anyway. The Church does not discourage people from fighting injustice just look at Archbishop Oscar Romero, Dorothy Day or Pope John Paul II. But it does discourage us from believing the lie that all the suffering we endure is just meaningless junk that has no purpose, goes nowhere, and does no good. Secularity, which regards pain as the highest evil, simply throws up its hands in mute helplessness at the tho
ught of suffering. The most creative thing it can think to do in the face of it is to kill the sufferer with euthanasia. Catholic belief, founded on faith in the Crucified One, rebukes this lie and affirms that even our suffering brother and sister has something to give to the Church. Today, make an offering of your sufferings to God for the sake of His body, which is the Church. You have a share in the precious gift of Christ to His people thereby. You become part of His gift.
Just a Word of Encouragement from Mark Shea and Jeff Cavins.

This is interesting twist on the Church’s politics from both Amy and Rob: (NOTE: The speaker is her daughter, Alexandra)

During Nancy Pelosi’s speaker celebrations this month, as the Pelosi clan drove through the streets of Washington and Baltimore together, some protesters held up signs that read, “Pelosi Preys on Children” — a reference to the speaker’s pro-choice stand, which contradicts church doctrine.

“ My mother, throughout her entire life, has been faithful to the church, even though the church has not been that faithful to her because of her politics. And I think that takes a lot of perseverance,” she says. “And still, people protest her right to go to her own church.”

Um, wow. This is really spin at its worst, because it makes no sense. She is not, and cannot befaithful to the Church if she doesn’t follow Church teachings!! Hello! This is the most basic tenet of any religion. If you don’t follow what it believes, then you aren’t being faithful. She is rabidly pro-choice. Rabidly. We all know that. That’s totally against Catholic doctrine. To have the temerity to say that the church hasn’t been faithful to her is just a statement that is beyond ridiculous.

How she cannot be denied communion in D.C. is just beyond me.

I love the movie Shrek, and I especially love the “Hallelujah” song that is sung near the end, when it looks like Shrek and Fiona are parted for good. But I never knew the lyrics.
Well thanks to Anchoress, I have finally found the lyrics to that song. And there’s a lot more to them than I originally thought (emphases mine):

I’ve heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don’t really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah

Your faith was strong, but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah A Samson and Delilah reference?

Hallelujah

Baby I’ve been here before, I know this room
I’ve walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I’ve seen your flag on the Marble Arch
Love is not a victory march
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What’s really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
I remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah love in the physical relationship–TOB stuff, maybe? Or at least it could be construed that way.

Hallelujah

Maybe there’s a God above, all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who out drew you
And it’s not a cry you can hear at night
It’s not somebody who’s seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Wow, I mean, look at some of that. We’ve got King David, Samson and Delilah, the “holy dove” moving when the lovers were together. Whew! Pop culture can, occasionally, surprise us–in a good way.

This post from The Anchoressreally struck a chord with me, so I thought I’d share my thoughts on it here. In a strange coincidence, I will be posting this on both this blog and my TX blog, since they have to do with both health and faith, two things very close to me.

The Anchoress talks about the day her doctor told her she was losing her hearing due to Lyme Disease. Well, having lost a good deal of my hearing due to drugs pre-tx, I can relate to her feelings of shock and dismay. And even anger. Both her sons are musicians. I am a musician. Of all the things that had been taken from me, this was the one that really hit home. I mean, it was what I did. I was a singer. I had been trained in classical singing. Music was the thing for me. In college, I really developed and ear and was coming up with good relative pitch (OK, not as good as Tiff, who has perfect pitch, but we can’t all be perfect). We first noticed (well, my friends noticed) in my later years at college that I wouldn’t hear them when they asked me things, or were talking to me. I chalked it up as being distracted or involved in my work. Even as a kid, when I was reading, if you tried to talk to me it could be very hard to get my attention.

But I didn’t just have good hearing, I had great hearing. I could hear my name being whispered two rooms away. It drove my parents crazy. I never did the loud rock concerts, loud walkmans, whatever, that ruins your hearing. And yet, the drugs that saved my life in the end took away quite a bit of it.

Fortunately, God has blessed me with the ability to still have my music. Some of the upper, upper registers are gone but I have pretty good musical memory. And that’s what singing is, hearing the pitch in your head. So if it’s a song I know (and, thank God, I know many) I’m OK. I can go to musicals that I’ve known and loved and still enjoy them. I can learn new pieces, as well, and my musicals abilities haven’t abandoned me. In regular conversation, however, it’s another story. People get frustrated because I can’t hear them. Well, I’m frustrated because I can’t hear them. When I’m in a noisy restaurant and everyone’s complaining because they can’t hear each other, I always say, “welcome to my world.” It makes them a bit more conscious. There’s nothing more inane about being mad at someone for being unable to physically do something. It’s stupid.

The Anchoress also writes about the Dark Night of the Soul, how God uses people in their weakness. I love the concept of the Dark Night. To me, it is very comforting to know that those who are closest to God can also be, at times, the farthest from him. St. Terese of Avila, I believe, calls these periods of “aridity,” like being in the desert. Immediately before St. Therese of Lisieux’s death, she was in severe aridity. She couldn’t pray, she doubted her vocation, she doubted the existence of Heaven. Now I haven’t doubted the existence of Heaven, but I have been in one of these periods lately. Not just because of the hearing problems, but because of the health issues overall, and how dependent they can make you. Dependent on other people, when we all want to be as independent as possible. We don’t want other people giving us meds, washing our hair. These are things we have been able to do since childhood, or can handle ourselves. To be reduced to an almost sub-child position can be intolerable. But to not have the support is the worst of all. And when it seems God is silent…

I remember something I read once, from a letter Mother Teresa wrote to her confessor (I think). She said that sometimes she found her mission almost too hard to accept. She couldn’t do it. And she would pick up her rosary, very deliberately, and just say it. The Creed. The Our Father. The Hail Marys. The mysteries. Just going through it, almost, if I may say, mechanically, until she reached the end. And it would be enough.

I have taken this strategy to heart. When it is too much, I take my beads, whichever set is handy, and just pray them, letting whatever is in my heart be opened and presented before God and Mary. They know what is there. And, in the end, it is enough.

Here is my cousin, Bishop Wuerl’s, comments on Right to Life on Monday.

Apprently BXVI is getting ready to send them a letter about the current situation…

I recently discovered, via Danielle Bean , a new daily prayer site from the Irish Jesuits called Sacred Space. OK, so it’s new to me. But anyway, go check it out. It is a great way to help with your daily prayer, and you can do it at work!

on my St. Elizabeth Seton post from yesterday is this comment from Peter Robinson in the corner:

Re: Questions About God [Peter Robinson]

Michael Novak writes, “I do wish our atheist brothers and sisters would learn a little more than they now know about the profound and thoughtful sorts of believers that surround them, by the millions.”

Me too. I’m always a little taken aback when someone attacks religion because life can prove painful and unjust or because prayers often go unanswered, as if believers simply hadn’t noticed. Praying in Gethsemane, for example, Jesus himself offers a petition that goes unanswered, asking to be spared the bitter cup of crucifixion. Pain? Injustice? Take a look at the Church calendar. The day after Christmas? The feast of St. Stephen, a blameless man executed by stoning. Two days after that? The feast of the Holy Innocents, the infant males whom Herod had slaughtered.

Pain, injustice, unanswered prayers—these are all difficult problems, obviously. But to suggest that Christianity has failed to grapple with them demonstrates ignorance of the scriptures, of Chrysostom, of Augustine, of Aquinas—of the whole body of Christian thought.

From Fr. Z’s website (and, Lord knows, I need these as much as anybody!)

Fr. Z’s 20 Tips For Making A Good Confession o{]:¬)

We should…

1) …examine our consciences regularly and thoroughly;
2) …wait our turn in line patiently;
3) …come at the time confessions are scheduled, not a few minutes before they are to end;
4) …speak distinctly but never so loudly that we might be overheard;
5) …state our sins clearly and briefly without rambling;
6) …confess all mortal sins in number and kind;
7) …listen carefully to the advice the priest gives;
…confess our own sins and not someone else’s;
9) …carefully listen to and remember the penance and be sure to understand it;
10) …use a regular formula for confession so that it is familiar and comfortable;
11) …never be afraid to say something “embarrassing”… just say it;
12) …never worry that the priest thinks we are jerks…. he is usually impressed by our courage;
13) …never fear that the priest will not keep our confession secret… he is bound by the Seal;
14) …never confess “tendencies” or “struggles”… just sins;
15) …never leave the confessional before the priest has finished giving absolution;
16) …memorize an Act of Contrition;
17) …answer the priest’s questions briefly if he asks for a clarification;
18) …ask questions if we can’t understand what he means when he tells us something;
19) …keep in mind that sometimes priests can have bad days just like we do;
20) …remember that priests must go to confession too … they know what we are going through.

I hope that these are helpful as we prepare for Lent…and get to confession more often, possibly (maybe. I’m not making any promises here)

Can you expect to go to heaven for nothing? Did not our Savior track the whole way to it with His tears and blood? And yet you start at every little pain.
— St. Elizabeth Ann Seton

A very good thing for us to ponder, especially as Lent is coming up in about a month. People who ask, “why is their suffering in the world? Why does God permit it?” need look no farther than the Cross. If God sent His own Son to suffer and die, then how can we expect to be exempt from it? Suffering is a natural part of our spiritual growth. Some of us are called to more than others, but God knows what is best for each of us. And we have, in Jesus, a Savior who has “drunk to the dregs of human suffering” (as Fr. Benedict Groeschel writes in his Rosary: Light and Life ) and knows what we are feeling.