March 23 - Lent, Day 39 - A Profound Conversion

It is now day 39 of Lent, and on one level, I have failed to do what I set out to do: to keep a daily Lenten journal. It is not for the lack of desire, certainly, but more due to the fact that there are only certain days of my week that lend themselves to writing. Last week I was in a good writing groove and was very excited to have caught up a bit in Dr. Hahn's daily lenten readings, and to be writing and posting, and then I was away for the weekend, and my duties and responsibilities - partly the daily stuff, partly catching up from having been away - have precluded my being able to focus on this project even though I have had many thoughts and ideas swirling around and fairly begging to be recorded. But I find, if I don't catch the wave of thought as it comes through, it's pretty much gone.

On another level, I have failed at nothing - unless I choose to self-flagellate for not keeping up with a self-imposed regimen, which I could easily do, but even though I haven't kept up with my intention to follow the daily readings and diligently report my thoughts and impressions (seriously, after being in school for eight of the past twelve years - earning a b/a and a certificate of cantorial arts - I think I've proved myself in this regard, thank you), this has been a great Lent. If one may use such a term to describe this, the most serious and penitential period of the liturgical calendar. And by great, I mean that I feel as though I have immersed myself in the season and have availed myself of all tools available - Confession (a great gift - I should go more often), attending Mass, almost daily (but I do that anyway); reading, writing (and yes, Dr. Hahn's writings and questions have caused me to do much thinking; even if I haven't had time to write all of my impressions, my awareness has been greatly increased by his book), abstaining from eating meat on Fridays (even forgetting a couple of times increased my self-awareness), preparing music for the Mass; overall, being more aware than usual of Christ's presence in my life. This is all good. I guess you get out of Lent what you put in, and I believe I have put in plenty. Even being aware of my so-called failures has enhanced these weeks of Lent.

So, now to Dr. Hahn's question for today (as pertains to the suffering and the exile of the Jews and how it brought them closer to God): What areas of suffering can transform me into a living sacrifice?


Someone recently posted a quote from then-Cardinal Bergoglio - now, Pope Francis: "Rend your hearts, so that through that crack we can really look at ourselves. Rend your hearts, open your hearts, because only in a broken and open heart can the merciful love of God enter, who loves and heals us." - Jorge Mario Cardinal Bergoglio, in his Lenten letter to his archdiocese. To which I commented: "I was born with a broken heart, which led me to search for healing, which led me to God. I thank God for my broken heart."

Rabbi Bill Hamilton, one of my first teachers in Brookline, once told me something along the lines of, The problem with Jewish faith today is, now that the we have achieved success, we don't really need God any more.

So, globally, yes - I thank God for my broken heart.

What about today? What are the areas of suffering in my life? Okay, giving up meat on Fridays has been transformational (as was keeping kosher - meatless Friday's first cousin). Being a mother and watching my children suffering is a big area of suffering, some days. Missing my husband comes to mind. On an intellectual level, I understand the role of suffering in the journey to holiness - but on another level, I pray daily to be spared any real suffering, such as the loss of a child or grandchild (God forbid!). Oh, and though it can't be equated to real suffering, having given up beer has been huge. Not such a big problem, but yes - especially in the evening - I'm aware that something is different, that I'm doing something that draws me closer to God (and anyone who says, "Giving up something for Lent won't make me a better person" ought to try it, and then report back).

Okay, got it. I am in excruciating agony over the state of my present family and the brokenness that exists among my three my children. I will offer this up and join it to Christ's suffering, and especially to his mother, Mary's, and trust in the redemptive power of the cross.

Dear Lord, please grant me the strength and courage to enter this final week before Easter - the holiest of our weeks - and partake fully of your Passion and Resurrection. Thank you for doing the heavy lifting here, for giving of yourself in a way that none of us could ever do, willingly, so that we don't have to; thank you for dying so that we might live. Help me to die to the things that keep me from being fully alive and living a holy life. PS - please heal my family.

March 13 - Lent, Day 29 - Rules and Rebellion

Artwork in an Edgartown gallery window, June 2012.

"For the Lord will again take delight in prospering you, as he took delight in your fathers, if you obey the voice of the Lord your God, to keep his commandments and his statues which are written in this book of the law, if you turn to the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul." Deuteronomy 30:9-10

How do I view God's rules? With loving obedience or as roadblocks to freedom?

I love God's rules, and would be lost without them, as would the whole world, I believe. Am I always obedient? No. Does God even expect that we will always be obedient? No, but that's why God gave us the sacrament called Reconciliation. I believe that God's rules lead to freedom, which is a bit counter-intuitive, I suppose. Certainly, as children we thought that our parents' rules curtailed our freedom, but then as we grew up, (most of us, anyway) we realized that our parents' rules were for our own good and were given out of their love for us.

We live in a world that isn't much into following rules these days, it seems. Just drive down the highway at the speed limit and watch how many cars whiz past you, on all sides. Watch as people step out, willy-nilly, into traffic, bringing cars to a screeching halt so they can cross any old time in anyplace they desire, without even looking (my generation was taught to cross only at a cross-walk, or if no cross-walk, at a corner, and to look both ways and only cross if no cars were coming). Read any on-line forum to see people's rudeness towards each other and hatred and disrespect of authority. Walk down any street where there are people and listen to the filthy language that pours out of people's mouths. Turn on any of today's prime-time sit-coms and listen to sexual innuendo in almost every sentence. I see a world that has largely rejected authority figures and rules, especially the authority of the Church - where God's rules are taught - as well as organized religion, for the most part (replaced with silliness), which makes me want to hold on even more tightly to God's rules.

Dear God, help me to follow and to love your rules.

March 9 - Lent, Day 25 - True Liberation

What does true liberation mean to me? Am I willing to allow God to exercise "tough love" in order to accomplish this in my life?

Not to sound glib, or trite - and this probably is not quite in the context of today's reflection, where Dr. Hahn writes about the Israelites' wanderings in the wilderness, and their murmurings and complaints, and how God our Father heard their cries and provided for their every need - but I would feel truly liberated if I could get into an airplane and fly to New Mexico to visit my daughter, or fly to Ireland and spend the summer playing in pubs and photographing Ireland's landscape and people.

So, what about tough love? I certainly don't have everything I want in life - I can think of a few big things I missed out on (Hey, how about throwing a daddy my way, Lord? What am I, chopped liver?) - but I can honestly (almost always) see how so much of not having everything I thought I wanted has helped to strengthen me and shape me into a better person. And thank God I didn't get some of the things (and people) I thought I wanted along the way.

Dear God, help me to be more patient, to not react too quickly if things aren't going the way I expect; help me to let go of the reins a little and realize that you are in control and only want what's best for me; help me to complain less, and to realize that every moment is perfect, even if it doesn't appear to be so at the time.

February 26 - Lent, Day 14 - A Covenant Renewed

July 1, 2012

"This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the clouds over the earth, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth." Genesis 9:13

Who doesn't love a rainbow? Ever since I learned, many years ago, the secret of when a rainbow is likely to appear (late afternoon after a rainstorm has passed by), and where to find it (against a dark, eastern sky), I have been an avid rainbow hunter. This past summer, the summer of my return, no fewer than three rainbows appeared immediately following 5pm Mass, splashed boldly across the sky above State Beach - my route home. I suppose it would have been extremely ego-centric of me to have thought that they had been placed there by God specifically for me; his way of saying, "Welcome home. I'm so glad you're back." But that's exactly what I thought.

Then there was the time I was sitting at a stop sign next to a large corn field that was being irrigated by a rotating sprinkler system. It was late afternoon and as I waited to enter the highway, watching the enormous spray going around, I noticed that every time the spray hit a certain place in the rotation, a huge rainbow appeared, which made me realize that we are actually always surrounded by rainbows - God's covenant - just add water, like a cake mix.

Dr. Hahn's question for today: Noah knew how to prepare, and he knew how to let go. How can this Lent become a time of preparation for me? What can I let go of?

Preparation, building (arks and other creative projects), packing, and organizing - these things are all fairly easy for me. Not so easy is the letting go of old emotional baggage - past wounds, both inflicted upon me by others, as well as my own mistakes and regrets - things I wish I'd done or said differently; stupid things I've said or done that I know have hurt others that haunt me sometimes at 3am.

Lord, help me to let go of past mistakes, to know that I am forgiven by your grace; and help me to forgive past injuries by others - may I forgive as you forgive me. Please also help me to eliminate negative thinking and doubts - those times when I am certain that everyone hates me - all of which are self-inflicted, and self-crippling.




July 1, 2012

February 23 - Lent, Day 11 - Slaves or Sons?

Desperately trying to catch up with this journal idea that has flown out of my hands and out of control, like a sheaf of paper in the wind. I am able, at least, to read each day's offering from Dr. Hahn; it's finding the time to write that is vexing me at the moment.

Though I'm a few days behind - with many thoughts swirling in my head, begging to be released - I will focus on today (with the little time I have remaining before babies barge through my door in forty-five minutes).

Today's question from Scott Hahn: What specific activities or habits would make Sunday a day of rest for me? What is one thing I could refrain from doing? What could I do differently?

Ah, yes - the Sabbath - a subject that is near and dear to my heart, and as a practicing Jew for twelve years, a day and a concept that was a very large presence in my life. (I'm beginning to notice, as I write, how influential having been Jewish is in my Catholic Christian life. Indeed, I have remarked more than once over the past few months on how beneficial I believe it would be for every Christian to be Jewish for a couple of years).

The Jewish Sabbath, depending on what circles one is traveling in (as is true in every aspect of Judaism; as the saying goes: ask three Jews, get four opinions), ranges from absolutely no observance whatsoever, all the way to not turning on or off lights (along with unscrewing the bulb in the refrigerator so that the light doesn't come on), no cooking (which requires a flame; lighting a flame is prohibited on the Sabbath) except to set a special metal plate on the stovetop (called a blech) over low heat before the Sabbath begins and leave it on the stove for all of the twenty-five hour Sabbath observance; no riding in cars; no shopping (unless for medicine); no discussion or thought of work, war, or disease; no musical instruments to be played.

And yes, in my twelve years of Judaism, I experimented with and participated in every possible expression of Sabbath observance, from the most strict to the most liberal. And while I no longer observe the Jewish Sabbath, I have been able to carry some of my Shabbat habits over into Catholicism. I will say, the Christian concept of a Sabbath observance is an absolute walk in the park compared to Judaism. I will also say, today's world - of over-busyness; fewer boundaries between the work week and Sunday, or office space and home space; stores open on Sundays - makes observing any kind of Sabbath more challenging than in days gone by.

As for "What specific activities or habits would make Sunday a day of rest for me," and what I could refrain from doing or do differently: for starters, because I'm in the music ministry, often playing at Sunday morning Mass, it is already sort of a work day. Not completely, but yes, I do have responsibilities outside of myself.

What I try to do is limit any kind of business dealings, which isn't entirely possible, but it is something I strive for. Being in business for myself - fielding calls for my rental property or my photography business occasionally intrudes on my Sabbath. I recently changed my rental turnover day from Sunday to Saturday, both so I can pursue my music ministry as well as abstain from hard labor. I often try to treat myself to something totally indulgent, like working on a favorite photo or house project; something just for me on Sunday. I do find myself longing, sometimes for a real Shabbat - a day of emptiness - but that is an endeavor that, for me, anyway, is more difficult thaמ working eight hours of hard labor. The interesting thing about doing nothing, though, is even though it feels lazy and decadent, I wake up the next day refreshed and renewed and able to accomplish much more than I would be able to without taking a time out.

I must redouble my efforts to make Sunday restful and holy: take a walk, visit a friend, lie on the couch and watch a movie or read a book?

Lord, help me break my addiction to busyness.

February 16 - Lent, Day 4 - Contracts and Covenants

Today's question: Do I treasure my brothers and sisters in the faith? What could I do today to express my love for a fellow believer?

Yes, I think I do. My faith is the culmination of years of searching for my father, healing, and wholeness; for my father's family (that turned out to be enormous - like a small tribe). I am profoundly aware, when I am at church, that I am with my family, that these are "my people."

I express my love for fellow believers when I donate my time and talent in the music ministry; or when I take a young friend who's thinking of becoming Catholic to Mass with me; or, when I'm out and about in public, if I recognize someone from church, or recognize (by way of jewelry or or words spoken) that a stranger is a fellow Catholic - I feel a special kinship and kindness towards that person. I also have a sense that I am in this faith family for life, "for better or worse" (especially as someone who tried life outside the family for a period of time).

(Short entry today so I can catch a ferry to go and pick up my daughter-in-law and two of my grandbabies.)

February 15 - Lent, Day 3 - Temporal Loss-Eternal Gain

Dr. Hahn asks today, Is there clutter in my life that I've been clinging to? What could I do to simplify my life and sharpen my eternal focus?

The photo above is of my dining room in its present state, and depicts the process of reorganizing after my move from Brookline this past spring; a process of consolidating two storage closets (three if you count the fact that some of this stuff will go into storage in my Plantingfield Way house).

I hate clutter. I literally cannot start my work day until my space is clean and organized (OCD? ADHD? or simply delay tactics?). After many years living in a home cluttered with kids, pets, baseball bats, shoes everywhere, laundry I couldn't keep up with, I luxuriate in living alone in a peaceful, organized, pet-hair-free home, and live close to the adage, "A place for everything and everything in its place."

While the above photo is a depiction of my physical clutter (that has to be dealt with today, in preparation for my grandchildrens' imminent week-long visit; this room, God willing, will be in perfect order by the end of the morning), I think that what Dr. Hahn is referring to is the mental clutter - the busyness - that prevents us from entering the stillness of God's presence.

Here is just a partial list of the clutter of my life:

Two houses to maintain (mostly alone - repairs, renovations, upkeep).
Cameras that require maintenance.
Phones, and devices that require monitoring (I have three devices with which to check my e-mail or Facebook page), all with batteries that need to be charged.
Many instruments that need to be played and practiced and maintained.
Many more songs to write and to learn.
Many interests: sewing, weaving, knitting, building, creating, gardening, surfing, walking.
Photos to take, edit, organize, and print.
Book ideas.
The news media that fills my mind with mostly useless garbage and fosters fear rather than faith.
A Facebook stream that fills my mind with mostly useless and trivial garbage; rarely edifying. Add: too many people's psyches to monitor.
Being accountable to and enjoying the company of friends and family.

Along the lines of the discipline I developed living as a Jew, observing the Sabbath every week - clearing the slate of all work, worry, and worldly thoughts for twenty-five hours (this is every bit as difficult as it sounds) - taught me how to create Sabbath moments, or hours; a way to compartmentalize my life, to be able to say, "During this time period, I am only doing ___________, and nothing else." Simplifying my life and sharpening my eternal focus will certainly call on my skill in creating Sabbath moments.

Lord, I pray to remember to create Sabbath moments, to empty my mind of everything except You.

February 14 - Lent, Day 2 - Divine Discipline

Dr. Hahn's question for today: What additional sacrifice can I make today to affirm my desire to be disciplined this Lent?


Being Jewish for twelve years taught me nothing, if not discipline: the discipline to separate meat from milk, meat utensils from dairy utensils, and purchasing (and eating) only kosher food and household items (including plastic wrap and dish soap); the discipline to keep an even higher level of kashrut during the eight days of Passover, including scouring my home, every square inch in preparation and eating no wheat or leaven; the discipline of lighting the Sabbath candles every Friday night and abstaining from doing almost anything for 25 hours; the discipline of fasting on Yom Kippur, and much more.

Lately I've been wondering about how much discipline I have. Being on a somewhat free-lance schedule, working mostly from home, is not conducive to a living a disciplined life, I find. How many days do I have every intention of accomplishing X, Y, and Z, and by 2pm realize I haven't even started on X? How many nights do I not even bother to eat dinner until 9:30 pm? Or sometimes, simply call a couple of beers and a bag of chips dinner? How many times during the course of the day do I need to check my (evil, time-wasting-worse-than-cigarette-addiction) Facebook page for some vital message?

I will say, though, I have been very disciplined in getting myself to daily Mass, missing few mornings since June. Even mornings when I really don't want to go out (most), I make myself, and am always glad when I have gotten myself up and out the door; glad to be hearing holy and edifying words and receiving Communion, glad to be outside of my own space, glad to be seeing friends. Having someplace to go every morning is not a bad thing - almost like having a real job, I guess (but better, because then I get to come home and get involved with my own projects).

So, coming into Lent for the first time in twelve years, I now bring with me my Jewish background of discipline and structure and order, and I must say - I welcome it. Someone posted onto Facebook yesterday, "I've decided that for Lent this year I'm going to do something positive for the world instead of giving something up. I don't think that giving up chocolates or red meat will make me a better person." A statement that was applauded by her peers (30-somethings), and to my mind is indicative of where we are in our culture; a culture that says, "I'm going to do things my way. 2,000 years of tradition is outdated and stupid; I've got a better idea." I think that doing something positive for the world is a great idea, but is only half of the equation. Giving something up - trite as it may seem - is a physical, muscle-memory-building act that builds character as well as unites us to the Sacrifice on the cross, which is what this season is all about.

I have given up beer - wish me luck, as there are few things I love at the end of the day than a beer or two - giving up beer for the eight days of Passover was a walk in the park compared to these six weeks. I am also throwing in speaking disparagingly of people and swearing, for extra measure.

The good news is, I don't have to do it alone - all of this will be possible with God's help (I even found the discipline to write in this journal for the second day in a row even though I have 100 things pressing in on me).

Dear God, I pray for the strength to be disciplined for these next 39 days - and beyond.