by Liz | Aug 31, 2014 | main
A part of my daily routine is to read Richard Rohr’s Reflection that arrives in my inbox each morning. Some days it seems we are on totally different roads. Other days, we are both in a place where it feels like I can sit and listen, share and reflect and grow toward God. Today, was one of the “Aha!” days.
Today, he mentioned the admonition not to “eat of the tree of knowledge of good and evil.” That particular section of Genesis has always bothered me a bit. Why not? Isn’t is good to know good from bad? As I have grown [older] I find it less bothersome. I find that judging what is good and who is evil is a task best left to one with better vision, understanding and compassion than I. Life is much more of a joy if I leave as much of that judgement up to God and simple attempt to love those around me, wherever, however I find them. Maybe not simple, but certainly less oppressing.
The older I get, the more I realize that we all are both saint and sinner, good and evil. I find that the mailman who is deemed to be difficult and disliked by one set of neighbors is the same person who carefully delivered the mail to the door for another neighbor who was weak from chemo as she fought cancer. I find a priest who has caused me great personal anguish and pain through his own anger to be the same person who so often led me to great insight and spiritual growth. I must learn not to just the parts, just try to love the person.
The “Aha!” moment — seeing this “forbidden fruit” as something that will truly cause us more pain and suffering… a sort of warning that doing this, eating of this fruit will not work out so well as we imagine. Of course, like most children, we don’t really believe it until we make the mistake for ourselves, and then it can be hard to let go of it. Trying to be judge and jury and getting trapped brings to mind a story of a friend’s son.
They were at a mall and he kept trying to poke his head through the railing to look down at the level below. His mom instructed him repeatedly “Don’t do that! Don’t put your head through there!” Of, course, as a eight year old boy is wont to do, he did it anyway. And his head got stuck. Panic ensued. Mall security and more was called in to extract him from the railing. The resulting extraction was unpleasant at best.
When he was finally freed, his Mom turned him to face her an asked “Why did you do that? Didn’t you hear me tell you not to? Didn’t you know you weren’t supposed to do that?”
His response: “Yes, you told me. But, I didn’t know it would HURT!”
Ah — how often have I had that same reaction?
by Liz | Apr 21, 2014 | main
This morning, Susan, over at Creo en Dios asks “What difference does Easter make to you?”
I’ve not exactly been pondering that question, but I’ve come close. This is the first Easter season in decades that I have not participated in the full Triduum; I only showed for Good Friday and Easter Sunday morning. I have been questioning “Did I miss it in my soul? Why did I skip out this year? What is different in my life and my faith?” I can say that I know that in part, I opted out of the Vigil (which is by far my favorite liturgy of the year) because I wanted to be at home and be with my son and his family. Baby Avery is only 3 months old, and it was her first road trip.
I’ve made some changed this year. I retired from being THE English language music minister in my parish. There were many factors in that decision, and many that will not be aired in this forum. But, I finally just said, “I’m retiring. I cannot carry this alone any more. I don’t want to. I believe that while I am important, I am not so essential that parish life will fall apart without my presence.” I thought that it was a sabbatical. I figured that by Easter, I would be back. Instead, the weight lifted from my shoulders has been such a blessing. The freedom from feeling bound to the schedule has given me room to breathe and grow. If I ever go back, which at this point seems unlikely, I will only do so if I can do it with joy and a positive attitude. It will be a choice not a something I do because I would be afraid that folks might be angry if I didn’t do it. For now, I have let go and that seems to be good. Far better than doing the right thing for all the wrong reasons.
I’ve continued to bring myself to my yoga mat and take the time to breathe and be and let go of outside expectations. I have taken to heart some of the practices of a meditation grounded in breathing and just being with God. I have learned better to laugh gently at myself when my body and my mind make different decisions about what I can do. Isn’t that so true in our Christian walk? I mean, there is so often a disparity between what I think I should do and be and what this body can and will do. It is a learning process to pay attention to the emotions and what they are saying to me — without falling prey to being absorbed by them. In my seventh decade, I believe I am getting a glance at the fact that I am not my emotions (or my hair color, or my body shape). It’s about time.
Maybe next year I will be back at the full Triduum. Maybe not. I just know that at this point, my current focus seems to be more strongly on Jesus among us than on Holy Week. That is not to put down the importance of Holy Week. I just need to treasure and explore the Presence of the [Risen] Lord in my every day walk. Maybe, even treasure the presence of Jesus, who put on bones and blood and muscle and was a human, like me. And rest in the love that brings to my consciousness.
Happy Easter!
by | Sep 24, 2012 | main
Over the past few weeks, I have been reminded repeatedly that “God is madly in love with you.” The message comes from scripture, from the Cursillo movement, from homilies and if I let it, from prayer. At first blush it is a comforting and exciting message.
Quite frankly, it is a frightening message to me. So often, I don’t want to be loved that much. If God loves me that much, and I accept it, how can that not call me to change? If God loves me that much, and I fall in to it, I must surrender and move forward in complete trust. And if I do that, I will be transformed in ways I don’t even know. Not sure I’m yet willing to do this.
Brother David Stendhl-Rast has suggested that “sin” might better be termed separation or isolation, and “grace” as belonging. In those terms, my “sin” is my unwillingness to be loved in this deep, transforming way. Yes, at times I move toward it — and I can think of once or twice when I believe I actually gave in and fell in to it. And, yes, those were moments where my life and my way of looking at life made some pretty sharp turns. Looking backward, I realize that these turns and changes are really “good things.”
So, why am I fearful? The Unknown and letting go are difficult for me. I can only ask that I be gifted with a call to this Love that is stronger than my own unwillingness to let go of myself and my perceived control. I take baby steps. I try to see through the eyes of Christ in one situation at a time. If I think of each of these situations or relationships as a piece in a 2000 piece jigsaw puzzle, then each time I am able to let go, it’s like finding a piece that fits. You put it into the puzzle, and slowly, piece by piece, the entire picture of God’s love is revealed.
by Liz | Sep 2, 2012 | main
I somehow raised at least one child who falls on the opposite side of the political spectrum from her parents. She is a wonderful young woman, a wonderful Mommy to her daughter, a caring friend, a practicing Catholic. But, she probably would be an ardent Ayn Rand admirer, if she ever read the books. Can you tell I think Ayn Rand was just so wrong on so many levels?
That said, the other night I was staying over with her, and she brought up the current presidential election. I didn’t, she did. That lead to a discussion on approaches to social programs, child rearing and more. But what rather stopped me cold was when she said to me: “The difference between us is that you believe everyone is fundamentally good. I know better.”
The only response I could even think of was one that I had to bite my tongue not to say (because it would not have been said in a very nice tone): “And this is a problem because?” or “Duh! that’s what I’m going for.” She nailed it. She didn’t get my dander up really (even though I did think of some snarky responses). She caused me to pause and think “Thank you. It gives me great joy that you think that I am like that.”
This, I think, might be an instance where God let me know that on occasion, I am a witness to his overwhelming Love. It holds me up as I reflect on today’s second reading, where we are urged not to just hear the Word, but to act on it. Maybe, at times, I am able to do that. Certainly not always, but it must come through on occasion. If I ask Jesus to help me see with his eyes, how can I not be trying to see the good (or potential for good) in everyone around me?
What do I do with this? I’m still not sure, but, I am thankful that for one bright, shining moment, I was assured that I had reflected the God I know.
by Liz | Nov 23, 2010 | main
My granddaughters have been here for a day or so, and I’ve watched Disney’s Aladin 3 times in less than 24 hours. If you sit through it and try to pay attention, some interesting points begin to surface. Not just the overt “Freedom” theme, but more quiet, interesting interactions.
Yes — Aladin is about freedom. Princess Jasmine wants to be free to be herself. She stands her ground in the face of rules that keep her trapped in the palace and mandate her marriage to a prince. She seeks the freedom to be herself. And the Genie wishes to be free. Genie declares that freedom is worth more than all of the magical powers he would ever possess as genie.This is a sort of freedom that I see as a gift in my life when I truly accept that I am loved by God: I get closer to being free to be myself in response to that love.
On the second or third time through the movie, I paid attention to Aladin and Abu’s trip into the Cave of Wonders to get the lamp. One rule: you can touch nothing but the lamp. Sounds a bit like Eden — don’t touch the that one tree! Abu, of course, fails the test, and touches the forbidden jewel. Poof! Everything falls apart. Aladin and Abu find themselves trapped (with the flying carpet and the lamp). The most interesting part of this is that despite the fact that Abu’s “sin” triggers the fall into the pit, Aladin never seems angry with him. Nowhere in the movie do I hear Aladin chastise or blame Abu for his failure. You’d think Aladin would yell at the monkey — at least in the darkest moments. But no — it doesn’t happen
Now, I ask — is this just fluff from a Disney kid movie or is there a lesson here? Wouldn’t it be great to live in a world where scapegoating and assigning blame don’t seem to exist? Isn’t this, in some way, a lesson from the Gospels on justice? Aladin and Abu just work toward getting things right rather than blame and vengence. Oh, my.
I could go on about Aladin believing that he had to be someone he wasn’t to win the girl only to discover that it was his true self that was loved in the end. However, I’ll let it go with this thought: there are great lessons everywhere — even in old Disney movies that you thought were all fluff.
Who knew?
