Facebook as a First Step to Advocacy

Yesterday, I attended daily mass which happened to also be a Mass for the National Day of Prayer and Penance.  I regret not having been better informed about this day in advance in order to have properly invited my family into observing this day with me.  On Tuesdays, I attend Mass with my 5 year old and it is our special time together.

Now for the confession: While I have for many years been opposed to legalized abortion, I have not been outspoken in my opposition to it. I've done little to affect change or even to open dialogue about it. If you know me, I'm more of a "doer" than a "debater." And I happen to know that at least half my friends around the world are pro-choice, and many are pro-euthanasia as well.

I hesitate because I know that it is a very complex issue; I know every case is different; I know that I have not "walked a mile in her shoes;" I know the issue is complicated by rape, incest, drugs, genetic disease and other things.  I also hesitate because, frankly, I have known I was infertile since I was 19 years old. A poorly timed pregnancy has never been a concern for me.

Nonetheless, Father Dean in his quiet way convicted me at that Mass. I felt moved to post something on my Facebook feed about it.  Here is what I said, verbatim:

As of today, I have 709 friends on Facebook. If you chose to unfriend me for what I say next, I understand, but I hope you will hear me out first. 

Today I am thinking about life. Today, at mass, I stood by Gabriel (age 5) who has been my greatest teacher (EVER). He was born at 27 weeks and though his odds weren't good, he not only survived, he thrived. He's a fighter. I looked at his sweet face and wondered, what if he had not survived to be born? What if his birthmother had chosen to end his life? Was she the perfect mother to him? No, but neither am I. Yet he is worthy of love and I cannot imagine my life without him or any of my precious children whose birthmothers were brave enough to carry them and bring them to birth.

I am constantly astounded that in the age of ultra sounds where parents can see their in utero baby just days after conception, we are still legally condoning killing hundreds on thousands of babies each year in the US alone. It breaks my heart.

I believe in the sanctity of ALL human life; I believe that the elderly, the frail, the immigrant, the disabled, people of all races and ethnicities, the poor, people who commit crimes and the unborn all deserve our respect and protection. They all deserve life and dignity.

If you don't agree with me, let's converse in person about it (my number is on my info) -- please do not send "poison darts" here on Facebook as that only results in further polarization. I do not have all the answers but I am interested in reconciliation. Let's talk.

I was astounded by the response, frankly.  Only two people responded in a way that could be considered "fighting words."  What resulted was an open-minded, open-hearted discussion about why people believe as they do.

In a later comment, I had the chance to state emphatically that I am not in any way pointing a finger at the women who have made this choice for themselves.  I am not here to judge or to condemn another person's past. I cannot imagine facing that tough decision and I have nothing but empathy for women who have found themselves in that position.

 It's my goal to open the dialogue -- to brainstorm, to open minds, to question -- in order that our country can put an end to this horrible legacy.  Yet, the discussion leaves me with more questions than answers.

 I do believe that outlawing abortion would lead to people seeking it in back rooms and unsafe conditions, and that has its own consequences. I think there are complicated instances in which a woman could see abortion as the only viable option.  If only there were a middle ground that right now seems impossible given the state of health care and the economic variables in our country. What if pro-life forces started with small steps and began with the most controversial abortions -- late term terminations -- and we worked at it piece by piece?

As well, we are far from having social support that can uphold women in crisis pregnancy; these supports are mostly only available through financially strapped non-profits.  We would need a stronger, faster, (possibly non-religious) and more efficient delivery system of support for mothers who chose to parent (against tough odds) and for those who made adoption plans.  Roe v Wade was upheld at the time when most adoptions were closed and the results were not so good for some of those kids. Adoption education would be an absolute necessity and in order to affect that education,  many more large scale studies on adoption must be done. I can tell you first hand that adoption is hard on kids. Is it better than being raised by an ill-equipped parent?  In many cases, but probably not in all cases. We have a lot of learning yet to do.

We are a fractured and itinerant society; it truly does "take a village" and we would need many kinds of healing to make such a support system viable. We're not even close.

Nonetheless, for many, the question seems to come down to one of life.  When does life begin?  At conception?  At 16 days after conception, when a heartbeat is visible on an ultra-sound?  Certainly by the second or third trimester, life is hard to deny.  This is an important question and one that will not be answered by shouting, picketing, name calling or bumper stickers. My experience through Gabriel Project was that once mothers saw an ultra sound of their child in utero, they saw a human life. Perhaps there is a way in here; perhaps federally funded clinics could be required to offer ultrasounds before a termination plan is made.  Pie in the sky, I know.  But it would be a step in the right direction.

For me, it's clear.  If we were in a war in which over 1000 (some say 1600) American lives were being lost every single day, the country would be up in arms. Even the quiet, non-political people (like me) would be involved. We would not stand for it. If I have learned one thing as a parent, it's this: I make mistakes, big ones. And when I do, it's "on me" to apologize, take back, rethink, reconsider and course-correct. I seriously doubt that those arguing in Roe v Wade ever dreamed their battle would lead us to where we are today. It is time -- high time -- that we said, "enough."

I am still discerning my part. What's yours?

(Post script -- after a lively discussion by dozens of my friends on Facebook and after about 20 hours, I still have 708 friends.  I am inspired by our ability to engage in civil and respectful discourse in a such a diverse group.  It gives me great hope!)

Hope for my Resolutions

Yesterday's readings reminded me that Jesus not only forgives my human weakness, he understands and has experienced it for himself:

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has been similarly tested in every way, yet without sin. So let us confidently approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help. (bold print mine)

Hebrews 4:15-16

. . . Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. I did not come to call the religious, but sinners.

Mark 2:17b

These are perfect (of course!) readings for this season, nearly three weeks into a brand new year.  Almost three weeks after promises and resolutions were made and most, I suspect, like I, are struggling to say true. 

This year, at least, I know what I have not known before (at least not known it "in my bones"), it is not about will power. It is all about acknowledging my human weakness --my sin -- and availing myself of the abundant grace that is within reach and freely flowing. It is truly about washing myself in the stream of living water, the font of grace, that is always right here where I am. It is, in fact, "the river of life-giving water, sparkling like crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb." 

It is available, flowing freely, the living water of God's grace and forgiveness.  At any moment in time, I can avail myself of it, splash in it, drink it in, immerse myself, bathe in it. The question then remains, "What am I waiting for?"

Photo credit

Epiphany Season Epiphany

I feel sad that the Christmas season is almost over.  It's a sense of letting go. The perennial question is, "How do I keep the sense of joy, connection and wonderment going through the year?" (Although it's very good the feasting has come to an end!)

When I dig a little deeper into that sadness, that reluctance, I think of a few things I love about our celebration of Christmas this year:

• I love the way the house looks decorated for Christmas
• I like the sense of celebration
• I enjoy my own renewed dedication to the sacraments and my faith practices
• I enjoy the break from so much running around to appointments and "kid stuff"
• I treasure hearing from people with whom I am rarely in touch
• I relish (tee-hee) preparing special meals (and feasts!)
• I love the candles and theme of "light in the darkness" 
• I focus more on altruism

The question then becomes, how can I create this at other times?  Thinking aloud, here is my short list of ideas:

• Do something decorative in the house each month.  For example, this month I'm going to put some plants on the shelf behind where the Christmas tree now stands.
• Have dinner in the dining room with the china every weekend
• Continue attending daily mass and my morning practices which include meditation, scripture reading and journaling.  (I have actually already spent time with the calendar and three different parish bulletins to make this a reality.  I'm so blessed to live where I have 5 parishes within 15 miles of me!)
• Consider what "running around" I can let go of; re-institute weekly "no driving" days.
• Weekly, write a note (or last resort, an email) to someone who matters to me.
• Keep the candles around and light them. Light the fireplace. Gather the family.  Enjoy! Savor!
• Do a better job of keeping the holy water full. The kids love it!
• Like at Christmas, making a family effort, at least monthly to give a gift of time, talent or treasure to someone in need.  Right now, in fact, I know a family who could use some meals.

My task now -- right now, in fact -- is to calendar these items so that they actually occur.  Even if I need to reschedule them, they will remain in mind.  

It can't be Christmas every day but I can keep the spirit alive in our home and in me. I want the feast days to stand out -- to be a contrast to every day life -- but they don't have to be as much of a contrast as they have been.  I remember as a child, things of faith -- primarily sitting in church -- seemed like work to me. I want to bring more of the joy of our faith into our home; I want the kids to have the "fun" of it, so to speak.  

If you have any ideas on keeping the spirit of Christmas alive in your home, please share!

The Woman at the Well

"Like the woman at the well I was seeking
For things that could not satisfy;
But then I heard my Savior speaking:
"Draw from the well that never shall run dry".

Fill my cup Lord, I lift it up, Lord!
Come and quench this thirsting of my soul;
Bread of heaven, Feed me till I want no more--
Fill my cup, fill it up and make me whole!"

Wanda Jackson

I am that woman, thirsty and seeking, but the irony is that the well -- the fount of every blessing -- is here within my reach  and always has been.  And yet, I'm too stubborn to dip my cup in and fill it.

Today's Old Testament reading was about the immense love and longing my Savior has for me.  For me!  He is there, waiting for me as the bridegroom waits for the bride.  Father Jonathan reminded us that God's love for us is evermore than our love for him -- so very much more.  He longs for us. 

And yet, so very often, I sit by the well dying of thirst and refusing to lift up my cup.  Lift it up!  Raise your arms! Here He waits.

Like the adulterous woman, I lie at his feet, bereft, broken, unworthy.  "Rise up," he says, "Has no one condemned thee?  Neither do I condemn thee.  Go and sin no more."

I can have my hunger satisfied and my thirst slaked.  Only a fool sits at the well and thirsts.  Drink up!  Live, love, serve!  I have but this one life.  What will I make of me?

Photo credit

Why I Confess

I'm not a theologian.  I'm just a woman striving to live my life in such a way that I am more often than not a force for good.  Nonetheless, as a Catholic, I do have to think about these things at least a little.

It seems to me that in Matthew 9 when Jesus forgives the paralytic, the crowd recognizes that human beings (as Jesus was in a human form) have the power to forgive sins.  [Of course, in the Gospel of John (chapter 20), the risen Christ explicitly empowers the Disciples with the responsibility to forgive sins (or to not forgive them).] This recognition by the witnesses sets the foundation for the Rite of Reconciliation. The precedent was set.

I so value the rite.  I think there is great richness in sitting before another human and saying aloud the ways in which I have fallen short.  It re-humanizes me.  I need that opportunity to examine my own shortcomings; I am so quick to see them in others.

The added value then, is absolution.  Without it, it would still be a valuable exercise --has not many a person confessed her sins to her friend?--but the true value is the priest's role.

I confess. My confidant then carefully considers and weighs my transgressions as an  un-involved arbitrator.  He then counsels me to right recourse; this too is of immense value.  Someone -- a wise and compassionate someone -- has carefully considered my sin and has offered advice as to appropriate next steps. (It is a rare and precious friend who can do the same.) Then, standing in for Jesus, so as a to offer me a human face, my confessor absolves me of my sin and offers the opportunity to accept the full forgiveness of God. What a rare and amazing gift this is!  The whole process works together to invite me forward as a new creation.  And once I have done my penance and made my recompense, that is how I go emerge.

Is it possible to go forth as a new creation without confession and reconciliation?  Perhaps . . . but this process was so beautifully crafted as to make the transformation as streamlined and as simple as possible.  I love it.  I thought, prior to conversion, that it was an unnecessary act.  I did not believe I needed that "intermediary."  Now after years of experience, I can see that I get a big benefit form not only the process itself, but also from the "forced" necessity of the rite. As with so many things in life that I do not want to do, what began for me as a necessary (and somewhat dreaded) act --a requirement of my conversion--has become a gift.

Someday I will be able to go to confession more often, but for now I relish my quarterly act and look forward to my next opportunity. Advent is a season of preparation.  As I am in the act of creation, Reconciliation has a major role to play and I am very grateful for the privilege.

Happy Advent.


Photo credit

The Gospel of Servant-hood

Sunday's readings are still resonating with me:  If you want to be great in God's kingdom, learn to be the servant of all.  It sounds so straightforward and so simple.  Yet it's challenging to fully live out the gospel of servant-hood.

I heard a brief radio snippet of a Catholic speaker -- I believe it was Matthew Kelly -- and he was talking about our journeys.  We are all on a journey that begins in infancy and ends (at least the earthly part) when we die.  Each person we meet is somewhere on that journey; we don't know where when we encounter them; it's not for us to know.  So we need to have patience with them.  Isn't that just golden?

There isn't a lot of patience in the world today.  There's a lot of arrogance. We are swift to judge another as callus, ignorant, uncaring, selfish, stuck-up, petty . . . you name it! It is so hard to remember that we're on a journey; I'm on a journey, you're on a journey, our politicians are, our employers, our noisy neighbors, our homeless, our drug addicted, our children, our enemies, our "frienemies."

The choir did a communion anthem of a beautiful but not well-known hymn, "The Servant Song."  It begins thus,
Will you let me be your servant?
Let me be as Christ to you.
Pray that I may have the grace
To let you be my servant too.

We are pilgrims on a journey
We are travelers on a road
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load.

I was convicted by how I unconsciously held that the "pilgrims" were people on the same journey as my own. That's not it, folks, not at all!  In fact, we are all "travelers on a road" and "we are here to help each other."  And that takes love.  It takes self sacrificing, non-judgmental, agape love.  Not the kind of mutual love where you are sweet to me and so then I am sweet to you, but the kind of love it takes to touch a leper; love that is born of sacrifice and respect.

In my daily life, I do not encounter lepers, but I have my own "untouchables."  Just yesterday, I called someone a "jackass," and worse, not to his face!  He's a pilgrim.  He's on a journey.  I might try a little patience and compassion.  I got sucked into the politics of it all.  I forgot I was a servant.  I was grabbing for some power.  There was a little "how dare he?" in my words.  Who's the jackass, by the way?

Home is where the Gospel of Servant-hood really comes into play, though.  Being a servant means loving each of my teens the best I can right where she is in their journey and not thinking she should be farther along. Serving my husband means listening to him and really caring what kind of day he had. It means seeing the cute in the 3-year-old's tears, the 4-year-old's sass and the 5-year-old's temper. It means supporting them, not ruling them. It means intimacy and that takes respect. It means taking time for each and every one of my people. Being a servant means remembering that relationships have seasons -- and being willing to stay on the boat when the sea is stormy.  As C. S. Lewis said in The Four Loves, "There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable."

Judging is easy. And by the way, I've noticed that when I judge someone, I'm usually wrong. If I get to know them better -- that intimacy again -- I see them differently. I can't see their journey when I'm judging them.  It takes compassionate eyes to see it. Only when I truly see them can I truly support them.

I'm not suggesting that we just say "she's perfect in God's eyes" and let it go; quite the opposite. Serving is active. If I see you have dog-doo on your shoe, I'm not letting you track it all over town. Agape love -- self sacrificing, non-judgmental, intimate love -- is active. Once we're in an intimate relationship, we can help each other. You can help me reach my goals and I can help you. I can ask you what would support you and then hold up my end of the deal. "I see you are fixing a ham sandwich and I remember you said you weren't eating meat today."  "I am committed to two hours of exercise each day. Will you ask me about my exercise if you see me sitting in front of the TV?" That sort of thing.

It's a lot to take in, but I know I can improve on my serving. I received an impetus from the prayers and petitions on Sunday when when we prayed for the strength to "acquire a more conscious and vigorous adherence to the Gospel."  Lord, hear our prayer.

In the Doldrums

I've been in the spiritual doldrums lately.  Have you been there yourself at times?  There is nothing "wrong;" I have no complaints.  I'm just floating in a calm sea of tepid water.  Like Samuel Taylor Coleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner:

Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean.

Many years ago --when I was still a United Methodist -- I listened to a taped speech by the Dutch Priest, Henri Nouwen called "The Spirituality of Waiting."  I was in the doldrums then too.  Nouwen considers waiting a spiritual discipline akin to prayer.  He artfully makes the point that although in the modern world we are very accustomed to instant gratification, there is much to be gained in the waiting.  [Note:  I am paraphrasing as it has been many years since I've listened to this tape!]  Many people, Nouwen said,  -- good Christians at that -- dash about from one "spiritual experience" to another trying to "get somewhere" spiritually.  Instead, he suggests, there is great richness in the stillness. Waiting does not have to be a passive experience; it can be a deeply instructive.

This consideration of waiting and the doldrums got me pondering the experience of "being in the doldrums" in a nautical sense.  What must it have been like to be in a wind-powered vessel and stuck in the doldrums?  What did the crew do while they waited?  They couldn't get on a faster ship!  I tried researching the topic but was left eventually to my imagination.

I suspect that when the ship is stuck in the doldrums -- sitting motionless on a glassy sea under a hot, still, suffocating sun -- the crew quite easily falls into the doldrums themselves.  But are they permitted to sit and sulk?  Under a strong and experienced captain, the crew more likely does things they seldom have the time nor opportunity to do.  They may repair the sails, paint the mast, or clean the galley.  Perhaps they take advantage of the slack, lifeless sails to take a rare and refreshing swim in the calm sea. I feel pretty certain they do not spend too much time just staring at the sea or shouting at the sky, thinking the sea or the sky "should be" different.

So what I am I to do in the doldrums?  Maintenance, I guess.  I could fix my video on my computer so I can enjoy my video reflections again, review my training manuals, delve more deeply into the day's readings.  Or, better, enjoy more time in quiet reflection -- which is simply to be still and wait.  The doldrums allows a period of quiet to read God's Word and let it land on me just as the crepe myrtle blossom is lifted by the breeze, settling ever so gently on the pond.  To use Nouwen's phrase, "waiting is active;" I can read the scripture and allow the passage to sit until it soaks into me and is absorbed into my being, becoming part and parcel of who I am and what I have to offer; until It stagnates then ferments then ages and finally effervesces.

In the doldrums there is no where to go and nothing to be done except to listen to the silence.  And that is enough.