Recently I visited an elementary class in a Portuguese Catholic school.  The children began their day with a practice called “the good morning” (o bom dia in Portuguese).  After signing themselves with the cross, the students took turns reading aloud from a short passage in John’s Gospel.  There was a brief reflection on why the image of a good shepherd was an apt metaphor for Jesus.  The children then said a Hail Mary and an Our Father.         I thought the memorized prayers ended “the good morning,” but I was wrong.  The children pulled out notebooks in which they had, the evening before, responded to three questions:  For what are you thankful?  What would you like to ask of God?  What are your fears?  Two answers struck me.  One boy asked God to help the homeless in his town, to give them a place to stay and “luck.”  Another child said he was afraid because his grandmother was sick.         This movement from prayerful reflection on Scripture to consideration of the lives of others and concerns in their own lives touched me.  Perhaps this daily practice could lead not only to um bom dia but also to uma boa vida (a good life).

What's Your Next Step? Create a Berekah Prayer.

No one was home. I could sneak into my brother’s room undetected and search through his messy arrangements of books to find the two I wanted—Big Red and Irish Red! Once I had them in hand, I headed to the bookshelf in my bedroom where there was a gaping hole. Carefully I placed both paperbacks in the tidy line-up of books, arranged alphabetically by author. Once again, they were MINE. (At least for a few days or a week—until my brother performed a similar covert operation and “stoled” the books back!)  His claim to these Jim Kjelgaard books was that he had read them first. My claim was that he had “given” them to me to read—and (the ethical argument) that I tended to take better care of books than he did!         I associate this adolescent “war” with Paul’s notion of “living in the flesh.” Both my brother and I wanted to have, to own, to control, those paperbacks. Paul argues that such a materialistic way of life leads to conflict, that there is a better way to pursue happiness. He called this other way “living in the spirit.” Had my brother or I been living in the spirit, we would have been grateful for the experience of reading Big Red and Irish Red—but we would not have clung to the corporal books themselves so tightly. Living in the spirit is characterized by appreciation and sharing, not covetousness and possession.         My brother won the war for the Jim Kjelgaard books. When he moved out of our parents’ home, he took the paperbacks with him.  They were on a bookshelf—I am sure a messy one—when a fire broke out and destroyed them.  To the best of my knowledge, those two paperbacks had never been enjoyed by anyone besides my brother and myself before they were incinerated.

Call me squeamish; I prefer to think of myself as sensitive. Whenever I watch something violent on television, I have a hard time falling asleep and the images haunt me for days. So I choose not to watch violent shows - with one exception: Game of Thrones. Apparently if dragons are flying around, I find violence perfectly acceptable!        In an attempt to justify this anomaly, I tell my husband that I find the character development in Game of Thrones redeeming. Take Jamie - one of the very numerous players in the mess brought on by various people seeking to sit on the Iron Throne. Seven seasons ago, he was a vain and arrogant man devoted to advancing his family’s claims. The finest swordsman in Westeros, Jamie’s life changed dramatically when his ability to wield a weapon was lost. Yet it was this very loss that enabled Jamie to see himself, his family and the situation in Westeros in an entirely new light. He became a more understanding, compassionate human being.         For me, Jamie’s story illuminates the spiritual journey many people have to make. Coming to a deeper understanding of one’s self and a greater ability to love other human beings often entails losses. Thomas Keating nuances my thoughts on the matter: “Suffering itself does not make one holy….suffering (by itself can not) lead to new levels of knowledge and love. Unless we are willing to sacrifice what we have now, we cannot grow. We grow by dying and rising again, by dying to where we are now and being reborn at a new level.” The spiritual journey does entail losses, but also a willingness to be move toward newness of Life. 

What's Your Next Step? Think About the Nicene Creed.

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The Funeral Mass for Margie Francescon, wife of Deacon Sam Francescon and mother of Christ the King parishioners, Susie Bateman, Margie Grover, Steve, Chris, David, and Sam Francescon will be Wednesday, May 15, at 10:30 am. Visitation will take place in the Christ the King Parish Hall on Tuesday, May 14, from 4:00 pm to 6:00 pm. There will also be Visitation one hour prior to the funeral service at 9:30 am on Wednesday.

“I’m not NUSED to it!” my daughter would say when I attempted to have her try something new.  Change is difficult—it takes some getting used to.  I find that is especially true when judgment is involved.  Now judgment can be a scary word for usually I associated it with guilt, but biblically-speaking judgment suggests awareness, an awakening to a generally unpleasant truth about one’s self, one’s social group, or perhaps one’s country.  On the personal level, judgment happens when I realize I am nursing a resentment, being overly critical or prejudice—when I “acknowledge my sin” (Psalm 32) and become sensitive to its destructive effects.  Then judgment blossoms into a blessing for it opens me to the possibility of change, of actually wanting to live differently.      Sadly consenting to making changes within myself does not make it magically happen.  My attitudes are ingrained, my behaviors habituated.  Changing involves a process of letting go, again and again, of old ways of thinking and being.  Loss is inherent in any changing—and loss entails mourning.  It seems odd that I would mourn the loss of some aspect of my character that I want to be rid of, but I do believe that is what happens.  As I ask for the grace to let go of old ways of being, I enter into a period of mourning.      Jesus encourages me with the words “Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted.”  Grace is poured over me when I have prayed “Create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me.”  (Psalm 51)  Slowly, over time, I get “nused” to thinking, behaving, even feeling in a more loving manner—I find myself living a new life!  Alleluia!  Alleluia!  Alleluia!!

What's Your Next Step? Think about Jesus, the Word Incarnate. 

    I dreamt Christ the King’s Women’s Council won an environmental award.  While I have great admiration for that group of women, even my dreaming self was a bit surprised by their receiving a Water Conservation Accommodation.  When I woke up, I tried to make sense of this dream by considering what associations came to mind.  There were two:  Pope Francis’ encyclical Laudato Si and an urge I recently felt to start composting!  I recycle, avoid plastic bags and try not to drive more than necessary—but that hardly seems an adequate response to the call to care for creation.        Then again, perhaps my dream was sparked by listening to Carl Sagan’s Cosmos.  I picked up that CD at the library for I am fascinated by black holes and quarks!  Sagan’s description of our neighboring planets gave me a deeper appreciation for the uniqueness of Earth.  The abundance and diversity of life forms on our planet is amazing, phenomenal.  With the psalmist, I am struck by a sense that “The Earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein.”        Regardless of what my unconscious was trying to convey to me through that dream, I awoke with greater gratitude for the Women’s Council, for all who are mindful of environmental concerns and for the gift of wildly exuberant Life on Earth.