Exhaling

My father passed  away very suddenly over the weekend, and it has been a whirlwind of activity and tears and out-of-town relatives.

It began with a police officer in our driveway to tell us there had been a “medical emergency” (he declined to give me a status, but my gut read his grave manner), a frantic drive to the hospital (while praying over and over, “I don’t know what I’m walking into, but I know that nothing happens today that You haven’t planned. I trust in You.”), taking my mother in to see the body, and then the many phone calls to let everyone know, the children gathering to grieve. As so many at the hospital said to us, “This way is easy for the deceased, but most difficult for those who are left behind.” Es verdad.

It has been difficult for all of us, especially his 21 grandchildren, who will miss “Papa.”

We buried my dad yesterday and are just now finding our equilibrium; it will be some days before we resume our routine here. In the interim, we are eternally grateful for the kind thoughts and prayers that so many have already sent our way, and for all that we do not know about.

May God repay you as only He can.

Your Way is Your way

            and their way is mine, having crossed over

            to freedom through a parted sea that seemed no way,

            guided by cloud and fire, now my

            gratitude fades into the sand of this wilderness

            that I must traverse;

            I hear my heart whining for Egyptian cucumbers and

            my mind seizes the same old idolatries it once rejected.

Your Way is Your way

            and my way is not, charted by the fear and

            need that blind and compel me to run forward in blindness,

            causing me to stumble and beg for what is not mine to have;

            like a mule, I cannot be lead by what is clear

            nor am I likely to keep moving on principle.

            My own darkness and fallenness are crippling and

            I will not be lifted by Your bright wing.

Your Way is THE way

            and Your Word is Truth, from before the world or I began

            but I cannot run in this Way, crippled as I am

            by my own desires and sense and fear and sin.

            I look to Your covenant of salvation as my only hope;

            Your steadfast love must be enough for me.

            I see what You have given for my freedom and glimpse

            beyond cucumbers and golden beasts and even desert waters

            that I can be saved if only I concede that

Your way is mine.

To know I know nothing

is to know something indeed.

To see I’ve not suffered

is to begin to bleed.

To recognize true hunger

is to prepare to feed.

To hope beyond my sin

is to welcome the tiny mustard seed.

I did not write these today, but I sent them to a friend. And though I wrote them at least a year ago, I will share them now:

We long to be near You

on Your right and Your left

when You say “Follow Me.”

And our consent to go

wherever You lead

must be full and free.

“Can You drink the cup

that I will drink?”

And we impetuously nod our YES.

But the cup that You hold to our lips

makes us recoil

from its bitterness.

Yet You continue to hold it out for us

time and time again

Patiently waiting

through our reticence

until we comprehend

That we must embrace

the suffering

Your love for us

outpours –

We must share

this cup with You

if we would be all Yours.

There have been many moments over the last week when I have felt I had something to share with you all here, but when I reached for words in which to wrap it, I came up empty. Some things are best left in silence, some things are ineffable.

Here, in the recollection of Lent, I am wrapped in a kind of inner silence, almost an emptiness. But it is an emptiness that is not empty.

This is where we are called to be, isn’t it? This is the radical poverty of the blessed, in which we are aware of our utter emptiness, but we are given what we need when we need it. Not before; we’d then have to carry it around with us. No, grace is given for the moment. For this moment.

“Give us this day our daily bread.” Give us TODAY enough for TODAY. Give me this moment enough for this moment. No more.

We need not hold on to anything but Him for security – our security is in the knowledge that we are loved, and awaited.

We are awaited by Love, and our arrival is prepared for by Him. He has gone to prepare a place for us.

Tomorrow we embark on a journey anew.

We are always “on the way,” but during these 40 days we are invited to take a closer look at how well we are travelling.

Maybe we need to lighten our load, walk more deliberately, more steadfastly, or reach out more generously to others on the road.

Let us pray to be open to what the Lord is telling us to do, and ask Him to give us the courage and grace to make those changes.

In this pain

is Your call

to look on You

deep within me

and remain with You

in the silence

where You speak

and the darkness

where You wait.

O Heart of Light

hidden here, but

calling to my own

clouded heart!

Clear the cluttered

chambers – empty

them utterly, so that

in them may echo

the rhythm of Your own

Heart, beating steadily

with love

for me…

This Saturday is the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord – don’t let’s get distracted by some furry beast in Punxsutawney. It’s easy to overlook this feast, falling on a Saturday with Ash Wednesday coming soon.

In our current liturgical calendar, Christmas ends on the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, but it used to encompass all 40 days until February 2, when it was also known as the Feast of the Purification of Our Lady. I like the really archaic titles – back in the Middle Ages, when time was marked by days with poetic names like Michaelmas and Martinmas, it was known as Candlemas. On this day, candles were blessed to bring home, reminding us of Simeon’s prophecy that “He shall be a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of your people, Israel.”

There are three mysteries here on which to meditate:

~ Purification of Mary – According to the Book of Leviticus, “The priest shall make atonement for her sin, and thus she will be made clean.” We know that Mary had no objective need of purification, as she remained a virgin before, during, and after childbirth. But just as she refused to see herself beyond any service because she was carrying the Messiah in her womb, she now does not see herself beyond the law, even though she has not been “defiled” according to it. Her profound humility compels her to observe the letter of the law.

~ Presentation of Jesus – Several prophets had foretold that the Temple’s greates glory would be the day the Messiah appeared within it and revealed Himself. One of the beautiful Antiphons in the Liturgy of the Hours for this feast says, “Zion, prepare your wedding chamber to receive Christ the King.” God has become one with humanity, and his bride must be prepared to welcome Him. Today, Jesus enters His Father’s house for the first time.

According to the Law, every firstborn son was “holy to the Lord” and was to be brought to the Temple and “redeemed” with an offering (see Exodus 13:11ff). Again, Jesus had no objective need of being redeemed; He IS the Redeemer. Yet Joseph and Mary are obedient to the Law, and receive the prophetic word and confirmation of Simeon. This presentation of Christ is aligned with the Offertory of the Mass: the offering of the future Victim. We are to offer ourselves with Him. Today, the Lamb of God is offered wholly to the Father; 33 years later, this offering will be completed – the Covenant consummated – by His death, which is aligned with the Consecration and elevation of the Mass.

~ Simeon’s Prophecy – Simeon and Anna, two devout and aging souls, have spent long years praying and yearning for the coming of the Messiah; today they are given the grace to recognize Him in the arms of the poor parents offering turtledoves as a sin-offering. Simeon foretells the sword that will pierce the Mother’s heart; a sword that will open her heart to all of ours! His Nunc Dimittus is part of the Church’s Night Prayer:

Lord, now you let your servant go in peace; your word has been fulfilled: my own eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared in the sight of every people: a light to reveal you to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.

This Light is ours. Like Simeon, we hold Christ in our arms, as it were, in faith, in grace, in Word, and in the sacraments. He is ours always, and candles remind us of this Light.