On Humility in Intercession

We all pray for our loved ones.  It's the most natural response to worry, especially when we're powerless to effect change in their situation that gives us pause.  Too, our first response to a frustrating situation is to ask for the obvious solution:

Dear Lord, please don't let Pat get laid off.

Please heal Sarah from her illness soon.

Please let Phil get into the grad program he so desperately wants to attend.

Please stop Julie's boss from blaming her unreasonably for the department's problems.

But this is not always the most efficacious prayer.  The Lord's ways are much more mysterious than ours; maybe Pat won't meet the person who connects him with his dream job unless he loses his current one.  Maybe Sarah's death will be the catalyst that draws her entire family back to God.  Maybe Phil needs to learn that failure is not the end of the world, and will get a better education at his backup school.  Maybe the extreme humility Julie is forced to learn in the face of injustice will come to play an invaluable role in making her a better mother to the children she will have five years down the road.

It's hard to see those we love suffer.  I gain much consolation these days from meditating on the Sorrowful Mysteries and the Stations of the Cross.  Our Lady was there, following along every step of the way.  She watched her son be wrongly accused, brutally beaten, humiliated in every possible way, and slowly - violently - murdered by the state.

I return frequently to the Fourth Station: Jesus Meets His Mother.  The two of them make eye contact as He's struggling along the road to Calvary.  What did her eyes say to Him?  The most noble and fitting explanation I've ever heard is that her eyes communicated love and encouragement: "You can do it!"  Certainly she shared His pain, and assuredly He knew that.  But to accept that you have to watch someone you love in pain and suffering, even when you know it's for the greater good, is one of the harder crosses to bear.

So lately, I've changed my prayers.  For those who are close to Our Lord, who might listen to Him in the face of crisis, I put aside my own desire for their immediate happiness.  I don't ask for an end to their oppression, just or unjust.  I don't ask for them to receive that which they feel (as do I) is owed to them.  Rather, I swallow my fears and ask for their sanctification in this particular situation.  May Joey's struggles in this class draw him nearer to You. May Harry and Denise's great desire for children in the face of infertility make them holier.  May Terri withstand the awful treatment her mother-in-law is giving her, and may it lead to both their sanctification.

It's a hard prayer, but one that Our Lady keeps reminding me is important.  This life is full of sorrows and suffering, and there really is no easy way out.  The purpose of this life is to draw close to God and to draw others close to Him.

Mater dolorosa, ora pro nobis.

Mater cruci corde affixa, ora pro nobis.

On the Institution of the Eucharist

(I'm glad this is my last rosary post. I'm looking forward to shedding my felt need to catch up before I can speak what's on my mind. There are at least two less-theological topics mulling around in my brain!)

For a lover of the Eucharistic Liturgy like myself, meditating upon this mystery has the potential to be a very long post indeed. But I don't think it will be.

At last night's Mass of the Lord's Supper, I was meditating upon the priesthood and the Eucharist. And I realized how very inextricable they are. The priesthood is to the Eucharist as the proverbial chicken is to the egg: Which comes first? How can you separate them? They absolutely depend upon one another!

It was pointed out to me once that Jesus' washing of His apostles' feet was a ritual action, one that was done by the servants, but also a practical one (with open-toed shoes in those deserts? Their feet must have been filthy!). When Jesus comes to Peter, he objects at first, but then says "Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my head!" (Jn 13:9). Missing puzzle piece: The feet, hands, and head were all ceremonially washed at the Jewish ordination liturgy. Though Our Lord moved on, because that was not the focus of the evening's events, Peter understood that they were truly priests then.

I love being Catholic. St. Peter, Prince of the Apostles, pray for us.

On the Coronation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

I really do love our Blessed Mother, but here again I feel I have little to say. Surely her Assumption was necessary for her Coronation. She does show forth the Lord's glory quite well - daughter of the Father, mother of the Son, spouse of the Spirit. And, as in the Wedding at Cana, she is pleased to request of her Son what the people need, and He is inclined to grant her desires, even if they were not His original plan (though her will must be so conformed to His own... mysteries are so difficult to make completely transparent!).

But the fact that she is Queen tells us something about our own heavenly glory. We will be glorified, strange as that may seem, and while that may have some connection to our earthly lives, the principal reason for our glorification is because Jesus wants to. What an honor!

Too, the Queen of Heaven and Earth takes over from the Mother of All the Living and leads her children in the right path, the path to heaven - just as her Son died on the cross so that "he who overcame by a tree might be overcome by a tree" (Preface of the Holy Cross).

How beautiful.

Addendum: On the Crucifixion

As I was praying in front of the Blessed Sacrament in the Altar of Repose tonight, I meditated upon the sorrowful mysteries. The concept of unrequited love came to mind, and I considered (in what small degree I can) how terrible it must have been for Our Lord to endure all that suffering for people who He knew would eternally reject Him! This, then, put into perspective something which had confused me for some time: the idea that we can offer consolation to Christ on the cross. But it does seem to make sense now. After all, difficult as it is to give something up for my own merit, it becomes possible and even joyful to give up the same thing for another person whom I love very much. What once was a terrible chore becomes a labor of love.

What a gift: to offer myself in love to my Savior such that His bitter Passion contains elements of joy! With renewed fervor I return to my pursuit of holiness. It is, after all, the most intense season of the Liturgical Year.

On the Crucifixion

I used to love to meditate on Christ's Passion (including, of course, His crucifixion). As I've grown older, however, I've realized that part of that excitement about reflection was because I knew my peers didn't get it. I knew they had little idea how much actual pain Our Lord suffered on our behalf. There was almost a shock value to the gory details.

I do wish I'd been able to attend a Seven Last Words service during my time at Franciscan (I was always either away for the weekend or in Easter Vigil Practice). It seems that would be a profitable thing on which to meditate.

I simply feel my complete inadequacy in meditating upon Our Lord's suffering and death, let alone leading others in meditation. I leave it to tomorrow's Liturgy to draw us in. You will all be in my prayers this weekend.

May reflecting on His Passion lead us to a greater appreciation for how easy our lives are, and a decrease in our own complaining (among other, more important things).

On the Finding of the Child Jesus in the Temple

Another adventure in Moments in the Life of Jesus That Used to Bewilder Claire But Are Now Her Favorites! (Perhaps I should work on another title before the next installment.)

If you buy the Bergsma-ism that the holy family never offered to sacrifice to "redeem" Jesus from His firstborn duties in the Temple, then it's very sensible that He should stay behind at the Temple - after all, He was then twelve years old, and nearly a man by Hebrew law! How cool would it have been to be bar mitzvah'd at the Temple? (Seems about on par with being ordained in Rome by the Pope.)

But His family returns to collect Him, even though He clearly would be content remaining in the Temple and discussing theology with the Temple scholars, who were impressed by Him.

"Your father and I have been looking for you," Mary says. Jesus, Who is perfect man and God, submits to the will of His mother, who is perfect in her humanity but less perfect than He is. When they return to Nazareth, we can surmise, both submitted to the direction of Joseph, who isn't even perfect! This seems so backwards - the most fallible one in the family making all the decisions?

But even conventional wisdom tells us that the Lord works in mysterious ways. He has chosen to make woman very capable, and has asked her to submit to her husband, even though he's not perfect. (Similarly, children to their parents, but this is far less scary, especially since parents generally do know more than children. With spouses, it's often fairly equivalent.)

Being the submissive wife the Lord asks me to be without throwing aside the gifts of my personality will be a struggle for me, when that time comes. But in the meantime, I simply marvel at the backwards-seeming beauty of moments like this.

St. Joseph, foster-father of us all, pray for us.

On the Transfiguration

I really want to play around with having a more casual style, in which I can throw comments out here just 'cuz I feel like it, but then I fear this will become like the xangas I kept in high school. No offense to anyone who keeps that kind of blog; that's just not at all what I want for this. But because half my point on this thing is to experiment, here I am. Hopefully next week I'll even be able to keep to my schedule (since I am nearly done with my Lenten rosary meditations)!

So: the Transfiguration. This one is pretty cool, particularly in light of how Moses asked to sort of see God's glory, and all he was able to actually look at was a passing glimpse of God's backside - and yet here the Three are able to see Jesus in His glory! Perhaps it wasn't quite the same divine splendor, but that's still pretty cool. Naturally, conversing with Moses and Elijah about His coming passion is also awesome because He literally fulfills the Law (given to us through Moses) and the Prophets (exemplified by Elijah). Which reminds me: Anyone heard of any tradition that Moses might be bodily in heaven? I know he was buried and all, but since he did appear bodily in glory with Elijah... just a thought.

Here's something about which I don't usually remember to think: What a comfort it must have been to Christ to speak with men who were (in a certain sense) His equals about this thing that must have weighed heavily on His mind (evidenced by His frequent mentions of it to His clueless apostles)! It's always such a load off my shoulders when I can discuss an idea (whether philosophical, theological, liturgical, psychological, or even grammatical) with a loved one who is of the same mind.

I like to think I'm not recreating the God-Man in my own image. But I do love seeing reflections of my own feelings and desires in His life (and His mothers').

On the Assumption

This one puzzles me at present. But since the last mystery that puzzled me so much has become my new favorite, I have great hopes here. I encourage you leave me enlightening comments! :)

Naturally, Our Lord wanted His Mother, who was preserved from the evil of original sin, to be preserved from the evil of physical corruption, in a way even more intense than what He's done for many incorruptible saints. Too, it seems that He wanted His mother up in heaven with Him. It would seem that the assumption is a necessary precursor for the coronation, too.

But that's all I've got. Help!

On the Carrying of the Cross

Once, it was pointed out to me that the Stations of the Cross can be sort of fit into this mystery. I've been praying it that way ever since. (The first station has kind of already happened by this point, though, and it works out best if you just gloss over that as far as counting them on the Hail Mary beads goes.)

Jesus Takes Up His Cross

Jesus Falls the First Time
He's only just picked up the cross and already He's fallen? Little wonder our New Year's resolutions and whatnot last mere days before we slip. The important thing, of course, is that He gets right back up.

Jesus Meets His Mother
The most striking commentary I've ever heard on this mystery is from a homily of my old pastor, Fr P. I can't recall how he phrased it so as not to sound cumbersome at the outset (as my own words here are bound to do), but he asked what words Jesus would have read in her eyes in that one moment? Fr P then declared that they must have been words of encouragement, a sort of "You can do it!", with perhaps a hint of "I'm so proud of you!" (ok that last part I think I've added on over the years). When he first said that, I thought it was cool but VERY hard to wrap my mind around! But as time has gone on, I've come to see how one can put aside one's own feelings in support of another, knowing that the greater good was truly being served. I'm not doing justice to the idea here, but I really do think it's the most perfect presentation of this moment of connection between the New Adam and the New Eve on the path to Calvary that I've ever heard.

Simon Helps Jesus Carry His Cross

Veronica Wipes the Face of Jesus
I've always identified with Veronica. Anybody know where we keep her veil? 'Cuz undoubtedly it's perfectly preserved somewhere in Christendom. I love being Catholic!

Jesus Falls the Second Time
I have long found this to be one of the more painful stations. After three stops of other people providing aid or comfort to our Blessed Lord, He falls again - so soon after Veronica had wiped His Face! If only this station was switched in order with the one before it; then at least her kindness to Him would have lasted longer. But alas!

Jesus Meets the Women of Jerusalem
Can you imagine being one of those women? Upset for the injustice to this poor innocent man (or maybe they actually believed in Him; who knows?), and expressing to Him their sympathy, and instead He tells them to shove it? Not really, but that must be what they felt like at the time. 'Don't cry for me, but for yourselves and your children.' Seriously? Why should I weep for my perfectly happy, healthy child when you're over here being beaten slowly to death? Scary words!

Jesus Falls the Third Time
I once read reference to someone "sinning like a Christian" - that is to say, he'd fall into sin, but he'd get right back up again and keep trying, no matter how many times he sinned. That's where we should be.

Jesus is Stripped of His Clothes
The pain of clotted wounds being ripped open! The humiliation of being stripped naked for all to see! *sighs* I'm so glad He did this so I wouldn't have to.

Jesus is Nailed to the Cross
When I was a child, this was always the station that sent shivers down my spine. Of all the painful things Jesus went through, having nails pounded through your hands and feet always took the cake for me. My hands almost hurt just thinking about it!

Any stations that occur after this point belong more properly to the fifth sorrowful mystery, so I'll address them next week. I hope.

On the Presentation

Yes, I know I'm fully a week behind. My apologies. But look on the bright side: If I can get back on track where I'm supposed to be, that means I'll be posting a meditation on the Institution of the Holy Eucharist on Holy Thursday! Woot!

* * *

I used to puzzle over this mystery, but it has slowly but surely worked its way into my heart as a dearly beloved favorite! There's just so much here on which to wonder!

First off, the Holy Family comes into the Temple and Simeon is right there, praising the Christ Child (assuaging the internal doubts His parents had probably been fighting), proclaiming the glory of the Lord, and predicting the suffering of His dear Mother. And she held all these things in her heart. The fact that the whole Church prays in Simeon's words before retiring for the night suggests to me that their significance is even greater than I yet understand.

The reason they came to the Temple, of course, was for the traditional Jewish ceremony in which the son is circumcized and presented to God as a partaker in His covenant - symbolized by the naming. First, the circumcision. As I remarked a few months ago, our loving Savior could not wait 'till Calvary to redeem us by shedding His Precious Blood; He rushed to His circumcision, the drops of blood spilt from which were more than sufficient for us, and He has never stopped giving of Himself in such painful and intimate ways.

Again with Dr. Bergsma's class. He pointed out that in the original covenant God made with the Jews, each firstborn was consecrated to God's service, but that later on (as things changed) the sons of Aaron and Levi were the only ones who performed priestly duties. But because of the original covenant, an extra sacrifice was always made at this time to "redeem" the son from his duties as a lifelong servant of God in the Temple. No mention of such a sacrifice was made in the Gospel texts; thus we see that Jesus was never released from His duty to spend His life in the service of the Father and His people.

His naming. In Hebrew tradition, names were a big deal. Telling someone your name was a mark of intimacy; names weren't just thrown around like they are today. (Hence the fact that many Jews refuse to even speak or write the Divine Name, partly because it's too sacred to be profaned by letting just anyone hear It.) The name Jesus means "God saves" - talk about your name declaring your mission in life! Wow!

Another beautiful facet of the naming of Jesus is that it was always the father who presented the child to be named. St Joseph gave to Jesus His Name, as commanded by the angel, thereby truly owning his role as the Child's father. I'll come back to this next week, but St Joseph's fatherhood is so strikingly beautiful to me!

Then, of course, there's the sacrifice made for Mary's purification. Absolutely unnecessary, because she wasn't defiled in any way. But in profound humility she consented to go through the motions, for everyone else's sake (to avoid scandal and all that). That shoots straight through our innate desire to keep our good name clear, doesn't it?

Finally, to bookend it all is Anna's praise of the Child on the way out. At least, I seem to recall that she came in at the end of the event. Her words aren't recorded, but she was another voice praising, confirming God's great blessings. Don't you love how, when God gives us hard things, we ask Him for confirmation over and over again - and He gives it to us? It makes me smile to see Him confirming His plan for His family, even though Mary at least didn't need such confirmations to get by. It's beautiful how He takes care of His own, going above and beyond.

On the Proclamation of the Kingdom

This one's dense, and I know I'm not good at it.

For one thing, it doesn't refer exclusively to just one point in the Gospels! Jesus preached the Kingdom pretty much constantly. That's always been a bit of a sticking point for me.

Still, the Kingdom of God is among us, is heaven on earth! So we'd better start living like it, and paying attention to the heavenly (read: eschatalogical) dimension of things. After all, as St. Paul said, "The Kingdom of God is justice and peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit" (I'm sure Taizé took some minor translation liberties for the song from which I recall the verse, but the crux of the issue is the same).

Probably my most cherished reflection on the Kingdom of God comes from the classroom of Dr. John Bergsma. Unfortunately, I don't have my notes handy, and dinner just beeped (mmm, leftovers!), so you're getting this entirely from memory.

That parable about the wheat and the chaff - you know, the one in which the farmer plants wheat, and then his enemy sows weeds in among the wheat, and the farmer's servants wants to weed right away but the farmer won't let them because they might inadvertently rip up some wheat, too... long story short, when it comes to harvest time, the farmer separates the wheat from the chaff (and the sheep go to his right, the goats to his left, if you'll permit the mixed metaphor).

Dr. Bergsma drew a diagram on the board (his drawings are so simple, and so wonderfully explicatory!), of which I will attempt to reproduce a semblance here. He started with a box.

In the box, he drew little circles (the wheat).


Then little x's for the weeds/chaff:


So that's what the kingdom of God looks like right now. Many people (he, a convert and ex-minister, pointed to Protestants, but I see the same tendency in traditionalists and many, many other groups) like to pretend like the Church (the Kingdom of God upon earth) should look more like this:


But that's just what we think, what we want, not what the Jesus said. Remember the farmer's words in the parable: he didn't want to remove the chaff because some wheat might be taken away with it. He said nothing about rearranging the garden. We will always have those bad seeds in the Church, n'importe quoi (no matter what), until the end of time.

And that's part of the package. The Kingdom of God on earth is far from perfect. So are we. Remember that the next time we go to judge someone, especially someone within our beloved Church. Time's not over yet, so we must pray and put up with those x's in the midst of our beautiful little circles.

On the Descent of the Holy Spirit

Wow, am I behind! My apologies.

I was particularly partial to this mystery when I was a full-blown charismatic (it is, after all, one of the foundational Scriptural references of the movement).

My earliest memory of this mystery was learning about it in school in 6th grade. At that point, our teacher explained the tongues spoken by the apostles as spontaneously speaking a different language they'd never learned (modern example: as if Paul spoke French, and Andrew spoke Russian, and Bartholomew spoke Swahili...). I didn't like that very much. I had always preferred (and still do) to think of it as the apostles speaking the same language they'd always spoken, but the hearers in the crowd each hearing them in their native tongue (so it's not like you had to find the apostle speaking your language in order to get the awesomeness).

The massive conversions that happened that day literally blow my mind. Like, I actually can't wrap my mind around those numbers.

What I can focus on, though, is that this was really the first novena. The apostles, Mary, and possibly a few others had just holed themselves up in prayer (admittedly, perhaps also partly in fear) for nine days. (This is why it makes me cry when Ascension Thursday is moved to Sunday. Huzzah for Jersey bishops who've done this right all my life!) I try to always do a novena to the Holy Spirit before Pentecost.

And no "Happy Birthday, Church" celebrations on Pentecost. We'll talk about that at the fifth sorrowful mystery, when she was really born.

On the Crowning with Thorns

This mystery is less about physical suffering (though that is most definitely a factor) than it is about what I think of as perfect humility.

Humility has two aspects. The first aspect is more basic: Seeing yourself as God sees you. (Easier said than done, sure, but still very positive.) The second aspect requires much more supernatural grace: Remaining in virtue when others do not treat you as your God-given dignity deserves. Everything about the Crowning with Thorns smacks of this perfect humility. He was God, for goodness' sake! And here he was being treated like a common miscreant! On top of that, they were mocking His Kingship - a kingship of which He was very aware especially during His passion.

Lord, remind me not to get upset and snap back when others fail to give me the respect I deserve. Teach me how to just take it like You did. Teach me how to let myself be walked all over - and more importantly, when it would be beneficial to do so.

And help me to embrace the crown of thorns You've set aside for me throughout my life.

On the Nativity

Honestly, I have trouble with this one. Something about the mystery being too vast to fit into one mere decade... Perhaps more to do with the fact that this one's constantly being presented to us, and we did just spend a whole season meditating on it not too long ago...

Still, the Virgin gave birth to a Son, and the animals in the stable rejoiced, and the angels cried out in glory, and Israel came to worship, and the Gentiles came with gifts in adoration, and even nature preached to the world the joy of the birth of the Savior, the King of Kings...

I do find it telling that we have more beautiful Christmas hymns than Easter hymns, though we are an Easter people (and Easter is about three times longer than Christmas). There's just something enchanting about the birth of the King...

On the Wedding at Cana

So I'm a few mysteries behind. I'm sure you've noticed by now my habit of blog-binging. Bingeing? Spellcheck prefers the first one, but they both look wrong to me...

For a long time, I meditated specifically on the sacrament of marriage here, and the added dignity and all that that Jesus gave to it ("from the beginning it was not so" and all that jazz). Then one day I suddenly realized that essentially, this mystery has little to do with marriage at all!

It was His first miracle. Not a healing, nothing spectacular - just a little housekeeping detail that His mom asked him to take care of. It's mysteries like this more than anything else that've helped me to understand the purpose of Marian intercession. Just because she asked Him to! Now that's obedience!

And it was just an everyday little detail! We don't even know if anyone directly benefitted from this miracle (save for the host, who was saved embarassment, and perhaps the slaves who saw what was going on), but He did it anyway, to make the day that much more perfect.

I really need to pay better attention to the little things in my own life.

On the Ascension

The Ascension underscores that the body and the soul are connected. Both are good! What a truly novel concept!

It's a very easy trap, to fall into anthropological dualism, especially for those of us who understand that the spiritual is greater than the bodily. Still, the body is good, and we mustn't forget that. I often think fondly of St. Thomas Aquinas' enjoyment of food, not to the point of gluttony, but quite enough to flummox those silly Pelagians! (Wikipedia is not backing me up in the Pelagians' gnostic denigration of the body. Can anyone confirm?)

I have found it difficult to strike a balance between fasting from what is good as a gift to the Lord (or as a cry in supplication) and enjoying the good gifts He has given us (without going so far as to be gluttonous). Our Lord's ascension gives me hope of enjoying heaven, and the knowledge that my body will be there with me, a part of me.

Saints have had visions of heaven, and theologians understanding and knowledge thereof. All I really need to know about heaven is that I will be perfectly happy and fulfilled, and part of God in a way I cannot even conceive at present. Still, it's fun to think about possibilities of what things might be like...

I can't for the life of me figure out what we might all do with our bodies up there in heaven. But there are two particular speculations of what we might look like that intrigue me very much:

1) We will bear the marks of Christ's glory as in death. That is to say, St. Denis's head will not be attached to his body, St. Sebastian will have a few arrow holes in his flesh... You get the picture. Martyrs in particular will bear the wounds of their martyrdom. (Think of the whole theology of icons, and you're pretty much there). I imagine, too, that stigmatists (even the secret kind) would also bear their wounds. I'm not sure what the majority of Christians, who are crucified by splinter, would look like, according to this theory.

2) We will bear the marks of Christ's glory as in what we left behind. This theory suggests that we will somehow bear our sins in heaven, as if to say, "I was into this and the Lord brought me to Himself! Look how great He is!" Perhaps it's just my fallen human nature talking, but I'm not such a big fan of that idea, though I can see its theological appeal.

Which reminds me of my final point (who knew I had so much to say about the Ascension? I sure didn't!): As Fr. Dr. Dan Patee, TOR, Ph.D. (did I miss anything, Sana?) once reminded us in class: To dismiss an imperfection by the phrase, "We're only human" is quite the fallacy! It's not our humanity that keeps us from perfection but the sin of our forefathers. It's a simple point, really, and at first I thought he was just splitting hairs, but the longer I let this sit in the back of my mind, the more important it seems. We were made perfect. We were designed for perfection. That just got screwed up for us. But we can strive to become ever closer to the perfect. I don't think it's an overstatement to say that human perfection has been achieved by some saints towards the end of their lifetimes.

Just another reason not to become complacent in our sin. We've definitely got a lot more potential than we tend to give ourselves credit for.

On the Scourging at the Pillar

As a child and adolescent, I was acutely aware that my peers had an impoverished understanding of the Lord's passion, and (not being yet in touch with my spiritual nature) focused on the physical torture highlighted in these mysteries.  Thus I would feel remiss were I not to at least mention the incredible torment Our Lord suffered so meekly as His sacred Body was whipped and torn by bone, glass, rocks, and other sharp, painful edges.

I think often of the scene from The Passion in which Mary and the other woman take white cloths and sop up Christ's Precious Blood, spilt so thoughtlessly there for all men.  Well, thoughtless for some, anyway.

I sometimes get angry at Protestant depictions of our Lord's passion, because they usually have Him scream out in pain at some point.  But his continued silence is one of my favorite things about the great suffering He bore for us: look at all that He endured for our sake, and He didn't cry out once.  How, then, do I complain about the smallest thorns in my side?

Acceptance of suffering, when it's not the type of suffering we'd choose for ourselves.  What a hard task!  I look to You, O Lord, for hope.

On the Visitation

Our Blessed Mother traveled great distance to call upon her cousin Elizabeth immediately following the Annunciation.  Differing traditions suggest that she went with Joseph, or alone with a handmaid (though I tend to favor the latter).

We all know what happened when she got there.  When her greeting reached Elizabeth's ears, John jumped within her womb.  I read once that his original sin was removed at that point (making him third in human perfection - an interesting possibility).  But, in keeping with my love of obscure references between the Testaments, I must point out that the verb used when John "jumped" is the same one that narrated David's dancing before the Lord with abandon, upon the city of Jerusalem's celebration that the ark of the covenant was home.  As one who has, at times, danced with abandon before the Lord, I can promise you that the intensity is just a bit greater than a simple "jump."  I do enjoy Biblical-translation understatements, once I've learned the real context.

The other thing I often return to in this mystery is the human element.  Mary had just been given a supernatural pregnancy by the Lord - so had Elizabeth!  Yes, I'm sure Mary served Elizabeth while she was out there (though I'd imagine Elizabeth served Mary at times as well), but it remains that Mary was human, and as such she sought companionship, someone who knew what she was going through.  Talk about spiritual sisterhood!

When I'm going crazy and can't figure my life out on my own, I sometimes remember our Virgin Mother and Elizabeth, and smile as I pick up my cell phone and dial...

On Jesus' Baptism

Sorry for the delay - I had a friend visiting this weekend, so there are several posts backed up in my head. I hope you'll see them hit the page in the next few days.

There are several noteworthy elements to the theophany at Jesus' baptism, as is the case for every other mystery of the rosary. As has seemed to become the norm here, I will illuminate simply my favorite(s) rather than trying to exhaust the whole mystery (as part of me feels falsely bound to do). Feel free to drop your favorite theological illuminations in the combox.

All of salvation history is fulfilled in Jesus Christ. We all know that. But we don't think about a physical manifestation of the events of salvation history, though we were blessed with a New Adam and a New Eve. In this mystery, as Jesus enters the Jordan river, He is taking to Himself His Jewish ancestors who crossed the Red Sea as they were being led from Egypt to the Promised Land (albeit via a long desert exile, but that wasn't part of the original plan).

So as each child is baptized into Christ's death and everlasting life, he is also baptized into the long but eventually fruitful path to the Promised Land (in our case, heaven).

I just love it when connecting the dots draws a formerly unseen beauty.

On the Resurrection

Believe it or not, the resurrection is one of the mysteries on which I always have trouble meditating. I know, I know - it's pretty much the central mystery of our faith. I think that's part of why it gives me so much trouble, actually: it's always in front of me, in every moment of every day... I guess that's why I have trouble making Easter truly last eight weeks, too (but that's a subject for another post, a few months from now).

At this point, we know that God died for us. Other religious traditions have men or demigods returning from death for some selfless reason, but even there Christ is unique - He didn't get out on a technicality; he pretty much destroyed death, so much so that He extends the inviting hand of life to us all, His family.

I will, however, go into two little details of the resurrection story that bring me particular joy. The first is when Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene, and, when she finally recognizes Him, He says "noli me tangere" - do not hold me. For years, this meant nothing to me, until I was shown Songs 3:4, when after the bride has been searching for him all night and says, "Scarcely had I passed the, when I found him whom my soul loves. I held him, and would not let him go..." Talk about nuptial and eschatalogical imagery!

The second detail that I love so dearly is in John's gospel: The women report the empty tomb, and John and Peter both go running. John arrives first, and sneaks a peek in the door, but doesn't go in. Instead he waits outside (can you imagine!?) and lets Peter enter first. Talk about Petrine authority! Wow!

I know, I hardly said anything about the central point of the resurrection. But isn't that part of the point of having your own blog - you don't have to follow the rules?