Part 7 – Walking The Beatitudes

 
The following morning I drove up the Interstate to Hanceville and The Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament, located in a remote section of the state. Once I got off the main highway, I began to travel down rural roads and county routes, passing fields with cows & horse ranches, the occasional home (some new, some old, some buildings being dilapidated barns). The remoteness and the richness of the greenery begins to prepare me as I make a final turn down a long yet simple stretch of roadway.

Horses grazing in the distance.  White fences lining the road, leading toward the Shrine ahead. And I’m struck by the shear expanse in front of me as I crest the last hill. 380 acres of isolated farmland - 19 acres of which are behind the Monastery, sectioned off by a wall for the cloistered nuns in residence. 

It’s mid-morning on a Wednesday. I park the rental car in the lot (which is purposely some distance away from the Shrine), and gradually make my way past two monuments of “The 10 Commandments” and “The Beatitudes,” behind which is a copper sculpture of Mary the Mother of God, gleaming in a polished green patina.

Then, some distance further ahead, is the wide Piazza paved in a herringbone pattern. Used for outdoor processions, and can hold up to 30,000 people. The Church at the far eastern end of the expanse.

At the west end of the piazza is Castle San Miguel - the gift shop and conference room facilities, built in a 13th century architectural design. Inside, by the east and west entrances, are tall statues of St. Michael the Archangel and St. Joan of Arc. Also in the foyer, just outside the gift shop entrance, are various tapestries, medieval manuscripts, and full-sized suits of armor (calling to mind the spiritual armor of God as enunciated in the books of Isaiah and Ephesians).

Just outside Castle San Miguel, towards the south, is a modest doorway leading into a mound in the field. Inside is the Crèche - an approx. ½-scale Nativity Scene open year-round for contemplation of the birth of Christ. A modest chapel-like setting with six small pews in front of the glass-enclosed scene. A large stone slab floor, with adobe-like walls and low ceiling. Two opposing stained glass windows with flickering wall lamps beside. Holy Water founts in the corners. And in front of the Nativity Scene is a kneeler and two banks of offertory candles to be lit by those who come with prayers and special intentions. Sacred Music gently plays from a hidden speaker system.

St. Francis de Sales commented in one of his sermons (Palm Sunday, 1622) that it is not a coincidence that the Lord chose to ride on a donkey for his entrance into Jerusalem (nor that it is also present at the nativity).  For the donkey displays several key characteristics of not only Jesus but also of those whom He has come to serve and save: humility, patience, and willingness to be burdened. Which then begs us to examine our own consciences and ask whether we are willing to conform ourselves to this model.

Back towards the piazza, in the center is the El Nino sculpture (the Monument of the Divine Child Jesus). Engraved in the steps leading up to it is a quote from Isaiah 11:6 “and a little Child shall lead them.” Behind this sculpture is the front of the church with a Romanesque/Gothic façade, and off to the side towards the back is the Bell Tower.

Underneath and along the covered south arm of the piazza are the Stations of the Cross.  On a support pillar opposite the 14^th Station is a framed photograph of the image of the face of Christ on the Shroud of Turin.  And right there against the back wall is a very candid and near life-sized crucifix (by this I mean that although the statue figure of Jesus is still stylized, the wounds of scourging cover the entire body, such as in Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ”).

Atop the church you’ll notice a cross with its top piece missing. It was not like that originally. A severe storm damaged and sheared off the upper portion of that cross. But Mother Angelica chose not to have it repaired. The Tau Cross (tau is Greek for the letter “T”) was preferred by St. Francis of Assisi, using it as the signature of his writing. And being that EWTN and the monastery houses the Franciscans and the Poor Clares (St. Clare also being from Assisi), they decided to keep the damaged cross as it is.

Above the doors are the Three Rosettes (or seals). One with the Greek letter Alpha, another with the Greek letter Omega, and center one with a Latin inscription which says, “Let us adore for all Eternity the Most Blessed Sacrament!” Leading up to the front of the church are The Seven Steps (symbolic of the seven days of creation, the seven sacraments, and the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit).

These steps lead you up to the two huge central doors called the Great Doors, made of bronze (adorned in great detail with the images of the Seven Joys of Mary on the left, and the Seven Sorrows of Mary on the right) reminding you that his Mother was there at every moment of our Lord’s life (from His conception to His ascension):

The Seven Joys                                                     The Seven Sorrows

- The Annunciation                                                  - The Prophecy of Simeon

- The Visitation                                                         - The Flight into Egypt

- The Nativity                                                           - The Loss of Jesus in the Temple

- The Adoration of the Magi                                   - Meeting Jesus on the Way to Calvary

- The Finding of Jesus in the Temple                    - Jesus Dies on the Cross

- The Rejoice of the Resurrection                          - Jesus Taken Down from the Cross

- The Assumption & Coronation (Rev 12)            - Jesus Laid in the Tomb

On either side of these main doors are the two bronze Minor Doors (topped with the images of the two patrons of the resident orders - Sts. Francis and Clare of Assisi).

I entered the building through a side door to the left, and headed down a long hallway towards the staircase to the Lower Church. In the antechamber of the Lower Church is a full-sized photographic replica of the Shroud of Turin, in tall vertical backlit display cases. Both the front and the back, side by side. And the full-sized photographic negatives against opposing walls. Even though it’s a photographic copy, it’s a rare opportunity to see this cloth up close and personal.

Even after the suspect carbon dating that was done on the Shroud some years ago, more scientific data accumulates (from the weave of the fabric, to the types of pollen found on the cloth, to the scientific discrepancies with the carbon dating process that was used). And its authenticity becomes less and less suspect. The Shroud has never been a required article of faith (literally or figuratively) within the Catholic Church, but its beauty as well as its mystery continues to inspire, and summons reverence. Witnessing the extent and severity of the wounds as it is faintly depicted on the cloth is breathtaking… and silencing.

And between these displays are replicas of the types of implements used at the time of Christ to flog, torture and crucify our Lord - including an arm-length sized whip with small dumbbell-shaped weights at the ends of the lashes, the large crucifying nails, and a crown of thorns.

Part 6 – The Outskirts of Birmingham

 
The first morning in an Alabama hotel room, I’m woken by the echoing sound of a woodpecker pecking away on a tree.  (What is it with these birds early in the morning?) After getting washed and dressed, I go to grab a bite to eat at the local I-Hop. At a small table on the opposite side of the dining area is a group of five older gentlemen going through a bible study. I make a mental note that it’s not 6:30 in the morning.  (Inside joke. My Wednesday morning bible study group meets at 6:30 in the morning.... ugh!... I'm NOT a morning person.) 

From there I drive a few miles down the highway and make my way to EWTN just outside of Birmingham. As throughout portions of my trip up to that point, a certain amount of anxiety had once again taken residence. Partly due to the fact that I’m in a new environment in a distant and remote location. Partly due to a certain unsettledness about the state of things in my life at the moment, I guess.  Part of it is also the nagging remains of my introverted past that creeps up every now and then.

I arrived at EWTN in time for the 9:30 mass at the Chapel.  A sloping A-frame structure, with a modestly-sized interior – enough pews for maybe 60 or 70 people. The chapel split in half with a reredos behind the altar, behind which another set of pews (once used for the Poor Clare nuns when they were in residence, and now used for the general public on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation). The ceiling constructed of curved slats of dark wood beams following the slope of the frame. Against the back of the church are large panels of windows - depicting angels playing musical instruments etched in frosted glass. Atop the reredos, behind the altar, is a monstrance containing the Blessed Sacrament. And, once I enter the chapel, the anxiety slowly begins to melt away.

After mass I walked the grounds and spent some time by an outdoor shrine in the shape of a covered-V with an altar, a crucifix, and stained glass windows in the two walls (the place is used on occasion for outdoor ceremonies and holy rosaries). Between this place and the chapel is a railing-enclosed grotto with small angel statues amongst the greenery, flowers and jagged rock formations. While here and in the little gift shop, I had the opportunity to meet and talk with several other pilgrims visiting from Indiana (members of the Legion of Mary) and Louisiana. We talked about where we all were from, the reasons for coming on pilgrimage, the state of the Church in general and of our parishes in particular. Genuinely wonderful people.

Later, I went through a tour of the impressive yet cramped facilities where they showed you all the inner workings of the network - uplinks, downlinks, production house, editing stations, control rooms, taping rooms, archives, monitors, international feeds, graphics, sets, backdrops. On site are 9 satellite dishes of various sizes (7 of which are currently in use) - all adorned with star-shaped lightning deflectors. And the studios where many of their programs are aired or taped.

The tour guide pointed out handwritten inscriptions atop the door jams of several of the building entrances. The inscription read 20+C+M+B+06. It’s a Polish blessing from the celebration of the Epiphany at the beginning of the year. It stands for the year 2006, and in between the year are the initials of the Three Wise Men or Magi who brought gifts to the Infant Jesus (each symbol separated by the sign of the cross). And I thought of Skip (a Pole - just like our late Pope John Paul II - who was a member of my parish and my Wednesday morning men’s bible study group, and who passed away suddenly late last year).

Afterwards, I stopped by a creek on the northern edge of the property, and paused for some quiet reflection and contemplation as the stream trickled over the layers of rock. And then... the rain came.

One quick note about the weather. It’s the south. It’s springtime. So when they say “there’s a 20% chance of rain” it doesn’t mean that’s the “odds” of it raining on a particular day. It means that for 20% of the day it will rain. Sometimes quite suddenly, and quite fiercely, with thunder & lightning never experienced before. Fast moving clouds the forever shift eastward at a high clip. And the landscape is very green, tons of tall trees in these deep, jagged crags and gorges of rocky canyons.

After leaving briefly for an early dinner, I returned to EWTN to be in the audience for a taping of Fr. Mitch Pacwa’s TV program, “Threshold of Hope” (which airs on Tuesday nights). It’s a series that goes through the encyclicals of the late Pope John Paul II paragraph by paragraph, and Fr. Pacwa was early into the apostolic letter entitled, “Familiaris Consortio” – an exhortation on the family as a communion of persons. Fr. Pacwa’s a very personable and likeable fellow, and he walks into the studio wearing traditional casual priestly garb: black slacks, black shirt, white collar... and black cowboy boots, a white cowboy hat, and a big grin.

Before the beginning of the taping of the episode, and also halfway through the taping during the break, we in the audience were able to talk with Father and ask some questions. And I was lucky enough to be one of the people to ask a question on camera in the second half of the program.  (Episode#181) After the taping, I had the chance to shake his hand and tell him how much I’ve enjoyed watching his programs.

I headed back to the hotel where I was staying, several miles down the highway, and was able to watch that exact episode aired on EWTN later that evening. It was very surreal watching myself on TV asking a question I had just got done asking only two hours earlier.

Part 5 – A Brief History of EWTN

 
So, why take a plane to Alabama? Well, I wouldn’t normally just wake up one day and say, “Hey! I think I’ll go spend a couple days in Alabamy!” Nothing wrong with the place, as far as I know. But it’s not usually a place that most people think of when they choose to take a mini-vacation.

I stumbled upon EWTN (the Catholic cable network) about four years ago when my local cable company started airing the channel (I watch it now via DishTV satellite - channel 261. You can also get it on DirectTV - channel 422). Just about anyone who’s watched some of the programming on the network, especially the replays of Mother Angelica’s own programs, can’t help but be drawn in by God’s love and grace (as well as Mother Angelica’s spunk, wit, frankness and gentle care & genuine concern).

Here's a very brief summary which can be better gleaned from Raymond Arroyo’s absolutely fascinating new biography entitled, “Mother Angelica: The Remarkable Story of a Nun, Her Nerve and a Network of Miracles.”  (A book I highly recommend – giving an inspiring, thrilling yet unvarnished telling of her life and the monastery and network she founded. And the book can be purchased at just about any bookstore, including amazon.com, or directly from EWTNs website). It’s better than a bunch Dan Brown novels, and much more edifying.
 

In 1961, she left her Ohio convent to found Our Lady of the Angels Monastery in Irondale, Alabama, to fulfill a promise to the Lord to build a monastery in the Deep South. Having bought 15 acres of land near Birmingham, Alabama, for $13,000, the small cloister raised money by making and selling fishing lures. Through the 60s and 70s, Mother Angelica would teach bible classes, print mini-books, give talks and speeches, and make appearances on TV.

 
In 1978 she confronts a local station manager where she was filming a series, upset that the network was going to air a blasphemous movie. So she decides to start her own TV network (after all, how hard could it be, right?). In 1980 she orders a satellite dish - a HUGE satellite dish – and applies for an FCC license. In 1981 she receives permission from Rome to carry out her television work, and later receives a blessing from Pope John Paul II.  (I found it amusing that she ordered the dish and applied for the license first, and then got the okay and the blessing from the Vatican.) 

Mother Angelica and the monastery were already in serious debt due to the acquisition of expense equipment and construction, when on March 8, 1981, the unassembled 33’-diameter satellite dish arrived – with the truck driver needing to collect $600,000 as a required down payment. She didn’t have the money. She went to the chapel and prayed to Jesus while the driver waited outside. Then divine providence kicked in. A phone call from a man on his yacht in the Bahamas who had been reading one of Mother’s mini-books and wanted to make a donation… for $600,000! She asked if he could wire the money right then and there. And he did.

On August 15, 1981, they flipped the switch, broadcasting only 4 hours a day into just 60,000 homes in the U.S. This fledgling network was being run out of a monastery garage turned into a makeshift studio in an Alabama backwater by 12 cloistered nuns with no television experience, $200 in their pockets, a belief in God's Providence, and the generous donations of any viewers who happened to stumble upon their broadcast while flipping the channels.

Today, 25 years later, ETWNs reach is astounding. Broadcasting 24-hours a day, 7-days a week with 80% original programming, feeding into 125 million TV homes reaching over half a billion people in over 100 countries worldwide. It has become the largest non-profit cable network in the world. In addition to television (via cable and satellite TV), there are over 180 million radio listeners (via AM/FM, Sirius Satellite - channel 160, and shortwave). The website has over 600 million viewers, disseminating news and information, Church documents, Scripture readings, prayers, devotions, instruction, as well as podcasts and streaming audio & video of many of their programs. 

It is now a $2.25 million/month operation with approx. 300 employees (200 of which are in the Birmingham, AL, area). No commercials. No obnoxious telethons or fundraising campaigns like PBS or other non-profit networks. Just a simple plea by Mother Angelica and others to “remember us between your gas and electric bill.” And only two or three times in its 25 year history have they ever been in a position to make an urgent plea for donations from its viewers when the budget got really tight. The entire network, by the way, has never operated under the standard budget/business model. Relying solely on prayers, divine providence, the voluntary donations of its viewers, and any profits from the sales of various items from their religious catalog (e.g., books, videos, statues, etc.).

Some of their wonderful, inspiring and informative programs include:  The World Over (a weekly news and interview program hosted by Raymond Arroyo, the author of the Mother Angelica biography), The Journey Home (hosted by Marcus Grodi, where each week he interviews people regarding their journey back to the faith as converts or reverts), Life on the Rock (geared towards young adults, hosted by Frs. Francis and Mark, MFVA), The Threshold of Hope (where Fr. Mitch Pacwa goes through some of Pope John Paul II's encyclicals, point by point), Parable (where a group of young adults on retreat at a NYC monastery read, discuss, dissect and interpret the powerful meanings behind the parables of our Lord Jesus), The Apostle of Common Sense  (with Dale Ahlquist discussing the voluminous writings of the late G.K. Chesterton), and Fr. Corapi (with his step-by-step walk-through of the Catechism of the Catholic Church).

 
There are also programs with the learned Scott Hahn, commentary by Fr. Richard Neuhaus, rebroadcasts of Mother Angelica programs, plus daily mass and rosaries, programs on Church History, the early Church Fathers and the Saints, news and events from the Vatican, and many, many others - all authentically Catholic.

Their mission? Quoting from the website:

“EWTN Global Catholic Network is dedicated to teaching the truth as defined by the Magisterium of the Roman Catholic Church. In keeping with the Holy Father’s call for a New Evangelization, EWTNs mission is to communicate the teachings and the beauty of the Catholic Church and to help people grow in their love and understanding of God and His infinite mercy.”

 
So, why go to Alabama? Well, given the growth in my Catholic faith over the years, and given the fact that I studied film, theater and television when I was in college way back when, let’s just say I felt the need to come and visit EWTN – to see it up close and personal. And to come to experience the Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament situated an hour north of the network - another story in its own right.

Part 4 – Abidance and the “If” Clause

 

On Mother’s Day I went with my Dad to go to mass at my old parish. And one of those negative remnants from my past creeps up again. My mind replays certain scenes from my childhood years as we drive past the old grade school. Times when some of the kids were cruel, while others tried as best as they could to avoid their own moments of intimidation or humiliation at the hands of fellow students. Or, in some cases, from certain teachers who dispensed their own form of humiliation or indifference. Of course, not all of the teachers were like that. And not every day was filled with fear or shame. But emotional wounds at a young age cut deep and take longer to heal. Yet, I’ve learned to reconcile. I’ve learned to focus on the many more positive and joyful moments of my youth. And I’ve learn to forgive.

 
 
As my dad and I walk into the church one of those strange little humorous memories bubbled up from my brain. Although the church has been rearranged slightly, the glazed yellow and brown bricks, and the small, draw-chained stained glass windows brings back more memories – including the morning masses before classes started on the First Friday of each month, and a church full of us school kids hoping that the priest starts the Eucharistic Prayer with “Lord, you are hold indeed…” or at least “Father, you are holy indeed…” because if you heard him say the word “indeed” you knew that it was one of the two short Eucharistic Prayers, which meant you had a whole 60 seconds less time having to kneel in the pews. Little did I know then that that is one of the oldest Eucharistic Prayers in the Church, dating back to the early 200s. 

Sitting next to my dad during mass, the current pastor gave his homily on the day’s Gospel reading from John 15.

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener... Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing... If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask what-ever you wish, and it will be given you” ~ John 15:1-10

 

The pastor called this the “if” clause - a clause that many of us tend to skip over. If you abide in me, if you remain in me, then whatever we ask will be given to us. We tend to concentrate on what we want, as if we think we know what’s best for us. After all, we’re adults, don’t you know? We become bombarded from all angles with massive amounts of information and distraction and conflicting messages, confusing us. At times, convincing us that this is important, and that is acceptable. This is necessary, and do that and you’ll be fulfilled.
 

“Meaningless! Utter meaningless! ... All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing... [all] a chasing of the wind.” ~ Ecclesiastes 1:2,8,14

 
Lost in the cacophony you begin to lose sight of Jesus’ words, “If you abide in me.” It’s a daily challenge trying to remain in Him. It’s a struggle to maintain the abidance. The outer forces of the world and the inner forces of our souls tug and pull and keep us unsettled, when all we really want is peace. Inner peace. St. Paul in his letter to the Philippians entices us with what he calls “a secret.”

“I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.” ~ Philippians 4:11-13

 
And what is that secret to real contentment versus fleeting complacency? His profoundly simple solution is just several verses earlier in the chapter.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” ~ Philippians 4:6-7

 
After mass my dad and I went back to the cemetery together one more time, bringing flowers for Mother's Day. Then the following morning, before leaving to catch my flight, just like my mom used to do, he takes out her old, small jar of holy oil, blesses my forehead and prays for my safe journey. And I head to the airport to catch my flight for a 2-day pilgrimage to EWTN, the global Catholic cable network, and the Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament. 
 

“Consider what God has done: Who can straighten what he has made crooked? When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other. Therefore, a man cannot discover anything about his future.” ~ Ecclesiastes 7:13-14

Part 3 – Big Cross, Little Cross

 

The following evening I had the chance to catch up with a handful of old friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen for several years – buddies from my college years. Good friends who I try to keep in touch with on a semi-regular basis. We toss out old war stories from bygone days, commiserate about our jobs, tiptoe through some political topics then quickly change subjects when things get out of hand, pop out the family photos in jammed wallets. And then it happens. The inquisition followed by the sincere advice.

Confused?  Let me tell you about what I call “The cross of singlehood” - it's not a big cross, in comparison to others. But it is one that tends to get heavier as you get older. 

Are you married?

         (no)

Are you seeing someone?

(no)

Have I got just the girl for you!

         (another blind date?... ummm, no thank you)

Are you gay?

         (NO!)

Are you a priest?

         (no)

 
It's as though there can only be these options: married, about to be married, a priest, or gay. As if single life is not a valid option. Certainly not once you hit your 30s. And it’s not as though I’m running around like a self-absorbed playboy.  So then you get that look where they wonder if there’s something wrong with you. Or there’s that look of sympathy and concern. Then the unsolicited advice comes forth. Here are some of the variations on the theme: 

Try those on-line dating services?

         (and pay someone lots of money to meet someone through cyberspace?)

How about church social functions?

         *blank stare*

The old standbys: night clubs & bars

         (you’re kidding me, right? I’m 42, not 22.)

Have you tried speed dating?

         (meaning the frantic, 5-minute, assembly-line race to the finish dating stunts?)

Someone at work?

         (nope, small company, no single women)

Just bump into a woman’s shopping cart at the supermarket.

         *rolling eyes*

You deserve to have someone!

         (yes, I do)

You’re such a nice guy!

(gee, thanks for telling me… by the way, the descriptive “nice” is considered a 4-letter word kiss of death for single people everywhere.)

You know, you really should consider the priesthood.

         (umm, it’s not my calling)

Are you sure???

         *stern look* (yes, I’m sure!)

You need to get in the game.

(as though I'm to prepare for a football match, with shoulder pads & a helmet.)

 
Even if I did "get in the game," given my current economic situation I can’t afford to be in a relationship right now. And if I make the mistake of mentioning that, then that opens up yet another series of inquisitions and recommendations.  (*sigh*)
 

“A time to weep and a time to laugh… a time to speak and a time to be silent.” ~ Ecclesiastes 3

 
I know people mean well. It’s all well-intentioned. But, it’s not like these topics (especially these topics - relationships, finances, career, health - you know, the “biggies”) aren’t already on my mind… every day. God and I have had many a conversation about these and several other topics in my life over the years. I’ve learned, over time, that there’s a reason for things being the way they are in my life right now. It’s not easy. It’s not perfect. I certainly still stumble through some of my daily struggles. I realize that there’s still some more growing to do.

“A patient man has great understanding, but a quick-tempered man displays folly. A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones.” ~ Proverbs 14:29-30

 
And things once again begin to pierce the heart a bit when in the course of just three days I find out: my oldest brother is about to get engaged again very soon; his daughter (my goddaughter & niece) gets engaged; and I’d already known for well over a month that my godson/nephew also got engaged. And then everyone in the family finds out at once that another niece is pregnant for the third time. So, within the next two years, there’ll be three weddings in the family, and I’ll become a “grand-uncle” for the fifth time. And I'm joyful. Sincerely joyful. But… somewhere… tucked in that deeply hidden place inside of me… 

Part of what makes this bittersweet is that I’ve not yet found that someone special.  Let’s be blunt here – sometimes, coming home to an empty apartment really sucks.  In addition, due to the makeup of my family, it’s up to me and me alone to be able to carry on the family name. But, in a tearful conversation with my dad one day I reassured him that it’s pressure that has never been placed on me by others. It’s only pressure, and longing, and insecurity that I’ve placed on myself. 

And I recall an incident several years ago, in a late night moment of deep despair and anguish regarding that persistent void in my life, when God spoke to me in a powerfully silent voice – saying, “Patience, Michael… patience.” I trusted Him then with that message, and I have to continue to trust Him.

“The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some under-stand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” ~ 2 Peter 3:9

 
And I’m reminded of Zachariah who (in Luke 1) doubted the angel who informed him that his wife Elizabeth (both in their old age) would bring forth a son. And because he doubted, the angel took away his ability to speak for the next nine months.  (I’m sure Lizzy didn’t quite mind that so much. Zach, I bet, was probably a bit miffed.) 

Or, in Genesis 15, Abram and Sarai who (also in their old age) laughed at the direct word from God Himself who told them that generations will spring forth from them. And, in doubting His word, they decided to take matters into their own hands. And really screwed things up by having Abram sleep with a mistress.

So, not wanting to make any rash decisions in this area, and not wanting to lose my voice, I learn to be patient.  And I continue to work on the parts of my nature that still needs honing and smoothing and refining.  And I begin to understand that the verses in 1 Corinthians 13 ("Love is patient. Love is kind.") are not just meant to be read at weddings for married people.  It's also a message for single people, too.

Part 2 – Beads and Blessings

 
I arrived at the cemetery later that morning, carrying with me the specially-made rosary I had given my mother as a going-away gift twelve years earlier. I know that she had said the rosary on these same beads at least three times a week (while going through her dialysis treatments) from that point forward until the last days of her life. Some of those fervent prayers, I’m sure, were said for me while I lived my life on the opposite side of the country. 

There’s a story about this rosary. My mom told me about an incident that happened only once while she was saying the rosary in the dialysis unit while the machines cleansed her blood 3 hours a day, 3 days a week. She said that on this particular day she noticed that one of the decades started to give a certain glow. An orangey glow. Oddly enough, it was on the only section of beads which were artificial (the white ones); real moonstone being too fragile to make into beads. All of the other beads are authentic stones: red jasper, jade, aventurine, tiger eye, amber, and the “Our Father” beads made of bloodstone (green jasper with flecks of red jasper - a stone with a medieval legend that the flecks of red represent the blood of Christ fallen onto the green field of the crucifixion). Given her poor eye sight due to her medical condition, she pointed out the glow to someone else in the dialysis unit. And that person saw it too. Another person casually brushed it off as being caused by the glare from the sunlight through the window. That didn’t sway my mom. Yet, it never occurred again. No matter how much my mother tried to get those beads to glow. 

After my mom had passed, my dad gave this rosary back to me knowing that mom wanted me to have it. Just a few days after returning to California after her funeral, I was in my apartment. I pulled out the rosary, thinking about her. And there was the glow… on the same set of beads. And, given that my Confirmation name is Thomas, I turned away from the living room window to shield the incoming sunlight from the beads. The orange glow still remained. And I knew that she was there, and that she was looking down from heaven.
 

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: … a time to be born and a time to die.” ~ Ecclesiastes 3

 
Back at the cemetery, now four years later, I walked up to the gravestone with her name engraved into its rose-colored marble surface; the sun shining brilliantly. I took out the rosary from my pocket. I’ve had many conversations in my head with my mom these last few years. I’ve shed many tears during the last days of her life and since her passing. After several years, I’ve been able to move forward. There may be times when I’ll be driving down the road or sitting in a room with my thoughts, and my eyes will begin to well up. But, here at her grave site I find that I have no more tears to shed. Not even any words to say. Just a whole bunch of happy memories like an 8mm film projector flicking images against the back of my brain. And the Joyful Mysteries on the rosary to say in honor of her life. 

While fingering the beads in prayer (through the Annunciation, the Visitation, the Birth of Jesus, and the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple) I think back - imagining the joy my own parents had when I and my brothers and sisters, one by one, came forth as gifts from God. And I thought of the countless infants throughout history who came forth into the expectant and loving arms of caring parents. And I also contemplate the countless millions who never took their first breath because of abortion throughout the world. 

And through the final decade of the rosary on the Finding of the young Jesus in the Temple, and I think back to the various travels I’ve taken, and the worries that parents naturally go through, hoping that their child is okay when He flees the nest. And I think back to my return to my faith after straying for some years. A return that I know is due in no small part to mom’s constant prayers. 

And I’m thankful for being given such loving and faithful parents; a mother and father who knew suffering and sacrifice intimately. And an extended family (siblings, nieces & nephews, aunts & uncles) that through all of our faults and foibles and peculiarities (myself included), is full of love, passion, care, and faith. It’s not that hard to count my blessings and realize that in many ways my cup overfloweth. How easy it is, when things are going badly, that we become blinded to these blessings. 

Before I leave the cemetery, I bury a locket of hair; the six-inch remains of my once-long hair (it used to be much longer some years back). I called it the remains of my mild Samson complex. She always said that if I ever cut my hair she wanted to have it. And I wanted to keep my promise. It was time.
 

“… A time to keep and a time to throw away.” ~ Ecclesiastes 3

[For the complete 10-Part series (plus epilogue), please go to the July 2006 archives]

Introduction

 
What is about to follow is the finished product of a talk I gave on June 24th in front of a small number of fellow parishioners (mainly from my bible study group) at my local church. Well, not in the church... just in one of the rooms in the hall across the parking lot.  NOTE: This is a much more extended version designed more for reading/blog posting. The actual talk was trimmed (by necessity), and slightly rearranged and altered in some parts.

It incorporates some of my personal thoughts, experiences and reflections while visiting my family and friends back east in May, and during my subsequent pilgrimage to EWTN (the Global Catholic Network) and The Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament at Our Lady of the Angels Monastery in the outskirts of Birmingham, Alabama. 

I will be quoting extensively from a number of sources including, of course, the bible, sermons from St. Francis de Sales, excerpts and summations of information from EWTN's websites and Raymond Arroyo's biography on Mother Angelica (who founded the network and monastery 25 years ago), as well as notes from a talk given by Franciscan Brother Leo while visiting the Shrine in Hanceville, AL.

The first third of the talk gets a bit personal, so be gentle yet patient because there is a method to the madness. There will be links throughout for you to peruse as you read.  You can view better and larger pictures of the Shrine if you purchase the "Come and See" picture book (a link for purchasing it will be in the last post in this series - The Epilogue). 

Part 1 – Bygones and Beginnings

 

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.” ~ Isaiah 43:18

 

 

“So do not worry… but seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”~ Matthew 6:31-35

 

There are a number of quotes that I have taped on different items in different places around my apartment – some biblical, some secular. Some have been there for so long I forget that they’re there. But on occasion I’ll stop and read one of them - each one on a certain topic or for a specific reminder. One quote – attributed to American journalist and author, Fulton Oursler, who wrote the book “The Greatest Story Ever Told” (which was later made into a famous motion picture) – is on the monitor of my computer. It says:
 

“We crucify ourselves between two thieves: regret for yesterday, and fear of tomorrow.” ~ Fulton Oursler

 
I found myself once again facing my past. This has happened quite often. I’ll dwell on some distant memory, whether it’s centered on some happy occasion, a mournful event, or maybe a specific offense. And the mind begins to rewind and replay the events over and over; rehashing and rearguing until I turn over in bed for the umpteenth time and stare at the clock. 2:30 AM. Yes. Insomnia has reared its ugly head once again. 

It’s gotten somewhat better over the years. The more recent day-to-day stuff still nags in the back of my brain at times. Maybe something happened at work, or a certain hot-button social or political issue is in the news, and that’ll spin between my ears. But, with regard to the things of the past, the older I get the easier it is to let things go. To forgive myself of things I’d done or hadn’t done, or things I’d said or hadn’t said. To forgive others of the same. To ask our Lord for forgiveness. To put things in proper perspective. 

Nowadays, it seems that my brain has traded in most of the old hang-ups of the past for things which have not yet come to fruition. Anxiety of the future, I guess you can call it. It’s not a new bag of worries, but it seems to have gotten much bigger as my old satchel filled with bygone days has shrunk. If only I could have as much peace about present and future things as I do now with my past.

“Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.” ~ Psalm 116:7

It’s early in the morning. Very early. Dawn has yet to break. I lay in my old bed, 3000 miles east, in the bedroom of my youth. I’m trying to recover from jetlag, but the body clock is on autopilot. The clock on the wall ticks loudly each second, relentlessly. Through the window is heard the chirping of countless baby birds screaming for their tummies to be filled. And the parent birds are ceaseless in their search for worms to feed their young. The young cry out for comfort. And the parent obliges, taking care and taking watch.

It’d been a little over a year since I last visited my home town. And it’s been four years since my Mom had passed after many years of dialysis due to kidney failure. I don’t get the chance to fly back east that often. When I have, I’ve gone to the cemetery with my Dad – the last time in poor weather. But this day, in a few more hours, it will be the very first time that I will be at her grave site… alone.

While lying in bed, my mind must have drifted through a myriad of thoughts before I realized that the birds stopped chirping, and they were replaced with the plaintiff hoot of a lone owl. Woot woo-hoo! Hoo! Who! Who am I? Who was I yesterday? Who am I today? Who will I be tomorrow? Am I on the right path in life? What does the future hold for me? Will my career change? Will my income improve? Will I shake off some of my bad habits? Will I ever be married, have children of my own to feed and comfort like those early morning sparrows? When will that void in my life finally be filled?

What it ultimately comes down to is this: What do I continually search for, yet cannot quite seem to find? What do we continually search for, yet cannot quite seem to find? These questions are not new. People have been asking these same questions throughout the history of our existence. And Jesus, in His sermon on the mount, gives us a challenging response:
 

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?...

 
“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”
 

“...And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?” ~ Matthew 6:25-30

Those last five words can be jolting. “O you of little faith.” How much faith is enough? I’ve gone through a circuitous route with my own faith, having been raised in the Catholic faith, then strayed at times through my 20s during a period when I took issue with God regarding certain aspects of my lift at the time (even though, in hindsight, I was blind to other areas in which He had worked His divine providence, and healing, and mercy). In my 30s I slowly felt the yearning for that something other, and gradually and meticulously found my way back to the faith of my youth. 

Each person goes though his or her own spiritual journey. And when you think you’ve reached a summit you wonder why things still aren’t quite going as planned. Questions still remain unanswered. Daily struggles still persist. And you say to yourself, “Isn’t my level of faith enough?” 
 

“A man’s mind plans his way, but the Lord determines his steps.” ~ Proverbs 16:9

 
There’s an old phrase that goes, “God loves you right where you are. But He loves you too much to let you stay there.”
 

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” ~ Proverbs 3:5-6

The EC:WC FCA is the East Coast:West Coast Film Critics Association -  an exclusive organization consisting of myself on the west coast and one of my older brothers on the east coast.  We occasionally commiserate via phone or email regarding the latest film we’ve seen either in the theaters or on DVD.  Our recommendation scale is anywhere from 1 to 5 wine bottles.  We take our movies as seriously as we take our vino (both of which need to be palatable yet refined, either entertaining whimsy or sparking contemplation, and always requiring a lack of pretension).

Today’s review – of the newly released DVD “The Matador” – is from moi (the West Coast Critic).  It’s a strange comedy/thriller that follows the unlikely friendship between two diverse individuals:  Danny Wright, and affably average family man, and Julian Noble, an ageing loner assassin. 

Julian is played hilariously by Pierce Brosnan who gets the chance to tweak his own nose with a couple subtle jabs at his previous incarnation as James Bond.  Mr. Noble is a hired killer who’s beginning to lose his nerve after one too many jobs.  Meanwhile, Danny (performed by Greg Kinnear) is in Mexico City on a business trip with his partner to try a close a deal that could make or break his career (and possibly his marriage). 

After a successful pitch session a tipsy Danny tries to strike up a conversation with equally tipsy Julian at the hotel bar, and thus is born the beginning of the oddest of “odd couple” friendships.  Watching these two characters interact with mutual fascination and indignation is a joy as we observe each struggle through their current crises, and then offer each other support and advice.

Aside from this being a comedy and thriller, this movie is also a fascinating morality tale.  It’s not perfectly executed (pardon the pun), but we do witness two men on opposite ends of the moral extremes meeting at crucial moments in their lives.  Note: pay close attention to Julian’s tattoos and to his two rings.

This is an R-rated film, due less to violence (with quick cutaways and edits, you never see any of the killings) but due more so to some occasional salty language and a couple brief sex scenes.  There’s clever dialogue throughout, and the story is very well constructed by writer/director Richard Shepherd.

I ended up renting this DVD twice, and I still found it fascinatingly funny, with brilliant performances by the two leads (Hope Davis is also wonderful as Danny’s inquisitive wife).  The Matador also brings to the fore the consequences of serious choices and actions.  Again, the ending doesn’t make it a perfect morality play, but I found it enjoyable enough to give it 4 wine bottles out of 5 (maybe they should be margaritas instead?).

UPDATE:  The East Coast Critic writes, "I rented 'The Matador' over the weekend, but quite frankly, I really didn't like it that much.  It was funny at times, but the vulgar dialogue and the lack of sufficient (genuine) moral retrospect by both leads, made it too sour for my taste buds  (2 wine bottles out of 5).

I'm not one to read the rag known as the L.A. Times, but several months ago there was an interesting article that put things in historical perspective regarding Islam vs. Judaism and Christianity. Below is an excerpt of note:

"Whatever the religious sensitivities involved, reactions such as these may strike you as threateningly — even viciously — irrational. That's because they are, and there's a reason.

"Back in the High Middle Ages, the three great monotheistic religions — Judaism, Christianity and Islam — reached one of those fundamental forks in the historical road. For centuries, a series of Islamic scholars had preserved the works of Aristotle that one day would lay the foundations for the secular logic and science that have made the modern world possible. Their "rediscovery" by medieval scholars provoked a crisis. They recognized that reason was a powerful tool, but were fearful that using it would undermine faith, which was the basis for authority in all three communities.

"What to do — or, more precisely, how to think?

"Three intellectual giants rose to the challenge. Two of them — the philosopher and jurist Abu al-Walid Ibn Rushd, known to the West as Averroes, and the great rabbi and physician Moses Maimonides — actually were contemporaries, both born in the Spanish city of Cordova. Tradition has it they even met and befriended each other while on the run from the Almohads, Islamic fundamentalists from the Maghreb, who had captured Andalusia and destroyed its storied culture of tolerance. The third was Thomas Aquinas — of whom his admiring coreligionists one day would say, "He led reason captive into the house of faith." Recall that this was an age in which the literate West, not unlike today's Islamists, still regarded theology as "the queen of the sciences."

"Averroes' exposition of Aristotle was so widely admired and influential that when Aquinas took it up a century or so later at the University of Paris he referred to Aristotle simply as "the philosopher" and to Averroes as "the commentator." But while Maimonides and, later, Aquinas — who also read and admired the philosopher rabbi — held that there exists a single truth and that faith, properly understood, never can conflict with reason, Averroes took the other fork. He held that there were two truths — that of revelation and that of the natural world. There was no need to reconcile them because they were separate and distinct.

"It was a form of intellectual suicide and cut off much of the Islamic world from the centuries of scientific and political progress that followed."

A couple months ago I attended -- a better phrase would be strolled and perused -- the tri-annual Artwalk in downtown Ventura, CA. Three times a year Main Street and the surrounding downtown corridor becomes a showcase for the arts during a Saturday afternoon and evening. Anywhere from 60 to 80 local businesses --  shops, restaurants, galleries, museums and studios -- will display the works of various local and regional artists (mostly paintings and sculptures in various forms of media).

You pick up a free map, you grab a cup of coffee, and you scan the listings on the map. You circle a handful of must-see locations, leaving the option to see other locations by chance and tickled fancy. And you go for a stroll throughout the downtown area. Some locations are a bit out of the way, so you drive to those places first -- usually at the far ends of the district.

I always check out several places at the far western end of town, including Pacific Stoneworks (always intriguing), Stoneworks Studio (always quirky), and the new Bell Art Factory where 25 artists are in residence.

At Pacific Stoneworks I met up with artists Scott & Pat Wynn (husband & wife). What a wonderful couple who were so affable and unpretentious that we ended up chatting for almost an hour on varied topics and experiences. Scott's been painting for only four years and does simple oil landscapes. Pat's forte is small scale watercolors. Also displayed in the studio was the works of artist Tiger Huang -- pencil, pen and charcoal drawings & sketches.

At Bell Art Factory, there were quite a few varied art works on display. What struck me the most was a series of paintings by Susan Cook. Dreamy and sepia-toned in appearance, her paintings can be seen here at her website.

There were two photographers who have an incredible eye: Robert Fields and Dan Holmes. Click on their names to link to their respective websites to view their beautiful visions captured on film.

You can spend several hours just walking around downtown, as many others do, poking your head into a trinket shop here, a clothing shop there, a restaurant across the street, an alley or nook with hidden treasures. Finally, before leaving downtown, I'll visit two places on the map which I always make sure to visit: the small Buenaventura Art Gallery at the corner of Thompson and Santa Clara, and another small studio/gallery on the opposite corner.

Some of Norman Kirk's larger scale watercolors were on display at the former. He's well known in these parts, and his paintings are masterful slices of life.

Across the street, Lee Hodges has her mixes media pieces on display at her studio. These works are strikingly spiritual and powerful when viewed in person. Viewing them on a computer screen does not do them justice. They're mixtures of painting and collage in what she terms "The Cross Series." Her website better describes her approach to each piece in the series. You can stare at one of her paintings and become lost in the mood and message it attempts to convey, always discovering something new or hidden. Deeply, deeply spiritual in a quiet and introspective way.

One piece which I saw displayed at the previous Artwalk event, entitled Time of Decision (here) really moved me in profound ways. Again, the website image does not compare to viewing it in person. It's now on display in a studio in New Mexico. If I was independently wealthy I'd buy it without hesitation.

I've met Lee both times at her studio, and we always chat for a bit and discuss her works. Also displayed at her studio are various wood and marble sculptures by reclusive artist Mitch Mays. I have no link for you to click and view, but his religiously themed pieces are inspiring -- including a life-sized wood sculpture of the arms & hands of God and Adam taken from Michelangelo's "The Creation" fresco in the Sistine Chapel.

Enjoy the links above and see for yourself the beauty, skill, power and grace of the various artists and their works of art.

Well, whadda yah know... it woiks!

Greetings to all visitors!  I've been posting under my Blogger/Blogspot locale (http://ArbiterOfCommonSense.blogspot.com).  So, initially, I'll be in the process of moving selected posts from there into here.  I'll also be interjecting new posts from time to time until I get situated.

So, sit back and relax.  Click on my bio to get a feel for where this blog will be heading.

Come and visit often.

Tell your friends, neighbors, colleagues.