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alwaysabeautifullife · 4 years

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Do your kids have the same beliefs as you? Sorry if this sounds offensive!

This is such a complicated question (sort of) so sorry if it’s a long answer.

I’ve mostly talked about this with my middle son (14) and my youngest son (13). My middle son I probably talk with him the most about it, he explained he is unsure about any absolute beliefs. He’s very open with his thoughts, ideas, feelings. When he told me this I explained to him that I raised him and taught him the Catholic faith for one and only reason; because I believe it’s true. Just as I taught him everything else I know, and still do. I told him that I didn’t feel sad, mad, or even disappointment, that I was just happy that he spent time even thinking about the “truth” of life, the world, human purpose, all those things, because at 14 I never concerned myself with any of those things. He is very intelligent, and I don’t have any feelings of “worry” for my children when it comes to faith or things of that nature. He mostly has lots of questions (not about Catholicism but life in general), which is exactly how I raised my children and I wouldn’t expect any less. I never wanted my children to blindly believe anything I taught them, I want them to experience their own journeys in life, and I only educated them with information I knew and my own personal experience. I did the best any parent would do, or could do, religious or not and I’m happy I have such deep thinkers, children who concern themselves with spiritual or philosophical thoughts, children with deep emotional intelligence. They still attend Mass when I’m able to go, and come with me to confession, since it’s literally a part of who we are (Catholic is very cultural), but I don’t and never have paid any attention to if my children are choosing to receive the Eucharist since it’s none of my business.

My youngest son seems mostly questioning, he thinks very privately and has a very self critical, black and while moralistic view of the world, so sometimes he arrives in some very dark thoughts. He has been like that since he was very young though, when other kids played with toys he would stare at balloons for hours and gently play with insects. My only worry for him is him arriving in any state of despair or hopelessness, as he cares very very deeply for the entire world, each and every plant, bug, every tree in the forest. Sometimes he really looses himself in a sadness about it, and then the sadness turns into anger. He doesn’t speak so much about his state of beliefs though, maybe he worries I may be sensitive about his opinions? He mostly speaks very passionately about his concerns and things, all usually nature related and trying to understand evil in the world. He is a very very cool 13 year old, and sometimes I don’t understand how he has the energy to think so deeply. I wish I would have been so concerned as he was with the state of the world, I mostly only worried about my own world at 13 tbh. He reads a lot, I think sometimes he does so to turn his mind off.

My oldest is VERY private. He would never speak about his beliefs ever to anyone.

They all practice, although I’m not sure if it’s habitual or not, as sometimes I see them sign the cross alone and things, bless their food and such.

With teenagers there’s this balance as a parent you’re constantly trying to maintain. A safe distance sometimes, showing them boundaries, healthy ways of dealing with very traumatic and hurtful things that happens in their lives when their emotions/mind are at full force but still developing. They are individual, and their world they comfortably navigated as a child is slamming into the rest of the world. I have to constantly show them consequences while they are less severe, as when you’re an adult they are severe enough to ruin your life, while giving them the freedom to get hurt, constantly, face all these negative horrible outcomes you warned them about, the same outcomes and experiences you had and you were warned about as a teen too. Then you have to be patient, because they do things that are absolutely stupid (that you did and warned them about) and then they do things better than you, smarter than you, and you wonder where that came from (because you know at that age you were much dumber). And you hope all this information can be crammed inside them by the time they are forced into the world at 18. So adding the additional pressure of forming some absolute set of beliefs immediately (especially one that matches mine) isn’t something that needs to happen right now, this very second. I tell them sometimes “this is new to me too” I’ve never navigated teens and young adults into life, I’ve barely figured out my own, and now as an adult I’m mostly going “ok so this path was bad and led here, so I wouldn’t do that...oh no...you did that....that was dumb...okay let’s deal with these consequences then, I’ve done this before too.” I think even if I did this a million times with a million children, teens, young adults, I’d never be an expert because it’s so individual.

Also for me, Catholicism wasn’t spiritual as much as it was intellectual. Religion met my scientific criteria, honestly, and that was always the basis for me believing in “something” as a child. It took many years for me to say “okay, this is it,” and I arrived there by thinking, it was never really “simple”. A lot of people quote the “faith like a child” as having a sort of blind faith, a faith that is unwavering and absolute, that ask no questions. But I don’t know any children without questions, I don’t know children who don’t wonder, who aren’t curious. In order to develop any set of beliefs we must put them to the test, every day, and I feel the truth will measure up, regardless of my feelings or attachments. If it doesn’t measure up, it’s not the truth.

I think this scares some of my friends, really all of my friends who are parents, not just the religious ones but maybe the religious ones the most. I think that’s fear, and I don’t have any.

#catholic #parenting #faith #personal

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les-eaux-d-eunoe-blog · 6 years

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From Atheist to Pantheist to Catholic - My Conversion Story

These are only life events, and cover the Faith part of the Faith + Reason equation. I’ll need to dedicate another post to the philosophical and theological path that occurred in tandem with these events.

I hope you enjoy. :) It’s been a wild ride.

---

- I am very young and at swimming lessons for the first time. I must be 3 or 4. I fall off the platforms designed to keep our heads above water. No one notices at first. But I am not afraid, just drifting towards a light before I am suddenly yanked out of the water and coughing profusely.

- I attend Sunday school at the insistence of my Grandma. My dad is annoyed. I come home and ask my papa about God. My dad tells me that God is made up. Later in life he tells me he rejected religion when I was born, because he couldn’t understand how a pure and beautiful child could be stained by sin. He devoted his life to science after that.

This made perfect sense to me, and I carried this attitude with me throughout my life. I became a very critical observer, especially in regards to organized religion.

- My Catholic grandparents bring us to Christmas mass (and continue to do so every year.) My mom is preoccupied with keeping my sister and I quiet. My young brother causes scandal by slipping out of the pew and taking communion unbaptized. He can’t be more than 6, and just wants to participate. (He is now a Christian, for what it’s worth)

- I backpack in the Wyoming wilderness with my family around age 10. I feel a sense of peace on the mountain rimmed shore of Tomahawk lake. I feel a pattern in the grandeur, a true and humbling sense of awe. I feel something Godlike. I tell my pop, and he just smiles at me and ruffles my hair.

- I experience manipulation and physical trauma at the hands of peers I place trust in as a child and teen, which scar me deeply.

- I have several night terrors / hypnagogia as a teen where I experience ghosts, and once, a demon. I’m deeply disturbed by these experiences and don’t know how to integrate them into my beliefs as an atheist.

- My mom tries to help my bad teen acne and irregular cycles by putting me on birth control.

- I’m an average student, and a decent athlete. School is just okay. I don’t excel at much and prefer listening to music and painting in my room. I become interested in boys.

- I graduate high school, start college, and then promptly drop out. My parents kick me out of the house. I spend two years living with a boyfriend and experimenting with weed and hallucinogens.

- My dad asks me to visit my devoutly Catholic great-grandmother Olive once a month in a nursing home at the height of my rebellion. She sees nothing but good in me, despite me feeling utterly fallen. She loves me immensely, and keeps poems I wrote as a young girl in with her collection of favorite prayers.

- My boyfriend becomes abusive and the economy collapses. I lose my job, and eventually break up with him. I ask my parents for forgiveness and move back home. I return to college.

- I discover pantheism, and feel like I’ve finally found a name for the Godlike awe I’ve been chasing since I was a girl on the lakeshore.

- Eventually, my great-grandma Olive succumbs to dementia. I receive a small inheritance from her, which I put towards the cost of completing a French study abroad at a university in Normandy.

- In Normandy, I feel close to the spirit of my great-grandma Olive. Our program includes visits to churches, monasteries, and reliquaries with weekly if not daily frequency. Everything is ancient. I feel sad and disconnected from my American peers, estranged from Norman locals by the language barrier, but form a tight bond with my host family. I spend a lot of time wandering the narrow streets and drinking wine and cidre in cafés trying to make sense of the world. I buy ranunculus and place them on my night stand. I find solace in the Gothic architecture, and in the tiny orchard towns of the Old Country.

- The last week of my time in France, we visit Paris. My program director arranges for us to attend mass at Notre-Dame de Paris. There are incense and Gregorian chants. Part of the mass is in Latin, the rest is in French. I sketch the vaulted ceilings. I shake hands with a kind-eyed stranger behind me and wish him peace in English, knowing he may not understand my words but feels my intention. After mass, I walk between the arches, and I cry.

- After returning home, I spend a quick summer in my hometown, and pack to leave for Chicago to pursue a bacheor’s degree. I love Chicago and make friends. My first Easter there, I try to find a Catholic church and talk a new boyfriend into coming with me. I dress up and wear a new silk hat. He hates the service and asks if we can leave. I say no and am disappointed in him, despite neither of us being Catholic. I feel, for some reason, I should be there. Maybe because it makes me feel connected to my great-grandmother. We leave and eat strawberries in Millennium park.

- I move out of the dorms and into other neighborhoods. Subsequent years I begin to practice Lent, because I like the principle of it. It seems like a really positive challenge to me. I don’t make the mistake of dragging others with me to Easter mass anymore.

- I graduate college and struggle to find meaningful employment. My body is in tremendous amounts of pain. The doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong with me though. I quit hormonal birth control to see if it helps. My body reels and tries to stabilize without the consistent dose of hormones I’ve been taking daily for the last decade. I fall into an inconsolable and deep depression for the next two years

- An acquaintance asks me to join a band. As music has been the silver thread pulling me through the darkness, I agree wholeheartedly.

I learn to play bass, and duet vocals with him as he plays lush, reverby guitar and sings in a low timbre. Over the course of the year, we fall in love. He’s tall, serious, dark, with electric blue-green eyes. He’s fiercely intelligent. His smile makes my heart leap from my chest. His name is M.

- One weekend M. and I are spending the morning together, and he casually asks if I’d like to go to Easter mass with him the next day. I’m overcome with surprised joy and happily agree. I dress up once again, and I smile at him with this unexplained feeling of pride as he leaves my side to go take the Eucharist.

- I continue to struggle with my mental health. M. really loves me and encourages me to find a therapist. I do. We find out I have PMDD, and I begin, slowly, working on improving my health.

- My grandpapa is suddenly diagnosed with stomach cancer and is placed in hospice. I fly out immediately to be with him and my family. Within the week, he’s gone. My family grieves in the small hospice chapel. I find myself praying for the peace of his soul.

During this trip, my grandmother is diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s, which breaks my heart. I feel like, in a way, I’ve lost both of my grandparents twenty years too early. I return home.

- My relationship progresses with M. He is a cradle Catholic, but isn’t especially devout. It’s a somber year. The next Easter rolls around, and I once again practice lent. I give up alcohol. Despite still not feeling especially Catholic myself, I begin reading the Bible, starting with the gospels “as a cultural experience.” I think it’s some kind of effort to connect with my roots. I read them on the train as I ride to the record store that I work at.

- One morning on the train, I read the parable of the 10 Virgins. I’ve never heard it before, and I don’t quite understand it. I re-read it over and over again. When I get to work, one of my co-workers is playing Johnny Cash.

- The song playing is "When the Man Comes Around." I am shocked to hear the parable of the 10 virgins in the song. And I start to wonder if what I’m reading maybe is actually trying to speak to me. So I don’t stop.

- Intrigued by my experience, I decide to fast deeply during lent. Out of curiosity, one evening in my room I try to talk to Jesus for the first time and introduce myself. Nothing spectacular happens, but the room seems to smell like sawdust and sweet wood, and I feel peaceful.

- That Easter, M.’s parents are visiting and invite us to the candlelit vigil service. It’s in a church that’s hundreds of years old called St. Michael’s. The choir is perfect and well practiced, and they sing a Capella. I watch the baptisms of the excited canidates and catechumens, dressed in their special outfits, with happy spouses looking on. I feel this sudden yearning to be one of them. I’m delirious from fasting and feel as if I’m floating. I silently cry again, and think about my grandma, great grandma, and grandpapa. We go out to dinner together and the food tastes incredible after the fast.

- In the weeks following, I keep reading the bible. It becomes my secret.

- M. and I decide to move to Arizona together, to find a better life. We are living paycheck to paycheck, and feel like we might find more gainful employment there. When we arrive, I spend most mornings standing on the edge of desert landscape, trying to achieve deep meditation to help with my mental health. I memorize the “Our Father” prayer, and say it at the beginning of each session.

- M. and I talk about maybe having children someday. He says that he thinks he might want his kids to go to Catholic school, like he did.

- At this point, I’m already deeply fascinated with Catholicism. I read about saints as I commute around town. I read about the formation of the bible and the desert fathers, I decide that I might want to maybe be Catholic. Then I find out what’s involved. The lengthy process of RCIA keeps me away, and I worry about what my fallen-away father would think. So I keep reading in secret instead.

- I want to donate to a food drive, so M. helps me find a local church to take food to for thanksgiving. They have a prayer shawl ministry. I really want to learn how to knit, so I join, despite not being Catholic or belonging to the parish.

- Months later, I become fascinated with the rosary. I decide to pray a “virtual rosary.” During that experience, I see the Virgin Mary in my mind’s eye. I see her as the female form, then as my own body. I recognize that I’m holding a lot of insecurity and tension in my body as sexual shame. Suddenly, I see my female form as completely beautiful and natural. I feel freedom and peace from that shame I’ve been carrying since I was a child. I don’t know much about the Virgin Mary, but I know that I need to learn more.

- That very night, my boyfriend and I go to see The Smashing Pumpkins. The whole set is filled with imagery referring to the Virgin Mary. I find myself saying the Hail Mary prayer in my head, over and over again. It glitters in my mind like it’s made of gold.

- I read more and more about Our Lady. And I find a small coin necklace with her image. It glitters just like the prayer. I make a pact with myself that if I decide to buy the necklace, that I’ll join RCIA.

- A few days later, I decide to buy the necklace.

- That Sunday, I feel compelled to go to mass alone, even though I’ve never done that before. I walk there. At the end of the service, the church announces its new RCIA director, who I meet after the mass. And I begin the inquiry process within weeks.

#my journey #rcia journal

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catholicartistsnyc · 5 years

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Meet: Cole Matson

COLE MATSON is an actor, producer, and president of the Catholic Artist Connection. (www.colematson.com)

CATHOLIC ARTIST CONNECTION (CAC): What brought you to NYC, and where did you come from?

COLE MATSON (CM): I was born in Houston, TX, and spent the second half of my childhood in southeastern Virginia. I first came to NYC to study acting as an undergraduate at NYU (Playwrights Horizons Theater School at Tisch School of the Arts). I then moved to Baltimore after college and worked part-time for the Baltimore Theatre Alliance while acting in theater and film. After a few years, I went to the UK to study theology, ending up doing a PhD in Divinity with a focus on theology and theatre through the University of St Andrews' Institute for Theology, Imagination & the Arts. After finishing my PhD, I came back to NYC in 2015 with a call to serve artists. During a road trip in 2011, I had met a large number of young Catholic artists in NYC who were interested in working together to build community. After a very direct call from one of them, my friend (and Catholic Artist Connection co-founder) Emily C.A. Snyder, I came to NYC to help do just that!

CAC: How do understand your vocation as a Catholic artist? Do you call yourself a Catholic artist?

CM: I do call myself a Catholic artist, as well as a Catholic Christian who is an artist. I see the role of the Catholic artist as sharing an experience of Christ with others, through the incarnate form of an artistic medium. Christ can be more or less explicitly discernible depending upon the nature of the particular art piece, but our entire lives and beings as Christians are founded upon Christ, so Christ will be active in everything we do through the power of His Holy Spirit. C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien's visions of the role of a Christian artist are my models. My personal mission has become less about creating my own art (though there is a certain itch I need to scratch, and some stories I'm struggling to birth) and more about helping create an environment of support that allows other artists to birth their own stories more easily.

CAC: Where have you found support in the Church for your vocation as an artist?

CM: Primarily through the larger-than-one-would-think community of fellow Catholics and Christians who are unafraid to proclaim their faith as well as their artistic vocation, and are excited to support each other in their vocations. There are also places like the Actors' Chapel in NYC and Family Theater Productions in LA, which are missioned specifically to provide a place of worship for performing artists. The idea of having a parish church dedicated specifically to that nomadic community, and especially having a "post-theatre" Mass at a time convenient to performing artists, is an extraordinary one, and I'm very grateful that it exists in NYC. I've had religious and lay Catholics tell me that I should sacrifice everything to pray at the "right" hours (e.g., morning prayer at dawn, Mass on Sunday morning), and even get up at 4 a.m. to pray for several hours before sunrise if I really want to grow in my spiritual life. When I responded that going to bed at 8 p.m. in order to get up at 4 a.m. eliminated the possibility of working in the theatre, I was told that, well, maybe that was a sacrifice I needed to make if I was really serious about serving God. This idea that the late-night and peripatetic schedule of the performing artist is mutually exclusive from the "serious" service of God is still alive in some places; giving artists support in their vocation by giving them a particular church and offering Mass at a time they can easily attend is a valuable counter-witness to this lack of understanding.

CAC: Where have you found support among your fellow artists for your Catholic faith?

CM: Oh, man - again, the Catholic artist community of NYC. I also appreciate conversations with artists of other faiths who also experience difficulties in the arts due to their faith. (My Jewish brothers and sisters have been particularly supportive in this regard.) I've had plenty of artists (and, unfortunately, teachers) who were actively hostile to my faith, and the work that comes out of it. (For example, when my undergraduate playwriting teacher learned that my love of The Lord of the Rings was behind the fantastical work that I was exploring in class, she told me, "Fantasy is juvenile trash not worth an adult spending their time on." Another, when he learned that I was a Christian, told me that the Church was the source of all evil in the world.) However, I've also experienced other, non-Christian artists (and teachers) who are interested in supporting an artist's living out of their values, whether or not those values are rooted in a religious faith. I find that when we are open and confident about our faith and its importance to our lives as artists, especially focusing on the core of the Gospel, which is the love of God for each human person, we are more likely than not to be met with respect and support, even where there is disagreement.

CAC: How can the Church be more welcoming to artists?

CM:

1. Pay them what they're worth.

2. Be open to and support initiatives of the laity to support art and artists.

3. Trust them. If they're actively self-identifying as Christians while working in the arts, their faith is probably important to them - it's too risky otherwise. Trust in their faith and love of Christ and the Church, and that the Holy Spirit is working in them. Even when the work they are creating is a little scary or strange, trust that God is working out some prophesying in them for the good of the community and the glory of His Name. It's like speaking in tongues - look for someone who can interpret the movement of grace, rather than quashing the movement of the Spirit.

CAC: How can the artistic world be more welcoming to artists of faith?

CM:��Don't assume that because someone is a Christian they're therefore a bigot. Also, understand that evangelization is about sharing a good gift we've received, so that others can share our joy - it's not about forcing people to join our club. Most of all, encourage artists of all faiths to create work based on their faith, without assuming that that work is therefore "lesser." I know a dancer who was not allowed to choreograph a dance about Mary for her MFA thesis because her supervisor believed that religious content destroyed "real art". To get around this, she told her supervisor she would create a dance about a woman she knew, but she didn't want to share too much about her story, because doing so would ruin the power of the dance. She then created her dance about Mary, which was lauded by the supervisor as extremely moving and powerful. :-)

CAC: Which parish(es) did you attend? Do you recommend any particular parishes for their sacramental life, beauty, and/or community?

CM: My parish has been St. Malachy's - The Actors' Chapel, which I highly recommend. (I'd like to highlight the 11pm Sat post-theatre Mass, the 11am Sun Mass with full choir, and the 6pm Sun young adult Mass.) I also recommend going to CatholicNYC.com and signing up for the Archdiocese's Office of Young Adult Outreach email newsletter, which lists an extraordinary number of events and groups for the spiritual support of young adults. You can find other parishes which have been recommended to the Catholic Artist Connection as welcoming places for artists at catholicartistsnyc.com/communities.

CAC: Where in NYC do you regularly find artistic fulfillment?

CM: I enjoyed being a part of The Sheen Center, first as artist-in-residence and then as an employee, for 3 years. I would especially recommend attending the annual Sheen Center Theater Festival in the summer, which shares new work by Catholic playwrights. A list of Catholic theatre companies, visual arts collectives, music groups, and arts center in the greater NYC area can be found at catholicartistsnyc.com/communities. Three I would particularly highlight are Turn to Flesh Productions, which produces new work in classical styles by and about women; Storm Theatre, which produces modern and classical fully-staged productions that often have a direct link to Catholic faith (e.g., their festival of JPII's plays); and Magis Theatre, which is a more experimental physical ensemble led by a Jesuit priest, and which performed the most "eucharistic" theatre I've ever seen in New York (a production of Calderón's two versions of "Life is a Dream," which ended with the entire cast singing "Gloria!" and the performer playing Adam revolving in worship, arms raised to Christ the Sun, on the stage of La Mama ETC, the flagship of NYC downtown experimental theatre).

CAC: How have you found or built community as a Catholic artist living in NYC?

CM: Through the Catholic Artist Connection, the Actors' Chapel, the Sheen Center, and my residential intentional community of Catholic artist men, Our Lady of Harlem Artist House. Mostly through friendships which have been built through these trellises, as well as through one-on-one introductions. It's all about the friendships.

CAC: What is your daily spiritual practice? And if you have a spiritual director, how did you find that person? If you go on retreats, where do you like to go?

CM: My primary practice is to pray the Divine Office and attend daily Mass as often as possible. I also do some centering prayer in the morning and the examen before bed. I see a spiritual director once a month, and go on an 8-day silent retreat once a year. I also try to take the first day of the month as a day of recollection, to be more silent than usual and go over the results of the past month and my plan for the coming month. I found my most recent spiritual director, Fr. Ray (RIP), through a Jesuit friend’s recommendation. You can find a spiritual director by going to the Catholic Artist Connection’s list at http://www.catholicartistconnection.com/spiritual-directors.html. The page also links to Charis NYC’s Spiritual Director List and the Office of Ignatian Spirituality’s Catalog of Spiritual Directors. For retreats, I generally go to Loyola Jesuit Center in Morristown, NJ. (I’ve seen beaver, deer, and kingfishers at their pond!)

CAC: What is your daily artistic practice? And what are your recommendations to other artists for practicing their craft daily?

CM: A daily artistic practice has gotten more difficult as my work has focused more and more on arts administration. I try to take the first available hour each day (after prayer) to work on whatever creative project I’m focusing on at the time, whether it’s the Catholic Artist Connection or an article I’m writing. I recommend deciding what your highest-priority creative goal is at the moment, and doing at least something each day to move yourself toward it (giving yourself a break on the Sabbath if you want it).

CAC: Describe a recent day in which you were most completely living out your vocation as an artist. What happened, and what brought you the most joy?

CM: I’ve been in a time of rest and recuperation lately, and have been reminding myself to listen to my own creative instincts and priorities. To that end, I recently went on an 8-day retreat, during which The Lord of the Rings was my spiritual reading. On one day of the retreat, I spent the morning praying and walking outdoors in the snowy mountains. In the afternoon, I read Tolkien. In the evening, I watched Selma, as a way of reminding myself why I wanted to tell stories in the first place (to inspire myself and others to heroic action and to give hope). I repeated the pattern one day after I came home from the retreat – praying, walking, reading, and watching Of Gods and Men. This time has been one of “filling up the well” so that the fields of creativity can be watered for later growth.

CAC: What resources have you found helpful in securing housing/roommates? Which neighborhoods would you recommend to artists moving to the city?

CM: My first housing situation in NYC during my most recent sojourn was as an artist-in-residence at The Sheen Center. Go to sheencenter.org/residency if you want to learn how to apply for 2-4 months of free housing at the Center while working on a specific creative project. At the end of the residency, I knew I was looking to live in community with other Catholic artists, and I had met a few other men who were looking for a similar situation. Therefore, we put our heads together to look for an apartment. I was temporarily staying with family in Kansas for a few weeks and teaching at a summer drama camp, so I used StreetEasy to find apartments which matched our size, location, and rent needs. (There were 6 of us.) Other members of the group volunteered to scout out the highest-ranking apartments. When we found one that the scouting team agreed worked for us, we jumped on it. We quickly gathered everyone’s financial documents, and secured a lease. That community is now Our Lady of Harlem Artist House. If anyone is looking for advice on setting up a similar community, just contact me!

CAC: But seriously, how did you make a living in NYC?

CM: For my first year in NYC, I worked as a staff and faculty member at CAP21 Conservatory/Molloy College. For the past two years, I’ve worked as a Programming Associate at The Sheen Center. I’ve appreciated being able to work full-time in the arts, as well as do some paid acting, speaking, and article-writing on the side. First, I recommend identifying 10 or so organizations that you would like to work with, and approaching them directly to see whether they’re hiring. In terms of job listings, I found the most success with the NYFA Classifieds, TCG’S ARTSEARCH (requires an annual membership), and Playbill. For acting submissions, I recommend annual memberships to Actors Access/Showfax and Backstage, as well as checking Playbill. But most of all, build relationships with the people with whom you want to work.

CAC: How much would you suggest artists moving to NYC budget for their first year?

CM: $36,000 if possible.

CAC: What other practical resources would you recommend to a Catholic artist living in NYC?

CM: The Drama Bookshop. Studio space: The Sheen Center, Molloy Studios. Headshot photographer: Shirin Tinati. Health insurance: Go to https://nystateofhealth.ny.gov/ to see if you qualify for free or low-cost ($20/mon.) health insurance. Check out CatholicNYC.com for jobs and housing. The Listings Project and Facebook’s Gypsy Housing and NYC Area Catholic Looking for Roommates groups are also good housing resources. And most important, get on the Catholic Artist Connection weekly email newsletter.

CAC: What are your top 3 pieces of advice for Catholic artists moving to NYC?

CM: 1. Join the Catholic Artist Connection email newsletter and check out the communities on CatholicArtistsNYC.com.

2. Identify 3-5 artistic groups/organizations with whom you are interesting in working, check out their work, and ask how you can get involved.

3. Create the work you want to create, without waiting for someone else to give you the opportunity to create. And the most important bonus piece of advice underlying all: Focus first on building the foundation of a strong daily spiritual practice, and commit to it above all else. Find a home parish, a spiritual director, and a small group of faithful friends to keep you grounded. Pray always – Christ is your surest companion.

#artist #catholic artist #catholic artist connection #catholic artists nyc #new york #nyc #new yorker #st. malachy's #health insurance

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apenitentialprayer · 6 years

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I figured this was a fitting question considering your url, haha. What are some misconceptions about Purgatory you hear all the time, and what is it as defined by the Roman Catholic Church?

Let me try this again! This is going to be a long one, sorry not sorry. :P

Let’s get the definitional stuff out of the way. Purgatory is the “final purification of the elect” (CCC 1031), through which the saved are made ready for union with God. Now, this union is made possible through Jesus Christ and His redemptive suffering during the Crucifixion. So why is Purgatory needed? Union with God requires detachment from sin. “All who die in God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified” (CCC 1030) go through a process of purification to break any attachment we may still have to our individual vices. Purgatory is thus an extension of what we’re supposed to be doing here, which is the detachment from sin so that we may love God as much as we possibly can.

The doctrine of Purgatory was dogmatically defined in 1245, but the concept of the final purification goes back to the early Christian Church. Saint Ambrose of Milan speaks of a purifying fire at the gates of Heaven that all must walk through; his disciple, Saint Augustine, is careful to distinguish between hellfire and the corrective flames of purification. Saint Bede the Venerable actually describes visions of these flames. For those who need Scriptural evidence, Saint Paul seems to have a similar idea in 1 Corinthians 3:10-15 -

According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and someone else is building on it. Each builder must choose with care how to build on it. For no one can lay any foundation other than the one that has been laid; that foundation is Jesus Christ. Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw— the work of each builder will become visible, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each has done. If what has been built on the foundation survives, the builder will receive a reward. If the work is burned up, the builder will suffer loss; the builder will be saved, but only as through fire.

I’m about to enter into the realm of speculation here, but the Lord’s Prayer might also allude to Purgatory. The line “lead us not into temptation” may also be translated as “do not subject us to the final test” (as you will see in many modern English translations of Matthew and Luke). In the (very basic) commentary that comes with the standard NABRE translation, this ‘test’ is linked to the trials and persecutions believed to take place right before the coming of the Kingdom, an idea very prevalent in Jewish apocalyptic works. Perhaps it is possible that it might also be asking that we not need to go through the final ‘testing’ of the purification? Maybe this allusion is just in my head, but possibly something to consider.

Of course, the most direct allusion to Purgatory in the Bible is in the Book of Maccabees (which is why I saved it for last; keep in mind that while Protestants reject its Inspired nature, about 61.6% of Christians do accept it as Scripture). In 12:39-46, Judas Maccabeus is described as performing sacrifices to expiate the sins of some of his soldiers. While the author’s purpose of including this story is to prove that Judas believed in the resurrection of the dead (see verses 43-44), it also serves the purpose of showing that it is possible to aid the dead after they have died; if they all went immediately to heaven or hell, this would not be possible. The full text I am referring to reads:

On the following day, since the task had now become urgent, Judas and his companions went to gather up the bodies of the fallen and bury them with their kindred in their ancestral tombs. But under the tunic of each of the dead they found amulets sacred to the idols of Jamnia, which the law forbids the Jews to wear. So it was clear to all that this was why these men had fallen. They all therefore praised the ways of the Lord, the just judge who brings to light the things that are hidden. Turning to supplication, they prayed that the sinful deed might be fully blotted out. The noble Judas exhorted the people to keep themselves free from sin, for they had seen with their own eyes what had happened because of the sin of those who had fallen. He then took up a collection among all his soldiers, amounting to two thousand silver drachmas, which he sent to Jerusalem to provide for an expiatory sacrifice. In doing this he acted in a very excellent and noble way, inasmuch as he had the resurrection in mind; for if he were not expecting the fallen to rise again, it would have been superfluous and foolish to pray for the dead. But if he did this with a view to the splendid reward that awaits those who had gone to rest in godliness, it was a holy and pious thought. Thus he made atonement for the dead that they might be absolved from their sin.

ANYWAY, what are my least favorite misconceptions of Purgatory

Purgatory is Eternal

A few years back, when I was on a bus, two elderly women were talking about DNRs. One of them was disturbed because her brother had signed one. The other woman, in an act that I can only call extremely uncharitable, equated signing a DNR with suicide, and told her that the best her brother could hope for was “eternity in Purgatory.” I was very angry with that; first because while suicide is considered a very serious sin, the Catholic Church currently takes a relatively lenient stance towards it, admitting that many factors can reduce an individual’s personal responsibility for it, while also stating that we should pray for those who commit suicide (CCC 2282-2283). So the “best” one could hope for is not eternity in Purgatory, but eternity in the arms of a merciful and understanding Father.

But besides that, this woman held a deeply flawed understanding of what Purgatory is. Purgatory is not an afterlife, a kind of third option for those who weren’t damned but not good enough for Heaven either. If you are in Purgatory, it is because you are saved. Purgatory is by its very nature transitional, a form of preparation for heaven for those who were not sufficiently prepared at the moment of their deaths. To treat Purgatory as an eternal destination deeply distorts orthodox Christian cosmology, which understands that everything will ultimately have to choose to either be of God or to be of the devil.

People Spend Many Lifetimes in Purgatory

This is actually very common among Catholics, including myself until very recently. If you look at traditional prayer cards that have indulgenced prayers, you’ll often see something like “300 days” written down on the card. People see this, and assume that this means that saying this prayer eliminates 300 days from one’s stay in Purgatory. Which means Purgatory is either virtually empty because people can eliminate their “time” in Purgatory (as if it is some kind of sentence), or Purgatory is some excruciatingly long time in which 300 days is virtually nothing.

Purgatory shouldn’t be seen as this transactional thing. The time one spends in Purgatory is exactly the amount of time it needs for someone to come to terms with themselves and detach themselves completely from their sins. The ‘300 days’ on the prayer card is very much a this-worldly thing; devoutly praying the indulgenced prayer is considered equal to fasting for 300 days. This was a lot more important when Confessors gave penances that could be that extreme. I think the longest penance I have ever received, ever, was spending ten minutes in Eucharistic adoration. I’m not necessarily saying that this shift is a good or bad thing, but it’s a thing that has changed.

So how long does one stay in Purgatory for? However long it takes. We know that we can speed up the process by interceding on their behalf, through prayer and offering up our sufferings and indulgences for their sake, and that’s about it. In Pope Benedict XVI’s Spe Salvi, paragraph 48, he reminds us that “simple terrestrial time” is irrelevant when it comes to the Communion of Saints. As we are all members of the Body of Christ, we are inexplicably connected to one another in eternity, and all our good deeds and all our sins affect everyone else. In paragraph 45, he says that the ‘duration’ of Purgatory is incalculable precisely because it happens outside of that terrestrial time. So don’t worry about it; just pray for your brothers and sisters, knowing that they are effective precisely because our connection to them exists in eternity.Those are my two big ones. I hope this has been at least somewhat educational?

#asks #Purgatory #Christianity #Catholicism

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astridstorm · 5 years

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Building a Tower--of Faith

I see more faces back than last week and the week before. Welcome!

Labor Day fell early this year, so we have this “between” Sunday that we’re calling “Fall Preparedness Sunday.” At the announcements we’ll bless the kids’ backpacks, as we do each year. They’ll each receive a little memento of St. James to carry to school with them. After church, our ushers and greeters and Lay Eucharistic Ministers, and anyone else who’s able to stay, will learn about safety and security in our building. The Scarsdale Police will be here to train us how to respond to any intrusions or threats to our safety.

The Sunday School teachers have been this summer doing safety training and awareness. Each of them now has a background check. Of course the staff, every member from me to the weekend sexton has undergone these checks. I know we like to think church--our church--is somehow immune from the problems of the outside world, but it’s only as immune as we are diligent in keeping it so.

Next Sunday is Banner Sunday to kick off the new program year. The choir will be back. We’ll be waving our banner here proudly. I’ll speak during the sermon about some of the things this new year holds. I’m very excited to be moving into my fourth year here as your Rector, and I feel a kind of momentum that’s only going to get better in the year to come.

----

Preparedness, as it so happens, is the theme of today’s Gospel reading. I was amazed at the serendipity of this. Jesus is traveling to Jerusalem. “Large crowds,” the reading tells us, were traveling with him.

At one point as they’re walking along, Jesus stops, he turns to the crowds, and he utters forth some hard teachings, lessons about life as his disciple, about denying oneself, about giving things up, about holding attachments loosely--all of this we encounter frequently throughout the four Gospels.

Then he poses two hypothetical questions to this crowd of followers. “Which of you, he says, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid the foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him.”

Then, another example: “Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? If he cannot … he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace.”

One thing I find inspiring about this passage is that Jesus clearly isn’t looking here to garner a huge following. I think it’s probable that, after this encounter, those “large crowds” our reading speaks of got a little thinner. Contrast that with the desperate drive in our culture, especially our digital culture, to have followers, as many of them as possible. It sometimes seems people will say anything, post anything, to get more “likes” and draw a bigger crowd. I recently read that technology companies are actually looking at ways to modify their software so as not to feed this addiction we have to popularity. In fact Twitter (I hear) may soon stop tallying “likes.” Maybe tech companies are finally waking up to the monsters they’ve made of us, and I suppose it’s heartening they feel obliged to do something about it.

But then there’s Jesus here, teaching some hard lessons that I have no doubt winnowed the crowd that day. He wasn’t concerned with being popular, but with being true to himself, and to God, even if that (at least in that moment) cost him “likes.” It’s a lesson for all of us.

His message to the crowd is demanding, and simple: If you’re going to commit to me, and to God, don’t be halfhearted about it. Don’t make this another of your half-finished projects. Really think about what it takes to be a person of faith, what it demands--the time, the inconvenience, the discomfort physically and spiritually, the sacrifices; maybe you’ll need to lose a few friends, even family. Game it out. Because--and here this might be what Jesus would say to us in this room today--you do this is in so many other areas of your life.

Here we all are, getting ready for fall. For weeks now I’ve been deliberating (and I’m sure some of you, now or in the past) over what to sign my kids up for. What to sign myself up for. We ask ourselves questions like: What will that commitment look like a month from now, when things are really busy? Will I be able to carry it out? How much is just enough to challenge and stimulate my kids but not stress them out? Is this the year to sign up my son for piano? If it’s not this year, will I miss my chance? Will his life forever be more impoverished without it? Will he resent me when he’s older if I don’t do it? I mean, we think out so far, ridiculously far, when it comes to raising our kids or improving ourselves. We don’t even notice we’re doing it.

And we handle our financial life the same way--planning, projecting, making contingency plans.

What if my spouse loses his or her job? Will we still be able to save for college, and how much? What will college cost in 5 years? How much do I need to be putting into that fund every month until then? If I downsize my house in 15 years to exactly half the cost I’m now paying, then how much more can I add to my retirement account and will that make it possible to retire five years earlier? We write these questions down, we talk to someone about them, they send back recommendations that we take note of and try to follow.

Jesus might look at all of us and say, Why don’t we apply that same kind of rigor to our faith life? And what would that look like? For one, it might quickly change all those other plans above.

Think about if we projected out a well-lived Christian life for ourselves the same way we do for other things. At some point, maybe we would live very modestly. We’d need to plan when that would be, how we’d get there, the emotional preparation we need to do now to accomplish that. At some point we might aspire to invite someone into our homes, a foster child, a scholarship student, a child from Children’s Village. It could get more extreme. Jesus said in today’s reading Give up all your possessions. Maybe at some point we give away half our fortune to something that supports the poor. Factor that into retirement figures, college funds, or market fluctuations.

And why shouldn’t we make plans for our children that concern their growth as Christians? We bring them to church--this is where they learn about devotion, community, responsibility to others. Many of you do Midnight Run with your kids, faithfully. Add to that weekly outings to communities that aren’t like ours. Or take them to worship with some Episcopalians down in the Bronx one of these Sundays. There are lots of Episcopal churches down there. African American, Caribbean, Haitian. Commit to going to one of those on occasion. Set an example and buy more things used, teach your kids to do the same, so they don’t become adults who overspend and hoard resources.

Game out their Christian life like you do their academic or athletic or musical life. What kind of Christian do you want them to be in 20 years? You can’t control that, of course, but neither can control those other things, and yet we still plan assiduously as if we can. Which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? The tower Jesus wants us all to build is our faith. To make it a grand, beautiful, soaring structure. It’s costly to build. Exhausting, too. That’s why we need God, and each other, plus a lot of courage and conviction to make this tower of faith something about which will one day be said, “Well Done, Good and Faithful Servant.”

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apostleshop · 6 years

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Don't Forget to Say Thank You Book Club: Chapters 11 - 15

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Don't Forget to Say Thank You Book Club: Chapters 11 - 15

Welcome to the CatholicMom.com Book Club! We’re reading Don’t Forget to Say Thank You by Lindsay Schlegel.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times, I’ve learned more about who God is in the seven years I’ve been a mom than in the 30 years before. So thank you, Lindsay Schlegel, for putting so many of my thoughts into words on a page. I found myself over and over again saying, “YES! That’s on point! This is mom life. This is exactly why I tell my sons to do this. And man … If I actually believe God is Abba Father, then He really, really loves me too.”

I’m not the person who runs to the confessional. I don’t go once a week or even once a month, and when I meet someone who does, I feel ashamed because I truly feel God’s graces overflowing every time I go. So of course, Chapter 11 “On Confession and Forgiveness: You Need to Say ‘I’m Sorry’” is the one that spoke most loudly to me.

How appropriate is it that we dig into this sacrament in “Chapter 11?” Chapter 11 … a form of filing for bankruptcy. I’ve known a few people who have had to declare bankruptcy and it’s a pretty humbling experience. They have to admit they are in trouble and offer up what they have (if anything) in order to have their debt forgiven. Isn’t that what we do in the sacrament of Reconciliation? We kneel before the Lord and say, “Here I am. I’ve fallen. I offer this failing to you and ask you to pardon it and help me start over.” The miraculous and merciful difference is that actual bankruptcy follows you for years. We know that’s not the case for God.

“It is I, I, who wipe out, for my own sake, your offenses; your sins I remember no more.” Isaiah 43: 25

I work in a ministry that reaches as many Protestant as it does Catholics, so I probably have more discussions about differences in our faith practices than the average girl in the pews. Of course the topic of confession comes up pretty frequently and now I think I want to hand this book to the next person who asks WHY we confess our sins to a priest. Why not just confess to God directly?

Well, I’ll tell ya, when you have to look that priest in the face, or more likely, you try to disguise your voice so he doesn’t recognize you, it sure makes you think twice the next time you’ve got a toe in the water of temptation. I confessed one particular sin 8 years ago, mortified. Haven’t done it since! Praise God for this sacrament and His grace. But it’s deeper than having an ordained accountability partner; when I find myself struggling to explain, “Why confession?” I really want to say, “Why not?”

What did you think about the way Lindsay requires her kids to apologize to each other?

“The kids know they are to say the other person’s name and what exactly it is they’re sorry for. … Getting them to do it this way, to really stop and face the other…” (88)

It’s so easy for my sons to just mumble, “Soooorrrryyyy,” or shout it as they make a dash for the toy that’s now up for grabs. But to speak the person’s name, specifically acknowledge the offense and change their body position, that’s extra effort and it sends a stronger message to the one who’s been hurt. When we go to the sacrament of Reconciliation, we aren’t just adding on an, “I’m sorry” to the end of a nightly prayer (which we still SHOULD do!), we are speaking the offense aloud, taking our body to church and kneeling before a priest who is acting in the person of Christ.

And for those of us who don’t go often enough or only go when something is truly weighing on us, we would do well to remember Lindsay’s point that reconciliation is like “a vitamin, a supplement to take regularly in order to become who I am called to be.” (91)

Can we talk about broccoli for a sec? My seven-year-old will eat the trunks, but “No tree tops!” Now I have a motto at home that “I don’t negotiate with terrorists,” but this is something that I do budge on. Whatever it takes to get that green stuff in him (butter, cheese, powdered sugar … I kid, I kid … maybe). Meanwhile, my five-year-old downs broccoli like his life depends on it, like he needs it to survive. And truthfully, the nutrients in it and its colorful neighbors in the produce section are vital.

I don’t know if I pursue the sacrament of reconciliation as earnestly as I pursue that broccoli for my boys growing bodies. Too often I just think of it when I know I have a sin that is putting a divide between me and God. But confession is like that dose of Airborne, which my family basically takes via IV when there’s a bug going around; it gives that boost of energy and strength as well as heals what might be creeping around inside.

Lindsay’s final message and “title track” if you will, “Don’t Forget to Say Thank You” in Chapter 15 is so simple. I’m glad that’s where she finished her story of discovery. She’s right, I know how to say “Thank you” in more languages than any other word. And for some languages, it’s the only word I know.

“Even when our culture can’t agree on what’s good and evil, saying ‘thank you’ is considered basic human decency.” (119)

It is so basic that it must be important at a cellular, soul-level.

We force our kids to say it, “What do you saaay,” “Thaaaaank Youuuuuu,” not because we want them to be little robots who do what we say, but because we want them to realize the gifts in front of them. We know what’s best for them and hello … big picture here, God knows what’s best for us.

God wants us to be thankful not because He needs our praise, but because He knows that a thankful heart is a happy heart. And this simple act of being grateful really requires nothing else on our part. The gift has been given, we just have to BE. What a beautiful treasure we have in the Eucharist, “Thanksgiving” that all we have to do is come to him, declare our bankruptcy and receive the gift of his body with a grateful heart.

To Ponder, Reflect, and Discuss:

Think about how glad you are when your child offers you a sincere apology. How quickly are you willing to offer forgiveness? For me it’s almost immediate. I love them so much. How does this change the way you look at the frequency with which we should go to the sacrament of Confession? Any ideas on how can we challenge each other as a community to take advantage of this gift more frequently?

In Chapter 12, Lindsay reflects on the gift of the liturgical calendar as God’s message that He is always on this journey with us. What ways do you try to breath in the seasons of the Church?

What are some ways you try to practice gratitude? Is there a simple tip you can share that has helped you be more thankful or to not “forget to say thank you?”

Feel free to comment on your own thoughts from this week’s reading, your impressions and reflections, and/or your answers to these questions.

Join our #DontForgetToSayThankYou #bookclub – @abbyspirit hosts this week! Click To Tweet

And that’s a wrap for our Book Club! Thank you for reading and participating! For the complete reading schedule and information about our Book Club, visit the Book Club page.

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westminsterandsalisbury-blog · 7 years

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The last few days

The last few days have been a bit of a blur. We’ve just finished our first week - London is going to fade into the distance, though the echoes of our music may still drift among the chambers and arches of the Abbey’s interior, and it may be a while before I forget the sound. I just finished a walk up and down past the Parliament building, which was resplendent in the late afternoon sunshine (not an especially common weather phenomenon here), taking some photos of the bicyclists on their race, which was happening all around the West End this week-end. (See what I did there?)

As I get older, my thoughts tend to gloss over things and my mind does not appreciate the moments as I used to. So I was trying to appreciate the small things of our time there. There was a verger, whose name is Benjamin, whose eyes point in opposite directions, who was very kind to us, and is a very jolly person. He is famous, apparently, for having been caught on camera after the Royal wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton, doing a cartwheel after the ceremony, because he was happy things had gone well. I’m not sure how long he has been at the Abbey, but, at least since then. He was there almost every day instructing us on various formalities of the services (whom to bow to, in which direction, details about hymns and prayers and so on). It was a pleasure to work with him. There were also deans and canons whose names I never learned. They would pray with us both before and after the service, and they usually expressed gratitude and thanks for our services, which was genuine, but terse, as one would expect from those in their position (and nationality).

Today we sang a Mattins service, a Eucharist service, and an Evensong. I felt proud of how I sang today, and I do think the Evensong may have been our best all week.

I didn’t do anything else today, but that’s fine, because my legs and my brain are a bit worn out from this week.

I left off my blog after Wednesday night, so let me briefly talk about the intervening three days. On Thursday, I visited the British museum, and it was a colossal place. I never know how to pace myself in museums anyway. I spent a long time looking at sarcophaguses and death masks from Egypt; saw the Rosetta Stone, went pretty fast through the Assyrians, and then gazed at Greek sculptures for a while. Then somehow two hours had passed so I had to book it upstairs to see the Anglo-Saxon exhibits and was quite impressed with those.

As we did every day (except Wednesday), we sang at the Abbey that afternoon. After that I left my phone there, made it all the way to Soho and panicked because I didn’t know where it was, and tried to activate Find my iPhone but couldn’t remember any of my passwords, so I had to cancel going to dinner, and go back to Westminster and try to get in, but luckily the guards let me in (being a singer really does have its perks) and it was there. But it was too late for dinner, so I stupidly went into an overpriced pub and got a very greasy fish and chips meal which, I do not recommend by the way. They fry their fish in so much oil and fat and whatever that is, and there is not much meat.

After that I thought it would be nice to try and see some live music, but, for some reason my brain wasn’t working (probably the fish and chips) and so I walked all the way to Trafalgar Square and got on a bus, instead of taking the tube, which would have been faster, and then it started to rain, and traffic got really bad so I ended up on the bus for quite some time. I stopped in Camden and looked around, but it was nasty weather and there were crazies about, so I grabbed a free newspaper and just read that on my way back to the hotel. Did not sleep especially well.

On Friday, though, I managed to fill up on a nice breakfast and then had a great time touring the Tower of London on foot. I thought there would be a guided tour, but there wasn’t, but it turned out all right. The first stop was the building housing the Crown Jewels. If you didn’t know already, there is an entire set of bling which is used exclusively for coronations, the post-coronation banquets, and nothing else. A great majority of these date back to the reign of Charles II, the monarch who resumed England’s monarchy after Cromwell, who had destroyed the old Crown Jewels. Some of them are Victorian, but a lot of them are several hundred years old. Among the most impressive (to me) were all of the golden banqueting dishes. There must be at least ten giant salt containers, all made of gold, including the Exeter Salt, which is a salt container in the shape of a castle, which has its own special container that is used to carry it into Westminster Abbey when a coronation takes place. Then there is the scepter and the orb; the orb is very old, as I recall. These are used in coronations. Of course there is the crown that is used exclusively to crown the monarch, and then there is also the Imperial State Crown, which is used for special occasions (such as the opening of a Parliamentary season). These crowns, especially the latter, are studded with diamonds and sapphires. I just had to Google this again - this crown has on it the 2nd largest clear-cut diamond in the world as well as three pearls reputed to have been worn by Elizabeth I, and a sapphire which supposedly belonged to St. Edward the Confessor (king of England prior to the Norman Conquest, who also founded Westminster Abbey, and is enshrined there in a very special spot right behind the high altar).

These crown jewels made a very big impression on me. Not only is everything very old, but also very much in a state of perfection, and yet much of it is also still used.

I would go on, but I have more to say. The jewels took a while to see, but then I wanted to see the White Tower. This is where the bones of the two princes were discovered under the staircase, who may have been murdered by Richard III or Henry VII. (These bones were recovered and moved to Westminster Abbey, to an urn in Westminster Abbey, in the same room where Elizabeth I and Mary I, “Bloody Mary”, are buried, all of which I had seen on Tuesday.) In the White Tower also is the “Line of Kings,” which is a set of enormous rooms were the armour of many famous kings of England (not queens) is all displayed. The White Tower was used over the centuries for the armoury and also for housing for monarchs (it seems there have been quite a number of places over the years for their dwellings - Buckinham Palace is just the latest). (Also Henry III, who is responsible along with St. Edward the Confessor, for most of the building of Westminster Abbey, also had his own dwelling at the Tower of London, but just off the battlements, not in the White Tower.) So anyway, I saw a ton of armor, and also guns, cannons, shields, and so forth. Outside the window was the Thames and the Tower Bridge, a nice view.

It took a while to go through the White Tower, and learn about the history, and look at all the old Norman architecture - this building is amazingly 1000 years old, and is still standing, despite centuries of age and then of course, WWII bombings, which affected so much of the rest of London.

There was just enough time to look at the dungeon with instruments of torture such as the rack (inside the “Bloody Tower”), Traitors’ Gate (where traitors were brought in boats from the Thames, through a water gate and up to the steps to the Bloody Tower, to be imprisoned), and the famous ravens who dwell there and are fed meat every day by the Beefeaters, the uniformed regiment of men and women who guard the Tower every day and night, and have for many centuries (I don’t know how many). These ravens are formidable, though their wings are all partially clipped so they won’t fly away and trigger the ominous prophecy that, if the ravens fly from the Tower of London, the Tower will crumble and London itself will fall.

It was a lot of history for one morning, and maybe my favorite thing that I did all week. I would love to go back.

The rest of Thursday was good - Evensong went well, and then I went off to the National Gallery which is a giant art museum on Trafalgar Square. I spent a bit over an hour with the Impressionists who I very much like, and then just wandered around getting lost in history, so to speak. I was so lost I almost couldn’t find my way out. Then I was starving so I wandered around trying to find a place to eat, and finally went in some place and felt very weak from hunger, and ordered an entire pizza and ate the whole thing, which in retrospect I regret a little bit, since it took me two days to work off.

On Saturday morning, I was very tired (probably because of the pizza) and the whole day was a bit off, I had a bit of a mishap with trying to get to rehearsal in the morning, on the tube, and after rehearsal I just sort of tuckered out and could not finish standing in line for the Sherlock Holmes Museum, unfortunately - I mean it would have been an hour and half wait just to get inside, and the whole place was wall to wall with tourists so it just would not have been that enjoyable I think. I did visit the Royal Academy of Music then, though, and saw part of the original manuscript for the Mikado, and some pianofortes, harpsichords (and a virginal) from the 1600s through 1800s. That was all before the Evensong.

Last night I walked around Whitechapel on this Jack the Ripper tour, and saw some of the original buildings - most of them are gone, but some remain - near where these events would have taken place, such as the Ten Bells pub, and the church where all these hundreds of poor people would have been crammed into beds that they would only sleep in for the night, before going out to make the money the next day to afford again the next night (for the equivalent of 1-2 pounds today - as our guide said, life was cheap); prostitutes and butchers and people fallen on hard luck all lived around there, on the East End. He showed us the buildings, and told the tale of each grisly murder, and showed us some photographs to give us an idea of what things would be like back then. I did enjoy this tour and wanted to learn more.

Today, we had our final services, and I have just packed, after we were fed by the hotel and then I hung out talking.

Now I have to get to bed - we bus to Salisbury tomorrow for our 2nd whole week!

Jeff

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alwaysabeautifullife · 7 years

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It’s Mothers Day, and like the Mother I am I wanted to give all the Catholics (who are reading) a good ol’ Mothers lecture. I should call it “life lesson” or even “life experience”, because it’s something unfortunately pretty much everyone has to experience to fully understand. It probably seems a little pointless to explain this then, but maybe for the chance that a few of you hear this life advice and don’t make the same mistakes in my faith as I have. Maybe for some of you who are making these mistakes now, or some who are in the middle of this experience, maybe some are coming towards the end as I am.

It’s not a happy story. It’s a terrible one. I don’t know if the ending is happy either-because I’m not dead yet.

I’m going to start at the beginning of my conversion, although it isn’t really the beginning of my experience, but I can’t really start in the middle of my journey to Christ now can I? During my conversion, I longed for Christ in the Eucharist. I sat Mass after Mass, longing for Christ on the pews, watching others receive the Eucharist over and over. I even attended daily Mass, maybe just to feel the hunger even more. The desire was the closest I was to receiving. I watched some Catholics remain seated instead of receiving and I felt sickened, angry even. “They can receive every day if they wanted, but they choose to mortally sin instead, how could they?” Over and over I said to myself,“I’d never sin, I never will. When I receive, I’d rather die then mortally sin.”

At that moment, I meant it, and when I think about how much I hate sinning now, I still mean it. I’d rather die than mortally sin. I remember speaking to a priest once, about how eager I was to receive, and I spoke to him the same way a mother without a child looks at women who don’t appreciate the children they have, “Father, how is it that I want the Eucharist so badly, and I can’t receive, but those who can don’t take it seriously? They would rather sin! I’ll never mortally sin!” It seemed an innocent thought to me, but father was angry, “You are prideful.”

That is all he said. I was confused. At the time, I wondered if he had misunderstood me, I wasn’t trying to make a judgment on others, I was simply expressing my desire for the Eucharist and my desire to never sever my relationship with Christ. Now I know, he fully understood me, and he was right. I laid in bed at night often after saying the rosary (for the 3rd time that day), and listened to father say those words in my head, “You are prideful.”

“I need more graces!” I thought. That will solve the pride problem. All the prayers. All the Masses. All the Rosaries, all the good deeds and the loving words. I did my work with love and joy in my heart and truly did I abandon myself to Christ, but those words still haunted me.

I prayed the abandonment prayer, and I felt God calling me to do and say things I would have felt afraid to do before. Things that I know Christ was using me and my life for others. Things that I only thanked God for and things that I only gave glory to Him for. I felt nothing for compliments I received, I only thanked God and gave him Glory.

I even forgot the sinner I once was.

When it was time to receive the sacraments, I received them beside death, and I would have joyfully welcomed death because of my closeness to Christ at the time. I felt no fear, no suffering that did not also bring me joy an gratefulness. I lived and breathed the graces and could have lived off them alone. I only thought of Christ before I spoke, not of myself, I only sought the will of God, not my wants or needs. My period of conversion was a dream and even while I lived in this beautiful and grace-filled time I knew this period of conversion would come to an end. I had been warned. “Not me,” I thought, “if I pray these rosary’s, attend as many Masses as humanly possibly, avoid mortal sin, confess weekly, then I can sustain these graces and this closeness to God for the rest of my life.”

At night, as silly as it seems to say (and probably to read) I could hear and feel the temptations of demons. I would laugh at them, faithfully wearing my St. Benedict metal, and yelling in the dark, “Be gone demon, I’m a daughter of Christ!” I would laugh at his tricks, and his stupidity, or so I thought.

Then slowly, the demon began to terrorize my children. My daughter came to me screaming nightly about the devil who had reached out his hands for her and said, “Come to me!” But in her words, “the hands of God held the devil back.” This was my child who had a very rational and non-imaginative mind, she rarely dreamed. And now, she dreamed of demons nightly. My son heard voices, he saw a demon run down the hall on hands and feet while he did dishes. I became angry, I called the priest and blessed my house, I prayed the rosary all night-and I mean all night, for weeks. It got worse and worse. I remember thinking, “how dare this demon, HOW DARE HE.”

My children, not my children. I thought about all the times I had heard or seen a demon myself, it was always when the demon seemed desperate. When you can’t see them, that’s when their temptations are working, they don’t have a need to reveal themselves.

I threw myself into the fire. Yes, the spiritual fire, hell, I separated myself from God falling into the demons final temptation, “When you mortally sin, we remain hidden. We remain hidden from you…and from your children.”

I would like to say this was the first of my mortal sins, but it started with the feeling of being abandoned, by my parish, by my friends, my family. I stopped listening to God, and I remember thinking, “It’s stupid to believe that God can speak to me. It has to be some sort of demon trying to get me to feel pride.”

And I prayed for humility.

I think, I was half right. Wrong that God couldn’t speak to me, wrong that God wasn’t able to use me, a miserable sinner, but right that I was undeserving, and right that I felt pride.

It wasn’t the temptations on my children, the demons, the abandonment, it was my pride. All along. You see, we think pride looks like confidence, and it isn’t the same. It’s not appreciation for your beauty-which in desperation to rid myself in pride I cut off all my hair-it is something sneaky, something that creeps into the heart of those who are the most devout. It is more than a feeling or a thought about the sins of others, it is not so simple as to believe that you can do something without Christ, it is the belief that you can keep yourself from mortal sin without the graces of Christ. What keeps you from sin, is not your amazing and well formed conscience, it is not your Catholic upbringing, or the clothes you wear or the people that you hang out with-all though these all contribute to a life in Christ. It is the graces and nothing but.

When you are confident that you will never sin, you forget that the graces of God are given as a gift, and gifts are not expected, they are not demanded. Sometimes you do not receive the gifts, and when you are in battle you believe you have prepared yourself with your weapons, but you come to the end of the field to face the demons you find that you are battling with bare hands and your arms, your weapons, your army, are just a bunch of glass mirrors.

The thing about pride is, the only solution to pride is to be drug down to the pit of your faith by Satan himself, where you will find out just how far you can climb out of your muddy hole without Christ, how far you can make it. Alone. And that’s where I was for 3 years, alone. I could not feel the peace of Christ with me, I could not feel the love and joy, I could not understand why I kept digging deeper into sin, closer and closer into the pits of hell. I, months ago, asked God in tears after sinning, “why didn’t you take me when I was close to you, when I felt graces and love and joy, why didn’t you take me then when my body was close to death but my soul so close to life?” I walked in and out of the death of my soul and I wondered how I would escape this darkness, this torment that I gave to myself. I felt unworthy to speak of Christ, unworthy to pray, I thought about deleting my blog, who was I to help others with their path to Christ when I’m such a sinner? Who was I?

I even covered the eyes of Mother Mary in my home when I walked by, instead of kissing her hands.

Praying felt like scratching an old wound, I’m not sure if I felt despair, certainly I wondered if someone like me could be saved, could stop sinning, could detach myself from sin again.

The good news, is I can see the light from my pit now, and the for the first time in a long time I felt God close to me, I can see now who I am truly, who I am without him. I’m not sure if I will find myself in the love and joy I once experienced, I dream about it often, although I know that the maturing of my faith will look much different than the honeymoon. If only I could warn others about pride, about the belief that you would never, could never, will never sin or separate yourself from Christ-graces are a gift, so do not forget. Pray that God keeps you from sin, pray that he forgives your sins, and pray you forgive yourself. I am afraid of who I am without Christ. I do not want you to suffer as I did. I do not want you to fall into the sin of pride as I did.

Like a mother who warns their child to wear shoes so they don’t step on glass, where a helmet when they ride their bike, look both ways, say “no”, I warn you to take a look at yourself and know who you are with and without Christ (if you think your the same, may God have mercy). Your list of Masses you’ve attended, Rosaries you’ve prayed, defense of the faith, they mean very little, because all good you’ve ever done IS. NOT. YOU.

The first thing and the last thing to remember, is that I am a sinner.

If you do not hear my warning, and you find yourself in the hideous darkness I experienced, at least find comfort in the fact that I suffered in the dark for 3 years, and all suffering comes to an end. Christ will make good of it, Im certain.

#personal #2017 #mothers day #Catholic #Christian

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