Kind and Merciful

Godde is kind and merciful.
She pardons all my iniquities,
she heals all my ills.
She redeems my life from destruction,
she crowns me with kindness and compassion.

Ps 103

It feels good to remember that Godde loves me; that all the good that fills my life (people or things) is a Godde-given gift; that I am truly for very little in all that I have.
I feel grateful when I remember that Godde indeed forgives my sins, heals all that has wounded me, has pulled me from my own fire several times in the course of my lifetime, and ‘crowns me with kindness and compassion.’
All this is true. Sometimes, the memory comes to me by itself; some other times, like yesterday, it happens when I take the time to look at the readings of the day. I am then reminded to stop and be, and turn my heart and soul toward the One who loves me.
“Behold Godde beholding you, ... smiling,” suggests Anthony de Mello.
Godde’s mark is indelibly stamped on my being. Nothing can remove it, blot it even. It is there, as it is on everyone alive.
Godde loves me so that I can love her back, love those I live with or come across, and love myself.
“If I had to describe what we mean by original sin,” Henri Nouwen said once to Richard Rohr, “I believe it is humanity’s endless capacity for self-loathing.”
When I read this psalm yesterday, I saw it as a gift — a gift to remind me of Godde’s love and compassion, her mercy, patience, and kindness.
Strange how five short lines can bring back the movie of my life. I can see it unfold in front of my eyes, — good, bad, happy and unhappy times. I feel so fortunate to have reached this age when I can look back and see a rhythm, a flow of passion and sorrow, times when indeed Godde carried me, and, most of all, the gift that life is.
Strange how my mistakes help me love Godde more, because her forgiveness breaks my heart and makes me wish I could be the best person possible.
Godde loves my brokenness. This may be the greatest miracle of all.
Like a salmon returning to where it was originally spawned, I am swimming back up my life to return to the One who gave it to me. All the way, I sing a song of love and gratitude for the sweetness Her love brought to my existence.
Now, all I have to do is to pour out onto those around me that intoxicating love the source of which is inexhaustible.
Today, O sweetest Godde, I pray that every soul on earth may experience the joy of your love.
In Christ’s name.

Art: Gustav Klimt, Mother and Child (detail), 1905

Caritas in veritate

It must be remembered that the market does not exist in the pure state.
It is shaped by the cultural configurations
which define it and give it direction.
Economy and finance, as instruments, can be used badly
when those at the helm are motivated by purely selfish ends.
Instruments that are good in themselves
can thereby be transformed into harmful ones.
But it is man’s darkened reason that produces these consequences,
not the instrument per se.
Therefore it is not the instrument that must be called to account,
but individuals, their moral conscience and their personal
and social responsibility.

§ 36, Caritas in Veritate

Well, I have read Benedict’s third encyclical on the Catholic social teaching and the current world situation — and, on the whole, I liked it.
In fact, I feel bad for the offhanded way in which I treated it in the previous blog. I disagree with our current pope’s positions on women priests, stem-cell research, abortion, contraception, homosexuality, and gay marriage. Still, I can be part of the loyal opposition, be a ‘faithful dissident’ as Teresa of Avila liked to call herself, and treat this person with respect. Which I did not do.
I still feel, however, that the Vatican needs a good editor for its publications. I realize that encyclicals have a format that is to be followed. It may just be time to modernize it and make it more user-friendly. This way more people might read them.
Pouring over it, I found that the word "man" still represents "humanity." The word “woman” is used three times in the whole document:
— in § 15, with the mention of “the married couple, man and woman”;
— in § 44, with “the integrity of the family founded on marriage between a man and a woman”; and, finally,
— in § 63, in the excellent section on “Decent Work,” expressing “the essential dignity of every man and woman in the context of their particular society.”
In fact, in the core issues addressed in Chapter 3, “Fraternity, Economic Development and Civil Society,” and Chapter 4, “The Development of People Rights and Duties, the Environment,” as someone who studied women’s leadership in the slums of Chennai with Jaya Arunachalam’s Working Women’s Forum and then worked in a Gender Bureau of a U.N. agency, I could only be struck by the gender-blindness of the whole encyclical.
It is well-known in the development world that women are the poorest of the poor; that one way of lifting up a community is to address women’s circumstances through education, consciousness raising, empowerment and employment. This dimension is simply not addressed at all. Women as workers are mentioned once in §63, and this is it.
It is not really surprising that Benedict and his team of researchers overlooked the gender factor, as the word “gender” is a big no-no in the Vatican. It smacks of feminism, you see. But feminism is not all bad and much of its findings are relevant to the building of the Kingdom. As long as gender issues are avoided (I was going to write “repressed”), the picture of the world of work cannot be complete. This is unfortunate.
In the several articles that I read online covering the encyclical, I could not find one addressing a theme that seems dear to the encyclical's author, i.e. “the principle of subsidiarity,” a key principle of Catholic social thought. It holds that “nothing should be done by a larger and more complex organization which can be done as well by a smaller and simpler organization. In other words, any activity which can be performed by a more decentralized entity should be... [It] is a bulwark of limited government and personal freedom.” (The Acton Institute)
Benedict uses the word “subsidiarity” when he addresses projects in development programs. He thinks that it is particularly “well-suited to managing globalization and directing it towards authentic human development.” This, needless to say, should be going against the grain of bilateral and multilateral aid agencies. He also mentions “fiscal subsidiarity, allowing citizens to decide how to allocate a portion of the taxes they pay to the State.” I cannot imagine national governments liking this...
Needless to say, I support his appeal for a need of ethics in the finance domain, in governance, in business, and the media.
Let us see how the bishops handle this and preach it from the pulpit. It is easier to lambast abortion and homosexuality than to address the structures of sin in the banking and governmental spheres.
Of course, Benedict condemns in vitro fertilization, embryo research, gay marriage, and the “culture of death” as in abortion and euthanasia. But aren’t these also occasions for using the “principle of subsidiarity,” where the people at stake are the best to choose the better solution for their situation, after having carefully looked at all the venues offered to them of course?
Will many read this encyclical? Will it be just for a few Catholics who still give some weight to the thoughts of one leading an institution that has lost and is still losing credibility for so many reasons well-known to the public?
I liked many of Benedict’s views on the current economic crisis and the scandalous poverty of so many nations. In this, he follows the tradition of the Catholic social teaching. He comes up with solutions which stretch and embolden the mind and heart.
Will he be heard? Will he be ignored?
I can only lift up his intentions and pray that they be given some consideration by those who will find them challenging, the same way I stop and engage my mind with those topics I would normally reject.
In Christ’s name.

Links:
Caritas in veritate, Encyclical, His Holiness Benedict XVI
Catholic Online, Vatican Summary of Encyclical ‘Caritas in Veritate’
National Catholic Reporter, Search Caritas in veritate
San Francisco Chronicle, David Ian Miller, The pope pays the economy some attention, Discussing the latest encyclical with social ethics Professor William O’Neill
New York Times, Pope Urges Forming New World Economic Order to Work for the ‘Common Good’
The Acton Institute for the study of religion and liberty, Caritas in Veritate: Why Truth Matters
Financial Times, Christopher Caldwell, Mixing morals and money
NYTimes, Ross Douhtat, Op-Ed, The Audacity of the Pope
Religion Dispatches, Louis A. Rupert, Capitalism and the Anti-Modern Pope

Photo: Benedict XVI, Rome Reports

A Great Book

Life is exciting these days, and busy. With our children and grandchildren on vacation with us, days are filled with fun and laughter, games and conversations, meals and washing dishes.
Prayer times become prayer moments, when the prayer becomes short and direct as an arrow, “I love You, Godde. Thank you for everything.”
I rarely read fiction; it has been this way for a long time. These days, I am working on two things: Benedict’s latest encyclical and a book I bought years ago when we visited our daughter at Emory University in Atlanta.
Caritas in veritate, Love in truth, is about as exciting as a U.N. document by its style and its format. In fact, it is as if whole parts of the document had been lifted out of U.N. working papers. Rome and the U.N. have one point in common: they write for themselves rather than for the rest of the world, as if the rest of the world were never going to read their output anyway.
I am a third of the way. Like Darcy says in Pride and Prejudice, “I will conquer this.” Don’t hold your breath anyway: the document is in the image of its author — very Theology from Above, knowledgeable while sounding a bit pedantic and pretentious (as if the reader might not quite be able to understand the document for lack of formation or intelligence). Our pope should participate in a Cursillo: it would improve his style. He would learn to let the Spirit do the writing.
The book is To Pray and to Love: Conversations on Prayer with the Early Church, written by Prof. Roberta C. Bondi, and published in 1991... The date means that it has been on my bookshelves pretty much all this time and it is only now that I have opened it. But opening the book is like opening the Ark of the Covenant in an Indiana Jones movie: a magnificent light comes out of it and penetrates everything it touches.
I would like just to give you a few excerpts to share with you the joy I experience as I read this book a couple of pages at night before I fall asleep. They are taken from chapter 2, Living into the Image of God[de].
“Love is the final goal of the life of prayer, and loving and learning how to love are the daily work and pleasure of prayer.”
“The early Church believed that God[de]’s love for us as human beings precedes, enables, and gives meaning to all human love and prayer.”
“To God[de], we are lovable and valuable, however damaged we may be... It is a love that does not depend upon our “being good”.”
“Out of the tender and persistent love Godde has for us, each of us has been given God[de]’s own image that can never be completely lost.”
“The image of God[de]’s that is in us is the part of ourselves that never stops desiring to move toward love.”
“[B]ecause of the persistent presence of the image of God[de], there is a fundamental goodness in every human being that always connects us to God[de] and to each other as well.”
“The best theology of the early church emphatically rejects ... self-hatred. In fact in one of his letters to the monks, Anthony says:
“[The one} who can love himself [or herself], loves all.”
Conversely, an attitude of self-contempt or self-hatred is horribly destructive of our ability to love and to pray.”
It is a book which I would like to read straight through to find out how it ends, then pick it up again and again until my very bones remember it word for word. It makes me want fall on my knees and kiss the earth, while saying Thank You, Thank You, Thank You.
I do believe change comes in one’s life when one feels loved. Nothing can beat feeling loved by Godde. The day our pastors understand this, the world will change.
But then, maybe our pastors need us to tell them that if Godde can love us, She undoubtedly loves them as well. Then, they too will weep and bless Godde’s name.
In Christ’s name.

Illustration: Desert Mothers,
Journey with Jesus

Courage, Daughter!

She said to herself, “If only I can touch his cloak, I shall be cured.”
Jesus turned around and saw her, and said,
“Courage, daughter! Your faith has saved you.”
And from that hour the woman was cured.

Mt 9:18-26

When I read this story yesterday, — it was also part of a Sunday gospel not long ago, linked, as usual, with the resurrection of Jairus’ daughter —, I saw the passage as a sign of hope for women in general.
I am not sure exactly when and how the liberation of the women’s spirit will take place, but it will undoubtedly happen, when the time comes.
In recent years, women have gone through the Suffrage movement, then the women’s liberation movement (as in reproductive rights, domestic violence, maternity leave, equal pay, sexual harassment, and sexual violence). I hope the next phase will have to do with the liberation of their minds, as much from the hold of religion as that of the media.
I imagine women freeing themselves from the images projected onto them, — as that of the ‘perfect woman,’ whether barefoot (figuratively) and pregnant (literally), that of a sex object, or again that of the 'emasculator,'. They will create their own self-definition, one that will serve them before it serves others.
Many years ago, a woman leader in the slums of Chennai told me that “No one will give power to a woman. She has to find it within herself.” Yes, she must indeed.
This new liberation will be done without violence. It will involve, I presume, a refusal to hand over emotional and psychological power onto ourselves to those who do not have women’s well-being and welfare at heart — whether clerics, politicians, employers, big corporations in the 'beauty' industry, etc.
Of course, women need to believe that they deserve to stand and be counted, that their uniqueness is needed for the survival of the world. "La femme est l'avenir de l'homme," said the poet (woman is man's [as in humanity] future).
The gospel mentioned today suggests that women can tap their power by approaching and touching Jesus. Jesus has never shown the slightest intention to tame or subdue women. On the contrary, he helps them stand up, validate them and liberate them.
He is not one “to put them in their place.” Women’s place is at Jesus’ sides. Some churches have understood this; other more conservative churches are taking longer to grasp this new reality. Someone said that “it is difficult to understand what goes against one’s own self-interest.” This may explain some of what is going on.
What does Jesus tell me today about myself?
Of course, the answer I get may not feel comfortable. I may need to walk away from conformity. It may appear easier, in a first time, to behave like a “good girl.” But in the end, good girls often lead lives which were not tailored for them, but for some imaginary figures in some virtual landscape.
In a way, I do not believe this ‘liberation’ is for women only. It is also for our male counterparts, who are also to find why they have been placed on this earth at this time. They too have to define whom they want to be.
Yes, it does take courage to wake up to one’s own unique reality. It’s not so much about how much money I make, th extent of my possessions or degrees, all that I do to impress or be accepted, but how true and authentic I get to be.
Today, O Christ, I pray for the grace to have the courage needed to become the person Godde had in mind when I was first conceived in Her mind — in Her image.
May my faith save me as it did save the nameless hemorrhage woman.
In your name.

Illustration: Art in the Christian Catacombs of Rome
Christ and the Hemorrhaging Woman

Household of Godde

“You are no longer strangers and sojourners,
but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones
and members of the household of Godde,
built upon the foundation of the Apostles and prophets,
with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone.”
Eph 2:19-22

Just the expression “household of Godde” fills me with a lovely thrill. A quiet joy ripples down my shoulders; a small smile relaxes my face, squinting my eyes that stare absent-mindedly at the play of light on the wisteria outside.
It feels good just focusing my mind on the concept and stay with the feeling for a while, perfectly content, as if I had all the time in the world. The melon in the fruit bowl makes its presence felt by its ripeness.
“Household of Godde” tells me that I ‘belong.’ It conjures up memories of ancient lifestyle — whether Greek or medieval —, of communities nestled in a castle or in a monastery , — everyone having a role, however small it may be.
In a way, it is another expression for the “Body of Christ,” of course, but with a focus on activities rather than on body parts.
My mind grasps that the whole world is Godde’s household. Whatever I do has its building — or taking care of it — in mind. Everyone evolving near of far belongs to it. Everything has both meaning and value. The air we breathe is Godde’s and the peace of Christ can be felt everywhere.
A utopia come true.
Maybe this is why I love this so: I feel at peace with whom I am. I am where I am meant to be. I feel happy doing what I have to do. All is well. I need no more.
In Christ’s name.

Art: Leonardo da Vinci, La Scapigliata, 1508

Your Sins Are Forgiven

Which is easier to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’
or to say, ‘Rise and Walk’?
Mt 9:1-8

‘Your sins are forgiven.’ That short sentence brought Jesus a lot of grief. It announced the beginning of his end, in a way.
“This young man is a megalomaniac,” the scribes ranted. “This carpenter’s son takes himself for Godde, Only She can forgive our sins. He certainly can’t!”
The absolute elation I experience when I feel forgiven! The strange logic of sinning, which brings such joy after so much misery.
My mind went blank yesterday morning after reading this sentence, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’ Suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind. And if Godde did not care about our sins? What if our sins were not what it’s all about?
The concept of ‘sin’ has been drummed in my head, heart, and soul since I was a toddler. In her youth, my mother received a similar training: before her, my grandmother, — and this back through the times, until... ?
I am a sinner. I am a beloved sinner even, says Ignatius of Loyola. If I can easily recognize sin in others, I am slower at pointing the finger at myself. Hm.
Sin is big business, especially since the sixth century AD when Irish monks came up with the idea of regular confession.
Over the centuries, a sort of ‘matrix of sin’ has been created within which we evolve. For centuries, we Catholics have sinned, gone to confession, then having been absolved, we have promptly returned to our regular life and wayward ways.
A confession is a way of keeping tab of my disorders, my mistakes, — my erring toward the edge of the abyss.
Sins take me to hell, I am told — well, to self-loathing, at least, if nothing else.
When I was a little girl, it felt lovely to confess. I would come out of the confessional feeling squeaky clean. I could cross a street, be run over by a car and die. It did not matter: I knew I would go straight to heaven.
Jesus got angry at the merchants in the temple. Martin Luther got angry at Rome for the indulgences it sold. Today, many of us feel angry at the protection Rome gives to pervert pastors; others feel dismay, disgust, — or a great sense of loss.
The Vatican’s sense of sinfulness seems to be at odds with the truth we feel within our beings. Many of us lay folks often do not see eye to eye with the Pope’s fixation on a ‘personal’ sin that goes from divorce, to right to choose, women priests, and sexual orientation — a Holy Father who is followed in this by some other laypeople who staunchly adhere to his views. Some of us, however, beg to differ on what a ‘sin’ is.
Like politicians and media anchors, quite a few men of the cloth seem to receive a set of bullet points from Rome (or is it from their bishop?) to outline the sermon they will preach next Sunday from the pulpit. Like young Goodman Brown, it feels as if those who pull the strings of this dominical show see in us what they hide from themselves.
Were they to remove the word ‘sin’ from their homily, were they only to talk about Godde’s love for us, I fear some would rapidly grow silent, having suddenly little to say about something they may not experience often. For if they knew Godde’s love, wouldn’t it be the only topic they want to talk about?
What am I trying to say...
I sense that we look at sin in the wrong way. Jesus died for us; he has saved us. Yet we still have to live with what our conscience cannot accept. But then, of course, the quality of consciences varies enormously. Awareness of sin changes from one person to the next.
Priests can forgive on behalf of Godde, but not of themselves. If, as I see the Vatican’s doctrines as skewed, their intercession becomes irrelevant, what am I to do with my sins then?
The meaning of ‘sin’ has been derailed by a recent misguided focus already mentioned above and time-worn double-standards implying “do what I say and not what I do.”
Maybe this is where the Vatican has failed me: I cannot believe any longer that someone answering to Rome can absolve me. I then must discover a way of looking at ‘sin’ that makes sense, not to sweep it under the carpet of my unconscious, but to place it in the context of my life and of Life in general. I need to step out of the ‘matrix’ that was created long ago for a good purpose maybe, but which feels today like an old wineskin.
‘Your sins are forgiven,’ says Jesus. This is the message a Christian Church is to pass. The rest is self-created importance.
Today, I pray for the grace of praising Godde for her compassion and forgiveness, and of following Her ways.
In Christ’s name.

Art: Blue McRight, Untitled (her)

Arise

He took the child by the hand and said to her, “Talitha koum,”
which means, “Little girl, I say to you, arise!”
Mk 5:41

Whenever I find the time, I follow several blogs. Some fill me with awe for the elegance of their writing, the depth of their understanding, or the vibrancy of their spirit. One charms me every time I stop there: blisschick. The author follows her bliss (à la Joseph Campbell). Exactly, she does the very best she can to follow it — helping us in the process to follow our own.
These days, she is helping bring out the Wild Woman in each one of her readers. This reminds me of a letter passed around when I was much younger and which started with “If I had to live my life again, I’d dare to make more mistakes next time...” The author was said to be eighty-three years old. In a way, she wanted us to start living at whatever age we happened to be reading what she had written. Christine Claire (Blisschick), in her own way, is doing it for us now.
I do not find easy to wake up the wild woman in me. I have been “wild” in my days, a “wildness” I remember taking to confession. I don’t really want to go back to those days. The letter confides, however, “Oh, I have had my moments. And if I had it to do over again, I’d have more of them.”
Her blog leads me to question myself and to discover the rut in which I feel so comfortably ensconced.
This Sunday, the gospel was about the hemorrhage woman and the twelve year old girl. As I read once again the story of the child’s resurrection, I saw something entirely different.
Every child reaching puberty often becomes a headache for her or his parents and teachers. Life is boiling through her veins and she has to be taught how to behave to be both acceptable and safe. All this life has to be controlled and, in some way, dampen. Many of us turn into Sleeping Beauty — or Ugly Duckling, depending. In the fairy tale, a prince charming brings back the girl to life. In the gospel, it is Jesus.
What would happen if Jesus came to the child I used to be and told me, “Little girl, I say to you, arise!” Were I to remember all the dreams I had at twelve, with all that energy that I am now lacking, with all that future opened and undetermined, what would this girl help me do? Would I do things differently?
Would the little girl say with wonder, “You mean, you have done all this?” Or, would she exclaim, “You never did this?”
Questions begin whirling in my head, assailing me with possibilities and choices. I thought so much was behind me, when so much has been left untouched, so many gifts unopened. So between my friend’s blog and the gospel, who knows, I might start living my life again now.
Dear Godde, there is so much of You in life and I take so little time to see it. Today I ask for the grace of laughter and enthusiasm for this life you have given me so as to experience the extraordinary world which you keep creating.
In Jesus’ name.

Art: Mary Cassatt, At the theater, 1878-79