Spiritual Woman

At the start of Lent, I wrote how much I needed it this year. I needed that special time to fast and sacrifice and focus on my relationship with God. I also took on a challenge with my home – to get 40 bags worth of stuff out of my house. While many around me questioned whether I could accomplish that goal, I persevered. I marshaled the help of my family members. One item at a time, one bag at a time, four trips to my local donation center later, the mission was completed Holy Saturday. I would like to say that my house is now spotless, that we are free of clutter and now living a minimalist lifestyle. The sad reality is that my house is still rather cluttered. In fact, someone walking into it probably wouldn’t notice much difference at all. There are still a couple things I need to get rid of, but that won’t do much for the clutter, either.

Most of the stuff I got rid of was stuff that was hidden away. There were so many things in closets and cabinets and that catch-all of places, my basement. Going through it all was like doing a review of my life. I had done a large purge five years ago when I moved, but in some ways, this one was more thorough. I was forced to truly evaluate each item, whether it still had any value to me, if it could serve someone else better, or if I just needed to throw it in the recycling bin (as much as I might like to think otherwise, there is no one on earth that needs to read papers I wrote in college.) I wondered why I was so determined to do this now. Why was this the right time? I’m still not sure. It did help with one thing. When my basement flooded Holy Thursday morning thanks to all the rain my corner of the world received recently, it didn’t do hardly any damage. Nothing was ruined because that area of my basement was already cleaned out! That was a blessing in and of itself. Was there some greater purpose? That I don’t know.

Yet, I can’t help but think that this cleaning project was a metaphor for my soul. In Lent, I got rid of some major things. I did a lot of soul cleaning and refocusing my priorities. I went to confession twice. I knelt down in prayer and begged for direction. I would like to say all the clutter is gone, that my soul is now a prime example of cleanliness. It’s not. Forty days later and much like my house, I’m still a mess. I’m a little better for the effort. Perhaps some of the things that were hidden in the deep recesses have been cleared out. Thirty-five years of life have led to a lot of build-up. There are all those things that I have just buried away, perhaps waiting for a better time to deal with them, or I simply wasn’t ready to let go. Some things I’m still holding onto. Just as with my physical dwelling, the process is far from complete.

So, here I am, 40 days later. Easter was meaningful this year, much more so than in some other years. Every year Lent brings its own unique experience. Maybe I was looking for too much, both with my house and my soul. After all, 40 days is only 40 days. Yet, I made some progress. I need to be thankful for that and know that this is something I can keep working on.

Her Darkest Hour

Mary sits, holding her dead son as she once held him as an infant. She is in utter pain, suffering the deepest hurt a mother can experience. Yet, even in the darkness, the light is there. God is there – with Mary and with us when all seems lost. This is not the end of the story.

To purchase this painting, visit Ebay listing for “Her Darkest Hour

I can remember being a child and dreading Palm Sunday and Good Friday. The story of the Lord’s Passion made me sick, literally. I certainly did not want to exclaim “Crucify Him!” with the crowd. I did not want to have any part of having Jesus die on the cross. Yet, I knew it was necessary. In order to get to Easter, you had to get through the painful stuff first. Jesus on the cross is a central part of Christianity. Yes, the Resurrection matters more. Easter is the crucial event – the fact that Jesus conquered death and opened the doors of heaven for us. But, the cross comes first. Good Friday comes first.

I’ve taught my own children about the Stations of the Cross since they were about 3 or 4 years old. They have known that Jesus died for us, for them. Our Church has a huge crucifix hanging over the altar. We have crucifixes in our home. I always felt that they should know who that man is hanging on the cross, what the crucifixion meant. Without understanding that, they can’t truly understand what it means to be Christian.

This year, I am teaching Pre-K through 1st grade religious education. For the season of Lent, I found some coloring sheets of the Stations of the Cross. We are doing three each week. Over the course of Lent, the children will get the full story. It seemed an appropriate thing to do, a simple way to introduce them to the story of Christ dying for us. Several of the children already knew about the Stations and were excited about having the full set of pictures. Therefore, I was very surprised when a mother of a child in my class informed me she was pulling her child from my class because I was teaching about them. She said that she felt that they were too graphic for young children.

Of course, she has the right to pull her child from my class. A parent always has the right to decide about the education of her child. I told her I was sorry that she felt that way, but I did not apologize for teaching this crucial part of our faith. Nor did I change my lesson plan for this week’s class. I discussed the matter with my religious education coordinator. Thankfully, she backed me up and said that what I was doing entirely appropriate. As she stated, “Easter is not about the Easter bunny!” This is so very true.

The Stations of the Cross are not pretty or comforting. They are not meant to be. They tell a horrible story of suffering, of a cruel, undeserved death. If that was all there was to the story, it certainly wouldn’t be appropriate to share with young children. But it is not the end of the story. Easter is coming! Jesus suffered, died and rose for all of us. That includes young children. They deserve to know the truth.

This Lent, my family is embarking on a different type of sacrifice. I had heard of the 40 bags in 40 days challenge last year, but quickly dismissed it. In fact, I read about it again this year on Fat Tuesday and dismissed it again. Anyway who knows me or has visited my house knows that housekeeping is not my strong point. Neither is neatness. I had the desk in elementary school that was overflowing with papers. My locker in high school was a health hazard. I once had to explain to a boss that even though my desk looked like a tornado hit it, I knew where everything was and did, in fact, have every task under control. Anyone else see a theme here? My house is much the same. It’s not that I don’t like neat places. In fact, when I go to clean, neat houses, I feel a small pang of jealousy. Truly, though, I don’t know how to live that way. I need visual reminders of what I need to do. If it is out of my sight, it is truly out of my mind. My husband and two children are much the same. We all have the messy gene. Therefore, we coexist rather peacefully. However, the simple truth is that we have too much stuff and some of it needs to go.

The point of 40 bags in 40 days is to get rid of 40 bags of stuff out of your house during Lent. Of course, donated items count as well. As I was looking around my house on Ash Wednesday, I had the sudden feeling that this was something I desperately needed to do. I grabbed a couple of trash bags and explained the concept to my children. I expected a great deal of resistance, especially from my older son who likes to keep everything that crosses his path. Amazingly, they got into the project. That first day, we cleared two bags of items out of their playroom. I was so excited! The project was off to a great start. The next day, I started tackling the kitchen, and my husband started on our bedroom closet (despite the fact that he hates disposing of items as well).

The beauty of doing one bag a day is that it is doable. One of the things that paralyzes me when facing the clutter is that there is so much of it. I can’t do it all at one time, not even one room. Yet, I can do one bag. When I have filled up one bag, I feel like I have accomplished my goal for the day. I cross it off on my things to do list and up the total of bags completed.

Truly, I don’t know if we will be able to fill 40 bags or not. As of this writing, we are at seven. Still, I am excited and happy with the progress so far. Admittedly, most of the items cleaned out so far have been in cabinets and closets. Looking around my house, no one would see much of a difference. Still, I know that it is getting done. I’m giving away as much as I can so that I am helping others as well as cleaning my home.

Lent calls us to strip away all that is keeping us from God. Too much stuff can definitely be part of the problem. Lent is a good time to physically remove some of the things that we don’t need anymore. I’m embracing this Lenten project with enthusiasm and wonder where removing 40 bags of excess will leave me. Like so many other things in my life, it is a work in progress.

The Spirituality of Fasting: Rediscovering a Christian Practice
by Charles M. Murphy
Notre Dame: Ave Maria Press, 2010

Back in 1966, Pope Paul VI issued the apostolic constitution on fast and abstinence, Poenitemini. The intent was “to rescue fasting from the legalism and minimalism into which it had fallen.” The goal was not to remove fasting and penance and sacrifice from Catholic life, but rather to make it a personal choice rather than a command issued from above. Unfortunately, many Catholics took this to mean that these practices simply weren’t necessary anymore. Nothing could be further from the truth. We are still called today to fast. Msgr. Charles M. Murphy has written “The Spirituality of Fasting” in order to renew “the practice of fast and abstinence based upon a deeper understanding of its role in our religious life.”

In this relatively brief book (105 pages), Murphy explores the many reasons why fasting is important: it integrates prayer as being both of body and spirit, it is part of a long-standing tradition of Jewish and Christian practice, it helps to heal our relationship with God, and it helps us stand in solidarity with the poor and hungry. Overall his discussion of these points is extremely well-done. Based firmly in the witness of the Bible and pillars of the Christian faith, his argument that fasting is important and necessary is a strong one.

This being said, I offer one minor criticism. Murphy offers the example of Simone Weil in his chapter on standing in solidarity with others. He writes: “Simone Weil died on September 3, 1943, in exile from France in England, at the age of thirty-four, having starved herself to death. Suffering from tuberculosis, she refused in solidarity with her countrymen in Nazi-occupied France, to eat more than they were able to eat. She stands as a witness to social justice and to the significance and hazards of religious fasting.” That word “hazards” indicates that Murphy did realize that Weil went too far. However, in the following paragraphs he really does hold her up as a role model. I respectfully disagree. Fasting to the detriment of one’s body is not in keeping with the respect God wants us to have for our bodies.

Thankfully, in the chapter which offers practical ways to incorporate fasting into one’s life, he advocates a much more healthy take on fasting. Following in the footsteps of St. Francis de Sales, he writes: “Your work and state in life are primary; fasting should not impede your ability to perform your duties , or endanger your health.” I like that, unlike some other books on fasting that I have read, he acknowledges the worth of a partial fast – of simply giving up one meal, or cutting back on what one eats. He also agrees there is much to be said for other types of fasting and sacrifice, such as fast from media, or talking unnecessarily.

Murphy also makes the important fact that fasting is not a negative activity – it is a life-giving one. In truth, it enables us to feast. Just as one cannot appreciate light without the darkness, one can not truly appreciate feasting until one has experienced some lack. “We fast not just for fasting’s sake, but to be able to feast, to live in the present with great pleasure and a joy that lasts.”

“The Spirituality of Fasting” does much to encourage readers to make the practice of fasting part of their lives. It is good reading for Lent or for any time of the year!

The Lord is Risen! Alleluia! The Church on Easter Sunday was festively decorated. Flowers were everywhere. The purple was gone. The Easter Candle was shining brightly. The “Gloria” and “Alleluia” were sung with great enthusiasm. There was joy and celebration everywhere! This is as it should be.

If only life was as neat as the Church’s liturgical seasons! We could spend six weeks in the desert and then wake up one day and be free of all the temptations, all the sin, and all the pain and suffering. We could lay all our pain at the feet of the Risen Jesus and be rid of it forever. Life isn’t that simple, however. Many times, our desert experiences last much longer than forty days. Sometimes, it seems like we spend more time in the desert than anywhere else. At times like this, it can be hard to truly celebrate the Easter season. It can be difficult to rejoice in the Risen Lord when He seems nowhere to be found. What, then, is a heart and soul to do?

It is in those days in the desert that loving and rejoicing in Jesus becomes an act of the will. We can choose to believe, choose to rejoice, and choose to love. Mother Teresa provides an incredible example of a person who continued to rejoice in the Lord for decades even though she experienced no consolation. Her faithful service provided the world with so much goodness and so much fruit, yet her own heart was hurting. She believed that God loved her even when she could not feel that love. She continued to pray and place herself in God’s presence. Mother Teresa continued to trust in the Divine will.

We can do the same. Even when we don’t feel God’s love, even when we are in the midst of pain and suffering, we can continue to pray and lay our sorrows at the feet of the Lord. We may not feel like celebrating, but we can force ourselves to focus on the wonder of the Risen Lord. Jesus loved us so much he died to save us from our sin! He rose from the dead to conquer the greatest pain life has to offer. We have the gift and the promise of eternal life! How can we not rejoice? There is hope of a brighter tomorrow. In the midst of our days in the desert that hope may be the greatest gift of all.

At the Holy Thursday liturgy we celebrate the institution of the Eucharist. Jesus loved us enough to create a sacrament in which he physically comes into our body and soul – what an amazing gift! Yet, I admit, I often take it for granted. Don’t get me wrong – I look forward to going to mass each week. I wouldn’t be able to make it through the week without the spiritual sustenance. I know that, and yet, in the midst of mass, my mind often wanders. I’m focused on how my children are behaving or thinking of what we are doing the rest of the day, or pondering something that might have happened during the week. My body is there, doing the motions, but my mind is far away. I go up to communion and kneel down to pray, but I’ve lost much of that wonder at the Eucharist that I had as a child.

When I was four, I couldn’t wait to receive my First Communion. I wanted Jesus so much. It was an eternity to wait until I was seven for the big day! My older son is making his First Communion next month and he is just as excited, and I am excited for him. Every week when we come back from the communion line, he says “Just a few more weeks and it will be my turn!” I know that Jesus is already with him, but I am hopeful that receiving Jesus in the Eucharist will give him some added strength and grace. I know that the Eucharist is an incredible gift that we are so blessed to be able to receive.

I know that there are people out there who are conscious of the mystery and tremendous gift of the Eucharist every time that they receive communion. I know one man who actually cries during mass because it touches him so deeply. For those of us, however, who do not always remember, Holy Week provides the perfect opportunity to rediscover this priceless treasure. At a time when we focus on the ultimate sacrifice that Jesus made for us, we also recall his last gift to his friends before his death – the gift of himself. “Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had said the blessing he broke it and gave it to the disciples. ‘Take it and eat,’ he said, ‘this is my body.’ Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he handed it to them saying, ‘Drink from this, all of you, for this is my blood, the blood of the covenant, poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.’” (Matthew 26:26-28) Jesus is that close to us. He wants to be part of us. It is the most intimate of connections. We need to treasure it.

Christ suffers in solidarity with every soul, and we can suffer in solidarity with Him. We are never alone, though we may feel forsaken. Christ shows us that He is one with us in our sorrow and pain, no matter how alone we feel. We are all wounded, broken, suffering in some way, and even the pain we bring upon ourselves, He shares. He MUST share, because love is revealed fully when we share another’s suffering.

We cannot eliminate suffering in this life, There are times when we can partially alleviate another’s suffering, but our proper response to suffering is to simply be with, be for, the suffering person. The answer to suffering is always an experience of grace and unconditional acceptance. The answer to suffering is love.

-Kathryn Mulderink, His Suffering and Ours
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