The Problem of Cake

The problem with cake
is
that you can either have it
or eat it
but not both.

You can dream about it
but not touch it
smell it
but not taste it
see a sign reading “eat me”
but not dare

for Alice was left
with a handful of crumbs
in a shrinking world.

If you do take a bite
plates shift
eternity rumbles
Eve shrieks
and the cake is no more.

The problem with cake
is
that you can either have it
or eat it
but not both.

Kithara's Lament

I wait with my sister
my twin
for him to come.

He walks through the door
and moves toward us.

I wonder;
will it be me?

He picks her up
pulls her into his lap
caressing her curves
cradling her neck
and begins to play.

His hands move across her strings
pressing, plucking, strumming
as music fills the air.

My strings respond to each chord
vibrating, resonating
humming subtly
hollowness yearning to be filled
to be played
to sing along
to feel the wonder of the music-maker’s touch.

Instead, I hum
and wait in hope
for the someday that will come
when he who plays
will fill me with song.

And I will sing.

--Chantelle Franc

Lenten Reflections

In the past few years as my faith has strengthened, God has made Lent increasingly jarring. This year it started early; Advent was a precursor of penitential days to come. At the women’s retreat in December, God sent me an intense realization of my distance from Him, and a longing so strong it was like mourning. In Weight of Glory, CS Lewis describes this experience: “The sense that in this universe we are treated as strangers, the longing to be acknowledged, to meet with some response, to bridge some chasm that yawns between us and reality, is part of our inconsolable secret.”

One tool of God’s furious love (as Fr. Lucas called it) was to have me give my testimony during Lent. Remembering all the damage I have done throughout the years and then admitting it out loud to a room full of people woke me to how grateful I should be for God’s rescue, and how very far I still need to go. The contrast between my works of devastation and his works of restoration and healing was laid bare.

During this time God also blessed me with glimpses of his divine love and the beauty and mystery and power of his creation. He awakened the stirrings of spring in my heart. Lewis says “We want something else which can hardly be put into words—to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.”

He gave me visions of his love, and then showed me how very little I deserve such a gift. I have had to face my selfishness, my disobedience, and my lack of charity and prudence.

Bishop Fulton Sheen said that God looks at us the way a mother looks upon the dirty face of her child, and sees the divine image shining from it. What a lovely, lovely contemplation. And while I believe that I have been made in the image and likeness of God as Fr. Robert reminds us, it seems my face will never be clean enough to gaze upon the glory of Christ.

Peter Kreeft says that we are like the crippled man by the pool of Siloam. We want to get into the water to be healed, but we can’t get into the water because we are not healed. We need to be holy, we can’t be holy. We need to be just, we can’t be just. We need to be like Christ, we can’t be like Christ.

As sojourners in this time and place, we are caught between the promise of his love, mercy, and forgiveness, and the reality of our unworthiness. We can’t see how the two can ever be reconciled. (Or at least I can’t. I pray that you can.)

And now Holy Week is here. The week in which God himself will wash my feet (my feet!), will sweat blood alone in the garden while I sleep, will be scourged while I huddle near the warmth of a fire, will be nailed to a cross while I hide from the realization of how it feels to betray, and finally, will die in agony while I whine about my puny crosses. I enter Holy Week feeling a worm and not a woman, unworthy of his slightest thought let alone the bountiful blessing and trust he has poured out.

The burden of my ingratitude is heavy.

But even as I write during these dark final days when we move from “Hosanna!” to “Crucify him!”, a glimmer of light shines. For on Sunday, despite having turned away from him over and over again, despite leaving him to suffer and die alone, on Sunday he renews our baptismal covenant with him. On Sunday our wedding vows are renewed and we become once again his bride, and he our spouse. And despite our many failings, our repeated betrayals, he comes to us in the eternal wedding feast; we receive him, and are received.

The Lenten journey is not just Christ’s, it is ours as well. And eventually our Easter will come.

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Instilling Humility: Maundy Thursday Foot Washing

Lent is a time when God works on humility, and the Maundy Thursday foot washing service is a powerful Lenten teaching tool.

During TCC’s first Holy Week we held a foot washing service in the forum room at Bethel. We were still new to the liturgy and had not yet settled into the tradition of having priests, deacons, and altar servers acting “in persona Christi” for the foot washing. Instead, parishioners came up and had their feet washed, then stayed to wash the feet of others. I’d planned to participate in that act of service, and was fully intending to when the service began.

But while I waited and watched, the reality of my unworthiness to act in the role of Christ in such an intimate way was overwhelming. Who was I to mimic such a sublimely humble act? It was a struggle to force myself to get up and receive the sacramental action; participating beyond that was not imaginable.

There is something about the foot washing ceremony that is spiritually jarring. In it, transcendence and imminence overlap. Our God, the creator of the universe who stepped into time before presenting himself as the once and always sacrifice to Himself, picks up basin and cloth to wash the dust from our feet. Our feet; those blushingly intimate body parts which we prefer to keep under wraps. Our feet which collect the dirt and sweat and grime of the world.

Each year since that first service, I react the same way. I respond as Peter did, saying “No, you shall never wash my feet!”

I am unworthy even to be the woman crying tears over His feet, drying them with my hair and anointing them with expensive perfume, let alone receiving such attention.

So to think of Him washing my feet?

Each year, I anticipate and dread this wonderful, heart wrenching service. Each year I am overcome with tears. Each year I am profoundly moved.

If you haven’t come to a foot washing service before, please try to come this year. In this humble act God manifests the human character of His love for us, and its breadth. From creation itself, to foot washing—He loves us.

Angry Enough to Die?

The special Old Testament reading for Ash Wednesday was Jonah 3:1-4:11. A subset of the text is here:

3:1 The word of the LORD came to Jonah a second time: 2 "Set out for the great city of Nineveh, and announce to it the message that I will tell you." 3 So Jonah made ready and went to Nineveh, according to the LORD'S bidding. Now Nineveh was an enormously large city; it took three days to go through it. 4 Jonah began his journey through the city, and had gone but a single day's walk announcing, "Forty days more and Nineveh shall be destroyed," 5 when the people of Nineveh believed God; they proclaimed a fast and all of them, great and small, put on sackcloth. 6 When the news reached the king of Nineveh, he rose from his throne, laid aside his robe, covered himself with sackcloth, and sat in the ashes. 7 Then he had this proclaimed throughout Nineveh, by decree of the king and his nobles: "Neither man nor beast, neither cattle nor sheep, shall taste anything; they shall not eat, nor shall they drink water. 8 Man and beast shall be covered with sackcloth and call loudly to God; every man shall turn from his evil way and from the violence he has in hand. 9 Who knows, God may relent and forgive, and withhold his blazing wrath, so that we shall not perish." 10 When God saw by their actions how they turned from their evil way, he repented of the evil that he had threatened to do to them; he did not carry it out.

4:1 But this was greatly displeasing to Jonah, and he became angry. 2 "I beseech you, LORD," he prayed, "is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? This is why I fled at first to Tarshish. I knew that you are a gracious and merciful God, slow to anger, rich in clemency, loathe to punish. 3 And now, LORD, please take my life from me; for it is better for me to die than to live." 4 But the LORD asked, "Have you reason to be angry?" 5 Jonah then left the city for a place to the east of it, where he built himself a hut and waited under it in the shade, to see what would happen to the city. 6 And when the LORD God provided a gourd plant, that grew up over Jonah's head, giving shade that relieved him of any discomfort, Jonah was very happy over the plant. 7 But the next morning at dawn God sent a worm which attacked the plant, so that it withered. 8 And when the sun arose, God sent a burning east wind; and the sun beat upon Jonah's head till he became faint. Then he asked for death, saying, "I would be better off dead than alive." 9 But God said to Jonah, "Have you reason to be angry over the plant?" "I have reason to be angry," Jonah answered, "angry enough to die." 10 Then the LORD said, "You are concerned over the plant which cost you no labor and which you did not raise; it came up in one night and in one night it perished. 11 And should I not be concerned over Nineveh, the great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who cannot distinguish their right hand from their left, not to mention the many cattle?"

I found it very comforting to see how God will use us even when we begrudge His requests. Jonah was angry that God did not work the way he wanted Him to work. Jonah had gone through the trial of resisting God’s will and experienced God’s less-than-subtle correction before submitting and going to warn Nineveh of it’s impending doom. And what does God do in response? He changes His mind and pardons the city.

Jonah went off in a royal huff. He’d done what God wanted, so why didn’t God follow through?

It sounds just like me.

I try to be a just and righteous disciple, but sometimes submit only with sulking and scuffling when God’s plan for me doesn’t line up with what I think His plan should be.

In reality, the plan for Nineveh goes exactly as He has arranged. The people repent and are saved. That was God’s intention in sending Jonah all along. It was Jonah’s perspective that was wrong. But despite Jonah’s peevishness and childish resentment, God sent a sign of His love. A miraculous sign of His attention to our minor comforts, our human, physical need. He does the same for me; following up on my own petty responses with love, with miraculous attention, with the touch of His revelation. For a moment I am comforted, as Jonah was. But that quickly transforms into a lackadaisical acceptance and normalization of the incredible. So the vine dies and the gift of comfort is withdrawn. For a season.

God said, “Is it right to be angry?” Jonah replied, “Yes, angry enough to die!”

Lord help me learn from this story. Stop me from answering as Jonah did. Help me to be thankful for the bush, the shade, your many gifts and comforts. Help me to be grateful. Amen.

The DaVinci Code, the Gospel of Judas, and Other Heresies

It’s amazing how Satan works to keep God’s people distracted. In the first few centuries one of his favorite methods was stirring up heresy, which was effective in two ways; it led people away from the truth, and it kept church leaders busy officially defining what the truth was to keep people from being misled. He’s using the same methods today; Gnosticism, an ancient heretical mode of thinking, is alive and well and continuing it’s old black magic.

One of the reasons that Gnosticism is finding such a comfortable home in today’s world is the deep spiritual hunger that exists in our culture. People feel the emptiness of the God-shaped hole within them, and search out ways to fill it that don’t clash too harshly with their secular and moral relativistic world view. New-age spirituality where God is in the trees and the rocks and in you and me calls out to them; it satisfies their desire to know there is more beneath the surface, but doesn’t place any demands on their lives. As long as they aren’t “hurting anyone” then God is happy with them and all is right with the world.

The de-deified DaVinci Code image of Jesus as married man and father is a better fit for this group than the crucified Christ. The cross becomes merely an instructive fable rather than something we need to pick up ourselves. The body and blood become symbolic representations of self denial rather than the true consumption of God incarnate.

As Christians we understand that God is not only in the trees and rocks, He also sent himself in the form of a divine human being to interact with us directly. To teach us that he is intimately involved with the humanity of each of us, his children. To allow us a share in the “begotten-ness” of his son.

As part of the Gnostic movements, documents were written to support various views. The Gospel of Judas is one of these documents. It is nothing new. The recently released English translation is not some shocking news that will change Christianity as we know it. It was dismissed as fictional heresy in the second century.

In Book 1 Chapter 31 of Against Heresies (~180AD), St. Irenaeus specifically references the Gospel of Judas. The chapter scathingly describes the wrong-thinking and ill-intent of the authors:

“…with the hope that perchance some of them, exercising repentance and returning to the only Creator, and God the Former of the universe, may obtain salvation, and that others may not henceforth be drawn away by their wicked, although plausible, persuasions, imagining that they will obtain from them the knowledge of some greater and more sublime mysteries. But let them rather, learning to good effect from us the wicked tenets of these men, look with contempt upon their doctrines, while at the same time they pity those who, still cleaving to these miserable and baseless fables, have reached such a pitch of arrogance as to reckon themselves superior to all others on account of such knowledge, or, as it should rather be called, ignorance.”

Other Gnostic documents such as the Gospel of Mary (Magdalene) contributed to the lies perpetrated through Dan Brown’s DaVinci Code (soon to hit the big screen) and its foundational resource Holy Blood Holy Grail.

As Christians we are called to speak truth into this roaring sea of misinformation and outright lies. The key issues to remember are that these documents are not new; they’ve been around since the early days of the church. During the selection of the Canon of documents comprising the Bible, these books were determined not to be divinely inspired, and not to be included as Holy Scripture. In determining canonicity, documents were evaluated to determine if they were apostolic (written by an apostle), were early (as close as possible to the time of the apostles), and were used for readings in the liturgy of the church itself. The gospels of Judas, Mary, Thomas and others did not meet that criteria, and were therefore not included.

At the heart of Gnosticism lies a mistrust (verging on hatred) of the flesh. Spirit alone was held to be godly, and secret knowledge was imparted to those in the know. But God created us in our physicality, and even begat a son in that form. Ancient and modern heresy would have us disconnect the two, and keep “religion” ethereal and disembodied. But that is man’s thinking, not God’s. The mind of man stumbles on the idea of God in human form, and so the story emerges that Jesus survived the crucifixion and went on to marry and have children, somehow fooling the Jewish leaders, Roman authorities, and all the others who faught to discredit the truth.

After all, God is in the clouds and flowers, not walking around among us. If he walks and talks he cannot be God, and all the ritual and tradition of the Church must be fabrication (at best) or conspiracy (at worst). In a way, I understand this confusion. That God would come to us in human form, that he would cook us fish for breakfast on the beach, wash our feet, and die in front of his mother for us is not comprehensible. But the story is true, and we accept it in all it’s shocking fleshliness: through faith. That’s what Holy Week was all about. Jesus’ enfleshment was so important to his mission that he actually commanded us to eat it, and said that unless we do we are without life.

We need to pray that the mind-jarring reality of the incarnation be poured into the hearts of the hungry searchers who are blind in disbelief. And we need to speak truth in a media-driven world filled with lies and distortions.

Mary Our Spiritual Mother

Something is happening in Christ’s church.

Along with the increasing unification and convergence of which the CEC is a part, comes a renewed interest in Mary and the role she has played within the church from its beginning. You see signs of it everywhere; from articles in Christianity Today to the cover of Time Magazine. It’s a natural part of the universal church’s trend toward a return to the ancient church; the church that existed before and after the Reformation and the tremendous splintering that followed. Many Protestant denominations have drifted a long way from the church that the Reformers envisioned and practiced, and some are beginning to look back at what was lost.

They are wondering if they threw the mother out with the bathwater.

It’s true: Protestants are realizing that there is something about Mary.

The Reformers Weigh In

People from Protestant backgrounds are often on the look out for “Mariolotry”; a worship of Mary as if she was a god. If asked about their suspicions they might say that any form of devotion to Mary falls into that category. They might think that the Reformers did away with all of that stuff.

History shows a slightly different picture however.

While the Reformers were rightly concerned with the extreme to which some Roman Catholics took Marian devotion, they believed that there was a need for moderating that extremity rather than ditching her altogether.

Let’s take a look at some quotes from prominent Reformers.

Ulrich Zwingli, founder of the Reformation in Switzerland, said “The more the honor and love of Christ increases among men, so much the esteem and honor given to Mary should grow.”

John Calvin, one of the more severe critics of Marionism, called Mary “the treasurer of grace”.

In Martin Luther’s last sermon at Wittenberg in January 1546, shortly before his death, he said “Is Christ only to be adored? Or is the holy Mother of God rather not to be honoured? This is the woman who crushed the Serpent’s head. Hear us. For your son denies you nothing.”

Did you catch that? He asked Mary to “Hear us, for your son denies you nothing”! Luther himself not only recognized Mary as a powerful intercessor, but asked her for assistance!

So what happened? If the Reformers themselves understood the importance of Mary’s role, and believed that she could make requests of her Son on our behalf, how have we come to be so biased against her?

God Gives Jesus His Mother

Advent takes us back to Christ’s first coming; in human form. From the beginning of church history there has been a mental struggle in believers to grasp the mystery of Jesus being both Man and God, fully human and fully divine. We may be able to voice agreement with this in theory, but there is still a real difficulty in accepting that God could actually also be as one of us. Although Christmas should be the time when we celebrate God coming to earth as a human being, we somehow lose sight of the delivery mechanism.

This year, let’s try to enter more deeply into the reality of awaiting him, just as Mary waited while He grew within her.

God came to us as a baby, through the auspices of a mother. If this was not significant or worthy of our contemplation, God would have chosen another method. He could have created Jesus fully formed just as he did the first Adam.

But He didn’t.

He chose instead to work through a human woman. He chose to allow her to gestate him, to bear him, to nurse him at her breast, to prevent him from crawling into the fire or under the wheels of a donkey cart, to teach him the Psalms, to help him learn to honor his Father…

He chose that Jesus be formed; physically, emotionally, and spiritually, in the structure of a family, with a human mother and father.

Mary even played a critical role in the launching of His ministry. At the wedding in Cana, she encouraged him to perform a miracle despite his reluctance, just as a mom of today might encourage her child to give the two-wheeler a try despite his insistence on being too little.
Why? Would God allow a woman so important a role without purpose? Would He risk giving a human so much responsibility without having a darned good reason? Or is there something He wants us to understand about the method He chose?

Jesus Gives Us His Mother

In the end, we come to Jesus on the cross.

Chapter 19 of John’s Gospel gives us Jesus’ final instructions:

26 When Jesus then saw His mother, and the disciple whom He loved standing nearby, He said to His mother, "Woman, behold, your son!" 27 Then He said to the disciple, "Behold, your mother!" From that hour the disciple took her into his own household. 28 After this, Jesus, knowing that all things had already been accomplished, to fulfill the Scripture, said, "I am thirsty."

The early church understood this to be an instruction for all believers in all ages, just as it did of the command to feed His sheep.

Jesus’ last request before dying was to give his Mother to us, his beloved disciples. And once He had given her to us and us to her, He knew that all had been accomplished.

How much emphasis do you think should be placed on deathbed requests?

Jesus final instruction was that Mary take us as her children, and that we take her as our spiritual mother. Earlier on, He told us to honor our father and mother.

Were Jesus’ final words meaningless?

Would God’s final instructions be trivial?

Have we honored His final request?

Are we obedient to the fourth commandment?

Mary in the Ancient-Future Church

So where do we go from here?

In recent discussions about CEC doctrine, Bishop Bates paraphrased a statement often attributed to St. Augustine: In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things charity.
We are called to love God with our whole heart, soul, mind, and strength. Bishop Craig urges us to deal with all other things with charity.

At a very minimum, the idea of honoring Mary should be met with charity.
And it is possible that Jesus would have us offer her more than simply that.

The Sacrament of Confession

Sacraments are outward signs instituted by Christ to impart grace to the soul. The key piece in this is that they were put in place by Christ. There is power in everything that Christ did, and told us to do.

Confession (also called the sacrament of reconciliation or penance) is the process of meeting with a priest to walk through a set of prayers and list the serious sins you have committed since baptism or since your last confession (if you’ve had one). A good way to prepare for confession is to review the Ten Commandments and the beatitudes, and see where you have been failing.
The sacrament of confession has been a practice of the church from the very beginning. The fathers of the church called confession “the second plank of salvation after the shipwreck of the loss of grace”. (The first plank is baptism, by which all our sins are forgiven.)

Alexander Schmemman says:

“The sacrament of penance… is the power of baptism as it lives in the Church. From baptism it receives its sacramental character. In Christ all sins are forgiven once and for all, for He is Himself the forgiveness of sins, and there is no need for any ‘new’ absolution. But there is indeed the need for us who constantly leave Christ and excommunicate ourselves from His life, to return to Him, to receive again and again the gift which in Him has been given once and for all. And the absolution is the sign that this return has taken place and has been fulfilled.

Just as each Eucharist is not a ‘repetition’ of Christ’s supper but our ascension, our acceptance into the same and eternal banquet, so also the sacrament of penance is not a repetition of baptism, but our return to the ‘newness of life’ which God gave to us once and for all.”

A sermon by St. Leo in the fifth century reads: “The omnipotence of the Son of God, whereby through the same essence He is equal to the Father, would have been able by the mere command of His will to rescue the human race from the domination of the Devil, if it had not been better suited to the divine operations to conquer the opposition of the enemy’s wickedness by that which had been conquered, and to restore our natural liberty through that very nature through which a general captivity had come about.”

God chose to use human beings, first Christ, then His priests, to administer His freedom. For physical healing He often works through doctors. For spiritual healing He works through priests, who administer the healing sacraments Christ gave to the church for this purpose.

We are part of a church which has been handed down directly from Christ, through Peter, in a direct line of succession via the laying on of hands in ordination. There is power in the authority of those who Christ himself has touched and equipped.

Many of us don’t really understand the idea of apostolic authority. Interestingly, Jesus ran into the same objections!

Christ said to the sick man with palsy: "Thy sins are forgiven thee." "And there were some of the scribes sitting there, and thinking in their hearts: Why doth this man speak thus? he blasphemeth. Who can forgive sins but God only?"

But Jesus seeing their thoughts, said to them: "Which is easier to say to the sick of the palsy: Thy sins are forgiven thee; or to say, Arise, take up thy bed and walk? But that you may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins, I say to thee: Arise, take up thy bed, and go into thy house" (Mark 2:5-11; Mat 9:2-7).

Christ wrought a miracle to show that He had power to forgive sins and that this power could be exerted not only in heaven but alsoon earth. He then transmitted that power to Peter and the other Apostles.

To Peter He says: "And I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven. And whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth, it shall be bound also in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth, it shall be loosed also in heaven" (Mat 16:19).

Peter was given the keys you see. Keys to lock and unlock.

The Council of Trent described the sacrament as follows: "So far as pertains to its force and efficacy, the effect of this sacrament is reconciliation with God, upon which there sometimes follows, in pious and devout recipients, peace and calm of conscience with intense consolation of spirit".

How wonderful that sounds! “Intense consolation of spirit”!

St. John Chrysostom pleads eloquently with the sinner: "Be not ashamed to approach the priest because you have sinned, nay rather, for this very reason approach. No one says: Because I have an ulcer, I will not go near a physician or take medicine; on the contrary, it is just this that makes it needful to call in physicians and apply remedies. We priests know well how to pardon, because we ourselves are liable to sin.”

Tertullian wrote of confession and repentance: “Therefore, while it abases a man, it raises him; while it covers him with squalor, the more does it cleanse him; while it condemns, it absolves. In so far as you do not spare yourself, the more, believe me, will God spare you!”

The idea of confession is hard. It’s embarrassing. But it makes you think about the doors you allow to be opened, and through the graces received, shut them back up.

The sacrament of confession can be a very powerful tool in resisting the enemy and staying spiritually clean. Please consider availing yourself of it soon.

The Season of Lent

Lent is the Old English word for spring. In almost all other languages, Lent's name is a derivative of the Latin term quadragesima or "the forty days." 40 is the traditional number of days for discipline, devotion, and preparation. Just think of Moses on the mountain, Elijah on his travels to the cave of visions, Nineveh’s deadline to repent, and most significantly, Jesus' time in the wilderness praying, fasting, and experiencing the temptation that humanity faces:

For we have not a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sinning. (Heb. 4:15)

By the solemn forty days of Lent, the Church unites herself each year to the mystery of Jesus in the desert. “To follow and imitate Christ more nearly and to manifest more clearly his self-emptying is to be more deeply present to one’s contemporaries, in the heart of Christ. For those who are on this narrower path encourage their brethren by their example…”

Rev. Lawrence E. Mick wrote that Lent is “radically baptismal”, which is right up TCC’s alley! He said that our current 40 day observation grew out of 3 original sources; an ancient 2-day paschal fast before Easter, the “Catechumenate” preparation for baptism of adults, and the “Order of Penitents” conversion process for baptized people who had fallen but were ready to turn away from serious sin.

As the Catechumen (those who were being prepared) went through the process, the rest of the congregation walked with them spiritually, renewing their own baptismal promises.
This idea of a second conversion is an uninterrupted task for the whole Church who, “clasping sinners to her bosom, is at once holy and always in need of purification, and follows constantly the path of penance and renewal.”

Lent is a penitential season, and the 3 keys to penitence are prayer, fasting, and charity or almsgiving.

Fasting helps us “acquire mastery over our instincts and freedom of heart.” Self-denial and acts of penance help us uproot the rule of sin in our lives, and in the world.

A common practice during Lent is to give up something we enjoy. By doing this, we discipline our wills so that we are not slaves to our pleasures. When we train ourselves to resist temptations that are not sinful, we increase our ability to resist temptations that are sinful.

Fridays during Lent are days of abstinence from meat. Abstaining from meat helps us remember the needs of the poor. Some families eat simple meals such as rice and beans on Friday, and give the money that would have been used for the meal to the poor. If you give up steak but eat lobster, you’re missing the point!

We don’t hear about charity as a Lenten practice as often as the other disciplines, however, almsgiving and charity are logical acts during this season, as they are outward signs and actions that our inner conversion is real and that we take Jesus’ instructions seriously. Isaiah 58:6-7 reads:

This, rather, is the fasting that I wish: releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke; sharing your bread with the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and the homeless; clothing the naked when you see them, and not turning your back on your own.

Jesus’ call to conversion and penance does not aim first at outward works, “sackcloth and ashes”, fasting and mortification, but at the conversion of the heart. Without this, such penances remain sterile and false. Interior conversion urges expression in visible signs, gestures, and works of penance.

Fasting should be linked to our concern for those who are forced to fast by their poverty. Connecting charitable acts with fasting activities, for example, donating food we would otherwise have eaten to the hungry, brings a particular richness and depth of understanding to our Lenten experience.

Please consider incorporating the practices of prayer, fasting, and charity into your life this Lenten season, so that you can reach new levels of spiritual breadth and preparation.

This article contains excerpts from the Catechism of the Catholic Church ©1994 and from Lenten Customs, Baptism is the Key by Rev. Lawrence E. Mick.

Poetry: Rhyme While You Can

Rhyme While you Can

Love is a powerful driving force
that moves the writers hand
the problem comes when the poet finds
it not at his command
but rather whimsy rules loves path
tempts close and then away
so the writer rhymes while the blood runs hot
or writes another day.

~1993

Blind Man's Bluff

Walking down the street, rain pounds above my head.
I am dry
except for the errant drops that bypass my umbrella.

Yet I grumble along, and as I do
I hear a little tune coming closer;
the cheerful sound of whistling
in contrast to the dismal patter of falling rain.

Turning to find the whistler, who
like a robin singing in springtime,
brings an unanticipated joy to my breast

I see a man, without hat or umbrella,
galoshes or raincoat,
moving down the sidewalk toward me.

Water streams from hair turned shiny black,
running over closed eyes, and shifts midstream
to accommodate pursed lips still issuing their song.

The drops reach his chin
and fall to a coat
stained dark with moisture.

For the first time I notice that his gloveless hand
is curled around a battered aluminum cane,
which he taps right and left before him.

Tapping out a rhythm,
and with the rain,
making music.

Happy Halloween

I sit in the dimness
Surrounded by jack-o-lanterns and costumes
While the sounds and smells of Autumn revelry fill the air
And Cheshire smiles from made-up faces
Shine through at me.

I sit in the dimness
Enveloped in the black cloak
That I cut
From the cloth of loneliness,
And drink.

I sit in the dimness
Where people pass and greet me
Where men stop to talk
With question marks shining from eyes
That scan up and down like yo-yos.

I sit in the dimness
And wish
That my glass would sprout a label saying “drink me”
And upon drinking
I would shrink
And climb inside
Escaping to Wonderland with a splash.

But rather than being made by me
The tiny splashes, barely heard
Are from my tears falling down
One by one

As I sit in the dimness
And weep.

Followed

Little girl in Catholic-school plaid
Hurrying down the sidewalk with books clutched tightly
To an unformed breast

Your eyes peer out at the morning
From beneath a hanging shock of black curls

And small ears listen
To the sound of footsteps
Following steadily behind.

Frowning, you walk faster
Glancing back to see
The shadow of the man speed up also

Noting at the sane time that no friends wait
As they usually do
On the street

But the school looms ahead
And eyeing it
You sigh with relief.

Turning, you stop to give your follower a quick kiss
Before running inside;

Sometimes Daddy can be so embarrassing.
~1984

I Open My Book

Waiting for a bus
To take me away
From the black and the gray
Of the city

I join the queue
Relaxing bit by bit
The lights have not been lit
Yet still I can see

And then I hear the sound;
A braking tire’s squeal
A startled voice’s peal
Before it is quiet again.

Rather than looking around
I pay no attention
The light pole is my stanchion
Upholding disbelief

And as my bus drives past
The truth becomes clear;
The body lying near
Loudly shouts out the facts

As the scene disappears
I slowly turn my head
And hoping she isn’t dead
I open my book.

~1984