Good Friday

I never feel like I put enough effort into Good Friday.  My fasting isn't enough, my abstaining from meat isn't enough.  I don't pray enough or reflect enough.I look back over the days of Lent and always think I have failed at it.

I was going to go to Stations of the Cross, but just sent my husband instead.  We were watching our grandson for a few hours and it was his nap time.  I am sure it was a great way to reflect upon these hours of Good Friday.  I attended Holy Thursday services, staying for an hour of Adoration afterwards.  I will go to Good Friday services tonight and Easter Vigil tomorrow night and morning Mass on Sunday.  So, why is it I don't think I do enough or do it right?

It has been an unusually overcast day, with a 20% chance of rain.  I have even seen a drop or two in the pool.  The overcast seems so appropriate for this day. A bit somber.  Yet, because I know that in spite of Good Friday, or because of Good Friday, Sunday is coming.  We as Christians focus so much on the Crucifixion, that sometimes I think we miss the Resurrection.

I love the Gospel stories that lead up to Good Friday.  The Parables that show Jesus teaching, challenging, changing and loving everyone through these days.  Without that love that he shows through his teaching, challenging and changing, would we even be aware that we want to give up more or be more or change more during these days?

Maybe, just maybe, His love makes me enough.  What is more important? To do it right or love him more?  I think each year that I experience Lent, Holy Week and the Resurrection of my heart through the Mass of the Resurrection, I love him more.  Maybe next year, I won't be as concerned about doing it right and I will love more.

Reflections on Ash Wednesday in a Muslim Country

I thought I had posted this, but discovered it was still in draft mode...


When we realized that our planned trip to Saudi Arabia to visit our daughter would fall on Ash Wednesday we wondered just how we would be able to receive the traditional blessing of ashes on our foreheads. Knowing that Christianity is kind of underground here...people know it exists, they just don't advertise it.  It is kind of "by word of mouth".

Our daughter is not a practicing Christian, in the traditional sense of going to church every Sunday, but it is where her roots are and her daily actions are certainly pleasing to God.  She is an example of Christ in her daily life. We asked early on if she could find out just how we might be able to receive ashes.  We knew the "church" existed here because one of our visiting priests had spent 16 years serving here and still comes back to relieve other priests during the summer.  He had actually told us that a friend of his would be here during our time here.  So, as our daughter was asking questions, we finally came to find out that "yes" we could receive ashes on Wednesday and we were told where to go.  We couldn't attend Mass because it fell right at the time when Sojo's play would be starting and that is why had traveled all these miles.  So, we went to this place anyway and rang the bell.  There was Father John getting ready for Mass. The music was playing beautifully and it was as sacred a place as any ancient cathedral I had ever been in.  We explained our dilemma to him and he graciously brought out ashes from last year, as this year's were not blessed yet. He said the prayers and made the sign of the cross on our hand, to be discreet.  And so, these nomadic Christian/Catholics received ashes, just like any other year.

Since we are 10 hours ahead of MST in Arizona, I was seeing lots of Ash Wednesday posts on Facebook this morning.   Everything from ashes being given on street corners to several articles on Ash Wednesday and Lent.  We had actually discussed what we might do if we could not find the "place" where ashes were to be distributed here and had kind of smiled at the thought of taking some of the earth and blessing one another. This one from Spirituality and Practice really hit home to me.  I had been so focused on finding "my" place of worship and being able to experience "my" faith tradition, that I forgot that it is ALL HOLY. Whether I am being blessed by a priest with ashes that have been blessed, or I am blessing myself or a loved one with the earth upon which I stand, it is all good...it is all Holy...it is all God.

http://www.spiritualityandpractice.com/days/features.php?id=16615

"Because of infirmity, family obligations, or work-related responsibilities, you may not be able to go to church today and be marked with ashes. But do not let that prevent you from being touched by this powerful ancient medicine. All the earth is holy land and its soil is blessed. So, place a small pinch of dust or dirt in the palm of your hand and use it to trace upon yourself the sign of the cross, a sign of death that leads to new life, as you prayerfully ask God to heal you." And I repeat...I had been so focused on finding "my" place of worship and being able to experience "my" faith tradition, that I forgot that it is ALL HOLY.  Whether I am being blessed by a priest with ashes that have been blessed, or I am blessing myself or a loved one with the earth upon which I stand, it is all good...it is all Holy..it is all sacred....it is all God.

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Feast of the Seven Fishes

I recently posted a picture of the first ornaments to go on our tree to Facebook, as a Christmas family tradition of ours and asked for other's traditions. This is a picture of my 67 year old baby rattle.  Yes, our baby rattles are the first ornaments on our tree.  Our family tradition.

 A friend, Karen Hess of Karen's Monday Musings Blog, posted that her family does the Feast of Seven Fishes every Christmas Eve.  I asked what it was and she said, "It's an Italian tradition we celebrate on Christmas Eve, Helen.  Seven fish dishes are served.  No meat or dairy is eaten, so the fish is baked or fried in olive oil. We've always remembered the 7 Sacraments through this tradition, but there are other interpretations as well."  

I didn't grow up with many Christmas traditions, but I have always treasured the ones that I did.  When I married, Ron and I took our family traditions and blended them.  That meant some got changed, but that was okay too.  They were now our family traditions.  

In our family, going to Mass was and is an important part. We tried Christmas Eve, Midnight Mass, over the years and some years it worked and some it didn't.  Before children, it was something we loved.  Especially, our first two years in Pittsburgh, as we walked to our church in the cold, snowy night.  As the children came along, Midnight Mass was not at all the thing to do, until they were older and it became a tradition again.  As the kids have moved onto adulthood and grandchildren have come along, the 4:30 PM Children's Christmas Eve Mass has become our tradition, with dinner at our house afterwards.  Shrimp is always on our menu, but we have never had seven fish or seafood dishes.  This Seven Fishes idea kind of tickled an interest in me.

I did some research on my own and from what I can figure out, Karen is right on with the Seven Sacraments as a connection to the seven fishes. However, some think it has to do with the seven days of creation or the seven days it took Mary and Joseph to travel to Bethlehem (I don't think I ever knew it took them seven days).  I read that some people talked to people in Italy and they knew nothing of this tradition, so it seems maybe it was the Italian immigrants who came here wanting to create a new tradition that would somehow link them to their roots in Italy.  Italy is a long and narrow country, where most are not far from the sea.  Seafood must have been a staple to them.  It makes sense to me, that this would be something that was a common Christmas Eve meal. Why not have Christmas Eve, a time when fasting from meats as a Catholic was a faith tradition, a time for feasting on fish or seafood after celebrating the birth of Christ.  

So, here I am 12 days before Christmas thinking of how I can bring this tradition into our 47 year old family.  We already serve shrimp. I only need to add six more.  Unfortunately, I am not sure the entire family will be as enamored with the idea as I am.  One son dearly loves anything from the sea. I am not sure his lovely wife does.  I am also not sure the other son and his wife would want only seafood on the table. But, the love the sea, so maybe. Our daughter and family will not be home for Christmas this year, so I have another whole year to find out about her. I know the hubby and I would be fine with it.  We love just about anything of or from the sea. 

So, what do you think?  Should I go for it?  I might stir up the water of this family a bit.  Maybe the fun of sharing the legend behind this would be as much fun as the food would be delicious.  But then again, we don't have a drop of Italian blood in us.  Does that matter?

Dia de los Muertos

From the beginning of time, we as humans have had the need to understand and explain the mystery of life and of death.  Throughout history, many civilizations and cultures have created, out of this need, rituals to attempt to understand and give meaning to human existence.  

Dia de los Muertos, is one of the ways this is done in the Hispanic culture.  It is commonly known as the "day of the dead".  Tucson has a long history of Hispanic culture.  Being a border town, the history continues and grows.  Much like my memory of Memorial Day growing up in a small northwestern town in Pennsylvania, where we took potted plants and planted them at family members grave sites, in loving memory of that person, the Hispanics celebrate the rituals attached to Dia de los Muertos.  

The difference is in how they do it.  They may also take flowers to a grave site, or they may not know where that grave site is and/or they build an "altar" to that person or persons.  The altar can be simple or elaborate.

This is a simple one at San Xavier Mission on Dia de los Muertos, 2013.  People put pictures of their loved ones and things that they loved while walking their earthly path.  There is a bowl of beans for a loved one who loved beans.  One man shared with me that he puts a bottle of Tequila on his altar, in memory of his father who loved his Tequila. 

Very early in October, all over the Latin American countries and many cities in the United States, bakeries offer the delicious Pan de Muerto, Day of the Dead bread.  It is made with flour, butter, sugar, eggs, orange peel, anise and yeast.  The bread is decorated with strips of dough; simulating bones and at the top, you will see a small round piece of dough that symbolizes teardrops. These breads are placed on the altars as ofrendas or offerings, and are also often taken to the graves of their loved ones.

Yesterday, I experienced another way that the people of Tucson, Mexico and even further away from the United States, come to honor and celebrate the life of loved ones.  Many come, not of this culture, and not really knowing anyone personally, but come to honor the life that was. 

It is a pilgrimage to the beautiful and historic San Xavier Mission -- Tucson's White Dove of the Desert to honor those who have died in the desert during the past 12 months while attempting to enter the United States illegally.  This day is not about how they came or why they came, it is about the fact that the desert is a cruel path to walk for the dream of citizenship or an opportunity to provide more for your family than what you were able in your own country.  It is about the agony of death in the desert, the fear and loneliness that must have been felt.  As I waited for Ron and the group who were making this pilgrimage  I noticed a circle with white crosses.  I discovered that this is the crosses from previous years.  That is a lot of crosses, with more to come.  

About 50 people walked 8 miles yesterday in solidarity with those who had lost their lives in the desert. That is a mere fraction of the miles these people travel, in their attempt.  Each person walking carried a cross or crosses with the name of the deceased to symbolize the person who had died.  Most were unknown.  Alma, a woman from our church, who is Hispanic walked in thin rubber flip flops, because she knows that is all many of those who are found had on their feet.  

As we stood around that circle, a woman read off the names of those who had names and the person with that cross placed it around the circle.  And then, those without names were placed around the circle.  A Franciscan priest from San Xavier went around the circle with Holy Water, blessing each soul who had been placed there.  

It was a more solemn occasion than the way most celebrations of Dia de los Muertos are. How can we celebrate a life we have never known?  For those who had loved ones there, maybe someone put something on the altar in front of the Mission.  For those without a name, what do we know about them?  Can you imagine seeing your loved one leave home and never see them again.  And worse yet, you never know what has happened to them.  You don't know if they are dead or alive and every year when you hear about this pilgrimage in Tucson on Dia de los Muertos, you wonder if your loved one's cross is being placed in that circle.

I was quite emotional as I saw the pilgrims approaching.  I was choked up as Ron embraced me with his crosses in his hands.  I am not like him.  I cannot go out into the desert and help the migrants.  I cannot walk those eight miles on Dia de los Muertos.  My heart breaks when I think about each and everyone of these people who come like so many before them through the desert or like my ancestors and yours who reached the shores of Manhattan and saw the Statue of Liberty and thought about the words engraved on her base, 

“Give me your tired, your poor, 

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, 

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. 

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: 

I lift my lamp beside the golden door. "

Maybe instead of building walls on our borders and watching people die of thirst, of hunger or from the elements of the weather, we could put a new Statue of Liberty on our borders and welcome the huddled masses who yearn to breathe free.  

Until then, I guess I will wait for Ron at these memorial services and I will pray that the day will come when all will be welcome and there will be no borders on any land in any country of this world.  I will pray that the day will come when no one will cross the desert in hopes of a better life...they will be welcomed anywhere at any time.  

The Smile of Reims

The history of the Cathedral at Rheims (Reims - prounounced rance, as in France) is quite amazing. The foundation stone was laid in 1211. There was a labyrinth in the floor of the Cathedral with the four architects who designed this Gothic structure represented in the four corners of it. The labyrinth was destroyed in 1779.

The Cathedral was nearly destroyed itself in World War I.   Twenty-five French Kings were crowned in the present Cathedral. It seems that no King of France at that time would be considered a proper King, if not crowned at the Cathedral of Reims.  There is a statue inside the Cathedral, as well as outside of St. Joan of Arc, because of her role in the crowning of King Charles VII of France.  I was especially struck by the role that St. Joan of Arc played at Reims.  Her youth, her strength and her faith are certainly inspiring.  

The stained glass windows are breathtaking.  The light that streams through them changes as each ray changes throughout the day, creating thoughtful patterns across the walls and floors.

 Stories are told in the windows, tapestries and statues within and outside.  It seemed as if the entire Bible was portrayed in one or the other.  One could spend a week here and not be able to truly see or absorb it all.

The story and statue that I most enjoyed is that of the smiling angel.  

Through some research, I discovered that she might not have been smiling in her original form.  Though, I don't know if anyone knows for sure.  It appears she was quite damaged and placed in storage, partially repaired and then hidden again before she was completed restored and placed again on the structure.  She is on the Western Facade of the Left Portal (north) of the Cathedral. It was fortunate that I had a telephoto lens, as that entire area was fenced off for some repairs and restoration. I was so taken with her smile that the entire three week trip would have been worth just seeing her.  Her smile was joyful, playful, comforting and inspiring.  I heard her say to me, "you can do all things through faith, you are loved, you are precious in His eyes,  do not worry, trust, be compassionate,have hope, love others as you wish to be loved, do not judge, let go of all that prevents you from believing in the goodness of others and all that keeps you from love  Above all else, remember to love.."  Her sweet face is something I will carry with me forever.  If there is anything that a statue, a stained glass window or a tapestry should tell us, it is that.  To remember to love.

In my research, I found this poem and I think it gives a bit of clarity as to the message this angel brings.  

THE SMILE OF REIMS

"The smile," they called her,—"La Sourire";

            and fair—

   A sculptured angel on the northern door

   Of the Cathedral's west façade—she wore

Through the long centuries of toil and care

That smile, mysteriously wrought and rare,

   As if she saw brave visions evermore—

   Kings, and an armored Maid who lilies bore,

And all the glories that had once been there.

How like to thee, her undefeated Land!

   Wounded by bursting shells, a little space

      Broken she lay beneath her ancient portal;

But lifted from the earth with trembling hand,

   Victorious, still glowed upon her face

      Thy smile, heroic France, love-given and

            immortal!

Florence Earle Coates.

  

No matter what we go through in life, there is always hope and there is always love,  I think that is the pure message this sweet angel brings to all who enter Reims Cathedral.  

Chartres and The Labyrinth

    

I don't think I had any expectations about this trip.  I was filled with such gratitude about the opportunity, that I couldn't possibly have any.  Just being here would be enough.  And so it was...

After our long plane trip and another taxi and train to Chartres from Paris, I didn't think we would have the energy to even go to the Cathedral, but luck would have it, we could see it from our hotel room and knew it was an easy walk from there.  So, off we went. 

The Cathedral, in and of itself is spectacular.  You are awestruck from the moment your eyes gaze upon it from a distance and the closer you get, the more awestruck you are.  As we took it all in as we approached it and then went inside, I couldn't believe I was actually there.  The little girl from Western Pennsylvania's countryside has certainly wandered way beyond her roots.  Chasing rainbows, one might say.  Chasing something she has wondered about for years and now has the opportunity to see firsthand; not just in books or internet research. 

We did a quick walk through it, drinking in as much as we could with the energy we had left.  We paused on our way out, thinking about the next two days that we would have there.

The next day, we again made our way over to the Cathedral and drank in more of it.  Taking our time and sitting in various places to reflect upon it.  Thinking about how old this place was.  There is so much history to take in, when you visit a place like this. 

Chartres is a survivor.  It has survived a fire, the Crusades, WWII and the normal wear and tear of time.  Yet, somehow, it has survived and thrives today.  The labyrinth itself is still the original that was built over 800 years ago.  It was during the Crusades and the annual pilgrimage to the Holy Land, that the early Christians took each year, was impossible and dangerous.  The Roman church built over 20 labyrinths in the floors of various Cathedrals around Europe. It was to be a symbol for the Christians pilgrimage to the Holy Land. The people would make a pilgrimage to their local Cathedral and walk the labyrinth instead of the normal pilgrimage to the Holy Land.  I've read and been told that over the years, its use became out dated, unnecessary and the labyrinths around Europe disappeared.  They were either destroyed during the wars, taken out during renovations and restorations or simply not used anymore.  . Chartres is one of the very few that survived over the hundreds of years since this time.  How lucky we are that someone decided to revive the use and a few gems around the world, like Chartres, were discovered. 

And the day came when, suddenly, there I stood at the entrance to the Labyrinth in this amazingly old, beautiful and sacred space...one step at a time...so many others before me...in awe...I kept on walking...no great revelations...just a sense of peace and thanksgiving for having this opportunity.

How blessed we are to be able to travel all these miles and see this lovely, sacred space.  How blessed to sit awhile and reflect upon our lives; where we have been, what we have done and how we will spend the rest of our lives.  We will cherish this time.  This picture of Chartres Cathedral at night seems to sum up the peaceful, contemplative spirit of this beautiful and sacred space.

A Dream of Mine

Ever since I discovered the Labyrinth some ten plus years ago, I have yearned to come to Chartres.  When I found out it was only an hour out of Paris, I was so disappointed that I did not know this when I visited Paris with Ron years ago while he was on a business trip.  I honestly thought I would never have the opportunity to return.  Fate or destiny, has a way of bringing us where we are meant to be.
So, here I am, realizing I was but a dream away from this place all along.

After a very long trip of car to the airport, plane one to Dallas and then plane two to Paris and then n hour taxi to Gare Montparnasse for another hour to Chartres by train, we arrived very tired.  We quickly showered to refresh ourselves and off we went to get our first view of Chartres.  It was all I had imagined.  We searched for the Labyrinth, knowing it was at the center of the Nave.  It is covered with chairs, but on Fridays between 10 am and 5 pm, the chairs are cleared for walking it. Hence, our reason for being here at this time.  I hope we can walk it in the morning and then again later in the day.  The lighting at the Cathedral changes by the minute, season and weather.  This labrinth dates to sometime around 1200 and is made up of flagstones from the quarries in Bercheres, enclosed by bands of black marble.  It has never been restored and it amazing to see how beautiful it is.

Chartres Cathedral, in and of itself, is something worth seeing.  It is one of the UNESCO Heritage sites, if this is something that attracts you.  Being Catholic, Ron and I are drawn to Cathedrals and churches around the world, UNESCO Heritage or not.  Even if one is not Catholic, you cannot deny the beauty of it, nor the historical value of it.  It is the most complete and well-preserved example of Gothic Cathedrals.  The rose window dates back to the 13th century.  There are 172 stained glass windows, covering 2600 square meters.  They are of the finest collection in Europe, considering their age and beauty.  They are famous for the color blue used.This radiant blue used cobalt oxide.  One of the windows is called the "blue Virgin".  Later on, a less expensive pigment replaced the 12th century blue, known as "Chartres blue".  

We walked up 300 steps to the bell tower.  It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be and well worth the trip.  The view was breathtaking of the Cathedral from the angles seen from there, as well as the view of the village.  The narrow, spiraling staircase was beautiful as it led our way.  

After a walk through "old town", we had a lunch of crepes.  One with ham and cheese, the other with caramel  Oh my, were they both good.