Hope!

The message started coming through the office while I was on a work call -- there's white smoke! Everyone filed toward the TV in the kitchen -- people of all faiths and of none -- curious to see -- there's something about the mystery and pagentry that captivates, whether you believe in it or not; or maybe people just wanted to see how bad it was going to be.

And out came this man -- looking scared really, overwhelmed; a co-worker said, "He looks like he wants to go back inside and think this decision over." But then a gentle, welcoming speech -- and the much talked about incantation for the crowd to pray. Traveling back to the hotel with his fellow cardinals on the bus. Standing outside the gate near St Peter's before his Sunday address. Speaking off the cuff about God's enormous, unfathomable capacity to love and forgive. Francis, invoking the one who heard God's call: "Go and rebuild my Church, which you can see has fallen into ruin."

A Latin American Jesuit Pope. This could get interesting.

In the days since the election of Pope Francis, we have started to hear a little about the man -- some great things, and some worrying things. And yet, no matter what I hear, I feel the same buzz I did at the mention of white smoke just a few days ago and the way my Facebook page exploded -- with jubilation and absolute hope from my many Jesuit-educated family and friends, and many others (I mean, a conservative Jesuit is still a Jesuit, no?). It is a strange and unexpected thing -- like many other cradle Catholics of my generation, I feel disaffected with and generally disconnected from the institutional Church, not to mention embarrassed by and furious with it -- I have on more than one occasion described it as something that just gets in the way of the enactment of real faith. And herein is the interesting part -- if asked, the things I and many I know would say are actually good about faith are these -- the teachings of God's tremendous love for ALL, how we have to mimic that in how we treat our neighbors, how God is aching to be in communion with us, and wanting us to live as the best versions of ourselves, how much we should be living a life for others. And here, in the Vatican where the height of hypocrisy and criminality in the Roman Catholic faith has had the seat of power for so many years, is a man who when good things are said about him, seems to live those very tenets in a way I personally can't actually imagine doing. Of course, I see the reality and have worries -- my husband remarked that until you have a more equanimous faith, where women, gay people and married people are loved, supported, welcomed and incorporated into the structure of the Church, you won't kick out the evil. He's absolutely right, it's important and it matters. But this matters, too -- that that which is potentially the best about Catholicism is front and center.

There are going to be many tests ahead for this Francis. What he does about sexual abuse in the Church is going to be huge -- a very interesting indication was reportedly (though the account is disputed) not allowing Bernard Cardinal Law into a Church he was visiting. And of course, there are all the questions about what he did and did not do in Argentina during the reign of the military junta. And the disturbing remarks about about homosexual couples adopting children. These issues really matter, and in some of them at least, he is not on the side that many of the 'faithful' including myself would describe as right. But there's also this -- we don't know the whole story; from the group that could have been elected, we weren't going to get the radical many of us could hope for in progressing Church social teaching. But also this -- and today's Gospel goes right to the heart of it for me -- “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” I am not that one. We expect perfection from our leaders in so many walks of life, religious and otherwise, that we wouldn't dream of imposing on ourselves. Does it matter -- of course, and completely in areas of abuse (and it is my fervent prayer that Francis will prove to be a hardliner in that domain, even if I have problems with him being one on social teaching).

So on this fifth Sunday of Lent, I find myself enormously hopeful -- hopeful that this man may not only challenge the corrupt structure of the institutional Church, but my own lazy foundations -- I'm great at giving lip service toward doing good, toward loving all, toward giving of self -- I'm frankly pretty lousy at executing it. And this surprising man, who is already eschewing the normal trappings of the papacy, maybe, just maybe, the Holy Spirit was there guiding and breathing new life not only into a messed up Church but maybe out into the world into some messed up people like me -- do as I do, live as I live.

Yes, I think this Francis could be very interesting. And I hope. And I pray.

Time

I have written on this blog previously about how I have often found that I am at the right Mass at the right time, planning on going at one time only to wind up at another where I hear exactly what I need, when I need to. Call it coincidence or hearing what you want, but tonight, it was pure grace for me to hear a homily that I deeply needed.

Not very long ago, I suffered a miscarriage; it was very early in my pregnancy, and I am very blessed to already have a child. In many ways, I know if the baby was not going to be ok, it was easier than it could have been and also, I hardly know anyone my age who has ever tried to have a child who has not had a similar experience. And so I am ok, really ok. Except when I'm not -- except when I wake in the middle of the night from painful dreams of nursing a non-existent baby, or when I burst into tears in the aisles of Babies R Us. I suppose some of it is grief though I am not sure I experience it that way (I wish I would, I feel I have not actually mourned an actual life, and don't find that comfortable) -- it feels very much like the absence of hope, or the fear that a hope won't come to be. Other parts of my life have started to fall into place since my loss, and I wonder at times if God just decided we weren't as ready as we thought we were. But there remains a fearful nagging clock in the back of my mind and a biological frustration -- come on, God, get with my program here -- time is ticking and I need to get a move on with a new child!

And that was where tonight was so important -- the priest's words reminded me what I already know but what is often difficult to bear -- God doesn't care about time. Or, as he later came to and far more importantly, God's sense of time and the priorities in time is totally different to ours. We have thoughts about what we need and when, based on a combination of so many things, desire, need, expectations. God isn't worried about that -- God's concern is for us, the people we are, who we need to become, and the path back to Him. Often I find that frustrating, that I can't understand what it is that God wants, but tonight, I found it freeing. My life and my hopes are in the hands of a God who so loves me and so wants me to live the best life I can, that sometimes, for whatever reason, things can't happen as I command them. It is beyond my control. But what I can control is my response and my prayer, which tonight is this:

Dear God, Please take care of me and the beautiful family you have blessed me with. Please give us courage and hope together, help us to care for one another and have a fullness of life together. Please teach me better to live today for itself, in the moment I am in, grateful for all the good you have shared with me.
Amen.

To Give Something Up

I always find it ironic that on the one day a year when we are asked to proclaim our Catholicism in such a blatant way, with ashes on the forehead, the Gospel we hear (Matthew 6:1) proclaims the exact opposite:


"Jesus said to his disciples: 'Take care not to perform righteous deedsin order that people may see them;otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father.' "


In many ways though in the world I live in, wearing ashes is a sacrifice in itself -- it proclaims something I am not entirely comfortable with -- you can't be a Catholic in question or hiding with a symbol on your forehead, you are out and proud. I decided this year to try to take it in my stride and not worry about other people's reactions, and for the most part, I succeeded. 

It's the other part of my beginning of Lent practice that I found it harder to stick to. Every year, rather than giving something up, I try to do something positive, usually to address an attribute of self that I am not happy about. And every year, I fail, often finding myself worse off at the end of Lent than the beginning. This year, that which I aim to do also involves giving something up -- I want, and need, to be a better mother, better wife, better daughter, better sibling, better friend -- that is, I want to be more present in the relationships of my life. The last year has held many personal challenges for me and somewhere in that, I have lost that essence of living in relationship that once came naturally to me -- the giving of self in love. I need to give up my selfishness to be able to achieve this. It feels like there are many barriers in the way -- work to be done, a house and life to organize, things to move forward. There are certainly many objects in the way -- a phone, a computer, a TV -- many things that prevent me from being fully present to those I love most. So this Lent, I want to both give something up AND to do something positive -- a combination of the traditional Lenten tradition with a little twist. It's not the first time I have presented this challenge to myself, and I haven't made a great start of it today.

But for the next 40 days, this is my prayer:
- to give up the intangible connections to that which seems so important and necessary and urgent, in favor of the real people in front of me
- to give up the quest for recognition in my work, in exchange for recognizing the loves present in my home
- to give up trying to make everything work, and asking and watching and appreciating instead where God is leading me
- to give up getting things done quickly, in favor of the joyous discovery of my son learning to do for himself, slowly but in his own growing way
- to give up those extra few minutes in bed, in favor of a few extra minutes of time spent with my family.

It's never easy and so much of this is the work of life itself for me, but this Lent, every day as I journey through and catalog that journey in my thoughts and prayers here, I trust that God is listening and helping me to focus a bit better, and be present a bit more.