Byzantine Chant

In other news...a friend of mine introduced me to a fantastic internet radio site: Ancient Faith Radio.  Lots of fantastic Byzantine chant on there.  Check it out!

The Death of My Voice

As a soprano, my throat is of the utmost importance.  It's pretty much the only part of me that I cannot tolerate not working properly.  Broken arm, ok, I can deal with it.  Broken ankle, I'm used to it.  Colds, headaches, back pain, ok, I'll live.  But a persistent sore throat that has become swollen to the point of me not being able to sing strongly at all, and not make a sound a 6th above middle C?  That's a problem.  A big one.  I went in for choir rehearsal before Mass this morning and couldn't sing at all.  It's as if my throat hired an assassin.  "HEY, she's been working us too hard again, and we won't stand for it.  *whisper whisper whisper*"  They planned a sabotage/sting operation whilst I was asleep last week and, unfortunately, my immune system let me down.

I've only had it this bad once before - and that was the beginning of 2010 when I had to go through all sorts of trouble - a specialist, a really expensive look at my throat, steroids, not speaking for a week, then NSAIDs, then strength training, and not singing for a MONTH.  Not my idea of fun.  So I hope this passes quickly.

Other than the death of my poor throat, it's been a good weekend.  No updates to report about the curveballs previously mentioned.  Something about the "P" word...what was that again?  Oh right, patience.  Clearly not one of my virtues!

Flight Risk

I was a flight risk
With a fear of falling
Wondering why we bother with love
If it never lasts
(Taylor Swift, "Mine")

Every time I wish that something would go right and then STAY that way (and YES, I'm speaking in general, not specifically about love), I remember that God made me a promise.  When I was at my lowest, He made me a promise that He had something better in store for me.  That I could have been happy with what I was lamenting, but that He had something better.  Whenever I say that I can't go on, this promise rings in my ears.  He has never let me down before, nor has He ever failed to deliver on a promise He's made.  I have no choice but to take everything with a grain of salt (or two), and wait patiently for Him.

My soul is waiting for the Lord, more than watchmen for the daybreak.  Let the watchmen count on daybreak, and Israel on the Lord.
(From Psalm 129)

It's not a matter of "if".  It's a matter of "when".  And I would fail to be faithful to my state in life if I preoccupied myself with the future...or with the past.  As Fr. McTeigue always tells me: "Patience is being present to the present."  (He also tells me, quite sarcastically: "Don't worry; I just know.  Everything will be ooooooooooo-kay!  LOL)

According to the multitude of my sorrows in my heart, Thy comforts have given joy to my soul.
(Psalm 93:19)

Joy is an objective reality.  Joy is NOT synonymous with happiness.  But being joyful is a choice, and a duty.  It is a gift from God, and something to be responded to.  I'm striving to be the woman that God created me to be...and He certainly didn't create me to be crabby and depressed and edgy all the time.  Relapsing into those categories would be, at this point, sinful.

Suffering

"Impassibilis est Deus, sed non incompassibilis." God cannot suffer, but He can suffer with. - Pope Benedict XVI


As I was walking to work this morning, I began my Rosary.  It takes an enormous amount of concentration for me to do this, partially because it's morning and I haven't had coffee yet, and partially because walking through Golden Gate Park, there are so many beautiful things to look at!  Consequently, I only got one decade prayed.  Today is Tuesday - the Sorrowful Mysteries.  As I was walking and praying and meditating, this line from Pope Benedict kept going through my head: Impassibilis est Deus...  I began to wonder.  How could God NOT suffer?  Christ was fully man and fully God, and He seemed to have suffered unthinkable sufferings in the Agony in the Garden, much less through the other events recounted in the Sorrowful Mysteries.  He suffered the worst tortures, and died the most horrendous death on the Cross.  And Pope Benedict's statement didn't make a lot of sense to me, until I thought about it as a whole: ...sed non incompassibilis.


"Passibilis", Latin, meaning "capable of feeling or suffering, susceptible to emotion"
Im- being a negating prefix
-com- being a linking word to mean "with"


God can not only not suffer, but He is incapable of suffering altogether.  He cares so much for mankind, however, that He deigned to descend to earth to suffer alongside our own suffering.


When Christ was agonizing in the Garden of Gethsemane, He saw the sinfulness of mankind in its totality.  He agonized with us, on our behalf, not for His own sake.  He assumed upon Himself the burden of our offenses.


We are never alone in our suffering.  Christ has already suffered-with us...suffered in our stead.  How little are our cares and sufferings in comparison to the burden He has shouldered for us.  And how ungrateful am I to persevere in my sinfulness, pride, and misery.

Curveballs, Fire, and Critique

I am copying Meryl's blog format for this post.  You will find below three sections.  1) My life, 2) A reflection on Purgatory, and 3) Something controversial.

SECTION ONE: Baseball on the mind...?

God likes to throw odd pitches to me at very strategic times, I've noticed.  Maybe He thinks I'm a good hitter and wants to challenge me...maybe it's a warning to say I should look out...maybe it's a test...maybe it's just Him laughing at me.  I don't know.  Sometimes He throws a curveball and I don't anticipate it (or know how to swing!), and sometimes He'll throw a slider and I'll basically run into the ground.  Whatever it is, it means that He's telling me something.  Oh, that I had ears to hear!

I got a pitch thrown at me recently, and it's in slow motion, so I'm not even sure if it IS a curveball.  All I know is that God is true to His word.  He told me that He has my life worked out for me.  So I guess I should stop worrying about the pitch and let Him tell me whether or not to swing instead of analyzing it from a thousand different angles.  Cooperation is the key.

SECTION TWO: A little more serious.

In dealing with frustrating situations, knowing that cooperation with God's grace and the situations in which I find myself can be directed toward a greater End: the greater glory of God and the salvation of my soul and of those souls around me.  It's important to remember that every action, every thought, every inclination, will be examined on the day of Judgment.  Everything will lead us further from Christ or closer to Him.  And we'll have to give an account of everything...EVERYTHING...at the end of our lives.  Modern society likes to tell us that there are no consequences, no rules, and nothing to worry about during life, and that there's nothing awaiting us after we die.  The Church knows something different...consequences are real, rules effectively gives us freedom rather than slavery, and that, after we pass from this fleeting life...there is Heaven or Hell forever.

This morning, Canon Jean-Marie Moreau, ICKSP, gave a homily that was nothing short of shocking.  It's the month of November (in your charity, please stop reading and say a prayer for the poor souls in Purgatory.  Pater Noster...Ave Maria...Gloria Patri...), so Father preached on the reality of Purgatory.  He said that the fire we know here on earth is a fire that was created for our convenience: cooking, heating, purifying, etc.  The fires in Purgatory are the same as the fires in Hell.  They were created for our inconvenience, for punishment.  The souls in Purgatory yearn to be relieved of their suffering and to be united with God. They can no longer help themselves while they are in Purgatory.  They rely on OUR prayers.

SECTION THREE: Some of you may not like this....

...but I've been reading Alice von Hildebrand's critique on Christopher West's take on A Theology of the Body, the popular work by Pope John Paul II on the meaning of human sexuality and love, and its relation to the Divine Persons.  Having read both the TOB (for a class at Ave Maria) and Alice von Hildebrand's critique, I very much recommend it to you.  The reason I bring this up at all is because I've gotten a few emails from an FSSP priest with various different resources on thoughts of the TOB.  (Side Note: He highly recommends reading St. Teresa of Avila's Interior Castle or St. Francis de Sales' Introduction to the Devout Life instead.  I must agree with him; trying to explore such mysteries without careful thought, great wisdom, and constant guidance is very dangerous.  Spiritual reading by the Doctors of the Church and the mystics is more edifying, tried-and-true, and conducive to salvation.)  However, if you are a TOB fan (or not!), you may find Mrs. von Hildebrand's reflections to be thought-provoking and beneficial to your own understanding.  You can find the link here.

When life gives you lemons...

Chuck them at people!

Not that I have any lemons at present.  :)  I just heard that yesterday on "Lie to Me" and thought it was brilliant.  On to better, greater thoughts...

America has set such a double standard.  If anyone twitches in the general direction of a Muslim, the media is outraged, nonsensical comments get posted on CNN, and people think it'll cause a nuclear strike against America in the coming weeks.  But when the Democratic party in Minnesota blatently attacks the Catholic Church, there are no such headlines, no outrages, no snide comments, no nothing.  On the one hand, we must be doing something right.  On the other...when will we stand up and fight for what we believe in?  Part of the reason that Islam is so powerful is that they are convinced of what they believe and will stop at nothing to achieve their goals.  When will Catholics have the same convictions?  Of course I'm not advocating blowing up people that don't believe as we do.  I am, however, advocating a renewal of true Catholic activism.  There's a lot of junk surrounding us in these days, and, as Catholics and as missionaries in the truest sense, it's our responsibility and obligation to work through it, be faithful, and save souls.  I don't care if you're a layman, husband, wife, student, child, priest, religious, bishop, the Pope, or run-of-the-mill apathetic cafeteria Catholic.  By virtue of your baptism and confirmation, you signed up in Christ's army.  Now it's time to fight the battles.  If you don't like it, don't pretend!!

"I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot. I would thou wert cold or hot.  But because thou art lukewarm and neither cold nor hot, I will begin to vomit thee out of my mouth." Apocalypse 3:15-16

Plans. Or lack thereof.

I'm not really famous for my cheery optimism or upbeat attitude.  Since being in San Francisco, however, I've received more compliments on my good work ethic and smiling face than I ever have in my life.  Maybe I'm good at faking it.  Or maybe that's the kind of results (read: happiness?) that you get when you try to do what God asks of you.

I didn't exactly beg God to let me end up in San Francisco after graduating.  In fact, I had a fantastic life plan, and a decent backup plan when that one proved to have failed.  But He asked something different of me and made it so that this was the only thing that worked out.  I had two choices: roll with it, come out here with no assurances on just blind faith, or deny Him and sit around doing nothing.  The choice was clear: this is what He was asking of me, and, no matter how afraid I was or how skeptical I was or how reluctant I was...this was it.  So now, I'm out here without a plan, save to go where He leads when He leads.  (I just pray it doesn't take too long!!)

God's will is a tricky thing.  I spent years discerning and praying for Him to show me His will about a million things.  Sometimes what I discerned was correct, sometimes it wasn't.  But it was always clear when the chips were down.  He doesn't hide His will from us; we hide ourselves from Him.

"Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to hear." - C.S. Lewis