St. Teresa of Avila's words and the mountains near Avila:

From the Catechism of the Catholic Church, quoting St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas:

We all want to live happily; in the whole human race there is no one who does not assent to this proposition, even before it is fully articulated.

How is it, then, that I seek you, Lord? Since in seeking you, my God, I seek a happy life, let me seek you so that my soul may live, for my body draws life from my soul and my soul draws life from you.

God alone satisfies.

We recognize people through the altar

This picture shows that we are community and how we recognize people "through the altar, " or the altar where the most important things happen.

I found this today from an unknown student, probably drawn five years ago or more, possibly from even earlier. Not only is the artwork beautiful but also the language is powerful.

What might We recognize people through the altar mean?

Could it mean,through the sacrifice of the mass we see our humanity in Christ and then recognize it in the community?

This student (and I taught 8-, 9- and 10-year olds) expressed a deep understanding of how community expresses our deepest selves.

It may have a different meaning too that I would love to know.

Where's my sword?

I used to look at the sword tucked under the arm of the Joan of Arc statue at church and wonder "Where's my sword?" I thought I needed a champion or a sword or some kind of weapon in the world I perceived as hostile.

Yesterday, looking at the statue, I saw it meant something else.

The sword is tucked under her arm because she isn't using it. She doesn't need it: she has an army; she has armor; she has inspiration. A call from God. From our distance, maybe the details don't matter. She had an idea (she was given an idea?) that took her over, and she armored herself in it. People followed her.

There is what I saw: the best sword is an idea, and other people.Yesterday in church I was surrounded by love as the children in the program made their First Communion. The families, our team, the congregation, all of us in aggregate were an army of love.

And I had my sword. Instead of doing battle, we can march forward as a loving, building community. There are days (like yesterday) when I can say for sure, yes, this can be.

Two footnotes to that inspirational flight though:

She, Joan, did have a real sword, sharp, and people died. There are consequences. 

And we know how the story turned out for her. 

She, like most of the saints, are terrible models if we are afraid of death, suffering and disgrace.

Even if we are afraid, the saints can help us be less frightened; we can look to them for inspiration or we can pray for their intercession.

A culture of welcome

We live our belief through the lens of our experience. Because of our past, we may find religion comforting or discomforting. We may find ritual affirming, or it may occur for us as a dreary grind. What we notice in our religious observance generally falls into categories, and we dwell on one aspect, which may be a different aspect than what someone else dwell on. In the simplest example, some people find in the risen Christ, the king and judge, and others find in Him the gentle friend. Some notice majesty; some notice radical humility.

I was very affected by my time in the Episcopal community through St. John the Divine. For many years, I was an usher for the congregation, and for the large important ceremonies, we would have an orientation. One topic that has stayed with me all these years was the head of security there discussing how to deal with potentially dangerous people. (In the years after 9/11/2001, the Cathedral was on the top ten list of potential bombing targets, so we were to be extra vigilant.)

Despite the potential for danger, we were urged to be mindful of our primary mission of welcome.

How amazing is that! First, we are to love and welcome. Always, we are to love and welcome the stranger and the friend.

But shouldn't that be obvious? Why does it need to be said at all? Because it doesn't happen everywhere all the time, not there, not anywhere.

He cooks them breakfast!

We were privileged this week to hear again the Emmaus narrative. And I was privileged to listen to an inspiring homily by Fr. Michael Holleran. What is usually quoted is the effect on the disciples: "Their hearts were burning inside them."

Here's what resonated for me:

How intimate and tender Jesus is with the disciples. He talks with them; he cooks them breakfast.

He cooks them breakfast! Yes, of course, he feeds his friends, literally and figuratively. I hate cooking breakfast, but Jesus cooked fish on the shore for the disciples.

This week I am meditating on the ways that Jesus feeds me. I will say grace for every large and small intimate gift, for all the ways that I feel nourished, encouraged and inspired. It's a gentle flame, but my heart is on fire.

Together we form a perfect vessel

Reflecting on the last lecture in the Apostle's Creed catechist class:

I have long noticed how my faith grows the more I allow myself to be a part of my church community. Listening to others, whether it is their struggles or their passions, always helps me, either as inspiration or a guide. (The first time I felt this strongly were in my reaction to four casual words from someone I had not previously taken seriously. She wasn't in my social group, she wasn't an intellectual, but what she said hit me in the core, and reshaped what I chose to do. I believe the Holy Spirit spoke to me through her, inspiring her beyond anything she could have known.)

Sometimes it is experiencing the affection and friendship of the community that helps me experience God’s presence.

The lecture quotes this:

“Not only are we gathered around him, we are united in him. In this unity there is diversity of members and functions. "There is only one Spirit who, according to his own richness and the needs of the ministries, gives his different gifts for the welfare of the Church." (Lumen Gentium 7) This unity with Christ and among ourselves produces charity and breaks down barriers of ethnicities, cultures, gender. societal structures (CCC # 791)

I take this to mean : together, with all our imperfections and strengths and daily sufferings, small and large, we form a perfect vessel for God’s hidden reality. Even though we are, individually, leaky, flawed containers. 

Another aspect of the community of saints that I love is our connection to those gone before, those recognized as saints by the Church. In their lives – and so many different kinds of lives! – we can be inspired or be guided. And we have the extra blessing of our connection through prayer to their living intercession and prayer. 

So that we can be--in community--perfect.

Cheaper than an ipad

Our students have been collecting money for the Heifer Project for the third year in a row. Last week in our discussion, William noticed that a water buffalo, a magnificent creature, cost less than an ipad. We can do this! he said.

Today we had another discussion about the same comparison -- the massive utility of a water buffalo vs. the sleek, fleeting pleasure of an ipad. How long does each one last, or live? What can you really do with an ipad, or with a water buffalo? It's such an absurd, modern comparison.

Some of the group couldn't imagine such a massive animal. One girl commented that a water buffalo wasn't much use in the city.

What I took from the discussion was that the remove so many of our children have now from the natural world isolates them, from others in more 'natural' setting, from humanity's communal past, from the gloriousness of creation that is, like God's grace, always available.

I once had a student recently arrived from Bangladesh. He liked the Bronx, but he really lit up for me describing how elephants were used routinely, in a daily manner to move heavy objects and uproot trees.

I still wish I could bring lambs into my classes.  While I cannot bring a live animal, maybe I can at least evoke the possibility of a more integrated understanding.  Can that spark of the natural world live in our imagination amidst the paved city?