Music Monday--Gelineau "Responsorial Psalm 23"

Yesterday was Good Shepherd Sunday and I made sure to fit this version of the 23rd psalm in as a communion meditation hymn. It is my favorite version of Psalm 23.

 

What if God Were One of Us?

Frank Weathers @YIMCatholic has a thought-provoking post about the glee with which we Christians seem to like to pin atheists to the wall in our blogosphere and social media comments.

How tempting it is to do this--but how unchristian. We really need to start treating others the way we would want to be treated--even when it hurts. Why? Because God is "one of us."

Book Review--Mrs. Kennedy and Me--An Intimate Memoir

Mrs. Kennedy and Me: An Intimate Memoir by Clint Hill

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


"Mrs. Kennedy and Me" may be an intimate memoir but it is not a tell-all, gossipy book. Clint Hill keeps his cards close to his chest while taking us through the emotions he felt from the moment he found out he would be assigned to guard Mrs. Kennedy after the 1960 election, to the time, a year after the assassination, when they parted company for the last time.

In spite of this book not being a scandal-mongering book, Hill's memoir may go a certain distance in squelching the conspiracy theories (for those not hell-bent on believing them.) He does tell, for instance, the reason they had to switch caskets for the president is because the original casket wouldn't fit into Air Force One unless the Secret Service pulled off the handles, which they did.

All in all, it is a good read for history buffs, and for those who lived through this particular period in our nation's history.



View all my reviews

Sunday Snippets, A Catholic Carnival

Sunday Snippets is brought to you each week by RAnn at This, That and the Other Thing.

It's been a little while since I've done a Sunday Snippets. Back on April 3, I highlighted pioneering female photographer Julia Margaret Cameron. Her work has a very contemporary feel to it despite being one of the very earliest photographers.

We also read a beautiful poem by Susan Windley-Daoust about the woman who anointed Jesus' feet with perfumed oils.

There was also a post about Good Friday and the lamb used to test snake bite venom.

I also have a post about Jesus wanting peace for us, one about Dick Clark and Memento Mori, and one on social media and losing friends.

Is having "friends" in social media worth losing those in real life?

I am becoming very discouraged at the non-tolerant rhetoric I see on various social media regarding religion, and specifically, Catholicism.

Social media, apparently, gives people carte blanche to rant and rail against values long held dear by friends and loved ones (we're not talking strangers here) who they know read their feeds and pages.  Is this a deliberate punch in the stomach or are they so narcissistic as to think everyone values their insults?

If these things were said within the hearing of these "misinformed" friends and relatives, they would quickly lose the contact they currently enjoy with these people.  Is that what the goal is, or, again, are they so narcissistic as to think that someone would sit in a room with them, hear them insult values and things they dearly love, smile and go on as usual?

Do those of us on the receiving end of all this "enlightenment" lower ourselves to the abusive rhetoric?  I'm afraid that would not be productive, but I'm also afraid that doing nothing leaves ourselves (and our Church) open to insults and gives these people the impression that their rantings are morally neutral.

Is having "friends" in social media worth losing those in real life?

Dick Clark and Memento Mori

Dick Clark died today at the age of 82.  He was the perpetually youthful host of American Bandstand, beginning his career as a DJ in the early 1950's, at the start of the youth cult that remains strong to this day.  As such, he was dubbed "America's oldest teenager."

So many of us in that and succeeding generations have a very difficult time with aging.  I read the other day that those on television are now getting chin implants so they look better on screen.  We nip, we tuck, we dye, we suck--all to distract ourselves from the obvious--that we, like everyone else, will die.

As I get older, I am losing more and more of my friends and relatives to cancer. No amount of plastic surgery, or even exercise and healthy eating for that matter, will prevent us from one day facing the end of our life on earth. What matters is that we live each day with gratitude to our Creator for the life we have been given and that we try to live it with all the integrity we can muster, with the help of that same creator.

Memento Mori. 

This is why we have funereal traditions.  This is why we have Lent.  Not to depress us--to remind us, when life itself may not--of the reality of this temporal existence.

Jesus wants for us, first of all--PEACE.

Today's Gospel on this Feast of Divine Mercy, tells the story of Jesus appearing to the disciples who were hiding in fear after His crucifixion.  The first thing he said to this confused, guilt-ridden group of followers was "Peace be with you."  That is His wish for us.

Peace.

He wants us to forgive each other. He wants us to forgive ourselves.  The very next thing Jesus does in this story is to impart on the Apostles the power to declare sins forgiven.  This was the crux of His ministry and something he wanted His followers to pass on--Forgiveness.

His Church, though full of horrid sinners, or perhaps, *because* of that, is the means through which He wants to pour out His mercy on the whole world.

He is waiting for each of us.

Help us to show Divine Mercy

Jesus, Divine Mercy, please help us to show each other the same mercy that you show to us.  

The Lord is Risen!

The Lord is risen indeed!  Alleluia! 

Behold the Wood of the Cross

The "Why" of Good Friday

I heard a beautifully clear explanation for Jesus' death on the cross on Word to Life on the Catholic Channel.

The speaker likened it to the process that takes place when they make anti-venom for victims of snake bites.  A bit of venom is injected into an animal that has never come in contact to the poison (often a lamb) until the animal has built up a strong immune response.  Then the blood of the lamb can be used in making anti-venom to save snake bite victims.

I really like this analogy. Christ is the Lamb of God who took upon himself the poison of evil and hatred so that we, by His Blood, can be made clean.  The idea of being healed by the blood of a spotless victim fits in nicely with the Eastern Christian theology of salvation being a healing from God.

I later realized, too, that we can partake of His Blood in Holy Communion at Mass.

We are truly healed by Christ's sacrifice.

Poetry Wednesday----Susan Windley-Daoust

In searching for an appropriate poem for Holy Week, I came across this one by Susan Windley-Daoust at Ironic Catholic.  She writes of the woman (some say this was Mary Magdalene) who anointed Jesus with expensive perfume while he was having dinner at the home of Simon the leper in Bethany. Some of those in attendance were scandalized and thought she should have given the money to the poor, but Jesus told them,

“Let her alone; why do you bother her? She has done a good deed to Me. For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you wish you can do good to them; but you do not always have Me. She has done what she could; she has anointed My body beforehand for the burial.Truly I say to you, wherever the gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be spoken of in memory of her."

In Memory of Her

"Leave her alone."

And for the rest of her life, they do.

They are not supposed to look at me, but

Sidelong glances and traitorous sounds tell them

I am crying.

And words I want to say are choked, stillborn.

I can't tell them how I knew

unless you too, see its obvious

that he was not meant to stay with us forever.

He seemed to know it that day,

the way he ate, so slowly, deliberately,

staring at people, boring into their eyes,

the occasional pause, blink,

seeing something we could, or would, not.

He was with us, and not,

and I knew it was time.

So I rushed to get the jar of spikenard,

my dowry,

and stepped over reclining men,

to his mat.

With a pleading glance, I knelt down

Cracked the seal,

and poured out a portion, then the whole, of my hope,

on his head, and then his feet.

Kneeling at those calloused feet, I wept

with my knowledge of what this means:

I have given my future

To this man, who will die.

As that perfume filled the room,

He smiled, lifting my chin, and addressed me:

"...you will not always have me.

She has done what she could.

She has anticipated annointing my body for burial.

Amen, I say to you, whenever this gospel is proclaimed to the whole world,

what she has done will be told..."


So I was left alone by men.

No one understood then;

truth, I barely understood myself.

But, in that gift, my center shifted

And I knew--despite his coming death--that I was meant to be alone, for him, somehow.


The day after the catastrophe,

I looked at the broken jar

I remembered the fragrance

And I hoped.

Art and Beauty Tuesday--Julia Margaret Cameron

I have recently become aware of the early (19th century) photographer, Julia Margaret Cameron.  When other photographers were taking stiff and formal pictures, with no nuance or art, Cameron was photographing people with amazing attention to light.  Her subjects were either "stripped down", in simple clothing or dressed as believable characters, angels, Madonna and Child poses, or characters from plays.

This photograph is my favorite, of her niece, Julia.  The pose, lighting and dress are amazingly modern.  There is no affectation here.  She looks straight into the camera without the mask of costume, or even of a smile.

Without knowing it she has used many modern photographic portraiture techniques.  With only natural light available to her, her subject has what is called a "hair light"--light falling on the top of the head, on the hair.  She uses what is now called "Rembrandt Lighting"--the face is in half-shadow, with, in this case, barely discernible, "Rembrandt triangle" of light seen on the cheek of the shadow side of her face.  We see the important "catch-light" in her eyes--that little dot of light that makes the subject look alive.

In this example, her lack of costume or even any discernible period dress, makes her someone who could have been photographed at any time or place.  She could be us.