Corpus Christ

I think I was a bit too much under the thrall of this morning's homily for the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ. My evidence is what happened while I was distributing Communion.

The priest at the 11:30 Mass was wired with a wireless mic that allowed him to move away from the ambo. Dear God I wish this would happen more often. I find it easier to connect to the message(s) when the homilist wanders into the nave without clutching a sheaf of papers. Note, I do mean into the nave and not into the pews as if we were at Michael Feldman's Whad'ja Know?

Stepping away from the ambo underscores how the homily is a teaching moment and serves to strengthen the link to how Jesus taught in addition to what Jesus said. Of course I realize not everyone is well suited to this teaching style. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has noticed that for some the ambo is a necessary prop in every sense of that word.

I was also captivated by the content of the homily which in addition to explaining what we believe about Real Presence, included a lesson about receiving Communion. That's right! We received a play book distinguishing among current forms of reverence, including what seemed a wistful reference to kneeling at altar rails and a somewhat bizarre reference to EM's making sure that the Host is consumed on the spot rather than taken home "for Satanic worship."

It was either during that part or the commentary about receiving on the tongue when I wished I hadn't been sitting in one of the front pews. I so wanted to observe the Body of Christ's facial expression and body language.

Alas, when it came time to distribute Communion I wasn't observing the Body of Christ closely enough to avoid placing the Host on the tongue of a very surprised woman who evidently wanted to receive Him in her hand. You may be wondering how this could possibly happen. No, I did not force her jaws open as if I were pilling a cat. Let's just say that we were both rather startled and then both tried to not laugh.

After Mass, when I went over to apologize, she confessed how in the wake of the homily she was so busy deciding between a head nod and a solemn bow that she neglected to get her hands up quickly enough. By the grace of Almighty God, I resisted saying anything about spiriting the Host home for God only knows what.

Take a Peek!

The cover design that has made everyone happy --
me, my editor, my friends, my mother...

Pub. date: July
Pre-orders through Morehouse/Church Publishing

An Author's Life

Last Friday I told a first-time author that the effort of writing is nothing compared to the work authors have to do once the thing is published. The economics of publishing are such that authors must get involved with their book's promotion -- or hire someone to do it for them.

These efforts generally include cleaning existing mailing lists, building new mailing lists, writing/rewriting promotional copy, tracking down cover endorsements, mailing out comp copies, researching and booking speaking gigs...the list goes on and on.

In reality, waiting until after publication to do most of this is too late, so now that I've signed off on 2nd pages, said yes to great cover art, and tweaked some cover copy, I'm morphing from author to marketing communications pro on my book's behalf.

According to my calculations, I've already plowed 10-12 hours into reviewing and revising and significantly expanding my publisher's media list. It's slow going even though I know what I'm doing. Could be worse, I could be stuck with dial-up instead of DSL. And to think I once built media lists by flipping through pages in Bacon's. Yipes!

Ah the human capacity to forget pain. This is what enables women to have more than one child, more than one marriage and, in my case, more than one published book.

So *that* explains it! (Judaism's Legacy #3)

It's Trinity Sunday and every other Catholic blogger has it covered, so I'm zooming in on what Aish.com has to report about 13 Iyar:

"In 1427, a decree was issued ordering all Jews expelled from Berne, Switzerland. Jews have wandered and settled in over 100 lands on five continents. Throughout the Middle Ages, Jews were subject to frequent expulsions. And amazingly, 90 percent of Jewish families were uprooted in the 20th century... This is prophesied in Leviticus 26:33: 'I will scatter you among the nations...' Yet amidst it all, the Jewish people have miraculously maintained their distinct national identity."

This would explain why I have a primal need to stay put and love holing up in the hermitage, although I guess this would also explain why so many Jews I know seem to have a primal need for foreign travel.

As for evidence of my enduring national identity as a Jew, there's no shortage of that in my Catholic Christian life. I'm thinking specifically of my inability to queue up on only one side of the buffet table at church receptions, behavior anchored in too many O.T. references to trot out here and now.

Back? Forward? Choir!

Looks like I may be back to choir after benching myself years ago, although doing so feels like forward movement on a variety of sacred fronts.

After months of visiting, I've opted for a church choir that usually ends its practice with prayers. Music ministry...what a concept. This choir sings from a loft, a setting that leads to a different set of antics than I've experienced while singing at floor level. It's also as hot as h-e-double hockey sticks up there but I don't care. I adore the perspective.

It was from this aerial view last Thursday that I happened to notice how the sanctuary below was starting to look like a theme park. What was up with all the BVM statues?

"It's May."

Oh. Right.

Let's Not Go There

Too irresistible to ignore is this latest supposition:

(AP) VATICAN CITY - Believing that the universe may contain alien life does not contradict a faith in God, the Vatican's chief astronomer said in an interview published Tuesday.

The Rev. Jose Gabriel Funes, the Jesuit director of the Vatican Observatory, was quoted as saying the vastness of the universe means it is possible there could be other forms of life outside Earth, even intelligent ones.

"How can we rule out that life may have developed elsewhere?" Funes said.

I understand the logic but as for me and my house, serving the Lord on this planet is quite enough of a challenge.

Oh happy day, it's cloudy and raining.

Not being sarcastic. It's dreary and rainy. By noon, two friends had already called to say hooray for me. They weren't being sarcastic either. They know I have summer seasonal affective disorder and that today's present darkness means I'm destined for cheerful productivity.

My tolerance for everything shortens as days get longer and the quality of sunlight becomes more insistent. Too much sunshine makes me tired, slightly nauseated, and bummed. I have to nap. I have to wait until early evening to putter around in my garden.

Years ago, I finally coated the windows of my home office and the deck slider doors with dark gray film. My deck furniture currently consists of a weathered wooden love seat. On it is a statue of the BVM embraced by tendrils of honeysuckle. Honeysuckle smells great at night and Mary by moonlight is a transcendent experience.

Come July, I’m usually very cranky because in addition to tolerating so much sunshine, I've had to endure endless jokes about vampires. I experience these as quite uncharitable, especially when coming from other Catholics. Don’t we get enough of these from folks who think transubstantiation is weird?

My Blush

If I'm reading anything while putting on cosmetics, its a potent combination of morning prayer in Magnificat and whatever In Touch Ministries is going on about. Not this morning.

This morning, I found myself reading the text on my blush compact. Seems I've been brushing on what Revlon calls "Softspoken Pink." That can't be right.

Scenes From an Ordination

As grace and early arrival would have it, I happened to grab an aisle seat at this morning's Ordination. Not only that, but my friend ended up next to me when it was time for him and eight other ordinandi to hit the cathedral floor. With very little effort, I could have knelt down to whisper, "May the Lord bless you and keep you." I didn't, of course, opting instead to silently pray this and the rest of Numbers 6:24-26 before joining the ongoing chant.

It may be a while before we discuss what it was like for him to be prostrate for the five minutes it took to chant the Litany of Supplication. Fine by me. I'm still processing the experience of my second ordination. During the rites, I was aware of being distracted by my internal conversation. The abbreviated version went something like this:

Me: "So just because of that scripture passage Catholics think only men should be deacons?"

Me again: "Oh relax, you already get to do most of this stuff without promising to obey the bishop and all his successors."

Me again: "Good Lord, who chose that music?"

Me again: "Oh relax, it's supposed to be prayer not performance."

None of this intrapsychic hoo-hah stopped me from tearing up during the Laying on of Hands, smiling during the Vesting with Stole and Dalmatic, and hearing what the Bishop said while placing the Book of Gospels into the hands of each newly-vested deacon:

Receive the Gospel of Jesus Christ,
whose herald you have become.
Believe what you read,
teach what you believe, and
practice what you teach.

Me again: "See? This is something we're all called to do."

I know this is true. Still, I remain stuck in a continuous loop of wondering about what the church actually honors as ministry. And eating prodigious amounts of superb food after Mass hasn't made a dent in this deeper hunger.

42nd World Communications Day -- Part II

Now I'm wishing the pope's message for the 42nd World Communications Day had arrived on my screen before I sent my final copy edits to Morehouse Publishing. B16's ongoing commentary about the perils of moral relativism continues in his message about social communications. He wrote:

"Today, communication seems increasingly to claim not simply to represent reality, but to determine it, owing to the power and the force of suggestion that it possesses...Hence, the impact of the communications media on modern life raises unavoidable questions, which require choices and solutions that can no longer be deferred."

But what I really wish could be included in The Word Made Fresh is his prayer:

"Let us ask the Holy Spirit to raise up courageous communicators and authentic witnesses to the truth, faithful to Christ's mandate and enthusiastic for the message of faith."

42nd World Communications Day -- Part I

Although yesterday was the Vatican-declared 42nd World Communications Day, I'm just getting around to posting about it now. The title set me back a bit: The Media: At the Crossroads between Self-Promotion and Service. Searching for the Truth in order to Share it with Others.

I immediately wanted to whip out my purple editing pen to debulk it. This, in turn, led to my musing about the fuss that would ensue. Some cleric would undoubtedly get twitched about my edits and then I'd have to explain that everyone's work, even the Holy Father's, benefits from copy editing.

To make this point, I'd wonder out loud if we know for a fact that the final Ten Commandments are the same ones Moses smashed when he saw what the ancient Israelites had been up to in his absence (Exodus 32). Maybe between the time Moses went berserk about the Golden Calf and went back up Mt. Sinai, God had tweaked either wording or ordering. Maybe Moses had some thoughts of his own during those forty days and nights without eating bread or drinking water (Exodus 34:27-28).

And maybe I'd go so far as to wonder out loud if Moses' face was "radiant" (Exodus 34: 29) because, after forty days and nights without physical sustenance, he needed protein and hydration. This would, of course, be wandering way off point -- something I'm working on, quite unsuccessfully, I should add.

I'd then have to explain that my musings fall within Judaism's fine tradition of midrash.

Guessing that no one in the pope's press office would have the patience for that, I decided dwelling on the title of our Holy Father's message was not worth the hassle. And so it came to pass around 11:30 PM last night, that I swapped my purple editing pen for a yellow highlighter and kept reading.

My BADD 2008

Posts for Blogging Against Disablism Day were due May 1. I signed up but didn't send anything in on time. Ruth (aka Wheelie Catholic) said that was okay. And I don't think Ruth said this simply because I was busy changing bed linens, cleaning the kitchen, scooping Buddy's poop, folding papers into envelopes and then putting stamps on them, vacuuming, emptying all the wastebaskets, setting up the next morning's coffee, and making a liverwurst sandwich for the next day's lunch. Among other things.

For anyone who doesn't already know, I'm Ruth's personal aide and after nearly five years, I cannot imagine my life without her. That's my story and I'm sticking to it, no matter how many observers occasionally cluck and wonder out loud: "why are you still doing this?" "isn't it time for you to move on?" "Easter Seals pays what???" and "can't Ruth find someone else?" I have answers for all these questions, but I can cover those in another post.

I was all set to write something for BADD 2008 from the perspective of an aide. But since I wasn't quite sure what that would be and didn't have time anyway, I decided to do the good Catholic thing and kiss it up to God.

What I needed to write about came to me this morning when I read her post "Lars, the Real Girl and her wheelchair." Please go read it now and then come back here. Or, if that's too burdensome, keep this in mind as you read her post: I watched this delightful movie and sang its praises to Ruth and told her she'd just absolutely love it.

Did I see that the Real Girl was in a wheelchair? Yes, I did. Did it register? Apparently not. So what does that mean? Does that mean that as a personal aide to a woman with quadriplegia wheelchairs have become so normative that I don't see them? I would love it if that was the reason.

Alas, I suspect that what's probably more true is that even as an aide to a woman with quadriplegia, I am not immune to the insidious nature of disablism -- the prejudices (attitudes, beliefs) and discrimination (behaviors) that can make living with a disability hellacious on many levels.

For all that and more I say, "mea culpa" which, ironically, means "my bad."