The Eucharist, The Cross, The Empty Tomb

If we were playing a game show like the $25,000 Pyramid or Jeopardy the response might be "Things a Catholic Priest is Likely to Mention at the Mass of the Lord's Supper".  And, sure enough, Monsignor Rick Hilgartner mentioned these three--not just independently but together at the Mass on Thursday.

The Catholic church sees the time from the Mass on Thursday (a very special mass at which we celebrate when the Lord served his apostles by washing their feet--most likely the topic for my final Lenten experience blog tomorrow) through the Easter Vigil mass as the Triduum.  The Triduum is the great three days--or the three day period during which we celebrate the Last Supper, the crucifixion, and the waiting the apostles did before the discovery of the empty tomb on Easter.

Monsignor not only mentioned these three, but, amusingly, he mentioned it within the context of the Baltimore Orioles.  How did he link those?  With the mass on the day before the opening day of the Orioles season, he reflected on local expectations of the Orioles season (which are poor, although the Orioles did win their first game).  When he talked about how low the expectations are, he also mentioned that solving the problems the Orioles have is not something that can be done with a single change.  The Orioles have a set of problems and solving the set of problems would require a whole set of solutions.

Similarly, Catholics celebrate the Eucharist each week.  It is in celebration of the Last Supper.  The Last Supper would have been only a philosophical discussion if it were not for the crucifixion on the cross (the cross behind the altar being a prominent feature in Catholic churches) the next day.  And the value of either of those would have been lost if not for the empty tomb on the third day.  So, if a person liked feeling like a part of the body of Christ (literally and figuratively as the members of the church today act as the hands and feet of Christ on earth) by receiving the Eucharist but don't buy how harsh the crucifixion was or don't buy the Resurrection then what is there.  Or if a person likes to believe in Resurrection but not the other two, there is something lacking.

What Monsignor emphasized was the need to buy the "whole package".  To buy all of what Jesus did.  And while the discussion was mostly about the things between the Last Supper and Easter, Monsignor also alluded to buying the whole set of things that Jesus preached and Jesus did.

So, once again, I was reminded of being "all in."  Except in this case instead of putting "my whole self in" (to quote the Hokey Pokey) it is putting my whole self around a whole set of beliefs.  Sometimes taking just part of the beliefs really doesn't work.  And this is one of those times.  It is a challenge to buy the "entire set of beliefs" for any church, religion, or philosophy.  But there are difficulties with being a cafeteria Catholic as well.

So, am I "all in" when it comes to this set of issues?  As far as the Triduum yes.  For all Catholic beliefs--there are some with which I struggle, but that is a part of my continued growth.  

1-2-3 Loyalty!

Yes, this morning's title looks like a team cheer in kids' sports.  All three of my kids' sports activities (most prevalent for the youngest but the older two each did some) particularly at the YMCA ended with a cheer.  For them it was usually "team work".  Back on My Feet gatherings also end that way.  When we have all city gatherings, we usually just cheer "Back on My Feet!" after the serenity prayer.  Each team usually ends the workout after stretching with a cheer.

As the coach who most often leads stretches for the Christopher's Place group, I am also the one who usually calls the group to "bring it in" afterwards. Today, that gave me yet another opportunity to bring together my physical exercise interests with my spiritual healing from Sheba passing.

When we were done stretching today, I first made sure that there were no milestone awards to give out.  The resident runners get awards after completing various numbers of miles of running.  Then, I made sure there was nothing else to celebrate--for example on Wednesday we celebrated April birthdays and had some homemade brownies.  On that day we just cheered "Happy Birthday".  Then, I called everyone in.

Most days, when I try to figure out what to cheer "on 3," I'll just get a sense of the group.  Or something will come up.  The "Happy Birthday" example is an obvious one.  When a resident runs really well or gets a job, we'll cheer for him. When I qualified for Boston, my team cheered "Boston".  Occasionally, I'll have to ask for suggestions.  Usually they don't require much explanation.

Today, I told my team that I had a request.  I explained (for those who didn't know) that we'd buried Sheba earlier this week.  Then, I commented on how loyal she was (as most dogs are).  Then, I added that there is an incredible sense of loyalty to the organization and among members of the organization among participants in Back on My Feet.  So I asked my team to cheer for loyalty "on 3" and they gladly did.

It was a feeling of empowerment.  My heartache could be turned into a joyful and uplifting moment for the group.  And the sense of loyalty is certainly shared.  A sense of what anyone in the organization would do for another.  From joining the other on a run to a hug to attending a ceremony of relevance for those members who are trying to get back on their feet.

With loyalty comes a sense of being "all in".

And that is how an end of workout team cheer this morning helped me to continue on my way to spiritual healing this week.   

"Practice" or "A Practice"

When I was reading Chi Running while Sherry and I were on vacation recently, there was a point in the book at which the author made a distinction between needing to practice something and making something a practice.  I looked for definitions online, and the first use is one we are all familiar with--doing something over and over to improve. The second use is also familiar but a little more subtle.  It is mostly a usual and customary way of doing something.  Many times, a person will need to practice something before it becomes a practice.  But just because a person practices, and maybe even becomes proficient at doing something does not necessarily mean that the person will make whatever it is a practice.  Practicing just requires repeating something.  Making something a practice, in my mind, requires a consequential change in the way that I lead my life.  It requires more of a definitiveness. It requires, to use the expression that I've used throughout my Lenten reflections, being "all in," at least as far as a particular activity or way of doing things is concerned.

As I am now on only the second morning of waking up without having to feed and water the dog and let her out, I notice how much I had made care for all three pets a practice in my morning routine.  There are a variety of other things that I make a practice of in my family life and my career.  One of the goals moving forward, is to realize that there are probably too many things that I was trying to make a practice of, and to focus on a subset and move forward better with those.  To truly be "all in" with the things I am making a practice of while other things get left behind.  Making a practice of better prioritization is key.

But the most important thing that I've made a practice of during this Lenten season that I did not before was daily reflection on my spiritual well being.  Sometimes tied directly to my physical (through all the ties between running and spirituality) and sometimes just standing on is own.  Regardless, I don't know that I'll have the time to write every day after the Lenten season is over, but I do want to try to continue to make spiritual reflection a practice in my daily life.  A usual part of my daily life.  It is a luxury to be able to do so--as there are many other things on my to do list that sometimes suffer--but it is a healthy luxury that helps me to move forward, to continue to grow, and to continue to deepen my understanding of my own spiritual needs, the spiritual needs of those around me, and the the relationship between my spiritual needs and other parts of my life  

Job 12: 7-10 and a Tribute to Sheba (Don't Read if You Don't Want to be Sad)

Yesterday, the vet came to our house to euthanize our dog.  Emailing and speaking to the vet on Monday to ask her to come over was incredibly disturbing to me.  But by yesterday morning when whatever spark we had seen in Sheba last Friday (when we had taken her to the vet for a visit that we had expected to be her last on Thursday of last week) was gone, we knew it was the right thing to do.  And when I say the spark was gone, it was totally and completely gone.

The process of helping the dog along her way to death seemed pretty straightforward.  She was already so tired and in what finally looked like such pain that she could barely get up to walk.  My sons and I will have stories to tell about a ramp on our steps for the last two days of her life.  Not quite a MacGyver moment, but definitely a bit of ingenuity.  

I did get her up from the spot she'd found in the sun early yesterday afternoon to sit nearer a place where I could sit and just pet her until the vet arrived.  The vet had what looked like supplies for the process inside (in particular a blanket to put the dog on in case she urinated or defecated upon death), but since she was outside and looked pretty much at peace already, the tech and the vet decided just to perform the process where she was.  When she was given the injection for the sedative, she didn't even fight the tech holding her mouth closed.  More than anything else we'd seen the past several days, the complete lack of fighting back showed that our dog was ready.  Last week on Friday at the vet's office she still needed to be muzzled.  Whatever declining path she was on was simply interrupted for one trip to the vet and a glorious weekend over which she got up and walked around one last time--eating freshly cooked meat and lots of treats.  Reminding us of the incredible dog she had been and the part of our family she was for about ten years.

So, while today's reading was not on the list of things I'd planned to blog about before Easter--usually a time to celebrate new life--I looked for references to dogs or animals in the Bible.  There are some obvious ones such as several in Genesis.  But I stumbled upon Job 12: 7-10

But now ask the beasts to teach you, the birds of the air to tell you;
Or speak to the earth to instruct you, and the fish of the sea to inform you.
Which of all these does not know that the hand of God has done this?
In his hand is the soul of every living thing, and the life breath of all mortal flesh.

Now, it is important to realize the context of this passage.  Job is a book in which a man has much taken away and is struggling with the reason for suffering.  This passage is about looking for answers to why people who don't follow God were prosperous and the Catholic bible footnote describes this as "a bitter parody of the power of God."  

But if we take these verses for what they are, they remind us of two things.  Animals can teach us a lot.  And this passage raises an interesting question about souls.

First, what can we learn from animals?  Dogs are quite loyal.  While Sheba was one of the most stubborn dogs we've ever met (she could still fight against going where you wanted her to go even in her weakest moment until the very very end), she was incredibly loyal to us and incredibly protective of us.  She was a wonderful companion.  She would sit with me.  She would sit and wait for me.  She helped me in my return to a healthy lifestyle (of exercise) starting in 2006.  I will be forever in debt to her for needing to be walked so far when we first got her.  I remember walking a 10K distance with her once.  She was "all in" when it came to my family.  And that sometimes caused us grief.  She bit a worker at a kennel one time--we thought the worker behaved pretty stupidly to provoke her, but nevertheless, my dog earned a reputation there and we never returned.  She barked an awful lot even when we tried to get her to calm down.  She once killed a mouse--seeming to be bothered that it was usually the cat's job.  She chased many squirrels out of our yard, and we think that she kept woodpeckers away from our kids playground equipment until last summer when she was kenneled for a week and we found a lot more damage that had ever occurred before.  She also taught patience.  Not 100%--when she needed to go out, she really needed to go out.  But when it came to waiting for dinner or waiting for a walk, she just sat.  And looked.  And waited.  And she taught us, at the end, the importance of just letting go.  To the degree that a dog known when it is time, yesterday she did.  But as one last sign of her stubbornness the sedative didn't put her to sleep.  She got very calm, but was still awake as the vet and the tech began the process of finding the vein for the final med to bring her peace.

Second, what about souls?  Here, the Catholic church teaches that animals do not have souls.  Yet, the one verse in Job says, "In his hand is the soul of every living thing."  And, there are many ideas about dogs (or pets in general) going to heaven.  Several people sent me a poem about the Rainbow Bridge--which is another interesting link to other parts of life as my kids' elementary school uses the concept of a rainbow bridge to welcome children to elementary school.  Whether my dog has a soul or not--I don't want to debate Catholic theology at the moment.  But my dog clearly had a living spirit.  It was clearly alive and motivating her.  And, as she breathed her last, I envisioned her spirit, finally set free from being trapped in a declining body.  Getting up and running.  Running to chase the squirrels and the birds.  Running to great the next door neighbor dogs.  Running to bark at a dog in the back alley or a dog being walked out front.  Running ahead on a walk. Running--running--running.  Living.  Exuberant.  Welcoming.  Everything that is positively associated with dog.  And running off to a place where she can be free, safe, comfortable, and at peace.

I cried yesterday.  I've been tearing up as I write this.  I'm sure I'll cry again.  Even my sixteen year old--who was completely trying to hold it together--posted a picture of our dog on his FB page.  It was hard to cry as we prepared to bury her yesterday.  Digging a sufficiently deep whole is hard work.  But we all worked together, and we all were together as we finally laid her to rest.  For a family drawn in so many different directions so much of the time, it completely brought us together.  Will that togetherness and unity last? We shall see.

In conclusion, this morning was a weird wake-up.  Every morning for the past ten years, I have awakened to feed the dog, provide her some water, open the door, and let her out.  I've had the chance to greet her and be greeted by her.  I've had a chance to pet her.  I already miss that.  I think even the cats do too.

Empty Promises

On Sunday at mass, Father Sam treated the sign of peace (a usual part of the Catholic mass between the Lord's Prayer and the distribution of the Eucharist) in the way he typically does during Lent.  We had a chance to great the priest with peace (under the new responses, the priest says, "Peace be with you," and the congregation returns, "And with your spirit.") but he asked us to simply search our hearts rather than to offer each other peace.  Father Sam will ask us to offer each other peace again starting on Easter Sunday.

What was interesting was the way he cast it.  He pointed out that the sign of peace is sometimes called the kiss of peace.  Just after having read the story of the passion of Christ, where Judas gave Jesus a kiss as a sign of who should be arrested.  Father Sam commented that, of all Sundays, Palm Sunday is the one on which the kiss of peace has such a diametrically meaning to what we think of in the mass setting.

What he asked us to consider was weather our promises of peace (or promises and commitments in general, in my opinion) were as empty as Judas's kiss of peace in the story of the betrayal of Jesus.

Being "all in," a recurrent theme for me during this Lenten season, would mean minimizing the number of empty promises I make and follow through on the greatest number of promises/commitments.  And, of course, in the long run simply stop making promises that I can't keep.   

Good Enough (or Not?): James 1:22

Despite running my best half marathon ever--whether it truly was 13.1 or as most of us with GPS devices had it closer to 13.25--I have been pondering whether I raced, "hard enough." Why has this been bugging me when it is not like I am on a competitive team? When I tell myself, "You are only competing to get your own best time?" When, if I had placed one higher I would not have been drawn to Psalm 18 yesterday? When I really should be considering the race an accomplishment?

While teaching Sunday school yesterday, I figured out why. It came to me as I was mostly thinking. We have two third grade classes, and yesterday we all met together. The other teacher took the lead while I helped, so I had time to think. And what I realized was that there is a key difference between good enough and best. On report cards when I was in third grade we had satisfactory and outstanding. The key question is whether satisfactory is good enough. If I could have done better but didn't what does that say?

And it all comes back to the story of St Sebastian. The story tells us (regardless of whether it is fact or just a story) that there was one attempt on his life that he survived. I don't know enough about the stories of various saints to know whether being "almost a martyr" is enough to get sainthood, but he may have been named a saint just for the recovery from the archers. Who knows? The key is once he recovered he didn't just sit back and say, "I've done enough." He continued on the path to argue for God.

So, I've set two personal bests for the year. While I have reasons for not running another full marathon this year, what is my attitude toward another half marathon. If I were to run another, would it be "just for fun"? Would it be "to pace a friend"? Or would I run it to try to continue to improve?  Have I become complacent?

On the one hand, I have to realize that at some point I will plateau. I guess I am stuck trying to figure out whether to anticipate that plateau or to always push myself as hard as I can unless I am purposefully pacing a friend. I once asked myself, "If I don't push as hard as I can, why bother registering for and running a race rather than just going out for a Saturday jog?" If I stop asking myself that question, what does it mean? And what would it mean if I only went out for jogs either by myself or with a group but never pushed myself to my limits?

And, of course, all this comes back to general spirituality in ways that extend well beyond the story of St. Sebastian for me. Religion is not supposed to be about just hearing and passively observing. Religion is not supposed to be complacent.  Religion is supposed to be about doing. Take James 1:22:

Be doers of the word and not hearers only, deluding yourselves.

A good lesson to take forward for life in general. Maybe, once again, I have to think about which activities and how many activities. But whatever activities I undertake should be whole hearted rather than half-assed (excuse the language but there is no better expression I could think of to end today's entry).

Psalm 18

Yesterday I ran my first half marathon of the year and completed my second running goal of the year. Having reached a personal best for the marathon three weeks ago (which was enough to qualify to register for Boston and put my marathon running otherwise on hold for a while), I decided to set out to run a "post-return-to-running" (i.e. since 2009) best at each of the following distances this year--marathon, 20 miler, half marathon, 10 miler, 10K, 5K, mile. As of yesterday, I can check "half marathon" off the list. I was blessed to run a 1:33:09 (I thought :08 yesterday but the official timekeeper says :09). That was a great feeling--although I had a cramp/stitch in my right side that I have not experienced during a race in a long time.

In any case, I was 18th overall. Two straight races in which I was 18th overall leads me to see a pattern and leads me to look for a connection to my spiritual life as I enter the last week of my commitment to daily writing. (I'll continue to write, just not necessarily ever day). So, as I turned to the Bible for some type of interpretation, I looked to the Psalms (from which I have been drawing much strength and inspiration lately). Psalm 18 verses 2 and 3 (from the New American Bible Revised Edition):

He said: I love you, LORD, my strength,
LORD, my rock, my fortress, my deliverer,
My God, my rock of refuge, my shield, my saving horn, my stronghold!

Then, it goes on to talk about winning over enemies because of a trust in God. That is interesting, but not where I find a lot of inspiration unless I translate winning over enemies to overcoming challenges more generally. I am also drawn by verses 22-32 and 50:

For I kept the ways of the LORD; I was not disloyal to my God.
For his laws were all before me, his decrees I did not cast aside.
I was honest toward him; I was on guard against sin.
So the LORD rewarded my righteousness, the cleanness of my hands in his sight.
Toward the faithful you are faithful; to the honest man you are honest;
Toward the pure, you are pure; but to the perverse you are devious.
For humble people you save; haughty eyes you bring low.
For you, LORD, give light to my lamp; my God brightens my darkness.
With you I can rush an armed band, with my God to help I can leap a wall.
God’s way is unerring; the LORD’s promise is refined; he is a shield for all who take refuge in him.
Truly, who is God except the LORD? Who but our God is the rock?
Thus I will praise you, LORD, among the nations; I will sing praises to your name.

In these past few days when I have been challenged by the health of the family dog (whom we see as a family member even more when she is sick than when she was perfectly healthy), the strength that I draw from my belief in God is quite important.  God can be my rock of refuge and my stronghold (from verse 3).  The remainder is also important.  It is an acknowledgment of the responsibilities that come with following God.  I am not perfect--in any way, shape, or form.  But I, like the writer of the Psalm, try to guard against sin.  I try to be faithful and honest to God.  I try to be pure.  I try to be humble.  With God, I don't know that I can leap a wall, but I can run a marathon and many people would claim that the two are as difficult.  God is my rock.  And every weekend I sing praises to his name as I contribute to the worship band at our church.

This latest example of an interesting tie in between my running (or the places in races that relate to my running) and my personal and spiritual life continues to amaze me.  The gifts that we get through having an active relationship with our beliefs (whatever those beliefs may be) are astounding and are enough to life my spirits even when times are tough (saw a comment about church lifting spirits as I was channel surfing and came across a Waltons marathon on the Hallmark channel yesterday).  Perhaps, some would say, that the reason to lift ones spirits is all an illusion and I should just deal with the downsides of life.  However, I find it much more healthy for me to draw on some directed sense of beliefs, values, and spirituality to guide my life.

Each person must make the decision of whether to look for such comforts on their own.  I only hope that my journey has been interesting to others during this Lenten season.