A Yet-Unfulfilled Mission?

A great person once said that the first millennium of Christian faith was the millennium of the monastic. The second millennium of the Christian faith was the millennium of the secular ordained. And he said that he felt this next millennium of Christian faith would be the millennium of the laity, and let it be so.

A friend of mine has recently lamented our approach to the vocation of marriage. When looking at the diocese website she finds that, in the discussion of various vocations, there is information on the monastic life and on the life of the secular clergy, but a vocation to marriage is only mentioned in passing at the end, and even then only alluded to. What do we think of the vocation of marriage? Is it so base and common that it hardly counts as a vocation? And yet I read an anecdote, I believe in an article written by Ron Rolheiser, of an ascetic who returns home after seven years in the desert meditating on the Eucharist of Christ to see that his mother, who has never had a moment in her life of her own because of chasing after children and living the family life, is a deeper contemplative than he is. And this because she learned to give herself fully over to God, as she had given herself over to her family. Her family became a model teaching her how to give herself fully to God.

I am presently reading a book on one of the greatest mystics of our time, reading her writings and commentary on them, and marking my way through it so that I might learn and apply to my life what she learned and what she felt and what she can teach us and me. She was a nun, although a nun living in the world. And we all venerate the greatness of God through her life and actions in Calcutta. She was a nun, one who was set apart by God from the more common life of marriage and working 9-5 to return home, leaving work for the day. We can't be like her unless we deny the flesh and devote our bodies and our spirits solely to God in the way that she did. Can we?

I also see our respect and deference to the secular clergy. His Grace, Archbishop Thomas Collins, really is a spectacular man and a man of deep spiritual leading, I believe. In the hearts of many he is even akin to a celebrity, and I will confess to having succumbed to that feeling as well at times. He leads the Church in Toronto and inspires holiness in its youth and a passion for the will of Christ. And these things are all true. People follow his leading to Christ. We can't be like him unless we deny the flesh and devote our bodies and spirits solely to God in the way that he does. Can we?

Or can we? The Church has many heroes and heroines who denied their sexuality and followed Christ. Is it possible to have our Mother Teresas and Archbishop Thomas Collins among those who follow Christ to a family? For indeed Christ must lead us to bear families and serve him in the family life. If he does not, then we who raise families truly are weaker and less holy than those of the consecrated life by our very nature. If he does not, the Kingdom of God is torn apart by a caste system. And then we, who feel strongly, powerfully, truly called to raise a family for Christ... what of us?

No, we must have our own vocation which is as blessed and as holy as to the monastic life and as to the secular clergy. Whether it be recognised officially in the Church, whether it be recognised colloquially by the people, whether we can accept a vocation to such deep holiness as Christ can raise up in the life of a family, it must be true. Marrying is not simply succumbing to our passions and the lusts of the flesh: it is worshiping God with our whole bodies and experiencing the passion of the Eucharist in an intense and one-forming way, making us one with each other and one with God, and indeed His whole Church.

Can we have a married Mother Teresa? I do not know; but by the Grace of God I must believe that He will raise me up to be that, and that He will do so in the family He has called and indeed driven me to partake in.

Holy Thursday

I'm amazed at how much I do not remember of what happens on a given day during Easter. For example, I forgot that Holy Thursday means a foot washing ceremony. Father Pat did not call on me as one of his random people from the congregation, but all the same, it was a wonderful service. And again I was blessed to be able to keep vigil with our Lord in the garden.

I read a portion of Mother Teresa, Come Be My Light and was struck with how close I feel to the words I read in one of her letters. She spoke of things in her past which I struggle with and fight against now, namely pride. And she spoke about once having a fear of crosses, but now embracing them before they even come. This was encouragement to me, as I am sometimes blessed to see that a cross will be coming to me, and it does strike fear in me and I am ashamed of it. She has much consolation and wisdom to share for me. I do know some of what I have been called to do, although the specifics are not yet present in my mind. It frightens me because I know that I am too proud and because of such a vice I should not be given any such gift, but yet I am given it all the same. This pride that lives in my heart of hearts cuts and scratches as a thorn and a burr and in doing so, keeps and shall keep me humble. I can only hope that this is true and I will truly learn it.

A Prayer

Easter looms large in my vision. Tomorrow is Holy Thursday.

Lord, I wonder why you have given me what you have? And I both fear and hope that it is because of this season. But if it is, I will be sad at having lost this intimacy with you. But if it is not, I will, shamefully, feel the relief of someone no longer looking over my shoulder. But really, I want you to guide me so closely. I want to obey you in your directions which have such clarity. It is my fear of where you are leading that makes me hesitant. But I should not fear my destination, because if you are taking me there, you will be with me. More fearful would be to remain here in a pleasance without you than to go into trial with you. And so I suppose I must go with you. You who speaks through me must be with me and carry me forward as a rushing stream and help me to trust in you to guard me and prepare me as needed. And if you are for me, who can be against me? So tomorrow I will begin the walk to Calvary with you. And once it is finished, and once you are risen indeed, let me take up my cross with you and follow you. Be my Simon that I might follow you to Calvary.

Palm Sunday and Holy Week

Today was Palm Sunday. One year ago, this was The Countdown. On this day, a year ago, I began the one week countdown to acceptance into full communion with the Catholic church and Confirmation. As was said in church, this evening, this entire week is in essence one liturgy: we enter on Palm Sunday, we experience the first reading on Holy Thursday, we keep vigil with prayers as though psalms, we experience the second reading on Good Friday, then on Easter Sunday we celebrate the consecration of the Host and are sent forth.

[The next day]

It was interesting. I have felt a certain desolation of the soul in the past while growing. Yesterday it reached a certain clarity: it was a desolation tied to the journey which we follow. Palm Sunday is one of the most ironic days of the year, to me. And in a most painful way. Here we are waving our palms and celebrating the triumphant entrance of Jesus into the holy city, and in a few days we will torture and kill him. These palms are the nails of guilt, piercing the flesh. How appropriate that we should fold them into crosses which redeem their nature which drives our hopeless guilt and shame into our hearts. Instead, in this new form, their message is reformed to one naming our guilt and speaking forgiveness.

An Overdue Update

I've finished reading that book, now, and I expect I shall read it again. It has a strong emphasis upon learning to listen through journaling. I've started journaling a little, and I have found it to be a very good exercise, although a challenge to establish as a discipline. However, one must look on the source of why it is challenging: whether it is God telling you something, or if it is a sign that you should be pursuing it all the more as the devil seeks to stop you from getting closer to God. In this case, for myself, I believe it is either the latter or my lack of discipline, or something of both.

In other news, I've been reading Anticlaudianus, by Alain de Lille for Latin class. It is an interesting work, although I tend to agree with C. S. Lewis on the value of this work (Lewis had Opinions on it and Alain de Lille). Allegory of Love discusses it and Cosmographia, by Bernardus Silvestris; and while a certain kindness is extended to Bernardus for the originality of his topic, he tears Alanus ab Ilanus to shreds as an unoriginal hack. On the whole it was an intriguing analysis which I do not fully agree with, although I certainly do to a certain extent.

And on a more random note, steampunk computer things! I cannot believe I did not know about this genre until recently. Or rather, that it existed as its own genre.

Hearing God's Voice

I'm too tired to write properly on this right now, but I have been reading a book my grandma gave me written by a former senior pastor of my church called Hearing God's Voice. It's actually seven keys, but so far it is excellent. Vern Heidebrecht is an excellent and wise speaker and writer whom I cannot praise highly enough. When I have more time, I will begin posting on what I am learning in this book, and possibly its application in my life.

De natura domi

In this past while, I have found myself in an awkward position when referring to the place where my permanent address is. It is where I regularly lived for five years until I left for university. It is where my family still lives. However, for the year or two preceding my leaving for university it had distinctly ceased to have that feeling which most people call "home". Instead I felt something like a visitor or a stranger in what was my home.

I am presently living in a flat with a few room-mates, and nothing of this strange city carries a sense of home about it, either. And so when I think about going back to BC, I am stuck as to how I should refer to it. Am I going back home? It really is not my home, per se. But then, it is also the closest thing I have to a physical location that might be called home. It is more than my parents' home, but it is not entirely my home, either, nor could I ever settle in their home again.

So this begs the question of what is the nature of "home"? Are there any inherent qualities which determine what makes a given place home? Or do the properties of home depend on things independent of location?

I know that when I am with certain people, the sense of home is stronger than without those people no matter where we are or what we are doing. However, being with those same people in one place versus another does affect how uniform that sense of home is.

This means that home must be comprised of both those around one and where one presently is with those people. Which leaves me to wonder what that means for my sense of "returning home" to the place that is home no more.

On the Medieval Book Mid-Term

Someone pointed out to me, today, that if I can write a mid-term, which I did not study for save for briefly glancing at one example which might be covered, after having stayed up most of the night working on and stressing over a Latin presentation and still feel like I did well on it, I should pay attention. To be fair, I was fortunate and the example of Insular Half-Uncial I pulled up in a Google search was from the Lindisfarne Gospels, which was one of the facsimiles we were given a sample of to examine on our test. As soon as I saw the question asking us to comment on one of the facsimiles, I just recorded what I remembered from looking online a few minutes earlier, that the Latin is in Insular Half-Uncial and the English glosses are in Insular minascule. That said, it was fun hunting down what was abbreviated and what was not and commenting on that.

A Meditation on this Season of Lent

As of Wednesday we began the season of Lent, the season which heralds Christ's passion and resurrection. And so with him we wander forty days in the desert, praying and fasting, as Israel wandered fort years in the desert awaiting the promised land, and Noah and his family watched the rain come down, obliterating and renewing the Earth for its unveiling as a new creation.

Many people, in this modern age, choose, for the season of Lent, to take up an act of charity (caritas) as opposed to giving something up as a fast. While I applaud those people for their positive piety, I fear we begin to forget the ancient journey that is Lent. For many years we have dwelt upon the desert, and now we choose to dwell on the living water which flows from the rock. But we mustn't forget that we are still in the desert. Christ spent forty days in the desert, both fasting and praying. He did not fast, dwelling only upon the solemn and hardship, as so many among us have been wont to do. Nor did he pray, dwelling only upon the divine and heaven, as so many among us are encouraged to do. Instead did both, praying and fasting, meditating solemnly in hardship upon his Father's heavenly will. Thus experiencing his humanity while being led by his divine nature.

It was not until the forty days had finished that the true temptation began. After the forty days, when he was physically exhausted from his fast, distinctly human, aware of the world through his hunger and thirst, sustained by spiritual bread and wine, he then faced a spiritual desolation. And so it is with us that after we have fasted for forty days, filling our hearts instead with prayer and charity, that we must face the desolation of watching our Lord and Saviour die. And in his dying and by his rising, withstanding the devil's temptation, he imparts to us his Body and Blood which imparts to us his divine nature by consummation of holy union.

This is the journey that is Lent; and this, that is the taking his freely given Body and Blood into ourselves, is the consummation which we celebrate every Sunday, and even every day we attend church. Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday teaches us day by day what it means to be Christian.

Options in Speech Pathology

My mum pointed out to me a further idea regarding my future occupation. For a while, now, my mum has been a fan of me going into speech pathology. Some time ago I looked at the University of Toronto's requirements in that area, and was fair terrified at how strict it was along with how many classes I do not have that I would need to get. Apparently they do not count a Linguistics degree as useful background for speech pathology.

However, fortunately the University of Waterloo does. I would need to e-mail them to be certain that that is indeed the programme I would have to apply to, but it is something to consider. Another school that my mum mentioned was the University of Victoria whom I did e-mail out of curiosity. Their Applied Linguistics degree also accepts a B.A. Hon. in Linguistics as sufficient background. So we shall see. This is one more option, and so far the only one with money in it, for me to consider.

[Edit] Further searching this afternoon brought up the University of British Columbia. However, looking at their prerequisites, it is unlikely I would be accepted. While they do not require 3rd year Syntax or Phonology, I definitely do not plan to take the former beyond 2nd year. I also have no psychology beyond 1st year, nor any research methods classes behind me. These would be obstacles at UBC, and quite possibly everywhere else, too.

The biggest thing that would make me hesitant about this field is that I very likely will not have the prerequisites needed, as I have very little psychology background and zero biology background. All I have is linguistics background.