June 2019 – it is making me

An Ordination

“with his whole body in God’s service”

My husband was welcomed into the Catholic Church the year news broke in our own Portland Archdioceses of sexual abuse from local priests, during the Easter Triduum in 2002. I know he was asked by more than one person—“Why now?” It was, of course, disturbing, rattling, and heart-breaking. Yet the holiness or lack of holiness of priests was never what attracted my husband to the Church, but rather that She was founded by Christ, sustained with Truth, and guided by the Holy Spirit. The priest that shepherded him into the Church was, thanks be to God, a good and holy man. But it was undoubtedly a difficult time for the archdioceses, having to face the heinous sins of some of her priestly sons, and intercede for healing among the victimized. Even so, my husband saw the beauty in obeying God’s call to become Catholic even when life within the Church looked bleak—He was trusting in Christ to heal and lead, who is the foundation and source of life in the Catholic Church.

The same question—“Why now?”—hung in the air this weekend in Portland’s cathedral, St. Mary’s, at the ordination Mass of two new priests, one of whom is a good friend. We were introduced to the now-Father Kenyon while he was in seminary. A convert as well, our family and he shared many great, late conversations about church history, theology, spiritual life, saints, literature, and the challenges facing the Church at present. Archbishop Sample aptly addressed the question in his homily from his bishop’s chair, calling out the obvious “elephant in the room”—why become a priest now, when priests are looked upon suspiciously, cautiously, with disdain (in few cases, rightly so), while some face persecution, false accusations, and hate-crimes from enraged Catholics and non-Catholics alike?

Archbishop Sample said to the two young men, “You are not a part of the problem. But I am counting on you to be part of the solution.” From the congregation, it was clear these two men knew it, too, that they were going out into a perilous sea to cast their nets into the deep—not with fear, but with hope and courage.

The Gospel reading from the Ordination Mass was taken from John, chapter 12, when Jesus says, “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me…” Even to the cross, as is evident when the candidates lay face-down on the ground, their arms outstretched to signify the offering of their whole bodies to God’s service.

This past weekend was also the weekend of Father’s Day, and how fitting to celebrate fatherhood in both its forms. How sorely we need not just strong fathers that are willing to lay their life down for their families, but priestly fathers who will do the same—these two different vocations do not differ in their high demands and great reward.

It was moving to watch these two men be presented to the bishop, to lie on the cold hard floor of the cathedral to offer their lives to Christ and His Church, to vest in their priestly garb for the first time. One of the most powerful pieces of this Mass was the college of priests that processed into the Church, then lined the sanctuary behind the altar in a half-circle. They all lifted their hands at the consecration, all intoned together the beautiful “through Him, with Him, and in Him”, and all blessed and congratulated their new brother-priests.

I had told my children that it was similar to a wedding, that the priest in a sense married the Church, vowed his life to Hers, vowed his body to Her body. As always happens when I search for the words to explain something of importance to my children, I too learn something. As I watched the ordination, I remembered a quote from the 20^th century spiritual writer, Adrienne von Speyr, about St. Joseph and the nature of his celibacy:

His virginity has nothing to do with the lackluster impotence that most pictures seem to give him. If he will have to make a renunciation, then his whole manhood will achieve it and will thereby be strengthened in its very masculinity… He will not stand languishing next to Mary; instead he will stand beside her as a man who knows his strength but has sacrificed it in simplicity and generosity.”
Handmaid of the Lord

“Next to Mary”, in the case of these two young men, could also include “next to the Church”. Within the misunderstood freedom of our culture, we are taught to believe that sexual freedom and self-gratification are as necessary to the body as food and water, and the recent exposure of the crimes committed by clergyman appear to strengthen this position. Society says, See how these men languished at the side of the Church, and then abused the vulnerable and innocent in their sexual hunger. This approach completely ignores the increased occurrence of sexual abuse of children and women in our society as a whole. The perpetrators have, yes, been priests (which is especially despicable, to be sure, as they are representatives of Christ), but in even greater percentages children are being abused at the hands of teachers, volunteers, foster care families, uncles, brothers, fathers, etc. What a malady that now, in this time of great sexual, biological confusion within our culture, the one place that has the liberating, beautiful truth about the nature of the human body, its origins, purpose, and design has been undermined by the sins of her own leaders.

How will the Church repair herself? How will the Church be a light when her own members have worked so hard to snuff it out? On Saturday, at the ordination Mass, unfolded a piece of that puzzle. These two newly ordained priests—who undoubtedly have much to wrestle with in the life ahead, many struggles both interior and exterior, but so much opportunity for grace and divine strength—will lead the Church by their example of self-sacrifice and love.

And it’s not just these two new priests, but all their brother priests, too. I looked at the group of men, knowing they are also just men, knowing they all have difficulties in their vocation, maybe even doubts, but the joy of their priestly calling was palpable. That joy and grace overflowed to us, the congregation, and the other part of the solution to the problems facing the Church today.

There are no priests without people. We, the families that sat in the pews sweating with our scrambling toddlers, subtly eyeing our teenagers to see if and how they might be stirred in their hearts, were strengthened and encouraged by the outpouring of grace to live an authentic, honest Catholic life—one that does not deny the struggles and difficulty of the Church’s teachings, but carries the cross joyfully as an example to our children and the world around us.

He is no eunuch; he stands with his whole body in God’s service… It will be hard but never bitter; it will instead bring an openness towards the mysteries of God.
Adrienne von Speyr, Handmaid of the Lord

hands to work, hearts to God

The Garden (the first year)

Over the past several years, whenever I eye the berries in the grocery store, I imagine how quickly they’ll be eaten—it’s like watching a ten dollar bill disintegrate within minutes. The expense of berries is one of those notches in my grouch-meter, one of the things I briefly mumble about as I roll onwards towards the more appropriately priced enormous bag of carrots. Consequently, berries are an occasional, feast-day type of treat, even less frequent than cookies or brownies.

The price of berries is one reason I’ve dreamed of gardening. There was a brief time we lived somewhere with five well-established blueberry bushes, and for nearly a month in late summer, my children would go out and eat the berries for breakfast. I knew then that one day, God-willing, I would have a snacky garden so I could say, “You’re hungry, eh? Go pick yourself some [insert seasonal fruit or vegetable here].”

When the time came for us to buy a home, we landed in an older house on a third of an acre with a leaky roof and lots of character. The front yard was pleasant with hearty, beautiful rose bushes and a camellia tree. It also had a well-established apple tree that my husband began to care for with the same precision as Mr. Miyagi with his bonsai trees, resulting in a few seasons of satisfying apple harvests. Looking around the house, under the overgrown brush, it was clear an owner of the past had been an avid gardener.

However, the backyard was overrun with blackberries. That might sound lovely, but these blackberries are—and I’m not kidding—the curse of the Fall. These were the kinds of plants God was talking about when he said to Adam, “Thorns and thistles it shall bear for you.” I seriously feel like I’m doing some natural form of penance by digging out these impenetrable roots. They have infiltrated this part of Oregon and they’re impossible to get rid of with Oregon’s fertile amount of rain and sun. In various sections of the yard, it took us years to get to the point where we were ahead of the game, digging out the little sprouts one at a time. Poison also works. If we were incapacitated for just one summer, we’d be nearly over-run again with those vicious, thorny, delicious plants.

This winter, my in-laws surprised me with the best birthday gift: garden boxes. I believe this was all orchestrated by my sweet sister-in-law who has a beautiful side-yard garden where for many summers I have wistfully sat, just a wee bit jealous. So I immediately set to work with the help of my children. We dug out a 15 x 20 foot plot right off our patio. My brother-in-law and his wife, as well as my parents-in-law, came over to do a heroic amount of yard work and build six beautiful raised beds. Then we filled in the paths with pea gravel (because, you know, that’s what the French do).

I figured this year would be a bit experimental. At dinner one night, we all threw in our suggestions for what to plant. Berries—you guessed it—was at the top of my list, as well as sugar snap peas, carrots, kale, broccoli, and tomatoes—vegetables that my kids would snack on. I did my research, planted complimentary things together with complimentary flowers. In another area of the yard, we tilled and planted corn, pole-beans, and pumpkins using a Native American method (“Three Sisters”) that my eldest daughter really wanted to try. And then we waited. I cared for that garden like it was my seventh child. I practically sang to it. I almost got weird about it.

And then it actually started to grow. It seems like magic—you stick it in the ground, it rains, it’s sunny, then little green sprouts really do come out of the ground. Life, in all its form, is awe-inspiring. The only intruders we have to do deal with are birds, who devoured the first round of corn sprouts. We now have an owl statue, which was named Alistair Apple by my toddlers, and shiny ribbon to ward off those wingéd pests. Within weeks, the garden was teeming with green.

Here are some things this ignorant, first-time gardener has realized:

It tastes better. Fresh vegetables and fruit really do just taste better. It’s tarter, or sweeter, or crisper—whatever it’s supposed to be, it’s more of that.

It looks different. So carrots aren’t always shaped the same. In fact, they can come up crazy. But that makes it more fun.

The amount we produce and consume don’t balance out, in the end. I’d have to have a pretty major garden to feed our family (something I’m pondering for next year). The sugar snap pea patch might provide an afternoon snack every several days, but it definitely doesn’t provide a daily option. Strawberries, same deal—we might get a few every day and the kids take turns who eats them (but they’re SO GOOD). Because of this new awareness, I now appreciate more just how much we do consume and maybe aren’t as thoughtful about. A big bag of peas and container of berries from Costco go like hot cakes at our house—now of course I’m thinking more about who grows them, who harvests them, etc.

It is intensely satisfying to observe and enjoy the fruits (and vegetables) of one’s labor. I grew up in an educational system that had all but thrown out classes that made you work with your hands. I learn so much better by doing. I’ve written about this before more in-depth, but it was a challenge learning to work within the home and all that entails. It was in familiarizing myself with monastic life that I was able to understand family home life: “He who labors as he prays lifts his heart to God with his hands” (St. Benedict). There is something serene about a garden—time stops, and it’s as though God as Creator and Provider directly touches your heart as you care for all that will sustain you. (I realize career-farmers have a lot more at stake—and we’re literally surrounded by those where we live, hats off to you.)

It is a thing of beauty. Even though I loved perusing Pinterest (darn you, Pinterest) for garden photos, my conscious aim was to get ideas, but subconsciously I was admiring the beauty, color and form. As soon as our family garden came into bloom, I wanted to be in and around it. The teeming life and color was exhilarating and comforting.

I realize I’m joining this program already in progress—gardening is ancient, and a lot of people have gardens, a lot of people are gardening experts. I’m not writing to share any gardening wisdom or know-how (though I’d welcome it!). I’m in awe of how important it’s been, how much six little raised beds have provided for us—not necessarily in nourishment to our bodies, though that has been wonderful, but in the way it’s brought joy, beauty, and purpose to the family.

totus tuus: Act of Consecration

The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a mighty Savior; He will rejoice over you with gladness, And renew you in his love.
Zephaniah 3:17

“And now you belong to Mary.”

Father said this after praying a special blessing over me after Mass today, along with my dear friend who renewed her act of consecration. He said it matter-of-factly, and that was that. Now I belong to Mary, 18 years to the day after my baptism on the Feast of the Visitation, 2001.

St. Louis de Montfort suggests having specific intentions with the consecration. There were a few pointed things that came to mind immediately, but mostly I wanted to simply be comfortable with the idea of belonging to Mary. I wanted to understand why and how Christians for hundreds of years—particularly saints I love and admire, like St. Therese of Lisieux, St. Faustina, St. Maximilian Kolbe, Pope St. John Paul II—have grown closer to Jesus through Mary. At the end of this 33-day period, I can truly say that at this moment I feel no hesitation, no discomfort in saying I belong to Mary.

In fact, it makes me pretty happy. I belong to Mary.

There are small suggested daily practices intended to aid prayer and reflection in this new consecrated stage of life. St. Louis de Montfort suggests wearing something as a reminder that all you are belongs to Jesus. I’ve been in the habit of wearing a scapular for several years, on and off, but I’m thinking I need something I can’t take off or hide… another tattoo might be in order…

But what a blessed day this is, the Feast of the Visitation. It hearkens back to the Ark of the Covenant and heralds the world’s redemption, a shared joy and revelation through the Holy Spirit between two holy women. I feel really lucky that this is the day I get to celebrate my own baptism, and now, in addition, the consecration.

I am yours, and all that I have is yours, O most loving Jesus, through Mary, your most holy Mother.
St. Louis de Montfort, True Devotion