The Room

17-year old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.

Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven I know I'll see him."

Brian's Essay: The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.

Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With."

The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.

He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't think

I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."

I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."

The Whole Christ

I ran into an interesting article written by J. Murphy-O'Connor in Liber Annuus 1999. It addresses St. Paul and his letters on the body of Christ. Here is how it starts:

One of the fundamental struggles of Paul’s ministry was to make Christ as
central to the lives of his converts as it was to his own. Their resistance is
not difficult to explain because we share it. At heart we are all theists who
pay lip service to the centrality of Christ. What I mean
is clearly illustrated by the fact that we think of our lives as “doing the
will of God” rather than as “following Christ”. We pray and make retreats in
order to “discern the will of God”. We invoke the aid of spiritual directors
to help us achieve clarity in that quest and to ensure that we do not deceive
ourselves. I have never heard a retreat master or a spiritual director
discourage such efforts to penetrate what is assumed to be a mystery by saying
“Imitate Christ”, even though they will admit in theory that Christ is “the
wisdom and the power of God” (1 Cor 1:24), who said, “I am the way, and
the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father but by me” (John 14:6).

Go here to read the rest of the article: http://198.62.75.1/www1/ofm/sbf/Books/LA49/49181JMC.pdf

Prayer of Saint Francis

NICEAN BLUES

Hosanna - Catholic Blues

Quotes from Spe Salvi and incorporated the Stations of the Cross.

Catholics Come Home

Catholics Can't Support Pro-Choice Candidates

From: The Catholic Knight

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Catholics Can't Support Pro-Choice Candidates
THE CATHOLIC KNIGHT: You can't be
Catholic and 'Pro-Choice.' The whole 'Pro-Choice' argument is a misnomer anyway,
because most women who have abortions feel like they have no choice. Catholicism
demands that every human life is precious and must be protected. Voting for a
candidate that says abortion is "okay" is like voting for a candidate that says
terrorism is "okay." There really is no moral difference when one understands
the teachings of the Catholic Church. So-called "Pro-Choice" Catholics are an
oxymoron. It's like calling yourself a "Pro-Terrorism Pacifist." The only
"choice" these Catholics are making is the choice between Catholicism and
apostasy. Choose the "right to abortion" and you've only chosen to flush your
Catholicism down the toilet.

(CNSNews.com) - A statement by the Archbishop of San
Antonio, Texas, criticizing Hillary Clinton's speech and rally on a Catholic
college campus because of her pro-abortion stance is being cheered by some
Catholics and dismissed by others.In a Feb. 12 statement about Clinton's
campaign stop at St. Mary's University, Archbishop Jose Gomez, said: "The
Catholic bishops of the United States, in their 2004 document Catholics in
Political Life, affirmed that when dealing with political candidates and public
office holders, 'The Catholic community and Catholic institutions should not
honor those who act in defiance of our fundamental moral principles. They should
not be given awards, honors or platforms which would suggest support for their
actions.'""Our Catholic institutions must promote the clear understanding of our
deep moral convictions on an issue like abortion, an act that the church calls
'an unspeakable crime' and a non-negotiable issue," Gomez said...read full story
hereCatholics cannot support 'Pro-Choice' candidates. So that means no
Catholic can support Hillary Clinton or Barack Obama and still remain a good Catholic.
Simultaneously, no Catholic need support John McCain in this election either.
Granted he is the "lesser of three evils" because he opposes abortion-on-demand,
but he still permits abortion in some cases, and favors fetal stem-cell
research. That means he's not really Pro-Life in spite of his rhetoric. So what
it really comes down to in this election is this. A "good Catholic" really can't
support any of the frontrunner candidates. It might be permissible to
support John McCain, but only by a very narrow margin, and only because the
Democrat alternatives are so bad on this issue. Still, if one supports John
McCain, one is throwing a vote in favor of abortion in some circumstances, and
in favor of fetal stem-cell research. The fact is, "good Catholics" are
disenfranchised in this election. They only candidates we can support have very
little chance of winning. So what's the American message to Catholics this
election season? It's simple. The American message to Catholics this election
season is that the only "good Catholic" is a bad Catholic, meaning one who
doesn't really follow the moral teachings of the Church.
Posted by The
Catholic Knight at 9:16
AM

Psalm 51

The Weight of Holy Water

Lent: “Who told you that you were naked?”

Expulsion from Paradise* H/T Reader Anthony

The woman saw that the tree was good for food, pleasing to the eyes, and desirable for gaining wisdom. So she took some of its fruit and ate it; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it.Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized that they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves.When they heard the sound of the LORD God moving about in the garden at the breezy time of the day, the man and his wife hid themselves from the LORD God among the trees of the garden.The LORD God then called to the man and asked him, “Where are you?”He answered, “I heard you in the garden; but I was afraid, because I was naked, so I hid myself.”Then he asked, “Who told you that you were naked? You have eaten, then, from the tree of which I had forbidden you to eat!”The man replied, “The woman whom you put here with me–she gave me fruit from the tree, so I ate it.”The LORD God then asked the woman, “Why did you do such a thing?” The woman answered, “The serpent tricked me into it, so I ate it.”

As I’ve written elsewhere, I’m one of those Christians who is completely comfortable linking Creationism and Evolution - whether Adam and Eve found their awareness from a piece of fruit or a God-designed evolution is pointless to carp about. The fact is once Adam and Eve became “aware,” and into human consciousness, the first things they did were to hide themselves and lie to themselves and to God.

I like the question, “who told you that you were naked?” Prior to this consciousness Adam & Eve were happily running around naked, like every other creature in the wild. Then: awareness. And what was the awareness? That their nakedness was “dirty”? Unlikely. That their nakedness was “embarrassing?” Also unlikely. They’d had no example of shame or embarrassment - their fellow creatures were contentedly naked, as they had been.Animals do not perceive their nakedness or try to protect their genitalia, but suddenly, Adam & Eve did. Evolution? Fruit? Whatever. What matters is that suddenly they knew more than they had known, and what they knew - what they suddenly understood - was that they were vulnerable.

Their awareness of their vulnerability might have led to their excuse-making, too. Until that point they had enjoyed a blissful relationship with the Creator - there would have been no reason to fear and yet, suddenly attuned to their vulnerability, they feared enough to hem and haw and blame anyone else around, and aside from the serpent there was only each other.
Was the first sin, then, simple disobedience? That doesn’t really seem likely. Obedience, like anything else, must be learned.

Rather, I think the first sin was humanity not trusting in God but trying to guard themselves by hiding from him; humans covering themselves up both physically and metaphorically - with fig leaves and with the sloughing off of blame onto others - rather than revealing themselves and taking responsibility for their actions.

The taint of Original Sin: God has been trying to get us to trust Him, to reveal ourselves to Him and to be vulnerable (open) to Him ever since.

Perhaps this explains the command by God for the Jews to circumcise the men. The foreskin of the penis affords some protection for the organ - a bit of shelter, a place to hide. When God chose the Jews as His own, he required this symbolic (and real) acquiescence - this willingness to be completely vulnerable and exposed to whatever may come. The unsheathed penis is extraordinarily sensitive and responsive - precisely the qualities God wanted of the Jews. He made a covenant with them; He would be their God, they would be His people, and the deal was sealed in blood. At its shedding, man and God are bonded.

The need to be vulnerable and open to God is part and parcel of having a real relationship with Him, just as it is the necessary component in human relationships. We see the blood covenant and the need for vulnerability and openness mirrored in the relationship between a husband and wife - or we did, when virginity was kept for marriage. The thin membrane of the hymen is a kind of counterpart to the foreskin. In shedding the foreskin the Jew becomes openly vulnerable to God. In remaining a virgin until marriage, the woman becomes vulnerable only (but fully) to her husband, and he - in receiving that vulnerability - answers only to her, gives his deepest self and the sweat of all of his labors to her. It is another blood covenant. At the shedding of that blood, they become one flesh. One entity.

Why do we not know that? Why is it never taught that way? For centuries and centuries virginity was little more than a premium - a selling point for chattel - and even today, in some cultures, that idea remains.

God says, “be my people,” and there is a blood covenant. A man and woman say “be mine” and there is a blood covenant. We have never understood.

So God becomes Incarnate and tries to explain: be opened. I will show you how. I will make myself vulnerable to you. You may have my blood. It is shed for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven.

It is the greatest of the blood covenants, because the blood covers and draws into oneness not a tribe, nor a mate, but an entire creation - for better or worse. The marriage of heaven to earth, God to man.

Looked at this way all of the dogmas no longer seem trite. There was a reason (beyond paternity) for Mary’s virginity. Christ made his first covenant with his mother - the Ark of the Covenant.

God could not make Himself any more vulnerable than to come to us - bursting through a hymen, in blood, then laying in a wooden manger, and to go from us hanging upon the wood of a blood-soaked cross. He rose and said “see, I make all things new - even death cannot separate us. Come to me.”

Christ has opened God to us, through Himself. God does the unthinkable and makes himself vulnerable and says “Come…stop making excuses, stop hiding yourselves, stop blaming others, stop throwing yourself away, stop running from my love. Turn and face me. Ephphatha, be opened, and let me love you, let me give myself to you as you give yourself to me, and this will bear fruit.”

In this Lenten season, let all of our small sacrifices and minor slips render us vulnerable, that we may be opened to Him, the Divine Lover. Let us hear his love-talk, his whispers and his invitation.

Even now, says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart…rend your hearts, not your garments and return to the Lord your God. For gracious and merciful is he, slow to anger, rich in kindness and relenting in punishment. - Joel 2;12-13

The mystery here is that there is no mystery beyond love.

*The Expulsion from Paradise scene - the bronze doors of the Cathedral at Hildesheim…Adam and Eve respond to God’s question by passing the buck…Adam points to Eve, who points to the

serpent.

by TheAnchoress @ 12:46 am. Filed under Catholicism, Faith, Prayer