Easter Never Tasted So Good - Welcome Back, Jesus

"Well end your suffering, little man. Why don't you pack up your gear and clear outta here?" 

- West Side Story

     

    Welcome back, JC! Easter is always an amazing time for reflection and thus, I have so many thoughts for you to ponder. First things first: since I'm not a sister yet, I don't have a set outfit to wear everyday. And let's be honest, when I was younger, I absolutely despised shopping. But it became a bonding thing with my cousin and now I find it quite enjoyable. Especially when I find the perfect Easter dress (see below)! Since my cousin and are away at school, however, we can't go shopping together. So our compromise is that every time we have a new outfit, we have to post a picture on the other's facebook. Today, I did just that. Someone else intercepted the picture and helped me realize that I looked just like Maria from West Side Story, so that explains the quotation above. But really, let's think about it for a hot sec...no one told Jesus He had to leave the tomb except His Father. But if His Father was in West Side Story, He might have said something like that. Did you ever hear a Daddy call his son, little man? Often I refer to my little cousins as little man and little princess. So, it's like God the Father saying, "Ok little man, end your suffering. Get up and move out!" Now if God was like my Daddy, He would have gone into the tomb, tickled JC's feet and said, "Wakey, wakey eggs and bakey!!" Actually, I can easily imagine God saying to Jesus on Easter Morning, "Come on, Son. Get up. We've got things to do today. Let's go!" Imagine God like your Daddy...how would He wake you up on Easter morning?

      Second thing: I'm not sure if many of you reading this have the understanding of what YOLO means. Let me explain. It's a hot trend on twitter and it's an acronym just like LOL or BRB. YOLO means "You Only Live Once." It winds up at the end of a risky tweet in the form of a hashtag looking like #YOLO. So for example, I would tweet, "Pulling an all nighter before observations telling Ghost Stories #YOLO" or "Going exploring for Mary's Lake in galoshes #YOLO" and so on...so basically anything one would do because he or she only lives once. Make sense? Ok, good. So now, I was checking Twitter yesterday and someone tweeted "Jesus died for our sins #thanks #YOLO" but the truth is, it was inaccurate. Jesus, technically didn't "only live once" because He died and came back to life. I shook my head in laughter. This morning, I get a tweet on my phone thank says, "Welcome back, Jesus #thanks #YORO (You only rose once)" Now how's that for accuracy? 

     Third thing: When you went to church as a kid with your family, or even now with your family, did you only sit with your family in a pew? Now granted, if you're like my Dad's family, all of you took up a whole pew, so there was no room to share. But most of you had families like mine, five or six people. And most likely one or two of the kids were either in the choir or altar serving, so there was plenty of room to share a pew with. And if you're a Parish like mine, no one cares about awkwardly sitting with six different families over two pews, and most likely the kids sitting between you and your parents aren't related to you in any way AND your little sister is probably sitting on some other mom's lap because your mom is busy with the other little kids trying to find the song in the songbook AND your dad is holding hands with your best friends mom during the Our Father and it's ok. That more or less happened this morning at my Parish. At the beginning of Mass, my mom and dad were sitting next to me and then my little sister on my other side. Our middle sister was in the choir loft. Next to her was another choir kid's parents and next to them, some random Grandma everyone knew. Behind us were three more families with six other kids. By the Homily, one of the little girls behind us dropped her doll in our pew and I somehow had my seat moved twice. After Communion when all the seating gets rearranged, I was now at the total opposite of where I started out and there was now a little one behind me poking my stomach as I knelt because it was hilarious to see me flinch every time. As we were all awaiting the final song announcement, the two moms behind me who were now sitting next to each other were trying to send me signals about how school was going. Finally, we were singing the final hymn, dancing and clapping our hands like Jesus had just risen that morning...oh wait...He did. All seating arrangements aside, what I'm trying to say is this: Easter is a morning when people we don't necessarily see all the time, come to church (myself included...college girl problems...) and...sit in our seats. So, we smush together and we don't mind. You know that common phrase, "It takes a whole village to raise a child?" Well, consider my Parish family, my village. People I saw this morning commented on how much I've grown up, how wonderful it is to see me back and of course, they had plenty of hugs to give me and I to give them in return. For a quick second, I imagined myself coming back to my Parish as a sister, having the same thing happen, except, my Pew would probably be filled with even more families and little kids. If all the kids had their choice, they would probably all try to sit on my lap at once! I know a lot of people don't like feeling claustrophobic in church, but that's something my Parish family thrives on...we just LOVE to smush together in one pew all the time. 

    Final thought: Lent is over. This means, we can go back to those things we gave up. As many of you know, I gave up coffee (more or less the greatest cross I've carried during Lent). While I wasn't as anxious as I thought I was going to be to have my first cup of coffee in forty days, it was still so great to have that warm elixir of life drip down my throat. Mhmm...coffee. When I grabbed the first cup I found in the cupboard, I didn't realize what it said. When I sat down to start my blog, that's when I realized. It says, "I love you with all of my heart." My favorite prayer leaflet in my Liturgy of the Hours book says, "With all of my heart, with all of my heart, I love you." It was just a quiet little "Thank you" from Jesus for my sacrifice this Lent. That made the forty days all the more rewarding. Thanks Jesus. Thanks for dying, thanks for rising, and thanks for letting me know my sacrifice meant something to You, too. 

Happy Easter All!

What Child Is This, Who Laid To Rest...Good Friday

"What Child is this, who laid to rest, in Mary's lap, is sleeping?"

     While a Child to us, He was no more, to Mary, He was still. If I said Good Friday is my favorite day out of the whole liturgical year, that makes me out to be some kind of pessimistic, narcissistic, crazy girl. And yet, Good Friday is my favorite day of the liturgical year. While "favorite" might not be the ideal word to describe my feelings for the day, I have no other word (the English language is such a slacker). OK, now that that is over, why Good Friday?

      Many people I've met tell me I'm a very sensitive person. Spiritual directors hold onto the idea that because I am so sensitive, I gather a lot of other people's emotions. In addition, as sensitive as I am, I rarely cry openly in front of people...except on Good Friday. Good Friday was my favorite day to cantor, because the Psalm for the service is "Father, into Your Hands, I commend my spirit." It is sung in minor key (my FAVORITE) and although technically, we're not supposed to scoop our notes and vowels, if one can properly scoop for this Psalm, the emotion one can find and provide for the congregation while singing it, is immense. I would have to practice at least a hundred times so I wouldn't cry while singing it. And yet, if Good Friday makes me cry, and I don't like crying in front of people, why is it my favorite? Well, because it does just that! It fills my heart with such emotion I can only experience with the Passion, the way of the Cross, the day Christ died for me.

        Since I'm home from school for Easter break (Catholic school perks), I've been visiting all the various churches nearby to see the sisters, who double as my friends. So, yesterday for Good Friday service, I drove a good twenty minutes (maybe longer thanks to the SEPTA buses I was driving behind) to be with some of the Sisters. That service, out of any Good Friday service I had ever been to, was the most peaceful and most thought-provoking. At all the services I had ever been to growing up, during the veneration of the cross, I have only seen a little cross; too big to hang on your wall at home, but way too little to hang on the church wall above the altar. Of course, this cross also had on it, the body of Christ. However, the cross this year, was a basic wooden cross, put together by two Parish men, and there was no Jesus. Also, it was so large that both the priest and the altar server girl had to hold it together. It made me think: my favorite Rosary is made of wood and has no corpse on it; my favorite necklace also has no corpse. How many times have I reflected that the reason I love them so much is because they remind me that not only has Christ risen, but that I must now take the place of Christ on the cross in my life. That large, beat up, ages-old, empty cross did that for me and right away I felt such emotion and such gratitude for Jesus' death.

     A few hours later, at my church, some Parish members were putting on the Passion of Christ/the Living Stations in the voices of Via Dolorosa. While I sat in a side pew by myself (my little sister beat me out of the spot next to Daddy...) I really began to reflect on how I would have behaved if I had been present. One of the first things the narrator of the story told us was that during the play, the soldiers call out to members in the congregation asking if they are a Christian. She said for us not to be afraid and to answer "Yes", to go along with it. For some reason, I immediately got so nervous that I would be the one they called out to. What on earth was going on inside of me? I knew all the players; grew up with them, even. So, if one of them called out to me, why would I be so scared? I reflect a lot of what it means to "die to self and for Christ" during the Lenten days and yet, I'm OK with it. But honestly, this would not be something I planned to give up, but what Christ planned. And immediately, I realized, I have to do what He wants when He asks me. I understood that maybe I am scared of what He wants from me, but that because He wants it, there is no denying Him. 

      When I came to terms with that, it turned out that I wasn't going to be the one who called was called out to. So, then I was able to reflect on the actual Passion. I realized that if I had been there that day with Jesus and the crowd, I would have been the one who cried into her robe silently, in the back corner of the crowd. I would have been the one the weeping women turned around to face after meeting Jesus and I would have comforted them, telling them it would be OK and trying to be optimistic. My tears wouldn't exist at that moment. Then later, at the foot of the Cross, when I was left only with Mary and the Beloved disciple and a few others, I would have broke down and hysterically cried for my Lord. 

       When I found myself crying immense amounts of tears during the actual play, I realized I had been sucked into the reality of it. I was crying as Mary sang about her boy child, while holding Him in her arms. And when she stopped singing, in the silence that followed, "What child is this" was continually looping through my brain. How perfect that song, written for the birth of Christ, fit for the death of Christ. Yes, our faith made full circle. What Child was this? The One who came from Heaven to earth to love us and save us. 

Visiting Jesus in the Garden ... Seven Different Times

     Happy Triduum!! These days are my most favorite days out of the whole year!! Ever since I was a little kid I was enthralled with Holy Week and the traditions. When I was little, our traditions included going to Holy Thursday Mass with my Daddy, watching him get his feet washed, singing at Mass, and visiting three churches after Mass. Every single year we would visit those churches and it was a tradition I simply loved so much. I don't know why they excited me so much, all I know is that I loved it.
      So, last year, I googled (like a good student) why we did this tradition. There are so many reasons and so many number of churches. Some say it's a walking pilgrimage, to walk to three different churches to remember the walk to Calvary. However, this can only really happen if you live a big city with churches on every other block. Some say it is a custom to remember the seven wounds of Christ. Some say, for a novena and they visit nine churches. Some even say it goes back to Mary searching for Jesus when he was lost in the Temple. But I like the one explanation that explains it is like visiting with Jesus in the Garden.
       Now that I was a fully informed scholar, I made it a goal of mine to visit Seven Churches on my own last year after I went to Mass with the sisters. I succeeded in making it to five, because two were closed for the night already. I remember getting upset because who closes churches at 10:30 at night, I mean really?! But honestly, when I thought about it, I understood. So this year, my goal was the same. I had a whole route planned out in my head and knew I would make it! I went to Mass with the Sisters again, but this time my little sister came with me as well. Mass was beautiful, as always!! And then, my little sister, in all her innocence, invited one of our closest sisters with us. And so, we made the journey!
       After traveling to many different churches, seeing so many of my sister friends at each one (which really warmed my heart!), I dropped my little sister off at home and went to our final church of the evening with my "Big Sister." It has always been my favorite chapel to visit on Holy Thursday and it is always the last one I visit. It is the most beautiful by far and the most enriching. We had just made it for the final twenty minutes of the night before they locked up the Chapel at midnight. Yes, we were out that late visiting churches!
      At the last church of the night, I always reflect on the lateness of the night and what this means to Jesus. Truly I felt, that while everyone else was sleeping, we were still up with Jesus. I think that if I had been a disciple on the night of the Last Supper, I would have had no problem staying up with Him while He was in the Garden. Now that may sound presumptuous, but let me tell you this: I am a college student, which is a synonym for insomniac which means, too many times have I done my praying at 2 or 3 in the morning after finishing all my school work. I think I would have made it. There's something mystical about this night, too. On any other given night at midnight or later, I probably would have been a little terrified going out by myself in places I rarely ever go, at night. And yet, last night, and every Holy Thursday, there is no fear for myself. But rather, for Jesus, and His awaiting of the news that He was going to be crucified. My Jesus, my Beloved Jesus, was just waiting for the bad news to come. I can't tell you how many tears I shed at the various churches we visited!
     The truth is, out of all the days of the year, late, late night on Holy Thursday is when I really feel the closest to Jesus. Because while everyone else is asleep, I'm awake in the garden.