Mary DeTurris Poust's Blog, page 28

Finding time for prayer when you have no time at all

Despite our best intentions, finding a block of time to get down to the practice of prayer can be difficult — that is if we think of prayer only as a formal task that requires us to be on our knees, preferably in a church, reciting specific words. But prayer is a conversation with God, no matter what words we use or if we use any words at all.

Listen in at the link below for a conversation — and some tips — about prayer based on my book Everyday Divine, from my April 8 appearance on the Morning Air Show on Relevant Radio. I’m the first one up, so you don’t need to fast forward to find me. Just hit play.

http://relevantradio.streamguys.us/MA%20Archive/MA20150408a.mp3

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Twisted Tuesday: Alleluias with a view

Thanks to a perfect storm of vacation, childcare, and Marriott reward points, Dennis and I turned this Easter weekend into an early 20th anniversary celebration. (Our real anniversary is April 29, but we didn’t see the possibility for a big celebration at that point.) With Noah in Italy for 10 days, we had only to find a place for the girls to land, which we did — at their grandmother’s apartment in Manhattan. It turned into quite the excursion for them as well. As Dennis and I wandered around midtown and Greenwich Village, the girls experienced the Radio City Spring Spectacular after a dinner out. Big doings for them. They loved it. Here are some of the highlights from our weekend, Twisted Tuesday done in Manic Monday style.

GPS: Once we dropped the girls off at grandma’s house, we headed to the Marriott at 49th and Lex, where we scored an amazing 30th-floor room with a slim view (see photo above) for only $3 thanks to Dennis’ reward points. Great room, great location. From there we took the train down to Greenwich Village, one of our favorite haunts from our dating days. We shopped, strolled through Washington Park, had cocktails (a Manhattan and a French 75) at the Malt House, and wandered into St. Anthony of Padua Church on Houston and Sullivan streets just as the choir was warming up for the Easter Vigil. Then we headed to Villa Mosconi, our all-time favorite Village restaurant, for an amazing dinner, which brings us to our next section of this post…

Menu: You know the food is good when I forget to take photos. We had an appetizer of carciofi (artichokes) that was out of this world, followed by zuppa di pesce (Dennis) and fettucini verdi alla bolognese (me), all washed down with a carafe of Chianti. If you get the chance, go to this wonderful spot on MacDougal Street, where the pasta is all homemade and everything is about as authentic as it can get this side of the ocean. Here’s the zuppa di pesce:

Viewfinder: Some other shots from our weekend…

A window of St. Anthony’s shipwreck off the coast of Sicily, from St. Anthony of Padua Church in Soho:

My steampunk bracelet, a gift from Dennis from one of my favorite Village shopping spots. (I also scored two dresses — only $10 each — at the same market and a beautiful red leather bag from another Village shop.) “Sculpture on your wrist,” that’s how the salesman/artisan described the bracelet below, which caught my eye as soon as I walked into his stall of goodies. The warped antique watch face is supposed to be reminiscent of Dali’s “The Persistence of Memory,” with its melting clocks. The blue piece is for the earth, and the middle piece with the gear in between is the moon, or so he said. True or not, I loved the story and the bracelet.

Dining at Villa Mosconi:

On Easter morning, we grabbed delicious New York bagels at Zucker’s Bagels & Smoked Fish before heading to St. Patrick’s Cathedral for Mass with Cardinal Dolan. Although the altar is still covered in scaffolding, you can see in the photo how beautiful the restored portions of the cathedral look. It’s breathtaking, as is the exterior.

We capped off our morning, before heading to Dennis’ mom’s apartment for Easter dinner, with a double cappuccino. Check out that foamy artwork:

Soundtrack: So many songs could fit this past weekend, from Handel’s Messiah, which the choir was singing as we recessed out of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, to John Lennon’s Imagine, which a street artist was performing on the subway platform as we waited for the E train. But this is what popped into my head just now when I tried to sum up this weekend with a song, only we took a Chrysler minivan rather than a Greyhound bus down that Hudson River line.

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Seven Last Words: a Good Friday reflection

Father forgive them, they know not what they do…

We see Jesus on the cross today and hear him forgiving his persecutors, forgiving us. It is a powerful scene, but it is more than just a scene out of our faith history. Jesus’ way is supposed to be our way. Forgive, forgive, forgive, even in the face of the most unreasonable suffering and injustice. Are we willing to forgive as Jesus did?

Today you will be with me in Paradise.

The “good thief” has always been a favorite of mine. Imagine in your last dying moment that you utter a few kind words and are assured by Jesus himself that you will be in heaven with him that day. It would be nice to assume that in that situation I would have taken the path of belief, like the good thief, but there is a much bigger part of me that probably would have been like the unrepentant thief, expecting mercy and miracles despite faithlessness.

Woman, behold your son…

At last a comfort in the midst of all this misery. God gives us a mother for all time. He reminds us that his mother is our mother, who, with a mother’s unconditional love, will open her arms to us when we are desperate, when we are hurting, when we are searching for peace and a way back to the Father.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Despair, despair. If Jesus can feel despair, what hope is there for me? Then again, Jesus’ moment of despair reminds me of his humanness and that gives me hope even in this dark moment. God became man, walked on earth, suffered torture and death beyond our comprehension. My God is fully human and fully divine. My God knows what it means to live this earthly life, and so my God knows my small sufferings and heartaches and will not turn His back on me.

I thirst.

The wretched physical anguish of the Crucifixion is coming to bear. It is almost too much for us to take. Jesus, water poured out for the world, thirsts. And yet in the midst of this suffering, we remember Jesus’ words to the woman at the well, the woman to whom he first revealed his identity: “…whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst.” (John 4:14)

It is finished.

Jesus has completed his mission of redemption. Darkness descends, the earth shakes, the temple curtain tears in two. We see Jesus’ anguish near its end. We should be reduced to trembling at the enormity of his suffering, his gift to us. Unlike his followers who were plunged into fear and despair at this moment, we have the benefit of hindsight. We know what is coming. We know that his Crucifixion was cause for our salvation. His death a victory. His earthly end our eternal beginning.

Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.

Jesus is going back to the Father, back to where he started before time began, but he will not leave us orphans. We patiently wait to celebrate his Resurrection, to rejoice in our unearned windfall. We wait, pray, watch, listen — hopeful, trusting, faithful. We begin our vigil now, waiting for the darkness to turn to light.

Stained glass window from the Mary Chapel at St. Thomas the Apostle Church in Delmar, NY.

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Bringing the lost virtue of respect back into fashion

My latest story in the current issue of OSV Newsweekly:

If you are of a certain age, you might remember the late comedian Rodney Dangerfield’s signature line: “I don’t get no respect.” Back then it was funny, mainly because most of us were used to giving respect to our elders and getting respect from our children, so Dangerfield proved to be a silly misfit. But today that line has gone from one man’s stand-up joke to American society’s everyday reality.

Respect, it seems, is on the decline, especially among young people. Sometimes the problem comes out in obvious ways — the teenager who texts throughout a holiday dinner, for example — but more often than not, lack of respect is much more subtle, coming out in ways that have been embraced by a larger culture that is more informal, less concerned with manners, and inclined to defer to the wishes of children.

Continue reading HERE.

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Holy Thursday: “I have given you a model to follow.”

“So when he had washed their feet and put his garments back on and reclined at table again, he said to them, “Do you realize what I have done for you? You call me ‘teacher’ and ‘master,’ and rightly so, for indeed I am. If I, therefore, the master and teacher have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feel. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.”

–John 13: 12-15

Detail of stained glass window from the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Albany.

 

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We each harbor at least a sliver of Judas

My reflection from Give Us This Day today:

I’ve always had a tiny bit of a soft spot for Judas Iscariot. I know. It sounds crazy at best, traitorous at worst, but it’s true. When I hear today’s Gospel and fast-forward in my mind to what I know is coming, I ache a little for what I have to assume was terribly misguided good intention on Judas’s part.

Surely he didn’t want Jesus killed. He thought Jesus would prove himself once and for all. When he finally realizes what he’s done, Judas does something even worse than his betrayal: he doubts God’s mercy. We all know that had he gone to Jesus, even as Jesus hung on the cross, Judas would have been forgiven. But Judas just didn’t really grasp who Jesus was, despite living with him and witnessing miracle upon miracle. Judas was too focused on worldly things and his own agenda.

How many of us fall into the same trap, molding Jesus into someone who fits our own worldview or agenda, and at the same time underestimating the love and mercy that is ours even when we disappoint, betray, injure, and fail?

We all harbor at least a sliver of Judas somewhere deep inside. Jesus lets us make our choices, even bad ones, but opens his arms to offer us forgiveness again and again. Do we, unlike Judas, understand the enormity of God’s mercy?

Give Us This Day is a monthly personal prayer subscription periodical with Scripture readings for each day; Morning, Evening, and Night Prayer; daily reflections; and more. Click HERE to learn more.

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Manic Monday: Family, friends and feeling blessed

These are busy, crazy times here in the Poust House, and things only promise to get a bit crazier as we head toward the Triduum and Easter. That photo on the left is from last night’s Palm Sunday Mass at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in Albany. Serious palm there, people. No scrawny little stalks but full fronds, complete with the entire congregation processing in. Check it out next year if you’re nearby. 

Overall, this past week has brought with it very strong feelings of gratitude. As I knelt in church last night, I had an overwhelming sense of joy for the many blessings I’ve received lately — Noah’s restored health, the kids’ safe return from their school trip, Noah’s many college options, my own busy work schedule, the chance to see some old friends.

I hope you have a blessed and grace-filled Holy Week. Here’s the Manic Monday run down…

Bookshelf: I’m working my way through At Least You’re in Tuscany: A Somewhat Disastrous Quest for the Sweet Life by Jennifer Criswell. As my faithful NSS readers already know, I love anything that has to do with Italy. I like this book, although I don’t love it. Yet. Maybe I’ll feel differently by the end. It’s not bad, but when I read a book about Italy I want to be transported. I want to smell the food and feel the cobblestones underfoot. Yes, I ask a lot of my books about Italy.

Menu: It’s been an unusual week of eating for us with both big kids away for five days. Lots of easy-to-make treats. Like this antipasto: 

GPS: Although I’ve been close to home, my kids are traveling far and wide. Noah and Olivia spent the past five days or so in Williamsburg, Va., with the Bethlehem Lab School. Despite rain every single day, they had a great time. Noah departs for a 10-day trip to Italy on Good Friday. I’m reading the detailed itinerary this morning and just cannot believe I don’t get to go. I am so jealous. He’ll hit spots I’ve never seen — Verona, Venice, Padua, Pisa — as well as places I have — Florence, Assisi, Rome, Naples, Sorrento, Capri. Eighty teenagers and 19 chaperones. Imagine moving that group through 10 cities in 10 days?!? Please say a prayer for their safety.

Datebook: Last night Noah decided on Le Moyne College out of the many wonderful options he had. So, come fall, he’ll be headed to Syracuse to major in biology. He picked it specifically because it is not only Catholic but Jesuit, which makes perfect sense for my science-minded faith-filled boy. I am so proud of him.

Viewfinder: A few visual highlights from the past week….

Noah and Olivia in Williamsburg, Va.

My sweetie found Chianti from the winery we visited when we were in Siena this fall — Coltibuono.

A touch of spring despite cold, wintery weather. Thank you, Paula!

A reunion of colleagues from Catholic New York during Dennis’ baseball draft.

Soundtrack: Here’s a new song Dennis downloaded for me. Funny thing is, I had snapped a photo of the artist/title of this song when it was on SiriusXM recently because I planned to download it for him. Kismet. It’s called “Made for You” by Alexander Cardinale. Enjoy.

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‘May it be done to me according to your word’

And the angel said to her in reply,

“The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.

And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren; for nothing will be impossible for God.”

Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”

Then the angel departed from her.  – Luke 1:35-38

Happy Feast of the Annunciation!

(Annunciation window in Lady Chapel of St. Thomas the Apostle Church in Delmar.)

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Happiness and heartache on the confession line

I am one of those people who actually enjoys confession, hard as that may be for some to believe. It’s such an uplifting feeling, to bare you soul, receive absolution, and, as my confessor said this past week, “begin all over again.” And that’s the reality of it. Every time we leave confession, we leave as a new creation, in a sense, with nothing weighing us down or holding us back. Until we sin again, which we will inevitably do because we are human, and then we start the clearing and cleansing and healing process all over again.

In light of all this, I was oh-so-happy, when 9-year-old Chiara came out of confession last week and announced, “That made me feel really happy!” Exactly. That’s what confession should do. She even said the priest gave her “good advice.” You can’t ask for more. I went to confession right after her, and I had the exact same feeling when I re-entered the chapel.

Unfortunately, not everyone at the service that day — almost no one, to be honest — got the memo on the meaning and significance of this sacrament. Or how to behave in a church. This particular reconciliation service was designed specifically for the fourth-grade faith formation class. At our parish, parents are able to choose whether a child receives the Sacrament of Reconciliation in second grade or fourth grade. We opted for the former, so this was not a first-time sacrament for Chiara, but for many of the children attending that day, it was. And so it should have been a big deal, an important step in their spiritual life, but it was more like a circus than a sacred event.

Families were invited to attend with their children and were encouraged to go to confession as well. After a brief Scripture reading and reflection, our pastor reminded everyone that we were in a chapel and the time waiting for confession should be spent in silent and thoughtful prayer in preparation for the sacrament. Then he left and went to our larger church to hear confession while two other priests waited in reconciliation rooms just off the chapel. Children lined up against the wall, parents sat back in their chairs, and that’s when the mayhem began.

It felt more like I was sitting in the bleachers at the Little League field than in front of the tabernacle in church. The folks behind me were talking — loudly — about grocery shopping and vacation. A good number of the kids were twirling around, laughing and jumping, doing push-ups against the chapel wall, and only one teacher attempted the Herculean task of trying to quiet the kids while their parents sat a few feet away oblivious and talking a mile a minute. There was a moment when I actually considered taking my three kids off their various confession lines and and returning another day. It was that bad. I was racking up sins even as I sat waiting for my confession. Let’s just say some of my thoughts were less than charitable.

How did we as a Church and a society get to this place — where there is no sense of the sacred, even when we’re sitting in a chapel waiting to receive a sacrament? It was depressing and deflating. I’m used to the cavalier attitude of the teenagers in my ninth-grade faith formation class, but seeing it from my fellow parents just drove home the fact that we have a lot of difficult work ahead of us if we want to reach adult Catholics who no longer understand the basics of the faith they apparently want to pass onto their children.

Only three parents, myself included, stayed to go to confession after the children were finished. Everyone else had coats on and keys ready as the boys and girls exited the reconciliation rooms. We teach our children by example, so for most of those children, the clear message was that confession doesn’t matter. Somewhere along the way, I’m assuming their parents got the same message.

We so desperately need to re-catechize the parents of children in our faith formation programs, and this was the perfect opportunity, a teachable moment tossed to the curb. Here we had a captive audience of adult Catholics, many of whom may not be practicing but could possibly be hungry for spiritual nourishment. Had the time waiting for confession been coordinated in a way that reinforced the need for silence and prayer, or had there at least been a warden in the chapel to give chatty parents the stink eye, perhaps we could have conveyed the sacredness of the moment, or even better, we could have made the moment something that would offer these obviously frazzled parents a slice of sanity amid the chaos of their lives. Prayer and confession can offer that, but only if we stop talking long enough to hear the sounds of silence, only when we realize that if we just take a moment to focus on something bigger than the grocery list or the summer lake house, we just might find the perspective we need.

If you haven’t gone to confession this Lent, find a parish near you that has convenient hours this week and give it a whirl. Even if you’re a bundle of nerves going in, you, too, just might come out smiling and realizing you feel real happiness for a change. Not the happiness that comes from scoring a great sale at the mall or watching your kid hit a home run, but the joy that comes from realizing none of that really matters because happiness isn’t a moment or an accomplishment but a state of mind, or, in this case, a state of grace.

For those in the Diocese of Rochester, a Day of Penance and Mercy will be held Tuesday, March 24. Every parish in the diocese will be “open for forgiveness” from 12:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m.

For those downstate, the Archdiocese of New York, the Diocese of Brooklyn, and the Diocese of Rockville Centre, will jointly hold “Reconciliation Monday,” encouraging Catholics to come back to confession. Next Monday, March 30, every parish in the New York City area will be open for confessions from 3 p.m. to 9 p.m.

If your diocese or parish is making a concerted effort to bring people back to the Sacrament of Reconciliation this season, be sure to leave information in the comment section.

 

 

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What is Church to you? My bishop’s thoughtful take

So often when Dennis and I are standing in front of our ninth-grade faith formation class, our goal is to not only teach our students the truths of our faith but to show them that the Church is more than its teachings, more than its buildings, more than what most of us imagine it to be.

For too many of us, Church becomes something belonging to someone else, a place we visit but don’t always choose to live. When we start to see Church not as a location but a state of heart and mind, that’s where transformation begins.

This past week Bishop Edward Scharfenberger of Albany had a great column that tackled that very subject in such a beautiful way.

The link to the full column is at the bottom of this post, but here’s one of my favorite quotes:

…We might say that the Church is not so much a place that people come to as a way of being who we are. If we are truly the mystical Body of Christ — and that is what “Church” means, in its most fundamental way of being — then the Church is really a crystal cathedral, not a stone fortress, where the walls are transparent and our hearts go out to neighbors, since the Spirit of God cannot be locked in a chest or mummified in a museum.

Yes, the Church is all of the above — and more. Yet, it is none of the above completely or exclusively. No description or experience of it can completely exhaust the meaning of the mystery. We are always on the way of getting there and we are always more than what we seem to be at any point in time, for Jesus is always with us, within us and around us.

Isn’t that a great description? Very Thomas Merton-esque, and that’s always a good thing in my book. Click HERE to read the entire column. What does Church mean to you?

 

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