"Death and Life Have Contended..."

We know something about life, and something about death. We have not experienced the full reality of dying, nor have we experienced the fullness of life—true life, eternal life. In the dying and rising of Jesus we hear the story of a man who suffered for us through undergoing a most cruel death, and we hear of his being raised beyond death to the fullness of life, true life, in the “Resurrection.”  By faith we see the man, and we trust the real Presence of God in him. The Jew, Jesus of Nazareth, is both the victim of the story, and its hero.  “He was crushed for our offenses,” in the language of an anonymous Jewish prophet. Jesus personally experienced rejection by his own people, envy, hatred, and extreme cruelty, understood by his disciples to be for each of us, and for all. And by the power of divine love, Christ overcame evil, sin, death on behalf of all.  “Love is stronger than death.” You and I must suffer and die. But our suffering need not be meaningless or wasted. We can accept it as a sharing in Christ’s salvific suffering—meaning, accepted to benefit ourselves and others, leading us to God. And our death in the body is not an ultimate end, but in faith-union with Christ, our dyings and physical death itself are a passing over into life eternal, “the Kingdom of God.” “Death and Life have contended in that astonishing war.” As I write these words, I can hear in my mind the masterful treatment of this event by the incomparable composer, J. S. Bach, in his Easter cantata, “Christ lay in the bonds of death.”  Through his music, he has Life swallowing up death, and even making a mockery of it, resolving into an ecstatic “Alleluia!” In Christ, we see and hear that evil gets defeated by goodness, sin is expunged by divine mercy, hatred yields to the greater power of divine Love, and death is transformed into the midwife of true Life.   In Christ, with the Jew Jesus as victim and as hero, God has triumphed decisively for every human being. Or in the more grandiose vision of the Apostle Paul, God is “liberating all of creation from its bondage to decay,” and giving each creature a share in “the glorious freedom of the children of God.” Or in the simpler words of Jesus in St. Luke’s gospel, “To God all are alive.” That is the reality we celebrate in the death and-Resurrection of Christ Jesus. To the One, ever living and true, be thanksgiving and love now and into eternity.

When the Well is Dry

3/20/2014

 

Within an hour, this bulletin must be finished. Nothing has come to mind to write as a mediation. What does one do when the well is dry? One returns to the Source of all that exists.

LORD God Almighty, God of Abraham, Moses, and the prophets, God of Jesus Christ, the Apostles, and the host of saintly people through the ages, In You all begins, each being has its origin; and in You we all have our End without end: Help each of us to honor You more generously with our lives than with our lips, To revere You in our hearts, and in the heart of our neighbor, and in every creature: Help each of us to love You not only as You are, but also in all whom You love, including in the man, woman, child who is hurting, who needs some support.

LORD God, as you came to the rescue of your people enslaved in Egypt, move us to have hearts of compassion, and hands to take action to help relieve the sufferings of others. Surely You in your infinite goodness are drawn to suffer in and with those who suffer; help us to do likewise, as we draw on your strength and compassion. Inspire us, LORD, to suffer with and for one another, that we may truly be your people.

As we continue on our Lenten journey towards Easter, As we continue on our life-long journey home to You, Eternal One, forgive, cleanse, and heal our defections, our sins, our betrayals of Your will and justice; and strengthen our will to do good, to reject evil, and to overcome evils with good. Strengthen us, LORD, with the Life and Love by which you conquered sin and death, and set us free from slavery to ourselves that we may serve You in deed and in truth.

LORD, what can I possibly say or do to be a source of blessing to your people? Keep me from betraying You, from hurting any of them, from betraying their trust. With St. Francis, LORD, make me, make each of us, a channel of your peace, a vessel of your holiness, a conduit of blessings You pour into your people.

To You, eternal Father, only-begotten God, and Holy Spirit, be honor and obedience now and into the timeless age of eternity.  Amen.

Some Thoughts As We Begin Lent

Lent for you will mainly be what you choose and work to make of it. Simply going through a liturgical season, without active involvement, without thoughts and choices and actions on your part, will do very little for your spiritual life. If you wish to grow in grace, to become more truly a disciple of Jesus Christ, then you must “change your ways,” and undergo real disciplines of body and mind. Is there one of us in our parishes who is truly ready to meet the LORD “face to face”? Well, we stand warned in the Scriptures: “Now is the acceptable time, now is the day of salvation.” Repentance—understood as a real change of life—is something that you and I must do here and now.   There is an old Latin saying, “Look to the end.” Before undertaking a task, know your goal, be aware of what you are aiming for, or else your actions will be more or less random, haphazard. As we begin Lent, there are two ends which we need to keep in mind: the end of the “journey of Lent,” which is Easter; and the end of the “journey of Life,” which is union with God beyond death. The second end is the greater, and the end that a spiritually alive, healthy human being must keep in mind daily: “Prepare to meet your God.”  As Lent unfolds, we need to keep in mind these two ends: that the liturgies and Scriptures are moving us towards a joyful celebration of Easter, “with heart and mind renewed.” And we must keep in mind why we must change, why we willingly undergo “the discipline of Lent.” We deny ourselves some food, drink, rest, entertainment, shopping, and so on, in order to give more thought for our final end. God is drawing us day by day to the Easter that has no end, to Life beyond the flow and ebb of time, into the eternal Now. God is not drawing us primarily to liturgical celebrations and religious practices, but to Himself. Each of us needs to be mindful of this ultimate End. As Lent begins, each of us would do well to ask ourselves a few questions in the silence of our hearts: Why am I here? Why do I exist? What is the meaning of my life? How well am I truly living a life of faith and love of God? Do I show my discipleship of Jesus Christ by how I am living? What do I need to change, in order to become more like Christ, or at least a more noble, self-giving disciple? How is the grace of God being offered to me today? What is God’s grace, and how does one worthily receive it? What is God asking of me that I should not put off? Am I really engaged in a process of conversion, or do I secretly think that I have “arrived,” that I am “part of the church” and therefore beyond God’s demand to change my ways?   Given our common liturgical practices during Lent, each of us could ask ourselves a few more pointed questions: Do I take time to read over the Scriptures at Mass before they are read, and before the homily? Do I make a real effort to think about what was read and preached at Mass, or do I let the teachings “go in one ear and out the other”?  Do I try to come into church before the celebration begins, to quiet myself, and prepare to enter into Christ’s Word and Sacrifice more wholeheartedly? Do I really renounce my sinful ways, and ask for divine correction? Or am I just going through the motions of being a “good Catholic”?

Notes on what to do with the remainder of my life here

Three points by way of introduction: First, I have never been one to try to plan my future in any detailed way. Second, my mind has often been focused toward “future” beyond space-time, toward eternity. Third, if I did not see value in some rational planning for future time here, I would not bother with this exercise.

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                                The ultimate goal and life “here”

What follows is not a plan, but at best, a prelude to a plan. I have not given sufficient thought about “what to do” in time remaining to me here. It seems true that I have never been one to try to plan out my life in advance, and surely not in details. At best I have tried to consider what I will be doing in the next year or two. In a life with so many changes, many of which have come without human willing or forethought, rational planning has seemed all but impossible to me. Despite this pattern, however, I shall attempt, in coming weeks, to give some coherent thought about “what to do” in time remaining to me. 

As for time and eternity: Historically, in centuries saturated with Christian experience and thought, “future” meant primarily non-time beyond death, not coming temporal years. That conception changed radically in the period we call “modernity,” from roughly the 17th century to the present.  Now, “future” is usually understood to mean “here on earth,” or even somewhere in “outer space,” but not—for most people, most of the time—life beyond death. Since my youth (late teens), I have been far more focused on what St. Ignatius of Antioch plainly called “getting to God” than in building up my life and future in this passing world. Had I not repeatedly chosen to spend my mental and spiritual efforts in the “search for God” according to the philosophical and Christian traditions, I would have sought more lucrative employment, found a suitable wife, raised a family, and worked hard to acquire a degree of “security” and “empowerment” for life in this world. Obviously, I have taken a different path.

Having been able to keep no salary until about age 50, I have had to spend considerable time investing to provide for my eventual retirement, as I chose not to aim at returning to St. Anselm’s Abbey, but to be independent “in the world.” Such financial planning is not the issue here, as saving and investing money is a means to an end, not the end sought. Investing is for the sake of independence and “empowerment” (as Jeanie recently wrote) to accomplish one’s chosen tasks. That much is evident. That I also invest to gain knowledge and experience, and as a mode of entertainment, is not the issue here, either.

At age 63, I do not regret time and effort spent in the quest for God (the Anselmian fides quaerens intellectum, faith seeking understanding); on the contrary, I regret not having engaged in this intellectual-spiritual work more avidly and intelligently. While still seeing the ultimate goal of life as union with God beyond death (the Christian transcendental hope), I have long sought to avoid a mental split between life “here” and life “there,” as if one lives one way now, another way after death. On the contrary, I appreciate the philosophers, mystics, and saints East and West who sought to live now, to the extent possible, the life in which they would participate “then.”  In other words, I fully accept the Platonic understanding of “eternal life” (and he coined the phrase in western culture): not as life “after death,” or primarily as “everlasting life,” but eternal life as true life, here and now. And this true life, eternal life, is a sharing in that which is eternal, deathless—namely, the divine. So my goal is eternal life, understood not as “life in heaven,” but as a real participation in ultimate reality. And this Life transcends the confines of space-time.

Perhaps a question or two may clarify and sharpen what is meant: What do I consider the ultimate goal of life, and how does one achieve it? The old catechism was not wrong, even if simplistic: the goal of life is happiness here, and eternal life with God beyond death. But for me, these two ends are not separate: happiness is eternal life, in the sense of true life. The goal of life is true, complete, and lasting happiness. Believing this to be true (and such is the common belief in the Greek philosophical and Christian perspectives), it seems to be clear what I must do with time remaining on earth, does it not? 

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                            A brief note on happiness and eternal life

What is happiness? Aristotle’s famous insight is as good as any I know as a starting point: “Happiness is an activity of the soul in conformity with virtue.”  The virtuous life engenders happiness. And as Aristotle proceeds to show in the Nicomachean Ethics, there are two distinct kinds of virtue, each with its kind of happiness: the active life achieves happiness through right action, through exercising the moral and intellectual virtues (summarized as courage, self-control, justice, and prudence); and the contemplative life, the life of study, finds its fulfillment in “immortalizing,” and “becoming divine to the extent possible,” using Aristotle’s phrases. Through contemplating the divine, man becomes like what he contemplates. 

I agree with St. Thomas Aquinas that for us in this world, the best life combines the active life of virtuous activity (doing good, loving one’s neighbor), and the contemplative life of loving God. Without living virtuously, and loving the person near us, who has a claim on our hearts and actions, what could loving God possibly be, but an escape into a void? And true love of neighbor—seeking the happiness and well-being of one’s fellow creature—is an outflow of one’s love of Goodness, of the Good, of that which in Christian tradition is called “God.”  

                                               ***

                                      So what am I to do?

Rather than develop these thoughts in the abstract, I return to the practical question: What do I intend to do with any time left me to be physically alive?  What is the best at which I should aim, and how can I best achieve it?

From what I have written, it would not be reasonable if I sought to spend my remaining time in amusements or entertainment, would it? But again, as Aristotle teaches, amusements have their place if they serve to refresh the soul for virtuous activities and contemplation (study, thought, prayer). As we eat to do good and to think, so one allows time for amusements and “diversions” in order to be more fully engaged in the essential tasks of life: loving God and neighbor, doing good and seeking to understand reality. The danger for all of us, myself included, is that such “diversions” can become primary, or usurp the proper focus of life. As Irving Babbitt wrote, “All life is either diversion or conversion.” We see much evidence that our society is obsessed with diversions: consumerism, drugs, booze, entertainment, “being connected,” trips, porn, and so on. A foremost danger for me is that diversions such as following business news, surfing the web, playing a card game, shopping, and so on, can and often do eclipse the larger, more true goal to bear in mind: doing good to one’s neighbor out of the ongoing search for God (the truth of reality). 

What kind of activities ought I to perform in order to be happy, to share in true life, eternal life? What do I have to give to others, that may benefit them?  How can I best serve the well-being of others, and at the same time, actively seek to love and to know God? This question, and others like it, determine for me any future plans I would wish to develop. Good questions guide good actions and right understanding. What questions must be asked?  How shall I proceed?

I ask the questions not in the abstract, but concretely, given who I am, what talents or skills I may have, what opportunities to benefit others. I do not ask now, “How can a human being best serve others?” but “How can I best serve others, and respond to the God seeking me through seeking truth, goodness, beauty?” 

Now for a few partial answers open to re-examination, revision, rethinking.

Having written all of the preceding material four days ago, one practical thought keeps returning to consciousness: Stay where I am, if permitted by church authorities, and seek to assist these parishioners with their lives, to the extent that I am able to do so. I cannot justify “retiring” in order to have more “leisure time” to “do what I want.”  If I manage my time well, I already have sufficient time for leisure (schole) in the proper sense, as analyzed by Aristotle: freedom from necessities, in order to engage in a virtuous life, through good deeds and study, as outlined above. Admittedly, there are days and weeks when I am overly busy for my good or that of others, but these periods pass. 

Some kind of “early retirement” would not only bind me to the necessity of struggling to “make ends meet” with a small Social Security check and relatively small savings / investments, but could give me too much opportunity to waste time on “personal projects,” on activities done “because I want to do them,” and not really focused either on what benefits others or on the life of the mind in the sense of contemplation and the search for truth about reality. I seem to give my best to others when duties demand me to do so, as in preaching, teaching, ministering to the sick and dying, and so on. As I reject being “a hermit,” so I am not interested in providing for myself a life of ease to do whatever I want, when I want it. 

A large practical problem for me is that without having duties to perform, I have not engaged sufficiently in genuine prayer, study, or contemplation; nor do I have a solid record of seeking the well-being of others, beyond the range of my required duties. In religious language, I have not had a clear sense of being “called” to some particular work, other than what my duties require of me. The one clear exception to this last generalization is this: I have long felt drawn to seek God through study and writing. That much I know clearly. But when given the time and means to do so, I have often diverted myself in diversions, and avoided the hard work of contemplation in the real sense.

In other words, given who I am, it makes more sense to remain in my present job, working with these people, and seek to serve them better. At the same time, I owe it to myself to engage more actively in the “search for God” to which I truly feel drawn. 

Concluding note: I shall continue this discussion below, perhaps on 27 Feb 2014 (today).  What I have written could be circulated, as to family; what I need to work on is private material: a critical analysis of ways that I divert myself from the search for God. Each soul must do this work for him/herself. “Know thyself.”  Come clean in the solitude of one’s heart.  How am I spending my time?

Present In Memory

19 February 2013  
Here at the old farm house, near Power, MT, nothing is heard but the wind, and it blows nearly incessantly. Several times a day, a pick-up truck passes on the gravel road. Before 6:00 am, well before light breaks, the winds and its effects are all that I hear outside. In the house, by my side, I hear Moses breathing.  And I hear nature breathing with that incessant wind. That is all I hear, except for the constant buzzing in my ears, which is something I have lived with since a young Marine discharged a Howitzer on Mount Fuji to see the Navy chaplain jump out of his skin. I was that Navy chaplain, and my ears were unprotected. I jumped, and the young men laughed. The sudden thunder of the 155 mm Howitzer left my ears ringing loudly for days, and only gradually faded into the constant buzz-hum with which I live. Other than this ever-present buzzing, the sound of the wind, occasionally of branches tapping on the roof, of Moses breathing or scratching is all that I hear.

Into the silence come thoughts. The Wind is nearly personal, so real as to seem alive, so alive as to seem to have its own will and way. Inside the house, we do not feel the wind, although the candle flame keeps dancing, so I assume that wind quietly breaks into this small, old house high on the Plains. A couple of hours ago we took a short walk outside in the utter darkness. Walking outside here, at every moment, every step we take, the wind is present to Moses and to me, as an accompanying friend, or mysterious spirit. It roars more than whispers, or whispers only when it is not roaring in our ears, buffeting our bodies, chilling our skin.

Perhaps the wind blows thoughts into my mind. In any case, thoughts come in the dark silence. Many diverse thoughts come to mind, but she returns to my mind again and again, every few minutes: Zoe, who died three weeks ago. On the day she died, Bob drove Zoe, Moses, and me up to this old farm house, where I thought she would come in for the last time. But she stayed outside, lying down in grass, sunlight on her beautiful black fur. I observed her, and took several photographs. How unlike Zoe, who was ever full of life, on the prowl, searching for rabbits, on watch for deer and antelope, exploring in one direction after another. Here she lay, still, with head up, watching, keeping an eye on me, as I could see, but not willing to engage the world with her fading body.

Now she comes back to me in thought only. Zoe is gone physically.  As I do my chores, or read, or listen to music, suddenly vivid thoughts of Zoe, memories from the past, arise into consciousness. Some of these thoughts are so vivid, so intense, that all else is forgotten, my attention is utterly arrested, and the past moment becomes alive again in memory. When feelings arise, most are sorrowful, because I am aware that these moments that constituted our life together are past, and I think, “She is gone.” But is she? Physically Zoe has departed. Through mind, through the activity of remembering, I am not conscious of her being absent, but of her presence, and of a shared experience. Feelings are quiet, not observed, until the memory of her fades, or I think, “but she has died.” In remembering moments, however, I am not aware of any feelings, but of Zoe’s presence.

She is there, outside, lying in the sunlight, watching me. She is on my bed, her head on my pillow, resting. She is crouching in grass, watching for rabbits. Zoe is sitting before me, gazing up into my eyes, telling me—or so I presume—that she is hungry and wants food. She walks to the door in the living room, and stares over at my in my black leather chair, indicating that she wants to go out into the dark night, not only to relieve herself, but true to Zoe, to explore, to see what she can find. And memories of being with her elsewhere arise—back in Belt, or at Black Eagle Memorial Island, swimming in the Missouri, in our yard in South Dakota, walking on the frozen river when she was so young, running through corn or soy fields. So many memories. Writing these down brings a swell of sorrow, and a welling up of tears in my eyes. And sighs. I loved this dog so much, and no doubt, she loved me. We had eight truly action-packed years together. And now?

Now there is silence, and darkness outside, electric lights inside. The memories of Zoe, as real as they are, lead me to wonder:

If shared experiences with Zoe, now memories, are so vivid and alive in me in some moments of space-time, is it possible that to God, all of her life, every moment, is ever present and most vividly known? If my limited and relatively weak mind can let Zoe be present for a few moments of remembering, what does the mind of the Creator do with a creature? To the One to whom all is known, and loved, is not every single moment of Zoe’s life still utterly alive, known, fresh? And given how creative the Creator is, is it not possible that in God’s knowing Zoe, she remains so present as to be truly alive, and in ways not limited to past experiences, or to the past at all?  Is it possible that every creature is alive forever in the mind of God?

When I think of “eternal life,” of true life that extends beyond space-time, I do not think of “resurrected bodies,” or of “immortal souls” floating around in some heavenly twilight zone. No, when I think of “eternal life,” of true life, I think of God, and that “to Him all are alive,” using that utterly profound phrase from St. Luke’s Gospel. What more does one need or want? To be alive in the mind of God forever—a Mind utterly unlimited, unbounded by space-time, or by any limits on imagination—is real life, true life, eternal life. That and nothing more. No bodies to decay, no food to eat, just utter freedom and joy in the mind of the Creator, in which there is no past, no future, but only the eternally present.

I wonder more: If Zoe is alive in the mind of God, and without her dog body, is she still a dog? She would not have another nature, but all natures have bodies, at least in our realm of concrete experience, space-time. Is Zoe now some kind of spirit-being, her real person unbounded by body and limitations of dog nature? When a being dies, does it lose its nature, and become utterly one with unbounded Being, with God? Again, if only God abides in eternity, in what form, in what ways, do creatures of space-time have a share in God? We try to limit God’s creativity to satisfy our desire to exist, and imagine, as noted before, “resurrected bodies,” or “immortal souls.”  Suppose that a being does not exist beyond death at all, any more than God exists beyond death, and simply is? That is the question. Are multiple unlimited beings possible? Does every being (or being-thing, creature) leave not only its body on earth, but its nature, and enter an unlimited, unbounded state of “pure spirit”?  Or again, is “God all in all,” and every particular form of being—every creature—ceases to exist at death, and is in no way a unique, distinct being beyond space-time? To such questions I shall return at a later time.  Now I simply wonder.

                                                   ***

“Zoe, are you here?”  I do not see her, or hear her, or smell her. Is she here? Where? In this living room with me? Not that I can see. No, Zoe is not in space-time. “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” Is she in my mind? To some extent, surely she is, for I can recall shared experiences. Am I not grateful to have lived with such a creature for eight years? Am I not grateful that such a free spirit, such an independent creature existed? How can I not be grateful for so many delightful, sometimes challenging experiences? If Zoe were here with me now, what would I say? To Zoe in God, and to a far lesser extent, in my mind, I say:

“I love you, my dear Zoe, now and forever. Thank you for giving me so much joy for eight years. Thank you for loving me with such open-hearted devotion. Thank you for bearing with my yelling and bouts of irascibility, as I tried to bear with your utterly free spirit and alpha-female ways. I loved you just as you were, and you loved me as I was. I love you as you are, and you love me as I am. And out of love for you, I will look after, tend, protect, and love Moses, the third member of our Pack, our family. I will love him as I have loved you, dear friend.”

“In You we live and move and have our being.”

A Lesson From Zoe

A brief note, written to my family, on a practical matter, which is meant as a friendly reminder:

Obviously I remain burdened by thoughts and feelings from Zoe’s final illness and death. There is a lesson in what happened to her from which I draw this note. Zoe was always strong, and lived with very good health for her 8 years. Rummy and Moses were considerably more sickly along the way. Whereas Moses has a rather poor coat, allergies, very itchy skin, must vomit if he gets a stomach ache, has a JCL/ACL problem that makes him limp at times, has a problem in one ear to which I must frequently attend, and so on, Zoe was strong, healthy, with a beautiful coat, could run longer and further than Moses, well muscled, and so on. And yet, cancer hit her suddenly and hard, and from all appearances, killed her in 2 months.

There is a lesson here for us. Except for Sister Deb, we are all in our ’60’s. We should not have the attitude of a woman on a commercial who says: “I am in my ’60’s, and I have a good, long life ahead of me, with lots of plans,” or words to that effect. Whenever I see that commercial, I think: “No way, lady, you are deceiving yourself. In your ’60’s, you do not have long to live”. Life is relatively brief and vulnerable to so many illnesses, accidents, mental challenges, and so on, that we would do well to think that we do not have many years left to live on earth. And act accordingly.

If Zoe could succumb to cancer so quickly, so could one of us. Both of our McKane parents had serious problems from cancer. I have already had skin cancer in my ear that grew into my mastoid bone (discovered by Zoe). Both had heart problems, Daddy was diabetic, Mama died from strokes. Rather than assume that we will live as long as our parents did, we should not take such longevity for granted. It is foolish to do so. We are all overweight, and except for Deb, not one of us gets sufficient exercise, and I dare say that we all need to improve our eating/drinking habits.

We do not know what the future brings, but prudence should tell us to treasure these days and months.This is not a “who cares what tomorrow will bring” attitude as in a popular song (“Today”), but a reminder to realize that any one of us could become seriously ill and even die within a relatively short span of time. To dismiss this note as “morbid” is, I think, unfair. I am trying to be practical and prudent. We can all learn a lesson from the way Zoe, relatively young and very healthy, was killed so quickly by cancer. And perhaps unlike any of you, I live in constant awareness that one false move by Moses, one impulsive run into a street, could be fatal. Or for me: again, with temperatures near 0 F, fresh snow on the ground, and much driving to do on bad roads to perform my duties this week-end, I would be foolish not to think that I could be in a serious or even fatal accident. Roads and the “highway” here are dangerous in good weather. And for those of you living in urban areas, surely you know how risky driving can be. One speeder or driver not paying attention could seriously injure or kill any one of us.

Far more than “financial planning,” we need sober awareness of the relative proximity to our final illnesses and death. This awareness does not move me to “retire early” and have a “merry old time” now. On the contrary, it indicates that I must consider what is most worth doing, take steps to do it now or as soon as possible, and be sober-minded about the proximity of serious illness and death. I have long been aware of the nearness of death. But now I realize more vividly that cancer or heart disease or some other fatal illness may be at work even now in this body—and if one or more disease is not present now, in a relatively brief span of time, serious illness or accident will strike.

Such is a warning painfully heard in Zoe’s sudden illness and death.

Towards Lent, and Adult Faith Classes

02/22/2014

As we prepare to begin Lent, I wish to encourage all of our faithful to reflect on ways we can enrich our spiritual life during this “season of grace.”  It is too easy, I think, just to “give up candy,” or something to that effect. I urge each of us to consider a number of spiritual exercises: additional prayer (and that may include attending daily Mass); quiet time alone, as in healthy walks, allowing the spirit some freedom without noise; spiritual reading (Scripture, life of a saint, a recent church document, etc); action to assist those in need (sick, shut-ins, mentally disturbed, poor); an attempt to eat more healthily during Lent (such as increasing intake of fruits and vegetables, abstaining from sweets). This list should be explained briefly in homilies as Lent begins.

Adult faith classes will be offered, as I think that attending and sharing in our discussions should be a good spiritual exercise during Lent. This year, rather than offer adult faith class in both Belt and Centerville, I will modify the approach.

At Holy Trinity, each Sunday during Lent, all are invited to attend Mass, share a simple meal, then share our faith. The timing immediately after Mass, with a meal, has worked very well. I propose that beginning on the First Sunday of Lent, we will read and examine the Mass readings for the following week. Each person should bring a set of Mass readings for the following Sunday to class. Discussion will be based on the readings, and folks are free to raise questions or comment in response to these readings. During the last session, we will briefly review the liturgies of Holy Week.

At St. Mark’s, rather than offer weekly adult faith classes, perhaps two presentations will be offered. I have learned that sporting events hurt attendance, so I will try to find two evenings when no event is being held in the school. Although I have not firmly decided on topics for these presentations, I tentatively suggest the following: One presentation will be on the use of photography as a form of prayer, something I have done for years, and wish to share, if we can find a good screen for viewing. (Note: It is painful to see how projecting digital images dilutes and distorts them, and I will consider an alternative.) The second presentation may be on the Liturgies of Holy Week, which are so extraordinarily rich that they deserve careful reflection to enhance our common experience during the services (Passion Sunday, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, the Easter Vigil, Easter Sunday).  An alternative would be a presentation on the theme of “Life and Death.”

Responses from the faithful on these plans should be appreciated.