The Hymn To Mary Magdalene

Penance of Magdalene by El Greco

Aha! There is a Hymn for the memorial of Mary Magdalene:

Who can now presume to fear?
Who despair his Lord to see?
Jesus, wilt Thou not appear,
Show Thyself alive to me?
Yea, my God, I dare not doubt,
Thou shalt all my sins remove;
Thou hast cast a legion out,
Thou wilt perfect me in love.

Surely Thou hast called me now!
Now I hear the voice divine,
At Thy wounded feet I bow,
Wounded for whose sins but mine!
I have nailed Him to the tree,
I have sent Him to the grave:
But the Lord is ris’n for me,
Hold of Him by faith I have.

Here for ever I would lie,
Didst Thou not Thy servant raise,
Send me forth to testify
All the wonders of Thy grace.
Lo! I at Thy bidding go,
Gladly to Thy followers tell
They their rising God may know,
They the life of Christ may feel.

Humble Hope

“To God who has so abundantly blessed the church through the Dominican Order; may the Order of Preachers, under the mantle of the Mother of God, continue to flourish in fraternal love purified in obedience to the truth.”
--Archbishop Joseph Augustine Di Noia, O.P.


(HT: Whispers)

Corpus Christi and the Single Life

Today is the beautiful feast of Corpus Christi - the body and blood of Jesus Christ.  Our blog is a forum to think about what it means to be "single, lay, Catholic, and modern," so I wanted to muse about what the body and blood of Christ has to do with the single life.  

If there is one thing that I feel is certain about the single life, that is that there is no real palpable sense of "home."    Singles tend to work or study in various locations...big cities, suburbs, some domestically and some around the globe.  Many of us work to support ourselves.  We have the luxury of specialized study, the ability to think about what we want to do opposed to what we have to do.  We have no real roots down anywhere because we don't have obligations to others besides ourselves.  I've already moved twice since graduating from college, and in reality, I have no real ties to any one location.  All of this "rootlessness" is for better and for worse, though.  To be without obligations is a blessing in that we can serve the people that we're called to serve in our work and social circles, but it is really difficult in that we have no one at home asking of us and for us each day or night in an intimate, familial way.  When we return from work each day, do we really feel like we can put our feet up and feel secure, safe, and wanted?  I don't know about you, but I long for a sense of home on a daily basis.  Today, on this feast, I realized that when I approach the altar, I am going home.  There my king welcomes me with joy and love every time I approach Him there.   When we received the Eucharist, we find our home.  

The other thought that I had about this feast day in relation to the single life is that lay, modern, Catholic women ARE the corpus in the world.  We have the freedom, the time, the energy, and the opportunity to make Him present to others who need Him.  And that includes making Christ present to married people, to clergy, to religious, and to our fellow lay men who are all seeking gentle compassion, intelligent discussion, warm hospitality, and honest observation from women.  Single ladies, be the Body of Christ today, and know what we all have a home at the table.   

The Four Quartets - Holy Week

I know it is not yet Good Friday, but I can't help but share a part of my favorite poem, T.S. Eliot's The Four Quartets.  Each read is a spiritual exercise for me, and this Friday I will have these words on my heart: 

The wounded surgeon plies the steel

That questions the distempered part; 

Beneath the bleeding hands we feel

The sharp compassion of the healer's art

Resolving the enigma of the fever chart. 

Our only health is the disease 

If we obey the dying nurse

Whose constant care is not to please

But to remind of our, and Adam's curse, 

And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse. 

The whole earth is our hospital

Endowed by the ruined millionaire, 

Wherein, if we do well, we shall

Die of the absolute paternal care

That will not leave us, but prevents us everywhere. 

The chill ascends from feet to knees, 

The fever sings in mental wires.

If to be warmed, then I must freeze

And quake in frigid purgatorial fires

Of which the flame is roses, and the smoke is briars. 

The dripping blood our only drink, 

The bloody flesh our only food: 

In spite of which we like to think 

That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood - 

Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good. 

The Good Mass

So much to say! There have been so many good posts lately, and it's just my luck that I haven't had time to do anything but work for the last two weeks. I especially want to respond at length to Julian's post about Motherhood and the Single Life.

But for now, a humbling note. Yesterday started out wonderfully. I got a lot of things done, felt refreshed and ready for the week. I was still stressed about a few things, notably about my friend Helen (not her real name of course), who is dealing with divorce and faith crises, and about my job situation (both that I have too much work, and that I hate it!) As the afternoon wore on, I was in a bit of an emotional state, and finally I got to mass only to be greeted by...

THE CHA-CHA.

Seriously. The Hymn of the Prayer of St. Francis was done to a Cha-cha beat, and I nearly wanted to scream. From there on the mass was up and down. Or should I say, my engagement with it. The Gloria, even though it is one of my least favorite settings, was jubilant and stirring. The Mass Readings were powerful, and the sermon was good, if a bit rambling. But then there were the ad-libbed additions to the Mass, and the almost flippant recitation of blessings and prayers.

I was fuming by the time I left, and took it out on poor Julian. I said I was sorry before, but I really mean it now, dear! Why? When I got back home there was a text message from Helen. "Have a good mass. As if mass could be anything else."

Mea Culpa.