Mystical Murmurs: My Interfaith Life

Well, the Baby came safely again, as He does every year. Walking to my car after Midnight Mass, I looked at the stars and was overcome by a feeling of peace. Arriving back home, I sat up reading for awhile, reveling in the darkness and solitude (and, I must admit, waiting for the kids to turn up from their evening activities, none of which, I assure you, included church in any form!). This feeling persisted all through Christmas Day. We had a smallish Christmas this year -- a couple small gifts for each person to open, but mainly gift cards for the adult children. I thought this scaled-down gift-giving would occasion cries of protest, but the kids seem to appreciate that we can no longer predict their taste in anything, and that they will encounter huge sales on the day after Christmas. I particularly emphasized the huge sales aspect. Working in academia means that, most years, I am off work between Christmas and New Year's Day. Yesterday and today, I have been capable of nothing

Our service of Lessons and Carols took place last night at church -- a lovely event, even though it is unseasonably warm here, and I had perspiration running down between my shoulder blades as I was singing! Not very Christmassy. The firewood rack on my porch is completely filled, but we have not really had cold enough weather to suggest a fire. I feel really silly having a fire with all the windows open! And so we creak along into the last week of Advent. All my women friends are practically dead on their feet. I accomplished nothing this weekend. Friday was the eleventh anniversary of my mother's death, which I tend to brood about more than I should after eleven years. And so this week I will have to make up for lost time. Is it January yet?

We're having unseasonably warm weather here in the East, and it does detract a bit from the season. Who feels like baking when it's 60 degrees and the windows are open? I don't feel much like baking under even the best of conditions ... I'm doing a duet ("Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring") on Sunday with one of our sopranos, and my poor piano is so out of tune that I have had trouble plunking it out. One New Year's resolution will be to get the poor thing tuned. At least that's easier than losing weight! Presents: bought but not wrapped. I cut back considerably from previous years. Gift cards are just fine, especially for adult children. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I actually got half a llama one Christmas, through the Heifer Project, and I loved knowing that what would have been a present was used to help someone in need -- but I doubt that the kids would really appreciate a flock of chickens, or a cow. I would never hear the end of it. Bu

We finished trimming the Christmas tree last night. The "theme" this year is red and gold (Why? I don't like warm colors, generally). The boxes of decorations are restowed in the basement. But I still don't have any Christmas spirit. I have been known to say that I would love to sleep from the day after Thanksgiving until January 2! Hustle and bustle just wear me out. I went by our local mall last weekend, just to "put my toe in the water," saw that the parking lot was completely full, and decided to buy everything online. I hate crowds! I wonder ... Would Jesus recognize the fact that we are celebrating His birthday? As we wallow in consumerism, do we just postpone Him for consideration only in the Midnight Mass? Reading an Advent book helps to keep me focused. But, at the bottom, it's largely emptiness that I feel in Advent. But I suppose our emptiness is why He came, isn't it?

Well, we had Thanksgiving. The turkey is gone now, having provided a lot of nice sandwiches. The plastic container of leftover stuffing has been nibbled away to nothing. Before our daughter went back to college this afternoon, I bribed her to put together the Christmas tree (a job I hate but she enjoys, and I won't see her again till after her finals). So now in our living room, we are celebrating "Christoween": on the mantel are small pumpkins and gourds, and next to them the naked Christmas tree. Oh well. Things in our house never happen in a tidy fashion. And so Advent is about to begin. Time rushes by so quickly at this time of year that it is no wonder our lives become disordered. And yet -- of course I never felt this when I was young -- is there not a profound stillness at the heart of Advent, almost as though the world is holding its breath? Can we pause to feel this stillness of expectation, or will we miss it again this year? Andre Louf, writing in The Cistercia

Every year I have a tendency to forget (until abruptly reminded) that fall and spring here can be windy and rainy. Saturday was lovely, but yesterday and today we have had a drenching rain and wind. It's warmish, but the rain just chills you anyway. And of course the rain and general gloom are exacerbated by the fact that it's Monday. Life is full, too full. By the time I get to Sunday night, I feel as though I have run a marathon. Last night I was beyond tired, and I still have no clean clothes. I wonder how many others feel this way? Why are we living like this? What happened to the 4-day work week that the pundits promised us, back in the 60s or 70s? Perhaps now it is time for my diatribe on modern life, and my unfavorable comparison of my life with my mother's. My mother was the person I didn't want to grow up to be. I felt particular horror at the idea of becoming a homemaker. So I worked like mad, getting two master's degrees, and letting a kindly day-care p

Fr. Hugh Feiss, O.S.B., writing in Essential Monastic Wisdom , has this to say about the appeal of the study, den, or monastic cell: "It is one thing to love one's room because one is so stressed out by work, crowds, talking, rushing from one appointment to the next, answering phone messages, that one's room is a place where one can collapse in peace. It is another thing to find somewhere a place of silence and creativity, where one can listen for the voice of God and think one's own thoughts and be one's own self." Hmmm ... This made me think. I do have a room, up at the top of my house, where I go to read, think, and pray. It's pretty comfortable, probably too comfortable. In addition to my desk and laptop computer, there's a wall of built-in bookshelves (rapidly getting full), a comfy chair with an ottoman, good reading lights, and a window to lo

I got to the train late this morning, after dealing with my three dear dogs and their various medicinal needs. I hate being late, so I arrived winded and annoyed on the elevated platform, having just missed a commuter train, and plopped down on a bench. The neighborhood trees, dressed in the remnants of their fall colors, were right at my eye level, shades of dusty red and dull gold. A fine morning mist overlay them all. As I watched, however, the morning sun broke through, and the colors, which had been sullen before, suddenly burst into flame. Even the tattered leaves about to fall were shining like the sun. "This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." We forget this at our peril. It's so easy for me to get caught up in the rat race, and in so doing, become my own personal rat, in my own little spinning wheel. People are not meant to live like this, and I must resolve to make more effort not to. More easily said than done, of course. Tonight,

Well, there goes another precept of my mom's about proper dress for all body types. Last night I wore flip-flops, which, I guess, is another transgression, especially in October, as were white shoes before Memorial Day. Sorry, mom. On this last day of October, I felt very Halloweeny, therefore the bright orange long-sleeved tee-shirt. I'm sure I look like a barrage balloon which has broken loose. Who cares? I am fortunate to have one of those jobs where you make decent money and they don't care how you dress, a situation I take increasing advantage of as I continue to slough off the fashion lessons of my youth. Actually I feel very close to my mom today, though she's been gone for nearly 11 years. Tomorrow both parents' names will be read aloud at our church's All Saints' Day service, and I will sniffle as I always do. Some things never go completely away.

I have just about finished a very challenging book recommended to me by someone at church: Holy Vulnerability , by Mike Flynn, an Episcopal priest. What an eye-opener! Fr. Flynn is part of the charismatic renewal movement within the Episcopal Church, and this book reflects that perspective. But what a different perspective from my own! The matter arose at the Church on the Pike when a friend asked me to pray that our church's own renewal might be successful and not fall prey to the "Evil One." I guess I got a funny look on my face when she said this to me, because I was immediately handed Fr. Flynn's book. Now, despite having seen The Exorcist 4 or 5 times when it first came out, and having read with great interest Malachi Martin's book Hostage to the Devil , I'm just not sure what I think about the objective reality of demons in this world, where so many problems can be attributed to man himself. But maybe not all problems. I have a good deal of thinking abo

The mercury fell into the high 30s last night, so I guess I can say fall has arrived. Meanwhile, they have two feet of snow in Buffalo -- I'm happy not to be dealing with that yet! My son had left for work and everyone else was still asleep when I left this morning. It was a perfect fall morning: the air was so cold I could see my breath, but there was no wind, so a little mist still hung in the trees, which have just started to turn to their fall colors. I stood still for a minute, just saying a prayer of thanks. If I'd had time, I would love to have made a cup of tea and sat on my front porch, all bundled up. The air was so clear it was like looking through crystal. I hate having to leave the house in the mornings. I am definitely, at least in middle age, quite the homebody. Tonight, if it stays chilly, I will definitely have a fire, and stay up late, reading. For some unknown reason, I have decided to try to learn a little biblical Greek (!), and got myself a textbook with a

Like everyone else, I am horrified by school violence, a problem I never had to worry about when I was in school myself. My kids were in high school when the Columbine shootings took place, and I remember well the paradigm shift I underwent as I had to acknowledge that my kids might not be safe after I dropped them off in the morning, and that I had no control over what might happen at the school, beyond my sight and hearing. Before Columbine, school violence certainly existed -- but it was the simple scale of the Columbine violence that reordered everyone's thinking. What darkness might be lurking in the hearts and minds of my kids' classmates? What violent plans might be hatching in fecund teenaged brains? And now it's a whole new ballgame, another paradigm shift, as I read somewhere the other day. Now we have to fear not only alienated, hate-filled teenagers, but alienated, hate-filled adults who have discovered in nearby schools an easy target for their rage. Adults w

A cold front has come through and we are enjoying a welcome break from early-fall warmth and humidity. The low tonight is predicted to be in the low 40s -- time to haul out a light blanket, at least. I'm too cheap to turn on the furnace for AT LEAST another two weeks! Fall is my favorite time of year. I love the colors, the scents, the crisp air. And it always seems like a new beginning -- I guess because I am still somewhat in tune with the academic year, and with church programming, which follows largely the same pattern. And I need a new beginning very badly. I've been in a slump; you could call it a time of aridity. My house is a mess, my prayer life is laborious, and my "exercise program" has become a myth. Actually, it's usually a myth! So this time is as good as any to try to get things in order. The whole weekend lies ahead, with nothing much planned (it's a miracle!). Time to get going.

At the end of last week it became clear to me, through items which arrived in the mail, that someone has been using my name to attempt to open credit card accounts! Yesterday morning, in examining my credit report, I learned with some bemusement that seven such attempts have been made in this month alone!! Someone has been very busy pretending to be me! (I wonder if he or she also wants to be middle-aged, short and plump? I'm a package deal.) Now that I have set up security alerts with all the credit reporting agencies, this type of attempt won't be successful (I hope). I tried not to lose much sleep over it all, in any case. And yet -- this event did bring home to me the fact that my reputation for reliability, reflected in my good credit record, is very important to me. Despite all we hear at the Church on the Pike about how infinitely precious we are to God, just as we are and with all our wrinkles unsmoothed, apparently I also care quite a bit about my "good name&quo

This past week I've been reading Henri Nouwen's The Genesee Diary , which he wrote during the period June-December, 1974, when he was on retreat in a Trappist abbey in New York State. This is something I would love to do, even if only for a month. Actually, a week would suffice! Now that I've been back at work for a few days, I can barely recall that I was on retreat at all. Clearly this is something I should do a few times a year. What I like best about Nouwen's diary is the essential humanity of the man that is evident no matter where you open the book! He writes about his own, most human, foibles, which he has brought with him even into this holy place: hurt feelings, petty jealousies, aggravation when assigned unfulfilling work; and about the niggling worry, as the term of the retreat passes, about whether what he has learned about God and about himself can be taken back and demonstrated in his normal daily life. One passage I find particularly appealing deals with

At 53, I finally have my own desk! Break out the camcorder! OK, I guess it's not a big deal. But for years, I've been conducting household business, journaling, etc., on a cramped, narrow little table that we bought years ago for the kids to do their homework on (they never used it, of course; they preferred their bedroom floor, when they did homework at all). It has two tiny, shallow drawers, not nearly enough room for all the junk accumulated in running a household, and a little wooden chair that's painful to sit on if you have arthritic hips. So when my husband and I stumbled across the discontinued rolltop desk in an unfinished furniture store, we got it as my birthday present. It's monstrous, and takes up a whole wall of my little study. It has every nook and cranny that I could possibly desire: little drawers for stamps and paper clips, little doors that open to reveal secret cubbies, and three big drawers down each side of the knee-hole ... it's heaven! I kn

I've just returned home from our parish's first-ever retreat, held in Atlantic Canada on the shores of the Northumberland Strait. Some of us elected to fly there, some to drive; I was among the drivers, which probably accounts for the fact that I returned home somewhat worn down. Flying would have been a better option. The spot was beautiful. We had 4 housekeeping cabins, among which were distributed 11 people. Right out our front door was the cliff-edge, and below it, at low tide, was a rock-strewn beach great for beachcombing. I love beach-glass and little, odd-looking rocks, and came home with so many that I haven't had time to sort them out yet. So, what I learned: living in community is HARD WORK, not to be undertaken lightly. My two cabin-mates got into a (relatively minor, in retrospect) fracas the first full day of retreat, and there I was, stuck in the middle, eyes wide as a saucer, wishing to be invisible. Later on, we all got along just fine, but I found myself w

I'm halfway through Francis Schaeffer's True Spirituality , and I have to say it's been awhile since a book has affected me quite so much. There was no chance of falling asleep while reading this one! The emphasis so far has been on the sequential facts of Jesus's life: that he was rejected, slain, and raised, in that order, and that Christians must not neglect that order. That there is always a crucifixion in our lives before a resurrection -- that we die to self in baptism, and are raised with Christ; that we must reject the values of the world before we can walk with Him. Now that's powerful enough -- and Schaeffer is a very good writer -- but when he elaborates this theme, the reality comes pounding home. When we are baptized, we actually die, in God's view. So that, in living our lives, we are to live as if we have really died, have been to heaven, and have been raised again . We are to live resurrection lives. The reason this blows me away is that this is

Blogging is a scary idea for me. I have kept a journal for several years -- it now runs to five of those little journal notebooks you get from Levenger's -- and I'm sure I'm an odd sight, pulling it out of my bag before work or at lunch, scribbling madly for a few minutes before tucking the journal away again and (reluctantly) going back to my normal activities. I have been known to "journal" almost anywhere: in the courtyard of the building where I work, on a plane, in a hotel room when I travel for business. The journal is never far from me. My family knows it exists, but has never read it. I began the journal after thinking one day, just before I turned fifty, that my life was probably two-thirds done (cheerful thought!), and I should probably begin to sort myself out for the remaining third. I wanted to leave my children something besides a few shares of stock and a house crammed full of stuff that they'd have to auction off or give away. The journal seem