Easter Tridium

Easter is almost here, and that means the end of Lent, for which I am always eternally grateful because Lent is the gloomiest season of all in the church. 

I didn't go to church on Holy Thursday this year because I was scheduled for shows. I didn't think I would mind, but I did. Mostly because in the past year I found a church community that takes the feet washing to a new level. That may seem weird and uncomfortable to some people, but it's exactly the hands-on version of Catholic theology that I relate to so well. 

"You're not a real Catholic," Jeremy said recently with an air of surprise, "you're like a strange Christian- hippie hybrid." *

I guess I am. It doesn't help (or should I say that it doesn't hurt?) that during Lent this year instead of revisiting The Devout Life by St. Francis de Sales, (as I have done in years past) I instead read:

- If God is Love, Phillip Gulley and Jim Mulholland

- If the Church Were Christian: Rediscovering the Values of Jesus,  Phillip Gulley

and excerpts from 

- The Women's Bible, Elizabeth Cady Stanton 

 Throughout the years I have had periods in which I have taken great comfort and pride in the church. I have also had periods, difficult to shake, where I am embarrassed, ashamed, saddened and troubled by the church.   But I've always retained my membership. I've never not been Catholic. The same is true now.  Although, now I am more comfortable than I have ever been just defining myself as a Christian-Catholic Hybrid. **

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* This is because I told Jeremy I like to pray in the woods. He doesn't even know about the feet washing.

** If we have to have definitions. Which we don't. Because that's, like, just The Man trying to keep you down.  Let's go burn our draft cards. And our bras. And the tip of this joint. 

World Religions 101

It was night time and the air in the tent had cooled off considerably. Everyone had quieted down and were talking softly among themselves, reading Bibles, or sleeping. One man in the corner was singing a hymn very quietly that had gone on for quite some time.

"Michelle," my patient called out, "can you help me please?"

I stopped what I was doing and approached his bed, thinking he needed his pain medication.

"Please, can you help me understand this?" He was speaking in English and pointing to a passage in a Bible that was also in English. This particular young man had been enrolled in school for many years and proudly spoke both "higher" and "lower" English fairly well. I know this because he once explained to me that "maybe" was lower English but "perhaps," was higher. I was impressed.

"I am reading this and I need to understand," he said. "Ok, shoot," I responded.

“Speak to the people of Israel, saying, ‘If a woman conceives and bears a male child, then she shall be unclean seven days. As at the time of her menstruation, she shall be unclean," he read.

Oh boy I thought.

"What is conceives?" he asked, "does it mean have a baby?"

"Yes, it means have a baby."

"And... menstruation? How is that?"

Words failed me. "It means..." I stalled for a minute, "well it means..."

"Is it like when a lady has her bleeding?"

"Yes. Exactly." I began to get suspicious of his need for my tutorial, but his question wasn't about feminine body functions.

"Ok... then it says a woman will be unclean for seven days if she has a baby and it is a boy. And she is unclean for seven days if she has her bleeding."

"Mmmhmmm."

"Ok. 'If she bears a female child she shall be be unclean for two weeks.'"  He looked at me. This isn't my favorite part of Leviticus* so I just nodded, waiting.

"If a lady has her bleeding or a boy baby she is unclean for one week and a girl baby she is unclean for two weeks, so what is unclean?"

"Oh wow. Ok... well the Jewish people had a lot of rules for things," I stopped, wondering how far in over my head I was about to get. "And there were rules about when you could and couldn't enter a temple. Having a baby is one, touching a dead body is another."

He stared at me, not blankly, but waiting for more explanation.

Guessing his question I said, "Temple for the Jewish people is like going to church for Christians."

"So if a lady has a baby she can't go to church? If she is unmarried?"

I had no idea where the last part came from. "No, I said, "whether or not she is married. She has to stay away for a certain amount of time. Then there are things you have to do to get clean again. Rituals."

"But we don't do that here," he said, his brow furrowing. "We don't say that."

Realizing I was about to deliver the most diverse theology lesson he may have ever heard, I tried to chose my words sensitively, "It's a different religion.  Jesus was Jewish. When Jesus came, some people started a new religion. That's where Christians came from. They don't follow all the same rules of the Jewish people."

 For good measure I added,"We have the New Testament."

He looked relieved. "Ok. Because I was surprised to read that. We don't do that here."

He was just worried that they weren't following the Bible as closely as they could be. I shook my head in wonderment. Across the tent, the hymn continued.

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* I do not have a favorite part of Leviticus.

Hidden

This is a rare post because it is very personal, and largely un promotional of "Misch" as a savvy RN with a sharp comic wit. Proceed with compassion and caution.

I mentioned recently that my Lenten journey was less than successful this year. After admitting it out loud I upped the stakes a little bit, and tried to find the peace and love that has centered my life in the past.

As I drew Jesus closer in my prayer life, I became happier, healthier and more fun to be around. I stopped feeling burned out at work and began reaching out to old friends. Clearly, my faith had needed some serious healing.

Unfortunately, inspired by this change in myself, during Holy Week I dove head first into a bunch of theology which I found I simply do not have the support systems to be dealing with.

Easter, which is the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus and the Redemption of humanity through His rising, is supposed to be a day of great joy and hope.

And, it was. But with it came what felt like centuries worth of anxiety and bad feelings.

I was visiting family all day long, and tried to focus on how good it was to be with loved ones. I tried to generate the happiness that spirituality usually brings to me. But anxiety kept building up inside me. Instead of feeling awake and joyful in the Risen Lord, I went to bed at 7:30pm just to escape my thoughts.

As of right now I am in the process of seeking help from several friends in various doctrines.

I have prided myself since leaving college at not having a home parish. I have bragged about how I sometimes go an entire month without mass in the same place two weeks in a row. I go every week, but count several different locations as "my church," depending on the zip code. It's because I refuse to forfeit weekly mass to my hectic schedule as a performer and nurse. It's a system that has for the past two years allowed me to never feel cut off from the Sabbath day even in the craziest of weekends.

But now I find that this system, although convenient, has robbed me of the very thing church was made for. Community.

I have questions. Big questions. Questions that are keeping me awake all night long.
And no one to field them.

It will never be a question for me whether God exists or not. Nor will I question the Divinity of Jesus. Right now, more than almost ever in my life I am questioning the idea of church, religion, and the Bible.

It has happened before. It's not new news. I've struggled a long time with some of the same issues.

People closest to me will remember some of the biggest times of spiritual wrestling in my life. When I was in high school I almost didn't become confirmed*. In college, sophomore year most people will remember how I wanted to become a nun. I even went to a retreat at a convent for women my age thinking of the same commitment. I think fewer people will remember that the very same year I almost left the Catholic Church because I thought women should be ordained. (A good friend of mine who is now a priest talked me down from that one.) After I found peace in my decisions to neither leave the Church nor become a nun my life was calm for a while. Another struggle came junior year.

I don't see myself as particularly strong because of these battles. I can never be sure if I've won over doubt or just silenced a snooze button. In the end I'm mostly just relieved to have the joy of believing without fear or anxiety back in my life.

I am sharing this with you for two reasons. One is so that you can relate.
In the past I have been scared of sharing what I consider spiritual weakness with others. I felt they'd then doubt my leadership in the Church, or doubt my ability to help them with their own spiritual needs. But now I know that it is only through our weaknesses that God can make us strong. I believe very strongly in God. But I know something in my life is being called to change, and I don't know what it is. And if knowing that I'm going through this helps you, then it is good to share it.

The other reason is to try to branch out my community more. If you pray, please keep my troubled heart in your prayers. If you don't pray and you'd like to sit and logic some things out with me, I'd be up for that too. I believe we are called to Faith which means sometimes walking blindly. But it never means walking unthinkingly. It has been a combination of my mind and my heart which has brought me here through God's grace. And that is how I will move forward again.

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* My parents told me that it was my choice to make and they'd love and accept me either way which was very wise. It has prepared me for a lifetime of making informed decisions for myself.

... and to dust you shall return

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent for Western Christians.

Because I am a practicing Christian I am often asked questions like "Do you really think that God cares about what you eat?" and "Isn't fasting actually just ungrateful since so much food goes to waste every day?"

I love to answer these questions and can do so ad nauseum because I have put a lot of thought into my beliefs over the past five to seven years or so. Additionally, I think questions like this are important because they help me to look at my beliefs from new perspectives. Who knows, maybe I'll change my mind.

I will be doing a lot of writing about Lent (I hope), so please feel free to ask me questions, even the most inflammatory ones. I'm not easily offended.

Today was the first time in maybe 16 years that I did not attend a Catholic service for Ash Wednesday. Instead, I attended an Episcopal service meant for homeless men and women and their healthcare providers. It was very similar to what I'm used to except of course, for the Eucharist* which I was prepared for, having attended some Protestant masses in the past.

(Is this the beginning of a metanoia? Only time will tell.)

I enjoyed this particular service because there was a real community involved. It was so much better than going to a big half empty church on a cold Wednesday night. Patients and nurses alike sat in a circle and the service was informal. Three men volunteered and did the readings. One of them stumbled over the words of Matthew and looked up apologetically to say he was nervous. Everyone nodded in understanding and the reading continued. A woman dabbed her black rimmed eyes.

The reverend spoke about second chances and forgiveness, and I felt a real chill run through me. To my left was a man I know who is dying and who is scared. He kept his eyes downward until it was time for the peace offering. We shook hands and hugged. I accepted the Eucharist from a woman patient who I've seen around but do not know. It was a really wonderful reminder that we are all here to serve one another, this breaking down of staff versus patients for the hour long service.

I felt a bit odd not going to a Catholic Mass to begin the season. But in some ways, this might be the best start a Lent has ever had.

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* Protestants and Catholics differ on the opinion of whether or not the bread and wine actually become the body and blood of Jesus during the Mass. Protestants, because they believe the bread and wine only represent Jesus may use various substances to fill in. Catholics have stricter requirements about what substance may be consecrated. After a brief speech about the unity of Christians in the breaking of the bread, we all ate a doughy cookie and drank grape juice.

Epiphanies

Today at church Father Charlie gave an amazing sermon. I'm going to share some of it.

Today is the Fest of the Epiphany. Known elsewhere in the world as "Three Kings Day." Fr. C is my favorite preacher with good reason. He spoke to us very frankly about the fact that the "Three Wise Men," that we sing about did not exist. They are part of what theologians call "True Myth." But we can neither throw the story away or be fooled into taking it at face value. The legend has a lesson : The magi did not find God on their own. God sought them first by sending a star.

Father Charlie went on to say that God comes to us every day. When we are open to it we can experience those moments as epiphanies. Any time we catch them, an epiphany. Seeing an old friend can be an epiphany. A birth, a wedding, a party. Maybe even in grieving, if we are open, we will find epiphanies.

However, he said, sometimes our lives can get so hectic that we don't realize all the different ways we're missing those moments of revelation and joy. It's possible to get so caught up, even in the good things in life, that we miss them somehow. Many of my friends who have gotten married say the same thing. They are so wound up in the planning that when the day comes, it's almost a let down. They missed the moment.

Father Charlie referenced this article from the Globe today that says city life might actually be changing our brains. Because the article touches on the idea that nature plays in the development of our minds, he then talked a bit about nature. The Native Americans, he pointed out, understood our need to communicate constantly with the Higher Power. They spoke to the Great Spirit in everything from rocks to trees to deer to people. And we need to take a page from their book. Because we're missing it.

I know my schedule is about to blow up. But somehow I need to take these moments. And make them mine. And make them mindful. And live those epiphanies. Because otherwise, what's the point?

I was underneath the tree and thinking about the stars.

For Catholics in the Unites States the official Christmas season began three weeks ago, at the start of Advent. Although for many people Christmas ends the next day, in my culture Christmas lasts until January 6th. I knew a wonderful priest by the name of Father Douglas, and he preaches at the Newman Center in Amherst, Ma and he used to stand really firm on this. He would "order," us with a gleeful look on his face to not stop the celebrating and the joy and the dancing and the carols until the 6th.

However, I'd like to take it even further than just five weeks.

In the book Jesus and Buddha As Brothers Thich Nhat Hanh writes about the Buddhist tradition of "Beginning Anew," and compares it to the Christian idea of baptism and being "born again." In a chapter called "Let the Child Be Born Unto Us," taken from an address he gave December 24th 1996 he asks all Christians to recognize that

Jesus Christ is born every moment of our daily life- not only on Christmas day, because every day is Christmas day, every minute is a Christmas minute. The child within us is
waiting each minute to be born and born again.

(A bit more info: The Globe recently ran an interesting article about the intersection of Buddhism and Christianity and reactions to the concepts from everyone to lay people to the Pope. Since I have been studying this intersection since high school when Grandminister of Funk Toro wrote me one of the nicest letters I have ever received, I found this small media piece interesting.)

I live my life mindfully. At least, I try to. It's takes discipline, and it's something that needs to be actively practiced. Because of this practice I hold the belief that Christmas and the idea of Christmas can be every moment of every day. You can interpret that secularly to mean that every day should be filled with the goodwill and inclinations of generosity that permeate "the holidays." I think that's fine and can certainly cause more good than harm. On a more theological level I would also add that every moment can be rebirth of spirit, a confirmation of purpose and a redefining of salvation. And although I experience it as a Christian, I also believe you don't have to be any particular religion to live your life that way.

Merry Christmas Saturday, everyone!

All of this is here with me.

Here, because I'll lose all of this otherwise:

The last Saturday we spent in Tokyo we went shopping. We believed this day to be John's birthday. It wasn't but we believed that it was and so we acted accordingly. Meaning, of course that we ate sushi four times that day. At different places. And drank. No matter what. Actually, I only went twice because then Steph and I got into a cab and gave the driver the address of the church I wanted to go to. Yes, even in Japan I was able to find a Catholic mass in English! Meanwhile the guys and Casey explored more of the city's sushi and sake population.

Catholic Mass outside of the the Northeastern part of the US is very different. I hadn't been expecting the sermon to be so conservative. It was hard to sit through, and made me question a lot of my faith. It made me wonder if I am really Catholic anymore or if I shouldn't really take those steps towards a Christian religion that is more in line with my beliefs. Those of you who know me best will say, "same old story, Misch." And the age old arguments I have against leaving are all the same. Steph actually walked out during the sermon, it was that bad. Afterwards I found solace in a long talk with John about organized religion versus Faith.
And although it was uncomfortable I am glad I went because in a week so full of moving and acting, I had done little in the way of meditating or praying and I needed the discipline of a full hour just for that.

When we all joined up again we traveled to Roppongi. Now, Gavin, our Australian friend whom we met on Friday had told us we had to go to Roppongi Hills. He showed us amazing photos he took from there of the whole city. Naively, I led the rest of my friends to busiest night club district of Tokyo. A place where Dave instructed us firmly to not talk to any men outside doorways and above all to NOT GET INTO ANY ELEVATORS. This was because all of the establishments on the first floor were legitimate, but just one look at any sign post could tell that decadent sketchy places dominated every other floor.

Nevertheless we imagined that Roppongi Hill must be a magical sacred mountain somewhere tucked behind the buildings and lights where we would meet some monks and sip on green tea and play tag with monkeys.

So we sent Casey to talk to one of the men in a doorway with whom one should never speak lest one find oneself on an elevator. She returned unharmed and laughing told us she would lead us to the Hill. We followed her across a busy street, around many corners, through some oncoming traffic, and ended up at a huge building with the words Roppongi Hill on it.

Yep. It's a skyscraper with an observation deck 52 floors up. Unfortunately the outdoor sky deck was closed so we all paid $15 to go to the top floor and look around. It was well worth it and we took some really great photos.

In our usual fashion we got lost on the way home, bought some sake in the Family Mart and had an epic pillow fight. The photos from which will never see the light of day. What happens in Sunshine City stays in Sunshine City.