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The Church of the Transfiguration.
Beautiful churches are a draw for me. I know that many people grumble and gripe about the grandeur of many of our Catholic Churches, but I need them in my life. We have enough ugliness in the world, I need a place full of beauty.
Each time I walk through the doors of a magnificent church, I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t know if describing it as a sigh of relief is accurate, but it’s as if my soul sighs relief. It’s hard to explain.
Regardless, I need to be in this beautiful space in the presence of Christ.
The church we just left in DC and our new church here in Alabama are suburb churches, nothing incredible. Something happened in the 60s to art and architecture that is a great mystery that leaves one wondering, “What they heck happened?”
It’s always a little down-heartening for me to attend churches that lack beautiful art and architecture. It can give me a bad attitude sometimes. This week, at Daily Mass, I talked to God about this and He reminded me of the Transfiguration.
When Christ was here in earth, He usually looked just like a ordinary guy. He didn’t “look” like anything special and people couldn’t see Him for who He truly was—the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity.
He gave Peter, James, and John, though, a glimpse into His supreme magnificence.
Our beautiful churches are the best way that we humans try to depict Heaven. I’m grateful that we have so many beautiful ones to raise our hearts and minds to God.
The ordinary ones, though, are kind of like Jesus walking around when He was on earth; people couldn’t see with their eyes who He truly was.
So, God shared with me in my thoughts, “Remember what is happening on the altar. Angels and saints are in your midst adoring My Son there.”
When I started to imagine the space around the altar filled with heavenly beings it changed my attitude. While I may not always have the benefit of “seeing” what is truly happening, like the three Apostles did at the Transfiguration, incredible things are happening at the moment of Consecration—even in a suburban church on a weekday at 8:45 am.
Have a blessed Feast Day of the Transfiguration, Catholic Pilgrims.
As I was preparing to teach OCIA this past Sunday, I had a list of things I wanted to go over. It had dawned on me a few weeks ago that most people outside the Catholic Church believe that everything we do as Catholics is taught dogmatically. This leads to a ton of grave errors in how people think about Catholicism. So, I decided to talk to the class about four D's: Dogma, Doctrine, Disciplines, and Devotions. Dogmas are a very narrow subset of doctrine. They are the beliefs that are divinely revealed and cannot be changed. Everything stated in the Apostles' Creed is a dogma and to be a Christian, you need to believe in those things. They aren't optional. Doctrine is all the Church's teachings on faith and morals. Doctrines do not change, but our understanding of the teachings can grow and become more detailed. Belief in The Blessed Trinity is a Dogma. The Church's teaching on the Blessed Trinity is doctrine. The doctrine--teaching--doesn't change, meaning, it doesn't flip-flop. But over time, the Church's understanding of it has grown and become more full. Discipline is defined as an "instruction, system of teaching or of law, given under the authority of the Church [which] can be changed with the approval of proper authority, as opposed to doctrine, which is unchangeable” (334). Priests not marrying is a discipline, not a dogma. Devotions are those practices allowed by the Church that are more personal to the individual. Praying the Rosary is a devotion. Wearing a veil at Mass is a devotion. Praying evening Vespers is a devotion. As long as the Church has approved a devotion or allows for it, it is okay to practice. Devotions are not dogmatic and people are free to practice them or not. I've had people say to me, "The Catholic Church teaches that to be saved you have to pray the Rosary." No, that is not true. "To be saved you must pray the Rosary" is not a teaching of the Catholic Church. It is a devotion--a very strongly encouraged devotion and a fruitful one at that, but there is no dogmatic belief that praying the Rosary is how you are saved. I hope this is helpful and clear, Catholic Pilgrims. I found it helpful for myself to get a better understanding of it, so I can speak intelligently about our beautiful Catholic Faith. Have a blessed Wednesday.
Continue ReadingFor Lent, I'm doing the Pray40 challenge on the Hallow app. The whole theme is all about "The Return." We are following the story of "The Brothers Karamazov" and its relation to the parable of The Prodigal Son. On Sundays, we listen to Father Mike Schmitz' homily. This past Sunday, Fr. Mike said something that I'd like to highlight. Talking about how Prince Harry named his book "Spare," Fr. Mike said, "He wrote an autobiography, and the title of this autobiography is named after his wound." That wound being that he is nothing but the spare in the family. "He's just the back-up plan to the one that matters." For so many of us, it is our wound that becomes our identity. It is the story of our life. We are the wound, the wound defines us, the wound is why we are the way we are. Whenever your wound is your entire identity, resentment spreads its tentacles around your heart and you slowly start to die. Maybe not a literally death, but life, joy, energy, gratitude, and peace are all snuffed out. Today in my audio listening, Sister Miriam said, "We believe that our brokenness is somehow our fate or our identity. The enemy whispers to us, this is just who you are." This is why--and I know from experience--that so many people can't let go of their wound and let God heal it. It has become our identity. "I'm an abused person. I'm an addict. I'm unloved. I'm a failure. I'm awkward and weird and nobody likes me." We believe that if we lose this identity, we will be nothing. We will lose the label. We will lose the pity. We will lose the excuse for why our life has turned out like it has. It's just not true that we are our wound. And the minute that we decide that we don't want to be our wound anymore and hand that brokenness over to God, we will not be left with a bottomless pit. God can rush in and begin to fill us with His life and love. When He does that, we will begin to see that our identity is found in Him--we are a child of God and He loves us with an intensity that we fully don't understand. Lent is the perfect time to stop identifying yourself by your wound(s). You are God's beloved, Catholic Pilgrims.
Continue ReadingThis week's small town church comes to us from Chewelah, Washington--St. Mary of the Rosary. I've never been to the state of Washington, so that's all I have to say. Just kidding, just kidding. It's true that I haven't ever been to Washington, but I do have more to say. While I haven't laid a toe in the state, my better half once lived there as a teenager. His step-dad was stationed in Steilacoom, Washington and they lived there for about 2 1/2 years. I know it was rainy and my husband loved running in the drizzly rain and it was very green. And that's because Steilacoom is on the west side of the Cascade Mountains. Chewelah is on the eastern side, which I'm told is NOT the lush side. Side Note: For some weird reason, people from Kansas like to add an r into the words Washington and wash. Pretty much my whole family says "Warshington" or "Warsh." Why? I have no clue. I have been broken of the habit since living away, but if I'm home too long, that R sometimes resurfaces. Last week, we looked at a church in Alabama which is part of the area known as the Bible Belt. Interestingly enough, Washington state is part of an area called the "Unchurched Belt," with church attendance across the board being low. Catholics make up 14%-17% of the population. What's interesting is that this parish started out as a missionary parish founded by the Jesuits. What a lot of people don't know, is that missionaries, like the Jesuits, used to move into an area that was kind of uncharted territory and lay the groundwork. Once the population of an area became big enough to support a diocese, the missionaries would relinquish the parish(es) they founded to the diocese. That's what happened here. The Jesuits moved in, founded this parish in 1885 and handed it over to the Diocese of Spokane in 1916 and it's been holding down the fort ever since. 🙂 So, I hope you enjoy this copper-roofed church from Chewelah, WA, Catholic Pilgrims, and happy Monday! Side Note 2: While my husband enjoyed living in Washington, he's not too happy with the Seahawks for beating his Niners in the playoffs. So, his relationship with the state right now is bittersweet. lol.
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