So Father Damien asked his bishop if he could make the sacrifice.  As he put it in a letter to his brother,

So, remembering that on the day of my profession I had already put myself under a funeral pall, I offered myself to his Lordship [the Bishop] to meet, if he thought it well, this second death. Consequently, on May 11, a steamer landed me here, together with a batch of fifty lepers…

Father Damien lived and served among the lepers for sixteen years before he himself succumbed to the disease.  As a result of his presence many came to faith in Christ and were baptized, people who would have died in their sin and separation from God left on their own.

There are few who can claim to love the lost as much as Father Damien did.  Here is a man who had a desire to reach these lepers with the love of Christ.  He knew that the only way to accomplish this was to go live with them.  He knew that choosing to live with them would for the rest of his life cut him off from everyone else in his life that he loved.  He knew that he would die in exile, most likely prematurely.  Knowing all that he decided to go anyway.  His own life was not worth as much to him as the possibility of saving even one soul.

St. Damien had the passion, and he had the desire.  And he had the one thing that made his passion and desire meaningful and worthwhile–a willingness to sacrifice.

Today a lot of people say they want to reach the lost.  A lot of people say they want to help turn our nation and our world to Jesus.  I have said those things myself and I have certainly felt strongly about it.  But without sacrifice it’s all just a bunch of meaningless talk and the world is not convinced.

Not all of us are going to be called to live and die as St. Damien did.  But I believe all of us who claim to love Jesus need to come to a point where He could ask us to do something that we know will kill us, and we’d willingly do it.

A little over a week ago, there was a little ad from St. Peter Church, looking for a new Director of Religious Education.  I decided to apply for it–it seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up.  So I threw together a resume and cover letter and very quickly landed a phone interview.

And it was sometime during the conversation with Father Matt that I tapped into something I suspected was there in my heart all along but had no idea just how much of it there was until I contemplated an actual opportunity where I could be living out of it five days a week.

I want to share my faith.  I want to preach the Gospel.  I want to encounter the people in that moment where they want to hear about the faith and how they can embrace it, or at least take one step closer to embracing it.

Jesus has come to mean everything to me this past year.  Really.  If He wants it, I want it.  If it hurts Him, it hurts me.  There is nothing I want more right now than to be pure and holy before Him.  I know I’m a sinner; I know there are things in my life that do not please Him.  I don’t care what I have to go through–I want Him to purify me.

There are people out there who need to come to that same point.  People who are lost without Him, people who need someone like me to point them in the right direction.  And I want to be there for them, and I don’t even know who they are.  Just thinking about it brings tears of desperate longing.  How do I put myself in their path?  Getting planted inside a Catholic parish in a medium sized city where people already come when they are feeling that tug from the Holy Spirit would be a truly amazing opportunity, and that is what’s behind my feelings of really wanting this particular job.

But I think there is a reason for this beyond the outcome of the DRE position (which quite frankly is a long shot for me).  I think Jesus wanted me to see, to feel, to know, to be blown away by what He has put inside my heart–the passion for His will to be done on earth, for His kingdom to come, for His Gospel to be preached, and for the Lost to find Him.  It’s there inside me.  It’s like a torrent that threatens to overwhelm me as it pours out.  It’s something that try as I might I am not going to be able to contain much longer.  It would be the height of folly to even try.

All I need is souls.  Dear Holy Spirit, please bring them to me so that I can lead them to Christ.  And please don’t take too long.

Mix together:

• 1 cup plain whole yogurt
• 1 cup (1/2 pound) butter, softened or melted (I have found you can get by with half that amount)
• 3 ½ cups whole wheat flour (freshly ground is preferable)
• 2 teaspoons sea salt

Knead together into a soft dough.  Ideally, you would then let it sit overnight (or up to 24 hours) in a covered glass bowl.  You can get by without the ferment if necessary.

Spread the dough thinly onto one greased oversize cookie sheet (the one I use is 12.5 by 18 inches) or two smaller (regular) size cookie sheets.  I use my hands to “stretch” and pat it to cover the entire bottom of the cookie sheet.

With a butter knife, cut the desired size of cracker–it should look like a grid when you’re done.

Bake in the oven at 350 degrees for 20 to 30 minutes.  Crackers should turn slightly brown when done.

Let crackers cool briefly on cookie sheet, then scrape them off onto a plate with a spatula.

Enjoy!

The original yoghurt dough recipe was published in the book Nourishing Traditions by Sally Fallon.

She then asked me a question that I have pondered off and on ever since then:  “Imagine you were able to look down on the entire scene and you didn’t know anything about what you just told me, what would you think?”

The answer she was getting at, which I couldn’t see at the time, was a simple acknowledgment of the horrible tragedy that a group of human beings could treat a fellow human being with such astounding brutality.  Sometimes we miss that in the quick leap we often make to the cosmic necessity of Jesus’ death for our salvation.  It almost sounds like a rationalization.  After all, if someone hadn’t killed Jesus, then we couldn’t be saved, so it was OK, right?

Towards the end of last year I started contemplating the Passion from the point of view that this horrendous ordeal happened to someone I love with all my heart.  I’m setting aside the reason and the necessity for the time being, just thinking about what happened and who it happened to.  That’s when I wanted to know, really know, what it was that Jesus went through.  I watched the famous movie The Passion of the Christ.  More recently I read a book written in 1833 that served as a primary source for the producer of the movie.  The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ is a compilation of a series of vivid visions a German nun named Anne Catherine Emmerich experienced and shared with a writer who was interested enough in what she had to say to spend hours and hours listening to her and taking notes.  And I’ve read and pondered some of the accounts from Sacred Scripture.

The bottom line is that what Jesus experienced was absolutely awful.  It was as if the entire pit of hell took out all its vile hatred on Jesus in a few hours through the people who actively participated in insulting and torturing Him.  In contrast, Jesus remained silent, never once returning even the slightest retaliation.  He asked His Father to forgive those who killed Him, and He even expressed concern for those around Him–His Mother, His disciples Peter and John, even Judas who betrayed Him, the thief on the cross next to Him who defended Him, the weeping women of Jerusalem.  Pure Righteousness in the midst of total depravity.

The prophet Isaiah, in speaking prophetically about Jesus’ suffering and death, refers to Him as a Man of Sorrows well acquainted with grief, and I’ve pondered what it means to be a Man of Sorrows.  I’ve thought about it quite a bit all through Lent and at some point decided I’d write a song about the Man of Sorrows.

Writing songs is something that I do occasionally, maybe once or twice a year, often much less than that.  I’m a cantor at my parish, which means I get to be the one who helps everyone sing their parts during the Mass.  It’s a bit like worship leading, except that instead of having a designated time for the musical component of worship (a set of songs that gets sung before the sermon), I pretty much have to be ready to sing throughout the Liturgy.  Sometimes the songs are very short, like a line or two, so I have to come in right on cue, which is harder than it looks.  For the most part, it’s already decided what I will sing, or what songs I get to choose from.  But after Communion I can share a meditation song and there is a lot more leeway in what I choose to share.  But the limitation there is that my parish may not have rights to the songs outside of our hymnbook and I’ve never really been motivated to look into it.  But if I compose the song, I don’t have to deal with it.  With that in mind, I’ve written and shared a song about Advent and one for Christmas over the past few years.

This year I wanted to write something about Jesus’ Passion and death since I’d already been thinking about it a lot.  I’m not sure what process other songwriters go through when they compose a song, but for me it tends to be a fairly quick process.  I’ll start working out a basic melody (often while driving or doing housework), then add some words to it, sing it to myself over and over and then start adding more melody and words.  Then I’ll stay up late one evening and pull out my guitar, a pen and paper, write down the part I have and figure out the chords and then fill in the rest.  Occasionally I may edit something, but for the most part, the lyrics that get written down the first time are what end up in the final composition.  This means, quite simply, that writing a song is often a revelation to me about what is actually going on inside my heart.

When I was thinking about composing a song about the Man of Sorrows I was expecting it would be something along the lines of Jesus went through this and that and how much I love Him for it, want to follow Him, be like Him, even share in His sufferings, which I’m sure would have been great and all.  What actually came out was a most pleasant surprise.  The verses highlight events of Holy Week starting with the triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  The chorus, which is the same each time except for the last line, asks a simple, yet profound question:  Do you know the Man of Sorrows?  And how will that knowing change you?

Wow!  I really, truly want to speak of these things.  It’s not enough for me to know Jesus for myself–I want others to know Him too, to know Him and the power of His resurrection and the sharing of His sufferings by becoming like Him in His death.  I can and I will preach the Gospel.  I can and I will preach Christ crucified.  I’m not exactly sure how, but I feel like I’m a lot closer to succeeding in this endeavor than I was before, perhaps because I know Him better than I did before.

Do you know Him?  And what will you do about it?

1.  A competent accountant I used to file the taxes myself, first on paper and then with TurboTax.  Both times took forever and I never really knew if I was doing it right.  After two strikes, we found an amazing accountant and all I do is send her the documents and she takes care of it.  She charges about twice what TurboTax costs and I am more than happy to write the check because I know it’s done right and I don’t have to mess with it.

2.  The independent business owner who cuts hair.  Kendra and I are overdue for a haircut will probably have gotten it taken care of by the time you read this post.

3.  Communion services at my church three days a week.  It is precious to be able to receive Jesus in the Eucharist during the week in addition to Saturday evenings, and I also get some good prayer time in afterwards.

4.  Children who will at least for a few minutes quietly color or even join me while I pray in church.

5.  Appliances that wash things like dishes and clothes.  I guess I like to delegate as much work as possible so very thankful for those servants called appliances.

1.  The ease of listening to music online without having to pay a dime.  OK, I realize a lot of YouTube songs are probably pirated, but I sure enjoy listening to them, and I recently discovered the ability to create a mix so you have continuous play.  You can listen to my mix if you’d like.

2.  Popcorn pan popped in coconut oil and slathered with butter and a bit of sea salt.

3.  A new blender and the renewed ability to make smoothies that comes with it.

4.  The days are getting longer!

5.  The freedom we have in the US to pretty much do whatever we want, especially live out and express our faith in God.  I’m not sure how much longer it will last, but I am thankful for it today.

The story got me thinking about the many things we Catholics have come to know not directly through Sacred Scripture, but in the 1600 years since the Canon of Scripture was determined, and even before that through writings that didn’t make it into the Canon.  I recently finished St. Louis the Montfort’s book True Devotion to Mary, which is considered by many popes to be the authoritative work on what devotion to Mary is and what it isn’t.  In other words, if you want to know what devotion to Mary is as I did, that’s the book to read.  St. Louis wrote True Devotion to Mary sometime in the 1700s but the work was not discovered until the 1840s by a monk who was cleaning out the attic.

The ongoing role of Mary in the Church is one of those truths that isn’t spoken of directly in Sacred Scripture.  It’s very clear in Scripture that Mary was a virgin at the time she gave birth to Jesus; it takes more understanding of the culture and the way the original languages of the Gospels were used to get from Scripture that Mary remained a virgin for the rest of her life.  Bible scholars may be able to figure this out from the text.  The rest of us learn it through Catholic teaching.  The Catholic Church has had that particular teaching of Mary’s perpetual virginity handed down from the Early Church Fathers–Sacred Tradition.  I don’t personally know the history of this doctrine that well, but I’m guessing the information probably originated from the Apostle John reporting on conversations he’d had with Mary while she was under his care where she flat out told him.

What exactly is Sacred Tradition?  It’s a deposit of truth derived from God continuing to communicate with His people after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension, and after the Book of Revelation was penned.  The Holy Spirit has communicated through Church councils, theologians (often referred to as Doctors of the Church), Divine revelation to mystics (people such as St. Bridget who see visions) and the experience of people living out the faith and sharing about it.

What is the purpose of Sacred Tradition?  It is a fleshing out of the truths of Sacred Scripture, a development and maturing of the Faith as God reveals more to us over time, and also a more in-depth analysis of the consequences of holding to the truths laid out in Sacred Scripture, for example, the more technical aspects of how the virgin birth took place.  Sacred Tradition will never, can never, contradict Sacred Scripture.  However, Sacred Tradition does teach truths that are not explicitly found in Sacred Scripture.  Often those truths are foreshadowed in types and symbols, but you wouldn’t automatically conclude the type or symbol referenced a particular doctrine.

It’s that “not explicitly found in Sacred Scripture” part that is the rub for the Protestants in my life.  My husband will listen to me talk about some aspect of Catholic doctrine that inspires me.  He’s actually a very good listener and makes a true and usually successful attempt to understand where I’m coming from and what it means to me and Catholics in general.  But as soon as I start suggesting that it’s true in a universal sense, he’ll say there’s no basis for it in Scripture so it’s wrong for anyone to impose that belief on another.

Protestant Christians stick to what is clear in Scripture.  There are certain things that all Christians must believe, such as Jesus being the Way, the Truth and the Life and the need for Him to have suffered and died so that we could have salvation.  Those truths are repeated over and over in Sacred Scripture.  But a belief like the Immaculate Conception (Mary being conceived without original sin)?  Well, that’s fine for me to believe, but since the Immaculate Conception is not mentioned in Scripture, then I can’t make him believe it and I (or my Church) has no right to withhold the most intimate form of fellowship (Communion) on the basis of rejection of that and other Catholic doctrines.

The reason I hear most often for not venturing outside the bounds of “explicitly found in Sacred Scripture” in forming and accepting doctrine is the danger of adding unnecessary things onto the Gospel and burdening people with the traditions of man rather than sticking to the Word of God.  In other words, it’s a safeguard.  We all agree on the fundamentals found in the Bible and then develop our own views as we see fit on the more nebulous stuff and respect what others believe if it’s different.  Let Sacred Scripture be authoritative and Sacred Tradition optional.

That view has always bothered me.  On one hand I totally like the safeguard aspect of it, and I certainly do not want to burden people with carnally-derived traditions.  Jesus and later St. Paul came down hard on people who did just that.  On the other hand, I don’t believe that Sacred Tradition is carnal–it’s not a bunch of traditions of men that we’ve added to the pure Gospel.  I actually believe that Sacred Tradition is a deposit of truth that God Himself has revealed to us through various means.

Now Sacred Tradition doesn’t just absorb everything that people over the ages happened to write or teach about the things of God.  Just because I am writing this blog post about spiritual matters does not mean that as soon as I hit the publish button I have now added my voice to Sacred Tradition.  Let’s suppose I receive a vision where Jesus appears to me and tells me various things.  Even that does not automatically go into the deposit of faith.  Jesus may have a message just for me, and that’s as far as it will go.  But let’s suppose Jesus had a message for me to give to the world–one that is absolutely intended to become part of Sacred Tradition.  In that case my parish priest and then the bishop of my diocese would get very interested in the message.  They’d want to make sure it was completely in line with Church teaching up to that point.  They’d want to make sure that it was authentic–that I truly was seeing and hearing Jesus.  They’d want to make sure that I’d accurately transmitted His words.  To that end I’d be subject to hours and hours of questioning and a number of psychological tests and who knows what else.  Based on the experiences of other visionaries, that process is grueling and unpleasant but very important because God’s word is not something to be trifled with.

Authentic mystics and visionaries such as St. Bridget, St. Faustina, St. Catherine Laboure, St. Dominic and others throughout the centuries have had their messages probed and tested and discerned by the Church authorities, and those messages have made it into the Deposit of Faith.

The Catholic Church takes visions seriously and goes through a lot of trouble to discern their authenticity.  Same with writings of eminent theologians such as St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Louis de Montfort.  After thorough review the Church has approved their writings either in part or in whole (I know a few things St. Augustine wrote about have been rejected but most of his work has been approved) and they now form part of Sacred Tradition.  We Catholics believe the Holy Spirit guides all parts of that discernment process according to the promise Jesus made to the Apostles during the Last Supper that the Holy Spirit would guide them into all truth.  The Church authorities (or Magisterium) discern and then pronounce the worthiness of the message, mainly whether it comes from God or not.

And if God has spoken to us about the truths handed down through Sacred Tradition, and the Magisterium has discerned that God has indeed spoken, then we have to conclude that whatever God said is authoritative.  Otherwise, we have to believe God speaks in order to hear His head roar, or for us to say it’s not clearly spelled out in Scripture so I don’t have to accept it.  Considering that Sacred Scripture does say that God’s Word that goes forth from His mouth does not return to Him empty without first accomplishing the purpose for which He intended, I cannot accept the possibility of God’s Word in whatever way He chooses to speak ever being void or without purpose, or not authoritative.

One could potentially conclude that a mistake had been made in the discernment process and reject the message for that reason, but to accept that God does indeed continue to speak, that He has spoken and that His message was accurately transmitted, but not authoritative, poses a problem.  There is really no room for “It’s okay for you to believe that, but don’t insist that I believe it” if God did indeed declare.  You don’t just ignore something God says.

The Catholic Church has been around for 2000 years and throughout that time, the Holy Spirit has been true to Jesus’ promise and continued to reveal truth to and guide His people throughout that time until now.  Rather than take the attitude of “I don’t have to believe it since I don’t see it in Scripture,” I think it would be more prudent (not to mention humble) to explore and consider first of all whether the Holy Spirit has actually done this, and if so, what has He revealed to His people?  Our God has not remained silent and He does not speak empty words.

1.  The vacation we just got back from visiting my husband Erik’s folks.  We got to travel in real style too, as Erik’s parents generously rented an RV for us.  Not only that, the 25 ft. RV we were supposed to get was having mechanical difficulties so we had to settle for the 30 ft RV.  It was a nice ride, and the best part of having the RV was being able to spend the night in four different places without having to pack and unpack suitcases.

2.  Meeting my little nephew Nesta for the first time.  Darn cutest one year old I’ve seen in a while!

3.  A whole pile of gifts waiting for us when we got home, almost all from an anonymous donor at St. Mary’s, the school where Erik teaches, who wanted us to have a real special Christmas.

4.  A part time gig teaching an evening biology class at Front Range Community College for Erik and the extra income that will bring us.

5.  The downside of Erik’s teaching gig is that I will no longer be able to attend RCIA classes at my church.  But over Christmas, my friend Kelly who I only know through Facebook asked me if I wanted to borrow her DVD set on the Catholic Church–ten hours of catechesis.  She was recently gifted with the set and wanted to bless me with it.  All I have to do is return it when I’m done.  I can hardly wait!

2.  A song

3.  The book Spirit and Forms of Protestantism which clarified and confirmed a lot of things for me

4.  My nice warm bed

5.  The sleeper, complete with feet, that my kids and husband gave me for my birthday

1.  The amazing positive power of music.

2.  My mom and dad who raised me to know and love Jesus.

3.  Edith’s one day a week school.

4.  A warm house during a major cold snap.

5.  Facebook birthday wishes from friends near and far.