LENT

Our family from New Orleans embraces Lent in grand style.  Schools are closed for a week during Mardi Gras. Parades are held throughout the week with people on floats, wearing masks, tossing beads to huge crowds. Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday in French) is in full swing, but after the party the masks come off. We are now entering into the the most holy of holidays for Christians, Lent.  We are to be in an attitude of repentance, and a solemn state of mind. Our churches will reflect this by not having flowers displayed during Lent. No Gloria or alleluias are sung during this season because it is a time of great loss (The Passion of Christ). On the fifth Sunday of Lent, sacred images are draped in purple as a remembrance of our sense of contrition. During this time we are called to prayer, penance, and almsgiving. We celebrate Lent in remembrance of Jesus being tempted for forty days in the desert by Satan. Forty is a significant number, because it represents testing, ending in victory.   The most important element of Lent is drawing us closer to Jesus through the Passion.

I struggle with giving up certain foods for Lent. This year I’m praying that I can get past a week of what I’m sacrificing. In the past, fasting came naturally, and many times I could fast for up 10 days. Now, just one day is a huge challenge. I remember that when I fasted, if I got past the third day, I knew that I’d gotten over the hurdle, and it felt natural to continue with the fast. I am asking God to help me with fasting during Lent. There are so many vices that I need to rid myself of that I can only accomplish this through the grace of God. Last year I gave up bread and sweets, but fell short. Lent is a time of a  deeper knowledge of God, and I pray that my sacrifice will honor Him.

I will be distributing the ashes at the 6:15 A.M. Mass, making the sign of the cross while saying, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Valentine’s Day

We have dinner reservation at a popular steak house on Valentine’s Day, a conundrum brought on by the convergence of Lent and Valentine’s Day falling on the same day. We are to abstain from meat on Ash Wednesday, but I guess our husbands kind of forgot. Our reservations are at 5:30 for two reasons: some of us are old, and that was the only time available.

Mike will be receiving a new pair of socks with a red background as his gift for Valentine’s. As you can, tell I am not the romantic one in the family. I’m a true believer of “it’s the thought that counts.”

1 John 4:19 New International Version (NIV)

What a perfect order,” We love because he first loved us.” We need Jesus to navigate us into what true love is all about.  Valentine’s Day is meant for expressing our love,  Jesus is the author and finisher of our faith and only He can fulfill the void in our heart.

Prayer:

Dear Lord, I thank you for the love you have for us; allow us to be in your presence during this holy season of Lent. Teach us to love as you love. Amen

Though we had traveled to Israel for years, we remained foreigners to both the Israelis and the Arabs whenever we visited Jerusalem. Israel maintains some of the strictest entry protocols in the world, with authorities trained to single out certain passengers for thorough scrutiny. Mr. Bob always stood out. He was well over six feet tall — a lanky, devoted chain smoker with wild white hair. He wore the same worn work boots every trip, paired with white tube socks that had long since lost their elastic. Mr. Bob had money, but no interest in spending it on anything worldly. He traveled with nothing more than a carry-on, even on trips stretching beyond two weeks. It never bothered him. He was completely content with what he had.

Our leader Joanne always travels with an abundance of luggage — and she had a habit of pawning it off on Mr. Bob, as if it were his own. At the airport in Israel, security personnel routinely unlock and inspect every bag. When Mr. Bob’s suitcase was opened, Joanne’s personal belongings were on full display — jewelry, women’s tops, and the like. It was crystal clear none of it belonged to him. Joanne, of course, had already cleared customs and was comfortably on the other side. I was standing right behind Mr. Bob and watched the whole thing unfold.

Security asked Mr. Bob if the suitcase was his. “No!” he said. I knew right then this was going to be a long, drawn-out ordeal. “Did you pack this suitcase?” they pressed. “No!” he said again. Mr. Bob was promptly pulled aside for the full shakedown. I watched for a few minutes before stepping in to explain the situation. Once you clear customs in Israel, you can finally take a deep breath — but getting there is another story entirely.

We know the drill — the moment we land in Israel, we request that our passports not be stamped. We do this for good reason: an Israeli stamp makes it nearly impossible to travel to other Middle Eastern countries down the road. Customs personnel always have questions about why we’re in the country, and we tell them straight — we’re missionaries. Things have gotten more high-tech over the years, and now each traveler is handed a printed copy of their passport photo ID. For people like us, that little piece of paper is essential — you need it to visit Bethlehem and to get back out of Israel.

Our ministry’s work in Jerusalem centers on reenacting the carrying of the Cross down the Via Dolorosa on Good Friday — and I will never forget what happened to us several years ago. Someone forgot to pack Jesus’s wig and the stage blood.

The night before Good Friday, we always hold a rehearsal to make sure every participant knows their part. When Joanne asked about the wig and stage blood, we all looked at each other in a panic. Someone had dropped a really big ball. That night, I was assigned the task of going through everyone’s suitcase searching for both — and came up empty.

Early Good Friday morning, one of the women traveling with us — who happens to wear wigs — offered to sacrifice one of her own for Jesus. Literally. There was just one problem: it was blonde. We needed hair dye, but it was a Jewish holiday and every store was closed.

That’s when Caleb came through. A longtime Arab friend of the ministry, Caleb heard about our dilemma and didn’t hesitate. “I have a cousin who owns a beauty shop just down the street,” he said. There was no time to waste — Jim and I jumped into Caleb’s old car and headed down the road, with Caleb trying to sell us jewelry the entire way.

Caleb’s cousin’s shop sat above the Mount of Olives gift shop. The place was packed with Arab women getting beauty treatments, and they did not take kindly to our intrusion — a full-blown cultural faux pas. Caleb did all the talking, and for six dollars we walked out with a container of brown hair dye and an applicator brush.

When we got back, Joanne took one look at it and nervously barked, “This is not enough!” Jim and I had to turn right back around — only this time, Caleb was nowhere to be found. We ran up and down hills for what had to be over a mile.

When we walked back into the shop, the atmosphere was ice cold. The air was thick with anti-American glares. I started to explain that we needed more dye when a strange woman shot up from her chair and started yelling at me. I couldn’t understand a single word, but it was no welcoming speech. Her black eyes and wet hair gave the whole scene an eerie feeling. My only thought was to get that hair dye — because the retribution waiting back at the hotel was going to be far worse than anything this woman could dish out.

Caleb’s cousin had turned cold as well and wanted nothing to do with us. I pleaded with her using every hand gesture I had, desperately trying to communicate how much we needed that solution. The strange woman kept at it, trying to talk her out of helping us. I knew Jim was praying — because somehow, Caleb’s cousin finally gave in.

As she handed it over, she looked at us and said, “Twenty dollars.” For just a few seconds, the urge to give her a piece of my mind in Arabic was real — but we didn’t have a minute to waste. We also didn’t have cab fare, having not brought any extra money. So we ran.

The stage blood was a whole other drama. Victor (Joanne’s son) and I headed down to the hotel kitchen and recruited some of the waiters and cooks to help us figure it out. The only red ingredient anyone could find was something that looked like Kool-Aid. We mixed it with water, but it came out far too watery. We kept adding more red dye until it slightly clumped up — and that was the best we could do.

By the time the bus pulled up to take us to the Via Dolorosa, I was worn out. I applied the fake Kool-Aid blood to Joseph — a man from Croatia who was playing the part of Jesus that year. Joanne was not happy. The mixture had taken on a color somewhere between pink and red. But we had done our best, and we had saved the day. We came to do the Lord’s work, and nothing was going to stand in the way of that calling.

It took three years to be certified to teach adult catechism. As I returned to my service to God as a Catholic (after leaving for 15 years), I had to acclimate to the calling.  Sunday, January 14, 2018, was my second class of teaching catechism, and the lesson was to reflect on the reading (1 Sam 3:3b-10,19, Psalms 40:2, 4, 7-8, 10; 1 Corinthians 6:13c-15a, 17-20 and John 1:35-42). We are all called to serve God; to some, our calling comes early in life and to others as adults. The adults in the class are all making a commitment to serve God as Catholics, and this is a one year process, in which catechumens must attend RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults). These catechumens are not influenced by peer pressure or parents because it is truly a calling at this time of their lives. Each of them has a story, but the common bond is the love for God. Some are moved to tears of joy as they share their experiences, some to tears of pain that lead them to where they are. It does not matter to God where we are when we say yes because He always there waiting. The Holy Spirit is patient but is also referred to as the Hound of heaven, which means that God never gives up on us, we are the ones that do that by not giving up our sinful nature.

About two years ago a friend of mine attended a non-Christian wedding in which the bride and groom were unequally yoked. The person officiating the service asked the bride if she wanted to become the same religion as her husband. A few words were exchanged and she was yoked into her husband’s belief.

It’s not that easy to serve God. A commitment is more than simple words, it’s when your mind, heart, and spirit come together in agreement that what you are feeling bring a sovereign sense of peace.

Before I teach each class, I have to be prayed up, be in the Spirit, and have a clear understanding of the Scripture. I want to be certain that what I am teaching is in alignment with the Word of God.

Before attending the classes to become a teacher, I wanted to become an Eucharist Minister (EM). To become a EM, a person must attend a meeting and training. I remember the night before I was to give out communion when I could not sleep. I wanted to make sure that what I was doing was pleasing to God. I kept thinking that I might trip coming down the the few steps or that I was just unworthy of the task. Mike  was sitting next to me when it was time for me to go up. He nudged me and said, “Don’t trip.” Such comforting words to a mind that was racing with many doubts. It has been almost three years and I continue with my service as an EM, participating in daily  Mass. I was explaining to the catechumens that as an EM, if there is any wine left over in the cup we must consume it ourselves. Why? Because it has been  consecrated and represents the blood of Christ. Jesus instituted the New Covenant in the Upper Room at the Last  Supper. Jesus first washed the feet of his disciples and then gave them the Bread and Wine. This is mentioned in all of the Gospels, because it is of utmost importance.

Matthew 26:26-28King James Version (KJV)

²⁶ And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body.

²⁷ And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it;

²⁸ For this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins.

As a teacher, I am also being catechized with these studies. We are in “Ordinary Times” which means it is not a part of Advent, Christmas, Lent, or Easter.  The Latin meaning of ordinary is “in order or sequence.” The first week or Ordinary Times was in celebration of the feast of the Baptism of the Lord. All Sundays have the numbers in the titles of what we celebrate. I am learning this for the first time.

Wherever you travel in the world, the Catholic Mass will have the same reading, the communion rituals, etc. You do not have to know the language because we already know what to expect.

My Prayer: Dear heavenly Father, I pray for those that are still in limbo and asking if you are real. Reveal yourself to them, let them understand that with You in their lives all things are made better. Give them hope in their uncertainty and allow them to feel Your perfect love. Amen