The Deserts of Our Lives

The Gospel reading for this coming Sunday is Luke’s account of the devil tempting Jesus after he had spent forty days in the desert.  Having spent forty days and nights without physical sustenance, one might expect Jesus to be particularly susceptible to the devil’s temptations.  Fortunately, Jesus is wise to the devil’s designs.  He knows that the devil tries to twist even the words of sacred scripture to his benefit.  The devil wasn’t counting on that!

We too can be in a figurative desert during our lives, particularly if we are feeling as though we are not being heard in some aspect of our day-to-day experience.  We can feel as if it doesn’t really matter if we “give in” to something or someone because it isn’t a big deal or it won’t matter in the long run.  We can sometimes feel as if there is little point in trying our best or exerting some amount of self-control in tempting situations.

When Jesus was confronted by the devil and presented with scripture passages that seemed to encourage him into temptation, he quoted other scripture passages to support a position of following God’s will.  When you find yourself in a difficult situation, try to think of ways in which God can support you through the difficulty.

At my house, my mom makes a “crown of thorns” every Lent out of braided bread and toothpicks, and when we make a sacrifice, give something up, or offer something up for someone else’s suffering, we take out a toothpick.  The aim is to remove all the thorns by Easter.

This Lent, look for opportunities to “de-thorn” Jesus’ crown of thorns.

Christmas Traditions

As of tomorrow, we will officially be five days away from Christmas.  This might set off alarm bells in your head or it might trigger great feelings of excitement.  The former is probably more to do with the secular expectations that accompany the celebration of Christmas.  The latter would stem from a child-like delight in Christmas and/or from a deeper understanding of why we are celebrating – Jesus is born for us!

We are lucky here at St. Ambrose to be exposed to multiple cultures.  The students at Cosgriff will take part in a school-wide Posada tomorrow (the Hispanic tradition of traveling from house to house – or in this case, room to room – seeking shelter, as a re-enactment of Mary and Joseph entering Bethlehem and finding no place to stay other than the stable).  On Saturday, St. Ambrose will host the Filipino community for Simbang Gabi, a novena of Masses leading up to Christmas.  We host the Polish-speaking community for Mass twice a month.  Each community celebrates Christmas a little differently.

My family is a blend of European cultures.  My mother is Hungarian and my father is of English descent.  As such, we have a blended Christmas tradition.  We celebrate “European Christmas” on the 24^th.  We celebrate “American Christmas” on the 25^th.  This gives us the opportunity to experience the best of both worlds, as it were.

Our Christmas tree rarely goes up before the Fourth Week of Advent, not because we are too lazy or too busy to put it up before then, but because in Hungarian tradition, the tree wouldn’t go up until the 24^th.  Jesus and the angels (in the guise of the “grown-ups” in the family) bring the tree and the gifts.

We abstain from meat on Christmas Eve, following Catholic tradition, but we usually have a family dinner.  At the end of dinner, we read the Christmas story from the Bible, taken from the readings for Mass at Midnight and Mass at Dawn, and then the angels (in the guise of one of the “kids” in the family) ring bells to let us know that the tree and gifts are ready for us.  We sing some Christmas carols together, and then we open gifts.  On Christmas Day, we celebrate the more “American” way, with Christmas stockings and a larger family gathering.

Of course, we also attend Mass either or both days.  In recent years, due to involvement in the choir, we have mostly attended Mass or Masses on Christmas Eve and skipped going to church on Christmas Day.

I like my family’s traditions, partly because I grew up with them, so they are familiar to me, but also because they keep Jesus Christ in Christmas.  I may come from a blended family (both in terms of cultures and religious backgrounds), but Christmas for me has been always truly “Christ”mas.

Advent Calendars and Christmas Count-Downs

Secular culture hears the phrase “Advent calendar,” and what comes to mind almost immediately are the cardboard boxes with the pictures of Santa Claus or a winter scene with the little doors.  Open a door, get a little piece of chocolate, rinse and repeat each day until Christmas.  These commercial “Advent” calendars usually start on December 1^st and go until December 25^th, with no regard for what the liturgical season of Advent actually is.

Typical commercial “Advent” calendar

Of course, there is nothing wrong with using one of these commercial calendars with your family, so long as there is also a focus on the liturgical season of Advent.  However, it is my personal opinion that such calendars should be thought of as Christmas count-downs rather than Advent calendars.

I am lucky to have and use an Advent calendar that my family made for me when I was young.  It consists of a wooden Christmas tree with ornaments to place on it each day of Advent.  There are enough ornaments for each day of Advent, regardless of whether it starts the last week of November, or the first week of December.  My brother’s is a similar concept – a felt Christmas tree with felt ornaments that one can attach to the tree with Velcro each day of Advent.  Both of our calendar ornaments contain religious symbols, as well as more secular symbols of winter.

An Advent Calendar similar to my own

An Advent Calendar similar to my brother’s

These calendars enhanced our experience of Advent growing up, when the commercial calendars were far less prevalent, because they opened the door for conversation about why we were celebrating during the run up to Christmas.  It gave our mother the chance to get us ready:  mind, body, and soul.

What kinds of Advent calendars do you use with your families?  How do they help you get ready for Christmas, and “Prepare the way of the Lord”?

Praying for Those in Purgatory

As we begin the month of November, we celebrate the feasts of All Saints Day and All Souls Day.  On All Saints Day, we remember those who have gone before us who are in Heaven.  This includes those saints who are canonized (i.e., whose feasts and memorials we celebrate throughout the year), as well as other holy people who we know are in heaven.  On All Souls Day, we pray for those souls that are in Purgatory.  At St. Ambrose, we specifically remember those who have passed away in the last year at the Mass on November 2^nd.

The Catholic Church dedicates the entire month of November to praying for those souls that are in Purgatory.  But why do they need our prayers?  Purgatory is not so much a place as it is a process according to Catholic teaching.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church (1994) refers to it as a “cleansing fire” (CCC 1031).  In the summary part of this section of the Catechism, it states:

Those who die in God’s grace and friendship imperfectly purified, although they are assured of their eternal salvation, undergo a purification after death, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of God.  (CCC 1054)

Since this period of purification is a process, it makes sense that we would pray for those going through the process, just as we might pray for someone living who is experiencing a time of trial in his or her life.

It is comforting to know that we will not be condemned for our sins automatically.  As long as we are repentant for our actions, we can be saved from damnation in Hell.  During this month of November, of course pray for your loved ones who have died, but also, consider praying for the souls in Purgatory who have no one to pray for them.

Like an Old Friend

Mass is essentially the same wherever you go.  It might be in a different language or have different music than you are accustomed to, but you can still follow along with relative ease.  I have been privileged to travel to Europe several times, and I have heard Mass in Latin, German, French, and Hungarian.  On my most recent trip two years ago this month, my mother was amazed that I was able to follow along so well with the music at a Mass in a small village in Hungary.  I told her that because I know the basic rules of pronunciation for the language, it wasn’t that difficult.  Mass is Mass.

This week at St. Ambrose, we had a funeral Mass with many elements in Latin.  It is important to note that, while the Second Vatican Council allowed the use of the vernacular in Masses and sacraments, it did not say that Latin could not be used (Sacrosanctum Concilium).  And yes, there were parts of the Mass I did not understand.  However, it felt more like a greeting from an old friend than an imposition of times past.

I realize that I may come at this from a unique perspective.  I learned many Latin Mass settings during my years at the Madeleine Choir School.  It’s always fun to get to sing them again.  It had been over ten years since I had sung the setting of the “Pie Jesu” we used at this funeral.  Pulling it out again brought back memories of the last time I sang it.

I think it is good for us to revisit the “old ways” from time to time.  It reminds us where we came from and where we have been.  We need the lessons of history to help us move forward.  For me, using the Latin texts makes me feel as if I am strengthening my prayers.  It makes me feel as if I am closer to God.  Anything that draws us closer to God is worth pursuing.  I am grateful for the opportunities I have now, and those I have had in the past, to participate in varied liturgies.

What do you use to enhance your own prayer life?  How might you incorporate different elements to deepen your relationship with God?

The Importance of Being a Good Example

On Sunday afternoon, my mom and I went for a walk around Silver Lake, in Big Cottonwood Canyon near Brighton.  This is one of our favorite places to go when we want to escape the heat of the valley in the summer.  As we were walking around the lake, we passed a man and what appeared to be his adult children.  Another passerby might not have noticed, but my mom saw the Hungarian emblem on this man’s shirt and asked him if he was Hungarian.  It turns out this man was born in New Jersey to Hungarian parents who came to the United States after the 1956 revolution in Hungary.  My mother was born in Hungary at the end of the Second World War and came to the US in 1960.  They started conversing in Hungarian, and I was amazed at how little of an accent this man had.  He didn’t sound Hungarian when speaking English, but he didn’t sound American when speaking Hungarian either.  He learned Hungarian as his first language, and English as his second.  As they spoke, I caught a word here and there that I understood, but it seemed his young adult children did not understand anything that was said.

This got me thinking.  In both my mother’s and this man’s case, the parents who lived through a culture shift and revolution kept the language of their homeland alive for their children who grew up in the US.  The next generation, however, did not learn the language.  Why?  Was it a simple matter of assimilation?  A lack of motivation on the parts of our first generation American parents?  Our own lack of interest as the children of native speakers?

I think this situation could apply to what is happening in the Church today, with more and more youth leaving as they get older.  Youth with parents who make church a priority and set a good example for their children may be more likely to continue attending church as they grow into adulthood.  Youth who grow up surrounded by traditions are more likely to keep those traditions and pass them on to future generations.

To bring it back to my own experience, I picked up most of the Hungarian I now recognize from repeated exposure as a child.  Similarly, I recall that I didn’t so much memorize the prayers we say at Mass through isolated practice but through repeated exposure at Mass.  My cousins, the children of my mother’s brother, on the other hand, who were raised in an environment where the use of Hungarian was less accepted, didn’t pick up as much of the language as I did.  These same cousins are not regular church goers as adults either.  The two are not related in any way, other than perhaps the example of my uncle was less effective than it could have been compared with my mother’s.

In order to keep a culture alive, people need an example to follow.  By the same token, in order to keep our churches and faith vibrant in the future, we need to first examine our own behaviors and attitudes.  What sort of example are we setting for the next generation?

In the comments, feel free to share your own ideas or experiences on this topic.