My younger brother died a week ago today. Cathy and I and my parents had been taking turns keeping vigil by his hospital bed. We were at home when the call came and by the time we got to the hospital, he had passed.
Obviously it has been an emotional week and I'll need some time to process before I can write about it in any but documentary fashion.
For the curious, his obituary is here.
I'll use this post to link to all of the audio segements for Christ's Journey.
Prologue -- Isaiah 9:6-7
The Annunciation -- Luke 1:26-56
The Nativity -- Luke 2:1-19
The Coming of the Magi -- Matthew 2:1-21
A Visit to the Temple -- Luke 2:40-52
Jesus' Baptism -- Mark 1:2-13
Jesus is Tempted -- Matthew 4:1-11
Jesus Calls Disciples -- Matthew 4:12-22
The Wedding at Cana -- John 2:1-12
The Beatitudes -- Matthew 4:23 - 5:12
Healing and Resurrection -- Luke 7:1 -15
Healing of a Withered Hand -- Mark 3:1-6
Nicodemus' Visit -- John 3:1-21
Jarius' Daughter -- Mark 5:22-43
The Samaritan Woman -- John 4:3-44
Anointed by a Woman -- Luke 7:36-50
Feeding the Multitude -- John 6:1-15
Jesus Walks on Water -- Matthew 14:22-36
Jesus Visits Mary and Martha -- Luke 10:38-42
A Woman Taken In Adultery -- John 8:1 -11
NOTE (7/6/07) -- I'm going to suspend this project for a while. At least for the next little while I'm going to re-prioritize my activities.
I'm going to keep my podcast (Short Cummings Audio) going because the creative work is an important and positive thing for me to do. I will get back to this project, I'm just not certain when.
If you'd like to contact me, please feel free to post a comment here or e-mail me at the address given on the left side of this screen.
As of this Easter I will have been a member of the Roman Catholic church for 22 years ... more than half my life. In other words, I've been a Catholic longer than not.
During last night's Vigil I reflected on those years; in part because this is the season when time folds in on itself for me and each Easter is all Easters.
Last weekend (Palm Sunday) at the 8:15 Mass I had the privilege of reading the Narrator's part in the Passion. To assist us, the Monsignor has prepared small folders with the passion printed in large, easy-to-read letters. The folder I was given this year had notes written in my hand on the inside page. At some point in the past, in the endless three-year cycle of readings, I'd used that folder before.
Was it from 2004 when I was two-thirds through my Graduate degree; when I struggled to keep up the end of my Arbitration class and graduation felt like it would never come?
Was it from 2001 when I hadn't yet begun my Mediation Certificate and the horros of Speptember 11th hadn't yet changed the world.
1998? Possible, although at that time I'm not sure I was a lector yet.
I wonder what the 'me' of that earlier reading would think of the 'me' of today.
This sense of compression, of being at the junction point in the infinity symbol of time, hits with full force during the Vigil. Although I've not attended the service every year, I've been to more than I've missed. Attending is a brief moment of connection with myself in each of the years before.
My first Vigil, St. Catherine of Sienna Newman Center in Salt Lake, was my Confirmation and First Communion. I didn't come to the Church in the usual way. I felt the desire to be part of the Community of Faith and had attended Mass regularly for a couple of years. When I decided to join two generous priests -- Frs. Bramble and McGreevey -- completed my Catechism and allowed me to be Confirmed even though I'd not gone through the formal RCIA. Cathy's parents were there and I remember being somewhat overwhelmed by it all.
To be honest, I probably understood less about the Faith than I should and yet I believed; deeply and completely. That was enough and the details came later as I grew.
Just after Evan was born I traveled to Nashville to present at a conference at Easter. My travel plans left the Vigil as my only option. A cab took me from my temporary quarters at the Opryland Hotel to a nearby parish. It was a windy night and during the Blessing of the New Fire a gust caught the cloth draped over the table and dipped it in the fire. Altar Servers and Deacons rushed to extinguish the unwanted flame. Once we were safely inside, the service proceeded as expected. That was the first Vigil I'd attended since my own and I remember thinking that mine hadn't seemed that long.
Once Cathy and I took up ministries -- Eucharistic Minister for her and Lector for me -- we were called upon to attend Vigils more often. Flash photo snapshots of various years present themselves in my mind; reading from Genesis about Abraham and Isaac, Exodus and the Crossing of the Red Sea; Isaiah promising food and drink; Paul explaining that we were buried with Christ in Baptism so that we could rise with Him. At most I'm assigned two of the readings, so I know that these memories cross multiple years.
Cathy and I served on the RCIA team one year, but that particular Vigil doesn't stand out to me now.
I remember reading at the Vigil the year that Ken was confirmed. He asked me to sponsor him. Various circumstances stretched his own Catechism into a two-year marathon. In some ways it was the inverse of my own; long where mine had been short, arduous where mine had been more simple. Yet Ken hung in there and I was proud to be his sponsor. He has remained faithful where others have fallen away. To date, he is the only person I have sponsored. The role of sponsor is not one I take lightly and I'd only take on another candidate after careful and prayerful consideration.
This Vigil also pointed to the future. It was Ian's last assigned Mass as an Altar Server. There's something bittersweet in the knowledge that he'll be moving on. We've applied for housing at the Newman Center for him and I pray that he gets in.
In two years we'll face the same circumstance with Evan.
Then we'll be older and empty-nesters and life will change. Grandkids? College graduations? It's hard to say what might be happening. Yet through it all there will be Easter and the Vigil and the Resurrection.
And, as always, time will fold in on itself for me.
May God Bless you and keep you in this joyous Easter Season!
The penitential season of Lent has passed and now we celebrate the Joy of Easter.
During Lent I managed to establish the habit of recording the project weekly ... a habit which I itend to continue through the coming months until I reach the end of the project. As each new segment is completed, I'll upload it here.
I hope this Blessed Day finds you well. Cathy and I will be spending the day with my Father and Brother (both of the boys have to work this weekend). Then we plan a quiet and restful afternoon at home.
God Bless You!
After fussing with the files for a while and playing with Cinescore, I'm not particularly satisfied with the final product I'm getting.
So, for the nonce at least, I'm going with dry voice. I've gone back and re-edited all of the files without any special effects or music.
I don't expect to have it all recorded -- there are nearly 40 segments -- by the end of Lent. Instead, I intend to use this Lenten observation to start a new habit.
The first four segements are done and I'll link to them shortly.
Not much to say, really, but didn't want to let the day pass without comment.
I will work on the project during Lent and see how far I can get.
Wishing you a good and fulfilling Lent.
Lent begins this coming Wednesday and the calendar reminds me that I need to begin work on my recording project. As previously noted, I've chosen the 1899 Douay-Rheims text.
As part of my Lenten sacrifice, I'll record and mix at least one segement each week. The first two are done and may be accessed at the links below. Comments and feedback are welcomed.
Prologue -- Isaiah 9:6-7
The Annunciation -- Luke 1:26-56
I thought I had a script all worked out for my narrative version of Christ's Life. I put together a couple of "proof of concept" pieces and played them for CAC. There were some audio issues (I'm experimenting with different mic stands, but I'll get that worked out), but more to the point CAC wasn't thrilled about the language of the translation I'd used.
For various reasons I selected the King James Version. It would be recognizable and acceptable to a great many English-speaking Christians and it has the benefit of being in the public domain. CAC objected, though, on the grounds that the language is archaic. She would have preferred for me to use the New American Bible, but the copyright closes off that option.
(ASIDE: The podcast Verbum Domini ran into trouble with this last year. The USSCB essentially asked the host to cease and desist and has subsequently started their own daily reading podcast. The whole thing was document by Fr. Roderick on The Daily Breakfast. I can certainly understand why the Bishops would want to protect the copyright on the NAB, but the host of Verbum Domini did a great job. It would have been nice if he could have continued.)
That leaves me with limited options and I've spent much of the afternoon reading up on Bible history. Fascinating stuff. I've found that my best option is probably to use the Douay-Rheims version as it is a Catholic translation and was the basis of virtually all English Catholic bibles until the middle of the last century. I had heard of it, but I wasn't particularly familiar with the history behind it. The text itself is based on the Latin Vulgate translation by St. Jerome. The text was translated during the time when Catholics were being persecuted in England and priests were trained across the channel in Douay, France. There are plenty of web references, so I'll not bore you with them here. Suffice it to say that the interplay of personalities and texts is complex.
Copies of various versions of the Douay-Rheims can be found on-line including one here (oddly, it's not in their drop-down list, but it can be found with a little digging) and here.The Douay-Rheims was replaced in America in the middle of the twentieth-century by the Revised Standard Version -- Catholic Edition. I've found it on-line, but the copyright status is not entirely clear to me. More research is in order.
Oh, and while I was exploring I found a fellow named Jimmy Akin who has a fascinating story of Faith and conversion and a terrific page which explains his reasons for conversion. It was one of those wonderful little things that pops up when doing web research.
I've been struggling the last few days with the proper response to the Hanging of Saddam Hussein.
He was a monster, there's no denying that. His crimes clearly meet even the most lenient definition of "atrocity". Yet I am opposed to the death penalty unless it is the only way in which society can protect itself. I don't think this qualified.
So...what to think?
Fleming Rutledge posted her thoughts on the Generous Orthodoxy blog and I think she's said it better than I ever could. You can read it here.
Just before Christmas I was talking with an LDS friend at work. I had shared with him part of a letter I had written and he remarked on my use of the phrase, "I find great peace in the constraints of the Church."
To be completely honest, when I wrote the letter I used that phrase without really thinking about it much. Not thoughtlessly, exactly, but maybe casually. Since that conversation, I've spent some time mulling it over.
The truth of the matter is that the Church does have constraints -- on my behavior, my beliefs, even on the kinds of thoughts I'm to entertain and avoid. As a convert I've willingly submitted myself to these rules. And it is true that I find peace in m Faith. The time I spend at Mass is the most peaceful time of the week; time away from the world and its concerns, time spent with the God who made and loves me. (Aside: I know that God is with me always, but there's a special connection during the Mass.)
There's a paradox in finding peace through restraints. My oldest is reading Orwell's 1984 and the notion of "peace through submission" sounds as if it might have been dreamed up by Big Brother. However, I think that may be the wrong lens to use in viewing this.
Let me take a strange detour and I'll see if I can put this in a proper context.
I have a book called Over the Edge: Death in the Grand Canyon. I picked it up on a few years back when we were traveling in Southern Utah. It documents death and disaster in the canyon and the thing which stands out most clearly in my memory is that so many of the deaths were preventable. People died by climbing over guard rails for a "better view", or jumping down onto ledges as a joke, or by disregarding the warning signs and advice of seasoned rangers and hikers.
The obvious metaphor here is that the rules of the Church serve much the same purpose. It's not that those charged with my spiritual care think they know more than I do (although they might, indeed, think that), it is that the rules have been tested over time and shown to work. Stay on this side of the fence and you'll be safe.
In the larger context, I think this explains the reluctance of the Church to make swift changes ... even when potential changes have great popular appeal. The rules which have been in place for years (decades and centuries in many cases) will be held to because they have been shown to be safe. Change isn't impossible, but it is carefully considered.
When my wife and I talked about this, she used a much homier and more motherly analogy. She likened the constraints of the Church to the swaddling of a babe; soft but firm and warm and comforting. An image that I find entirely satisfactory and eminently comforting.
When Cathy and I went to Mass last night the line outside of Fr. Francis Reconciliation room was short, so we decided to take the opportunity for Confession. (It saved us a trip back for today's reconciliation service.)
I'd not been to Fr. Francis before, but Ian had reported that he is a good confessor. Different priests have different gifts and I think Ian was right about Fr. Francis.
He listened quietly and then drew out the two themes from what I'd said -- impatience and jealousy -- and knitted them together. He suggested that I remember my Christian duty to serve people quietly. Words don't really capture exactly what happened, but suffice it to say that what he said was exactly what I needed to hear.
This is what Reconciliation is about (at least in the very best instances). An opportunity to unburden in contrition, to receive counsel and comfort and to start fresh with a new insight. I've sometimes thought about how hard a sacrament this must be for priests to administer. I'm grateful for their willingness to do it.
It's the Second Week of Advent already and I'm not feeling as connected to the season as I'd like.
For some reason this year we seem to be ultra busy -- more so than usual -- and it's making it hard to find any peace. Although my village is up (I did that Thanksgiving weekend) Cathy's Bethlehem set remains packed away. We usually have it up by now.
We've set up the Advent wreath, but with both boys in the Holiday Follies at St. Joe's, they've been at late practices every night this week. On the upside, we have a new book of daily readings for Advent. It's called "O Come, Emmanuel" and it draws from hymns (ancient and modern) for each of the daily devotions. The readings are longer than we've used in the past, but the boys are old enough now to connect with them.
Tonight we're off to "Journey to Bethlehem" at Mountainview Baptist Church (my parent's church). It's a live, walk-through nativity. You begin in Nazareth in the company of a Jewish family which is traveling to Bethlehem in accordance with the law of Caesar. Along the way you are beset by robbers, harassed by Romans, meet up with the Magi, rejected at the inn, and (eventually) you see both the Manger and the Cross. My parents have taken the roles of the Mayor and the Mayor's wife and we're looking forward to seeing them.
Perhaps that will help connect me to the season.If not, there's always the communal Penance service at St. Rose next week.
I am looking forward to Christmas. As with last year, all four of us are serving at the vigil Mass. That's always a treat...and one that we won't have after Ian moves out to college.
I've decided to use the blog as a place to post my thoughts about my Faith.
I have another blog in another place that is more private and used to keep in touch with close friends and family. It's more of a journal than a blog.
Over the past couple of years I have posted a few thoughts about my Faith in that space and I've brought them over here.
From here forward, when I post to that journal on matters of Faith, I'll cross-post here as well.
I've just finished reading Anne Rice's Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt and wanted to capture my thoughts whilst they were still fresh.
For those who missed the news, Anne has found her way back to God. She was (as she explains in the afterward) raised as an Irish Catholic, but abandoned her Faith and embraced Atheism as a world view. She married, raised a family, became a a very successful author and found it all empty. In time she returned to the Church in which she had been raised.
But I've wandered off track...except it's important that you understand a little of this so I can tell you what I found in the book.
At its simplest level, Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt is a novel told from the perspective of the young Jesus as His family leaves Egypt and returns to live in Nazareth. He is seven at the beginning of the novel and Joseph announces that he and Jesus and Mary (and their extended family) can leave Egypt. Herod is dead. The news will come by Roman post in two days' time...Joseph has been given advance knowledge.
The family returns to Jerusalem, hoping to make it for Passover in the temple. Along the way the young Jesus starts to hear hints of stories about His birth in Bethlehem, but no one will tell Him anything definite. His parents are tight-lipped, and their reticence is shared by the entire family. Jesus is obedient, but driven by the curiosity.
Their visit to the Temple is cut short by an armed rebellion which is brutally quashed by Herod's troops. The family flees to Nazareth.
The story covers a period of one year, ending when they return to Jerusalem for the next Passover.
It's not a compelling narrative in the usual sense of the phrase. After all, we already know what it is that Jesus is trying to learn. We know that He is the Son of God and that His birth was heralded by angels and He was visited by the Magi. There's also the fact that the young Jesus is sinless, so there's no question of him disobeying.
Yet the book works beautifully on two levels.
On one level, it is a marvelous excursion into New Testament times. I've come to understand the bloody brutality of it, the bondedness of families, the complex rituals of Jewish life, and I've gained a sense of what it must have been like to live then. Anne Rice has always been good at research, drawing a scene and taking the reader there.
At a deeper level, the book is really about Anne working out her Faith. In one memorable passage the family is discussing an argument between the Rabbis from the local Synagogue. One of them says that it is good that the rains have come because that means the mikvah (ritual bath) has living water. Another points out that the water which filled the mikvah before was from the cistern which had been filled with rain water. And, besides, the small hole at the bottom of the mikvah meant that the water drained constantly and so counted as "living water".
Jesus' older male relatives kick around the various arguments, but in the end it is Joseph who settles it by saying, "See two paths on a mountain ridge. One is close to the edge, the other is farther away. The one farther away is safer. That is the path of the Pharisee -- to be farther from the edge of the cliff, farther from falling off the cliff and into sin, and so Rabbi Jacimus believes in his customs."
Moving behind that text I see Anne, struggling with the rules of the Church and the priests who favor a strict interpretation of the Catechism. In Joseph's words she at once supports that Faith and acknowledges the human differences in all of us.
In another passage Jesus brother James (Joseph's son from a previous wife) reconciles with his brother. In James' words I hear echoes of Anne's own confession and her brokenhearted determination to return to a savior whom she has rejected. There is such love and peace suffusing the scene that I wept when I read it.
And therein lies the wonder of the book. It presents a real, believable, human, Divine, and complete Jesus. I daresay the book even has some sense of Presence.
In the last entry, I mentioned the woman at Mass. I speculated that it was a sort of Benediction.
My colleague Mike (who has experience with Asian cultures) informs me that I have the wrong end of the stick. The gesture is one of respect, usually granted by someone young to someone old, and it is a request for a blessing or prayer. The fact that the woman is older than me lends a bit of mystery to the event.
So, I've prayed for God's blessing on her. Yet I still carry the conviction that I'm the one blessed.
I'm not sure what this means, but I felt compelled to get it down while it's still fresh...Cathy and I went to Mass tonight. Both of the lads were at work, so it was just the two of us. Cathy was a Eucharistic Minister and had to stay to clean up after Mass. She gave me a quick kiss and told me she'd meet me in the back.
I worked my way out with the rest of the crowd, pausing to let out a short older woman with Asian features. I've seen her at Mass before, but don't recall having spoken to her.
On the way out one of the Eucharistic ministers greeted me by name and I shook his hand and asked how he was doing.The woman, walking ahead of us, turned and extended her hand to me.
I took it and then a most extraordinary thing happened.She turned my wrist and bowed, touching her forehead to the back of my hand. She held it for the briefest of seconds and I returned as graceful a bow as I could muster. She smiled and turned back toward the entrance of the church.
I don't know what it means and my Google searches haven't turned up much of use. Yet it was a profoundly moving and very peaceful moment...almost Sacramental.
Perhaps it was a genuine Benediction. Heaven knows I could use that right now. Things are a bit tough at work. There's a certain struggle going on and I find myself very much at the center of it. Yet there was peace in that greeting...
Last night was Evans's Confirmation Mass at St. Rose. He's been preparing for it for some time now (of course). Last year he attended his Religious Ed classes at St. Joe's. This year he went to weekly YRE classes at St. Rose on Monday nights. Along the way he had to memorize material and pass tests and complete hours (about 20 I think) of community service.The culmination was last night.
Cathy and I were very proud of him for all he had done to prepare and the serious approach he took to the sacrament. (In the picture you can see how serious he looks.)
When the moment of his confirmation came, he stepped forward boldly. Deacon Bassett announced his chosen name and the Monsignor said, "Ferdinand, be sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit."
Evan answered a firm, "Amen".
The Monsignor embraced him saying, "Peace be with you" and Evan answered (again firmly) "And also with you."
Pictured with him in the photo on the right are his sponsor (behind him) and the back of Deacon Bassett's head. The Monsignor is somewhat hidden as a result of the angle from which I shot the photo.
Those who are familiar with the Faith may be wondering why the Monsignor administered the sacrament. After all, the Bishop is the usual Minister of Confirmation.
The answer is simple, really. We are presently Bishop-less. Bishop Neiderhauer was assigned to be an Arch-Bishop in California and the Holy See hasn't named a replacement yet. The Diocesan administrator delegated the task of confirmation to Monsignor Bonnell. So, EBC has received all of his sacraments thus far from the same priest. Pretty cool, huh?
The long, solemn wait of Lent is over and we've arrived at the joyous celebration of Easter!
This year, for a change, Cathy, the lads and I didn't serve at the Easter Vigil. We did go to the Good Friday service. I was tagged to read the 'Narrator' part in the Passion. That went well. (Better than when I read at the Palm Sunday Mass and stood too early during the kneeling part of the Passion.)
This morning we attended the 8:15 a.m. which was celebrated by Fr. V. A nice Mass. Cathy and I weren't involved, but the boys were altar servers.
Shortly it's off to an Easter lunch at my parent's house.
It's Palm Sunday and tonight at Mass I'll be reading the narrator's part in the Passion reading.
This is the one time during the liturgical year that I get to read from the gospel. It's a somewhat daunting responsibility.
I'm prepared, though, and the people at St. Rose are very kind.Palm Sunday, of course, marks the beginning of Holy Week.
I pray that all who read this will find peace in their relationship to God in the coming Easter Season.
...and to dust you shall return.
It's Ash Wednesday 2006...the beginning of Lent. Mass was nice (although surprisingly crowded for a 5:00 p.m. on a weeknight).
The boys had received ashes at school and CAC was home with a cold. So I went alone. I missed my family, but it was good to be at Mass.
Now begins the period of penance and preparation. I pray that your Lent is good and brings you closer to God.
