Life-Giving or Life-Retaining?

"The man said: 'This one, at last, is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; This one shall be called 'woman,' for out of 'her man' this one has been taken.' That is why man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife, and the two of them become one body."  (Genesis 2:23-24)


I heard a preacher on the radio the other day speaking of how husband and wife should treat each other.  He reminded me that in my relationship with my husband I must always remember that we, united in God, are one body.  As surely as I would never do anything to harm my own body, I should never do anything to harm my husband.  Even if my body were doing something to hurt me, I would not harm it.  If my hand were aching, I would not cut it off but try to heal it.  If my stomach was growling, I would feed it.  If my body was gaining weight I would do my best to help it get back into shape.  I would nurture the life of my body.  In fact, I am so united with my body that I consider my body as me.  I, as a person, and my body are one.  Of course, there is more to me than just my body in the physical sense, but my body represents me as a whole person, and I cannot be separated from it.


So, when man and woman are married, they become one body.  Not just two bodies who happen to live together, but utterly united.  I must treat this new body, united with my husband, as my own (because it is!), and as one that represents us in our new life together in the same way that my physical body represents my whole person.  This body, united in marriage through God's grace is not merely a physical body, but is much more than that--we become one in heart and mind.


Really?  Of one heart and mind?  This may seem shocking to our society today.  Society screams:  I am an individual with my own more important personal needs!


Let me explain what I mean by this:


We, of course, understand becoming one body in the conjugal sense.  Man and woman become one in the marital act and the unity between them is so great that it gives life in the form of a child.  Marriage, by nature, is a life-giving relationship.  In fact, it can be compared to the relationship of the Holy Trinity, perpetually giving life.  According to Catholic.org, the Trinity is the perfect family:  "The Father loves the Son, the Son loves the Father, and the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and Son. We might say that the life of the Triune God is the highest and supreme principle of familial relationship." (http://www.catholic.org/hf/love/story.php?id=37200)  So, in marriage and family, we are imitating the perfect love and life-giving relationship of the Trinity.  Of course, the Trinity, specifically the Holy Spirit, is the life giving force of all of Creation.  We, as married couples are life-giving not only in the literal sense of bearing children, but in the sense of giving life and love to our spouse and those around us.


The persons of the Trinity, because of their perfect love and perfect unity, are "inseparable in what they are" and "inseparable in what they do." (Catechism 267)  They are so utterly united that they cannot be separated in will.  Likewise, we, as a married couple, in striving for that perfect unity and love must become of one heart and mind, through God's grace.  "Conjugal love, involves a totality, in which all the elements of the person enter--appeal of the body and instinct, power of feeling and affectivity, aspiration of the spirit and of will." (Catechism 1643)  So, in our new life together, as one body, we must strive to become of one heart and mind working towards the ultimate goal that is eternal life with God the Father, in Heaven.


Society today, however, instead of being life-giving is what I would call "life-retaining."  We have this individualistic mentality that declares, "This is my life.  I can do what I want with it and no else matters.  If I don't look out for myself no one else will."  In marriage, this mentality often turns to, "If I'm not happy, then I must get out!"  So we retain life for ourselves and are reluctant to give to others.  We are afraid that we will lose our individual life.  We don't realize that in giving of our lives, we are able to live more fully.


If we look at our marriage through the example of the Trinity and understand that we are truly one body, then we will know that giving life and love to our spouse is giving life and love to ourselves.  In caring for and wanting what is best for our spouse, we are nurturing the body that belongs to both of us.  In commonly striving for the greatest good--life in Christ--we are nurturing the new life, the new body, that fills us with greater love and joy than we could ever have before.


So, nurture your marriage body!  Take care of it, let it grow, and strive toward oneness in God!

The Whispered Word

So I decided to start writing reflections on the readings again...  Here goes:

Reflections on the August 7^th Readings:

1 Kgs 19:9a, 11-13a

Rom 9:1-5

Mt 14:22-33

“After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound.  When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave.”  1 Kings 19:12b-13a

The Lord was not in the mighty wind, or the powerful earthquake, or the great fire.  No, God is found in the tiniest whispered sound, perhaps sometimes a sound that is difficult to hear.

I have often heard the complaint that if God were so great then he should come down and show himself to us, make us believe.  If Jesus would just perform miracles today the same way he did in the New Testament then of course we would follow him.  If he would just tell me his will, then I will do what he says.  Why can’t he be so bold and blunt?

If we look at the Gospel reading for August 7th, however, we find that our convictions that Jesus could just give us proof by standing before us don’t really hold water.  In Matthew 14, Jesus walked on water before Peter and the Apostles and yet, as Peter boldly jumps out of the bold and begins to walk on water himself, he suddenly becomes afraid and loses faith, even in the presence of Jesus.  Peter had just seen the miracle of the feeding of the 5000; he had been walking in Jesus’ presence for quite some time, and yet his faith wanes.  The mighty wind distracts him, terrifies him, and he doubts the calming presence of Christ.

Our world today is so full of distractions and misleading “truths” that even when God does speak, we lose his whisper in the chaos.  We are diverted by mighty wind of promises of successes, the powerful earthquake of pain and suffering, the glorious glow of the fire of material possessions.  We are swept away by temptations that often seem more powerful, more splendid, more prominent than the tiny whisper of God.

In focusing on the mighty works of the world, we fail to see God in the loving care of a friend, the pleading voice of a family member asking us to do the right thing, the letter of an organization in need of assistance to help the poor, the gentle smile of a neighbor, the rolling laughs of our children.  We don’t realize that every good thing, and I mean all that is good in our life, is from God.  If we stop to think about our blessings, we know they speak louder than any mighty roar.

But why, then, does God make it so difficult for us to recognize him? Do we not see that God has no desire to force us to believe in him by asserting his power through great and mighty works?  Even if he did perform these mighty deeds, would we recognize him?  Or would we claim it was only our imagination; it was some strange fluke; there must be a scientific explanation (after all, science has struggled to explain the miracle of the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe on the tilma to no avail, yet much of the world still does not believe in it).

God chooses to speak to us in the tiniest whisper because, more often than not, this is the most powerful way to touch someone.  When I was a teenager, the most effective way for my mother to get through to me was through a gentle talk.  She would softly explain why I needed to finish my schoolwork and chores before going to hang out with my friends, why I shouldn’t bring boys back to my room alone, and what it really meant to be a woman.  If she had yelled at me, or “exerted her power” over me, I don’t think I would have responded so well.  I might have been a rebel.  In fact, studies have shown that yelling at children is not very effective; it causes anger and bitterness while calm conversations build confidence and help the child to make the right decision while feeling like it is his own decision.

Which is, of course, what God wants us to do—make our own decision to listen to Him.  After all, he gave us Free Will.  He comes to us in a whisper not because he wants to hide from us or make it difficult but because he wants us to find and follow him through a free act of love.

We can always turn to the saints, who were the greatest examples of fervently listening for God’s whispered words.  They did not look for great signs and wonders but often found God through silent prayer, holy adoration, in the faces of the poor and suffering with whom they worked.  And these saints who made themselves small and lowly, constantly pushing attention away from themselves, often seemed the quietest, least powerful people of all, yet somehow, by the grace of God, their tiny whispers echo around the world.

Master's Project

I am in architecture school pursuing my master's degree.  This year, my final year, I will be doing a final Master's Project of my choosing.  Similar to a thesis (though not the same--I don't have to write a paper and defend it the way thesis students typically do), I will be doing research this Fall semester and then will complete the project in the Spring.

I get to choose what the project will be.

I want to do a Catholic Church.

Is that surprising?

Lately, I have been fascinated with what it means to experience sacred space.  Of course, sacred space can mean more than just churches, but Christian churches are the ones I am most familiar with and, especially after visiting many churches and cathedrals in Italy during a study abroad four years ago, I am struck with how powerful and spiritual a space can feel simply because of the symbolism, tradition, and meaning it holds.  There is a theology embedded in the walls of many churches, and that fascinates me.

Of course, I haven't figured out exactly how this will unfold into a real project yet, but hopefully at the beginning of the fall semester, I will have a better idea.  Already I have been reading a number of books and articles that explore this issue, especially in relation to the modernist functionalism and how it has impacted contemporary churches.  How do we combat the blank walls and central plans (with no historical significance) while still creating an architecture that does not dwell on the past but is relevant today?  After all, the Church herself is not an ancient set of rituals with no contemporary relevance, but a living faith that bears a long standing tradition that is only stronger in today's world because of its heritage.

I am aware that my task will not be an easy one, especially because of the nature of a public institution (that, more often than not, seeks to be "tolerant" and "inclusive" by subtly excluding any sort of religious implications), the more mainstream modern ideologies of current students and professors, and the fact that most professors would prefer to impose their personal agendas onto specific students.  But, the more I read, the more excited I become, and I don't want to let myself down now.

So, I'll use this as a tool to report on my progress as well as keep my thoughts together.  Next week perhaps I will discuss the experiential nature of architecture and how it relates to the sacraments.

To my studiomates, who love Chartres Cathedral as I do:

Amazing how tired you get of people and projects,

school and studio

Sitting between two blank white walls with ribbon windows,

fat plastic shades, cheap and broken.

You’ve spent too many late nights in this prison room

peering at your computer screen, connecting lines,

catching occasional glimpses

of the dingy Doubletree across the street,

flat and red,

with windows punched into walls

of perfectly modeled, even lines,

thoughtless repetition.

You hear the professor’s badgering,

think of work not done,

crumble under the weight of deadlines,

marvel at the fragility of inspiration--

like a pane of tinted glass

beautiful and bright casts shimmering rays,

painting your brain in color until

it cracks, shatters, under solid stress.

Think of cathedral glass, exquisite blues and reds

and turn to Chartres

soaring buttresses, branched arches, ribbed vaults

Rose window of pieced glass;

intricate figures, brilliant patterns,

composed like music, singing vibrant songs,

echoing in colored reflections,

illuminating the walls in a thousand hues.

Doctor's Words

Wow, it's been way too long.  I've started grad school--Master's of Architecture--and my time has flown out the window.

But I've been taking a poetry class while in school--I'm getting a creative writing certificate--so here is one of my poems from last semester.

Doctor's Words

are crystal glass

offered to expectant guest;

vessels of light

refracting

in blues and golds,

or lurid reds.

sparkling champagne in

finest etched flute

set with china on the table.

mirrored shards, sharpened

knives in slippery,

fumbling grip.

brilliantly glaring,

within reach,

translucent, relentless;

this wine-filled chalice

is a cheerful toast

or goblet of drunken dejection.

Jesus Saves... why?

There's a new song on Christian Radio called "Jesus Saves" by Jeremy Camp.  I was listening to it the other day and I thought to myself, you know, this rings true, especially for people who are broken and want to be saved, but the thing is, these people who know they need a Savior already know Jesus--they don't need to be told that He saves.

The challenge we have, then, is telling people who do not know Jesus this key fact:  We are fallen; we are broken; we need a Savior.

I know plenty of people who go through life not really living as Christians, and they will tell you they are perfectly happy in their self-centered world.  Why would they need God?

Jesus Saves, yes.  But let's go a little deeper than that.


Why do you need a Savior?

Whom the Lord loves, he disciplines

Sometimes, when life hits me hard, I wish I was a little child again.  I wish I didn’t have the responsibilities I have now; I wish I could go back and time to the days when I could run and play all day and trust my parents to take care of me.  I want to go back to when my only worries and sorrows were when my friends hurt my feelings, I fell and scraped my knee, or I did something wrong and had to face my father.

It was a time when I was full of joy.  I had freedom beneath my father’s watchful gaze.  Every day I knew I could come home to my parents’ house, lay my head on my pillow, and my parents would kiss me goodnight.  It was a pleasant freedom to be cared for by my parents.  A freedom that told me that everything would be alright.  I was taken care of.

But there were times when I was a child that I felt real pain, times when I cried uncontrollably, when I could not catch a breath out of anger, when I thought I would never forgive my parents.

Once, when I was in high school, I played hooky.  It was my friend’s idea, and I let him convince me.  I told my teacher I was going to the library.  I was always a good kid, so the teacher trusted me and let me go with a smile.  But I took a detour on my way down the stairs to the library and made it out the side door.  I was a senior, so my friend and I could drive, and we made it all the way to the car.  My heart was pounding, knowing the risks I was taking, but I kept telling myself that I didn’t need to go to class anyway.  I already knew the material, and I was responsible enough to make that decision.  I was old enough to be free to do as I liked.

But parents see everything.  They always find out.  That day in particular, I had a doctor’s appointment I didn’t know about, and my mom came to the school looking for me.  When the administrators could not find me in my class or in the library, worry ensued.  It was my mother who found me in the parking lot.  I will never forget the hard look she gave me.  It is engrained in my memory.

I was terrified of her discipline, and I was angry when I found out that I would be disciplined harder than my friend.  I thought my mom was too harsh, that she didn’t know what she was doing, that it wasn’t a big deal.  I couldn’t understand why I had to write an apology to my teacher and to my principle.  I didn’t know why I had privileges taken away and my friend didn’t.  Why did I have to suffer such sorrows for something so small?

But I learned my lesson, and, a long time later I began to realize that my mother was not trying to take my freedom away—she wants me to be free in knowing the right thing, to not fall in the snares of temptation.  She has higher expectations.  She loves me so very much and expects me to be better, more perfect, to always do what is right.  The better I am, the more I understand right and wrong, the harsher the discipline when I fall short.  It is a fact of life.

We are children of God.  He is our loving Father who takes care of us, who shadows us with His protective wing.  He loves us.

He disciplines us.  As Paul says to the Hebrews a few Sundays ago, “‘My son, do not disdain the discipline of the Lord or lose heart when reproved by him; for whom the Lord loves, he disciplines; he scourges every son he acknowledges.’”

The more our parents love us, the more they want us to grow in goodness, in holiness.  God, our Father, loves us infinitely more than our parents.  The struggles we endure can be counted as discipline, and the closer we get to God, the more He expects out of us.  Yet, it the end “it brings the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who are trained by it.”

But there will be times when we don’t understand the discipline of God.  There were plenty of times when I didn’t understand the discipline of my parents, when I was so angry with them because I thought they were being arbitrary, that they didn’t know what they were doing.  I thought they just wanted to control me.

But the reality is, we find freedom in God’s commands.  We find Truth, and peace, and love.  The children who are loved and disciplined by their parents are much freer than those who are allowed to do as they like, to get into trouble with drugs, to be promiscuous, to dance with danger.  They risk getting seriously hurt (certainly more hurt than I was when I got caught), becoming addicted to drugs, forgoing their dreams.  They risk becoming slaves to their rebellious behavior and do not find the peace of a loving home.

But God shows us the way.  He teaches us the Truth, and in it we find true freedom.

We are children of God.  Be like little children and feel the peace and joy that you did as a carefree child.  Know that it will always be alright.  We will always have God’s house to come home to.  We will always be able to lay our heads down at night and have His angels kiss us goodnight.

As children, we won’t always get what we want, and we won’t always understand His discipline.  But there is freedom in it, and peace.

“God treats you as sons,” Paul says.  Act like His Son, and hope that one day, at the gates of Heaven, an angel will smile at you and say, “You take after your Father.”