The Same Story

My spouse works for an International Relief and Development organization, and he had a meeting in Nepal. I was lucky enough to be able to tag along. I was so excited to travel to a part of the world I had never seen before, and I was not disappointed. For me, leaving home has always forced me to think about who I am and where I come from, things I take for granted in the U.S. “Where are you from? Why have you come to Nepal?” we would get asked several times a day. Being some of the only white people around, we stood out easily as foreigners.

One day, we took a taxi from our hotel to the Swayambhunath complex in Kathmandu Valley. It is a sacred Buddhist pilgrimage site that is also considered holy by Hindus. We sweated in the afternoon sun as we climbed stairs high above the city. Monkeys were frolicking around us. Prayer flags hung above us. Once we reached the top, Dan and I slowly circled the grounds, taking in the main stupa, shrines and temples, and a library and museum. The last building was a Tibetan monastery. We removed our shoes and entered slowly, eventually being welcomed to sit and be with the Tibetan monks. Robed in red and orange, monks of all ages chanted prayers in unity to the beat of a drum. It was powerful.

Eventually we left the monastery and wandered back out to the sunny platform. As we put our shoes back on, a man approached us.

He said, “You are Christian?”

“Yes, we are,” we replied.

“Do you read your Scripture?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Study it? Do you study your stories? Know the difference between your Testaments? More than just Sunday? Do you worship always?” he asked animatedly.

“Yes, we study.” Dan and I met, actually, studying our stories in theology graduate school.

“Good. Then we are brothers,” he finally smiled. “My story, your story. They seem different. But if you really study, they are the same.” And just like that, he left us.

It is a moment that I will hold with me for a long time, maybe forever. It look leaving home where there are so many Christians to realize how proud I am to be Christian, how proud I am to study my stories. How beautiful our stories are. We walked back down the temple steps, proud to be this man’s brother.

Trinity

This Sunday is Trinity Sunday, which is celebrated the first Sunday after Pentecost. It is an unusual feast, as it is one of the few feasts of the church year that celebrates a reality or doctrine rather than an important person or event in the history of the Church. Trinity Sunday celebrates that God is not only one but also three: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (or Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctified to use more gender-neutral terms).

In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus makes reference to the Trinitarian nature of God, telling his disciples to go and baptize people of all nations “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” This ancient baptismal formula is the one we still use today in baptism, marking baptized Christians as believers in a Trinitarian God.

Yet the Trinity is a difficult idea for us to wrap our heads around! How is it possible for God to be one and three at the same time? The way that ancient Greek theologians put it is that God is one in essence, yet three in persons. But “person” as the Greeks used it did not mean a human person like you or me. It meant something along the lines of “that which stands on its own.” So God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit each have something distinct about them, something which makes them stand on their own, while they are still united in will and essence, that is, united in what God intends for the world and in their very God-ness.

The Trinity is a mystery but that does not mean that it is completely impossible to understand. What it does mean is that the intricacies of God’s Trinitarian nature will be beyond our human comprehension, while other aspects of it may be revealed to us through prayer, song, art, and symbol. As it has been said, “Mystery is not a wall to run up against, but an ocean in which to swim.” In other words, as human beings, in this lifetime, we are not going to somehow crack the code of the Trinity or break through a wall to complete understanding of it. However, we may be able to surround or immerse ourselves in the reality of the Trinity so that we live in its reality, even without fully comprehending it.

In the spirit of immersing ourselves in the reality of the Trinity, I invite you to try an ancient religious practice this week: meditating with an icon of the Trinity. The icon pictured here, written by Andrei Rublev in the 15th century, is one of the most famous and beloved icons of the Trinity. It actually depicts the three visitors who came to Abraham and Sarah as told in Genesis 18. These visitors have often been identified with the Old Testament Trinity, and they sit in a circle that is open to the viewer. It is as if we are being invited to sit at the table with them, to share in a meal and relationship with them.

In the Orthodox Christian tradition, icons are said to be “written” not “painted.” Rather than mere works of art, icons are a form of prayer. An iconographer prepares for writing the icon with prayer and fasting, and the actual act of creating the icon is also steeped in prayer. Iconographers allow themselves to be guided by God in their creation. As such, icons can be windows to God.

Praying with an icon is a different form of prayer than we normally practice. Praying with an icon involves keeping your eyes open, seeing not so much the icon itself but seeing through it to God. Praying with an icon is prayer without words, where we focus on being in God’s presence and listen for what God may say to us.

So how do you pray with an icon? First, prepare for it as you would prepare for any type of prayer. Find a quiet spot, get comfortable, and slow down, perhaps focusing on your breathing to center yourself. Place the icon where you can easily see it and allow yourself to be still, resting in the knowledge of God’s presence with you. You may speak or pray to God, or simply look at the icon and let God speak to you. See if you can sustain your prayer for five minutes.

What questions do you have about the Trinity? Ask them here and we will try to offer answers in the coming weeks.

Also, please let us know how praying with an icon went for you. What was challening about this form of prayer? What did you like about it?

Pentecost Diversity

There are different kinds of spiritual gifts but the same Spirit;
there are different forms of service but the same Lord;
there are different workings but the same God
who produces all of them in everyone.
To each individual the manifestation of the Spirit
is given for some benefit.

 Pentecost Sunday is full of spectacle. Images of the Spirit as wind and fire abound. We see art saturated with halos and bright colors and huge flying doves. We hear of the disciples speaking in tongues as they are astounded and amazed to understand each other.

I have to admit, on Pentecost I usually feel a little insecure. I have never spoken in tongues. I don’t have a dramatic conversion story or spiritual gifts that have flare. I feel a great disconnect between my spirituality and the stories surrounding Pentecost. That is why I love that this reading above from 1 Corinthians shows up on Pentecost, too.

It is such a human thing to compare spiritualities and place values on gifts, and we do it all the time. Isn’t it easy to turn something beautiful into a competition? Because I have a fairly quiet spirituality, Pentecost is a day when I am usually jealous of people with loud spiritual gifts. I wish I was the person who was good at praying aloud or singing hymns in a way that brings others to tears. I wish I would be so moved by the Spirit that I could know what it would feel like to speak in tongues. I want the fire and wind. I want the spectacle.

This reading reminds me that in God’s eyes, there is no spiritual gift that is better than another. My quiet spirituality is the way the Spirit works authentically through me. There is room for all of us in God’s family. In fact, diversity of gifts is essential to a healthy community. There is no right or wrong way for the Spirit to move toward God’s will of love and peace. This Pentecost, I am going to focus on 1 Corinthians, and celebrate how the Spirit breathes life in and through me.

Have you ever caught yourself being jealous of someone else’s spiritual gifts?

What are your spiritual gifts?

How can you nurture the Spirit in you?

Photo courtesy of dagberg via Creative Commons License

Even in the Darkest Valley

Two weeks ago, my last living grandparent passed away. Grandma Juanita lived to be 98—a long, full life. Because I am the “religious” one in the family, my father asked me if I would help plan the funeral service and speak at it. Knowing it would have been something my grandmother would have loved—her grandchild taking leadership for this celebration of her life—I told my dad that I would be happy to do it.

The first reading I chose was Ecclesiastes 3:1-11, which reminds us that there is a time for everything: “A time to give birth, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant… A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” I chose this passage because it gives people permission to feel the whole host of emotions that arise when someone we love dies—to shed tears of sadness knowing life will not be the same without our loved one; to mourn that which we never said or did while the person was alive; to smile and perhaps even dance in joy as we recall precious memories of the person that we carry in our hearts. Often we may feel all of these things at once, and we can trust that they are all part of the time God appoints for us as human beings.

As much as I love this passage, it is a tricky one, too, because it can so easily be misinterpreted. To me, the idea that there is a time for birth and a time for death does not mean that God took my grandma Juanita because it was her time. I know people say things like this in the aftermath of a death to try to make those who are grieving feel better, but the idea of a God who sits around deciding when people will die is not all that comforting. To me, the idea that there is a time for birth and a time for death is a reminder to all of us still living that it was from ashes whence we came, it is to ashes we shall return, and what matters most is the living in peace, hope, joy, and love that we do in between.

What is comforting to me is what is proclaimed in Psalm 23 and in Matthew 11:25-30, the other two readings I chose for the funeral. Psalm 23 is clear that the hard times do not go away simply because we believe in God. The Psalm doesn’t say, “I no longer walk through the darkest valley.” It says, “even though I walk through the darkest valley… you are with me. Your rod and your staff—they comfort me.” The God I believe in is a God who is with people in the darkest valleys of their lives, comforting them as they grieve, empathizing with their pain. This God entered the world surrounded by the messiness of a stable, was welcomed by poor laborers and farmers, got angry at money changers in the temple, was moved by the plight of the poor and outcasts he encountered, and suffered crucifixion. This is a God who does not shy away from the hardest moments in life. I believe that this God, the one who cared enough for human beings to take on their form, keeps the promises made in our baptism, the promise that God will be faithful to us, will walk with us even through the darkest valleys. The valley is not any less dark, but we are not alone. It does not hurt any less to lose a loved one, but we do not hurt alone.

Similarly, the passage from Matthew’s Gospel uses a farming image to assure us that we are not alone. In this passage, Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you…” On a farm, the yoke is something meant to be pulled by two farm animals. In inviting us to take his yoke, Jesus assures us not only that he is with us through the hard labor of life but that he will help us shoulder the burden of the labor. Again, this does not make it any less difficult to face the death of a loved one. But knowing Jesus is yoked to us in our sorrow can bring some modicum of comfort.

The book of Romans says that we have been baptized into Christ’s death. It continues, “Who will separate us from the love of Christ? . . . I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” My faith enables me to trust that just as Christ is with Grandma Juanita now, Christ will be with all of us to the end.

Spiritual Preparation for Summer

On July 1, I am getting on a plane to Kenya. I have the distinct pleasure of spending five weeks at an all girls high school in Kibera. Kibera is the biggest slum in the city of Nairobi. The school has connections in the United States, and they have invited me there to do interviews and write the story of the six-year old school. I have never been to Africa before, and I am so excited to see Kenya and meet the young ladies who attend the school. For the past year, I have been reading books and running interviews to prepare my mind. The past month has been filled with buying tickets, securing visas and getting vaccinated. The more I prepare my mind and body, the more real the adventure becomes. I love the time of anticipation and preparing. It is full with intentionality and the spirit of the unknown.

The other day, I was telling my friend about my Kenyan adventure, and he asked, “How are you preparing spiritually?” I was taken aback. In the business of busying my mind and body for the trip, I had not been doing much spiritual preparation. I am not doing any overtly spiritual work in Kenya, but sitting with people in a new place is in itself deeply spiritual. He encouraged, “This sounds like it is going to be a life altering time for you. Make sure to prepare your heart.”

For me, spiritual preparation helps me stay open to experiences having a life altering effect. I pray for my heart to be prepared to be broken open, and I pray for the strength and grace to listen. I pray for the people who I will meet. Taking time in prayer and journaling is like preparing the ground of my heart to take in seeds. If I go to Kenya without tilling the land, the seeds could fall on rocky soil. Spiritual preparation helps me walk into a new culture and meet new people with an open heart that is ready to receive and be forever changed. Preparing my mind and body for Kenya is important, as is securing the right documents and creating an itinerary. But I am grateful to my friend for gently reminding me that my spirit is in need of preparation, too. In my spiritual preparation for Kenya, it helped me remember that it is not just in our adventures, but daily spiritual preparation is important for whatever God has in store for us today.

How do you prepare for adventures?

Is there anything you will be doing this summer that needs intentional preparation?

How will you spiritually prepare?

 

 

Photo courtesy of  AaronPhelps via Creative Commons License

Preach the Gospel to the Whole Creation

This Sunday is the Feast of the Ascension, where we celebrate Jesus rising bodily to return to God. In a sense, it is the culmination of the Easter celebration. We are told of Jesus on his way to being reunited with God and can trust that we, too, will experience this same communion with God because we have been united with Christ through our baptism. But what interests me more than the description of the ascension that comes at the end of this week’s Gospel (Mark 16:15-20) is the commission that comes at the beginning.

At the beginning of the Gospel, Jesus speaks to his disciples, the last time he will speak to them before ascending to be with God. Jesus instructs them: “Go into all the world and preach the Gospel to the whole creation.” This passage is a parallel with the Great Commission of Matthew 28:16-20, in which Jesus commands his disciples to go out and baptize people from all nations. These passages carry a lot of weight in the Christian tradition because they are the last recorded instructions from Jesus to his followers.

So what does it mean to go into all the world and preach the Gospel to the whole creation? The first thing that always comes to my mind when I hear this instruction is that I am supposed to verbally share the good news of Jesus Christ with others in my life. That might mean telling people how I trust in God’s promise to be with us or how I believe that evil has no power in the face of the love of God. But as I have written about before in this blog, I tend to be a little shy when it comes to verbally expressing my faith. I know some people are good about shouting their love for God from the rooftops (or as is more accurate in our times, from their Facebook and Twitter accounts), but this does not seem to be one of the gifts of the Spirit that has been bestowed upon me.

There are two ways I get around this shyness in order to live into the commission Jesus gives to preach the Gospel to the whole of creation. The first thing I do is replace the word “preach” with the word “live,” so that what Jesus is directing us to do is to “live the Gospel to the whole of creation.” This makes it seem a little less intimidating to me. Plus they say actions speak louder than words, so I figure that living the Gospel might be even more effective than preaching it. By “living the Gospel,” I mean things like:

• Taking seriously Jesus’ solidarity with the poor and the marginalized and organizing my life so that I can also demonstrate a preferential option for the poor and suffering.

• Reflecting the love God has for me back to others by striving to love those I encounter and to treat them with the respect and empathy that is due all persons as sons and daughters of God and sisters and brothers in Christ.

• Finding ways to live with peace and hope, even when the world around me demonstrates so much violence and pessimism.

The second thing I do is to take seriously the wording at the end of this commission: to preach the Gospel to the whole of creation. All too often we think only of preaching/living the Gospel with other people, but that leaves out a major part of God’s creation, namely, plants and animals, the other living things that share the planet with us. It may seem a bit weird to think about preaching the Gospel to plants and animals, but we can live the Gospel in relation to them. For instance, we can live the Gospel in relation to all of creation by trying to reduce our carbon footprint, as Spirit suggested a few weeks ago in celebration of Earth Day. At my house, we are getting ready to re-landscape our yard. In the process, we are designing a place for composting, so we can reduce the trash we throw out that will end up in a landfill, and are adding a rain barrel, so that we can use rain water to water our plants and thus reduce our water usage. These are relatively simple things that demonstrate a desire to live in a respectful relationship to the world around us.

As you prepare to celebrate Ascension Sunday, consider what you can do to live the Gospel and to do so in relationship with all of creation.

Photo courtesy of  Eustaquio Santimano via Creative Commons License

Dancing with Miriam

Then the prophet Miriam, Aaron’s sister, took a tambourine in her hand; and all the women went out after her with tambourines and with dancing. And Miriam sang to them: “Sing to the LORD, for he has triumphed gloriously; horse and rider he has thrown into the sea.” Exodus 15: 20-21

I love reading the story of Exodus because I believe it is universal. It seems to me that these beautiful tales of the Israelites bravely escaping slavery, wandering in the desert for forty years, and coming to the promised land of freedom is indeed the story of the movement of human history. In our own way, each individual and community is somehow moving from slavery to wandering to freedom.

In your individual or communal history,

Tell me about a time of captivity:

Tell me about a time of wandering:

Tell me about a time of freedom:

This passage comes right after the Israelites escape slavery under the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh’s chariots are swallowed up by the sea, but the Israelites walk through the sea on dry ground. They have a long road ahead, they are far from knowing the freedom of being home, but they are slaves no longer. After Moses leads the Israelites in a song to the LORD, Miriam takes the women to go dancing.

One has to wonder, “In the moments before their escape, who thought to pack the tambourines?” I mean really! Yet this scene, of women claiming their freedom with music and dancing is glorious and believable. Human history is saturated with examples of slaves preserving a culture of song and dance.

What modern day music genres and dance can be traced back to oppressed groups?

There have been many news stories lately about oppression against women. Sex trafficking of young girls is on the rise. Catholic nuns are receiving pressure from the Vatican. The gender wage gap is still embarrassingly wide in many professions. I love these two little verses in Exodus because they evoke such a beautiful, powerful visual of free women. I can picture Miriam, the prophet, leading the women in unabashed song of celebration. It is a visual that I am going to carry through my week. I love the truth in the verses, the fact that no one can be truly free until the women are finished dancing.

Where else do you see women struggling for freedom?

Photo courtesy of Lawrence OP via Creative Commons License

Remain, Remain

Jesus said to his disciples:
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower.
He takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit,
and every one that does he prunes so that it bears more fruit.
You are already pruned because of the word that I spoke to you.
Remain in me, as I remain in you.
Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own
unless it remains on the vine,
so neither can you unless you remain in me.
I am the vine, you are the branches.
Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit,
because without me you can do nothing.
Anyone who does not remain in me
will be thrown out like a branch and wither;
people will gather them and throw them into a fire
and they will be burned.
If you remain in me and my words remain in you,
ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you.
By this is my Father glorified,
that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”

I love the Gospel reading from John for this week. Jesus is the true vine, God is the vine grower and we are the branches. It is a good centering prayer for me for a few reasons. The passages gives me something beautiful and tangible to picture. The metaphor implies organic life. Christ encourages us to grow everyday, and that growth will be healthy if we remain in Christ. Jesus urging us, “Remain in me, remain in me,” is a loving invitation, not a controlling one. It implies that we are already there, and we should stay because we are loved and because it is God’s will for us to thrive and be healthy.  After reading this passage, I just let the word “remain” surface in my head at quiet moments.  Sitting in the loving presence of Christ, remaining for awhile, is an act of faith, but we are also encouraged to grow from that place, to be who God created us to be in the world. We have access to life and sustenance in Christ every moment. The passages is gorgeous in its repetition, almost meditative in its cyclical nature. It reminds me that indeed Christ has chosen to remain in me, today and always. Remembering that Christ is dwelling in me changes how I go through my day. That is such an awesome daily reminder. Additionally, the passage brings up questions that lend themselves well to a daily spiritual check in:

Am I remaining in Christ?

How is my fruit doing?

I also like that in this passage, there are consequences. If we chose to grow in a direction on our own that does not bear fruit, that fruit will eventually die. We have all done this, and these deaths are painful and real. But in the pruning that happens throughout life, our merciful God does not cut us off the vine completely. There is always chance for re-growth, to try again, while remaining in Christ. So while there are consequences, there is also an opportunity to start anew at any moment.

Simultaneously, the vine is growing and remaining. It is reaching out into the world, but it is rooted in the vine. This tension is part of life, part of breath. Join me today in a short, simple meditation:

Close your eyes. Take a moment to take three long, deep breaths. With each exhale, feel yourself being grounded in the vine, in Christ, the source. On every inhale, feel your branch reaching into the world to bear good fruit.

This balance of grounding and reaching is part of being God’s children in the world. At any point of your day, this prayer is available to you. Take a moment, without anyone knowing, and be mindful of one breath, grounding yourself in Christ so that you can keep growing and bearing good fruit.

Photo courtesy of Diorama Sky via Creative Commons License

Graduation

This weekend I am flying to Atlanta, Georgia, to participate in the commencement ceremony that marks my graduation from a doctoral program. Next weekend I am driving to Iowa to attend a graduation party for my cousin, who will be finishing high school in a few weeks. It is that time of year—black gowns, mortar board hats, tassels, “Pomp and Circumstance,” speeches, parties.

To be honest, I have never been the biggest fan of graduations. It all seems like a lot of hassle. If you are a graduate, you have to dress up, find a way to secure a ridiculous looking hat to your head, wait around for the ceremony to begin, and then listen as the name of every single one of your classmates is called. If you are attending a graduation, you also have to dress up and then fight with other people for the few good seats that will actually allow you to see the action, all so you can catch a fleeting glimpse of the one person you care about walk across a stage.

On top of being a hassle, graduations can also be anticlimactic. I have participated in three graduations to date, and at the end of each one, I felt let down. Never during the ceremony did I have a swell of emotion or a sense of accomplishment. I knew the event was supposed to mark a significant accomplishment in my life, but really, my main emotion was boredom, not pride.

So why am I going to my graduation in Atlanta this weekend? Why I am driving to Iowa for my cousin’s graduation party if I am such a graduation downer? Actually, the reason I am going has to do with two experiences I have had with church.

The first experience was Confirmation. Along with everyone else in my grade school class, I received the Sacrament of Confirmation in the eighth grade. I hated the experience. Confirmation classes were boring, focusing on right and wrong answers to factual questions rather than deeper questions about who we are, why we are here, and what we are supposed to do as Christians. While all the other girls in my class got to wear the cute floral dresses that were in style at the time, my mother bought me a pleated black skirt and a red, black, and white plaid blazer with shoulder pads to wear for the big occasion. I was mortified. As if that was not bad enough, when I went to receive the sacrament, nothing happened. I expected to feel something different after the bishop laid hands on me, but I still felt like the same old Claire. “What a stupid sacrament,” was my thought at the time.

But then the next year, at a time when I really needed God, I felt God’s presence with me in a way that I never had before. And that continues to happen. When I really need God, I can sense God’s Spirit with me. And I would like to think that I have been there for God, too. While others in my confirmation class have left the church, I still attend mass (and do things like write for this blog). So while the actual night of the Sacrament of Confirmation may have been a bit of a bust, in retrospect, it was an important night. I went forth from that sacrament ready to receive the Spirit’s presence with me in new ways and I found myself living more fully as a disciple of Christ.

My second experience came in high school, when I was struggling with whether to continue going to church or not. I really did not feel like I got much out of being at church and preferred to pray on my own at home or to spend time with God outdoors. But then I heard a homily in which the priest suggested that going to church is not really about us or for us, but is rather about and for God and the community. In other words, I shouldn’t go to church because I wanted to get something out of it. I should go to church because I have something to give—praise and thanksgiving to God, prayers and care for others. So I kept going to church and changed my focus to being part of a community gathered to give thanks and praise for all God has done.

So despite my negative attitude toward graduation, I know that graduations are important. They are important not so much for the actual ceremony itself but for what the ceremony signifies. Graduations mark the ending of one stage of life and the beginning of another. While we may not feel it during the graduation ceremony, graduation signifies that we have grown and are new people heading out into the world to do new things. Importantly, graduations bring together the community—not unlike the way sacraments in the church bring together the community—to witness this important life transition. Teachers, friends, family, and other members of the academic community gather in order to celebrate who we have been and to look forward to who will be. Graduations are not only about us; they are about giving thanks for what has been, praying for what will be in the future, and being together as a community.

Perhaps most importantly, graduations encourage us to think about who we will be in the world as we go forth. How will we put what we have learned into practice for the good of the world? How can we support others as they work to do the same? Really, it is not unlike the focus of each Sunday Eucharist. We gather as a community to eat and drink the body and blood of Christ, but then at the end of mass, the priest says, “Let us go forth to love and to serve the Lord and each other.” We come together in Eucharist not only for the sake of that hour spent together as a church community but in order to be sent into the world, changed by our taking the body and blood of Christ into our body.

Of course, graduation is not sacramental in the way the Eucharist is. However, it is a time we come together for the sake of publicly witnessing what has been accomplished, only to be sent forth to live what we have learned. What matters most is what we do next.

As you approach the end of the school year or perhaps a graduation of your own, take a moment to reflect on where you have been and where you are going. What have you learned this year? How have you changed as a person? How will you live what you have learned in the world for the good of all God’s people?

Easter Season

Recently, a wise woman pointed out to me that while Catholics tend to spend a lot of time and energy thinking about the season of Lent, we often celebrate Easter Sunday and then forget that we are in the midst of the longest special liturgical season of the church year. The Easter season extends from Easter through Pentecost, which comes fifty days after Easter. On a liturgical calendar, the Easter season is marked in gold, a color of joy and victory, as the Easter season is the time when we celebrate the fulfillment of our faith—the resurrection of Jesus Christ and the promise of new life this brings.

As I have blogged about over the past number of weeks, prayer, fasting and abstinence, and almsgiving are three traditional pillars of practice for Catholics during Lent that help us prepare for Holy Week and Easter. These practices encourage us to see and engage the world in a different way focusing on ideas like penance, sacrifice, and living our baptismal calling. But now that Easter is here—now that Jesus Christ is indeed risen, Alleluia!—what can we do that will help us see and engage the world with an Easter mindset? In other words, how can we live the joy of Easter during this season?

A baseline form of obligation for all Catholics is to receive Eucharist at least once during the Easter season. This is sort of like a minimal membership requirement for being Catholic. And while it is important to receive Eucharist, it seems like there is more we can do to celebrate the miracle of Easter that is at the center of our faith. Yet there do not seem to be too many widespread practices associated with the Easter season, something that would be similar to lighting Advent wreath candles during Advent or abstaining from meat on Fridays during Lent. Given that Easter is the greatest feast of the church year, it seems like we should have things to do, things that keep us in the celebratory mindset that takes hold during the Easter liturgy.

I read on-line this week that a group of monks answers the phone with the greeting, “Christus resurrexit!” (Christ is risen) during the eight days following Easter. I have to admit that I would be hesitant to answer my own phone this way (or to post this as my status update on Facebook). So what can I do to celebrate the Easter season? Here are a few ideas I came up with:

• Focus on joy: Start a list of things that bring you joy in your life and add to it as more things come to mind. Read through the list daily. Offer prayers of thanksgiving for the joy that is in your life. Consider how your faith adds to this joy.

• Celebrate new life: It might sound cheesy, but plant a tree, a small vegetable garden, or some flowers and take the time to pay attention to the new plant as it grows. Visit a farm or a pond or some other place where baby animals have just been born and wonder at the process of learning that takes place as a young animal makes its way in the world.

• Live with hope: Pick out a situation in your life that seems hopeless. (For example, for me, it is politics. I ignore politics as much as possible because it seems hopeless to me that politicians will ever move beyond partisanship and really work together to focus on the common good.) Find a way to bring hope to this situation, perhaps with a purposeful change of attitude. (For example, I could stop looking at everything that is wrong with politics and purposefully attend to and get involved in things that seem to be going right.)

What can you do to live with joy and hope and to celebrate new life this Easter season? Please share your ideas with us on this blog.

Photo courtesy of Nutmeg Designs via Creative Commons License