Remember And Sing

Late last night I read yesterday’s Mass readings. The first was Acts 16: 22-34. It’s about when Paul and Silas were imprisoned in Philippi. Verses 25-26 say, “about midnight, while Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God as the prisoners listened, there was suddenly such a severe earthquake that the foundations of the jail shook; all the doors flew open, and the chains of all were pulled loose.” I remembered that this had been the Scripture that initially inspired my song Nothing Else.

While Paul and Silas were hoping, questing, and teaching people about Jesus, they were imprisoned. In the middle of the night, though, they still prayed, and they still sang songs; they worshiped Him. I don’t remember what the “bad thing” was that compelled me to write this song. Lately I’ve had writer’s block. I tried for a few minutes, then just sang a few lines from the prayer I wrote five years ago.

You let us know you’re listening;
let us know you’re listening.
This is why we sing;
we sing.

You let us know you’re listening;
let us know you’re listening,
so in the dark we sing;
we sing to you.

You let us know you’re listening,
so we sing for joy.
Because you are good, Lord,
we sing.

This is a song to sing in the dark.
This is enough, a spark to start a fire.
This is a prayer you answer with love;
cause you are God, and you are with us.

I haven’t actually listened to a whole lot of Christian music lately. I’ve been trying to write my own original music, or blog posts, and I often find music distracting. The rest of Nothing Else is about wanting to be alone with God, especially when everything is falling apart, or at least seems like it is.

Paul and Silas were in a pretty bad situation, but at midnight, they sang; they hoped, and there was an earthquake. Acts continues the story and tells of how the jailer and his family were converted to Christianity after speaking to Paul and Silas.

This past Monday, the Governor of Massachusetts announced that we will start phase 1 of re-opening the state. Cardinal Sean O’Malley also announced that churches in the Archdiocese of Boston will begin re-opening. Around a year ago, I wrote my song Victory. The chorus goes: “You are my new dawn/ so here’s my hallelujah/ I sing your victory song/ the King of Heaven Come.” The news of churches re-opening, and Masses starting again really feels like I’m seeing the pale light just before dawn.

Being able to go back to church, for a lot of people, is going to feel like the end of “war.” For a lot of people, it isn’t. A lot of people are still sick, jobless, worrying about a family member, worrying about keeping their business afloat, or worse. We still have to be “social distancing.” This isn’t over. Remember that. Remember them. Remember too, though, that there are things to celebrate. Find that song to sing in the dark, look for the light just before the dawn, and sing “Hallelujah.”

Unbreakable

A few days ago, my dad and I re-watched the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. We’ve been going through all the trilogies and series of movies we enjoy, mainly to kill plague time. I was thinking about the scene when Will and Elizabeth get married on the deck of a pirate ship, in the middle of a battle, during a dark, nasty storm, in a maelstrom. For comedic effect, Elizabeth says, “Do you take me to be your wife, in sickness and in health–health being the less likely?”

I made the mistake of listening to an episode of a podcast about preparing for death. Death is on a lot of peoples’ minds these days. The priests in this episode mentioned how important it is to trust in God’s promises, but at the same time, many don’t know what those promises are. I realized that I couldn’t immediately list off many  Scriptural promises. I did remember the words “You will be my people, and I will be your God.” (Jeremiah 30:22) Variations of these words are repeated throughout the Old Testament. Also throughout The Old and New Testaments are variations of “Don’t be afraid. I’m here, I’m powerful, and I’m taking care of you.”

In the Sacrifice of the Mass, the Precious Blood is referred to as the “Blood of the New and Everlasting Covenant.” I was just absentmindedly thinking about the scene from Pirates, and I was curious, so I looked up Catholic wedding vows. In the U.S., they can take this form: “I, (name), take you, (name), for my lawful wife/husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” I found, too, that in the Catholic Church, marriage is explicitly called a Covenant. Marriage between a man and a woman is meant to mirror humanity’s right relationship with God.

My dad and I have been watching and participating in Sunday Mass as much as we can online in my basement. It would be a lie to say that it isn’t weird. A while ago I wrote about the incident when Jesus slept on the boat while His disciples bailed to try and stop from sinking. The point was, if He was asleep, there was no way they actually were going to sink. If they had just kept bailing, they would have been fine. Quarantine has been emotionally taxing. This weekend, my friend came over, and we talked about how hard it is not to be able to give or receive physical affection.

This time of shut-down and isolation has felt like that time on the boat. Nothing is happening, but it feels like chaos. I meditated about this two separate times. In my first meditation, I just imagined myself as one of the disciples with the storm raging around me, and the Lord was asleep. In my imagination, I didn’t wake Him up; I kissed His face, and for some reason, just knowing He was there was okay, even if the storm was still scary. The other time I imagined the same boat and the same storm, but He wasn’t asleep. I had a bucket, and He had a bucket, and we were both bailing out the boat. He could make the storm go away, but He didn’t; He was just there with me in it.

Sometimes I have a funny realization when I consider some of the things I do, like when I pray Evening prayer after dinner, and I think, “How did I get here?” Ten years ago, I was agnostic, and now I’m part of a religious order. Last night I prayed, not in any particularly deep, formal, or meditative way, but I just “talked” to the Lord while I waited for my dad to come and watch a movie with me, and I had a similar feeling. I had been in my room, just playing a simple puzzle game, but while I played, I just told the Lord what was on my mind. It wasn’t really anything serious; just “random” things I had been thinking about. When I got downstairs, I had the realization, “You’re still here.” After another moment I said, “I’m still here, too.” Our boat hasn’t sunk.

Adapting hasn’t been the easiest thing, but as I told my mom yesterday, I think one thing that has made it easier are the things I do, plague or no plague. When I joined the Carmelites, I agreed to pray Morning and Evening Prayer, do some kind of meditation or mental prayer for at least half an hour every day, do some kind of study into our faith, the lives of the saints, or perhaps our Church’s history, and to go to daily Mass if I can. Since I usually can’t physically go to daily Mass, I’ve been participating online during the week since long before there was a plague. I joked to my mom a few weeks into the shut-down that the only reason I know what day of the week it is, is because my breviary tells me.

I mention all of this because I’ve never stopped praying, but because these things are so routine; because even prayer can become routine, I think it can become too formal, and less relational. Last night I just talked to the Lord about “normal” stuff while I played my dumb game, and it was silly and easy. I did have some more serious stuff on my mind, and I told Him about that, too, but it was conversational.

I had devoted time earlier in the day to nothing but prayer, setting aside any distraction, and that is important, but I find that it’s important to talk to Him while eating lunch, or playing a dumb game, or what have you because in those “nothing else” times, I tend to talk to Him about deeper, more serious, and lately, scarier things. I’ve realized lately that it’s important to talk to the Lord about “stupid” stuff. The friend that came over the other night is like a sister; we met in Kindergarten. We talk about serious stuff, but we also talk about music, movies, and stupid things because that’s what friends do. Jesus is our God, our Lord, and our Savior, but He’s also our Friend, so it’s important to speak to Him in this way.

There are friendships that last a few years, there are friendships that last longer, but just peter out for one reason or another, and then there are friendships that last no matter what. Friendship with the Lord is truly unbreakable, as long as a person wants that friendship. He is the kind of friend who says, “I am yours and you are mine; plague or no plague; storm or no storm, and as long as you’re still here, I’m still here.”

Weird Love

My brother spent two nights this week making a stuffed-animal spider for his girlfriend because apparently she likes spiders. Friday is a good day for Valentine’s Day. I imagine they have something planned for tonight. This afternoon I listened to the Stations of the Cross, and though I couldn’t physically “attend,” I watched daily Mass online. In one of His revelations to Saint Faustina, Jesus promised that He would give great graces to whoever would reflect on His Passion in the 3:00 hour. All this week, I’ve been trying to figure out what to do for Him today, but honestly, what do you do for the God of the Universe?

I’ve had more seizures than usual this week. It’s more annoying than anything because if it happens around when I go to bed, it completely knocks me out, and then four hours later–so around 4:OO AM–I wake up and can’t get back to sleep for at least a couple of hours. I woke up this morning before the sun, tried in vain for a few minutes to go back to sleep, accepted defeat, and decided to pray the Rosary. Since it was already Friday, I prayed the Sorrowful Mysteries.

My mom and I went to a Mexican place for lunch today, and the sky was cloudless as we drove there and to a bakery to get a cake for later. It seems so simple, but the sky is probably my favorite thing that God has created. Sometimes it seems like He speaks to me in His sky. It must have been a couple summers ago now that I saw, for the first time, a blue diamond in the sky. I was in my driveway, starting out on, or coming back from a “wander,” and a white cloud formation came into my vision. It was shaped exactly like that: a blue diamond. Since then, a beautiful blue sky, with or without clouds, has been dubbed a “Blue Diamond Sky.”

Recently it occurred to me that I’ve occasionally been disappointed if I don’t get my blue diamonds, so I made up a game. Every day, God gives me a sky because until the end of the world, there will be one. Every day, I give that sky a name–blue or no blue–clouds or no clouds, but a blue sky is always a Blue Diamond. Usually, if I can’t think of a unique name for a gray sky, it’s a Glory Sky because blue or gray, the sky still speaks of God’s glory.

The Gospel reading today was from Mark. Jesus healed a man who was deaf and had a speech impediment. Sometimes I have an automatic reaction to these healing stories. He hasn’t healed me–at least not physically. Today I looked at myself and thought, “Lord, you can be glorified in this.” Saint Francis of Assisi is probably best known for once saying, “Preach the Gospel at all times. When necessary, use words.” I was introduced to my Lord by fellow students in College, and no one outright “preached” to me. If a gray sky can speak God’s glory, then so can my wheels or my weird brain.

Interestingly enough, among others, there are several Saint Valentine’s who are considered patrons of epilepsy. Saint Paul is also one of these. In fact, it’s speculated that Saint Paul had epilepsy, and this is what he called the “thorn in his side.” He says, “I asked the Lord to take it away,” but the Lord didn’t. The Lord told him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Jesus accepted weakness. God chose human weakness even to the point of the worst kind of death, and in fact, God the Father rose Him from the dead.

One of the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary is the Crowning With Thorns. I confess that Jesus Christ is my King. This is the crown my King wears. I love language, and though my medication prevents me from having really nasty seizures, I do have various symptoms. One of those symptoms is that I lose the ability to use or understand language. If Jesus is the Word of God, it means that for a short time, God was silenced. After that, though, He was glorified; He conquered the grave, and 2,000 years later, little people like me won’t shut up about it. His power is made perfect in weakness. I don’t know what that means for me, but I know that I am weak, I know that He answers my prayers, and I know that He loves me in a way that doesn’t even make sense.