But you O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, the least of the clans of Judah, from you will come for me a future ruler of Israel whose goings forth have been from old, from everlasting — Micah 5:1-2

O House of Ephratha, the city that is holy, the glory of the prophets, prepare your house, for therein the Virgin will give birth to God — Prosomia of Tone 2

Your nativity, O Christ our God, has caused the light of knowledge to rise upon the world. For therein the worshippers of the stars were by a star instructed to worship You, the very Sun of Righteousness, and to know You as Orient from on high. Glory to You, O Lord. — Apolytikion of Christmas

The links below are for the readings as used in the Ordinary Form of the Rite.  A second post latter today will contain resources for the Extraordinary Form of the Rite.

Word Sunday:  The links to the readings below include both text and notes

Christmas Eve: December 24

FIRST READING

PSALM

SECOND READING

GOSPEL

Christmas Midnight: December 25

FIRST READING

PSALM

SECOND READING

GOSPEL

Christmas Dawn: December 25

FIRST READING

PSALM

SECOND READING

GOSPEL

Christmas Day: December 25

FIRST READING

PSALM

SECOND READING

GOSPEL

From The Navarre Bible: Includes text and commentary.

• Midnight Mass:
  First reading/commentary
  Second reading/commentary
  Gospel reading/commentary
• Mass at Dawn:
  First reading/commentary.
  Second reading/commentary.
  Gospel reading/commentary.
• Mass of the Day:
  First Reading/commentary.
  Second reading/commentary.
  Gospel reading/commentary.

For resources according the the Ordinary Form of the Rite click HERE.

Devout Instructions on the Epistle and Gospel:

• Vigil of the Nativity (Christmas Eve)

The Spiritual Christmas Tree (a sermon on Ps 1:3)

God’s Gift To Man (a sermon on Lk 2:15)

Homily of Pope St Gregory the Great (scroll down page slightly to find)

St Bernard’s Sermons. May have to scroll down slightly to find some of these:

Christmas Eve:

• On The Joy His Birth Should Inspire
• On The Miraculous Nature Of The Nativity
• On The Dispositions Required To Celebrate the Feast

Christmas Day:

• The Fountains Of The Savior
• The Three Comminglings (scroll down to find)
• On The Place, The Time, And Other Circumstances (scroll down)

Last night I watched a show on the History Channel called “Bible Battles” in which modern military historians examine Old Testament accounts of various battles. One of the passages that they highlighted was from Joshua:

Then the Lord said to Joshua, “Do not fear or be dismayed; take all the fighting men with you, and go up now to Ai. See, I have handed over to you the king of Ai with his people, his city, and his land. You shall do to Ai and its king as you did to Jericho and its king . . .The total of those who fell that day, both men and women, was twelve thousand — all the people of Ai. For Joshua did not draw back his hand, with which he stretched out the sword, until he had utterly destroyed all the inhabitants of Ai. — Joshua 8:1-2;25-26

The question was then, rightly, asked, what does this say about our God? The answer given by the military historian concluded that God must be an evil being if He exists at all. This leaves those of us who believe in God as a God who was willing to send us His only-begotten Son to die on the Cross for our salvation a bit of a conundrum. We are asked to reconcile these two seemingly radical different accounts about the character of our God.

Tonight, during the Vespers service of Christmas, we will read from the Prophecy of Jeremiah:

This is our God; no other can be compared to him. He found the whole way to knowledge, and gave her to his servant Jacob and to Israel, whom he loved. Afterward she appeared on earth and lived with humankind. She is the book of the commandments of God, the law that endures forever. All who hold her fast will live, and those who forsake her will die. Turn, O Jacob, and take her; walk toward the shining of her light. Do not give your glory to another, or your advantages to an alien people. — Baruch 3:35 – 4:3

This passage is placed in context of the Nativity — thus it speaks about Christ, who appears on earth and lives with humankind, who endures forever, who is a shining light. We are told to hold fast to Christ, to only give glory to Him, to prevent the alien theologies from reducing our understanding of Christ.

Joshua says something quite similar to the people of Israel from his deathbed:

Be very careful, therefore, to love the Lord your God. For if you turn back, and join the survivors of these nations left here among you, and intermarry with them, so that you marry their women and they yours, know assuredly that the Lord your God will not continue to drive out these nations before you; but they shall be a snare and a trap for you, a scourge on your sides, and thorns in your eyes, until you perish from this good land that the Lord your God has given you. — Joshua 23:11-13

Thus, we are invited to understand the historical elements from the Book of Joshua metaphorically as our relationship with God. The enemies of the people of Israel — the nations, their religions and their gods — can be understood as sin. If we do not seek to eliminate sin from our lives, we will separate ourselves from God. This metaphor bears out when Israel turns away from God and the Northern Kingdom is destroyed by the Assyrians and Judah is held in captivity by Babylon.

We can take this metaphor even farther. Despite the fact that we live in sin — we are in our own Babylon captivity — if we turn back towards God He will deliver us. Jerusalem — the Kingdom of God — will be returned to us who hold fast to Christ just as Jerusalem was restored to those who remained faithful to God while in captivity.

Magnify, O my soul, her that has delivered us from the curse.

The people that delights in Christ has found its longing, counted worthy of God’s coming, now cries in supplication for rebirth as giving life. Do you, pure Virgin, grant The grace to worship then that radiant glory. — Ode ix, Canon of Christmas

Amen.

As the supposed birthday of our zombie messiah is upon us, one would think that ol’Noz would have little venom left to espouse; after all, it is Christmas. But you really have to know that I will never set down this self-appointed cross; I shall bear it for the rest of my days @ Academy X. My sense of justice will never tire. As long as AcX continues to screw over its students, I’ll be there. So lett me get all of this out so I can have a holly jolly Christmas, mmmkay?

One particular injustice is the most recent publishing of the AcX student-run newspaper. To put it bluntly, to say that each and every copy needs to be burned is an insult to fire. The only conceivable rationale for releasing it to the masses right before break was an attempt to mask its stupidity with the numbing effect of holiday anticipation. Each and every article is like an express train full of things designed to hurt your mind; just when you think that it’s finished running you over, another car hits you, grinding yet another valuable part of your soul beneath its wheels. So horrible is the reporting, editing and features of the Pipeline that poking fun of it here on ANTI-VENOM is like making fun of a retarded child; not only is it in bad taste, both are to be pitied. Despite this, and for brevity’s sake (I could fill many more posts), I will only address a few of the Pipeline’s “leaks”, if you will.

First off, the “Best of the Decade lists” that the Pipeline seems especially proud of. These lists take up the last two pages of the rag and are in essence, an exercise in ignorance. Those who are listed are only those that are popular at the currant time. I defy anyone to fine a top-10 entry involving something from 2000-2004. Unfortunately, I doubt the Pipeline’s writers even have any recollection of that time. Also, about the intramural sport’s article; that’s exactly what AcX needs; more LAXbros. By keeping the sports seasonal, it reinforces one of the only mandates of AcX that I agree with; sports are a privilege. One must commit to something before you go out on any court or field; if you don’t then it’s just amateur hour.

On another note, to respond to one of the “Letters to the Editor”, more money is spent on sports teams because they sell tickets, put butts in the seats and raise money for the school. If you want new supplies, you have to go out and earn, son! If I can maintain your attention for one more moment, dear reader, I would draw your attention to the article about texting written by my Favorite Editor-in-Chief. The fact of the matter is that Respect is earned, not given. Why should I not text or read a book in class when the professor ceases to contribute anything to my education or even intellect? If you refuse to capture my attention or event attempt to, then I will certainly take advantage of the time given to me and pursue more useful information. If that information is of a social nature so be it.

Only one more thing left to really bitch about, I promise. The so-called article detailing the misfortune of our scoreboard really needs to go. As the person who put the aging, corroded device out of its misery, I can tell you that yes, it is unfortunate that it is broken, but we already have a replacement. It’s small and red, but it certainly gets the job done. To suggest that our athletes are really going to think of our scoreboard misfortunes while they compete and have that impact their performance is ludicrous. What is really impacting their performance is the rampant racism and Anti-Semitism on those fields, like when ever we play Minnow’s Point. If you want to raise money to get an even better scoreboard, that’s one thing, but do not shove your charity in my face; I’ll just throw a quarter at you, if you ‘re lucky. The funniest thing in this whole fucked up situation is the names of those parents on the committee. There is a nearly 1-to-1 correlation (thanks AP Stat!) with their names and assholes of AcX, both past and present. So for all the spoiled dads and trophy moms of AcX reading this, I’ll even type this next thing out really large and bold so you won’t need to put on your glasses; Project Scoreboard SUCKS! The fact that this emotional appeal is even on the front page, or even in a newspaper is an affront to true journalism.

Here’s the kicker, the Pipeline does show promise. The students who put it together seem reasonably intelligent, but they need to really step there game up if they ready want people to read it, and not use it as kindling or to kill spiders. Perhaps all that the Pipeline needs is some competition to improve itself. If I had one or two more years to go from my emancipation from Academy X, I would certainly go to the trouble of printing a subversive gazette; the Punchline to AcX’s Pipeline.

I have heard you
whining about your fate lately,
and let me just say this:

the only thing
worth knowing
about that butterfly
who ruined your life
from 10,000 miles away

is that butterfly wings
are frequently lovely
and your life
has not been so far,
despite my considerable help…
so,
if I had swatted the butterfly,
how exactly
would we be better off?
What would you have done
differently
with your improved atmosphere?

When you can answer that
with something more than
a stammered metaphor,

then we can talk.

Some people like dogs. Some people like cats. I just like animals. I can’t help it – every one has a different personality, and I feel blessed to have known all of them.

The first animal I remember well was a dog that belonged to friends of my parents in Oklahoma. Flasher was a majestic, friendly Golden Retriever who – as far as I can remember, which is not far since I was really young – had a gentle disposition.

Our first dog was a terrier named Ivy, who might have been a bit touched in the head. That, combined with the boundless energy of terriers, led to her tunneling out of the yard – under chicken wire, mind you – to freedom. I was quite sad, but she returned a week later. I was heartbroken again when she made her way back out of the yard. I never saw her again. Woody was a kind, overweight tabby that a neighbor had found wounded in a parking lot and brought to a local vet.

Woody had a broken pelvis when he arrived, but judging from his always upbeat personality and alley cat toughness, it didn’t have a permanent effect. Woody even traveled with us to California when we moved, and sadly was killed by coyotes. That was my first experience with animal death. Dad and I buried him in the yard. I fashioned a plaque for him with a piece of crown molding and a Sharpie. It faded, but he was buried under a snapdragon. I don’t see snapdragons without thinking of what a lover Woody was. Baby Kitty was a white cat with six toes on each foot. My sister loved dressing her up like a baby and wheeling her around in a stroller. She did not care for this. She loved to pounce when you walked by her and she and Woody were best of friends. When we left for California we decided to leave her with Val’s best friend. Sadly, she did not care for the new arrangement and was not heard from again. Heidi, a miniature schnauzer, was the dog we had for the longest time. We adopted her at age 5 from the family of a woman my mom worked with. I seem to recall the claim that her boys were allergic – not so much that they didn’t get another dog soon after that.

Heidi was not a great dog for little kids, as she didn’t particularly like being ridden. A more loyal dog you couldn’t ask for. She barked, for sure, but otherwise was a respectful, happy dog. She loved my dad more than anyone, and would scratch wildly on the glass of the back door when he would get home from work. She’d turn around in circles – always counterclockwise – and diligently beg for peanuts when he grabbed a snack. She loved to go on walks and would get her leash and carry it to my dad. We had her for ten years, the last few after I had left home. When she had become too sick with lymphoma to have an adequate quality of life, my parents put her down. (I must credit my parents with being such wonderful owners they diapered her for a year after she became too incontinent.) It’s never quite been the same without her.

Papa was the scruffiest cat I have ever known. A feral tom and father to countless kittens, he had a hernia and was missing all but two teeth. He loved being outside and frequently got into scuffles – once we found a cat claw embedded in his scalp. He was a fluffy, muscular cat, and when you called his name as he walked by he’d give you a wave of his tail as acknowledgment. He didn’t have much of a voice and yet was still vocal. He had aggression problems and was put on amitriptyline and, later, prozac. He could often be found sleeping in a dirt-filled window box, and was a guy who knew how to relax. Papa was taken away from the world too soon; he had terrible urinary crystals, and despite our best efforts to manage his diet, his urethra ended up blocked by the crystals. The good people at ACCES valiantly tried to clear his urethra, but it would have required a terribly painful surgical solution that might not have solved the problem anyway. We gave them permission to end his life while he was still under anesthesia. He was only five.

Hepburn was a fastidious gentleman of a cat who lived on Earth for almost eighteen years. Pretty good for a cat who was given no chance of living longer than a year. For most of his life he had a partner, Tiffany, who I never had the pleasure of knowing as she passed on from renal failure before I met Lisa. Lisa tells me Hepburn was never the same after that. Bernie, as I liked to call him, had a wonderfully annoyed meow – he sounded sort of like Edward G. Robinson. He liked his box clean, his doors open, and his naps frequent. He was affected by a terrible arthritis late in life and developed a very stiff shuffle. Still, he bounded off the couch with gusto. About two years ago, we were told he would have to be put on subcutaneous fluids. Every other night I administered 10 mL in between his shoulder blades. He had a thyroid problem and renal failure, but for two years he soldiered on, undeterred. His suffering seemed reasonably short – on a Saturday night, while watching a Husky game, we noticed he had trouble getting through the basement cat door. That Sunday, we heard Cubby screaming from downstairs. Hepburn was sitting quietly on his chair, just staring. I brought him upstairs and he immediately went to the dog’s food dish and muscled Humphrey out of the way. But we could tell it was the end. He sat by the front door, wanting to leave so that he could go and die. We brought him to ACCES and he went peacefully into the next world.

I never thought I would lose Winky so soon. When I first met her she was a nervous wreck covered in horrible skin lesions. Not long after I moved up here she had a serious bout in which she had to go on steroids. If memory serves me right, this occurred twice. The second time we were encouraged to give her a bath every other day. It happened once, I think. Oddly, I solved her skin problem by accident. The Feed Bag was out of the chicken form of California Natural dry food, so I had to live with a giant bag of the herring and sweet potato formula. The cats liked it, and within a month or so her skin began to clear up. All of those horrible medicines – steroids, gold shots – and no one had thought to do an elimination diet. Her claws were razor sharp and so were her teeth. I have lots of scars from Winky, and I’m kind of glad that I do. She had a beautiful, lilting meow that sounded like she was saying “ba-na-na.” She loved to bite fingers and toes, which I did not always discourage. She would sit under the skylights and watch the crows who apparently have meetings around our house. She had an intense gaze and her head moved back and forth with her eyes in what I liked to call “typewriter head.” She had the fluffiest coat and her back legs resembled riding pants and boots. I am grateful for all the comfort she provided Lisa when she has been sick or down. She loved her with an unmatched intensity. When we kept the doors to the bedroom closed and Lisa was lying down sick or sad, Winky would pace outside the doors and cry. She needed to be close to her patient. Her illness and death was a shock. It’s been less than a week since she showed any symptoms. A week ago I never could have imagined this. I won’t get over her anytime soon, and, like my other animal friends, I will never forget the happiness she gave me.

Carrying the week’s groceries
over the footbridge,
I imagine the wind’s whine
is the creak of bolts
coming loose.  Up here

there are no city lights
to obscure the stars.
If I fall through the ice below,
at least it’ll be a pretty ride.
When I came here, twenty years gone

now, it was for moments like this
when all of life seems
one tight coil of trivia and import.
I could pass from this life
and become a local footnote with no regrets.

A starlet died over the weekend
and all I know of her death is allegations
and rumors. Such a lot of fuss
for a stark fact: someone dies
and we’re forever uninformed as to why

such things happen.  If I fall through
to the ice below, no one will talk of me
that way, and I’m grateful for that.
There’s no answer to why, and no such thing as
“too soon” — not for the deceased.  We go

when we go, at times we believe we choose
or at inconvenient times, and I suspect
that whatever happens to us afterward,
it’s not anything we conceived beforehand.
So why we seek to explain such things,

I do not know or seek to know.  What I do know
is this: here in the cold north, on a narrow bridge
between the road’s end and my small home,
I walk under a stellar shield that protects me
from the awful truth that life will end for all of us,

and when we go we will be remarked on
and mourned even as we are beyond such things.
We will wonder at that because we have no choice
but to do so, but to wonder without noticing
the world we live in and our own impermanence

is to lose the thread of who we are now.
I will listen to that wind and trust my footing
against the possibility of it being my last walk
because the stars are perfect here, and I am here,
and that actress is somewhere else, and what will be is certain.

God dammit if my satellite radio player isn’t working tonight !!! It must be the weather… It is snowing in Montreal tonight. So I’ve loaded up a Chad Fox podcast and that is playing as I type tonight.

I have a lot on my mind tonight. People and places, times and tribulations. It has been very quiet with hubby gone, I have time to myself to think and be alone. I don’t get to be alone very much being married. So time to myself is a prized possession.

Last night was a little funny because I had to go to bed alone. I hate sleeping alone, but alas, family is family and hubby is doing his part to celebrate the holidays with his family.

Today is Tuesday and it was also my home group tonight. I was unnerved all day, time was just going by too slowly. So around 4′ o clock I got in the shower and got ready to go. I had to go by Provigo to pick up my cake for tonight.

Yes, I made it 8 years … Who knew I’d live to see today…

When this journey began fifteen years ago I had 18 months to live. The doctors told me to kiss my ass goodbye and call it a day. When the drink did not kill me, because I tried… To kill myself with the drink … God had other plans. And there were key people in my life then that stepped in to help save my life.

Danny
Roy
Todd
Farkle
Billy
Bill M.

I went into rehab and started my dance with sobriety on August the 23rd 1994. I would stay sober 4 years, if I knew then, what I know today, I would never have made that fateful geographic that took me out the door for 18 months of living hell. But you know, hindsight is 20/20. I have had a lot of time to think about the past and see the path that was laid before me. And really, to be honest, I haven’t spent a great deal of time thinking about the past, it is just something that I really don’t dwell on.

But tonight I hit two meetings at my home group and I had time to sit and ponder the past 8 years of “this” sobriety, and in a greater circle the last fifteen years. I should be dead… I should have died years ago … Which brings me to the eternal question that I ask every Christmas of God, “what am I still doing here?”

When I look back retrospectively over the past, I came to believe before I came to because someone up there liked me enough to set this path out that I walked, I wish I had had all this wisdom in my head then, but I didn’t. I had to walk it out “One day at a time.” When you are staring death in the face – and counting the days until you are supposed to die, you either learn how to live or you wait to die and learn nothing in between. There were too many people in my life then, that wanted and willed me to live. I think that those first years living with AIDS was consumed by working at the STUD. I was too busy to think about dying. And I think that that saved my life.

I walked the road. I had to stumble and fall, and learn to pick myself up again after my terrible crash and burn. God knew what he was doing. When I returned to home base after my slip the path was there, and I walked it.

Looking back I know that God was moving heaven and earth for me, and it seemed that I was paying attention to the signs and omens. I knew the way back to the rooms, but I was ashamed to come back because I was going to get sober AGAIN in the same city that I got sober in to begin with. And sober circles are very small … people know … and they knew I was on the rebound…

I prayed prayers – I needed certain things … And each prayer was answered.

1. I needed a place to live – and it came …
2. I needed a job, that came with the apartment
3. I needed to stop drinking – the hangover of death came
4. I needed to meet another alcoholic – Troy came into my life
5. I needed to get to a meeting – I did that for Troy’s 1st anniversary

I remember all the people who were instrumental in my getting sober this second time. Fonda, Ed, Charlie, Shane, Billy, Christian, and a litany of others that I can see in my minds eye but I can’t recall all the names. I got sober over the holidays and that was tough. But my friends stuck with me one day at a time, one hour at a time, one night at a time… and I stuck and stayed…

The first time I got sober in 1994, the ambulance came and they got me breathing again, and Danny took me home and lived in my apartment for a week, he would not leave me alone. I went back to work and went through rehab and found a group to get sober in. They were not as kind to me as the second group of people. Because back then, to get sober, one had to face the gauntlet of people betting against you that you would drink once again ….

I remember picking up my first medallion – Fuck You you bastards, I stayed sober, against all your bets and pressure to go back out and drink.

I worked in a bar, but I did not drink, because Roy was my sponsor and he worked in the bar too, his partner was the owner and my boss. If it wasn’t for what Todd did for me in those first years of living with AIDS I surely would have died. There aren’t enough thank you’s in the world to repay what he and all of them did for me when I needed it the most. I am totally grateful for all the gifts that came into my life … I miss my friends. But I guess I am a testament to the power of prayer and the work of a tight group of family that saved my sorry ass. So many of my friends went to grisly miserable deaths, and I was there through all of that, and I lived. Why ???

I pulled a second geographic in sobriety, but the second time I did it the right way. I got hooked into the rooms and found a place to live and people to help me stay sober and it seemed to work. I got hooked into Tuesday Beginner’s 8 years ago and the rest is history. So much has come into my life over the past 8 years that I am amazed by all the gifts. I have seen trials and tribulations and it hasn’t been easy, but Rick summed it up for the meeting tonight – “I came and I stuck, and I toughed it out one day at a time, and I made it to 8 years …”

And I lived to see another Christmas …

We don’t talk about that aspect of my life, and really it isn’t something that I fret over or think about any more, I think I may take it for granted sometimes, that maybe I forget that I am living on borrowed time. I don’t dwell on day counts or the fact that I live with a terminal disease. When I play that card at my meeting it shocks people. I am still alive, and surely there must be a God because let’s face it, if there wasn’t a God and I did not come to believe then I surely would have died long ago.

I guess that’s all for now. I need to go throw something together for dinner it is nearing 10:30 p.m. and I haven’t eaten all day …

Thanks for all your good wishes. This post will cross over on Facebook so I have to mention those folks here now. Thank you for my sobriety …

Christmas is in three days … woo hoo …

More to come, stay tuned…

See today’s Mass Readings.

Origen says: God is magnified when His image is made greater, namely, when the soul, which is made in God’s image, increases in the acts of humility, charity, patience, and the other virtues.  The Gloss, however, says God is magnified in us, when we are conformed to Christ by justice.  For, as St Ambrose says at this verse, “Christ is the image of God, and therefore, if the soul performs an act of justice or of piety, this magnifies the Image of God, in whose likeness it was created.  And, therefore, when this magnifies the soul, it is made more sublime by a certain participation in His greatness, so that it seems to express within itself that image by the splendid ornament of good deeds, and also by a certain emulation of virtue.”  Theophylact says that the soul magnifies God when a man carries out heroic and heavenly works.  “That man magnifies God,” he says, “walking worthily with God, is called a Christian, and does not diminish the name and dignity of Christ by doing what is not right, but rather magnifies Him by performing great, heavenly works.”  St Basil, commenting on the words, I will extol Thee, O Lord, says: “He who deliberately hastens towards eternal happiness, exalts God; he who walks in the opposite direction, how much he humiliates God within him!”  The same author, on the words, O magnify the Lord with me, says, “That man magnifies the Lord who with a right intention and a lofty, upright spirit withstands temptations for piety’s sake; then, too, he who considers the manifold greatness of created things with a keen intellect and lofty reflection of spirit, so as to pass from a consideration of the greatness and beauty of such things to the contemplation of their Maker.”  St Augustine says, “Any holy soul can conceive the Word by believing, bring Him forth by preaching, and magnify Him by loving, so that it may say: My soul doth magnify the Lord.”~Excerpted from THE GREAT COMMENTARY OF CORNELIUS a LAPIDE, The Holy Gospel According To Luke.

     Christmas is celebrated because it is Jesus’ birthday.  Jesus is the reason for this season and is the best gift anyone can receive during this holiday or any other time.  This website was created because I wanted to share with the world just how real God is in my life and how much He wants to be in your life too.   I love the Word of God which is His Holy Bible. The Scriptures I use throughout my site are used to illustrate how the Bible communicates to me and how it is the voice of the living God in my life.  I believe in His Word and so I have chosen to make the Bible the standard that I measure my life with.

     My relationship began with God at a time in my life when I believed that all my dreams had ended or died.   I discovered that when you are introduced to the God of the Bible and you believe He is who He says He is, your life as you know it, may be over; but instead, you have been given a new beginning in life. People often refer to this new life as being “born again” or a second chance.

     The life God has planned for you is full of inner peace and joy.  Even during your most turbulent times, God will bring you to a place of peaceful rest despite what you may be facing or feeling. God’s only requirement is that you submit to His plan of salvation.

     I could not go through this holiday season without praying with you about experiencing this incredible relationship with God.  This Christmas Season is just a new beginning for you.  If you dare to believe with me, please speak this prayer out loud…

Our Father in Heaven,

     Help us to honor Your name. Come and set up Your Kingdom, so that everyone on earth will obey You, as You are obeyed in Heaven. Give us our food for today. Forgive us for doing wrong, as we forgive others. Keep us from being tempted and protect us from evil.  We choose today to confess Jesus Christ of Nazareth as our Lord and King!  Please fill us with your precious Holy Spirit and take away our stubborn heart and give us a new heart and a new desire to be faithful and true to You. We want to have only pure thoughts, and we will be eager to obey your laws and teachings.  Now, that we belong to Christ, we are a new person. The past is forgotten, and everything is new! We thank You for allowing us to enter into this season of rest with You and for giving us the desires of our heart.  You are a great and mighty God, full of grace and mercy, and we choose to love You.  In Jesus Name we pray, AMEN!

On this past Sunday night, the CBS News program 60 Minutes did a segment on His All Holiness Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew, and the plight of the Church in Constantinople. Personally, the most striking statements by His All Holiness were about crucifixion:

We prefer to stay here, even crucified sometimes. Because in the gospel, it is written that it is given to us not only to believe in Christ, but also to suffer for Christ,” the patriarch said.

“You said even to be crucified sometimes?” Simon asked.

“Yes. Because we believe in the resurrection. After the crucifixion, resurrection comes,” the patriarch explained.

The crucifixion is necessary. St. Leo, in his Sermon XXIII On the Nativity reminds us that the whole purpose of the Nativity is the Cross:

It pleased Him to take away the sin of the world in the Nativity and Passion of Jesus Christ.

We cannot have the Cross without the Nativity. We cannot have the Resurrection without the Cross. I have Protestant friends who are discomfited by our icon with Christ on the Cross — they are used to seeing an empty cross, the post-resurrection cross. An empty cross, however, is meaningless without Christ crucified. As His All Holiness points out, the Gospel calls us to suffer for Christ. This is not something to dread, it is an opportunity. Our God is someone who truly understands us — who understands that we will suffer in our life. Understanding this, out of His extreme love for us, He was willing to subject Himself to extreme suffering. In this way, we might transform our suffering into a means to identify ourselves with our Lord, God and Saviour Jesus Christ. This is exemplified by the Hieromartyr St. Ignatius of Antioch, who we celebrated on Sunday. On his way to Rome in chains, where torture and death await him, he writes to the Roman Christians:

All the pleasures of the world, and all the kingdoms of this earth, shall profit me nothing. It is better for me to die in behalf of Jesus Christ, than to reign over all the ends of the earth. “For what shall a man be profited, if he gain the whole world, but lose his own soul?” Him I seek, who died for us: Him I desire, who rose again for our sake. This is the gain which is laid up for me. Pardon me, brethren: do not hinder me from living, do not wish to keep me in a state of death; and while I desire to belong to God, do not ye give me over to the world. Suffer me to obtain pure light: when I have gone thither, I shall indeed be a man of God. Permit me to be an imitator of the passion of my God.

We do not seek to suffer, but through Christ Crucified, we have the means to not only to overcome it, but to transform it by identifying our suffering with the suffering of Christ on the Cross. When we pass through this suffering — and because of this suffering — we will find resurrection. Amen.

When I was a kid, the period between Halloween and New Year’s Day was the only part of the year I looked forward to. I looked forward to Summer but that was just because I didn’t have to be in school, but Autumn and Winter were the two seasons I loved the best. Texas really has three seasons – Summer, Fall, Winter. April and May in Texas can feel like Seattle’s July and August, so I don’t think Texas has a Spring. Even as a kid I was partial to cold, dreary weather, probably because I am ridiculously sensitive to light. Which makes living here great. Fall, Winter, and Spring dominate Western Washington, and the majority of the weather patterns seem to involve cold air and rain. Paradise.

So why do I hate the holidays so much here? I think it’s multi-faceted, and it has nothing to do with the weather. To begin with, my life since moving up here has been one disaster after another. I hate telling my tales of woe, and I have made a promise to myself that I will no long recount my tragic tales to anyone, even if no one is listening. That has less to do with wanting to move on than it does with being tired of people seeing me as some sort of sad-sack. I don’t like complaining and yet it feels like that’s all I do. And then there’s the fact that I miss my family terribly. Though apparently not enough to visit them. I’m busy and I don’t like to fly. And it always feels like things collapse when I’m gone.

I’m trying to figure out what I like about Christmas. I like the lights, though I personally don’t care to install them. There is something magical about Christmas lights, like a beacon in the darkness that comes with ever-shortening days until the Solstice. I think there is a lot of symbolism in lights in a holiday that seems so dominated by secular trappings. Easter is the holiest day of the calendar, but no one really gives presents for Easter do they? No one is willing to overrun their fellow man to grab the “must have” Easter toy. That’s probably for the best, as I think Easter should be accompanied by a dearth of commercialism. But what’s Christmas without the commercialism. As the early Reformed Protestants loved to point out, Christmas is never mentioned in the Bible, though the event of the birth of Jesus is. But there’s no date given and the time of year is unclear. We know when Easter is because of its close proximity to Pesach. But Christmas is much more pagan in origin than Christian.

So what is the point of Christmas? Facing yet another death, I’ve been thinking about this one. It’s about those little lights in the dark – or a single light in the dark. Those lights represent the hope and promise of a better future, that no matter how long the night seems to last, the darkness cannot last forever.

I just wish I could believe that sometimes.

Swear
that you can lose yourself
easily
in something
if you want to be
close to me,

for the best friends I have
thrive
on a passion
outside themselves,

live as if they are constantly
writing letters to others
that begin with “To Whom
It May Concern,”

and go on for pages
of detail, obsession
writ tight and careful,
no detail left behind,

certain that whoever receives
the letter will be
concerned as they are concerned,

ending them always with,
“Love” or “I eagerly await
your response,” forgetting
(or perhaps omitting with intent)

their names, the least important
detail, not worthy of note
in the presence of the greater topic.

These are the people I love most:
the ones who can forget themselves in something
as I have forgotten myself.

We find each other
without worrying about who we are
because from the start,
from first contact,
we understood that we had it right:
we are incidental chips bobbing
in the wake of our love
for the torrents of this world.

My environmentally assisted sojourn from Academy X has done naught but increase my disgust for this foul institution. I swear, I learned more shoveling snow for the past few days than I do in any class, especially “AP” Statistics. Thee was a grim, cold purpose shoveling; the removal of obstacles, the frigid kiss of the wind on the back of one’s neck. None of my “peers” (that I know of) even bothered to look at a shovel. Instead, they spent their days off drinking, parting, and engaging in various debauched activities. There is no purpose there, only the fulfillment of the senses, in one will even consider that. Call it suburban desperation, but I feel as though there is no longer any driving force behind my studies; I have submitted my college applications. It feels as though my fate is falling out of my hands. Entropy indeed.

It’s quite a sickening feeling, especially for one who is all about self-determination. I mask my despair with wrestling, but what happens when my time on the mat is no longer? What shall be my means of coping then? Shall I go mad from ennui and watching ForensicFile episodes, or just be (more) inherently broken, like a spine of a book that has been cracked open too much in idle pursuit. I am trying to communicate that I feel no longer restricted or even bound to anything in the AcX community. I need to find purpose before I go off dancing to the tune of Azathoth’s maddening piping.

One thing that I have been finding particular solace in has been planning for college. I have begun to make the necessary plans and purchases for dorm life. As the holiday season is indeed on the other side of our doors, pounding ceaselessly, I find myself getting a laptop for college, as well as pursing Maglights. Now, should I buy myself a hatchet, too? On a more serious note, any planning for the future is inherently useless, I know; even more so for events so far in the future. But the victory does lie in the preparation, as Batman once said, so really, there is no harm in plotting for Miskatonic University. As long as I am not fretting over any detail, it remains a useful intellectual exercise.

As for my few months left at Acx, I must grin and bear them, I suppose. I know that there will be a time when I look upon those days of idiocy with a shed of nostalgia. When I am truly immersed in the global workplace, I will certainly long for those simple (more like simpleton) times. This considered I might as well enjoy them as best I can. There are no real morals presented in this post, no cry to action. I present only as nihilistic statement that these times will ultimately pass.

So it goes…

Lately I have been wondering why we pray, and what is prayer. I started researching it and have been really inspired by it. I am excited to continue looking in to prayer. Here are some initial thoughts.

Pray builds Faith:

As we pray through scripture as worship in the name of Jesus we really see God’s promises come to life. Prayer is not about us, but it does have a distinct sort of comfort to it.
Romans 1:16-17 (from ESV)
¹⁶For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. ¹⁷For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith, as it is written, “The righteous shall live by faith.”

We live by faith in Christ alone. He is the righteousness of God revealed to us. We become one with Him (1 cor 12:12) because of His atoning sacrifice. He takes away our sin and gives us His righteousness, then takes the wrath of the Father that we deserve.
He gives us faith to believe in him. The gospel is a stumbling block and is foolishness to those who do not believe.

From that beginning faith that he gives us, He then begins to build upon it “Faith for Faith”.  One of the ways He builds our faith is through prayer. When we pray in His name (Jesus), or His will, we see our prayers answered. They are answered in this way Yes, No, or Not yet. As our prayers our answered our Faith grows. In this way it seems as if prayer is for us.

Praise God we get to commune with him!

i’ve only ever left
one man complete

1.  “Oriens,” which literally means “he who rises,” was the name which five hundred years before Christ the Prophet Zachariah gave to the Messiah: “Behold a man, the Orient is his name” (6:12).  A century later the prophet Malachi calls him “the Sun of Justice” (4:2).  The most important daily occurrence in the order of Nature, the rising of the sun above the eastern horizon, is thus used a a symbol of the most important event in the work of mankind’s salvation, viz., the birth of the Savior, the dawn of the Light that shall sign in the darkness.

As we look out in expectation to the East where the new day will soon dawn, so we gaze, full of respect, upon Mary who will give us the Messiah.

2.  Petition: The grace of an ardent desire for Him who is the Light of the world and who will dispel all darkness.

O Dawn

“O dawning Splendor of eternal Light, O Sun of Justice.”

The break of dawn puts an end to the night: it is not yet the splendor of the full daylight, it is only a beginning; but a glorious beginning, the joyful expectation of a never-ending day.  Here on earth our eyes cannot endure the full brightness of the Light divine, and therefore “the Word was made Flesh.”  In the Flesh the Word is made visible to us, although only through a veil.  “For by the mystery of the Word made Flesh a new ray of Thy Glory has shown upon the eyes of our minds, so that, while we know our God in visible form, we may by Him be drawn to the love of things invisible” (Preface of Christmas).

We also call her the “Dawn” from whom the true Rising Sun will come forth.  She is on the horizon the red glow that fascinates our eyes: it becomes brighter and brighter, illumines the horizon more and more; very soon the Sun Himself will appear.  “Who is she that arises as the day-blush?”Holy Church exclaims on the feast of the Immaculate Conception.  We greet her with reverence; and with her we long for the rising of the true Sun, with her we pray that “His own may receive Him.”

Come And Enlighten Them That Sit In Darkness And The Shadow Of Death.

St John, who throughout his whole Gospel developed the one theme of the struggle between Light and darkness-”The light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it” (1:5)-points out in his first Epistle a parallel strife between love and hatred.  It is there that he gives “Charity” as the very definition of God: “God is charity” (4:8); and there also he writes, “Darkness is passed and the true light now shineth.  He that saith he is in the light and hateth his brother is in darkness even until now.  He that loveth his brother abideth in the light; and there is no scandal in him.  But he that hateth his brother is in the darkness and walketh in darkness, and knowest not wither he goeth; because the darkness has blinded his eyes” (2:8-11).

For twenty centuries the Light has been radiation; but how deeply has it really penetrated into the minds and hearts of men?  If we were to investigate the effectiveness of the light of faith and the light of fraternal love-for, let us not separate the two!-we would find faith in God, and in Him who was sent by God, languishing in many a region, being persecuted in others, heroically confessed here and there, everywhere zealously preached…and yet darkness still reigning in countless souls.

“Come and enlighten them that are seated in darkness!”  And enlighten us, too, who are, in truth, walking in the light of faith, but not in such a way that our lives are transfigured by it and radiate it to the many that are gropingly seeking for it.

“He that loveth his brother abideth in the light; he that hateth his brother is in darkness.”  If that is so, how black is the darkness that encompasses the world today!  Is it hatred that is arraying out world into two hostile camps?  Maybe it is not conscious hatred; but at all events he who stirs up this tumult, and reaps the benefits, is the arch-enemy of God and man, satan who hates us and “was a murderer from the beginning” (Jn 8:44).

He whose coming we now expect is God’s Love made man, the Brightness of eternal Light and Love everlasting.

Prayer: That Light may shine more brightly, that Love may reign more strongly in the minds and hearts of all men throughout the world; in our surroundings also, and in our own hearts,  “Come, O Dawn, O Sun of Justice: enlighten our minds and enkindle our hearts, for we are sitting in darkness and lovelessness.”~Alone With God, by Fr. J Heyrman, S.J.

I’m stuck between the world of the sleeping and that of the wide awake. My eyes are heavy, but I know that if I crawl under the blankets atop my bed I’ll lie awake concentrating on Christina’s breathing or contemplating the uncontemplatable. I’ve watched two episodes of iCarly with Bryan in hopes of catching drowsiness, but all it’s done is left me uninspired to do much more than groan and mock the TV. So here I am … rambling on like some garrulous old man with nothing to say, but with a million words to say it.

I’ve been reading Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer all day and it’s left me in a semi-lucid/semi-hypnotic state. It’s really caused me to re-examine my life, what’s truly important to me, and who I am. It’s forced me to ask myself the hard questions that I usually try to shy away from like … do I really want to don a shirt and tie and re-enter the race-for-the-big-desk corporate work force? Do I really want to finish my undergraduate studies? Do I really have a place among you? Would I be better off foraging for food in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains? Do I really have anything to offer society beyond menial labor and another Social Security contribution? What the fuck am I supposed to be doing with my life? What do I WANT to do with my life? What do I REALLY want? What do I want to have accomplished once my final days start to tick away?

The boys and I escaped the world for a few hours yesterday. We strode about five miles down the railroad tracks just outside of our neighborhood. We walked and breathed the crisp December air and talked … well … Bryan and I talked while Aidan contributed his own brand of conversation like, “Shane! Look at that rock. Big, huh?” Bryan and I debated the age old question: what three items would you bring if you were stranded on a desert island? We finally agreed on flint, a hearty hunting knife, and a metal pot. We later amended the rules to include a fourth item — a plastic jug so that we wouldn’t have to boil water as often.

We also talked about God.

I explained to him that I don’t believe God is a single being watching us from the heavens. I believe God is the very essence of existence. I told him that every cell of every object in the universe, both living and otherwise, is made up of densely packed energy. “That…”, I emphasized, “…is God. God is all around us. He makes up your flesh, the rocks beneath our feet, and the air we breathe.” We walked awhile longer in silence before I decided to introduce him to the concept of Karma and the Law of Attraction.  ”You see, Bryan … with every thought you think you release either positive or negative energy into the universe”, I explained. “And depending on the polarity of that energy your life will be affected either positively or negatively; think good thoughts and good things will come to you. Do you understand?” I asked eagerly awaiting an equally enthusiastic response. “Yeah”, replied Bryan, “but I’ve got something for you. If you worked on a pirate ship would you want to work on the top or the bottom of the ship? You know … like the crow’s nest or the bottom part?”

Our hike really opened my eyes to a few things: 1) Bryan, at eight years old, is too young to tackle the mysteries of the universe, 2) I’ve wasted WAY too much of my life being indoors, and 3) I’ll turn 30 in four short months:

• Of those thirty years, twelve have been spent as an adult.
• Four of those twelve have been spent doing real work that I can be proud of (my four years in the Marines).
• The remaining eight have been spent treading water … from a professional standpoint.
• The five years immediately following my discharge were cool in that I met a lot of interesting people while working at the college, but all in all they were a waste. I comfortably rode those years with zero effort and nothing to show for them.
• The last three years have been a complete failure. I’ve actually lost more than I’ve gained.
• On the romantic front, my first seven years of adulthood were unbearably comfortable. They left me completely unprepared for the world as a solo adventurer.
• The last four years have been remarkable (and rarely comfortable).

So with all of that being said, what do the next twelve years have in store for me? After breaking the timeline down as I did above two absolute truths become evident: 1) my romantic life needs to remain as is and 2) my professional life needs a complete overhaul. I know that my return to the world of starched straight-jackets and Oxford nooses will bring little more than advanced carpal tunnel aches, eyestrain, and more self-loathing than my core can take. I refuse to allow my soul to die in the name of satisfying creditors. This is MY life and I will not compromise it for anyone. I will spend my days working a job that leaves ME satisfied. I will love my wife and children a little bit more. I will read more books, write more journal passages, and watch less television. I will spend as many hours as possible outdoors with my God and will grumble heartily when it’s time to come inside … just like when I was eight-years-old.

I will be happy.