Angelic Relic?

Blogger’s Note: This post is in no way authoritative or serious. It’s meant only to spark the imagination, as mine was sparked. Have an opinion and laugh a little!

We observed our parish’s feast day—the Feast of St. Michael and the Archangels—this weekend.  The actual feast was Friday; Fr. Richards celebrated the school Mass that day and delivered the same homily, which included a prop: a beautiful, barred wing feather.

“I got a relic,” he said, brandishing the feather, “of St. Michael the Archangel.”

Laughter rippled through the church.

He then told us that he had the idea of using a feather as a prop for the school Mass, but then had no idea where to find one and forgot about it. When Friday morning rolled around, a parishioner came before Mass to ask Father to bless some religious items, before Mass, not after, because she was on a tight schedule. He agreed and opened the bag to find the items to be blessed—and a single feather.

He asked if he could use it. She gave it to him, unsure why or how it happened to be there.

“I think maybe St. Michael has the same sense of humor as me,” Father said.

Which raised a question in my mind: We’ve often joked that our parish does not have a relic of our patron because angels tend not to leave much behind. But if St. Michael provided a feather for Father—even if it were not his own*—would that not be a second-class relic: an object used or touched by a saint?

The teens I spoke with, including my own, felt strongly that because angels do not have bodies, they could not touch an object, so it could not be a relic. I argue that it’s worth considering the possibility from two standpoints: first, because Scripture suggests angels can, in fact, touch and be touched at times (e.g., when Jacob wrestles the angel and is injured by his opponent) and second, because the fact that angels can interact with and affect the physical world suggests to me that we humans may have a limited conception of touch.

What say you? I say Father should hang onto that feather, just in case.

_____

*Another thought: We usually see angels portrayed with white wings, but what if St. Michael has colorfully barred wings, like a hawk? How cool would that be?

 

 

 

 

 

Victory Is His

For many years I struggled with a number of habitual sins common to the male of the species. I say I struggled with, rather than against, because for much of that time I was complicit. I knew these things were sinful, knew they weren’t healthy for me or my marriage, and yet I was only willing to resist up to a point.

I remember going to confession with Fr. Siebenaler in the old St. Michael church and confessing these same sins yet again. He spoke kindly but bluntly: “You remind me of St. Augustine praying, ‘Give me continence, but not yet!'” And he advised that if I truly loved my wife and wanted to leave these sins behind I should admit them to her and ask for her help in overcoming them.

I thanked him, did my penance, and returned home thinking, He’s obviously never been married—no way am I telling Jodi! Continue reading

More Than Meets the Eye

I believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and Earth, of all things visible and invisible. — the Nicene Creed, emphasis mine

Each time we pray the Creed at Mass, we acknowledge—in fact, we profess our sincere belief—that there is more to this world than meets the eye. We believe in saints and angels, heaven and hell, the devil and his minions. We believe in the real presence of Jesus Christ—body, blood, soul, and divinity—in the Holy Eucharist. We believe in the power of prayer and redemptive suffering.

Practicing Catholics proclaim this belief in the invisible world and spiritual realities at least once a week. But do we live daily as if we believe heaven is for real? Continue reading

The Great Improviser, or One Blesséd Thing After Another…

I remember watching an improv comedy group with friends in college. Each member of the troupe was a whirlwind of wit and creativity, responding instantly to audience suggestions, random props, and fellow comics’ off-the-cuff reactions.

After more than an hour of nonstop hilarity and laughter, the group took its bows, then the members spoke briefly to the audience about how they do what they do: How they keep the laughs coming at such a breakneck pace when even they aren’t sure what will happen next?

The basic answer was so simple: Say yes, and

Whatever the situation, the idea, the inane detail added by the last castmate as he passes the scene to you, say yes, and build on it. Anything else — a no, a but, a hesitation, a rejection — derails everything. The joy of improv (for both performers and audience, I’ll wager) is in the way that it embraces the unknown and absurd and builds on them, laugh upon laugh, until the entire humorous edifice is revealed and the leader says, “Aaaaand scene!”

Say yes, and build on it. Embrace the situation and move forward. Such a simple trick — but it requires practice. (If you don’t believe me, get two friends and try Three-Headed Broadway Singer.)

It strikes me today that this is good advice for life, as well. This world is tilted, spinning, ridiculous in so many ways, and at times life appears to be, as an old saying goes, “one damned thing after another.” But it’s not. The sequence of events is not damned, but blessed.

We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. — Romans 8:28

God, in fact, must be the Great Improviser, to work out  His plan among so many free-willing, fallen creatures who are constantly doing the dead-wrong thing. God’s providence, it seems to me, must be a resounding, eternal, “Yes, and…”

Fr. Mike Schmitz shares great perspective on discerning God’s will for us, in which he reminds us that, even in scripture, when God’s appears to be taking His people by the hands and leading them, still less is known than unknown. In particular, he reminds us that, after being told by the angel Gabriel that she will bear the Son of God, Mary says “Be it done unto me according to your word,” and the very next line in scripture is, “Then the angel departed from her” (Luke 1:28).

Mary is left to improvise: to build upon that yes and each yes after, until the entire astounding edifice is revealed and the Master calls out, “Scene!”

Like Mary, we don’t know what’s coming: what incredible, impossible, unwieldy, absurd situation we may encounter, this moment or the next. But our response matters. In fact — since the universe is beyond our control — our response is all that counts.

It’s so simple, though it takes practice: Step with joy into the unknown. Say yes, and build upon it.

Lightning on the Stone


Blogger’s Note: At the Easter Vigil last night, the Resurrection account was from Matthew. The image of the angel appearing like lightning and sitting upon the stone struck meand Lightning on the Stone seemed like a bluesy spiritual someone ought to try to write. So I did this morning. It’s not quite as raw or ragged as it might be if someone sang it over a blues riff…but I’m satisfied.

In dark we walked to that dark tomb
And darkly dreamt of you
Your broken body sealed in stone
And lost in darkness, too, Lord
And lost in darkness too
In gloom we came to Golgotha
As black gave way to gray
I asked our sister Mary who
Would roll the stone away, Lord
Would roll the stone away
The Skull grinned blue—when like a flash
Of lightning from the Throne
An angel, gleaming white, threw back
And sat upon the stone, Lord
And sat upon the stone
As at the rising of the Sun
The Daystar shares its rays
Just so my face with wonder shone
To hear you had been raised, Lord
To hear you had been raised
The sky above was brilliant blue
As blue as any sea
And we rejoiced to tell that you
Were bound for Galilee, Lord
Were bound for Galilee