Ramblings of a Recovering Trad

 The prayer after Communion at Mass today is an intriguing one: "Nourished by these divine gifts, Almighty God, we ask you to grant our desire: that, aflame with your spirit, we might shine like bright torches before your Christ when he comes. Who lives and reigns forever and ever." Now some might say this isn't nearly as intriguing as today's Gospel of Matthew, which details the genealogy of Jesus Christ.   I mean, this Gospel is redemption for every single of one of us who isn't convinced of our own perfection.  You think you have a few bad apples in your family?  The lineage of the Son of God has its share too.  Adulterers, murderers, prostitutes - they're all there.  The Good, The Bad and The Ugly to assure us that Jesus knew what he was getting into when he took our nature.    One thing I know about myself is that I have been falling down at the part about shining like a bright torch.   I don't say this from a false sense of humility either.  During t

One of my favorite passages from the writings of Servant of God Catherine de Hueck Doherty relays the time her parents hosted a tea for Russian dignitaries.  Her father was a Russian diplomat and there were several hundred invited guests at their home.  Catherine recalled that she was nine at the time and was permitted to attend, the social dressed to the nines and serving cakes.   A butler interrupted a conversation between her father and one of his prestigious guests with the announcement: "Christ is at the door."  Everything came to a standstill while her parents rushed to serve the man she described as a hobo.  They set down the finest linen and china and although she recounted that they had 14 servants in the house, her mother and father personally did the serving.  She described this episode as an excellent lesson in Christianity, watching her parents put their faith in action.   I think of this from time because of a homeless man who has "resided" in our neig

You never had a day that was all about you, until this one There would be no ring placed on your finger by a suitor No surprise planned by bridesmaids to shower you with gifts  No walk down the aisle in white lace, clinging to your beloved father's arm A cascade of flowers falling from your hand It was not to be Still you remained hopeful and never bitter I thought about this as I waited for your hearse to arrive at the cemetery The only time in your life when a hired black car would bring you to the place Where you would be the center of everyone's attention A public appearance planned to the last detail As you would have wanted Except for this You were never "fashionably late" for anything and I thought how you would not have liked this Keeping the guests waiting on a sunny but chilly November day I remembered the words of my favorite Emily Dickinson poem About how after death "a formal feeling comes" And this was the "hour of lead" It came like