Sunday, March 29, 2015

A Holy Week

I apologize for the sparse updates to this blog.  I have just finished directing our school's spring musical (about which I will write later).  But now I hope to have a bit more time to spend with all of you, dear readers.

Today at mass, our wonderful pastor gave the shortest Palm Sunday homily I have ever heard.  I think he understood that the impact of reading the entire Passion narrative would be dulled by an equally long sermon.

I think he spoke for no more than 60 seconds.  But the gist of it was this:

If spending time with the Passion doesn't move you deeply, then you have only read/heard it with your brain and not your heart.  If you are not changed by this Holy Week, then you have missed the point.

I have many religious experiences.  Working in a Catholic school affords me this special opportunity.  And sometimes these encounters are profound and cathartic.

But soon after I find myself slowly backsliding into comfortable vices.  These experiences, though remembered, feel like the faded memories of a dream.

Sometimes I feel like my life is a giant linked chain.  Some of the links are infused with great strength and power, where God's presence has enriched my mettle.  But then there are long strands where the links are frail and brittle.  These are places that hang between the strong links and seem completely unaffected by them.  The problem with this, of course is that a chain cannot be made of strong links and  and weak links.

Right now I am currently involved in an online game called Clash of Clans.  You have a little village that you need to defend from attack.  In this village you can build walls, but as you upgrade them they become more and more expensive.  Often you can only strengthen one section instead of others.  And infallibly, whenever I get attacked the forces concentrate on the weaker sections parts of the wall, rending the strong parts of the wall useless.

This labored metaphor is just my way of saying that I don't want holy moments and unholy moments.  That doesn't work.

I want to be like chocolate milk.

I happen to be an amateur expert on chocolate milk, having made thousands of glasses of it.  When the syrup is stirred in the milk, all of the milk is transformed from sterile white to rich chocolate-brown.  Whether you drink it from the top of the glass or from the bottom with a straw, the chocolate has been infused into every part.

I want that to be my life.

When holiness enters my life I don't want to compartmentalize it to certain parts.  I want it to touch every part of who I am.

So this Holy Week, I'm going to try to bring Christ more into my life.

Every part of it.

I hope to be transformed.

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