Holy Week, Batman!

In the wee hours of the morning, I woke up in a panic, concerned about how we will get over 20 adults around the altar on Holy Saturday. Backup: Holy Week is coming up for us Christians, and at Easter Vigil (the night before Easter Sunday), new Catholics will enter the Church during the Vigil Mass. Luckily, I don't have to do much at the Vigil Mass, except read the names of the people entering the Church and attempt to stay on my feet as I exit the podium stage right (last year I did a very graceful near-tumble down the three steps surrounding the altar, arms up in the air).  I do, however, have to figure out how all these people will fit around the altar, OH NO, with their sponsors (so make that 40+ people).  Now I'm really worried.

Most of the paperwork component for this event is completed (and there is a staggering amount of it).  It's the little niggling details that keep popping into my mind: where will everyone stand?  I need to get new shoes so I don't surf the stairs again.  Is black, my standard color of dress, really appropriate for Easter?  And on, and on, and on . . .

So when this administrative stuff starts overshadowing the beauty of the real event, especially while interrupting my sleep, I have to step back. I have to hit "stop" (or at least "pause").  I have to remember that tiresome, trite saying that is nonetheless very true:  "He is the reason for the season."  The reason for all of this, the paperwork, the choreography, the planning, the rehearsal, is Christ.  

People have chosen to follow Christ and have given up their time this past year to make that journey. They have met throughout the fall, winter, and the beginnings of spring to be in a small group called Vantage Point, where they talk and discuss what it means to be a Christian and a Catholic.  They listened to a teaching podcast and then worked out their concerns and confusions as a group.

They are not similar by any other affinity other than their commitment to Christ.  They are men and women; baptized and unbaptized; those from a strong faith tradition and those from none at all; married and single; parents and not. All adults, they all came to this journey on their own will, with no parental threat or nagging involved.

They did not fail to ask and argue the hard questions, the politically charged issues that the Catholic Church confronts all the time.  They questioned and they doubted.  In the end, they respected and loved, and submitted to Christ.

Sounds like a healthy group to me.  Sounds like a healthy church to me.

A Eulogy of Sorts

I am writing my last post from my trusty PC, a Sony Vaio that I have had for over three years. If I was eulogizing my Vaio (which I guess I am), I would say that it was a very good friend.

Oh, it's worse for the wear. It looks pretty shabby. Like most of the aged, its joints are wiggly and make noises when moved. The H and M keys are completely blank now from my constant pounding on them, the disc drive whines perilously loudly when it is used, the touch pad only works half the time, and Word has stopped running altogether (the death knell). Someone wiser than me has diagnosed it as a "motherboard event." I don't know what a "motherboard event" is, but it sounds frighteningly like an alien terrorist attack.

Vaio was patient while I wrote and revised the Vantage Point curriculum for non-Catholics attending Nativity who wanted to explore the Catholic faith. I have saved hundreds of Word documents that comprise my thoughts about God and life, and Vaio never once criticized the writing (except that it caught many typos for me, thankfully). It didn't balk at my burgeoning iTunes library containing far too many audiobooks, and never complained when I downloaded yet another C.S. Lewis book. It never let on that it was haunted by the spooky British guy who read Dante's Inferno. It was forced to house far too many photos of my children, churches in Rome and moss (I take a lot of pictures of moss. I like moss. I don't know why).

But it wasn't all work for Vaio. It did have a life of travel. It has been to New York, California, Texas, Arizona, Rome and various East Coast locales, as well as on many airplane and train trips. A few times, it got to go First Class.

I must admit that I wasn't always good to it, either. I yelled at it, sometimes using regrettable language. I dropped it a half a dozen times, and spilled numerous cups of coffee on it. I was always letting its battery run to the very end before recharging it.

Vaio was patient with other people, too, especially children. My girls played a lot of Jeopardy and Club Penguin on it. Tom's kids watched Aquaman videos on it and subjected it to mild abuse on Sunday mornings.

I feel a pang of betrayal, as I move from a PC to a Mac. But I think my Vaio does not know. It might have been suspicious while I was transferring hundreds of files last night, but it's pretty sick, so I think it is blissfully unaware of its fate.

At least that's what I tell myself.