Laid to Rest

In the Gospel of Luke, which includes Jesus’ infancy narrative, Jesus leaves this world, much like he enters it: wrapped loving in cloth and lain in a place not meant for him.

Luke 2:7: “And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.”

Luke 23:52-53: “This man [Joseph of Arimathea] went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid.”

Wisdom 7:4-6 says, “In swaddling clothes and with constant care I was nurtured. For no king has any different origin or birth; one is the entry into life for all, and in one same way they leave it.”

Lenten Reading or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love A Devotional

I’ve always had an aversion to spiritual books and devotionals geared toward women. The saccharine, flowery covers and italicized scripts of the titles never made me think there’s solid material inside.

Devotionals in general don’t interest me. But if I was going to follow a devotional (which I probably wasn’t going to do), I wanted it to be content that didn’t need to pander to a gender. And to me, that’s what gendered devotionals mostly were, pandering. The Christianized version of late ‘90s “Girl Power.” It worked on me as a 10-year-old listening to the Spice Girls, but I wasn’t all that interested now.

Another part of that aversion was my favorite theologians and saints are male. So I’d either have to take lacking femininity but role models with whom I agree, or shared gender perspective but women with whom I didn’t resonate.

Slowly, more women have been adding into my personal litany of saints. And more OT female role models. But having more women in my prayer arsenal didn’t make me anymore open to contemporary devotionals.

So when someone in my women’s group suggested we follow a women’s Lenten journal for the season, I wasn’t that keen. I’d rather have a book study or weekly topic, rather than writing my thoughts in a daily devotional. But at the same time, if it’s what others wanted, I was willing to give the recommended journal a shot.

And—surprisingly, luckily, frustratingly—it’s been really good.

The Blessed is She Lenten Journal has a theme for each week, then four women from Scripture whose stories touch on that theme. The commentary isn’t over-the-top. It does have questions, some good for answering, some not so good, some so good I’m not answering them out loud on that pages.

The themes have lined up very nicely (not perfectly) with some spiritual stuff going on in my life over the past few weeks. So it’s been nice reading something and related with it. And I like the women chosen—Hannah and Sarah (from Tobit) are personal favorites lately.

I’m still inclined to think this a fluke and not likely to get another devotional right away. But I’ve enjoyed the five or so minutes I take after daily Mass to go through this one. The weekly themes preparing for Easter have been good. I like noticing the other women who also have the journal as their post-Mass ritual in the pews. I hope it’s fruitful for them too.

Hopefully I’ll be less judgey next time I see pink covers and curvy script on a bookstore shelf. 

“So you could not keep watch with me?”

Fully God and fully man. Our understanding of Jesus seems simple but becomes complex as one tries to actually understand it or actually live out that beliefs. Plenty of heresies split from orthodoxy on understanding the nature of Jesus. Ok, he was God, using a human form. Ok, he was a man, who God gave divinity to for a few years. Ok, he was a demigod, the product of the Father and Mary’s union. And on and on. Hypostatic union isn’t a phrase brandied about in casual conversation, but it means the union that lies beneath the foundation—that is, that Jesus is one person with two natures, human and divine. Not half and half. Both fully.

Even for those of us that accept that, it’s hard for us to relate to. Often in our everyday thoughts, we relate to Jesus and one or the other. Jesus the man, the friend who understands us because he’s been there. Jesus the God, the Redeemer who understands us because he understands all things.

I admit I fall into the trap of focusing more on that latter. It’s hard to relate to the humanity of someone 2,000 years ago. He becomes legend at some point, stripped of simple human pains or daily life, magnified in greatness. But it’s hard to see the humanity and not just the legend figure of Alexander the Great or Julius Caesar or Richard I. So it’s easy to see Jesus’ divine parts shine through.

I’ve often heard people comment how lonely it must have been to be Jesus. And I always agreed. When you’re the only incarnate Word of God, it must be lonely. Everyone around is so fallible, so naïve, so distracted by petty problems. Constantly calling them out and explaining things must be exhausting, even if you do so with great love. How lonely that must be. So hard to relate to anyone.

But recently I realized that he wasn’t lonely in that way. (Or maybe he was, but there’s a both/and at play.) He got lonely in the same ways we get lonely. In Gethsemane, Jesus is at his lowest point. It is the moment before his Passion, and it is said that he sees all the sins of humanity that he will soon suffer for. He asks his closest friends to stay with him. "My soul is sorrowful even to death. Remain here and keep watch with me” (Matthew 26:38). He is not instructing them as a teacher or requesting action as a leader. He just doesn’t want to be alone in that moment. Sometimes in our lowest points, having a friend sit beside you, silently taking up space with you, makes the burdens less heavy.

But Jesus finds that the disciples, even his closest friends, have fallen asleep. He wakes them, and asks Peter, “So you could not keep watch with me for one hour?” (Matthew 26:40). This repeats two more times. While on a larger scale, this interaction is a warning to remain alert for the hour at hand, to stand guard and not fall into comfortable temptation, I think it speaks at a very human emotion too. Jesus didn’t want to be alone, and his friends disappointed him. They didn’t mean to. It wasn’t malicious. They were his friends and cared about him. But they failed him in that moment. It’s disappointing and lonely. And relatable.

It’s a moment that has helped me see his human nature. Sometimes I need that reminder. Other times I need a reminder of his divine nature. It’s a balance. Fully God and fully man. Who can really comprehend it? 

The Future (and the Church) is Female

Christianity isn’t sexist. But its followers can be. I see a lot of sexism, usually subtle, unintentional, or so institutionalized that it’s difficult to call out. Somewhere between being totally run over and bucking the system is the answer. Call out gross abuses, correct those who can’t see it, be patient and bear your personal offences. 

It would be better for all if women were truly valued and given the same respect and attention as men, if their voices as head, their accomplishments as lauded, their revelations as adhered to. The feminine mind and voice and spirit completes the Church. The Church herself is feminine. It is detrimental to regulate women to their own corner, a special category, a second class.   

I don’t have solutions. I don’t even have the energy to remind angered. Instead, since it’s International Women’s Day, I want to celebrate some of my favorite women saints. (Hildegard of Bingen rounded out my top 10, but I only had nine slots in my picture.)

Agnes, Mary Magdalene, Joan of Arc, Helena, Mary, Emilia, Lucy, Jane de Chantel, and Catherine of Siena, ora pro nobis!

Self-Care for Lent

Lent isn’t about self-improvement. As people begin planning out their Lenten season, there is a tendency to treat it like New Year’s resolutions. “I’m going to cut out sweets.” “I’m going to exercise more.” “I’m going to bed earlier.” And every year we are reminded that Lent isn’t New Years. It’s not about your self-improvement plans or weight loss goals. It’s about your spiritual development and drawing closer to God.

Are you giving up chocolate because it’s distracting you from God or because you need to cut back on the sugar? Shouldn’t our intentions during Lent be a bit more outward focused?

Maybe not. Maybe the self-improvement plans are ok for Lent. They might be a more roundabout way of getting there, but I think they do lead to spiritual benefit.

What others call indulgences, millennials often call self-care. Self-care is about carving out time to focus on you—turn down invitations, order take-out instead of cook, take a bath, spend the weekend hiking, and let the chores wait until next week. It sounds selfish or lazy, but it’s actually really important. Millennials are known for being economically screwed. They’re poor and stressed. Time to focus on mental health and rest is important, even if you have to schedule it in and label self-care so that it doesn’t feel indulgent.

Similarly, mental and physical wellness help our spiritual wellness. It’s hard to focus on apologetics with caffeine withdrawal. It’s hard to pray when sleep deprived. Our bodies, our postures, our health, all affect how we are able to worship and serve. So self-improvement in physical or mental health will help improve your spiritual life, it is a worthy Lenten pursuit.