That being said, suspending technology use during Lent must have been divinely inspired because it was exactly what I needed. Now my attention span is slightly longer than that of a caffeinated goldfish, my to-be-read list has been growing smaller and larger in spurts, as all healthy TBR lists do, and I have realized that my powers of procrastination are such that I can spend a day only checking email and chats and still get nothing done.
It sounds weird, but everything has a new excitement to it. Playing the ukulele or guitar or cello or piano is more fulfilling than it was when I could easily look up YouTube covers instead. Talking to people is more invigorating because it's a way to hear news and someone's unique perspective, and even schoolwork is more interesting because heck, even if it's boring information it's information.
Anyway, yesterday I was practicing a Mumford and Sons song on the guitar (surprise) and I started thinking about how it related to Easter, and I figured that might be an interesting thing to explore in an Easter post. So if you don't like Mumford and Sons or cheesy theological ramblings, feel free to leave and go eat some jelly beans. ;)
It's called "The Cave."
*cue cheers from Mumford and Sons fans*
Have a listen/watch:
(This is my vision of London, by the way: bookshops, old piano tuners, and Marcus Mumford crooning/screaming into a microphone.)
Ah, the symbolism.
First off, the references to the cave, which I've heard is supposed to represent Plato's allegory of the cave, but it also works for the cave that Jesus was buried in.
Second, the redemptive lyrics that, as I was thinking about them, could relate to Jesus or to us. The first-person narrator has heroic elements to him, but he is also a sinner in need of redemption. Maybe the chorus could be seen as a dialogue between Jesus and the narrator:
Jesus: "I will hold on hope and I won't let you choke on the noose around your neck."
Narrator: "And I'll find strength in pain and I will change my ways; I'll know my name as it's called again.
I love the "noose around your neck" line because of the mercy implied there. We've tied the noose around our necks by rejecting God's love, but God reaches down in his mercy and, just when we've kicked the box from under our feet, lifts us up. He doesn't let us choke on the evil that we've chosen to get lost in. Instead he saves us with his passion and death...and resurrection.
And when we celebrate the resurrection, it's not enough for us to chill and do nothing. We need to respond to God's love by changing our ways, and even when we fall again, finding strength to keep going, especially when it is painful.
Which brings me to what struck me this Holy Week as the coolest part of the Easter mystery: "I'll find strength in pain" is not only our line, but also Jesus' line. Yes, Jesus was perfect in his divinity, but he was also human and he didn't want to go through the excruciating torture that he went through for us. But he found strength even in his pain, and he prayed that his Father's will be done.
So when we mess up hugely, which I will likely do soon, we can find comfort in the fact that Jesus is right there in the pain and he lifts us up.
A couple days ago Mom and I were shopping for little on-sale Christmassy things at Target, and we were looking through the wrapping paper section when I saw something that stopped me in my tracks.
Llama wrapping paper.
We decided to buy it, and as we were trekking to the register Mom pointed out "You know this is really ugly, right?" to which I pointed out that attractiveness doesn't matter; it's llama wrapping paper.
Behold:
Llamas.
Llamas.
LLAMAS.
Fast forward to that evening. I'm sitting at adoration and going over the readings for January 1, 2017, the feast of Mary, Mother of God.
The first reading is from Numbers:
The LORD said to Moses: "Speak to Aaron and his sons and tell them: This is how you shall bless the Israelites. Say to them: The LORD bless you and keep you! The LORD let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you! The LORD look upon you kindly and give you peace! So shall they invoke my name upon the Israelites, and I will bless them."
What does it mean for God to "keep" someone?
The first thing I think of when I hear the word "keep" is someone going shopping and thinking Oh, that [insert word here] looks cool; I think I'll keep it.
And then it hit me:
Llama wrapping paper is weird and unusual and kind of ugly depending on how you look at it. But I saw it among all the other wrapping paper tubes and said, "Let's keep it!"
Kind of like God making me and being like, "Wow, she turned out weird. But she's a keeper."
So my motivational new year's line for you is we are all llama wrapping paper.
I was just thinking about that after having a fun family movie night watching Arthur Christmas (for those who haven't seen it, watch it right now; it's adorable), then deciding to continue our healthy tv streak by watching an episode of Monk with my mom.
It started out weird. And cute. And funny, even funnier than most Monk episodes. But then disaster struck and it was just so emotionally heart wrenching that Mom and I got up when it was over agreeing "Well, that was horrible."
That's kind of a ridiculous example of life problems, but you know what I mean, right? There are those fun outings with friends where something really awkward happens, or someone gets sick, or people are dealing with problems at home so they just don't seem themselves anymore.
Problems like that, from small to big, don't get media attention. They don't get put in movies, or books. They just crop up in our everyday lives reminding us that life isn't perfect.
But there's something in us that tells us that something's wrong with that, right? We instinctively know that this life must not be all there is. These little nagging imperfections remind us that the momentary pleasures we can get from moment to moment, from laughing with friends to watching tv to just browsing Pinterest, are always mixed with a little bit of grief, a little bit of pain. Nothing ever seems to fulfill us.
That's one of the reasons that I love music so much. It takes me out of myself almost to another world, distracting me from the problems at hand so I can just sort of float and not worry about what's coming next. I'm kind of a chronic worrier--I get nervous about anything from casual social events to teaching piano lessons. Even though I've done those things a million times and nothing that bad has ever happened. So music is an outlet. Whether I'm making it or listening to it, it helps me forget, and reminds me that there is beauty out there. When I get home mentally exhausted from a long day, the first thing I do is turn on some music and just let all the awkwardness and the little problems of the day float away.
Music is kind of like prayer. You can abandon yourself to music the same way you're supposed to abandon yourself to God, when you just sit in his presence and he lets you know that it's going to be all right and that the little problems of life are nothing compared to those little beauties of life that are so easy to ignore sometimes.
So often I forget that God's waiting for us to turn to him. Not so he can take the pain away, but so he can be with us. He can hold us and let us know with little things like the right song at the right time, or the perfect Bible verse, that He's there and He cares.
So, I was sitting in my computer chair (probably in my "comfort" posture, which is when one leg is tucked in with the knee leaning up against the armrest--my parents think I'm crazy for this and for many other reasons) and browsing Pinterest when this showed up.
I don't know who Elizabet(h?) Scott is, but in case she reads this blog post, I'm sorry, Elizabet(h?). I just want to correct this little thing here and I'm sure you're a cool person, it's just that this quote makes my blood pressure rise every time I see it.
Seriously, I saw this Pin and was nodding happily with the first sentence but then when I read the rest of it I was so upset that I saved it and thought, "I NEED to write a blog post about this." So here's my rant.
No, I wasn't just annoyed by the incomplete quotation marks. What concerned me was the philosophy behind the quote: namely, that fiction is way more interesting than real life, and therefore it's better to immerse yourself in fiction than to immerse yourself in your life.
This has always been one of my greatest temptations. When I discovered The Hobbit for the first time I read it over and over, trying to ignore the outside world as much as possible.
Family:
How about a card game?
Me:
I could never resist a world where anything could happen, where there were dwarves and courage and enchantments.
If you think about it though, the problem with living in fiction is that nothing can happen.
Really, immersing myself in fiction to fulfill my desire for adventure was like trying to satisfy my desire for meat by eating tofu (no offense, vegetarians). The real adventure was right in front of my face, if I would just look up from my book's latest cliffhanger.
I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with fiction, I just think it's important to keep in mind...well, Gandalf (ironically) says it better:
I like to think that when you and I were born that was God's way of saying, "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure."
The kind of adventure in which we can make a difference, in which we're not relegated to the sidelines watching other people make decisions in the world of a book or movie. The kind of adventure in which every action matters, in which every decision leads us closer to Him who loved us into existence, or further away.
Let's see the literary genres beat that.
(I can't resist leaving you with Stephen Curtis Chapman's Home." Take it away, Stephen!)
I thought I'd share with you some of Pope Francis' speech from the prayer vigil on World Youth Day. Thousands of people were there from all over the world, and I think he gave it in Spanish so there were radio broadcasters doing live translations of the speech into various other languages. It was amazing to hear Pope Francis' voice and to know that he was really close to where we were. We were behind the stage so we couldn't see him, but it was still amazing!
Have you heard the Simon and Garfunkel song "I Am a Rock"? Here it is, and I assure you it's related:
This is one of the saddest songs I've ever heard, but also the most relatable. It's so easy to get wrapped up in books, poetry, blogging (!) and forget that there's more meaning to life than enjoyment.
That's why what Pope Francis said about "couch-potato happiness" really resonated with me.
"[…] the Apostles on the day of Pentecost. Picturing them can help us come to appreciate all that God dreams of accomplishing in our lives, in us and with us. That day, the disciples were together behind locked doors, out of fear. They felt threatened, surrounded by an atmosphere of persecution that had cornered them in a little room and left them silent and paralyzed. Fear had taken hold of them.
Then, in that situation, something spectacular, something grandiose, occurred. The Holy
Spirit and tongues as of fire came to rest upon each of them, propelling them towards an undreamt-of adventure.
We have heard three testimonies. Our hearts were touched by their stories, their lives. We have seen how, like the disciples, they experienced similar moments, living through times of great fear, when it seemed like everything was falling apart. The fear and anguish born of knowing that leaving home might mean never again seeing their loved ones, the fear of not feeling appreciated or loved, the fear of having no choices. They shared with us the same experience the disciples had; they felt the kind of fear that only leads to one thing: the feeling of being closed in on oneself, trapped.
Once we feel that way, our fear starts to fester and is inevitably joined by its "twin sister”, paralysis: the feeling of being paralyzed. Thinking that in this world, in our cities and our communities, there is no longer any room to grow, to dream, to create, to gaze at new horizons – in a word to live – is one of the worst things that can happen to us in life. When we are paralyzed, we miss the magic of encountering others, making friends, sharing dreams, walking at the side of others.
But in life there is another, even more dangerous, kind of paralysis. It is not easy to put our finger on it. I like to describe it as the paralysis that comes from confusing happiness with a sofa. In other words, to think that in order to be happy all we need is a good sofa. A sofa that makes us feel comfortable, calm, safe. A sofa like one of those we have
nowadays with a built-in massage unit to put us to sleep. A sofa that promises us hours of comfort so we can escape to the world of videogames and spend all kinds of time in front of a computer screen. A sofa that keeps us safe from any kind of pain and fear. A sofa that allows us to stay home without needing to work at, or worry about, anything.
"Sofa-happiness”! That is probably the most harmful and insidious form of paralysis, since little by little, without even realizing it, we start to nod off, to grow drowsy and dull while others – perhaps more alert than we are, but not necessarily better – decide our future for us.
For many people in fact, it is much easier and better to have drowsy and dull kids who confuse happiness with a sofa. For many people, that is more convenient than having young people who are alert and searching, trying to respond to God’s dream and to all the restlessness present in the human heart. The truth, though, is something else.
Dear young people, we didn’t come into this work to "vegetate”, to take it easy, to make our lives a comfortable sofa to fall asleep on. No, we came for another reason: to leave a mark. It is very sad to pass through life without leaving a mark. But when we opt for ease and convenience, for confusing happiness with consumption, then we end up paying a high price indeed: we lose our freedom.
This is itself a great form of paralysis, whenever we start thinking that happiness is the same as comfort and convenience, that being happy means going through life asleep or on tranquillizers, that the only way to be happy is to live in a haze. Certainly, drugs are bad, but there are plenty of other socially acceptable drugs, that can end up enslaving us just the same. One way or the other, they rob us of our greatest treasure: our freedom.
My friends, Jesus is the Lord of risk, of the eternal "more”. Jesus is not the Lord of
comfort, security and ease. Following Jesus demands a good dose of courage, a readiness to trade in the sofa for a pair of walking shoes and to set out on new and uncharted paths.
To blaze trails that open up new horizons capable of spreading joy, the joy that is born of God’s love and wells up in your hearts with every act of mercy.
To take the path of the "craziness” of our God, who teaches us to encounter him in the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the friend in trouble, the prisoner, the refugee and the migrant, and our neighbours who feel abandoned.
To take the path of our God, who encourages us to be politicians, thinkers, social activists. The God who asks us to devise an economy inspired by solidarity.
In all the settings in which you find yourselves, God’s love invites you bring the Good News, making of your own lives a gift to him and to others.
You might say to me: Father, that is not for everybody, but just for a chosen few.
True, and those chosen are all who are ready to share their lives with others. Just as the Holy Spirit transformed the hearts of the disciples on the day of Pentecost, so he did with our friends who shared their testimonies. I will use your own words, Miguel. You told us that in the "Facenda” on the day they entrusted you with the responsibility for helping make the house run better, you began to understand that God was asking something of you. That is when things began to change.
That is the secret, dear friends, and all of us are called to share in it. God expects something from you. God wants something from you. God hopes in you. God comes to
break down all our fences. He comes to open the doors of our lives, our dreams, our ways of seeing things. God comes to break open everything that keeps you closed in. He is encouraging you to dream. He wants to make you see that, with you, the world can be different. For the fact is, unless you offer the best of yourselves, the world will never be different.
The times we live in do not call for young "couch potatoes” but for young people with shoes, or better, boots laced. It only takes players on the first string, and it has no room for bench-warmers. Today’s world demands that you be a protagonist of history because life is always beautiful when we choose to live it fully, when we choose to leave a mark. History today calls us to defend our dignity and not to let others decide our future. As he did on Pentecost, the Lord wants to work one of the greatest miracles we can experience; he wants to turn your hands, my hands, our hands, into signs of reconciliation, of communion, of creation. He wants your hands to continue building the world of today. And he wants to build that world with you.
You might say to me: Father, but I have my limits, I am a sinner, what can I do? When the Lord calls us, he doesn’t worry about what we are, what we have been, or what we have done or not done. Quite the opposite. When he calls us, he is thinking about everything we have to give, all the love we are capable of spreading. His bets are on the future, on tomorrow. Jesus is pointing you to the future.
So today, my friends, Jesus is inviting you, calling you, to leave your mark on life, to leave a mark on history, your own and that of many others as well. Life nowadays tells us that it is much easier to concentrate on what divides us, what keeps us apart. People try to make us believe that being closed in on ourselves is the best way to keep safe from harm. Today, we adults need you to teach us how to live in diversity, in dialogue, to experience multiculturalism not as a threat but an opportunity.
Have the courage to teach us that it is easier to build bridges than walls! Together we ask that you challenge us to take the path of fraternity. To build bridges... Do you know the first bridge that has to be built? It is a bridge that we can build here and now – by reaching out and taking each other’s hand. Come on, build it now, here, this first of
bridges: take each other’s hand.
[Here, the whole crowd started shaking each others' hands.]
This is a great bridge of brotherhood, and would that the powers of this world might learn to build it... not for pictures on the evening news but for building ever bigger bridges. May this human bridge be the beginning of many, many others; in that way, it will leave a mark.
Today Jesus, who is the way, the truth and the life, is calling you to leave your mark on history. He, who is life, is asking each of you to leave a mark that brings life to your own history and that of many others. He, who is truth, is asking you to abandon the paths of rejection, division and emptiness. Are you up to this? What answer will you give, with your hands and with your feet, to the Lord, who is the way, the truth and the life?"
YEAH! When he finished this I was pumped.
I guess killing orcs isn't exactly building bridges, but you know what I mean, right? :D
What are your thoughts? Hopefully you weren't too distracted by the fact that the pictures somehow became Tolkien themed. xD
