I meant to post on Monday that it was Ordinary Time again. I always feel like celebrating that on this blog. For obvious reasons.
I also need to post about the premier Nashville spring event, aka the Iroquois Steeplechase; a fun new(ish) restaurant; my summer Prohibition project; the new convention center; and a variety of other things swimming around in my head.
But since it’s easier to post random YouTube videos of Ramin singing O Canada, I did that on Monday instead.
We’ve all witnessed some pretty bad renditions of the National Anthem. The people lucky enough to be at the Yankees game last week (or the Orioles game a few days later) actually heard both the Canadian anthem and our National anthem sung well.
Because they were sung by none other than Ramin Karimloo. You know, the guy with the amazing voice that I can’t stop posting about?
Well, here you go. (Try to ignore that lady at the beginning who seems to just be realizing the Yankees are playing the Blue Jays).
Oh, and you know how I mentioned a few weeks ago that I was checking Ramin’s tour dates to make sure he wasn’t sneaking a Nashville date in there without me knowing? He had a gap of time and I was just sure that he was going to be in my backyard. (well, not literally)
Sure enough, one night he tweeted that he was in Nashville. That’s the downside of living in this beautiful city… artists occasionally pop in to meet with producers, record, or just simply enjoy music themselves. So they’re in your city… but you can’t exactly just wander around the city looking for them, can you? That’s a bit creepy. And I have a job, anyway.
It appears from his Twitter feed that he hung out in one of the parks a few miles away from where I work and played some music one afternoon. And I just had to read about it. Oh well.
Tonight I enjoyed a free concert that included The Time Jumpers, Mikky Ekko, and Sheryl Crow. So I can’t complain too much.
Although I’d rather hear Ramin sing the alphabet than an hour long concert of pretty much anyone else.
This post in the same genre as yesterday’s. I leave you to name that genre.
This weekend Megan commented on my random wall and said she liked it. At least I think she said she liked it. I was happy, because I’m still not sure about it — I’m almost too pleased with it, because it really is a rather random conglomeration of things put up on my wall because they kind of look nice together.
I started with Joan of Arc:
She definitely can stand alone. She’s beautiful, she makes a statement, she can dominate a wall. I would hang her above my fireplace alone. But on this wall she looked a little lonely.
But what could possibly look good next to her?
I have a beautiful little gold bas-relief of St Joan that my pastor gave me when he went over to Germany. It’s one of my favorite pieces, and I knew it would go well with the large picture. I then began assembling other little things that seemed to match, and I eventually came up with my random wall:
When Megan said she liked it, I commented on the random nature of things.
Like the random picture of John XXIII. I don’t have a particular devotion to Bl John XXIII, but I had his picture and it fit up there. It’s a picture from my great aunts’ house.
“There has to be a story about it. Right?” I commented to Meg. I don’t know who is in the picture with John XXIII. ”But maybe my aunts knew him. I like to think that. Maybe it was a friend of theirs.”
“I mean, who would have a framed picture of the Pope with some random guy that they don’t actually know?” I pointed out to Megan.
She was silent for a short while.
And then she pointed out that I did.
Oh. Right.
So maybe that bishop with John XXIII was the Georg Ganswein of one of my great aunts.
Hm.
A funny exchange from this weekend while looking through a college yearbook…
Joannie: “I wish this yearbook was interactive, and I could push people’s pictures and it would tell me where they are right now.”
Megan: “Yeah. It’s called Facebook.”
Pet peeve. Ascension Sunday. Second and related pet peeve: Priests who try to rationalize it away and make us feel better about it.
Twice in a week I’ve heard a priest say (with a smile) that the feast was moved because we’re too busy as a country to go to Mass on a Thursday, and it’s just too important of a feast to miss.
Um, so let’s move Christmas to a Sunday. Because that’s pretty important, too.
I don’t mean any disrespect to a priest or bishop who thinks moving the Ascension to a Sunday is a good thing. Yes, it is a very important feast day, and it’s the least-appreciated part of the Paschal Mystery. We talk a lot about Jesus’ death and resurrection and then Pentecost, and somehow miss the Ascension.
But don’t try to rationalize moving a feast day. People didn’t go to Mass on a Holy Day of Obligation. That’s a problem that needs fixing. So one solution was to move the Feast.
Another solution would be to preach the necessity of going to Mass on Holy Days.
Those dioceses who moved the feast didn’t do anything wrong — but let’s be honest. It was because of our hardness of heart. Let’s not pat ourselves on the back for it.
I am in the fourth week of teaching a class at Aquinas, so I don’t have much time to post. Okay, so I’m in the first week. But with a Maymester class, every day equals a week of class in a normal semester. At the end of the second class, one of the students stood up, stretched, and said, “Second week down!” So tomorrow is our fourth class.
But I at least have time to post pictures. You wouldn’t want to read an entire post about any of these things, anyway. So here we go…
A few weeks ago, I made a killer lasagna for dinner when a priest friend came to visit. He blessed my new condo and I made him dinner. Win, win. The recipe came from a composer-chef friend of mine. He and his wife had me over for dinner a few months ago, and I fell in love with this Sicilian lasagna and had to have the recipe. Lasagna with meatballs inside of it? Score. And the ricotta cheese wasn’t overpowering. (Trena, remember shuddering while eating the shells at Christendom?) It was deeelish. While it was pretty labor intensive, it was a good way to spend a Sunday afternoon and the work produced awesome results.
I forgot to take a picture of the actual finished product. So all I have are pictures of the prep.
Mmm, meatballs.
I was in the mood to make ice cream, so I did that, too. I was originally going to make ice cream inspired by “Spouse Like a House” at Handel’s (how I miss you) — namely, ice cream with peanut butter-filled, chocolate-covered pretzels — but I didn’t dip my pretzels in chocolate, and the ones I bought didn’t have enough peanut butter in them. So I ended up throwing in peanut butter cups, too.
It was good, but only because you can’t really go wrong with peanut butter and chocolate in ice cream. I’d buy different peanut butter pretzels next time. And dip them in chocolate. Father ate it without complaint.
…
My “house” at school (sort of like a sorority, but not) had a bake sale to raise money for veterans who have had trouble getting back on their feet after coming home. Since Joan of Arc is the patroness of our house, we thought helping veterans was fitting. My friend Paul did the posters, and they just crack me up:
One of the history professors emailed me and noted, “Joan of Arc must really hate the English.”
…
Part of my job regularly takes me to Knoxville, TN, where Cardinal Rigali is living in retirement. Many of his things from the conclave are on display in the chancery, including the prayerbook and Rite book for the conclave, the little briefcase he was given (it had the little sede vacante umbrella embossed on it with “2013″ – it’s no wonder it took awhile to get this conclave going, they had to make all these things!), his little red lap desk with his name card that was waiting for him at his place in the Sistine Chapel, a sample ballot, and the pen he used to vote. I couldn’t get over the humorous fact that the pen is a simple blue Pilot pen. After seeing all the special books and the embossed small briefcase, I expected some cool pen. Or maybe a quill. Nope, just a blue Pilot.
There were also pictures of him taking the oath and processing — right behind Cardinal Bergoglio. Very cool.
…
A few weekends ago I re-vistited a wine bar my cousin Michael had introduced me to last year. It’s in an old house, and in addition to a regular bar area, the different parlors in the house have machines with various kinds of wine. When you arrive you get a card (similar to a hotel key) that you put in the machines prior to making a wine selection. Then you choose whether you want a taste, a half glass, or a whole glass. It’s pretty fun- and can get very expensive if you aren’t careful! I went down with some friends for happy hour and wondered why I don’t go down more often. But perhaps it’s a good thing it’s not closer.
…
May 1st is the Feast of St Joseph the Worker. I happen to work in a building trailer structure named after St. Joseph, and so we decided to celebrate his feast day. Yes, we celebrated on March 19, too. But if the Church celebrates him twice, we can too. In true southern fashion we had barbecue and slaw and chips and invited everyone to come hang out in our building trailer structure for awhile.
Providentially, on that same day, we received the sign for our building place of work that we requested several months ago. We have formed a nice little community in our portable building (which just means that we’ll probably be split up before too long. Isn’t that the way it works?) and I we decided we deserved a sign on the outside of our building so people would know who we were. A minor request, really.
Especially since this is the sign on the outside now, just to the right of the front door:
What does that mean, you might ask? Well I did too- eventually. It’s apparently leftover from when the, er, structure was on the property of an explosives testing site in Bucksnort, TN.
You can’t make this stuff up.
So this sign has been on our building for 10+ years. So leave it to me to be difficult and ask if we can have a sign that indicates we’re the St. Joseph…
But what? What are we? Since the philosophy faculty is at home in our structure, they said we can’t be the St. Joseph Building, because by their nature, buildings don’t have wheels.
We couldn’t very well put “St Joseph Structure” on our sign, could we?
So we decided on “St. Joseph’s.” That’s what everyone says on campus, anyway. ”Where is Dr So-and-So’s office?” ”In St Joseph’s.”
But apparently that message didn’t get to the actual order-er of the plaque. So now we’re St. Joseph Hall.
We’ll take it! Although as our sarcastic selves, we put the sign in the hallway for the first day. ”Where are you putting the sign?” ”In the hall.”
Our shrine to our sign.
…
You know what is dangerous?
Homemade Nutella ice cream with Trader Joe’s Ultimate Vanilla Wafers. I was in charge of bringing dessert to book club last week, and instead of making some elaborate something or other, I made Nutella ice cream and bought those awfully-addicting vanilla wafers from TJ’s.
Too good. You know what else is dangerous? Trader Joe’s Oatmeal Cranberry Dunkers. My sister Jill introduced me to them, and they’re deadly. I bought them without thinking, and quickly took them to work before I ate them all in one sitting. Everyone loved them. And hated me.
Buy at your own risk.
My week (or two, or three) in pictures. Food, alcohol, and Catholic stuff. Sounds about right.
Last night I went to a vigil Mass after a long day of working. Our office had hosted my friend Matt Leonard from the St Paul Center for Biblical Theology to do a Bible study Presenter Training for their awesome parish-based Bible study program, Journey Through Scripture. I had the honor of presenting with Matt, too, which was a great experience. It was fun to be quasi-working for the St Paul Center again, while also working for Aquinas College at the same time.
It was a full day — I was expecting 60 people to register for the training, and we had an even 100. A pretty fantastic problem to have. I think it was a great day for everyone – evaluations will tell the whole story – but it was a full day. By the end of it, I was feeling the effects of essentially trying to be two people – a host for the event and a presenter for the event. I could never have done it without the incredible help of my friends Laura, Alan, Rafael, Ana, and my boss, Sr Mary Rose.
Did I mention that I had also chosen that day to not drink coffee? Partly because Matt is an expert at protecting vocal chords and had warned me to stay away from caffeine, and I know these days my vocal chords are my best asset. (Oh, and stay away from alcohol, too. I told him he was basically telling me, “And no more happiness!”) It was also partly because I never had time to stop and drink a cup in the morning. So at the end of the day, I had a pounding headache that was quickly moving into my eyes. Lovely.
Due to a mixup about Matt’s plane being delayed, we bolted out of the training at the end of the day to make a vigil Mass at the Cathedral. So we slid into one of the back pews as the opening song was being sung and watched our time the whole way through Mass.
It was then I realized I can never judge someone else’s participation at Mass. The “active participation” that the Council called for did include a more vocal participation in the liturgy, but at its root it was about understanding the rites and entering into them more deeply — not just by saying prayers out loud, but by entering into the mystery by prayer, offering sacrifice with the priest with a full and conscious mind and heart.
So there Matt and I were in the back of the church at a Saturday vigil Mass. We slid in as the opening song was being sung and we slipped out as the closing song started. Matt had no voice left, I had a raging headache, and so our singing and vocal participation was at a minimum. We probably kept looking at our watches to make sure we weren’t going to miss his plane. It probably seemed to everyone around us that we were punching our time cards and that our minds were a million miles away.
And yet we were actively participating. We were both engaged in the rites. I was offering my headache up, trying to imagine what Mary would have done if she had a raging headache when she was cooking Jesus’ dinner, or trying to meditate on the crowning of thorns. While I can’t speak for Matt, I’d imagine he was participating in a similar way. I specifically prayed that our time crunch and the long day didn’t impact the way I was entering into the liturgy.
So appearances can be deceiving. Was it the most mystical liturgy I’ve ever entered into? No. I’m not going to say that Matt and I were about to levitate or anything, and you can hold our canonization processes for the time being. But it was a good reminder to me that you can’t judge a book by its cover. Two schmucks in the back row, probably looking like they were run over by a bus. But we were trying.
Bishop Joe McFadden of Harrisburg died unexpectedly this morning. While I didn’t know Bishop McFadden well, I worked with him on a committee and just spent several days with him at meetings in March. He made a powerful impression on me as a strong shepherd who had a keen understanding of both the Church and his people. Since meeting him and hearing him speak about his diocese and his work before becoming bishop, I’ve been thinking a lot about his words for the last few months. I sensed he was a bishop who had the right vision for the future. In fact, I quoted him on Tuesday night at my Bible study, yesterday to a friend, and last night to my Mom.
His death comes as quite a shock, since he was young and active. He was a late vocation — a high school basketball coach before answering the call to the priesthood– and spent many years after ordination as the secretary to Cardinal Krol of Philadelphia.
At our meeting in March, a group of us were eating dinner and talking about the upcoming conclave. Someone asked him casually if he had ever celebrated Mass at St. Peter’s Basilica. We didn’t know that he had been Cardinal Krol’s secretary, and so we were all unprepared for the stories he told us for the next hour. Yes, not only had he celebrated Mass in St. Peter’s, he had eaten lunch with John Paul II — including one Sunday afternoon in the Papal Apartments when John Paul II served as translator between Father McFadden and the Polish bishops present. As Bishop McFadden told us story after story in his soft-spoken voice, I glanced around our dinner table — we were transfixed, leaning over our plates, straining to catch every word of this humble shepherd, who was simply recounting his experience of another humble shepherd.
John Paul II eventually made Msgr McFadden a bishop, and when he visited John Paul at Castel Gandolfo for his ad limina visit, shortly before John Paul II died, the Pope greeted the young bishop: ”It is very good, Bishop McFadden.”
Perhaps John Paul II will greet him with the same words in heaven someday.
Pray for Bishop McFadden’s family, his diocese, and the repose of his soul.
Eternal rest grant to him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.
May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
I promised myself I would get more done tonight. So after this, I’m out and off to plan some lessons.
But I had to post this first. See why I keep checking Ramin Karimloo‘s tour dates?!
(I had to put my earphones on because the audio is kind of soft.)
It’s different, but I’m pretty sure I love it.
Things I should be doing
1. Laundry
2. Mopping my concrete floors
3. Working on the class I start teaching in 12 days
4. Looking over the Bible study training I’m helping present in 10 days
5. Grading papers
6. Exercising
7. Writing the meaningful blog post that’s in my head
8. Reading the book that was chosen for book club that meets in 8 days
9. Sleeping
Things I’m doing
1. Driving all the way over to World Market to take advantage of their Nutella sale (no joke. Nutella was 40% off there today) only to find out that they are sold out of Nutella.
2. Reading tweets
3. Checking Ramin Karimloo’s tour dates every other day to make sure he hasn’t snuck Nashville in there when I wasn’t looking
4. Eating ice cream
5. Listening to my lovely neighbor play the piano (this happens every other night and I love it.)
6. Watching this video on YouTube and laughing hysterically. Why am I just now seeing this?
(You’re welcome.)
