Body and Blood

I think it was LaCugna who wrote that Mary was the only human being who could say "This is my body, This is my blood" with complete certainty when speaking of her Son, Jesus Christ.  I recall reading that passage with a bit of shock and then a new and better understanding of how we form our theological understandings in light of who we are as men and women. 
At their births, I held my children, knowing that, from my body, new life arrived on this earth that was uniquely and intimately connected to me. My blood was flowing through their veins and was being pumped in their hearts. As a mother, I held them from their very beginning, a single unique cell, fashioning its DNA to become a viable living being.
This is my Body.
This is my Blood. 
And even if a thousand generations pass...I am still there, I am still a part of that human being, some little strand inside them will find its roots in me...and will find the roots of the mother who came a thousand generations before me...
The womb carries the body and blood of the next life, the new life. Perhaps the chalice is indeed a kind of womb, which must be poured out that life may continue to be renewed. 

Baby mine don't you cry

Baby mine dry your eyes

Rest your head close to my heart

Never to part, baby of mine

Little one when you play

Pay no heed what they say

Let your eyes sparkle and shine

......baby of mine

If they knew all about you

they'd end up loving you too

all those same people who scold you

what they'd give just for the right to hold you

from your head down to your toes

you're not much goodnes knows

but you're so precious to me

sweet as can be, baby of mine 

 

 

I think I missed a line. When I think about Mary, holding her little boy...I think, if she knew this song, she would sing it to him.  I know, if I had the chance to hold him, I would sing him this song. 

 

Yesterday, my son and daughter went out into the desert, and then up a mountain, and distributed their father's ashes...I found myself long in thought all day about it, about them, and about him. I was not there, I was not invited...but I could not have been there. My grief is still too much for them to handle, or to understand. My children may want to say, get over it, he did not want you anymore. He made another choice, get on with your life already. They just wouldn't understand. But I prayed all day long, knowing that we all do things and make choices to live in this world, and we all do the best we can...and we make a lot of mistakes along the way. And to survive...not just exist...we forgive: ourselves, others, God...

 

Some people have challenged me on the point I make about forgiving God.  They don't understand my way of thinking theologically...by forgiving God, I am not casting some attack on His omnipotence, but that, within the human connection, reconciliation must occur in human terms. Like it or not, trauma and suffering passes through out heads as a connection to God...we ask, what did we do to deserve this? or why does God hate me? or however you might form your lament...to heal, you have to claim your suffering, however ugly or illogical it may seem.  And then, forgive it...and spead it out on the winds...a burden not only your own anymore, but one that, carried by the world, becomes lighter...Forgive the God who does not need your forgiveness, because you need to forgive God...and God knows you need that to grow closer to Him.

 

I have great images from this last week running through my head. I've been asked to be spiritual director for two retreats for this fall. They overlap a bit, and I am wondering if this is what God wants me to do. I know I am good at this work, I know that I have wanted things to come to this point. This work makes me happier than any chaplain work, although chaplain work is deeply satisfying.  The "real world" point of view is that I can be paid to be a chaplain, while I do not want to be paid to do spiritual direction.  There is a job here, a job in Waco, a job in Corpus.  So it gets complicated. But then, I am finding that there are jobs that may fit into what I believe I am called to do. Add to this equation a great desire to be closer to my grandchildren, who are less than a day's drive away.  Should I move closer and start all over again? 

 

Discernment. It's not really about doing what makes us happy, but it is not unreasonable to factor some of our "happy" needs into the equation.  If we are right ordered, that will all fall into place without much angst. I am aware that these concerns are fairly insignificant to what God might require of me, yet I must expend energy with them, because I love my family here and my family there.  Without question, the work of a Christian is in all corners of the earth. The idea of "where might I be most effective" is almost ludicrous.  "Bloom where you are planted" is s stupid, cheesy ideal, but it is nonetheless truth.  Solzhenitzyn wrote in "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denosvich" that even in horrific conditions, value is found, even if it is only personal value. I think it was Frankl who wrote that people die when they give up...or it could have been Primo Levi...all those books run together in my head, I read them so long ago.  The point is, we make our lives count by making choices: to do good or to do evil. Easy as that.

 

How does this fit into Corpus Christi, or "This is my Body, This is my Blood"?  I think that, in order to live out this life, we must hold closely to that to which was are connected.  The life force...the soul of who we are...the "most real" body and blood, which is that which connects us to eternity...and to God. The human body will wear out...and its blood will eventually cease to help up live, but beyond this body, we will live. I have no doubt. There is a place to go from here, when we are done learning what we needed to know in this reality.  I should say there are places where we might go...although 'place' seems sufficient, because geometry will not matter then...or there...if 'there' is a safe enough word to use.

 

Here, in the Eucharist, however you choose to embrace it (or Him), is kind of a divine acknowledgement that life is more than here and now. And that thought it comforting in good times and in bad. The Incarnation of the Divine, and to the degree that we are able to grasp it, allows us to lives good lives no matter what our circumstances might be. This Body and Blood transcends gender, race, geography, social status, wealth or poverty. It provides exactly what one needs to every single human being that popped out of a womb.  It is father and mother, brother and sister, friend, mentor, protector, teacher....faith, hope and love.

 

And if you are able to make the connection, it is both human and divine.  And if you are able to accept it, God came to this world through the womb of a woman, who was more than just a means to an end, but a living, breathing, thinking creature...who made a choice to say yes to something outrageous, and extraordinary.  An ordinary woman, who from the moment she said, "Let it be done to me..." became extraordinary.

 

And the truth of it is, when you say yes to God...you are given the chance to be extraordinary too. 

 

Love, Cindy