download Jesus

This is pretty fabulous.

How would you like to listen to a dramatization of the entire New Testament, read by a cast of international actors? Well, you guessed it, there’s an app for that.

Just go to Truth & Life: dramatized audio Bible, choose your format or platform (Apple, google play, PC, nook, Kindle Fire)—and download. 

The free app, endorsed by the Vatican, includes a foreword by Pope Benedict XVI as well as an official Church imprimatur. At some point you may even recognize the voice that was once Samwise Gamgee in the Lord of the Rings. Yes, Sean Astin. 

Enhanced by sound effects and original music, the app allows you to follow the text as it is being read, to take notes, and search for words.

As the promo describes: 

“over 70 actors, 20 audio engineers in10 studios over 3 continents contributed to the creation of this unique audioNew Testament. More than 100 media development experts and 10,000production hours were needed to complete this ambitious project.” 

The free app provides the entire New Testament text and the audio of the Gospel of St. Mark. The remaining audio books can be purchased and downloaded through the app, or are available for purchase in a CD format.

I credit my friend Judy’s passion for Scripture with inspiring me to experience the Word in a very personal way. I am specially connected to the Psalms, for example, where I often go looking for--and find--a voice who conveys my barrage of conflicted feelings.

I love when technology seeks to enhance our ability to hear and experience the Word in a new way. 

Here's how the Catholic News Service Blog introduced this new project, 

“Embracing Blessed John Paul II’s call to “employ the communications media (to achieve) the full impact of the Gospel message,” executive producer Mike Stark and his partner, producer Carl Amari, set out to produce a quality audio recording of the Bible… “We’ve got great support from all the people in the Catholic Church,” said Stark, “people are on fire about it.”  

Click here to read their full story.

mercy, not sacrifice

  

cross at Finisterre, España

“Jesus helped many people, but He was honest and straightforward about it. He didn’t persecute people after He helped them. And he asked them what they wanted from Him. Sometimes He asked why, too. He held people responsible for their behavior… I think [codependent] caretaking perverts Biblical messages about giving, loving, and helping.”

~Melody Beattie, "Codependent No More"

“Go and learn the meaning of the words, I desire mercy, not sacrifice" 

Gospel of Matthew 9:13 

I’ve usually heard these words, said by Jesus to the ever unpopular Pharisees, as some kind of criticism to them, an inside diss, if you will.

But today, as soon as I read this Gospel, I also heard my heart asking out loud—what do you really mean by that, Lord, that you desire mercy and not sacrifice?

The response was surprisingly immediate: the difference is in the attitude.

If I stop, pay attention, and I’m honest with myself, I know when my behavior—no matter how honorable it may seem—is based on an attitude of “sacrifice.”

When I act out of “sacrifice,” I’m often masking a myriad of other mindsets compelling my behavior. It’s often based on what author Melody Beattie describes in therapeutic jargon as behaving like a “victim,” usually acting out of a codependent “Drama Triangle.”

But let’s not get lost in that language either. 

The point is simple. My behavior can either reveal an attitude of “sacrifice,” centered on the self—or it can reflect a desire to act out of love, giving the self in freedom and authenticity.

This is the loving mercy God desires.

sounds of my backyard, where I do my pondering

Advent ponderings, week 3: Annunciation!

“In the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary. And coming to her, he said, ‘Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you.’ But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. Then the angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus’.”  ~Luke: 1: 26-31

Suggested Prayer:  

O Wisdom, O Emmanuel, O Sacred Lord. Come, save us from our sins and lead us to salvation. O Christ, we need you. Help us in our weakness. Support us by your power as we wait in hope for your coming, both this Christmas and at the end of time.

Suggested actions: 

• Beginning on December 17 (through December 24), include as part of your table or bedtime prayers the "O Antiphons," which address Christ by one of His scriptural titles and conclude with a distinct petition to the coming Lord (Read more about the O Antiphons here). 

Don't forget to finish by singing “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” which paraphrases the antiphons.

• Why not bake your favorite cookies and deliver a plate to each of your neighbors? Be sure to include a note with a Christmas blessing––and to reach out to neighbors you *don’t* know (or like :-)

Christmas with Hispanic eyes, el nacimiento

Alipio Páez, "Lelo," at his home in Hato Rey, Puerto Rico

Every year of his adult life until his death at the age of 95, my Cuban grandfather Alipio Páez set up a Nativity scene or nacimiento that could easily compete with the elaborate window displays put on by Macy's.

Not satisfied with presenting just the figurines of Mary, Joseph, Jesus, and the cast of usual characters, Alipio would turn the living room of his small house into the whole town of Bethlehem. This was not ''just'' the Bethlehem described in the Gospels, but a Caribbean-style Bethlehem -- with abundant palm trees, rivers, houses on the hills, tall blooming trees, all set up on papier-mâché mountains painted in shades of green and brown. My meticulous grandfather even had plastic pigs and cows to keep the miniature sheep and their shepherds company.

No matter what new addition he came up with, Alipio's Bethlehem always centered on the glorious crèche, the physical place where the deepest and most complicated elements of Christian theology became flesh. My earliest Christmas memories all center on that humble stable, where the mystery and wonder of the word ''Incarnation'' came to life for me. The virgin birth. The Son of God conceived in Mary's womb. A baby in Mary's arms, both true God and true man. Even as a child, I understood the unspoken truth that the colorful Christmas tree was meant to take a back seat to the stunning Bethlehem scene.

el nacimiento, the main event in Alipio's Bethlehem

By bringing his own world of pigs and palm trees to Bethlehem Alipio was not saying that the biblical details of the Christmas story were unimportant to him. It was entirely the opposite. By bringing to life the surroundings of the story beyond the historical pesebre, the humble crèche, my grandfather emphasized the central truth -- the actual point -- of the story! God so loved the world that He came to be one with each of us, right where we are.

Like Alipio's beautiful nacimiento, Christmas traditions for Hispanics are often a gentle incarnation of the sacred within the ordinary. Through traditions that inspire all the senses -- with songs and sights and delicious smells -- Hispanics bring to life and celebrate the familiar birth story of Jesusito, reminding us what's most important about the Christmas season.

TO READ THE REST OF THE ARTICLE, click here

Alipio's full Bethlehem scene

To find or not to find...

Any parent can testify that nothing in the world is more terrifying than the possibility of “losing” your child, and all the potential horrors associated with that thought.

The summer that my youngest daughter Michelle turned twelve, I agreed to let her and her best friend meander on their own through Westminster Abbey in London. After all, I told myself, they were old enough to know how to act in that kind of setting, and I would not be far if they needed me. 

When they were fifteen minutes late meeting me at the exit door where we agreed to meet, I was worried, and a bit annoyed. When they were thirty minutes late, I began asking the guards at that exit if they had seen her, describing the two girls and what they were wearing. When an hour had gone by, my fear had turned to anxious panic.

It’s indescribable, really, that mix of emotions that a parent experiences in that kind of situation. But it’s not difficult for any parent to imagine. 

Mary and Joseph would have been traveling in a large crowd, where children walk with friends and parents mingle as they travel, unconcerned about their child’s safety because of the number of other adults helping to keep an eye on all the kids. 

It’s not difficult to conceive how Mary and Joseph could travel an entire day without becoming concerned about Jesus’ whereabouts. 

At the end of the day, however, when Mary and Joseph touched base with each other and realized that neither of them had seen Jesus all day, I can also imagine the fear and anxiety with which they must have searched their caravan.

Have you seen Jesus? Who was the last person to see him? Where were we when you saw him? How long ago was that?

Besides dread and anxiety, there is immediate massive guilt. How could I lose my own child? What kind of parent would do that? 

Every minute that goes by when your child is missing feels like an hour. 

Mary and Joseph must have felt terrible anguish when they finally came to the conclusion that Jesus was not with their group—and that the only thing they could do was to trace back their steps to Jerusalem. 

The gospel of Luke only tells us that “the child Jesus remained behind unknown to his parents,” and that “thinking he was in the party, [Mary and Joseph] continued their journey for a day, looking for him among their relatives and acquaintances” (Luke 2:43-44).

It took Mary and Joseph three whole days to finally find Jesus.

Surely they started walking back to Jerusalem without delay at the end of their caravan search that first day, walking through the night without wasting time or even resting.

But even when they arrived back in the city, they must have spent hours that next morning asking anyone and everyone in Jerusalem whether they had seen their son. 

What a frantic process! Tracing back your steps to all the places they had been during the Passover feast, pleading with everyone to think and recall: Have you seen a boy about this height, with dark hair, light eyes, broad shoulders. He was wearing… please, try to remember!

Finally, someone must have told them that they had seen a boy with those features at the Temple, and in spite of their exhaustion, Mary and Joseph raced to the sanctuary.

“[T]hey came upon him in the temple sitting in the midst of the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. All who heard him were amazed at his intelligence and his answers” (Luke 2:46-47).

When I finally found my daughter Michelle, it was obvious that she and her friend had both been crying, evidently as frightened as I had been by our separation. In between sobs, I learned that the girls thought we had agreed to meet back at the entrance of the Abbey—while I thought we had agreed to meet at the exit door. It’s an understandable miscommunication.

I seized Michelle in my arms and embraced her tighter than I ever had. Neither of us wanted to let go. I felt thankful and joyous. I was angry. I was tremendously relieved. I felt confused.

In addition to the myriad of emotions that Mary must have felt standing there watching Jesus, finally seeing her son with her own eyes, she, too, must have been confused. 

It is obvious by the way that Luke describes the event in the gospel that Jesus did not “get” it. 

He didn’t run up and hug on his parents. He didn’t seem or act overjoyed at being found. In fact, he didn’t even act concerned, or aware that there had been a problem! Jesus did not act like a child who had been lost at all.

When his parents saw Jesus, Luke tells us, they were “astonished,” a word that also means amazed, dumbfounded, incredulous, overwhelmed, surprised, speechless, shocked. 

[from "the Complete Idiot's Guide to Mary of Nazareth"]

Acknowledging the architect

Dominican priest Bede Jarrett (1881-1934) once likened the commission to do a certain work for God to that of an architect and his design. 

“God is the architect. He has made our souls a certain size and shape, to fit certain holes, so to speak. It is not for us to say that we are incapable, or unfitted for the work given to us. That is not only to criticize ourselves, which wouldn’t matter at all, but it is to criticize God… He has placed us in a certain position, and if he wants us to do a certain work, we shall do it. If he doesn’t, we shan’t… The will of God is made known to us through the interplay of our own interior impulses and desires, and our exterior circumstances.”

Nothing is ever quite what we anticipated in this call to be a disciple of Jesus, to follow Him as we are.  Perhaps the circumstances in my life are simply not “the work” that I would like to be doing!

But just for today, I can focus on one area, one situation in my life—and pray for the willingness to accept my exterior circumstances within the new “me” being created by God, the ever loving architect of my life.

What one thing do you want to surrender to God the architect today?

Fred Flinstone, Solomon, and the Syrophoenician woman

Remember Fred Flinstone? When faced with making an important choice, one that he clearly didn't want to do, Fred had a little devil figure that appeared above his shoulder giving him all the "right" answers, the answers he wanted to hear!

Even when my experience of God tells me differently and I clearly should know better, my little floating devilish figurine tempts me to follow strange gods, blurring my eyes and tormenting me with whispers of false comfort. I know I'm in good company, as even Solomon the wise king turned his heart away from the Lord in his old age.

By contrast, however, I can turn to Gospel examples of believers who turned to Jesus in time of crisis, not out of desperation, but out of complete and genuine trust, like the woman with a hemorrhage in Luke's Gospel (8:48) who sought simply to touch Jesus' garment trusting--KNOWING--that even that was enough for her needs. Or the Syrophoenician woman in Mark's gospel (7:25-30) who humbly begged for healing for her daughter, by falling down at Jesus' feet. I've mentioned her before here.

When faced with a choice, what is truly my heart's desire?

--------------------------------------------

Here's a video of one of the songs from "The Painter," a 1992 album by John Michael Talbot and his brother Terry: "Create in me a clean heart"

create in me
a clean heart o God
let me be like you in all my ways

give me your strength
teach me your song
shelter me in the shadow of your wings

for we are your righteousness
if we've died to ourselves
and live through your death

then we shall be born
again to be blessed in your love

Hope begins in the dark

“The Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert, 

and he remained in the desert for forty days, 

tempted by Satan.” [Mark 1: 12]

Qumran, Israel, 2012

I was a 19-year-old college student at the University of Texas the first time I really “got” the reality that Jesus was fully human, like me—that He experienced the full range of emotions, desires, even temptations that I do.  I was blown away by the Truth of that statement!

God so loved the world, so loved ME, that He sent His Son to become one of us in all ways but sin.  As author and poet Kathleen Norris points out, the incarnation is, indeed, a scandalous affair! There’s so much to ponder about this generous and extravagant Love.

Today I find myself finding hope in this awareness, in this Jesus Christ. When I am tempted to give in to negativity, I am encouraged to know that Jesus knows how it feels. When I am tempted to stop believing in the purpose of my life, I remember Jesus gets it. On the days when I’m tempted to stay in bed and give up altogether, I turn to Jesus with my ache and my sorrow. When I start listening to the voices of despair and I am tempted to doubt myself, I find hope in remembering that my Lord has experienced this darkness, too.

Whatever I am feeling, even the darkness of temptation, I can humbly bring to Jesus with confidence that he truly understands. Not in some heady, theological way, but with His full experience of humanity. And I can follow Jesus’ example at a time of temptation, turning to God, His Father and MY Father, and trusting Him without reservation for all of my needs.

When a picture speaks louder than words

With no special goal or direction in mind, I wondered around the west wing of the Main Floor Gallery at the National Gallery of Art, came around a corner, and stopped in front of an oil painting I had never seen before:

2 And when he returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at home. ² And many were gathered together, so that there was no more room, not even at the door. And he was preaching the word to them.³ And they came, bringing to him a paralytic carried by four men. ⁴ And when they could not get near him because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him, and when they had made an opening, they let down the bed on which the paralytic lay. 

⁵ And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Son,your sins are forgiven.” ⁶ Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, ⁷ “Why does this man speak like that? He is blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” ⁸ And immediately Jesus,perceiving in his spirit that they thus questioned within themselves, said to them,“Why do you question these things in your hearts? ⁹ Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, take up your bed and walk’? 

¹⁰ But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he said to the paralytic— ¹¹ “I say to you, rise, pick up your bed, and go home.” 

¹² And he rose and immediately picked up his bed and went out before them all, so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, “We never saw anything like this!” [Gospel of Mark 2:1-12]