#SmallMerciesMiércoles: I'm grateful for... our Catholic liturgies

I've had a busy, non-stop kind of day, which means I'm writing this #SmallMerciesMiércoles post in the evening--as I wait for dinner. I'm not sure what my daughter Michelle is cooking for us tonight, but I can tell you that the smells making their way to my office are pretty spectacular... but I digress!

At our parish tonight we celebrated and prayed together a modified Tenebrae service, also known as "a service of shadows."  To read more about this monastic tradition go here.

I was very moved by this response, which we chanted throughout the readings, psalms, and prayers:

This is the holiest of weeks of the year, with liturgies that are rich in meaning and abounding in beauty, and tonight's service was no exception. It was lovely, reflective, and challenging, a perfect entrance to the Triduum we begin tomorrow. To read more on the Triduum go here.

As I reflect on the richness of our Catholic faith and traditions, what I'm grateful for today becomes quite obvious. 

I'm grateful for... our Catholic liturgies, and how they connect me across time, history, and space with the whole community of believers!

This will be my last blog post until Easter week, so I'll leave you with two thoughts. First, from my dear friend Father Thomas Boyer, a brilliant homilist, now retired:

"The Passion of Christ is not about how Christ suffered, what happened to him, and how awful we might think it was. The Passion of Christ is about his response, not his persecution...  

Watch and learn from the master. Despite his fear and his agony, he is focused on God and on others. He meets women who are weeping for him, and he tells them to weep for themselves. He hangs there with a criminal, and he comforts him with a promise of Paradise. No matter what happens in this Passion, it is never about him. He remains attentive and focused on God and the needs of others…   This is what we can learn from the Passion; not how Christ died, but what he still teaches us through his death about hope, about sacrifice, and about love for others."

And finally, something I wrote last year, published on Good Friday in the New York Times section “Room for Debate.”  The question was,  “What is the purpose of Lent.”  Here's my response:

Ten years after my friend Pat and I walked 350 miles of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage, we laugh about the vigorous women we were then. Pat is battling life-threatening brain cancer, and I’m learning to function with a diminishing chronic autoimmune condition.

It would be too simple to say our physical circumstances are a metaphor for the struggles and challenges of the Camino. In so many ways, the Camino is a metaphor for our whole lives: I can’t anticipate what struggles today will bring, but anything is doable one step at a time. Every uphill has a downhill. Hardship becomes manageable with a friend. Every single thing that I carry weighs me down, so I must choose wisely. 

In our culture, pain, suffering, worries, difficulties and grieving are all things to conquer — and to anesthetize as quickly as possible. Each of us is an addict looking for a quick fix. Drugs. Food. Exercise. Sex. Shopping. Disposable relationships. Whatever it takes to not feel bad, sad, hurt. 

Thus the question for me is not whether there’s a point to giving things up during Lent, but whether I should ever stop fasting from all that numbs, dulls and deadens me to life, all of life, as it is today — the good and the bad. Fasting makes me willing to try. 

For Christians, Good Friday stands alone in holiness and singularity. The day defines who and what we believe — and what makes us different. Christianity scandalously proposes a God who becomes human out of love for humanity. The scandal deepens when this God-made-man willingly accepts suffering and death out of complete trust. 

The Passion of Christ is not ultimately about how Christ suffered; it’s not a documentary on the History Channel. The Passion is about Jesus’ response. 

In the midst of intense pain, in spite of undeserved persecution and profound discrimination, Jesus keeps his eyes on God, commending his heart and entire being to the one he trusted completely and without reservation. Each Lent, I fast to remember.

Go here if you'd like to read all of the other entries.

wood carving by a Costa Rican artisan, on our home's entryway

God of mercy, make these holy days

a time of hope and promise for your people!

arroz con gandules, a recipe to spice your Wednesday!

Like music and the Catholic faith, an important aspect of passing down tradition for Hispanics is food! Months ago my wise Cuban cousin Marina suggested that I feature recipes from our tradition.

So today I begin with one of my favorites, a recipe from my adopted Puerto Rican heritage: Arroz con gandules, rice with pigeon peas. Even the name sounds better in Spanish!

An important note: This sofrito should not to be confused with Italian Soffrito. In Latin American cooking, sofrito is a seasoning mixture used as a base, one you will also find in Spanish and Portuguese cooking.

Sofrito

4 cloves garlic

1 1/2 cebolla, onion

2 green peppers

Bunch cilantro

Recado, fresh cilantro

Oregano

Salt & black pepper

For the rice

In a large pot, heat a bit of coconut oil, one can of tomato sauce, the sofrito mix, and 1/2 cup chopped ham (or cooked pork pieces). Add one envelope of Goya sazón/seasoning (with achiote), and sauté the ingredients until they are well mixed.

Add one 15-ounce can Pigeon Peas/Gandules (drained and rinsed), blending it slowly into the sauce.  Add 2 cups of rice and 4 cups of water. Bring to a boil for two minutes, immediately cover, reduce heat to medium-low, and cook for 35 to 40 minutes.

Note: One recipe tradition calls for coconut water instead of plain water for an additional Caribbean flavor!

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NOW HEAR YE!

Tomorrow, May 2, I will feature a special post, a Q&A with Marge Fenelon about her newest book, "Imitating Mary: Ten Marian Devotions for the Modern Mom."

And I have an extra copy of "Imitating Mary" to give away -- all you have to do is leave a comment on my blog post that day! 

An Advent feast (aka. tradition) you may not know about

Las Posadas

Las Posadas are traditional fiestas in Spanish-speaking communities that take place nine consecutive days beginning on the 16th and ending on the 24th of December. 

In a traditional Posada, a procession of pilgrims follows two children posing as Mary and Joseph as they reenact the holy family’s cold and difficult journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem in search of shelter; in Spanish, the word means "lodging."

They are followed by other children portraying angels, the “Santos Reyes” (Three Kings), and a host of “pastores y pastoras” (shepherds and shepherdesses), all usually decked out in colorful handmade costumes. 

The holy family sings a traditional litany as it is rejected at several homes before finally being welcomed, and everyone joining in a big celebration!