Wedding Feast at Cana

She had never seen such a lovely wedding feast. The food and dancing, the music and joy! Turning towards a jolt of excitement, Mary saw Jesus laughing at a table with his companions. Her hand embracing the clay of the water jars along the stone wall, she gazed at her son with such love. He had always had a way of captivating those who listened to his endearing stories.

The memory of Simeon's words to her in the temple when Jesus was not one year old were kept captive in her heart, but she pondered them every day. He had held her precious son, her very life, in his hands and looked into her eyes. Quietly he said,
"This child will be the cause of rise and fall of many in Israel."
When Jesus was placed safely back into her arms, she felt the warmth of the living God against her breast.
"And you, dear mother, will have your heart pierced with pain," he finished.

Mary had contemplated these words for the last thirty years. She knew that her son was sent by God, that there was a terrifying salvation about to unfold, but to her he was simply Jesus. He was her little boy who played in the sand and sang songs with her as they walked through the gardens. She remembered teaching him how to pray, and wondering how it was that she would teach God himself how to pray and worship in faith. Yet she did.

Watching him grow into a young man, she prayed every day that God would give her the strength to let him go when it was time. Many of his friends began to marry, yet she didn't push Jesus. Oh God, she thought, what a father he would be! Grandchildren would delight her, and badly she wanted them, but she quietly continued to serve him as his mother and closest companion.

A few months earlier, her son told her that he needed to leave home to teach. She did not understand, but she blessed him and watched him walk alone into the desert as a tear rolled down her cheek. Since that lonely day, she had heard stories from travelers and relatives that many crowds began to accompany him when he spoke. They told her with astonishment of the voice that hundreds from heaven when he was baptized in the Jordan, saying, "This is my beloved son, of whom I am well pleased."

Of course, she laughed to herself. If they only knew.

Harsh whispers in the stone hallway brought her back to reality. The groom looked around with panic, "Out of wine? How can that be?" He knew as well as she that this would bring shame to his bride and her family. He looked so lost as his eyes met Mary's, quick to turn away and frantically gather his servants.

She spotted Jesus in the sunlight, smiling in conversation with a friend. Walking up to him, she gave her son, her beloved son, a hug and cupped his cheek. "Are you enjoying yourself, Mama?" He asked. She nodded with confusion in her heart looking into the warm eyes of her little boy, then to his gentle smile, then his beard. His beard, yes. She felt so torn, but she must remember that he was a grown man. She so wanted to protect him, she even wished they could go back to their poverty in the cave on the night of his birth. Anything to simply hold him close for hours upon end. But that was then, this is now. It was time to share him with the world.

"They are out of wine," she said with a tilt of her head and a pained smile in her eyes. Jesus understood. He looked into the stone hallway and saw the worry of the family. "Mama, It's just....not now. It's so soon.."

Knowing fully that this would mean the beginning of the end, she shakily grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. "They are out of wine, Jesus," and she kissed his cheek and walked into the house.

"Do whatever Jesus tells you, we realize you are in a bit of a struggle," she told the servants. They nodded in confusion. Her work was done, and she knew that what was to come would change the life of her and her precious son forever. Let it be done unto me, she whispered, looking up towards the sky.

Mary, our mother, watches over all of her children at the table of the living feast. That's us! We who dine at the table of Jesus are watched over by the mother that was given to us by our Lord. She notices when our cups are not overflowing, and she goes to Jesus. What happens next? John 2:9 


In perfect faith Mary intercedes for us to her son constantly, then backs away humbly into the shadows as her son changes our water into the finest wine. We would be wise to always take her gentle instruction, and do whatever he tells us, giving him the water of our entire life and knowing with certainty that he will transform it into a spring of never-ending wine in his glorious feast. 

Dear Cecile Richards...

Dear Cecile Richards,

Hello Miss Richards. I'm very interested in your "healthcare institution" and I would love to talk about some things with you. Maybe a coffee date, we could make balloon animals out of condoms if we get bored? Anyway, as President of Planned Parenthood I'm sure that you have all sorts of fun things to talk about! The poverty line, quality healthcare for women via suction machine and forceps, etc....

But first of all, I have to inquire. Abortions make up 3% of your services? That's funny, the numbers don't quite add up to those of us who, well, value truth. In 2010 your clinics saw 3 million "patients". You performed 329,445 abortions that same year. Hmm....

So 11% of the clients you saw receive an abortion. That's not 3%. But you did say services didn't you? I guess I forgot to mention that one service=one packet of birth control, one pregnancy test, one box of condoms, etc. So that is where you are getting this number, I would assume?

I see how it is. You lure in the 14 year old girl with the enticing idea of free birth control, give her a box of the world's most failing condoms, the birth control pill, and what the heck...might as well test her for diseases while she's here. Oh hey, here's a box of condoms for your boyfriend, here's one for your sister! Gosh, look at all the good services we are providing! That's 5 "services". If you provided about 11 million services in 2010 and you saw 3 million patients, your average client receives 3.6 services in a year, so that's a bit of an extreme, but not too far off. Statistically, she will be back for an abortion ($$$) if you load her up with contraception, because according to the Guttmacher institute, when contraception use increases anywhere from 49-80%, the abortion rate more than DOUBLES. Funny how that works. Turns out if you give somebody a pair of waders they will go play in the mud, if you know what I mean ;] 

So Cecile, I have to ask...what's there to hide? Your predecessor, Pamela Maraldo condemned abstinence based sex-ed programs and instead publicly agreed with the stance of our then U.S. Surgeon General, Jocelyn Elders, who is quoted saying;

"We've taught our children in driver's education what to do in the front seat, and now we've got to teach them what to do in the back seat."

Or how about your founder, Margaret Sanger? You of all people must know that that tiny magical little pill you practically throw to children in parades was created to eliminate the "inferior race" of black people. You can't support that? Of course not! 

Then I must ask, why is it that 37% of the abortions you perform are on black women, who only compromise 13% of the population in this country? Maybe it's because in Texas, for example, 72% of your facilities are in neighborhoods that are disproportionately black or Hispanic? Or that in 42 of the 50 states the large majority of your clinics are located in zip codes in which the black and Hispanic population is 250-1000% above the national average? Yeah, you guys have come a long way since Margaret Sanger's days...

Miss Richards, please do reply! I would love to get coffee with you and discuss the suction and curettage of the blobs of tissue occupying the wombs of our nations minorities, and your stance on it! Heh heh. 

I hope you can sleep at night,

Bridget Ann Buettner, sane human being A.K.A. pro-life activist

The 4th Cup A.K.A. The Most Important Thing You Will Ever Read About.

"The Body of Christ."

"...Amen." 

"Twenty Bucks"

"AMEN"

"A Brand New Car"

"AMMEEEN!!!!"

Have you ever had to explain the Eucharist to somebody who doesn't know what it is, or rather, who it is? 

"It's like...ummm...well. It's Jesus. He's hiding in the bread....body blood soul and divinity...Transubstantiation. Ummm..." 

(Wipes sweat from brow and awkwardly chuckles.)

It's ridiculously difficult, especially as we never will fully grasp the beautiful mystery of this gift! The church even declares it a mystery, giving us scriptural reasoning and many helpful teachings, but the truth is that they in all of their detailed theology and reason, will never be enough, just as any definition that man could possibly give in regards to God will never measure up to the very definition of infinite goodness. 

Which leads me to my hopefully relevant point; What if our parish priests announced Jesus in the Eucharist in the same way that Bob Barker announces a shiny new car? What if we responded with similar jaw dropping, awe inspired, joyful, undeserving, screaming and wholehearted YES'S in our AMENS? I think that if we knew truly and deeply what we receive when we hold out our hands or stick out or tongues for that stale little wafer, we would fall to our knees and die, as if struck by an invisible trillion-ton force field of truth.

But! For the sake of a very small and imperfect sliver of understanding of the greatest gift we will ever receive, we need to think like a Jew. After all, Jesus was Jewish, and the Last Supper was, in itself, the Jewish Passover meal that was shared between Jesus and his apostles.

The Passover was a covenant between God and his chosen peeps in order to claim them as his own, his family, his very flesh and blood. It's pretty legit. It also saved them from death, as they were marked with the blood of the lamb that they cooked up, so that was pretty cool too.

The supper itself consisted of 4 parts with 4 cups of wine to "seal the deal" for each one. It went as follows:

• 1st Cup: Pray/Bless/Sanctify
• 2nd Cup: "Story Time" of how God delivered Israel throughout the ages
• 3rd Cup: PIG OUT!!!! Meal time - roasted lamb, unleavened bread, bitter herbs etc. 
• 4th Cup: Great Hillel ("Great Hallelujah") Long Praises. THIS IS THE CLIMAX OF THE WHOLE STINKING THING!!! OTHERWISE KNOWN AS THE CONSUMMATION CUP. 

The 3rd Cup is where Jesus instituted the Eucharist,  and this is were the ever mysterious and unpredictable Jesus continues to amaze and confuse his followers:

While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, "Take it; this is my body." Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, and they all drank from it. "This is the blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many," he said to them. "Truly I tell you, I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the Kingdom of God." 

Mark 14:22-25

Jesus, you make no sense....

In the words of Bob Barker; "But wait! There's more...." You see, Jesus was very clear. They all drank of his blood, the 3rd Cup, then they sung a hymn and left. They skipped the 4th Cup, the very CLIMAX of the feast, the CUP OF CONSUMMATION that marked the finality of the family bond to God, the feast wasn't over. If that seems like nbd to y'all, it would be the same thing as going to mass and the priest went through the whole liturgy and consecration then just skipped communion. If a bride and groom went through their whole beautiful and tearful wedding, then skipped the vows and rings and called it a day. It's a huge deal. 

Fast-forward through the passion of Jesus. Hours of agony in worry, lonely imprisonment, a bloody and torturous scourging, carrying the crushing wood of the cross up a hill, and being nailed to a tree. This is the sacrifice of Calvary. This is what we think of when we think of the great sacrifice of our Lord. But right before Jesus dies, what does he muster the strength to say?

"I Thirst"

So the soldiers "put a sponge full of wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, "It is finished." Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit." John 19:29

"It" is the Passover sacrifice, as well as the Calvary sacrifice. For before his betrayal, in the agony in the garden, Jesus prayed to his father; Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will. Matthew 26:39. The cup he speaks of is the 4th Cup of the Passover sacrifice that he has not drunk yet, the Cup that will finish the Passover Meal. Which means that Jesus' Calvary Sacrifice actually started in the upper room during the Last Supper with his apostles, and the Last Supper didn't actually end until Calvary. Making the two of them one inseparable and unified sacrifice. Do you know what this means?

It means that the mass, and most especially the EUCHARIST, is our 4th Cup. Jesus drank of the 4th cup, but his apostles did not. When we kneel before the altar at mass, before Jesus in the bread and wine, we are kneeling before the Crucified Jesus, the Lamb of God, the PASSOVER LAMB (it's in the bible),  accepting both our 4th Cup of the sacrifice, the consummation cup, the communion and crucifixion of our Lord, inseparably. Mind Blowing? Yes. Do we need to fully grasp it? No. We never will. If we could totally and completely understand this mystery, our minds would be bigger than his sacrifice, his passion subordinate to our intellects. 

So what do we do? We pray for the grace to see Jesus in the Eucharist, not with our eyes, but with faith. We receive him and let him receive us, sharing flesh and blood, consummating our love with our heavenly bridegroom. And we say "AMEN" when he gives himself to us, because he is oh-so-much better than a new car. 

How Not to Offend People

"The world promises you comfort, but you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness."

Pope Benedict XVI

We are in the midst of an "anything goes" culture where morality is taking a downward spiral right along with common sense, as depression, divorce, dissatisfaction, boringness, and overall mediocrity are skyrocketing in all of their glory. See, I know what you're thinking. It sounds like a real hell-hole of a society. Where do you live? America, thank you very much. And this is precisely the point I'm trying to make. We've gotten altogether way too comfortable with, well...comfort. 

When I say comfort I don't just mean that we have enough food in our homes at any given time to feed a pack of wolves, or that we have clothes way too expensive to be lived in, or even that we have cars that are nicer than some people's houses. No. As messed up as that is, I'm not really feeling like going there right now. What I mean by comfort is the sense of comfort that one has upon going to a baseball game in which there is no knowledge of, attachment, or fidelity to either team. There is a carelessness about it. It is easy to spend most of the time in line at the concession stand because we are bored with the actual reason we are there, the game. 

So while we are spending $5 for a baseball brat and a $5 for a  beer, (Excuse the condescending tone. I do not judge, I've totally done it), fans are screaming, cheering, singing, enjoying the game. But what do we care, we have no allegiance to either team. In fact, we can't even remember if the home team is American or National League. 

At the baseball field this boredom and indifference might be okay, but in life it's unacceptable, and it has proven devastating. If we don't know which team we play for, the opponents, their stats, the field we're playing on, or the rules of the game, all hope is lost. If we know all of this like the back of our hand, yet we are too scared to get out there and play ball, we are victims to an awful shame and a horrific "could have been." 

So, my advice to you, if you like brats and beer and comfort, don't speak up. Don't play for a team. Even better; say you play for a team, then chicken out when it's game time. That keeps you looking like you know your stuff, all while never having to run the bases. But for those of you to whom the nosebleed seats and the dugout just aren't good enough, you take up your bat and step onto that field, regardless of how hard the home team "boos." For Jesus' picks up his wooden bat - the cross, and runs the bases for you to this day, playing for the win. And really, who doesn't want to play with Jesus? 

Wanna See My Scars?

For I bear on my body the scars that show I belong to Jesus.

~ Galatians 6:17

Jesus rose from the dead. The father raised him up from the grave, healing his body, putting breath and life and soul into it once again. Oh death, where art though sting? The traces of his death left behind on his body, his wounds, Jesus showed to prove to the doubtful Thomas. If he could raise up the destroyed temple of his body all while going to hell and back (literally) for his people, he couldn't fix a few scars of the flesh? I mean, really, we have ointments for that these days. But like his terrible death, maybe it isn't a question of his power, but of his humility and love. Not only did he allow himself to be utterly tormented physically and spiritually for us -  humiliated for us - but he bore the scars on his body for us, even after his rising. Maybe as an Easter people, a people who have died to ourselves and our ways, rising with Jesus to an abundance of joy and love, we are to embrace our scars as well. For they remind us of the small ways in which we were pierced and bled for our Lord. They prove that our bloodshed has brought us deeper into his passion, they provide for us a witness to his life.

This Easter weekend my beautiful God-daughter, Ericka, was accepted into the Catholic church, sealed with the Holy Spirit in Confirmation, and received Jesus in the Eucharist for the first time after 19 years of a non-denominational Christian background. Over these recent years, letting Jesus use me to draw her to his bride, the Church, to support her and watch him work wonders in her, has taught me more than I have taught, revealed to me more than I have revealed to her. 

Watching her courage as she stood up in front of hundreds on that vigil night, receiving Jesus, I cried. She gave up her old way of life, her old church along with its built-in coffee shop. She walked out on it with its phenomenal preaching and the support of her family, with much to lose and what to gain? Everything worth our love. The body and blood of he who loves her, the marriage supper of the lamb. Watching her stand before the altar of the Lord, knowing her journey, I wonder if she ever feels the scars of her sacrifices. God knows she has given up much for him, and she knows that if she accepts this life he has invited her to, she will continue to bleed for him. Does it scare her like it often scares me looking towards the future? 

When I asked her what it was like receiving the Jesus' precious body and blood in the eucharist for the first time, she didn't have much to say. She felt overwhelming love and the sense that Nothing. Else. Matters. She received the living God who humbled himself into the form of bread and wine to come into her body as food. What else is there to matter - to really truly matter? Her words haunt me with the sting of my own pride, as I bring my pleas to Jesus, often forgetting that dwelling with his true presence will always be enough. 

We have been blessed. Our lives are gifts that bring about his kingdom upon being given back to him that gives freely. What else is there to matter? We can be pierced and slashed, crushed and humiliated by this world and our circumstances, but if we give it all to Jesus we will rise with him, bearing the scars as proof of his victory in us.