Mini Monk

A little video inspired by a plastic 2½ inch monk (probably St. Francis of Assisi because he is so thin) found at a thrift store, placed in my terrarium and photographed. The beautiful voice is little Jackie Evancho from whom I "borrowed" only half of the Our Father.

Pentecost, Pageantry and Poop

The Catholic Church I attend is named after St. Rose of Lima who often wore a crown of thorns to emulate the suffering of Christ. From the high ceiling directly above the altar hangs a huge metal crown of thorns; I guess its diameter is about 15 feet.

I always love the tasteful, seasonal decorations and today, Pentecost Sunday, was no exception: flowers strewn about and ribbons streaming from the giant crucifix, bringing to mind light and the joy of the day. Father O walked the center aisle and sprinkled us with Holy Water commemorating our Baptisms and Confirmations while we sang.

During the first reading I was thinking of how I want to change my Confirmation name (no one should be allowed to make such a decision at age 12). I stupidly went for drama and chose a name that means nothing to me and is completely unlike me: Jeanne d'Arc (I am embarrassed to say). She may well have been a great warrior, a great Christian and a Saint– but I just do not relate to her.

Suddenly ... what was that!? Towards the back and to the right of the metal crown of thorns ... movement ... a little flash of white ... Oh My Goodness!! It's a dove! So symbolic! Did it get there by itself or was it a part of the decorating? I don't remember it from last year. Who would have gotten up that high to place it there? And how can it be so well behaved? Does anyone else see it? Perhaps it's a miracle!  If it was a miracle, it wasn't solely my miracle because I eventually noticed that a few others saw it as well. It remained in exactly the same spot throughout Mass. Father O went on to say many things about the meaning of the day: the coming together of many countries, oneness, faith and, of course, love– but nothing about the "miraculous" dove.

At the end of Mass, when Father O processed down the aisle, he greeted me and I said something like, "duh ... dove ..." He flashed a big smile and simply said in his brogue, "Oh, you should see the mess on the floor under it." That's all. So I get to interpret it however I like.

I think I've mentioned in other posts to not being a big "rules" person. I don't know what the rule is on changing one's Confirmation name, but I am changing mine to Louise. It is a family name and the actual St. Louise was charitable (worked alongside St. Vincent de Paul of whom I am a big fan), really came into her faith later in life, and, from the depictions I've seen, was probably not esteemed for her looks. The name means something to me. The day means something to me. The dove means something to me.

To Gift or Not To Gift

I am not a fan of giving or receiving gifts. This makes me a grinch or a cheapskate in the eyes of most people, likely the same people who would contend that it's the thought that counts. I resent wasting my time thinking about what others might want. I also know that I can't (don't even want to) afford what they really want. Unfortunately we are expected to give gifts more and more often and to more and more people. I have often purchased gift cards for people I don't even like or barely know.

Some people love the whole gift-exchanging scenario. It's their identity. I think they also like receiving. Some of the people who love, love, love gifting don't care if the recipient loves, loves, loves the gift; they simply want the feeling. In the book, "The Five Love Languages" by Gary Chapman, I think it would be revealed that the acts of gift-giving and gift-receiving speak love to them. They are good at it, organized about it, they seem to love shopping and "things" (which often appear to me as crap). I have spent my entire adult life trying to understand these people. They are fortunate that they get to feel good about themselves in this consumer-driven society. They do not understand me, illustrated when they might criticize the efforts of the less enthusiastic; i.e., giving to a charity in a recipient's name is some sort of an insult or cash is crass, etc.

There is a faction who gives out of guilt, knowing the expectations. I usually fall in with this group with varying degrees of success and failure, uncomfortable with my unattractive resentment. Yet, there is so much guilt if I try to be true to myself and it is embarrassing to be the one who arrives empty-handed and leaves with something.

Rarely have I received something that I had to have or even remotely wanted. (Exceptions might be flowers, time together enjoying a meal, a well-chosen book...I do get the concept a little.) When I shop for myself, I am usually deliberate and careful. I know what I want. I don't want to inflict my taste on others. And the assumption that mass-marketed trinkets are my taste is annoying. How often I have kept something that I don't care for simply because I don't want to hurt the feelings of someone I care for.

To be honest, I understand and have felt the joyful feeling one gets when one thinks that a gift has really made someone's day. It is easy to do for one's own children when they are young. But I still always wanted to instill in my children that the haul was not the holiday.

Maybe the fact that I have been dirt-poor at times explains me; I don't like to be wasteful. Perhaps the fact that I am religious and think it makes way more sense to give to those in need explains me. I am not overly materialistic but I have everything I need. I am more a doer, less a consumer. Gift-giving seems excessive, boastful, competitive and extravagant to me but I am not criticizing those who really receive joy from it. I just wish I didn't feel I had to do it.

 

P.S.- Although it feels good to have ranted; I still end up feeling like a buzz-killer.

P.P.S- Scented soaps and candles are nice, I gotta say.