These were taken with my iPhone yesterday. Very low light. The Mass had ended and I was in the middle of a sublime meditation. Photos never really capture the essence of Church because they don’t convey the Holy Spirit. At least, not in the same way as actually sitting there, in person. But I thought I’d share, anyhow.
After a downtown Mass I spied this prayer card and almost took it. But then I though, no no, that’s just not right. Some sweet soul left it here and it belongs at the foot of the statue where it was placed. So I took this photo, instead. Turned out way nicer than just the card by itself.
The statue is this old, slightly beat up statue of Christ with an open heart. It always seems to look away from me, as if I’m doing something wrong. But it’s probably just the positioning. That, and the fact that it’s on a stand, much higher than floor level.
Today I felt like I did the right thing by not taking this card home with me.
Over the holidays TCM broadcast an old film about Bernadette, the young village woman who allegedly saw the Blessed Virgin Mary at Lourdes. It was a good film. Made me think about the whole thing. Here’s a pic of a Catholic church named after all that.
When I tell people that I like to go to catholic mass I often sense some kind of inner reservation from the other person. I’m not surprised. I know why. Or I have a pretty good idea. The Inquisitions, the child abuse, the corruption. Or maybe just the regimentation. Not to forget the sexism.
I know all about that stuff but regardless, still feel the Holy Spirit active in the Mass. Some folks give me a blank or hard look when I say that. To me, that just tells me something about where they are. Many people think they are open minded but imo are just as narrow and regimented in their thinking as any hardcore Catholic.
Myself, I just go on what I feel. And that leaves me open to a whole new vista that I didn’t even know existed, prior to recognizing the call.
As much as I believe in the afterlife, I have to admit that I’m still pretty sad about David Bowie’s passing. It’s a strange thing. Especially for those of us who claim to be “contemplative” or “mystically inclined.” We have certain experiences that lead us to believe there is an afterlife. But when people pass, we feel just like anyone else.
I always had a hard time understanding why Jesus cried when he heard that John the Baptist had been killed. I mean, if he’s the Christ and God, why would he cry? Didn’t he know that John had just moved on to the next realm?
Well, it’s not that simple. Jesus was also fully human. So he felt like the rest of us. At least, that is the Christian story.
In my case, I don’t claim to be near the level of sainthood, let alone the grand stature of Jesus. And I feel… all that human stuff. Even though I do firmly believe that we pass on to a better place after death. If we’re good at heart, that is. I don’t know about the scoundrels and rogues in this world.
Only God can judge.
Here’s one of my favorite tunes from the “peak” of David Bowie’s career. I used to listen to this after coming home from high school. A few friends would drop by. It seemed so alive and relevant. Loved it and still do.
I went out to do some late night food shopping. Supermarket was closed. But I noticed this moon in a puddle on the driveway. In some strange way, I felt it was appropriate for Good Friday.
I’ve been meaning to take a half decent pic of this. It’s by far my favorite nativity scene in Toronto.