That ‘WOW’ Feeling

A priest, who recently conducted a session on preparing for the Liturgy, told us that every celebration of the Eucharist should be a ‘Wow’ moment – we should come away feeling that the experience had been awesome, out of this world, each and every time. 

And I found myself thinking: Like yeah – prayers routinely muttered in monotone with spattered responses, everyone doing their own thing, boring sermon and really bad singing.  So, where’s the ‘Wow’?

Then I was hauled up to play keyboard at a funeral.  What hymns? The usual.  Who’ll be singing? Not known: whoever turns up. Oh dear!

I dutifully trotted to the church, set up the keyboard, arranged the music and waited.  One ‘singer’ turned up and with her help I set the pitch.  She was soon followed by a few others – all altos – who insisted that I keep the pitch low.  My heart sank proportionately. Gradually, the group grew – a motley crowd indeed.  They arranged themselves around the microphones and waited for Mass to commence.

The celebrant was young and as we launched into the entrance hymn, he joined in from the altar - fresh voiced and exultant - adding to the unexpected four voice harmony that emerged from the ‘cobbled together choir’.  It sounded amazingly beautiful, as did all the hymns and Mass parts that followed.  Our celebrant led us encouragingly through the various parts, enjoining us to ‘please stand, be seated, kneel’ for the purpose intended.  This unified the congregation in gesture and response. He preached a homily that spoke to the heart, referring to the deceased as if he spoke of his own mother – gently, affectionately and appreciatively.  Each part of the Eucharistic celebration segued with the next: each crested wave, higher than the last. Uplifting, illuminating, fulfilling, invigorating. Every response carried an inbuilt ‘hosanna’. This, indeed, was a funeral Mass with a difference. This called for complete and unconditional presence.

The deceased may have been quieted in death, but she was a vibrant personality in life.  Perhaps her spirit infused the celebration of this, her final Eucharist?

I’m still feeling that ‘WOW’.

Was that God?

These words were sent to me:

‘Look back on your day, find those moments when you encountered God and thank him.  In that gratitude, find joy and the reason for being you.’

So, I looked back on the day:

A watery sun breaks through the clouds, early in the morning, after a spell of violent gusting rain.

Was that God?

A friend called to say that she was thinking of me and had prayed for my well-being.

Was that God?

Went shopping and – unusually - got all the items on my list! (And I did not need to open my umbrella on the way home.)

Was that God?

My favourite breakfast cereal is back on the shelves after years (happy, happy surprise).

Was that God?

Sat down with a colleague to complete a task:  it turned out to be a sharing experience at many levels.

Was that God?

Still found time in a busy day for my favourite hobby – crochet.

Was that God?

And even more time to read the next few pages of my current library book.

Was that God?

Tried a new recipe.  It turned out tasty.

Was that God?

Received many uplifting quotes on FB.

Was that God?

Shared a chocolate bar with the elderly woman who sits at the corner of the street.  Her smile was dazzling.

Was that God?

In another time, another place, I came across the words: If you can be grateful for everything - appreciating the good and forgiving the bad - then you are peace with yourself, with God and with man.

The gift of reading – that encounter with the word – is that God?

Going without...

Several articles or incidents have featured recently about ‘going without’- without dyeing the grey, without cosmetics, without television and so on.  They made me smile for several reasons. 

Let’s take the grey hair first.  Frequent advice that I receive is, ‘Why don’t you dye, you’d look so much younger!’ The road to 60+ was not lined with marshmallow nor was I wafted along on a cloud. On the contrary, the road was sometimes rough and stormy, sometimes unlit and sometimes blocked.  Don’t get me wrong, there were broad and comfortable stretches too.  It was like most journeys and having reached where I am today, I see no reason to conceal the fact.  Staying grey was never a debate or a difficult decision.  I am just happy to be me.  Yet the articles on the subject all speak of the trauma of discovery, the inner conflict to dye or not to dye, the apparent distress at other’s comments, the daily struggle to look in the mirror and see an unfamiliar (undesired?) visage.  Weigh that against being tied to a bottle of colour, regular trips to the hairdresser, the anxious checking of roots to see whether they show, the constant attention to tresses that need extra care.  Nothing can compensate for the lightness of being and the freedom to be.  And what I’ve saved in costs can be happily spent on stuff for my crochet or reading.  Now that’s an unbeatable bonus!

Then there are the innumerable cosmetics that help us create that perfect mask.  According to my father, ‘war paint’!!  A trip to Europe, many years ago, revealed the fact that most women there hardly use cosmetics at all.  Perhaps moisturizer for excessive dryness, a dash of lipstick for a more formal occasions and dab of perfume to keep one sweet.  No wonder the cosmetic companies turned their attention to India.  Kohl or kajal, haldi/malai, mehendi and cochineal have been part of a tradition that goes way, way back.  I love the way we outline our eyes so dramatically and expressively and, yes, kajal is the one cosmetic I still advocate. But for the rest, I think that my laughter caused crow’s feet compensate for the furrows made by the endless perusal of manuscripts in the pursuit of printer’s devils.  Character maps the face and makes it readable. You know the person you are dealing with.  If you have ever spoken to a person who does not remove his or her sunglasses, you’ll know the feeling.  If you cannot see the eyes, you are groping in the dark – literally!  Bottomline?  There’s nothing like the fresh skin feeling that comes from knowing just natural soap and water and a brisk rub with a towel.

The third in the trilogy: giving up TV. Well, here I have to admit to an addiction: books.  Given the pull of a good book, TV comes in a very poor second, or third, or…. Once I get my nose between the pages, the hours just fly.  I get to visit people and places, real and imaginary; learn things I might never have discovered and experience the beauty of a language manipulated by skilful minds.  And the TV gathers dust.  Need I say more? 

May your days be as free of encumbrances and may you enjoy a life more natural, vibrant and filled with the joy of being the real you!

Some People!

Have you noticed?  There are some people you love to meet.  Even daily.  They bring a freshness, a joy, a new perspective to each encounter and you begin to look forward to that. And you can never get enough of them. That's Pope Francis for me. 

Pope Francis is truly a breath of fresh air.  He is that paternal figure which while representing authority does not enforce rigid hierarchical structures that stem from absolute power/monarchic models.  Rather, he suggests, proposes, enthuses and encourages.  And he sets an example.  He is inclusive, as Jesus was inclusive: towards the outcast, the unforgiven, the downtrodden, the different, the ones who are judged by ‘insider’ standards to be outsiders.

A case in point is his statement about meeting Atheists on common ground – while doing good!  Anyone can do good and this is a mutually respectful starting point.  We seem hell-bent (word deliberately chosen!) in bringing Jesus to others – He is the one and only way to the Father.  True.  But how do we bring the real Jesus to others if we do not know Him for ourselves first?

During Lent, I was asked to compose the Stations of the Cross for our FB page: something that people at work- or those with limited time or no access to a church visit - could download and reflect on.  My brief was that the Stations had to be completely original. Why?  There are so many Stations out there.  All we had to do was abbreviate and acknowledge!  No, it had to be our work and it had to be original.  So, rather than re-process the familiar, I decided to go to the source: the Gospels.  I was amazed to discover that Jesus’ falls were not on record nor was Veronica.  In fact, the Way that we profess in Lent was probably the personal and private devotion of one who imagined himself – or herself – walking at the Saviour’s side on the way to Golgotha. The Gospels are sparse; a factual record of what happened in grueling and inexorable sequence. But the horror, the anguish, the agony of the man, the seeming futility of it all – that is up to us to know and understand.  It took me many hours of reading, re-reading and reflection;  of deliberate walking away because at times my mind  came up blank of all thought.  But, slowly, even hesitatingly, I would like to think that I got to know Jesus just a little.  Certainly better than before.  And I am still not confident of being able to introduce Him to another! Pope Francis is showing us how, in incremental steps, day by day.

With Pope Francis at the helm, I see a church that returns to its reason for existence – the path set out by Christ: follow my example, do as I do and simply love one another in word and action. Is this too simplistic? Perhaps.  Because we are human and we like complicated answers.  

There is an old Protestant hymn penned by Whittier (the words, over the years, have been adapted somewhat from the original) and they express best the vision I wish to convey:

O brother man, take to thy heart thy brother.

Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there.

To worship rightly is to love each other;

Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.

Follow with reverent steps the great example

Of him whose holy work was doing good.

Then shall the wide earth seem our Father’s temple,

Each loving life a psalm of gratitude.

Then shall all shackles fall, the stormy clangour

Of wild war music o’er the world shall cease.

Love shall tread o’er the baleful fire of anger

And in its ashes plant the tree of peace.

Then shall the earth resound to children’s laughter,

And all its tragic cities ring with song.

So shall we leave for those who follow after

The realm of God, a world set free from wrong.

And to end with a smile, here is a typical Jesuit joke: A non-European Pope? Improbable.  A Jesuit Pope? Impossible.  A non-European, Jesuit Pope? A miracle!

Pope Francis, for me,  is a miracle indeed.