St. Hildegard of Bingen's prayer

This woman of the Church followed her conscience and was way ahead of her time. 

Sunday, March 30, 2014

"Flame of Anger, Why I Disobey ...My Bishop" by St. Hildegard of Bingen, Patroness of Excommunicated, Interdicted, Silenced, Catholics

http://cyber-christian-community-wa-inc.org.au/CR_page1.html
A Prayer for Catholics who have been  Excommunicated, Interdicted and Silenced because of their support of women priests, including prophetic male priests: Maryknoll Roy Bourgeois,  Jesuit Bill Brennan,  Franciscan Jerry Zawada,  and  the many more,  too numerous to mention,  members of the faithful who have been fired or are under threat of ecclesiastical penalties for following their consciences.

St. Hildegard of Bingen, pray for all those condemned by the hierarchy for their prophetic obedience  to the Spirit in support of justice and equality for women in the church.  Walk in solidarity with us as we work for the reform and renewal of our beloved church. 

This prayer was written by St. Hildegard of Bingen (1098 - 1179).

Flame of Anger

You ask why I disobey you, my bishop;

I answer in a spirit of prayer,

As I hope you did too in addressing me.

I, the Abbess, disobey, and all my sisters choose to disobey,

Because in such obedience is only darkness.

In our disobedience is light for our spirits,

So has God shown us.

I am not just disobedient,

I am outraged.

A thunderstorm of outrage shakes my soul.

In God’s truth I say to you:

‘You are wrong and we are right.’

We are obeying Christ,

We are following Christ,

We choose not to insult Christ,

As obeying you would force us to do.

Because of what you call our disobedience,

You have forbidden us to sing our psalms.

You have deprived us of the Food of Life.

You have cut off the streams of life, the sacramental graces.

God told me to tell you this also:

Beware of closing the mouths of those who sing God’s praises.

‘Who dares to de-string the harp of heaven?’ God asked me.

‘Only the devil,’ I whispered.

Ask yourself, O bishop, whose side are you on?

Excerpts from Letter to the Bishop written by Hildegard of Bingen aged 80
St. Hildegard's convent was interdicted by her local bishop because she refused to obey an order issued by him. 
www.arcwp.org

I cannot be silent any longer

  

Women are indeed being called by God to be priests and I hope and pray that the Church hierarchy will listen to the Spirit in this regard.    Bishop Bridget Mary Meehan expresses it better than I can.

http://bridgetmarys.blogspot.com/2014/03/women-priests-bring-healing-to-churchs.html

Women Priests Bring Healing to Church's Soul Wound by Bridget Mary Meehan, ARCWP

A Couple of More Thoughts regarding this Thought-Provoking Musical

Certain jokes are more offensive than funny.   For instance, I would find a joke about the events of the Holocaust way too offensive and therefore not the least bit humorous.  I think jokes about removing a woman's clitoris and ridiculing God fall into this same category.   There are certain things that should just not be made into jokes. 
The authors of  "The Book of Mormon" are the same authors who create the irreverent cartoon series, "South Park", After seeing one episode of "South Park" I knew this wasn't the type of show that I cared to watch.  I guess it should not surprise me that some of the humor in the Book of Mormon bothered me also.
Also, I believe it is one thing to joke at a private lunch table with other student nurses and quite another thing to flaunt it all around the country in a musical.
Speaking of offensive productions, "The Wolf of Wall Street', is a very sad representation of the human race.   We rented this movie from Redbox tonight and all I could say is "what is this world coming to?!!"

On Second Thought....... More thoughts regarding The Book of Mormon

Last night, a friend and I were discussing the musical that we had seen together at Proctor’s Theater, The Book of Mormon.  Interestingly, she was having similar thoughts to my own.  We had been analyzing our initial reaction and comparing it to the feelings that were surfacing after the fact.  Thoughts have been running through our brains and our feelings, in a sense, had been evolving over time.  I guess this is a good thing about the musical.  I didn’t give the other plays I had seen a second thought whereas this play certainly made me think.

I guess I would have to say that I was truly confused by my own reaction and the best way to share what I have been thinking and feeling is just to jot down the thoughts that have come to me.   I’d love to hear the reactions and thoughts of others who have seen the musical.  

Some of the humor in the play was innocent enough but I am sure some of it was shocking and insulting to a lot of folks.  For one thing, every group portrayed in this story is ridiculed in one way or another.    It reminded me of when we were adolescents and young teenagers and we would call each other by the ethnic slang used for each ethnicity.  Whether you were Irish or Italian or Polish or Puerto Rican, there was an insulting nickname for your nationality.  There were also insulting, rude jokes for each and every ethnicity.   Was this funny?  Could it be overlooked? How insulted did we get when your own group was ridiculed? I guess this depended on a lot of things, didn’t it?  

Another memory that came to mind is from an incident that occurred when I was a very young student nurse – probably no more than 18 years of age.     I had to get on the elevator carrying a human leg to the morgue.  The leg, which was wrapped somewhat like a large roast beef, was heavy both physically and mentally.  I stood in the back corner of the elevator, facing the front and tried my best not to make eye contact with anyone who entered the elevator.    It was a horrible feeling holding that leg.  There were other more horrible situations that occurred during these three years of nurses’ training and we had to come up with a way to let off steam and deal with the shocking feelings that surfaced from painful realities that we were facing us on a regular basis.   Things like very old people (probably the age I am now) yelling out for their mothers long after their mothers were gone; psychiatric patients repeating silly phrases over and over again, things like, “Miss Murphy, I’m a coffee hound”; and so on and so on.   These were heartbreaking realities; these were certainly not things to be laughed about.  But what did we do?  We sat in the nurses’ cafeteria over lunch or dinner or midnight snack and we made silly, stupid, irreverent jokes about these situations and then we laughed and laughed until we couldn’t catch our breaths and almost peed in our pants.    Sometimes, we just need to be “irreverent” and we just need to laugh so as not to cry.   Sometimes, we just need to lighten up.

My thoughts regarding the musical, The Book of Mormon

Right off the top of my head, I would have to say that I initially enjoyed this musical.  Nonetheless I was a bit shocked when the Swahili chant was translated into English and it meant “F God”.  Really, I did think this was a bit over the top and unnecessary.  I realize that the authors were looking for shock value and I must admit they accomplished this.  I was shocked and from the uncomfortable gasp I heard from the viewing audience, I think that others in the crowd were shocked too.   Wit, sarcasm and ridicule were used in abundance throughout the entire play, but then again satires are supposed to be this way.   I get what they were trying to do.

In many ways the musical was colorful, funny and lively. I loved the African Dancing!  Although I certainly don’t consider myself a prude, I felt the scene where the African’s stage a show for the Director of the Mormons was a little too crude for my taste.   Plus, maybe my hearing is going, but the singing and activity in this scene was so frantic, I found it difficult to hear the dialogue.  For me, the play went on a little too long.  I liked the First Act better than Act Two, and midway through the second act, I was ready to go home.   Nonetheless, I definitely related to what I believe was the purpose/message of the authors.  Years ago in my Catholic School training I was made to understand that we the “saved”; we “the people with the only true Religion” were suppose to work to “change” , “convert”, and “save” the “pagans”.    Arrogant and a bit self-righteous, wouldn’t you say?   

After all is said, I have to say that, for the most part, I did enjoy this musical as much or more than anything else I have seen at Proctor’s lately.   

By the way, Proctor's Theater is always packed to the brim and there is always a line for the Ladies Room but then again what else is new.

My Grandfather's Keys

My grandfather, TJ O'Donnell, was born on 22 March 1885 to Thomas O'Donnell (DOB: 18 Sept 1845) and Annie (Clark) O'Donnell (DOB about 1850 -she came to America as a very young infant and therefore we do not have her date of birth since she was born in Ireland).  Grandpa TJ was the youngest of three boys.  He grew up on his parents' farm in St. Joseph, Pa, in Susquehanna County.
TJ left the farm as a young man and came to the NYC area. He eventually became a NYC Police Officer and lived with his wife, Margaret Coleman ( born 16 Feb 1887 in Middletown, Pa), in the Bushwick section of Brooklyn.   My mother, Rita Mary Agnes O'Donnell Fries, (DOB 25 March 1917)was TJ's oldest child.  These keys were found in my father's (Charles A. Fries (DOB 2 Nov 1915)  basement after his death on Sept 11, 2013.  I believe they were TJ's set of keys from when he lived on the farm in St. Joseph, Pa.  Grandpa loved to visit the old homestead with his family (children and grandchildren)  in toe. Although he left the farm as a young man and spent most of his life in the big city, he was very proud of his birthplace and referred to his old homestead as "God's Country"and "the garden spot of America."  The house is still standing today.  TJ would probably love to have his family stop there and pay homage. 

Do Not Follow Rules that Don't Make Sense.

I received a couple of phone calls today from fellow Classmates from the St. Vincent's Hospital School of Nursing, Class of 1965.  These dear friends were wondering if I planned on marching in the St. Patrick's Day Parade.  Believe me, there is nothing more exciting than proceeding up the caverns of 5th Avenue in the sun with the bagpipes playing and the wind blowing in your hair, the crowds of people on either side of the street all sporting their green, shouting out the praises of the great St. Vincent's Hospital.    So why am I not going?
The last time I marched in the parade, I had traveled by Amtrak Train from Albany, NY to Penn Station and I wore my good, solid New Balance sneakers as I walked to the SVH meeting spot on the side street off Madison Ave.  My Clarks shoes were in a bag by my side since I was told "No sneakers were allowed in the parade".  When we got the word that we would soon be moving out of the side street and into the march up 5^th Avenue, I hesitated for a moment as I thought "this is crazy, Mary, leave your sneakers on".  Then I succumbed to peer pressure.  "No, it’s against the rules".  "We can't wear sneakers." "We won't be asked back to march in the parade again if we don't follow the rules".  So, at the last minute,and against my better judgement, I quickly removed my sneakers and slipped into my Clarks.  Now, my Clarks are not bad shoes and they are fine for many daily activities, but they are certainly not the best choice for an extended march in a parade – especially when one is 66 years old.  By the end of the parade I had blisters and rather severe planters' fasciitis.   One thing led to another and by the time it was all over I had fallen as a result of the planters' fasciitis and ended up with a prepatellar bursitis and a torn medial meniscus.   My knees have never been the same and the downward spiral was a direct consequence of the plantar fasciitis that resulted from marching without my good, supportive sneakers.    So this is my reason for writing this little essay:  I hope to prevent a similar thing from happening to any other St Vincent’s Hospital School of Nursing graduate.  We are nurses, for God’s sake, and we should be setting an example of wearing proper footwear for a marching event.    When a rule is wrong, when a rule just doesn’t make sense, we must use the brains we were given and follow what we know to be right.  Hopefully, others will follow our lead as we march up 5th Avenue.  

Mardi Gras 2014

My husband, Bob, and I were driving back to the Albany area after a month in Sarasota, Florida and were thrilled to be in the vicinity of Fayetteville, NC the weekend of March 1^st.   The Cardinal Gibbons Council of the Knights of Columbus was sponsoring a fund-raising Mardi Gras on behalf of St. Gabriel’s School in Fontaine, Haiti.  After hearing about the event from Father Noone, we decided to extend our vacation by one day in order to attend.   What a fantastic decision that turned out to be!  The festivities took place in the social hall of St. Patrick’s Church on Village Drive in Fayetteville and began at 6PM on Saturday evening, March 1^st.   The hall was decorated “to the nines” in a celebratory New Orleans’ Mardi Gras theme.   We felt “ way down yonder in New Orleans”  when we passed a  sign for Bourbon Street and entered the hall to a five-piece musical ensemble playing upbeat New Orleans’ Jazz.    The band was dressed in white shirts with red ties and suspenders and many of the revelers were sporting costumes, bright-colored beads and masks.    

The food was all homemade and delicious and the menu; i.e., Jambalaya, Red Beans and Rice with Sausages, potato salad, corn bread, and king’s cake helped us maintain our New Orleans fantasy.  As we got closer to the buffet, we stepped outside the door and stopped at the wine and beer wagon to pick up some liquid refreshment.  Waiting in line for our food was a pleasure; we sipped our beers and visited with some parishioners who we discovered were “transplants” from the southern tier of NY State (Unadilla, NY) and of all places, the Bronx!   Bob and I felt right at home.    

Father Noone spoke about the Friends of Fontaine, gave a little history, and shared that our purpose is changing lives in Haiti through outreach and education.  He also showed a ten-minute documentary and explained how people could become sponsors and contributors.  

Throughout the evening, young adults from The Young Adult Catholic Ministry were involved in serving the food, calling out the door prizes and helping the youngest attendees at a special art activities table.  It was great to see the involvement of all age groups.  It was a wonderful evening for a wonderful cause and we felt blessed to be in attendance.