The Least of These

Remember that time where I loved Stephen Colbert? Yeah, that time that started when my capstone Sociology research was all about him and Jon Stewart. I don't have celebrity crushes or idols, but he comes pretty close. I've written before about his humor and his defense of the Catholic faith, and, while I don't know his views on everything the Church teaches, I've come to think of him as fairly stalwart, despite his satire. Satire (this was the contention of my final sociology presentation) allows him to say things that he otherwise would not be allowed to say, express views through layers of subtext that could not be expressed without that protection. Because he spews the serious and the farcical in the same breath, he can get away with much more than the mainstream media. This theory applies to much more than religion; he calls out so many people and institutions for foibles and major flaws; I tend to view him as genuine in spite of his satire.

What happens when he has to be serious? When, for example, he is asked to testify before Congress? For those of you who don't know, Colbert agreed a few months ago to work as a farm laborer with migrant workers. Recently, he fulfilled this promise in two episodes (one and two). As a result of his fame and his one day on the farm, Congresswoman Zoe Lofgren (D. CA) asked him to speak to a House subcommittee about immigration reform.

First, Colbert is never (in public, that I have come across) completely serious and is always to a greater or lesser degree in character. However, he shed his character during his testimony before Congress to the greatest degree I've ever seen. And he left the character even further behind when answering the questions of the Congress people.

My favorite moment, as I watched on the Washington Post's website, came around 8min 55sec. One Congress woman asks him a question that he obviously does not expect and has to think about how he wants to answer. Watch the interview, at least the last few seconds of it, and listen to his response. And then you'll see why I am so much in love with this man.

Forgiveness and the Eucharist

I hold up the bread. "The Body of Christ," I say. I look into the communicant's eyes and smile. And repeat, seventy-five times.

The campus minister from a school down the road insists upon the use of those four words. Not, "This is the Body of Christ," not "Mary, the Body of Christ," not "Behold, the Body of Christ," or any such variations. When you say, "The Body of Christ," she explains, you are declaring that this bread is the Body of Christ, but also that this communicant is the Body of Christ, that you are the Body of Christ, that this gathered Church is the Body of Christ. So when I act as a Eucharistic Minister (or Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion, as I have learned is the "proper" title), I use those four words, and I acknowledge Christ in all the incarnations of the Eucharist.

I distribute the Eucharist pretty consistently every Sunday, and normally it's a straightforward process. The Eucharist amazes and awes me, but even the most sacred events can be calm with familiarity. But, every now and again, I have moments like this past Sunday.

I was upset with someone last week. Not in a huge, affecting-my-life kind of way, but definitely not at peace with this person. I found my position to distribute the Host, and suddenly I realized that said person was walking towards the altar -- towards me. I wasn't in a place where I could look at that person, smile, and say, "The Body of Christ," recognizing God in that person, in me, and in the gathered community of which we were both a part.

There was the possibility of handing this person the Host, with the proper words, but letting the smile slip away and not letting our eyes meet. It wouldn't disrupt the Mass, and, truth be told, this person might not even notice. But I couldn't do that. It might not disrupt the Mass, but it would disrupt my heart and, let's be honest (if slightly hokey-sounding), Jesus would notice.

So, in a swift twisting of the heart that can only be attributed to God at work in me, I forgave. I saw it as completely necessary, and so, through grace, it happened. I do not normally forgive that quickly or that spontaneously; this truly was the work of God in me.

However, it got me thinking. I could forgive this someone for an act that upset me a little bit. But there are some people in the world whom I have not forgiven for longer periods of time. People to whom I could not say, "The Body of Christ" and smile and acknowledge Christ in them and in me and recognize their divinity and our unity in Christ. These people are not likely to turn up in my communion line (or at the Sign of Peace, another time when it's hard to hold grudges), but what if they did? What would I do? And how can I work now on forgiving them? After all, this dilemma reflects a problem within my own heart, one that I need to start fixing.

In Which a Cat Is in a Tree

I think I gave away most of the story in the title. After coming home on Sunday, I got a call from a good friend and recent alum, who was visiting the 'burg this weekend, wanting to see me. When he and his girlfriend arrived, I opened the door to greet them... and Grace Kelly left the house.

She's done it a couple times before, and she rolls around on the concrete at the end of the sidewalk, and I walk out and glare at her and pick her up and bring her back in. Apparently, she's done this for Cara too, and now has gotten smart about it. Kind of. She ran behind our house to the common lawn. I followed slowly, since I was barefoot. And then she scrambled up a thin holly tree... leaving me on the ground staring up at her a good 7 feet in the air. My friends joined me, and we watched Grace Kelly try to figure out what to do from there. She wasn't too happy with the tiny branches that were the only things that supported her... but she wasn't quite ready to climb down.

I don't know who took more persuading: Grace Kelly, or the tall male in the group. But eventually, he managed to grab her and drag her out of the tree. I carried her into the house, where she promptly proceeded to try to sneak out every time the door opened.

"We Permeate Awesomeness"

This weekend, I represented my school at the annual Diocesan campus ministry leadership workshop. Various student leaders from various schools throughout the state get together, along with campus ministers from the same schools. Unfortunately, the one student who was going to go on the retreat couldn't make it at the last minute... so that left only one me.

Fun life-fact: I called Ana from the ferry because I was making the drive alone, and I am used to fun people on the ferry with me. Apparently I called her just as she needed directions to a St. Louis coffee shop that we loved. God sometimes has easily identifiable awesome timing.

As for the retreat itself, God was there too. Most of the student leaders had fun exchanging ideas with and just getting to know students from other schools. The relationships were, in my humble YACM opinion, the most important part of the whole weekend. Oh, and the s'mores were a very important part of the weekend as well.

For me... well, two other YACMs came along as team. First of all, I like being in the company of awesome people such as these two YACMs; secondly, I took comfort in spending time with people who do the same thing that I do. YACM is a strange, liminal position. One which I love, to be sure, but a strange, liminal position nonetheless, and there is a camaraderie created by that fact.

And, the event I've been anticipating for weeks, I got to tag-team a talk with one of my favorite male-folk. He was the assistant coordinator to my coordinator on a retreat two years ago, and our awesome team has remained awesome. And, as he pointed out, our talk would be great, because "we permeate awesomeness." Granted, I didn't expect one of the campus ministers to tease us all weekend about being a couple, so that my talk partner introduced us by saying, "We're going to be married in one month." But that got the talk off to such a dynamic start and gave us and our audience the momentum to stay awake, alive, and animated during the Sunday morning slump.

Day-Maker #5

I walked up to Wawa today to get a fruit for my dinner. Since I was talking to my dad on the phone, I waved a lady in front of me in line. She paid for my banana! Thank you, Wawa stranger!

Day-Maker #4

I collect "After-Event Reports" from CCM Board members (student leaders). I make a photocopy and hand the form back to the board member. For my own organization, I put a check mark on the corner of the page after I have made the copy. For second weeks in a row, different board members have asked why they didn't get check-pluses.

I Think I'll Move to Australia

Remember that book? Well, on Monday, I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I generally have Mondays off, but since we were hosting a dinner to say thank you to all the students who do the hard work for CCM, I swapped my day off.

Coming in on one's day off never gets things started right. The main difficulty of my day was getting t-shirts for our CCMers. I had been in communication with a screen printing company for nearly two weeks. And by "been in communication with," I mean, I had been repeatedly calling them, because the sales person with whom I was working was far from on top of her game. On Friday, she had called and asked if we absolutely needed them by Monday. Monday at 11am, I finally received the proof for the t-shirts that we wanted that day.

The whole day was a back-and-forthing nightmare of logistics and minor panic. And of course, when you are hosting a dinner, you have more logistics to worry about than the t-shirts you had been told it would be "no problem" to receive in time for your event. Our communication culminated when the sales person asked me (and I do not exaggerate here) if we could meet an employee by the side of the highway to pick up the t-shirts.

After we agreed on a 7-11, I breathed in relief over the idea that I would never have to speak to this woman again. We got the t-shirts to CCM barely in time to start handing them out. And then Miriam asked Marianne if all the t-shirts had a double r in "Mary." In fact, they did. In fact, the t-shirt company, which did such excellent business with the College, had spelled our name incorrectly.

That was the final straw on a stressful encounter. And I knew that tomorrow, I was going to have to call the t-shirt company and speak to my favorite sales person again.

Thus was my mental state when I arrived home. Then I pulled open the talk for a retreat this weekend. I had been working on the talk while waiting for my favorite sales person to call back all day. In it, I relived some of my most terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days from last year. Last year, my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days came on days when my students got into fights, ran wild against teachers, came to school with bruises, bullied each other, or revealed horrifying home situations. My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days were ones on which I came home crying to or yelling at God.

Comparatively, this day was not that bad. All I needed was a little perspective on it. If my problem is with an order of 70 t-shirts to give as gifts, how blessed am I? I wish my perspective had come in time to brighten my day. I wish it had come in time to help me smile better at the Board members who came to set up for the dinner. I wish it had come in time to keep me from snapping at the Bloom-Lion cashier. But now that I have it, it gives me something to keep in mind in the future. When my biggest problems are with t-shirts, life is good.