Busted Halo
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Sr. Christine Wilcox, OP :
3 article(s)

Sr. Christine Wilcox, OP, writes from San Francisco.
December 24th, 2003
Virtuous Cheating and the Holiday Seasons

I hope I don’t get in trouble for telling you that my family is a bunch of big cheaters.
We love to play games, but we watch very carefully to see who’s stacking the deck; who’s sneaking a peek at the cards, or who’s moving the little Monopoly shoe a tad too many spaces.
I’m also a big fan of Christmas. (A recent poll on our family website asks our favorite Christmas characters with all the usual suspects: Rudolph, Santa, Jesus, Ralphie. My sister responded that her favorite Christmas character wasn’t in the list. She meant me.)
So, when a well-meaning soul tells me I should really be present to Advent first—and not jump right into the Christmas spirit, I suspect they think I’m…

September 2nd, 2003
Nobody Drove Me to the Convent

“There I was, there I was, there I was… in the Congo .”
It was the first thing my friend Vinci blurted out after, “hello,” at our recent reunion. About ten years ago we were roommates and “There I was, there I was, there I was…” was the soundbite we picked up from some cheesy commercial.
An avalanche of images came rushing back. Words have such a power to bring up images…and ideas.
Father-what-a-waste
Like “Father-what-a-waste,”
a phrase someone I know had recently used about her boss, a Jesuit priest. I know it was only meant as a joke, but, really, you wouldn’t call your best friend’s husband, “Mr.-what-a-waste,” would you?…

July 1st, 2003
Poster Boy for Appalling Prelates and…Man of Faith

“My deepest vocation,” spiritual writer Henri Nouwen said, “is to be a witness to the glimpses of God I have been allowed to catch.” Here’s one:
I attended Mass recently at the Cathedral in San Francisco where I live, and even though the space is lovely and the experience of worship good, since I had been in an ebb time, spiritually speaking, I didn’t expect to run smack into the Holy Spirit.
A priest who believed“The body of Christ,” he said, offering me the host. Truly the priest before me believed it was. I could see the faith, the hope, the expectation in the eyes which met mine.
I always like a priest who will meet your eyes when saying to you, “The body of…

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