Busted Halo
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February 7th, 2003

I read the reading from Genesis three times before I picked up on the rainbow. “I set my bow in the clouds to serve as a sign of the covenant between me and the earth.” The bow I kept seeing was the kind one uses in conjunction with an arrow, not a rainbow of light. But once I did see it that way, the power of God’s repentance, revelation, and healing just blew me away.
Imagine it, God just annihilated almost all of his creation, the one made in his own image. Picture Noah, with family and animals, first coming out of the Ark when the seas had subsided and the land dry. I see Noah, tired, hungry, his jaw dropped open and a hand rubbing his head in shock at what he sees, or fails to see around him. His whole world has…

February 7th, 2003
An Ash Smudge and the Cross of Christ

We are a smooth-skinned people.
Between walnut-shell exfoliants, multivitamins, microdermabrasion and “Botox parties,” well off Americans aim to erase death line by wrinkled line. We want to look like the ageless demigods of Oscar parties, our skin as seamless as an airbrushed photo in Self. It is jarring, then, to see people—polished and otherwise—branded with an unseemly cross of ashes; their baby skin made morbid.
Last Ash Wednesday in New York I walked down Broadway after a noontime Mass, surprised to see the hot dog vendor and the svelte blonde in black gabardine and the punk salesman at Tower Records all smudged and branded like myself.
As a public school girl I was embarrassed by this…

February 6th, 2003
Working on My Own from Project to Project

For most Americans work means a steady 9 to 5 gig with benefits. But the benefits of a weekly paycheck and health insurance often come with the price tag of long, traffic-clogged commutes, unfulfilling work, and tiresome co-workers.
Work and my fatherBut so what? as my father would say. Who ever said work was supposed to be fun and fulfilling? Get a hobby if you want fun.
My father came of age in the Depression years of the 1930′s—I was his surprise child, born when he was almost 50.
For my father, money—which provided the means and ability to take care of his family—was the most precious commodity. It was never a question of what kind of work you wanted to do. The best job was the most stable and well-paying.…

February 5th, 2003

I first met him at a four-week long summer program; I knew he was the one…or so I thought. Then he didn’t return the phone call. Then the letter came, and I knew he was the one. Then I didn’t return the phone call. Then a year passed …and another.
One day the phone rang with his voice at the other end, soft yet deep as I remembered it. He said to me, “The more I try to forget you, the more you remain in my heart.” By this time my heart was not sure what to think. Was he being sincere or only feeling the pangs of loneliness that hit all single people every once in a while? He continued, “Be daring. Come visit me. I will send you the ticket.”
Two weeks later I boarded the plane from San Antonio,…

February 2nd, 2003
Slavery in Our U.S. Catholic Past

The diminuitive, elderly nun took the microphone before our audience of several thousand at the Convention Center in downtown Los Angeles. As she began, there was a hush: “My grandfather was a slave for the Jesuits at Georgetown.”
Though the ownership of African American slaves by Catholic landowners, bishops, and religious orders of men and women in the southern states is well-documented, it is not well-known by American Catholics today. I can attest that this particular fact was missing from my parochial school education. I was left to discover it later on, in U.S. Catholic history class in the seminary.
As a matter of historical record, no U.S. bishop argued for the complete abolition of slavery…

January 28th, 2003
The awkward relationship between Christianity and the earth

When I first learned that a possible Hebrew-to-English translation of Genesis 1:28‘s command for humans to ‘subdue the earth’ is, literally, ‘rape the earth,’ I cheered. At the time, I was writing a paper on the sociological and environmental repercussions of Genesis 1:28, and the information supported my thesis. My Hebrew language classmates, however, were shocked. How could anyone rejoice the raping of the earth?
I thought their opinion naïve. Clearly, over the centuries, someone has rejoiced in destroying the planet. After all, with oil in the ocean, smog in the sky, and a hole in the ozone, the planet is not so pristine. It’s been quite the fall; according to the first chapter…

January 27th, 2003
Living Side-by-Side with Your Pets

I had the good end of the emergency. A friend’s husband needed surgery and her dog needed a sitter. I promptly offered my services. Quincy, a mellow Lab/Beagle mix, is a good dog—a 30-pound sausage with velvet ears and mocha eyes. I thought he might have fun lolling away a night and day with my dog, Leah, a hyper-kinetic Lab/Jack Russell squirt. When they met, late at night, their mutual doggy fatigue vanished as they circled one another, sniffed, and bumped noses. My friend and I nodded. Our dogs, now nuzzling, would get along.
And get along they did. Soon, Leah was licking Quincy, Quincy was lying down, and the two were slurping their way to happiness. My friend and I pulled them apart, the dogs as reluctant…

January 26th, 2003
Sold on the Benefits of Online Dating

When, oh, when did online dating lose its stigma? When did it become the province of sexy nerds and closet punks, as well as the schlubs and the hipper-than-thou among us?
Who knows? Who cares? One thing, though, that online dating has spawned is worth celebrating: the social guinea pig—someone willing to risk humiliation, rejection, and heartbreak (not to mention a few lost dollars and hours) in the search for connection.
Early reportsBack in the day, online dating was for the socially inept or those who needed specific niches filled. My first experience with it was actually third-hand: a friend’s college roommate—an Asian Muslim woman in WASPy suburbia, no less—met her future husband, an Anglo…

January 25th, 2003
Too busy for the Almighty? Maybe Not

Sister Kay is slothful. She’s a nun and professor and frantically busy. So, when she announced to my Monday night class that she is lazy, I was shocked. Spiritually lazy, she clarified. Some days, she is so busy—keeps so busy—that she doesn’t have time to sit, think, and pray. She explained that she had never considered busy-ness a sin but realized it could be, especially when that busy-ness distracted her from God.
It seemed odd. Here’s the most spiritual person I know—a woman who has dedicated her life to Christ—who frets about not being spiritual enough. I considered my own spiritual life. Do I pray enough? Do I pray at all? Is spiritual sloth something I need to worry about?
Lost in…

January 24th, 2003
Spiritual Lessons from Vulnerable Lives

Maria (I have given her this name after many years) sat on a blanket next to her mother. They sat on the sidewalk selling small bags of pecans in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. It was the family’s livelihood. I was six-years-old and on a day trip with my parents. I pulled my dad’s hand and made him stop to buy a bag of pecans. As my dad paid the woman for the pecans, I looked deep into Maria’s eyes. I continue to carry the image of those mysterious black eyes and will never forget them.

Panchito stood in front of me smiling from cheek to cheek. He waited with anticipation for me to take his picture. The only difference between Panchito and any other child of five was that he looked more like a three-year-old due to malnutrition.…

January 23rd, 2003
Ministering to the ‘Spiritual But Not Religious'

PART 1: THE HIRED GUN…
“Can you imagine us doing this in a church?” I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I did overhear Mina, the young mother, say so to one of her friends during the reception. “There’s just no way we would ever have felt comfortable. We are so not church people.” (Names have been changed for the family’s privacy.)
I recently had the experience of creating and presiding over a baby-naming ceremony—an alternative “baptism” of sorts. Mina, a first-generation Taiwanese-American Buddhist, and Rick, a quintessential Brooklyn Italian Catholic, had just had their first child, their daughter Asha. After the initial bustle, they felt settled

January 19th, 2003
Addressing the Reasons Women Choose Abortion

I was eight years old when on Jan. 22, 1973 , the U.S. Supreme Court made abortion legal throughout the country.
Growing up in a post-Roe v. Wade world, I listened to friends who had chosen an abortion rather than risk losing their chance to get a college education and the better jobs that came with an education.
I witnessed the miraculous and precious births of two of my goddaughters.
I stood by a cousin who at 15 became a mother.
I heard the stories of women who endured childhood emotional and sexual abuse, which later resulted in young adult promiscuity, unwanted pregnancies, and abortions.
And like most Americans and many Catholics, I feel uneasy about the complexities of abortion.
Pro-choice women talk about reproductive…

January 19th, 2003
Raquel Taught Me a Lesson about Sloth

I met Raquel one spring day in Kingston, Jamaica. She was a resident at a home for girls who were wards of the state. These young ladies had been taken from their families because of sexual abuse. Raquel sat in a room with her friend Emily.
The room was lit only by the outside light coming in through the glassless windows. It was filled with tables, chairs, and three sewing machines. I asked Raquel and Emily if they knew how to sew. Emily answered in the affirmative and continued by telling me that they made the clothes for the younger girls in the home. I asked Raquel and Emily how old they were. Emily answered that they were both thirteen. Raquel had not said a word since I entered the room. She only looked at me with untrusting…

January 15th, 2003
Leaving the Field and Stalling on the Couch

Every January, millions of Americans, as well as millions around the world, will come together in homes, bars, and clubs to celebrate what is called the
greatest sporting event of the year
. Of course I am talking about the Super Bowl , that annual display of athleticism where 80 conditioned men put their hearts and souls into a game they love, all the while being watched by millions upon millions of people, many of whom probably could not tell you the last time they themselves picked up any ball, let alone a football.
That is the great irony of the Super Bowl. While bringing together the best two teams of athletes that the NFL can produce (at least during this particular year), showcasing their talent and abilities, the…

January 14th, 2003
Love and the Social Pressures of Marriage

“It’s about time you got married, don’t you think…”
This phrase should be deemed the cultural stigma that we cannot get past. First, when I was in my early twenties, my childbearing years were quickly passing, and everyone (except my mother who to this day says she’s too young to be grandmother) just looked at me in wonder. Even that cousin—the one no one thought would ever get married—found his mate.
In the year 2001 twelve babies were born in my extended family. Suddenly, I was the only one who did not arrive at family gatherings adorned with a diaper bag, stroller, walker, pictures and, of course, the camcorder (we don’t want to miss any of those special moments).
My…

January 9th, 2003
More Than Just Respectable and Nice?

Are you a good Catholic?
As we begin 2003, we are surrounded by war and rumors of war. What do you think of the Bush administration’s threats to declare war on Iraq?
Last weekend, outgoing Illinois Governor George
Ryan granted clemency to all death row inmates. Four of those inmates were convicted on the basis of now-recanted confessions which had been tortured out of them by Chicago police. Those four were pardoned and released from prison. Another 164 people will remain in prison for the rest of their lives, but will not be put to death by the state.…

January 9th, 2003
Is "Joe Millionaire" for real?

I hate reality TV.
I think reality TV creators pander to the lowest common denominator so often that I’d rather sit and eat paste with kindergarten children than watch one more minute of Survivor: Thailand (Elmer’s is particularly tasty, by the way).
I particularly don’t like what I call the desperation reality shows. Shows like The Bachelor, Who Wants to Marry a Multi-millionaire?, and Blind Date prey on those desperate for attention, be it desperate attention from the opposite sex, or craving those fifteen minutes of fame.
In a recent America Online survey a majority of people found cast members of reality TV shows “embarrassing.” I can’t say I disagree. However, I…

January 8th, 2003
An Hour a Day in Wondrous Company

Rachel said the women who participate in Room In the Inn (RITI), Campus’ winter shelter program, are like artichokes. Their hearts are hidden by overlapping layers of abuse, addiction, mental illness, and inconsistency. I’ve been told that when physical abuse or addiction begin in a person’s life, they stop maturing. The end product is women in the bodies of 25 to 60 year-olds, sometimes interacting among themselves and with others as if they were in junior high school.
Attendance at women’s group is mandatory for those women who want to participate in RITI.
It is stressful being a woman and being homeless. The word on the Nashville streets is that a women, by herself on the street, will…

January 5th, 2003

I stood on the corner looking into
the children’s playground. At one o’clock on this chilly afternoon I found it empty after my walk in the park. Past the dry sprinklers were the two tire swings. Do I dare? I wondered looking around at the quiet empty streets around the playground.

I walked in self consciously and picked a tire swing. Dropping my crutches to the ground I tightly grabbed two of the three chains on the swing. Lowering myself down I felt my butt touch the tire and my feet lift off the ground. Cautiously I spun the tire swing , first one way then another. My braced leg stuck out straight in front of me as I leaned my head back through the chains and lay back looking up at the empty tree branches above me.…

January 4th, 2003
Signs of Hope in Mother Teresa's Long Crisis of Faith

Can there be any example more illuminating about what faith demands than Mother Teresa’s recently revealed crisis of faith?
Crisis of faith…and Mother Teresa? Yes, the two go together. She was human after all. Her crisis of faith is revealed by biographer Saviero Gaeta in his forthcoming book Il Segreto di Madre (Mother Teresa’s Secret). Gaeta has close links to the Vatican, having worked for the Vatican’s newspaper L’Osservatore Romano, according to a recent article in the London Daily Telegraph. Saviero, the article said, obtained access to Mother Teresa’s letters as the foundation for her biography. Most telling about the letters is the juxtaposition of a woman who…

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