Beautiful Sacrament/Beautiful Milwaukee Church

In January of 2013 I wrote a blog post on the Seven Most Beautiful Churches in Milwaukee.  I know I missed a few in that list and that there are many more beautiful churches that I have not yet seen and don't know about, but now I can add St. Michael's Church on 24th and Vliet to that list and make it at least eight beautiful churches, until I have the opportunity to visit others.  

Although we are parishioners at Old St. Mary Parish, my son Jack was the only teen being confirmed from our parish this year, and several other east and north side parishes had small numbers of confirmands as well, so the celebration was combined and held at St. Michael's Church where seventy-five youth were confirmed by Archbishop Listecki. 

The newly confirmed, Jack Thomas, (right) and his sponsor, Joe, pose with Archbishop Listecki

Conversation with Archbishop Listecki while our pastor, Fr. Tim Kitzke, looks on.

Before the Mass began we were given a brief overview of St. Michael's Church which was built by German immigrants and is now home to a multi-cultural community of Laotian, Hmong, Karen, and Spanish members, among others.  The church interior is stunningly magnificent with much of its original beauty left intact, although it did seem as though some modifications and modernizations were made in the sanctuary.

The church was packed with people and excitement.  The music was a mix of both traditional and contemporary which added a joyful atmosphere of prayer during the three-hour-long Mass and celebration of the Sacrament.  Archbishop Listecki likes to speak individually to each confirmand during the celebration and those conversations were not amplified so the singing kept the little ones (and adults) from becoming restless during the long process of Confirmation.  During Jack's conversation with the Archbishop, he shared that he chose to keep his baptismal name, Thomas, as his confirmation name because St. Thomas the Apostle, much like Jack, was strong in faith but short on words, saying only "My Lord and My God" upon coming to believe that Jesus was truly risen. 

Jack was well-prepared, excited and eager to receive the Sacrament. We hope and pray that the Holy Spirit will bless his life and guide his every move forever.  

(For a fun gift that we hope will help him to remember the anointing he received each time he applies it to his budding facial hair, we gave Jack  Barbatus Catholic Beard Balm in both Chrism and Holy Smokes scents.)

St. Michael's Church, Milwaukee

St. Michael's, interior

The First Station of the Cross-Jesus is Condemned to Death

The Marian Altar

soaring stained glass

Pieta

smiling brothers

Gertrud von Le Fort/Hymns to the Church

Gertrude von Le Fort (1876-1971)

Gertrud von Le Fort, a German mystic, writer and convert to Catholicism at the age of fifty, has recently captured my attention and deeply moved my heart with her magnificent poetry.  She published over 20 books of poetry, essays, short stories and novels and was known as the "greatest contemporary transcendent poet."

In her book, Hymns to the Church, published in 1938 by Sheed and Ward, she beautifully captures the liturgical cycle with uplifting words that soar and sweep across the heart.  I was fortunate to find a copy of Hymns to the Church at the public library, because the only copy listed for sale on Amazon was offered for $500.00!  What a treasure these words are that a used book would be so highly valued!   In keeping with the season of Lent, here is one of my favorites: 

Passion

I

Your voice speaks to my soul:
    Be not afraid of my golden garments, have no fear of
    the rays of my candles,
For they are all but veils of my love, they are all but as
    tender hands covering my secret.
I will draw them away, weeping soul, that you may see I am
     no stranger to you.
How should a mother not resemble her child?
All your sorrows are in me.
I am born out of suffering, I have bloomed out of five
     holy wounds.
I grew on the tree of humiliation, I found strength in the
     bitter wine of tears.
I am a white rose in a chalice full of blood.
I live on suffering, I am the strength out of suffering, I am
     glory out of suffering:
Come to my soul and find your home.

II

And your voice speaks:

     I know of your shuddering at joy, I know how you go

     pale before the hours that are clad in purple.

I know your terror before the beakers of fullness,

I know too how you tremble before the soul of the best

     beloved!

For your depths are wounded by gladness; it reaches down

     into you with cold hands,

It quenches all your desires like a great hesitation.

It sinks on your senses like stones of guilt.  It falls on your 

     soul like the reek of wilted herbs.

It wraps you in pain from head to foot, then you are

     sheltered from joy by joy-

Then all your grief becomes eternal.

III

And your voice speaks:

     I will read the secret of your sorrow, O tender one,

     timid one, kin to my soul, beloved:

It is I who weep in the depths of you!

I have fashioned you for a thousand years and longer, I 

     blessed all your fathers and mothers with the cross.

You have cost me griefs and wounds, among thorns have I

     released your hands from the world.

You have cost me solitude, you have cost me dark silence

     through many generations.

You have cost me goods and chattels, you have cost me the

     ground under my feet, you have cost me a whole

     world!

You have grown subtle, soul, you have become like a 

     silky flax that it has taken long to spin:

You have become like a thread, so fine that it no longer

     holds.

See, you float away lightly over the meadows of life, you

     float away over the flowering lands,

But not one of them can hold you, homeless one, wandering

     soul of my sorrow.

IV

And your voice speaks:

     I will sing a Gloria that shall fill the top of my towers

     with the clangour of their bells.

Praise the Lord all sorrow of the earth!

Let the impoverished praise Him, and those who are in exile,

     let the disappointed praise Him, and the disinherited,

     let Him be praised by all whom nothing satisfies.

Be he praised by the bright torment of the spirit, and by

     the dark torment of nature.

Be He praised by the holy torment of love.

Be He praised by the solitude of the soul and by the soul's 

     captivity.

Be He praised by the sorrow of sin and by the woe that

     all things perish,

Be He praised also by the bitter anguish of death.

See, I strip my altars of all adornment, all their fine linen

     must fade like the loveliness of flowering fields.

All the images on them must hide their faces.

I will take away my last consolation, I will remove the

     Lord's Body, that my soul may become deep night.

For the sorrow of the world has become blessed, because it

     has been loved.

Behold the wood of the Cross on which hung the

     Salvation of the world.

For more, visit this link to read/pray von Le Fort's magnificent Litany for the Feast of the Most Sacred Heart from Hymns to the Church.  

In the Upper Room

It was several years ago that I was introduced to The Book of the Savior, a compilation of poetry and essays published by Frank Sheed and Maisie Ward in 1952.  The book is hard to find and I especially treasure my copy.  I've been reading it ever so slowly, perhaps an essay or poem each week, and have been savoring most of what I read.  One of the featured poets in the anthology, Charles O'Donnell, C.S.C., deeply moved me with his poem In the Upper Room.  A google search revealed very little about Fr. O'Donnell other than the fact that he had been the president of Notre Dame University from 1928-1934.  I don't know of anything else that he might have written.  But this, oh how it moves my heart!  Perhaps it moves yours, as well.

source

In the Upper Room

~ Charles O’Donnell, C.S.C.

What did you hear last night, your head on His breast there?

It was Peter in the dark supper-room

Asking of John,

Who with Mary, His Mother, was just returned

From burying Him.

I heard His blood moving like an unborn child,

And His heart crying.

I heard Him talking with His Father

And the Dove.

I heard an undertone as of the sea swinging, and a whispering at its centre.

I listened, and all the sound

Was a murmuring of names.

I heard my own name beating in His Blood,

And yours, Peter,

And all of you.

And I heard Judas,

And the names of all that have been

Or shall be to the last day.

And it was His Blood was calling out these names,

And they possessed His Blood.

Did you hear my name?

Asked a woman who was sitting at His Mother’s feet.

I heard your name, Mary of Magdala, and it was like a storm at sea

And the waves racing.

I heard Peter’s name,

And the sea broke, I thought, and ran over the world.

You heard then the name of Mary, His Mother, Peter said quietly, as he wept there, kneeling.

I did, and it was like the singing of winds and they moving over an ocean of stars, and every star like a hushed child sleeping.

Again Peter-

What of Iscariot?

I heard the tide come in and I felt the tide go out,

And I saw a dead man washed up on the shore.

And then John fell to weeping, and no one there could comfort him but only Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and he could tell them

No other word.

Angel Gowns

Paul and I will be celebrating our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary this April.  I want to do something really special and Paul and I have been having some wonderful conversations, dreaming of plans together.  We'll certainly celebrate Mass and have our marriage blessed and we'll probably enjoy a special dinner with our family.  Maybe we'll take a little overnight trip away, just the two of us, which we haven't done since the babies starting coming along so many years ago.

But beyond all of those special celebrations, I want to do something that would have a lasting impact of good for others.  We've been so blessed in ways that others can only dream about and those blessings should not remain within our household but should spread to the world around us.  We thought about planting a silver birch tree to replenish the earth on our silver anniversary since the date lands so close to Earth Day, and maybe we'll still do that, but I want to do something even more meaningful.

Then, I came across the idea of donating my wedding dress and I just knew that this is what I have to do.  I certainly can't fit into it anymore, and even if I could, where would I wear it?  My daughter won't want to wear an old dress that will be out-of-fashion by the time she gets married.  For twenty-five years it has been sitting in a box inside a trunk where nobody can find any meaning or joy from it.  My dress, a garment rich in beautiful memories, symbolizing the happiest day of my life, is destined for a new life with a greater purpose.

I found a website, Donate My Wedding Dress,  which has many ideas on where to donate wedding dresses for women who are in poverty or women who are suffering other indignities in life and while I was still pondering all of those worthy causes, I learned about Angel Gowns. Throughout the United States, Canada, England, Australia, and perhaps many other places around the world, talented seamstresses give of their time to repurpose used wedding gowns into burial gowns for babies who are stillborn and they call them Angel Gowns.  Each donated wedding dress can be made into multiple burial garments which are all donated to Neonatal Intensive Care Units and funeral homes.  I think that each stitch of the needle and thread is a prayer of love and sympathy for the grieving families who must cope with such unimaginable sorrow.  The life of a child, however short, has meaning and purpose and the grief of parents who lose a child to miscarriage and early death is real and piercing.  I decided that I wanted my wedding gown to be used for burial gowns that will offer dignity and meaning to parents who must say good-bye to their children far too soon.

It took a few visits to several Angel Gown websites before I found someone who is currently accepting wedding gown donations.  I found her through Angel Gowns by Michelle, a beautiful website well worth a visit.  Linda, the woman to whom I sent my dress, has just started a website, Angel Gowns by Linda, and a facebook page, and is currently trying to raise funds to obtain tax-exempt status.  Please consider sending a donation if your heart is so moved.

As I wrapped my dress and hat in tissue and placed them in the box for shipping, I added a prayer for the future recipients and another one for the generous seamstress with the gifted hands.

Heavenly Father, you have blessed me in abundance with every good and lovely thing, and in particular, twenty-five years ago, you blessed me with a husband who has been my treasured companion each and every day.  In gratitude to you for your goodness, I give this dress, worn and kept with so much joy in my heart, as a token of my love and appreciation for the gift of all human life.  

Please bless the seamstress as she deftly takes the seams apart and creates a new garment of love for the little ones whose lives ended far too soon.  Please bless the parents and family members whose grief and heartbreak will rip and tear at the seams of their hearts for years and years to come.  May the gown that they place upon their babe bring them some peace amidts the tears.  And please bless the babies who have perhaps endured suffering and pain in their little bodies and are eager to join you in heavenly bliss for all eternity.

My Jesus, I trust in You and Your eternally wise and holy plan.  You make all things new and beautiful.  Thank You for the grace of Your love.  Amen.

From the Womb to the Tomb

At Old St. Mary Church in downtown Milwaukee, the creche is situated just below the 14th Station of the Cross where Jesus is lovingly placed in the sepulchre by his friends.  Here the birth of our Lord is placed so closely to His death.  How fitting that is for all of us live with the shadow of our death hanging ever near, never knowing when we may breathe our last, and preparing every step of the way for a holy death.  And the best way in which we can prepare for death is to take frequent advantage of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. How perfect it is that the confessional is right between the two scenes of life and death, for the forgiveness of our sins was the reason that our Lord was born and it was for this that He died.

My Savior Jesus,

From the womb to the tomb your sole purpose was to free us from the burden of our sins.  Thank you for the beauty of your birth and for the redemption that your suffering and death brought to our souls.  May we remember to frequently take advantage of Sacramental Confession and Absolution and be blessed to rejoice with You forever in heaven for this magnificent gift!

Amen,

Parade of Magi

The Nativity Scene at Old St. Mary in Milwaukee

It felt like a long time since I'd had some quiet, alone time with the Lord, so I eagerly agreed to stay after Mass and wait for my daughter while she attended her Sunday school class as the rest of my family headed home.  I found a vacant back pew and waited for the last of the Sunday worshipers to make their way out of church.  A peaceful bliss ensued as I sat alone in the darkened church with Jesus for my only company.

But soon I noticed a young girl who quietly entered and sat in the back pew across the aisle from me. It wasn't long after that when the sacristan came in to prepare for the next Mass.  After he left, a young mother came in with her baby, softly cooing and they walked to the front of church to admire the Nativity scene.  Then three young men came in and walked around the perimeter of the church, quietly whispering and viewing the beauties of the church.  Next, a Sunday school teacher came in with her young students.  They sat in the front row of church in silent adoration.  Then the sounds of the choir beginning practice in the balcony above filled with space with joyful noise.  Before I  knew it my daughter was tapping my shoulder, telling me her class was over and we left church for the journey home.

I was struck by the steady number of visitors who came and went during the short space of time between Masses on the Feast of the Epiphany.  We were all Magi, looking for the Babe, hoping to give him the gift of our love, however briefly that might have proved to be.  The sight of so many people coming and going enhanced my own prayer and brought me to want to adore the Infant King ever more deeply.  I'm certain we were all made the better for drawing close to Him and are forever changed by His Love.

My favorite picture of a long-ago Ephiphany celebration in the Bender household.  The children are holding star-covered boxes filled with chocolate stars, starburst candies and starlight mints.  We had followed the star throughout our house looking for the Infant Jesus and when we found him we celebrated with King Cake.

A RUGged Post

I'm still sifting through memories and moments of the big Philly trip to see Pope Francis last September, and I'm still marveling over the monumentalness of it all; the fact that I took a fifteen hour bus ride anywhere, the fact that the city of Philadelphia was so unexpectedly fascinating, and the fact that I was on the same street as Pope Francis all astound me.

Considering how much I love and admire Pope Francis I should really just be marveling about the fact that I'm on the same planet that he is on, shouldn't I?  He has so much to teach us about love and kindness and mercy and God and yet we seem to spend so much time arguing about what he says and what he means.  We just don't understand him, do we?  Sort of like those Pharisees who argued with and questioned Jesus every time he spoke.  Truthfully, I have to admit that sometimes when I read the words of Jesus, I don't understand Him, either.  I mean, why did He say that He came to bring division? What's that about?  Doesn't scripture say that "He shall be peace"?  It's just too confusing for me to wrap my head around the whole concept.

But whether or not I always understand Pope Francis doesn't matter because I love him, anyway. And whether or not I always understand Jesus doesn't matter, either, because I for sure love Him, anyway!  I love Him with all that I am.

But back to Pope Francis in Philly-I'm sure it's no secret that I'm a nerd for all things Catholic, so I was thrilled to learn that a piece of carpeting upon which Pope Francis walked while saying Mass in Philadelphia could be had for the cost of a donation to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.  What a unique memento!  I dashed off an email to Flemington Department Store in New Jersey lickety-split, sent in a donation to St. Jude's, and within a few days was proudly admiring my future second-class relic of a future saint.  Now I just need to have it blessed!

The authenticity letter.

I won't sweep my admiration for Pope Francis under the rug!

Philly Photos

Quaint alleys were everywhere!

I loved the majestic and historic buildings.

We saw a lot of bark-less trees.  I've never seen anything like them anywhere!

Wish I could have stopped to smell the roses!  What a lovely outdoor display!

The City Hall is so beautiful!

I did not try the Pope's favorite coffee.  Was it Argentinian, perhaps?

Street musicians!  Fun!

Floral-painted garbage trucks!  Might as well disguise the smell with something sweet to look at!