Question of the Day

Tonight's Gospel Question:

Does blood run thicker than water? That is, are your family relationships more important to you than your friend relationships?

The Dawn From on High Shall Break Upon Us

What do we do when God doesn't seem to be sufficing?

Last semester, I attended a lecture on God in which the speaker discussed the Hebrew term 'El Shaddai." She translated it to mean 'that which is more than enough," and emphasized that God is abundance and generosity; God does not merely suffice, but overflows. It was a beautiful and memorable talk, but sometimes I recall it and find it difficult to see how that truth resonates with lived or observed experience.

I know this is simply part of being a human with limited understanding, but sometimes I cannot understand how God can offer so much and yet leave so much unfulfilled:
You believe in a God who protects, and somebody you love gets hurt.
You believe in a God whose Spirit gives fortitude, and you feel yourself getting more and more weary.
You believe in a God who is light of the nations, and you see societies polarize in the darkness of extremism.
You believe in a God who calls, and it seems to you that God won't lift a pinkie finger to help you answer.

Today, a friend from South Carolina called me to chat because her father is dying of cancer and the unfathomable nature of God was getting hard to take. Both my friend and her dad have been hoping that he would make it at least through the summer, since she's planning to enter a religious order and he really wanted to be there to proudly see her take that step. But it doesn't look as though her dad is going to live that long. There's so much grief on so many levels, and so for my friend right now, it's harder than usual to make sense of this world when we believe and know that God is good.

So, what do we do when God doesn't seem to suffice, let alone be 'that which is more than enough'? I really don't know, but tonight a few lines from the Canticle of Zachariah, Luke 1:68-79, struck me as particularly nuanced in their optimism:

In the tender compassion of our God
the dawn from on high shall break upon us,
to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.

Zachariah was looking forward to the births of John the Baptist and Jesus Christ, but I think the words are still relevant to a world which yearns to be more completely and wholly drawn into God. Thus the use of verb tenses is incredibly important for us in this waiting world. The gospel maintains that a dawn exists, but this is a dawn which is yet to be completed in the reigning kingdom; we are still looking forward to the time when it shall break upon us from on high. The gospel deems us the recipients of compassion, but recognizes that we currently "dwell in darkness" and are not fully awake to this compassion though it is genuine and constant. The gospel proclaims an eternal peace, but understands that we are limited,not yet fully experiencing it, and that we must be led toward it. This is a Wisdom which is highly aware of its own illusiveness for us.

I realize that this reading does not directly address that painful and awkward sense that God might not be 'living up' to all that we think he should. Rather, it rephrases the conundrum in terms of our temporal awareness instead of God's reliability, which is probably a good and healthy shift to make. If God is indeed essentially "more than enough," then it is simply the incompleteness inherent in our current lives which leads us to feel that something is not sufficing. Of course we're not content... our souls are meant for that dawn and eternal union with God, so nothing else is ever going to fill that yearning for Wisdom. When we think to ourselves that this life doesn't make sense, we implicitly pay homage to the truth that life should and will be fulfilled in the glory of God. And hopefully, the knowledge of God's compassion for us in our state of limited perception will make our confusions a little more comfortable to move through.

I think I am beginning to get too theoretical, so I had better stop writing and go to bed. Please pray for all those who are experiencing loss or having trouble understanding the patterns of God in life, especially my friend and her father; for although we choose to trust in God's overflowing goodness, it doesn't make the painful things stop hurting.

Since we know that the dawn from on high shall break upon us: May the all-powerful Lord grant us a restful night and a peaceful death. Amen.


~Stephanie Clare

A Beginner's Blog

25 Random Things About Me

1. I am a Facebooker, as of recently, which is where I received encouragement to write "25 Random Things About Me."

2. I am 30.  Whoa.

3. I am teacher to 26 five and six year olds.

4. I am mom to a very cute, sweet, and cuddly almost-three-month-old.

5. Self-esteem and inner strength are no struggle for me. I struggle to feel, know and admit my weaknesses.

6. I got to marry one of my favorite humans on the planet.

7. Right now, for me, being a mom means I get to hang out with this fun, tiny person a whole lot.

8. I also struggle with classroom management with my co-teacher.  We have different ideas about appropriate ways to speak to and motivate children.  (She is in her late 60s.)

9. I see a lot of uncertainty in my life as I look forward.  My husband is finishing his PhD and looking for a University job -- somewhere in this country, ANYwhere in this country.  I love my job and I love our communities here in Saint Louis, but we may end up leaving all that behind.  The uncertainty of that nags at the otherwise peaceful beauty of my life these days.

10.  25 things is way too much for my first blog.  Stay tuned.

Life at the Limen

Jamey’s excellent post below got me thinking. Saying goodbye is one of my least favorite things to do—perhaps because I don’t think I’m very good at it—and for those around the CSC bracing to make their own goodbyes, I feel your pain.

I was lucky to have a similarly strong faith community where I went to school in Chicago. Much like at the CSC, Sunday night Mass at Madonna della Strada was an event, the pinnacle of the week ahead. For my group of friends, Madonna della Strada—in Italian, “Our Lady of the Road”—became synonymous with the unity and support we felt together alongside our own treks. In the days after the pomp of the graduation ceremonies had died down, one by one these people packed up and left. By the time I said my last goodbyes, I was surprised to discover just how deep my well of tears dipped down.

Jamey suggested trusting your gut and having faith in yourself when making those big decisions which lead you to make those goodbyes. I’d echo that. But above all, you have to trust in the healing and clarifying power of time. Things might not start out easy.

I trusted my gut, turned down a job with Teach for America that would have sent me deep to the soul and blues of the Mississippi Delta, and went back to Chicago, unsure where that first paycheck would come from. Staying around town and finding most people I was closest to spread around the world, I felt a distinct difference when I’d go to Mass at Madonna—if I’d go to Mass at all. The absence of my peers suddenly made the chapel feel significantly less welcoming than it ever had before.

That year, I jumped around to a few jobs—none of which factored in to what seems to be my career path—but as I struggled, that year I learned more about me, and how to find instances of happiness amidst serious personal doubts, than I probably ever have in any other single year. That year, I aligned myself much better with a sense of who I was. Separated from this community that had helped me for so long, I was forced to take the training wheels off and go into my own solitude to realize that what I most wanted next was what was on my heart all along. College had continued seeing me formed and fashioned, and it just took me a little separation to realize that.

Jamey’s right. These first jobs after college will profoundly influence your future. Just not in the way you might expect. Post-graduation life is difficult; there’s no denying that. But go ahead and take a few chances. Take a job that will challenge you, engage you, and force you to step outside of yourself—even if it’s something you’ll only do for six months or a year, and never again. The lessons waiting for you there are vast and just as important as what you learned in the lecture halls and laboratories. If you don't feel challenged or engaged, odds are you're barking up the wrong tree.

One caveat: truly do make the most of the time you have remaining. Don’t wake up in six months and carry regrets about things you wanted to do. Let the friends and people you love know how much they mean to you. This is a special time in your life that you’ll look back on with soft eyes and a warm heart. And even if it hurts, trust your gut and live each moment for what it is—a beautiful, sometimes painful and awkward, but always instructive and life-giving, expression of the gift of life that God has given us.

Faith in Business: It's Not Too Late

I was talking to Cathy Modde the other day about the types of interactions our campus ministers are having with seniors. With only a few months until graduation, the process of saying goodbye and preparing seniors for what comes next has already begun (in a way, it began the day they walked in here as freshmen).

Cathy mentioned something that surprised me--she said that in several conversations with seniors, they said that they had accepted post-graduation jobs and positions even though they didn't want those positions.

The reason? Not the economy--although I wouldn't hold it against anyone to take a job just to have a job at this point--but rather because the students felt that those jobs were the only ones they could get based on their major/degree, and that it was "too late" to do anything else.

Too late? It's not too late.

Cathy said that she was actually hearing this from juniors as well as seniors, the perception that they had already come this far in their academic careers and thus the next few years were already set in stone.

I'm not here to contradict that sentiment; in fact, I'm here to affirm it. You're right, juniors and seniors. The first job you take after college will have an impact on the rest of your career. And your current studies have an impact on that first job.

Here's a true story about a young man that we'll call "Jamey Stegmaier": I studied International Business and Japanese at Wash U. I procrastinated a bit and didn't seriously start applying for jobs until the spring semester. And none of the jobs I applied to had anything to do with Japanese...I had studied the language for many years and just needed a break. I was finally offered a solid, boring job in May, but I went with my gut and rejected the offer. Trust your gut. Have faith in yourself.

Thus I entered the summer without a job. Looking back, I'm completely bewildered that I wasn't scared or worried. Somehow I had this sense of peace and faith that everything would work out. I didn't expect someone to hand me a job on a silver platter, but I had a feeling that I'd be fine. Have faith in yourself.

Sure enough, I heard about a job at a publishing company, and even though I didn't have the required English degree, I applied, followed up, interviewed, and got the job. The lesson: 95% of what you need to know for your first job has absolutely nothing to do with what you learned in college. That extra 5% can get you in the door, but so can a phone call. At least for that first job. Have faith in yourself.

Four years later, the doors to my office closed and I was out looking for a job again. I know that's jumping ahead a bit for you seniors, but if you want to look down the road, you need to think about what you're going to do after your first job. Because I can guarantee that your first job will not be your last job.

When you're looking for your second job/career, you might realize what I did: It's too late to change careers. At least, you'll feel that way. I worked in publishing for 4 years, and I no longer wanted to work in publishing. But the only jobs that applied to my experience were publishing jobs.

At that point, you'll have the option to go back to school or use your connections to get a job that doesn't relate to your experience. Informational interviews are a way to get your foot in the door, but they offer no guarantee that you'll be considered.

Even then, when you truly feel like it's too late to change careers, it's not too late. Have faith in yourself. You know you're capable of doing things other than that which relates to your major and degree and your first job--great things--you just have to convince someone else of that.

So back to you, junior or senior in college who feels like you're already pigeonholed into a career that barely piques your interest: It's not too late. Now, of all times, is when it's not too late. Sure, if you're 3 years into an Engineering degree, complete the degree. But for that final year--or even add an extra summer or semester--take some classes that will cover that 5% I mentioned above, that 5% needed to get you in the door of a job that truly excites you. Then go get that job when the time comes. The converse is that you don't take those passion classes, you don't get that exciting job, you spend the next few years in a job that doesn't excite you, always thinking that your next job will be the one that makes you happy, but by the time you're ready to apply for your next job, you've pigeonholed yourself into a career that doesn't make sense for you, and the company you want to work for won't even call you back because you don't have the right words on your resume.

I repeat: If you're still a student, and you have any idea of what your dream job is, try at the very least to get a minor relating to that dream job. Get that magical 5% while you can. It's not too late.

If you want to truly trust in God's faith in you, you need to have faith in yourself. Faith that it's not too late, that you're going to be okay, that you can have a career that really excites and engages you. A job that you value--a job where you are valued.

It's not too late to have faith in yourself.

Par. #22 Christ the New Man

Sr. Linda asked me to post an important set of paragraphs from "The Church in the Modern World," as mentioned by Bishop Remi DeRoo in his recent talk at the CSC. Here's the content:

In reality it is only in the mystery of the Word made flesh that the mystery of humanity truly becomes clear. For Adam, the first man, was a type of him who was to come, Christ the Lord. Christ the new Adam, in the very revelation of the mystery of the Father and of his love, fully reveals humanity to itself and brings to light its very high calling. It is no wonder, then, that all truths mentioned so far should find in him their source and their most perfect embodiment.

He who is the "image of the invisible God" (Col 1:15) is himself the perfect man who has restored in the children of Adam the likeness to God which has been disfigured ever since the first sin. Human nature, by the very fact that it was assumed, no absorbed, in him, has been raised in us also to a dignity beyond compare. For, by his incarnation, he, the Son of God, has in a certain way united himself with each individual. He worked with human hands, he thought with a human mind. he acted with a human will, and with a human heart he loved. Born of the Virgin Mary, he has truly been made one of us, like to us in all things except sin.

As an innocent lamb he merited life for us by his blood which he freely shed. In him God reconciled us to himself and to one another, freeing us from the bondage of the devil and of sin, so that each one of us could say with the apostle: the Son of God "loved me and gave himself for me" (Gal 2:20). By suffering for us he not only gave us an example so that we might follow in his footsteps, but he also opened up a way. If we follow this path, life and death are made holy and acquire a new meaning.

Conformed to the image of the Son who is the firstborn of many bothers and sisters, Christians receive the "first fruits of the Spirit" (Rom 8:23) by which they are able to fulfill the new law of love. By this Spirit, who is the "pledge of our inheritance" (Eph 1:14), the entire person is inwardly renewed, even to the "redemption of the body" (Rom 8:23). "if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, God who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit who dwells in you" (Rom 8:11). The Christian is certainly bound both by need and by duty to struggle with evil through many afflictions and to suffer death; but as one who has been made a partner in the paschal mystery, and as one who has been configured to the death of Christ, will go forward, strengthened by hope, to the resurrection.

All this holds true not only for Christians but also for all people of good will in whose hearts grace is active invisibly. For since Christ died for everyone, and since all are in fact called to one and the same destiny, which is divine, we must hold that the holy Spirit offers to all the possibility of being made partners, in a way known to God, in the paschal mystery.

Such is the nature and greatness of the mystery of humankind as enlightened for the faithful by the Christian revelation. It is therefore through Christ, and in Christ, that light is thrown on the mystery of suffering and death which, apart from his Gospel, overwhelms us. Christ has risen again, destroying death by his death, and has given life abundantly to us so that becoming sons and daughters in the Son, we may cry out in the Spirit: Abba, Father.

Lots of Walking to Do

This morning, a second-grader taught me about the apostleship and the ways in which symbolism can become too easy and too vague. The second grade at St. Ambrose is supposed to be memorizing the names of the 12 apostles for this upcoming Friday, and one of their projects today was cutting out paper fish shapes and writing a disciple's name on each colored fish. The teacher had me go around the room and help each student thread their fish onto a piece of yard so they could have the whole catch on a string. It was a really cute project about the 'fishers of men' and the students did a very good job cutting and labelling.

One little boy named Cameron, however, had some very unusual looking fish on his desk. Instead of the simple oval-with-a-tail model, his apostle-fish had multiple extra appendages attached all over them. When I came up to string the fish, Cameron's desk neighbors pointed to his odd-looking fish and told me I should cut off all the extra stuff because he didn't do it right. I assured Cameron that he had done a fine job and that I was not going to cut anything off his fish, but I couldn't help wondering what these amoeba-like creatures were supposed to be. Thinking that Cameron must have had some creepy deep- sea creatures in mind, I asked if there was a reason he had decided to add tentacles to the apostles.

"No, they're not tentacles!" Cameron explained. "They're legs. Peter and Andrew had lots of walking and talking to do."

It was a delightful moment, and I thought it was very insightful of Camerion to realize that fish bodies weren't going to be adequate for all that the followers of Christ needed to do. After all, they were called out of the water and away from their boats to engage people in a new way. If we were going to make these holy people into fish for symbolism, then of course the fish needed feet! Being an apostle was the opposite of sitting in a pond breathing bubbles. The word meant 'someone sent out' or 'messenger' and Cameron had given his cut-outs the tools necessary to be that. Those fish on his desk looked more than a little strange, but they made quite a bit of sense once I really thought about the essence of those early saints on the earth.

~Stephanie

Managing Faith: The Visibility of Giving

I have a distinct memory from my childhood regarding emptying the dishwasher. Each of us kids had specific chores we had to complete each week, and one of them was drying the tops of the dishes and putting them away. During the week in question, my chore was not the dishwasher. Despite that, one night when I was up late studying, I decided to do a random act of kindness and empty the dishwasher. I was especially pleased with the act because I swore to myself not to tell anyone--it would be a true gift, one given without the hopeful caveat of wanting to be thanked.

The next day, I prepared a secret smile for the moment that my sibling noticed that the dishwasher had already been emptied. But not only did my sibling not say anything, he didn't even seem to notice.

"No problem," I told myself. "You decided to empty the dishwasher anonymously. It's not as good of a gift if you don't take credit for it."

But I was a kid, so of course I caved soon after and casually dropped into conversation the fact that I had emptied the dishwasher. I felt much better after everyone knew that I had gone out of my way to do something for my sibling.

The lesson here: It's human nature to take credit for your gifts. I don't think it detracts from the gift itself. In fact, by revealing your identity, you give others the opportunity to put a face, a name, to giving. You encourage the act of giving.

It's based on this premise that this past Sunday, the CSC made available laminated cards that say, "I gave on ParishPay this week." There are 60 people/couples in the community who choose to give to the CSC online on ParishPay every week instead of dropping money in the collection basket. Now they can put the laminated cards in the basket every week that they too are contributing to the CSC. The cards give faces and names to those who otherwise give anonymously every week.

We all have gifts. Whether they're helping someone with a small chore or giving tithe to an organization you care about, your gifts show that there are people out there willing to make a difference. Let's show them to the world.

Damocles' Sword

"Greek legend tells of Damocles, a poor courtier who envied the life of Emperor Dyonisius II of Syracuse. Damocles felt that the ruler was fortunate to have so much authority and power and flattered him excessively for what his prosperity. Then Dyonisus, noting the courtier's jealousy, offered to switch places with him so that he could taste that fortune first hand. Thinking himself quite privileged, Damocles agreed enthusiastically. In the evening a banquet was held, where Damocles reveled in wearing the royal robes and being waited upon like a king. Only at the end of the meal did he look up and notice a sharpened sword hanging by a single horsehair directly above his head. Suddenly seeing the entirety of the position, he lost his taste for rich foods on his plate and the power of his seat, and hurried away from the throne to return to a less precarious life."

Sometimes it feels as though I am sitting in Damocles' throne on top of the world and I hardly know what to do. Here at the university, I am lucky and grateful to have some of the best education and support a society can give, and yet there are moments when I feel terrified by the sharp responsibility of sitting on this perch. Suddenly my banquet of books, professors, skills and opportunities takes on a more serious taste. But I can't run away from my throne or my sword; unlike Damocles who was only sitting in for the Emperor, I have to work with the life I've been given and somehow meet the demand inherent in privilege.

What does it mean to live in a wealthy country, come from a supportive family, or attend a university? I don't think it means that God is waiting to drop a sword on me - that doesn't resonate with my understanding of a loving God - but I do think it means I would be a fool not to recognize that the luxurious banquet table is a precarious place. I would be a fool not to take every chance I get to hop off the throne and help someone who doesn't have a table spread with opportunities. Today somebody did that for me, and it was amazing to see a person take leave of her comfort when she could have so easily stayed situated.

This morning, I had to go to the Cardinal Rigali Center about seven miles south of here to take the 'Protecting God's Children' workshop that is required for anyone who wants to volunteer at a Catholic school. I don't have a car, so I biked there from my apartment, which normally wouldn't have been a problem except that it was so extremely cold today and I lost my mittens a few days ago. The temperature was hovering around zero this morning, and by the time I got to the Center, I was so cold that I was feeling really nauseous and my fingers felt like they were dying. Even at the end of the workshop, I was still so cold that I couldn't stop shaking and I sat there dreading the freezing ride back to campus.

But afterwards, the woman who'd given the workshop came up to me and offered to drive me back to wherever I needed to go. She must have seen me arrive by bike and felt sorry for me. In any case, I was very grateful and totally amazed that she would make such a generous offer. She worked at the Center and had no reason to drive north. She had a warm office. She could have stayed quite comfortably indoors and gotten her work done. But she kindly and generously left her banquet table of warmth to drive me and my bike back to Washington University. I was back in time for class, with all my fingers, too!

Perhaps this is what the Christian is supposed to do in Damocles' situation. We neither sit at our royal banquets reveling in the comfort, nor run away from the good things we have been given. But we can use what we have to help someone who is not wealthy in that particular way. People who have cars can help those who don't. People who benefit from good educations can help those who can't. People who were lucky enough to start life on top can lift up those who weren't.

"Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more" (Luke: 12: 48).

~Stephanie

My Little Pineapple

I'm a big believer in new opportunities and fresh starts. I don't need to remind anyone that sometimes, well, life can just suck and not make a whole lot of sense. But luckily, I don't think that this mud and glop are things we have to toss back and forth for any longer than we want to.

Do you remember your All-Time Classic Heartbreak? Sure you do. Mine happened sometime in that interminably long and fuzzy part of my life between the times I walked across the stage at my college graduation and the moment I felt even a bit confident about the direction my life was taking. By the way: nowhere in my life manual do I remember reading that life in your 20s would be so confusing. Where's the self-help literature here?

One of the major redeeming factors in that interim, dark part in my life was a job I had working in a short-term day care at a posh athletic club in Lincoln Park, Chicago. Believe it or not, it wasn't the brown diapers or spit-up that most appealed to me (though, after leaving this job, I truly do believe I am now officially Mr. Mom-certified), but of course, it was the people that I met at the club that made the difference.

One particular difference-maker was a little fuzzy new pineapple named Jack. Jack and I bonded over the baby swinger, the bopper, and romping on the floor with the orange and blue plastic rings. Jack's mom also took to me, really helping make me feel welcome in her young family and reassuring me about my own future. Literally, I made a wonderful new friendship that helped pass me through the Chicago winter. But it wasn't until I connected the dots on Jack's birthday that I really had an ah-ha moment.

It was the very night of Jack’s birth, in a nearby part of Chicago on an otherwise typical and brutally cold December night, that my heart took its devastated u-turn. Just as Jack and his parents entered a world of their own firsts, I entered my time of beginnings.

To me, Jack represents the promise and amazing possibilities that accompany any change. The winter months weren’t easy, but as I grew closer to Jack and the other kids and staff at my job, I slowly uncovered a new path that would brighten my days, a path that would lead me to where I am today. A place that I feel pretty damn good about.

I'm starting to feel more and more confident that God's love is like this--only better. No matter what happens, no matter how badly we screw it up, God waits, and indeed wants, to hold and guide us. Now, on the nights when I lie awake and stare at the ceiling, too anxious to sleep, I try to recall the promise that last Sunday we heard once came crashing down from the skies over the River Jordan:

“You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.”

Not a bad deal, if you ask me.

Brian G, clocking in

My name is Brian G, and apparently I've volunteered to contribute to this blog.

Introduction? I'm a teacher and campus minister at an all-boys high school, and I absolutely love my job, despite how much I grumble when I'm grading essays or, even worse, prefecting freshman lunch. I'm an American Catholic (thank you, Fr. Gary) who happened to land this sweet gig living at the Catholic Student Center over a Bud Light and a game of cornhole. Living in such close proximity to Forest Park is both a blessing (because I love to run) and a curse (because my excuses not to run carry much less weight). And: Virgo all the way.

Becca Veto and I are currently tied atop the RCIA perfect attendance list. I'm going to have to miss next week because of a retreat. I may or may not arrange to have Becca's soup poisoned at Mass and Soup. I don't like to lose.

Question of the Day

In this inaugural season of beginnings and fresh starts, what can each of us do to make this country better?

Managing Faith: The Saddest Company in the World

Okay, that subject line is a bit dramatic. The company I'm about to describe may not be the saddest company in the world. But it certainly took my breath away when I heard about it yesterday.

I was reading an article in a business magazine about an online dating service that runs on little to no overhead (fascinating) when I read a passage about some of this company's competitors. One particular company stood out. I had to read the premise of the company several times, because I literally couldn't believe my eyes.

It was a dating service for people who want commit adultery.

I was appalled--still am. I'm not going to reveal the name of this website, because the last thing I want to do is promote it in any way. But I do want to talk about it.

First, the website claims to have 3.8 million users. That, to me, is astounding. That's a lot of people. I know we're all human--we have weaknesses, temptations, faults, doubts. People make mistakes. But there's a big difference between making a mistake and intentionally signing up for a website catering toward people wanting to make a mistake.

Second, this company...wow. A company built around the premise of helping people break the sixth commandment. The company's website claims that, "Providing a service like ours does not make someone more likely to stray any more than increasing the availability of glassware contributes to alcoholism." Really? Is that the analogy you're going to use? I think it's more analogous to a website that tells alcoholics that it's okay to get back on the bandwagon and provides coupons for free drinks.

There are plenty of companies out there that do immoral things. In fact, one could probably find immorality in some aspect of every company. But do we really need a company that thrives on immorality? That directly profits from it?

In the end, a positive spin could be that although almost 4 million people use this site, there are many millions more who don't. There are many millions more who stay committed to their relationships, and if they're not happy or not in love, at least they don't actively pursue an affair. They work it out or they break up. They choose not to sin. I applaud those people, and I pity this company.

A Kite of a Soul

This afternoon has been extremely windy, and it made me wonder if perhaps being a soul is like holding onto a kite. The Catholic Encyclopedia says that the soul is "the ultimate internal principle by which we think, feel, and will, and by which our bodies are animated." What exactly does that mean? I don't know, but it seems to require a metaphor of movement, connectivity and sensitivity.

I think kite-flying is a very beautiful experience because it connects and involves you with movements that you otherwise could not feel. If you look up at the sky, it looks big, blue and static. But if you fly a kite in that sky, you suddenly feel the powerful pulls and pushes of the wind up there. The string tugs and dips, loosens and swoops, rises and lifts, and you become part of all that movement.

Maybe God gave us souls so that we can experience the movements beyond our normal awareness. Sometimes we are joyful in a deep, spiritual way that is more than surface-level happiness, and we can feel the wind pulling our kite-souls up by the heartstrings. Sometimes we feel restfully content and peaceful as our kite-souls drift and sway on a calm day. Sometimes we feel unsettled and anxious because difficult decisions are buffeting the kite-soul. Sometimes we feel like the world is falling apart when stormy weather seems determined to crash our kite-souls.

But no matter what is happening to the soul, it is good to acknowledge this essence and keep it flying. If we are souls, then we are constantly thinking, feeling, and willing our way to God - and that is something joyful.

The soul is the "ultimate internal principle by which we think, feel, and will, and by which our bodies are animated." I don't understand what being a soul is (and I'm not very familiar with Picasa or Microsoft Paint), but this is kind of what I imagine a kite-soul flying close to God would feel like:

~Stephanie