1. Christmas Rapping
The Catholic Church is not without its problems, but we do Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve really well.
I went to Midnight Mass at the Vatican once. It was two popes ago, before I had kids—a different life. I was jet-lagged and it was the first time I’d ever been in St. Peter’s. Or to Italy.
We were packed into rows of folding chairs, about halfway down the nave. Around us, people were speaking dozens of languages. In the row behind us was a couple with two young children. The kids were barely awake. At some point, one of them had an accident and peed. A small puddle slowly spread across the marble floor.
And no one cared.
That duality stayed with me. The formality of the incense and the choirs. The work of Bernini’s and Michelangelo’s hands a few feet away. The Holy Father and the dignitaries. But also: kids, who sometimes have accidents. And the realization that this is not something anyone should fuss over or be embarrassed about, because it is the stuff of life.
When the Church is at her best, this what she models for us: that there is no tension between the beauty of worship and the messiness of life.
2. Life Is Good
Yesterday, one of our friends, willoughby, left this note in the comments:
Ben Sasse’s words speak very directly to me since I, too, have a Stage IV cancer that has stopped responding to treatment. Like him, I am buoyed by faith. If I qualify I am about to become a lab rat for a new, promising, but largely untested investigative treatment that may add a few months to my time here, maybe even as much as a year: so unlike the former Senator I can still cling to a fragile wisp of hope.
But despite that wisp, the fact is I have crossed a threshold: I am in the land of the dying, and in this place you do indeed turn your thoughts, paradoxically, to life: to its sheer joy, its abundance, its loveliness, from the trivial, like the perfect taste of a beloved dish, to the transcendent, like the glow of a grandchild’s gorgeous face (the sheer wonder of a one year old!) Sunsets. The sound of wind. The laughter of a passerby. Listening to splendid music made by humans who were also born, suffered, died: but also created. The endless impervious absurdity of my terrier, who has no idea that I’m dying, but only knows that I’m here to amuse him. Life is good.
One of life’s challenges, I think, is to try spend all of your days with this sort of appreciation for the goodness of life, even before you cross that threshold. I am grateful to willoughby for reminding me of this challenge. Grateful to her for her words and spirit.
I hope you’ll all keep her in your prayers.
3. Problems
The Prayers of the Faithful usually conclude with some version of, “For the needs we hold in the silence of our hearts.” To which the congregation replies, “Lord, hear our prayer.” For me, this is always the most sorrowful part of Mass: the reminder that everyone around you is carrying burdens. That everyone is living with circumstances.1
Life is good, yes. But it can also be hard.
Whatever you’re dealing with today, I pray your load will be a little lighter tonight.
Happy Christmas, my friends.
Best,
JVL
If you want to get all the feelings, Chuck Pagano’s 2012 speech about living in a vision, rather than living in circumstances, gets me every time.
Despite the dark and dangerous times, I am grateful for the clarity - and yes, hope(!) - that you have given us this year. Not just for your words, but also for your moral clarity and refusal to be gaslit. It helps me to know that some part of our world is still sane.
Hoping for some peace and joy for you and your family, JVL.
And Holiday Joy from this atheist too. Our humanity brings us together whenever we can forget our hate. Find joy and caring wherever you can. Peace.