Ever been odd? Maybe at times during your life people have told you that you are odd or different. Most of us will then have a survival technique kick in and make adjustments so that we appear normal, acceptable and thereby less vulnerable. Others, very few, make a life out of being thought of as odd. These have a strong sense of self and the opinions of others are seen as re-enforcements of their independent lifestyle. Many of these are artists, authors, philosophers and performers. Some others live a hermit's lifestyle even while surrounded by others.
But there are still others who really are odd. They can't find a consistent place for themselves. There will be times when they are accepted, nurtured and even lauded but that usually does not last for long. The thing about being really odd is that it is not static, it is dynamic, your oddness continues to grow, sometimes exponentially, throughout your life.
When I reached a young age, perhaps seven or eight, I can remember begging God to "turn off the movie." I knew that I was permanently odd and I knew that I had had previous life experiences that had led to this phenomena. I really did not want to go through it again especially at this advanced rate of oddness.
Well, I have survived sixty-eight years of advanced permanent oddness. I really would not like to go for another lifetime of this but I can see the benefits now. My Faith is unshakable, my love is pure agape, my acceptance of others is universal.
Now the time of my life has become quite calm and stable. Sometimes I forget how odd I am. That's when the bizarre stuff kicks in as a reminder. When I play cards (every night) I have a voice inside me that tells me the value and suit of cards that are yet to be exposed. This is with a double deck! It works for me when I am alone but when I try to show off the voice usually clams up. I say usually because sometime I can do it when I need to bring a message to someone whose faith may not be as strong as mine. I can also name and bring messages from spirit guides and long dead relatives of people. Many times these people were co-workers at hospice or strangers to me. This again reinforces my acceptance of my oddness. But what am I supposed to be doing with these "gifts?" I have applied to get back into the active priesthood several times. No luck yet, though I am supposed to have my stuff gone over by another bishop next week. I get a feeling that my oddness and deep, deep faith actually exclude me from traditional priestly ministry. Isn't that odd?
Fr. Rod
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
A note to the Living
This blog site lets me check the stats about how many visit my site and when. The number is in the thousands now. I wonder how many hits are real people and how many are attempts to sell me something by a machine? If your real could you do me a favor? Please click on comment. You do not have to say anything. Just put a letter or number that says you are a sentient being. I sometimes have this feeling that I am entertaining myself. Which is ok but leads to a form of neurosis that I would rather not deal with. :)
Fr. Rod
Fr. Rod
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Validation
I mentioned in my early blogs about my on-going relationship with Our Blessed Mother Mary. I certainly pray that you too have such a relationship. Mine started early on in life and became more tangible after I was ordained. I was visited by her in 1994 while I was celebrating liturgy (mass) alone in my church on the leave taking of the feast of her birth. I had been out of town for a couple of weeks and I did not get a chance to offer liturgy while I was gone. The first thing I did when I got back was to go into the church and offer liturgy.
What happened next has been documented by me in many places. I submitted a report on it to the Melkite Bishop Elya in Boston and to Fr. Nassaney, OMI at the shrine to Our Lady in Willimantic, Ct. What happened was my first actual "in the flesh" visit by the Mother of God. She explained to me what the Immaculate Conception was all about. I have never been able to put the detailed explanation into a language that my conscious level could employ. I just have a great story about a teenage Jewish woman who was pregnant and did not want to embarrass her father. She also made me a pro-lifer without the usual political garbage.
I have had several other spiritual visits since, four with miraculous healings. I would like to say that this has led to a spectacular career for me in the church. Nah, just the opposite happened. My view of church and the sacraments were radically changed forever and this made me some kind of radical in the church's view and they really did not want to deal with me.
I see the church as a living entity that needs to be nurtured not an institution to be defended. I see Our Lady as the Mother of that living being.
Today Our Mother spoke to me again. This time two of us together were blessed with this visit. One here in Phoenix and the other in Connecticut. She told us that she sees her beloved church as we would see our teenage son or daughter experimenting with drugs or alcohol. Her hope is like that of many agonizing parents. That hope is that her church will survive beyond this plague. Perhaps hope is the wrong word. Her message was stronger than that. Her promise is that when (not if) we gather ourselves back together we will be stronger than ever. Our traumatic journey in the desert of abuse will be made into a glorifying march to a new sobriety of purpose.
The rest of the hour long message is private. Not by my choice. The only hint I am allowed to give is that we have less than two years to wait. Is that wait 5 minutes or 24 months? Wait for what? The time, I don't know. As for what, it is a new set of gifts. She tells me that I have a big world shaking gift coming. Hoo Rah, I could use a boost! I am grateful and more than curious but I have to wait like everyone else. Hang in there! Can I pray with you?
Fr. Rod
What happened next has been documented by me in many places. I submitted a report on it to the Melkite Bishop Elya in Boston and to Fr. Nassaney, OMI at the shrine to Our Lady in Willimantic, Ct. What happened was my first actual "in the flesh" visit by the Mother of God. She explained to me what the Immaculate Conception was all about. I have never been able to put the detailed explanation into a language that my conscious level could employ. I just have a great story about a teenage Jewish woman who was pregnant and did not want to embarrass her father. She also made me a pro-lifer without the usual political garbage.
I have had several other spiritual visits since, four with miraculous healings. I would like to say that this has led to a spectacular career for me in the church. Nah, just the opposite happened. My view of church and the sacraments were radically changed forever and this made me some kind of radical in the church's view and they really did not want to deal with me.
I see the church as a living entity that needs to be nurtured not an institution to be defended. I see Our Lady as the Mother of that living being.
Today Our Mother spoke to me again. This time two of us together were blessed with this visit. One here in Phoenix and the other in Connecticut. She told us that she sees her beloved church as we would see our teenage son or daughter experimenting with drugs or alcohol. Her hope is like that of many agonizing parents. That hope is that her church will survive beyond this plague. Perhaps hope is the wrong word. Her message was stronger than that. Her promise is that when (not if) we gather ourselves back together we will be stronger than ever. Our traumatic journey in the desert of abuse will be made into a glorifying march to a new sobriety of purpose.
The rest of the hour long message is private. Not by my choice. The only hint I am allowed to give is that we have less than two years to wait. Is that wait 5 minutes or 24 months? Wait for what? The time, I don't know. As for what, it is a new set of gifts. She tells me that I have a big world shaking gift coming. Hoo Rah, I could use a boost! I am grateful and more than curious but I have to wait like everyone else. Hang in there! Can I pray with you?
Fr. Rod
Thursday, February 2, 2012
What does your culture say is appropriate prayer?
I graduated from the seminary in 1992. That was when all the scandals about pedophile priests were first breaking. The last year of formation in the seminary is mostly about practical parish stuff. So naturally there was a lot about how to act toward young people. Be polite and friendly but no touching or being alone with a child was the mantra. That seemed like a no brainer.
Then I was assigned to my first parish, St Basil the Great in Central Falls, Rhode Island. Being a Melkite Catholic priest I knew I would be serving mostly people of Arabic heritage. I knew there would be an adjustment period. I figured that after six months or so I would have a good idea of what was expected of me. Little did I know that three months later I would be alone as a pastor of my own parish. But that's another story.
The day of my first liturgy (mass) I went over to the church and began to get things set up. After a while the altar boys started to arrive (no altar girls). What came next was a bit of a shock. I went back into the sacristy and found all my altar boys lined up. The oldest and most experienced were first on down to the little guys. I stood in front of them and began to introduce myself when the first in line gave me a big bear hug and kissed me on both cheeks. He said, with a big smile, ahlan abouna, welcome father. This went on in turn for all seven of the servers. Hugs and kisses.
Oy vey, I said to myself, its the granite hotel for you bucko and they will throw away the key. But that did not happen. I got used to the greeting even though I am not much into hugs and kisses.
A week or so later I went to dinner with one of the priests who had attended seminary with me. It was a Roman Catholic seminary. He asked me how things were going and particularly, how did I prepare myself for liturgy (mass). I said, well the first thing I do is kiss all the altar boys. I think his eyebrows reached the considerable bald spot on his head. And no matter how much I tried to explain the Arabic culture he never got it. That taught me a lot about people, prayer and cultural expectations.
I am now more open to how people in our own American culture pray and what is expected during that effort. I see Pentecostalism's energetic, loud prayer on a par with the little old Catholic lady in the back of the church quietly praying her rosary. I see the busy mom taking her daily chores and offering them as a prayerful sacrifice on a par with the minister rendering a well prepared sermon.
I could go on and on. But the important thing is that we pray. Pick a style. Pick a culture. Pick a friend to pray with. What's you style? Can I pray with you?
Then I was assigned to my first parish, St Basil the Great in Central Falls, Rhode Island. Being a Melkite Catholic priest I knew I would be serving mostly people of Arabic heritage. I knew there would be an adjustment period. I figured that after six months or so I would have a good idea of what was expected of me. Little did I know that three months later I would be alone as a pastor of my own parish. But that's another story.
The day of my first liturgy (mass) I went over to the church and began to get things set up. After a while the altar boys started to arrive (no altar girls). What came next was a bit of a shock. I went back into the sacristy and found all my altar boys lined up. The oldest and most experienced were first on down to the little guys. I stood in front of them and began to introduce myself when the first in line gave me a big bear hug and kissed me on both cheeks. He said, with a big smile, ahlan abouna, welcome father. This went on in turn for all seven of the servers. Hugs and kisses.
Oy vey, I said to myself, its the granite hotel for you bucko and they will throw away the key. But that did not happen. I got used to the greeting even though I am not much into hugs and kisses.
A week or so later I went to dinner with one of the priests who had attended seminary with me. It was a Roman Catholic seminary. He asked me how things were going and particularly, how did I prepare myself for liturgy (mass). I said, well the first thing I do is kiss all the altar boys. I think his eyebrows reached the considerable bald spot on his head. And no matter how much I tried to explain the Arabic culture he never got it. That taught me a lot about people, prayer and cultural expectations.
I am now more open to how people in our own American culture pray and what is expected during that effort. I see Pentecostalism's energetic, loud prayer on a par with the little old Catholic lady in the back of the church quietly praying her rosary. I see the busy mom taking her daily chores and offering them as a prayerful sacrifice on a par with the minister rendering a well prepared sermon.
I could go on and on. But the important thing is that we pray. Pick a style. Pick a culture. Pick a friend to pray with. What's you style? Can I pray with you?
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