Feast of St. Michael and All Angels

And war broke out in heaven... Michael and his angels fought against the dragon. The dragon and his angels fought back, but they were defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. The great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him. -Revelation 12:7-9

"And war broke out in heaven..." that is perhaps the most chilling verse in the Bible. For if war can break out in heaven, then what hope can we ever have for peace?

The thing about this verse is the timing... did it happen or will it happen? Or both? The Revelation to John isn't clear at all. No surprise there... prophesies and signs are never really clear until we can document them. We blame the Devil for our own original sin, for the seven deadly sins, for evil in general, but what if the Devil has nothing to do with the mess we've made on earth? What if we have nobody to blame but ourselves... our own human incompetence and greed?

Michael and his angels fought against the dragon. Who will fight for us?

It's also no surprise (to me) that Michael is the patron saint of police officers. In their own way, they fight for the ordinary citizen's right to safety and peace. Two in my family are now in that profession. God bless them.

Change is coming...

Last Sunday we celebrated the baptism of Jesus. It's always a curve ball for me. I'm still contemplating the visit of the wise men and wham! it's time to baptize a thirty year old. So much about our liturgical calendar puzzles me: we begin our New Year in late November/early December, we celebrate the Holy Innocents before the wise men's visit, we put Jesus in the tomb on Friday and celebrate Easter on Sunday... hardly three days in the ground by anyone's count. And yet other things seem pretty specific: The Annunciation is nine months before the birth... that's linear. Yet some of these wonky celebrations serve as a reminder that God's time is not linear, even though my pea brain likes to think it is. 

Our celebrant on Sunday did a time-skip himself. he began by describing John the Baptist and then explored the differences between John and Jesus. John preached that change was coming. That you'd better get ready for it. Then he skipped to our time, our now... where change is still being preached and we're also told we'd better get ready.

But ready for what? Global warming? Economic meltdown? Violence? Hunger? War in the Middle East and Africa? Strife in the Anglican Communion? These issues don't seem especially new. 

People went out in droves to hear John the Baptizer. Jesus went too, for whatever reasons we like to attribute to His motives. Our celebrant suggested that Jesus identified with John's message of change and wanted to be a part of it. 

But hardly anyone was ready for the message Jesus brought. If He appeared today I doubt many would want to hear it either. God did a new thing in Jesus. New, radical, and against all understanding of fairness and common sense. We've tamed that message over the years, sanitized it, packaged it, revised it to meet our needs. 

When will we ask what God needs? What God wants from us?

Three Kings Day

The Feast of the Epiphany never happened, according to Bishop Spong in his book Jesus for the Nonreligious. He doesn't believe the slaughter of the Holy Innocents happened either, nor the miraculous birth in Bethlehem. Maybe not.

Maybe not in the linear historical sense, a sense I'm beginning to explore in my cartoons these days. But the profound truth... that strangers can recognize what the rest of us are too blind to see... that innocent children are the beneficiaries of deadly violence at the hands of power-hungry adults... that any birth, in and of itself, is the most ordinary and yet miraculous of events... these truths are contained in the stories we relate to explain the ridiculous belief that God, if such a Thing or Person exists, would choose to be mortal, even if only for a brief thirty-or-so years.

This belief, in and of itself, is probably the biggest miracle of all. What's a few wise men thrown into the mix?

To all my family, far and near,
blood of my blood, heart of my heart...
wishing you Blessings today and forever...

Christ the King

Our celebrant mentioned that she felt it was fitting that Christ the King Sunday come at this time of year, when the nights are long and the days cold. "We need some hope, some light in the darkness—to be reminded of who is actually in charge", she said.

This week is the end of the church year; next Sunday we'll start all over again with Advent, when we focus directly on the bleakness of our world and our hope for some heavenly intervention that will bring us comfort and joy.

Wars still rage in several parts of the globe, starvation and disease are commonplace, if not here in the United States, certainly in Africa and other third world countries. Our own economic recession-going-on-depression is reason enough to look for meaning that doesn't come from money or possessions. 

Today's Gospel (Matthew 25:31-46) speaks of a God who values acts of kindness and charity to the least likely suspects in which to see the face of Jesus. To serve those we don't even recognize as Christ... that is what God values. 

High Hopes

The words History in the Making have been true for much of my lifetime. Civil Rights, Viet Nam, a Man on the Moon... pocket calculators, the internet... and now another chance for a nation, our nation, once thought to be great and noble, to prove itself again to the world.

The country voted in droves. I even voted, and I have not felt the desire or need to vote in fifteen years. In my mind, Hope is what this election was and is about. We hope we can regain the dignity, the purpose, the ideals we say we uphold. 

Time will tell, of course. But without that hope there is only apathy. And we (I) have been apathetic far too long. Did I mention this is the first election in which the candidate I voted for has actually won? That makes a bit of a difference in my attitude towards voting.

All Souls

We have a tradition in our community on All Souls Day, (which we are observing today instead of two days ago): we read the names of every sister who has died in community, beginning with our founder Mother Ruth. Next come the names of all our relatives and close friends who have died... for example, my mother and father, grandmother and grandfather, etc... and finally the names of all who have died in the past year for whom we have said or sung requiems. 

It's a long list.

Names that were high points of mourning several months ago suddenly bring tears again, even though they have not been specifically on my mind since we laid them to rest. Why go through all that? Why live in the past that cannot be changed, only remembered with pain or nostalgia?

Two reasons I can think of off the bat: one... these people were important to us. My litany of names may mean nothing to the sister standing next to me, but she holds me in prayer and comfort, just as I hold her when her names are read. It's something tangible we do for each other, we remember together, pay tribute together, pray for their souls together.

The second reason was mentioned in the sermon Saturday (the part I never got to in my post yesterday.) We ask the saints to pray for us, and we, in turn, pray for them. Is this foolishness or the mysterious reality of the timeless nature of creation? I cannot answer that for you, of course. (I can barely answer it for myself.) But I know that these people I have loved live on in me... some in my DNA, some in my memory, some in their teachings that moved me forward on my own path to God.

Remembering the dead is nice, but it is not enough. I thought of my grandmother today, who always worked the polls on election days. Both she and my grandfather were working class Democrats and took great delight in announcing at supper "I voted a straight Democratic ticket." If my aunt and uncle, the Republicans in the family were there, there would be heated discussion about choosing a candidate on his own merits rather than his party. I was a child, and listened to these discussions with little interest, yet they stayed with me... even as I voted today. 

When Kennedy won the presidency my grandparents were dead. They would have had to choose between voting for a Democrat or not voting for a Catholic, and I have no clue which allegiance or prejudice would have won out. Today the issue is partly religious, but much more about race. Those who struggled hard in the 50's and 60's to bring Civil Rights to all of America see this election as a culmination of their efforts. My vote will be one that supports those efforts as well. My dear friend Robert Dubie was a freedom rider in the 60's. His was one of my names read at mass this morning. They live on in us. Of that I have no doubt.

reinventing the wheel

I've heard a couple of good sermons over the past few days... 

We don't usually have mass on Saturday, but one of our Bishop Visitors was here last week and it was All Saints Day, a major feast day in the liturgical year. A sermon about saints and prayer and time travel... pretty interesting stuff. 

The lessons for yesterday, the 25th Sunday after Pentecost, most people probably didn't get to hear, as our celebrant pointed out. Most people in church yesterday were hearing Saturday's lessons because most churches were celebrating All Saints Day. Yesterday was really All Souls Day, which some will celebrate today, but we (in my community) won't celebrate it until tomorrow, because we have today off. (How's that for time travel?)

The Gospel (Matthew 23:1-12) comes smack dab in the middle of all the "Woe to You" warnings... Jesus warning the Pharisees and scribes about how they will be judged in the Kingdom of God. But in this passage he stops and says essentially, Don't throw the baby out with the bath water. Just because the Pharisees aren't practicing what they teach doesn't mean their teachings aren't valid.

It's a good point to remember any time. Not exactly the same as Don't shoot the messenger, but in that vein. The third cliché that comes to mind in all of this is reinventing the wheel.

Both celebrants talked about our church's preoccupation with the past. When we celebrate the saints of Christian history, we dwell in their faithfulness and glories. What does it have to do with us? Our past is pretty flawed, our saints were pretty flawed... why not just ditch it all and start over? 

Some are, in fact, doing this. Starting over. It's not surprising or fresh news that membership in churches and religious communities has dwindled over the past decade. Church attendance is down across the board. Monastic communities are dying out. Yet there are also movements to build new communities, based on new rules, new ideals. There is ample evidence that the hunger for spirituality is as strong as ever. But whatever is on the menu of the institutional church is simply not what people can swallow.

Everything has a life cycle. Joan Chittister wrote volumes about the life cycle of monastic communities. She had some excellent insights and warnings of her own when it comes to the need for transformation of stale and outdated practices and beliefs. 

As a community, we begin again to grapple with our corporate identity, as we also remain focused on individual ministries and obligations. It's a fine line. The company of saints provide not just a background, but a "cloud of witnesses" for our struggles today.

profound platitudes...

"The hurrier I go, the behinder I get." Someone said that in conversation the other evening, and I had to smile. I don't remember the first time I heard the expression, but it stuck with me, the way an irritating jingle from some old commercial will pop into your mind... and stick there. forever.

It doesn't fit me exactly (at least not right at the moment.) I'm treading water pretty well. Every so often I gulp a mouthful, but for the most part I'm still breathing. Still there are lots of things I'd like to do that there's no time for, and lots of things I'd like to do that I'm carefully carving out time for. Balance never was my forté and probably never will be, but with the help of a daily "To Do" list and a schedule that allows for small blocks of time between prayers, cooking, doorbell, and my work outside, I'm managing. I'd like to write more often, but am finding I have less to say, or at least not enough time to say it properly.

I was at a friend's profession Friday night. She and I actually joined this community as postulants together and we were comrades/combatants our first year. We were clothed in the same ceremony and then split up for three months when I went off to Wyoming on a special project. When I returned, we had a few more months together, but then she left us and went to another order. This happens a lot in the religious life. People move around. A Vocation is not just a call to serve God, it is a call to a specific community, and that's not as easy to discern as the God-wants-you part.

My friend and I have kept in touch sporadically, which isn't always easy either. She has her life and I have mine, but for the big celebrations it's always important to be there, for each other, as a witness to friendship, to commitment, to celebrate the joy of new directions and new growth.

The best laid plans of mice and men... another expression that sticks, and in the case of her Profession ceremony, was definitely on target. A traffic accident in the city caused two (of an expected three) associates-to-be to be stranded somewhere on the highway, so they missed their reception ceremony. The one who showed up was received. The next plan-gone-awry occurred when the preacher was likewise lost in transit, and the Gospelor was asked to preach an impromptu homily. He did an admirable job, reminding us that God is spontaneous, and probably not nearly as serious as we package Him... that we should be more playful when we approach our lives of service, because a sense of humor will get us through a lot. The evening's lesson from Ezekiel concerning the water flowing from the temple was a case in point: he explained that in the desert, water is power. But if we think of water instead as blessing, a blessing for all, not just those in control of the resource, we will approach our ministries in a whole new way. He spoke of my friend as a wonderful reminder to him that God is playful, and urged her to continue to remind us of that truth.

The service moved along and we were just starting communion, when the preacher arrived. My friend stepped out in front of the altar and said, "Wouldn't it be playful... if we heard two sermons tonight?" Everyone laughed. And so we did. Finally at the end, one of the other associates-to-be had also arrived, so we went through the reception ceremony again at the end of the service.

Spontaneity. They lived it Friday night and it was a blessing and a reminder to me. So much so, that when another friend, who lives with my sisters up in Brewster, asked me to ride back to their convent instead of staying overnight, I said yes... and surprised them with an impromptu visit.

The Holy Trinity, One God

Our celebrant reminded us this morning that Trinity Sunday, unlike other major feasts, is not so much a celebration of specific events in the Life of Jesus (or his mother, or the angels, or any of the various saints we celebrate...) but a tribute to to a theological idea. As she said, the concepts that under gird our faith don't necessarily provide the impetus to get up every morning to do what Christ commanded us to do.

While the concept of Trinity may be one we grapple with from time to time, the commandment to "love God and our neighbor" tends to take up most of our energy. (That's certainly true for me.)

She went on to point out, though, that in today's Old Testament Lesson, (Genesis 1:1-2:4) the story of the dawn of creation and our part in it, points to humankind as a creative tension between two worlds: we are definitely cast as part of the process, creatures that God made, yet we have a unique distinction: we are made in God's image.

She saw the Trinity itself as a creative tension in the way God reveals himself (herself) in so many ways... the concept of trinity/unity/One God tries to make sense of all the manifestations. And what about the Holy Spirit? from a mystical perspective, the Holy Spirit is the energy, the Love, that flows through and between... the glue that provides the Unity.

She admitted this was all still "head stuff" and gave examples of the human experience of this flow: the dance. In her case, it was the physical interaction of training her horse that provided the image: two separate beings becoming one, together yet separate... in harmony as they executed a maneuver they had both been training each other to achieve.

I thought of other examples, but the image of the Dance resonated the strongest... I could picture ballroom dancers sweeping across the floor in such smooth precision they seemed like one body. My friend Pat writes about dancing all the time. I thought of her too. And then in the midst of (one of) my favorite hymns came the line: "I bind unto myself today, the power of God to hold and lead..." aha! God does want to dance with us. I knew it.

Palm Sunday

I was brought up in the Protestant tradition where Palm Sunday was the day for marching bands, palm waving and hosannas. It was not to be confused with the events that occur just a few days later.

Imagine my horror the first time I experienced Palm Sunday in the Episcopal church... where the service starts out with a parade around the chancel, but then things get very ugly as the Passion narrative is read (or worse, acted out.) I was flabbergasted. "Give the man a few days to enjoy the ride," I thought. Betrayal and death will come soon enough.

I've had to endure many a Palm Sunday since that first one, and I have to admit the tradition has grown on me. Ask anyone who's life has changed in a matter of minutes. They will tell you that security is an illusion, that all we truly have is the moment we're living in.

For us to go from "Hosanna in the Highest!" to "Crucify him!" in less than fifteen minutes, then, is not so unlikely.

I have avoided crowds most of my life. They scare me. There is a crowd mentality that takes over and it can be nasty and unpredictable. In Jerusalem the crowd was swayed to blood lust. Those who would have been sickened by it probably stayed home. There were several Palm Sundays in the beginning of my life as an Episcopalian that I found one reason or another to stay home too. But showing up is important. Showing up and standing up for what we believe is probably one of the most important choices we can make. Even if it seems to make no difference at the time.

the moment passes

The feast of the Transfiguration is actually celebrated in August, yet we always hear the story again the last Sunday before Lent:

Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah." —Matthew 17:4

As many times as we Christians read this story, do we ever stop making an idol of familiarity? I cannot count the times church people have responded to a new event — from contextual crisis to their own individual angst — by grasping at familiarity: declare the new wrong because it is new, fit the new into old categories, greet the new by reenacting old conflicts, treat the Word as an icon to be treasured because it never changes, rather than as a lance to the heart bringing God into this very day. —Tom Erich

The Transfiguration is many stories within the story... deeply packed, full of different meanings for different people. (Or different meanings at different times for the same people, or all of the above.) For Jesus perhaps it was an anchor, what self-help seminars call a resource state. Our celebrant this morning had a different take on the story than Tom's. Both are important, I think, as we move forward into Lent.

"If the picture is in a frame. it goes on the wall." she said. She was relating a story from her own childhood, her own heritage, where, because of humidity and culture, in her grandparents' home, all framed photographs were hung up high, near the ceiling. "You had to look up," she went on, "much as the disciples had to look up to the scene of Jesus talking with Elijah and Moses." She went on to point out that in Matthew's Gospel, Peter is not scolded for wanting to memorialize the event he has just witnessed. The moment passes, and Jesus is there alone with them again.

The moment passes. So much of my dealings with God and Spirit can be summed up in those three words. I am honored with glimpses, blessed with instantaneous understandings, given the benefit of peaceful moments... but they are gone before I am sometimes even aware they were there. Coming back to earth isn't easy; of course we want to frame the picture, the feeling, the remembrance of who we knew ourselves to be in that moment.

But even a framed picture is only a two-dimensional reminder of whatever experience we had which suffused every particle of our being. As Barbara Brown Taylor has said, "...reality is not flat, but deep."

And it is this very depth that familiarity cannot capture. So, as Tom says above, we resort to what we know in our fear of what we cannot know fully. To embrace the new will mean to embrace the cross. To understand the Word of God to be an organic, evolving, transforming process, rather than words on a concrete tablet is to see the safety nets removed as we venture forth on the precipice. "...a lance to the heart bringing God into this very day" is what we can find during Lent... if we're willing.

Baptism of Jesus

This year's reading about Jesus' baptism comes from Matthew. Of the three Gospels, it is my least favorite... for a number of reasons. On the other hand, it's the one we all remember because of the dialog.

Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to be baptized by John. But John tried to deter him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" Jesus replied, "Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness." Then John consented. As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased." —Matthew 3: 13-17

As Tom Erich said in a recent meditation: "...this isn't Jesus speaking, this is the author. Language like this isn't the language of an unlettered Jewish carpenter. Read the plain talk of the Beatitudes if you want to hear what Jesus actually sounded like. This is Matthew trying to put John the Baptist in an inferior place."

I actually posted a year ago with a new piece of artwork. Of course the point for me was partly the artwork. I'd worked hard on that particular piece... using a variety of images of the actual Jordan river to create my background. But today, our celebrant read the Gospel slowly, with a certain inflection that supported his sermon about decisions.

All discourse over whether John said this or Jesus said that was omitted. The focus was on the decision. Jesus decided to make the trip all the way from Galilee to the Jordan. No short distance in that time. He decided to be baptized by John. His cousin, and at that point, the leading contender for the heavyweight title "Messiah."

Jesus had an experience during that baptism that changed his direction. Whether the baptism itself was a symbol that he was already making this change, or whether he actually got the message then and there is not clear. But as John preached repentance, repent he did. He turned right around and went his own way. He would not be John's disciple after all. He would be his own man. God's own man.

Our celebrant asked us to think back on the decision-making moments in our own lives. He asked us to remember that those moments, no matter how magnificent at the time, are not enough; that we (like Jesus) must keep finding a way to say "yes" again and again.

Feast of the Epiphany

e·piph·a·ny –noun [(i-pif-uh-nee)]

1. A Christian festival, observed on January 6, commemorating the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the Magi; Twelfth-day.

2. An appearance or manifestation, esp. of a deity.

3. A sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.

Oddly enough thesaurus.reference.com has no entries for the word epiphany. The dictionary has six, all about the same as what's written above.

Today is the feast day of "when the wise men showed up" as one of my kids used to say. Yes they did. Or no, they didn't, depending on how literally you take the Bible.

It really doesn't matter to me whether they did or didn't, whether they got there the day/night Jesus was born or after he'd been around for a while. It's a parable... a story that speaks to something else.

Our celebrant this morning spoke to the third definition (in light of the first) for her sermon theme. She gave examples from poetry and literature to develop the idea of what you do once you've had an epiphany... how you live from then on. She asked: How do you reorient your life around the new reality the light reveals? Excellent question. And, she believed, it accounts for some of the let-down people experience after the holidays. Because if we follow the new insight, it will mean extra work for sure, and possibly extra danger. The wise men discerned the danger and fled, never to be heard from again. Their decision left a larger wake of violence, for Herod, already losing his marbles, responded by slaughtering the innocent.

Years ago I was involved in some personal growth seminars. There were several epiphanies for me as a result of those trainings. I remember being told: Once you begin on the path of awareness, there is no turning back. "Catchy phrase" I thought at the time. Yet I found out it was absolutely true. You can live in denial, you can backslide, you can curse the day you ever encountered the light, but there's no turning back.

In Auden's poem the wise men say, "O here and now our endless journey stops." The shepherds say, "O here and now our endless journey starts."
May we be like those shepherds.

Feast of the Holy Name

And at the end of eight days, when he was circumcised, he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb. —Luke 2:21

For secular revelers, January 1st is a day to sleep in, to write out New Year's resolutions, to reflect on 2007 and dream in 2008.

For those of us who observe today as the Feast of the Holy Name (of Jesus), our celebrant had his usual fascinating array of historical facts as well as his dry, well-placed humor. Until 1979, when our church officially changed the title of the feast day, today was called the Feast of the Circumcision. Eight days after Christmas, as was the Jewish law, Jesus was circumcised and named, the same name that the angel spoke before his conception.

Circumcision and naming were part and parcel of each other... as Paul says in his letter to the Galatians: "God sent his son... born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children." In other words, the child of Bethlehem, a Jew, was subject to the same unusual covenant with God as all the other Jewish male children. It wasn't just the custom, or a matter of cleanliness; circumcision was an outward and physical sign that the Law had been observed for another generation. For some this day is marked as the day of the first blood spilt by Jesus, to be echoed thirty-three years later on the cross. First blood spilt in observance of the law, and future blood spilt to redeem us from the law.

As he preached, our celebrant tied the importance of both observances together. Names, he reminded us, can tell us what someone does or who someone is. In Jesus' case the name does both. Jesus... Greek translation of Joshua (or Yeshua) a combination of two nouns in Hebrew: God and Salvation. Not only does "Jesus Save" (which some of us are forever exclaiming) but more importantly "The Lord IS Salvation." It is his very nature. The mystery here, of course, is why?

Jesus was not white

As an artist, I have a tendency to create images of a Jesus who looks like me: white... I know better. Jesus was born a Jew, a fact many have ignored (or glossed over) in their quest to create the perfect Messiah. What does a Jewish baby look like? While he was probably not the darkest black of the Ethiopians, he was most likely a baby of color. One of my sisters called me to task for my white babies... so I went searching the internet for sources. Not too many to be found, as it turns out.

On Christmas morning we sing carols before and after breakfast, one of our traditions. There is as much energy around the impersonations for the Friendly Beasts as there is in trying to get our harmonies on key. This year our favorite camel couldn't remember her signature noise... she couldn't remember that she had always produced this camel noise for as long as I can remember... so at least five years. It was a turning point for sisters who are still in denial about the big "A" word. We muddled through. There is no turning back time, not collectively anyway. So here's a new baby, (not white) surrounded by his friendly beasts.

God's desire

In her sermon on Christmas Eve, our celebrant suggested that Christians are charged to do two things at this time of year: to return to Bethlehem, and to remember the garden. She reminded us that in the Orthodox tradition, December 24th is actually the feast day of Adam and Eve... the feast of the beginning. The Christmas tree was originally decorated with apples, a reminder of that time before time, when we lived in wholeness. Before we knew we were not good enough.

Once we knew... then the endless misunderstandings began. She painted a picture of a God who desires to be in relationship with what God has created... yet we manage to keep screwing it up. Wholeness was shattered in the original Eden, but still God did not give up.

Fast forward to Bethlehem. A radical new way to approach relationship with us... to be one of us. Like us. Ordinary. Suffering. Laughing, working, eating, drinking and eliminating... Everything that humans do, God would do too. God with us: Look at him. See ourselves. See our God.

Bethlehem today is still occupied, still unsafe for children and other living things. The names of the powerful change but their ways are still violent, fearful and deadly. And each year we remember... it doesn't have to be this way. God wants relationship with the created beings of this world. No wonder they say "Patience is a Virtue."

Feast of All Souls

I've said this before and I'm saying it again...

changing the NAME of today's feast day from All Souls to The Faithful Departed, is another example of insufferable arrogance and prejudice. Originally "the faithful departed" was a subtitle. Those in the know, knew they were praying for people who had remained true to the faith, but it also gave anyone the freedom to pray for those souls not exactly deemed in favor with the current prevailing tides.

Heretics have always been proclaimed from the rooftops by others with more narrow views of the dogma. Innocent wise women were condemned as witches; babies born out of wedlock, or who had died before baptism, were not buried in holy ground. It seems we have never agreed on who is worthy or holy enough to enter the kingdom of heaven. Perhaps a more appropriate prayer would be: God help us all.

Don't we have enough to condemn us already without turning a day of solemn prayer for the human race into another way to exclude those we don't think qualify? Give me a break!

end of rant.

Feast of the Holy Guardian Angels

"He hath given his angels charge over thee."
... In this, therefore, brethren, let us affectionately love His angels as one day our future coheirs; meanwhile, however, as counselors and defenders appointed by the Father and placed over us. Why should we fear under such guardians? Those who keep us in all our ways can neither be overcome nor be deceived, much less deceive. They are faithful; they are prudent; they are powerful; why do we tremble? Let us only follow them, let us remain close to them, and in the protection of the God of heaven let us abide. As often, therefore, as a most serious temptation is perceived to weigh upon you and an excessive trial is threatening, call to your guard, your leader, your helper in your needs, in your tribulation; cry to him and say: "Lord, save us; we perish!"
— from a sermon on The Holy Guardian Angels
by St. Bernard of Clairvaux