"Keep the order and the order will keep you" St. Maximilian Kolbe

In the recent years its become very trendy to be a so-called “minimalist”, that is, someone who strives to only own the bare minimum. Growing up in a house where my father was always trying to be like the mennonites, the idea of minimalism has never been new to me. In fact, I used two find it obnoxious even before it was trendy. I wanted to get away from it. I loved interior decorating and fashion. At the same time, simplicity appealed to me because I was also a hippie at heart and Franciscan. I wasn’t sure If I was going to join a religious order after high school and so I tried not to become attached to materialism.

After college, I had sort of forgotten about my quest for simplicity. Deep down though, I knew this was how Christians are called to live. but it wasn't until my late 20’s after hearing a Christian talk on the radio about money that I was reminded of this and my mindset on materialism changed again. It was profound. Everything belongs to God, everything I own is His. Therefore, everything I own should be accounted for because it doesn’t belong to me, it belongs to Him.

It struck me after hearing this talk on the radio the quote I had modeled my organizational skills after from St. Maxmillian Kolbe, “Keep the order and the order will keep you.” How greatly this quote applies to the things we accumulate in our life! Everything you own carries weight and these things weigh on your conscience whether you are aware or not. Every single thing you own.

So when I am out at the store, I can look and enjoy but I always ask before I buy something, not “Do I need this?” but rather “Does God want me to have this? And for what purpose?”

Music and the Ark

1 Chronicles 15: 16 David also commanded the chiefs of the Levites to appoint their brothers as the singers who should play loudly on musical instruments, on harps and lyres and cymbals, to raise sounds of joy.

As a musician and songwriter it’s natural to me to be passionate about the affects of music on the body. In fact, I’ve always resorted to my piano in times of distress and also when I’ve had good things happen in my life. Making music and singing are my outlets just like running and drinking are some people’s choice of release.

I think that’s why when I read this scripture passage, for a moment I got excited. David was also a musician and songwriter. He was hired to play for King Saul even. He was known to have had a fantastic singing voice. Here’s a man who became a king himself and understood culture. He understood that the heart and soul of people is evident in their music and that music itself is the best way of uniting people into a common place of understanding.

In this particular passage, of course, King David is bringing the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem and he commands his priests to “raise sounds of joy” upon its entrance into the city. In other words, he’s asking his priests to be his cheerleaders to rally the people into excitement for the coming of the Ark into their town. That’s how powerful music is: it cuts to your core. Listening to a person’s playlist can tell you a lot about a person because of that intimacy music has with the body. Even animals feel its effects!

I often wonder then if the majority of liturgical musicians think about their “playlists” for Mass in these terms. Do they understand what David knew about music? Are they thinking of it this way? Do they know how to rally the people? My answer is no from what I’ve heard across the board, but as a Christian, I must give people the benefit of the doubt for I know in their hearts, they’re doing their best. That’s not the problem; the problem is their best is not oriented towards a new evangelization.

You see, David knew that not everyone in Jerusalem believed. That would be absurd! He also knew that being a believer doesn’t make you perfect, that even the believers need coaching. As liturgical musicians we must apply this same idea at the Mass—every single person there has a different level of faith and every level of faith needs nurturing and special care.

So as a liturgical musician, I have to ask myself, “does the music I play for Mass challenge the congregation?” Is it really speaking to them and getting to them? Do the words simply make them feel good or are the words truly empowering and thought provoking? Are they worthy of the Mass?

What a privilege it is to provide music at Mass just like it was a privilege for the Levite priests to provide music for the Ark.

"Come to the Quiet"

Psalm 131

1 O Lord, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty;

Nor do I involve myself in great matters,

Or in things too difficult for me.

2 Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;

Like a weaned child rests against his mother,

My soul is like a weaned child within me.

3 O Israel, hope in the Lord

From this time forth and forever.

John Michael Talbot wrote a song based on this psalm. He’s probably my favorite songwriter and singer of all time. My mom was a big fan of his and was always playing his music so perhaps it’s in part due to nostalgia or perhaps its in part because he’s simply put, a damn good musician. From the distinct tremor in his voice to those very thoughtful inflections he applies to certain words in his songs, I undoubtedly have been heavily influenced by him, particularly when it comes to singing the Psalms at Mass.

The Psalms ought to serve as a reflection of the people and therefore should easily lend themselves to contemplation during the Liturgy of the Word. The cantor’s role during this time in between the readings is to engage the congregation in a meditative disposition. If the Psalm is dramatic, the cantor should be dramatic but only if carefully executed with an undertone of prayer, not showing off in a manner of over the top theatrics. If the Psalm is a sweet soft cry from the psalmist, the cantor should be deliberate in accenting those parts that emphasize this, not sing it like a bland phrase with no meaning or heart.

On almost every occasion, I’ve heard cantors demolish the Psalms. And this is by far my biggest pet peeve when it comes to music at Mass. Why can’t the cantors get it right? Week after week, why isn’t the meaning of the Psalms sinking in? Do they not understand what David was doing when he sat down to write these poetic laments of the heart? Do they not understand that the vocal performance of these at its core lies in the inner disposition of their own soul? They must put themselves in the place of David, like an actor who embodies the character, and sing from the depths of themselves in an attitude of humility.

It is with the same spirit that David talks about in Psalm 131: Lord, my heart is not proud…Like a weaned child rests against his mother,…O Israel, hope in the Lord. The cantor trusts in the Lord to move the congregation to respond, not in his own abilities. Yes, the cantor is obviously the instrument but only Jesus can do the ministering. The cantor sings with an attitude like that of a child—singing to Jesus, performing for Him, all the while asking the congregation to listen and respond in the same manner.

I realize, of course, this is not an easy task, specially because it is so simple. Most music directors desire complex compositions and perfect harmony; other music directors don’t put much thought into at all. When they only aim for this kind of execution, they end up losing the rather already perfect intonations of the singing voice when coming from a place of prayer and natural intuition. Then when combined with all the makings of music theory can the human voice be transformed into the voice of God.

On "Leave It Here"

It was an overcast, warm summer day when the words came to me. I remember very clearly the moment I heard them. I was staring out the window with the keys of my electric piano under my fingers, looking out at the sky, daydreaming basically. It was “Harspter’s” house, I called her. I was staying in her daughter, Cecylia’s room, who was away at college, in exchange for being the house caretaker and petsitter when Harpster was out on long trips for work.

I was there alone that day. It was period of my life that I was searching: I was in college, pursuing a double major, working all the time, commuting to school, doing internships, had extreme health issues, insomnia, never had enough money for food. I was poor and pathetic and, frankly, I wanted an out. I was willing to do anything. I often joked about looking for a sugar daddy to take me in, I applied for Hustler magazine even, looking for “modeling” jobs for extra cash. I made light of the fact that that’s how I felt. I was desperate.

To me the answer was simple— start over somewhere else—just get away from everything and everyone I knew and start fresh. I needed to move and never look back. And then I heard the words in my head,

You feel the need to change quickly

You feel the need to walk away

But I can tell you that you’ll take it with you

If you don’t leave it here

The bed was behind me and I looked at it and sat down on it. The words were profound. “Whoa,” I thought, “That’s something I’ve never heard before.” I wrote the words down quickly before I lost them and then, I went with it and added more:

Deep down in silence you pray

You call on yourself the pilot, don’t know a better way

Don’t hold out on yourself

Don’t speak— I’m listening to your heartbeat

Even though you speak your peace, I know what you really need

So lean back, babe, lean back

Like a bed I’ll catch you, trust me

Don’t hold out on yourself

I knew this was supposed to be a song. I walked back to my keyboard and put the words to music. I eventually recorded the song with Matty C Beats. Joey D. added the lyrics to the bridge part:

Take this step forward and watch for the cracks

There are evil forces out there but you know I always got your back

Let me hold your frozen hand just like a glove

And there it was, “Leave It Here”, I titled it, still a significant message to me. To be discontent is like chasing your own thumb. You can’t escape yourself. Healing starts within and it must start now. I didn’t need a new town or new friends. I needed a new mindset. I needed to unburden myself with the stories I had told myself everyday over and over again about who I was and what happened to me, I needed to stop playing a role and embrace the freedom that comes from living each moment as a dignified, worthy, beloved creation made in the divine image of God.

I needed to trust in the words that Scripture say, “Behold I make all things new” (‘Revelation 21:5) and live like that. I am a new creation in every moment I’m alive. I am a new creation when I am present, when I recognize myself as I am now. Right now. Not who I think I am, what job titles I possess, not what my friends think of me, not the past, the horrible things that have happened to me nor the achievements I’ve had.

I am not free when I tether myself to all these things. I must trust in the present reality and leave behind the stories that burden me. I must “leave it here” if I want to experience the peace and joy that come from my present reality, that is, my just being. I’m here. I breathe in, I breathe out. I don’t have to be weighed down by the yesterdays and tomorrows. I breathe in new life, I am always breathing in new life until I no longer breathe from this life.

“Leave It Here" is is a message of new life. What a reality check that was for me!

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On F.A.M.I.L.Y.

I was a bit of a nerd growing up, but not your traditional kind of nerd. Yes, I was into computer games and comic books, but moreover, I was into Christian music. I had all the WOW collections and I knew all those songs by heart. I grew a particular liking to a musical priest from the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal Ministries, Fr. Stan Fortuna, and if you were in my world, he was a BIG STAR.

I went to see him perform once and was shaking when he autographed my cds of his. But this priest was unto something. His use of rap lyrical style and R&B musical convention to convey Catholic teaching was brilliant and without a doubt also rather disturbing. He was a freak to counter pop culture, simply ignored because he was obviously a “crazy priest”. He called his music a “mystical catechesis”. He seemed bazaar, but to me he was a typical artist—as bazaar as they come!

But sitting and listening to his music, you could learn something if you gave it a chance. One song that caught my attention on his first cd album was “F.A.M.I.L.Y.” (a song he wrote and published in 1998!). It’s an acronym that means “Forget About Me, I Love You”. I had forgotten about this song when suddenly as I was reading St. Paul’s letter to the Colossions, it came back to me and I was like “This is the song!”

Colossions 1:24-28

24 Now I rejoice in what I am suffering for you, and I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church. 25 I have become its servant by the commission God gave me to present to you the word of God in its fullness— 26 the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations, but is now disclosed to the Lord’s people. 27 To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. 28 He is the one we proclaim, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom,so that we may present everyone fully mature in Christ.

You see, St. Paul is describing a type of self-martyrdom here. He’s describing a way of life that our western culture (and frankly most of the world) is completely out of sorts with. It’s a lifestyle that serves not the self, but humanity, that is, the human family. He’s saying, “You don’t even have to remember my name, I don’t need a star on Hollywood boulevard, I will lay down my life for you, become the unknown soldier for you buried in some obscure field for you, all for the sake of the greater good, because it’s not about me, it’s never been about me, it’s always been about the family, forget about me, I love you.” That’s charity in action. That’s precisely what justice looks like: I do something to further the human achievement not for my own benefit but simply because “it is right and just” to use the words at Mass, because of love itself. “Love is love”, no, love is “forget about me, I love you”, a f.a.m.i.l.y. mentality, a f.a.m.i.ly. reality. Bam! Fr. Stan would be so proud of me (note: I’m rhyming on purpose). To God be the glory.

F.A.M.I.L.Y. Fr. Stan Fortuna:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CC60P00tTzk

A Hail Mary for Me

Mary wasn’t always a patron of mine. In fact, despite being a feminist at an early age, she wasn’t even on my radar for female empowerment. With my social life heavly influenced by protestants, I was on the thinking that Mary had no place in my prayer life. She was certainly a big part of God’s plan for salvation but I would never pray directly to her. How absurd, I thought. When I was 15 I went on a spiritual retreat at a convent with religious women who took upon the name, Sisters Minor of Mary Immaculate. Great, I thought, a bunch of brainwashed pansies, indoctrinated into Marian devotion. Although I myself was much interested in exploring the possibility of religious life, I would never join a community that practically worshiped Mary.

And then something happened on that retreat. Something crazy. By day 9, I was kneeling in front of a Marian statue, praying for Mary to guide me, to make my actions and thoughts pure for Jesus, vowing to be her “solider”…I was pledging my life to Mary! Good grief! I had become one of them! A brainwashed pansy, I thought! But then something else happened. I was doing it not because everyone else was, not because I had actually been brainwashed, but because it really did make sense, because it was true, it was honorable, it was the right thing to do, it was empowering, it was humbling, it was life-changing.

I had already understood that as a Christian, my life’s journey is about spiritual refinement, a continual and arduous emptying of myself to be filled with a life of the virtues, a constant drawing of myself to Jesus. And because I understood this, asking Mary to be of assistance on my journey makes the most sense of all the people and angelic persons I could ask assistance from because it was Mary herself who in the first place brought Jesus to the human race, she was always drawing others to Jesus, she was always saying no to her ego and yes to grace. This amazing woman lived her entire life not in search of her personal earthly desires but seeking instead to serve the greater good. She was overflowing with the life of the virtues because her will was one with charity itself. She was living exactly how I was striving to live.

Photo: Our Lady of the Lake choir members contemplate Mary’s childhood.

So there I was at this retreat ready to clean up my act and Mary, as it turns out, was the best person to help me do it, the best person for the job, she was the one with all the qualifications, the one who checked all the boxes. I surprised myself. How did she not make it to my A-List before? That was the real crazy part. How did I never think of her as the best patron I could ever possibly have? What was it about Mary that my pride kept me from not seeing her in all her glory before? That was just it: my pride. DIND DING! My pride my pride my stupid pride. This woman ready to give, ready to lead, ready to transform my heart, and there it was—my big fat personal pride—standing in the way.

This year, I’m having my choir members learn the “Salve Mater Miseredicordie” hymn for the Feast of the Assumption Masses. And whenever I get to the “holy Mary!” part at the end of the verses my heart flutters for I know that my pride almost completely got in the way of never knowing who our holy mother Mary truly is and what she desires so much to give to us her children. The hymn humbles me. Mary teaches me humility. Grateful for this lesson.

Just Give Me the Sacraments!

In the modern world where the Church has nearly decimated her reputation for having absolutely any authority, it’s easy for us parishioners to stand there and blame our priests. We blame them for not having good enough sermons, good enough charisma, good enough backbone, good enough teaching on the Church’s position, good enough relationships with our youth, with our families, with our ministries. We look at our empty pews and diminished to nearly non-existent church communities in the midst of Catholics leaving the Church in groves and we blame our priests.

And yet, we are the body of Christ. We the people are the Church militant, we are the hands and feet that St. Therese of Avila refers to in her poem so beautifully adapted in a hymn by Steven C. Warner that I have my congregation sing regularly. We are the ones who at the end of Mass are called to "Ite Missa est”, "or “Go forth” which the Catechism of the Catholic Church explains means “the liturgy in which the mystery of salvation is accomplished concludes with the sending forth (mission) of the faithful, so that they may fulfill God’s will in their daily lives” (CCC 1332).

And where do our priests come from? They come from us! They come from “the faithful”. And they continually rely on us for support and encouragement and enthusiasm to serve the Church and receive her ever bountiful harvest of grace and wisdom. We the people, the body of Christ, go into the world and “fulfill God’s will in our lives”…

And how do we do this? We accomplish this through grace given to us from the Sacraments. Can we the people consecrate the bread and wine for Holy Eucharist? Can we the people bless objects and holy water for Baptism and oil for Confirmation? Can we the people forgive sins in Reconciliation? Can we the people administer Last Rites and the Anointing of the Sick? No, only those set apart, those who have answered the call to a special vocation wholly to serve most Holy Mother Church through Holy Orders. Who are these amazing people set apart? They are our priests!

Who are our priests? They are our sons, they are our brothers, they are our uncles, they are our cousins, they are our friends, they are our classmates, they are our colleagues, they are our family. And they were once ordinary men sitting alongside of us at any random Sunday Mass. They were once our altar servers, choir members, lectors, ushers. They were once you and me sitting and listening to yet another priest speak. Our priests are as strong as we are ultimately.

And without our priests, how can we receive our dear sweet Jesus in the most Blessed Sacrament? So I say, just give me the sacraments and I will have the strength and fortitude to follow Jesus and lead others to Him, perhaps even a future priest.

So Now I Can Laugh at My Misery...

It has always been the most Sacred Heart of Jesus that comforts me. No one else has been able to give me that power for I am nothing without Him. I am like the hemorrhaging woman in the crowd of people: desperate, broken, on the ground, bleeding, just barely hanging unto the holy cloak of Jesus and He notices me in His most divine mercy and He makes me whole again. It is through the Sacrament of the most holy Eucharist that He then purifies me as He rests on my tongue and I beg Him to refine me. Jesus, consume me with Your refiner’s fire like in the song is my prayer after Communion. What a gift Jesus is to me. So now I can laugh at my misery because I know God is in control. Indeed, God is in control.