Viva la Vida: A Glimpse

Noticing I was home and at the computer, she looked over my shoulder at the screen. "What are you doing?", she asked. It was a fair enough question since I had been gone for a couple of hours and had not bothered to announce my return. I really didn't want to answer, fearing another exchange would distract me from my purpose, "I'm looking for a priest."

Her response was quick, "You're looking for a priest? I thought you just came back from church!" Still scrolling, I responded, "Yes, but I'm looking for a particular priest." I could feel the eye-roll behind my neck as she silently ambled away.

I was so relieved that the questioning has ceased. After all, I wasn't sure our relationship could stand the strain that would be caused if I told her God "told" me to find this priest. It could have ended up in an all-out donnybrook.

Just then, I saw his name. There he was, and now he was the pastor of a local parish. I got goosebumps. His parish was what was supposed to be my parish. The priest that God sent me in search of lived about 4 blocks from my house.

My conversion was continuing.
---------------------------------

This is a glimpse of a blog post yet to come. I have decided to blog more about many of my life experiences. I'm sure that it will be helpful for me to do some reflecting, and perhaps you will find it enjoyable.

It won't be chronological or all-inclusive, and I'll be careful not to indict anyone else (too much). I've decided to use "Viva la Vida" (Live Life) as the intro for these posts. Yes, it's partly because I love the Coldplay song, and I'm going to find a way to work it in occasionally.

-------------------

Breast Beat Down? Not Quite What You Think

Some Catholic practices may seem odd to non-Catholics, but have become foreign for some Catholics as well.  Take the breast striking for instance. Striking the breast is not some form of self-flagellation or breast beat down.

Our parish is blessed to have a very young, newly ordained priest assigned to us for a couple of months now.

Yesterday at Mass, he reminded the congregation that during the Confiteor, the rubrics in The Order of Mass state we strike out breast during the words "through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault" (mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa").

The USCCB commentary on The Order of Mass states

"During the Confiteor, the faithful should “strike their breast” while saying, “through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.” This prescribed “striking” is a symbolic tapping of the chest with a clenched fist over one’s heart, signifying remorse. This is part of the beauty of our Catholic liturgy – sacramental words are complemented by sacramental actions. This action also recalls the penitent tax collector in Luke, chapter 18, who “beat his breast and prayed, ‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner.’”

I actually like an older explanation even better. St. Augustine, speaking of striking the breast said

"What does this mean except that you wish to bring to light what is concealed in the breast, and by this act to cleanse your hidden sins?"