Aaronic Blessing

 

 

 Numbers 6:22-27

 The Lord bless you
and keep you;
the Lord make His face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn His face toward you
and give you peace.

 New Year's Eve, 2012 A.D.

A theory of soul

My mother died of a brain tumour in 1976. For the last two weeks of her life she was in a coma, in the hospital. She was completely non-responsive. As I sat by her bed, I wondered. "Where is she?" Obviously, her physical body was there, in front of me, in the hospital bed. It was her soul that I wondered about.

As a Christian, I believed that humans are made up of body and soul. The body is physical, made of matter, created by God to live on earth for a limited time, and then to die. I was in the process of witnessing the final stage of Mom's bodily existence. It was heartbreaking, because she was the best parent anyone could ever have been privileged to have.

It would have been more bearable if I could have been assured that her soul or spirit, her essence, the part of her that knew and loved me, her grandchildren, our other family members and friends was no longer there, or perhaps was poised on the brink of eternity, ready and anxious to shed this gravely-ill body and proceed on the journey to her heavenly home.

I asked the devout hospital chaplain who had presided at the passing of numerous patients. "Father Michael, where is Mother's soul right now?"

He tried but he couldn't give me an answer that satisfied me. "Maybe God has some matters to take up with her before she goes. Or, perhaps she's using up some of her time in Purgatory."

That really didn't suffice. God was soon to have all eternity to sort things out with Mother. Besides, the Sacrament of the Sick, which she had received, removed all punishment due to sins committed during life. She shouldn't have to spend any time in Purgatory. Those were his best guesses, so I didn't press for more. But I continued to wonder.

For over 30 years, I've continued to wonder. The puzzle had become extended during this time, it now included those with brain injuries, Alzheimer's sufferers, even surgical patients under anaesthetic. Where is the person's soul during these times?

The body is physical, but the soul is spirit. Anaesthetics, trauma or disease should not be able affect the spirit, should it? Then, one night recently I finally heard an answer that made sense to me.

I've formed the habit of listening to the "Coast to Coast" radio program with George Noory on my Sony Walkman during the night. It helps when I can't sleep, and George's soothing voice doesn't disturb my slumbers, when I do nod off.

Some of the guests have very far-out ideas, some have vivid imaginations, and others are very interesting. One evening, a call-in listener who had been pondering the same puzzle as I had, came up with what seemed to me to be a reasonable explanation.

The brain is physical, it is part of the body. Its function is to collect information from the earth plane, using the five senses and to transfer the data to the mind. The brain is like a computer. It gathers information and transmits it to the mind. The computer can be damaged, or it can crash entirely.

The mind, or soul is spirit. During life, it receives and processes information the brain transmits. The mind thinks, makes decisions, feels emotions, knows people and places the body has been in contact with during life. The mind is superior to the brain. It is eternal.

When the brain becomes diseased, unconscious, or anaesthetized, the computer stops working. The mind is still present and functional, but the connection to the brain has been broken.

Where is the mind, during these times? Probably hovering near, as radio, TV and electrical waves are always around us, even when no receiving device is plugged in.

When the brain is out-of-order, the mind doesn't break through into the physical realm to make its presence known. It probably hovers near the ailing body, waiting to be fully released from its mortal bond. When the brain dies, the soul or mind proceeds to its eternal home.

I have no theological authorities to confirm this theory, I can only state that it satisfies me. After more than 30 years, I feel I know where Mother's mind was during those final days when she was in a coma. She was very near all the time, probably praying for her loved ones to be given peace and courage, even as we prayed for her to have an easy journey to her heavenly home.  

Love

Christmas in Heaven

 

I see the countless Christmas Trees
around the world below,
with tiny lights, like heaven's stars,
reflecting on the snow.

The sight is so spectacular,
please wipe away that tear,
for I am spending Christmas
with Jesus Christ this year.

I hear the many Christmas songs
that people hold so dear,
but the sounds of music can't compare
with the Christmas choir up here.

I have no words to tell you,
the joy their voices bring,
for it is beyond description,
to hear the angels sing.

I know how much you miss me.
I see the pain inside your heart,
but I am not so far away.
We really aren't apart.

So be happy for me dear ones.
You know I hold you dear,
and be glad I'm spending Christmas,
with Jesus Christ this year.

I send you each a special gift,
from my heavenly home above.
I send you each a memory of,
my undying love.

After all "LOVE" is the gift,
more precious than pure gold.
It was always most important
in the stories Jesus told.

Please love and keep each other,
as my Father said to do,
for I can't count the blessings
or love He has for each of you.

So have a Merry Christmas
and wipe away that tear,
Remember, I'm spending Christmas,
with Jesus Christ this year.                           Author unknown

 

Haiku: God

Add caption

                                                      

Awesome uncaused Cause, 

Creator of all that is,

Unfathomable.

Why Go to Church?

 

Why Go to Church?
A Church goer wrote a letter to the editor of a newspaper and complained that it made no sense to go to church every Sunday. "I've gone for 30 years now," he wrote, "and in that time I have heard something like 3,000 sermons. But for the life of me, I can't remember a single one of them. So, I think I'm wasting my time and the pastors are wasting theirs by giving sermons at all."

This started a real controversy in the "Letters to the Editor" column, much to the delight of the editor. It went on for weeks until someone wrote this clincher:

"I've been married for 30 years now. In that time my wife has cooked some 32,000 meals. But, for the life of me, I cannot recall the entire menu for a single one of those meals But I do know this.. They all nourished me and gave me the strength I needed to do my work. If my wife had not given me these meals, I would be physically dead today. Likewise, if I had not gone to church for nourishment, I would be spiritually dead today!" When you are DOWN to nothing.... God is UP to something! Faith sees the invisible, believes the incredible and receives the impossible! Thank God for our physical AND our spiritual nourishment!

                                                      Anon.

Reflection on a granddaughter's graduation from high school

As preparations were made for my granddaughter Heather's prom this Spring, I couldn't help recalling a similar occasion fifty years ago. In the all-girl Catholic school I attended, the grand event was called, "The Graduation Dance".

The panicky feeling began to build right after Christmas holidays. The girls were looking forward, with varying degrees of anticipation and anxiety, to the dance. Everyone was expected to attend. However, for many of us there was a formidable challenge to be overcome first: we had to find and invite a suitable escort.

A few of the girls already had boyfriends. Those with brothers could always ask one of his pals, or if all else failed, the sibling might be threatened or bribed to go himself. Some girls traded brothers or male cousins for the evening. Unfortunately, my friend Frances and I were socially challenged: we had only one younger sister apiece.

We had attended all-girl schools since first grade and teenage boys were scarce in our social circle. If one approached me on the street, I'd cross to the other side after a rapid internal debate. "Should I speak? What if I spoke and he didn't answer? What if he did? What could I say next?" I'd invariably decide it was easier to avoid the whole problem. However this was a situation I couldn't escape. I had to find an escort, or be considered a social outcast forever.

First, I invited the boy who delivered groceries. He said, "That's the day my grandfather died. I always visit the cemetery. Sorry." In the evening? In the dark? At least he deserved an A for originality.

Next, I called the older brother of my sister's friend. When he finally figured out who I was and what I wanted, there was a long moment of silence. Then he squawked abruptly: "I think my mother's calling me," and dropped the receiver. He returned shortly to say that he was very sorry, but he had a previous engagement. I could hear the relief in his voice; his mother had saved his neck.

My mother was doing her best to help. She methodically canvassed her friends with sons of an appropriate age, but she had no luck. Things were getting desperate! I began to wonder, "If a person decided to enter the convent, could she go right away, before June 5th.?"

Mother, never one to concede defeat, was considering importing a cousin from up north. He was younger, but tall for his age. If I could convince him to keep quiet about our kinship, he might even pass for a real boyfriend!

Suddenly, the phone rang. Frances' mother had had a nibble! There was one problem: the boy wanted to bring a pal. Would I go with his friend? Was she kidding? Good-bye convent, hello dance!

The preparations began in earnest. Long gowns, matching shoes, gloves, and evening bags were purchased. The good Sisters had warned us repeatedly not to wear strapless evening gowns, in fashion that season, but they failed to tell us why. Our curiosity was thoroughly aroused and some of the more daring among us might have tried, but we knew we'd never get away with it! Someone would squeal.

We practiced for hours, dancing in high heels to the music of the record player. It would be most unladylike to fall flat on one's face in the middle of the dance floor!

After 50 years, I can't remember much about the dance but I do remember the boy. His name was Gerry, and he was as wary of me as I was of him. I spent the evening trying to make him feel more at ease. If he panicked and made a break for the door in the middle of the evening, it would have been more embarrassing than not having gone at all!

Fortunately, circumstances have improved during the past half-century. Heather, who has always been in a coed situation in school, is perfectly comfortable with friends of both sexes. She went to her prom with a group of girlfriends. There was no anxiety, no pressure, just an evening of elegance and fun shared with peers.

To all the graduates of 2007, enjoy the prom, the last hurrah of your secondary school career. You should smile with satisfaction and confidence as you doze off after the big evening. You will soon realize that nothing lasts forever and tomorrow will be a big day too. It will be the first day of the rest of your life