Rosaries and Rammstein

But Jesus often withdrew to a lonely place to pray.  Luke 5:16

“Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”  Mark 6:31

After leaving them, He went up on a mountainside to pray.  Mark 6:46

Three times in the Gospel last week, the Lord had smacked me in the face with the importance of personal prayer, rest, and solitude.  Right now, this is what my heart really yearns for: silence.

When I tell people that I love going on silent retreats, they look at me as if I have lobsters crawling out my ears.  And I don’t mean a silent, directed retreat.  I mean absolutely silent.  Me.  Alone.  In a hermitage.  With Jesus.  They tell me that they don’t believe me and then make a list of reasons why they think I can’t. 

Projections of their own fears.

You see, beloved reader, we all like to have a certain projection of ourselves that we want everyone to know.  We want to put (what we think should be) our best foot forward, cover up all our insecurities and flaws, be admired, loved, and accepted for who we “are.” 

We’re al guilty of it, myself included.  And you know what?  It’s exhausting.  This is one of the reasons I quit facebook of late. 

I recently had a woman come up to me who hadn’t seen me in a while.  She asked if she could hug me.  Well, now, gentle reader, you know how I feel about hugs (my aversion to them doesn’t only apply to men, it applies to people I don’t know that well).  But this waned because she actually asked my permission.  I assented and was hugged.  She said, “you’re back!” with some excitement.  I hadn’t the faintest idea what she meant, so I replied, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

She leaned in close and said, “Well, we, some of the other families, were worried that we did something to offend you.”

I was perplexed.  “No.  I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She continued, “Well, you’re just not the Jen we all know.  You’re like someone else.”

It took everything I could do to not roll my eyes at her.  By “The Jen we all know,” she meant the always energetic, loud, obnoxious, fun, “favorite camp counselor” that everyone knows from CYE.  In the past year, I’ve become much more quiet and standoffish.  I no longer initiate with people. 

Can I just say right now that this kind of attitude toward my character frustrates the ever-living heck out of me and always has.  This is an unfair expectation about my behavior that is absolutely inconsequential: to assume that because I act one way in front of teens or kids is the way that I act all the time.  I am not an entertainment system here for your amusement, and that’s what I felt like whilst speaking to her. 

So I explained that I’m in a time of transition, and I’m not that person anymore.  It’s one thing to be energetic about the faith around kids and teens when that’s your mission, but that’s not my mission anymore.  (It will be again someday, Godwilling, when I raise my kids, but even then, I’m not going to freaking be “on” all the time.)  I don’t like large groups of people, and I can’t stand noise.  It’s exhausting to do things like I used to, and I’m not gonna do them anymore, let alone 24/7 just for the people who think they know me based on what they experienced for a few days on expedition or what they heard from their kids.

It’s infuriating.

You don’t know me.  Face it.  You don’t.  You may think you do because you’ve met me on expedition, or heard me speak, or you read all my blog posts, or been my student, but you don’t.  You have no idea.  Until you and I choose to specifically be intentional about getting to know one another one-on-one, you know bupkiss.  There are 4 people who actually know me: my 2 spiritual directors, my best friend, and my uncle.  No one else has had the fortitude, patience, charity, and guts to befriend me in a sincere, meaningful, and lasting way.

And I’m sick of this.  I’m sick of people wanting me to be something I’m not.  I mean, here I am, barely past the brink of 30, and I’m just figuring myself out.  Thank God, too, because it’d really suck if I went into my vocation not knowing myself.  I’m sick of covering up my insecurities and putting on a show.  It’s exhausting, and I won’t do it anymore.  There’s a difference between being holy, zealous, and cheerful and being an entertainment system. 

Oh, and of course the zeal is still there, it just has to be activated.  Want to see the zeal and energy?  Ask me about Aquinas, or TOB, or Confirmation, or Truth, or St. Michael (SAINT MICHAEL!), or come to a Flatfoot or Kevin Heider show with me, or watch me taking photos, or put me in front of 6^th graders whilst talking about how Jesus Christ saved my life. 

I’m tired of initiating, tired of being the man and pursuing things to make up for the lie that I’ve believed since I was a child: I’m unlovable, not attractive, and not skinny enough, so I better make up for it.

Why do you think you find me so entertaining?  I overcompensate with my humor to distract you from my insecurities and distract myself from the fear I have about you giving up on me, which is exactly what happens when you tell me I’m not who you thought I was.

How about instead of me not living up to your expectations, let’s just say that you don’t know me well enough to understand who I am?

I’ve been playing the extrovert since my Junior year in high school (almost 16 years), and I’m tired of it.

And you know what?  People don’t like introverts.  Well, maybe not people, but society in general.  Our lovely cookie-cutter society is always pushing us, ripping us out of “our shells,” as they like to call it, as if there’s something wrong with us.

But there’s nothing wrong with being quiet, introspective, and NOT the center of attention.  Absolutely nothing.  And that’s what I’ve been learning this year, mainly about myself, but about other introverts, too, and I have a greater respect for them, and I can usually pick them out in a crowd or classroom when I’m subbing (especially in moments of zeal and extroversion, because they often look terrified.  heh).

Isn’t this jolly?  One big psychological fun-house titled Jen Lowery.  Yippeeeeee!

What I really meant to write about today was silence.  My brain.  Gah.

Noise and retaining a Jesus high used to attract me and make me love Mass.  Now, nothing will do but beauty and silence.  I think this is due to the fact that I have a better understanding of the Faith and also of myself.

I’m no longer seeking a feeling or a Jesus high when I go to Mass or a retreat, because I know these things will fade.

I’m seeking Truth.  And Truth doesn’t go away.  He’s eternal.

As Joe Zambon sings so resplendently: “The Truth will remain when the feeling’s gone.”

Sometimes I ache to go back to that part in my life when my faith was such an easy thing, zeal was readily available in my back pocket, and I didn’t struggle with things.

Well, being a youth minister, a part of CYE, and a missionary can turn all of that around.

In order to teach the Faith, I had to learn it, and I learned quickly that it was substantially more than a feeling.  Feelings may help convert hearts, but Truth is the One that sustains them.

It’s really difficult to explain.  This year marks the 10-year anniversary of my conversion on CYE.  When I think back to that point in my life, I remember how outwardly on fire I was.  But it was all about what I could get from God, not what I was giving.  And I gave.  I gave a lot, but it all seemed to be motivated by retaining that Jesus high.   I went to Mass to be entertained, not elevated.  I went to feel good about myself, not to be formed and fed.  And the entertainment and feelings were mixed in with as much noise and business as possible.

Now, don’t get me wrong, LifeTeen can be a superb tool for converting hearts and leading them closer to Christ, but then what?  Loud, irreverent (sometimes not even Christian or Catholic) music at Mass and not a moment’s silence during adoration can lead to unfair expectations, distractions, and darkness.  Because, let’s face it, here.  Having a relationship with Christ is not easy, and constant noise doesn’t make it better, it just momentarily distracts us from the fact that we feel empty inside. 

Because after the entertainment is over, the noise has ceased, and we’re finally alone with our Creator, we have no idea what to do, and we start to itch.  Because we’re faced with the reality of ourselves, of who we really are when we’re not being entertained or bombarded with noise.

And it scares the hell out of us.

People can’t stand silence.  They don’t know what to do with it.  We’re so bombarded with noise and distraction that we’d rather have it because we’re used to it.

Be still, and know that I am God.  Psalm 46:10

It’s so tough to do because our brains don’t shut up.  And our first few experiences with silence might be so overwhelming and “unfruitful” that we daren’t go back again.  Since we don’t go back, we don’t practice it or don’t get used to it. 

Am I saying that praise and worship music is bad?  No.

Am I saying that silence is the best?  No.

I am saying that there must be a good balance.  You know what?  Not everyone can handle silence.  But not everyone can handle non-stop praise and worship music, either. 

Praise and worship is not better.  Noise is not better.  Silence is not better.

Christ is better. 

And so it’s about our hearts.  Duh.  It’s always about our hearts. Are we going to Mass, or LifeTeen, or Adoration, or Arise, or Cor Jesu to be entertained?  Or are we going to these things to have an intense encounter?  Entertainment doesn’t challenge you to change.  It entertains you.  It’s passive.  An encounter with Christ demands change.  Demands metanoia.   

"Music and silence- how I detest them both! how thankful we should be that ever since Our Father entered Hell- though longer ago than humans, reckoning in light years, could express- no square inch of infernal space and no moment of infernal time has been surrendered to either of those abominable forces, but all has been occupied by Noise- Noise, the grand dynamism, the audible expression of all... that is exultant, ruthless, and virile- Noise alone which defends us from silly qualms, despairing scruples, and impossible desires. We will make the whole universe a noise in the end. We have already made great strides in this direction as regards the Earth. The melodies and silences of Heaven will be shouted down in the end. But I admit we are not yet loud enough, or anything like it" -Screwtape Letters (119-120)

There are so many praise and worship songs about “speak, Lord, your servant is listening,” etc., but how the heck am I supposed to hear God’s voice if I don’t get any respite from the music?!  GAH!  And what if the music becomes nothing but noise?  

Anyways.  LifeTeen had a huge impact on my faith; I was all about praise and worship, Christian (especially punk & ska) music, and all that folderol.  I was all about this noise when I came to CYE my first summer on staff.  I would sing loud, want music throughout the night of prayer, and wanted music all the time at Mass, and I would always harmonize. 

And then, bless the Lord, Fr. started correcting me.

The first time he told me in passing that I needed to sing more quietly in the chapel.  It seemed like no big deal, so I didn’t pay attention.  Whoopsies.

I don’t exactly recall the second time, but I think it was more direct, like, “Jen, you need to be quiet in the chapel” during spiritual direction.  Of course I was frustrated (PF hurt) at being corrected.  And I tried to justify it to myself, thinking that it wasn’t my fault.  I come from a parish that doesn’t like to sing, so I sing out, and someone always compliments me on my voice, yadda, yadda, yadda.  But I said ok, and I sincerely tried.  I really did.  I’m sure it didn’t help that I always sat 3 rows behind and 5 chairs to the right of Fr.  Heh.

The last time Fr. corrected me about singing was during staff formation.  It was at the end of the session before everyone was dismissed.  Fr. was making some announcements to the group when he suddenly turned to me and said, “Jen, I can still hear you.”  I knew exactly what he meant.  He was talking about my singing.  It was too much.  After dealing with the intense amount of culture shock that I received from living in community, going on 4 hours of sleep during expedition, and feeling like a general failure at everything, it overwhelmed me.  In front of everyone.  Tears welled, I choked up and said, “Father, I’m trying.  I’m really trying.”  And I was.  He just looked back at me with his pretty blue eyes and Fatherly concern and said nothing.  I was mortified.  Tears fell.

Our hearts are so silly like that.  This is one of the main reasons I love Father so much: he can see through my crap, and he doesn't buckle.  He wanted me to focus less on myself and more on the community.  But did I understand that?  No.  I took It personally.  And, of course, being a choleric, I got ticked.  I thought, “Fine, Fr., you don’t want to hear me sing?  I won’t.  At all.  That’ll show you.”

Yeah.  That lasted about 2 days.  Heh. 

At that point, I’d try to sit in proximity to Laski or Natali; I know that they had beautiful and strong voices, and I always wanted to be able to hear them.  Sitting near them taught me to shutup when I sing, so I’m able to sing and hear the other voices singing around me.  Beautiful.  This quieted my mouth and my heard during Mass and adoration.

Then.  Then Father started chanting the Latin Mass parts.  He has such a beautiful voice that it’s painful.  If I haven’t seen him or been on expedition for a while, whenever he sings the preface to the Sanctus (in English), it just about makes me bawl. 

The other thing that made me love silence was daily holy half-hour.  No music.  Only the O Salutaris and Tantum Ergo (sometimes). 

Nothing but morning sunshine streaming through the windows and the LORD.  Ask me sometime why my favorite spot in the chapel is my favorite. 

So, the longer I was with CYE, the more I came to appreciate silence, especially surrounding Mass, adoration, and prayer.  Funny thing.  Second year on summer staff, after our first night of prayer, I remember asking one of the guys to kick the music down a notch (hah!) and to leave room for longer periods of silence.

People need to have the opportunity to be alone with the Lord and their thoughts, to give them the opportunity to speak and then listen.

Example: why don’t I pray the Rosary whilst listening to Rammstein?

Exactly. 

And that’s what happens when there’s too much noise at Mass or adoration.  I can’t focus on anything, let alone the Lord.  I turn back in on myself instead of being stretched outward toward the Lord.  I get frustrated and angry.

Speaking of being stretched outward, let’s talk about this obsession that Christians have with the orans position.  They hype it up way too much.  They hype it up to the point that it feels like you’re a bad Christian, or not even a Christian, if you don’t do it. 

Satan’s a sneaky little egg-sucker.

People will be all, “well, don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”  And I have.  I was that.  I’d be all, “I encourage you to open your arms up to God during prayer today just like a little child who wants to be picked up by her Daddy.”  As if my prayers would be super-effective if I was just open to the experience and let go of all my fears of looking stupid in front of others.

What utter bull-pucky.

I started to ask myself: what am I accomplishing with this prayer posture?  Am I sincerely attempting to pray, or am I so distracted by the thoughts and opinions of others that I need them to think I’m holy or courageous enough to pray this way?  That’s not humility and openness, it’s pride and self-focus.  And it’s ridiculous.  And I speak from personal experience.  And the looks of disapproval that I get from other Christians when I keep my hands folded whilst they’re in the orans position are also ridiculous.

Again, I can’t judge someone’s heart and I don’t know their intentions.  One prayer position is not the best, but each of them should point everyone’s focus to God, not to themselves, or not to others.  If you’re thinking about the opinion of others as you pray, you’re doing it wrong.  When I do that kind of prayer position, like lifting my hands, I get this overwhelming feeling of “look at me!  Look at me!  I’m so holy!”  and I can’t stand it.

I’ve changed a lot in the past 10 years.  I fell like I could teach my 21-year old self a lot (I’ve slowly morphed from holy blowtorch to spiritual arsonist). 

There’s a time for Rammstein and a time for reverence.  I’m sorry, but drumsets and guitars do not speak a language of reverence to me.  I don’t think they ever did.  They spoke a language of excitement, energy, and entertainment, of mosh pits and anger and adrenaline rushes,  but not reverence.  Mass is supernatural, divine, earth-shattering.  It’s supposed to be a stark contrast from the world in which we live.  We’re supposed to go into church and know that it’s a different place.  A place in the world, but not of the world.  Mass is meant to be heavenly, but we try to pull it back down to satisfy our own needs.  It irritates the heck out of me that there’s a movement in the church to make Mass more like a punk rock concert.  And you all know how much I love punk rock.  Or maybe you don’t.  Well, now you do.  There’s a faction in the Catholic Church today to take the “boring Mass” and spice it up the way all those mega churches do.  Why?  We’re losing numbers because people are bored.

False.  We're losing numbers because people have lost their sense of wonder and curiosity.  We seek to be entertained instead of elevated.  We have to be doing something instead of just being.  Just being with the Lord is enough, but society tries to convince us otherwise.  It’s never enough. 

When I was interviewing one of my Confirmation candidates at Holy Name, she said something remarkable that I’ll never forget:  “God doesn’t need glitter.  He’s God.”

Heh.  Love her.  I’d like to make a rebuttal.  God is the glitter.  He is shiny, captivating, and beautiful to the point of breathlessness.  We don’t need to add anything to Him; He’s a mystery, and that mystery is tied up in one big, bright, glittering package called Tridentine Latin Mass.

Wait.  What?  

Seriously?  Did I just say that?

How many of you out there have been to a high or solemn high Latin Mass before?  If you haven’t, just go.  And go with the mindset of “I’m going to witness Beauty.  The kind of Beauty that hurts.”  Don’t worry about what’s going on.   Just watch and experience the Beauty.  Sit in the middle or the back and do what other people do.  See how careful and reverent the priest and altar servers are- how deliberate their actions are.  Listen to the choir and look at the community around you.  Don’t worry about understanding everything.

 Something will be stirred in you, because you will already know what’s going on (you've been experiencing it since your Baptism).  You won’t be unfamiliar with anything but the language and the timing (and there are books to help and even explain exactly what is going on and why.  So cool). 

But, I guarantee you, that if you go in with the proper mindset, there are so many beautiful things to see, hear, smell, taste, and touch, that you won’t leave unsatisfied or bored.

Guess what?  Same thing goes for Novus Ordo (the Sunday Mass you probably attend).  If your heart desires an intense encounter with Christ, you’ll get it if you approach in wonder and silence.  Ignore the distraction.  Shutup and go 30 minutes early.  Read the readings and Gospel the night before.  Find them here.  Pray a rosary with the LOLz (little old ladies).  Get ready to encounter the Truth.  He’s a living person, not a passing feeling or flood of endorphins.  He is the same, yesterday, today, and forever.  He’s not going anywhere.  He’s in the silent stillness of your heart, and you have to have the patience to go and find Him there instead of being content with the mediocre distractions and noise that are starting to flood the Mass.

When I go to Latin Mass, I know that I’ll encounter Beauty and Truth Himself in stillness.  In silence.  In reverence.  I understand why these things are necessary now.  (Took me long enough, heh).  They are essential for a solid spiritual life, maturity, and intimacy with Christ.  I knew nothing about the faith when I converted.  Now I know a little more than nothing.  But, the knowledge I've gained has opened the floodgates and led me to fall head-over-heels for Truth.

But Truth will remain when the feeling is gone.  And He urges us, begs us, to come into the desert with Him so he may romance us.  Not only does He urge us, He shows us the importance of doing it silently (Mark 6:31).

And we’re so afraid.  We’re afraid of what we’ll encounter in that silence.  We’re afraid of ourselves.  Of who we have to face.  What we’ve done.  What we’ll never do.  The lies.  The darkness.

He is the Way, the Truth, and the Light.  And He casts out all fear.  Run away to Him in the silence and just be.

It’s breathtaking.

...and it blows Rammstein out of the water.  (Pun completely intended)