Category Archives: prayer

Yom Ha’Shoah

Jews: 5.1-6.5 million
Soviet POWs: 2–3 million
Ethnic Poles: 1.8-2 million
Roma: 220,000–500,000
Disabled: 200,000–250,000
Freemasons: 80,000–200,000 
Gay men: 5,000–15,000 
Jehovah’s Witnesses: 2,500–5,000 

May the great Name of God be exalted and sanctified, throughout the world, which he has created according to his will.
May his Kingship be established in your lifetime and in your days, and in the lifetime of the entire household of Israel, swiftly and in the near future; and say, Amen.

May his great name be blessed, forever and ever.
Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled, honored elevated and lauded be the Name of the holy one,
Blessed is he- above and beyond any blessings and hymns,
Praises and consolations which are uttered in the world; and say Amen.

May there be abundant peace from Heaven, and life, upon us and upon all Israel; and say, Amen.

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A Prayer

Destroy me, Lord.
Take away all that I am,
Remove my labels and boundaries.
Have mercy on me.

Destroy me, Christ.
Dissolve my illusions,
Crush my ideals and my certainties.
Have mercy on me.

Destroy me, Lord.
So that tomorrow I will see the world clearly,
The veil of my self removed.
Have mercy on me,
And on the whole world.

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Brain Flip Prayers

Sooooo…

Anyone got a reason why, when I’ve been praying lately, my brain’s decided to start substituting ‘Mother’ for ‘Father’?

Today’s installment was A General Thanksgiving during MP on the Streetcar:

Almighty God, Mother of all Mercies…

Dude, I was READING the words RIGHT OFF THE PAGE. The BCP says ‘Father’. Brain, you’d better supply some answers or else I’m going to poke you with a Q-Tip!

 (And after my little OMG BRAIN TUMOR… oh, wait, yeah, I did inflict a little bit of drain bamage on myself, huh? freakout, I shrugged and went with it.)

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Hmm.

Did a little Googling this AM.

Discovered the Cathedral has MP and EP at hours I might just be able to make.

 Also? It’s a direct bus ride from my house to Cathedral, which I did not know.

Also also? Tonight is their midweek Eucharist.

You mean I might just be able to partake of the Eucharist for the first time since December?! HOLY MOLY!

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This is it, folks!

Cover me! I’m going in!

UPDATE 9.30am – Well, I’m out now. Time to wait nervously to hear back.

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Rly! Srsly!

So, there’s this very interesting article up at Commonweal Magazine about ancient Syrian Christian hymns.

And then there was this quote in the article:

Do not stand up to Mary or argue,
For she is stronger than you in argument.
Do not speak too many words to her,
For she is stronger than you in her replies.

A Certain Someone whom I showed it to thought I’d made it up and demanded I cite my sources. SOURCES CITED, BOOYAH!

It’s got another meaning, though, too, ’cause the woman who puts the Mary in my name Mary Sue (I’m named after both my grandmothers) is in the hospital right now, unresponsive. They can’t figure out what’s going on.

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Getting My Hopes Up Practicum

Wednesday, 8.30am.

Potential for life to dramatically change for the better.

Or for me to need to eat a lot of ice cream and cry in my pillow.

I can has prayer nao?

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Two Things for Today

1) It’s my daddy’s birthday. He’s at Disneyland. I heart my family so much sometimes.

2) It’s World AIDS Day. I’ve noticed something in our church and personal dialouges I’d like to address now:

AIDS IS NOT ONLY AN AFRICAN OR GAY OR POOR PEOPLE DISEASE!

Conservative estimates set the US HIV infection rate at between 1-1.5 million people. Why the discrepancy? People don’t get tested. People don’t practice safer sex.

The only 100% safe sex is no sex. But even St. Paul didn’t believe everyone was called to the celibate lifestyle. So if you’re going to have sex, have safer sex. AND THIS MEANS LESBIANS TOO!

Now, you got no excuse, because Mary Sue’s gonna lay it all out for you (with the help of her friends at Good Vibrations:

– Use condoms for intercourse (vaginal and anal).
– Use a latex or polyurethane barrier during all types of oral sex.
– Use latex or polyurethane gloves or finger cots for hand or finger penetration of the vagina or anus.
– Use condoms on sex toys used by more than one person for any type of penetration (change the condom for each person) or on toys that go from anus to vagina, changing the condoms between insertions.
– Use only water-based or silicone-based lubricants with latex products. Oil of any kind, Vaseline and hand lotion included, destroys latex. Steer clear of so-called “water-soluble” lubes, which frequently contain oil.
– Although lubricants containing spermicides like nonoxynol-9 have been said to provide extra protection against viruses and bacteria, we recommend avoiding it. Some people are sensitive to it, and some studies have shown that nonoxynol-9 actually increases the chances of bacterial infection or contracting a virus from your partner.
– Store latex products in a cool, dry place.
– Never re-use latex products. Avoid using them after the expiration date (or five years after the manufacture date).
– If you or your partner are allergic or sensitive to latex products, do not touch them. Instead, add or use non-latex alternatives: polyurethane condoms; non-latex dental dams and non-latex gloves.

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Day of the Children Spirits

Note: As always, I will be moderating comments. I don’t know when I’ll get around to it, though, because now that I’ve said it, I don’t want to talk about it. Yes, yes, I know, not our Earth logic… deal.

  • I am half Mexican, but I was raised American. I only spoke English until I got to high school and discovered in my first-year Spanish class a gift for languages and a heritage that had only been faintly echoed in the accents of my abuelitos and the food on the kitchen table.

    Los Dias de Los Muertos is a part of that culture, one that I’ve grown to cherish. It blends Catholic spiritualiy with family honor, history with the present, uniting all points in time and space here, in this point of the four-dimensional Universe, when the days are turning dark and the veil between the worlds feels thinner. Fr. Andrew Greeley talks in all his novels about the shining ones in the bright lands, an Irish expression of the Communion of Saints. I’m part Irish, too, and tonight my eyes close and I think I hear them, whispering just beyond reach.

    Well, either that’s the shining ones or the folks downstairs watching TV.

    In an hour and a half, I’m starting NaNoWriMo. All Saints Day, celebrating those who are in Heaven. Heaven being a construct outside our linear space/time continuum, we celebrate by name those we know who are up there because they left before us, but we recognize dimly that there are others who are also up there who are yet to come.

    In Mexico, the adults who have died are celebrated on All Souls Day, November 2nd. Tomorrow’s the day for the spirits of the children, the innocents who have died, to come back and visit. Toys and candies are left out for them, pinwheels and Mickey Mouse baloons. Even today in Mexico, too many babies don’t live to get old.

    The psychologists say that when a child experiences sexual or physical abuse, at a certain point on a clinical scale calibrated to precisely measure horror, at a certain point on that scale the child’s emotional development stops dead in its tracks. So if a young boy is raped at age eight, he can grow up and live to be a man of 100 years, but without psychological intervention he will react to all situations like an eight year old. The event(s) effectively kills the child emotionally.

    It sounds wierd to say, looks wierd written down, but thank God it wasn’t sexual abuse. Thank God it wasn’t my parents or any other adults. Thank God for the Complete Sherlock Holmes and a big purse and for finally, finally standing up for myself. Thank God the little jackass’ family moved to Hawaii.

    It’s funny, I thought I’d forgiven him completely. And here I go, calling him names again.

    When you’re twelve years old, you don’t know what love is. So when he tells you that he loves you as he hits you repeatedly on the head, you believe him. When he tells you that you’re stupid and lucky he’s around to protect you, you believe him. When he grabs your arm hard enough to leave black bruises for two weeks and drags you away from your friends to berate you, you change for PE in the girl’s bathroom and make sure they’re well hidden, because they’re your secret. Your stigmata, if anyone saw it they would truly know how stupid you are. Only one person knows what kind of an idiot you are, and he left his mark to prove he still cares, that you still belong to him.

    This year’s novel idea came to me in a dream, one with Martians and mummies and superheroes. The plot itself developed into a tale of mourning a lost childhood. Too much responsibility for little shoulders. For some reason I didn’t see the paralells with my reality until last week. I have a card here on my desk with a plot point, a snippet of conversation between the main character and her former friend. The former friend says, “Start acting like an adult!” My main character snaps back, “I never learned how.”

    You can learn how, I’ve discovered. Having a solid family base, one that has fairly healthy relationships is a bonus. Observation and study can take the place of therapy if your tongue gets tied up when you have to face the eyes of a shrink. So can writing. I think I’m about 16 years old, now.

    And there’s someone I like. Not just like, but like like. It’s absolutely terrifying how all my education, all my finely honed wit, all my inner strength, all my spiritual growth can be tossed out the window with one. stinkin’. sentence. Five words, a compliment probably tossed off without much thought and I’m blushing and not making eye contact and the Debate Team from my university is thinking about revoking my elocution awards.

    God, when did I become such a girl?

    Tomorrow’s only an hour away, now. The spirits of the children are coming back to visit, lined up like it’s Disneyland. Children who have been born, some who haven’t yet.

    I’ve got this strange feeling that somewhere in there is one who looks a lot like me, twelve years ago.

    I think I’m going to ask her to stay a while.

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    A Christian Response to Munchausen By Internet

    Another, secular gaming community I am involved heavily with has just undergone an instance of what is coming to be called Munchausen by Internet.

    Go read the article I linked. No, really, do it right now.

    Oh, fine, for those of you who can’t be arsed, Munchausen by Internet is when someone creates an online persona who is constantly undergoing trials and tribulations so they can get attention and sympathy. And, usually when their stories get a little thin, these personas ‘die’.

    I’ve seen this a lot over the last fifteen years that I’ve spent online. In the gaming community, once the persona died, other suspicious people started combing the newspapers for obituaries. None turned up, and neither did any police reports or news articles about the grisly accident the persona’s significant other reported to us. Shenanigans were called, and the persona was outed by the gaming community as a sock puppet of another player.

    The gaming community is feeling shocked and betrayed, naturally. Some people who sent money and gifts are demanding refunds they will probably not get. And in the chat room last night, the conversation was all about this persona and the betrayal of trust.

    I was (for once) actually playing the game and mostly ignoring the conversation until someone pinged me and asked point blank, “Aren’t you pissed off?”

    “Not really,” I typed back.

    The entire chat room was confused by that statement, and pings rolled in demanding an explanation.

    So I cut and pasted the following:

    Look, I’ve been praying for [this persona] for weeks now. I’ll still keep praying for [this persona], because it’s terribly obvious they are desperately lonely.

    There are a lot of people on this gaming site for whom this is their first experience with MbP, and they are now withdrawing from friendships to protect themselves. And a lot of people who have been burned before and spent the whole buildup to this week’s crash being cynical and inciting the distrust are now saying “I told you so.”

    But we’re Christians, and we’ve got that annoying call to forgive others. It means sucking it up, stepping over our bruised pride (because that’s what’s really stinging, the fact we got duped) and saying, “I forgive you for lying.”

    Which doesn’t mean ‘Forget it ever happened’, even though it’s starting to take on those connotations in popular culture. It’s unlikely the person from my gaming board will come back, but if they do, I will extend a hand of friendship again but take anything they say taken with a whole shaker of salt.

    And pray, pray, pray, ’cause there’s nothing else I can do.

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