Blue and Black: My Reflection on His Holiness Benedict XVI

I have seen the Holy Father Emeritus four times during his reign; as in seen his physical person not just through a television screen.  Each of those moments are very special to me and part of an important event in my life.  Each of those moments, and a few others, I wore blue and black.  I never had the intention to wear that color scheme and now I can't help but associate those colors with him.

I am part of that generation that grew up with Pope Blessed John Paul II, the charismatic pope with a great love for the youth.  To me, and I'm sure many others, he felt like the grandfather we couldn't wait to visit or listen to one of his stories.  I'm not ashamed to say that I cried when he passed away and I know I wasn't the only one who did.  I got up early to watch his funeral and I will admit that I dosed off a few times despite my best efforts (this was before I fell into the common addiction of coffee).  Then I watched with great wonder my first conclave whenever I wasn't in school or at work.

On the day of white smoke and bells was also the day of National Honor Society Inductions.  I was already a member so I got to sit on stage and be dressed in my Sunday best, a blue skirt and a black blouse, which I much preferred to the khaki pants and ill fitted polo of the school uniform.  After some begging, pleading and convincing the teacher of that period turned on the television and I watched as Cardinal Ratzinger, now Benedict XVI, stepped out onto the balcony. A humble worker in God's vineyard.

Later that year (after a year of saving and asking relations to lieu of Christmas gifts to send monies for the trip) I got to go to World Youth Day.  That year it was being hosted in Cologne, Germany which brought an extra meaning to me since I hadn't been to that country since I was born.  I always wanted to go to World Youth Day since I was really young and the fact that it was in Germany was an extra layer of awesome on my epic cake.  This was the first time I saw Benedict XVI without the aid of a TV screen.  I watched the tiny Pontiff in the distance give the final blessing of the last Mass of WYD, I bowed my head and noticed that my black chapel veil was about to slide from my neck.  I wrapped it more securely around my neck and zipped my blue windbreaker closed.

In my college career I transferred once and my first year at my second college was particularly difficult due to miscommunications, misunderstandings, and bias.  During this dark time for me fifty tickets were donated to the school for the Papal Mass that was held at the National Stadium for Benedict XVI's visit to the US.  A drawing was held amongst the students and I put my name in.  On a day filled with tears and hurt, I was told I won one of the fifty tickets.  The smile felt odd after not having one for so long, but it felt good to do it again.

I dressed in the wee hours of the morning the day of the Mass.  Oddly enough, as I looked in the mirror double checking everything, I was wearing the skirt I wore when Habemus Papam was announced; a different blouse but still black.  A bus ride, a trek through the Metro than a shuffle in the crowd I sat in the newly built baseball stadium to have Mass.

One of the better snap shots I got of Pope Benedict XVI.

The same college offered the opportunity to study in Rome for a semester and I took it.   Whilst there my classmates and I were able to attend a Wednesday Audience.  It was outside in St Peter's Square (or circle if you want to get technical about it). I waved enthusiastically as Benedict XVI rode by in the pope-mobile. He knew my school and we got a smile of recognition from  him and almost a two handed waved, but he had to re-grab the bar to keep his balance. My smile grew bigger and my teeth showed.  I sat and listen to talk about St John Leonardi.  He ended his talk with words of encouragement and a blessing.  As he gave his blessing I fiddle with a rosary bracelet around my left wrist.  It had blue and black beads with a medal of the Immaculate Conception.

The owner of the hotel where we were staying was able to get his hands on ticket to the Mass for the Conclusion of the Second Assembly for African of the Synod of Bishops.  Did I want one?  Yes, please!  Not realizing the change in time due to daylights savings, I got up earlier than I had intended.  It was a happy accident as I ended up inside St Peter's Basilica for Mass.  On a side note, the insides are even more awe inspiring when all the lights are on.  I sat at the very end of the row near the front section for the general public resulting in being less than five feet from the Cardinals and the Holy Father himself.  Throughout the Mass two Swiss guards took their posts next to where I sat so I got a good look at the stitching in their colorful uniform.  It was cool that morning and I grabbed a scarf I had purchased in Florence to keep away the chill, which doubled as a chapel veil for me; the scarf was mostly blue and black weaved together to create a design. 

I was just as surprised as anyone when Benedict XVI announced his abdication.  Let me first state that I wish him the best in his new life of prayer and solitude.  On his official last day I had to work, but I was able to schedule my lunch around the time he stepped down so I could pray for him and the next Pope.  I stared at my feet propped up in another chair and then down to what I was wearing; my blue work shirt over a black dress, all cinched with a black belt.  That's when it hit me - blue, black and Benedict XVI.  A strange connection I will admit, some may call it even flimsy, but there it is.

As Pope Blessed John Paul II was the Pope of my youth, Pope Benedict XVI was the Pope of my intellectual development.  In his homily at the closing Mass of his first World Youth Day he said, "In vast areas of the world today there is a strange forgetfulness of God. It seems as if everything would be just the same even without him.  But at the same time there is a feeling of frustration, a sense of dissatisfaction with everyone and everything."  He then encouraged us to "[h]elp people to discover the true star which points out the way to us:  Jesus Christ! Let us seek to know him better and better, so as to be able to guide others to him with conviction."

I saw first hand the forgetfulness that Benedict XVI talked about; with people in my own generation it has resulted from simply not being taught because the two generations ago misunderstood the intention of a Church Council.  In a fit of frustration after a particularly bad religion class I made a deal with God.  If He did not want me to major in Theology in college He would have to lead me in another direction.  From that point to when I declared my major there was nothing that really pushed me away from that degree and thus I now have a BA in Sacred Theology.  Before you ask - I'm not gonna be a priest or preacher!!  You would be amazed how often I'm asked that when people find out my major.

I'm not sure how well I'm leading others to Christ.  I can only hope that I can implant seeds of truth the the minds of those who wish to ignore it because it makes them uncomfortable.  Maybe one day those seeds will bloom into something or at least never leave them.

Today, if one was to take a look at my wardrobe, one would fine a lot of black and blue.  Because of that silly little connection I unknowingly made with those colors and Benedict XVI, I find that I am drawn to them without even thinking about it.  We all find comfort in things; for some it's in a little trinket left to us by someone we love, for others it maybe sharing a pint of ice cream with a friend with one spoon. My comfort is found in the colors blue and black; not in the colors themselves, mind you, but in what they have come to represent to me.

(In case if anyone was wondering, I was wearing brown when Pope Francis was elected.  There's a Franciscan joke in there somewhere, I just can't find it.)

I Survived Christmas And What I Learned

As you may recall from a earlier post secular Christmas is not in my top ten favorites things in the world, but it's not in my top ten hate list. I actually enjoy Christmas Day for the actually reason of the holiday.

As I opened my gifts with my family, I realized that I really need my own place. Do not get me wrong I am grateful for my parents for letting me stay with them, rent-free, after my graduation from college (May 2010). Because of this I am able to spend the money I earn towards my loans which I cannot wait to pay off. But any person who has gone off to college then come home for the holidays knows the plight of readjusting to the rules of their parents. This has been my biggest challenge since graduation. But my current financially situation does not allow me the luxury of moving out.

This realization came to light with the aid of my parents via their gifts. How many people can say they got a microwave for Christmas? Very few I imagine.

On a completely separate note, my New Years resolution: lose weight. I know it's not original, but it's something that I have to do. I'm over weight but not obese (Thank God), but I need to lose about forty pounds to be in my ideal weight for my body type. I have started today; on the recommendations of a dear friend I've invested in those 'Shape-Ups' sneakers, and some hand-weights to hold. The sneakers were a bit weird to wear but when walking I could feel the difference from regular sneakers. We shall see as the year progresses.

I also hope with this oncoming year to pick a little German. My mother's family is ethnically German and I have always been interested in my German roots. I have started listening to Disney songs sung in German to pick up on the pronunciation. When studying French in High School I found that listening to songs (Broadway-esque style not pop) helped a great deal; reason being that in singing to syllables are elongated and over enunciated so you hear the word clearer. But I digress, I've always wanted to pick up some German if any; another reason in the story I'm writing (see earlier post) some of my main characters are German thus I need to know German so the characters can speak in their native tongue.

Until next post, God Bless!

Christmas: A Time For .......Joy?

Christmas: A Time For .......Joy?

Christmas to me has been a holy day to celebrate when the Word of God took on flesh. But to many others it's about gift, cookies, Santa, end of the year sales, and decorating. Radio stations begin playing Christmas songs, both secular and religious, before the month of December start has even begun. After living through 20 some odd Christmases I can say without a doubt that I hate Christmas.

I hate the decorations that blink on houses as you drive by, the commercialism that bombards me when I turn on the television, everything just fills me with dread. I have, surprisingly a good reason.

I would first like to say that I am far from being a Scrooge. I enjoy giving gifts to people, I do not even need Christmas as an excuse to do so. I value the real meaning of Christmas with all my heart. But when it comes right down to it I'm just burnt out with secular Christmas. Being forced to decorate every year with decoration that are so disgustingly cute made me cringe, it also took out the joy I once had in the holiday. When I went off to college I was forever happy that by the time I got home for Christmas the decorating was overall finished. I dread this time of year because it is at this point where I fight and argue the most with my parents. Both my parents enjoy Christmas, one more then the other; they watch the Christmas themed movies and listen to the music as soon as the radios have switched. I come home to the demands of 'Turn on the Christmas lights,' and 'We have to watch a Christmas movie.' Their love for Christmas has lead me to my Christmas burnout.

I have come to a point in my life in which I must skip Christmas or else I will lose any inkling towards the holiday. I hate Christmas. I wish I didn't, but when a small irritation is blown up and pushed in one's face repeatedly, what can one do?