Happy Pentecost Sunday

Today is the feast of the Pentecost. I learned something new today at mass: today is the 50th day after Passover.

I first learned about Pentecost -- the day the Holy Spirit descended upon the apostles and the Virgin Mary through 'tongues of fire' -- when I was in elementary Catholic school. The teacher showed us a drawn picture of several men and a woman gathered together in a room with fire floating above their heads, like decapitated candles. Imagining it as a kid scared me; I could almost smell burnt hair just thinking about it.

The Holy Spirit has always been such an abstract concept to me. My sister even said that she used to be intimidated by the whole notion of praying to the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Trinity, which comprises of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, was perhaps the most important Catholic concept I had to learn growing up. God the Father and God the Son were more concrete and humanly understandable; the idea of an all encompassing father figure and the son who once walked the earth as a human was definitely something I could embrace more than the idea of what the oldies liked to call 'the holy ghost', a term that scared me as a kid.

Who or what is the Holy Spirit to you?

It took me a while to 'get it', although at times I still don't think I understand completely. I realize God is something we are not supposed to fully understand or grasp with our limited human minds anyway, but to simply embrace through the grace that fills our spirit.

Spirit. So intangible. There's that word again. But as an adult, I've learned to appreciate the concept of the Holy Spirit. Through my limited, human mind and understanding, I have come to appreciate the Holy Spirit as the all-knowing, positive, and perfect energy that gives enlightenment and understanding, guidance, and peace in our lives.

Enlightenment and understanding. As a child, I was taught to pray to the Holy Spirit before taking a test. I pray to the Holy Spirit before job interviews, presentations, or even before simply having a conversation with someone that requires a lot of patience and trust. I pray to the Holy Spirit when I need to ask someone for their forgiveness, or when someone asks for mine. Enlightenment. Light. The Holy Spirit, on Pentecost, is depicted as 'tongues of fire' floating above the heads of the members of our first church. They were blessed with the ability to speak and share God's word throughout the world, and the humble understanding of their duties as Christians following Jesus Christ's footsteps. The Holy Spirit enlightened them, and gave them understanding, preparing them for their first steps as followers of Christ--quite a big feat, if you ask me.

Guidance. I pray to the Holy Spirit when I am in the middle of making an important decision. I find that praying to the Holy Spirit, in particular, when trying to figure out God's will for me, has always been the most effective and clarifying. The Holy Spirit's energy clears my head and prepares my heart when I run into a crossroads, so that I may choose the right path.

It took me a while to accept and learn and completely embrace praying for what God wants instead of what I want. But then almost every time I do the latter and simply go for what I want, it flops. So now, even though I still let God know the desires of my heart--which I truly believe is also important to Him--I would always say that, in the end, His will be done. Praying to the Holy Spirit gives me the strength to do precisely that, and the guidance that comes with choosing wisely.

Peace. I am a nervous wreck, especially when dealing with people who are not close friends or family. I am a nervous wreck whenever I travel alone, or whenever my husband travels alone without me. I am a nervous wreck during doctor's visits. I am a nervous wreck every time I am pulled out of my comfort zone. I pray to the Holy Spirit to calm my heart during such occasions. Again--all knowing, positive, and perfect energy. The Holy Spirit is also often depicted as a white dove, the perfect epitome of peace.

The Holy Spirit is a glorious gift and presence. I urge you to try letting this all knowing, positive, and perfect energy into your daily decision-making. You will be surprised at how much more fruitful and purposeful your lives will become.

Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth.

Bless me, father, for I have sinned...

I can't remember the last time I attended mass, but today, I decided to give First Friday Mass a shot.

I wasn't exactly sure what time I should be at the cathedral. My mom suggested I look into their website for mass times.

First Friday's

6:30am Mass

7:00am - Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, Sacrament of Penance

8:15am Mass

Since I am not 83 years old, I opted out of the ungodly (no pun intended) first mass of the day and decided to go for the more doable 8:15 schedule. 

I wake up at 7:15 and drive to church at 7:30. Except for a few small coughs and wooden pews creaking against the weight of various joints (mostly arthritic, I imagine), the elegant, spacious cathedral was completely quiet. 

I find my spot, kneel, sit. Attention deficit moment in 3, 2.... 

I get up and walk to the back of the church, following an old man who needed the restroom. A woman enters and out of nowhere, I approach her, saying, 

'I'm sorry ma'am, but can you tell me where I can go to confession?'

She was middle aged and obviously still sleepy. She pointed toward a side door right next to the wash room.

'You see that door?'

'Yes, but, how do I know if someone is inside? Should I knock?'

'If the red lights are on, it means there's someone inside. Wait until the lights turn green.'

Ah, yes. Red means stop, green means go... even in heaven, I suppose.

Anyway, back to this peculiar instance--yes, I suddenly felt compelled to go to confession. 

I did not believe in confession. At all. It's one of those Catholic things I thought was completely unnecessary. 

But today, I felt like talking to someone.

Green. Go.

The kneeler was extremely hard and hurt my knees. Bad. I was out of church shape. 

Finally settled albeit still quite uncomfortable, I nervously tell the priest, who had a thick Indian accent, that my last confession was ten years ago. He calmly responded with an 'Okay.' He had a kind enough voice. I imagined a benign Pagoda from The Royal Tenenbaums behind the screen.

I talk to him about living those ten years focusing on the physical world, going through life's trials on my own, and deliberately refusing God even though I knew I needed His divine intervention.

I tell him about my love for science and everything that is tangible and true. There's that word--true--which I had, for ten years, defined as the things I can see with my eyes and touch with my hands.

I tell him more until I run out of ten years worth of stories to tell. 

I pause and wait for my penance. I mentally calculated five hundred Hail Mary's, based on those ten years worth of what my Catholic upbringing would call utter transgression.

Benign, calm, and kind Pagoda clears his throat and says,

'God loves you.'

I keep waiting for his order of five hundred Hail Mary's and walking the rest of the way back to my pew on my knees. But he spends the next couple of minutes telling me about how beautiful this world we live in truly is, how remarkable and blessed the sciences were, and how, despite how utterly magical all of these were, I was still missing out on a life that means so much more than what we can merely see with our eyes and touch with our hands.

'There is so much more to life, my dear daughter-in-Christ. I urge you to start seeking that life by opening up your logical mind and curious heart to the wonders of the intangible and spiritual.'

And my confession was done.

I walked out of church ready to take on that journey to appreciating the intangible and spiritual. I found peace that day, but also excitement. I can see today with my eyes and feel it with my hands. I do not know what tomorrow will bring, but this strange unknown makes life so much more fascinating, and meaningful.