While it was a holiday celebrated this past Monday, today, May 30, marks the date of the original Decoration Day holiday, whose first widespread observance was 150 years ago, back in 1868.
As the earth came alive with flora abundant, people honored those who died in the recent Sectional War by decorating their graves. Eventually, the holiday became Memorial Day, to remember all those who fell in military service to this country.
This tradition has continued for so many years, and for good reason: Our country's existence continues to be supported by sacrifices, especially of those in our military, and most especially of those who make the ultimate sacrifice. Indeed, it is the work of each generation of the US people to continue to uphold this country and the values for which it stands.
For me, Memorial Day weekend is made complete by giving due recognition to the fallen. So every year on the Sunday evening prior, I am in front of the television turned on to PBS, viewing the annual National Memorial Day Concert, a moving tribute to those who have served in the US military, and who died in service. In addition to the fine music, actors share the stories of people who have dealt with the hardships of military service. These stories bring a human face to what Memorial Day is all about.
Over the past few years, I've made a habit of going to Scoville Park on Monday morning, where there is a Memorial Day ceremony held at 9 AM. It includes remarks, prayers, songs, and the solemn pomp of the presentation of the colors and a rifle salute by Oak Park police officers, and taps. These simple, dignified gestures truly bring honor to the occasion. For many years, Virginia Cassin, former Oak Park Village Clerk, served as master of ceremonies, and she marked her final time doing so this past Monday as she plans to move to Minnesota to be closer to her family. All those involved truly do well in making these ceremonies what they are. John Atwood shared some of the stories of local soldiers who served in World War I, which, again, brings a more human touch to the conflicts in which the United States has been involved.
The importance of honoring those who have served throughout the year fosters many charitable efforts: One example is the Wreaths Across America, which seeks to lay a wreath at every grave of all those who have served in the military. It's a fitting tribute, and certainly is in the spirit of Decoration Day, to make such a gesture of honor at the graves.
The World War II Memorial includes a quotation by Harry Truman, which pinpoints so well the essence of this occasion: "Our debt to the heroic men and valiant women in the service of our country can never be repaid. They have earned our undying gratitude. America will never forget their sacrifices." I can only hope that in the midst of the summer traditions often associated with it that the annual Memorial Day holiday serves as a reminder to continue honoring those who served this country by giving of their lives, for another 150 years and beyond. And may such remembrance inspire us to continue in our roles of upholding this country and its profound values.
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Saturday, May 19, 2018
Post-College: Five Years
In the various posts on this blog, I reflect on what's happening in my life and in the world around me. In that spirit, I reflect on the state of my life on this day that marks 5 years since my graduation from Valparaiso University, the event that inspired the launch of this blog.
As I mark this occasion, I think back to my most recent visit to Valparaiso University (ValpU): During the first week of April, I got an alumni e-mail newsletter, which listed a number of upcoming events, including a gathering hosted by the Career Center at which students and alumni would have conversations about careers. I participated in such an event as a student, and I felt this would be a great opportunity, now that I've established myself in a career, to offer insights from my own experiences to current students who are now in the process of establishing themselves in careers. So I gladly registered.
And just a matter of days later, I went to ValpU. I met with several students over the course of an hour or so, with each conversation lasting about 5 minutes before it was time to move on in "lightning round" kind of fashion. As I introduced myself, I started by noting my upcoming 5-year anniversary. The students had great questions for me about my career experiences, and I offered them plenty of tips. I enjoyed my time at this gathering, which was made all the more special by the forthcoming 5-year anniversary, as it was a chance to take stock of where I've progressed in my life, and to give back by sharing about what I've learned through experience in the time since graduation. And I was able to reconnect in a physical way with the place that played a significant role in my young adult life, and even visit with people I know there.
Toward the end of April, I received another e-mail, this time with a message from Christ College Interim Dean Jennifer Prough announcing the retirement of Associate Dean Margaret Franson. After Dean Prough talked about Dean Franson's many contributions to the communities of Christ College and the campus at large, the message quoted from a homily she gave in October 2012 at a chapel service. Reading those words triggered my memory a little bit, for I would have been present for that homily, which was during my senior year. Throughout the 2012-2013 school year, various members of the faculty from across campus shared reflections on passionate living.
Dean Franson talked about how she's lived passionately by helping shape a sense of place at ValpU, through her involvement on various committees for projects like the addition to the Chapel and strategic planning for the whole campus. She mentioned how she is deeply drawn into the sense of place, and how it touches her deepest feelings.
There's something about college that triggers feelings of passion. I think about my cousin Mark, who, upon graduating from college around the time I did, collaborated with two friends to start an apparel company, Belong Designs. In a video sharing the story of their brand, they talk about how they wanted to be mission-driven, which led to apparel. Their slogan is all about following your passion, and finding where you belong.
As I reflect on this 5-year anniversary of mine, I think about how my time at ValpU helped ignite in me a strong sense of passionate living.
I felt a sense of passionate living one year ago today while on a trip to the Pacific Northwest to visit my great friend Roy, with much of my traveling between cities onboard Amtrak. Train travel is a true passion of mine.
Throughout my four years at college, I engaged passionately with what I was studying, as well as with my other interests in events outside of class, in service (especially with Compass Educational Program), and my faith. Indeed, one of the most important aspects of my college years was how I grew so abundantly in faith. I left college riding a wave, with a very vibrant spiritual life. I was ripe for opportunities to channel my newfound zeal for faith. I got involved in additional ministries at church, and in following my passions, I found where I belong, in the community of the Church.
One of the most significant ministry involvements I've had is in Religious Education. During that summer 2013, when I saw a notice in the church bulletin seeking new catechists, I felt like it would be a good thing to do, so I contacted the Director of RE and got set up for the coming year.
And I know that it's no accident that I have taught Religious Education in each of the 5 years since my ValpU graduation--it's a reality that speaks to how I've lived passionately in putting my gifts to use--most especially putting the great gift of faith into action. Over those five years, my zeal for teaching has intensified, with my faith abounding even more, as I live even more passionately. My students mean so much to me: They have made me a better person as I learn to model Christ's example by pouring myself out for them, so that they grow in faith for themselves. At the Mass held to mark the close of the recent 2017-18 RE year, Father Hurlbert, in his homily, addressed the students directly in remarking that the catechists model for them how to live out a relationship with Jesus in life at large, which speaks directly to my experience.
Being a catechist gives me a channel for talking about faith. Even though I only spend an hour a week with each of my classes, I think about them all the time, even now after the recent conclusion of the RE year, and I'm so eager to talk about my classes with coworkers and other people I interact with, because it's such a worthwhile way I spend my time. And I keep coming back to teach, because of the importance I sense in the work of handing on the faith to others.
Teaching middle schoolers also reconnects me with today's middle schoolers, and reminds me of my own middle school years, so significant in my life, in part because it was a time when I was discovering and living my passions. I have seen how my students are engaging in passionate living. One of the strongest examples of this passion is in those students who are part of the BRAVO performing arts program at Brooks Middle School. I've attended a number of the performances they put since Mary Poppins back in the spring 2015. Watching these musicals, it's almost easy to forget that the actors on stage are middle school students, because they have achieved such a stellar, professional-level quality of acting. BRAVO has even sent student groups to perform at a competition called Junior Theater Festival, attended by groups from throughout the United States, and the BRAVO group has won many awards there over the years. If you ever have the chance to attend a BRAVO show in the future, it is well worth your time--and it's also great family-friendly entertainment.
And being the catechist of some of these students, I sense how much they put into what they do: From time to time, they talk about all the long hours of rehearsal they put in, even spending hours practicing just one song. Some of the BRAVO students who are in my Tuesday evening classes have shown up with their dinners because they come straight from rehearsal. They truly throw themselves passionately into their acting. And their passion really shines through when it comes time to get up on the stage and perform.
Earlier this month, I attended the final performance of Sister Act, Jr., with five of my 8th grade students in the show. (Notably, BRAVO had the honor of piloting the Junior version of the Sister Act musical based on the 1992 movie starring Whoopi Goldberg). After it ended and the actors took their bows, they remained gathered on stage, while a BRAVO staff person recognized various students, most especially the 8th graders. I clapped and cheered with extra delight when I heard the names of the students I know being called out. It was truly a special experience to be there and take part in this celebratory occasion of recognition for my students. They performed their hearts out in throwing themselves into the performance. As stellar as the quality of their acting is, it's so meaningful to attend these shows because I can see how they act with passion. I'm sure they're going to exit middle school with a deep sense of satisfaction for taking advantage of the opportunity to live passionately through participating in BRAVO performances. I was eager to share this performance, and so I invited my Grandma and her friend, who both enjoyed themselves. As we headed to dinner afterward, I expressed to my Grandma how special it was for me to be there, and how I was proud of my students, because of the connection I've made with them. Being at that performance reminded me of the sense of joy I encountered while teaching, even in the midst of challenges: It is a joy that is a foretaste of Heaven.
As I reflect on this recent RE year, and the other years before it, I realize that I've invested so much in the lives of my students as their catechist. And I gladly pour myself out for them, because I desire for them to grow in faith, and want nothing less than for them to reach Heaven, where we will all gather before the presence of the God Who loves us so much and worship Him ceaselessly. Indeed, I know that all that the investment I make in them has eternal implications, because as they grow in faith, they draw ever closer in relationship to God, with its culmination point in reaching the throne of God in Heaven itself. Truly I sense what Jesus said when He talks about laying down one's life for one's friends, fellow members of the Body of Christ, and His quotation by St. Paul in Acts, saying it is more blessed to give than to receive. I've come to understand the meaning of true love, which is about giving of myself, and not to gain anything in equal measure back, but to give of myself to express my relationship with God Who poured out Himself for me in Christ.
Even though the year has ended, I still greatly care about my students, because my heart is filled with passion to live for God, which has driven me to do my part to inspire my students with that same kind of passion, a blazing fire in their hearts for God's glory. And I continue to pray for them: By faith, I have confidence in what God will accomplish in them in the future, even if I'm not there to see it, because of the foundation of faith already laid in their lives, which I am blessed I had a part in laying.
It was a wonderful coincidence that my graduation fell on Pentecost Sunday 2013, and it is equally marvelous that I mark this anniversary on Pentecost weekend this year. As a sign of the continued Presence of the Risen Lord in His people, He poured out the Holy Spirit to ignite His people to be Church, living passionately for His Glory by making Him known. And from the formation I received during college years, I have put my faith into action with a passion for service to others and for the glory of God.
Five years ago, at the Baccalaureate service held in the Chapel in the morning before the afternoon graduation ceremony, toward the end, the student choir sang "Baba Yetu", the Our Father prayer in Swahili. In what I sense as a divinely-ordained arrangement of circumstances, I stumbled, like I sometimes do, on a video of the song "Baba Yetu" on YouTube just days ago.
Please feel free to pick whichever version of this song you'd like:
Here is a music video version of the song.
This video shows the Swahili lyrics and the English translation.
This video has the phonetic lyrics of the Swahili words.
I'm not sure if this was the same rhythm and such that the choir sang that day, but hearing this prayer sung reminds me of the spirited prayerful singing that was offered up that morning. And it evokes in me a strong sense of the spirit of celebration I feel within me this day because of how I've lived passionately over these five years.
All Glory to God.
P.S. Here you can check out the blog posts on my graduation, and my reflections for One Year, Two Years, Three Years, and Four Years.
 |
| While back on campus last month, on April 6, I asked my great friend Richard to take this photo of me as a way to mark the 5-year anniversary of my graduation. |
As I mark this occasion, I think back to my most recent visit to Valparaiso University (ValpU): During the first week of April, I got an alumni e-mail newsletter, which listed a number of upcoming events, including a gathering hosted by the Career Center at which students and alumni would have conversations about careers. I participated in such an event as a student, and I felt this would be a great opportunity, now that I've established myself in a career, to offer insights from my own experiences to current students who are now in the process of establishing themselves in careers. So I gladly registered.
And just a matter of days later, I went to ValpU. I met with several students over the course of an hour or so, with each conversation lasting about 5 minutes before it was time to move on in "lightning round" kind of fashion. As I introduced myself, I started by noting my upcoming 5-year anniversary. The students had great questions for me about my career experiences, and I offered them plenty of tips. I enjoyed my time at this gathering, which was made all the more special by the forthcoming 5-year anniversary, as it was a chance to take stock of where I've progressed in my life, and to give back by sharing about what I've learned through experience in the time since graduation. And I was able to reconnect in a physical way with the place that played a significant role in my young adult life, and even visit with people I know there.
Toward the end of April, I received another e-mail, this time with a message from Christ College Interim Dean Jennifer Prough announcing the retirement of Associate Dean Margaret Franson. After Dean Prough talked about Dean Franson's many contributions to the communities of Christ College and the campus at large, the message quoted from a homily she gave in October 2012 at a chapel service. Reading those words triggered my memory a little bit, for I would have been present for that homily, which was during my senior year. Throughout the 2012-2013 school year, various members of the faculty from across campus shared reflections on passionate living.
Dean Franson talked about how she's lived passionately by helping shape a sense of place at ValpU, through her involvement on various committees for projects like the addition to the Chapel and strategic planning for the whole campus. She mentioned how she is deeply drawn into the sense of place, and how it touches her deepest feelings.
There's something about college that triggers feelings of passion. I think about my cousin Mark, who, upon graduating from college around the time I did, collaborated with two friends to start an apparel company, Belong Designs. In a video sharing the story of their brand, they talk about how they wanted to be mission-driven, which led to apparel. Their slogan is all about following your passion, and finding where you belong.
As I reflect on this 5-year anniversary of mine, I think about how my time at ValpU helped ignite in me a strong sense of passionate living.
I felt a sense of passionate living one year ago today while on a trip to the Pacific Northwest to visit my great friend Roy, with much of my traveling between cities onboard Amtrak. Train travel is a true passion of mine.
Throughout my four years at college, I engaged passionately with what I was studying, as well as with my other interests in events outside of class, in service (especially with Compass Educational Program), and my faith. Indeed, one of the most important aspects of my college years was how I grew so abundantly in faith. I left college riding a wave, with a very vibrant spiritual life. I was ripe for opportunities to channel my newfound zeal for faith. I got involved in additional ministries at church, and in following my passions, I found where I belong, in the community of the Church.
One of the most significant ministry involvements I've had is in Religious Education. During that summer 2013, when I saw a notice in the church bulletin seeking new catechists, I felt like it would be a good thing to do, so I contacted the Director of RE and got set up for the coming year.
And I know that it's no accident that I have taught Religious Education in each of the 5 years since my ValpU graduation--it's a reality that speaks to how I've lived passionately in putting my gifts to use--most especially putting the great gift of faith into action. Over those five years, my zeal for teaching has intensified, with my faith abounding even more, as I live even more passionately. My students mean so much to me: They have made me a better person as I learn to model Christ's example by pouring myself out for them, so that they grow in faith for themselves. At the Mass held to mark the close of the recent 2017-18 RE year, Father Hurlbert, in his homily, addressed the students directly in remarking that the catechists model for them how to live out a relationship with Jesus in life at large, which speaks directly to my experience.
Being a catechist gives me a channel for talking about faith. Even though I only spend an hour a week with each of my classes, I think about them all the time, even now after the recent conclusion of the RE year, and I'm so eager to talk about my classes with coworkers and other people I interact with, because it's such a worthwhile way I spend my time. And I keep coming back to teach, because of the importance I sense in the work of handing on the faith to others.
Teaching middle schoolers also reconnects me with today's middle schoolers, and reminds me of my own middle school years, so significant in my life, in part because it was a time when I was discovering and living my passions. I have seen how my students are engaging in passionate living. One of the strongest examples of this passion is in those students who are part of the BRAVO performing arts program at Brooks Middle School. I've attended a number of the performances they put since Mary Poppins back in the spring 2015. Watching these musicals, it's almost easy to forget that the actors on stage are middle school students, because they have achieved such a stellar, professional-level quality of acting. BRAVO has even sent student groups to perform at a competition called Junior Theater Festival, attended by groups from throughout the United States, and the BRAVO group has won many awards there over the years. If you ever have the chance to attend a BRAVO show in the future, it is well worth your time--and it's also great family-friendly entertainment.
And being the catechist of some of these students, I sense how much they put into what they do: From time to time, they talk about all the long hours of rehearsal they put in, even spending hours practicing just one song. Some of the BRAVO students who are in my Tuesday evening classes have shown up with their dinners because they come straight from rehearsal. They truly throw themselves passionately into their acting. And their passion really shines through when it comes time to get up on the stage and perform.
Earlier this month, I attended the final performance of Sister Act, Jr., with five of my 8th grade students in the show. (Notably, BRAVO had the honor of piloting the Junior version of the Sister Act musical based on the 1992 movie starring Whoopi Goldberg). After it ended and the actors took their bows, they remained gathered on stage, while a BRAVO staff person recognized various students, most especially the 8th graders. I clapped and cheered with extra delight when I heard the names of the students I know being called out. It was truly a special experience to be there and take part in this celebratory occasion of recognition for my students. They performed their hearts out in throwing themselves into the performance. As stellar as the quality of their acting is, it's so meaningful to attend these shows because I can see how they act with passion. I'm sure they're going to exit middle school with a deep sense of satisfaction for taking advantage of the opportunity to live passionately through participating in BRAVO performances. I was eager to share this performance, and so I invited my Grandma and her friend, who both enjoyed themselves. As we headed to dinner afterward, I expressed to my Grandma how special it was for me to be there, and how I was proud of my students, because of the connection I've made with them. Being at that performance reminded me of the sense of joy I encountered while teaching, even in the midst of challenges: It is a joy that is a foretaste of Heaven.
As I reflect on this recent RE year, and the other years before it, I realize that I've invested so much in the lives of my students as their catechist. And I gladly pour myself out for them, because I desire for them to grow in faith, and want nothing less than for them to reach Heaven, where we will all gather before the presence of the God Who loves us so much and worship Him ceaselessly. Indeed, I know that all that the investment I make in them has eternal implications, because as they grow in faith, they draw ever closer in relationship to God, with its culmination point in reaching the throne of God in Heaven itself. Truly I sense what Jesus said when He talks about laying down one's life for one's friends, fellow members of the Body of Christ, and His quotation by St. Paul in Acts, saying it is more blessed to give than to receive. I've come to understand the meaning of true love, which is about giving of myself, and not to gain anything in equal measure back, but to give of myself to express my relationship with God Who poured out Himself for me in Christ.
Even though the year has ended, I still greatly care about my students, because my heart is filled with passion to live for God, which has driven me to do my part to inspire my students with that same kind of passion, a blazing fire in their hearts for God's glory. And I continue to pray for them: By faith, I have confidence in what God will accomplish in them in the future, even if I'm not there to see it, because of the foundation of faith already laid in their lives, which I am blessed I had a part in laying.
It was a wonderful coincidence that my graduation fell on Pentecost Sunday 2013, and it is equally marvelous that I mark this anniversary on Pentecost weekend this year. As a sign of the continued Presence of the Risen Lord in His people, He poured out the Holy Spirit to ignite His people to be Church, living passionately for His Glory by making Him known. And from the formation I received during college years, I have put my faith into action with a passion for service to others and for the glory of God.
Five years ago, at the Baccalaureate service held in the Chapel in the morning before the afternoon graduation ceremony, toward the end, the student choir sang "Baba Yetu", the Our Father prayer in Swahili. In what I sense as a divinely-ordained arrangement of circumstances, I stumbled, like I sometimes do, on a video of the song "Baba Yetu" on YouTube just days ago.
Please feel free to pick whichever version of this song you'd like:
Here is a music video version of the song.
This video shows the Swahili lyrics and the English translation.
This video has the phonetic lyrics of the Swahili words.
I'm not sure if this was the same rhythm and such that the choir sang that day, but hearing this prayer sung reminds me of the spirited prayerful singing that was offered up that morning. And it evokes in me a strong sense of the spirit of celebration I feel within me this day because of how I've lived passionately over these five years.
All Glory to God.
Tuesday, May 8, 2018
Lifelong Learning: Two Years
Today I mark two years since the graduation by which I affixed the four inestimable letters of MLIS after my name. As a library/information science (LIS) professional, I am well aware that learning is lifelong. So to celebrate this occasion, I feel it's good to recount the learning I have experienced recently.
Since starting my full-time cataloger job at the Orland Park Public Library, I've put my LIS skills in action as I tend to the work of processing materials for that library's patrons. I've noticed how my LIS skills spring into action, like when giving call numbers to materials, especially nonfiction. It's been interesting to see the process play out in the workplace.
I had workplace processes in mind while attending the Illinois Library Association's Reaching Forward Conference last week Friday in Rosemont. Two presenters talked about how technical services staff can collaborate with other departments to make sure everyone is on the same page and the techn. services staff are well-positioned and ready to help other departments wiht their projects. Clearly, there are important skills to utilize when running a workplace well. At the conference, I also got attended presentations to learn about the differences among various generations in the workplace, with many factors influencing the mindset of Boomers, GenXers, and Millenials. Other presentations I attended showcased library programming, cataloging techniques, and the function of humor in life.
Indeed, lifelong learning is about putting the foundations of learning, especially in an academic setting, into action. I thought about this last Saturday when I attended the annual District 97 Multicultural Ethnic Fest at Julian Middle School. After the parade, there were festivities at the school, including food, vendors, crafts, and entertainment. Owing to the fest occasion, the monthly Spanish Conversation Hour was held in a classroom at Julian, instead of at its usual location at the Dole Branch of the library.
What a feeling it was to be back in my old stomping grounds at Julian, on a day celebrating the varied cultures of the world and their place in the community of Oak Park. And there I was, engaging in Spanish conversation with other community members--and notably, on the same week five years after being inducted into the Sigma Delta Pi Spanish Honor Society, which happened in my waning days at ValpU. It was so special to be back inside Julian, that place that had such a profound influence in shaping me to be the person I am, continuing to learn Spanish by putting it into action in conversation.
There's something to be said about all that can be discovered when we use what skills we have and open ourselves up to what's out there. Truly, lifelong learning is a great adventure.
Since starting my full-time cataloger job at the Orland Park Public Library, I've put my LIS skills in action as I tend to the work of processing materials for that library's patrons. I've noticed how my LIS skills spring into action, like when giving call numbers to materials, especially nonfiction. It's been interesting to see the process play out in the workplace.
I had workplace processes in mind while attending the Illinois Library Association's Reaching Forward Conference last week Friday in Rosemont. Two presenters talked about how technical services staff can collaborate with other departments to make sure everyone is on the same page and the techn. services staff are well-positioned and ready to help other departments wiht their projects. Clearly, there are important skills to utilize when running a workplace well. At the conference, I also got attended presentations to learn about the differences among various generations in the workplace, with many factors influencing the mindset of Boomers, GenXers, and Millenials. Other presentations I attended showcased library programming, cataloging techniques, and the function of humor in life.
 |
| So far as I remember, Renee, an Orland Park Public Library staff person, got this picture of me with Abraham Lincoln, one of many programming options offered to libraries that was showcased at the Reaching Forward conference. |
Indeed, lifelong learning is about putting the foundations of learning, especially in an academic setting, into action. I thought about this last Saturday when I attended the annual District 97 Multicultural Ethnic Fest at Julian Middle School. After the parade, there were festivities at the school, including food, vendors, crafts, and entertainment. Owing to the fest occasion, the monthly Spanish Conversation Hour was held in a classroom at Julian, instead of at its usual location at the Dole Branch of the library.
What a feeling it was to be back in my old stomping grounds at Julian, on a day celebrating the varied cultures of the world and their place in the community of Oak Park. And there I was, engaging in Spanish conversation with other community members--and notably, on the same week five years after being inducted into the Sigma Delta Pi Spanish Honor Society, which happened in my waning days at ValpU. It was so special to be back inside Julian, that place that had such a profound influence in shaping me to be the person I am, continuing to learn Spanish by putting it into action in conversation.
 |
| Jeanine, a staff person at the Oak Park Public Library, who helps facilitate the Spanish Conversation Hour, took this picture of me in my seat at the Conversation Hour inside Julian's health classroom, where we met. |
There's something to be said about all that can be discovered when we use what skills we have and open ourselves up to what's out there. Truly, lifelong learning is a great adventure.
Friday, April 27, 2018
The Paschal Mystery Version 2018
I have reason for a jubilant mood at this time, because as of this week Wednesday, April 25, we've reached the midpoint of Easter Season 2018. At the end of this week, on Saturday, April 28, I mark 27 years since the Sunday my parents took me to St. Cornelius Parish in Chicago, and accompanied by my family, I died to myself and rose to new Life in Christ in the waters of baptism. I recognize that the Paschal Mystery of Christ's Death and Resurrection is at the heart of my identity because it is the reason for the faith I hold dear.
That is why it means so much for me to participate in the special liturgies of the Triduum each year, being at Church from Maundy Thursday through Resurrection Sunday. And it's not just something I observe as a spectator: These liturgies bring alive anew the Paschal Mystery within me.
As I told my RE students at the beginning of Lent, the purpose of our Lenten journey is leading us toward the Triduum. That came to mind on Palm Sunday, when, during the opening procession at Mass, the celebrant spoke words about how we've spent Lent engaging in acts of penance and charity, with its culmination of entering with Jesus into Jerusalem, where He experienced His Passion.
With Palm Sunday, my anticipation grew as the time drew onward toward the Triduum. I went to Maundy Thursday Mass fully aware of momentous occasions at hand. This day connects with the Jewish celebration of Passover, and there's a custom at a Seder meal for a child to ask an adult why this night is different from all others. Truly on that Thursday, I had this sense of how this night is different from all others as we began the annual celebration of the Paschal Mystery, which was even reason for me to change my usual work schedule on that Holy Week.
The opening hymn at Maundy Thursday Mass, "Glory in the Cross", for me always captures so richly the meaning behind our Triduum observance, and so it serves as a fitting way to commence the Triduum as we acclaim Christ, Who alone is our Salvation.
A major theme of Maundy Thursday is the idea that Jesus Christ instituted the New Covenant, which we experience on a regular basis in the Eucharist at Mass, in the context of demonstrating to us the Father's Love. It is love in action, as we give of ourselves to others. Time and again during that Mass, I couldn't help but think about how I've poured out myself to my RE students, serving them as I help them grow in their own faith.
It is so special to attend Maundy Thursday Mass as a way of commemorating the anniversary of the institution of the Eucharist, which is the heart of the Mass, as a way to remember what Christ did for us, similar to how the Jewish people celebrate Passover to remember what God did in delivering their ancestors from slavery in Egypt.
One of the major highlights of that Mass for me is the end when the leftover consecrated Body of Christ is carried in solemn procession to the side tabernacle at Mary's altar, accompanied by the wondrous song of "Pange Lingua". The lyrics of this ancient hymn speak so powerfully to acclaiming and hailing Christ Who offered Himself for us, and it's so powerful to hear those words that it often makes me emotional. After the end of the procession, the stillness of the Church allows us to continue to behold the real Presence of Christ offered to us time after time in the Blessed Sacrament.
The next day, on Cross Friday, even while I was at work, I sought to keep aware of the solemn nature of the occasion. I attended the evening liturgy at Ascension, which carried a sense of heaviness. But we can't experience the joys of the Resurrection, celebrating Christ's rising from the dead, if He didn't die first. And there is much reason to honor Christ's death because it is the reason that we are freed from sin.
I had the opportunity to serve as a lector at the Cross Friday liturgy: I read the first portion of the Passion Narrative according to the Gospel of St. John. This Gospel's account emphasizes the idea that Christ was fully in control of what happened to Him during His sufferings and death. Furthermore, He was fully aware that in suffering and dying, He was fulfilling the purpose for which God sent Him into the world. That is why there is no mention of His agony in the Garden. And when Judas arrives with a band of soldiers to arrest Jesus, He goes out to meet them, and when they say they seek Jesus of Nazareth, He declared, "I AM." Later, when Pilate questioned Him, Jesus continues to demonstrate His control of what is happening, and declares His purpose for being born, to be a King, and to testify to the Truth.
The somber nature of this liturgy is especially evident in the solemn intercessions offered after the homily.
And another Triduum highlight is the Veneration of the Cross, which is a way to embrace the essential symbol of our faith and by reverencing it, to honor and acknowledge the death of Jesus.
The next morning, on Holy Saturday, I went to Church for Morning Prayer. Toward the end, we gathered around the altar to offer our intercessions, and then to lay hands in blessing on the Elect and those making ready to receive the Sacraments of Initiation. It was so wondrous to process in a circle around the altar in the quiet stillness awaiting our turn to bless them.
Once Morning Prayer ended, it was time to make the church beautiful for the Feast of all Feasts, the Bride bedecked for the Groom.
It was a rich action when I took the wooden Cross, positioned on the altar the evening before, and carried it to the back of the Church--with someone remarking that I was carrying my cross--where I then adorned it with Easter beauty, which included a wreath with brightly colored ribbons along with flowers and brightly-colored cloths at its base. I also helped with banners and moved flowers into position on the various altars. And the Pastoral Associate, Mary Catherine, also recruited my help in setting up the changing stations for the five individuals who would be baptized that night, so they would have a private space to change from their baptismal gowns to their gowns of the newly initiated. I was glad to help get something ready that would be part of their experience that night.
As the time drew near for me to eventually return home, Mary Catherine and I got into a conversation about the richness of the Triduum liturgies, and how many incredible, and emotional, moments included in them.
After going home and doing many and various things, I was back at Church for the great and wondrous Holy Saturday Easter Vigil. As I went into Church, I thought that although I had just been there earlier that day, it felt like a totally different day, as the time I was there in the morning seemed so removed from being there in the evening, with the mood of anticipation for celebrating the most significant moment of human history and of our faith.
The vigil contains quite an array of sensory symbols, starting with the fire out in front of Church, from which is lit the Paschal Candle. The words the celebrant prays at the fire already anticipates the glory of Christ Who triumphed. We continue in that spirit as the Paschal Candle is processed into Church and the candlelight is distributed, burning ever more brightly even though spread out.
And how wondrous it is to hear the Exultet, with so many incredible images in the lyrics that speak to how God sought to deliver His people, which gives us reason to celebrate.
That theme continues into the Liturgy of the Word. Even as that part of the Mass progresses toward the Gospel account of the Resurrection, as I sat there listening to the other readings, I realized that God was already at work as history progressed toward the Resurrection. God created people to be a special part of His creation, and that's why He went to such great lengths to make a way for us to be saved. It makes me think about the RE class early on in March when I told my students that while sin has wrecked our relationship with God, He looks at each one of us and says that we are worth fixing.
The Epistle Reading from Romans 6 emphasizes so marvelously the idea of how we participate in the Paschal Mystery: As God's people, we join with Christ in dying to ourselves in baptism, and then rising to newness of Life in Him, living His glorious new Life--something I shared with my students a week and a half later when we were at the baptismal font while touring the Church. And the scene is set so well with the turning on of many lights in the Church right before the Epistle reading, as the Gloria starts.
And how glorious it is when the silent pause after the reading from Romans is broken by the ringing of the church bells, followed by the illuminating of the remainder of the Church's lights, and David Anderson leads us in a stepped Alleluia, giving way to an incredibly joyful singing of the Alleluia acclamation with the words of Psalm 118 while the Gospel book goes in procession all throughout the Church. The glorious singing of that Alleluia, suppressed for the Lenten period, truly befits the great news heralded in the Gospel account of the women encountering the reality of the Resurrection at the Empty Tomb.
Father Hurlbert masterfully emphasized what the Paschal Mystery is about when he mentioned that the death of Jesus saves us from sin and saves us for a relationship with God that lasts into Eternity. There's a sense in that idea that we have a purpose that is realized by being brought into a relationship with God, just as we die with Christ to our sins, and then rise into His New Life. And it's not a Life we wait to experience after death: It's a newness of Life that brings us fully alive even now in this life on Earth.
That's what makes it so special to celebrate baptisms and the initiation sacraments at the Easter Vigil, to see individuals experiencing the Paschal Mystery for themselves for the first time. This year, we had quite a number of individuals be baptized, along with some others completing their initiation into the Church. And we who are already initiated are not just left to be spectators, as we process to the font to renew our own baptismal promises, as part of the process of constantly growing and being renewed in our relationship with God.
And then there's the Eucharist, which is always a special moment after having recalled the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, by which His living, real presence is manifest to us in a special way, in the Sacrament of the Altar. During communion, the hymn "Joyous Cup" is sung, with lyrics based on the Exultet. It includes the words, "O happy fault, O needful sin", as we recalled the wondrous redemption God won for us by giving to us so great a Savior and Redeemer to free us from sin.
After that song finished, we sang, "Be not afraid". I was a Eucharistic minister of the plate, and in my position, I was facing the choir. I saw exuberant smiles break out on the faces of some of those in the choir, smiles that genuinely spoke to the joyful reality that Chris is truly Risen. What a moment it was to share that feeling of joy with those gathered to celebrate the victory of the Resurrection on this night. (I also had a "front row seat" to the new initiates as they received First Holy Communion, to see them embrace and take in Christ's presence.)
We covered much ground in a rather quick time frame, finishing in about 2 1/2 hours, which is really something given the numerous baptisms. As has happened in the past, we finished with "Christ the Lord is Risen", set to an African rhythm, a great spirited song to send us out into the night in jubilation.
And that spirit of jubilation was certainly present the next day on Resurrection Sunday, as we celebrated the great triumph of Christ over death--and that is no joke. The mood on this Sunday certainly evokes a strong sense of turnaround from the serious nature of Lent and the heaviness of Cross Friday just two days before when we honored the salvific death of Jesus Christ.
Mass was pretty glorious that morning, with an immense throng gathered in Church, and plenty of standees in the back, near where I was. Even though it was a day with winter-like temperatures, the beautiful decorations of bright-colored ribbons and colorful flowers helped set the tone for a spring-like occasion. And in the opening hymn, "Jesus Christ is Risen Today", there are lyrics, "Who did once upon the Cross...Suffer to redeem our loss..." As I muse over those words, it's incredible to think that we can sing of the Cross, once regarded as hideous, now as something glorious because it was the precursor for the triumph of the Resurrection.
In the readings, I noticed a couple of important themes that focus us beyond the celebration at hand on this glorious day: Because Christ lives, we do, too, and we look upward toward Heaven, which is our destiny now because of the Resurrection. And as people bound for Heaven, we are called now, as witnesses specially chosen by God, to proclaim this new reality.
I sat there in Church during Mass basking in the glow of this Day Above all other Days. It was amazing to think we had finally come to this pinnacle, the Feast that gives us reason for having life, faith, and the Church community of God's people, the Body of Christ. But the celebration of the Resurrection is so great, and I sensed that it's too great to contain within a single day, even the most important day of the liturgical year, which is part of the point: The celebration we have this day is meant to flow forth into, and give meaning to, all the other days of the year, as we continue to rejoice in the reality of Jesus Christ, Who rose from the dead and lives forever.
I was reading the reflection in the Little Black Book on Holy Saturday, which talked about how we live in the newness of Life now, because, as I see it, we have the hope that motivates us to live anew because of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.
So I go forth from the High Holy Days of the Paschal Triduum into these 50 Days of Easter Season and beyond in celebration by living the newness of Life which is mine to live right now.
Note: Here are links to my Triduum reflections for 2017, 2016, 2015, and 2014. The 2014 reflection includes a full list of my Triduum highlights.
That is why it means so much for me to participate in the special liturgies of the Triduum each year, being at Church from Maundy Thursday through Resurrection Sunday. And it's not just something I observe as a spectator: These liturgies bring alive anew the Paschal Mystery within me.
As I told my RE students at the beginning of Lent, the purpose of our Lenten journey is leading us toward the Triduum. That came to mind on Palm Sunday, when, during the opening procession at Mass, the celebrant spoke words about how we've spent Lent engaging in acts of penance and charity, with its culmination of entering with Jesus into Jerusalem, where He experienced His Passion.
With Palm Sunday, my anticipation grew as the time drew onward toward the Triduum. I went to Maundy Thursday Mass fully aware of momentous occasions at hand. This day connects with the Jewish celebration of Passover, and there's a custom at a Seder meal for a child to ask an adult why this night is different from all others. Truly on that Thursday, I had this sense of how this night is different from all others as we began the annual celebration of the Paschal Mystery, which was even reason for me to change my usual work schedule on that Holy Week.
The opening hymn at Maundy Thursday Mass, "Glory in the Cross", for me always captures so richly the meaning behind our Triduum observance, and so it serves as a fitting way to commence the Triduum as we acclaim Christ, Who alone is our Salvation.
A major theme of Maundy Thursday is the idea that Jesus Christ instituted the New Covenant, which we experience on a regular basis in the Eucharist at Mass, in the context of demonstrating to us the Father's Love. It is love in action, as we give of ourselves to others. Time and again during that Mass, I couldn't help but think about how I've poured out myself to my RE students, serving them as I help them grow in their own faith.
It is so special to attend Maundy Thursday Mass as a way of commemorating the anniversary of the institution of the Eucharist, which is the heart of the Mass, as a way to remember what Christ did for us, similar to how the Jewish people celebrate Passover to remember what God did in delivering their ancestors from slavery in Egypt.
One of the major highlights of that Mass for me is the end when the leftover consecrated Body of Christ is carried in solemn procession to the side tabernacle at Mary's altar, accompanied by the wondrous song of "Pange Lingua". The lyrics of this ancient hymn speak so powerfully to acclaiming and hailing Christ Who offered Himself for us, and it's so powerful to hear those words that it often makes me emotional. After the end of the procession, the stillness of the Church allows us to continue to behold the real Presence of Christ offered to us time after time in the Blessed Sacrament.
The next day, on Cross Friday, even while I was at work, I sought to keep aware of the solemn nature of the occasion. I attended the evening liturgy at Ascension, which carried a sense of heaviness. But we can't experience the joys of the Resurrection, celebrating Christ's rising from the dead, if He didn't die first. And there is much reason to honor Christ's death because it is the reason that we are freed from sin.
I had the opportunity to serve as a lector at the Cross Friday liturgy: I read the first portion of the Passion Narrative according to the Gospel of St. John. This Gospel's account emphasizes the idea that Christ was fully in control of what happened to Him during His sufferings and death. Furthermore, He was fully aware that in suffering and dying, He was fulfilling the purpose for which God sent Him into the world. That is why there is no mention of His agony in the Garden. And when Judas arrives with a band of soldiers to arrest Jesus, He goes out to meet them, and when they say they seek Jesus of Nazareth, He declared, "I AM." Later, when Pilate questioned Him, Jesus continues to demonstrate His control of what is happening, and declares His purpose for being born, to be a King, and to testify to the Truth.
The somber nature of this liturgy is especially evident in the solemn intercessions offered after the homily.
And another Triduum highlight is the Veneration of the Cross, which is a way to embrace the essential symbol of our faith and by reverencing it, to honor and acknowledge the death of Jesus.
The next morning, on Holy Saturday, I went to Church for Morning Prayer. Toward the end, we gathered around the altar to offer our intercessions, and then to lay hands in blessing on the Elect and those making ready to receive the Sacraments of Initiation. It was so wondrous to process in a circle around the altar in the quiet stillness awaiting our turn to bless them.
Once Morning Prayer ended, it was time to make the church beautiful for the Feast of all Feasts, the Bride bedecked for the Groom.
It was a rich action when I took the wooden Cross, positioned on the altar the evening before, and carried it to the back of the Church--with someone remarking that I was carrying my cross--where I then adorned it with Easter beauty, which included a wreath with brightly colored ribbons along with flowers and brightly-colored cloths at its base. I also helped with banners and moved flowers into position on the various altars. And the Pastoral Associate, Mary Catherine, also recruited my help in setting up the changing stations for the five individuals who would be baptized that night, so they would have a private space to change from their baptismal gowns to their gowns of the newly initiated. I was glad to help get something ready that would be part of their experience that night.
As the time drew near for me to eventually return home, Mary Catherine and I got into a conversation about the richness of the Triduum liturgies, and how many incredible, and emotional, moments included in them.
After going home and doing many and various things, I was back at Church for the great and wondrous Holy Saturday Easter Vigil. As I went into Church, I thought that although I had just been there earlier that day, it felt like a totally different day, as the time I was there in the morning seemed so removed from being there in the evening, with the mood of anticipation for celebrating the most significant moment of human history and of our faith.
The vigil contains quite an array of sensory symbols, starting with the fire out in front of Church, from which is lit the Paschal Candle. The words the celebrant prays at the fire already anticipates the glory of Christ Who triumphed. We continue in that spirit as the Paschal Candle is processed into Church and the candlelight is distributed, burning ever more brightly even though spread out.
And how wondrous it is to hear the Exultet, with so many incredible images in the lyrics that speak to how God sought to deliver His people, which gives us reason to celebrate.
That theme continues into the Liturgy of the Word. Even as that part of the Mass progresses toward the Gospel account of the Resurrection, as I sat there listening to the other readings, I realized that God was already at work as history progressed toward the Resurrection. God created people to be a special part of His creation, and that's why He went to such great lengths to make a way for us to be saved. It makes me think about the RE class early on in March when I told my students that while sin has wrecked our relationship with God, He looks at each one of us and says that we are worth fixing.
The Epistle Reading from Romans 6 emphasizes so marvelously the idea of how we participate in the Paschal Mystery: As God's people, we join with Christ in dying to ourselves in baptism, and then rising to newness of Life in Him, living His glorious new Life--something I shared with my students a week and a half later when we were at the baptismal font while touring the Church. And the scene is set so well with the turning on of many lights in the Church right before the Epistle reading, as the Gloria starts.
And how glorious it is when the silent pause after the reading from Romans is broken by the ringing of the church bells, followed by the illuminating of the remainder of the Church's lights, and David Anderson leads us in a stepped Alleluia, giving way to an incredibly joyful singing of the Alleluia acclamation with the words of Psalm 118 while the Gospel book goes in procession all throughout the Church. The glorious singing of that Alleluia, suppressed for the Lenten period, truly befits the great news heralded in the Gospel account of the women encountering the reality of the Resurrection at the Empty Tomb.
Father Hurlbert masterfully emphasized what the Paschal Mystery is about when he mentioned that the death of Jesus saves us from sin and saves us for a relationship with God that lasts into Eternity. There's a sense in that idea that we have a purpose that is realized by being brought into a relationship with God, just as we die with Christ to our sins, and then rise into His New Life. And it's not a Life we wait to experience after death: It's a newness of Life that brings us fully alive even now in this life on Earth.
That's what makes it so special to celebrate baptisms and the initiation sacraments at the Easter Vigil, to see individuals experiencing the Paschal Mystery for themselves for the first time. This year, we had quite a number of individuals be baptized, along with some others completing their initiation into the Church. And we who are already initiated are not just left to be spectators, as we process to the font to renew our own baptismal promises, as part of the process of constantly growing and being renewed in our relationship with God.
And then there's the Eucharist, which is always a special moment after having recalled the death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, by which His living, real presence is manifest to us in a special way, in the Sacrament of the Altar. During communion, the hymn "Joyous Cup" is sung, with lyrics based on the Exultet. It includes the words, "O happy fault, O needful sin", as we recalled the wondrous redemption God won for us by giving to us so great a Savior and Redeemer to free us from sin.
After that song finished, we sang, "Be not afraid". I was a Eucharistic minister of the plate, and in my position, I was facing the choir. I saw exuberant smiles break out on the faces of some of those in the choir, smiles that genuinely spoke to the joyful reality that Chris is truly Risen. What a moment it was to share that feeling of joy with those gathered to celebrate the victory of the Resurrection on this night. (I also had a "front row seat" to the new initiates as they received First Holy Communion, to see them embrace and take in Christ's presence.)
We covered much ground in a rather quick time frame, finishing in about 2 1/2 hours, which is really something given the numerous baptisms. As has happened in the past, we finished with "Christ the Lord is Risen", set to an African rhythm, a great spirited song to send us out into the night in jubilation.
And that spirit of jubilation was certainly present the next day on Resurrection Sunday, as we celebrated the great triumph of Christ over death--and that is no joke. The mood on this Sunday certainly evokes a strong sense of turnaround from the serious nature of Lent and the heaviness of Cross Friday just two days before when we honored the salvific death of Jesus Christ.
Mass was pretty glorious that morning, with an immense throng gathered in Church, and plenty of standees in the back, near where I was. Even though it was a day with winter-like temperatures, the beautiful decorations of bright-colored ribbons and colorful flowers helped set the tone for a spring-like occasion. And in the opening hymn, "Jesus Christ is Risen Today", there are lyrics, "Who did once upon the Cross...Suffer to redeem our loss..." As I muse over those words, it's incredible to think that we can sing of the Cross, once regarded as hideous, now as something glorious because it was the precursor for the triumph of the Resurrection.
In the readings, I noticed a couple of important themes that focus us beyond the celebration at hand on this glorious day: Because Christ lives, we do, too, and we look upward toward Heaven, which is our destiny now because of the Resurrection. And as people bound for Heaven, we are called now, as witnesses specially chosen by God, to proclaim this new reality.
I sat there in Church during Mass basking in the glow of this Day Above all other Days. It was amazing to think we had finally come to this pinnacle, the Feast that gives us reason for having life, faith, and the Church community of God's people, the Body of Christ. But the celebration of the Resurrection is so great, and I sensed that it's too great to contain within a single day, even the most important day of the liturgical year, which is part of the point: The celebration we have this day is meant to flow forth into, and give meaning to, all the other days of the year, as we continue to rejoice in the reality of Jesus Christ, Who rose from the dead and lives forever.
I was reading the reflection in the Little Black Book on Holy Saturday, which talked about how we live in the newness of Life now, because, as I see it, we have the hope that motivates us to live anew because of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.
So I go forth from the High Holy Days of the Paschal Triduum into these 50 Days of Easter Season and beyond in celebration by living the newness of Life which is mine to live right now.
Note: Here are links to my Triduum reflections for 2017, 2016, 2015, and 2014. The 2014 reflection includes a full list of my Triduum highlights.
Friday, March 16, 2018
All My Relations
"All my relations."
Those are the words that we each uttered as we emerged from the Sweat Lodge upon the conclusion of the time of prayer. As I see it, that phrase speaks to our connection with everything and everyone.
I am thinking about that phrase in a special way because today is March 16, which, for me, is totally unlike the other 364 days of the year, because it is the day God graced me with the gift of life in this world.
Even though I'm celebrating my birthday today, this occasion, like my life as a whole, is really not about me: It's about all the relationships that fill it.
I thought about this a few days ago when I attended Chicago's Birthday Celebration at the Chicago History Museum. Brian Hopkins, Alderman for the 2nd Ward, mentioned that unlike with people, Chicago's birthday is not necessarily defined by a moment when it came into existence, but when people living near each other recognized they shared a piece of geography and decided to formally form a community. Indeed, as I see it, relationships are integral to our experience as people. And that's what makes this birthday notable while we're in the midst of Illinois's Bicentennial Year, and I celebrate the state where I was born and raised, truly making me "Illinois Born, Built, and Grown".
In my own life, I have so many relationships, and it would probably take numerous blog posts to cover them all. They all started with the family in which I was born and first received and shared in love, as I continu e to do to this day.
As I got older, it started to include an array of classmates at school and friends, with new friends each time I started a new school, most especially in college and graduate school. Then there came co-workers with each job.
And then there's church community, where I have built many meaningful relationships, especially at Ascension and St. Teresa's. Being in Church community reminds me that while God has given me life, He enriches it with His Gift of Eternal Life, which we experience even now.
I think of this when I hear the words of the final verse of the hymn "O God You Search Me", based on Psalm 139: God forms our lives in the womb of our mothers, and then makes us new as we grow in relationship with Him.
Those who know math know that 3 cubed, 3 to the power of 3, or 3x3x3, is 27, which is my age as of 1:15 PM CDT this day.
This number 3 makes me think of the Holy Trinity, with the Three Persons of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in perfect harmony with one another. We experience the effects of the Trinity in the relationships we have with one another in life.
Christian theology notes that the Love between Father and Son results in the Holy Spirit, much as the love of husband and wife results in a child.
While I'm not a parent, I know that my love for God has resulted in ministry to His people, especially the youths I teach in Religious Education class. The relationship I have with my students is so important in my life because in it, I am called and empowered to model the kind of love Christ showed us in pouring out His Life for us, when there was no way we could repay Him. I volunteer to teach RE not to get payment, but as a way to pour out myself for my students, so that they may be transformed and then pour out their lives in service to others. How glorious it is to see this progression, and it's what drives me to pour myself into teaching RE.
So as I celebrate my birthday, I am also celebrating all the relationships that God has made part of, and have enriched, my life.
"All my relations."
Those are the words that we each uttered as we emerged from the Sweat Lodge upon the conclusion of the time of prayer. As I see it, that phrase speaks to our connection with everything and everyone.
I am thinking about that phrase in a special way because today is March 16, which, for me, is totally unlike the other 364 days of the year, because it is the day God graced me with the gift of life in this world.
Even though I'm celebrating my birthday today, this occasion, like my life as a whole, is really not about me: It's about all the relationships that fill it.
I thought about this a few days ago when I attended Chicago's Birthday Celebration at the Chicago History Museum. Brian Hopkins, Alderman for the 2nd Ward, mentioned that unlike with people, Chicago's birthday is not necessarily defined by a moment when it came into existence, but when people living near each other recognized they shared a piece of geography and decided to formally form a community. Indeed, as I see it, relationships are integral to our experience as people. And that's what makes this birthday notable while we're in the midst of Illinois's Bicentennial Year, and I celebrate the state where I was born and raised, truly making me "Illinois Born, Built, and Grown".
In my own life, I have so many relationships, and it would probably take numerous blog posts to cover them all. They all started with the family in which I was born and first received and shared in love, as I continu e to do to this day.
As I got older, it started to include an array of classmates at school and friends, with new friends each time I started a new school, most especially in college and graduate school. Then there came co-workers with each job.
And then there's church community, where I have built many meaningful relationships, especially at Ascension and St. Teresa's. Being in Church community reminds me that while God has given me life, He enriches it with His Gift of Eternal Life, which we experience even now.
I think of this when I hear the words of the final verse of the hymn "O God You Search Me", based on Psalm 139: God forms our lives in the womb of our mothers, and then makes us new as we grow in relationship with Him.
Those who know math know that 3 cubed, 3 to the power of 3, or 3x3x3, is 27, which is my age as of 1:15 PM CDT this day.
This number 3 makes me think of the Holy Trinity, with the Three Persons of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in perfect harmony with one another. We experience the effects of the Trinity in the relationships we have with one another in life.
Christian theology notes that the Love between Father and Son results in the Holy Spirit, much as the love of husband and wife results in a child.
While I'm not a parent, I know that my love for God has resulted in ministry to His people, especially the youths I teach in Religious Education class. The relationship I have with my students is so important in my life because in it, I am called and empowered to model the kind of love Christ showed us in pouring out His Life for us, when there was no way we could repay Him. I volunteer to teach RE not to get payment, but as a way to pour out myself for my students, so that they may be transformed and then pour out their lives in service to others. How glorious it is to see this progression, and it's what drives me to pour myself into teaching RE.
So as I celebrate my birthday, I am also celebrating all the relationships that God has made part of, and have enriched, my life.
"All my relations."
Tuesday, March 6, 2018
A Fiery Experience, Five Years Ago
It was Wednesday, March 6, 2013, the middle day of the first week of my Spring Break during my senior year at Valparaiso University.
I was in a large vehicle with a group of college students and community members from St. Teresa's in Valparaiso. We were spending a week in northeast Nebraska at St. Augustine Mission in Winnebago in service to the aboriginal peoples of northeast Nebraska on the Winnebago and Omaha Reservations, which you can read more about in a post I published on my blog a few days ago.
As the sun headed towards its setting, it shined full blast in a cloudless sky over the hills of northeast Nebraska as we head towards a small town called Rosalie. We were headed to the home of Nathan, in whose backyard we were to experience something epic like never before in our lives: the Sweat Lodge ceremony, steeped into the traditions of the aboriginal American people, and regarded as a purification rite.
It was rather quiet inside the vehicle, as there was a general feeling of nervousness among us, for we weren't really sure what to expect.
We arrived at Nathan's place, where a group gathers regularly on Wednesday evenings at 6:30 to participate in this ceremony, and gather ourselves inside a small shelter in the backyard. Father Dave, then the priest at St. Augustine, was inside, for he would join us for the ceremony. Three of the four chaperones with our group made preparations for the dinner we were to have after the ceremony, while one of them joined the 8 of us students. After a few minutes, Richard, the leader of the ceremony, spoke with us. He asked who was doing this for the first time. The hands of all in our group go up, and it was striking moment as I took stock of how we all had in common the experience of going through this ceremony for the first time. He then shared a little bit more about what will happen, and says that if it got too uncomfortable for us, we could step out.
We then step outside the shelter and enter the Sweat Lodge, which is basically a small hut, with a frame and covered by heavy blankets.
Outside the Sweat Lodge was a fire where volcanic rocks were being heated. We sat down in two concentric circles in the hut. A few other people from the local community joined us, and so there were about 17 people inside. Inside the hut was a pit. The volcanic rocks were brought into the pit. Richard poured water on the rocks to create steam. The flap on the entrance to the hut was closed, and we entered into darkness, pierced only by the glow of the rocks. Richard led a series of chants. The heat intensified: Later, the one chaperone who joined us estimated the temperature inside got to about 115 degrees Fahrenheit--similar to a sauna. Someone later described it as sensory overload, which is fitting, with the sound of chanting and praying, the smell of the scented plant material placed on the rocks to create fragrant steam, and most especially the immense heat.
We had a few people talk with us about the Sweat Lodge ceremony. While I initially felt rather unnerved to hear we would be participating in the ceremony, as we spent time hearing more about it, I became much more comfortable with the idea of participating. But I still wasn't sure if I was going to be able to withstand the heat, and if I would, indeed, have to step out of the Sweat Lodge.
In our conversations before this evening, one person remarked that to help us through the intense heat, we should focus on our prayers. While this ceremony is traditionally part of offering prayers to the aboriginal American gods, Nathan insisted on this Sweat Lodge being a Chapel, where we offer prayers to God, since he is Roman Catholic.
So as the heat intensified, I began praying for my various intentions as I buried by face in my towel--while normally it would feel stuffy inside the towel, that stuffiness was more bearable that keeping my face in the heat.
After a period of time, the entrance flap was opened, finishing one round. The chanting stopped, and the floor was opened for anyone to express her/himself. At some point--and it may have been earlier than this moment--Richard invited his sister Gloria to share with the females in the group about how they could participate in their own unique way, as he did once before. When there was no response, he remarked that Gloria did not have to share if she did not feel comfortable. Then some others spoke and said she wasn't even inside the Sweat Lodge. Light laughter ensued, breaking the nervousness that had taken hold of those in our group.
After more volcanic rocks were brought into the pit inside, water was poured over them, along with scented plant material, and the flap was closed again, starting round 2. As the chanting started up again, I started praying, even as I buried my face in my towel to get my face out of the heat.
Once round 2 ended, the flap was opened. In addition to people expressing themselves, a laddle with cool water was passed around for people to drink and relieve themselves.
Round 3 started, and when it finished, the flap was opened. There were no more volcanic rocks brought in before the final round, but a peace pipe was passed around. When the flap closed, we were pretty much in near total darkness.
As each round concluded, I grew more confident that I could withstand the heat and endure through the entire ceremony.
And what a feeling it was when round 4 ended, and the ceremony had reached its conclusion, after about 90 minutes. Exiting the sweat lodge was like a symbol of emerging from the womb and being born into the world. As we did so, we were to utter the phrase, "All my relations." How appropriate to think that I went through this symbolic exit just 10 days before my birthday when I turned 22.
I exited the sweat lodge with an amazing feeling of empowerment. My friend Sarah asked me how I felt, and I said, "Like never before."
After we had the chance to change back into our regular clothes, we went to dinner. It was clear we had really been through something, as I noticed the faces of the people in our group were rather red--and I assume mine was, even though I never saw my face right afterwards. Richard opened up the floor for people to express themselves. I was so moved that I instantly piped up and said I wanted to express myself, and went on for at least a couple of minutes to share how profound this experience had been.
Once we finished dinner, we got back into our vehicles and headed back to St. Augustine. The mood was totally different as we drove back through the night, because we were all so talkative about what we had just been through.
I had truly demonstrated my ability to endure the heat inside the Sweat Lodge, which speaks to how we endure the difficulties of life. Even when circumstances intensify against us, and are almost unbearable, we turn to God in prayer, focusing on Him against everything that is against us, and looking unto Him, we are confident in trusting Him to help us overcome. And as we offer our difficulties to God, He somehow works through them to strengthen us, like the refining of gold in fire, so that we come out as more holy people, purified of our sins.
In this Sweat Lodge ceremony, I also had the extraordinary opportunity to experience such strong solidarity with the aboriginal Native American peoples, by embracing so closely an important part of their traditions, which so many had sought to quash in the past: Indeed, we had heard stories in the past few days from community members about these efforts, which even nuns at the St. Augustine Mission had taken part of, as they collaborated with the US government to forcibly separate aboriginal Americans from their cultural identity. Yet, somehow, they survived, in part, as Nathan pointed out later, because they banded together in living together on the reservations. And they continue to assert and embrace their identity by engaging in practices such as the Sweat Lodge, as I'm sure they will do when they gather tomorrow evening.
I gained new perspective on what it means to be human, and how a people has managed to retain their identity despite forces working to stamp out that identity.
And I enhanced my own character and identity as well, while also embracing it, especially considering the shirt I wore:
I kept my physical education clothes with me in college to use as work-out clothes, and I brought them with me for the express purpose of wearing in the Sweat Lodge ceremony. It was so special to have with me something bearing the name of my beloved Julian, the most significant experience in my years growing up, as part of one of the most profound experiences happening in my young adult life, as part of a trip that enhanced my strong sense of personal faith, which was first forged so strongly during my days at Julian.
And how fitting to bring it full circle exactly five years later to the very time period coinciding with the Sweat Lodge ceremony, when, before my Tuesday evening RE students, the venue in which I put my faith into action, I shared this story as part of describing how God purifies us from sin to be righteous before Him, and how He transforms our difficulties into something glorious as we look unto Him in the midst of them.
It truly amazing to marvel at the marvelous ways God works in our lives.
I was in a large vehicle with a group of college students and community members from St. Teresa's in Valparaiso. We were spending a week in northeast Nebraska at St. Augustine Mission in Winnebago in service to the aboriginal peoples of northeast Nebraska on the Winnebago and Omaha Reservations, which you can read more about in a post I published on my blog a few days ago.
As the sun headed towards its setting, it shined full blast in a cloudless sky over the hills of northeast Nebraska as we head towards a small town called Rosalie. We were headed to the home of Nathan, in whose backyard we were to experience something epic like never before in our lives: the Sweat Lodge ceremony, steeped into the traditions of the aboriginal American people, and regarded as a purification rite.
It was rather quiet inside the vehicle, as there was a general feeling of nervousness among us, for we weren't really sure what to expect.
 |
| In the St. Augustine Museum is a model of what a traditional Sweat Lodge looks like, with animal hides over a frame of wooden sticks--it's just to the center of the photo, with the animal hide lifted up. The sweat lodge we were in had large, heavy blankets covering it. |
Outside the Sweat Lodge was a fire where volcanic rocks were being heated. We sat down in two concentric circles in the hut. A few other people from the local community joined us, and so there were about 17 people inside. Inside the hut was a pit. The volcanic rocks were brought into the pit. Richard poured water on the rocks to create steam. The flap on the entrance to the hut was closed, and we entered into darkness, pierced only by the glow of the rocks. Richard led a series of chants. The heat intensified: Later, the one chaperone who joined us estimated the temperature inside got to about 115 degrees Fahrenheit--similar to a sauna. Someone later described it as sensory overload, which is fitting, with the sound of chanting and praying, the smell of the scented plant material placed on the rocks to create fragrant steam, and most especially the immense heat.
We had a few people talk with us about the Sweat Lodge ceremony. While I initially felt rather unnerved to hear we would be participating in the ceremony, as we spent time hearing more about it, I became much more comfortable with the idea of participating. But I still wasn't sure if I was going to be able to withstand the heat, and if I would, indeed, have to step out of the Sweat Lodge.
In our conversations before this evening, one person remarked that to help us through the intense heat, we should focus on our prayers. While this ceremony is traditionally part of offering prayers to the aboriginal American gods, Nathan insisted on this Sweat Lodge being a Chapel, where we offer prayers to God, since he is Roman Catholic.
So as the heat intensified, I began praying for my various intentions as I buried by face in my towel--while normally it would feel stuffy inside the towel, that stuffiness was more bearable that keeping my face in the heat.
After a period of time, the entrance flap was opened, finishing one round. The chanting stopped, and the floor was opened for anyone to express her/himself. At some point--and it may have been earlier than this moment--Richard invited his sister Gloria to share with the females in the group about how they could participate in their own unique way, as he did once before. When there was no response, he remarked that Gloria did not have to share if she did not feel comfortable. Then some others spoke and said she wasn't even inside the Sweat Lodge. Light laughter ensued, breaking the nervousness that had taken hold of those in our group.
After more volcanic rocks were brought into the pit inside, water was poured over them, along with scented plant material, and the flap was closed again, starting round 2. As the chanting started up again, I started praying, even as I buried my face in my towel to get my face out of the heat.
Once round 2 ended, the flap was opened. In addition to people expressing themselves, a laddle with cool water was passed around for people to drink and relieve themselves.
Round 3 started, and when it finished, the flap was opened. There were no more volcanic rocks brought in before the final round, but a peace pipe was passed around. When the flap closed, we were pretty much in near total darkness.
As each round concluded, I grew more confident that I could withstand the heat and endure through the entire ceremony.
And what a feeling it was when round 4 ended, and the ceremony had reached its conclusion, after about 90 minutes. Exiting the sweat lodge was like a symbol of emerging from the womb and being born into the world. As we did so, we were to utter the phrase, "All my relations." How appropriate to think that I went through this symbolic exit just 10 days before my birthday when I turned 22.
I exited the sweat lodge with an amazing feeling of empowerment. My friend Sarah asked me how I felt, and I said, "Like never before."
After we had the chance to change back into our regular clothes, we went to dinner. It was clear we had really been through something, as I noticed the faces of the people in our group were rather red--and I assume mine was, even though I never saw my face right afterwards. Richard opened up the floor for people to express themselves. I was so moved that I instantly piped up and said I wanted to express myself, and went on for at least a couple of minutes to share how profound this experience had been.
Once we finished dinner, we got back into our vehicles and headed back to St. Augustine. The mood was totally different as we drove back through the night, because we were all so talkative about what we had just been through.
I had truly demonstrated my ability to endure the heat inside the Sweat Lodge, which speaks to how we endure the difficulties of life. Even when circumstances intensify against us, and are almost unbearable, we turn to God in prayer, focusing on Him against everything that is against us, and looking unto Him, we are confident in trusting Him to help us overcome. And as we offer our difficulties to God, He somehow works through them to strengthen us, like the refining of gold in fire, so that we come out as more holy people, purified of our sins.
In this Sweat Lodge ceremony, I also had the extraordinary opportunity to experience such strong solidarity with the aboriginal Native American peoples, by embracing so closely an important part of their traditions, which so many had sought to quash in the past: Indeed, we had heard stories in the past few days from community members about these efforts, which even nuns at the St. Augustine Mission had taken part of, as they collaborated with the US government to forcibly separate aboriginal Americans from their cultural identity. Yet, somehow, they survived, in part, as Nathan pointed out later, because they banded together in living together on the reservations. And they continue to assert and embrace their identity by engaging in practices such as the Sweat Lodge, as I'm sure they will do when they gather tomorrow evening.
I gained new perspective on what it means to be human, and how a people has managed to retain their identity despite forces working to stamp out that identity.
And I enhanced my own character and identity as well, while also embracing it, especially considering the shirt I wore:
 |
| Above is the front of the shirt I wore into the Sweat Lodge, the photographic evidence of my endurance. I must point out, though, that the sweat is all the way down to the belly part of the shirt because while pressing my face into my towel, I pressed it into my knees, which made the sweat accumulate more on the front than on the back (please see photo below), where it only went down to the part of the shirt by the bottom of my shoulder blades. Despite having a use I wasn't fond of back in middle school, its role in my time in the Sweat Lodge has pretty much made it a quasi-sacred object. |
I kept my physical education clothes with me in college to use as work-out clothes, and I brought them with me for the express purpose of wearing in the Sweat Lodge ceremony. It was so special to have with me something bearing the name of my beloved Julian, the most significant experience in my years growing up, as part of one of the most profound experiences happening in my young adult life, as part of a trip that enhanced my strong sense of personal faith, which was first forged so strongly during my days at Julian.
And how fitting to bring it full circle exactly five years later to the very time period coinciding with the Sweat Lodge ceremony, when, before my Tuesday evening RE students, the venue in which I put my faith into action, I shared this story as part of describing how God purifies us from sin to be righteous before Him, and how He transforms our difficulties into something glorious as we look unto Him in the midst of them.
It truly amazing to marvel at the marvelous ways God works in our lives.
Sunday, March 4, 2018
Celebrating Chicago
It's March 4, and that means it's time for a celebration: This day in 1837 was when Chicago was incorporated as a city. It's a great time to recall the storied history of Chicago, and the other celebrated aspects. Many of these aspects are found in Chicago's flag: The top white stripe is for the North Side (#43). The top blue stripe represents Lake Michigan (shoreline) (#44) and the North Branch of the Chicago River (#45). The middle white stripe represents the West Side (#46). The bottom blue stripe represents the South Branch of the Chicago River (#47) and the Canal (#48)--first was the Illinois and Michigan Canal (#50), and then the present Sanitary and Ship Canal (#51). The bottom white stripe represents the South Side (#52).
The far-left star represents Fort Dearborn (#53), a military installation named for Secretary of War James Dearborn of the Jefferson administration, and where a clash occurred with aboriginal Native peoples in 1812. The start just to the left of the center is for the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. Just to the right of the center is the start for the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition (#54), held in Jackson Park (#55). And the star on the far right is for the Century of Progress World's Fair (#56), held in 1933-1934, which celebrated the Centennial of when Chicago was incorporated as a village in 1833.
Chicago was originally settled along the banks of the main branch of the Chicago River (#57), which was lined with smelly onion leek grass, which led rise to the Native peoples' name Checagou that became Chicago (#58). One of the first settlers was Jean-Baptiste Point DuSable (#59), who had property near the banks of the Chicago River, where the Chicago Riverwalk is now (#60). Another prominent early citizen was John Kinzie (#61).
Over a 100 years before these first settlers came, Father Marquette and Louis Joliet took a journey from near present-day Sault Saint Marie to near present-day Arkansas. On the way back, they had to portage (#62) from the Des Plaines River (#63) to the Chicago River, which is commemorated at the site of the Chicago Portage National Historic Site (#64). They noted a short canal would connect the Atlantic Ocean and Great Lakes to the Mississippi River and the Gulf of Mexico. In 1848, the Illinois and Michigan Canal was opened in 1848, and helped foster Chicago's growth, as it served as a major crossroads location. Canal Origins Park (#65) along Ashland Avenue by the Bridgeport neighborhood (#66) commemorates the canal's role in Chicago.
Eventually, Chicago became a rail hub, and to some extent, it still is a hub for Amtrak service at Chicago Union Station (#67), which is not too far from the building built in 1974 and named the Sears Tower (#68), one of the tallest buildings in the world, a great symbol for the prosperity of Chicago. Another famed skyscraper is well-known as the John Hancock Building (#69), located along the Magnificent Mile shopping district (#70). As great as the views are from the observatories of both, I feel the best view are found in the Cite Restaurant on the top floor of Lake Point Tower (#71) near Navy Pier (#72), which is one of my favorite Chicago attractions.
The one thing I find so notable about Chicago is that it is a patchwork quilt of so many different neighborhoods, each with its own special flavor, much as it is with all the surrounding suburbs. I recall the time when I was at Valparaiso University and I visited my Grandma for a weekend. While riding the South Shore Line train, I entered the city of Chicago in the Southeast Side neighborhood of Hegewisch (#73) and went nearly 20 miles all the way to the north side neighborhood of Forest Glen (#74), where she lived at the time, right by a forest area along the banks of the North Branch of the Chicago River. It was incredible to think that that in that distance, I covered so many different neighborhoods that are all part of one city.
Another aspect I find very notable about Chicago is how the patchwork of neighborhoods is all connected by the various rail lines of the Chicago Transit Authority system (#75) that spread out from the Loop (#76), rail lines in downtown Chicago that form a ring on Wabash Avenue to the east, Van Buren Street to the South, Wells Street to the west, and Lake Street to the north.
The Red Line (#77) travels a long length of the city from Howard Street on the North Side to 95th Street along the Dan Ryan Expressway (#78), going through a subway along State Street (#79) in the Loop.
The Orange Line (#80) was the most-recently built of the lines, constructed in 1993 thanks in part to efforts by former US Congressman William Lipinski (#81). It connects the Loop to Midway Airport (#82).
The Yellow Line (#83) is the shortest, and doesn't pass through the Loop: It connects the Howard Street Station to nearby north suburb Skokie (#84).
The Green Line (#85) starts at the edge of downtown Oak Park (#86), travels along Lake Street (#87) through the West Side, to the Loop, and then heads south, past McCormick Place (#88), and through Bronzeville (#89) and then splitting into two branches that terminate at two different locations on 63rd Street, to the west at Ashland Avenue in the Englewood neighborhood (#90) and to the east at Cottage Grove Avenue just past Washington Park (#91).
The Blue Line (#92) is my primary line: It starts in the suburb of Forest Park (#93), then travels along the Interstate 290/Eisenhower Expressway corridor (#94), through the south side of Oak Park, and then onto the West Side of Chicago, all the way to Loop, going through a subway in the Loop underneath Dearborn Street (#95), before turning northwestward to follow the Milwaukee Avenue corridor (#96), and then the I-90/Kennedy Expressway (#97) all the way to the suburb of Rosemont (#98), and then terminating at O'Hare International Airport (#99), named for a World War II pilot, Butch O'Hare (#100), who was the son of "Easy Eddie" O'Hare (#101), who worked with gangster Al Capone before deciding to turn against him.
The Purple Line's (#102) northern terminus is at Linden Avenue in the suburb of Wilmette (#103), and passes through the suburb of Evanston (#104) to the Howard station. During weekday peak rush periods, service extends south from Howard to the Loop elevated tracks.
The Pink Line (#105) is the most recently created line, going from the Loop elevated tracks into the West Side, past the United Center (#106), and through the Mexican neighborhood of Pilsen (#107), through much of the Lower West Side (#108) before terminating at the station at 54th Avenue and Cermak Road in the suburb of Cicero (#109), on tracks at grade (ground-level). (Most of the route used to be a branch of the Blue Line.)
The Brown Line (#110) goes from the Loop elevated tracks to various North Side neighborhoods, like Lakeview (#111) and Lincoln Square (#112), terminating near Albany Park (#113) at Kimball Avenue, after traveling at grade for a few stops.
These CTA train lines and the neighborhoods along them are featured in a PBS program entitled Chicago by 'L', with host Geoffrey Baer (#114). He's a brilliant person who has made many wonderful programs, each focusing on a different aspect about Chicago and the surrounding area.
Another person who knows Chicago well is Ms. North (#115), who was the teacher for my History of Chicago class at OPRF High School during my final semester there senior year. She made class so enjoyable as we explored Chicago and the surrounding area, drawing from her wealth of knowledge from training as a docent for the Chicago Architecture Foundation (#116). And I greatly admire her teaching philosophy as focused on shaping the whole student, going beyond the mechanics of doing school work. One memory I have of her class is when she threw a Chicago birthday celebration on March 4, with a large sheet cake with the design of the Chicago flag on it.
And with that, I salute Chicago and the many great contributions it makes to Illinois--certainly as evidenced by how many things I've added to my 200 List for Illinois's Bicentennial in just this one blog post. Surely there will be more given Chicago's dominance in Illinois, while I also recognize notable people, places, and things throughout the other parts of Illinois, too. That will certainly be on my mind in a few days when I celebrate my birthday, celebrating all that my life entails, especially here in my beloved Oak Park, as I recall fondly that I started off on the North Side of Chicago.
The Orange Line (#80) was the most-recently built of the lines, constructed in 1993 thanks in part to efforts by former US Congressman William Lipinski (#81). It connects the Loop to Midway Airport (#82).
The Yellow Line (#83) is the shortest, and doesn't pass through the Loop: It connects the Howard Street Station to nearby north suburb Skokie (#84).
The Green Line (#85) starts at the edge of downtown Oak Park (#86), travels along Lake Street (#87) through the West Side, to the Loop, and then heads south, past McCormick Place (#88), and through Bronzeville (#89) and then splitting into two branches that terminate at two different locations on 63rd Street, to the west at Ashland Avenue in the Englewood neighborhood (#90) and to the east at Cottage Grove Avenue just past Washington Park (#91).
The Blue Line (#92) is my primary line: It starts in the suburb of Forest Park (#93), then travels along the Interstate 290/Eisenhower Expressway corridor (#94), through the south side of Oak Park, and then onto the West Side of Chicago, all the way to Loop, going through a subway in the Loop underneath Dearborn Street (#95), before turning northwestward to follow the Milwaukee Avenue corridor (#96), and then the I-90/Kennedy Expressway (#97) all the way to the suburb of Rosemont (#98), and then terminating at O'Hare International Airport (#99), named for a World War II pilot, Butch O'Hare (#100), who was the son of "Easy Eddie" O'Hare (#101), who worked with gangster Al Capone before deciding to turn against him.
The Purple Line's (#102) northern terminus is at Linden Avenue in the suburb of Wilmette (#103), and passes through the suburb of Evanston (#104) to the Howard station. During weekday peak rush periods, service extends south from Howard to the Loop elevated tracks.
The Pink Line (#105) is the most recently created line, going from the Loop elevated tracks into the West Side, past the United Center (#106), and through the Mexican neighborhood of Pilsen (#107), through much of the Lower West Side (#108) before terminating at the station at 54th Avenue and Cermak Road in the suburb of Cicero (#109), on tracks at grade (ground-level). (Most of the route used to be a branch of the Blue Line.)
The Brown Line (#110) goes from the Loop elevated tracks to various North Side neighborhoods, like Lakeview (#111) and Lincoln Square (#112), terminating near Albany Park (#113) at Kimball Avenue, after traveling at grade for a few stops.
These CTA train lines and the neighborhoods along them are featured in a PBS program entitled Chicago by 'L', with host Geoffrey Baer (#114). He's a brilliant person who has made many wonderful programs, each focusing on a different aspect about Chicago and the surrounding area.
Another person who knows Chicago well is Ms. North (#115), who was the teacher for my History of Chicago class at OPRF High School during my final semester there senior year. She made class so enjoyable as we explored Chicago and the surrounding area, drawing from her wealth of knowledge from training as a docent for the Chicago Architecture Foundation (#116). And I greatly admire her teaching philosophy as focused on shaping the whole student, going beyond the mechanics of doing school work. One memory I have of her class is when she threw a Chicago birthday celebration on March 4, with a large sheet cake with the design of the Chicago flag on it.
And with that, I salute Chicago and the many great contributions it makes to Illinois--certainly as evidenced by how many things I've added to my 200 List for Illinois's Bicentennial in just this one blog post. Surely there will be more given Chicago's dominance in Illinois, while I also recognize notable people, places, and things throughout the other parts of Illinois, too. That will certainly be on my mind in a few days when I celebrate my birthday, celebrating all that my life entails, especially here in my beloved Oak Park, as I recall fondly that I started off on the North Side of Chicago.
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