The Eucharist 102: Miracles

   

I mentioned in yesterday's blog post that transubstantiation can be difficult to wrap our heads around, and that the entire concept is one of the great mysteries of the Church. And it is, the spiritual transformation of something is a little hard to wrap our very human minds around, and that's okay. The whole point of the Eucharist was to give us outward signs of an inner workings; physically receiving Jesus helps us better understand how He nourishes us each week.

But God has provided us other outward signs about this incredible gift. These miracles often happened when someone, usually the priest, struggled with believing in the true presence of Christ in the Eucharist. For over 250 years in Italy, consecrated hosts have been perfectly preserved. Scientists have studied them and have yet to understand why the consecrated hosts have not rotted yet. In Bolsena-Orvieta, Italy, a priest doubting the true presence was convinced when real blood began to seep out of the bread immediately after consecrating. Pope Urban IV commissioned the feast day of Corpus Christi in honor of this miracle. Other Eucharistic miracles include saints or blessed indiciduals who survived on the Eucharist alone, including St. Catherine of Genoa, St. Catherine of Sienna, and most famously, Blessed Alexandra da Costa of Egypt, who died in 1955.

Miracles are not uncommon in the Church, but they are severely scrutinized before they are declared miracles in the first place. The Church has its own process and group of people responsible for investigating and understanding any and all other explanations before they reach the conclusion, that this was indeed a miracle.

Most importantly, what can be drawn from this is that Eucharist (and other sacraments) are physical representations of God's love and mercy on earth, outward signs of God's grace to help us better understand and believe in God, His Son, the Spirit, and the Church.

Tota tua.

The Patriarchy Stole My Pockets

And other anecdotes about being a woman in 21st century United States.

So, a rant that I frequently have with fellow females is how my dress pants do not have pockets or

See! It barely fits!

that my jeans' pockets are much too small for my phone. My mom often bemoans about how she needs to buy a smaller phone that fits in her pocket.

A casual male observer may point out that I am lucky enough to have a purse. Lucky enough? Ha! That's hilarious. You can carry everything that you need in one pocket, whereas I am strapped down with this extra piece of luggage to carry about day in and day out. The thrill of a purse, putting things in it, and lugging them around are not lost on me- there are benefits to a purse. But goodness, I wish my pockets were big enough to put my phone in.

Female-specific fashion is often designed by males or for males. In fact, some of our most famous designers today are male! Fashion staples, such as bikinis, high heeled shoes, and other "feminine" accessories were invented for the male's sake. Trust me, no women in 1946 was trying to figure out how to get away with more skin. It was a French man by the name of Louis Reard who was trying to find a way to see more skin. Stupid patriarchy.

"But wait LeAnn," you are probably thinking, "what does this have to do with Catholicism?"

Simple. Being a woman in the 21st century automatically creates a different experience than a man. Which means my Catholic experience is different than a man's. When I go to church, I am surrounded by images of men doing amazing, Christian things. My church leaders are dominantly male, and the one I see most often, the priest, is always male.

But the patriarchy has not stolen my God. My gender is not transcribed on my soul and my value as a child of God is not determined by my sex. This Lenten season I have been trying to exhale negativity, and often as a feminist, I butt heads with my religion that is predominantly male. But there are so many incredible Catholic women. The past few weeks, I have researched and prayed and soothed my feminist nature-I can be Catholic and a feminist.

So without further ado, my personal favorite Catholic women include, but are not limited to:

1. St. Helene of the Cross 
2. Dorthy Day
3. St. Mother Teresa 
4. My own mother, Teresa 
5. St. Thérèse of Lisieux 

So, to those of you struggling with your faith this Lent, I encourage you to exhale and inhale, telling yourself that you are breathing out the negatives and inhaling the positives, and then concisouly seek the good things in life.

Okay? Okay!

Totus tuus,

LeAnn

St. Anthony, St. Anthony...

Please look around! Something is lost that needs to be found.

How's that for a quick and easy intercession? It's also one of my personal favorites. Why? Well, for one St. Anthony has helped me and others find all kinds of things. From car keys to flash drives, weddings bands, and books I need to return to the library.

I had a St. Anthony moment last night. My graduation present from my parents, a silver and sapphires work of art that I absolutely love. I took it off to wash my hands, slipped into the hoodie pocket I was wearing and forgot to put it back on. Later, I changed said hoodie.

Needless to say, later that night I had a major panic; my ring was not on my finger nor was it in the original sweatshirt. After scouring the kitchen, living room, and my car, I called WalMart to make sure it hadn't fallen out of the pocket while pumpkin shopping. The entire time I was on hold, waiting for them to tell me whether or not it was in the lost and found, I was muttering the St. Anthony prayer.

"St. Anthony, St. Anthony please look around, something is lost that needs to be found!"

My roommate watched, amused by my praying but I knew better. This always worked for me.

"Sorry miss, we only have a gold ring in the lost and found."

Well, shoot. My ring has to be here somewhere. I decided to check my room and the kitchen one more time. Under the cabinets and fridge, around my bed and under my dresser. Under my bed, moving boxes around with my phone acting as flashlight...

And there it was, in the middle of floor beneath my bed was my ring. And I am being completely honest when I say I highly doubt that the ring had just bounced there when I took off my hoodie, because it would have had to clear a box, a bag, and a few random socks. But that St. Anthony, he's a tricky one.

Saints are tricky like that too. We don't pray to them, we pray through them. They all have their special niches that they just relate to incredibly well. Patrons of jobs, illnesses, situations, and occurrences, they all have unique life stories that make them more relative to us as humans than that omnipotent, impossible to understand being who Loves us more than humanly possible.

Intercessions are for saints, prayers are for God. It's that simple. After all, a saint is merely a sinner who kept trying for God. They are role models, people to admire and learn from, they are not idols or smaller gods that Catholics "worship". They're kind of like the big brother or sister you learn from, and ask for help because they seem to "get it" better than your parents.

Next time you've lost something, instead of freaking out or giving up, retrace your steps all while whispering, truly believing he ask God to help you, "St. Anthony, St. Anthony..."

Totus Tuus,

LeAnn

P.S. I have friend whose grandmother recently had a small stroke, if you could send some prayers for her grandmother we would both greatly appreciate it.