She Would Buy the Flowers Herself
Seven months ago (how this year has flown!), I shared how Lucia di Lammermoor moved me. And the Met Opera has done it again with The Hours, based on the '02 film, based on the '98 book by Michael Cunningham. Both have been on my lifetime shortlist since their debut. I'll leave the plot summary up to others—but it is a beautiful stream of consciousness dealing with the mundane and profound challenges that we all have in common, whether we are across generations (in this case, 1923, 1949, and 1999) or segments: wealthy or poor, divorced or single, estranged or close-knit. Sounds like St. Monica to me!
Early in the story, Dan brings roses to his wife on his own birthday since her anxiety and depression imprisons her to reading in bed most days. In the movie, it's jarring. In operatic form—it broke me. It's a humbling example and reminder that it is in giving that we receive.
Msgr. Torgerson's Christmas tradition is to spend an evening walking the streets of our amazing city, talking with those that call sidewalks their homes, and offering a small gift—usually a small roll of five-dollar bills. Earlier this year, Patricia and I were doing some spring cleaning and found a large bag of mini felt stockings with that cash—a pandemic artifact unused from 2020. They had been lovingly prepared by a parishioner we hadn't seen in a while: she had stepped back from the church after a year of hurt, disappointment, and struggle.
But Jesus is like Dan: it's HIS birthday, yet he's giving US a gift. At St. Monica we strive to do that, too: if we say and sing "all our welcome"—all must be welcomed, even those we have let down.
The Hours ends quite tragically, leaving readers and viewers in an ascension moment, asking where to go from here. This is not unlike the scriptural ascension we will celebrate in a few months. Until then, the gift we can bring to the altar is people and love: invite those who may not be happy with us and welcome those who have hurt you. Our pastor and our parish are a place of healing and love—a gift to be shared and celebrated.
