Category Archives: Photography

The Lord’s Passion

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The following is a quote from the book “I Don’t Have Enough Faith to Be an Atheist,” by Norman Geisler and Frank Turek.  It is a graphic and disturbing description of the Lord’s Passion.  For me, this is a great passage to reflect upon and pray with, especially as we draw closer to Lent.

The whip the Roman soldiers use on Jesus has small iron balls and sharp pieces of sheep bones tied to it.  Jesus is stripped of his clothing, and has his hands tied to an upright post.  His back, buttocks, and legs are whipped either by one soldier or by two who alternate positions.  The soldiers taunt their victim.  As they repeatedly strike Jesus’ back with full force, the iron balls cause deep contusions, and the sheep bones cut into the skin and tissues.  As the whipping continues, the lacerations tear into the underlying skeletal muscles and produce quivering ribbons of bleeding flesh.  Pain and blood loss set the stage for circulatory shock.

When it is determined by the centurion in charge that Jesus is near death, the beating is finally stopped.  The half-fainting Jesus is then untied and allowed to slump to the stone pavement, wet with his own blood.  The Roman soldiers see a great joke in this provincial Jew claiming to be a king.  They throw a robe across his shoulders and place a stick in his hand for a scepter.  They still need a crown to make their travesty complete.  A small bundle of flexible branches covered in long thorns are plaited into the shape of a crown, and this is pressed into his scalp.  Again there is copious bleeding (the scalp being one of the most vascular areas of the body).  After mocking him and striking him across the face, the soldiers take the stick from his hand and strike him across the head, driving the thorns deeper into his scalp.

Finally, when they tire of their sadistic sport, the robe is torn from his back.  The robe had already become adherent to the clots of blood and serum in the wounds, and its removal — just as in the careless removal of a surgical bandage — causes excruciating pain, almost as though he were being whipped again.  The wounds again begin to bleed.  In deference to Jewish custom, the Romans return his garments.  The heavy horizontal beam of the cross is tied across his shoulders, and the procession of the condemned Christ, two thieves, and the execution party walk along the Via Dolorosa.  In spite of his efforts to walk erect, the weight of the heavy wooden beam, together with the shock produced by copious blood loss, is too much.  He stumbles and falls.  The rough wood of the beam gouges into the lacerated skin and muscles of the shoulders.  He tries to rise, but human muscles have been pushed beyond their endurance.  The centurion, anxious to get on with the crucifixion, selects a stalwart North African onlooker, Simon of Cyrene, to carry the cross.  Jesus follows, still bleeding and sweating the cold, clammy sweat of shock.

The 650-yard journey from the fortress of Antonia to Golgotha is finally completed.  Jesus is again stripped of his clothes except for a loincloth which is allowed the Jews.  The crucifixion begins.  Jesus is offered wine mixed with myrrh, a mild pain-killing mixture.  He refuses to drink.  Simon is ordered to place the cross beam on the ground, and Jesus is quickly thrown backward with his shoulders against the wood.  The legionnaire feels for the depression at the front of the wrist.  He drives a heavy, square, wrought-iron nail through the wrist and deep into the wood.  Quickly, he moves to the other side and repeats the action, being careful not to pull the arms too tight, but to allow some flexibility and movement.  The beam is then lifted, and the title reading “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” is nailed in place.

The victim Jesus is now crucified.  As he slowly sags down with more weight on the nails in the wrists, excruciating, fiery pain shoots along the fingers and up the arms to explode in the brain — the nails in the wrists are putting pressure on the median nerves.  As he pushes himself upward to avoid this stretching torment, he places his full weight on the nail through his feet.  Again, there is the searing agony of the nail tearing through the nerves between the metatarsal bones of the feet.  At this point, another phenomenon occurs.  As the arms fatigue, great waves of cramps sweep over the muscles, knotting them in deep, relentless, throbbing pain.  With these cramps comes the inability to push himself upward.  Hanging by his arms, the pectoral muscles are paralyzed, and the intercostal muscles are unable to act.  Air can be drawn into the lungs but it cannot be exhaled.  Jesus fights to raise himself in order to get even one short breath.  Finally, carbon dioxide builds up in the lungs and in the bloodstream, and the cramps partially subside.  Spasmodically, he is able to push himself upward to exhale and bring in life-giving oxygen.  It is undoubtedly during these periods that he utters the seven short sentences that are recorded.

Now begins hours of this limitless pain, cycles of cramping and twisting, partial asphyxiation, searing pain as tissue is torn from his lacerated back as he moves up and down against the rough timber.  Then another agony begins.  A deep, crushing pain in the chest as the pericardium slowly fills with serum and begins to compress the heart.  It is now almost over — the loss of tissue fluids has reached a critical level; the compressed heart is struggling to pump heavy, thick, sluggish blood into the tissues; the tortured lungs are making a frantic effort to gasp in small gulps of air.  The markedly dehydrated tissues send their flood of stimuli to the brain.  His mission of atonement has been completed.  Finally he can allow his body to die.  With one last surge of strength, he once again presses his torn feet against the nail, straightens his legs, takes a deeper breath, and utters his seventh and last cry:  “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”

Self-Awareness



“Conceptual” Art
Originally uploaded by kenneth_rougeau

When does life begin?

That has got to be one of the most important questions of the day. I posit that this occurs quite early.

The female egg and the male sperm are haploid cells belonging to each person.  They have a function and belong to the organism, yet they are not of themselves a unique organism.  Their DNA, although haploid, is identical with that of the person.  Their function is to unite:  the egg works to chemically attract the sperm, and the sperm works to get to the egg.  “If fertilization is not accomplished, the oocyte typically ceases to be within twenty-four hours after ovulation; and sperm degenerate within two to five days.”[1]



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Originally uploaded by abhilasha1190

Once the first sperm enters the egg, the entire scenario changes. Now, you have a new entity with its unique genetic code. How do we know this? Because it is in some way self-aware of the fact that it is now different, and reacts chemically for the protection of the new organism. This is known as the egg cortical reaction.

When the sperm fuses with the egg plasma membrane, it causes a local increase in cytosolic Ca2+, which spreads through the cell in a wave…  There is evidence that the Ca2+ wave or oscillations are induced by a protein that is introduced into the egg by the sperm, but the nature of the protein is unknown.  The Ca2+ wave or oscillations activate the egg to begin development [Development of what?  Of the new organism], and they initiate the cortical reaction, in which the cortical granules release their contents by exocytosis…  The contents of the cortical granules include various enzymes that are released by the cortical reaction and change the structure of the zona pellucida. The altered zona becomes “hardened,” so that sperm no longer bind to it, and it therefore provides a block to polyspermy.[2]

“…there now appears to be a distinct organism directing its own processes of growth and development…  The [egg cortical reaction] especially seems characteristic of a new organism, whose existence depends upon a structural barrier to outside forces, rather than of a gamete cell, whose existence is fundamentally oriented toward uniting with another gamete…”[3]


[1] Robert P. George and Christopher Tollefsen, Embryo:  A Defense of Human Life (New York:  Doubleday, 2008), 36.

[2] Bruce Alberts et al., Molecular Biology of the Cell, 4th ed., (New York: Garland Science, 2002), http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK26843/ (accessed November 28, 2010).

[3] George and Tollefsen, Embryo, 38-39.

Halloween 2010

I love Halloween! It’s so much fun to dress up…and then, there’s the candy! 🙂

I actually managed to buy pumpkins early this year (instead of stealing from children and knocking over little old ladies on Devil’s Night to get some pumpkins).

I let my brother, who is my personal pumpkin carver (and who is WAY AWESOME at this), have free reign over this year’s theme. I ended up getting Freddy and Jason! Sweet! Look at them, aren’t they great?!
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Lindsay and I celebrated the evening by meeting up with Erwin at a bar which was having a costume contest. I left before the judging, but Lindsay won 2nd place! 🙂

Here’s Lindsay in her SuperGirl costume (This outfit is rated PG-13):
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And this is one tough chick! Look! She’s not even afraid when confronted by PacMan…and he’s notorious for how much he eats! 🙂
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Everyone knows that superheroes congregate at bars, so when Captain America arrived, we knew it was time for a photo op! 🙂 This is the two of them looking fierce:
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And at the end of the night, Bo Peep went home to count her sheep — to make sure she hadn’t lost any….
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Birmingham in October

Today was a beautiful day. Terry and I decided to take some pictures while we walked around Birmingham.

I loved the colors of the leaves on the trees!
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Some of the neighbors had decorated for Halloween. Oddly enough, one had a little statue of me. They must have caught me on a day I didn’t go to Mass and hadn’t been to Starbucks yet. 😛
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Then, a bunch of random photosniping:

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And there was this:
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We walked over to the little park they had downtown. In the middle, there was this odd statue. I’m not sure what the significance of the sculpture is, but I like to call it, “Here, honey, I’m throwing you to the birds….”
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And just look at all these cute kids in their Halloween costumes! 🙂
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My only question…
What IS this??!?
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Detroit Institute of Arts

We took Terry to the DIA for her birthday. We got to participate in Drawing in the Galleries for Adults in the African Collection! 🙂 I only had my phone camera with me and I quickly ran out of battery, so I’ll have to go again with my camera! It was a lovely evening.

Even with only a phone camera, I managed to capture this picture of the building on the way in:
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I really like how it turned out! 🙂

Terry is the artist in our group. Phyllis and I went along for fun. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to draw a thing and have it be recognizable… I think I’ll just show you and let you decide for yourself how I did.
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After we had finished our drawing session, we took some time to wander around the museum. This painting of the Seven Sacraments is one of my favorites. 🙂
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Reconciliation

This is in follow-up to my last post.

I went back to SS. Cyril and Methodius tonight at 8 pm, to try again to go to Confession. There were about 12 people already there, scattered around the room. I was difficult to keep track of who was next. Over time, new people would come in. One woman asked if she could go ahead of everyone, since she had a small child. Another older woman just cut in line. The man sitting next to me looked over and said, “Don’t worry, we will get in there eventually!” and we had a short conversation about this. I tried to be patient, but in my head, I pictured myself jumping up and down shouting, “Me! Me!” Obviously, I really *needed* to go to Confession. I spent my time reviewing what I was going to say. Not to make it sound better, but to try to be as accurate as I could and minimize the rationalization and contextualization that I often try to stick in there to make it sound as if I really wasn’t as bad as I was.

When I got in, my confession was kind of like a series of bullet points. I committed sin X, Y, Z…. Bare and hanging out there, with no justification for why I committed them. The priest stops me for a minute to ask a question, then says this:

“You are a young person, you could be such a blessing to others…. But you need to make a routine, or you will never go anywhere in your spiritual life.”

I hadn’t said anything yet about feeling like I have been slacking off in my prayer life, or feeling disconnected from God this week, but here he is! Speaking about that very thing! You need no further proof to know that when you confess, you are confessing to Christ himself working through that priest! And that is so true. I really do need a routine in my life when it comes to spiritual matters. I am so haphazard about it and that bothers me.

After confession, I went back to St. Anastasia and spent some time with the Lord in the chapel. I took the Bible off the shelf and sat there for a moment, thinking of where I should start reading. It popped in my head to start reading in Hosea. So, I opened to Hosea and started reading at the first page I came to:

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When Israel was a child, I loved him,
and out of Egypt I called my son.
The more I called them,
the more they went from me;
they kept sacrificing to the Baals,
and burning incense to idols.

Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk,
I took them up in my arms;
but they did not know that I healed them.
I led them with cords of compassion,
with the bands of love,
and I became to them as one,
who raises an infant to his cheeks,
and I bent down to them and fed them.

How can I give you up, O Ephraim!
How can I hand you over, O Israel!
How can I make you like Admah!
How can I treat you like Zeboiim!
My heart recoils within me,
my compassion grows warm and tender.
I will not execute my fierce anger,
I will not again destroy Ephraim;
for I am God and not man,
the Holy One in your midst,
and I will not come to destroy. — Hosea 11:1-4, 8-9

Basking in God’s love and God’s forgiveness, I knelt down to pray. A minute later, I felt a warm glow on my face and opened my eyes. The light from overhead was reflecting from the gold of the cover of the Bible.

God’s Word was shining on me.
Such a lovely way to end the evening.

The Fractioning Question

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There was a link to a discussion on what happens during fractioning posted on XT3.  The referenced link with commentary by Fr. Z posted here.  The original post by Fr. Allan McDonald can be found here.  

What they are basically saying is that the larger hosts used during Mass scatter lots of pieces of the Lord’s Body during fractioning and that they can no longer in good conscience use the larger hosts, and have switched to using a smaller host.  Fr. McDonald’s trial with the larger host did show the pieces which broke off from it in detail; however, a similar trial was not done using the smaller hosts.  It is possible that they scatter a larger number of pieces, which are smaller in size and harder to detect.

Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand Fr. Z and Fr. McDonald’s concern over the unnecessary and avoidable scattering of the Body of our Lord.  However, I absolutely LOVE this reply to the discussion:

I have always felt that the Altar is a table of sacrifice. It is enough to imagine the priest of the OT accomplishing the sacrifice of the lamb by dismembering it in the ritual manner and see the pieces of flesh and blood splattered allover the altar of sacrifice as he divides the different portions. I had a view of the butcher’s shop to see how much blood and small pieces of flesh are scattered all over the place as he cuts them to small pieces.That reminded me about what happens when the sacrifice is offered each day at the Altar. I imagine the flesh and blood of the Lord splashed all over the place. Mercifully the Lord has concealed Himself in the form of Bread and Wine, that we may continue to celebrate the Mass. But how much care is needed in the fraction and cleansing of the holy vessels. And as I kiss the alter to depart, to remember that the table is soaked with the Blood of the Lord spilled to save me and mankind.  — Fr. Jose Sebastian, posted on XT3 website 9/6/10

Jellyfish?

“Quite a number of people have the abiding impression that the church’s faith is like a jellyfish: no one can get a grip on it and it has no firm center,” Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, In the Beginning, p. 7.

For how many of us is our faith like this idea of Catholicism? Pretty to look at, nice to be able to point out to our friends, but nothing with substance that can cause us to have to reform our lives?

Are we like the jellyfish? Swimming without eyes in the great ocean of life? No vision, but just reacting according to our instincts and desires as sensations come our way? No direction, no community, each jellyfish out for whatever nourishment he or she can obtain from those weaker than him or herself?

Psalm 147:8

He covers the heavens with clouds, he prepares rain for the earth, he makes grass grow upon the hills.

What a great day!
The last few days have been particularly trying for me. It is a comfort to be able to go outside and look up to the sky and know that you are not the one in charge — that there is a God who loves you and is present in our lives. Perhaps also relevant today is:

He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds. Great is our LORD, and abundant in power; his understanding is beyond measure. (Psalm 147:3, 5)

Genesis 3:12-13

The man said, “The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me fruit of the tree, and I ate.” Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent beguiled me, and I ate.”

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I think the photo says it all…. 😉