Mom was a sower

"Ah, Lord GOD!" I said,

"I know not how to speak; I am too young." (Jeremiah 1:6)

"But some seed fell on rich soil, and produced fruit, a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold. Whoever has ears ought to hear." (Matthew 13: 1-9)

I like both of these readings very much, and they are pretty appropriate for today, as our life-long family friend (and the priest who baptized me over 60 years ago) celebrates a Mass for the repose of the soul of my mom and the intentions of her children.  My intention is that Mom’s evangelism continues through her prayers for us and our memories of her.

The call of Jeremiah is very helpful. Jeremiah's first response is very familiar. He said, in essence, "I can't do it." We make excuses, too. We say we are too young; too inexperienced: or too busy. In general, we are really too afraid or simply are not free enough to respond to what might involve sacrifice.

It’s wonderful to be reminded that the Lord can use us, even when we are reluctant or even resistant. He puts words in our mouths. He touches us to free us and to give us whatever we need to be His instruments. That includes being a prophet where a prophet is needed. It includes being a leader where a leader is needed. It includes being a loving spouse or parent in the challenging situations in which we find ourselves.  I can’t tell you how many times Mom spoke out to her children in a loving way (even after we were grown men and women) to remind us of our duty to God first when we seemed to have forgotten, or lost our way.

 

And the parable of the sower is terrific for any of us who have tried these things and realize that the response is not always what we had hoped. Some of our precious efforts fall on deaf ears or on unresponsive hearts. Sometimes we are in a culture determined to "choke" our efforts at greater love and care for the common good, especially for those on the margins of our society. Sometimes, the wounds that have hurt the hearts of loved ones need deep healing first.

The good news of this parable is the assurance that there is some good soil out there. Our efforts to act with love in His name will bear great fruit. It will. The outcome of our efforts will be fruitful. So, the message is, "Sow boldly. Keep sowing. Trust the master of the harvest."  Or, as Mom said often—especially the last few years of her life—“I’m putting my prayers out there to Christ.  I trust He knows what to do with them.”

Each of us can reflect upon the power of this message for our individual calls today.

Looking for Simon, or being Simon? Both are good!

What is Jesus telling us when he tells us to take up our cross and follow him? He doesn’t mean it literally nor does he expect us to go looking for crosses to bear. There are plenty that come our way as a part of life, some small (like the 110-degree heat today) and others that wound us to the core (like Mom’s passing, as well as Bobby’s two weeks ago and David’s last week).

Jesus wants us to carry our crosses as He carried His, keeping in mind that He asked His father to “take this cup away” but ultimately accepted His Father’s will.  We also can ask the Father for relief from suffering for ourselves and for others while being open to His will.

As Jesus struggled with carrying the cross, He fell under its weight three times and understands that at times our burdens will be too much for us also. His mother was there to strengthen Him with her love and compassion; so also can we derive strength from her as well as the love of friends and family. He needed and accepted assistance from Simon of Cyrene and the comfort offered by the women of Jerusalem and Veronica.

For some of us it may be difficult to accept help and comfort from others especially strangers, but Jesus shows us the way. It is not just His example of suffering that He offers us, but He also shows us how to accept the love, assistance and comfort offered by others so that we might be worthy of Him.

Rest easy, Mom

With my crazy work schedule, I never know where I'm going to go to mass on any day of the week.  Today, since I had to work and I am in Fresno, I went to St. Helen's parish on Belmont Ave. because they offered an 8AM service that I could attend before starting my shift.  There was an earlier mass at the Cathedral, but 6:30 masses don't usually have the singing or the sense of "community" that I enjoy.

Today was one of those days that I couldn't keep focused at mass. It was like sensory overload!

First, I thought about the irony of a church dedicated to the woman (Saint Helen) who is best known for (allegedly) finding the Cross of Christ that does not have a traditional crucifix behind the altar, but rather a sculpture of the risen Christ.  Make no mistake, it is a beautiful sculpture, mounted on a fabulous painting of what I assume is the Holy Land.  It actually is quite moving and conducive to meditation, but the irony still struck me.

Then, after finally getting refocused on what I was looking at, I realized that the depiction of the Ascension was reminding me of Mom, who died on the feast day of the Ascension.  Tears started flowing.  And mass hadn't even started yet!  Here's the funny thing about my tears; I don't think they were from my lingering sadness at losing Mom--rather they were tears of grateful thanksgiving to God that Mom is in Jesus' merciful arms and no longer in pain or stress.

The Liturgy was very prayerful with great hymn selections that fit my vocal range, and my taste.  The two hymns that stick out in my mind as I write this are "Jesus, I Know You Are Near" and "America the Beautiful".  I was surprised to find that I still know the lyrics to both of these by heart, even though I don't hear them that often.

The deacon proclaimed the Gospel and delivered the homily. It was very touching and spoke directly to my thoughts of Mom (again).  In case you didn't get to mass today, the Gospel was from Matthew, which ends with the lines “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”

Rest easy, Mom.