I don’t know what prompted me to remember this blog entry
from August 15, 2010 but the fact that I did makes me think it is the Holy
Spirit wanting me to share it. I updated
it to reflect the passage of time since then.
"Teacher, what must I do to gain eternal life?"
The young man in the Gospel reading of Matthew had led what
he thought was a "good" life. Jesus' reply to him is that there is
only "One who is good." God! If one wishes to enter into eternal life
(heaven), one must keep the Commandments.
This he says he does. But Jesus, who sees what is in our
hearts, knew that even though the young man kept the Commandments he was
lacking, because the most important things in his life were his possessions,
not God or His law. He left Jesus rather than follow "the way, the truth
and the life."
Personally, I’m not prepared to sell everything I own and
give it away. This would present a large number of practical problems, such as
feeding, clothing and educating my family. I doubt that Jesus would view it as
morally desirable to put the life and well-being of my family at risk.
So how to best look at this Gospel? There’s clearly an
important distinction that Jesus is drawing. We all have “negative” and “positive”
duties. The negative duties, such as not to kill or commit adultery, are the
easiest to discern and allow for the drawing of clear lines. I think that Jesus
was really speaking to the well-to-do of His time, many of whom were living in
relative comfort and with the contentment that they’d managed to live their
lives without killing or committing adultery. I can almost feel the smug
superiority of them as they’d pass by the prostitutes and beggars thinking that
they were surely headed to Heaven and the prostitutes and beggars were headed
to Hell.
But Jesus’ message is that things are far from being that
simple, because we have “positive” duties too; most especially to have
compassion for those who weren’t born into circumstances as comfortable—or for
those who have fallen on hard times. It’s not good enough to pass by the less
fortunate without lending a helping hand and feeling compassion. In fact, it’s
probably less forgivable than those who violate the negative duties. Who on
Judgment Day will be viewed as worse? The beggars and prostitutes who were
trying to feed their families the only way they knew how or the rich who walked
by them and sneered in contempt and did nothing to help? We know the answer
Jesus gave because of His words how He spent His earthly time. We can all learn
from His example.
For a couple of years (the last 2 years that Mom lived in
Lodi) I served as a Eucharistic Minister for St. Anne’s Church in Lodi. I loved the experience. I presented our Lord’s Body, Blood, Soul and
Divinity to a few homebound Catholics, including Mom. I was also fortunate to visit the hospital
and distribute Communion there.
After about a year, I had become pretty complacent in my
“positive” duties as a Eucharistic Minister. This is not to say I regretted
doing it, just that I had let it almost get routine. Until I was presented by someone I’m pretty
sure was a “plant” by the Holy Spirit to get me back on track and to remind me
why I felt the call to be in pastoral care in the first place.
When I walked in the room, the old man was asleep. His
daughter was staring out the window. I asked her, “Do you think he’ll want to wake
up to partake of Holy Communion?” She replied, “I don’t know. I’ve just tried
for 15 minutes to wake him to see if he’ll eat the lunch that was brought in,
but I can’t rouse him.” But she tried again. This time, his eyes opened wide
and I could see him zero in the cross I wear when visiting the hospital. She
asked him something in a language that sounded similar to Spanish if he wanted
the Eucharist. He couldn’t raise his bed to a sitting position fast enough! And
he showed the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on a patient in a hospital! He
thrust out his hand for mine, so I shook it. He would not let go, and kept
talking a mile a minute in what his daughter said is Portugese and he was
smiling the whole time, giving me a look as though he knew me and I could
understand what he was saying.
He was jabbering non-stop (still holding onto my hand), then
he laughed, and said, “no compriende, eh?” This I could interpret for myself. I
replied (I hope) in his own language that no, I didn’t understand what he was
saying. This made him laugh even harder, but did it stop his talking? No way!
He went on for another 5 minutes! The funny thing is, what he was saying was
almost melodious—it was beautiful! His daughter said his spare time was spent composing
poems of prayer to Our Lady and her Son. I had just been treated to an extemporaneous
creation of one. Even though I couldn’t understand the words, somehow I know
Mary and Jesus were pleased. It reminded
me of Mary’s own Maginificat!
We began the “communion service” and he became somber and
reverent. When we got to the Lord’s Prayer, he spoke clearly and confidently.
Up until then, and after the service, it was more of a mumble, as those who are
not feeling well tend to do.
When we concluded the service, his daughter told me that he
loved talking for hours about God, Jesus and Mary to anyone who would listen. I
told her I felt the same way, but it would be easier if we both spoke the same
languages! I turned to leave the room, and the old man pointed at my cross and
said something. I asked his daughter what he was saying. She said he wanted to
look at the cross I have around my neck and kiss it, if I would allow it. He asked if Christ was on the cross. I
explained that the image of Christ is not on this cross, because it was
designed to identify me as a Eucharistic minister, not as a priest or deacon. I
offered to let him kiss the crucifix that is on my rosary that I carry in my
pocket at all times, but instead he pulled me close and kissed my EM cross
while I was still wearing it! Then he gave me a blessing! His daughter was
interpreting as best she could, but she said she does not speak the language
very well herself—just enough to get by with her Dad. She said his message,
however, was clear. He was thanking me for (his words) “visiting all the poor
sick people in the hospital who need Christ to help them.” I almost cried. I
told him that’s why I do what I do. I don’t only bring Christ in the Eucharist
to comfort the sick, I am also looking for Christ in the people I meet. That
day, I met Him. And I thank Him for reminding me what I must do to gain eternal
life.
I am no longer a Eucharistic Minister because I just got way
too busy with “life” and “work”, and Mom moved down to Simi. I would like to get back into it after I
formally retire in November. I also feel
like I need to answer a call to teach CCD that Alicia’s parish has sent out
several times. We’ll see. I know I’ll have to find something to “wind
down” from over 50 years in the workforce.
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