Afraid to die? NO! Ready to die? Not yet!

As I have been pretty sleepless the last few nights due to illness and especially since Dick passed away, I pulled up the ever-calming Bible in my iPhone’s Laudete app and asked the Holy Spirit to guide me to a soothing passage to help me through my grief.  One of the Gospel passages that I found right off was Mt 8:23-27.

As Jesus got into a boat, his disciples followed him. Suddenly a violent storm came up on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by waves; but he was asleep. They came and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!” He said to them, “Why are you terrified, O you of little faith?” Then he got up, rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was great calm. The men were amazed and said, “What sort of man is this, whom even the winds and the sea obey?”

It brought back some very early childhood memories for me.  At about 5 or 6 years old, I remember crying to my mom and asking, “Does everybody die?” I wasn’t prepared for her answer.  She told me the truth—that is everybody dies, but nobody knows when, except God, so I didn’t need to worry about it.  But I did.  Unless I could fall asleep or be busy with something else. The thought of death occupied my thoughts on a daily basis, especially since Mom made us pray the Rosary every night.  The last line of the Hail Mary prayer is "Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death."  To my overactive but naive mind, this meant two things:  I had been a bad kid and death was imminent.  Of course, since then I have come to know and love our Blessed Mother and the prayer she gave us.  It has helped me through countless times of worry and grief.

We used to visit Grandma and Grandpa pretty regularly. We had to drive past Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery to get there.  Looking at the headstones and mausoleums would get me thinking about my mortality every time!  I got pretty good at recognizing landmarks and knew when we were getting close, so I would always hide my head and try to think of something else or fall asleep because the thought of dying terrified me.

Eventually, though, I stopped being preoccupied with the thoughts and only occasionally would think about my own death.  I think that’s because when my reasoning kicked in about 7 or 8 (arguably) I figured IF I kept out of trouble and IF I didn’t get hit by a car or some other tragedy didn’t befall me, I still had another 60 or 70 years and that was a long time.  They might find a cure for death by then. I think another reason I stopped worrying about dying was that I started Catechism classes and found out that God created us because He loved us and He loved us because He created us and that death in this life is just the beginning of our intended life with Him in Heaven.

While meditating on the Gospel the Holy Spirit was so right in guiding me to, I realized that even these men who were in the boat with someone whom they believed to be the Messiah, they were still afraid of death. The lesson He taught them is the same lesson we can learn today. If we truly have faith in His love and mercy, we have nothing to fear. It’s interesting to me that these men who were afraid of death in the boat are the same men who later gladly gave up their lives to preserve the faith (except John, who we know died a natural death—although he did have his share of suffering).  I can only hope to be as brave when my time comes. What I can say is that I no longer fear death. But I'm not sure I welcome it, either. There is a lot more I can do for the Lord before I am called to my rest. I think I’m like my mom in that regard.   I think I still have lots and lots of prayers to say.  And much more penance to do. 

Finding Jesus

Most of the time when I "meditate" on the Mysteries of the Holy Rosary, I find myself just recalling the Scripture passages relating to that "mystery".  Because through faith I just KNOW these mysteries to be true, my meditations are more often just recollections of fact.  Some of my better, more insightful and more meaningful (at least to me) meditations come to me when I just ask the Holy Spirit to guide my thoughts when praying the rosary. 

He waited until the 5th Mystery yesterday to turn my thoughts to an "angle" I had never thought of before.  For those of you who don't know, the 5th Mystery is a reflection on Mary and Joseph finding the 12 year-old Jesus in the Temple after fearing Him lost.   When they finally find Him, He says, "Why were you worried?  Didn't you know I must be in my Father's house?"

I started wondering how could Mary and Joseph just "lose" their son?  It's not like they forgot He was the Son of God.  Rather, they might have been just so comfortable in their family life that they thought He must be with one of the other families (possibly even relatives) traveling with them and so didn't worry until a couple of days had passed.  But when they did notice His absence they were distraught. 

Sometimes I get distraught that I'm not giving Jesus enough attention, and conclude that I've "lost" Him.  When that happens it's good to remember that I know where to "find" Him---He'll be in His Father's house, in the Tabernacle. If you know someone who has "lost" Jesus or is simply just looking for Him, direct them to the Father's house.  I guarantee that they will find Him there, in the Tabernacle.  You can't miss it.  It's right next to the flickering red lamp that keeps vigil for us when we can't be there.

A "solitary tradition"

A little girl was born October 18th, 1893 in Preston, Wisconsin to Joseph and Mary Rabideau.  They named her Sylveen Idella.  She was the 13th child and the youngest of the family. Sylveen had four brothers and eight sisters.  I know her as "Grandma".

As a child Sylveen lived in Minnesota  before coming West with her parents at the age of 12 to Coeur D'Alene, Idaho.  As the years passed she went to the community college in Coeur D'Alene and received her teaching degree.  She taught school in Washington and Oregon.

Sylveen met a nice young man, Clarence Batty, in Wawawai, Washington--a small farming community on the Snake River about 20 miles from Pullman.  Clarence told everyone that when the new "school marm" was due to arrive at the depot, his brothers and sisters had it all arranged that he was to meet the train.  Clarence's family was always trying to "match him up".   This time it worked and Sylveen and Clarence were married on March 30, 1918 in Colfax, Washington.

And they lived happily ever after!   (At least I think so!)

Grandpa passed away in 1970 at the age of 82 (just months before my dad passed away) and Grandma went to her eternal rest on April 28th, 1992 at the age of 98!

I remember Grandma's birthday every year with a special rosary said for her intentions. It's one of my "solitary traditions".  Please join me wherever you are today and just say "Happy Birthday, Grandma!"

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.

Birthday wishes

Frank Calvelli, (my father-in-law) or Papa, as his grandchildren called him, was born on June 14, 1914.  He passed away on October 23, 1995.  Today is his 100^th birthday! 

He was very proud of the fact that he was born on Flag Day in the United States.  He was also very proud of his Italian heritage. His parents migrated here from Calabria, Italy at the turn of the century, which made him a first generation Italian. 

He was not a particularly religious man. Still, he was a very good man and patriotic American.  He served in Patton’s tank corps in Northern Africa during WWII.  He saw some heavy action that he rarely liked to talk about, but he would if pressed.  He said he had nightmares sometimes about the war, so we rarely did press him.

    

I knew him as a father longer than I knew even my own father.  He accepted me into his family and treated me like his own son without any reservations whatsoever.  When I asked for his daughter’s hand in marriage (yes, we still did things like that back then), he held up his index finger, and said only one word. That word described what he considered the most important trait a marriage needs for longevity.  “Respect” he said, as he held up that finger, then he repeated it—for effect—“Respect”.  He went on to explain that he would expect nothing more and would accept nothing less from the man who married his daughter.  I humbly submit that the longevity of my and Marilyn’s marriage and our continuously growing love is due in large part to his advice.

When his grandchildren came along, he loved them unconditionally and totally.  He acted gruff sometimes, but anyone who really knew him saw right through that, including his grandchildren. 

I often think of Papa and miss him terribly-- as much as I miss my own Dad.  I hope that I will see them again someday.  In the meantime, I hope and pray that I can continue to live my life in a way that would make them both proud.

Happy Birthday, Frank!  Happy Father’s Day to both of my fathers!

Anger Management

I came back to work yesterday after my nearly 2 week funeral leave.  I was confronted by a couple of managers lamenting about the animosity they perceive to be directed towards them by some of the other supervisors I work with.  While the wording of some of the emails they received does in fact sound demeaning and angry, I know both sides of the issues at hand and I think I was able to defuse a potentially damaging situation and save a few jobs through mediation.  Mom’s death and the ensuing meditations inspired by it seem to have given me (at least for now) a certain need for peaceful relationships in my everyday life.

It seems like we live in an age of anger.  We hear the phrase and maybe even feel “road rage” as well as read about celebrities and other offenders who need “anger management.”  So many situations today are causes or effects of anger: partisan politics, computer crashes, Boko Haram, airport security, inequality, umpires, Vladimir Putin, school shootings.  Wouldn’t it be great if all of us could, as the gospel recommends, let go of our anger and be reconciled with each other?  We need to be peacemakers—on the personal and global level.  We must release our rage or our need to win and embrace compromise, forgiveness, and mercy.  We must think of others with love and not think of them as Raqa, which in Aramaic means “imbecile.”  (Matthew 5:20-26)

As always, the way to God–the way to follow the supreme commandment of loving God—is through one another and the second greatest commandment.  In some respects, it is easier to love God, who isn’t trampling our petunias or invading our nation, than it is to love our neighbor.  It seems simpler and less messy to approach His altar than it is to have a meal or negotiate a peace treaty with those who have offended us or whom we’ve offended.  But Jesus is adamant.  We must settle with our opponents before going to God.  His allusions to the scribes and Pharisees, who were very big on the letter of the law and correct behavior, remind us that the spirit of the law is even more important.   Our actions should be infused with a sense of love; our hearts should not be hardened.  We must always aim for reconciliation because love of God and love of neighbor are inextricable.

The etymology of the word reconcile is from the Latin and means “to bring together again.”  As we consider this day, let’s look for opportunities to forgo anger, mend wounds, and get back together with those at odds with us.   

Feed My Sheep. Are we trying?

One of the benefits (if one can say that word in the context of grief) of taking the time off for Mom’s funeral has been the opportunity to go to several daily masses and offer them up for Mom, and to have my sister-in-law Marilyn around to discuss spiritual matters.  I used to have these discussions with Mom on Sundays when I brought her the Sacrament.  I really miss our Sunday talks.  I had no idea how thirsty I was for these “mini-bible studies”.  They helped me stay on my prayer regimen, and as my visit with Marilyn did today, they gave me inspiration to meditate on the Scriptures and write those thoughts in my blog.  I feel this blog is my attempt—however feeble—to evangelize.   I’m sorry I haven’t written regularly.  I guess I miss Mom and our weekly spiritual discussions more than I was willing to admit to myself.

   

Today, the first Friday of June, the Gospel was about the time just before the Ascension when Jesus and the Apostles were on the beach having a meal (or as Mark Hart says, “having a barbecue”.)  Jesus asks Peter 3 times “Do you love me?” (John 21:15-19)

 Many people suppose that when Jesus asks His question of Peter three times it is to balance out the three times that Peter denied Him, but maybe it is more a matter of Jesus driving home His point?  

My own reading is that if we really love Christ, and not just in words, we need to care for the members of His flock in all their variety --- the ewes, the lambs, and even the rams --- and in taking care of their needs, whatever they might be.  We must care for those who think they are poor and those who think they are rich, for those who believe themselves strong and those who are sure they are weak.  And we must care for those who are satisfied that they are serving God and those who don't care.  

We must go into their loneliness, their self-condemnation, their sin, their poverty in religious matters as well as physical ones, and their ignorance of God's absolute and unfailing love and forgiveness, and we must there touch their lives and heal them, nourish them, and be the Good News that Christ calls us to proclaim.  

As the hymn of the same title says, "They will know we are Christians by our love," an idea straight out of John 13:34-35.   Do we in fact love any and all of God's children?  In every circumstance?  Of course not.  

But are we trying?

Rest in Peace, Mom

Angela Marie (Batty) Farnsworth

February 21, 1919 to May 29, 2014

A priest was preaching one Sunday on the theme of “Love your enemies.” After a long sermon, he asked how many parishioners were willing to forgive their enemies. About half held up their hands. Not satisfied with this response, he preached for another 20 minutes and repeated his question. This time he received a response of about 80%. Still unsatisfied, he went on for another 15 minutes and repeated his question. With all thoughts now on Sunday dinner, everyone raised their hand except one elderly lady in the front row. “Mrs. Jones, are you not willing to forgive your enemies?” the priest asked. “I don't have any,” she said. Surprised, the priest said, “Ma’am, that is very unusual. How old are you?” “Ninety-two,” she responded. “Mrs. Jones, please tell me, how can you have lived to be 92 years old, and not have an enemy in the world.” The sweet little lady, smiled, and said simply. “Oh, Father, I’ve had plenty of enemies. It’s just that, at 92, I’ve outlived them all!”  Sounds a little like my Mom.

”What a special gift Jesus gave us when from the cross He said to John, “Behold your Mother.”! (Jn 19:26-27).

Mothers always seem to know what you need and when you need it. I have a lot of very fond memories of times spent in my childhood when it was just Mom and me, which you would think would be difficult in a house with 4 brothers. I can’t begin to write down all of those memories, because A) There are too many, and B) I don’t have enough words in my vocabulary to express what those moments have meant to me. But I will share a few that I think about a lot.

When I was about 8 or 9 years old, I got caught stealing a candy bar from Dale’s market, directly across the street from our house (I should probably be on that television show, “America’s Dumbest Criminals!) The manager called Mom and she came over to get me. She pulled me home by my ear, really angry that I would betray her trust in me and embarrass her to the neighbors. She kept saying, “You’re going to confession! Today!” and “Your father’s going to punish you when he gets home!” When we got home, Mom sent me to my room and said, “Wait right here! When your father gets home, we’ll decide what to do with you!” 

All kinds of thoughts were running around in my head, not the least of which was “Man, this spanking is going to hurt!” Anyway, Dad came home and I got really scared. He was all for spanking me, but just as he was about to let loose on my behind, the phone rang, Dad said “Saved by the bell for the moment!” and he went out with Mom to see who it was, forgetting about me for the time being. It was Aunt Jenny. Mom told her what was going on and Aunt Jenny offered to come by and take the both of us to confession right then—me for stealing and Mom for losing her temper with me. By this time, Mom had pretty much cooled down anyway and was having second thoughts about spanking me. She could see that I was sorry. And I was. Truly sorry. Not because of the punishment I might and ought to receive, but because I had offended her and Dad, by not obeying them and staying out of trouble. I said as much to them and evidently Mom was satisfied enough with my contrition to talk Dad out of spanking me. 

But our trip to the confessional was still made—it was the occasion for me to learn yet another lesson. Sin is sin. Mom spent as much time in the “box” confessing her anger that day as I did for stealing a candy bar!

 

Mom loved Lawrence Welk! She watched his old shows almost as much as she watched EWTN. I think there were two reason for this. She and Dad watched it together back when the shows were first broadcast and it was often that Dad would take Mom by the hand and lead her to the middle of the living room floor and they would dance. Imagine that! In front of the kids and everything! Eww! Watching Lawrence Welk kept that memory of Dad's loving spontaneity alive for Mom. It also provided another excuse for her to share (yet again) that she was taught piano by Lawrence Welk's niece, Hildegard Braun. As many times as I heard that story—and Mom told it each time as if it were the first time I heard it—I only listened to her actually play on our old organ once. From what I remember of that recital, either Mom forgot most of what she was taught, or Lawrence Welk's niece was not much of a teacher!

Speaking of her stories; in her final weeks in the hospital, all of the doctors and nurses and therapists and care-givers remarked how keen and sharp-witted Mom was at 95. She certainly was gifted that way. One thing you could count on with Mom was that she would tell the same stories over and over and over again, but the facts of the stories never changed.

Mom once told me "I wish I could have made you all millionaires or something”. That reminds me of a story I once read:

There was a very rich man who had everything he had ever wanted and was so proud of himself he went riding on his horse one morning out to the countryside to survey his lands and congratulate himself for being so rich and successful.

He came upon an old man, Hans, who was known as a vagrant and prophet of God sitting under an old oak tree and eating his simple lunch of a piece of cheese and some stale water. "God bless you, sir!" the old man said to the rich man. "Harrumph!", said the rich man with a snort, "It was by my own hard work and diligence that I am the richest man in this country. Your God had nothing to do with it!"

"Nevertheless", said Hans, "I had a dream last night that the richest man in the country is going to die tonight, so I will continue to pray for you."

"Harrumph!" he replied again, saying under his breath "What a crazy old man!"

As the day wore on though, the rich man started to wonder if the old man could possibly be right so he sent for his doctor. After a thorough examination, he was given a clean bill of health and a chide from his doctor for believing in "fairy tales told by old men". He went to bed that night feeling as proud of himself as he always did.

The next morning, his neighbor visited and asked, "Did you hear the news? The old man, Hans, died last night!"

Mom, by sharing your faith with us, you have made us millionaires. There is no greater wealth than a faith in our Creator.  God bless you.

The most spiritually profound memory I will keep of Mom and one that is shared by everyone here without question is her complete devotion to the rosary and the Divine Mercy chaplet. 

I have often thought, and I confess to everyone here and now that I know God exists because of Mom's unwavering faith and prayers. Faith is a gift given to us by God. But it is taught to us and nurtured by our parents. Mom’s example of uncompromising faith and prayers are the “insulin shot” I need at those times when my own faith grows weak. I can only aspire to be for my children and grandchildren the example of faith my Mom has been for me.

You could set your clocks to Mom’s prayers. At noon each day she would stop whatever else she was doing and recite one of her many daily rosaries. She said a different rosary for each intention (and for each one of us). Sometimes she would say it quietly to herself and sometimes she would use some form of media—television or radio or cassette or DVD to “help” her along.  And there were a lot of times we said multiple rosaries together during our trips down here to Simi from Lodi.   

At 3pm each day (the hour Christ died on the cross) she would recite the Divine Mercy. That devotion is a relatively new one that was promulgated by Pope (Saint) John Paul II when he canonized St. Faustina in 2000. But the rosary devotion was hers since she could speak. I never knew her to miss a rosary in my entire life. She truly was the epitome of what is known as a “prayer warrior”. How gracious was it that Jesus called her home on the Feast of His Ascension at noon? Praised be Jesus Christ!

I also have memories about our discussions on faith, life, and yes—even death and the new life that death on Earth brings us to. But those are pretty deep and I think Mom would like to keep her remembrance on the lighter side.

As a lot of the saints do, Mom had such a great sense of humor! Oftentimes I would tell a joke that would be so mangled I would screw up the punchline. Mom would laugh anyway and then say SHE had already heard the joke before, then she would retell it to me the right way!

While in the car a few days ago, Janie related a funny story about Mom and her sisters. Aunt Barbara, Aunt Theresa and Mom were all traveling somewhere when one of them remarked “If we were to have an accident right now and die, I'm ready.” The other agreed and said “Me, too! I'm ready whenever the Lord wants me!” From the back seat Mom piped in, “Then pull over at the next corner and let me out!”

I wrote a prayer for Mom on her birthday about 3 years ago. I’d like to share that now:

Lord Jesus, You have known Your Mother’s love and tender care so please hear our prayer for our own mother, Your devoted daughter, on this day we remember her.

Just as she gave life to her children and has given her best to protect us these many years, please protect her now and let her feel safe in the Light of Life that flows through You.

Take from her all her anxieties and fears and fulfill all of her wishes. If Your will is to refuse her any of those wishes, let even the refusals bring her comfort, as she has comforted her children even in her occasional refusals for our own good.

Though we, her children, can never repay her for all she has given us we have confidence that You will repay her for us one day when she rests in the sweet embrace of Your own Mother.  Amen.

I’m sure that each of my brothers and our wives has a “special” memory of Mom that shows what a powerful effect a mother’s love can have on any one of us, and how she can protect us from pain and suffering, just as I’m sure Jesus has similar stories to tell about His special moments with His mother that were never written down in the Bible. How great His love is to share His Mother with us, so we can build similar memories with her. 

And just as Mom was able to intercede for me to Dad so that he stayed his hand on my bottom that day I stole the candy bar, so our Blessed Mother does for us with her Son.

I would like to conclude with Mom’s all-time favorite prayer:

Hail, Mary, full of grace! The Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women and Blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death. Amen

Happy Easter

Happy Easter! He is risen! Truly He is risen!

Here's a couple of reflections and lessons I've learned today:

Leave much earlier for mass on Easter Sunday

I was only 1 mile from the church, so I left 30 minutes before mass was to start, thinking that would be plenty of time for the traffic from the previous mass to clear out. Traffic from the 7AM mass was cleared out alright! But the parking lot was already full for the 8AM mass and I had to park on a side street a block away. I thought “Uh oh. I hope I at least get a pew. I'm too old and too sore to stand for an entire mass.” I didn't get a pew, but they did have folding chairs sitting along the walls and I was able to get one at the very back of the church. One thing I can say for Bakersfield is that the Catholic community is large and for the most part, faithful. When I am able to go to daily mass occasionally, the attendance is better in Bakersfield than I've seen in Stockton or Fresno and the reverence seems more sincere, as well—I hope that doesn't come across as judgmental—it's just a subjective observation.

Easter Sunday mass is a different experience—not better, not worse, just different

From the entrance hymns to the Liturgy to the closing blessings, Easter Sunday mass is anything but ordinary. The music is more upbeat than usual (we are exclaiming the Truth of the resurrection, after all), there is more pomp in the rituals, and it always last longer than an hour. I'm not complaining. I love the Catholic mass, no matter what day or how long it runs. As long as I get to hear the Word of God proclaimed and receive Christ in the Eucharist, I'm a happy camper.

I was surprised that I knew the refrain by heart to the hymn “Rain Down”. I don't know if I particularly care for the song, but it was good that the music director chose a song I could participate in without a song sheet. They were provided in the pews, but not to those of us sitting along the wall.

Of course there are no kneelers when one is in temporary seating, so when the Eucharistic Prayer was being said I could only kneel on one knee. (Otherwise, getting up would have been too big a chore! Grunting during mass can be embarrassing!) I'm not overly pious (I think) but I feel less reverent when I can't kneel on both knees when the rubrics of the mass say to kneel. At the same time, (and in retrospect I know I was wrong and judgmental here) I felt somehow more reverent than most of the others in the temporary seating who remained seated for the most important prayer of the mass. Mea Culpa.

On Easter Sunday there are a couple of rites performed that are supposed to remind us of our baptisms. At the beginning of mass, the celebrant blesses some water, then walks up and down each aisle sprinkling the congregation with it while say a blessing. At this morning's mass, he hit every aisle except the one I was in. I was feeling kind of left out. I know that I am still blessed even though no water actually touches me and there's no special “magic” if I'm missed, but I felt sad for some reason. The 2^nd reminder of our baptism comes after the homily, when the Nicene or Apostles Creed is omitted and our baptismal vows are repeated instead. I think over the last few years I have become more and more adamant (read that: “emotive”)when I answer “I DO!” to the questions asked by the priest.

Never doubt Jesus. He knows what you need when you need it.

When Holy Communion is distributed, there can sometimes be chaos—especially when mass is attended by so many people who only go at Christmas and Easter. The Holy Spirit gave me a little taste of humility today during Communion. As I said, I was a bit bummed out by the fact I didn't get sprinkled with the holy water at the beginning of mass. When Communion was being distributed, I was sure to be one of last to receive. That was also a bit of sadness for me. The row of people in the pews next to me stood up to start their procession and I was going to follow them. But just then, a Eucharistic minister came walking up to me and I was able to receive without leaving my place. The feeling that went over me was one of great humility. My first thought was “Wow. Who am I that the Lord would come to me? I should be going to receive HIM.” Then I mentally kicked myself for feeling slighted at the sprinkling rite and the fact that I would be one of the last to receive Him at Communion. My second thought was “Thank You, Jesus.” I know I had my priorities backward, but I'm only human, right?

I had some meditation on the 1^st and 2^nd readings and the Gospel reading today as well that tie into today's experience, but I think that's enough for now. Maybe later today I'll write some more. I probably shouldn't have take the time to write this reflection—I'm supposed to be working. Forgive me, Lord.

A perfect number

I must admit that many times I “zone out” during Sunday homilies, especially if the homilist is prone to use the same formula week after week.  In this case, the pastor of the church I’ve been attending of late starts every homily with a (poorly told) joke and tries to tie the readings into the punch line of the joke.  He is from India and has an accent, but not so bad that one can’t understand him.  His biggest problem comes from trying to speak too fast and he will either mispronounce words or leave them out entirely….usually.  I found myself fascinated by his take on the Gospel today.  It was an angle I felt the Holy Spirit was telling me to share in my blog.

Permeating through today's readings is a substance essential to life: water. Living in the Central Valley of California where it gets quite arid throughout the summer, I can relate with the people grumbling to Moses of their thirst. We all can relate to being parched for water, and we know the cool and refreshing feeling of water hitting our dried lips and quenching our thirst.  Amid our fasting and sacrificing during this season of Lent, we are reminded of the ways in which our souls thirst for God.  Whether it is longing for a juicy steak on a Friday, or craving those sweets we gave up, we realize the desires of the flesh and the spirit are real.  These moments during Lent are opportunities that remind us of our need for God, which is far greater than our need for any of these earthly things we fast from.

Jesus, in the Gospel of John, encounters a Samaritan woman; the encounter occurs, significantly, at a watering hole, at Jacob’s Well.  Jesus asks her for a drink. She hesitates incredulous that a Jew—and male—would ask her a Samaritan—and a female—for a drink.   Jews typically despised and shunned Samaritans.  Jesus assures her that He will give her “living water”:  “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again; but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

Jesus tells the woman “Go call your husband and come back.” The woman answered and said to him, “I do not have a husband.” Jesus answered her, “You are right in saying, ‘I do not have a husband.’ For you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true.”

Here is where my pastor caught my attention.  He pointed out that this exchange was, for him, a definition of our thirst for Jesus.  The woman has had 6 failed attempts at finding love and fulfillment, so she is wary of ANY man who tries to strike up a conversation with her.  Jesus is the seventh man who comes into her life and it is at a point when she is in sin and thirsting for spiritual fulfillment.  In the Bible, and in theology, the number seven pops up a lot; the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, the seven days of Creation, the seven Sacraments.  Hence, the number seven is usually defined in theology as the number of perfection. Who could satisfy the woman’s thirst and need for God more perfectly than Jesus?

Touched deeply by Jesus, the woman spreads the word to her fellow Samaritans.  And the gospel tells us that many Samaritans came to believe in him.  Let us use this season of Lent to allow God to quench the deepest thirsts of our heart and soul, as we continue our journey towards the Resurrection.

A great gift

“If you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift.” (Matt 5:20-26)

Earlier today, I lost my temper at work. There was no excuse, and no reason. I was feeling sorry for myself and frustrated that my plans for a light day at work were being subverted by everything and anything. My back hurt, my head ached, and I needed to be somewhere else when a very small inconvenience set me off. I was so abusive verbally to two different co-workers who I respect greatly.

One of them understandably called me out for disrespect, but I wouldn't hear of it. I stormed off to do my task and let them handle the problem that as a matter of fact only I could handle.

As soon as I walked off in anger, I regretted it. I actually felt sick to my stomach and I couldn't organize my thoughts enough to handle the task at hand. I said to God “I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me!” As plain as day, He put the thought in my mind “If you recall that your brother has anything against you, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and them come and offer your gift.”

I knew that I had to apologize to both of my co-workers (one of whom was still crying at the harshness of my words). It was a very hard apology to make, but I knew I was wrong and I have been trying to go to Mass as much as I can during Lent, and I didn't want to have to face Jesus in the Eucharist after abusing Him so much in my treatment of my neighbors.

Both of them accepted my apology immediately when they realized it was heartfelt and sincere. I think they appreciated that I offered no excuses, only an apology. By the end of the day we were all laughing and working well with one another as if nothing had happened. In fact, I ended up promoting one of them to a higher position with the company, which has been the reason I've been working so hard the last 3 weeks training her for the new position.

So when I got back to the apartment tonight and read the readings for tomorrow in preparation for Mass, imagine my surprise and gratitude that God, through His Church chose to remind me that forgiveness is probably the greatest gift we can receive from one another.

Don't just listen---RESPOND!

For me, telling others my New Year’s resolutions are usually the kiss of death to them.  I hope it’s not going to happen this year because I’m going to share one of mine with you.  I let myself get lax this past year in daily Mass attendance, so I resolved I am going to go to Mass every day that I am able to and if there is a Mass offered.  So far, it’s going well.  I haven’t gone on Saturday’s because I have either been working or traveling for work, but I have been able to go every other day.

 

I love the Mass.  It doesn’t matter which language it’s being celebrated in—it is so comforting to pray with a community, and then to participate in the Holy Sacrifice that prepares us to receive Jesus’ body, blood, soul and divinity.   The Liturgy of the Eucharist is my favorite part of the Mass.

My second favorite part of the Mass is the Liturgy of the Word.  The reasons it takes second place to the Eucharist are two-fold:  First, how can anything compare to a physical union with God?  Secondly—and I hate to admit this—is that I sometimes find some of the readings either confusing or vague.  The days those readings are chosen are when I hope the priest is a good homilist who can tie everything together for me.

With all of that being said, this week’s readings are beautifully tied together by Mother Church and most of the homilies write themselves, so even a poor preacher can make sense of them!

 

The unifying message I see in this week’s readings is that we need to listen and to respond to God’s promptings in our lives. Sometimes they are direct messages from God and sometimes they come through other people (1 Samuel 3:1-10, 19-20, Psalm 40:2-5, 7-8, 8-9, 10 and Mark 1:29-39). But just listening isn’t enough, although it is an important first step.

Lily is at the age (5-years-old) when she has to be asked over and over again, “Did you hear what I said?” Her usual reply is, “I hear you,” to which we have to say, “I need you to listen AND respond.” It’s almost a mantra around our house.

Samuel was listening and he was trying to respond, but he wasn’t listening closely enough to realize it was the Lord speaking to him. He needed Eli to counsel him. That’s OK…we all need the wisdom of elders and those more spiritually in touch than ourselves. Once he learned that God was truly speaking to him, he responded appropriately and developed a deep relationship with the Lord.

The responsorial psalm echoes Samuel’s sentiments: “Here am I, Lord, I come to do your will.” There is special mention of having “ears open” and then acting.

In Mark’s gospel, Jesus listens to His friends’ entreaty to help Simon’s mother-in-law, even if they may have not made a direct request. Just telling Jesus about her plight was enough for Him to immediately respond, reaching out and healing her instantly.

The next day, after a full evening of dealing with crowds gathered at the door and curing as many as possible, He rose early and “went off to a deserted place” to pray. I can just imagine the prayers He offered, probably discussing with His Father the fatigue He may have felt, concerns for others, His hopes for the future, and quietly listening as He absorbed strength from the Holy Spirit.

When His friends found him, He had a response ready for them. He wanted to go to nearby villages and preach, saying, “For this purpose have I come.” Through listening to God’s call through prayer, He was able to focus in on what He was to do. He shows us the way to discover what we are to do: listen to God’s whispers in our hearts and then act on them. We may not always have the extreme clarity to say, “For this purpose have I come,” but sometimes we will, and other times we will know at least what direction we should go and what direction we should avoid.

That’s why I resolved this year to go to Mass as often as I can.  I want to hear the Lord’s voice and respond to His call as best I can.

Can you imagine?

Imagine Jesus leading you down the bank and into the Jordan River to be baptized with Him.  Then picture yourself coming up from the water to hear God’s voice, “This is my beloved son [daughter], with whom I am well pleased.”

What a powerful, yet simple message:  I am good.  The truth is that we all are, whether we believe it or not.  We are good people who sometimes make bad decisions, but we are good nonetheless.  As sons and daughters of God, we can all meet Jesus on the bank of the Jordan river, we can all sink deeply into those life-giving waters, shed our failures, and re-emerge knowing we are good, we are loved, and we are God’s.

Most importantly we re-emerge, made new and ready again to pursue the mission God has laid before us.  Just as Jesus began His ministry after His baptism, we too are called to share the Gospel message of love and hope with everyone we meet from the moment we are baptized to every relief-filled moment after we leave the confessional.  But the Baptism of the Lord goes beyond these Catholic sacraments: It is a message of rebirth and re-missioning for all Christians and every person, whether they know it or not, because we are all deeply loved by God.

You're here, I'm here, there's water. Why not?

In the Gospel of John (John 3:22-30), what initially caught my attention was the phrase describing why (the ‘other’) John was baptizing.  …“because there was an abundance of water there and the people came to be baptized…”.  That struck me as funny.  “Hey! I’m here, you’re here.  There’s a lot of water.  Let’s do this!”

 

Seriously though, St. John [the Baptist] summarizes the role he has had in regard to Christ.  He clarifies that he himself is not the Messiah, but that "he was sent before Him."  He speaks of the joy that this role has given him and that He must increase, and I must decrease.

Our role as baptized Christians has some of the characteristics of St. John the Baptist in that we also are to prepare the way for Christ, not only in our own lives, but in that of others. We do this by the example of how we live our own lives and by teaching informally when the occasion arises.

If we are doing this, we can ask ourselves, "Does this role bring us joy as it did St. John the Baptist? Is this joy evident to others?" Joy prepares a path for Christ. When we step back and decrease, as did St. John the Baptist, we too are making room for Christ as opposed to taking on the glory for ourselves. We prepare the way, but Christ does the rest!

No! Really! I've got something in my eye!

I related a couple of weeks ago that I cried during Mass when, during the annual Christmas children’s play, the “baby Jesus” (usually portrayed by a newborn baby of the parish) is placed in the arms of the girl playing the part of Mary.  I felt as though I was there in that stable those many, many years ago witnessing the humanity of Jesus.

 

This morning at Mass I cried again!  (I hope this isn’t going to be a pattern—I have an image to uphold, you know).  As the Gospel was being read, I placed myself in the synagogue as Jesus was reading the scroll with the passage from Isaiah.  I was as rapt as His audience was then and amazed at His knowledge and teaching.  When He said “Today, in your hearing this Scripture is fulfilled”, I lost it.  My eyes filled with tears and I felt so unworthy to be in His presence, witnessing the divinity of Jesus.

It’s not the first time I’ve realized it, but these last two incidents brought home to me that I really, really believe in Jesus Christ and His Good News!  I felt so blessed!  I was elated when the Holy Spirit reinforced what that can mean for me (and anyone else who believes) in 1John 5:5-13.

To paraphrase John (I hope I got it right!):

  

Faith is our best measure of success. The successful person is the one who believes in Jesus. Jesus was actually born. He is our Savior by blood through His birth in human form and by His death.  Jesus is fully human, born as a baby from a human woman, and fully God. Those who acknowledge His humanity and His divinity are the winners and their prize is eternal life.  Those who believe in God and Jesus and praise Him are blessed, and their children are blessed, and they are blessed with life everlasting.   When we believe in God, when we believe in Jesus, we win.  And our prize is the blessing of our faith, healing, and life everlasting.

Lighten up!

The priest at Mass this morning opened his homily with the following joke.  I’ve been chuckling about it all day.  I couldn’t remember the exact words of the joke, so I googled it for accuracy.  I found it on another person’s blog and copied it.  Before I did though, I also perused the comments in the blog about the post.  First, here’s the joke:

A little girl asked her father, "How did the human race appear?"  The father answered, "God made Adam and Eve and they had children and so was all mankind made.”

Two days later the girl asked her mother the same question. The mother answered, "Many years ago there were monkeys from which the human race evolved."

The confused girl returned to her father and said, "Dad, how is it possible that you told me the human race was created by God, and Mama said they developed from monkeys?"

The father answered, "Well, dear, it is very simple. I told you about my side of the family and your Mama told you about hers."

A couple of the comments took the joke for what it is—humor.  But the “atheism at any cost” types were vehement in denouncing any theory about the creation of the human race other than simply the science of evolution.  When will they realize that seemingly opposing viewpoints in regard to science and faith are almost never “either/or”, but most often they are “both/and”?  

To get the real explanation of what the Catholic Church teaches about the beginning of the human race, read the Catechism of the Catholic Church Paragraphs 282-289.

 

In the meantime, lighten up.

The wondrous deeds of God

The wondrous deeds of God are known to anyone who takes the time to look for them and to reflect on what they see, or hear, or sense in any way.   Who doesn’t appreciate a beautiful sunrise or sunset?   Who isn’t impressed by the sight of untarnished natural surroundings?  My cousin Amy frequently posts on Facebook photos she has taken.  She always gives the credit to God for the wonders she sees.  

How can anyone who has witnessed the birth of a child not be overwhelmed with gratitude to God by the miracle of life?

What about the technological advances of the last 100 years or so?  Although some may argue that these are the works of men, I counter that without our God-given intellect, we would not have these wonders.  

These are all given to us by a generous God.  How can one be aware of and respond to these wonders without singing joyfully to the Lord?! (Psalm 67:4)

This time of year we are reminded of the wonders of people caring for each other.  While people are homeless and hungry and ill-clothed throughout the year, something about Advent and Christmas reminds us that this is a special time to care for our sisters and brothers.  Toy drives, food collections, fuel subsidies, and other programs unite givers and receivers during this time of year more than any other.  We mirror God’s wondrous generosity with our own.

And yet, it’s so easy to take all this for granted, to demand and expect wonders because they have become part of our lives and so mundane.  These wonders become ingrained in our short memory horizons, and so we expect that we will always be comfortable in our needs, that “someone” will certainly develop a new something to fix this or that problem.  It’s amazing that the marvel of new things has a short life of public interest because something new is coming soon.  If we stop to think we might appreciate the wondrous things about us, but too often we are lulled by complacency.  We forget that what we know today is the culmination of all our prior human understanding of the mysteries that God has created.

One of the most wondrous things that God has done is to give us children and grandchildren, because as they grow they remind us by their exuberance to truly appreciate the wonders we encounter.  Since their memories are short, children see with the new eyes of one who is not jaded.  Lily, who just turned 5 years old a couple of weeks ago, greets me with a great big hug and “OOMPAH, you’re home!” every time I walk in the door after a few days absence as if it has been years since we last saw each other.  It melts my heart every time.  It doesn’t matter what kind of a day or week I’ve been having.  Once I feel that unconditional love nothing else matters.

 

And so my prayer today as I start this new year—and  my wish for you—is for the grace to be like a child, discovering with joy every minute of every day the wonders the Lord has done, and for the freedom to break into songs of praise for the God who loves us.