It is the early weekday Mass that drew Robert, my husband, and I to the tiny parish during Lent. Last year I went to this Mass alone and was surprised when I arrived at the church one morning to find it locked. The rectory sits just behind the side entrance to the church so I went to the door to ask the priest if Mass would be held. He said yes but explained that it would no longer be offered in the church due to poor attendance and invited me into the rectory where he had prepared the dining room for the service.

The rectory’s unadorned dining room is approximately eight by ten feet, has a diminutive table in the center with four narrow wooden chairs that are placed against the wall. On top of the satin tablecloth to the left of the table sits a small wooden bookstand that holds the sacramentary, the corporal on which the chalice with the purificator, ciborium, paten, and the pall are neatly arranged in the center, and to their right the cruets rest atop a five by five inch clear square of glass. The Holy Sacrifice begins as it does around the world, with the sign of the cross, and the service is performed as though millions are present. In many ways they are. The priest symbolizes the worldwide holy ministerial orders of the Roman Catholic priesthood, Robert and I represent the faithful, and within my spirit I feel the ever-present heavenly hosts in this tiny room.

Recently, two visiting nuns have joined us and since their arrival I’ve taken notice to the objects hanging on the wall of the room. On the easterly wall is a clock, on the northerly wall is a calendar and a couple of pictures I’ve not had a clear look at, to the west is a window, but it’s the wall facing the south that has captured my attention and I’m not certain why it didn’t long before now. Perhaps I was too focused on the unique venue of the celebration and the obligatory responses, but on that wall is a haunting print of the flight into Egypt with Blessed Virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus on a donkey that is crossing a plain overgrown with tall dried grass and just behind them, barely visible, is St. Joseph.

Not long ago the print drew me into it. The engaging image is not a distinctive one. Its opaque hues of blue nearly camouflage the likeness of a lady wearing a hooded mantle atop the animal that is wading through lanky overgrown tawny grass that is slightly above its gaskin. Maybe the artist was trying to emulate dusk or dawn, it could be either. She is holding the infant with all the tenderness of a devoted loving mother. So riveted to the lady, I nearly missed the slightly discernible following presence of what may well be an exhausted and anxious St. Joseph. And, he had every reason to be both – the journey was spur-of-the-moment, the cause terrifying.

I am especially sensitive to the suffering of this holy family each time that I recite the sorrowful mysteries, or when I see a picture of the Pieta, or when this time of year arrives, Lent, or when it is specifically mentioned in conversation or Mass. In actuality though, I feel it should be remembered every day of my life; it is what I hope to accomplish.

If I can remember what this holy family, each member – Jesus, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and St. Joseph – suffered during their stopover dubbed life I would be less inclined to complain, wish life were kinder, fairer, easier, simpler.

If I could just remember how difficult their cross was to bear, mine would seem far lighter and smaller.

If I could remind myself each time I wanted to be exempt from pain or suffering of how painful and sorrowful it was for them in life, surely I would be closer to whom God, the Almighty, created me to be. If only.

So, that is one task before me as I fend off the self-centeredness of my humanity during this Lenten Season…and the days beyond that are given me in this year, in this life.

I thank God for opening my eyes to such beauty, such pain, and such selflessness as portrayed in the tints of blue that hang on the wall of the tiny rectory dining room where the sacrifice of the Mass has energized my spirit far greater than that of St. Peter’s Basilica, or even Basilica of Our Lady of Peace of Yamoussoukro might.

It isn’t always the place in which we find ourselves that matters; often it’s where our hearts and spirits are that make all the difference in this world.

“When they had departed, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Rise, take the child and his mother, flee to Egypt, and stay there until I tell you. Herod is going to search for the child to destroy him.” Joseph rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed for Egypt. He stayed there until the death of Herod, that what the Lord had said through the prophet might be fulfilled, “Out of Egypt I called my son.”

When Herod realized that he had been deceived by the magi, he became furious. He ordered the massacre of all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had ascertained from the magi. Then was fulfilled what had been said through Jeremiah the prophet: “A voice was heard in Ramah, sobbing and loud lamentation; Rachel weeping for her children, and she would not be consoled, since they were no more.”             Matthew 2:13-18

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God always Bless you.}

For over four decades the words I’ve savored throughout the Mass have caused my soul to soar, lifted my spirit heaven bound, lightened my cross of burdens (for at least an hour), and embraced the core of fabric from which I was made. Yes, the expressions from the priest offered at Mass and those the participants utter in reply have served me well – until 2011.

Reluctantly, I must admit that contrary to the way I am so accustomed to celebrating Mass, it no longer feels celebratory. I feel completely left out. Not because I have not fervently tried to adjust to the rephrasing of the Mass, I truly have; it is because I no longer “feel” the words that I am asked to replace with those as familiar to me as my name.

I don’t intend this piece to be a complaint. It is not. It is a confession that I strongly pray will somehow purge my soul and make room for these unwanted changes in a ceremony that I have loved all my life, with all my heart. It is also excision of an ardent struggle to keep from feeling that in my Father’s home I have been reduced to that of a stranger. Even Latin, perhaps because of the beauty of the language, did not leave my spirit encumbered and spent as the recent changes in text of the Mass.

If this position were mine alone I would not feel as compelled to share my viewpoint, but so many that I’ve spoken with, including priests, have expressed feeling the same way. I have listened to a few priests explain that the changes were intended to more closely align the translation from Latin to English, however, that only makes me wonder about the heedfulness of those assigned the task more than forty years ago, and at what point these changes too will be deemed unacceptable.

Instead of freeing my spirit within the confines of my Father’s home and experiencing euphoric liberation to worship Him, I am distracted with securing the missal – which I have not needed in lo these past forty plus years – or the laminated trifolds (equivalent to CliffsNotes for the Mass) now scattered throughout church. Before these changes I was a totally and completely immersed participant in a ceremony that I knew pleased God as no other action a mortal could employ.

To cite two examples: It is no less baffling to me now as the first time I read the Greeting response from, “And also with you.” to “And with your spirit.” Are we not our spirit, just encased (by God) in these mortal bodies on His earth? Why was it felt that it was so important to include that which cannot be left out of a blessing anyway (our spirit) – since lacking the human condition of our bodies we would not be in Mass.

Secondly, changes to the Penitential Act (Form A) are equally enigmatic to me: in the original text we admitted to be sinners ‘through our fault’ – to repeat it three times may have appeared necessary yet that is beyond my comprehension too since God hears us without need for repetition. And, can anyone conclusively say that in the eyes of God all sin is not considered “great”?

More often than not I now listen in Mass rather than participate as fully as before. I notice too many others having the same experience and the words of Luke 11:46 come to mind: “Woe to you, scholars of the law! You have taken away the key of knowledge. You yourselves did not enter and you stopped those trying to enter.”

I knew and understood every reenactment and word spoken in Mass before the changes, regretfully, now I do not. Every Sunday I wish I did; I wish the entity that made the decision for these changes would reconsider their position, admit it may not have been the best idea and allow those who faithfully and lovingly attend Mass every Sunday and Holy Day and often everyday throughout the week, continue to do that in the well established fashion that surely was no less pleasing to God, pre-November 2011.

Please join me in prayer that God’s will be done. As time passes we will know what that is in this regard and should act accordingly.

“The LORD supports all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down. The eyes of all look hopefully to you; you give them their food in due season. You open wide your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing. The LORD is just in all his ways, merciful in all his works. The LORD is near to all who call upon him, to all who call upon him in truth. He fulfills the desire of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them.”                    Psalms 145:14-19

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God always Bless you.}

When I was first taught about the two sacraments that concern the absence of life – baptism and penance – it took extra consideration for me as a young girl to recognize that these rites extend sanctifying grace to souls spiritually dead prior to their apportionment. I had not thought of them in that light. In my naiveté I couldn’t associate baptism with death; and, penance seemed only a process to erase mistakes, I did not associate it with death either.

Baptism imprints upon the soul a spiritual mark which lasts forever but thankfully penance, through the Grace of God, may be administered as many times as we require it whenever we fall in our attempt to carry the cross of life we have been given. Prior to receiving both sacraments the soul is in grave danger of the worst condition imaginable – permanent separation from God.

As penance assumes the vanguard position during this Lenten season I am reminded of a recent conversation. Not long ago I spoke with a man that I have known for many years, Rick, who is a few years younger than I. Rick was a reckless boy, immature in many ways, brash, and exercised poor judgment more often than not. As he grew his choices rarely improved with time. Those of us who knew him attributed his behavior to a home where his mother drank alcohol often and excessively, an absent father, and a far too lenient grandmother. I have seen God-fearing strong women successfully rear male children and transform them into the men they were created to become, but a woman weak to alcohol or other destructive habits has only the tiniest of margins to succeed in that effort unless the child miraculously assumes the parental role. Short of that, the journey for a boy to become a man requires good influence and the careful guidance of a man. As irreverent as Rick became he was never disrespectful to me and periodically when we ran into one another through mutual friends our exchange was always cordial.

The recent phone call from Rick concerned a business matter. After it was concluded he asked if I had a few minutes just to talk and as the conversation flowed I became engrossed by his openness. Rick explained that he had just concluded a round of chemotherapy and felt the need to share an experience with me. His diagnosis of cancer was well known as was the fact that he was undergoing treatment in a facility upstate. That was not what Rick wanted to talk about. He wanted to share an encounter that he faced a few months earlier, just before his doctor discovered his cancer.

Rick said after tests were run to determine his then unknown condition he experienced a dream in which he descended rapidly and deeply into an abyss of indescribable darkness. He likened the transport to that of being in one of those glass elevators except the descent that began slowly took on a falling sensation; his heart raced in unison with the unexpected drop. He felt fear that was far greater than any of the harrowing episodes of his tumultuous life, and I must admit that given what I knew of him that was quite a statement. Rick’s voice quivered as he described the dream and I knew that only raw emotion drove him to continue. He said that at first he wasn’t sure he was dreaming; he thought the symptoms that caused him to seek medical care were too far delayed and that he had died. Somehow that notion was dispelled and while he felt no relief with that knowledge he immediately sensed the message he was receiving might easily result in death. Whatever the vehicle that he believed he was in stopped suddenly and just as abruptly he felt tugged, first on his feet, then legs, and arms and he wanted to run away but was unable. Screams more akin to shrieks surrounded him in the stark darkness and touching quickly became clawing. He said that he cried out, “No! Please no.” and without the benefit of sight somehow recognized every sin that he had committed throughout his life. He described his remorse for each one. Rick said he screamed out to God and begged His forgiveness and mercy as the embodiment of suffering laughed mercilessly at his condition and his pleas. Rick said he just knew that the overwhelming sensation to repent overrode even his yearning to escape this place of despair as the realization that each sin before him was a direct affront on God, his creator. Despite the three-fold amass of fear his consuming thought was of how his life offended God, and his sorrow in that alone was overwhelming. He realized that God did not deserve the pain of his lifelong decisions and that they earned him his present circumstance.

Suddenly he heard a voice ask him if this was the future he wanted in eternity and his immediate reply of “No!” brought about a soft light. However, the result was terrifying. Materialized before him were grotesque deformed figures that wailed in agony and struggled to reach him although at that point they could not. He said that he was petrified, unable to speak, yet the presence engaged him in what he could only describe as transcendental conversation in which he completely understood and responded to this light-bearer as though with their voices.

At the point of near despair the entity explained that it is a sin to despair for that is deliberate refusal to trust that God will give us the help necessary to save our soul. It was neither an accusatory nor gentle admonition, merely an offering of facts. Rick said that he accepted, acknowledged, and appreciated every detail given him throughout this discourse and as quickly as he descended into the gaping pit, he felt the familiarity of his bed.

Instantly he understood the full meaning of his experience. He had been given an opportunity to repent. He dropped to his knees, offered thanksgiving to God, The Almighty, and soon after his telephone rang. He was instructed to come to his physician’s office. When he arrived he was told of his cancer and the treatment that was available. His prognosis was less than desirable but Rick said that he was numb to the news and could only pray there was enough time to get his life in order to stand before God. He had been blessed with a second chance and he would be eternally grateful for whatever amount of time that involved.

When we concluded our conversation we prayed together and thanked God for Rick’s extension. He had an obligation to find God but who among us can boast that we have lived our lives just as God would wish us to? Who can cast the first stone at Rick? I certainly would not be among them. After we hung up I prayed for his soul and all who find themselves outside of decisions that God would want for us while we have the opportunity to choose. I am certain that He still does not want to lose anyone.

The gift of life is extraordinarily precious but many in the world are proficient at convincing God’s weaker children to take it for granted, treat is casually, reject life-giving decisions, ignore God’s wishes.

“LORD, you have probed me, you know me: you know when I sit and stand; you understand my thoughts from afar. You sift through my travels and my rest; with all my ways you are familiar. Even before a word is on my tongue, LORD, you know it all. Behind and before you encircle me and rest your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, far too lofty for me to reach. Where can I go from your spirit? From your presence, where can I flee? If I ascend to the heavens, you are there; if I lie down in Sheol, there you are. If I take the wings of dawn and dwell beyond the sea, even there your hand guides me, your right hand holds me fast. If I say, “Surely darkness shall hide me, and night shall be my light,”— darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. Darkness and light are but one. You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise you, because I am wonderfully made; wonderful are your works! My very self you know. My bones are not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, fashioned in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw me unformed; in your book all are written down; my days were shaped, before one came to be. How precious to me are your designs, O God; how vast the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the sands; when I complete them, still you are with me. When you would destroy the wicked, O God, the bloodthirsty depart from me! Your foes who conspire a plot against you are exalted in vain.”           Psalms 139:1-20

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God always Bless you.}

]]> http://catholicdaily.net/riseup/2012/03/01/sanctifying-grace/feed/ 4 http://catholicdaily.net/riseup/2012/01/24/silencing-cogitation/ http://catholicdaily.net/riseup/2012/01/24/silencing-cogitation/#comments Tue, 24 Jan 2012 16:16:51 +0000 anicholson http://catholicdaily.net/riseup/?p=218 Continue reading →]]> The list of ways to safeguard the soul is a lengthy one – strengthen one’s faith, habitual study of religious teachings, confession, daily prayer, attend Mass regularly, read only spiritually enriching material, view only inspirational programs or movies, charitable works, follow the ten commandments, and be especially observant of actions and words – are just a few.

We’ve heard those and many more reminders scores of times. Faithful practice of the suggestions from the above list is important to our spiritual health but of those the one that may be critically daunting to achieve is that concerning speech.

Comments fall so easily from our mouths when subjects are presented; everyone has an opinion and readily shares it. Few of us are guiltless. Articulating our views with little to no restraint does happen when often it would better serve our souls (and others) if we, at minimum, severely censored and limited comments, or preferably shackled our lips into silence altogether unless our words rendered praise to God, were constructive, or encouraged one another.

Inadvertently, three acquaintances often help me remember to hold my opinions in check and not be so expressive as to endanger the future that I so ardently pray to experience. When I hear useless information and judgmental inference invariably it is jolting and persuades me to minimize my time in the company of those who don’t feel likewise; however, sometimes that is not possible because of mutual involvement in organizations and activities wholesome and worthwhile that I believe in and are beneficial to many.

These three are not worthless individuals or gossips and while their actions typify what Catholicism teaches as charitable acts their words reveal uncharitableness toward others when meetings convene in which collectively we participate. In the not so distant past in one of those meetings it seemed reasonable to one attendee (with a kindred spirit to the thinking of all but the three) to diplomatically bring their faux pas front and center with a well-intentioned chide that was met only with resentment. Dissension resulted where acquiescence should have prevailed.

It was preferable to think the offenders naïve rather than callous each time their words stained the character of others and their souls with the sin of rash judgment, detraction, or calumny. Increasingly though, hope is waning since in the absence of these few offenders the words of idle insinuation is nonexistent at our meetings. This community of volunteers gather to assist others and the majority of altruistically inclined tolerate often intolerable behavior from a few in hopes (and prayers) that eventually what we cannot seem to expose in words, God in His time will one day impart to these otherwise decent three opinionated members.

I tend to agree with the adage: from all bad comes some good. The indiscretions of associates that are also members of organizations that I support remind the rest of us of the importance of the spoken word. Words can give life or death and we are responsible for how and when we use them; we will be judged on how we use them.

Wisdom in the choice of words and when we share them is critical to the state of our souls; it is essential because as James 1:19 reminds us, “Remember this, my dear brothers! Everyone must be quick to listen, but slow to speak and slow to become angry.”

Like with any offense, when we share disparaging opinions they will eventually lead us to the valley of regret whereby guilt and punishment exist.

All offenses are against God. They should lead to frequent examination of conscience and ultimately confession since we understand that contrition is absolutely necessary for the forgiveness of sin, and true sorrow includes a firm purpose to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Foremost in pointless verbal disclosures (truth or rumor) we subject ourselves to offending God, and secondarily incur the debt of temporal punishment whereby penance is imposed that the Church teaches will be satisfied here or in the hereafter.

There is never a way to know the true relationship one has with God and I do not mean to imply that the average person can always refrain from forming assessments or opinions of others in their minds from what we see and hear, but we can keep those opinions to ourselves.

If we circumvent the tendency to speak without thought of consequences now and later we can substantially limit the practice of unnecessary speech. Otherwise, how sincerely can we claim true love of God when what we say belies what we do?

It is well worth an additional prayer of petition to God to keep ever before us the possibility of having our names omitted from the book of the living due to misuse of the vocal capacity He so graciously endowed upon us.

“I will punish those who have hurt others with their injustice. Jerusalem’s humiliation will come to an end, and this age which is about to pass away will have the final seal put on it. Then I will give the following signs: the books will be opened across the sky for all to see.”        2 Esdras 6:19-20

“You can be sure that on the Judgment Day everyone will have to give account of every useless word he has ever spoken. Your words will be used to judge you – to declare you either innocent or guilty.”     Matthew 12:36-37.

“Then I saw a great white throne and the one who sits on it. Earth and heaven fled from his presence and were seen no more. And I saw the dead, great and small alike, standing before the throne. Books were opened, and then another book was opened, the book of the living. The dead were judged according to what they had done, as recorded in the books.”                         Revelation 20:11-12

{Thank you for spending some time with me. God Bless you always.}

Grade school was coming to a close for me then and I didn’t understand why he dressed in his good suit, shoes shined to a sparkle, and went to church every Saturday yet we went to Mass every Sunday. I found his practice of Saturday worship baffling so the next time I saw him dressed for church I posed my question. He didn’t answer me then but told me he would later.

A few days passed before Paw-Paw called me over to his porch. He told me that he was not Catholic, but was a practicing Seven Day Adventist. I had no idea what that was but obviously they believed in going to church on Saturday. We talked for quite a while as he tried to explain why Saturday was the Sabbath and, in turn, I tried to rationalize how that could be. It didn’t make much sense to me then but I wanted to be respectful and asked only the questions that reflected that.

Paw-Paw believed that scripture proved him right and, bible in hand, told me to check it for myself. Of course at the time I couldn’t but felt telling him that would only solidify his belief that Catholicism was wrong in its teachings and practices as he mentioned beforehand. He told me that even the Ten Commandments confirmed how wrong Catholics were in observing the Sabbath, and said we even had them wrong. Catholics, he said, believed that the commandment concerning the Sabbath was the third one, when clearly it was the fourth. He told me to count the days for myself and I had to admit that if you began counting Sunday as the first day of the week the seventh, indeed, was Saturday!

I went home flustered and hopeful to find out which denomination had it right. Paw-Paw would not be the beneficiary of my discovery because it would have been disrespectful to argue the points we discussed, but it would greatly benefit my spirit.

My first (and actually only) source of information at the time was Father McGuire’s new Baltimore Catechism from which all religious instruction that I received in school to that point was taken. I hurriedly scanned the pages to soothe my troubled state. I reviewed those that addressed our discussion and in doing so assimilated it wasn’t just Paw-Paw’s faith that declared Saturday the Sabbath – the Jewish religion agreed with that premise as well. However, my religion book clarified how that came to be: it was a truth held before Christ established His Church, the one, true, Catholic Church.

The teachings so familiar to me were validated in my catechism book, that the Catholic Church commands us to keep Sunday as the Lord’s Day because it was on a Sunday that Christ rose from the dead and when the Holy Spirit came down upon the apostles. The Catechism affirmed that we, as Catholics, are strictly obliged on Sundays to attend the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass and to keep from doing any servile work that is not necessary. With a sigh of relief I had only one matter left to resolve: was it the third or fourth commandment that spoke of the Sabbath? According to Father McGuire, it was the third!

Throughout the years since those I continue to wonder about denominations and their beliefs about which commandment is third or fourth, and which day really is the Sabbath. Exponentially my consideration of the two subjects grew post-Vatican II (late 60′s) when Saturday Mass became the norm and the line became blearier for me on which day the Sabbath fell. If the Catholic Church allowed Saturday Mass sufficient to satisfy our obligation to attend Sunday Mass could Fr. McGuire have been wrong on both counts?

Paw-Paw would have been rapturous to know that now sometimes I attend Mass on Saturdays and I often think of him when I do. It still feels odd though. He died not long after we began our discussions of God and religion and our respective beliefs so I never got the opportunity as an adult to revisit the subjects with him although I wish I had. Before he passed I found that he was interesting to talk to and true to his beliefs, and ever before me was the possibility that I may have presented him with more than a listening ear.

As to the matter of keeping the Sabbath – we must allow our conscience to guide us. And, if the number of the commandment that reminds us to praise God in a way that is more special than any other day ranks third of fourth among His ten commandments, perhaps in the end His kindness and mercy will shine forth in the mere fact that we are mindful and vigilant in keeping it.

There is much to read and consider especially about the Sabbath and one source beautifully written is an apostolic letter from Pope John Paul II , Dies Domini, to the bishops, clergy and faithful on keeping the Lords Day holy:

Pope John Paul II apostolic letter

“Observe the sabbath day—keep it holy, as the LORD, your God, commanded you. Six days you may labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath of the LORD your God. You shall not do any work, either you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your ox or donkey or any work animal, or the resident alien within your gates, so that your male and female slave may rest as you do. Remember that you too were once slaves in the land of Egypt, and the LORD, your God, brought you out from there with a strong hand and outstretched arm. That is why the LORD, your God, has commanded you to observe the sabbath day.”          Deuteronomy 5:12-15

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}

For years he explained where his important papers were and frequently reminded my sister and me of what needed to be taken care of when he passed. I really didn’t want to consider that time. Everyone must die but there was no guarantee that he would precede me in death yet my father felt the need to reiterate his directives, so reluctantly yet quietly I listened whenever he inserted the subject into our conversations.

His written will and explicit verbal instructions over the years ensured that when the time came his burial arrangements and business affairs would be settled seamlessly. We very much appreciated the effort he exerted in downsizing his closets, wardrobes, chest of drawers and furnishings so that we would not have to. Having to allot the belongings of a loved one will certainly augment an already painful experience.

My father’s sparse closet was a poignant reminder that there is much to say for the diminution of possessions while we have the strength and presence of mind to do so. There are so many in need of the clothing we have not used in the last six months (or more) or household furnishings that primarily collect dust, and it’s liberating to donate these items before we become guilty of allowing our possessions to possess us.

To care about the earth and establish the good practice of recycling is no doubt commendable; to carry that concept further by recycling our physical blessings to those in need is God-inspired. Those less fortunate depend on the generosity of God’s people to whom much has been given. It is the ultimate recycling plan, and above that, pleasing to God. But He may require more. Buying extra food and dropping it off at the thousands of missionary centers may offer a meal to an otherwise deprived person or family in these economically challenging times for many. There are hundreds of ways we can give to others; God expects us to find at least one way.

Particularly throughout the Book of Proverbs several verses remind us not to forget the poor:

Proverbs 11:4             “Wealth is useless on a day of wrath, but justice saves from death.”

Proverbs 19:17           “Whoever cares for the poor lends to the LORD, who will pay back the sum in full.”

Proverb 22:2               “Rich and poor have a common bond: the LORD is the maker of them all.”

Proverbs 22: 22-23       “Do not rob the poor because they are poor, nor crush the needy at the gate; For the LORD will defend their cause, and will plunder those who plunder them.”

Proverbs 28:8             “Whoever amasses wealth by interest and overcharge gathers it for the one who is kind to the poor.”

Proverbs 28:27           “Those who give to the poor have no lack, but those who avert their eyes, many curses.”

Proverbs 29:7             “The just care for the cause of the poor; the wicked do not understand such care.”

Proverbs 31:8-9          “Open your mouth in behalf of the mute, and for the rights of the destitute; Open your mouth, judge justly, defend the needy and the poor!”

Soon the Church will delegate speakers to address the annual Catholic Charities Appeal. Every weekday, on Sunday throughout the year, and on Holy Days of Obligation we are fed by the Word of God while on this one Sunday we receive a reminder of the opportunity to give generously to others while we can. The New Testament also reminds us of our duty to help God’s people who cannot help the dire straits they may find themselves facing.

John 13:34-35             “I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Matthew 25:35-40      “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me. Then the righteous will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’ And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’”

Although it is disputed that the following quote was made by the man known to me as Stephen Grellet, born Etienne de Grellet du Mabillier, a former Roman Catholic turned Quaker, I kept it on my office wall for many years and still find it inspiring: “I shall pass through this world but once. Any good, therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.”

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}

Today a lifelong friend stopped by just to say hello. We met when we were six years old. At that time she lived around the corner from my great-aunt and one day just as I stepped out of my mother’s car Joni walked toward me cuddling a small yellow kitten close to her chest. I recognized her from school which had started a few weeks before that day. She approached me as though we were already friends and that was the start of our lifelong friendship.

Joni was the smartest girl in our class. She hardly had to study at all. From first to twelfth grade she was a straight “A” student. Throughout that time she won every academic award offered, earned placement on the honor roll every semester in high school and when she received full academic scholarship to the university of her choice she maintained a Dean’s List average. I greatly admired her inherent academic acumen and the fact that she never flaunted or bragged about it but generously came to the aid of anyone for any reason. Meanwhile, she was (and remains) the ultimate animal lover and magnet for strays. Instinctively they know that she will not only care for them, but will also offer them compassion and love. Today she has four cats and a dog. For her that count is scant; typically she houses upward of seven cats and three dogs and attentively sees after their care in food, medical expenses, and hygiene.

As I prepared tea for us today the phone rang, it was another friend, Ursula. I put the phone on speaker just so the two could say hello and then would have turned the feature off but Ursula asked me to leave it on as she just wanted a moment of time. She asked if I would join her in prayer for her son’s health that had worsened since we last spoke and expressed concern that the doctors were still conducting tests to determine a diagnosis.

When the conversation ended Joni commented that she wished she had my faith, she called it “the really strong kind”. I realized she had been saying that to me for all the years I’ve known her and going even further by telling anyone who would listen that my prayers were especially persuasive and effective. In the last few years she even cited my husband’s and my cancer survival as examples. Although I thought she was teasing I discovered that she wasn’t. She was convinced that her opinion of me was right despite my strong protests or attempts to explain that faith is a gift and my prayers have no stronger effect than hers or anyone else’s. The look of doubt in her eyes remained as I told her Ursula’s request wasn’t directed just at me; she was soliciting prayers from those who knew the power of group prayer.

Although we shared religion classes for twelve years I reminded Joni that fortification of faith comes from the bible. We must believe not only CAN God answer prayers but that He WILL.

Joni admitted she analyzed the bible to the extent that it caused her to abandon study of it. Instead of thinking on the whole, often she would fixate on a word which ultimately veiled the true message. As I thought about it she had the same struggle when we were in high school and a group of us discussed what we were taught in religion class. Her analytical logic interfered with her faith. Faith does not follow the course of logic.

Hebrews 11:1 explains – “To have faith is to be sure of the things we hope for, to be certain of the things we cannot see.”

Joni is a good person, respectful of God, highly intelligent, compassionate and patient with people and animals (sometimes to a fault), generous, kind, and for thirty-five years worked with the poor as a social worker. During her tenure they had no better advocate. We talked about all of those things as we shared a few cups of tea.

I know she will consider my words that often I prayed her faith would increase, that she would come to understand belief in God begets faith and is for all who ask and exercise it. She couldn’t deny that if what she thought and told others about me was indeed true by now she would have the faith of Abraham!

We may not have gotten to the heart of what was on her mind today but her smile assured me she would return soon or if she was too busy tending her pets she would call to discuss specifics over the whole reason for today’s visit. That is just Joni’s way.

“Where two or three are gathered together in My Name, I am there in the midst of them.”          Matthew 18:20

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}

I don’t remember why I joined the choir in grade school, perhaps it was my mother’s doing, however, I do remember that I was glad to be a part of a faction that praised God through music. It made me feel good. The choir sang every Sunday at Mass, for Mass on Holy Days of Obligation, and other occasions such as weddings. It was the funerals that I would have preferred to skip. Yet, I was loyal to my obligation and sang as required at those too.

Forevermore when I hear the Ave Maria sung, in Latin or English, it will conjure memories of one funeral in particular that our choir was required to sing for when I was in seventh grade. Under the direction of Sister Maureen Therese we practiced after school and on weekends. During the week and after those practices four of my friends who were also in the choir and I often gathered to discuss a range of subjects. None could remember who singled her out but the magnetism was spun by the question, “Isn’t she pretty?” Another commented, “Pretty, isn’t the word.” They were both right. Collectively we were suctioned into the je ne sais quoi of a senior in high school and everyday thereafter we would watch her walk by our playground with the other high school students on their way home from school. Her name was Eulaylei. She had no idea we existed but every girl in my seventh grade class felt the same about her – she was the most beautiful girl we knew. None of us envied her beauty, we admired it. It wasn’t just physical beauty that she possessed; she was kind and described as a gentle soul by those who knew her well. We were mesmerized with every aspect of her life.

On what was an otherwise typical Monday morning we went to Mass, returned to the classroom, said our morning prayers and Sister Mary Claire began our first subject only to be interrupted by the principal. Outside in the hallway there was a brief discussion between them and Sr. Mary Claire returned and announced that Sr. Maureen Therese wanted the girls in the choir to report to the church for a special practice. Although everyone wondered what was happening no one talked on the walk from the classroom to the church. The choir director offered only a curt statement: “Today, Tuesday, and Wednesday the choir will practice to perform for a funeral Mass that will be held on Thursday.” No one in the choir was aware of any deaths in the parish or neighborhood so her announcement created a wave of questions. Sr. Maureen Therese asked for quiet and received our full attention.

Over the weekend a young police officer pursued a suspect and that person hid in an alleyway. The officer was shot by the suspect and died early that Monday morning. It was his funeral that would be held on Thursday morning. After more discussion we learned that the officer was Eulaylei’s fianće; they planned to marry shortly after her graduation less than two months away. We were speechless.

On the day of the funeral the choir assembled in the loft of the church to sing while friends and congregants gathered below us to pay their respects. The casket of the deceased was rolled down the aisle as his parents physically supported Eulaylei; they followed it and eased into the front pew. Tears could be found of the faces of the entire congregation. The choir could barely sing the Latin version of Ave Maria, and Sr. Maureen Therese’s sole voice was the only one clear and audible. Throughout the entire service the mournful sobs of Eulaylei also filled the church and her black veil hid the pain that was apparent and shared by all for the couple whose future had been so bright only days before.

To young impressionable girls who sought fitting role models I discovered that Eulaylei was not where our attention should have been on that day or any other; ever before us stands the ultimate paradigm, the Blessed Mother who invariably directs us to her Son. As is written in 1 Peter 4:13 – “Rather be glad that you are sharing Christ’s sufferings, so that you may be full of joy when His glory is revealed.”

Latin was the language used in Mass and song at that time so I didn’t realize it then but later I considered the words to the song that stirs the emotions of so many. They are, in fact, the prayer that is repeated by Catholics worldwide in the rosary and, for me, when no other prayer seems appropriate: the Hail Mary!

These few words suffice whatever the occasion, be it joyful or sorrowful:

Hail Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with thee,
blessed art thou amongst women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.

“You have been raised to life with Christ, so set your hearts on the things that are in heaven, where Christ sits on His throne at the right side of God. Keep your minds fixed on things there, not on things here on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. Your real life is Christ and when He appears, then you too will appear with him and share his glory!”                   Colossians 3:1-4

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}

I don’t at all mean to imply that the less fortunate have not been blessed. God has His reasons for creating each of us just as He allowed and I cannot find justification for questioning any of His decisions. Although quite a few people that I know or have known have no problem is doing just that, still, I leave those actions to those who are comfortable with them.

Powerful consolation available to all who seek the truth comes in many forms. God has left us unmistakable evidence of His existence even for those who choose to overlook creation alone. He sent His only Son to guarantee that His message was received. Once His ministry began, Jesus gathered followers not for companionship, He is the Son of the Most High and needs no one else. His followers were also witnesses. When He returned home the Holy Spirit took over and inspired the writings of the apostles and thousands of saints that so comfort truth seekers when the time is taken to find and meditate on them.

Past messages from the Blessed Mother, and more recently in our times today, there are those from Medjugorje that are given to the six visionaries each month for our benefit. It takes my breath away that the Blessed Mother’s love is so profound as to visit earth at all, but that these visits have occurred for such a historically extended period is mindboggling. I am deeply grateful to her. Like obviously millions of others, I prayed for her return just as she had done at Fatima. She heard our prayers and illustriously responded.

And, if the love of the Blessed Mother is so overwhelming, what of the love of the triune God?

One theme has been consistent in the messages from Medjugorje: Blessed Mother advises us to pray. In her words, “Pray. Pray. Pray.” We should take her words to heart. The more we utilize the power of prayer the more substantial our relationship with God becomes and the fullness of life is revealed in unexpected ways.

In this age of information sharing it is impossible not to find God if we want to. The bible, thousands of other obviously inspired books, priests with an astonishing command of theology, apparitions that are occurring all over the world, and the faithful willing and able to epitomize the true meaning of how children of God conduct themselves are only a few sources that also witness not only to God but to the love of God.

If there is but one catchphrase to adopt as life moves forward it may serve us well to be: God IS love!

He is OUR Father – notwithstanding His perfection, that fact alone is reason to bow before Him daily in exaltation and thank Him for every second of every day.

“This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice in it and be glad.”          Psalms 118:24

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}

For the most part much of the hype in 1988 was stirred by a book that gave 88 reasons why the rapture could occur that year. Of course, following the rapture was the end! I did not read the book but once tired of hearing the propaganda I revisited the only trustworthy source available on the future – the bible. What I discovered brought me great comfort.

Matthew explained it definitively in 24:36 – “No one knows, however, when that day and hour will come – neither the angels in heaven nor the Son; the Father alone knows.”

Mark confirms and expounds on the aforementioned explanation in 13:32 – “No one knows, however, when that day or hour will come – neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son; only the Father knows. Be on watch, be alert, for you do not know when the time will come. It will be like a man who goes away from home on a trip and leaves his servants in charge, after giving to each one his own work to do and after telling the doorkeeper to keep watch. Watch then, because you do not know when the master of the house is coming – it might be in the evening or at midnight or before dawn or at sunrise. If he comes suddenly, he must not find you asleep. What I say to you, then, I say to all: Watch!”

Primarily, I considered the misinformation of 1988 because of the book of Revelation. As has always been the case for me, I love a happy ending. Revelation offers that, of course, with a cautionary conclusion neither to add nor take away anything from the prophetic words. Revelation reveals that Jesus promises to come soon! For me, that is the happiest ending of all time.

When He does come I long for the invitation that is ever before us. The one the angel foretold to John, the author of Revelation, when he was told to write: “Happy are those who have been invited to the wedding feast of the Lamb. And the angel added: These are the true words of God.” Revelation 19:9

Praise and Glory Be to God, the Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit.

With faith firmly holding my hand I bow before them, I praise them, I worship them, I thank them sincerely for all the years of my life thus far, those I have been blessed to share it with, and all time that will be given to us in the future.

“I, Jesus, have sent my angel to announce these things to you in the churches. I am descended from the family of David; I am the bright morning star. The Spirit and the Bride say “Come!” Come, whoever is thirsty; accept the water of life as a gift, whoever wants it.”             Revelation 22:17

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May you and yours have a Blessed 2012 from start to finish.}

HAPPY NEW YEAR!