When Things Don't Seem Right

 

I’ve always said intercessory prayers to St. Joseph, but in recent times they have become more focused, as I recognized him as a carpenter who can create new fixes to unique problems --- like mine.  I had a total ear blockage recently, which confused the doctor, but which totally cleared as I stood in front of a statue of St. Joseph at my local church.  But that was just the start.

Last week, while praying in an adoration chapel named in honor of St. Joseph, I thought about an invite I had received to the first mass of a newly ordained priest --- who I didn’t recall meeting.  The mass was at St. Joseph’s church in another town, but on researching, I found was a 20-mile straight line from the chapel where I prayed, and right on the corner of the crossroad.  I answered the invite with a question about where we met, and the (still) deacon John politely wrote back that he understood my forgetting because “you meet so many people”, but we did have some meetings, he said, and he read my blog.  I changed his life, he said, so he invited me to his first mass, and the family gathering afterward.  Family?  At the mass, his first sermon was very insightful; I may have forgotten him, but I will get to know him more in the future. 

Also last week, a friend had said to me that she was glad the Latin mass was gone “because nobody could understand it.”  I briefly explained how it was part of the global unity of Catholics and said that I still had the childhood missal that I used at mass on my coffee table.  Glancing at it, I told her how the mass words were in Latin were on the left pages, while the English translation was on the opposite pages.  I understood what was being said, despite not speaking Latin.  And it was then that I noticed the first page of that missal, which had my name and age (13), and that the book was named: The Saint Joseph Daily Missal. 

All these things about St. Joseph led my mind to perceive a unity about them, like the unity of the church.

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When I went Fr. John’s first mass, I was put off by the interior décor of the St. Joseph’s church where it was held.  Where things were and how they looked were foreign to me (kind of like that Latin mass to my friend, I guess).  There were no stained-glass windows, no vigil candles, and the few statues were “modern art” in appearance.  I didn’t “feel” like I was in a holy place, a Catholic church.  Before mass, I sat in the back reading my morning prayers, and I could hear people talking all around me --- but, their noise didn’t seem to bother me like at other churches I attended.  I perceived the noise as being friends and family speaking to each other; I perceived a quiet love there.  I had noticed that the choir area near the altar had lots of drums, and I expected loud modernistic music, in line with the décor, but at mass only a pianist played, and the choir and mass attendees sang hymns and psalms together in volume, one not dominating the other.  After mass, Fr. John thanked me for coming and for what I did for him “and people around the world” --- obviously referencing my blog.  We will have much more to speak of in the future, but meanwhile he prayed over me.

It was on the drive home afterward that I became more aware of the farmlands all around me.  Away from a large city, the people lived more apart, but as demonstrated at the church, seemed to know each other better than people at my suburban church.  I don’t pretend to understand it all, but the strangeness of the St. Joseph names, the church décor, the beautiful mass, and my meeting this new priest created within me an atmosphere of family, community, and belonging.  As part of his sermon, Fr. John had said that the focus of Christianity is not to avoid sin, but to love God and neighbor.  It all fit.

My life is not about me being in control or having things be as I want.  God is in control.  I may not understand all He does or permits, but my gift of life was given me with a simple commandment: Love God and love neighbor, as Jesus did.  Around the world, and in the farmlands of the United States, this love may look different, but if you could see the hearts of the people loving, and worshipping, they would all look the same.

“Do not keep judging according to appearances; let your judgement be according
 to what is right.”      --- Jn7:24

Do not be anxious.  Trust.  Grow in holiness.

“Nobody can remain the same when they realize that another loves them.”
                     --- How to Pray, by David Torkington (p71)   

Mother Teresa: Love: A Fruit Always in Season

 

The above titled book had great words to me this week, so I will place excerpts here, to remember in other weeks.

“No Matter What Religion, What Matters is That We Love
               Some call Him Ishwar, some call Him Allah, some simply God, but we all have to acknowledge that it is He who made us for greater things, to love and be loved.  What matters is that we love.  We cannot love without prayer, and so whatever religion we are, we must pray together.

It is so beautiful that we complete each other.  What we are doing in the slums, maybe you cannot do.  What you are doing in the level you are called, family, college, work, we cannot do.  But you and we together are doing something beautiful for God.

My religion is everything for me, but for every individual according to the grace God has given that soul.  We must not condemn or judge or pass words that will hurt people.

All People are The Same
Looks, education, or position vary, but they are all the same.  They are people to be loved.  The people you see on the streets of India or Hong Kong are hungry in body, but the people in London or New York have also a hunger which must be satisfied.  Every person needs to be loved.

What Mother Teresa said in an interview in China about communism hit the front page of all Chinese newspapers:  “Mother Teresa says a communist is a child of God, my brother, my sister.”

We have absolutely no difficulty working in countries of many faiths, like India.  We treat all people as children of God.  They are our brothers and sisters.  We show great respect for them.  Our work is to encourage these Christians and non-Christians to do works of love.”

I don’t usually limit my blog posting to excerpts of books, but this book, this week of Pentecost --- and of Memorial Day --- are times I reflect on love, love lived out.  In this old book I have on my coffee table for occasional reads, I read her comments this week, and it summarizes my readings and thoughts from the bible and in church when alone with God.  We just need to do works of love; it is how He came and showed us to live.  Just love our neighbor.  All creatures of God, they are our family. 

I want to remember that, when I hear stories of people’s differences and wars.  It’s not something for me to be irritated in any way about, but only to pray about, praying with trust, and love.

Are You Listening

Friday’s mass struck me.  It began with the opening hymn words:

“Here I am, Lord, is it I Lord? 
I have heard You calling in the night …”

The first reading was Acts9:1-20, where Saul is going to Damascus to arrest Christians, until he was struck to the ground and blinded, and he spoke to the bright light before him: “Who are you, sir?”  Needless to say, like the opening hymn, Saul heard the Lord calling --- but in a way that he could not rationalize away.  This was real.  This was God, calling to him. 

Perhaps we need stop here and ask, very seriously ask, of ourselves:  Do I need to be struck blind to listen to God?  No, even that perspective is worded wrong; we need to stop always asking ourselves what to do but ask God.

The Gospel reading at mass was from John6:52-59, where Jesus says: “whoever eats my Flesh and drinks my Blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.”  There was a substitute priest at mass, and as he spoke his sermon, he said: “It gives me great consolation that at 88, I became who Jesus wanted me to be.  I often act as a marriage counselor, and I tell couples no one is perfect, but Jesus in our life can transform us.  My prayer is to help me read the signs you have given me.”  Prayer came first for him, before counseling anyone.

And, as we received the Eucharist, His Flesh and Blood, the choir sang: “Open my eyes, Lord, help me to see your face.  Open my ears, Lord, help me to hear your word.”

A Bible study group I participate in is considering a change in focus or format, and we’re praying about it.  Last week we listened to Fr. John Riccardo’s interview on the Lila Rose show about 2 months ago, when he spoke about “how to hear God’s word in your life.”  And I recently received copies of Bishop Robert Barron’s new book: What do their Lives Demand, about Christian persecution today.  Both Fr Riccardo and Bishop Barron said: Start with prayer and then listen.

All these events seem to be saying the same thing: Are you listening?

I spent most of my early years “doing what is right”, as I believed it to be.  I cared for my neighbor as commanded --- if it weren’t too inconvenient.  But in living those years well, I did not often ask, sincerely: What is Your will, Lord?  If those were good years, oh, oh, how much smore wonderful they could have been.

There was a young woman once, who also did what she knew was right and commanded by God.  Her whole life was planned out before her.  All would be as she wanted --- and then:

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed:
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.
He has mercy on those who fear him 
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm,
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel
for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
the promise he made to our fathers,
to Abraham and his children forever.

 --- The Magnificat