He Said; She Said

In my business career I often was charged with negotiating an agreement with our competitors.  It was not unusual at some point to reach an issue where I KNEW factually it was black, and my competitor KNEW it was white.  We tried to convince each other of the facts of the matter, but sometimes still disagreed.  And at that point we looked to the bigger issue:  An agreement was needed, and so we agreed that the facts were grey.  That agreement sometimes cost our employer hundreds of millions of dollars, and on occasion our agreement was overruled by higher management --- which thought it knew better.  But we did our jobs.

Two people in focus in our nation disagree on facts.  For the country, I believe, they should come together and agree to disagree, to forgive each other for not being perfect, in memory or in actions.  They should agree to pray for each other, and the country.  Then they will have done their jobs for the bigger issues, of God and country.

I Don't Sin

Pride is the root of all sin, but a loss of
love --- of freely giving love --- is the result.

The conversation at my regular Saturday morning breakfast, with my friend who has Alzheimer’s, is one of exchanging facts.  We talk about the weather, last night’s ball score, what we did the past week, and who me met.  You don’t have to think about facts.  The curse of Alzheimer’s, however, is that even facts are sometimes forgotten or confused in the memory (and sometimes repeated over and over again).  Sometimes even simple conversation is hard.  What we don’t talk about on Saturdays is the reason why the facts are what they are; a reasoning conversation through the Alzheimer’s haze is impossible, but sometimes I can’t help but explain my actions, even if not understood by my friend.

One fact I sometimes mention in passing is that I went to (or am about to go to) confession.  His response is always the same: “Well, I’m an old dude; I don’t sin anymore,” and then he may recall some communal penance service he once attended.  I change the conversation at that point, because I DO sin, and I know it.

“Intimacy with Jesus is a healing for souls which are sick with sin.  He is the medicine we need.  The well are not in need of healing, but the sick are.  I Myself am the Way, the Truth, and the Life,” said the priest at mass this morning.  Earlier our Bible Study guys talked about intimacy, and how we often confuse physical closeness with understanding and intimacy.  We may have a wariness, a politeness, in dealing with our co-workers and bosses; if they don’t agree with or understand us, we don’t rant or rave in response.  You just don’t do that at work.  But when we get home and want to rest, but our spouse wants us to go shopping or begin that needed yard work, we often have no such wariness in our response.  We may react loudly and forcibly, and think that our reaction is okay this time, because, well, this is our home.  We think: “I can be myself here; my spouse will understand --- and if they don’t, I’ll make it clear to them.”  The Bible Study guys came to a conclusion that we often think that we have an intimacy with our spouse that really doesn’t exist.

Sometimes we assume a similar intimacy with Jesus.  God is all knowing, all loving, so of course He knows I mean well, so He understands and accepts me.  We sometimes assume those same thoughts about a spouse or good friend.  But that word “assume” does not consider a key point about a “relationship.”  If a relationship is only about facts, like my Saturday morning breakfast conversation, it is not an intimate relationship.  “Intimacy with Jesus is a healing for souls sick with sin” because He not only knows we sin, but beyond that fact, He knows why.  We can have intimate conversations with Him about it.  Intimacy includes empathy, love and understanding.  “He is the medicine we need” brings out a key point in any real intimate relationship: we don’t just take or assume things from the other person, we seek to give, to love, to understand THEIR needs, and our giving enables us to receive, to relate.  Intimacy with Jesus means we will seek to know Him, to understand His needs, and lovingly give them.  Intimacy with our spouse assumes the same thing.

My friend says “I don’t sin” because his mind no longer can consider the requirements --- on him --- of a relationship.  He assumes the love of God, no matter what he does.  He assumes the love of his long-time spouse, no matter what he does.  And I am sure he is right in those assumptions, made without reasoning or understanding.  If he fails God or his spouse in some way, he expects they’ll understand, and I’m sure they do, because he has Alzheimer’s.

What’s your excuse?

Pride is the root of all sin, but a loss of love is the result.  If we think a relationship is only about us and our needs, there is no relationship.  In our pride, thinking we deserve our way, we forget love.  Intimacy with Jesus or a spouse comes about when we stop talking about ourselves and what we want, but seek to understand the other, to love them before ourselves.  Pride IS a sin, we so often forget.

Why Is This Happening?

I do late night adoration each Saturday night, and often don’t get to bed until 3AM (or later), but I always set the alarm to wake up for Sunday mass.

I always plan to get up at 7:30AM, shower, shave, and dress for Sunday morning church.  I plan to grab a coffee at the 7-11, and drive the 20 minutes to church.  I plan to say my Morning Prayers alone in a quiet empty room before the 9AM mass.  When I enter the church proper, I plan to light one small vigil candle, recognizing my small light in this world.  I plan to talk to no one, but worship at mass with my parish family.

None of those plans happened this past Sunday morning.

The alarm I DID set for 7:30 did not go off; I awoke at 8:45.   I didn’t fret at what happened (or didn’t), but considered: “What now?”  An option was the 11AM mass at my parish, but that would put me late for the noon pickup of the man who cuts my grass --- he needs the money --- so I decided to do the 10AM mass at Fr. Riccardo’s parish, which I often visit during the week.

I planned to arrive early and say my Morning Prayers alone in the church’s large chapel room, and then sit in the back of the church, unseen.

Those plans didn’t happen either.

Walking up to the church, I could see the chapel already occupied by some prayer group.  Detouring toward the small room behind the altar to pray, I met a long-time friend, Karen, who greeted me.  I prayed my Morning Prayers in the small room, concluding with words to Fr. Solanus Casey --- whose painted image then suddenly confronted me as I exited the prayer room.  Stunned for a few moments by the life-sized painting of the man I had been praying to, I concluded a short prayer for his intercession and then turned to head toward those back pews when I planned to sit --- and saw directly in front of me Fr. Riccardo, staring at me.  Stunned again --- What was he doing here?  His mother had died less than 24 hours ago --- I turned and went toward the other side of the church.  Looking at the back rows of pews where I planned to sit, I saw that all were occupied.  As I continued into the church, I finally noticed an empty spot --- the one where I always sit in when I come to weekday masses at this church.  Every seat around it was occupied, but it sat empty, as if waiting for me, and I stepped in and knelt down.  After a few moments everyone was asked to stand and greet those around them --- and then I was surprised to see Donna and her husband in front of me (they share adoration time with me late Monday nights).  And then behind me I greeted Angie and her husband (who I often see at weekday masses), and her young son Donnie, who is wheelchair-bound with numerous physical problems.  “Hi,” Donnie said loudly, remembering me with a smile.  And then then the choir began singing the entrance hymn --- led by Karen!!?

What was happening this Sunday morning?  Why did these events and people happen in my life?  Did Fr. John really stare at me as he said some of the words of his homily?  Why did my Sunday morning plans turn into what were obviously God’s plans? (I don’t believe in coincidences.)  And so, I prayed to Him: “Why is this happening, Lord?”

I really did expect an answer to that prayer; so often (when I ask) God has clarified His intents for this weak brain of mine, but that was not to be on this Sunday (or at least not yet).  And so, at times like this, this is where my faith comes in, where that prayer “Jesus, I trust in You” really gets pointed.  When I say those words, I really do mean them.  Do you?  Can YOU accept that sometimes things happen which you just won’t understand, and yet still believe they are His will?

Can YOU trust that much?

Early this past Sunday morning (I’d swear on a stack of bibles) I had set the alarm for 7:30AM.  That was the only thing that happened as I planned that Sunday morning; the rest of the events I just went along with.  None were my plans, but I was blessed to see so many aspects of God’s plans in action that day --- although I don’t know why.  It was an unusual day.

Most days there will always be something --- sometimes big, sometimes small --- which doesn’t go our way.  The traffic accident makes us late for work.  The boss doesn’t like the presentation we spent days preparing --- or worse, he doesn’t understand it.  The school calls and our child is sick and needs to go home --- NOW!  Or, as we’re leaving the house in great pain, the dentist’s office calls and says we’ll have to re-schedule the appointment.

“Why is this happening?” we say.

At those times, ESPECIALLY at those times, can we say: “Jesus, I trust in You”?  And mean it?