Memento Mori

9:30 PM           “There is also a traditional memento mori, though these days random aches and pains serve that purpose quite well for me, thank you very much” – a note from Barb

9:45 AM          “Advertising what?”  “One of my little lines of business.  I am as it were a living memento mori.  I do most of the undertaking round here.” – Recalled to Life, by Reginald Hill, p134

10:05 AM        I began making phone calls.

It is truly a wondrous and beautiful thing, how God leads our lives, if we let Him.  This reflection actually starts a few years back, when I glanced at the listing of Catholic blogs and randomly (I thought) selected Barb’s blog to read.  Whatever she wrote that day touched my heart, and I commented on it.  Whatever I wrote that day touched her heart, and she commented back.  And we continued to follow each others’ blogs.

If we have offered ourselves to God and commit that we will follow His will, nothing is random.

And so it was that Barb came to make me a Christmas present this year, a rosary.  (I gave her and her husband some books --- of course.)  Due to many “random” events over the holidays, I never got around to opening my Christmas presents until this past Wednesday night.  (That night I exchanged presents with my dear friend, Chris, who had traveled over the holidays.)  And among the presents I opened was Barb’s rosary, and her accompanying note, excerpted above.

Barb explained how she constructed the rosary and prayed with it for my intentions.  It is truly a very special gift, and one I shall treasure.  (I prayed using it for the first time in the adoration chapel early Sunday morning.)  Barb described the medals of St. Martha (her patron) and St. Luke (patron of writers) which she attached to the rosary, and also the memento mori --- a small skull.

Memento Mori – L: “Remember your mortality.  To the Christian, the prospect of death focuses one on the afterlife.  Eccl 7:40: ‘In all thy works be mindful of thy last end and thou wilt never sin.’” (from Wikipedia)    Remembering what death brings, the Christian learns the value of life.  Although I probably had heard that Latin phrase at some time in my life, I had completely forgotten it, and probably would have quickly forgotten it again, --- except ….

The next morning I sat down to relax with a cup of coffee and picked up the novel I was reading.  I removed the bookmark and picked up the storyline again in my mind.  The book was by a British author about some British detectives (not exactly my favorite reading fare, but when you read as much as I do, you run out of favorite authors).  So you might say it was odd that I was reading this book on this day, but I’m sure you would have to say it was odder still what I read after just 5 pages: “memento more” --- again.  An obscure phrase twice put in front of my eyes in the past 12 hours.

Nothing is random.

Well, I stopped reading the book right then:  remember death?  What might God be whispering in my ear (or yelling)?  I initially took it as a call to prepare for my death.  In truth, spiritually I am ready for that happy event, but I’m not nearly so ready materially.  In particular, I am not prepared for what would happen to my mom’s care, should I die.  Were I gone, mom’s care would become the responsibility of her grandchildren --- who live a couple of thousand miles away.  But, logically, they couldn’t abandon their families and move here, and mom isn’t physically capable of moving there. What am I to do?  I need to find another alternative, and memento more triggered me to action.  But that was just the start of events …

I telephoned various family setting and personal care facilities.  I called caregiver finders, who might find “a replacement for me,” -- literally.  Later on I explained my concerns at the monthly caregivers’ meeting, which “coincidently” met that night, and received some new alternatives and names of lawyers specializing in elder care, who might help set up the appropriate trusts and trustees for mom’s care.  And my friends reminded me to also ensure plans are in place should something happen to my mom (who seems to have become a bit more frail in recent weeks).

After the caregivers’ meeting, Julie came over and thanked me profusely for bringing up the topic.  She told me how her very elderly mom still had great responsibilities --- and stress --- in caring for Julie’s sister, who lives in a group home.  Emergencies and emergency decisions were common, like in this past week when her sister seriously injured herself and was hospitalized.  “Tom,” Julie said, “you reminded me that I need plans in place, now, to assume responsibility for my sister.  It is too much for mom anymore.  And, I need plans should something happen to me, also.  Thank you so much for speaking up today.”

What a “coincidence,” that my “random” reminder was needed by her?

But then there was the men’s Bible Study group on Friday morning, where some of the men upon hearing my “coincidence” reflected on their responsibility to care for their children.  And later that day was my “chance” reading of Maria’s little blog which in closing said “Be sure to visit Jen” at her blog.  There I read that atheist-convert, Jen, was asking for prayers for her family as she battles a life-threatening illness, even as she celebrates her birthday, her blessings, and the small boy growing in her womb.  Jen considers each day, most personally, the value of life, and of death.  Memento mori.  I stopped and prayed for her.

Death is before us all, and we must be prepared.  But life is before us all also, and life --- a well-lived life, is preparation for a well-lived death.  That is the Christian faith and promise.  We leave this home to an even better one.  “My death is not the end of me; it is not an evil or punishment but a transition.  This is the root of Christianity: death and resurrection.” – (from Open your Hearts to Mary, Queen of Peace, p 58).  We all eventually leave our earthly family to an even bigger one.  Death is just the doorway through which we reach the destination of our life’s journey.  We must not forget; remember death.

Our life has a purpose, at every moment:  my caring for my mom, someone else’s caring for her sister, some men for their kids, and an ill woman worried for her still-to-be-born child.  It all is related; it all has meaning, even the hardships and sufferings along the way, even death.  Nothing is random. God gives us nudges to help fulfill His will:  in a British novel, at a Bible Study, or on a blog, there are little whispers if we are listening:  “I love you.  Love one another.”

And Do Not Be Anxious.

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Fr. Frank Pavone, of Priests For Life, concelebrated mass at our church on Sunday morning.  In his sermon he spoke about the solidarity of the followers of Christ, and our recognition that each one of us, all human life, is of eternal value.  And the hundreds of children attending mass at our church heard him speak about the horrors of abortion, and of how much they are loved by their parents.  We were told: Love one another, and we were shown how to love, by Jesus.  “Listen to Him.” 

The Father loved us in Jesus’ death.  He loves today us in every child that is born.  In our neighbor, we are all loved.  All life is important; our life is important.

A never-met friend from across the country gives me a Christmas present and quotes an obscure Latin phrase, and starts a chain of events wherein people consider death, and the value of their life.  A priest from across the country visits our church and evangelizes those who need to hear of God’s love.  Both events show how important we are to God, and to each other.  And they were not random events.

Emmanuel:  God is with us.      

Rhythms of Our Life

As I pulled into the church parking lot for 6:30A mass this morning, I knew something was up.  Mine was the only car there.  The note on the church door gave notice: “New Mass Times.” 

Stopping at the coffee shop, then, to say my morning prayers, I paid for my mug and walked over to the row of coffee urns and poured my favorite mix of flavors --- but it wasn’t.  As soon as I tasted the first sip, I knew that this wasn’t “my coffee.” The decaf dispenser, which was “always” third in the row of urns, was now placed at the end; I had poured the wrong blend.  I emptied the cup and started over.

Driving home, I glanced at the sign on the gas station in town, the station which I avoided since it “always” had the highest prices around, and --- hmm, the prices have dropped 30 cents a gallon this morning.  I wonder, have they’ve changed their pricing policy?

There are so many things in our average day which “always” happen.  From the time we choose to get up to the route we choose to work, our life is on “automatic” as we roll through many things without even thinking about them.  I recall that whenever I had an early morning meeting at a different building, I almost always found myself heading towards my office before I made a mid-course correction --- my car was “on automatic” too.  Our routines form a rhythm in our life, and that is a good thing, for surely daily chaos is not desirable.  However, changes to our routine inevitably come, and often they are unbidden disruptions to our rhythm.  How we handle these changes should be a rhythm in itself.  But far too often, however, changes in our routine cause us anger:  we say things are not going “our way.”

I’m better at not giving in to anger than I once was, but still change sometimes brings about a “frustration.”  That’s an improvement.  I guess a heavenward look and a “Why me, God?” is better than cursing.  In fact, it’s a lot better, especially if I really meant what I said, and consider: “Why, God?”

It is one thing to deal with a one-time change in our routine, like the unusual early morning meeting.  It is a whole different matter to deal with a permanent change.  I don’t know about the coffee urn location nor the price of gasoline; these may be one-day changes (perhaps even errors) or even “let’s try this for a while” changes.  Regardless, the instance of deviation from my “routine” is certainly nothing to worry about, nor even to cause frustration.  Change and error are part of life.

The mass time change this morning, however, was a permanent change.

I’ve been attending 6:30A mass and its adoration afterward for years now.  It’s more than just a start to my day, like a cup of coffee; in many ways it IS my day.  Coffee makes me alert and functioning the same way every day.  The mass and adoration inevitably CHANGES me; each day I am different, better for the growing relationship between God and I (--- and its ever more solidifying arrangement:  God is first).

Whenever permanent change comes to our routines, it is important to ask God: Why?  When I had to retire to take care of my mother, it definitely wasn’t in my plans.  It was a huge change in my life, and I considered many options (I AM an analyst by nature) before settling on the one I chose.  And I did pray over my choice before making it firm.  And even then, I asked God “why” since it seemed that I had other talents which would now be unused to their fullest.  It’s taken me years to accept that this change in my life is a good thing, this doing of His will.  The point I wish to make, however, is that I didn’t just rant against what was happening to me, nor did I calmly accept it.  I looked at alternatives before me, given that the change I didn’t want was happening, regardless of my will.

I think many of us face changes like that in our lives, big ones and BIG ones.  (But sometimes, if we think on it, they’re only big in our minds.)  There are some changes that we can avoid or modify, and some we can’t.  But more often, we need to decide how to react (not react), given that the change is inevitable.  Death?  Divorce?  Pregnancy?  When unplanned things happen, it is not time to rant or raise a fist to God, it is a time to ask “why,” and consider what’s next.  And among possible options for dealing with any change, there must always be then one which says: Do Nothing.  Sometimes the best thing we can do in the face of change is nothing; “Let go and let God” is not a bad phrase to take to heart, sometimes.  Sometimes, in our panic, it’s the only thing we can THINK to do.  And that is not bad.

With almost all change that is good, there will be pain (as I recently wrote in more detail).  Sometimes the pain will only be a change in our routines, sometimes it will be physical pain, and sometimes it will be a pain of the heart.  I’ve always felt that the latter pain hurts the most, because it usually involves love.  Love hurts.  But true love also gives.  Pain accepted in love is called “sacrifice,” a word which is derived from “making sacred.”  Jesus died on the cross in sacrifice.  We participate with Him in the sacrifice of the mass.  Sacrificed pains are for a good thing, a good change.  The change makes us more sacred, holier.

Change will always come about in our life; no life remains unchanging.  How we react to the change is the one thing we can control.

The mass I regularly attended each morning is being changed to only happening a couple days a week.  I can accept this and attend on the days when it is scheduled, I can choose some other church with a more regular schedule, or I can say my morning prayers in the coffee shop.  Or perhaps I can offer to do a communion service on days in which mass is not scheduled.  There are many alternatives to this change in my daily rhythm. I’ll need to get used to a new rhythm --- and accept that, perhaps, there is a good thing coming out of this change.  That is faith, and that is sacrifice.  Not my will but Thy will be done, O Lord.

As far as which of option I’ll pursue regarding mass attendance, I am not sure, but I think God helped me eliminate one of them, as I read the Psalms in my morning prayers, while glancing at the picture of a round loaf of bread on the coffee shop wall:

O God, you are my God, for you I long;
for you my soul is thirsting.
My body pines for you
like a dry, weary land without water.
So I gaze on you in the sanctuary
to see your strength and your glory.
       --- Psalm 63:2

Like the deer that years
for running streams,
so my soul is yearning
for you, my God.

My soul is thirsting for God,
the God of my life;
when can I enter and see
the face of God?
    ---- Psalm 42            

 

A Prayer to St. Paul

I guess it’s fitting that in this year of evangelization I should focus the first meditation I write in 2013 on the apostle Paul, the great evangelist.  I say a prayer each morning to him, yet unlike tonight, I rarely stop to think on what I say and why.  Tonight I shall.

Paul was a model evangelist, so wise and so great, yet so much like you or I --- especially in the beginning.

A Prayer to the Apostle Paul

Glorious St. Paul,

Glorious?  Oh yes, in the beginning Saul undoubtedly thought himself glorious, in his own mind.  Wise in the eyes of men, he assumed himself wise in the eyes of God.  He learned right actions from the wisest of men, and sought approval of the most powerful, and relished in their praise.  He sought out the great teachers of the temple schools, but did not seek God Himself.  But God found him.  Tossed from his horse, blinded, he began to see more than he had ever seen in his books, but not with his eyes.  I pray to St. Paul because I, too, know what it was like to suddenly see --- when my eyes were closed, and my heart opened.  I too once thought I had learned all I needed to know. 

Most zealous Apostle,

Saul, now re-named Paul, was spoken to by God, and yet it took him years of meditation in the desert to understand what God had said.  We’re all called to grow in faith, and many of us have a “conversion story,” when our hearts were changed --- a great blessing, but like Saul, that was just our start on the path to holiness.  Like Paul, we can choose to advance zealously and seek to know and serve our God.  He calls us, too, but so many of us, not thrown from a horse or called in some other dramatic fashion, are not listening for the small, still voice which beckons us.

I ask for Paul’s prayers for me, that I might be zealous in listening, and following.

Martyr for the love of Christ,

That’s the ultimate commitment, witness, dying for Christ; it’s what we are all called to do, you know.  Paul said “Not my will, but Thy will be done.”  Dying to our will, putting His first, is the martyrdom many of His followers then could not do, nor today.  This is a hard thing.  The relativism of our culture today says I can know the truth of things, and God is not part of my evaluation, only I.  It’s hard to die to that pride in us.  Adam couldn’t do it, die to his will, that temptation to believe that he knew what was best for himself, not God.  I look to St. Paul’s example, all he did for God and all he willingly suffered, and I will to love my neighbor as he did, dying to himself and all his wisdom.

Give us a deep faith,

That’s the start point, faith: a belief and trust in what I cannot see with my eyes, an acceptance of a thing being “good” not by how it pleases me, but how it pleases God.  I pray that St. Paul, by his words captured in Scripture and by his prayers for me now, may help me to become an evangelist as he was, that I might have a strong enough faith, a deep foundation for my actions.  It’s the necessary starting point for my growing in holiness.

A steadfast hope,

Faith drives my actions of today.  Hope is belief in the reward promised for those actions:  eternal life.  Jesus died that the gates of heaven might be opened for me.  He promised that if I followed Him in faith, he would be there to greet me.  That is my hope, in His promise.  I don’t follow His example and His words only because I am some servant following orders, I follow in faith because he promised me the ultimate reward, to be one with him where He is, not as a servant, but as an adopted son.  This is my hope; it needs to be strong to keep me going, especially when things are rough.

A burning love for Our Lord;

Faith and Hope can lead us on almost blindly; even armies can succeed only on faith and hope in their leaders.  But love, love gives us perseverance in trials --- and there will be trials in this life.  To love and to be loved drives us forward; we want desperately to be with our beloved.  “A burning love,” that’s what I ask St. Paul to give me, through his witness and his prayers for me.

So that we can proclaim with you,
“It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”

“Become as other Christs,” many a saint has told us.  The words of this prayer ask for this to be so.  In those words I ask to be an evangelist, to proclaim with words, but even more with actions, that it is “Christ who lives in me.”  We were made in God’s image, but that is only the mold for our life; we are intended to be filled with Him, His graces, that when people look under our exterior mold they might see what looks like Him.  And we are not only to have Him in us, but are intended to look out at our neighbor and see Him there, too. 

Help us to become apostles serving the Church with a pure heart,

“Cleanse my heart, O God” are the words to a hymn, a prayer that we might be made holy.  A pure heart is one which does not only beat to keep us alive, but gives strength to our neighbor also.  The Church is intended to be our family in Christ.  We are called to love our neighbor, all our neighbors, but the Church is meant to be our family, encouraging us, teaching us, and healing our hurts.  The Church is a home we can always return to, and know there is love there.  Serving the Church is loving our family, including Our Father.

Witnesses to her truth and beauty amidst the darkness of our days.

The Church is home, a safe place for us to go in storms, but it is family also.  So we must not seek to tear it down like some rebellious teenager, proclaiming we don’t need its rules because “we are adults now” and know better what to do.  Rules of the Church, like rules of the family, come down through many generations.  They are not made to enslave, but to enable us to live free, as we were meant to live free, in love of family and neighbor, responsibly.  Witnessing the truth of the Church is witnessing the truth of its founder, Jesus Christ.  It IS what evangelizing is all about.

With you we praise God, Our Father: “To Him be the glory,
in the Church, and in Christ, now and forever.  Amen.

St. Paul is in my family in Christ, and I look forward to being with him and all my family in heaven.  But even here on earth I give witness to the patriarch of our family, Our Father.  I wish to praise Him not only in words, but in actions from my heart, in the Church and with all my family there --- where at every mass we gather as family to praise Our Father, and to remember HIS sacrifice:  He gave His only Son for us.  He loves us that much; He gave His Son as a martyr for us.  I wish to be able to do no less for Him.

St. Paul, pray for us.

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Today is the feast of the Epiphany in the Catholic Church, and we heard the Scripture story of the Magi and their gifts.  Three earthly kings came to pay homage to a heavenly king.  Many look at this story and consider how we are also to pay homage to God, and the gifts we each have to offer Him.  Today, however, my mind considered this story from God’s eyes. 

“What do you give to the person who has everything?”  I mean, God created everything.  It’s like the farmer who retired from a life of growing tomatoes, thousands of acres of tomatoes every year.  Moving to a new retirement community, he still retained a warehouse full of stewed tomatoes, a lifetime supply.  And so what happened on his first day of retirement in the new neighborhood?  The welcome wagon paid him a visit: “Welcome to the neighborhood, and as a sign of our appreciation we give you this basket of tomatoes.”  So what did the farmer say?  “Well, uh, er, um, thank you very much.  I do like tomatoes.” 

And so what do you think God thought about the Magi’s gifts?  He had everything they could offer, plenty of it, except for one thing:  themselves.  God might have a warehouse full of gold, frankincense and myrrh, but each of the kings was a unique being, like no other.  And each could choose to do as he wished with their life, including ignoring God.  And yet they humbled themselves to give witness to their faith in him, a totally priceless and unique gift ---- and one that even God didn’t have!

The Magi followed a star, based on their faith in ancient written prophecies.  They followed the light to reach The Light.  They made their way, to find The Way.  I’m sure those kings took many a vacation in their lives, but this trip was no vacation.  It was a public witness to their faith; they were not ashamed to tell King Herod of their quest; they didn’t care if he should think them foolish. 

A journey they felt compelled to make, following a light --- it’s the same simple witness we are all called to make.

The pastor at our church today mentioned the NFL player Terry Tebow, and all the ruckus he causes by sometimes kneeling in prayer in public, or saying that Jesus is the light of his life.  “You would think,” said Fr. Ed, “that Tebow had grabbed the stadium mike and commanded: ‘Now everyone kneel down and give your life to Jesus.’”  But Tebow commanded nothing, he just did a simple witness by his actions ---- and people noticed.  That’s all we are called to do also, evangelize by our little actions.  Listening to our friends’ problems and saying “I’ll pray for you.”  Sitting with the person in the hospital who has no one else.  (Perhaps talking to the bartender?)  These are little things which speak loudly, to other men, and to God.  They are signs of our faith.

That’s how we give ourselves to God: in how we live.  That’s how we live with Christ in us, when we see someone in need calling out “God help me,” and we softly say: “That’s okay, God.  I got this one --- for You.”

We sang two hymns in church this morning:  “You are called to walk in the light of Christ” and “Emmanuel: God is with us.”  And if God is with us, who can be against us?

We are all called to give witness to that light.

Stay with me, Lord, for You are my light and without You I am in darkness.  – Padre Pio