In today's gospel Jesus tells the parable of the tax collector and the publican. One said, "Lord, I am thankful that I am not like all the others. I pay tithes, I fast twice weekly... and I am thankful that I am not like this tax collector." And the tax collector, not even able to raise his eyes to look upon the Lord, says, "Lord, have mercy on me, for I am a sinner." Jesus then says, "The exalted will be humbled, and the humble will be exalted."
I know that this is where I belong, with my head bowed down, not even worthy to fix my gaze upon Him. For no matter how hard I try to serve Him and honor Him, each and every day I fall over and over again. I listen to the temptations that the world, the flesh and the devil lay before me. And I cave in because they sound oh so good. I look one way and see the Lord, Jesus. Then I look the other way and see the temptations. And for some unknown reason, I fall over and over again into the pit of choosing the wrong way, only to chastise myself and to ask myself how I could have chosen other than the only choice for me - Jesus.
Yet, I pick myself up again, return to the confessional, and ask once again for His merciful forgiveness. I abhor my sinfulness. Yet I understand that had it not been for original sin, man would not be so inclined to lean in this direction. I will never be anyone other than the tax collector, unworthy to lift my eyes to Him. But, I know that I will never stop trying to choose the right over the wrong. For He will always be my heart's deepest desire. Lord Jesus, help me to overcome my own selfish whims. Help me to hold You always above all. For You are my King and my Savior. Amen.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Lazarus and the Rich Man
Today's gospel was the story of the poor man, Lazarus, and the rich man dressed in purple robes, who stepped over Lazarus every day when he walked outside his home. Lazarus was covered with sores and only the dogs cared enough to tend to him by licking the sores on his body. Lazarus had nothing, and would have been happy to fill himself with even the scraps from the rich man's table. It is a story to remind us of our sins of omission. Jesus said that the poor would always be with us. But, do we see the poor as we go through the daily motions of life?
He is not only speaking of the monetarily poor who need our financial help (more than 56% of the world's population live on less than $2 a day), but He is also referring to the other types of poor we have among us. Do we occasionally take time to talk to the lonely widow down the street? Do we give a ride to the handicapped child who cannot walk all the way to Mass by himself or are we too proud to lower ourselves to do this? Do we teach the faith to someone who does not have access to a catechism?
We will be held accountable one day for the sins of ommission that we commit in our lifetimes. God will remind us that we had the prophets and the Scriptures to teach us these things, yet we chose to make our own rules or let our own comfort get in the way. Are we going to step over Lazarus like the rich man did and one day see Lazarus in heaven from afar as we suffer in eternal fire? Or are we going to serve our brothers here on this earth by stopping at Lazarus' side and assisting him because this is what we heard Jesus say in the gospel? Will we then join Lazarus in eternal bliss with our Lord one day?
He is not only speaking of the monetarily poor who need our financial help (more than 56% of the world's population live on less than $2 a day), but He is also referring to the other types of poor we have among us. Do we occasionally take time to talk to the lonely widow down the street? Do we give a ride to the handicapped child who cannot walk all the way to Mass by himself or are we too proud to lower ourselves to do this? Do we teach the faith to someone who does not have access to a catechism?
We will be held accountable one day for the sins of ommission that we commit in our lifetimes. God will remind us that we had the prophets and the Scriptures to teach us these things, yet we chose to make our own rules or let our own comfort get in the way. Are we going to step over Lazarus like the rich man did and one day see Lazarus in heaven from afar as we suffer in eternal fire? Or are we going to serve our brothers here on this earth by stopping at Lazarus' side and assisting him because this is what we heard Jesus say in the gospel? Will we then join Lazarus in eternal bliss with our Lord one day?
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Gift of a Ministry
This morning I went to a funeral. The funeral was for Theresa, one of the ladies whom I visited every Sunday at the nursing home, to whom I read the gospel and brought the Eucharist. It was a beautiful funeral because many people were there; people who remembered her in her younger days when she and her husband operated a child care business in their home. It was said that Theresa couldn't have children of her own, so they adopted two sons. And it was told that over the years Theresa and her husband cared for more than 400 children, who called her "Aunt Theresa." Many of those now grown children were in attendance at the funeral, as well as their parents. I saw tears. I saw sadness. I heard stories of a woman who had much love to give and gave it to many. It was beautiful.
I thought back to the past Sunday when I went to Theresa's room to bring her the Eucharist. She had not been in her room the previous week. Her husband, Jim, and one of her sons and two grandsons were in her room. They informed me that since the last time I visited, Theresa had been in the hospital because she had a heart attack. Now she was no longer conscious and was in the last stages of life, just being made comfortable with medications. I saw such sorrow in the eyes of all four of these guys. Her husband, Jim, had been so faithful; visiting her every day at the nursing home, often staying all afternoon with her, taking her outside to see the beauty of nature; sitting with her while she dozed; holding her hand and listening to her sometimes so-confused conversation. She had developed dimentia some five years ago and recently had become extremely disoriented. Yet, she always remembered the Eucharist and loved to hear the gospel read to her.
Her two grandsons each held one of her hands as they spoke to her. One was in his twenties and had traveled from Washington state. The other was a young boy of about ten years old. The little boy periodically said to his dad, "I think she squeezed my hand, dad," with great hope that his grandma was going to open her eyes and come back to life once again. Sorrow was thick in the room. I stroked Theresa's cheek and arm, remembering the times I had conversed with her and the many stories she had told me about her sons and grandsons. I also remembered how in the past few months I had found her crying on more than one occasion, confused and scared about things she couldn't really explain.
I walked out from the nursing home sad that day, as I sometimes do. Sad for a family that would be missing the earthly presence of a dearly loved one; one who had held the family together and been the heart of the family; one they had seen grow dimmer and dimmer with time, until finally the light would be extinguished completely just two days later.
I glanced at those that God had entrusted to me as I walked out of the nursing home that day and told Him a very heartfelt "Thank you, Jesus." For I am thankful to the depths of my being, for this ministry that He opened up to me more than six years ago. He has given me the opportunity to enter into the last years of the lives of some of the most precious people on this earth; some who have been forgotten by the world; some who never see a face other than the nurses and aids who help them get dressed and get to and from the bathroom each day. I have listened to stories and had ninety-year-olds cry on my shoulder because they are lonely or afraid because they know death is imminent and they don't know what to expect. I have had little old ladies or men cry because they want to go back to their homes, yet they don't realize their homes were sold years before and none of their belongings are left.
God gave me the opportunity to hug them, kiss them and love them. He lets me be the human touch He cannot Himself give at these moments. Yet, He passes His love to them through humble me. I am so grateful to be His instrument for this. What an honor to read the Holy Scripture, the very Word itself, to those eager ears. Or to actually place the Body of Christ onto the tongues of these precious ones. I absolutely know that sometimes it is I that God uses to bring them this Holy Communion the last time they ever receive it in this human life because sometimes by the time a priest comes to confer the last sacrament, they are no longer able to consciously receive the Body of Christ. What greater duty could God give me to carry out?
When I entered the church vestibule this morning before the funeral, I hugged Theresa's husband, Jim, and expressed my sympathy. All he said was, "You are such an angel, Liz, such an angel." Yet I knew in my heart that I am not an angel; just one who desires to do the will of God entirely, every moment of every day. I pray for the courage and ability to do this forever.
I plan to carry out this nursing home ministry as long as God wills this for me, and as long as I am able to do it. Thank you, Jesus, for this gift of a ministry.
I thought back to the past Sunday when I went to Theresa's room to bring her the Eucharist. She had not been in her room the previous week. Her husband, Jim, and one of her sons and two grandsons were in her room. They informed me that since the last time I visited, Theresa had been in the hospital because she had a heart attack. Now she was no longer conscious and was in the last stages of life, just being made comfortable with medications. I saw such sorrow in the eyes of all four of these guys. Her husband, Jim, had been so faithful; visiting her every day at the nursing home, often staying all afternoon with her, taking her outside to see the beauty of nature; sitting with her while she dozed; holding her hand and listening to her sometimes so-confused conversation. She had developed dimentia some five years ago and recently had become extremely disoriented. Yet, she always remembered the Eucharist and loved to hear the gospel read to her.
Her two grandsons each held one of her hands as they spoke to her. One was in his twenties and had traveled from Washington state. The other was a young boy of about ten years old. The little boy periodically said to his dad, "I think she squeezed my hand, dad," with great hope that his grandma was going to open her eyes and come back to life once again. Sorrow was thick in the room. I stroked Theresa's cheek and arm, remembering the times I had conversed with her and the many stories she had told me about her sons and grandsons. I also remembered how in the past few months I had found her crying on more than one occasion, confused and scared about things she couldn't really explain.
I walked out from the nursing home sad that day, as I sometimes do. Sad for a family that would be missing the earthly presence of a dearly loved one; one who had held the family together and been the heart of the family; one they had seen grow dimmer and dimmer with time, until finally the light would be extinguished completely just two days later.
I glanced at those that God had entrusted to me as I walked out of the nursing home that day and told Him a very heartfelt "Thank you, Jesus." For I am thankful to the depths of my being, for this ministry that He opened up to me more than six years ago. He has given me the opportunity to enter into the last years of the lives of some of the most precious people on this earth; some who have been forgotten by the world; some who never see a face other than the nurses and aids who help them get dressed and get to and from the bathroom each day. I have listened to stories and had ninety-year-olds cry on my shoulder because they are lonely or afraid because they know death is imminent and they don't know what to expect. I have had little old ladies or men cry because they want to go back to their homes, yet they don't realize their homes were sold years before and none of their belongings are left.
God gave me the opportunity to hug them, kiss them and love them. He lets me be the human touch He cannot Himself give at these moments. Yet, He passes His love to them through humble me. I am so grateful to be His instrument for this. What an honor to read the Holy Scripture, the very Word itself, to those eager ears. Or to actually place the Body of Christ onto the tongues of these precious ones. I absolutely know that sometimes it is I that God uses to bring them this Holy Communion the last time they ever receive it in this human life because sometimes by the time a priest comes to confer the last sacrament, they are no longer able to consciously receive the Body of Christ. What greater duty could God give me to carry out?
When I entered the church vestibule this morning before the funeral, I hugged Theresa's husband, Jim, and expressed my sympathy. All he said was, "You are such an angel, Liz, such an angel." Yet I knew in my heart that I am not an angel; just one who desires to do the will of God entirely, every moment of every day. I pray for the courage and ability to do this forever.
I plan to carry out this nursing home ministry as long as God wills this for me, and as long as I am able to do it. Thank you, Jesus, for this gift of a ministry.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
God Answers a Prayer for Karim
I believe strongly in the power of prayer. God hears our prayers and answers them in His time. He may not answer our prayers in the way we imagine, but, He answers them according to His will, which is always the best way.
When I returned Karim to Lebanon in 2009, my biggest disappointment was that none of the schools would let him in. They used all kinds of excuses, but, I feel that the real reason was fear of the unknown; fear of a handicap they didn't know anything about. It was an unfounded fear. I don't hold any bad feelings against them. They just don't know.
Karim's tutor, a beautiful and kind lady named Marleine Saba, came a couple times a week during most of the year 2009-2010 to continue his education in English and math. But, partway through the year she got full-time employment in Beirut and had to stop coming so often to Karim's house. Her time was limited. Marleine grew to love Karim during the time she tutored him, though, and she saw how smart he was, in spite of his disability.
Marleine was determined to find a school somewhere that would accept Karim. This was her mission. She contacted several schools and spoke with many people about his situation. Most of the time she was disappointed. But, yesterday I spoke briefly with her and found that there is a school that has accepted him for the fall semester. I do not have any of the details on it, other than that he will take a bus because it is in another town. She will get back with me to see if we can afford to send the money for the tuition. If necessary, I will have another fundraiser to raise this money. School is Karim's dream. To be accepted into a normal life is his hope and desire. Thanks to God's help and Marleine's persistence, this may indeed happen after all.
When I returned Karim to Lebanon in 2009, my biggest disappointment was that none of the schools would let him in. They used all kinds of excuses, but, I feel that the real reason was fear of the unknown; fear of a handicap they didn't know anything about. It was an unfounded fear. I don't hold any bad feelings against them. They just don't know.
Karim's tutor, a beautiful and kind lady named Marleine Saba, came a couple times a week during most of the year 2009-2010 to continue his education in English and math. But, partway through the year she got full-time employment in Beirut and had to stop coming so often to Karim's house. Her time was limited. Marleine grew to love Karim during the time she tutored him, though, and she saw how smart he was, in spite of his disability.
Marleine was determined to find a school somewhere that would accept Karim. This was her mission. She contacted several schools and spoke with many people about his situation. Most of the time she was disappointed. But, yesterday I spoke briefly with her and found that there is a school that has accepted him for the fall semester. I do not have any of the details on it, other than that he will take a bus because it is in another town. She will get back with me to see if we can afford to send the money for the tuition. If necessary, I will have another fundraiser to raise this money. School is Karim's dream. To be accepted into a normal life is his hope and desire. Thanks to God's help and Marleine's persistence, this may indeed happen after all.
God's Comforting Words
I am certain that God sends people into our lives to be His own comfort to us, and to speak His words to us at times when the walk is especially difficult. I still struggle with hurt feelings from the loss of a very dear and important friend of mine, who ultimately told me to get out of his life and "go to hell" a while back. This person is high in the church, which makes it even more difficult, because one doesn't expect this type of language to come from the mouth of a chosen servant of God. All in all, I am becoming stronger from this harsh chastisement and have been praying more than ever for the soul of that very person daily. I hope that my meager prayers will be instrumental in his path to heaven. He cannot take this power to pray him into heaven away from me.
Anyway, yesterday was a bad day for me and I was thinking about this situation again and it brought tears to my eyes. I was speaking on the phone with a very good and holy spiritual friend of mine, lamenting because I am not able yet to get beyond the sadness this causes me. I told him that I wanted to move on with my life, but, I stil have these times when I think of the situation and feel so, so sad because I miss the friend I lost and I feel so hurt at the words that were said to me. I asked him what I can do? He was silent for a bit, and then he replied, "I am happy for this, Liz. I am happy for you because of this suffering you still have. I am happy because I can see you up on the cross with Jesus. You asked Jesus to suffer for the souls of priests, and there you are up there on the cross with Him doing just that. He answered your prayer and this is your opportunity to suffer for this one that hurt you. You can use this suffering. Be happy. Don't be sad."
It is often hard to see ourselves in the "big picture" and to realize that God hasn't abandoned us and yes, He really is there all the time, watching and listening to our prayers every moment. And when He sees that we are having difficulty handling life's situations, He sends someone to help us along. This is what happened yesterday. My friend was there to give me God's hug and to reassure me that things would be okay. Thank You, God, for the gift of this friend in my life.
Anyway, yesterday was a bad day for me and I was thinking about this situation again and it brought tears to my eyes. I was speaking on the phone with a very good and holy spiritual friend of mine, lamenting because I am not able yet to get beyond the sadness this causes me. I told him that I wanted to move on with my life, but, I stil have these times when I think of the situation and feel so, so sad because I miss the friend I lost and I feel so hurt at the words that were said to me. I asked him what I can do? He was silent for a bit, and then he replied, "I am happy for this, Liz. I am happy for you because of this suffering you still have. I am happy because I can see you up on the cross with Jesus. You asked Jesus to suffer for the souls of priests, and there you are up there on the cross with Him doing just that. He answered your prayer and this is your opportunity to suffer for this one that hurt you. You can use this suffering. Be happy. Don't be sad."
It is often hard to see ourselves in the "big picture" and to realize that God hasn't abandoned us and yes, He really is there all the time, watching and listening to our prayers every moment. And when He sees that we are having difficulty handling life's situations, He sends someone to help us along. This is what happened yesterday. My friend was there to give me God's hug and to reassure me that things would be okay. Thank You, God, for the gift of this friend in my life.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
My Lord Drew me In
This morning I made the effort and got up early to attend Mass. I've been lazy this summer and slept past the alarm every day. I'm ashamed of this. I chose sleep over the chance to receive Jesus in the Eucharist and to hear the Word of God proclaimed every single day. I argued with myself internally each morning, and the lazy part won over. But, today, Jesus won. Thank God.
It was wonderful!!! I love the Mass. I could kick myself for wasting all those mornings just rolling over in bed and enjoying the comfort of the soft sheets. How could I have chosen physical comfort over the joy offered to me in the Mass? Well, I know it was a weakness I struggled with. Forgive me, Jesus.
I saw all my old daily Mass friends from years back when I didn't work full time and from the summers off when I usually attend Mass. The faithful people still are faithful. It's wonderful to see their persistence. They are an inspiration to me. They are the prayer warriors who never give in to the flesh. I joined in with them and took part in the beautiful liturgy, expressing my sorrow for my sins, praising God and proclaiming His holiness.
Then, my heart began to race and my anticipation grew so great as I stood in line and walked toward my Lord who was drawing me in ever so gently - awaiting the chance to commune with me and to "receive me," as I, too, would receive Him on my tongue in the most holy of banquets. I was there. I took Him on my tongue and alas, I was so overcome with joy. I returned to my seat and could barely contain myself. I thanked Him for giving Himself so lovingly and unconditionally to me. I told Him over and over again how I loved Him and how sorry I was for not coming sooner in the summer. I was one with Him once again. I knew this was where I was meant to be and I didn't want to leave this loving embrace with my Lord and King. Yet, the Mass ended, the people departed, and my day was to continue elsewhere. But, I knew the grace of this sacrament would take me through whatever I was to face the rest of this day, for my strength lies only in Him. I will be there tomorrow, eagerly awaiting this communion with my adopted brother. How could I stay away ever again?
It was wonderful!!! I love the Mass. I could kick myself for wasting all those mornings just rolling over in bed and enjoying the comfort of the soft sheets. How could I have chosen physical comfort over the joy offered to me in the Mass? Well, I know it was a weakness I struggled with. Forgive me, Jesus.
I saw all my old daily Mass friends from years back when I didn't work full time and from the summers off when I usually attend Mass. The faithful people still are faithful. It's wonderful to see their persistence. They are an inspiration to me. They are the prayer warriors who never give in to the flesh. I joined in with them and took part in the beautiful liturgy, expressing my sorrow for my sins, praising God and proclaiming His holiness.
Then, my heart began to race and my anticipation grew so great as I stood in line and walked toward my Lord who was drawing me in ever so gently - awaiting the chance to commune with me and to "receive me," as I, too, would receive Him on my tongue in the most holy of banquets. I was there. I took Him on my tongue and alas, I was so overcome with joy. I returned to my seat and could barely contain myself. I thanked Him for giving Himself so lovingly and unconditionally to me. I told Him over and over again how I loved Him and how sorry I was for not coming sooner in the summer. I was one with Him once again. I knew this was where I was meant to be and I didn't want to leave this loving embrace with my Lord and King. Yet, the Mass ended, the people departed, and my day was to continue elsewhere. But, I knew the grace of this sacrament would take me through whatever I was to face the rest of this day, for my strength lies only in Him. I will be there tomorrow, eagerly awaiting this communion with my adopted brother. How could I stay away ever again?
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
The Beauty of the Priesthood
One does not make his own decision to become a priest. God makes the decision from the beginning of time that He is going to call certain individuals to the priesthood. He knows even before these men are formed in the wombs of their mothers, that they are the ones He will beckon and call to be His shepherds on this earth; the ones He will use to touch the lives and hearts of the lost sheep. Sometimes all He need do is whisper gently in the ear of a young man, and that young man turns his life directly to the service of God. Other times, He needs to knock many times on the door of the man's heart before he finally says "Yes, Lord, I hear your call and I am ready to come follow You."
I have heard many vocation stories and they are each unique and wonderful. I have come in contact with many priests in my lifetime and have the joy of becoming personal friends with a few along the way. I loved many for their selfless service to God through their loving service to man. I have marvelled at the gentleness of their words as they pronounced the words of mercy and absolution upon me as I tearfully confessed my sins. I have joyously received the most precious Body and Blood of Christ from their hands as they fed me the Spiritual food for my journey. I have thankfully accepted the oils upon my hands as they anointed me before surgeries. I have received the sacraments of baptism, confirmation and been united with my husband in matrimony under the priest's witness. And how many times did I so happily receive the most precious priestly blessing from one of God's chosen ones?
I look to them with respect and reverence. They are the ones who stand in the person of Christ at the altar every time we attend Mass. They are the holy ones who lead us in liturgy time and time again. They are the ones who open the Scriptures to us. They are the ones who are our Christlike examples on earth. How wonderful are they!! How I love all of the priests. God bless them all. For He chose them all and He loves them all beyond measure.
Jesus, please pour out your love and blessings upon all of your chosen ones. Keep them safe. Keep them holy. Keep them under your holy watch, day and night. You are their Savior. You died for them. You already freed them from the bonds of Satan's evil ways. Love them even more, Jesus. Keep them in Your blessed embrace always. Pour out your sanctifying grace onto them every moment. Amen.
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