God Calls Me Again

I recently learned of a young man in India named Mohammed. Mohammed has been sick much of his life, but now he is in a hospital living out his final days. He has a wife and three young children. They are extremely poor. His younger brother, Tarek, moved to another country in the Middle East to earn money to send home to his brother's family to support them. Tarek loves his brother very much and works only to provide for his brother's wife and children, and to help with his medical costs.

Several days ago I sent a small amount of money to help this man's family with some of their bills. I was told that Tarek cried like a baby and said that he couldn't believe that someone would help like this that didn't even know his family. He sent me his love and promised to pray to Allah for my family and me. I received great joy knowing that this small act of love had brought this man to tears. It was a small way to evangelize by action because he knows I am a Christian. He is Muslim. I love him tremendously because Jesus loves him.

I have felt very much drawn to go to be with Mohammed in Bangladesh, to sit with him and place my hand upon his feverish head and pray for his healing. I am questioning my God, how can this be? What would my husband say if I were to all of a sudden ask to leave and go to India with our non-existent money in the bank, to help a man I do not know because I feel a calling to this? Yet, the thought has returned over and over again, at least five times in the past few days, "Go to him and be with him in Bangladesh. Sit with him. Lay your hand upon his head and pray for his healing." If it is God truly calling me to this, then He will have to work this whole thing out and make it clearly possible, and make Joe supportive of this idea. In the meantime, I will wait to see what He opens up for me. Where will He direct me? How will He answer this dilemma? What is He doing with me now? Am I to travel to Bangladesh now? Joe said no to Lebanon, and I made four trips there. Perhaps one to Bangladesh? Or will Mother Theresa handle this one for me? I am just a nobody in Muskegon, MI, who is listening to the Holy Spirit and anxious to follow His direction in my life. He will show me the way. This is my simple prayer for today. Holy Spirit, lovely paraclete and friend, clear the way for me to follow Jesus in the will of the Father. Amen.

Note: A few days after I wrote this post, I learned that Mohammed died peacefully.

The Jesus Prayer

"Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner."
This is perhaps one of the simplest prayers to say. It can be said many, many times a day, anywhere, anytime. When I ponder each word, I find it has great meaning.
First, we are addressing Jesus, the central figure of the Christian religion. To all Christians, we are speaking to our Savior; the one who gave His life for our salvation; the one who by His incarnation, became human - the god-man. He is the second person of the Trinity. Christ was to be the fulfillment of the prophesies of the Old Testament. He was everything the Jews were waiting for - the awaited Savior, the Messiah, the One to Come. He was the one whom all greatly anticipated. He is the one to whom we are addressing this short, but, powerful prayer. We speak to Him as Son. He is Son of the Heavenly Father. He reminded us that if we know Him, then we know the Father because He and the Father are one. There is no closer relationship than the bond between the Father and the Son, yet we are a part of this holy relationship because we are children of the Father by adoption. We can call Him "Abba." And Jesus is thus our brother. It is a familial, covenantal bond.

Truly He is a Living God because He is, was and ever shall be, according to promises given to us by Jesus Himself. He left us able to receive Him daily in the Sacrament of Holy Eucharist, as well as through the Word we receive through the Scriptures. In addition, His Spirit is with us for all times, ready to be at our beck and call to aid us in our journeys. All we need do is ask and He will pour His graces and blessings upon us. For He is our advocate, our paraclete. Jesus promised that great things would happen through the power of the Spirit. He is here with us always, our friend, our mentor.

Next I ask for Jesus' mercy. Mercy is compassion, love, kindness, forgiveness, clemency, tenderness. All of these things are simply adjectives that describe Jesus. In my humility, I realize that no matter the extent of my sinfulness, Jesus will always be there to reach out in loving kindness and tenderness and welcome me, like the prodigal son, home again, into His loving embrace. There is nothing He wants more than to forgive and to love. From the time of the stubborn Israelites in the book of Exodus, until today, man's story is one of turning away from God. This is my story as well. Yet God's response is always and forever a story of unconditional love and forgiveness.

I am the sinner. I do not deserve to lift my eyes and place them on the face of my Savior. A sinner is one who turns his back on God; one who chooses other than God. Yet, when I admit my true place and seek His mercy with true sorrow and contrition, I know in my heart that my loving God will hear my prayer and will again forgive me and love me because He always has. I thank You, Jesus, for the sweet and beautiful Savior that You are. How is it that I am worthy of Your mercy and love? It is only because You will this for me.

What Makes a Saint?

Today is All Saints' Day. I think of all the saints I know of and try to determine the common characteristics that they share. Certainly, most importantly, they share a love of Jesus in the Eucharist, and many of them have a great devotion to Mother Mary. Some have had private revelations, others have had visions that were later sanctioned by the Church. It seems that all the saints with whom I am familiar, have the virtue of great humility. None of them ever flaunted themselves or the holiness that they had. In fact, all of them preferred to remain unknown or in the background. They did not brag about miracles that occurred around them or chapels they built, or of conversions that occurred as a result of their preaching. That would have been too much like the pharisees in the time of Jesus. And as Jesus said, the pharisees' rewards were already received on earth.

The saints were truly holy individuals who spent their time giving all the glory to God, and God alone. Their focus was on the Almighty One, not themselves. They desired to sacrifice their entire beings for the sake of holiness. I think of St. Rafqa, who lived silently in great pain, in order to share in the suffering of Jesus on the cross. I think of Mother Theresa and Abouna Yaacoub, who tirelessly served the poor, handicapped and downtrodden themselves, never failing to reflect the great love Jesus asked us all to show toward our neighbor.

Always these holy men and women found time for prayer and reflection. It was an imortant part of their daily lives. For without this time in communion with God, they would forfeit the strength and graces they needed to accomplish His daily will for them. Every day they devoted to what God desired them to do; never to their own will. This is what set them apart from the everyday people of the world. And every day they submitted to God's will, even if it meant suffering and pain for them. Each thing they did they did with the true love of the Savior. They only served with love. This was Jesus' way, and thus, their way. This is what makes a saint.

Must We Obey Authority?

When I was a child in elementary school, I remember the sisters teaching us about the Ten Commandments. The fourth commandment, Honor Your Father and Your Mother, had an interesting little glitch, because the sisters always added on a little afterthought to that commandment. They told us that we must always honor our parents and authority figures "unless what they are telling you to do or not to do goes against God's authority or what you know to be what God's will would be." I do not think I ever had to go against my parents' authority in anything they told me to do. My parents were good Catholic people and taught my brother and sisters and me to follow God's commandments, and to do what was right. Never did they tell us to do something that would have compromised our moral judgment.

As an adult,however, I have struggled greatly with the knowledge that a priest I know has on more than one occasion used his authority as a priest, to threaten people in his parish to obey his will, rather than God's will, because of his own insecurities. The people are afraid because he is the priest, and they are merely the parishioners. He has authority over them and can punish them in certain ways. In the meantime, others in the parish suffer because of this. My heart aches for this parish. They are caught in a situation over which they have no control because they are following the fourth commandment, yet the sisters who taught them, never told them about the little afterthought that the sisters taught me.

We must always be aware, and ready to challenge authority, no matter who that authority is, to stand up for what Jesus would have done in every situation, for He said, "Whatever you do to the least of my brethren, that you do unto me." No one has the authority to hold us back from loving and helping someone that is less fortunate than we are. It is our duty as Christians. And if we are punished or persecuted for standing up to authority, then the Beatitudes promise great consolation to us.

The Tax Collector

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.

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?

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.