VULNERABILITY - The Place Which No One Occupies Willingly

New Evangelization is all the talk in the Church now and I’m a bit tired of it, somewhat suffocated by its relentless demand for new ways of doing things. I’ve tried many things and none of them seem to work in the sense that none of them endure or last for long enough.

We evangelize by the essence of who and how we are. We evangelize by presence, a presence that is a living, personal experience of Jesus Christ. Sometimes who and how we are is not pleasant at all and would not seem to be very valuable in the work of evangelization. Sometimes even our experience of God is very unpleasant and all the joy of the gospel that is being demanded of us is utterly impossible.

In a reflection on the authority of Peter, Hans Urs von Balthasar speaks about the position one must occupy in leadership. “The lowest place, which is where the servus servorum (servant of the servants) must stand, the place of final contempt and insult, the rubbish-heap on which one is ‘a worm and not a man’, this place which no man occupies willingly, is precisely the place where the office which he exercises may regain the greatest possible respect and credibility.”

The leader, the person in authority somehow embodies the whole reality of the community. The leader experiences how the community is and vice versa. We are one body, one spirit in Christ. What is asked of the person in authority is asked of us all.

How many of us aspire to occupy the place of final contempt, to be on the rubbish-heap of life, to be a worm and no man? Probably no one! Yet it is the place which we are called to occupy because it is the place Jesus occupied.

I was invited a few years ago to give a talk on ‘The Relevance Of The Church’ and, as I prepared this talk, I fantasized about large numbers of highly energized Catholics gathered in prayer and going out from prayer to enthusiastically transform society in very meaningful ways.

We have memories of Saint John Paul II filling a stadium; there are smaller but meaningful memories of Spirit-filled prayer meetings that set on fire the hearts of those involved and we thought we could take on the world; many of us come from a past in which Catholicism made a real difference. We desire to make a difference, a difference which we ourselves control.

Control! To be in control is at the heart of a lot of human desire; we naturally fear losing control, being out of control. So we try to control life – ours and that of others – and sometimes our genuine aspiration to serve gets swallowed up in controlling.

I look at Jesus in Gethsemane, on Calvary and I see One who occupies the place of final contempt, who has surrendered control, who is a worm and no man. “Not my will but yours be done!” I look at Jesus and I realize again that where He is where I am called to be, where we His Church are called to be.

In the West it has been done to us. We have been stripped of all glory and power; we are derided and mocked; we are irrelevant. But I suspect that we have not yet understood that this is where we are meant to be. We are still hoping that we will be restored.

Even those who seek genuine reform in the Church cannot envisage it being irrelevant, on the rubbish heap because we are trying to get ourselves out of the rubbish heap as fast as possible. Yet here we must abide until we have learned to become anawim, truly lowly, until the hour of our deliverance arrives.

There is a true sense that we have come close to lowliness in Pope Francis. He is pointing us in the direction of a more authentic way of being Christian but what he is offering, what God is offering in him has to become the personal reality of every single one of us.

The reform and renewal of the Church begins in the interior life of each one of us and it depends on how each of us responds to the reality of being the least of all and the last of all.

A Pallottine priest died recently. He was 83 years old and had Alzheimer’s or dementia for the past few years. We know that this is a very common reality in these times and it is something many of us fear. The gospel reading at his funeral Mass was from John 21 where Jesus said to Peter, “Very truly I tell you, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go."

End of life experiences have a lot to teach us about surrendering to the mystery of God’s action in our lives when we are most vulnerable and when we lose control over every detail of our lives. It strikes me that in the course of all of life we are being given opportunities, through “rubbish-heap” experiences, to become the little poor who learn to depend on God for everything. As we journey through life we can engage in an ongoing lesson of surrendering and letting go so that when the final surrender comes we are prepared for it.

An inspiring aspect that I have witnessed in many people with dementia is that, when they have forgotten everything else, they retain a memory of prayer and a lifelong spirituality is somehow carved into the core of their being. Celebrating Mass in a Retirement Home, where most residents have dementia, the vast majority of them pray the Mass out loud with the priest; at the elevation of the sacred host and chalice they whisper “My Lord and my God” which has a particular significance in the history of Christian spirituality in Ireland.

We have just celebrated the funeral of a former Prime Minister who was a devoted Catholic. He too experienced dementia and one of the memories spoken of at his funeral was of him and his wife sitting on their bed praying the Hail Mary.

The eyes of the world look on at the reality of dementia and they see a disaster; the eyes of faith perceive the mystery of God’s action and communion with the soul of the faithful that is now in a state of near perfect surrender, one from who all freedom and control has been taken away.

Theirs is the hand stretched out to take the Hand of the Other who leads them where they do not want but need to go. It isn’t always pleasant or pretty, sometimes it is funny and joyful, but always it is their testament of faith, their act of evangelization in this present age.

Part of our evangelization is to witness to and honour the loving, awesome presence of God in our present personal moments of brokenness, vulnerability, darkness. Part of our evangelization is to recognize and point to the presence of God in the lives of those who are experiencing dementia and to offer meaning to those who bear the burden of care for them.

For prayer:

Take a moment of stillness. Be attentive to your breathing. Breathe God in and out. Be attentive to what you are feeling as a result of reading or listening to the above reflection. Express your thoughts and feelings privately to God. Share them together in your group. Leave space for spontaneous prayer.

The following poem might be an appropriate conclusion:

Do not ask me to remember.

Don’t try to make me understand.

Let me rest and know you’re with me.

Kiss my cheek and hold my hand.

I’m confused beyond your concept.

I am sad and sick and lost.

All I know is that I need you

To be with me at all costs.

Do not lose your patience with me.

Do not scold or curse or cry.

I can’t help the way I’m acting.

Can’t be different though I try.

Just remember that I need you,

That the best of me is gone.

Please don’t fail to stand beside me.

Love me ‘til my life is done.

Fr. Eamonn Monson SAC,

Dublin, Ireland

____________________________________________________

Segretariato Generale, Unione dell’Apostolato Cattolico

Piazza San Vincenzo Pallotti 204, Roma, Italia uac@uniopal.org

THE SUPREME ADVANTAGE OF KNOWING CHRIST JESUS: Reflection For 5th Sunday of Lent

There are many passages in the Bible that resonate within me, words that express the meaning of life as I experience it. One is the from chapter 3 of St. Paul's Letter to the Philippians in which he speaks of the "supreme advantage of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord"

I have known that supreme advantage in my own life. Knowing Jesus personally is a singular blessing; it is a relationship which gives meaning to everything, the relationship in which I am truly and most fully myself. It is He who makes the struggles of life bearable. It is in Him that my problems find resolution.

In particular I find the freedom to stand in His presence as a sinner in need of mercy; it is in Him that I experience the forgiveness that I need. To be in need of forgiveness is a holy and healthy position to be in.

The Pharisees in John chapter 8 reveal a common human tendency to focus on the sins or faults of another, to hide behind the sins of another, presenting ourselves as being without fault. It happens occasionally in preparing for a funeral that a family say they want no mention of sin. But if we have no sin then we have no need of Jesus and no need of heaven.

To be a christian is to be a sinner in need of mercy; the journey to heaven is the journey of a sinner in need of mercy, a sinner receiving mercy. Jesus and Mary are the only two sinless ones.

What the Pharisees do to the woman in John 8 is a far too common aspect of our modern culture - the humiliation and shaming of the one who has done wrong, getting satisfaction out of judging and condemning the other, consigning them to a perpetual state of unforgiveness, shame and guilt.

Jesus on the otherhand doesn't do shame, humiliation or condemnation. He forgives and sets free the one who comes to Him with the acknowledgement of their sin. He says two things to the woman and says them to us - "neither do I condemn you. God and don't sin any more."

His forgiveness is to free us from condemnation and it is also an invitation to move on from our sins, to give up our sins in so far as we can. He doesn't want us to remain in our sins but He is not crippling us with guilt or shame.

We, as people of conscience, often cripple ourselves with guilt and shame, especially guilt in relation to our past, a problem that besets us as we get older. Memories come back to haunt us and we can be paralyzed by them.

Both the Prophet Isaiah and St. Paul offer us the way out of this experience, a way forward. "No need to recall the past, no need to think about what was done before." (Isaiah 43) and "All I can say is that I forget the past and I strain ahead for what is still to come; I am racing for the finish, for the prize to which God calls us upwards to receive in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3)

Christian life is a forward moving pilgrimage that has learned the lessons of the past but is not held captive by past failures. When God forgives the sins that we have acknowledged or confess, they are forgiven and even forgotten by Him - "see I have cast all your sins behind my back" and "I no longer call  your sins to mind"

It's important for older people when beset by guilt of the past to simply say, "I am forgiven" and let it go.

Thankfully, the young don't usually have this difficulty and hopefully they will be protected from making the same mistakes in life that we adults have. But if they do, then it's important that they come to experience the "supreme advantage of knowing Christ Jesus" and find in the Sacrament of Reconciliation the assurance of the forgiveness that He offers.

Finally, my prayer is that, in our personal relationship with Jeus, we will learn to seek the perfection that comes from Him rather than the perfection that comes from our own efforts. It is a simpler and more effective way of living.

I FEAR MY LOVE

I fear
My love
Is a morning
Cloud

In arid land
A vapour 
Vanishing

Were my body
Tortured

I fear
My love
For You
Would fail

As in the face
Of lesser pain

I have 
Denied You 
And betrayed

Covertly

SONG FOR A GIRL - On The Death Of Sophie

The Lord consoles his people and takes pity on those who are afflicted. For Zion was saying "The Lord has abandoned me, the Lord has forgotten me". But does a woman forget her baby at the breast, or fail to cherish the child of her womb? Yet even if these forget, I will never forget you. See I have carved you on the palms of my hands. Once more they will speak in your hearing; those children you thought were lost. You shall know that I am the Lord and that those who hope in me will not be put to shame. (Isaiah 49)

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In the chapel of rest where Sophie is laid out there’s a picture of Jesus bent over in agony and standing over him is the angel of consolation but Jesus doesn’t see the angel, doesn’t feel any consolation or comfort.

In front of me her parents are bent over the coffin of their beautiful four-year-old daughter, bent over in the agony of grief. The sound of their sorrow, the sight of their tears! There is no sorrow greater than this, a sorrow that cannot be consoled. They are like Rachael in the Bible mourning and inconsolable because their children are no more.

It doesn’t help to say that Sophie is gone to a better place, or that she’s not far away, or that they can always talk to her, even pray to her.

Her parents don’t want her to be anywhere else except with them. They want to see her, touch her, hear the sound of her voice. It’s almost impossible to think of living without her. That’s the awful reality, the separation that comes with death. They would rather be dead themselves. But because they are loving parents they live for their two other children.

Now it is Jesus who holds Sophie in His arms for a reason that we cannot understand; that He has done this a second time to these parents is impossible to understand. There may be some consolation in the fact that Sophie and CJ are together. And it’s was lovely to hear how, even though Sophie never met her elder brother, still she knew him in the way that a child can know. She had a connection with CJ and with heaven and she talked about him as a living person. CJ died aged three months 11 years ago.

What the mother and father are feeling now - the hurt, the anger, the desperation, the emptiness. There aren’t enough words! But what they are feeling is the most honest prayer in the church on the day of the funeral. A cry that has no pretence in it.

And part of our job as community and sympathisers who love them is to support them in this honest expression of grief. Not with words but just by being with them and letting them grieve as they need to. Not to stop them crying nor be in a hurry with them to get over this because there is no getting over it. They may learn to live with it but it will never leave them.

In His agony on the cross Jesus too felt abandoned and cried out “my God, my God why have you abandoned me”. And His cry is met with the astonishing silence of God the Father. There is an answer but it’s given later.

And it’s not for us to give answers or reasons that God has not yet given. It’s not for us to invent answers or solutions, however well meant. These will come in time and by grace.

In the meantime we honour this beautiful girl who showed us the face of God, who received her beauty from her mother and father and God - there is so much of all three in her. She is a once off creation! There never has been and never will be another girl quite like Sophie.

It’s important to remember her singing - maybe the song from Frozen. “Let it go”. Think of the princess that she is and admire how intelligent and smart she is, how she loved reading and loved play school. See her dancing. Think of all the loveliness she brought into life.

Every time we look at a child, think of a child like Sophie we are reminded that within all of us there is a child. And on a day like this all of us are innocent and pure. The best that is in us comes out. There is something very precious and special about every single one of us.

At the end of Mass we listen to ‘A Song For Sophie’ by Aura Dione and some of the words are appropriate for our Sophie, 

This is a song for a girl called Sophie

used to write her name on my arm.

I really hope she's made it

that someone took her home.

She was always like a feather, in the air

she was always like a feather, in my life.

I hope she flies ..I hope she flies.

At the cemetery the rain pours down upon us without much mercy. Everyone is bunched, huddled around the grave where CJ is already buried. Little children are curious, wondering where Sophie will be put. They expect she will lie down beside her brother. I tell them she will go on top of him.

I pray the prayers to the sound of communal sobbing. The awful, awful moment when the coffin is lowered into the ground and they don't want to let it go. Father, mother stretching out their hands touching it with a kiss as it moves away from them.

The maternal grandmother stands dignified, almost perfectly still, holding her daughter. Her tears flow quietly and she seems to be holding everything and everyone together.

+++

Lord, you created my inmost self, knit me together in my mother's womb. For so many marvels I thank you; a wonder am I and all your works are wonderful. You knew me through and through, my being held no secrets from you, when I was being formed in secret, textured in the depths of the womb. Your eyes could see my embryo, in your book all my days were inscribed, every one that is fixed is there. How hard for me to grasp your thoughts, how many, God there are. If I could count them, they are more than the grains of sand; if I come to an end, I am still with you. (Psalm 139)

+++

When the prayers are finished they all throw in a rose, seems like hundreds of roses and then the cd player is turned on in the car. I can't remember the songs.

The grandmother tells them to play the song from 'Frozen'. They don't have it on cd. Several phones and bluetooth speakers are produced; several vain attempts are made to get sound. This occupies the attention of everyone, so much so that there's no one crying anymore.

Finally it works and the little ones - boys and girls alike - sing along shyly. Let It Go! And this is the song of a generation, the song that relieves the relentless sorrow of the past week. Relieved for now.

Sophie's mother with newfound strength announces that it's time to leave. They will be back tomorrow for CJ's anniversary. 

I hug mother, father, grandmother and uncle. And walk away to my car, rain dripping down my face from my uncovered head. I feel saturated in every way. Inside the car a great gulp of tears rushes up from inside me and I press my fingers to my eyes to stop myself crying for fear of losing it altogether, for fear of wailing.

+++

People were bringing little children to Jesus, for him to touch them. The disciples turned them away, but when Jesus saw this he was indignant and said to them, `’Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. I tell you solemnly, anyone who does not welcome the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.’ Then he put his arms round them, laid his hands on them and gave them his blessing. (Mark 10:13-16)

Henry

Henry blows up
Forgotten leaves
Of Autumn

Tossing them
In my bathroom
Window

The first day
Of Spring

I throw them
Out again
To whatever

Ending awaits

Henry is the latest
In a list
Of alphabetical

Storms

Leaves are memories
Of sorrow
Old wounds

That I have
Put to bed
And need not

Entertain